Suddenly Roderick lashed out with his dagger. Randall dodged. Roderick lashed out again. Randall dodged again. Roderick lashed out a third time. In keeping with the continuity of the situation, Randall dodged again. To fool him, Roderick didn't lash out a fourth time. To show that he wasn't fooled, Randall didn't dodge a fourth time.
Jack whispered into the king's ear again. “Your legs have turned into spaghetti, and now you're playing leapfrog ... on the moon.” King Irving writhed uncomfortably in his sleep.
Roderick lowered his dagger. “How about we call a time-out so I can kill Jack first?”
“Nah. Hey, is that thing about me getting to retrieve my weapon still in effect?” Randall asked.
“I guess so. But if I lose my own weapon after that, I get to pick it up one time for free, okay?”
Randall nodded, then picked up his dagger. “Let's go! To the corpus delicti!”
They rushed at each other, then began an incredibly exciting duel. It was so impressive that no mere words could truly describe it, and therefore no mere words will be wasted.
It ended with Randall up against the wall, and Roderick's knife up against Randall's throat. “You lose,” said Roderick, rather unnecessarily in everyone's opinion, even his own.
“Don't kill me,” Randall requested. “I'll do anything.”
“Will you shave my back?”
“Changed my mind.”
Suddenly Jack sprung into action. Mustering all his courage, he rushed forward, hurrying to the other side of the room where no blood would get on him.
“How does it feel to have only ten seconds left to live?” Roderick asked.
“Not as bad as having only five seconds, I guess.”
“Stop!” said Bug, flying into the room. “You don't need to fight!”
“Yes we do,” Roderick corrected.
“No, you don't!” Bug insisted. “The twelve guards right behind me said so!”
The pause was a little too lengthy to make the moment truly dramatic, but shortly after Bug's statement twelve guards burst into the room, swords drawn.
“What's all this racket?” demanded King Irving, sitting up. “Best dream of my life, and you guys have to interrupt it!”
“Don't come any closer!” shouted Roderick. “I'll kill him! I mean it! I'm not lying! Don't mess with me! This is not a joke! I'm not kidding! If you come closer, I'll stab him! That's the truth! No bluffing here! Don't make me do it! I will! This is no deception! He'll die!”
“We're just here to save the king,” explained one of the guards. “You can waste the squire—we don't care.”
“Oh, really?” asked Roderick. He pulled the knife away from Randall's throat, then immediately spun around and pressed it against the king's throat. “Don't come any closer! I'll kill him! I mean it!”
“You're bluffing,” said one of the guards.
“Want me to prove that I'm not?”
“No, not really.”
“Then shut up! Okay, here are my demands! I want to assassinate King Irving of Rainey for his unspeakable atrocities without interference, and then I want to be provided with a horse to help me escape the kingdom! Understand?”
One of the guards stepped forward. “Okay, okay, just don't do anything crazy. We'll get you your horse, but it's going to take some time.”
“I don't have time!” Roderick shouted. “If the horse isn't ready in ten minutes, the king dies!”
“Do what he says!” ordered King Irving.
Four of the guards filed out of the chamber. One of them returned a moment later. “A horse, right?”
Roderick nodded. The guard left again.
“You can't get away with this, you know,” said Randall. “After you kill the king and get on your horse, they'll follow you to the ends of the Generic Fantasy Land. There's nowhere you'll be safe, not the Caverns of Despair, not the Pits of Searing Hellfire, not even the Slaughter Tombs of Agonized Shrieking and Bloodshed!”
“Says you.”
One of the guards raised his hand. “I say it, too.”
“Face it, Roderick,” said Randall, “there's no way you can escape. You might as well give up right now.”
Roderick was silent for a long moment, considering what to do. He moved the knife away from the king's throat. “Okay, suppose I let the king go and give myself up. What will happen to me?”
The guard with his hand still in the air spoke up. “Why, you'll be tortured and executed, of course.”
Roderick pressed the knife against the king's throat again.
“No, no—he was just joking!” Randall insisted. “You were just joking, right?”
“Oh, uh, yeah,” said the guard. “I was dead humorous.”
All the other guards let loose with a series of hearty chuckles to prove to Roderick that the statement had been nothing more than a silly little gag.
“See?” asked Randall. “With all the stress in a guard's life, there's no way they could chuckle like that unless it had truly been a joke.”
“Very well,” said Roderick. “So, what happens to me if I surrender, then?”
The guard with his hand still in the air started to speak, but was knocked unconscious by one of his co-workers just in time. “Let's see,” said Randall. “They'd have a huge feast in your honor, complete with the devouring of a dead animal that still looks like the animal it used to be while alive. Then you'd be given a gold bracelet worth millions of dvorkins, with your initials scratched into it.”
“I don't have initials. My full name is Roderick.”
“Then it would just use ‘Rod.’ Or ‘Ick.’ Anyway, after the feast ended, you'd be escorted by ten awesomely nubile women to the bathing room, where they would join you in a pool with water set to a temperature of your choosing, then pair off and slowly but thoroughly bathe your appendages.”
“Hmmmm ... that sounds okay,” said Roderick, “but how do I know you're not lying?”
Alan burst into the room. “Sorry to disturb you gentlemen, but I detected a minor vocal tremor that guarantees there's some lying going on in this very room!” He surveyed the current situation and realized his tactical error. “Of course, I'm probably wrong.”
“Oh, yeah?” said Roderick. “Look me in the eye and tell me you were wrong about Randall lying.”
Alan stifled a sob. “I can't. Sorry.”
A guard burst into the room. “It was a horse, right?”
“Yes!” said King Irving.
The guard cursed and left the room.
“Forget this!” said Roderick. “The king dies now!”
“You keep saying that, and yet the king sure looks alive to me,” Jack pointed out.
“Here goes!” announced Roderick.
Then Randall glanced up at the huge chandelier. He flung his dagger skyward, severing the rope that had formerly prevented the chandelier from falling onto the edge of the bed. The chandelier fell onto the edge of the bed. The force of its impact caused the other end of the mattress to flip upward, hurtling Roderick and King Irving through the air and onto the floor. The guards immediately subdued Roderick.
“He's saved the king!” Alan exclaimed.
“He's a hero!” said one of the guards.
“Hey, I deserve a little credit, too,” said Roderick. “It's not like I killed the king when I had a chance.”
King Irving got to his feet. “Get him out of here!” he ordered. The guards dragged Roderick out, kicking and screaming. Roderick was kicking and screaming as well.
“That was quick thinking,” King Irving told Randall. “I guess I owe you a debt of gratitude.”
“Me too,” said Jack. “After all, I pointed out the chandelier in the first place.”
“To show my great appreciation for what you've done, I won't send you to the guillotine to die a horrible death as planned. How's that sound?”