The Boy Who Set Sail on a Questionable Quest Read online

  Turning to the four onlookers, he told them, ‘It is as I feared. The fever was too strong and it has overcome him. Capablanca the Greatest Sorcerer in the World is no more.’

  There was silence in the room as the enormous import of the doctor’s words sank in.

  ‘He was a great friend to Illyria,’ said the King.

  ‘The whole nation feels his loss,’ added the Queen.

  ‘I was proud to cleave people in two for him,’ attested Beo, and there was a lump in the ex-warrior’s throat as he cast his mind back to the numerous body parts he had lopped off.

  ‘He was a very good friend of mine,’ said Blart solemnly, somewhat to the surprise of the others, as he was not known for his ability to strike the right tone in times of seriousness and grief.

  ‘We will give him a state –’ began the King.

  ‘I hadn’t finished,’ interrupted Blart. ‘I was going to add that in a private talk I had with him last night, Capablanca told me I was never to go on another quest even if I wanted to, especially if it could risk me dying.’

  ‘You’re a disgrace,’ bellowed Beowulf, forgetting Blart’s royal rank and shaking him forcibly.

  ‘It’s all right for you,’ said Blart, slipping free and bouncing nimbly, if somewhat disrespectfully, over the deathbed of Capablanca the Sorcerer, giving his corpse an accidental kick as he did so. ‘Nobody said you had to die.’

  ‘Really, Prince Blart,’ said the King. ‘There are certain standards that you must live up to.’

  He felt he could talk more freely now Blart was family.

  ‘I never asked to be a member of the royal family,’ said Blart. ‘And I never asked for your standards. I was happy being a pig boy.’

  ‘You shame the Royal House of Illyria,’ said the King sadly.

  ‘I agree,’ said the Queen.

  ‘So do I,’ said Capablanca.

  ‘You will go on that quest or I …’ Beo stopped.

  Along with everybody else he turned to look at Capablanca the Wizard.

  ‘You’re supposed to be dead,’ said Blart.

  ‘Am I?’ said Capablanca, looking surprised.

  ‘Yes,’ nodded Lowenthal the Court Physician. ‘I did all the tests. You’ve no pulse or breath and your heart has stopped. I’m afraid you are dead.’

  ‘Couldn’t you break it to him more gently?’ asked the Queen.

  ‘I’ve never had to diagnose death to the corpse before,’ answered Lowenthal defensively.

  ‘I’m sorry to disappoint you,’ said Capablanca weakly, ‘but I appear to be still alive, though I confess I do not feel well. I felt as though I was slipping away. My strength was ebbing and I felt ready to die. Then a sudden shock to the chest restarted my heart.’

  ‘I kicked you when I was running away from Beo,’ Blart told him. ‘I must have saved your life.’

  ‘Thank you, Blart,’ said the wizard.

  ‘And that means you have to save mine by stopping them sending me on the quest.’

  ‘Quest?’ said Capablanca, looking puzzled. ‘What quest?’

  Quickly the King outlined what had happened.

  ‘I must get up,’ said Capablanca. ‘Pass me my cowl.’

  But the wizard was too weak and he could not even raise himself into a sitting position, never mind get up. He lay back, exhausted.

  ‘I cannot account for this inability to get out of bed,’ he confessed.

  ‘It happens to me all the time,’ said Blart sympathetically.

  ‘Disgraceful,’ said Beo, glowering over the bed at Blart. ‘You should be thinking of others and not yourself – your wife being kidnapped or Capablanca nearly dying.’

  ‘I was nearly dying before,’ Blart snapped back, ‘when two men tried to murder me in my bed.’

  ‘What?’ roared Beo. ‘Why didn’t you say so before, you fool?’

  ‘I forgot,’ said Blart.

  ‘Forgot?’

  ‘It’s been a busy night,’ said Blart. ‘But they were still in my room unconscious last time I looked.’

  ‘Forward,’ cried Beo, dragging Blart along. ‘There’s no time to lose.’

  And so saying he charged out of the wizard’s bedchamber.

  Chapter 5

  Through the passageways of the palace raced Beo, tugging Blart behind him.

  ‘You’d be quicker without me holding you back,’ pointed out Blart, but Beo didn’t seem to hear him. Instead he began to climb the dimly lit stairs of the west turret that led to Blart’s bedchamber. He was a big burly man, but due to a great fondness for succulent pies and flagons of ale he was not in the prime of physical condition, and halfway up the stairs his breathing became deep and heavy. But Beo would not stop, in spite of his shortness of breath. Up and up they went, faster and faster. They reached the top of the stairs. They charged down the final passageway. They flung open the door to Blart’s room and saw …

  An empty bedchamber.

  Were they too late?

  Not quite.

  ‘Look.’ Blart pointed to the window at the far side of the chamber. The shutters were open and moonlight was pouring in, silhouetting two figures.

  ‘Stop by order of the King!’ roared Beo.

  Uri and Mika whirled round in surprise.

  ‘Surrender or die!’

  ‘Surrender or die?’ replied Uri calmly. ‘We’ll do neither.’

  And so saying he turned and leapt from the window.

  Beo and Blart were stunned. Uri’s action was suicidal, for Blart’s bedchamber was high up and all that lay below was hard stone. And then Blart looked at his bed.

  ‘Where are my sheets?’ he cried.

  ‘This is no time to worry about bed linen,’ said Beo in exasperation.

  But there Beo was wrong. Upon awakening, Uri and Mika had swiftly torn Blart’s sheets into strips and then tied them together to make a rope which, even now, Uri was descending.

  Beo and Blart realised what was happening just as Mika prepared to follow, but the assassin had dropped out of sight by the time they reached the window. Undaunted, Beo leant out of the window as far as he could. His outstretched hands touched the top of Mika’s head, but before he could grab hold of his hair and yank him up, the intruder slipped out of reach.

  ‘Curses!’ yelled Beo. ‘If only I was taller.’

  Without pausing for breath, he reached behind him and grabbed Blart.

  ‘Whoa!’ cried Blart.

  Ignoring his cry, Beo thrust Blart straight out of the window.

  ‘Grab him,’ instructed Beo and, switching his grip to hold Blart by his ankles, he leant out as far as he could again.

  ‘Aaargh,’ said Blart as he was suddenly turned upside down.

  ‘Grab him,’ repeated Beo.

  The extra distance was just enough. Blart found himself face to face with Mika.

  ‘Hello,’ said Blart.

  The assassin’s look of surprise was quickly replaced by one of delight.

  ‘An unexpected opportunity to complete our mission and kill you,’ he remarked with pleasure. And then he hit Blart as hard as he could in the face.

  ‘Ow!’ cried Blart.

  ‘Ow!’ cried Mika, remembering too late that his attacking arm had been stabbed during the first attempt to kill Blart.

  ‘What’s going on down there?’ demanded Beo. ‘Just grab him, boy, and I will haul you both up.’

  Thwack!

  Mika hit Blart in the face once more and again their cries rang out over the courtyard, across which Uri, having slithered down to the ground safely, was already scampering to make good his escape.

  Crack!

  Another fierce blow connected with Blart’s chin.

  ‘Hurry, boy,’ instructed Beo, ‘for I cannot hold you much longer.’

  In the bright moonlight Blart could see the hard stones that would smash him to pieces were Beo to let go. Avoiding another glancing blow, he grabbed Mika’s head.

  ‘At last,’ cried Beo and immediately he began to hau
l them up.

  ‘I can’t hold him,’ Blart shouted.

  ‘You drop him and I’ll drop you,’ threatened Beo grimly.

  Blart gritted his teeth and kept his hands clamped firmly to Mika’s head. Above them, Beo, his great muscles growing weaker with every passing moment, kept pulling, but the pace of their ascent was slowing. Beo felt his strength ebbing away. He could pull no further. Blart and Mika stopped and hung a small but significant distance from the safety of the window.

  ‘What’s happening?’ cried Blart.

  For a second he felt himself go down rather than up. At any moment he expected his descent to accelerate a hundredfold as the knight let him go. But though his strength was ebbing, Beo’s will was strong. With one gigantic heave he hauled Blart and Mika through the window and on to the floor of Blart’s bedchamber, where they all collapsed in a heap.

  Mika was first to react. He tried to prise himself free from Blart’s grip, but Beo thwarted his desperate escape bid by simple means. He sat on him.

  ‘He hit me,’ panted Blart.

  ‘You can wear those scars with pride,’ answered Beo in between deep breaths. ‘For they are the marks of bravery and courage.’

  ‘They are the marks of a coward,’ spat Mika. ‘But I know what you do not. I know that there will come a time when Blart will wish he had died this night rather than face what the future holds.’

  ‘Cease your foolish prattle,’ Beo ordered his prisoner. ‘We will take you to Capablanca and there we will find out what you know.’

  ‘I’ll never talk,’ insisted Mika. ‘Never, never, never.’

  ‘I wager you will,’ said Beo with the cheerful confidence of a man who had changed many a prisoner’s mind in the past. Pulling Mika up, he dragged him towards the door.

  Blart did not follow immediately. Instead he lingered for a while in his chamber, wondering what Mika could have meant when he said that there would come a time when Blart would wish he had died that night. There was something about the way he had said it that chilled Blart’s heart.

  Chapter 6

  By the time Blart caught up with Beo outside Capablanca’s bedchamber, Mika had been informed of what the knight felt should happen to sneaky Styxians who tried to murder people in their sleep rather than wake them up and engage them in a fair fight. The bloody details Beo had included had resulted in Mika rethinking his policy of never talking, ‘never, never, never’ and altering it to: ‘I’d like to talk, now, now, now.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Beo. ‘We will hear what he has to say in front of Capablanca so that we don’t have to make him repeat it.’

  ‘I’ll repeat it if you like,’ said Mika quickly. ‘I like to talk.’

  ‘Be silent until I tell you,’ ordered Beo gruffly. ‘Knock on the door, Blart.’

  Blart could not even find the energy to ask Beo who he was to go round giving orders, and did as he was told.

  The door opened a crack and a head stuck out. It belonged to Lowenthal the Court Physician.

  ‘What do you want? I am treating my patient. He lapsed into a trance after you left. He mumbles occasionally but none of the things he says makes any sense.’

  ‘We must see him,’ insisted Beo.

  ‘I have a duty of care to him,’ answered Lowenthal. ‘As his physician I forbid it.’

  ‘As someone who would quite happily crush the skull of his physician I unforbid it,’ said Beo menacingly.

  On reflection, Lowenthal decided that in this case his duty of care could be laid to one side for a short period. He opened the door wider.

  ‘But you can only see him for a short time,’ he cautioned.

  Beo pushed Mika into the room ahead of him.

  The chamber was almost dark. One weak candle flickered by the side of Capablanca’s bed and an intangible yet unmistakeable feeling of sickness hung in the air.

  Keeping a tight hold on Mika, Beo and Blart approached the bed. The great wizard lay in a trance, his breathing shallow and rasping.

  As they got nearer their eyes spied movement on the wizard’s body. Fascinated, they edged closer. There seemed to be little dark things crawling all over him.

  ‘Ugh,’ said Blart.

  ‘What’s going on here?’ demanded Beo.

  Lowenthal allowed himself a smile.

  ‘Obviously you are not men of science,’ he said.

  ‘No, I’m a boy of pigs,’ answered Blart.

  ‘Not being men of science,’ said Lowenthal, ‘you are of course not up to date with the latest medical advances.’

  ‘You mean amputation?’ said Beo.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ said Lowenthal.

  ‘I thought amputation was the latest in medical science,’ said Beo. ‘Chop off the infected bit and then stick a red hot sword on it to stop the bleeding.’

  Lowenthal looked disdainful.

  ‘We are not in the dark ages,’ he told Beo.

  ‘Aren’t we?’ said Blart.

  ‘We are in a new advanced age,’ answered Lowenthal. ‘With new advanced medical treatments. Gone are the crude amputations of the past. Today we are curing illness and disease without chopping off bits of the patient, thanks to a revolutionary new treatment known only to me and a few other doctors operating at the very cutting edge of science.’

  ‘You can’t get more cutting edge than amputation,’ protested Beo.

  ‘What is it?’ asked Blart.

  Lowenthal paused for maximum effect

  ‘Leeches!’

  ‘Ugh!’ said Blart.

  Blart and Beo looked closer at the dark things crawling all over Capablanca’s body.

  ‘Evil bloodsuckers!’ said Beo in disgust. ‘What do you think you’re doing to him?’

  ‘I’m curing him,’ maintained Lowenthal. ‘Amputation is a crude solution. The patient may survive but he is often left impaired and, not to put a fine a point on it, considerably stumpier than he was before. Whereas with leeches, only a small incision is needed to suck out the infection. The result is that the patient is cured with no loss to his stature or increase in his stumpiness. It is potentially the greatest medical breakthrough in history.’

  The Court Physician looked expectantly at the faces of Beo and Blart.

  ‘I suppose it’s worth a try, if you say so,’ acknowledged Beo grudgingly.

  ‘You will see the results yourself,’ said Lowenthal.

  ‘We need results quickly,’ said Beo. ‘For soon we will be setting off on a quest and we will need Capablanca’s wisdom if we are to succeed.’

  Mika scoffed derisively.

  ‘What?’ demanded Beo.

  ‘Nothing,’ said Mika.

  ‘I thought you said you wanted to talk,’ said Beo, ‘but if you want me to remind you …’

  Mika remembered.

  ‘The wizard will be going nowhere. We arranged for some tarsatz to be placed in his food last night.’

  ‘Tarsatz?’ said Beo. ‘What is –’

  ‘Poison,’ interjected Lowenthal. ‘One of the most lethal toxins known to man.’

  ‘He should be dead already,’ said Mika. ‘Along with him.’ Mika indicated Blart.

  ‘Why did you want to kill me?’ Despite being the veteran of two quests where people regularly tried to kill him for no apparent reason, Blart still couldn’t get used to it.

  A low moan came from Capablanca’s bed and the wizard’s eyes opened.

  ‘Tell us,’ said Beo, ‘and tell us quickly before Capablanca lapses into a trance again.’

  The wizard gave a half-nod to show he was listening.

  ‘There is little to tell,’ said Mika, ‘and you knowing it can change nothing, so I may as well –’

  ‘Hurry,’ urged Beo.

  ‘Do you remember Prince Anatoly the Handsome, son of King Gregor the Grizzled, who was a suitor to Princess Lois of Illyria?’

  ‘Always bringing her flowers and comparing her face to things,’ remembered Blart.

  Mika nodded.

  ‘He
is my master. His father, King Gregor the Grizzled, was approached by a seer who had discovered a prophecy …’

  Blart groaned.

  ‘This prophecy,’ said Mika, ‘foretold that the Kingdom of Gregor the Grizzled was doomed to suffer a great revolution and that the people of Styxia would rise up and slaughter Gregor and all his family and declare the land a republic. Only one thing could save the royal house: if Gregor’s son married the heir to the Illyrian throne.’

  ‘Princess Lois,’ interjected Blart.

  ‘King Gregor was delighted when he heard this news,’ said Mika without pausing to agree, ‘for Prince Anatoly was known to be the most eligible bachelor in the whole world, having the most noble features, the most winning personality and an expectation of the vastest fortune. And so Prince Anatoly crossed the Eastern Ocean, confident that he could woo the Princess – for what maiden in all the world could resist him? Unfortunately it turned out she could. But he was determined to persist until – disaster – she was already married to a man of no fortune, a repulsive personality with the face of a halfwit.’

  ‘Do you mean me?’ said Blart.

  Capablanca groaned quietly, either in pain or exasperation.

  ‘Of course he does,’ said Beo impatiently. ‘Do you see anybody else in the room with the face of a halfwit?’

  ‘This was terrible news,’ said Mika. ‘For if the Princess was already married then Anatoly could not marry her himself. No longer could we rely on looks and charm and money if the Styxian throne was not to fall. Now we had to rely on something else.’

  ‘What?’ asked Blart.

  ‘Murder,’ answered Mika. ‘The only way for Anatoly to marry Princess Lois was if her previous husband was out of the way. Therefore it was decided to murder him and kidnap her.’

  ‘What about Capablanca?’ Beo wanted to know. ‘Why poison him?’

  ‘The seer assured the King that there would be no chance of our plans succeeding unless we could stop Capablanca from intervening.’

  ‘The seer is a wise man…’ the wizard croaked.

  ‘What about me?’ demanded Beo. ‘Why didn’t you think it was necessary to kill me?’