Royal Champions Vs. Evil Minions Round Two #2
Angelica lunged forward, determined to confirm her suspicions. Her hand gripped the edge of the hood and yanked it a few inches down, exposing a fall of white-blond hair. Before she could fully reveal their face, the lacertians grabbed her and tugged her away from the cloaked figure.
“I know who you are!” she cried, trashing against her captors. One bound her hands behind her back while the other stuffed a gag into her mouth.
The apprentice gave a low, humorless laugh. “Soon, so will everyone else.” He disappeared, leaving the minions to escort Angelica to her meeting with the Lord of Grimnight.
Crash!
Delilah waited for a moment, looking at the shards of the decorative vase she’d smashed on the floor. When no magical ripples spread from it or through the foliage covering the floor, she decided it probably was not the anchor.
Fitz’s shoulders were hunched up near his ears. “Could you be a little more subtle in your destruction? Someone is going to find us.”
“Nope,” Delilah replied before knocking another vase off a bookshelf. “Why are there so many vases in here? Whose office was this?”
Fitz cleared a patch of flowering vines off the desk until he found a bronze plaque. “Melinda Halsey, Court Recorder. Collecting vases was probably a hobby that had nothing to do with her work.”
“Oh.” Delilah looked at the next vase in her lineup, a pretty pale porcelain covered in pink flowers. “So she had to leave everything behind when she ran from the Lord of Grimnight?”
“Probably.”
Delilah plucked the vase from the shelf and cradled it delicately in her hands. How long had Melinda saved up for this collection? It must have brought her joy during the long, tedious workdays. She’d abandoned everything when she’d fled from the evil mage …
“Champions!” a loud, sibilant voice called from the hallway.
The vase slipped from Delilah’s hands and fell to the ground with a particularly loud crash. Pieces of porcelain flew everywhere, tangling in the plants, lost forever.
And the curse still didn’t break.
Delilah stamped her foot. “This isn’t fair! Stupid evil mages ruining people’s lives! Stupid minions startling me!” Guilt soured in her stomach, but she determinedly fermented it into anger. “You keep searching, I’ll take care of the minion!”
She dashed out of the room, claws extended, and fangs bared in a hiss.
The lacertian stepped back in surprise at her sudden appearance. “Ah, there you are.” They eyed her warily. “Your presence is requested—”
Delilah lunged, landing on the minion’s head. Her claws scraped uselessly off their scales. She scrabbled for a hold, eventually wrapping her legs under their armpits, and grabbing their head so that she didn’t slide off the slippery surface.
The lacertian grunted and struggled, grabbing Delilah around the waist, and trying to pry her off. She clung on with everything she had, searching for a break in the scales, soft flesh for her to dig her claws into.
“Get—” The lacertian crashed backwards into a wall, then lunged forward, bashing Delilah into the other wall. “—Off!” The air escaped her lungs in a harsh yowl, but still she clung onto them.
After some searching, she found a small opening for the lacertian’s ears and stuck a sharp claw into both of them.
The lacertian hissed in startled pain and stumbled backwards.
Since Delilah was currently straddling their head, she could see the stairs looming behind them. “Stop!”
The warning came too late—they both tumbled down the stairs.
“Oof—Ouch—Eek!”
Delilah had no choice but to release the minion. She rolled over several times and discovered that cats did not, in fact, always land on their feet. She landed at the bottom of the stairs on her back, legs over her head, staring at a small crowd through her knees.
An orc gently draped a net over her. “Does that count as catching her?”
Another orc shrugged. “It’s good enough.”
They bundled her up in the net and slung the whole package over one shoulder.
Delilah hissed and yowled in displeasure, but there was something different about the noise—something too human. Gasping, her hands went to her throat, only to find a bare neck. Her tongue swiped over flat teeth, and when she raised her hands to view, all she saw were dull, round fingernails.
Somewhere in the tussle, she’d lost her collar.
During the commotion, Fitz crammed himself under the desk. His heart pounded as he listened to the yowling and screaming coming from the hallway.
And then, silence.
Who had won the fight? Was it safe to come out? Should he wait until Delilah confirmed the coast was clear? What if more minions came looking for them?
Something light tickled his neck. He batted at the plant, trying to shove the leaf away.
And then something crawled onto his hand.
Slowly, he lowered his hand into view and saw a black centipede.
The scream ripped from his throat before he could stop it.
He was absolutely, under no circumstances, dealing with those damned arthropods again!
He shook his hand wildly, trying to knock the creature off.
His hand collided with the underside of the desk with a harsh thump.
The collision shook something free, and dozens of critters fell on top of him.
Fitz scrambled out from under the desk, hitting his back and head in the process. His glasses went flying, immediately getting lost in the weeds of the curse. “Get them off, get them off!” he cried out as he batted wildly at himself and flung the creatures in every direction.
Crunch.
Even with the other plants cushioning the floor, he felt the shape of his glasses under his boot.
“We found you, we found you!” a chorus of high-pitched voices chanted as imps fluttered into the room.
“Oo, and he’s covered in snackies!”
Two clawed fingers reached out and snatched a centipede from Fitz’s hair, gulping it down with a long, wet slurp.
“I prefer the gummy variety,” one of the imps pouted.
“Just get them off!” Fitz shrieked, shimming and wiggling to knock off a few more pests.
Small, colorful hands shot out, quickly stripping the offending creatures off Fitz and gobbling them up. Once he couldn’t feel the long legs anymore, he sighed in relief and looked at the blurry imps in front of him. “Thank you,” he wheezed.
“Thank you,” a bright pink imp proclaimed. He barely followed their vibrant color as it shifted in and out of his view. Then something white and blue rushed toward him. He only saw the vase two seconds before the imp smashed it over his head.
“Fuck.” Trey grabbed Maximus and shoved him against the wall.
Maximus’ heart skipped a beat, and his breath caught in his throat.
From this angle, Trey’s red curls looked like a campfire on a calm summer night.
Maximus’ fingers itched to run through them and see if they were as warm and soft as they looked.
But it was a completely inappropriate time to be distracted by daydreams. “What is it?” he whispered, looking over Trey’s shoulder.
Immediately, he spotted the problem. Several minions guarded the doors to the courtroom, their destination.
“What do we do?”
“I don’t know, I—” Trey snapped his mouth shut as excited cheering rose from another hallway.
“We caught one, we caught one!” chanted a group of imps. Three of them carried in an unconscious Fitz, one holding a leg, one holding an arm, and one cradling his head. Their wings strained behind them and they barely managed to lift him off the ground.
One of the imps spotted Maximus and Trey at the same time. It dropped Fitz’s leg, allowing his whole lower half to thump against the floor, to point at them. “More of ‘em!”
Orcs, imps, and lacertians all looked in the direction of that incriminating finger.
Trey grabbed Maximus’ arm and hauled him back down the hallway they’d just come from.
“Wait, we have to save them—”
“Are you crazy?” Trey snarled. “There’s twenty minions at least! Just run. We’ll come back for them later.”
Oversized orcs and tall, lanky lacertians squished into the hallway, yelling in protest as they collided and tripped over each other, blocking the path for the minions following them.
Maximus watched as a single imp squeezed through the crowd.
One imp wouldn’t be too hard to fight.
“Wait, Trey!”
Trey did not wait. In fact, he tightened his hold on Maximus and yanked him toward the door they’d entered through.
“We can separate,” Maximus panted. “Fight them one on one.”
“You aren’t a fighter, Maximus! And I can’t—” Trey’s voice caught. “I can’t fight that many.”
“One, two, three—launch!” Something whizzed through the air and thumped heavily against Maximus’ back. One of the imps grabbed his arm, holding on for dear life. It expanded its jaw, exposing a bright purple tongue and sharp teeth, ready to bite Maximus’ arm.
Trey smacked the flat of his blade against the creature’s head.
It released Maximus and tumbled through the air, stopping near one of the offices. Cradling its head, it looked at Trey with huge, wet eyes. Then burst into tears. “He hit me!”
“Imps are venomous,” Trey explained. “Don’t let them bite you.” Then he tugged Maximus along again. The door came into view, left open for their escape. “Don’t stick around. Find somewhere to hide. If you don’t hear anything from us, go back to your kingdom—”
“Gotcha,” a lacertian hissed as a clawed hand landed heavily on Maximus’ shoulder. A second lacertian grabbed Maximus while a pair of orcs grabbed Trey, pulling them apart.
Trey held up his empty hands. “I—”
A fist smashed into the side of his head. Trey stumbled and fell against the wall. One of the orcs held him there while the other bound his arms behind his back.
“Trey!” Maximus struggled against the minions holding him. He ripped one arm from their grasp, reaching desperately for Trey.
Three imps grabbed his extended arm, weighing him down long enough for the lacertian to grab hold of him again and yank both arms behind his back. They tied him with quick efficiency and carried him between two of them.
Maximus craned his head, trying to check on Trey.
The orc who had assaulted him had tossed Trey over his shoulder so all Maximus could see were his limp, dangling legs.
Like that, the minions dragged them back to the courtroom.
The lacertians dropped Maximus face down on the floor. One of them held him down, preventing him from writhing out of his bindings. He lifted his head to glare at them, but his attention caught on the front of the room.
A cloaked figure sat upon a massive throne made of twisted roots and branches.
The hood obscured their face in shadow, only revealing a triumphant smile.
Both feet were planted firmly on the ground, legs set apart in a wide, strong stance.
As they watched the minions arrange all five of their prisoners, they raised their hands and steepled their fingers. “You have done well, my minions.”
Maximus shifted his shoulders, trying and failing to throw off the minion holding him. He turned his head to the side, searching the room for his friends.
Delilah had been captured in a net. She squirmed and tried to wriggle her way out of it, but only succeeded in twisting herself up more thoroughly.
Angelica knelt on the ground, skirts puffed around her, remaining poised even as she was bound and gagged. She didn’t spare the evil mage on his throne a single glance, choosing instead to glare at the ceiling.
Fitz had regained consciousness but had lost his glasses somewhere. He blinked repeatedly and squinted so narrowly that his eyes almost disappeared in his face. He probably could only see vague shapes and colors and couldn’t seem to find the speaker.
Only Trey remained unconscious, his face pressed to the cold, black floor.
The Lord of Grimnight sighed in exasperation. “Why did you knock him out?”
The orc shrugged. “He’s their strongest fighter.”
Angelica scoffed behind her gag.
“Yes, but I want him to witness my triumph! What’s the point if he’s not even awake?
” The Lord of Grimnight moved his head from side-to-side, searching the room for something.
The hood seemed to interfere with his vision, and he had to tilt it back for a better view.
“And where is my apprentice? Everyone should have arrived by now—”
Soft footsteps cut off the mage’s grumbles as the final player entered the stage.
Maximus looked over his shoulder, glaring at the newcomer. The apprentice wore a cloak like their master’s. The ends flared and fluttered with each step, adding a dramatic air to their entrance.
Angelica perked up at the sight of them, trying to say something behind her gag. It sounded like “You motherfucker”, but that couldn’t be right, because Angelica never swore.
“Finally,” the Lord of Grimnight said. “Now we can begin.” He took a deep breath to launch into his victory speech.
The apprentice ignored him. There was something familiar about the way they moved, their silhouette under the cloak. It all clicked into place as they crouched next to Trey.
“Will,” Maximus snarled. “You traitor, you’ve been working for him the whole time!” He’d known there was something off about the apprentice. Known they would lead Trey into trouble.
With no reason to hide their identity any longer, the apprentice slowly lowered their hood, revealing a shock of white hair and a face too pretty to be good.
He briefly glanced at Maximus with his black-as-sin eyes before dismissing him and focusing on Trey again.
He touched Trey’s chin, guiding his face up.
Trey’s eyes fluttered as he awoke. He looked up into the apprentice’s face, the man who had betrayed him, lied to him, pretended to be his lover. Then sighed softly, almost content, and whispered, “Wilde.”
“Your mission is done,” Wilde murmured. Although he spoke in a low whisper, his voice echoed through the room. He waved a hand over the ropes binding Trey’s wrists. They darkened and frayed, splitting apart in seconds. Taking Trey’s hand, he helped the other man stand.
Maximus watched silently, his words turning to burrs stuck in his throat. Why had Wilde untied Trey? Why had Trey taken his hand? Why was Trey cooperating, walking with Wilde toward the front of the room?
The Lord of Grimnight watched quietly as the apprentice and prince approached his throne. Then his lips spread into a wide, evil smile as he said, “Welcome home, son.”