Damsel in Distress

By Rick Hartford

The river ran backwards on the day the queen vanished.

Mortemer the dragon and Sir. Quinton, the knight, sat on the banks of the river

Courage in the heat of a summer day watching the water crash against the face of what used to be a waterfall deep inside the Enchanted Forest.

“So, what do you think about the river running backwards?” Mortemer said, his tail swatting away some horseflies. The pests were the main reason that Sir Quinton had left his amour on. He was hot, but at least he wasn’t getting bit. His armor clanked as he sat down in the shallows of the river, scooping up up some cold water to splash on his face.

“I don’t remember the horseflies being this bad this time of year,” Sir Quinton said.

Mortemer sneezed some flame out of his nostrils, roasting a few of the pests that buzzed around his head.

Mortemer and Sir Quinton were not friends,exactly. Neither was under the illusion that the truce they had between them would not turn suddenly into a deadly confrontation at any time. Their truce began when Sir Quinton refused to become a hit man for King Lionheart, who had ordered him to slay Mortemer on account that it insulted the King to have a dragon nearby in the Enchanted Forest just doing whatever it pleased and refusing to cede any of the land to the crown, which owned it in the first place.

That was the official story, designed to salvage the King’s pride.

The real reason was that the king had been under pressure by the queen to give her the Enchanted Forest so that she could turn it into a theme park with her being the center of attention. There would be Her Majesty’s roller coaster ride whose hills and valley’s would look remarkably like The Queen’s enormous bosoms, the ride beginning in a replica of Her Majesty’s laughing mouth.There would be a restaurant/hotel that would accommodate 2000 visitors a day. There would also be the Queen’s Royal clothing outlet, a day care center, a casino, theater, bumper car rides and a venue called Slaying The Dragon where participants could wield light sabers to go up against a series of holographic dragons, giant blood sucking bats and evil trolls.

The only thing standing in the way was the dragon, the queen said.

“Get a knight to do the dragon in, or I will do it myself,” she said.

The King didn’t doubt it. The Queen could be nastier than any fire breathing beast the King had conjured up in his worst nightmares.

When the King again ordered Sir Quinton to slay the dragon, Sir Quinton reminded him of the ancient prohibition that the dragon was to be left alone unless a damsel in distress became an issue.

“I am the damsel in distress, you idiot!” The Queen told the king when he tried to squirm out of a confrontation with the dragon by bringing up that rule. The King was suddenly transported into a daydream where the Queen did in fact face the great winged one, sword in hand, only to be reduced to a pile of ashes.

The Queen, however, was young, quick and nimble with nails like eagle talons.

She stood towering over the king, her clenched fists on her hip.

“Make it happen, King Scaredy-cat,” she said, twirling and leaving the great hall like a tornado, hopping onto her stead and racing out the palace gates with a rebel yell.

The King gestured to the court jester who stood nearby. “Bring Me a Bloody Mary, a double. Better yet, just bring me the bottle.”

Back in the Enchanted Forest, Sir Quinton emerged from the river and sat on a large boulder,

His mobile phone vibrated. He had a message from the king. “Bring me the head of Mortemer. The Queen is in danger. She has been kidnapped by the dragon.”

The damsel in distress card had been played.

Sir Quinton turned his head, and saw that his sword was still in its scabbard on his horse, which was eating grass a short distance away. He cursed himself for his laxity. He whistled and his horse started trotting toward him.

Mortemer belched a stream of flame which halted the horse’s progress.

“What’s going on, Mortemer,” Sir Quinton said.

“I detect that you are suddenly in need of your steed, where your magical sword dangles from its scabbard,” Mortemer said. ”I’m wondering why the sudden urgency.”

“And I am wondering why this sudden aggression,” Sir Quinton said.

“Well,” Mortemer said. “One of my many talents is the ability to read upside down. It seems as if the disappearance of the queen has suddenly compromised our new relationship.”

“What did you do with the queen?” Sir Quinton said, gathering himself up.

“What leads you to believe I did anything with the queen? I rather like her. She has spunk. In fact, we are going to be wed. As of right now she’s out shopping for a gown.”

“This is going to be a big surprise to the King, if it is true,” Sir Quinton said.

“Prove to me that she is safe and I’ll wish you happiness ever after.”

“You aren’t in any position to make demands, my dear tin man.” Mortemer said as he rose to his full height, a deep roar coming from the depths of his being, lava in his eyes, a forty foot flame rising from deep in his lungs spitting fire into the sky.

Sir Quinton leapt onto his horse, drawing the sword and holding up his shield against Mortemer’s nuclear breath.