“Can't we go back the normal way?” Charles wailed. He never rode on a cloud before, and he hoped never to again. He liked something more substantial under his rear end when he was thirty feet in the air. “A saddle would be nice!”
Fannie swatted him as she directed the cloud into the ballroom. “Oh, don't be such a baby! It's the only way to travel.” She waved her hand again, creating a whirlwind that lifted two trolls and deposited them in the rafters, where they screamed and clutched the wooden beams for dear life.
“Fannie!” Richard waved to her as he and Gene made their way through the brawling trolls. “What happened? Where did you go?”
“It's a long story,” she sighed. “But right now,” she twirled her hand, sending another whirlwind to carry two trolls through the hole in the wall Orson made, “I'm a little busy.”
Charles rubbed his rear as Gene helped him to his feet. “Am I on the ground?” Gene helped steady him, but he still wobbled a bit. “The next time I go flying, I want something real under me. I'll take a nice, big bird, or maybe someone could invent a flying carriage.”
“We'll discuss it later. Right now,” Fannie insisted, “let's get rid of some of these smelly fleabags and clear the air. I thought this was a ballroom, not a fur-ridden garbage dump.”
Richard took her hand and helped her off the cloud. “Your brawl awaits, my lady.” His fingers fumbled for the crystal slipper as Jo Ann, Debralee, and a few nobles gathered around them. “Fannie, I wanted to give you this, but you ran off before I had the chance.” The shiny shoe easily slid onto her bare foot. “I was hoping to be your champion, Princess Patricia, but then I lost you, and...”
“Shh.” She settled for giving him a hug. “I'm sorry, but that role is taken. I'm glad you're my friend, though. It's the thought that counts. I wondered where my shoe went to. I've been thumping around half-barefoot for hours.”
“That's all right.” Richard smiled, then gave Fannie a kiss on her cheek as the crowd sighed, cheered, or whispered to their neighbor. “Now, how about we deal with Ira and his moving couches?”
“What's going on here?” Ira shoved his way through the crowd as trolls grabbed at squawking nobles. “Who's the cute redhead?”
“The cute redhead,” Fannie snapped, “is the Princess Patricia, of Elmwood Estates, and she does not appreciate the way you and those giant stuffed toys with claws have been treating her friends!” She whirled her hand, sending a heavy gale-force wind blasting through the room.
“What in the...” Ira didn't have the chance to grab someone as everyone else in the ballroom grabbed each other or the columns to keep from blowing out the doors. “Hey! Hey, what is this? What are you doing, lady?”
Fannie gave him a very nasty smile. “Just clearing out some unwanted guests.”
“Yeah, and the wanted ones, too!” Charles held onto the stage for dear life, his eyes wide under his big glasses. “Fannie, you can turn it down now!”
“Oh, very well,” she huffed over the roaring wind. The whirlwind died out, with the last of it spinning out that same hole Orson made on entry. “I was just having fun!”
The moment the wind died, Ira toppled face-first onto a potted plant. “This,” he moaned as he dislodged his face from the dirt, “isn't my day!”
“Uh boss,” one of the trolls rumbled as he grabbed Ira by his collar and dropped him on his feet, “what should we do now? That red-haired lady has magic!” He looked up and pointed at the rafters. “Even the guys who can't fly went flyin'! I want to ask her if she can make me fly. I always wanted ta learn to fly.”
“Oh trust me, sugar,” Fannie purred evilly, “I can teach ya.”
“Would you forget that?” Ira growled, trying to stand on wobbly legs. “Go get her! Get all of them! I'm tired of all these interruptions and distractions! The queen will be here any minute!”
Charles gulped as the remaining trolls surrounded their group. “Ok, Fannie,” he muttered, “can you blow all of them to kingdom come?”
She shook her head. “Some of them, yes, but it would take me the rest of the night to get rid of all of them!” The clock in the back of the room chimed 11:30, making her wince. “And I don't have much time, remember? The fairies' powers wear off at midnight. We all have to get out of here, before we're explaining rags to the cream of the Nerdocrumbesia crop.”
Richard took Lee's hand as she pulled out her own knife. “You know,” he admitted, “if I'm going to die, there's no place I'd rather die than with you.”
“Aw, that's sweet.” She swiped at one troll who grabbed at her arm with it. “Not that I believe a word of it, but it's still sweet.”
Gene pressed Gary and Sarah behind him. “It's over, Ira. There's too many of us, even with your ugly army.”
“How could you say that?” Ira gloated, waving his hand around them. “I hold all the aces! There's nothing that could possibly stop me now!”
“I wouldn't say that!” Betty shoved her way through the door to the back hall with a frying pan. A flood of peasants in mud colors brandishing kitchen knives, gardening tools, or pots and pans followed her. “You don't know how much the servants and people in this town hate your boss.” She smacked Ira right in the backside. “Allen and I wanted to replace you anyway. Hooking up with Malade against us! You'll be lucky if we don't toss you in jail for life!”
Ira stood over Betty, trying to look innocent. “Your Majesty!” he stammered, putting on the widest smile he could manage with her pan aiming at his parts. “How are you doing? I didn't expect to see you so soon! I mean, I thought you were dead! That's what Malade told me!”
Betty raised an eyebrow. “Do I look dead to you? And don't answer that question.”
“Gene!” A tall chestnut-haired woman with a square jaw and twinkling dark eyes ran into his arms. “Where the hell did you go? I've missed you so much!” She looked elegant and poised, even in the plain brown peasant's smock and apron she wore.
He wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her ear. “I've missed you too, Helen. You were always on my mind, no matter where we went. I promised you I'd find the Legendary Princesses, and I did.”
“Yes, you did.” Helen looked quickly around her, frowning. “Where are they?”
“One is right over there,” Gene explained quickly as he pointed at Fannie, who waved her hands to blow coconut cream pies into trolls' faces. “The others should be around shortly.”
Elaine giggled as she tossed cream puffs on trolls. “This is the most fun I've had since the time I dumped that whole pail of cream on Malade's head! Boy, was she mad!”
“You're going to have to tell me about that sometime,” Bobby chuckled. “You finish with the pies. I'll handle these guys.” He grabbed the troll who reached for Elaine's bosom. “Mind if I cut in?” The ugly, lumbering creature didn't have time to react before Bobby whirled him over to the widening hole and let him dance through. “You might want to watch that two-step,” he added, peering through the hole. “You were a little slow back there!”
The little frog on Betty's shoulder leaped between trolls, licking them with his slimy tongue. When they tried to grab him, he'd jump away as fast as he could. They'd mistime the grab and fall into their neighbor, or would look up and get orange cake in the face.
Charles nearly stepped on the little fellow, whose pale yellow-green color matched the floor. “Hey there!” He gently gathered the frog into his hand. “Are you lost? I'm looking for Betty, too. Or at least Gene. This is getting out of hand.” He shivered as a wave of overwhelming coldness swept over him. “I'm sure Malade must have heard something by now.”
“I agree.” The frog scrambled up his arm and to his shoulder. “This has gone on for much too long. The Password is 'queen.' Let's find the one that won't kill us, before we run into the one that will.”
“Hello there!” One of the servants trotted up to him, a wide smile on her stout face. She sported the same plain brown tunic and kerchief around her black hair as the others. Her eyes, though...Charles thought there was something in her black eyes. Something cold and unfeeling that didn't match her beaming round countenance. “I found this poor lady by the balcony,” she said in a sickeningly sweet voice. “Do you know who she is? Perhaps we should bring her to her stepmother. She'll know how to help her.”
“It's her stepmother who did this!” Charles scolded.
The frog croaked as he leaped onto her head. “She can't hide this! I saw it when I...when she came into the garden after she tried to seduce the King.”
Charles was still wondering how the frog knew about that when he climbed up her face and ran his tongue over her. The slime dripped down, taking part of her face with it...revealing wrinkles and familiar third-degree burns.
“You little ass, giving away the game!” The maid screamed, letting Brett fall with a thump. Black light surrounded her as her skin folded and peeled away. Charles carried Brett as quickly as he could from the grotesque sight.
“Brett!” Marcia shouted, pushing her way between two servants who were hitting trolls with frying pans. “What happened to her? She looks slightly older than usual.”
Bill skidded right into her back when she stopped. “Could you warn me when you do that?” He rubbed his sore nose and peered behind her, frowning. “What happened to Brett? Doesn't she know what standing in the sun too long will do to her skin?”
“I know what happened,” Richard growled as he, Lee, and Gene ran over. “Stole her energy. Malade pulled the same trick on me at the Summer-Winter Castle.”
Charles gulped. “So she's mostly dead. And Arlene isn't here this time.”
“Charles,” scolded a little green light bobbing over his head, “remember what we told you in Sherwood Forest? You're one of the champions. You're the one who can save her.”
“I'm not a champion!” he whimpered. “I don't have magic. What can I do?” He held her hand and leaned into her. “Brett,” he sobbed, “I wish I could have stopped her! I...I argue with you because I care about you. I miss teasing you and drinking on the ship to Andersen Bay and even making fun of your hair.”
The crowds parted as Malade shoved through people, squeezing the struggling frog in one hand. “What are you doing, you wretched musician? Hand her over, and your frog friend,” she shook the bug-eyed amphibian, “won't get hurt.” She threw the little frog into a small burlap bag. “That will hold you.”
“No!” Charles cradled Brett in his arms. “I sing this a lot,” he murmured to her, “but I really mean it. I won't run away this time!”
The moment Charles started singing “It Only Takes a Moment,” Malade fell back, her face twisted in agony. “Stop! Stop it this minute!” She screamed, flinging a small burst of fire straight at the duo.
Charles gasped as the fire hit his back. It wasn't enough to do more than give him burns that bubbled over his back and singed his toupee, but he didn't care. “I'm not afraid of you anymore!” he yelled over his shoulder to Malade. “You can toast me, roast me, throw me around. I don't care. Just don't hurt her.”
“Charles,” Joyce called as Malade sunk to the floor, “we'll sing, you get Brett's energy back! After all,” the little fairy chided gently, “you're Snow White's true champion. You know what to do.”
“Did we say the princesses' champion had to be married to her?” Jo Ann added. “There's other kind of love in the world besides the romantic type, you know!”
“I...I do know.” Charles gasped as he stumbled over to – and nearly over – Malade. “You don't like what I do,” he told the prone woman as he shook his finger in her burned face. “Music is beauty, and truth, and love, and all the stuff in this world you hate.” He picked up “I Believe In You” this time as everyone in the ballroom – even some of the trolls – sang along to the best of their abilities.
The fairies fluttered around his head the second that green light jumped into his palm. Light flowed around him, energy, pure natural energy. He felt...kind of cranky, and a little tougher, and a lot more determined. And older. He felt it creak in his bones, but something in his mind said he wasn't ready to give up on his body. This had to be Brett's life, he thought. Her magic. Not his.
Orson held up her head, while Gary gently pushed his red cape under it. “I learned a little about healing from a doctor named McLean who used to be part of the 4077th Apothecary Division.” His cherubic smile turned sad. “Wish I knew where they all are now. Malade didn't like the light magic healing we did and broke up the division after she invaded.”
“It'll be all right,” Charles gently told his young friend. He nodded at Brett. “Gene, can you open her mouth?”
As soon as Gene's magic pressed against her chapped lips, he cupped the light, letting it flow into her mouth. The light seeped into every pore and wrinkle on her body. Gary yanked the weary Charles back as it became too bright to see. They threw up their hands, protecting their eyes and each other.
When the light subsided, Brett got up on her elbows, her long dark eyelashes fluttering. “Hey...” she croaked. “Charles? Why's there green flashing before my eyes? Hope that's not my life. I always thought there'd be more sex in it.”
“Figures that would be the first thing you think of after coming back from the dead,” Charles snickered as he offered her his hand. “Welcome back, Susan.”
She smirked and took his hand. “Thanks, Victor. By the way, your toupee is still crooked.” She gave him a quick hug before he let out a yelp. “Victor...Charles...” She pulled away her hand, revealing blood and puss. “What in the hell happened to your back?”
“M...Malade...” Charles whimpered, his hand going to his wounds. “She was going to burn you. Burn us. I couldn't let her...”
“Shh,” Brett murmured, tearing off her sleeve and using it to wipe the bubbling skin. “I can do something. Nature's healing, you know. I do this for my boys when they skin their knees. Gene, Gary, get him on his front. Watch his glasses.”
“P....please...” he said softly as they lay him face-down on Gary's scarlet cloak, “this is a lot more than a skinned knee. Can't you leave it to the apothecaries?”
“Nonsense!” Brett ignored her stepmother sputtering behind her, gently placing her hand on his back. “I know what I'm doing. I'm slightly older than you. By a year or two.”
He expected the light to be hot, but it was soothing, calming, more like a soft rain shower or a gentle breeze through the leaves. It smoothed the bubbles and cooled the raging inferno on his spine. When he reached back, his hands came up on slightly scarred skin.
“Thanks, Susan.” Charles sat up and gave her a grin. “We're even now?”
She grinned back. “Even.”
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