A Fool's Tale

Chapter 27 - Treachery

Wolf howls? What was Gilles talking about? Then I noticed Isidor lurking on the other side of the tower, and in his hand was the crystal wolf he'd been so proud of. Oh brother. I never imagined Isidor would make use of his enchantment to declare the start of a competition for fools. Isidor saw me looking in his direction and winked.

I held back a smile. In some respects, I think Isidor was more like a jester than me.

Moments later, the wolf howled. The other fools jerked in surprise at the loud cry, but I knew what to expect, and took off before the rest of them recovered. Reaching the first handhold, I pulled myself up to the nearest ledge. Someone tugged at my foot. I twisted around. It was an unfamiliar jester in black and white motley.

"Where do you think you're going?" He smirked and yanked me to the ground. I fell with a grunt and watched from my back as he took possession of the ledge I'd so recently occupied. A pole from within the tower thrust out knocking him off the perch and he toppled beside me.

I narrowed my eyes. People had been strategically placed inside the tower, and each of them held long, iron rods. I watched as a number of jesters were pushed from their ledges to the ground. This was not going to be as easy as it looked.

"Try, try again," cackled the black and white garbed fool beside me. He capered for the audience then circled to a different section of the tower, looking for an easier place to climb.

Gamely, I got to my feet and followed the trail of jesters who had congregated around a section of tower on my right. I noticed Pickles had fallen to the ground and was sitting with one hand on her head. She didn't look hurt, but seemed to have given up already, frustrated with the logjam of fools.

When I arrived, the jesters were kicking and clawing at each other as they struggled to navigate their way up the tower. I moved to the left and clambered around them, avoiding their kicking feet and grasping hands. My athleticism enabled me to move faster than most of them and I was about halfway to the top when I realized there was only one person ahead of me. He had green striped leggings and one of his belled feet was shoved into a crack just above my head. I could have reached toward it and pulled him down, but I hesitated. It seemed unsporting. Instead, I tried maneuvering around him and bumped against his calf. He turned, and our eyes locked. It was Tinsel, one of the jesters from the tryout on my first day at the castle.

Recognition stole across his face, and he grinned manically. "Stole my job from me, well you're not getting this prize,"

He kicked viciously toward my chin. I tried to dodge the blow, but at the same moment someone else tugged my heel from behind. I slipped and Tinsel's foot caught me on the forehead, causing me to lose my grip. I crashed down, knocking four other jesters from the wall. Their presence decreased the speed of my fall, though I still landed heavily on my side.

Gingerly, I rose to a sitting position and massaged my aching ribs. I glanced toward the royal gallery. They were cheering our antics. Talia pointed at me smiling. She mouthed the words. Are you okay. I didn't answer. Something else had grabbed my attention. A fully armored knight was riding his horse directly at the king. His lance was lowered, and he didn't seem to be veering away. I waved my hand in warning, but the audience misinterpreted my signal, thinking I was letting them know I had been uninjured from the fall. They roared encouragement at me.

The knight thundered closer. I had only seconds before he reached the king. Instinctually, I dove into my pool of magic. The first source of power I came in contact with was mind magic. I'd never used it before, but I immersed myself without hesitation. Suddenly, my heart beat pounded like an anvil and I could sense the blood swirling through my veins like millions of pulsing streams. I also felt every nick and bruise I'd received climbing the fool's tower magnified by one thousand. I screamed in pain and nearly withdrew, but I knew if I did, the king would die. Perhaps it was inherited abilities from my mother that enabled me to have such a quick connection with mind magic, but I had more comfort in this realm than I ever did with the power of fire.

Isidor had told me the king was impenetrable, but beside him was Prince Stefan. I dove into Stefan's mind. A lightning bolt of pain cracked in my brain. I sensed that I was doing something far beyond my abilities, and my life was in grave danger, but I didn't care. I embraced the prince's heartbeat, the blood pulsing through his veins, and the connection his brain had with his body. Instinctively, I took control of his arms and legs, and with what likely resembled a wooden mannequin, the prince stood and lurched toward the king, knocking him from his chair.

My consciousness snapped back from the prince and I fell to my back, exhausted. Crackling bolts of pain sizzled in my head. I heard a great crash from the royal pavilion, but couldn't say whether I'd saved the king or not. I couldn't even move. My mind felt like it had been crushed in a vice, and my vision began to dim. Above me, Pickles' blurry face hovered into sight. She looked upset. Tracks of tears had formed in her makeup. She was saying something, but it was like her voice was underwater. I tried to listen, but couldn't make out the words, and then everything went dark.