"Stay here, Mr. Chitters," she commanded. "No, you're not coming along," she added when the squirrel chittered back. "You'd just be... What do you mean, I'd be in the way too!?"

  She dropped to the ground and hefted her lute. The ants may have made off with her pack and the simple sword within it, but she still had this. It was made of enchanted ironwood, and strong enough to take a hit, or give one. Her favorite uncle had given it to her, along with some magic words. She'd never tried them, but now seemed like as good a time as any...

  "El Kabong!"

  The wood of the lute swelled and stretched, until it was a huge, spiked club. It still weighed the same in her hands, but she bet it would hurt ants just as good as anything else.

  "El Kabong?" Shelby had one eyebrow raised in perfect derision. "Seriously?"

  "That's the problem with kids these days," groused Uncle. "No appreciation for the classics."

  "If you can call it that." The curly-haired girl rolled her eyes. "And what's with all the magic stuff, all of a sudden?"

  "Well, I gave you all this cool stuff at the beginning, and not all of it has seen use. Speaking of which, aren't you the least bit curious what your special item does?"

  All five of the warriors were out and about now, and everyone had their hands full. Louis and Phil had taken on the first, slashing at it with their claws, while the rolling armadillo and a spiky echidna-man fended off another.

  Selvi's attention was on the reddish brown monstrosity before her. This warrior bore a sword and shield, both fashioned from some sort of shell. Whatever the stuff was, her blade couldn't get a bite into it. Each hit slid off with a soft clang. She hacked and slashed, only to be parried and blocked at each turn.

  It was playing with her! Selvi's moonlit vision began to turn red in fury. How dare it treat her like... like... a child! A weakling! Could it not tell she was a khan's daughter, a warrior by blood!? Rage burned within her, kindling a flame in her chest, centered on the dragonbone talisman around her neck.

  The polished knucklebone was carved with the names of her ancestors, great warriors all, and though she couldn't look down to check she was certain that those names now glowed like dragon's fire. The spirits of her forefathers fought with her, she knew, and Selvi pressed on even harder.

  And then, to her left and to her right, glowing red forms appeared, bearing arms and armor much like hers. On the left was an orcish warrior, glorious and strong, while on the right was a human of the high plains, with a spiked turban and oiled beard. Both wielded the wickedly curved blades of her homeland, and as one they moved with her.

  Try as it might, the warrior ant could not stop three blades at once. With a wild howl, the barbarian princess pressed the advantage.

  "And that's how the ancestral totem power works for you," Uncle was explaining. "The spirits move with you, attack with you, basically give you three sword strokes for the price of one. However, they can't attack things independently, can't leave your side, and they only appear if you're raging while wearing that talisman."

  "Okay, whatever." Shelby was trying to keep a cool look on her face, and was failing. "I'm gonna keep attacking on my next turn."

  "Alright. But first, could you roll your big one for me?" Uncle asked. "Everyone else, too?"

  Shelby gave him her best puzzled-but-who-cares-what-you-think look, but rolled anyway. The red twenty-sider rattled across the table, coming up 8. Everyone else rolled much higher, except for Claire's piddling 2.

  "This was a perception check. It's meant to see if you're paying attention to other stuff in battle. The leader and her pets have just arrived." He placed a chess king, two knights, and a bishop on the table, not far from Selvi's pawn. "Unfortunately, a certain barbarian princess is too busy hacking things up to notice."

  Selvi Khan's-daughter felt on top of the world. With furious howls she was slowly wearing down the warrior ant, and she anticipated with glee the final strike that would sent its buggy carcass to the ground in pieces.

  Then the wind picked up. It blew in hard from her right, raising trails of dust and leaves. A second later, she was off her feet, blown head over heels by a blast of rushing air. Her rage was broken by the distraction, and the two phantom fighters disappeared with it.

  Up above, Princess Bianca saw everything. She saw where a new hole opened in the earth, and she saw the three human forms climb out to herald the arrival of the ant leader. She saw one of the former bandits raise a rod — her rod! — and blast Selvi with a huge gust of wind.

  Most importantly, she saw how he did it.

  Her magic lock of white hair grew long, draping down to the ground. With great care, she eased her broom forward, letting the hair float quietly along until it was brushing against the rod in the bandit's hand. Then, like a snake, she struck. Her hair plucked the magic heirloom from the man's surprised grasp.

  The leader ant noticed her, raising its buggy head in all its horribly buggy glory. Compared to the warriors, it was slender, almost dainty, with a tapered body and smaller mandibles. Its antennae were long and swept-back, and a series of horny bumps circled the flat space of its head like a tiara. With her improved vision, she could see the strangely human hands on the end of those ant arms make arcane gestures. Sparks of light began to circle its wrists.

  Oh, no. Bianca wasn't about to let a buggy wizard get the drop on her. She aimed her rod at it, tracing her fingers across the golden inlay the way she'd seen the bandit mage do, and —

  Her world seemed to shatter as strange patterns filled her brain. Everything was precise and geometric, formed of pure shapes linked by the lightning of consciousness. It was too alien, too much, too loud inside her skull.

  Bianca dropped from her broom like a stone.

  Gwenevrael had stopped shooting arrows when Louis and their allies had moved in. Even with her elven eyesight, she couldn't be sure about her targets in all this chaos. It was all good, though; she still had her sword.

  As did Cassandrella, the ranger was surprised to see. The moon princess was holding her own against a swarm of workers, waving around a blade of silvery light as if she actually knew how to use it. The weapon did not seem to cut the ants, but by their reactions it was obvious something was hurting them.

  Then a taller shadow loomed over the cleric. One of the warrior ants had come to the aid of its lesser brethren, and Cassandrella did not seem to notice the monster's axe as it was raised in her direction.

  Gwenevrael would have cursed if she'd had the time to spare. Instead, she quickly drank one of Bianca's potions, a green one that almost made her gag. The stuff tasted like pure, concentrated awful, but it worked. She could feel the power in her legs as she leapt and bounded across the field, hurdling over worker ants and occasionally using them as springboards. The ranger landed next to the cleric just in time to deflect the warrior's axe with her own sword.

  "I've got your back," she told the surprised princess. "Let's waste this one together."

  Cassandrella nodded, and together they rushed the warrior. She jumped high, bringing her sword down on the ant's shield with a clash, while the moon princess took the opening and stabbed it in the thorax with her weapon. "Lovely Lunar Fixation!" the cleric cried as the oversized ant screamed in pain.

  Gwenevrael was caught in the chest by a flailing arm — the one with the shield, thankfully. The blow knocked the wind out of her, but she still managed to duck and roll, coming back on her feet almost immediately. The ant was hacking at Cassandrella, but the cleric was hopping like a crazed bunny rabbit, just barely dodging the first blow, then the second, only to get hit in the face by the shield.

  With the last lingering effect of the potion's jumpiness empowering in her legs, Gwenevrael drew her daggers and leapt for the warrior's back. The bug wore a metal collar to protect its thin neck, but that wasn't much good for it now. The ranger brought her two daggers across the collar, and the neck snapped.

  The rest of the ant collapsed to the ground with a thud.

  "Are you alright?" Flora asked as she pulled Selvi up. Her lute had returned to its original form for now, though it proved more than good enough to bat a worker ant away all by itself.

  Selvi wasn't sure how to answer. The heat of her rage had faded away, and now she felt cold inside. If the druid weren't right there to see it, she could have puked her guts out. "Er, yeah. Just fine and dandy," she lied. "Where's everyone else?"

  "Cassie and Gwen are holding off one of the warrior ants, that way." Flora pointed to the south. "Louis's people took out most of the rest, so now they're working on the leader."

  "Wha.. Where's the one I was fighting?" If someone else had stolen her glory, oh...

  "It retreated to the other side of the hill, I think. Somewhere that way, at least. Looked like it was hurting plenty from the way you mauled it."

  "Hmph." There was some satisfaction in that, at least. "What about witchy-girl?"

  The druid shrugged. "Not sure. Saw her fall off her broom a little while back. Found you first, though."

  "Might as well look for her, then." Selvi winced as her armor moved across several new bruises. "Gotta stick together'n all that."

  Bianca was having the worst headache of her life. What had happened? Had the ant leader got her with some sort of magic attack? All she knew was that she would do anything for some of Gran'Mama's special headache cure right now, even though she knew exactly what the old bat put in it.

  Up above, she could hear Jinkies mewling from the back of the broom. Without her, the flying stick was circling in a holding pattern, awaiting her command. It could wait a little longer, she decided. At least until she could stand up straight without seeing double.

  There were four people running up to her. No, wait. Two people. Selvi and Flora, in fact. Weakly, she waved.

  "Hey, ladies. Got my magic rod back." Her voice sounded addled, even to her own ears. "Gran'Mama will be so happy with me."

  "Good going... oh, crap!" shouted Selvi. The barbarian raised her scimitar.

  Down the slope a ways, three figures could be seen stumbling through the evening dark. The leader ant's pets were having a difficult time of it, as the grass was now covered in bits of ant, and their eyes weren't as keen or as enchanted as the princesses'. They should have been cussing away every time they stepped in a puddle of buggy guts, but instead the three bandits were strangely quiet.

  "I got 'em," Bianca declared, aiming her rod at the first bandit. It only shook a little in her hands as she brought its magic to life. "Take this!" she shouted.

  The bandit stopped dead in his tracks and screamed. Dropping his sword, he doubled over and clutched at the ground as his silhouette expanded and grew in the dim light of the evening. When he stood again, he was over twelve feet tall, and all of his gear had similarly grown with him.

  "Um, so your grandmother gave you this thing, right?" asked Selvi. "Are you sure she really loves you?"

  "No, actually. So... what do we do now?"

  "Good question," said Uncle. He rolled dice and adjusted the placement of pieces on the map. "Gwen and Cassie took out one warrior. Louis's group took out three more. The one Selvi fought has run afoul of that badger on the north end. The bug-eaters are busy with the leader — who is way above your level, before you ask. So these three are your last challenge for the night. Whatcha gonna do? Cynthia, you're up first."

  "Um..." Cynthia was leafing through the cards of all her available spells. "I'm gonna use Tangle Grass on the big guy."

  A die roll rattled from behind the big divider. "And... wow, critical failure for the bandit," Uncle announced. "Here we go..."

  The oversized bandit yelled in surprise as the grass around his feet suddenly grew long, knotting itself around his ankles. A second later, something large and heavy slammed into his gut, followed by a swift kick up between his legs.

  Waving his arms in broad circles didn't help at all as he fell over, squashing the bandit mage with a loud -splat-. Grass sprang up around his wrists, his arms, his chest, holding him flat against the ground — except for the spot where the mage was poking him in the kidneys. It was only slightly less uncomfortable than the feeling of a sharpened blade being held to his neck.

  "Go ahead," growled the most intimidatingly feminine voice he'd ever heard. "Try something." The rough alto seemed to be begging him to give its owner an excuse.

  Not far away, a different girl's voice — a soprano, this time — shouted "El Kabong!" There was a dull thud, and a high-pitched squeal that he barely recognized as his older brother.

  The Mistress's voice was still there in his head, but the echoes were fading away quickly. A moment later, and they were gone completely, to be replaced by shivering fear at the memory of his time with that monster. The young woman now standing with a boot on his chest and a sword at his throat was only slightly less terrifying.

  If the bandit had ever been a brave man, his experiences had broken him of that habit. There was a time to stand tall and defiant, and a time to blubber like a baby.

  So he did.

  "Once Louis and Phil's group ganged up on the leader, it released its hold on the bandits," Uncle was saying. "None of them want to fight now. In fact, they'd probably pee themselves if Selvi said 'Boo!' loudly enough."

  "Maybe I should," Shelby said approvingly.

  "So, to wrap up: the bug-eaters force the leader to make an emergency exit via magic. You all stick around long enough to help them clear out the last of the workers. Louis will take care of the bandits for now, since they're victims of the ants as much as anyone, and his group's code requires them to help. You've all got your packs back, slightly singed from Bianca's fire potion but otherwise intact. The ants had a bunch of loot stored up, so you've got a fair bit of gold coming your way, plus some odds and ends that I haven't decided on yet. Most importantly, you've now got a better map of the route south. But..." Uncle pointed towards the door. "I think that will have to wait for another day."

  Sometime in the last ten minutes, parents had arrived. Shelby's dad was there, bushy blond beard and all, with a slender, dark-skinned woman by his side who had exactly the same curly hair as her daughter. Mr. McCall was there for Cynthia, along with a skinny looking guy who was probably Katelyn's dad. Helen's mom was discussing the pizza fees with Max, over by the register.

  "So, same time next week, ladies?" he asked.

  "Yeah!" shouted Helen, Cynthia, and Claire as loud as they could. Katelyn smiled, while Shelby managed a "Sure, maybe" before getting up to join her parents.

  "Enjoyed yourself after all, huh?" he heard her dad say.

  "Maybe. Whatever," came the expected response.

  "C'mon, Katelyn!" Cynthia said, grabbing the quiet girl by the arm. "We gotta tell our dads how awesome our princesses are!" The two of them were off like a shot.

  "Thanks for doing this," said Helen's mom as she came over to claim her daughter. His niece and Claire were busy bagging dice for him.

  "Not a prob, sis. They all seemed to enjoy it. Or were you all just faking, ladies?"

  "It was great!" his niece declared.

  "Super-fantastic, Uncle game-dude!"

  He had to roll his eyes at that, but he chuckled anyway. "So, Claire. Do you need a ride home?"

  "Nah, I live right around the corner. Thanks anyway."

  "Will this really be turning into a regular thing?" his sister asked.

  "Hope so. Everyone really did seem to have fun tonight, so why not? As long as someone's willing to spring for pizza!" He winked. It had been a good evening, for sure, and he really did hope that they'd continue on. Even the random stuff he'd thrown at the girls had turned out pretty good, and it would be fun to work with it more.

  In the highest tower of the Academy, there was a room that Lady Amberyll kept to host little parties. In the center there was a low table, now heavily laden with treats. Mistress Fresnelding had made several of her favorite dishes, including a thick pie of cheese, meat, and pulped tomato baked in a cast-iron pan. Smaller bowls of fruit lay half-empty around the crumb-filled pan now, and several bottles of wine lay emptier under the table.

  "Well," began Mistress Penskill as she deactivated her scrying orb. "That did not go as expected." The gnome tsked and shook her light blue head.

  "But it was not a disaster, either," noted Mistress Madonnel, the teacher for the natural philosophies. "In fact, I dare say that they acquitted themselves quite well." In the chair next to her, Mistress Mehl of the training salle nodded.

  "I am more worried that the Red Queen had a contingent so close to our school," said Lady Amberyll. Her green eyes narrowed. "And to send one of her own daughters with it, no less. We owe Phllthothplp and his band a debt, and not simply for aiding our students in their time of need." The ant-eater's torturous name flowed effortlessly from her lips.

  "Those girls had the luck of the clouds and mountains," Mistress Heyerwif pointed out. The half-giant librarian was seated on the floor, but still towered over the rest. "They may not, the next time."

  "They shall learn, and they shall live," said Amberyll. "And we shall watch. And occasionally laugh. Now," she concluded, raising her glass to the lamplight. "Do we have any more of that Kinbaresi red?"

 

 

  Maikel Yarimizu, Princesses Don't Do Summer School

 

 

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