Part 9
Sportacus stumbled backward, staggered under the sudden weight of Robbie sagging in his arms. As he braced himself and found his balance, he maneuvered the other man to one side, easing him down on the ground without dropping him. As he knelt, sinking into the snow, he noticed the wings spread awkwardly behind him, how one dangled from its joint as if it had been snapped clean. Sharp bone jutted from the skin so that blood spread out in a widening circle.
"Oh no." Sportacus reached into his pack and withdrew packed gauze, which he pressed gently to the wound. Robbie gave a faint moan in response. "Oh no, no—don't wake up, better if you don't wake up to feel this, I think."
There was a heavy clang from the house, and then his brother pushed through the snow and knelt down next to him. Iþrottaalfurinn's hand hovered over the wound, and then he looked up at Sportacus with wide eyes.
"Don't you think that was a bit much?" Iþrottaalfurinn scolded. "You could have gotten him to surrender without hurting him like that."
"I didn't do this!" Sportacus said. "He started to change, and then this happened."
"Huh." Iþrottaalfurinn shook his head once. "Foolish fae. A wing injury is nothing to take lightly. But at least we can take him up to your ship and keep him there until he tells us exactly what he knows."
"That's all you care about while his wing is...?" Sportacus pressed down another pack of gauze, discarding the bloodied one. "Do you have anything on your balloon that can help?"
"I have a couple first aid supplies," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "But the best thing now is just getting him out of the cold. Do you want to carry him or—?"
Light spilled over the park as a door opened, falling neatly over the two elves. They both looked up toward Stephanie's house as the mayor spotted them and came running.
"Sportacus, Sportacus! Have you seen Stephanie?" Mayor Meanswell brought a flashlight that cast a broad beam around the park and neighborhood. "I woke up and found the windows smashed, and Stephanie's nowhere inside."
"She's safe," Sportacus said, holding one hand placatingly. Only when the mayor's eyes widened did Sportacus remember the blood and put his hand back down. "She's up on my airship, sir, safe and sound."
"What's she doing up there?" the mayor asked. "I didn't even hear anything. I only woke up because it was so cold."
"Mayor Meanswell," Iþrottaalfurinn said, standing straight. "I am Iþrottaalfurinn, Number 8. There was an attack on your house tonight, but the monster is dead and Stephanie was brought on board my brother's airship during the rescue. We need to get back up there immediately to make sure she's all right."
"Oh!" The mayor looked down at Sportacus, who had gently folded Robbie's wing and used a belt to immobilize it against his back. "Did the monster do that?"
"It's...complicated," Sportacus said, giving his brother a look. "But he kept Stephanie safe until we could arrive."
"Still," Iþrottaalfurinn said, and he ignored his brother's glare. "He knows something that he hasn't told us, so we'll be taking him with us for questioning."
"'Taking him'?" the mayor echoed. "Where?"
"North to our kin," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "We have a facility for villains there."
"Ithrot," Sportacus breathed. "You..."
"For villains?" Mayor Meanswell gasped. "You mean a prison?"
"It's for the best," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "I just can't take the chance that he knows something that could put the town at risk."
The mayor looked from Sportacus to Robbie, then to Iþrottaalfurinn. Then up at the lights of the airship floating overhead. He put his head down to think for a moment, then took a deep breath and held himself straight.
"I am afraid I cannot allow that," he said.
Iþrottaalfurinn blinked. "Sir...?"
"In my capacity as the mayor of Lazytown, I must formally protest this action and demand that Robbie Rotten remain here, free and clear."
Both elves stared at the mayor with wide eyes. Then a smile started to slowly spread over Sportacus' face, but he lowered his head before his brother could notice.
"Sir," Iþrottaalfurinn started. "Robbie Rotten is ranked as the tenth villain in the whole world. Even...even if this isn't one of his schemes—"
"While I admit that he's less than a stellar role model," the mayor said, "the fact remains that he is an important citizen in Lazytown. We simply cannot function without him."
Iþrottaalfurinn huffed, folding his arms. "If this is a matter of jurisdiction, I'm sure the council—"
"It isn't a matter of jurisdiction," the mayor said. "But even the last numbered hero didn't take Robbie away."
"The last hero," Iþrottaalfurinn said, his patience starting to wear thin, "was driven out. Violently."
"Oh dear." The mayor tutted and shook his head. "I'm sure it won't come to that. Robbie might be dangerous, but he's always followed the rules."
Now Iþrottaalfurinn narrowed his eyes.
"The 'rules'?"
"All fair folk have to follow the rules, don't you?"
Both of them stared. The mayor didn't seem any sharper or more aware than the days before, but from the way he spoke, he knew far more than he let on. Perhaps more than either of them knew.
"Sir," Iþrottaalfurinn started again. "Do you know that Robbie is a...?"
"A fae," the mayor said. "But more specifically, he is our radie."
Iþrottaalfurinn took a long breath, gathering his thoughts. That was not a term he heard often, let alone from a human. He glanced at Robbie, who had curled up in Sportacus' arm and started to shiver. Raising an eyebrow, he looked back at the mayor.
"You're certain about this?" he asked. "You'd claim a villain for your town radie?"
"It was decided long before my time," the mayor said.
Sportacus finished binding the wing down in a splint, then turned Robbie and hauled him up out of the snow. As he cradled him in his arms, Sportacus gave the mayor a decisive nod.
"You got it," he said, ignoring his brother's burgeoning argument. "We'll take him up for medical care and bring him back, safe and sound. And Stephanie, too. She'll probably be very happy to see you."
He was turning around, about to take Robbie to his brother's balloon, when the mayor called him back.
"Um..."
The mayor glanced at his house, with the curtains blowing in the shattered windows, the disturbed snow that led in a mass of footprints and dragged lines toward the park. With a grimace, he looked up at Sportacus.
"Is Stephanie really safe in the house?" he asked. "Or would it be better if she were...up there?"
Sportacus and Iþrottaalfurinn shared a look. Neither wanted to mention the fight that had just happened in the ship, but at the same time, there was no way of knowing if the danger was past. The creature had hitched a ride, but the homes on the ground were simply more vulnerable. And the boundary of her home was broken. Stephanie's house could go cold and dark again in a moment.
"We can't tell for sure," Iþrottaalfurinn said finally, "if the monster that died is the only one. Or if it left any lingering effects on the town. That is part of why I want to question Robbie."
"...then, if I may ask," the mayor said, "would it be all right if Stephanie stay with you? At least until I have the house repaired and things have calmed down? I can arrange to stay with Ms. Busybody, but I don't think Stephanie would be happy there."
Iþrottaalfurinn gave a long sigh, but he nodded and gave a faint hand wave at the damage.
"Considering...everything, that would probably be for the best. We'll let her know you're working hard to fix the house and that you're all right."
After the mayor gave his thanks and retreated back to his house, already calling Officer Obtuse, Iþrottaalfurinn groaned, taking off his cap and running a hand through his hair.
"A villain like him is the town radie?" He shot a glare at his brother. "And how long have you known this?"
"Not a clue," Sportacus said with a grin. "Never would have guessed. He's certainly never acted like a local guardian spirit."
"That's so old fashioned!" Iþrottaalfurinn said. "Radie...it just isn't done anymore. A fae binding himself to one place? They're too flighty for that."
Iþrottaalfurinn sighed and waved his brother toward the balloon, helping him climb in with Robbie in tow. He lowered the shutters against the wind and cold, and as he let out the flame that brought the balloon up into the air, the basket grew warm enough that Sportacus felt Robbie begin to relax even in his sleep.
"Maybe when he did it," Sportacus said, "it was still in fashion. Besides, maybe Lazytown has more threats than we realize."
"Robbie Rotten is dangerous," Iþrottaalfurinn said firmly. "It's probably a case of a villain using that status to stay safe from prosecution."
"I'll admit, he can be dangerous," Sportacus said.
"He drove out a numbered elf," Iþrottaalfurinn said.
"You know," Sportacus said, "you've never told me what happened with that."
The question was quietly implied, but Iþrottaalfurinn squared his shoulders and refused to meet his brother's eyes.
"I told you," he said. "Your fae friend pushed out Number 9 and I went in to back him up."
"Then why is Robbie still here? And Number 9 didn't stay in Lazytown?" Sportacus tilted his head. "Come to think of it, if he left, why didn't you take over his post afterward? If Lazytown still needed a hero?"
Iþrottaalfurinn didn't answer immediately, guiding the balloon higher on the right course so that they didn't hit the airship head-on. When he lowered the shutters once more, the wind buffeted them back so that they were occupied with managing Robbie on board without falling again.
A pink blur popped up from the captain's seat.
"Are you okay?" Stephanie called out, curling her fingers over the top of the seat. "I held the ship as steady as I could."
"You did a great job," Iþrottaalfurinn said, helping his brother in and then sealing the door. Without the wind blowing in, the zeppelin was as warm and cozy as any home. "The ship didn't drift at all."
She flashed a bright smile, far from the fear she'd shown before. Sportacus didn't mention that the ship would immediately go to autopilot or that it had swayed gently to the side to allow the balloon to dock. The confidence boost had her back on her feet and speaking clearly.
When she came up out of the chair, however, his smile faded. She clamped one hand over her shoulder and walked with a limp. In her free hand, she clutched the blossom of light to her chest.
"Airship," he said, "recycle bed."
Iþrottaalfurinn turned to him with wide eyes. "You have to be kidding..."
There was a metallic rattling and a whumpf of air as the crumpled bed withdrew into the wall and a new slat of steel slid out, locking into place. The thin mattress molded to the top didn't look warm or comfortable, but as another mechanism turned behind the wall, a clean blanket puffed out and fell over the bed.
"Entirely too spoiled," Iþrottaalfurinn muttered.
He motioned for Stephanie to take the bed Robbie had used before, closer to the captain's seat. She studied it warily, then nodded once and hopped up. It didn't have any blood and it wasn't the one that the monster had broken. She didn't think she could have used the recycled bed and she was glad he hadn't expected it of her.
"Don't be so jealous," Sportacus said, setting Robbie on the new bed. "You'll be sleeping on one of these, too."
"I'll be sleeping in my gondola, thank you."
Stephanie halted, looking up at them with wide eyes.
"It isn't safe in here?" she whispered.
"It's safe now," Sportacus said quickly. He sat beside her, gingerly pulling the collar of her shirt to one side to better see the rising bruise, asking the ship for an ice pack and pain killers. "Ah. I should have checked after you said you were hit there. Does it it hurt anywhere else?"
"No," she said. "Just my knee from where I landed on the ground, but it doesn't hurt as much anymore."
"We'll add some ice just in case," he said. "Since your uncle wants you to stay here with us for a little while."
"How come?"
"Broken windows," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "And he didn't think you'd want to stay with someone called Ms. Busybody."
From Stephanie's grimace and shaking head, she agreed.
As he fussed over her, making sure she had a hot bowl of chicken soup and that the blanket was warm enough, he gently unclasped her hand from around the light. Several petals remained, so he lifted it up above the bed, giving her a warm glow that covered the whole bed.
"This will keep you safe for sure," he said. "But that thing will never come to hurt anyone ever again."
"Did you kill it?" she asked.
"It died in the fall," he said.
"It hit the wall when it landed," Iþrottaalfurinn added. "Head opened and everything. It was..."
He noticed the warning glare that his brother shot him and the way Stephanie's eyes had widened to saucers. He swallowed once and half-shrugged.
"It was messy," he finished, not going into more detail. "But at least we know for sure it's dead."
"That's good," she said. "How come Robbie's so hurt, though? Was it that bad before?"
"His wing tore," Iþrottaalfurinn said before Sportacus could say anything. "It'll be fine, but it'll take awhile to heal. Wings are fragile. Much more fragile than brave little girls."
She smiled despite herself, finishing the soup and laying down as Sportacus freshened her ice packs. He dimmed the lights but didn't stop the fairy light, letting her watch it spin overhead.
"We'll be right on the other side of the curtain," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "Just call if you need anything."
"Are you going to sleep?" she asked.
He pretended not to notice how she glanced at the rear hatch where the monster had entered or how she twisted the blanket in her fingers.
"Not at all," he said. "We'll tend to Robbie, then one of us will stay awake to watch the town. When he gets tired, we'll switch."
She bit her lip, thinking about that, then nodded. That was good enough.
"Just make sure you keep watching the light floating above you," Iþrottaalfurinn added. "You've had a rough night, and that will make sure the bad magic can't give you nightmares. You need good sleep."
"...okay." She lay back, watching the light turn, and didn't protest as he pulled the curtain between her and the other bed.
Sportacus had turned Robbie on his front, his long arms dangling over the sides. He'd removed the hasty field splint and begun opening the wing, revealing a jagged tear in the membrane from the joint along the middle bone. He leaned over the other man, examining the prominent veins and the angry red edges of the wound.
"You're good with kids," Sportacus whispered. "Even if you want to give her nightmares."
"She just got attacked by a sluagh," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "Besides, she managed the ship all by herself. She's a tough little thing. Kids can handle more than you think."
Sportacus made a noncommittal sound and went back to tending the wound, cleaning it of dirty ice and blood.
"Not so good with fairies, though," he said.
Iþrottaalfurinn gave a half-shrug. "You can't deny he knows something."
"You scared him," Sportacus said. "He wouldn't have tried to run if you hadn't threatened him."
Heaving a sigh, Iþrottaalfurinn put his hand on his brother's shoulder.
"I hope you're right, little brother. I hope he gets better and helps us and that he's...changed. Because the fairy that drove out Number 9 was all anger and pointy ends."
"He wasn't like that with me," Sportacus said. "Well, not that much, anyway. And he got better, too. He hides it, but I know he loves playing games with the children."
"Tricking the children, more like." Iþrottaalfurinn shook his head. "Remember, radie or not, he's a fae. They're tricky. Just because he's protecting this place doesn't mean he'll do it in a way we agree with."
"And getting rid of Number 9," Sportacus said. "Was that also protecting this place?"
Iþrottaalfurinn groaned. "Ugh. You're too perceptive by half. Look, if we have time later, I'll tell you what happened. It's not pretty, but...well. We'll probably have time to kill. I can't ask him anything until he wakes up, and he won't be waking until that wing is a little better."
Sportacus closed the wing again, adding a splint and binding the joint so that if Robbie moved too much, his wing wouldn't fall open and tear even further. As Sportacus finished bandaging it up, Robbie groaned and clutched at the side of the bed, holding the pillow close.
Both elves tensed, but when Robbie stilled again, his breathing coming soft and steady, they both relaxed.
"Is there anything we can do?" Sportacus asked. He brought the blanket up over Robbie's back, slipping it under his wings so his bare skin didn't suffer so much from the chill.
"Fae and elf magic don't mix so much," Iþrottaalfurinn said. "Relax. He'll heal up fast, and hopefully he'll be a bit more cooperative when he does."
"Or else what?" Sportacus asked too casually. "Ithrott, I won't let him be hurt. He's already suffered too much."
"Because he ran," Iþrottaalfurinn said, but he shrugged and waved his brother's concern away. "I'm not going to attack him. I just want him to tell us what he knows about sluagh in Lazytown. If he's to blame in any way, then the council will decide what to do. I wouldn't be surprised if they send word back soon anyway."
"Now," Iþrottaalfurinn said, heading to the captain's chair. "I'm going to keep an eye on the town. Get some sleep. I'll wake you up in a few hours."
"Wonderful."
Sportacus ran his hand down his face, glaring at the clock. Nearly eleven. He hadn't gone to bed so late in ages. If he had to wake up in just a few hours, then he had to get to sleep as soon as possible if he was going to be worth anything.
He leaned down, whispering so his brother didn't hear.
"I know you're asleep, and you probably won't hear me, but...don't worry. I won't let anything else bad happen." He glanced aside, watching his brother plop down in the chair and rest his feet on the console. "I know Ithrott can be really intimidating, but he means well in his own way."
Sportacus readjusted the blanket one more time.
"Ship, lights to low."
He sighed, lowering his head, then slowly climbed back to his feet and went to his own bed, burrowing under the blanket and knowing he would have to wake up far too soon. He kicked off his shoes, letting them fall to the floor, and hoped his brother would stay on guard for a long time.
Through half-closed eyes, Robbie watched Sportacus sleep. He listened to Iþrottaalfurinn shifting slightly, heard Stephanie toss once. His wing felt like it was on fire, but there was nothing he could do but lie and let it rest and heal. There was no poison, no dark magic to push out of himself. His own magic had caused the wound and he'd simply have to wait it out and remember never to fly on an injured wing.
What Sportacus had said...Robbie didn't trust. Couldn't trust. Heroes were heroes who wanted to lock up the villains, and Iþrottaalfurinn was far, far worse. Not as bad as Number 9, maybe, but still no good. He would bide his time, heal, and wait for a chance to somehow escape.
To the Watch,
This is a set of magic runes found on a spring trap in Lazytown. Number 10 did his best to recreate them after they vanished. Does anyone know where the runes come from or what it says?
Sincerely,
Number 8
The paper airplane had sailed in soggy and tearing from the snow storm, but it landed safely on the desk of the elves' watch desk, a port on the northern coast just before the ocean turned to icy slush. Nearly every elf was fast asleep, but the elf on watch shivered in his cold office and wished again that he could close the window. But letters could come at any time, and this was still punishment duty, no matter what they called it.
A punishment duty of almost forty years.
He turned the lantern to be see the letter, reading and rereading it until he memorized it. So Iþrottaalfurinn was having trouble in Lazytown. The name brought a sour taste to his mouth. A spring trap? Now that sounded familiar.
If he had to guess, he knew who was behind the traps. Those runes? Obviously fae, dark fae. How could Iþrottaalfurinn not realize this? He'd always known the older elf to be incompetent. This just proved it. And they had missed one of the world's greatest villains living in their midst. Robbie Rotten was behind every other scheme in Lazytown. Why not this one? And using the old spring traps he'd created ages ago? The fairy's guilt was clear.
He crumpled the letter in his fist and shoved it in his pocket.
The children in Lazytown—no, everyone there was in danger. He would have to bide his time, wait for an opportunity to borrow a hot air balloon. There were several older ones in the repair bay—he could grab one when the builder elves went off at night, sail to Lazytown, do what had to be done, and come back with the fairy and the cheerful recommendations of Number 8 and Number 10.
And then he'd be properly recognized as Number 9 again.
tbc...
