Dark Tidings

Chapter 9 - Best of Three?

Tung froze on the spot. Why was it up to him to sort out the mess? He stared at Madrick. How could the old man not have seen the problem? This guy was meant to be the smart one. A wizard was supposed to be wiser than a barn full of owls so how did he miss something so bleeding obvious?

"Your plan has a great big hole in it. You really haven't thought it through at all, have you? The escape bit is fine but we were supposed to use the Scroll to get rich, be deliriously happy and attract hosts of girls."

He wondered whether that should be 'hostesses of girls'. He was losing focus. That happened a lot. He began to think about other times when he'd drifted away from the important topic. Luckily, before he'd drifted too far, his common sense gave him a mental slap and snapped his mind back to the matter in hand.

"We were going to change the world, remember? Your plan may well get us out of here but what about the Scroll? If it's only our bodies which become invisible, then we'll have to leave all our stuff behind; our clothes, our shoes and the Scroll. We'll have to leave everything in this godforsaken dungeon."

He paced the cell, fists clenched.

"We'll be free but we'll be miserable paupers. We won't even have the clothes we stand up in. We'll be a pair of destitute alms-people who'll never be free of the shackles of poverty. That sounds like a nightmare, what happened to the dream?"

Okay, melodrama overdose, time to stop talking. Truth be told, he'd be happy just to escape the torture and execution but he'd bought into the picture which Madrick had painted. He'd been handed a wondrous gift only for it to be snatched from his grasp before he'd even had the chance to unwrap it. He was distraught and he sunk his face into his hands to emphasise the fact.

Dammit, it seemed Madrick had completely forgotten about the Scroll. They couldn't carry the thing out in their invisible hands. That would be ridiculous. A flying scroll would undoubtedly attract attention. Was that it then, dream over?

A dejected silence descended over the cell as both sat, head in hands, and pondered their predicament. The journey from despondency to joyousness and back to despondency had only taken a few minutes. Could they get back to joyousness again? And then, as if by magic, the answer dawned on both of them at exactly the same moment.

One of them would have to secrete the Scroll inside their body. It was a small scroll but it was too large to hold in the mouth or swallow. They both stared at each other as they realised there was only one other option. Tung jumped to his feet.

"It's not going to be me. I've already suffered enough pain for this escape. It's not going to be me, no chance."

"I know, you've been great, but..." Madrick said, trying to muster some sort of argument even though a blind man on a galloping horse could see that Tung's point was more than fair. Having said that, who cares about fairness when the consequences of this 'delicate' situation would be so unpleasant? "I know how we can decide. Rock, Parchment, Knife. We'll play Rock, Parchment, Knife... best of three?"

"It's not going to be me," said Tung, who was having none of it. He loved a gamble and he was quite skilled at that particular game but he was taking no chances. "I've already gone through enough pain for this escape. Not me, no chance."

He'd repeated his argument pretty much verbatim as if to indicate he wasn't going to enter into a debate about it. He turned his back to Madrick and grabbed a chicken leg from the banquet remains which were strewn all over the floor. He began to chew. Conversation well and truly over.

"You're taking advantage of an old man. Have you no pity in your heart?"

A plea for sympathy had to be worth a try. Tung just ignored him and continued to gnaw on the chicken bone.