"It's them!" shouted one of the town's residents. "They who are prophesized to fall from the sky and defeat the Dark One!"

"You moron!" shouted another resident. "The prophecy was for a guy in a duck suit to defeat the Dark One, and he drowned in the pond!"

Randall sat up and tried to squirm his way out of the tomato cart. Two men in the black armor approached him, swords drawn.

"Seize the others!" one of the men shouted to his comrades. "We'll take care of this one."

"Don't come any closer!" Randall said. "I am the great and powerful magician Slurpy, here to wreak my vengeance upon those who would dare attempt to take me into custody!"

"Hold on," said the man, who wore a name tag reading 'Nichols.' "You mean to tell me that you crashed here just so you could wreak vengeance upon people who might try and capture you after you crashed?"

"Indeed."

"h.e.l.lo? Mr. Brain? Are you home? What kind of moronic thinking is that, crashing into a tomato cart just on the off-chance that we might try to kidnap you? Can you say 'ninny?'"

"Don't test him!" said Nichols' partner, Gelder, nervously. "The ways of magicians are truly mysterious."

"If this guy really is a magician, then he's the biggest dork-maestro I've ever met." He pointed the end of his sword at Randall's face. "If you're such a good magician, do something about my sword before I poke it into that little dent in between your nose and upper lip."

"You mean my philtrum," said Randall.

"Of course I mean your philtrum!"

"Such a vulgar display of power would be beneath my standards," said Randall. "But heed my warning. If any section of my philtrum is damaged by your blade, the repercussions will be swift and painful."

"For who?"

"For you."

"Oh." Nichols hesitated. "Okay, fine. I won't use my sword. But we're going to take you and your friends to see the Dark One, and he will punish you as he sees fit."

"You will take us nowhere!" said Randall in a booming voice. "You will release us, and you will release the citizens of this town, or I shall become very, very angry!"

"If you're such a golly-gee-whiz great magician, how come you're still standing there with tomato gook all over you?"

Suddenly a hangman's noose was thrown around Randall's neck from behind. He clutched at it and gagged as he was dragged to the rear of the tomato cart. After he managed to turn around, he saw a group of five or six of the black-armored warriors, one of them holding the end of the rope.

"He lies!" shouted the rope-holder. "A real magician would have escaped by now!"

"Kill him!" shouted Nichols. "I want him dead!"

"Ah, you want everybody dead," muttered Gelder.

Randall, trying to keep from being strangled, was pulled out of the cart and thrown to the ground. Out of the corner of his eye he noticed Yvonne being chained to the end of the line of prisoners. Out of the other corner of his eye he noticed the same thing happening to Jack and Toby. About twenty of the men in black armor remained behind, excluding the ones that had been hit by the machine and were moaning in pain.

"Leave him alone!" said Bug, flying into the crowd of men. One of them quickly reached up and plucked Bug out of the air.

"I'll put it with the other insects," he said.

Nichols walked around the cart. "Get him to his feet!"

Randall was yanked to a standing position. "I get one more warning, right?"

"The warnings have ended," said Nichols. He raised his sword again. "Okay, which eye should I gouge out first?"

One of the men raised his hand. "The right! The right! Ooh! Ooh! Please do the right!"

Gelder glanced over his shoulder. "Did you guys hear something? Like an approaching group of marauders?"

Everyone stopped and listened. There was definitely a large number of footsteps approaching. "Who could it be?" asked one of the men.

Then the group, thirty strong, came into view at the other end of the street, running at top speed. "Oh no," whispered Nichols. "Not them."

"We are the League of Waldos!" the leader shouted as they continued rushing forward. "We are here to..." The leader trailed off, and quit running. The others did as well. "Where are you taking those people?"

"They are prisoners of the Dark One!" Nichols announced.

"Well, we're on a mission of destruction from King Irving of Rainey, who outranks your Dark One. So bring those people back and let us get to work!"

"We were here first," said Nichols.

"First doesn't mean anything! Did Sir Frey of Grabien get credit for discovering the Isles of Paradise, just because he was there first? No, it was Sir Ronald of Burgin, who kicked his b.u.t.t!"

"Wrong!" said Nichols. "Sir Ronald did not not kick Sir Frey's b.u.t.t! Sir Ronald never even made it to the real Isles of Paradise-he actually visited the Sinking Isles, which were already inhabited, and tried to tell everyone he'd found the Isles of Paradise and that he'd taken Sir Frey out in three rounds. The writers of the history books were prejudiced against Sir Frey because he was an albino, which is why we have this distorted view of history now!" kick Sir Frey's b.u.t.t! Sir Ronald never even made it to the real Isles of Paradise-he actually visited the Sinking Isles, which were already inhabited, and tried to tell everyone he'd found the Isles of Paradise and that he'd taken Sir Frey out in three rounds. The writers of the history books were prejudiced against Sir Frey because he was an albino, which is why we have this distorted view of history now!"

"Attack!" the League of Waldos leader shouted.

"React!" Nichols shouted.

The two groups of warriors rushed towards each other. Randall, now without anyone watching him, began running off after the line of prisoners to save his friends.

Chapter 21.

YOU Try Naming These Things BEING SURE to keep out of sight, Randall followed the prisoners as they were marched across the countryside by the warriors. One of the warriors walked up and down the line, leading them in a chant.

"We are slaves of the Dark One!" he said in rhythm.

"We are slaves of the Dark One!" the prisoners repeated.

"The Dark One is number one!"

"The Dark One is number one!"

It went on like that for hours. Randall kept waiting for an opportunity to perform a daring rescue, but there was never an opening, and he was unable to think of something clever to shout at the warriors just before freeing the prisoners. The best he could come up with was "Hey, you warriors-watch this!" which seemed inadequate.

Then they approached the dark tower, which was dark enough to pose a serious safety hazard. It was at the top of a poorly-lit mountain lacking even guardrails. The prisoners were led up the mountain path, and through a tunnel labeled "Prisoner Entrance: Please Watch Your Head." Realizing that the tunnel's gate was going to be closed after the last prisoner pa.s.sed through, Randall waited for the nearby warrior to look away, then hurriedly moved into position directly behind Yvonne, Jack, and Toby.

"Take my hand so they'll think I'm chained to you," he whispered to Toby, who did so.

The nearby warrior glanced at Randall and did a double-take. "Where did you come from?"

"Not you too!" Randall wailed. "n.o.body ever notices me! It's like n.o.body even knows I exist! I sat behind Raven Goingback for two years in reading cla.s.s and she never once acknowledged my presence! What's wrong with me? Somebody please say what's wrong with me so I can change!"

"Ah, shut up," said the warrior. "She was probably just ignoring you."

They pa.s.sed through the mouth of the tunnel, and the gates were slammed shut behind them. They continued to march down the winding tunnel, as the chanting warrior added a third verse.

"He's number one, he's number one!" he chanted.

"He's number one, he's number one!" the prisoners repeated.

"I can't believe you risked your life for us!" Yvonne said. "You're a true hero!"

"Well, let's not get carried away," said Jack. "I'd be willing to call him brave, but to be a hero he needs to actually save somebody."

"Okay, so he's a martyr," said Yvonne. "That's almost as good."

"Depends on how prolonged his death is."

"I'm not here to be a martyr!" Randall snapped. "Believe me, it won't take much for me to make like a donkey carrier and haul a.s.s!"

"Uh, Randall," said Jack. "Do me a favor. Next time you feel the urge to say something like 'make like a donkey carrier and haul a.s.s,' count to ten first. Slowly."

"Sorry. I'm just going to play this by ear, okay?"

A fist pounded into Randall's ear, knocking him to the ground and revealing that he wasn't chained. "No talking!" said the warrior. "Hey ... what happened to your chains?"

"The other warrior said that I could leave them off because of my skin condition," Randall explained.

"What have you got? Leprosy?"

"That's right. Talk about wrecking one's social standing!"

"I have a friend who's working on a cure for leprosy," said the warrior. "He's going to finish it once he pulls himself together."

"I think we have a winner for the Comment Most Suitable For Eternal Ignoring," said Jack.

"Unfortunately," said the warrior, grabbing Randall by the arm and pulling him to his feet, "I'm going to have to overrule my co-worker on this one." He snapped a chain around Randall's wrist. "Just don't jiggle your hand around much and it should stay on."

"Definitely a martyr now," said Jack.

The prisoners filed into a huge ballroom, where they were seated on uncomfortable stone benches. There were convenient drink holders, but no drinks seemed to be forthcoming. In the front of the room was a stage, the backdrop of which was a giant picture of the Dark One giving the thumbs-up sign and the slogan "The Dark One: If You Had A Choice, He'd Be The Best One."

After a few antic.i.p.atory moments, one of the warriors removed his helmet and walked up onto the stage. "Down in front!" a voice cried out.

"Ooh, a nice crowd tonight," said the warrior, peering out into the audience. "How many of you are from out of town? Ha-ha, just kidding, all of you are, of course."

"I'm not," said one of the prisoners in the second row. "I live two blocks away, but I was in Warfield visiting my mother."

"And this serves you right for coming to see me so rarely," said the old woman next to him. "Maybe if you'd stopped by more than once every couple years this wouldn't have happened."

"Fight! Fight!" shouted another prisoner.

"No fights, please," said the warrior on the stage. "Allow me to introduce myself. I am Bamberg, your host for this educational and hopefully entertaining evening."

The prisoners tried to applaud, but there wasn't enough slack on their chains.

"Now, as I'm sure you're all aware, you are prisoners of the Dark One. He'll be joining us a bit later-he has some last minute brooding to take care of. Now, we were going to start this meeting with a singing of the new Hail to the Dark One anthem, but we were unable to get the lyric sheets printed up in time, so I'm going to introduce our first speaker instead."

"Are we going to be killed?" asked a prisoner in front.

"There will be a question-and-answer session at the end, so please hold off until then. You never know, we may answer your question during the course of the program. Now, please give a warm welcome to Nancy."

Nancy stepped onto the stage with some signs tucked under her arm. "Thank you, Bamberg. As new prisoners of the Dark One, you will all be expected to follow a number of rules. I know, I know, who needs rules, right? Well, rules have been historically essential in any well-functioning society, and though the Dark One hopes to be a leader to break from tradition, this is one area where he's fairly conservative."

She set all of the signs down on the stage except one, then glared at one of the prisoners. "What was that?" she asked.

"Nothing," the prisoner replied.

"You were whispering something to the person next to you. Would you mind sharing it with the rest of us?"

"I'd rather not."

"Please do. I mean, if there's a conversation going on down there that's more interesting than what I have to say regarding your collective futures, I'm curious to know what it could be."

The prisoner looked sheepish. "I told him to check out your b.o.o.bs."

Nancy smiled, flattered. "Why, thank you. I wax them daily, you know. Anyway, back to what I was saying." She held up the first sign, which read Rule #5: No Calling the Dark One a Sissy Rule #5: No Calling the Dark One a Sissy. "Rule #1: No-"

"Wrong sign!" one of the prisoners called out.

Nancy glanced at the front of her sign, then sighed. "I'm so sorry. Apparently my kids were playing with the signs again. You know what rascals boys can be between the ages of two and eighteen."

"Real whippersnappers," agreed the prisoner.

Nancy bent down and flipped through the signs until she located the right one. "Ah, here we go. Rule #1: No Calling the Dark One a Pansy. Simple enough, I think." She held up the next sign. "Rule #2: No Calling the Dark One a Wimp. Once again, fairly self-explanatory."

"Can we call him a repugnant mammy-grabber?" asked a prisoner.

"What were you told about saving questions until the end?"

"Oh, yeah. Sorry."