62: Hitching A Ride

  For Damon, it was embarrassing to be captured. They didn't write about that in the books he'd read; mostly; they had a hero being Strider-confident while facing his enemies. Instead, he'd become the damsel-in-distress without the sparkly gown. He had spent his life trying to be aware enough to fight against stereotypes, but they lurked in his subconscious. He was a man, and he'd just been dragged like a doll through a portal by another man named Jam. Jam! The name didn't sound all that frightening, and Jam had been only minutes before, about the same size as Damon. His transformation once he'd touched the Necklaces of Maximum Rock, from a scrawny beanpole into Conan was, well, frightening. He had jumped countless levels in a heartbeat.

  But the most embarrassing thing was that Jam had been wearing a DeathFace Blitzkrieg shirt at the concert, the nemesis of Anvil. And if there was any justice in this universe, one of the greatest Anvil fans on earth would never be bodily lifted and dragged through a portal by a guy who had worn a DeathFace Blitzkrieg shirt. Clearly, there was no ultimate justice in this universe or any universe.

  The last thing Damon had seen before the portal's darkness closed around him was the one bright spot: Kim had a look of concern on her face. At least he thought it was concern, though it could be indigestion. And beside her was Fiora, with the same appearance of concern. Or indigestion. He was unsure of what he should feel towards either of them. Technically, the last thing he had seen was his boot, because it had been the last part of his body to go through the arch.

  He'd recognized the rune-covered arch almost immediately as a magical item that would take him to another realm. And at this point it was continuing to do that—it felt like he was flying, though there wasn't any stream of air messing up his hair.

  Jam's overpowering grip had trapped him, but they both seemed to be in stasis. He didn't blink. His heart may not be beating. And he couldn't lift a finger. It was like he was a mummy in a sarcophagus. That made him think of Egyptians and what they did to bodies before they became mummies. Best not to. It was impossible to turn his head to see if Jam was also in stasis, but Damon could feel his massive hand on his shirt. And that meant the other hand held the head of a king floating. Maybe that head was resting against Damon. Jam also was somehow gripping the Schenkeraxe.

  By looking upwards, he could see:

  Metal Health: 2120

  Kind: Human, Male

  Type: Ultimate, Ultimate

  Metal Skill: Ultimate, Ultimate

  Metal Mana: 50000

  Proclivity: Norwegian

  Dude, you are looking at my numbers, a voice said inside his head.

  Who's that? Who's there? Damon tried to say aloud, but the words remained as interior thoughts. Well, exterior, too, since they were soon answered.

  It is I, Jam, the voice said. Jam the all-powerful and handsome. Are you like me? I mean, not handsome, of course. I can't move my body, but my awesome mind is free to wander. To think thoughts and hum songs. Are you of the same state of mind?

  Yes, Damon said. I can't move. I suggest you try letting me go to find out if you can move.

  Metal Dad would be mad if I let you go, Jam said. Plus, as I mentioned, I can't. We're frozen but moving in a strange time-space continuum thing. I'm sure Metal Dad will explain it to me when we arrive. He's going to explain so many things. Like girls and right-hand hammer ons and other stuff.

  Why was this crazy guy thinking his dad would be on the other side of the portal? Damon wondered. He noticed that the thought didn't feel like it went outside his head. Jam didn't respond. That was good. He had to project his thoughts toward Jam in order for the guy to receive them.

  He's not your dad, Damon projected. He's a psychopathic wizard with an abundant ego and an overpowering need for face and beard creams. And power.

  Those things are all true, Jam replied. Isn't it great? You don't know how annoying everyone else is when you become the ultimate badass power. And he is my Metal Dad. He told me so.

  Damon wanted to shake a finger at him, but it still wouldn't move. *He's lying!

  Jam laughed mentally. Well, riddle me this: Why would he lie about being my dad? There's no reason to do that. He already made me all-powerful.

  First off, you're not all-powerful. If you were, you could stop us mid-flight. I have a feeling you'll discover exactly how unpowerful you are the moment you are face to face with Blayre. Damon realized he was ranting and maybe making his answer too long for Jam, but he continued on. Blayre lied to you so you would behead the king of Balladria, who seemed like a nice dude, and then you jumped through the portal on the wizard's command. That's why he's saying he's your dad. He's manipulating you!

  There was silence in his head for several seconds. If he had been able to, Damon would have taken a breath. But his body was still frozen. And his heart still hadn't beaten. A claustrophobic feeling climbed up his spine. He needed his heart to beat. He needed air. Air.

  He went out to get milk, Jam sent.

  What?

  My dad dude went out to get milk. That's what my mother told me. And cigarettes, and he never came back. I was five.

  Damon responded: That's… that's a stereotype, sorry. Dads don't really go out for milk and cigarettes and disappear.

  Mine did. My real dad. Not Dad Two or Dad Three. For the longest time, I couldn't remember what he looked like. Mom didn't have any pictures. But now I can see it clearly. It's Blayre. Blayre is my dad. It's the only thing that explains everything.

  Damon tried to shake his immobile head. How could your dad be in another world when he went out to get milk?

  He got electrocuted at the store while an Iron Maiden song was on and came here. It was Wasted Years, I bet. Love that song. And that explains when I heard Metal Dad's voice, it was familiar, and once I was in his presence, I became my natural strong self. This self. There was a silent pause. Oh, Jam sent, *I tried to point at my marvelous metal bod. But my fingers won't move. You'll just have to imagine my six-pack.

  I'd rather not. The image burst into his mind anyway. He felt a tad bit of jealousy. Maybe the look on Kim's face hadn't been concern, but a look of being impressed by all of Jam's muscles. From what he knew of her, Kim didn't seem to be the type to be swayed by looks, but having that many muscles wouldn't have hurt. And maybe Fiora liked muscles on men, too.

  Again, he felt that odd feeling. Should he be attracted to a dragonspawn? I mean, she might be five hundred years old for all he knew. She was so strong, though. And smelled like flowers.

  Metal Dad said that your brains will be eaten and he'd grow more powerful and share that power with me, Jam's voice said inside his head. Isn't that great news? You'll have a use. And you'll make me better. It's a win-win!

  The shuddering was all inside Damon's head. I want to keep my brain. Are you talking to him right now?

  Alas, Dude, no. I hear only you. Dad said this stuff earlier—telling me all the wonderful things that would happen when we finally meet. I mean, meet again. Maybe he'll have milk and cigarettes, though I don't do cigarettes. I vape. It's better for you. And comes in some wicked flavours.

  He said all this to you while you were attacking us? Damon asked.

  It was all 'dude, stab left, swing the guitar axe, catch the head in the air, and carry the head. Run down this hall and turn left, smack the guards, grab the skinny one and jump through the flowery portal.' But when I was running, he also said that the skinny, weak dude sees numbers. We can eat his brains, and we'll rule over all the realms. A father and son, kings forever, and all the girls, girls, girls will rock with you. Big ones, small ones, even emo ones, too! Crazy nights all day long. It'll be like living in a beer commercial.

  There were several horrid images in that, but one thing stuck in Damon's mind: Blayre knows about beer commercials?

  No, it was more of an image he made appear inside my head. Of girls in skimpy furs and chain-mail bikinis and me posing, flexing muscles on a beach even though I don't wear bathing suits. Well, I can make my chest muscles dance, so I will wear a leather-studded speedo now like that guy from W.A.S.P. I can't wait. I'm going to look and smell so pretty. So will they. The girls, girls, girls will shake me all night long.

  You're too nice to let him eat my brains, Damon sent.

  It's a small sacrifice.

  It's my brains!

  A small sacrifice for me is what I meant, Jam replied. *I'm sure it won't hurt you.

  Listen, Damon sent. He is not who you think he is. Maybe you can take the head back, and they can… they can glue it back on to the king's body. Well, I don't know what you do with heads in this world. But they'll understand that you were under Blayre's control. You could be the hero. Imagine that.

  Another long, interminable silence followed, made interminable because nothing was happening. There was nothing for Damon to see. No heartbeat, no breathing. Nothing. Every second felt like a year, but it also gave him hope that somehow Jam would grasp the moral quandary of letting someone else's brains be eaten.

  Yes, Jam said finally. I don't like it when stuff gets taken from me. Like when my mom sold my drum kit. So I shouldn't let anyone, even my dad, take your brains. It's like a moral quarry or something.

  Damon bit his mental tongue so he wouldn't shout out "quandry."

  Jam hadn't slowed down. You said hero, right? Hero. Finally. A hero everyone looks up to. Now, what about that girl?

  That girl?

  The one with you. Do you think she'd rock with me?

  Kim? Uh, I don't know. You could ask her. If we go back.

  Cool. Maybe it's worth it to go back. I mean, who knows how many hot chicks there are at my father's place? He'd forgive me too, I bet. Once he sees how heroic I am. I think this portal thing somehow has something to do with my mind. I can maybe stop us.

  Though they weren't traveling at a speed that Damon could measure, it felt as if they were slowing down.

  Let's go back, and I'll ask that girl out, and you can ask the dragon thing out and we can go on a double dungeons and dudes date.

  What? Are you reading my thoughts?

  Jam mentally laughed inside Damon's head. No. I just saw a sparkle in the dragon lady's eyes. And yours. The same sparkle was in Kim's eyes when she looked at me. Let's go back. Kim babe is waiting!

  Damon decided it was better to let him believe he had a chance with Kim. Clearly she had higher standards that a Deathface Blitzkrieg fan. That's great. I'm so happy, Jam. You are the best.

  And people are going to look up to me, right? Jam asked.

  Yes, yes, they will. And speaking of that, here's a start: I'm really sorry I made fun of your DeathFace Blitzkrieg shirt.

  Another interminably long silence followed. Damon couldn't tell if they were still slowing down. Maybe they had stopped.

  If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

  Why would you mention my shirt?

  It's a nice shirt, Damon replied. I'm sure that the whole fight between Anvil and Deathface Blitzkrieg is made up. Totally for the media. Sells albums, right?

  Damon didn't think a voice inside his head could be sulky, but the sulk practically permeated his brain: People always make fun of Deathface Blitzkrieg. It's not like they're Nickelback.

  Damon thought the whole hatred thing of Nickleback was overblown. They had slickly produced albums, yes. But so were Def Leppard's once Mutt Lange signed on to produce them. He knew it wasn't the right time to start an argument defending Nickelback or attacking Deathface Blitzkrieg. Being amicable was the best choice.

  You can wear whatever you want, Damon said. You'll be a hero.

  That Gord guy didn't like Deathface Blitzkrieg either. I can't be around people who don't like Deathface Blitzkrieg.

  They began floating ahead.

  We can't go back, Jam added.

  Why? Damon's voice squeaked mentally.

  Because there are guaranteed hot chicks at Metal Dad's place. I mean, it's a palace, right? Now that I think of it, it's a no-brainer. Chicks galore at a palace. Not middle-aged women and dragon things and one hot chick. No, this is my choice: I wanna rock!

  But what about my brains? Damon asked.

  Don't interrupt me! Jam sent this as an angry burst. *It's impossible to go back. I broke the arch thing as we left, dude. Anyway, it occurred to my brain that I might lose this bod if Metal Dad got mad. I don't want that. We're almost home.

  Almost home? Damon would have shuddered if it were possible.

  Yes, almost home. With Metal Dad Blayre. I'm going to give him the biggest, manliest hug. And we'll high-five, too. He might even toss a baseball with me. I could definitely catch it. And maybe even crush it in one hand.

  And suddenly, Damon could feel his breath rushing in, his heart beating, and speed as they flew through the air. He also was aware of Jam's powerful, inescapable hand holding him, the head of a dead druid king pressing against his shoulder with hair that felt like earthworms on his skin. They were moving at the same speed they had entered the arch, flying out of darkness into light.

  The light hurt. Well, not so much the light, but the marble floor they hit once they flew into the brightness of a hundred burning torches. There was squawking, though mostly he heard himself make several oofs.

  "And so you have arrived," a male voice said.

  It took Damon a moment to turn his head. What he saw made his eyes bulge.

  63 Little Dreamer

  "What is the plan?" Uncle Gord asked from his side of the door. Kim waited to hear the plan.

  But Fiora was already gone. Then, Uncle Gord poked his head into the now wide-open door. He smiled too. "Ah, I see," he said, not even in a whisper. He stepped inside.

  Kim stood on the other side of the door for a moment, contemplating the many things in that room that could kill her. Since this world was not one where normal events occurred, Fiora and Uncle Gord could have been hypnotized the moment they peeked in. The only thing that gave her some hope that it might not be bad was that there was no sickening sound of a sharp or fiery or inordinately tentacle-y thing slamming into their bodies. Instead, her uncle stood just a few feet inside the door. And she could see Fiora's arm next to him, so Kim assumed the rest of her body was also there. That arm jiggled slightly, which might mean Fiora was giggling.

  To be safe, Kim shaded her eyes as she stepped into the Room of God-like Metal Coolness, head down. The golden polished floor reflected a few thousand bright lights. She had emerged beside a pure gold pillar that was encrusted with jewels. Both Uncle Gord and Fiora continued to stand still, smiling. Her Destroyer Boots Of Major Metal Destruction made a tick-tack sound with each step.

  "Is it okay?" Kim whispered. "Can I look?"

  "Oh, it's more than okay," Fiora said. "Well, I still don't know what the word okay means, but what lies before us is a wonderful miracle." She pointed.

  Kim slowly raised her head, still shading her eyes but taking in more and more of the bright room. There were a multitude of jewels on the floor. On the wall. Even the ceiling. It was as if that singer her mom liked—Elton John—had hired a thousand gaudy decorators to go mad in this room. The giant golden toilet visible to her left made her think of billionaires with poor taste.

  Higher, she saw the same throne Blayre had appeared on the first time she'd seen him in person. The back of the throne was tipped back, so the occupant could lie flat. And relaxing in it was the grand wizard Blayre. His face was calm, skin glowing as if he'd just had a skin treatment. And his hair was perfectly in place. Two large cucumber slices covered his eyes.

  But the most important detail was that he had two fuzzy things attached to his ears that she first mistook for very hairy guinea pigs.

  "My vengeance is served to me on a platter," Fiora said.

  "Shhhh!" Kim couldn't help the shushing.

  Fiora laughed loudly. "No more shushing—he listens to what he calls the classics at the loudest volume—all the way at eleven."

  His toes were moving to whatever beat he heard.

  "You have sound-blocking headphones in this world?" Uncle Gord said.

  "They are Ultimate Heavy Metal Maniac Ear Boom Cups," Fiora corrected. "He created them with a spell that twisted a banshee and a furry animal into this form."

  "And he really can't hear us?" Uncle Gord said.

  "HE CANNOT HEAR US," Fiora shouted.

  The wizard didn't react to the loud outburst. "But he could open his eyes," Kim said.

  "Those cucumbers are fresh, which means we have at least an hour. He wouldn't want to miss out on the rejuvenating power of the Great Cucumber Slices of Paradise City."

  "So how do we kill him?" Uncle Gord said.

  "Oh, that part will not be easy. There are still very many magic spells protecting his corporal self. He is safe from blades, smothering, red-hot pokers, hammers, toe-pullers, poison and—"

  "You've tried all of these?" Kim interrupted.

  "A good number of them, yes," she said. "Let us say our previous relationship was testy. Which is why he eventually put me in the dungeon to spend my time with spawners."

  Blayre's toes continued to dance. He looked happy and relaxed. And well, innocent would be the wrong word. But not as evil as with cucumbers on his eyes.

  Then he opened his mouth and sang:

  "The metal is me and I am metal

  The rock is me, and I am rock

  Let me love you like the god I am

  My love will be an awesome, ultimate shock."

  He delivered each note in perfect tune and with a hard-edged rasp.

  "The lyrics are horrid," Kim said.

  "He is a singer, not a songwriter," Kim said. "He doesn't even have a thimbleful of his father's talent. Now let us make that his swan song."

  "We can't kill a sleeping man," Kim said.

  "You are a good person, Kim," Uncle Gord said. "And I understand if you need to step away from this. We will do the job."

  Fiora snorted. "Ugh, don't worry your soft little heart. We can't kill him because of that list of protections that surround him while he's here in his palace. Unless you have a shot in the dark dagger? No, I thought not. We will have to immobilize him without setting off his ten thousand protective spells, then transport him somewhere else and eviscerate him."

  "And how do we do that?" Uncle Gord asked.

  "Eviscerate him?" She began counting on her claws. "There's good old-fashioned slashing. Pole axing can be fun. And there's—"

  "I meant, how do we immobilize him."

  Fiora gave Uncle Gord a punch, which he held his ground. "Yes, you are right. I shouldn't get ahead of myself. There may be a spell or charm he's left lying around. He's changed Room of God-like Metal Coolness quite a bit since I was last here."

  Kim glanced around the room. The gold and glitter were almost endless. A jewel-encrusted painting of Blayre hung on the wall, his eyes lasciviously watching her. Kim shuddered. The opposite wall was all glass, so it had a clear view of a bay. Under two bright moons, side by side in the sky, the waves of the bay were crashing onto a sandy beach. It really was a beautiful view.

  Fiora pointed at an arch very much like the one Jam and Damon had vanished into, except it was covered with flashing jewels of green, red, blue and violet. "That's new," she said.

  "Is that where Damon and that Jam guy will arrive?" Kim asked.

  "It's possible," Fiora said. "Blayre doesn't like stairs, so he installed arches that lead to the stable, or the dining room, the dungeon, his sauna, his auditorium and baths and torture chambers." She pointed at the row of arches that were lined along the wall.

  "Does the flashing mean someone is using it?" Uncle Gord asked.

  "Not necessarily," Fiora said. "He likes things that flash. It's an illness."

  Kim went past another golden column to discover a twelve by twelve foot bookshelf. A glowing pentagram on the floor was partly covered by the bookshelf itself. Kim took a glance at the collection without stepping onto the pentacle. The titles included The Manicures of Metal Gods, Inna Goddo Avita, and Mullet Magic Power. The biggest book of all was An Ultimate Wizard's Guide To Metal, Women, Wine and Song written by Blayre himself. Kim held back an ugh. "At least there aren't gems on the book covers."

  "Don't mention it to him," Fiora said. "Or there will be."

  Next to the bookshelf was a music stand made of pure gold and encrusted with the usual layer of gems. A piece of thick paper sat on top, with an old-style pen beside it as if Blayre had been writing a song before having his lay down. The title of the song was Something Wicked This Way Comes. Kim read the music and, after all the years of piano, her mind made the song play in her head. Some sleeping side of the diva inside her perked up.

  A new song. Not sung before. She touched the page, and her arm hairs raised up as if it was electric. There was something about this song. She read the lyrics.

  In the village

  The darkness spreads

  The innocent herders

  Lift up their heads

  And see a broken sky

  Something Wicked This Way Comes

  Something evil better run.

  She didn't like gloomy songs but this one had weight and power. She expected her hand to burst into flames. But it was only paper. It was in the reading of it that made it powerful.

  "This is the song he stole from Dio," she said.

  "Blayre has been trying to finish it for a hundred years."

  Kim looked at the scribbles along the bottom.

  Run run run, like wolves or snakes in the sun

  and smile all the while you have fun run

  Well, that was a horrible addition, Kim thought.

  Fiora let out a tiny little, "A-ha!" She went to a blanket hanging on a golden bar, moving her wings slightly so that she travelled faster. The blanket was woven in a gold diamond pattern perfectly inlaid with silver and black. It would take a thousand lifetimes for any of her ancestors to do something like this. On closer observation, the golden threads looked to be spun of actual gold.

  "He loves his gold," Kim said. "I still don't see how you and he first fell in…" Kim looked over, seeing the gold flecks in Fiora's eyes and maybe that was part of the answer from his side, at least. There was also a fleck of destructiveness in those eyes. "Well, never mind. Not my business."

  "Nothing in my life is of concern to you." Fiora held out the blanket.

  Kim took the offered end of the blanket and nearly collapsed. Not from the weight, but from the incredible silkiness. It was as if a thousand caterpillars had woven it with the softness of… she couldn't think of anything as soft as this. What about a silk handkerchief? A first kiss? That reminded her of Damon, and she quickly shook her head.

  As they walked towards the wizard, the cloud-like blanket between them, Fiora kept talking. "This is his I Want My Heavy Metal blankie. He loves to slumber in it, for it wraps around him and allows him to escape the world for hours. All we have to do is pull it over him, and the spell that is a part of the blanket will pull him into a deep sleep. Then we can toss him into an iron casket and throw him into the ocean. We poke tiny holes in the top so it takes longer for it to fill with water."

  "We have a casket?" Uncle Gord asked.

  "We may have to construct one. I have about twelve hundred scenarios of revenge."

  "Oh," Kim said. "Nice. And not obsessive at all."

  "My time in the dungeon allowed me to plan them all," she said. "We just need to be sure to cover his mouth. Then, if he wakes up, he can't utter a spell, and being wrapped up in the blanket, he won't be able to wiggle a spell-casting finger. And then, when Damon and the skinny one arrive, Gord will separate the traitor from the amulets or kill him. Or maim him. Or blind him. I don't care. And we will also rescue Damon and hug him. I mean, you can hug him. That's a mortal thing to do. I don't care about hugs. Never have. And finally, we will take King Fidd's head back to Balladria so they can plant his walnut." She smiled. "There will probably be a reward."

  "What about Lita?" Uncle Gord asked.

  "If she were here, she would help us," Fiora said. "So she is somewhere else." She didn't say where that somewhere else might be, but Kim couldn't help but picture Lita as part of the The Tree of Heavy Metal Shuffling and Non-Perfect Wishes. If that was so, Kim thought her uncle could visit her there if he could tell which bump was Lita.

  They approached the wizard. It was harder to believe he was an all-powerful wizard because he had cucumbers on his eyes, but this man had brought about the death of a druid king. The cucumbers didn't hide the fact.

  "Lower it at exactly the same time," Fiora whispered. They placed it just above his mouth, leaving his nostrils uncovered. And like a butterfly cocoon, it slowly, comfortably wrapped itself around him. It was sad to release the blanket. To no longer have that softness in her life.

  Blayre began to snore deeply, his nostrils widening to suck in more air. There was the slightest hint of nose hairs in them.

  "We have him," Fiora said. "My revenge is here." She did sound confident, and that confidence made its way into Kim's heart. An all-powerful wizard was at their feet, wrapped up in a sleep blanket, with his eyes covered by cucumbers.

  "We do, don't we?" Uncle Gord stood at the foot of the throne. "Job well done, team."

  Then Blayre made the very slightest tickle movement with his nose. And Kim couldn't help but think it was the nose hairs causing it. His nose continued to wrinkle, and then his breathing became sharper. Kim sniffed herself, and caught a whiff of Fiora. Her flower scent seemed stronger here maybe strong enough to wake the wizard. Blayre took a deep double-nostril breath, moving his eyebrows enough that a cucumber came off.

  One angry eye stared. If it could, that eye would have shot daggers or spells at them. It looked from Uncle Gord, then to Kim, and she felt like she might melt under that gaze. But when it looked at Fiora, the eye widened in shock.

  Fiora carefully removed the hairy headphones from his ears. Music rumbled out of them.

  "Black Sabbath!" Uncle Gord exclaimed. "It's 'The Wizard'!"

  "He loves songs about wizards," Fiora said.

  Blayre stared at Fiora. And Fiora glared back, a smile slowly twisting her face.

  "Yes, Blayre." Fiora pointed a claw at him. "It is I, your doom, in the room with you." She let out an angry grunt. "Hades bells! I didn't mean to make that accidental rhyme. Anyway." The claw came near Blayre's uncovered eye. Kim was pretty certain she was going to poke it, which might set off all the defensive spells. "We have come to destroy you and your nefariousness. Your name will be cast into the pit of infamy. Never to be rocked again."

  Blayre's head moved slightly, and the other cucumber fell off. Kim resisted the urge to pick it up and put it on her own eye. Now, both of the wizard's eyes were glaring at Fiora.

  Then, after several seconds, they shifted, and he looked behind her, and his orbs showed glee. Fiora turned, but no one was behind them.

  "You wait right there, Blayre," Fiora said. "We will greet your little warrior friend. And then your complicated, self-aggrandizing plan will fall apart right before your eyes."

  The little crow's feet beside his eyes tightened together which meant that under the blanket, he was smiling. And Kim got the feeling that he was smiling about something they didn't know.

  Fiora's eyebrows scudded together like storm clouds. "I really don't like that look," she said. "It's the same look he'd get when he was about to win at weeping widow bones while we drank April wine." She glanced over her shoulder, then back around the room.

  There was a creaking sound.

  The bookshelf Kim had been looking at several minutes earlier swung open.

  She drew her sword, expecting Damon and Jam to come flying through.

  But it was worse than that. Three times worse.