Christopher Healy - The Hero’s Guide to Storming the Castle

“No, we’re not,” Frank said. “We need you to talk to Duncan for us. Tell him to stop making us perform these ridiculous scenes for him.”

Snow shook her head (and then readjusted the wreath of daisies that sat atop her black hair). “As long as Duncan is working on his book, he’s not tempted to wander off—and that’s a good thing,” Snow said. “My husband hasn’t gotten lost in ten whole months—a new record, by the way—and if you fellows stop acting out his memories for him, he’s likely to traipse off into the woods and try to make some bears do it.”

“But he’s been so insufferable ever since he started thinking he’s a hero,” Frank said. “You can’t tell me it doesn’t annoy you, too.”

“Oh, pishposh,” Snow said. “Duncan’s just got more self-confidence now, and I like that.”

“It’s Duncan’s fault we lost our dragon!” Flik griped.

Just then a call rang out from the front garden gates. “Make way for the royal family of Sylvaria!”

Snow burst from her seat and darted over to where Duncan still sat pondering his past. “Dunky, your family is here,” she said.

Duncan stood up and grimaced. “Oh, no. Not them. Not here. They’ll embarrass me in front of the dwarfs,” he whimpered.

Snow put her hands on Duncan’s shoulders and looked him in the eye. “They’re your parents and your sisters,” she said. “Be nice.”

Duncan slumped. “But I’m popular now,” he said. “And they’re so . . . not.”

You see, Queen Apricotta (named after her mother’s favorite fruit) and King King (whose parents liked to keep things simple) were shunned by the very people whom they supposedly ruled. And Duncan’s teenage sisters—twins Mavis and Marvella—were no better off. Those two girls turned weirdness into an art form (dancing to imaginary music, walking pet crickets on leashes, constantly sniffing each other’s hair). Of course, Duncan was just as unpopular as the rest of his family, but he didn’t realize that, which is why, for the past several months, he’d turned down every one of their invitations to come visit the castle. But he couldn’t avoid his family forever.

“First of all, who cares what the dwarfs think?” Snow said. “And secondly, you don’t know for sure that your family is going to do anything embarrassing.”

“Oh, Duncan!” King King called out. “Where are you? I want you to taste this pea I found under my bed.”

The king—who had announced the family’s arrival himself because no servants were willing to travel with them—strode into the yard wearing his favorite pillow-top crown and long, zebra-striped robe. A blue jay zoomed by and snatched a tiny green pea from between the king’s thumb and forefinger. “Oh, well,” King King said.

He opened his arms and beckoned for a hug. Snow nudged Duncan toward him.

“Hello, Dad,” Duncan said as his father wrapped him in a tight embrace.

“Son,” King King said happily. “You’ve grown. Or perhaps I’ve shrunk.”

Queen Apricotta stepped in alongside her husband. She wore her red hair in long pigtails that flopped against her silver gown as she walked. “Hello, hello! It’s nice to see you, Snow,” she said. “Ooh, that rhymed! That was fun. I should say hello to you more often.”

“Good afternoon, Your Highnesses,” Snow said with a curtsy. “And you, too, Mavis. Marvella.”

The stoop-shouldered, inky-haired twins stood behind their mother, both wearing feathered shirts and homemade wings strapped to their backs. Their noses were painted yellow. “We’re owls,” the girls said in unison.

“Fantastic,” Snow said, because that was the best thing she could think to say at the moment. “Would anyone like some tea?”

“Tea!” the king shouted as he finally released Duncan from the hug.

“Tea!” the queen echoed.

“S!” yelled Mavis.

“Q!” yelled Marvella.

“Okay,” said Snow.

“P, X!” added Marvella, who assumed that the game had now changed to calling out two letters at a time.

“D, A!” said Mavis.

“B, K!” said the king.

Duncan leaned over to Snow and whispered, “This could go on for a while.”

“Ooh, the dwarfs are here,” Queen Apricotta noted with delight. “They’re fun.”

“Dwarves,” Frank corrected.

King King crouched down in front of Frak. “Show me how you fellows do birdcalls. You do such wonderful birdcalls.”

“He’s squatting,” Frak complained to no one in particular.

“I can do a crow song. Want to hear?” the king said. He stood up and puffed out his chest. “Ka-caw! Ka-caw!”

“I learned a song about dwarfs,” the queen announced.

“Dwarves,” said Frank.

“I think it goes like this,” Apricotta continued. “Dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs! Dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs, dwarfs!”

The twins started pulling feathers from each other’s costumes and blowing them at Frid and Ferd.

Duncan whispered to Snow again, “I can’t tell if this is going well or not.”

Flik walked over to Frank and pointed to the garden gate. There was another person standing out there.

“I’ll handle it,” Frank said, and eagerly darted away from the chaos.

Smimf, the messenger, was waiting at the entrance to the yard. Frank eyed him suspiciously.

“Excuse me, sir,” Smimf said. “I’m looking for Prince Duncan.”

“He’s busy,” Frank said. “What do you want?”

“I have a message here for Prince Duncan.” He held up the note.

“Give it here,” Frank said.

“I have strict orders that the message is only to be delivered to Prince Duncan.”

“Oh, yeah, that’s me,” Frank said. “I’m Prince Duncan.”

“Then here you are, sir, Your Highness, sir.” Smimf handed over the note.

Frank’s eyes lit up as he read Frederic’s letter. “Hey, kid, wait here,” he said, and he started back into the yard.

“Yes, sir, Your Highness, sir,” the messenger said. “And my name is Smimf.”

Frank stopped. “Duncan gave you that name, didn’t he?”

“I thought you were Duncan, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said with a tinge of horror.

“Nah, but I’m gonna go get him.” Frank dashed off.

Smimf swallowed hard. My second job ever, and I’ve already muffed it up, he thought.

Frank returned several minutes later with Duncan and Flik.

“What’s this all about, Frank?” Duncan asked as the dwarfs pulled him to the gate.

“Read this,” Frank said. He shoved the note into Duncan’s hands.

“Sorry, sir, Your Highness, sir,” Smimf said. “I thought the other gentleman was you.”

“Really?” Duncan asked, looking up. “But I’m famous.”

“Just read,” Frank urged.

Duncan finished reading the letter. “Does this mean what I think it means?” he asked.

“Knowing you, probably not,” Frank said. “It means one of your Prince Charming buddies got kidnapped. And you need to go help rescue him.”

“That’s sort of almost what I thought it meant,” Duncan said, feeling rather happy with himself.

“So, go,” Frank said. He handed Duncan a small sack. “I’m sure this bag has whatever you’ll need.”

“Well, I’m not certain how to get to Avondell,” Duncan said. “Although I’m sure I can figure it out.”

“Oh, no,” said Flik. “We don’t want you getting lost and circling back here.”

“That’s why you’re gonna go with this kid here.” Frank pointed to Smimf.

“Oh, um, yes, sir, Your Highness, sir,” the messenger said. “The name’s Smimf. I can lead you there. But I’m pretty fast. I hope you can keep up.”