In which the emperor returns
L
ightning gashed the soaking buildings outside the window of the Emperor’s Palace master bedroom in Basilopolis, the capital city of Out. The rain roared down in torrents outside. Inside, a bucket collected a slow series of drips from the roof. A small camel lapped at it to prevent overflow, and the room was otherwise relatively dry.
“I’ve been reading up on this ‘Emperor of Out’ situation,” said the Magus, as he and Rannie sat in a luxurious twelve-poster bed, being waited on by large men with a distinctive lack of facial hair, and high voices. “Apparently, history decrees against murdering the emperors, them being sacred, ordained by the great Oilflig Phoist and all that.”
“Good news I think.” Rannie bit suspiciously into a chocolate-coated, deep-fried dodo burger on the breakfast tray.
“Not so good. Apparently, if they fell out of favour, you know, by voting for the Green Party or losing a war campaign, emperors would be replaced, and have their ears cut off. Ears are big on this planet.”
“I can see that,” said Rannie, regarding one of the servants spinning slowly in the breeze from the window.
“Their sacred animal is the water elephant... I say, have you tried these goldfinch pies? They are really good, apart from the feathers.”
“I’m not feeling that hungry,” said Rannie. “I’m still a bit embarrassed about the way we had to prove that we were an item, by shagging in front of the Council of Advisors.”
“It was interesting,” said the Magus, “but I can’t find anything about that particular requirement in their Objects of Emperorship. I suppose they seemed satisfied afterwards though.”
“Several were making notes, and one even had an easel.”
“I’m glad they’ve gone,” said the Magus. “We should do something about getting away. I only needed the robes so the chancellor would listen to us to help with STOP, and that didn’t work at all.”
“It went down like a tungsten triplane, didn't it?” said Rannie. “We are stuck here, now. I like the luxury, but it isn’t making me any money.”
“We have all the money and riches we need. What’s your problem?” The Magus stretched out luxuriously on the hairy-wombat leather commode.
“There’s no challenge, no excitement, no adventure, no perspective, and I miss the bunnies. Anyway, why are you wasting time reading the Objects when we should be departing? There’s more to life than fabulous wealth and being waited on nose and ankle you know.”
“I would still like to help Two-Dan. I was looking for a loophole.”
“Like those behind that portrait of the emperor, Geordie the Tenth over there?” said Rannie, screwing her eyes up.
“I do get the feeling we are being watched.”
“All the time. I don’t like it.”
“We really have to get away, if only for the sake of privacy.”
“Agreed, and soon at that. If we go out on the Blurgar campaign, lose and don’t get killed, we will end up minus our aural facilities and possibly a nose or two.”
“We should go” The Magus threw on an ocelot-skin robe and padded across to the door. It opened before he reached it, and he was faced with the entire council of elders, headed by Maurice the Other Bastard, head of the military.
“Good morning, Emperor,” said Maurice, blocking the way. “I trust you slept soundly. Were you thinking of leaving us? If so, I refer you to point six on the Objects of Emperorship.”
“Remind me,” said the Magus.
“Emperors attempting to leave the palace before major campaigns of war will be deposed, and the Distasteful Dice will be shaken to determine which part of their anatomy will be surgically removed... see page ninety-four.”
“I don’t think I’ll bother,” said the Magus, pretending to be inspecting a portrait of the emperor, Justin-Time II, and his gold-plated nose-guard. Can you leave us for a moment please? Oh, and I’d like some of that royal spitting tobacco I saw advertised.”
“Here, my emperor.” Maurice handed over a sealed pack.
“That was quick.”
“It is my duty to anticipate your needs.”
There was a disturbance in the corridor. Maurice turned irritably.
“Let him in then,” he said. “Regrets, My Emperors, but your man has been insisting on seeing you. I told him he would need to have his gonads removed in order to be granted audience, but he seems determined to resist that honour. We have lost a few good surgeons to his three-fingered mega-fist.”
“He can enter,” said Rannie. “He works for me.”
“We all work for you, Empress; however, we do not permit access to any Tiberius, Romanos or Heraklonas the Third, you know.”
“Luigis get special permission. He is my personal bodyguard.”
“As you request, Empress.” He clapped his hands. “Let him through. And someone get this camel replaced before it explodes.”
There was a clash of armour and a scattering of weapons across the marble floor, and Big Three-Fingered Luigi, somewhat trouser-less and breathless, burst into the room. He paused long enough to bring his fist down on the helmet of one of the guards, piling the man to the floor.
“Ms Dearheat,” he said. “Apologies for the delay. I had a bit of trouble with the palace staff.”
“He is to be given free access... and iron trousers,” said Rannie. “Do you understand me, Maurice?”
“Of course, Empress.”
“You may go,” said Rannie.
“Probably not, though,” said Maurice.
“I meant that I would like you to depart.”
“And leave you with this... creature. I am sworn to protect you.”
“I owe him my life, on a number of occasions. Please leave us now. We need to have private conversation about my business empire.”
The scowl on Maurice's face deepened. “Protocol demands that you are never left alone.”
“Then change the protocols.” Luigi picked up the man by his collar, marched him to the door and shoved him through.
“Thanks for coming, Maurice,” shouted Rannie, after the vizier. “We have a war to conduct, and having you by my side will be invaluable. Now, Luigi, how’s business?”
“Running along nicely, ma’am,” said Luigi, rubbing his hands together. “The ‘Sleep Simulator’ app for people who have no time to sleep because they are addicted to social media, is selling consistently. Our income for this month should be more than adequate.”
“One moment,” said the Magus. He took a plug of spitting tobacco from his mouth and deliberately forced it into the eye sockets of the portrait of the emperor on the wall opposite them. There was a yelp from the other side. The Magus smirked. “See no evil,” he said. “I thought they were spying on us.” He returned to Rannie and got back under the covers. Luigi still stood respectfully, watching him.
“They are expecting us to lead the army in the attack on the Blurgars,” said Rannie. “What do you think of that, Luigi?”
“Not a good idea, ma’am. I’ve seen the army. There are about two hundred soldiers, but they are ill-equipped, and all their armour and weapons are rusty, and will probably break at first use. In this climate, attention to detail, and a good rust-killer are essential.”
“Does it ever stop raining?” said the Magus.
“I don’t believe so,” said Luigi. “I hear that it does ease off to a ‘downpour’ at about five bells, but starts again at seven.”
“Five bells?” said the Magus. “Wouldn’t they get rusty too?”
“Time on ‘Out’ is marked using the nautical system because of the amount of water,” said Luigi, patiently. “And the bells are made of brass to a certain Verdigris. Between the peals of five and seven of them would be the best time for an attack.”
“Good, let’s get this over with. We can have a look at the enemy first, and then discuss our tactics.”
There was a bang as the water-camel burst, and sprayed water across the room.
“We should have let him change the dromedary,” said the Magus, mopping himself with a panda-skin towel. “This one’s split.”
“It will be fine. I believe they’re meant to do that,” said Rannie. “That’s how they regulate their water intake. They carry it all in the hump, you know.”
At the border of the empire, the Magus, Rannie and Luigi stood on the royal podium, sheltered by the royal yeti-skin umbrellas, and surveying the enemy forces.
“I think we have a problem,” said the Magus. “How do we get out of this situation and stay alive?”
“I admit it looks a little hopeless,” said Rannie. “Luigi, what do you think about our chances?”
“I can see what must amount to several thousand enemy soldiers, ma’am. They are only wearing shiny pants, but their weapons appear to be rust-free. If our warriors were properly equipped and trained and experienced, I think we might have had a chance with these bare-chested barbarians. As it is, we’re in serious trouble.”
“We need to leave,” said the Magus. There was a sound of rusty swords being drawn and they were instantly surrounded by armed men.
“If you are going to default on the agreement,” said Maurice the Other Bastard, “then you know your fate.”
“I was talking about pushing through their defences,” said the Magus quickly. “If we can break through and take their leader captive, we can force them to surrender, and win the war that way.”
“That’s not how we do it,” said Maurice. “When we go into battle, it is total war, total annihilation. How do you think Basil the Blurgar Slayer got his name?”
“You might have to help me out on that one.”
“We’ve been reading up on Basil,” said Rannie. “Apparently, he was drowned in the mud when his battle-dolphins shied at a manifestation of Saint Clarkson, in a four-wheel drive, powering up through the seal nursery, but that’s not the full story, is it?”
“No, Empress. The legend goes that he was not drowned, only stunned. The battle was suspended, and he was taken in pomp and water-resistant carriage to the Great Tomb of the Emperors. Because he died in battle, all his features were left intact, and he was embalmed in LARD42 to keep the moisture out… so it is said, anyway. You know what these legends are like.”
“Other sources say that he is still alive, and will return when his people most need him.”
“I have heard that, Empress.”
“Then, where is this tomb? If we could exhume the body, the sight of it might instil terror, and give us the advantage we need.”
“Depending on the level of decomposition,” said the Magus, shuddering, “it might have the same effect on our men.”
“It is a good plan, Empress,” said Maurice. “You are truly a great leader and deserve to keep your beauty intact, for the moment.”
“Then you will show us the tomb?” said the Magus.
“You will have to make the journey by yourselves,” said Maurice, a sneaky expression flicking across his face. “It is that way, across the Arid Desert, through the Parched Mountains and into the Uncanny Valley of the Emperors. I will lend you the Royal Chariot and the Imperial Homing Dolphins. If you get lost, they will always find the way back... unless there is a thunderstorm raging, in which case it upsets their direction finders and they settle in large pods in town squares, generally becoming an obstruction to local traffic.”
“Is there a thunderstorm due?”
“Not until four bells. Try to set off before then.”
“He seemed very keen to let us go,” said the Magus, as the team of four armoured dolphins pulled their stage-boat across the swamp known as the Arid Desert. “Too keen if you ask me.”
“I don’t need to ask you,” said Rannie. “I’d spotted that. I’ve also spotted that this Arid Desert isn’t that arid.”
“I am told that they give their places names like that to improve the tourism trade,” said Luigi. “If they called it the Mosquito Swamp of Death, for example, they wouldn’t get as many visitors.”
“I can’t wait to see the Parched Mountains.”
The canal through the soaked mountain range, which was visibly getting smaller as they passed, owing to constant water erosion, led them out into a rich valley of trees and vines and mangrove. The way now was too narrow for the carriage to pass, so the three passengers pulled on long waders, disembarked and left the skittish dolphins firmly tied to a set of roots.
“I don’t know what their problem is,” said the Magus. “Their blubber will protect them from mosquito bites.”
“Perhaps they are worried about the rabbits,” said Luigi.
“Rabbits?” said the Magus. “Would they be a problem?”
“Flesh-eating, vampire rabbits.”
“Remind me?” The Magus looked nervously over his shoulder.
Luigi smiled, warming to his pet subject. “They were originally ordinary rabbits,” he said, “before the great floods of Basil. Because of the amount of rain, all their holes filled with water. As you know, rabbits’ teeth and claws continue growing all their lives, so they need vegetation to chew, and earth to dig, to keep them short. Because they couldn’t burrow, their claws grew, and they had to wear them down on trees instead, which of course led to the discovery that they could climb. Of course, climbing back down was more of a plummet than elegant, but the ground was now soft and waterlogged, so any animals that could hold their breaths, survived. That sorted the problem with the claws, but the soaked tree bark was too soft to be any use for the teeth. To wear those down, they needed to gnaw on something harder. Hence, they developed a taste for bone, and now drop from the trees with but little warning, and attack anything with a skeleton.”
“Then I trust we don’t meet any.”
“Like those,” said Rannie as a number of snarling giant vampire rabbits plopped down in front of them. “Run!”
“Or wade,” said the Magus. “Everything is in slow motion.”
“Perhaps that will hold them up.”
As the three adventurers struggled to get away from the lagomorphic host, the creatures scrabbled up the trunks of trees and leapt along the branches, cutting off potential escape routes.
“I think we have to fight,” said Rannie, drawing the rusty bejewelled imperial sword she had been presented with. She made a few practise sweeps with it, and the end of the blade bent, perforated with rust.
“Leave it with me, ma’am,” said Luigi. “I understand rabbits. I will hold them off with rabbit-thwarting techniques, while you make good your escape.”
“You are very brave,” said the Magus.
“No, I just love bunnies,” said Luigi. “Go.”
“Will he be okay?” said the Magus, as he and Rannie paddled across slightly more solid ground towards the hillock in the ‘Uncanny Valley of the Emperors’ where the tomb resided.
“If anyone can be, he will,” said Rannie. “Anyway, he loves doing things like that. He must have tried to sacrifice his life for me at least a dozen times since I rescued him from the backstreets of Glenodure, the capital of Glenforbis.”
“I used to work there,” said the Magus, standing on one leg and emptying the water out of his boot. “It’s rife with crime and second-hand-dung carts. He would certainly be grateful to leave. I know I was.”
“Very much so. He says he owes me his life and his nasal passages, and there is no finer accolade than when he blows his nose and the handkerchief doesn’t spontaneously combust. Ah, here we are. There are supposed to be many more tombs hidden around this valley, but as yet, nobody has bought the necessary diving apparatus to explore them. Come on. At least this one is above swamp-level.”
They climbed out of the soggy grassland and up to the tomb.
“The door to the barrow looks very sturdy,” said the Magus.
“Let me see.” Rannie went up to it and ran her hands around the edges. “Sealed,” she said, “with bi-continuous, nonporous electrodes.”
“You can tell that simply by touch?”
“No, there’s a sign here that says, ‘Sealed with bi-continuous, nonporous electrodes. Do not attempt to open on Fridays without the Imperial Key’. Have we got the Imperial Key?”
“Maurice didn’t mention it. So we can’t get in?”
“I’ll give it a try.” She rummaged in her handbag.
“What have you got there?”
“It’s one of my special multipurpose nail-files.”
“Multipurpose? What else can you do with one, except file nails?”
“There was a lot of demand from terrorists for a nail-file that could fire lasers, cut through steel bulkheads and control aircraft. What you see here is one of the most dangerous weapons in the galaxy. Why else do you think they are banned from your hand luggage?”
“And does it?”
“What?”
“Cut through bulkheads and fire lasers. It will be useful for getting through this door if it does.”
“Of course it doesn’t. It’s a bloody nail-file. It files fingernails. I made a bomb, almost literally, after advertising it. All sorts of orders came in. I offered a money-back guarantee if it didn’t work, but oddly, none of the terrorists came back to claim it, them being dead through getting shot by the security forces as they tried to menace people with the lasers that weren’t there. Why do you think I’m sometimes not as popular as I might be in some places, and a heroine in others?”
“I thought it was your charm, personality and horniness,” said the Magus, giving her a squeeze and watching the water ooze up around her neck. “We must get dry-suits next time.”
“Right,” she said, inserting the nail-file into the keyhole in the door. “There you go. After you, sir.”
The Magus stared at the open portal and the dark passageway beyond. “How did you do that?”
“This is a special nail-file with the adaptive magnetic key built in (five drachmae from major retailers). It is very popular with the public-lavatory-visiting public, and voyeurs, but in this case, it can deactivate bi-continuous, nonporous electrodes. Lead on.”
The passage led into a sumptuous room, which lit up automatically as they entered. It was festooned with jewels, and purple curtains were drawn across what turned out to be burial niches. Upon investigation, in these were stored the remains of past emperors, preserved in embalming fluid and waste engine oil, and easily identifiable from the plan on the sign at the entrance, and by the various missing facial protrusions. One, however, was a sealed coffin, isolated at the far end of the room.
“That’s him,” said Rannie, skipping up to it. “I suppose we should open the box and see what’s inside. Oh, it’s locked.”
“What about using the nail-file?”
“I’m not sure it can handle a padlock.” She rattled the device, which was holding the lid shut via a hasp and staple, and was recommended by the Master Locksmiths’ Association for its durability and aesthetics.
“Why would they lock it, though? I mean, he’s not going anywhere, is he?”
There was the sound of wet feet in the entrance corridor. The Magus jumped and drew his own sword. The blade fell off completely. He brandished the hilt feebly.
“No need,” said a voice, and Luigi appeared out of the darkness, a large sabre-toothed rabbit under each arm.
“Are you unharmed?” said Rannie. “We were worried about you.”
“No problem,” said Luigi. “Once you fix them with the ‘headlight stare’, they freeze up. I was able to leave them there, apart from these two, who seem to have taken a liking to me.” He put them down gently and they started licking his waders and making the silent sound that rabbits do when they are contented, that you can’t hear. “You found the tomb then,” he said, regarding the Magus rattling away at the lock.
“Can’t get it open, so the trip’s been wasted.”
“Can I borrow your hilt?”
The Magus handed over the remains of his sword. Luigi got a firm grip and brought it down hard on the body of the lock. It broke.
“Nice one,” said Rannie. “How did you know?”
“Easy. The shackle gave way as the rusty locking bar inside disintegrated. Backstreet technique,” said Luigi, nursing his scuffed knuckles. “and an associate membership to the MLA. On Glenforbis, we used fizzy cola to rot the mechanism, and a tommy-bar to break it, and then the same tool to clock the gendarmes as they came to interfere—multi-purpose appliances you see, tommy-bar and cola. Handy if you get thirsty too, and no calories. Want me to open it?”
“The lid looks heavy,” said the Magus. “Do you need any help? Oh, you’ve done it.”
The hinges on the far side of the sarcophagus gave way as Luigi wrenched the lid open.
The Magus nervously peered inside, and leapt backwards as the cadaver sat up and scowled at him. “About bloody time,” it said. “I’ve been waiting up all night for you. Lid must have got stuck. Where have you been? Hang on chap, you’re not the vizier. Where the fuck is my vizier?”
“He’s probably dead by now.”
“By now, what do you mean ‘by now’? I only popped in here for a doze. Vizier said he’d shut the lid to keep the noise from the builders disturbing me.” The corpse looked around the room. “Has there been an epidemic while I was sleeping? Seems there are rather more coffins than I remember.”
“Do you mind if I ask you your name?” said Rannie, smiling sweetly.
“My name? Grovel you woman in the presence of Basil the Second, also known as the Burglar-Slayer.”
“Don’t you mean the Blurgar Slayer?” said the Magus.
“Phoist, yes. I keep getting the letters mixed up. I did a good deal of slaying in my time. Do you know, we completely eradicated housebreaking as a threat in my city?”
“Housebreaking, are you still on the burglar thing?”
“Of course. Yes, I did strike terror into the hearts of those warring barbarians too.” He paused and stared at Rannie. “What is a woman doing in my mausoleum? You are a woman, aren’t you? My memory sometimes fails me.” He licked his lips. “It’s all coming back now.” He reached out to grab a breast.
Rannie stepped backwards. “Women have the same rights as men now, your, er, Excellency. We are treated as real people at last. There may have been a few years pass while you were asleep.”
“Hey-ho,” said Basil. “Force of habit. Anyway, I was testing this stasis pod. It was supposed to keep me alive, once I got too old to cut off noses. The idea was that I could sleep until someone came up with a cure for old age. The vizier said he would let me nap for a day to test it, and then awaken me. I’m guessing from the strangeness of your clothing and attitude…” he gave Rannie a lecherous glance, “…that there has been a little more than a day pass by?”
“If I calculate correctly,” said Rannie, “a few thousand years.”
“Then my dear brother, Constantine, has passed on?”
“He ruled for a good while, as Constantine the Eighth, I believe.”
“Bastard!”
“No, he’s different. You are thinking of Maurice the Bastard, who is in charge now,” said Rannie. “He gave us the title of emperor and empress, but there are strings attached.”
“I can see you would be put in as puppet leaders,” said Basil. “It is in the Rules of Emperorship. What has he got you doing?”
“There is trouble with the Blurgars,” said the Magus.
“Bastards!” Basil thumped the sarcophagus. A small jewel dropped off and rolled across the floor. One of Luigi’s rabbits struggled free and chased it under an ornate nose-trimming table.
“No, that’s Maurice the other Bastard,” said Rannie. “He’s in charge of the army.”
“Ah, my magnificent army. It is unstoppable. We shall deal with the Burglars, ram aubergines up their arses, and send their heads back home on spikes, as a warning to others.”
“I’m not sure your army is unstoppable anymore,” said the Magus. “The leaders seem to have spent the war-chest on luxuries instead. Would you like a crispy, giant panda embryo? I packed a few for lunch. You must be hungry after your enforced sleep.”
“Thirsty. Have you anything to drink?”
“Never thought to pack,” said the Magus. “I can lend you my funnel. Go outside, stick it in your mouth and look upwards.”
“Still raining then?”
“Never stops.”
“It’s good to be awake again.” Basil stretched and climbed out of the coffin. “Now about those burglars...”
“Blurgars,” said Rannie.
“Those too. I think you need my talents, and this Maurice is going to have some explaining to do.”
Luigi left his rabbits behind at the edge of the forest, where they immediately leaped off in pursuit of a shiver of card-sharks. The stage-boat was where they had left it. One of the dolphins had to be released as it was slightly rabbit-nibbled, but its blubber had protected it, and the rabbits were now distracted. The stage-boat was a little heavy for the remaining dolphins to pull, so Luigi got out and provided extra pushing power from the back. Inside, the passengers rubbed themselves dry with the backup royal ocelot-skin towels and then sat back to watch the scenery. The homing dolphins took them towards the capital, as trained, but unfortunately via the border with Blurgar territory.
Maurice the other Bastard came to greet them, a half sneer on his face. He opened the coach door and helped Rannie into the centre of a large puddle.
“No luck then, with the vampire rabbits and sealed tomb I forgot to tell you about...” he faltered as Emperor Basil climbed out of the stage-boat and glowered at him. “Er, who is this?”
The emperor stretched and scowled at the commander of the army. “I think you know. I have come to reclaim my empire. I trust you have been running the country in accordance with the ideals of benevolence to its citizens and ferocity to everyone else? I see we are drawn up for glorious battle.” He regarded the motley collection of rusty troops standing miserably to attention at the ditch marking the border. “And when is our main force due? It seems to me these men are somewhat dispirited and could do with motivation. The arrival of our crack shock troops would be what is required. Speak man!”
“Er, these are our shock troops.”
“Certainly is a shock to see them in this state. We have proper armour in the royal Armoury. Why have they not been kitted out in the rust-proofed versions?”
“The armoury was sold off by Constantine the Fifth, the ‘Dung Named’.”
“The historians didn’t like him much then?”
“That, and his middle name was ‘Slurry’, I believe.” Maurice the Other Bastard seemed to brighten up. “Now that you are back, Excellency, you will be wanting to lead our troops into battle? Also, as you have been usurped by the ex-emperor and empress, Magus and Dearheat respectively, you will be wanting to regain your throne and lop off their extremities I trust?”
“Maurice, you complete bastard,” said the Magus.
“Other Complete Bastard,” retorted Maurice. “I am merely the commander of the military, and my brother is the vizier. You are the guys sitting on the throne. Unless you are going to despoil our new and ancient glorious leader, after whom our capital city is named, and regain power for yourselves instead?” He looked hopefully at the Magus.
“There is to be no nose-culling while we are at war,” said Basil. “We will need all hands... and facial features.”
The Magus nodded vigorously in agreement.
“I will be taking up my rightful position,” continued Basil, “and if there is anyone who desires to challenge me, they will be dealt with in the traditional way, via written application, interviews and subsequent disappearance without trace. By the way, what are those animals?”
The Magus followed his gaze through the haze, and his mouth dropped open. “Doku? What the Phoist are they doing here?”
“It was strange,” said Maurice. One moment the field was empty, apart from a couple of inches of water, and the next, that lot seemed to simply appear out of thin air. I think it’s an Act of Phoist, a sign that we shall achieve victory on the battlefield.”
“I think it’s a sign that these beasts are still following you,” said Rannie. “You did say they thought you were special. I suspect they are copying your teleportation techniques, but over longer distances. Now that would be an excellent product to sell through Dearheat Enterprises... if we can find out how they do it.”
“I don’t recognise them,” said the Magus. “Unless they have adapted to conditions.” He paddled over to see the herd. They raised their heads and lowed affectionately at him. He patted the nearest one and dodged the array of horns as it tried to lick him. “They are mine,” he said. “I don’t know how they did it, but their hair has become shorter, to keep it out of the water, and...” He patted the back of another doku. “...it seems to be waterproof.”
“Check the feet,” said Rannie. “From what I’ve heard, cloven-hoofed animals do really badly in soggy conditions: foot-rot, blue-tongue, fly-strike, lungworms, fog fever, dung worm, ear quake, halitosis...”
“I didn’t know you were versed in bovine health.” The Magus raised one of the feet of the animal next to him. It leaned against him with obvious delight. “Look at this. The legs have developed a rubbery coating, and the feet have changed so that they are large flat paddles. How on Glenforbis can they evolve so quickly?”
“They can teleport, so why should a quick evolution to adapt to environmental conditions be such a problem?”
“I suppose they do have a unique physiology,” said the Magus, “what with their hair being a processor matrix, as we discovered in the last book.”
“They seem to be waterproof now,” said Rannie. “Look out!”
The Magus dodged, as a rusty sword whistled past his back. There was a stir amongst the herd, and a doku charged at Maurice, who had apparently tried to stab the Magus. It knocked the man off his feet and raised on its back legs, preparing to pound him into the mud.
“No!” The doku stopped in mid-trample as the Magus shouted, and looked back at him expectantly. “No, leave him,” said the Magus. He helped the man up. “Why did you do that? You could have killed me.”
“An accident,” said Maurice shiftily. “I thought the beasts were going to attack you.” He sheathed his sword. “I see I was wrong. Please accept my apologies.”
“Not trying assassinate me?” said the Magus.
Of course not... but if I was, it would be traditional, and I’m not normally one to break with tradition.”
“See you don’t,” said the Magus. “What can you see, your excellency?”
Basil was studying the Blurgar army across the border ditch. “There are a lot of them,” he said, counting on his fingers. “It will make our triumph all the more glorious.”
“You’re surely not thinking of attacking them now?” said the Magus.
“We will have the element of surprise,” said Basil. “They won’t be expecting us to go ahead with an full assault, outnumbered as we are.” A peal of thunder echoed dully across the field. “A lightning attack,” continued Basil enthusiastically, “going straight for their leader, and we will be victorious. Are you with me, men?”
The troops regarded their new leader with suspicion, and then a half-hearted cheer began, once Maurice had prompted them.
“Then follow me to glory. Each man in this army will be given new lands, twenty nubile doe-eyed virgins, and a ten percent pay rise.”
The cheer increased in zeal, and the ‘Imperial Invasion Pontoon’ was ceremoniously laid across the ditch. Basil led the way, followed by Luigi. Maurice shoved the Magus and Rannie after him. “You must protect your leader,” he said with a sly smile. “I will be bringing up the rear and ensuring your escape route is kept clear. Come on troops. You can’t lose; you have Basil the Blurgar Slayer as your figurehead. Protect him with your lives, unless it looks too dangerous.”
The men gave a cheer and surged across the bridge. As they reached the other side and formed into a sloppy line, Maurice pulled the crossing away. “I will protect the Imperial Pontoon,” he said. “You will need it to bring the spoils of war back with you.”
Basil organised his battle force. Himself at the front, Rannie and the Magus behind, with Luigi trying to shield Rannie with his body, and then the soldiers. The Magus swallowed hard. “Are you sure we can’t negotiate a peaceful settlement?” he said, regarding the solid line of Blurgar warriors arrayed ahead of him. The dull light glittered on polished brass groin-plates and the wall of enemy spears. There was a vast array of hairy chests and sturdy, hairy legs. Behind the first rank, more barbarians took up positions, and then a few more.
“This is hopeless,” said the Magus.
“We never surrender,” said Basil. “Ready, men. Charge!”
