Chapter 31

Commander Fynn assembled the royal troops in the courtyard. He barked final instructions, then ordered them to the battlefield. In the hustle, began troops leapfrogged toward the beach. Dozens of palm pulled open wagons filled with mel-yew knights in heavy armor. Every available wig get flew additional mel-yew warriors to battle. Queen Bogen, refusing the pomp of riding in the royal carriage, hopped to the beach with her advisors. Winnie had so many jangling nerves a flat-out race to the beach might have calmed her, but the path was too crowded with everyone else.

She huffed in annoyance. “How am I supposed to get there?”

“If you please, good General,” spoke a voice from behind. “I’ve been given the honor of transporting you to the big beach.”

She turned to find a lone palm standing by a two-wheeled cart that looked part sulky and part rickshaw. “Better than nothing, I guess,” she mumbled. Louder, she said, “Thank you,” and climbed in. She nervously jiggled her foot the whole ride, last to leave and last to arrive.

By the time her cart rolled out of the woods, the entire army already stood on the beach, facing the ocean. Winnie walked through the ranks that stretched across the beach toward the ocean. She counted only five rows of began who stood nearest the protection of the forest. Directly in front of them stood ten rows of mel-yew fighters, dressed in leather armor. Ten more rows of mel-yew, looking like shiny silver dominos in their metal armor, stood nearest the shoreline.

Winnie stared straight ahead as she passed the miniature knights. She couldn’t let them see the uncertainty that shook through her. What if the enemy plowed straight through their ranks, tipping them over?

Fynn stood one hundred yards out to sea with the lone palm on duty. Winnie hoped that, due to the gravity of the situation, he would agree to a truce. She sucked in a deep breath of putrid air for courage and bounced over the wobbly ocean toward him. He acknowledged her with a brief nod, then returned his attention to the horizon.

The palm at Fynn’s side continued to watch through the binoculars even though the naked eye could clearly see gigantic daddy-longlegs spiders marching toward them at a slow pace. Kip’s crystal-ball prediction had been correct. If only he stood with her now. He would’ve probably told a joke to take her mind off her feelings of inadequacy as a general. She crossed her fingers for luck.

The enemy moved stiffly, not at all like regular spiders on a stable surface. Did the rubbery ocean make them walk that way or… Winnie took the binoculars from the scout. Under magnification she saw rivets on what appeared to be metal spider bodies.

“They’re fake.”

“Begging your pardon,” said Fynn, “they appear quite real.”

She studied them. “I mean they’re machines.”

Thankfully, no cannons, swords, or other weapons protruded from their spherical “bodies.” Still, over a hundred spider-shaped machines headed their way. Winnie’s insides churned.

“How long before they get here?”

“We estimate quarter of an hour at the earliest,” Fynn said in a grave tone.

A pair of massive black amplifiers, per her request, stood another hundred yards farther out to sea. The metal spiders would reach the speakers first. Winnie turned toward the beach. The queen’s army stood stiffly in place. From where Winnie stood, they appeared solid, unyielding. Good. Maybe their sheer volume would give the spider militia second thoughts. She spotted a snag to her plan. The army blocked the opening to the wide path that led into the forest.

“Commander, have your men clear that section of beach in front of the path.”

Fynn gaped at her. “Whatever for? They’re guarding the trail to the castle.”

“Queen’s instruction,” she lied.

He clamped his mouth shut and scowled.

“Also, the queen will give the attack order over the loudspeakers.”

He stomped back to the beach, muttering to himself.

She put the binoculars around her neck and clapped the scout on the shoulder. “You’re free to go. Thank you for your service.”

The palm bowed and ambled toward shore. Winnie, moving faster, reached the beach first and hurried to Queen Bogen’s camouflaged platform. She bowed to the queen and nodded to her mel-yew attendant and to Polo. She peered through the tree branches, relieved that the troops left a gap all the way from the path to the ocean. She silently thanked Fynn for following her instruction.

Queen Bogen rose off her temporary throne to watch. “What’s the meaning of this? Why are they moving apart like that?”

“To make room for the palm scout to return to the castle.” Winnie used such a firm tone she almost believed it herself.

The queen settled back into her throne. “They’re making slow work of it.”

Winnie didn’t reply. She needed all her concentration to ignore the booming in her chest and the tidal wave roaring through her stomach. She tightened her leg muscles to keep her knees from quaking. She wasn’t gangly Winnie Harris anymore but General Windemere. The Great. At least she’d better be. Too many people depended on her to pull this off. She nervously rubbed a thumb over the hilt of her dagger.

Polo, dressed in eye-blinding yellow-and-orange stripes, stepped forward. “Begging your pardon, Your Majesty, will I still be singing today?”

“Most certainly. That’s why we brought you.”

Winnie squared her shoulders. “Stand by, Polo. You’ll sing in a minute.”

She lifted the wireless microphone from the arm of Queen Bogen’s throne and carried it to the railing. Her army waited. The robotic spiders tramped closer.

“General,” the queen said, “they’re about to invade us.”

The lurk in neared the speakers. Winnie compressed her lips, silently willing them to keep going without tipping them over. If the speakers fell facedown, this would never work. Her grip on the microphone tightened.

“General, we implore you,” croaked the queen. “Sound the charge, or we shall surely perish.”

The first row of giant spiders passed the speakers on both sides. Now came the hard part. Waiting. Winnie watched the spider army, afraid to blink, afraid to breathe. Two more rows passed the speakers.

“General!” cried Queen Bogen. “Think of my son. Think of your brother.”

A fourth row of lurk in passed. The army on the beach obediently stood at attention, waiting for the command to attack.

“We think you are a traitor!”

“Trust me, Your Majesty. I’m thinking about everybody.”

More lurk in marched forward. When the final row of spiders passed the speakers, she raised the microphone, took a deep breath, and shouted into it, “Pall!”

The name blasted from the speakers. It traveled through the forest, echoing off the trees.

“Pall, I need you!” she said over and over.

Her amplified voice made the spiders pause.

“Pall!” With luck, the wind might carry her voice as far as the castle.

A low rumble sounded in the distance. It grew to a thunderous noise. Hundreds of palm galloped across the area cleared by the army and onto the jelly ocean. Rubbery ripples grew as they spread outward. The spiders lurched and staggered as the ground shifted beneath them.

“Pall!”

The palm plowed through the spiders’ ranks, knocking the long legs out from under them. Any spiders still standing lost their balance from all the hooves pounding across the jellied ocean.

“I say,” Queen Bogen said in amazement.

The stampeding palm raced out to sea. The heaving jelly waves rocked and tilted the speakers, but their rounded bases brought them upright again. By the time the last horse/man hybrid passed, every spider lay on its back or side, legs waving futilely in the air.

“The palm defeated the lurkin,” said the queen.

From below, the army leaped and cheered.

Winnie’s muscles softened from relief. She laughed out loud. Kip was right. Winning the war was just like agonizing over a test at school that ended up being open book.

The queen smiled back. “We knew you’d stop them. We knew it all the time.”

Winnie let out a triumphant, “Ha!” Her strategy had actually worked. Maybe she really was a general. She didn’t even mind that Queen Bogen had called her a traitor a few moments ago.

“Your Majesty!” Polo cried out. He pointed at the ocean. Trap doors on the sides of the fallen spiders dropped open.

Tiny humanoids crawled from the openings, weaving and staggering over the residual ripples from the palum. The little men stumbled for balance. Several bumped into each other, which started a shoving match between them.

Winnie zoomed in on them with the binoculars. The men looked no taller than palm colts but seemed stockier than the mel-yew. The tops of their round heads were covered with orange hair. Their black eyes scowled from beneath bushy eyebrows.

“What tiny fellows,” said the queen. “We’d expected a bit more of a threat, didn’t we?”

As the queen went on about how silly they’d been for worrying, Winnie saw through the binoculars that each tiny fellow had pulled a spear from his spider-like transport.

“Uh-oh,” she murmured.

The lurkin, no longer disoriented, tramped toward shore.

“What are they doing?” the queen demanded. “What have they got?”

The mel-yew fighters remained at attention. The lurk in tramped onto the beach.

“Why doesn’t Fynn call them to arms?” cried the queen.

General Windemere jammed the microphone into the queen’s hands. “Sorry. You’re supposed to give the order to fight.”

Queen Bogen spoke into the microphone, “You there!” Her powerful voice boomed through the speakers. “Lurkin. Stop this at once.”

The little men’s gazes darted left to right, as if searching for the owner of the commanding voice.

“What do you want from these innocent began and mel-yew?”

“I am Tudbul, leader of the lurkin,” shouted a squeaky voice from the tallest of the little men. “We are here for the doorway. You must know that as well, else your troops would not have greeted us.”

“These aren’t our troops,” the queen spoke into the microphone. “They’re royal subjects, merely out for a stroll.”

“Fully armed and dressed in battle attire? We think not. Lead us to the doorway of time or die.”

The lurk in waved their spears menacingly. Several weapons clanged against mel-yew armor. Three knights fell backward, creating a domino effect, knocking over a dozen men.

“I command you to stop. The doorway has closed up already.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Tudbul. “Our oracle distinctly informed us that the doorway would open when the night winds blew hot and dry over our village.”

“Your oracle was misinformed. You should have come when the winds blew cold and wet over your village. Go back where you came from. We don’t have what you want.”

Tudbul stomped the ground. His face reddened. “You tell falsehoods. And you mock us. The wind always blows cold and wet over our village.”

“If I may, Your Majesty,” Polo said respectfully, “I believe I know a certain impression that will end this conversation.”

The queen offered the microphone with a stately nod.

Polo’s impression of distressed colts bleated through the speakers. Suddenly, the air filled with the sound of beating wings and hungry screeches. A flock of harris shot from the trees. They headed out to sea but quickly turned around and swooped down on the smallest creatures on the beach. The lurk in army. The flying snakes unhinged their jaws and swallowed thirteen before the lurk in realized they were being attacked from above. They shook their spears, but the harris knocked them away with their tails.

“Go home or be eaten!” Queen Bogen’s voice blared from the speakers.

Two more harris got lunch before the lurk in scampered back inside their metal spiders and closed themselves inside.

The queen nodded in satisfaction. “We are most certainly shot of them now. Pesky little creatures, lurkin.”

“With pointy spears,” Winnie said. “They still could have hurt Takka if they got through the time tear.”

Queen Bogen beamed. “They shan’t harm him now.”

The harris circled above the fallen spiders a few more times before flying back into the forest. After the last one flew away, the lurk in crept out of their arachnid vehicles and peered warily at the empty sky. They quickly righted their machines and climbed back inside. This time when the metal spiders moved, they marched back out to sea.

“Open-book test!” Winnie cheered.

“I’m not sure I follow,” said the queen.

Winnie smiled. “It was easier than we thought.”

In the distance the palm herd headed toward shore. To her surprise they passed right by the retreating spiders without giving them a look. They walked in pairs and seemed to be more focused on conversations with each other. At least they didn’t knock into anything on the way back.

“What a jolly clever idea, summoning the palm like that,” said the queen.

Winnie’s cheeks burned at the unexpected compliment. “Thanks.”

“Only someone from your world could have thought of such a creative use of our lowly subjects. You were correct that we needed them all along. They saved our people. You saved our people.”

“You helped too, Your Majesty,” Winnie said, willing to share the credit. “Good idea, keeping the lurk in talking so they wouldn’t attack.”

Queen Bogen puffed up with pride. “We found it most entertaining. However, we mustn’t forget our quick-witted friend here, who cleverly drew out the harriks.”

Polo’s tiny ears glowed bright pink. “It was a combined effort that defeated the lurkin, Your Majesty. Commander Fynn’s brave army must also be congratulated.”

“And so they shall,” said the queen. “You are a most wise buffoon, Polo.”

“Surely not.” His face turned an even brighter red.

“No need for modesty. At this evening’s ceremony we shall present you with a special military award. And another to the palm for their valor.”

“Just remember not to call out their name,” Polo teased, “or they’ll trample us.”

Winnie laughed just as hard as the queen did. She appreciated the release of tension even if it was from a lame joke.

“You’ll have to use that in your next act, Polo,” Winnie said.

The tiny jester grinned. “I intend to.”

“You must perform for us at the award ceremony,” said the queen.

He bowed. “I would be honored, Your Majesty. And I shall include a song extolling our general’s brave works.”

“Cool. Nobody ever wrote a song about me before.”

“We fail to see what temperature has to do with the issue,” the queen said, “but that is neither here nor there. Sadly, you’ll miss the song, General. The lurkin’s oracle was correct. The time tear, or door as the lurk in called it, has opened. You must return to your world.”

When the queen’s words fully sank in, Winnie’s insides pulsed with excitement. She was going home.

Queen Bogen unfastened Winnie’s watch from her own wrist. “Our oracle has reset your timepiece to help you. Presently, the time tear is beneath the castle. As the tear rises, you’ll hear an alarm.”

Winnie eagerly put on her watch.

“A single tone means the door is in the dungeon, cell number five. Your wizard, by the way, is in cell number eight. Here’s the key. Kindly take him with you.”

Winnie accepted it with a gasp. That’s where he was all this time? Poor Kip.

Before she could think more about it, the queen continued, “Two signals mean it has risen to the main hall. Three, it’s moved to the balcony. Four, the southeast turret. The final warning shall be five tones.”

“Where will it be then?” Winnie asked, pocketing the key in her tunic.

“In the sky.”

“Not too high, though, right?”

“High enough,” the queen said in a solemn voice, “that you would be able to attend our award ceremony as a permanent resident of Frama-12.”

Winnie gaped at her.

“We’re certain you’ll reach the tear in good time. A palm cart is waiting for you.”

“Thanks.” She turned to go.

“General, if we may.”

She turned back.

The queen rose. “You might miss the ceremony, but you needn’t miss the award.” She removed something shiny and gold from an inner corner of her royal throne. An oddly shaped medallion hung from a wide blue ribbon. “We present this small token, General Windemere, for using human wit to save our queendom and send the lurk in back to their land.” She draped the ribbon around Winnie’s neck.

Winnie bowed. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” She’d add it to all the track medals she’d won at home, but for now, she tucked it inside her tunic. She’d admire it later when she had more time. Cold metal bumped against her skin.

The queen lowered her head in a brief bow. “Thank you,” she said in a soft, sincere voice, “for saving my son.”

“Well, ya know.” Winnie shrugged. “He is my brother.”

“That he is,” the queen said gently. “That he is.”

Winnie recognized the mother love in those bulging pink eyes. Her own mom used to look at her like that. She bowed her head to hide the tears forming in her eyes. Warriors weren’t supposed to cry. Or were they? After today, she was most definitely a warrior. She let a tear roll down her cheek. She sniffed and raised her head.

Warriors also admitted when they were wrong. “I’m sorry about those misunderstandings we had at the beginning. You’re a good queen.”

“And you, my dear Windemere, are a worthy general and demi-princess.” She let out a wistful sigh. “Once again we lose kin to the time tear. You will look after Takka for us, won’t you?”

“I promise, Your Majesty.”

A single peep sounded from Winnie’s watch.