Bad Unicorn Page 14

  “So as I’ve been thinking about it,” Robo-Princess continued, “it can’t just be about me going out and slaughtering them one by one. It would be too easy—no dramatic tension. What we need are a series of hunters, each more challenging than the next. Until I finally take the stage and finish them off in the glorious finale.”

  “What makes you think these humans could even last against any of our hunters?” Orange asked. “I mean, we’re hard and shiny—they’re all dull and squishy.”

  “Normally, I’d agree with you,” Robo-Princess replied. “But these aren’t ordinary humans. How do you think they managed to get here in the first place? It’s not like they’ve been hiding out for thousands of years. These humans used magic to travel from the past into the future—their future, our present.”

  There was a moment of silence. Suddenly one of the balls began vibrating and buzzing. “Oh, sorry,” Blue apologized to the group. “My wife called and I was set on vibrate.”

  Robo-Princess looked around the table; the balls had all inched closer, hovering on her every word. It was the kind of moment she lived for. “So how could this happen?” she asked. “I’ve told you that magic doesn’t work well in the Techrus. It takes a creature such as myself, or something equally unique. And that’s exactly what we have here. Those aren’t just ordinary humans; one of them is the relative of the arch-sorcerer and World Sunderer himself. I’m talking about a direct descendant of the most powerful arch-sorcerer to have ever lived. And that’s not all, because this long-lost human boy has the very spell book Sporazo wrote—it’s the only way such powerful magic could be cast. So as to the question about what kind of chance these humans have against our best hunters? I would ask, what kind of chance do our hunters have against them?”

  The tension in the room was electric (literally). Hearing about the kinds of magic that the humans brought with them was almost enough to frighten the executives into calling the whole thing off. Almost, but not quite.

  “That’s right,” Robo-Princess continued. “Not only are we talking about the last human hunt in the history of the world, but it’s the ultimate battle of machine versus magic. There’ll never be a contest more epic than this one.” Robo-Princess knew that she had them eating out of her metallic hooves, and she took a mental note that it was the perfect time to renegotiate her contract.

  “We need time to prepare,” Purple managed to say at last. The anticipation was nearly overloading its system.

  “Of course,” Robo-Princess answered. “Give the frobbits a two-week reprieve. In the meantime we’ll show reruns of our greatest frobbit hunts with promos for the big event.”

  “Maybe we should save the dwarf for later?” Blue suggested. “You know, keep it simple: humans and frobbits. Besides, marketing likes the idea of a follow-up episode—revenge of the dwarf.” The spheres nodded in agreement; two shows were always better than one.

  “I have plans for the dwarf,” Robo-Princess responded. “But what’s important is that I’ve been looking for this human Max Spencer and the Codex for a very long time.”

  “You know this is going to make us a fortune!” Green exclaimed, and the room filled with greedy chuckles. All except for Pink, whose lack of a humor array made the moment socially awkward.

  “Then do we have a green light?” Robo-Princess asked. They all looked at Green. “No pun intended.”

  The decision was a quick and unanimous yes.

  “Very good. Then you know I’m going to want something very special at the hunting grounds—I know the amount of energy it takes to change things up but we can spare no expense.” For the next hour or so, Robo-Princess outlined her vision of how the hunt would unfold. It would make for a spectacular end of the human race.

  It was late in the evening as Robo-Princess sat in her upscale apartment, her torso separated from her hindquarters as small servo robots did their weekly maintenance.

  “Do you ever miss it?” she asked Robo-Magar who was floating nearby. She found herself unusually thoughtful. It had to be the excitement of everything, which reminded her of the days long ago when she was roaming the Magrus and looking for adventure.

  “It?”

  “The Magrus. You know, orcs and trolls, faeries and dragons?” When Robo-Princess had traveled to the middle realm the last time, she’d done so in order to transport the entire frobbit kingdom to the Techrus. It was a feat that required every bit of her considerable magic, along with the Tree of Attenuation itself. Unfortunately, she damaged the tree so badly that the doors between the realms were closed—presumably forever. It was the last time any creature had moved between the Magrus and Techrus. She supposed she should feel guilty for that on some level, it was the monks there who had first taught her how to travel between the realms. But that was many lifetimes ago, and it seemed an old footnote compared to the mechanized and modern world she was a part of now.

  “I miss skin,” Robo-Magar said easily, obviously having thought on the subject before. “I miss feeling the prickly heat of the sun, or the way the wind would bend the hairs on your arm. Even the slippery feel of fine cloth between your fingers.”

  Robo-Princess’s memory core went back to retrieve the old memories of when she was a living, breathing creature. “I recall that I liked the way my mane felt as I galloped—whipping about my neck and withers as I prepared to run something down and stab it.”

  For Magar, his life of study at the Tower was also a distant memory; so far removed, it was as if it belonged to someone else. “Perhaps it was a mistake to have our minds downloaded into these machines,” Robo-Magar replied, not for the first time. “In our quest to live forever, I wonder if we’ve forgotten what it means to live in the first place?”

  “You’re such a downer sometimes, do you know that?” Robo-Princess should have known better than to get her wizard sentimental about the past. It was understandable. He had spent a good part of his life studying magic, only to become disconnected from it the moment they stepped into the Techrus. As a floating head, he’d never again be able to feel the very thing he had spent so much of his human life studying. At least Robo-Princess had her horn. She uncharacteristically decided to cut Magar some slack. That lasted exactly 1.33 seconds before she decided it was enough.

  “I’ve been wondering about the Codex of Infinite Knowability,” Robo-Magar continued. “If it has the power to send the humans to our time, would it not also have the power to send them back?”

  “It was always rumored that one of the prime spells could do that,” Robo-Princess replied as the servos continued moving about her metallic body, applying various maintenance checks. “But it’s not a spell to be taken lightly. I suppose it might depend on when the boy unlocked it. Did he stumble on it by accident, or has he mastered the Codex’s secrets? Based on all the running we saw—and let me just say he isn’t much of a runner—it was more likely the action of a frightened novice than an all-powerful sorcerer.”

  Robo-Magar considered the ramifications for a millisecond or two. “Then might there be an opportunity to use the boy and the Codex in some way? Perhaps such powerful magic could even restore us to our former selves? We could pick any time we wished to live in and be done with the machines and their city.”

  “I think you misunderstand me, Magar. I’m not going back to being a simple unicorn. Sure, I miss some things, but what I like most is tasting what I kill, spending my riches, and spreading a little fear now and then. I have all those things here, plus a body that will never age, grow tired, or get sick.”

  “You did download a virus last year.”

  “Not the point. I have bent this world to my will and it’s just the way I like it. And if you don’t, that’s a bonus.”

  “Ah,” Robo-Magar answered, his self-pity subroutine kicking in. “To know my continued misery adds just a little sparkle to your day is all I live for. Perhaps someday you’ll reward my years of faithful service by taking me to a recycling plant and having me quietly crushed.”

/>   The thought of having the Robo-Magar head slowly crushed did seem appealing, but Robo-Princess was far from finished with him. “You will serve me through all eternity—you might as well get used to it. But enough talk of such things—I want to discuss strategy for the hunt. Now, I’ve got a number of ideas . . .”

  Robo-Magar’s hovering jets fired enough for him to approximate a nod, then he purposefully switched off his hearing sensors. He quickly created a program that would randomly nod as Robo-Princess went about her long diatribe about what she planned, what she wanted to do, and what she might want to wear. His processor accessed an audio file from an ancient movie called The Wizard of Oz, and he listened to the happily singing voices proclaim, “Ding-dong the witch is dead . . .” as he randomly nodded. Had he had a real mouth, it might have turned ever so slightly into a smile.

  On the Number 432

  THERE ARE EXACTLY 1,296 FOUR-INCH steps that wind up the precarious mountainside leading to the Misty Monastery—home to the monks of the Holy Order of the Tree of Attenuation. The climb equals 432 feet, and 432 is the exact number of branches found on the mystical tree itself. The monks believe that it is the number 432 that connects all of the realms of existence, and which allows the mysterious order to have some mastery of travel through them.

  For example, the Babylonians tell of ten kings—from the creation of the world to the great flood—who lived a total of 432,000 years; the Vikings proclaim that on the day of Ragnarok, 800 divine warriors will each come out of the 540 doors of Valhalla, for a total of 432,000 warriors; the Maelshadow was created from the parts of 432 demons; and the human heart beats 43,200 times every 12 hours.

  The great pyramid has a scale of a 1 to 43,200 as it relates to the planet earth.

  The diameter of the sun is 864,000 miles (2 x 432,000), and the diameter of the moon is 2,160 miles (4,320 / 2).

  Room 9 (4+3+2) at the Inn of the Flatulent Orc is a transdimensional gateway between the universe and the umbraverse.

  And after years of extensive study, it has been definitively determined that 432 is the ideal number of dimples on a golf ball.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  RIDDLES, ANSWERS, AND QUESTIONS

  (THE MAGRUS—PRESENT)

  THE TRIP THROUGH THE KINGDOM OF WALLAN HAD BEEN LARGELY uneventful for Magar and Princess. After turning west they watched the landscape slowly change as they made their steady, uphill journey away from the sea. The pink sands of Turul had given way to green fields and rolling hills. Small villages came and went, and occasionally Princess and Magar would pass tradesmen pulling their wagons as they wound through the northern routes between Karesk and the capital city of Lanislyr. If anyone wondered why a young woman was traveling with a Tower wizard (it was always the robe and hat that gave them away), nobody asked.

  As the two continued to press westward, mountains began to rise in the distance. Travelers became infrequent, and Princess and Magar eventually left the road and followed the Gimbal through winding mountain passes and isolated game trails. After several days, having lost all signs of civilization, they came to an ancient set of stone steps carved into the black and gray face of a mountain. The path was narrow and the steps weathered as they curved up the rock face in a long ascending trail that stretched into the misty clouds above.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Princess said, straining her neck to try to follow the long flight of steps up the mountain.

  “This is the way to the monks of the Holy Order of the Tree of Attenuation. And this path marks the first test for those who wish to travel to the Mesoshire.”

  “The monks better be cooperative,” Princess said, taking the first step with a grunt. “Because I’m going to be working up a serious appetite.”

  The sun had begun to set by the time Princess and Magar pushed through the layer of low-hanging clouds to discover they were standing at the base of a tree that had been carved into the face of the mountainside. A strange creature sat before an ornate and ancient-looking rune-covered door. The creature resembled a man, if you took the man and compacted him down, added extra muscles and a round belly, and then plopped a head several sizes too big on his shoulders. He wore ring mail that was fashioned like a toga, and stared at Princess and Magar with a mix of contempt and boredom.

  “Greetings,” Magar announced, feeling a little winded after the climb.

  The creature grunted, sitting on a small boulder and shifting his weight to get more comfortable—his large eyebrows and ears jostling with the effort.

  “A hoblin, is it?” Princess asked, recognizing the half-man, half-goblin features.

  The hoblin smiled, lifting a wicked-looking axe a few inches off the ground before using it to pick at something wedged beneath a yellow toenail.

  “Well, I am Magar of the Wizard’s Tower,” Magar said, bowing slightly. “And may I present Her Highness, from the Unicorn Nation, Princess.”

  “Uh-huh,” the hoblin said flatly. “Another royal looking for adventure—great.”

  Princess offered a superfluous grin. “I’ve never eaten a whole hoblin before—always too tart. But you look like you might have a bit of a sweet and sour thing going on.”

  “Seriously, you just meet someone and you’re talking about eating them? That’s kind of messed up,” the hoblin replied. “Some of us have to work for a living, you know. But if you want to get past me you might consider bathing first. You smell like a horse.”

  “Horse!” Princess exploded. Calling a unicorn a “horse” was the second-worst thing you could ever call a unicorn. “I’ve skinned things alive for saying less.”

  The hoblin shrugged, obviously not impressed. “For their sake, I hope you started with their nose.”

  Princess fumed, stomping her foot and turning to the wizard. “Give me a good reason why I shouldn’t just kill it right now.”

  “Well, for one,” Magar said in the practiced tone meant to calm her down, “the door has no handle or lock. So my guess is he’s the only one who can open it.”

  “Bingo,” the hoblin said, now scratching at something deep inside his ear.

  Princess watched him as he sank his finger in to the last knuckle. “Ew. You’re a gross little toad of a thing, aren’t you?”

  The hoblin pulled his finger out with a sucking sound, the itch sufficiently scratched for the moment. “Say what you want,” he said finally, “I get paid either way. You can stand there flapping your face hole or you can ask me to let you in. And I’m guessing you didn’t climb all the way up here for the exercise.” The hoblin leaned over to get a better view of Princess’s backside. “Of course, a little more exercise might not kill you, if you know what I mean.”

  “Did he just call me fat?” Princess gasped. Her magical horn had suddenly appeared in her hand.

  “Not at all,” Magar quickly answered. “The hoblin obviously has issues. Probably nearsighted, too. You are as radiant as ever, Your Highness.”

  Even though Magar was usually more annoying than not, he did have a natural talent for groveling that Princess appreciated. She took a calming breath and turned back to the hoblin. “Okay, fine. I get it. They don’t pay you very much for this line of work and you probably live in an old rented log or something. You’ve got a wife who’s uglier and fatter than you are, and a bunch of grublike children that you have to keep underground or else birds will pluck them up thinking they’re worms. So why don’t we skip ahead and you just tell us how we get in.”

  The hoblin frowned. He’d already grown tired of these two and wanted to get rid of them, one way or the other. He cleared his throat. “Okay, then. Those who wish to see the Tree of Attenuation and travel between the realms must be worthy,” the hoblin continued, reciting an obviously memorized statement. “You have made the climb, and proved you have the physical strength. But you must also prove yourself through your wit, which is now your second test. The only thing that will open the door is my name. In order for me to tell you what it is, you must answer a series of
four riddles, each one more difficult than the last. Then, if you’ve answered them all correctly, you must ask me a series of four riddles, each of them more—”

  There was a flash of light and a sizzling sound. Magar blinked, finding the hoblin gone and a smoking pile of ash in his place. The various pieces of armor fell to the ground with a metallic clang as Princess blew a whiff of smoke from the end of her horn.

  “What have you done?” Magar exclaimed. “You killed him! We’ve come all this way for nothing!”

  Princess grinned, a pleased look on her face.

  “So you’re ready to just walk all the way back to the Tower and beg Rezormoor’s forgiveness? Is that it? You’ve had your fun and now we have to start over?”

  “I don’t beg anything from anyone,” Princess replied. “Oh, Magar, you’re almost tolerable when you’re flustered like that.”

  Magar was about to say something—something he’d probably regret—when the stone door suddenly swung open with a hiss. The wizard turned to Princess, dumbfounded.

  “He said the key was his name, silly,” Princess said, slipping her wand back into the folds of her robes. “You have to exist to have a name. No name, no key . . . no lock.”

  Princess gave him a pat on the head as she walked into the opening.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  FROBBIT FIREWORKS

  (THE TECHRUS—FUTURE)

  THE NEWS HAD COME AS PRINTED LEAFLETS DROPPED FROM THE SKY. They fell lazily, like oversized snowflakes as Max held one in his hand:

  HUMANS!

  We, the citizens of Machine City,

  Command you to gather at the hunting grounds at dusk

  Fifteen days hence.

  There to decide once and for all,

  Technology or Magic? Which is strongest?