In Defence of the Realm - Six Knocks on the Fourth Door

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As the sword sliced through the air Dastardly dodged into the centre of the cave mouth. Foolishly he'd let go of the boots, the one thing that could easily get him out of here.

'Why'd you open your visor?' he asked as he fumbled for his trick blade.

'You know, I thought I was being dramatic and I – hey, what are you doing?'

The knight lunged forward again as a bolt from Dastardly's hilt bounced off his helmet. Clumsily turning the thing around in his arms, the freelancer used the sword to swipe away the one coming towards him.

'Who are you? Why are you even here?' he said.

The next strike was corps a corps in the swashbuckling tradition, the knight having tried a backhand horizontal slash and Dastardly blocking vertically.

'I'm Sir Adrian, and I'm on an important mission for King and glory! Who are you?'

The freelancer pushed with all the strength he could muster and kicked the knight out of the way. He brought his blade down over Sir Adrian's head, who blocked it like second nature.

'I'm Dastardly. I'm on a mission to save my hide.'

In an attempt to control both weapons, the freelancer forced the blade downwards. Too late he realised he had left the shooter open, and when the knight's sword bumped into the hilt of his own it released the second shot.

'Yah!' he yelped as he jumped back. The bolt whizzed into the night.

'Clever little device you have there,' said Sir Adrian. 'Pity it can't help you.'

'I give up,' said Dastardly, 'you're clearly a better swordsman than I am! I only did this for a stranger who threatened to disembowel me!'

'You poisoned my horse,' the knight glowered. 'What have you got to worry about, you've got freaking gnomish boots! I was supposed to be leaving for Hox tonight.'

'Really?' Dastardly sheathed his sword, though Adrian's was still half-raised in deflating fury. 'I was on my way there myself. What is going on with your people?'

'It doesn't make any difference. The Clockwork City is on the move.'

Outside the cave the rain finally fell. The sky seemed to open up all at once, covering the rocks of the Sponge in dirty rivulets.

'Come in then,' said Adrian, motioning him to the fire. 'You won't be going anywhere for the moment.'

The knight put his sword away and the freelancer grabbed the Mercurial Boots before the rain blew in.

'I know the Clockwork City is on the move,' said Dastardly. 'I saw some of the citizens along the road. There must be a fair group already over the Pan.'

'You don't understand,' Adrian said as he sat across from his cobbled together double, which consisted mostly of bags filled with sand wearing a cape. 'The actual city has gotten up and left.'

A distressed neigh from the knight's horse was a warning to Dastardly that he may not be out of the woods just yet.

'How did that happen? A city is a city, they stay where they are built.'

'It isn't called the Clockwork City for nothing. The whole place is a mysterious, finely honed machine, and one day the King felt the ground beneath his feet shake – he ordered everyone to leave before they understood what was happening.'

'Why have you been out here in Sponge Country then?'

The knight pointed at the decoy figure. 'You will find it in my satchel.'

Dastardly found a bag that held two slightly curved objects. He pulled one out, it was about the size of a dinner plate and as heavy and smooth as marble. He brought it closer to the fire. The stony ellipse was cracked around the edges, a deep azure colour, and held the imprint of what could have been a four legged spider.

'That impression is unique to the Clockwork City,' said Adrian. 'Or so we thought. Not long after the City had faded from sight, a man called Siy contacted the King using a communication stone. He knew of the City's departure somehow, and told us that if we could bring our artefact – and one from this “Sponge Country” – to the Turretial at Hox, he would bring it back to our lands.'

'The Land-Regent is curious as to why everyone is travelling there,' said Dastardly. He paused for a beat. 'But you don't seem like someone from the Clockwork City. Where are all the wind-up gadgets?'

'We didn't reverse engineer the City, that was the gnomes. We just lived there until recently – of course, now the man at the Turretial has invited all of the world's people to join him in congress.'

That's a relief, thought Dastardly. 'Good,' he said. 'I had a friend... well, let's just say I have reasons not to like clockwork technology. Anyway, I think I should come with you to Hox. The Regent would want me to talk with Siy for him.'

'That's going to be a problem, what with my transport about to have an allergic reaction to something she ate, no thanks to you.' Behind him the freelancer heard the sound, he guessed, of the horse lying down on the ground.

'I've got an idea for that,' said Dastardly. 'A knight like yourself would have thought smart and bought passage on the deep road, right?'

'Yes,' said Adrian warily. 'You buy a code that the gnome's machines recognise for a certain period of time.'

'When the rain stops, we need to get down there,' the freelancer said while he strapped on his boots.

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In Defence of the Realm - Five Minutes Later

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Dastardly's doubts about the mercenary’s idea were currently being overruled by a desire not to be skewered.

'To shorten our search is payment enough,' Krotar said.

The freelancer lined up his starting stretch. Around were the trees that formed into a forest to the north west but this detour to Sponge Country would take him around and north. Even from here you could see the foothills that fed into the place, if it were daytime. As it was, Dastardly would be running through near blackness, the heavy clouds overhead threatening him with rain. There were probably still six hours or more before hints of sunlight would trickle over the mountains.

'One last thing,' he said, coiling up ready to run, 'I think you're a maniac.'

He'd bounded nearly a kilometre before it crossed his mind.

Alright wise guy, what will you do when you return?

His other thoughts replied, well it's not like I'm going to return. I'll just double back onto the road to Hox when I am out of sight.

The first set of thoughts harrowed him. Krotar is a psycho with at least two trained killers at his disposal. He will hunt you down wherever you go.

The first thoughts won out again, for now. He continued across the fields, with hardly a bump in the ground to tell him where he was going. Every few minutes he could see a tree or forgotten gatepost and tried not to run into it. Twice, the trodden path swerved so hard he wound up with grass all over his legs – the lanes and road weren't designed to be travelled this quickly.

When he came across the great highway that stretched from the east mountains, he slowed down and was surprised to see people making their way along it. The road was elevated a hundred metres ahead of him along a knoll that formed the toes of the hills. Dastardly climbed the ridge and stood on the path. Despite the obscured moon he could just about make out the crags of Sponge Country, normally visible from miles around. A man brushed past as if the freelancer weren't there.

'Excuse me, sir?' he ventured.

'Can't stop too long,' the man mumbled. 'More important.'

Dastardly kept pace alongside as the man shuffled onward.

'Why is everyone really going to Hox?'

'The Clockwork City's gone.'

'Is that it? I heard that more than humans had crossed the mountains. Seen any gnomes?'

'They take the deep roads,' the man said, idly pushing Dastardly away.

'Hey!' he said, but did not press the matter. Instead he backed up and ran diagonally along this section of the road, leaping off the other side. This slope of the hill was steeper and fed to the grass-less Pan in which the Sponge sat.

The country was a mismatched scattering of different soft rocks that, over the millennia, had been shaped by the rains into a honeycomb. Beyond that, the Pan was not really a desert in the traditional sense, it was not much drier than the plains to the south, simply devoid of the large trees that characterised the local woodlands. Folklore told that the biggest rains were so excited to zoom out from the sea that they didn't stop till the mountains, resulting in shallow creek beds criss-crossing back across the Pan and flowing over the Sponge. Folklore also said that under the Sponge Country was a secret entrance to the deep roads used by gnomes and ogres, but that was proven. Dastardly knew that if a spy were in these lands they should have been at least smart enough to buy passage under the mountains and cut days off their journey.

Pangs of hunger began an assault on the freelancer's composure, so he stopped running and opened his pack. He'd brought a trail mix with nuts and fruit but not much else. A handful would serve until he returned to Krotar's camp, so he swung the bag back over his shoulders and raced to the sharp edge of the cliff.

How would I get around if I set up camp here? Dastardly thought. Without waiting he leaped into the wide space between two high walls, the springs in the Mercurial Boots effortlessly saving his shins. In between two clouds the moon could be seen.

He couldn't just rush in. The freelancer would have to think like a tracker. He looked around on the ground in the moonlight, most of it was flat rock but sandy patches had grown around corners; perhaps with footprints on them.

After wandering three or four of the larger paths, sloping up and down with the occasional ominous gaping hole he'd edged past, he found what he wanted. Better than what he wanted in fact – the print in the sand was that of a hoof.

If they have a horse, they'll be taking the widest paths he thought. What was around the following corner, though, nearly had him in stitches from laughter.

Dim firelight danced at the mouth of a nearby cave. The moon was again fading from sight behind cloud and Dastardly could make out a human shaped shadow outlined in the orange glow. It was too easy, and when he thought that the freelancer's neck twinged. He ignored it. Dastardly unclipped the boots for additional stealth and peeked around the edge of the stone.

The cave's occupant had his back to the opening. The horse was tied up, rope under a rock, closer to Dastardly. Keeping his eye on the figure by the fire, the freelancer approached the animal. He procured the trail mix and fed it some. Outside, a flash of lightening and subsequent crash of thunder made Dastardly jump, but the spy didn't move.

Laminitis, he thought. It was awful of him to feed the creature river walnuts, but the effects wouldn't be permanent.

'You think I don't know what you're doing?' came a voice from behind him. The freelancer turned slowly to see a man in silver armour. The man lifted his visor.

'That over there?' he pointed. 'That's a decoy, and you my friend are messing with the wrong Knight of the Clockwork City.'

Sir Adrian Salem swung his sword.

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Idea Suggestions

I haven't done this for a while but I thought I might line up a story for once "In Defence of the Realm" finishes.  Have a read of the following synopses and note your favourite in the comments!

Reach for the Stars

An alien is stranded on Earth in a war zone and has to wait for his ship to return, but he's no "E.T.".  There are more dangerous people looking for him than humans.  When he and a few compatriots - who don't seem to mind that their latest ally is shiny black and invertebrate - escape into a neutral country, they join forces with the International Bureau of Extraterrestrial Affairs and perform undercover missions against private local enemies, as well as the possibility of an invasion by another race.

Into the Crust

Huge chunks of land float around the core of this planet, linked by perilous chains that few dare to navigate.  On one, a bookshop owner discovers that his brother has gone missing.  Determined to find him, he has to leave the safety of his country and travel to other floating continents.  Following a trail that points to the farthest corners of the known world, he meets a robot that loves to dance and a hideous monster that terrorises unprotected villages (at least, that's what the villagers say).  He also occasionally plays football.

In Defence of the Realm - Four Mercenaries (part 2)

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'I apologise for any damage I have caused, Mr Krota,' Dastardly said. He didn't feel as if he had hit the ground. Perhaps something had cushioned his fall. 'Or if I hurt anyone.'

'Damage? Great billiards, boy,' the man laughed, and to the freelancer this was an unsettling sight. 'It is unfortunate that you did not completely kill Bei. He is hard to get rid of.'

A nasal voice rang out through the camp. From the other standing tent a very short man – Dastardly did a double take, a person with a rat's head – emerged. It favoured a leg slightly and had tissues stuffed up its long snout.

'I heard that, leader man,' said the thing.

'I take it that you have never seen a kobom,' said Krotar. 'Let me properly introduce our little operation here.' He stood up for dramatic effect. 'You have already met the brawn and the *ahem*.' Krotar pointed to the lion man and Renda. 'I am the brains, and my name is Crow-Tar, which means “like two kinds of black” in the hill tongue where we come from.'

'An' me,' said the kobom with a self-satisfied grin. 'We met at high speed.'

'Bei's people are very adept with clockwork technology,' Krotar continued.

'I thought that the gnomes –'

'Pff! Amateurs,' Bei said.

Renda sat down between them. 'When Muscles knocked you out we had to pry Bei from your sword.'

'Amateur work but interesting nonetheless.'

'So what are you all doing here in the plains?' said Dastardly.

Krotar grinned amiably. 'None of your business.'

'Alright then,' the freelancer got to his feet. 'I will leave you to it, for I am in a hurry.'

As he turned to leave the circle of light, he felt a sharp point in the small of his back.

'Not so fast,' Krotar said.

'Huh?'

'I wanted to be friendly. You do owe me, and I am sure you accept the simplicity of “stick around or I'll stick this through you.”'

Dastardly swivelled on the spot.

'Hi, how are you,' he said. 'I think we got off on the wrong foot. My name is Dastardly Medieval and I am on an urgent mission from the Land-Regent.'

'Excellent!' Krotar looked at the others around the fire, whilst maintaining the disconcerting grin. 'We have something in common.'

'Excellent,' Dastardly echoed. 'Can I please leave?'

The leader man sat back on the ground. The freelancer didn't wait to be asked to join him.

'Well,' Krotar said brightly. 'We are humble mercenaries on a job for your Regent.'

'Pardon me, but did we not just go through this? You said it was none of my business.'

'Shut up,' said Renda.

'You will help us,' said Krotar. 'We were a little quick to jump at the listing by the aforementioned regent, as we all hail from a land far away.'

'What he means is we don't know our directions,' said Bei. Renda shot him a dangerous look.

'We are searching for a spy in these lands. Wherever you must be headed to, his base of operations cannot be too far off your path.'

'Who would want to spy around here?' said the freelancer. 'There's just miles of flat grass.'

'Rule #2 in the Merc Charter. Ours is to do and get paid, not to enquire. Besides, I don't care. My point is this: in your special boots, you could be out to the Sponge Country before we have even packed up camp. All we ask is that you report to us what you have found, and your debt will be paid.'

'You are very generous,' Dastardly said. And a total psycho, he thought.

'Don't forget your other effects.' Krotar motioned to the lion man behind him. 'Can Mr Medieval have his sword and backpack returned to him?'

Dastardly felt the pack hit him hard in the back of the head. The sword followed but only afforded a glance on his ear.

'I was hoping for something like that,' Krotar said with the biggest grin yet.

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In Defence of the Realm - Four Mercenaries (part 1)

So we begin chapter four, which as been gathering dust for months.  I thought that I could finish it within a page but instead I am splitting the chapter in half, the next section to come next week.

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The freelancer sat up and blinked away sleep. A slimy tent came into view, so small that the centre pole came down between his legs. Beside himself and a mat just thick enough to take the edge off the stony ground was a woman. She played with a knife in the kind of idle fashion supposed to intimidate, and wore a fur lined one-piece with clipped on leather greaves. She hadn't looked at him yet so he raised his head, followed by his body, and realised his hands were tied together.

'Oh, you're awake.' His watcher ducked her head through a flap in the canvas and looked back at him. Dastardly was disarmed by the sharp sculpted jaw and penetrating gaze, this was a woman whom you didn't mess with. He sat entranced, until a heavy whack bruised his left cheek.

'What the hell?' he said. There was a man standing at the flap, his hair and beard made a ring like an angry sunflower. He whacked Dastardly again.

'What do you want?'

The man pointed the painful object at Dastardly's nose. It was his trick sword, still in its scabbard.

'Oh no.'

The woman stood up next to the lion man. 'He wants you to pull the stupid sword from the sheath.'

'Why can't he?' the freelancer said. The man thumped him a third time.

'It's gnomish. It won't open without the owner's hands.'

Dastardly groaned. 'Didn't know that. What's in it for me?'

This time the woman held back the blow. Dastardly mouthed thanks.

'We won't break your legs.'

Dastardly saw he was still wearing the Mercurial Boots, but they wouldn't stop the lion man from smashing his shins.

'Is there a way we can do this that doesn't involve me staying tied up?' the freelancer said.

The woman and man growled in unison, before a heavy voice on the outside bounced into the tent.

'What are those two doing?'

Both of his captor's heads swivelled.

'Nothing, Krotar,' crooned the woman.

'Bei just told me that you'd sorted out the mess in the tent – ' the speaker barged through the flap. 'Billiards!' he exclaimed. 'You must be the “animal” who crashed into our camp.'

There was another harmonious growl.

'Get this man untied, you imbeciles! We're better than this!'

The woman started, 'but we were just –'

'No excuses. Honestly Renda, I think our new friend has been setting a bad example for you.'

Renda loosened the rope around Dastardly's wrists and begrudgingly helped him up.  The freelancer groaned, rubbed his arms and stumbled into the evening air where a billy can hung over a fire.  To his right was a collapsed canvas.  On the opposite side of camp was another tent.

'Sit by the fire,' said the apparent leader, beckoning Dastardly.  'I think you owe me an explanation.'

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