A Hero's Journey: It Takes Two

     They said that Mordred was a disgruntled noble who turned to a life of crime, targeting other nobles and raiding the area closest to Meridell Castle. Supposedly he used to be Lord Mordecai, a royal Shoyru, before reinventing himself as a stealthy Shoyru and gathering a band of loyal followers to whom he promised wealth and, for those who desired it, revenge against Meridell’s upper echelons.

     Now, Mordred sat in a makeshift throne made of stones, branches, and a spare tent as the bandits emerged into the camp with a blue Lupe and a white Blumaroo tied and trussed upside down.

     “I thought we were looking for Baron Cuthbert’s only son,” he grumbled. But he grinned when the camouflage Ogrin and Mildred, the brown Cybunny, let their dazed captives drop to the ground. “Still…these two can fetch a higher price.”

     “Athala’s on the Bori’s trail,” the Ogrin answered. “For now, we have two of Meridell’s goody-goody paid meatheads.”

     “We’re not meatheads!” Jeran and Rohane complained as the woodland Jetsam and the green Tonu pulled them up to their feet and bound them to a nearby tree.

     “Only two meatheads would let themselves be captured like this,” the yellow Nimmo said, training his arrow at the knights in case they managed to break free.

     Jeran bared his teeth, causing the Tonu to draw back a little, before glaring at the Shoyru.

     “That voice…Lord Mordecai, I presume?”

     The stealthy Shoyru sighed wistfully. “It’s been a while since I heard someone call me that. I almost miss it. I never thought you and I would meet again like this, Sir Jeran…and Sir Rohane, I presume? Son of Sir Reynold, one of Neopia’s greatest heroes?” Mordred leaned back in his “throne” and smiled. “Oh, I can only think of the ransom King Skarl and the rest of Meridell would offer just to have both of you back. A true king’s ransom.”

     “Why are you doing this?” Rohane demanded as he struggled against the ropes tying him to the tree.

     “You were a lord, I’m sure you already had enough money without exchanging us for ransom!”

     Mordred stood up and walked toward his captives. As he did so, his subordinates gave him a wide berth. “It’s not always about the money. It’s also about giving others what they want. A new lease on life, revenge on the corrupt…and what I want, on the other hand, is the proper respect I deserve. Meridellians these days have little respect for the old families, and if you won’t respect me as a noble, perhaps you’ll respect me as king…of these woods.” He spread his arms and grinned. “There’s also a certain kind of freedom that comes with this sort of territory.”

     Jeran growled. “You won’t be so free when we’re done with you.”

     “Oh, but I’m done with you, at least for now. If Athala can find him, Baron Cuthbert’s son would simply be the cherry on the pie.”

     “Uh, boss…about that kid…”

     Athala stumbled into the camp and bent over to catch her breath after dropping her club onto the ground. The pirate Elephante grimaced and added, “I couldn’t find him.”

     “What?” the camouflage Ogrin cried. “Athala, you had one job – “

     “This forest has a million hiding places, Touren!” Athala shot back. She groaned and ran her hand down her face, her trunk switching impatiently. “Look, it’s not like he can get far. When he’s hungry or tired or thirsty, he’ll be easier to catch.”

     Jeran and Rohane glared at her lividly, but Mordred didn’t seem at all concerned.

     “You’re right, Athala. When that Bori loses his fight, we’ll close in on him.” He punched his fist into his open palm. “And even if we can’t find him, what’s one noble boy compared to two big shot heroes?”

     * * *

     The noble boy in question had managed to follow Athala back to the camp. He made himself as small as possible behind a cluster of berry bushes and peered out through the leaves at the scene that unfolded before him. A stealthy Shoyru sat on a throne made of various forest accoutrements, and the bandits that had ambushed them, including Athala, were either playing cards around a dim lantern, resting, eating, or some combination of the above. While Jeran and Rohane were tied to a tree, their weapons and other possessions were in a pile too far for them to reach, and too close to the bandits. The yellow Nimmo stood guard beside them, his bow at his back and a knife in his hand.

     Will pondered taking something from the knights’ things, but he had no idea what to take, and knew the bandits would see him long before he could pick anything up. He gnawed on the tip of one of his claws, quickly dropping back when the Nimmo glanced at his general direction.

     I gotta get them free, the purple Bori thought as he slowly, quietly, moved behind the bushes and closer to the tree, watching each step he took. He tried not to rustle any leaves or branches, his heart in his throat the entire time and his eyes on the Nimmo. But at last, he reached the tree, not daring to breathe as he came face to face with the ropes binding his heroes to the trunk.

     “Don’t you have that dagger?” Will could hear Jeran whisper.

     “No, they took that, too.”

     “Some help you are. This is your fault.”

     Rohane groaned in a tone that suggested he would clap his palm against his forehead if his arms were not tied, literally. “Seriously? We’re starting that again?” Hearing their conversation, the Nimmo bopped them on the sides of their heads with the pommel of his dagger.

     “Great, now you got us into trouble,” said Jeran, wincing. “Ow. How many times have we been whacked like this?”

     “You two’ve got some hard heads,” the Nimmo muttered.

     “Quiet,” Vannie, the woodland Jetsam, snarled as he threw down a hand of cards. “Three queens. I win.”

     “You cheated!” Touren complained.

     “Did not!”

     “Did too!”

     The brown Cybunny rolled her eyes. “You two are just as noisy as those meatheads. Come on, Vannie, winner shuffles the deck.”

     Jeran opened his mouth to object to being called a meathead when he heard the faintest rustling and grating sounds. His ears perked up and he looked at Rohane pointedly before tilting his head toward the source of the noise. The white Blumaroo nodded and glanced toward that direction, noticing a flutter of movement and purple fur.

     Will stuck his head around the tree as far as he dared, enough for the two knights to see him, ducked behind the tree again, and proceeded to tear through the ropes with his claws.

     The blue Lupe winced as he heard the rough ripping sounds, followed by a tiny yelp from Will as his claw accidentally scraped through the bark. The purple Bori thrust his fist into his mouth to keep from making any further noise and moved out of sight from the Nimmo.

     “What was that?” Touren asked, looking up from their card game. Mordred seemed to have fallen asleep on his throne, but his underlings were wide awake and still playing card games.

     “Go Pfish,” the green Tonu rumbled.

     “For the last time, this isn’t Go Pfish!” Mildred whined.

     “Distraction,” Rohane whispered. Jeran did not argue.

     “What did you say?” Touren said, glaring at the Blumaroo.

     “Uh – frustration,” was the first word out of Rohane’s mouth. Jeran bit his lip to keep from either groaning, complaining, or spitting out the first sardonic comeback he could think of.

     “Oh, believe me, you ain’t the only one frustrated around here,” the camouflage Ogrin shot back. “I’d sure love to get out of this forest, but apparently, we’re playing the waiting game for that baron’s son.” He kicked a stray pebble. “Thought we heard something. You weren’t trying to get away, were you?”

     “Nope,” said Jeran as nonchalantly as possible. “Rohane and I were talking about how…you guys were playing poker, right?”

     “I’m the best at poker,” Vannie interrupted, grinning toothily. Touren elbowed him sharply. “Hey! You know it’s true!”

     “Best at cheating, more like,” Touren replied. “So, what’s it to you if we’re playing poker, eh?”

     “Rohane and I know how to play,” Jeran said, shooting a just-go-with-it look at his companion. “You’ve never played against the likes of us.”

     Athala chuckled. “Oh, really? Bet I could kick both your tails in a flash.”

     “Just try it,” Rohane answered steadily. From the corner of his eye, he could see the yellow Nimmo begin to fidget and inspect the area around the tree. “Tell you what, we’ll up the ante, and bet our weapons.”

     “What?!”

     In response, Rohane gave Jeran the exact same just-go-with-it look. The Lupe sighed.

     “F-Fine, fine. We’ll play poker, and we’ll bet our things. We’ve got the finest blades Neopoints can buy, after all.”

     “Hang on a second.” Touren held up his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I know where this is going. You’ll make us untie you and then you ambush us. I know that trick.”

     “We just wanted to play poker, honest,” Rohane pressed. “If you’re so scared that we’ll escape, keep us tied up. Have two of your friends hold our hands for us.”

     “Oh, I volunteer!” Vannie’s fin immediately shot up.

     “Just don’t coach them, Vannie,” Touren reminded him. “You and Petro.” The Nimmo looked at the Ogrin, eyebrow raised. “Make sure they don’t try anything funny.”

     From behind the tree, Will breathed a sigh of relief as Petro sheathed his dagger and sat down next to Jeran.

     “Do I have to? I thought I heard something behind this tree – “

     Mildred shrugged. “I didn’t hear anything.”

     “Me neither,” added Touren.

     “So, are we ready to play?” Jeran asked, grinning as he watched Vannie shuffle the cards. “I have to warn all of you, Rohane and I have quite a reputation back at the castle with poker.”

     Vannie snorted as he started dealing out the cards. “You’ve never seen us play. You two are going down!”

     Once the cards were distributed, Will raised his claws and started working on the ropes again, shredding them as fast as he could.

     * * *

     Jeran and Rohane’s reputation for poker turned out to be nothing like what the bandits expected.

     “I’ve got a good hand,” the white Blumaroo pointed out, but one of his ears was drooping. Touren and the green Tonu traded a look before bursting into uproarious laughter as though Mordred was not fast asleep.

     “Hah! That’s what you said the last six hands!” the Tonu bellowed. “Three eights! Who knew I’d get so good at Go Pfish?”

     “It’s not Go Pfish!” Mildred retorted, elbowing him. Then the brown Cybunny showed her cards. “Besides, I’ve got three tens.”

     Touren snorted. “Amateurs.”

     “I-I’ve got a straight flush!” Jeran interrupted, not meeting anyone’s gaze. His proud smile was absolutely fake, much to Vannie’s chagrin.

     “Ain’t fooling me with that act,” Touren shot back triumphantly. “’Cause I’m the one with a straight flush!” He threw down his cards, which did in fact show a straight flush. “Bam!”

     “You broke my streak!” Vannie complained.

     “That’s how the cards crumble,” said Athala, shrugging.

     Petro shook his head as he got up. “So, was this round for Jeran’s sword? Looks like Touren wins. Time to get him his prize. He’s got his eyes on it for a while.”

     The Ogrin rubbed his hands gleefully. “I can’t wait to try a knight’s sword for size! Too bad it isn’t the Sunblade, but it’ll do.”

     Jeran scowled. “Good thing I didn’t bring the Sunblade with me, then. The last thing I need is your grubby paws all over its hilt – “

     His voice trailed off, and he glanced down at the ropes, which had slackened during the poker game. Inclining his head toward their loosened bonds, Jeran traded a look with Rohane, and the two of them hurriedly grabbed at the ropes to keep them from falling all the way to their knees. Unfortunately, Petro chose that precise moment to glance back at them, and the yellow Nimmo frowned and halted.

     “Wait,” he said, gesturing at them. “Something’s not right.”

     “I didn’t cheat, if that’s what you’re asking,” Touren pointed out. Then he stared at the ropes. “Hey, what’s wrong with these things? Did we bring flimsy string instead? Vannie! Zeke! You two tied them up, yeah?”

     “We tied ‘em nice and tight!” Vannie replied before flapping his fin at the green Tonu. “Didn’t we, Zeke!”

     “Sure did,” Zeke drawled. He and the woodland Jetsam approached the knights, and he gasped in surprise. “These were new ropes, Vannie!”

     “I know!”

     “Were they?” asked Rohane casually as though discussing the weather.

     Zeke and Vannie looked up at them, and at that precise moment, their captives dropped the ropes back onto the ground and headbutted the two bandits. While the Tonu and the Jetsam staggered dazedly and bumped into each other, Jeran grabbed a length of broken rope, wound it around his wrist, and cracked it like a whip at Mildred, who was not fast enough and was slapped painfully on the shoulder. “Rohane, our weapons!”

     The white Blumaroo ducked and sidestepped to avoid Petro’s and Touren’s drawn daggers; the steel nicked his arm along the way but did not stop his mad dash toward their things. Meanwhile, Jeran shoved Zeke into Vannie before Mildred rushed toward him and punched him in the stomach.

     “Hurry!” Jeran gasped, staggering but retaliating with a swipe of his makeshift whip. Mildred leaned away to avoid another strike from it.

     “Heads up!”

     Jeran’s sword traced an ungraceful arc in the air before the blue Lupe caught it squarely in his right hand, pulled it out of its scabbard, and slammed it against one of Mildred’s shortswords. Athala grabbed her club, which connected with Rohane’s blade. She swung once, twice, thrice, and each strike was blocked as the battle truly began.

     And from behind the tree and a puddle of torn rope, Will watched, shaking with silent excitement, as he saw his heroes work together.

To be continued…