The Firebird - A Crux Fairy Tale

[windar]

it just goes to show that Hagentreivitch is nekulturny.

Not that we didn't know that already....

 

[Jollyrei]

So now Jolly is once again in a spot of bother...what is Phlebas up to I wonder?

We will have to find out in a chapter or two. Phlebas is very important.

Seagram's? With that surplus of vodka in all the Russias (however many there might be).

Well, he's a sorcerer, innit?

 

[Wragg]

Chapter 3:

“You don’t do this “evil” thing particularly well,” said Jollyrei.

“I know,” said Wragg, sighing. “Wretched, isn’t it.”

Well, like I said, I quite like being a sorcerer. Quite a decent amount of job satisfaction, don't you know?

Being able to do a spot of magic does rather beat working for a living.

Besides, reading this story does rather put one in a good mood!

 

[Eulalia]

And I love being a Firebird



Incidentally, there were lots of Scots in Imperial Russia, from the time of Peter the Great on -
the author Lermontov, for example, was (or at least believed he was) descended from a Learmonth.

http://rbth.com/arts/2014/09/22/russias_greatest_scots_men_who_left_their_mark_on_moscow_40017.html

so a Scottish-Russian Firebird's an exciting thought!

 

[Hondoboot2]

Chapter 3:

The Evil Sorcerer Wragg turned out to be a genial host. Jollyrei and the wolf were conducted quite courteously, or as courteously as could be managed, by a Goblin escort squad to a sumptuously decorated lounge in the palace. Along the way Wragg pointed out paintings of beautiful women in various states of undress undergoing various types of torture. He seemed to favour whips, crosses, pillories, stocks, and beds of various types.

“Don’t mind the Goblins,” he said. “One has to have them to keep up appearances, but they’re really quite a friendly bunch. An ancient and noble culture, you know.”

As if to emphasize his point, three of the Goblin escort chose that moment to get into an argument and the whole procession was brought to a standstill while they pushed, growled and shouted in an incomprehensible language which seemed to consist almost entirely of expletives and sexual insults. Some linguists now feel that “cunt” is derived from Old Goblin – a lot of people don’t know that. The argument was finally settled when two of the Goblins hacked the third into small pieces with their swords. Wragg, Jollyrei, and the wolf jumped to the side to avoid being spattered by blood and gore, but a painting of a blonde woman being beheaded, named simply “Dorothy”, received a rather realistic patina. The value of the painting went up immediately.

Wragg rolled his eyes. “If you’ve all quite finished,” he said, “you might go off and do a bit of guarding or something.” The Goblins muttered to themselves, but they went. Wragg gestured to Jollyrei and the wolf that they should sit, and a pretty serving girl set refreshments down on a hammered brass table in front of them. Wragg sat down as well, and picked up a tankard of what looked like ale.

“Now,” he said, “let’s talk about what a Russian prince and a wolf…er, sorry…a large red squirrel are doing creeping about in my gardens in the middle of the night. I should probably have you both executed at once – do try those pastries; they’re fantastic!”

“Well sir,” said Jollyrei…

“He had to go touching the gate,” said the squirrel. “We’d have got clean away if he hadn’t.”

“Goodness,” said Wragg. “The squirrel talks, and it has a helmet and sword. Do you have a name?”

“Rodion Rodentsov,” said the squirrel. He stood and gave a quick bow.

“A heroic name, to be sure,” said Wragg. “So why were you here molesting the Firebird?”

“We were rescuing her,” said Jollyrei. “Saving her from your evil clutches, so to speak.” It sounded a bit silly, saying that when you were stuffing a meat pastry into your mouth and accepting the hospitality of the person with the alleged evil clutches.

“You seem to be mistaken,” said Wragg. “I was protecting her.”

“In a cage,” said Rodentsov.

“The cage door was open, was it not? Well, what were your intentions?” asked Wragg.

“I need to deliver the Firebird to my father, the Tsar, who will then make me his heir,” said Jollyrei.

“And you think that will make the Firebird safe? The Tsar is one of the most evil rulers in all these lands, and, not to put too fine a point on it, probably insane.”

“He’s got you there,” said Rodentsov.

“So, what’s the alternative?” asked Jollyrei. “Australia?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Wragg. “Australia is just a myth. Like Atlantis. Listen, the Firebird was once a beautiful slave girl. However, in my capacity as a sorcerer, I made a prophesy that she would one day become a princess, when a prince came to claim her, and that this would spell the end of the Tsar’s evil reign. The Tsar, naturally tried to kill her. I felt rather bad about all that, so I enchanted her, and made her the Firebird, giving her strange and mysterious powers. She will be released from the enchantment only when her prince comes, and only he can remove the flaming gown safely. The prince can take care of the Tsar. I put her in the cage with the chain, because she has a rather odd habit of flying back to the Tsar’s palace to steal these golden apples. She seems to like annoying him, which I understand, but it’s not safe. I feel a bit responsible.”

“Really? A bit?” asked Jollyrei. Wragg shrugged.

“What powers does she have?” asked Rodentsov.

“Well, she can turn into the Firebird,” said Wragg. “And in her woman form, she has the most profound effect on me, I can tell you." He sat there looking dreamily into his tankard for a moment. He suddenly seemed to remember where he was, and looked a bit annoyed. "Beyond that, I forget. It was a rather long time ago. Anyway, now you have stolen her away and left her in the wilds, I suppose I must set you a penalty. That’s what we sorcerers do. So, here it is. You have to find the Firebird and help her fulfill my misguided, but well-intentioned prophesy. If you don’t do this, I will send my Goblins to eat your livers. Okay?”

“Help the Firebird to fulfill your prophesy. You’re making us responsible for the Firebird.”

“Well, you can always settle for the Goblins,” said Wragg. “Look, you stole her, you get to keep her. Theft is nine-tenths of the law. Now, do have some of this cake. It’s brilliant! And then get ye hence to your quest. I’ll even give you a horse. But remember, Goblins.” He touched the side of his nose and winked conspiratorially, as if that made it all good.

“You don’t do this “evil” thing particularly well,” said Jollyrei.

“I know,” said Wragg, sighing. “Wretched, isn’t it.”

And so it was that Jollyrei and Rodentsov set out again in search of the Firebird. Jollyrei rode on a splendid black charger from Wragg’s stables, and Rodentsov once again travelled as the gray wolf. They plunged deep into the forest again and it was midday before they came back to the road. There they saw the sign pointing to the village of Cruxograd. They followed along the road for quite a distance, and at nightfall arrived at the outskirts of the village. Jollyrei set up a camp, since the village looked a bit squalid.

It grew dark, which is conveniently necessary for the fiery glow of the Firebird to show clearly in the gloom. She landed gracefully beside the two travellers, and transformed into her woman shape, her sheer fiery gown shimmering around her slim form.

The prince and wolf stared at her, not least because she seemed to be wearing nothing under the fire dress. She sat down next to them.

“Thanks for trying to rescue me,” she said. “I guess you know that Wragg was more of a guardian than a jailer, but it’s nice to get out and stretch my legs, er, wings. Well, nice to be out and about a bit.”

“No problem,” said Jollyrei. “I was supposed to catch you and deliver you to the Tsar.”

“Oh, you mustn’t do that,” said the Firebird. “I’ve been annoying him for years.”

“He’d probably just keep you in a cage,” said Jollyrei, “but I was going to be Tsar.”

“He’ll never let you be Tsar while he’s alive,” said the Firebird. “He’s evil and probably insane.”

“That would explain a lot, frankly,” said Jollyrei.

“I can help you,” said the Firebird. “I have mysterious powers. Your fate, my fate, and the fate of the prince are all intertwined. You must trust me.”

Jollyrei found he quite liked just looking at her. That fire dress was really very sheer, and she had lovely breasts. He thought that pretty girls all likely had mysterious powers.

“So, if I’m not going to deliver you to my father, which was my first quest, what do we do now? Don’t say Australia. And do you have a name?”

“They call me, Eulalia,” said the Firebird.

“Who’s “they”? asked Rodentsov the wolf.

“Oh, just people. My parents, probably,” said Eulalia. “Well, now I’m just the Firebird. I was Eulalia when I was a slave girl. That was long ago. Then there was the prophesy.”

“Is Wragg a powerful sorcerer?” asked Jollyrei.

“It’s very hard to say,” said Eulalia. “He certainly did a job on the prophesy enchantment, but lately he’s been mostly interested in collecting Goblin soldiers and pastries. He collects slave girls who can cook as well.

“Doesn’t sound terribly magical,” said Jollyrei.

"Wragg was a young sorcerer in those days and playing with prophesy charms. I was a slave in the Tsar’s palace, and Wragg was annoyed with the Tsar, so he decided to make a prophesy about the Tsar’s downfall. I just happened to be in the room at the time. I think he felt bad about it afterward.”

“Why should we trust you?” asked Rodentsov.

“Oh,” said Jollyrei, brightening up. “That’s easy. Because we’re in a fairy tale and you always trust the magical person who you rescue and who then decides to help you. Stands to reason.”

“This is ridiculous,” said the wolf. “But I'm a talking wolf that can also be a squirrel, and that makes all the sense in the world. Okay, we trust you.”

“Good,” said the Firebird. “We must rescue a princess.”

“I knew there would be a princess to rescue,” said Jollyrei.

“Stands to reason,” said the wolf.

“Well it does,” said Jollyrei. “There’s always a princess. Is she beautiful?”

“Princesses in fairy tales are all beautiful,” said the Firebird. “Only stepmothers are ugly. She is waiting for her prince.”

“The stepmother?” asked Rodentsov. Eulalia gave him an exasperated look.

“I thought you were waiting for your prince,” said Jollyrei.

“I am.”

“I’m a prince,” said Jollyrei hopefully.

“You’re not him,” said the Firebird. “I would know.”

Jollyrei looked a little deflated. Then brightened up. “But I’m the prince for this other princess?”

“I don’t know,” said Eulalia. “I know you can rescue her, and I know she needs to be rescued before tomorrow.”

“Why,” asked the wolf. “What happens tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow night, the evil sorcerer…”

“This place is crawling with evil sorcerers,” said Jollyrei.

“No end of the blighters,” said the wolf agreeably.

“Tomorrow,” said the Firebird patiently, “the sorcerer Hangentreivitch will crucify the princess Messaline.”

“No he won’t!” said Jollyrei.

“Hangentreivitch?” asked the wolf. “What sort of name is that?”

“Evil Russian sorcerer name," said the Firebird. “You think that’s odd, look up Rodentsov some time. Look, he’s a bloody sorcerer and he’s crucifying a princess.”

“I can’t let that happen!” said Jollyrei.

“And how are you going to stop him?” asked the wolf. “You’re the sort that just sits down and lets the first wolf that comes along eat your horse.”

“Oh sure, keep bringing that up. It is our destiny to rescue her,” said Jollyrei. “Remember, it’s to sort out your enchantment as well. You have to do this. It’s like a doctor’s prescription.”

“So now it’s a therapeutic rescue,” said Rodentsov. “Oh, very well. Lead on to this princess, Miss Firebird.”

And so the three companions rode on, Jollyrei on the horse and the Firebird girl on the wolf, through the village, across the not really enchanted bog on the other side, past the completely unmagical lake, and into the foothills of some impressive, but not charmed at all mountains, and there, inexplicably, was an idyllic valley, surrounded by powerful spells, and a few trees, and in the middle of the valley was a dark castle.

No lights burned, but that didn’t matter, because there were no windows in the dark walls to not show any lights. It was just a big dark stone castle.

“Man, that’s dark,” said Rodentsov.

“It is the dark keep of Hangentreivitch,” said the Firebird.

“So,” said Jollyrei. “How do we, er…”

“…get in there?” finished Rodentsov.

“Well,” said Eulalia, “I thought I would…”

“Can’t scale the walls,” said Jollyrei. “Am I supposed to not touch the gate?”

“How would I know?” said Rodentsov, changing back into a squirrel.

“In my bird form, I could…” said Eulalia.

“Can you change into mist?” asked Jollyrei. “Only mist, could waft over the walls, or seep through the crack in the stone…”

“I can’t do mist,” said Rodentsov, adjusting his small steel helmet. “I can only do living animals.”

“Look,” said Eulalia, “I could…”

“An ant?” asked Jollyrei.

“I’m not doing an ant,” said Rodentsov. “A fellow has to have some pride.”

“I’m trying to tell you,” said Eulalia, “I can…”

“If only one of us could fly over the walls,” said Jollyrei.

“Oh for heaven’s sake!” said Eulalia. She started cursing fluently and at length in a Scots brogue.

Jollyrei and Rodentsov stared at her contritely. There was a pause when she finished.

“You’re not Russian, are you?” asked Jollyrei.

“I didn’t say I was a Russian slave girl,” she said. “I can fly over the walls, remember?”

“Course you can,” said Jollyrei. “Never doubted for a moment. Well done that fire girl, er, Firebird.”

“Idiots,” she said, and jumped gracefully into the sky. She was instantly the beautiful incandescent bird, in a transformation that would cost far too much to ever reproduce in this story, if it were a movie. Use your imaginations. Trust me, it’s a brilliant transformation. Anyway, she flew over the wall and disappeared into the darkness of the castle.

A few minutes later the gate opened silently, just enough to let Jollyrei through, but his horse refused to enter the dark gate. Rodentsov darted in behind him. It would have been pitch black inside the castle but for the light from the Firebird.

The glow from the Firebird, and of course the torches carried by a rather large contingent of evil looking guardsmen. They were led by a tall man in a black robe and wearing a yellow hat of exotic origin. He carried a bottle of potion engraved with the word “Seagram’s”.

“Seize them,” he said, as smoke issued from his mouth and nostrils. He was easily the most fearsome sorcerer they had ever seen.

In a flash, Rodentsov turned and darted back out the gate, changing to his wolf form to fade into the mist. The Firebird gave a musical cry and, in her bird form streaked through the phalanx of guards, out the door at the far end of the corridor and over the battlements of the castle. Jollyrei stood uneasily, holding his sword, facing 20 guardsmen, a smoking sorcerer who was smiling mirthlessly at him.

“This is going so well,” said Jollyrei to the yellow hatted sorcerer. “Hello. I suppose you’re wondering why I dropped in. You’ll laugh when I tell you…”

“Seize him,” corrected Hangentreivitch. Jollyrei was duly seized.

“So, my friend,” said the sorcerer. “I see you are of noble Russian stock. What brings you here to the dread castle of Misery” (he pronounced it like Missouri, but clearly that would be wrong)?

“I come to rescue the Princess Messaline,” said Jollyrei. Subtrefuge was something that happened to other people. To Jollyrei, it was just another word beginning with “s”. This seemed to please Hangentreivitch.

“It appears that I won’t have to torture you to get information, in any case,” he said. “That makes everything so much easier.”

Jollyrei smiled and breathed a sigh of relief.

“Now we can torture you just for fun. My view is that everyone is guilty of something, but it makes my life so much easier if everyone confesses before the torture. We’ll do it tomorrow.” Jollyrei was conducted out into a courtyard. The courtyard was black as well. In the centre of the courtyard was a tall stipes.

“Today you can watch the Princess Messaline get crucified.”

“Ah…” said Jollyrei.

“Unless of course,” said Hangentreivitch uneasily, “your sword is magic and will suddenly disperse my enchantments, free you from my enchanted guards, and lay waste to my realm, freeing the princess, and spiriting you both away to safety.”

Jollyrei pondered this for a moment, admiring the sorcerer’s imaginative scenario.

“Don’t think so, sorry,” he said dubiously.

“Splendid,” said Hangentreivitch.


To be continued…

Excellent chapter Jollyrei.
I like all the colorful characters in this story, it is a very fun read.
I must agree with the prince, all beautiful ladies do have mysterious powers
I am looking forward to the next chapter!

 

[messaline]

“Today you can watch the Princess Messaline get crucified.”

“Ah…” said Jollyrei.

Of course ! In all the fairy'tales you do have a crucified Princess at CF !
And, as usual, it's Messa who is selected !
People say :"She loves that, she's made for that ...)
OK, if it's my fate ... I'll be sacrified ...

Mmmmmmmmmmm !!! It's so much arousing !!!!!!

 

[Repertor]

Along the way Wragg pointed out paintings of beautiful women in various states of undress undergoing various types of torture.

“Don’t mind the Goblins,” he said. “One has to have them to keep up appearances, but they’re really quite a friendly bunch.

As if to emphasize his point, three of the Goblin escort chose that moment to get into an argument

The argument was finally settled when two of the Goblins hacked the third into small pieces with their swords.

a painting of a blonde woman being beheaded, named simply “Dorothy”, received a rather realistic patina.

a pretty serving girl set refreshments down on a hammered brass table in front of them.

“Rodion Rodentsov,” said the squirrel. He stood and gave a quick bow.

The prince and wolf stared at her, not least because she seemed to be wearing nothing under the fire dress. She sat down next to them.
Jollyrei found he quite liked just looking at her. That fire dress was really very sheer, and she had lovely breasts.

in the middle of the valley was a dark castle.
No lights burned, but that didn’t matter, because there were no windows in the dark walls to not show any lights. It was just a big dark stone castle.

 

[phlebas]

Phlebas is very important.

Well that goes without saying !


And it looks like there may be a girl for each of us

 

[Jollyrei]

Well that goes without saying !


And it looks like there may be a girl for each of us

I've lost track. How many girls are in this story so far?

 

[Hondoboot2]

I've lost track. How many girls are in this story so far?

You can include more if you like

 

[RacingRodent]

I've lost track. How many girls are in this story so far?

Well there was Lyudmila and the chambermaid and the girl who served drinks at Wragg's and there is the firebird and we are promised a Princess...but I expect there are more at this rate

 

[Repertor]

Well there was Lyudmila and the chambermaid

... but they don’t really matter in this story.

 

[windar]

I've lost track. How many girls are in this story so far?

You expect to count that when you don't even know how many Russias there are?

 

[Jollyrei]

You expect to count that when you don't even know how many Russias there are?

It's certainly a point to consider.

 

[Wragg]

I've lost track. How many girls are in this story so far?

You can include more if you like

Well there was Lyudmila and the chambermaid and the girl who served drinks at Wragg's and there is the firebird and we are promised a Princess...but I expect there are more at this rate

I'm a sorcerer

(Still a sorcerer most content with his job description )

Would you like me to conjure up some more girls?

POUF!



There you go!



Drat! I singed my eyebrows, but I think it was worth it

 

[Jollyrei]

Chapter 4:

Dawn, er, dawned in the enchanted Valley of Misery, with Prince Jollyrei tied to a post in the central courtyard of Hangentreivitch’s castle facing the stipes on which the Princess Messaline was to be crucified. He couldn’t help thinking that he was not doing a great job of rescuing her. He ran through the various fairy tales he had read. Crucifixions didn’t factor largely in any of them. The three bears (Russians do like stories about bears) didn’t, it seems, finally crucify Goldilocks.

He could only hope that as things reached a critical stage in the proceedings, the Firebird would return, do something magical and mysterious, and allow him to save the princess. He was sure this was a fairy tale he was in, so something would have to work out. He was, after all, the younger brother, and probably the less competent brother at that. Things always worked out for them. He felt a little better about this, but that did nothing for the pain in his shoulders, due to the way he was bound to the post, or the pain in his eye, due to the way the guards had punched him in the face when he had objected to being tied to the post.

Something was happening. A noise across the courtyard alerted him to the start of the day’s events. The castle was still quite dark, but the sun gleamed in a pale, baleful manner, enough to give the courtyard a dreary gray look. Hangentreivitch came through a wide doorway, followed by some of his guardsmen, and then a beautiful blonde haired woman. She wore a simple but elegant white gown which was not in any way properly accessorized by the rough beam of wood she was carrying across her shoulders. That must be Messaline, Jollyrei thought, always quick on the uptake.

The party of guards led Messaline to the stipes and then took the beam off her shoulders and laid it on the ground at the base of the upright post.

“It would seem that nobody is willing to ransom you properly,” said Hangentreivitch, “which really does not bother me at all. But given that is the case, I am going to have to crucify you.”

Messaline trembled slightly.

“First, however,” said Hangentreivitch, “I am going to have you whipped. That will be a nice preliminary for our show today. And I almost forgot to mention that you have an audience. This,” he motioned to Jollyrei, “is Prince Jollyrei of Russia who has come all this way to see you crucified.”

“Actually, I came to rescue you,” said Jollyrei gallantly.

“Merci,” said Messaline, “I think. How was this rescue going to work?”

“It’s not quite working out how I planned, I’m afraid,” said Jollyrei.

“But you’ll watch the crucifixion,” said Hangentreivitch.

“Don’t have much choice at the moment,” said Jollyrei.

“No, you don’t,” said Hangentreivitch. “Proceed,” he added to his guardsmen.

The guards took Messaline by the arms and pulled her to the stipes. One of them made to strip her dress off her, but she pushed him away, and then gracefully removed the garment herself. She stood pale and naked in the gray light, goosebumps forming on her skin. The guards took her arms and bound them above her head to the upright. Her back was to Jollyrei and he had a chance to fully appreciate the various curves as Hangentreivitch motioned for the whipping to start.

Messaline took 20 of the best from a burly guardsman with a short stranded whip, until her back and bottom were criss-crossed with red streaks. She had taken them bravely, only crying out during the last five or so. She was breathing heavily as they cut her down.

They dragged her forward and pulled her down onto her back on the floor of the courtyard, and positioned her on the crossbeam. Her arms were stretched on the wood and bound in place.

This would be a good time for someone to free him to dramatically save the day, thought Jollyrei. He strained against his bonds and looked around for the telltale signs of help.

There didn’t seem to be anyone there. “Look,” he said, “can you just hang on for a minute or two?”

Apparently the guardsmen were not interested in fitting into the narrative structure, or perhaps felt they were in a different sort of story, because they just ignored him and set to work with a large hammer and sharp spikes. Messaline’s cries sounded like defeat to Jollyrei as they nailed her wrists to the beam, and then hoisted the naked woman aloft to fix her crosspiece to the upright. Then she screamed in agony again as they nailed her feet in place.

She panted and gasped for breath a few times before looking at Jollyrei. He was quite shaken by the completely unfairytale-like event. He was also quite angry. “This wasn’t supposed to happen,” he shouted.

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Hangentreivitch. “In my experience, it happens quite a lot. But do feel free to try to rescue her. She’ll be up there 2 to 3 days before she dies. Mind you, I did promise to torture you today, so you can only have a couple of hours while I have breakfast. After that, you’ll be too busy to rescue anyone.” He strode off and vanished inside the castle.

“It’s not a good rescue so far,” said Messaline.

“No,” said Jollyrei miserably. “I don’t have a lot of experience at this.”

“What experience do you have, owww?!” said Messaline.

“Well, I lose horses regularly, I used to hang around a palace a lot, my father is evil, probably insane, and I have recently been captured by two different sorcerers,” he said. “Nothing that would really help in a rescue.”

Just then, however, there was the noise of beating wings, and over the walls flew the Firebird. A red squirrel in a shining steel helmet and waving a small broadsword was riding the Firebird and shouting “Death from above!” at the top of his lungs. The Firebird landed and Rodentsov leapt off. He scrambled up the post to which Jollyrei was bound and cut the ropes that held him. The Firebird meanwhile had changed to her Eulalia form and had grabbed his sword in its scabbard. As he collapsed, she tossed it to him, which would have been a great heroic scene in any movie starring Errol Flynn. Errol would, of course, have caught the sword, and his enemies would have been as good as vanquished. Jollyrei had very little feeling left in his hands and had a foot cramp to boot, so he collapsed on the ground and the thrown sword’s hilt hit him in the head.

Eulalia rushed over to him, “Sorry, sorry,” she said pressing her cool hand against his head. Jollyrei thought it odd she should have a cool hand, when her dress was on fire. He allowed her to help him to his feet, where he stood swaying for a moment. Eulalia handed him his sword belt again. He seemed to come around to the situation.

“This is supposed to be a fairy tale,” he said. “Now look at what we have. This story is fast turning into a bloody horror-thriller. I got an erection watching them crucify a naked princess. It’s probably crucifixion fantasy erotica by now.”

Eulalia and Rodentsov rolled their eyes. “You know,” said Rodentsov, “you don’t have to tell everyone absolutely everything.”

“We thought we should come back,” said Eulalia. “I mean, we felt bad about abandoning you.”

“Yeah,” said Rodentsov, “Really sorry about that. A bit of panic there. Won’t happen again.”

“Shall we rescue the princess now?” suggested Eulalia.

“Will that help now? It's a bit late,” said Jollyrei. “They’ve nailed her there. There’s probably all kinds of damage, and she’ll might just die anyway…”

“No, listen,” said Eulalia. “We didn’t just run away…”

“Really sorry about that,” said Rodentsov. “Did I say that already?”

“…but we went and got help,” said Eulalia. “Come on, we have to get her down!”

Jollyrei and Eulalia ran to the cross. They were just getting it down when two guards entered the courtyard and noticed what was going on.

“For England, Harry, and St. George!” yelled Rodentsov, charging the guards. They seemed taken aback, possibly by the inexplicable insertion of an English Shakespearean battle cry in a Russian story, but more likely because a 20 inch tall squirrel (that’s quite large) was charging them with a broadsword. Even so they were two large guardsmen and Rodentsov realized suddenly that height does matter in a sword battle.

“Some help here would be nice!” he yelled.

Jollyrei and Eulalia got the cross down.

“Soon!” shouted Rodentsov, dodging a thrust.

“We need some sort of pliers, or a crowbar for these nails,” said Jollyrei.

“HELP NOW!” shouted Rodentsov somewhat desperately.

Jollyrei looked up to see the two guards about to finish the gallant squirrel. Drawing his own sword he charged forward, shouting “I hope I know how to use this thing!”

Apparently he did, because his surprise attack finished off one guardsman almost immediately, and he managed to do in the second as well a minute or so later. The thrust of a squirrel sword into the back of the guardsman’s knee helped quite a bit, but the two guards were dead, and one of them had a pair of nail pulling tongs.

“Rather an odd battle cry,” said Rodentsov to Jollyrei as they worked on getting Messaline un-nailed. “I hope I know how to use this?”

“I never know,”said Jollyrei. “I’m a bit two dimensional. Being in a fairy tale is like walking around with partial amnesia the whole time. I know there’s a princess, but I have no idea whether I ever learned sword fighting. It’s rather gratifying to know that I did. I wonder what else I know how to do.”

“Open the gates,” said Eulalia.

“Oh yeah,” said Jollyrei. “That’s easy. I meant like real skills that I don’t know I have…”

“I mean really open the gates now,” said Eulalia. “We need to get Messaline some help.” She had wrapped Messaline’s gown around her, but there was a lot of blood and the princess looked like she might go into shock.

“I’ll get the gate,” said Rodentsov.

“Not so fast,” said Hangentreivitch, “striding across the courtyard. He held a large black sword in one hand and a bottle of his Seagram’s potion in the other.

“I see you have your potion,” said Jollyrei, drawing his own sword. “You may find you need it.”

“Oh,” said Hangentreivitch, “this isn’t any potion. Many bottles were distilled and distributed throughout the world, but this is the One Bottle. In my opinion, Seagram’s rules the others.” His black sword came crashing down in a blindingly fast arc. Jollyrei barely had time to react and deflect the blow.

After that it was lots of clanging of metal and various Russian curses. Jollyrei put up a good fight as Rodentsov and Eulalia carried Messaline to the castle gates, but he was clearly outmatched by the black sword and power of Seagram’s wielded by the tall sorcerer.

The black sword swung around almost like it was in slow motion. Jollyrei tried to parry, but his sword was cut in two.

“Oh no,” said Messaline and Eulalia together.

“Bugger,” said Rodentsov. He started struggling with the bolts on the gate.

"There was a magical looking glow around the edges of the gates, and they suddenly burst open, throwing the squirrel backwards. The Sorcerer Wragg strolled in, followed by a number of Goblins.

"Well, we may be slow," he said jovially to the Firebird, "but we get there in the end, eh? Is this the Princess Messaline? Lovely to meet you. I say, what's going on over there?" He looked at where Jollyrei and Hangentreivitch were preparing for Jollyrei's inevitable demise.

Hangentreivitch the dark sorcerer advanced ominously on Jollyrei, who was lying on the courtyard floor holding his broken sword. He smiled ominously as he raised his great black sword.

But Jollyrei took up his broken sword, and with the hilt-shard he cut the bottle of Seagram’s from the hand of Hangentreivitch and took it for his own. Then Hangentreivitch was for that time vanquished, and he forsook his body, and his spirit fled far away and hid in waste places; and he took no visible shape again for many long years.

Jollyrei lay panting on the ground, staring at the empty black robe and yellow hat.

“You owe Tolkien for that one, I think,” said Wragg, strolling up and offering his hand to help Jollyrei up.

“What happened?” asked Jollyrei.

“Oh, you inadvertently destroyed the source of much of his power,” said Wragg. “All us sorcerers have these little weak spots. I have a weakness for pastries, for example.”

“So he’s dead?” asked Jollyrei.

“No, no,” said Wragg. “He’ll be back. They always come back. Certainly around here they do. Don’t let’s hang around. We need to get the princess to safety where I can work my healing magic.”

Rodentsov had turned back into the great gray wolf and was lying beside Messaline with his head in her lap. She seemed quite content, stroking his head, despite the obvious pain it caused her.

Eulalia looked uneasy. As Wragg and Jollyrei got to the gate, she said, “I told you I have mysterious powers, right?”

“Yes,” said Jollyrei, “you mentioned something about them.”

“Well, one of them is that I can sense things about people that I am with.”

“And you can sense something about the Princess?”

“No,” said Eulalia, “not her, but about you, or rather, your brother.”

“Phlebas?” asked Jollyrei. “What about Phlebas.”

“He’s in trouble,” she said.

“Isn't everyone in this story? I don't think the author really knows where any of this is going. I suppose we have to go help Phlebas then,” said Jollyrei.

“How would you do that?” asked Wragg. “You seem to have lost my horse.”

“Oh, right,” said Jollyrei. “I sort of let him go when we came in here. I’m apparently not good at holding on to horses.”

“I could eat a horse about now,” said the wolf.

“Let me go,” said Eulalia. “I can fly faster than any horse, and I will be able to find Phlebas.”

So it was that the Firebird flew north towards the lands of cold and hunger where Phlebas was, and Jollyrei helped Wragg place Messaline on a stretcher. Wragg commanded four of his Goblins to carry Messaline back to his palace. This went quite well, especially after two of the Goblin stretcher bearers couldn’t decide who should be on the left and who on the right, and hacked each other to pieces. They were replaced and the small procession got moving, with the wolf walking quietly by Messaline’s side.

“So what really happened to Hangentreivitch?” asked Jollyrei.

“He got himself caught in your fairy story,” said Wragg. “We’re all caught in it for the moment. That’s how I know Messaline will be healed. Until the story works itself out, some things just have to happen.”

“I hope the Firebird will be okay,” said Jollyrei.

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” said Wragg.

“You can sense it magically?”

“No, no. It’s just something one says to help you feel more relaxed,” said Wragg.

“But you’ll be able to heal the Princess? How will you do it?” asked Jollyrei, “only it’s not much of a fairy tale rescue if she’s crippled for the rest of her life.”

“Don’t worry,” said Wragg, “You can trust me. I’m a sorcerer, you know. We’ll have her up and about in a chapter or two.

And so Messaline, Jollyrei, and the wolf were the guests of Wragg the Sorcerer at his palace, while the Firebird searched for the lost Phlebas, who was himself caught in a tangent of this story in which there was grave peril, and potentially all kinds of exotic dangers that I can’t really describe here, because I haven’t really written them yet, and anyway, they don’t fit in this chapter.


To be continued…

 

[Madiosi]

Jolly, how much chapter have your story?

 

[Jollyrei]

Jolly, how much chapter have your story?

So far 4. I think there may be up to 4 more, maybe 5 if I lose control of the plot. Possible total of 8-10 chapters.

Would you like an advance warning of the last chapter? Also, I can provide you with a complete text of the story when it is finished, possibly in whatever format you wish. Let me know what would be helpful.

 

[RacingRodent]

So far 4. I think there may be up to 4 more, maybe 5 if I lose control of the plot. Possible total of 8-10 chapters.

Oh yes I have been there...I had one little story of three parts....eventually it become a story of 23 parts and three epilogues

Still I think I could stick with this one for that long at least

Well done so far

 

[windar]

The three bears (Russians do like stories about bears)

Well, if you still haven't guessed how many Russias there are by now, I don't know what more can be done.

“It would seem that nobody is willing to ransom you properly,”

You know, the citizens of Charleston didn't want to pay much to ransom you from the Pirettes either, so this is twice. You might start to ask yourself why that is...

maybe 5 if I lose control of the plot

You mean you haven't lost it already?

Nice story. Please tell me there won't be a Governor Windarsky coming along to ruin everything...