Revolting Relations

Chapter 2/Part 2 ~ Lost in the Dark

The towels were covered in rubble and her gown was in tatters, but Lady Kabech made do. She trudged barefooted over what was left of Versayls and her unfortunate entourage, then crossed the jewelled gardens. The only other survivor of the incident was waiting where she had left him.

Her steed shook some dust from his hoof with disgust, then raised his head and copped an eyeful of the state she was in.

"Plod is missing, I presume?"

He gave the horse equivalent of a shrug and evasive cough, but there was not a trace of stuffing, feathers, nor wool on the ground. Kabech clicked her tongue and climbed up into the saddle.

"Back to Hereth then, Bertroot," she said and gave him a jab with her heels, but he only moved a few steps forward and sniffed the air. "Directly ahead. It's in the middle of the country so there's no way we can lose it. Go."

Bertroot took off with a trot. She pushed him to a full gallop. It was wonderful, being able to ride without having to wait for the overstuffed unicorn nor a following of footpads. At speed they should be back in the comfort of her Mushroom Palace in time for tomorrow's supper.

But Bertroot only ran about fifty rope lengths before he ran out of puff and slowed to a melodramatic amble. Anyone would have thought he was on the brink of death with the amount he was wheezing and dragging his hooves. Then, he keeled over and played dead, with his tongue stuck out and eyes squeezed shut.

"Bertroot, you have the blood of the finest stallions in Tyrunvern. I know you're not done after that brief canter."

Bertroot's tongue waggled about as if that should make the display any more convincing. Kabech was about to give him a royal kick when Alphonse wobbled past, on the back of worse mount than her own.

"Nice corpse impression, Bert!" the Alchemist called in his irritatingly glib manner.

"Well, there's something I recognise, rather not the most useful point of reference though," said the King. With a false nose on his face, it was only by his velvety voice that she could tell it was him.

"We could ask fer directions, neigh."

"I've had enough adventures to know I don't need those, dear Plod!"

He had one of Alphonse's scarves coiled about his neck. Kabech's blood boiled with more fury than she had ever known. The King should have been on her horse, with one of her scarves trailing behind as they eloped into the night.

"Darn you, Alphonse!" she seethed, as angry with him as she was with herself.

No wonder the alchemist had been so curious.

Alphonse pulled a carrot from his bag and tossed it to Bertroot. "Trot back to Hereth, Bert. They'll have more veggies for you there."

Kabech's idiotic steed recovered from his ailments instantly and sped off into the night, leaving her stranded and looking a complete fool.

"Darn you." She clenched her teeth and stomped towards them. Another carrot hit her in the forehead then they buggered off into the night.

Kabech inhaled. Slow, and calm. Then exhaled. She would not give in to despair. At the very least, there would be a nice pair of horse-leather boots waiting at the other end of her very own adventure. She kept her chin up and marched on. She did not need the King to teach her how to be free. Here she was, in a tattered rag, alone, with nobody to titter about her fashion, her mood, her treatment of malcontent paupers. She may as well enjoy it.

For the first time, Kabech was at one with the flats of Tyrunvern. They were not as flat as she expected. Her feet found every tiny crack and bump in the black rocks and by a stroke of luck, the budding leaves of vegetables.

She uprooted a few radishes along the way. Their shrieks were a melody in her ears. But to her surprise, pulling up the bushel had revealed a divot of soft, crumbly rock-dust. With some guilty pleasure, she lowered her nose and sniffed at it. It smelled of roots, which was a little disappointing.

"Are you stealing my crops... and smelling my dirt?" a voice inquired with some uncertainty.

Kabech shot upright and spun around to face the source of the disturbance. "Dirt, you called it? This stuff under the ground?"

It was a quaint farmer, wearing a well-worn potato sack. "I did call it—Lady Kabech?"

"No, I believe you called it dirt. It is delightful stuff, but I doubt it would share my name." She looked at the radishes in her hand, then noticed the concern with which the farmer was regarding them. "I will be taking these. I have a long walk ahead."

"Looks like you've already had a long walk, your Ladyship. And those radishes are much too young to eat, but I have some mature vegetables in my hovel if you're hungry and not in a hurry."

"Yes, that will do nicely. Can you teach me how to prepare a pye?" Lady Kabech sat the radishes back in their hole, but they got up again and scattered across the landscape.

"I can try, your Ladyship."

* * *

Foiled again. As fast as he could lope, the rat could not keep pace with the lady's hoofed beast. But run as she might, he would not allow old age to steal her last breath.

The rat smouldered along, as dark and hostile as the landscape, and caught up with his quarry much sooner than expected. But he grew wary. His foe was clearly formidable. Her galloping creature lay slain, with nothing but the lady capable of the killing.

So the rat lay in wait, watching for an opportunity to strike. His chance came in the form of a three-headed monster with more appendages than he could count on his paws and a rather pointy carrot wielded as a weapon.

Alas, its throw missed. The carrot stirred the other fallen beast to rise and flee. Then after a second attempt to wound the Lady failed, the three headed beast lurched away. As it obviously shared his animosity, the rat scampered after it. In time he would have it do his bidding—not that a rodent capable of bringing down fortresses needed lackeys armed with root vegetables—it just seemed like an evil being should have others carry out the menial task of exacting revenge, while he focused on more important things.

Like what to have for dinner.

A small, sweet-smelling lump dropped from the back end of his underling-to-be and he was just about to sear through it when the beast reached back and snatched it away.

"Would you like a cupcake?" it's third head asked the second.

"That's not from my pantry. Where in Kyos' name did you find it?"

"That's my food you're fondling!" the rat hissed at them.

"Did you hear something squeak just now?"

"Wasn't me." replied the first and third heads together.

"Listen to me, you insubordinate wretches! Your overlord demands that food as tribute!" The rat berated them with a stamp of his paws.

"How curious, I just heard it again. I'd almost swear Plod was trampling on some very persnickety mice."

"Too late, I've et the cake now. You'll have to wait for the next one."

"The next one? Dear Alphonse, where are you getting them from?"

"It'll taste better if ye do nae ask that, neigh."

The rat was about to give up on communing with the daft beast, when finally it did as it was told and threw back a morsel. He pounced on it at once, only to discover that it was not food at all, but a piece of crumpled parchment. That was not as much of a disappointment as he expected. In fact, it was rather a favourable food source for the fiery critter and he found himself burning blissfully upon it for some time.

...until he realised his thoughtless underling had ambled on without him.