Short Story Contest:

Eighteen years later

“Your highness, I think there’s someone at the door.” Mrs. Sims said as she looked out the window. “Who?” Prince Stefan asked quickly, as he stood up and walked over to the window.
Mrs. Sims nearly screamed. “Why the guards!” she cried. “Quick, down the trapdoor, and into your disguise, then out the secret panel!” Prince Stefan nodded, then threw on some clothes siting on a nearby chair and lifted the rug. He pushed the floor, and climbed down a set of stairs. Just as he pushed down the rug, he heard the door being forced open. Then he got to the bottom of the stairs and walked left. Into the gloom.

In the hidden part of the house, Prince Stefan tiptoed toward a tiny speck of light. The prince quickly grabbed his bow and quiver of arrows, then heaved on the wall. It gave, and he stepped into the light, blinking at the brightness. Then, Stefan turned and headed toward the castle at a dead sprint.

Some minutes later, the prince arrived at the castle wall, and breathed a sigh of relief. The castle was still empty, and he could hide there. Not a single guard stood anywhere, the emperor of the kingdom lived in another castle to the north. He pushed and pulled on a loose brick, hit the wall, and the bricks swung inward. A second later, he stepped inside. Then suddenly from behind him came the sound of a bow being drawn then fired, and an arrow sailed past just as the stone door slide shut behind him.

Stefan whirled around to see a man in bright armor standing behind him, blocking his only way out! “Well, at last. I’ve got you exactly where I want you to be.” The guard said in a gravelly voice.

Stefan knew he should run, but he turned and grabbed an arrow, and got ready to fire. “Don’t try that, young man. I’ve got more men on the other side of this wall, so if you shoot they’ll come and get you no matter what.” He laughed, then turned to face Stefan again, “Now, what do you do to get in the door?”

“I…I…won’t tell you!” Stefan cried, and the guard lunged forward, grabbing an arrow and aimed at Stefan’s heart all in the blink of an eye. Stefan winced, then said, “Kick the bottom, pull the lose brick and push it in.”

“All right. That better be true.” The guard turned toward the wall, “Hear that, soldiers?”

In answer to his question the wall revolved in, and ten soldiers climbed through. “And now,” the first guard said, “You will come with us, or face the punishment of death.”

“Aren’t you going to kill me anyway?” Prince Stefan asked.

“Perhaps.” The guard said in a slow drawling voice.

“Fine. But first what you did with Mrs. Sims?” Stefan said.

“Oh, you mean the woman who said she knew nothing about you and that no one lived with her, but we found another bed, and she could not explain that?” The guard said. Stefan groaned. “I knew I shouldn’t have lived with her all these years. I should have just gotten captured!”

“You’re right, you should have. But there’s no changing the past now. Come with us and all will be well. By the way, my name is Captain Merclaim, hear that? Always call me that.” “Yes Captain Merclaim, sir.” Prince Stefan said.

“Good. Now, follow me.” The captain turned and began to walk toward the castle in front of him. It was then Stefan decided it was now or never, so he sprinted hard to the left, away from the shouting men. A second later, an arrow sped through the air and crashed into a giant tree just in front of Stefan. He cringed, but kept on going. Five left turns and three rights later, Stefan saw a tree ahead. It was perfect for climbing, and there were some branches near the ground, and more as it continued up.

Knowing he had less than a minute, he scrambled up the tree, then tucked himself between a few branches. Thirty seconds later, the prince saw the men marching toward his tree. They were wearing armor and Stefan knew his arrows could not penetrate the armor. He would have to trap them, but how? That was when Stefan saw the cliff ahead. If he could somehow trick them into going over the cliff then he could win. Then Stefan knew how he could do it. If he took a boulder, tied it to a rope, threw it across the patch of woods, and it went over the side of the cliff tied to a tree, then the soldiers would think it was him, they’d go down on a rope conveniently left by the cliff. They would tie it to something, and he would cut the rope sending them down the cliff.
Stefan grabbed his rope, then reached down from the tree and got a stone roughly his size, then he tied the rope around the stone, then to the tree. Taking another bit of rope, he tossed it to the edge of the cliff, then sent the rock flying. It flew over through the air, and down the cliff.

“Look! There he goes! Quick, down the rope!” a solder cried. Stefan’s plan began to unfold as the solders tied the rope to a tree. Two minutes later, all the soldiers were down on the rope, and Stefan deemed it safe to cut the rope. Hurrying down the tree he cut the rope with a quick, deft, strike. A scream resounded, and then silence.

“Well, I guess that’s taken care of.” Stefan decided.
…….

Peace resumed in the kingdom and the soldiers lost because their captain was gone. King Stefan was a wise and kind king, and all was well in the kingdom.

I could now shoot a blossom from the topmost branch of a tree, even if I was seemingly miles away, I could throw and fight with my dagger between my teeth, but with either weapon, I never missed. The only way I could miss would be to do so on purpose.

I moved with the beating rhythm of the forest, and my heart and soul belonged to the leafy domain I called home.
However, there were dangers. I would never have climbed this tree if the soldiers and one of the dangers hadn’t found me. I had only time to climb this tree, not pick a hiding place, for the creature the soldiers had been hunting had been seen here, the Calae. A Calae was a sightless, wingless bird that feasted on human flesh. Disgusting. Thankfully, it was now gone. “If only I could figure out how to get down,” I thought. I was in the highest part of the tree, and how I saw it, there was no way down. Thankfully, the soldiers were now gone, or so it seemed.

Suddenly, I had a brainwave. Memories rushed through my head, seemingly giving me no choice but to follow them. Using a sturdy vine hanging high above my head, I plucked an arrow from my quiver, tied the vine to its end, secured the end of the vine to a nearby branch, and in one fluid motion yanked the bow from its resting place, drew and shot. The arrow was left, quivering, in the trunk of the next tree.

Swiftly, I unstrung my bow and positioned it above the strained vine. With no further ado, I leapt out of the tree, my cloak flapping, wing-like, behind me. The trunk moved closer and closer, and I realized I hadn’t thought this through. I tried to let go, but I was too late. I slammed into the tree’s trunk with a resounding ‘thud!’ And I knew no more as I slid into a black, sightless embrace.

***

I awoke with a throbbing headache that seemed to pound throughout my entire body. Thunder rolled overhead and lightning crackled. Rain fell in torrents, soaking anything within reach. I groaned and stood, swaying on my feet as I clutched my head during a particularly loud clap of thunder. Through gaps in the canopy overhead I caught fleeting looks at storm clouds as they stomped across the gray, misty sky. Lightning flashed ominously, and I squeezed my eyes shut, my vision obscured by a halo of blinding light.

Tentatively, I opened them, and was relieved to know I could see again. I turned to walk from beneath the tree, but a shrill, bone-chilling screech echoed from my right. The Calae. I froze, terrified by its presence. The Calae erupted from the undergrowth, its beak open in a malicious snarl. Its cloudy, sightless eyes rolled in their sockets, poison-filled fangs jutting out of its saw-edged, golden beak. Its sky-blue head was topped with purple, poison-covered spikes. Sapphire-blue neck feathers were fluffed outwards in a ruff, crowning its transparent body. Fleshless legs held the bird two meters off the leafy ground, and jade-green tailfeathers flapped behind it. I flinched before I shakily snatched my bow from the ground and leapt aside. The bird thundered past me. I took the opportunity to string my bow, notch and shoot an arrow. The Calae screeched in pain and whirled to face me. With a fierce yell I leapt forward, and into the path of the beast.

But the thing is, Aldric was terrible at being a knight. He couldn’t ride a horse without falling off, he couldn’t wield a sword without looking like a confused toddler, and—most embarrassingly of all—he was dreadful at being “evil.” His plots were always thwarted by the most ridiculous of things, like a misplaced banana peel or his own constant overconfidence.

Caelan, his younger brother, stood at the top of the staircase, leaning against the wall with a tired expression. He’d seen this all before. Aldric’s attempts at “villainy” were becoming predictable at best and downright ridiculous at worst.

“Stop right there, Aldric!” Caelan called, his voice echoing down the stone steps.

Aldric paused mid-step, his cloak billowing out dramatically. “Ah, Caelan. How predictable of you,” Aldric sneered, holding up a large, yellow, floppy rubber chicken. “This is the Sword of CluckLand! The ultimate weapon! With this, I will crush you and your pathetic notions of goodness!”

Caelan blinked. “Is that… a rubber chicken?”

“This!” Aldric swung the chicken in the air and hit his shin, making a horrific HONK-SQUAWK sound. He hissed in pain and jumped around on one leg, nearly falling off the staircase.

When he recovered, he said pompously: “I don’t need real weapons, Caelan. This chicken is truly evil! Also, I dropped my sword as I climbed up the stairs and it rolled off the edge, as well as my harpoon.’’

Caelan sighed, glancing at his own weapon—a rubber chicken of his own. He had been unable to find a real sword, but he was pretty sure the rubber chicken was the next best thing.

“Alright, if you insist,” Caelan said, raising his chicken. “Let’s do this.”

Aldric lunged, his rubber chicken flapping wildly, making an eardrum-bursting SQUEAK- SPLAT as it sliced through the air. Caelan blocked the strike with a HOOONK-SQUONK, his own chicken squealing under the force.
“Is that really the best you can do?” Caelan taunted, easily parrying another attack. SQUASH- HONK!

“You’ll regret this!” Aldric growled, spinning dramatically and releasing a CRACK-WARP that sent his chicken flying toward Caelan’s face. The sound was less terrifying and more… comical.

“Really?” Caelan raised an eyebrow. “You’re still swinging it like a fish.”

“I am NOT swinging it like a fish!” Aldric snapped, his cloak swirling. With a dramatic WHOOSH, he swung the chicken again, making a noise so horrendous that it HONK-KRACKED against the stone walls.

Caelan easily dodged the strike and smirked. “I don’t know, Aldric. You do have the wrong posture’’

The two brothers began circling each other, swinging their rubber chickens with all the intensity of a chaotic duel. The sound of SQUICK-WARP, HONK-CRUNCH, and SQUEEEEKA-POP filled the air as their rubber chickens collided, making sounds that could only be described as a horrified symphony of rubber poultry.

Aldric’s chicken squawked with a high-pitched SQUAWK-SKREE as it struck the air. It flapped wildly, sounding like a duck caught in a thunderstorm. Meanwhile, Caelan’s chicken, though equally rubbery, seemed to be more in control, emitting occasional HONK-SPLAT sounds with every successful block.

“You think your chicken is better than mine?” Aldric hissed, spinning his chicken again and slamming it forward. SQUISH-WHACK!

“Not better,” Caelan said, sidestepping easily. “Just less… ridiculous.”

Aldric froze, his chicken held high. “I am the king of evil darkness, Caelan! My evil will be sung of for generations!”

Caelan raised his chicken higher. “Right. Totally evil.” With a swift move, he swung his chicken across Aldric’s face, and the THWACK-SQUEAK rang through the air as Aldric stumbled backward, his cloak rippling like it had a mind of its own.

Caelan grinned. “You’re defeated by a rubber chicken. Again.”

Aldric groaned, still holding onto his chicken. “This isn’t over, Caelan! I’ll be back with more evil—more power—and maybe, just maybe, a real weapon!”

Caelan shook his head. “Next time, bring a bigger chicken, okay?”

With that, Aldric, defeated but not deterred, dragged himself up the stairs, his rubber chicken trailing behind him like a defeated sidekick. The sound of his retreat echoed with a final HONK-CRACK-CRUNCH, a reminder that, as always, Aldric’s evil was just around the corner… probably with more rubber chickens.

Hopefully it holds her weight. If not, at least I gained an apple out of it.

“Oh my gosh!!” she squeals, and I’m surprised the guards don’t come running in, weapons bared. “Are we, like, making a proper escape? Cassie’s going to be so jealous.”

My best guess is that Cassie’s someone from her realm, but there’s no way to be sure, I suppose.

I watch her brown hair disappear over the edge, and when no screaming follows, I stick the apple in my mouth and follow suit.

“Um, mister hood dude?” I hear her voice, high and slightly whiny, “This rope, like, doesn’t reach the ground.”

The Trope Tower’s pretty tall, so I didn’t expect it to. I climb past her—ignoring her continued complaints—my fingers grasping at the weathered bricks, before I let myself drop onto the sizable tree below. The highest branch able to support her weight is probably about a spear-length from the bottom of the rope, and I gesture for her to jump.

“But—“ she starts, but I’ve turned away, crouching on one of the tree’s lower branches. A patrol will be by soon, but if I’ve timed it right, there should be a shift change in a minute which will give me and the girl about five minutes to leg it. I hear a thud and a small shriek behind me and assume the girl had made it to the tree. “That—” she begins, but the sound of footsteps reaches my ears, and I quickly stuff the apple in her mouth. As the familiar guards pass below the branches, I see her eyes widen at the glint of steel at their hips. A muffled sound makes its way out around the apple, and I push it in further, watching as juice leaks out and dribbles down her chin.

A shame, really. I was looking forward to that.

Once they’re out of sight, I pull my hood further over my face, and half jump, half climb the rest of the way down the tree, the girl following slowly. I think she’s trying to talk, but her hands are too occupied gripping branches and bark handholds to remove my ingenious sound-blocker.

As I wait, I stare up at the tower, eyeing the swirling glow at the top. Curious to think how everyone who comes out of one of those glowy realm-portals are so different. I’ve only seen one open once, and it’s a random thing, the sky splits open, spits someone out then disappears again. The guards deal with whoever comes out quickly, of course, locking them in rooms before they can do much.

I hear the crunch of grass under feet behind me, and I turn around to see the girl struggling to get the apple out of her mouth, even as she continually tries to speak around it.

“Did I tell you about what Eloise, like, dared to say to me? Well, it started the other day when she, like, used my lipstick without asking. I know, the nerve, right?”

Honestly, I have no flipping clue why they wanted me to break this girl out and not someone else.

I start making my way to the agreed meeting place, my black boots making swishing sounds against the dry grass. It’s not too far away, just out of sight from any patrols that might wander by.

They’re waiting there, as expected, two of them, their storyteller badges gleaming gold. I clear my throat.

“Ah,” says the first one, a woman. “I knew we could trust him.” She doesn’t smile, and neither do I.

I adjust my hood again, and hold my hand out, waiting. The other one, a man, drops a pouch into my palm, the contents clinking as they fall. I gesture the girl forwards, and the man smiles at her. “Look at that. A protagonist, fresh from the Trope Tower.” He laughs. “Not many of those these days.”

As I leave, I see the woman put her hand on the girl’s back, leading her back the way they came. I can still catch some of the girl’s chatter, grating at my ears. The last thing I hear is the man’s voice. He’s speaking to the girl, saying something about a Chosen One. Maybe I should have charged more.

Another patrol catches my eye, and I remember what I’m meant to be doing and rush over to the bushes where I stashed my uniform and quickly change. I don’t like being late for patrol.
None of the guards suspect a thing when their old buddy Asher comes to take his post as usual. None of them can know, or my head’ll roll in seconds.

I happen to quite like my head.