Chapter 14

They found Johnson in the kitchen, holding his arm under the faucet.

"How's it doing?" Roderick asked.

"Oh, I'll be okay," Johnson said. "The skin is pretty red, but it's not blistering. Still hurts, though."

Barbara hurried into the kitchen. "I've found her," she said, waving Roderick and Stan to follow her. The basement stairs were just at the end of the hall, behind a stout oaken door. They hurried down, and found a teenaged girl shackled to the stone wall, still with a gag in her mouth.

Stan started examining the locks on the shackles, while Roderick hurried forward and removed her gag.

"All right, who are you?" she demanded as soon as she could speak again.

"Uh, we're the people who came to rescue you," Roderick said, testing the strength of the chain. It held. "My name is Roderick, this is Stan, that's Barbara the Bard, and our friend Johnson is still upstairs."

"To rescue me," Gisella repeated flatly. "Who sent you, then? My father? Hey!" she yelped in surprise as Stan plucked a hairpin from her hair, leaving a large chunk of curly brown hair free to fall into her face. She tried to flip it back up by flicking her head backward, at which point she bonked her head on the basement wall. "Ow!"

"Huh? No, we just saw the posters, and came to save you. You know, the whole damsel-in-distress thing," Roderick said, as he backed up to get a better view of the iron rings high up on the ceiling where the chains were anchored.

"This would be easier," Stan said as he tried to jimmy the hairpin around inside the lock on one of her wrists, "if you quit jerking around and just held still for a few minutes."

"What?" she yelled, but she did hold still. "But -- well, okay, then whatever posters you saw must have been something my father put up, right?"

"I doubt it," said Stan, still working the hairpin into the lock. "As I recall, the sign said 'No Heroes or Rescuers Allowed'."

"What?" Gisella said, bewildered. "Well, who would post a want-ad for me, then, if it wasn't my father?"

Roderick looked at her in puzzlement. "Want-ad? What do you mean? It wasn't a want-ad, it was a wedding announcement. You and Erik the Goth."

"What?" she cried, then began to laugh.

"Huh? What's so funny?" asked Stan, as the lock on Gisella's left arm finally opened with a snick. He moved around and started working on the other one.

"Him... and me? That's just hilarious," she gasped through her laughter, with tears running down her cheeks. "You have got to be kidding. He and that Peggy Jean girl have been all over each other ever since they came to kidnap me. They can't keep their hands off each other. While all he's done to me is tie me up and throw me on a horse."

"I thought the whole thing sounded funny," Barbara said. "Especially with the poster saying the wedding would be at Erik's castle in two days -- I guess that'd be tomorrow -- and him not even being there to make the wedding preparations."

Gisella caught her breath again, then let out another giggle. "Oh, you guys are funny. I don't know when the last time was when I laughed that hard. My father is always so serious about anything to do with me." The thought seemed to sober her, and the merry smile faded from her face.

Roderick glanced at Barbara, then back at Gisella. "But, uh, you do want to be rescued, right?" he said, still confused by the whole affair.

"Huh? Well, of course I want to be rescued," she said impatiently. "Who wants to be chained to a wall and have to stand up all night? Besides, I really have to pee."

The other lock snicked open, and Gisella heaved a sigh of relief and started rubbing her wrists. "Thanks, guys," she said. "Uh, do you mind if I wait on the hugging you and saying 'my hero' until after I've found a bathroom? Thanks." Without even waiting for an answer, she dashed for the stairs.

Roderick looked at Barbara and Stan, and then, with a shrug, followed her up the stairs.


"Couldn't we just leave her to fend for herself?" Stan asked. The four of them had gathered around the kitchen table while waiting for Gisella.

"Well, that wouldn't be very heroic of us, would it?" countered Roderick. "We've got to do more than just unlock her and say 'here you go'. After all, Erik might come back."

Stan grimaced. "Yeah, that's true enough. But we all know that whoever put those guards at the bridges probably already knows we got past, and will be sending more guards after us. We really shouldn't be losing any more time than we can help."

"The brochure did say sidequests are important, though," said Roderick.

"Well, how does it know?" Stan replied, a bit angrily. "What are they going to do, give you a personality test when you get there? How many sidequests does it take to qualify?"

"Hey," said Johnson, "what if we took her back to that town, and left her with the guards at the front gate? They'd take care of her, and then we could send a messenger to her father."

"Oh, right," said Gisella from behind him, and he jumped. "Just send me back to my father. How exciting."

Barbara frowned. "I take it you feel this is a bad thing?"

"Well, yeah," Gisella said, rolling her eyes. "I told you guys, he has, like, no sense of humor when it comes to me. He just takes everything so seriously. He's got some serious overprotectiveness issues. He won't even let me date, for crying out loud. Says maybe he'll think about it when I'm thirty." She sighed dramatically.

"Uh," said Roderick, frowning. "Well, we can't exactly take you along, you know. This kingdom has some pretty harsh laws about harboring runaways."

"I don't think those apply after the girl turns seventeen," Barbara said. "At least, I hope they don't, or the people who took me in are going to be in a lot of trouble."

"You were a runaway?" Johnson said in surprise.

"Yeah," Barbara said. "Actually, most bards are. It's the whole wandering thing."

"Well, I'm seventeen," said Gisella. "And it's about time I had a little excitement in my life. My father has started hiring guards to stand outside my bedroom window, to make sure I don't lower a rope ladder and let boys into my room at night."

"What? That's ridiculous," scoffed Roderick.

"See, that's exactly what I'm saying," Gisella agreed.

Stan frowned thoughtfully. "But did you ever do that?"

Gisella glared at him. "Anyway, the point is," she said, "that I need the freedom to live my own life, all right? I mean, I'm a damsel in distress if you send me back to my father. I might die of boredom!"

"Damsel in distress?" Roderick said, creasing his brow and looking at Barbara.

"Hey, don't look at me for help," Barbara said. "I'm all in favor of bringing her along and letting her see a little adventure. But you probably shouldn't pay too much attention to me, since I'm a little biased here."

Roderick looked at Johnson, who grinned. "She's feisty, I'll give her that. I say let her come. Maybe I can take her on as an apprentice."

"An apprentice barbarian?" Gisella said, eyebrows furrowed. "I don't know. I'd have to think about that."

Roderick looked across the table to Stan, who shrugged. "One more mouth to feed, and we don't have enough horses," he said.

"Oh, I can take care of that. Daddy is very generous with his allowance, but he never lets me out of the castle to spend it, so I've got quite a bit saved up," Gisella said, pulling a small purse from somewhere. Roderick frowned and looked at her dress, trying to figure out where there was a pocket she could have hidden it in.

She caught him looking at her and batted her eyelashes. "So what do you say, my hero?" she said, leaning down and hugging him warmly.

His face flushed. He suddenly looked much younger than his twenty-two years. "Uh, well," he stammered.

She turned her head and kissed him on the cheek. "Please, my hero?" she whispered into his ear.

He turned a shade darker. Even his ears turned red. "Um, sure, I suppose that'd be okay," he said.

Barbara frowned.


"Meow," said Noel the Not-So-Bold as Calvin the Bold.

No response.

She paced restlessly through the condo. It was far past time for breakfast. She nosed at the refrigerator door, but it wouldn't budge. She let out another pitiful meow, but there was nobody there to hear her.

She wrinkled her nose. Well, this was just unacceptable. Somebody needed to feed the cat.

The window was closed and latched, but the latch was well-oiled -- Calvin the Bold was a good home handyman, if not necessarily the most attentive when it came to pampering his kitten. Sure, there was dry food in the bowl in the kitchen, but really, now!

After about fifteen minutes of playful swatting at the latch, interspersed with a few rounds of tail-chasing, she managed to get the latch open. Three good, powerful nudges of her head eased the window outward, and she sprang lightly down into the branches of the tree and started down.

Then she heard a click and a low hum from back in the condo. She stopped, a startled look on her face -- she had forgotten about that. Quickly, she made her way back up the tree, back through the window, and down the hallway. There was a low bookshelf in the hallway in almost the right spot, but she had to reach way over from there.

There was another click as she finally managed to flip the switch to turn off the air conditioner. She purred in self-satisfaction, and with a pleased flick of her tail, she made her way back to the window.


"I can't go any farther without my shoe," Peggy Jean said, limping along. "I've already cut my foot once, and these rocks really hurt."

Erik sighed. "All right, all right," he said. "We'll go back. We'll have to stay out of sight, though, in case they're still there."

They had been going through the forest for almost ten minutes, and it took as long to get back. Slightly longer, actually, since Peggy Jean was limping a bit more slowly now. They came into sight of the house, and circled around warily.

"There they are," said Peggy Jean, pointing. Sure enough, they had come to a spot where they could just barely see the line of horses out front. The guards, the bard, and the barbarian were already mounted, but there seemed to be some disagreement about which horse Gisella was going to ride on. The bard looked unhappy, one guard looked amused, and another looked embarrassed.

"Why didn't we think to scare their horses off?" Erik mumbled.

"Ohh, that would've been a good idea, wouldn't it?" Peggy Jean said. "Sorry, I'm new to this Evil Overlord business."

"You don't want to be in any rush to start calling yourself an Evil Overlord," Erik said grumpily. "You'll have to start paying dues. They just upped ours again. By thirteen gold pieces every month."

Peggy Jean frowned. "Wow. That's a lot." She watched silently as Gisella finally climbed up behind the embarrassed-looking guard and the four rode out of view. Finally she said, "Do you even make that much? Are you going to have to stop coming in for coffee?"

"I hope not," Erik said. "Coffee is one of the main staples of my diet." He looked at her thoughtfully.

She met his gaze, and grinned impishly. "Well, you know, my property taxes are pretty high," she said. "I've been thinking about leaving and moving in with a roommate. And I have my own cappuccino maker."

He slipped his arm around her waist and smiled. "I think you might be able to talk me into that," he said.

The last echoes of departing hoofbeats had faded into the distance, and they rose from their cover and headed over to the front door of the house.

Peggy Jean pulled at the door, then looked up in surprise. "It's locked!"

Erik frowned and stepped forward, and pulled a little harder on the door, but it was, indeed, locked. "Don't you have a key?" he said.

"I left it on my dresser," she said. "I didn't expect to be chased out of my own house. I just thought they would just be door-to-door book salesmen or something."

"Well, are there any open windows?" he said.

She frowned. "Uh, I sometimes leave the window open over the sink," she said. "Other than that, I mostly keep them locked."

They moved to the kitchen window, and Peggy Jean gave Erik a boost so he could reach it. The window was already open a few inches, but it was stubborn about opening more than about ten inches.

"I may be able to squeeze in," Erik said. "I'm pretty skinny, after all, with all that coffee I drink."

"I don't think you'll be able to get through," Peggy Jean said doubtfully.

He shrugged. "Let's find out. Give me a boost."

She did, and he began to wriggle through. He made decent progress, aside from his shirt getting caught in a splinter from the window frame, but it was slow going. He reached out to find something to grab hold of, and accidentally turned the water faucet on. Outside, he heard dogs barking in the distance.

"Isn't there anything solid in here I can grab hold of?" he said in frustration.

"Hey, someone's riding up," Peggy Jean said.

"Oh, curses," he said. "Hang on, I'll try to get back out." He grabbed hold of the outside of the window frame and tried to haul himself back out, but all he got was a splinter in his hand. He rocked back and forth for a moment, trying to raise the window a little more, but it was no use.

Now he could hear the sound of footsteps crunching in the gravel outside, even over the noise of the running faucet. "Hey, Peggy Jean, could you grab my feet and pull me out?" he called out.

There was a shriek from outside the window, and he struggled to raise his head and look back out the window. Then a large, meaty hand grabbed his ankle and, with a mighty pull, hauled him right back out through the open window, cracking his head hard on the window frame as he went. "Eeyow!" he yelled, a moment before his body fell to the ground with a thump. He groaned.

"Erik, help!" Peggy Jean cried.

Erik tried to rise to a sitting position, but stars danced across his eyes. "Peggy Jean?" he said, wincing at the pain that throbbed through his head with each word. "Are you all right?"

"She's all right," said a resonant voice that Erik had heard not long before. "The question is, is my daughter all right?"

"Oh, it's you," Erik said. His face broke out in a grin. "You're too late, Sir Hugo. Some crazy set of heroes already rescued your daughter and rode off with her."

One of Sir Hugo's soldiers was standing by anxiously. Sir Hugo nodded at him, and he scrambled away toward the front door of the house. Within a few seconds, there was a loud crunch of wood, followed seconds later by another crunch and a crash.

Sir Hugo turned his attention back to Erik. "Oh?" Sir Hugo said coolly. "Is that so?"

"Yeah, less than five minutes ago."

"Then why didn't they pass us on the road?" Sir Hugo said. It wasn't exactly a question. "If they had been taking her back to my castle, then why didn't we see them?"

Erik shrugged, wincing up at Sir Hugo. "Beats me. I didn't hear what they were saying, I just saw them ride off, down that way."

"And pray tell, what were you doing while they were 'rescuing' my daughter?" Sir Hugo said, his voice still calm.

"Uh, we were, um, watching from a clearing in the woods," Erik said sheepishly. "They chased us off."

Sir Hugo sighed. "You do realize that I don't believe you?"

Erik sighed and lay back down. "Yeah, I figured." He gestured at the road again. "They're less than five minutes ahead, though, and they weren't going at an all-out gallop. If you send some fast riders after them, you should be able to catch up with them fairly quickly."

"And until then?" Sir Hugo said.

"Hold us here," Erik said. "Search the house. I don't care. Just send those horses before they get any farther away."

Another soldier approached Sir Hugo. "Sir?" he said, holding out a hairpin. "There was a set of shackles on the wall that had been used recently. We found this next to them."

Sir Hugo took the hairpin and stared at it. It had a tiny, yet elaborate, picture of a unicorn etched into the metal. "Yes," he said softly. "This was hers. Shackles, you said? Was there just one set?"

"There were two, sir, but only one showed signs of recent use."

"Very well," he said. "Take these two and lock them up in the basement." He grinned dryly. "Hang them upside-down."

Erik and Peggy Jean both protested, but they were quickly surrounded by soldiers and hurried into the house.

Sir Hugo turned to his Master of the Hunt. "Are the hounds ready to be put on the trail again?"

The huntsmaster gestured to the large wagon filled with sleeping dogs, and one or two who were yawning and stretching. "Yes, sir. They've been sleeping since the town -- only twenty minutes or so, but they've got their wind for a short chase, anyway."

"Very well," said Sir Hugo. "Take two dozen riders with you." He pointed in the direction Erik had indicated earlier. "If my daughter is there, bring her back." He smiled a smile that made the huntsmaster shiver. "And bring these 'heroes' back with her."


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