The three women entered the war room, Prunhiline immediately deciding she wanted one someday. Inside, a freshly groomed Randle, Bob, and Prince Darren were seated at a large octagonal table.
“I’ve been reading your notes,” Darren said, flashing a broad smile at Brianna. “They’re excellent, but there’s nothing about Lawrence or the undead. Also... what in the thirteen hells is a pumpkin spice latte? It sounds revolting.”
“I have no idea, and I don’t want to know. It could be some kind of ancient poison made out of pumpkins.” Brianna sat beside Prince Darren and kissed him on his now neatly trimmed beard. The King coughed; Brianna sat up quickly and blushed.
“No kissing in the war room,” The King announced. Prunhiline giggled. “No giggling in the war room!” he added, slamming his fist on the table. “We need to know how to stop this Lich Lord Lawernce.” This made everyone giggle. The King’s face turned red, and he pounded the table with his fist. “No giggling in the WAR ROOM!”
“Did you translate all of the scrolls?” Prince Darren asked, still grinning. Brianna nodded yes. “Is this all of your notes?”
“Yes, Brian gave me everything I had.” Brianna sighed, thinking about Brian, the zombie. She hoped he was well.
“I think..” The King said.
“What if this pumpkin spice concoction is his weakness? Like Brianna said, a poison or something.” Prunhiline interjected. She didn’t like poisons, but if it helped defeat this enemy, she was happy to make an exception.
“Well…” The King tried again.
“Maybe,” Britina looked through one of the notebooks, ”It could be a powerful spell.”
“I would…” The King’s face started to turn red again.
“We could make a large batch of it and pour it onto them. Is it hot or cold?” Randle looked across at the others.
“I..” The King.
“It can be either.” Brianna scratched her head. "A hot or cold poison."
The King jumped to his feet, slammed his fist onto the table, and shouted, “Someone tell me what in the fifteen hells is a Lich Lord!”
“What?” Prince Darren looked about with some surprise. “I mean, I... I don't really know. He’s ancient and undead.”
“Not really undead,” Brianna cut in, “He’s ancient, but he absorbs the life energy of his victims. They, in turn, are enslaved by him.”
“Can he do that to us?” The King’s face turned from red to pale. "I mean, the humans usually turn into zombies." The King gestured to the humans present.
Brianna looked down at the table, “Yes, under certain circumstances, he could absorb energy from us. He has to be at rest to channel the magic needed to enthrall his victims. They have to go to him and be sacrificed.”
“How do we keep that from happening to us?” Darren was worried his people would be zombies in a few weeks.
This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.
“Well, the enthrallment spell has to be unbroken, and the enthralled has to not be snapped out of the trance.” Brianna drummed her fingers on the table, “Really anything to break the spell. Someone speaking to them, being startled.”
“Do you think that’s why the Mother Spider was there? To startle people off of enthrallment?” Britina asked.
“Possibly,” Brianna agreed with a thoughtful nod.
“Mother Spider?” The King looked around for spiders, “Look, if it’s that easy to break, then how did he amass such a large army.”
“Well, he’s been summoning people for a very long time. I think anyone considered lost in the forest was probably one of his victims.” Brianna looked at Darren.
“That area has always been off-limits,” Darren said grimly. “Too many people disappeared. We assumed it was the spider or some other creature. But maybe it’s been Lawrence all along.” Darren grimaced. He didn’t like that this thing was so close to their home.
“I didn’t see any dwarves among my workers,” Brianna said.
“But you didn’t get into the entire temple. You only explored a small part of it.” Darren started to imagine angry zombie dwarves. He didn’t like the image.
“I think we need to get back to finding how to stop him.” The King sat down.
“You said there were love poems; who was he writing about?” Darren flipped through the pages to find one. He read a few.
“That must be Mother Spider before she became a spider.” Brianna read a few. “These are terrible poems.”
“Yes, they are, but I think you are right; maybe these were written by Lawrence.” Britina read a few.
“Meh, poetry.” The King and Prunhiline said together, eyed each other, and then giggled.
“No giggly in the war room.” Prince Darren did his best not to laugh.
“Bah, shut up, boy!” The King grinned. He was happier now that his son was home, and he brought home a nice girl.
“Hey, check out this one,” Prunhline held up one of the notebooks.
My love for you is Like a warm spring days Where the flower blooms In the radiant sun rays.
Your love for me sours Like putrid lemon Making your face swell With rancid venom.
Everyone at the table groaned with agony at the lousy poetry. “A lich lord wrote that about a giant spider?” The King shook his head in disbelief. He didn’t like poetry, but this was torture.
“Well, maybe.” The King gave Brianna a confused look, “She wasn't always a spider, turned herself into one to escape him.” Brianna stopped; this wasn’t helping.
“Making your face swell with rancid venom.” Randle petted Bob.
“Please don’t. It was bad enough hearing it the first time.” Britina rubbed her temples.
“No, his face swells from lemons.” Randle jumped up. Bob was annoyed he wasn’t getting scratches anymore. “He’s allergic to lemons!”
“Lemons?” The King blinked, “Lemons! What do lemons have to do with anything?”
“Yeah!” Prunhline jumped up, too, “All we need to do is hit him with lemons!”
The King blinked a few times. He thought maybe he was going senile. “What?”
“Uh, lemons.” Prunhiline said, “I mean, we could call a truce and serve lemonade.”
“Lemonade,” The King mouthed.
“I don’t think that would work.” Darren wanted to laugh but wasn’t sure if it was funny or not, “We could load the catapults with lemons.” That laugh became embarrassed and retreated.
“LEMONS!” The King shouted. “LEMONS!” An attendant hurried in with a bowl of lemons, setting it before him. The King glared at the bowl, then hurled it across the room. “NO LEMONS IN THE WAR ROOM!”
Everyone stared at the King. He looked around and sat down, embarrassed. The silence of the war room caused the joking to fall wrong. They need a plan. Not one that included an unknown poison and lemons.
“Father,” Darren said, glancing around the table, “we need to rally all our warriors to defend the fortress.”
“Agreed, there are still some that are resting from their last battle, “ He gave Britina and Prunhiline a dirty look. “I’ll muster the capable warriors. Randle, I’d greatly appreciate it if you and Bob kept track of the zombie horde. My scouts will work with you to keep us informed.”
“We’d be happy to help, Your Majesty,” Randle said, with Bob grunting approval.
“Britina, you and Brianna, please keep studying Brianna’s notes. There has to be something.” The King looked at Prunhiline with a deep sigh, “Prunhiline, could you join my men in preparation for battle.” All three nodded. “Thank you all.” The King stood and walked out the door, careful not to step on the lemons. Prunhiline, Prince Darren, Bob, and Randle followed.
Preparations were made, and plans were refined until all was ready for the approaching zombie horde. The King was thrilled with Brianna’s wit and intelligence. He wasn’t as thrilled with the chaos caused by a certain tall warrior. Britina did her best to keep Prunhiline’s enthusiasm to a minimum.