We crossed a small muddy creek, another vacant lot, and another fence. We ran down a winding street, through an alley, and then up another slightly less winding street. Finally we arrived at the back door of a small house.
“This is where the blood trail leads,” said Ellwood Cyrene.
“It is remarkable that we were able to follow it all this way,” said I.
“Not really. We are skilled trackers.”
“It is remarkable that the man we are following has any blood left,” said I.
“Not really. A grown man could be expected to have a good eight pints of blood in him. I suspect this fellow has lost not more than two, though he may well be quite weak by this point.”
“I guess you are right,” said I.
“What is remarkable,” said she, “is that we are neither one of us, out of breath.”
“We are in good shape.”
“I have just passed through an empty lot, raced down a dark alley, climbed over a wooden fence, dashed through a cemetery; crossed a small muddy creek, another vacant lot, and another wooden fence; and ran down a winding street, through another alley, and up another slightly less winding street,” said she. “I am in excellent shape, notwithstanding the fact that I am suffering a chest wound, but even the greatest athlete would be out of breath after that, and you, Eaglethorpe, are not in excellent shape. In fact, you are getting quite a pair of love handles.”
“Poetic license,” said I.
“Quiet,” said she. “Listen.”
I could hear voices that seemed to be coming from the house, but then I could hear other voices coming from other houses too, and shouts and singing from the ale house down the street, and still more voices and snoring from the nearby flophouse, and a late night hymn from the local church, and low moans that could only come from zombies in the cemetery.
“What do you think?” asked Ellwood.
“I hate zombies,” I replied.
“What do you think about our situation here vis-à-vis breeching this structure and rescuing the Queen?”
“I lost you after versa versa.”
“Vis-à-vis,” said she. “It means literally ‘face to face’, but is usually used as ‘in regards to’.”
“Why didn’t you just say so? I don’t speak Dwarvish.”
“It’s not Dwarvish. It’s French.”
“There is no such language,” said I. “Now quit fooling around. You go to the front door, and count to 100. I will stay here and count to 100. Then we both enter and kill everyone inside.”
“Except Queen Elleena,” she said.
“Well, of course except Queen Elleena.”
“One other thing,” said she.
“What?”
“If I don’t start counting to 100 until I get around to the front door, but you start counting to 100 right now, won’t you get to 100 before I do?”
“I’ll count slower.”
“How will you know how fast I count?”
“I’ve seen you count before,” said I.
Nodding, she ducked below the only window and snuck around the corner of the house. I counted to 100, all the while listening lest any noise from inside should warrant my entering earlier than 100, and also all the while, watching behind me for zombies. When I got to 77, I got up and readied myself. When I got to 89, I raised my sword. When I got to 96, I leaned my shoulder toward the portal. And when I got to 100, I slammed my weight into the rather shoddy excuse for a door. It splintered as I burst into the room. I could see Ellwood entering from the other side.
Inside the room were four men—the two that I had encountered before and two more—the same two that I had seen in the baths, which is to say the ugly one and the fat one. Standing amid them was the Queen, her hands tied behind her back and her mouth gagged. The ugly one and the one that had kidnapped Queen Elleena, which is to say the kidnapper with both hands still attached, leapt toward me, while the fat one and the other kidnapper, which is to say the one handed one, leapt toward Ellwood.
You have to question the strategy of the four men in that house. They sent the ugly one, who was quite a skilled swordsman, and the two handed kidnapper against me, while they sent the fat one, who could barely waddle around, and a week and injured kidnapper against Ellwood, who though I am loath to admit it, is a slightly better swordsman than me. Consequently my friend cut down her two opponents in seconds flat, while I toyed with mine, in a brilliant display of swordsmanship until Ellwood stabbed them both in the back, making a rather anticlimactic end to what would have otherwise been a wonderful display of marshal acrobatics, which is to say a swordfight.
Ellwood and I rushed to the Queen. I began to untie her as Ellwood pulled the gag from her mouth.
“Thank god you’re here, Your Majesty” said Queen Elleena to Ellwood.
“Wait a second,” said I. “Why are you calling her ‘Your Majesty’?”
“I’m in shock,” said the Queen. “It’s ‘Everyone is Your Majesty’ day. I was accidently looking in a mirror. I thought she was the king of Siam. I have amnesia. It’s reverse day and I’m reverse in everything saying. I’m weak from lack of food. I was thinking about my mother. I didn’t say it. I never say anything. I call everyone ‘Your Majesty’, Your Majesty.”