The Echo King

“Here I am, and here shall I reign! ‘Tis the first day of the rule of Gallivant, the King of Neverthere. May all bow before me!”

Everyone kept walking. It was Neverthere. A king making a declaration didn’t even make morning commutes exciting, let alone rush hour.

It was a lighter day in the pocket realm. Not too many monsters about, and the plagues and tax collectors had subsided into their cocoons until next season. Birds were chirping, and in a key that did not cause madness this time. It was peaceful.

With all this newfound freedom came a frantic need to Do Something. Everyone was up and about. Getting chores done, finding relationships, making the next big life change. They didn’t have time for anything new, they had to make their own lives better.

He did not get that. “Citizens of Neverthere, do not fear!” King Gallivant bellowed. He laughed, a rich sound that came up from his substantial stomach. He slapped his side. “I am a benevolent king. I am here not to conquer, but to save. Come, let us all be not just ruler and his subjects, but a lion that may lay down with the lambs.”

“Bite me, King Gallican’t.” Someone muttered before turning.

Perhaps the new King did not fully understand. This wasn’t some small town in a backwater reality. This was Neverthere, the seat of all things strange and unexplained. The citizenry had seen it all, and tried more than their fair share of sins and extravagances. Just a new king promising…something, wasn’t going to cut it.

He huffed, and reached for his side. “Hear me, maggots, and fear! For I wield the greatest weapon the world has ever known. Forged by the gods, and given to me to rule. This weapon is the last bastion of justice, and a curse upon the wicked.

“Excalibur!”

The street burst with light. King Gallivant held…something aloft. No one could see what it was, could not even see the so-called king’s outstretched arm. He could have anything in his hand.

But they could see the power. They could feel it radiating off of him in waves. This man wielded strength, and a will to use it.

As one they all bowed, trying to make sense of it all.

Gallivant nodded, and sheathed the sword. The light subsided, and faded into a dull leather scabbard. He smiled, beaming.

“Citizens, my apologies for the display. But I see a great and wondrous age for Neverthere. I see us all progressing, making our realm the greatest of all. We can do this, we shall do this together.

“Yes!” He pumped his fist, and held it aloft. “Follow me, citizens! We shall overthrow the old order, and establish a new Camelot! With goodness, and light on our side, all shall kneel and pray to kneel even further! We shall be glorious! We Shall…”

“Whoops.” I bumped into the king. He didn’t move, and in fact I fell down. I frowned, and looked at the book lying down on the street, closed.

I sighed, and picked up the book. “Darn it. I lost my place.”

“You certainly have, peasant,” someone breathed next to me.

I looked into the face of an angry liege.

“And who might you be, puny man?”

I shrugged. “Norm. Norm Johnson.”

This wasn’t going to be a good day. I already had to leave the Library today. And the higher ups had started asking questions about my expense account. I was soon going to have to explain just how many books I had ordered, as well as several gallons of cocoa over the last few months.

Perhaps if I just called them business purchases. The former being inventory for the library, and the latter…stress relief. I really should have kept my receipts.

“Norm Johnson!”

“Hmmm?” I looked up. The incredibly large man was bellowing at me.

“Kneel before your new king, or face my wrath!” He said. “I am Gallivant, wielder of Excalibur, the rightful King of Neverthere!”

He held his right hand aloft, showing his great sword. The light finally dimmed, revealing the blade at last.

I put the book under one arm, and took a closer look. “Well, that is just magnificent,” I said, and indeed it was. The wrought metal gleamed in the midday sun. A perfect longsword, double-edged, with a cross guard hilt. Gold inlay in the hilt, and the Fae on the street seemed to back away a little further in the face of cold iron.

Flashy without being gaudy, more functional while still having a trace of epic scope. It looked like it stepped out of Arthurian literature.

“Where did someone like you come out of?”

“I am from an age long passed by the world,” he said. “An age of heroes amongst mortal men. I have been sent on a mission from the gods themselves to restore order and justice to this barren wasteland.”

“Uh-huh, that’s nice.” I reached for the sword. “But where did you come from?”

“Back away!” He commanded. “None but the true king may even grasp Excalibur. Its power would tear you apart.”

“Plus, I doubt I could even lift it,” I added.

“Indeed.” He looked off valiantly into the distance. “I came upon the sword, buried in a stone that sat atop an anvil in an old churchyard. Grasping it, I soon knew what destiny lay before me. If I wielded this sword, if I held Excalibur, I was to be crowned King.

“I struggled with all my might, but in vain. And then I prayed to God Himself that, if I be worthy, He Bestow the glory upon me to wield this in His Name. And with one last heave I sheared the sword from stone and iron anvil, and held aloft Excalibur.”

He held the sword aloft once more. “Look upon it, Norm Johnson, and see the majesty.”

I nodded. “Mmhmm, mmhmm. Nice, and good luck with your reign.” I went off to do my errands.

“That is it?” he asked.

“What?”

“You are not swearing fealty to me, or asking what I plan to do in this reign? How it might affect you?”

“Nope.”

He fumed, and nodded. “I shall prove my might to you. If I can convince you, Norm Johnson, of my right to rule, then all of Neverthere shall bow before me.”

“Please don’t, I’m kind of busy today…”

“Busy!” He grabbed me, and pulled me close to his hairy chest. “There is no business that compares to the glory of the land. Now, we are off! To quest!”

“I’m going to be late…”

“Good Norm Johnson, when you think of a king, a goodly king, what comes to mind?”

I thought about it. Honestly, and truly. He was asking, and since I was going to be late, I might as well go along for the ride.

“Perhaps a grasp of the legal doctrine, with a compassionate social policy that still protected national interests would be paramount.”

“A what?”

I nodded. “I would think the establishment of a parliamentary monarchy would be best. Though your powers would be reduced by a centralized government, the day-to-day could be overseen by them while you composed the great path Neverthere would go towards. Leave yourself the power of veto, without the ability of it to be overridden until after your death. It would make governing your way far easier. Though the establishment of a judicial system that was fair and balanced while able to adjust to the shifting social contract would also be ideal…”

“No, no. NO!” He strode forth, and pointed down the block. “It is the strength of your arm, and the might of your blade.”

“That better not be a metaphor,” I muttered. I looked in that direction, and groaned. Two beasts burst out of the ‘Trusted’ Bank. They hissed and spluttered, covered in red tape. Underneath the vile, sticky substance, the beasts were drenched in blood, holding on to long knives in their claws as they tried to hack their way free. They shrieked, defiant, and yet still trapped beneath the bureaucracy.

The Slaughter Sisters were at it again. And this time they did not seem just happy homicidal beasts of carnage.

“Noble Norm, have no fear.” Gallivant readied his sword, lowered and to one side. “I have studied many a year in the art of combat. These beasts, though they be vile, will not cause another tremble in the hearts of men!”

“That is not necessary…” Far too late for words. Gallivant had a look in his eye, one of days gone past, and glory yet to be gained.

Gallivant was a great figure, or at least striving to be one. I had read of such heroes before. Probably coming from humble origins, and yet destined for so much more. He wielded this sword not just for himself, but for the legacy of ancestors that stretched back down the centuries.

It was that sense of honor that guided his first blow. Cleaving through tape and barely missing the first Sister’s fingers.

With a harsh cry the two monsters broke free of the tape. They started to fly, but then stood tall. There was a supposed hero in front of them, and he had already injured them once. He would pay dearly.

But Gallivant held firm against the counter of the second Sister. And with a mighty blow, he reft the first’s arm from body.

Gallivant stepped forward, and pointed his sword towards the sisters. “Lay down, villain, and submit,” he said. “For thou art vanquished, and I would not take your life today.”

I winced.

The Sisters huddled together, the first holding her bloodied stump in regret. The second made cooing sounds, and snarled at the would-be king.

“We are going to sue you so hard.”

“Pardon?” Gallivant’s hand wavered, his sword dipping.

“You will be hearing from our attorney,” the Slaughter Sisters promised. “We will be seeking damages, and punitive measures to compensate for the emotional and physical duress you have just placed on Sheathe.”

“Villains cannot sue,” Gallivant protested.

“Really?” I asked. “They’re the ones who usually sue first.”

“In a court of our peers, we will receive the right to an equitable amount of blood and gore,” Sheathe promised. “And as the injured party, I assure you that my hands will not be so quick as your little sword.”

“It is more than adequate.”

“To cut the arms off innocent victims?” Sheathe demanded.

“Innocent?” I asked.

“I will rend your heart from your chest later, Librarian,” she snarled. “You will be charged as an accomplice.”

Oh, dear. They really should not have done that. I set the book into my shoulder bag. It was interesting to see the valiant hero splutter in legalese while the Slaughter Sisters toyed with him. But now they were involving me.

If they had tried to simply cow me with violence, I most likely would have run and hid. That wasn’t my skill set in the slightest. But then they said charge, which put their intentions in words. And as a Librarian, they did not understand just what power I held at my fingertips.

Don’t mess with the prose.

“This is what you have to deal with, Gallivant,” I said. “Good intentions turned around, and by those for which the term “monster most vile,” could apply.”

“Hey!”

“The Slaughter Sisters are nasty, they are devious. They revel in the most depraved dismemberments and gore fests known to any living species.”

“And several dead ones,” Sheathe said proudly. “But we can do that. We’re villains. We’re allowed.”

“What?” Gallivant asked. “They are allowed? They can commit murder, and it is acceptable?”

I held up my hands. “Neverthere is…well, it doesn’t follow convention. Villains have more leeway than heroes to follow their dark and twisted fantasies. And heroes have to obey all these convoluted rules that make less sense than a submerged cricket match.”

The Slaughter Sisters smiled sweetly, subconsciously savoring the suing.

“But the villains always forget something,” I said. “Heroes have luck.”

“Luck?”

Fingers tapped away on keys. “You broke the red tape.”

The Slaughter Sisters chilled. Behind them a pair of hands kept tapping away. They weren’t connected to anything more than keyboards, out of which streams of figures and red tape gushed forth.

“Slaughter Sisters, Sheathe and Scowline,” the keyboard chirped as it was typed. “You are in violation of your contract with the ‘Trusted’ Bank, and are thus fined in perpetuity.”

The Sisters howled, disappearing under the sea of tape that soon engulfed their bodies. In seconds they were consumed, and with a snap of the floating hands’ fingers, the tape disappeared along with the enemies.

The hands pointe at me. “Watch yourself and heroism, Librarian. We know your credit score.”

Gallivant glared at me. “That was not very heroic, young Johnson.”

I shrugged. “The Slaughter Sisters are immortal beings dedicated to carnage and gore. They’ll be back to mass murder after they fill out all the right paperwork and hire a fiduciary. Then you can kill them in valiant battle.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

He placed his hand on my chest, and shook his head. “But I have not proved my worth to you. You do not believe me a worthy wielder of the mighty sword Excalibur.”

“I really don’t…I’m going to be late.”

“Once more, noble Johnson,” he said. “Once more, I can prove my worth to you. Pray grant me this chance.”

“…fine.”

A scream rang out through the area. “Somebody help!”

The king’s ears perked up. He cupped his hand to one, a look of concern on his face. “Hark! Is that a fair maiden in distress that I hear?”

I looked around. A fair maiden, in Neverthere? Not unless she was for sale.

“There, commoner!”

I squinted, and frowned. A man sat underneath a lamp post. Destitute, his clothes disheveled, he was close to tears.

“That’s not a…”

Gallivant hugged me close, and stroked my hair. “Norm Johnson, this is the age of true heroism. Nobility does not conform to mere gender roles in the face of great evils. Men now cry, women save, and chivalry shall triumph in the name of multiculturalism!”

It was at that time that I believe our entire plane of existence took a moment to pause, and contemplate that pile of words just spoken. They seemed both chauvinist, and progressive, with an overdose of gallantry that bordered on commercial. The world continued spinning, choosing to let such a dichotomy slide.

Gallivant extended a hand forward to the man. He gave a warm, empathizing smile. “Good traveler, may we be of assistance?”

“Oh, fair knight,” The man gasped. “Far be it for me to impose…”

He stood, and wept. “But I, a simple merchant, have been taken for all that I have. All for love.”

“Nay!”

“Say!” The man cried out. “An iron monger has carried away my partner of several years. Just as I was about to propose to him, in fact. The monger stole all our wealth, and just making it here cost all my strength.”

I sat and took notes. This was fascinating bull being thrown. The pickpocket here had understood his mark immediately, and knew how to properly exploit, all the way down to his accent.

Yes, he was obviously a pickpocket. I knew of Fast Fingers Pete by reputation. But more than that, I would have been suspicious of anyone being so willfully weak in public without some serious protections or backup. To see his game though, it was almost artwork. I wanted to see if he would consider joining the library for a few performances. After a careful inventory check, and proper security spells, of course.

Gallivant’s arms bulged in anticipation. “Then I must rescue your fair love.”

“But how? The monger can control all metals he comes in contact with.”

“Then I shall leave my metals here, and do battle.” Gallivant rummaged through his pack, and began to remove everything.

“Are you sure?” The pickpocket said. He looked nervously around, anticipating more trouble. “What of your own livelihood?”

“It is all in here, ‘tis true,” Gallivant commented. “My life, and my soul, lay within these items.”

I took a good peek. There was the obvious: food stores, some toiletries. A book on chivalric discourse (written by him, self-published). A silver locket, firmly locked, wrapped with a handkerchief.

Then finally, he took the sword and scabbard, and laid them down on top of the rest. He shed some last bits of metal, and nodded to Pete. “Shall we disembark, fair lad?”

“Are you really sure?” I asked. I looked at Pete, eyes narrowed. I would say something, but Gallivant seemed in need of a win here. He wouldn’t have wanted me to ruin his day. And besides, there could be an iron monger-esque monster hiding around the corner. This was Neverthere.

“Yes, gallant hero, are you? What of your gear? Your sword?” Pete glared at me, sending a not too subtle shut up vibe. “Perhaps your…squire should stay behind and guard them.”

“Nay,” Gallivant said. “None may touch Excalibur or its scabbard but I.”

“Surely thou can makest an exception, surely?”

“Not I, but the sword.” Gallivant bowed to the blade. “Only the worthy may hold the mighty Kingmaker. If any other were to attempt to hold it in an impure heart, the sword would strike them down in fury.”

Pete looked at me for confirmation. I shrugged, and dared him to test it out for himself. He paled, and backed away.

“I, uh…just remembered the iron monger is…a distant cousin of mine,” He stammered. “And of course, would not hurt my love. This is okay.”

“Are you sure?” Gallivant asked. “Is he not coercing you? Perhaps with Excalibur…”

“Look, back off, buddy, okay?” Pete took off running. Gallivant watched him go, more than a little hurt.

“I don’t think he has a committed partner,” He muttered.

“Or if he does, may the gods have mercy on his soul,” I said.

“Twice I have asked for a chance to prove my worth, and twice have I failed.” He bowed his head in shame. “The third, I shall succeed.”

“You really don’t need to.”

“I must.” His hands glowed white. He drew runes on the ground, and muttered in a strange language. “One last test. I shall cast a spell.”

“Right. Because that never goes wrong.”

He pointed at me, eyes closed. “Norm Johnson, I shall bring your deepest desire to life. Your heart shall become known to my magic, and I will bring all the might I have to bear to make it so.”

I should have protested. But I was curious.

He grasped his sword, and raised it high. “Great Excalibur, grant this boon! Make this librarian’s wishes come true!”

Gallivant swung a mighty blow through the air. The sword hissed, cutting across planes. The air split, revealing a realm of purple, blackness, and madness. Looking upon it caused headaches, fear, and an introspection that I did not wish to examine too long.

“You shall not defeat me, realm!” He bellowed. “Give me, my request!”

It struggled against his might. The test of wills crackled, threatening to consume all of Neverthere in their fight. But Gallivant held firm, and finally completed his blow. With a burp of air that sounded like “fine!” the air snapped shut.

Gallivant looked around, confused. Nothing seemed to have changed. “Did I do it? Did I succeed?”

I bent down, and picked up a silk bookmark. “This is just what I wanted!” I exclaimed. I pulled out my book, and found the page I was reading from. I marked my place, and nodded.

“Let’s get a drink.”

#

The Second Glass was close enough, and I wanted something a bit stronger than cocoa. As we walked, I noticed how glum Gallivant was. He looked at the sword in his scabbard, ignoring all in his path. I pushed a few dangers out of his way, more for their sake than his.

He seemed to be a bit shocked by how Neverthere was. Definitely someone who wasn’t here often. The Second Glass was definitely what he needed for an explanation.

I walked up to the door, and held it open for Gallivant. I stopped him before he entered.

“Keep an open mind here. And, you know, don’t stab anybody.”

Gallivant didn’t agree, but he belted the sword to his back.

The Second Glass was like any other dive bar. Or rather, every other was like The Second Glass. Deep gouges on dark wood tables and countertops. Dim lights that were more for show than function. Set in the basement of an establishment that didn’t really matter.

It was a quieter night. A few dwarves were debating underground husbandry over some fine wines. An alien warlord was considering Buddhism. And a non-existentialist was repeatedly denying its drink’s reality, even as it imbibed.

“Norm,” Adamma muttered. The dark elf sat in front of the bar, counting off money and markers. “What made you bring a guest?”

Adamma was gruffly compassionate, to me at least. An elf that was curves rather than willowy, her dark complexion hid darker resentments towards life in general. I knew the beer she slid Gallivant’s way was mixed with sawdust, charcoal, and swill.

Gallivant took the offered glass, and flashed a smile. “Fair maiden, I am Gallivant, the rightful King of Neverthere!”

Adamma looked at me, frustrated. This was the second time I had brought a guest to The Second Glass, and this one seemed to be just as welcome as the first.

I burrowed into my gin and tonic, and tried to look small.

The dark elf sighed. She took a deep breath, and smiled sweetly. “So…King. What do you think of your new Kingdom?”

He started, and stopped, and finally hung his head in shame. “Not what I expected. It seems no matter what I try to accomplish, it all goes horribly wrong.”

“That’s Neverthere for ya.” Adamma took a sip of her own drink. “Not exactly somewhere in need of saving. Or doing much of anything really.”

“But if they all could just see what I’m offering!” Gallivant exclaimed. “I see a bright future for the realm. It is wonderful, and full of hope and promise!”

“That nobody asked for,” I said. “You have to meet the people where they are at, Gallivant. Just coming in swinging a sword is a terrible form of persuasion, especially when you say it’s done peacefully.”

I tapped his drink, and raised my own up. “Though I will say, he took what Neverthere threw at him like a champ. Stood up to the Slaughter Sisters, Fast Fingered Pete, even an accountant from the ‘Trusted’ Bank. To Gallivant!”

“Hear, hear!” The bar chorused. The supposed king blushed, not understanding. But he took the toasts, and bowed his head.

“So, this is the knucklehead who has been making my life miserable.”

The bar quieted, and chilled. Sally Mooneyes stood on top of the bar. A little speck of a girl, dressed in a cotton and torn blue jeans. Her silver hair was specked with grime, and normally she looked like any other little girl.

But her purple eyes glared ahead, her face tightened into a frown that betrayed her intelligence. Sally Mooneyes, the real person who ran everything in Neverthere. The girl was blessed, or some would say cursed, with the power and charge of making sure everything was running as it was ‘supposed to’. Who gave her the power, and what limits it had, no one knew. Only that everyone who went up against her usually lived, to better scream in agony for all eternity. Maybe then the rabble would learn to stop messing with her.

Sally stood there, wielding unimaginable power, bundled up in a sweet exterior to smile in. But not this time. She was not happy at all, and some of it was directed at me.

“I have been to the ‘Trusted’ Bank,” She muttered. “Filling out forms, and sending the Slaughter Sisters down the Blood Bowls to let off steam before they take their vengeance out on the whole Blue Quarter! I’ve had to communicate in sign language just to get the branch manager to not try and strangle me with that stupid tape. They even mentioned the possibility of triplicate.

“All because some little kingling, and a certain librarian…” She turned her icy gaze to me. “Decided to find adventures.”

“I didn’t decide anything,” I said. I started to explain, but Gallivant stood up. He looked down on the girl, even spotting her the five feet the bar gave her.

“Little girl, I don’t know who you are.”

“I’m Sally Mooneyes!” She said, and smiled. “Neverthere’s own deadly ball of cuteness and sparkles!” She darkened. “And who the heck are you supposed to be?”

“Gallivant,” He said. He drew his sword in one motion, and held it aloft. Light burst forth, filling the bar. Adamma squawked, angry that her lack of cleaning was showing. Gallivant stood tall, and looked straight at Mooneyes.

“I am the wielder of Excalibur, the rightful King of Neverthere. And I will not be talked to in such manner by some petulant girl.”

The bar cleared out. No one wanted to stick around after such stupidity like that. Sally might take out her vengeance on everyone else, as a matter of principle.

Only Adamma and I stood there. Adamma because no one was allowed to make her feel anything other than bored in The Second Glass. Me because I was sure Sally would track me down if I left.

Gallivant glared at her in turn. “My honor would say to not threaten little girls. But in this place, all is not as it seems. I will not spare you mercy if you continue such. Now, apologize.”

Sally Mooneyes looked at him, and then at the blade. She leaned back, and laughed. Long and loud, a mocking laughter that rattled in my ears.

“This is what’s been causing me all this trouble? Norm, if you had let me know, I would have brought popcorn. This is hilarious!

“And you,” she pointed at Gallivant. “You are worth the tape. Thank you, thank you.” She doubled over and rolled on the bar, laughing.

I smiled, and nodded. Gallivant looked at me, and then at her.

“I am missing the jest. What’s so funny?”

“You,” Sally said. “All of you. Your clothes, your demeanor. Your height. And of course that sword, oh that sword.”

“Excalibur.”

“Yeah, no it’s not.”

Gallivant stared, uncomprehending. “What?”

Sally pointed at the sword. “That’s not Excalibur. Arthur’s sword, the greatest blade in history? Yeah, that ain’t it.”

“You lie, witch.”

“Temper,” Sally warned. “I’m no witch, but I can turn you inside out and spit you across town.”

“You dare impugn my word? I do not lie!”

“Then you’re just an idiot,” Sally said. “But that thing is not Excalibur.”

Gallivant swung the sword, light bending through the air. “Do you not feel the power? The majesty? I pulled this sword from an anvil, it chose me when I was the only one who could remove it from the stone…”

“And that’s not Excalibur,” I said. Adamma cocked an eyebrow, and I shrugged. “The sword in the stone was…well, a sword in a stone. That’s it. A symbol, with an enchantment placed upon it to help determine the rightful ruler. Excalibur was gifted to Arthur by the Lady of the Lake after the first sword broke in combat. Which tells you something about that symbol, I guess.”

“And if you think you inherited it from Arthur, think again,” Sally warned. “I have it on good authority that the sword went back to the Lady, who lost it a century ago in a card game. It’s currently in one of those places that doesn’t do returns without fanfare and howling.”

I smiled weakly. “Sorry I didn’t say anything earlier. But you were so fired up, and so fascinating. I thought I would slip it into conversation at a better time…this probably wasn’t that.”

Gallivant wavered, shocked. The sword dipped, and fell to the ground. The light dimmed, revealing the perfectly balanced blade.

“Then what is this?”

Sally picked up the sword. She frowned, and broke it over her knee. “Cheap, apparently.”

Gallivant collapsed to the ground, gasping. “No. The sword…my legacy. My kingdom.”

The room was like ice. I looked around, and everyone else had left. Oh, joy. Sally stood over the broken man, towering.

“My kingdom,” Sally breathed. “And Neverthere isn’t going to be taken in by some cheap brute with fancy tricks and a lost code.”

She picked him up with barely any effort. “You want to be a king? Go revel in your echoes, king. Go back into the lost remnants of ages gone by. When you find a revival, an echo with more salt in its breath than you, come back to me with it. Until then, never step foot in my domain again.”

Gallivant stole out the door. Sally grunted, and took a bottle from behind the bar. “Cleaning out the riff raff again is thirsty work.”

“I see,” Adamma said. “Makes me wish Norm took them to my competitors, instead of ruining my nights.”

“I was just being helpful.”

“Then stop that,” Sally snapped. “Go back to your books, and your cocoa. I’ll give you your next adventure.”

“Oh, joy.”

“What?”

“It is going to be my pleasure, Sally Mooneyes.”

“Damn straight.” Sally walked out the door. “See you, suckers.”

Adamma laid her head on the bar. “What did you do, Norm?”

I shrugged, and pulled out my book. I smiled, and showed off my bookmark.

“Look what I got!”

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