55: Metal Queen

  "Hades bells!" Lita shouted.

  Gord had never heard her swear before, so it was mildly shocking. Then again, he'd only known her for a few days and so hadn't yet encountered her swears to life going wrong ratio. Losing a king was understandably a high enough pain threshold to make her swear—she was gripping the two pieces of JoJett and searching around for another portal. She looked ready to throw herself anywhere that would send her after the king's head. "He took my king!"

  "He only took part of him," Fiora said. "But he took all of my Damon." The dragonfaced woman thing didn't seem to mean this as a joke. Had she bonded with that young man on their journey?

  Gord put his hand on Lita's shoulder. "We did all we could in the situation."

  Lita took in a breath, slipped her two pieces of staff into one hand and touched his hand. Hers was warm, likely from holding a staff burning with all that energy. "You speak the truth, Gord. Thank you. I'm a perfectionist, and since I'm a sworn protector of the king, losing him is very imperfect."

  "We will find him," he said. Gord didn't know what else they could do, but he had long ago learned that desperate soldiers needed to believe there was a plan, then they would calm down.

  "He broke Jo-Jett." She held up the two pieces of her staff. "We will stand up and shout until we have won our friends back." Lita squeezed his hand and released it. Gord noticed Kim had raised an eyebrow at this public display of, well, not quite affection but comradeship.

  To avoid that, he leaned down to pick up something that caught his eye on the floor — a bandana. Specifically, a Def Leppard bandana that Damon had dropped. He shoved it into the pouch on his belt.

  "What's going to happen to him?" Kim asked.

  "The king?" the dragon thing said. Her name was Fiora, Gord reminded himself. And she was called a dragonspawn. "Did you see the part where his head was separated from his shoulders? He's dead. And that Jam idiot didn't even put him in a bucket. Blayre won't like that."

  "I meant Damon," Kim said. "What's going to happen to him?"

  Before anyone could answer, ten Neon Knights rushed in and surrounded the group, their flaming swords pointed at the group. The flames from their blades sent waves of cold through the air. Gord instinctively backed into a circle, glad to see Kim do the same so her back was to his. The guard's armour didn't look to be metal but was a hardened black moss. He was certain that an arrow wouldn't be able to pierce it.

  Lita took a step closer to the circle of blades, not showing any fear. "You know me, Ben-Netto," Lita said. "Not one of us here is an enemy of Balladria."

  "There have been accounts of possessions," the tallest guard answered. His voice was deep, or the helmet made it echo. Only his green eyes were visible. "To be safe, we'll escort you back to the Headbangers Ballad Ballroom."

  "Lead away," Lita said. "Be sure to say hello to your wife, Marlene and your kids, Ozzy and Axl."

  "I know you are trying to convince me you are not possessed," he said. "But a Crowley-type spirit might have sucked up your memories and is using them against me. So please march."

  Besides a few hisses and threats from Fiora that the soldiers were getting too close with their blades and might lose their heads, the journey back to Headbangers Ballad Ballroom went smoothly. The soldiers did visibly tighten their grips as they passed the bodies of their fallen comrades. More guards surrounded the group when they got back into the hall. The king's remains lay where they had been left. Gord found it odd that no one was attending to him or even covering him with a blanket.

  Before any more accusations or explanations could begin, a thunderous sound shook the room, and smoke rose from the ground a few yards away. It was thick enough to block his view and caused half of the soldiers to turn towards this new threat.

  Then, when the smoke was at its thickest, four warrior women rose out of one of the earthen mounds behind the throne, clutching broadswords, and clad in plate mail and long fur capes. They must come from an inhospitable place, Gord decided. Perhaps Manitoba.

  In the center of the group, an even taller woman rose. She wore thick furs and a mixture of chain mail and black leather, with a sheathed short sword on her hip and a broadsword in her hand. Gord took in his breath, for she was truly beautiful with long, well-feathered hair. This woman was at least a foot taller than her guards, and everyone in the hall, including him. Music rang with words he knew so well:

  "Metal Queen (Rocks your soul)."

  "Did that woman just rise out of the ground?" Gord asked.

  "She understands drama," Lita whispered. "Don't get me wrong. I love her to bits. And inside, she is barely holding on. But yes, she rose out of the ground. It's how she travels to Everyrosehasitsthorn."

  The woman pointed at the guards. "Ben-Netto," she said. "Release them immediately." Then that order given, she looked down at the headless body on the floor. The guards retreated, including Ben-Netto who nodded apologetically towards Lita.

  "Who is she?" Kim asked.

  "She is the Metal Queen, sovereign of Valkyrie Vixen Land," Lita explained. "But she is also the Royal Green Consort to the King. He is married to the land Balladria, so cannot take a wife, but has forged bonds with her. She prefers to be called Lynn."

  Gord nodded. "I think I understand."

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  Lita led them over to where the Metal Queen was looking down on her king. Her face held neither a wrinkle nor a blemish. The king's body was still headless, of course, and the odd vine veins continued to poke around. One touched the Metal Queen's boot and rested there. Then the body seemed to sigh, and the vines stopped moving.

  She set her hand on his shoulder. "I release you to the land that you so love," she said. "You will become one with Balladria and new green growth will rise." And with those words, vines grew up from beneath the dirt, wrapping the remains of the king and pulling him down into the earth. In a few moments he was gone.

  "He was a good man," the Metal Queen said. "He was the soil and the rain. He was Balladria and Balladria was him."

  "We have seen the end of a wise and kind king," Lita said.

  "The Balladrian kings never end," the woman replied. Her voice had a bit of a rocky rasp. "The new king will rise in time."

  As if her words were a cue, the women behind her sheathed their swords and sang:

  "Every king has his thorn,

  A burden he must bravely adorn,

  In songs of loss, his people mourn,

  The king's lament, a heart forlorn.

  So let the ballads fill the air,

  The king's renown, a tale to share,

  In every heart, his memory stays,

  A true monarch's soul, in love, always."

  As they sang, the warrior women marched to the mounds where they had entered the room. Ice fog rose out of fissures, looking both dramatic and cold. The Metal Queen joined them, and as one, they sank into the earth. With one more crack of thunder and blast of fog, they were gone.

  56 Nothin' But A Good Green Time

  As they took their table at the Comfortably Numb pub, Kim couldn't help but think how Damon would have loved this place. It was a large pub, with the smell of sandalwood and a hint of spicy smoke curling out of the kitchen. The patrons were all dressed cleanly, wearing a wide variety of colors and outfits, chattering happily—not yet knowing that their king was dead. A man in armor sat at one table, conversing with Hair Elves. There were even short people with bright eyes that reminded her of the hobbits from that Lord of the Rings movie. Or were they called bobbits? Every server, both men and women, had clean green clothes and minty breath that fogged the table pleasantly when they took their order. The mead tasted like honey liquid with a hint of 7UP.

  "Have a drink on me." Lita placed a gold coin on the table. "King Fidds's dirge will be sung at Hammersmith, of that I am certain."

  "Did you say Hammersmith?" Uncle Gord leaned on the table, making it creak.

  "Yes, it is a stadium hammered out of a mountainside by the metal gods themselves. Thus the name Hammersmith."

  "Hammersmith Odeon was a place where Iron Maiden performed in the '80s," Uncle Gord said. "And Mot?rhead."

  Kim knew that as some people aged, they developed mild dementia and became repetitive. His obsession with heavy metal certainly suggested something was not working properly in his grey matter.

  Lita took a deep breath. Then, she closed her eyes.

  "The king was your friend," Fiora said. It was perhaps the first time Kim had seen Fiora show empathy. "We should be kinder. Another ale." She raised her hand.

  Gord reached across the table and placed his hand on Lita's. "I knew the king only for a short time. But he seemed a very thoughtful and trustworthy man. Salt of the earth, so to speak."

  "He would appreciate your words," Lita said. She wiped one eye. "But like all druid kings, he would only see this as the process of birth, life, death, and the decomposition that delivers nutrients back into the ground. Yet without the king, Balladria will wither and die. He was the land, and the land was him."

  "That doesn't seem like a very good governmental system," Kim said. Then realized two things: that sounded like something Damon might have said, and that it was a bit of a rude observation. "Isn't there a way to replace him? That Metal Queen seemed very capable."

  Lita shook her head. "She has her own realm. And Balladrian kings rarely have children of their own until they are much older."

  "How old was he?" she asked.

  "Five hundred years old," Lita said.

  "And his skin was still that smooth?" Kim said.

  "It's a druid thing," Lita said. "The caretakers of Balladria will have to grow a new king," she said. "It will take many years. There is a walnut inside the king's head that rises from the planted body of a king to become the next liege. We are lost without that walnut."

  Fiora chuckled. "The realm depends on whether or not a walnut grows? Don't you all see how silly that sounds?"

  "It is strange," Uncle Gord said. "Shouldn't we be hunting after Jam? I do feel some guilt. I mean, he was under my protection."

  "Don't blame yourself," Lita said. "I should have bound him with a spell when we first arrived in the palace."

  "What about their friend?" Uncle Gord asked. "What was his name?"

  Kim opened her mouth to reply, but Fiora beat her to it. "It's Damon." A tiny burst of flame came out of her left nostril.

  "Yes, Damon," Uncle Gord said. "He seemed like a smart young man. Wise in the ways of metal."

  "They will not have arrived in Blayre's palace yet," Gord said. "For them, it will be as if several hours have passed; for us, a week. At least."

  Kim checked to be sure Daman's eagle-head staff still leaned against her chair. "Can we get there before them?" she asked.

  "Who is this 'we'?" Fiora said. "We no longer have Necklaces of Maximum Rock on our necks or Blayre breathing down our thoughts. We are free."

  "We can't just abandon Damon," Kim said.

  "Again, you use the word 'we' incorrectly," Fiora said. "It must mean something different in your world. Like when a group goes insane. Wizards and dead druids battling are no concern of mine." She raised her mug. "In fact, I am more concerned about this mug being half empty."

  "Kim is talking about those who are brave enough to fight," Uncle Gord said. Kim wondered if the fact that he was impervious to Fiora's flames gave him the bravery to say that. Though the dragonspawn could easily tear off his arm. Fiora answered with a silent glare.

  "So how do we get to the palace before them?" Kim asked.

  Lita placed half of her wand, stick, or whatever it was called, onto the table. "When Damon arrives, his life will be in danger. Not just because of his rainbow vision, but because Blayre will not see him as having any value. Maybe even Jam, who was so easily swayed, will find himself betrayed. His sudden ascension to strength and power can be easily removed by Blayre. But taking a druid king's head, risking a war once the next king is grown several years from now, why would Blayre do that? There really isn't a benefit to having King Fidd's head."

  The food arrived: roasted sweet potatoes cut into fries, sprinkled with cheese that had melted and been cooked at the top to give it that slightly browned appearance. It looked like sweet poutine. Maybe this world wasn't that bad, Kim thought. "The sweet potatoes are grown in pure Varg dung," the server explained. Then left with a smile, confident he'd let them in on a beautiful culinary secret.

  After a taste, with the sweetness and tartness of the cheese, she nearly wept. It was the best food she'd had since the inn.

  "So, is there a way to get there?" Kim asked.

  "You are talking about entering the domain of the now most powerful wizard in Metaloria," Lita said.

  "Only idiots do that." Fiora raised her hand for another mug, which was lowered because the mug server was already there. Maybe he was a magical, minty being. "Idiots."

  "Yes, my dragonspawn friend is correct," Lita said. "Idiocy and bravery often walk hand in hand."

  Then, Lita reached across the table and patted Kim's hand. The witch-wizard woman's hands were warm and calloused, as if she'd worked with the earth her whole life. "There is one way to get Damon," she said. "But it is very dangerous."

  "I really don't want to know what you're thinking," Fiora said. "But tell us your idiotic plan."