by Brian Olsen
That’s all? Felt like he ate my whole arm. “Did it work?”
“I’m not sure.” Mom jerks her thumb towards the ghoul. “Is this what you were going for?”
The creature’s head is now a perfect duplicate of my own, if I were glassy-eyed and snarling. Unfortunately the part of him trapped in ice, everything from the neck down, is still all goblin.
“Not exactly.” I lower my bandaged hand a little and swallow hard. Hope he doesn’t need much more.
My mother grabs my wrist, raising it back up. “Don’t offer second helpings yet, Chef. There’s probably just not enough room in there for a growing teenage boy.” She waves a hand and the ice block melts with a big splash.
I’m very glad Nate is not here to see my big snarling head on top of a little goblin body. He’d have enough material to tease me into our fifties. Luckily this extremely disturbing sight only lasts a fraction of a second before the ghoul pops into a full copy of me, gaining almost two feet of height in the process. He stumbles towards Mr. Liefer, arms out, but Mom gestures again and he’s trapped up to his neck once more.
“A decoy?” Mr. Liefer asks.
I take my mother’s hand and get to my feet. “An offering, to get Mom in the king’s good graces again. He kills the fake me, the fighting stops, and the plan is back on track.”
Mom shakes her head. “That won’t stop the fighting. He thinks he’s killed you already, and he still ordered your friends’ deaths.”
“A distraction, then. Might be all Nate needs.”
“Nate?”
“Yeah, this all hinges on him. He’s got to—”
Liefer coughs and I catch myself. I trust Mom, but I understand his caution.
“Are you okay with this?” I ask.
She looks south, towards the fighting. “I don’t know if the king will believe that I’d turn you over to be killed, but I’ll sell it as best I can.”
Liefer sighs. “As loath as I am to be an ice cube again, you’ll have to sell me, too.”
“No, Mr. Liefer,” I say. “You’re our exit route.”
“Zane can do that more effectively than me. And while our other missing comrades may be beneath the Common King’s notice, he’s sure to be wondering where I am. We need him to believe he’s beaten us completely. It’s everyone’s best chance of surviving.” He takes a deep breath. “Not too tight, if you please, Mrs. Armstrong.”
“There’s only one size.” She gestures, and Liefer is encased again in ice up to his neck. As she steps towards the ghoul, it howls and snaps at her. She frowns. “He won’t be winning any Oscars. I’ll have to keep him fully enclosed if we expect this to work.” She enlarges the ice block to cover its head.
Ugh. Hopefully the Common King won’t notice my frozen animalistic snarl. “I’ll get as close as I can without being seen. Good luck, Mom.”
“Good luck to you too, Chris.” She closes her eyes, takes a deep breath in and out of her nose, and opens her eyes again. The scornful, uncaring expression of Kelle Gerddinchild falls across her face once more. With a slight pushing gesture, she slides the two blocks of ice down Broadway as she strides confidently behind.
I follow for a while, at a distance, but as she approaches the square where the logomancy is flying wild, I pause. Where should I go? I have to be close enough to see and hear what’s happening, close enough to join everyone quickly when the time is right. But how do I get that close without any of the king’s crew seeing me?
Okay. Take stock and think this through. I’m just north of the square, right across the street from the abandoned TKTS counters, in front of a ransacked Olive Garden. The stairs above TKTS block my view of the battle but I can hear that it’s still in full swing. There aren’t any heads visible over the top of the stairs, but if anybody climbs up and looks this way, they’ll see me. But they’ll see me if I move around the side of the stairs too.
Mom’s coming into everyone’s view now, along the side of the stairs where Broadway turns into a pedestrian plaza. This is my moment to move, while they’re looking at her. Gotta risk it. I bolt forward, across the street to the TKTS counters. I make it unseen and press myself flat against the ticket booths. The opaque red glass floor of the top step above extends out into the air a few feet to shade ticket-buyers below, so even if the king leaned out and looked straight down he wouldn’t see me.
I hear yelling and crying and impacts and crashes. I think maybe I hear the Common King’s voice, but it’s not loud enough to cut through the din. He must have seen Mom and her “prisoners” by now. I can’t stay here. I need to know what’s happening. I need to see.
There’s a horrible crash from Seventh Avenue, on the opposite side of the square from where my mother went. I peer out from that corner of the counters just in time to see a police car on its side, throwing up sparks as it slides across the street. It hits the curb and topples over, landing with a thud on all four wheels, half on Seventh, half on the sidewalk. It’s directly across the street from the base of the stairs. Perfect cover and vantage point. If I can reach it.
The Common King is yelling. I still can’t make out the words, but his attention is probably on whoever he’s yelling at, not the car. I stick my head out around the corner of the booths a little further. Nobody’s in sight. I run for it. It’s just a dozen feet or so but it feels like a mile. No point in keeping low, I’m in the wide open and crouching won’t make me invisible. A few feet away I dive for the battered vehicle, roll across the sidewalk, scramble behind the front tire, and hold my breath. Did I make it?
Damn, my finger hurts. My heart’s pounding, I wonder if that’s making it worse.
The car has not exploded. That’s a good sign.
I stick my head up to peek at the scene through the police car’s windows. Wow. What a mess. What a horrible mess.
The first person I see is the giant. No, wait, not a giant, he’s nowhere near as big as the ones in Cambridge. He’s maybe twelve feet tall, and half that across, with oversized fists almost as big as his head. I saw his species in the book – I’m pretty sure he’s an ogre. Or rather, going by the misshapen Neanderthal-like face, it’s Mr. Finlay, transformed into an ogre.
My former biology teacher is engaged in a fierce battle with a pair of wolves. One is obviously Mrs. Wollard, in her full lupine form. I don’t know who she transformed into the other – it could be anyone. I hope she didn’t enslave some poor innocent bystander. Maybe it’s Mrs. Kumar? I don’t see her anywhere, and since she’s not a logomancer she’d have no resistance to Mrs. Wollard’s magic. Whoever it is, they and Mrs. Wollard have done a good job against Mr. Finlay, who’s bleeding from a dozen wounds, some small, some serious. He must have thrown the police car at them, but the quick animals would have dodged a clumsy attack like that easily.
A couple of my allies are down. I see Emmet…Mr. Ambrose…and Tannyl! That’s surprising, Tannyl’s got to be the best fighter out of all of us. They’re lying motionless on the ground, I can’t tell if they’re alive or dead. I don’t understand. Alisa said they were doing well.
It’s not Jasmine who beat them. She’s on the bottom step, facing Alisa on the ground. Squaring off in some kind of magical showdown, I guess. Nightmare versus truth. They’re standing stock still, facing each other, straining from mental effort. That must be why Alisa couldn’t answer me. Nate is a little ways behind her, hugging the framed picture to his chest, shouting something at Jasmine that she’s ignoring.
Zane. Where’s Zane? Okay, there he is. He and Kenny are at the far southern end of the square, back to back, like they’re guarding each other. But from what? They’re all alone.
Shonda appears out of thin air, punches Zane in the gut, then vanishes.
Oh. I see. It’s Dante. He’s hiding her, dropping the spell just long enough for her to get a blow in, then hiding her again before anyone can hit back. Together they probably picked Emmet, Ambrose and Tannyl off one by one. At least, I hope that’s what happened, because that probably
means my friends are alive. Maybe I’m naive, but I don’t see Shonda and Dante turning into cold-blooded killers.
No sign of Lily. I hope she’s all right.
Above the fray is the Common King. He’s halfway down the steps, his attention on my mother, who’s gesturing toward Liefer and my ghoul-double, both still imprisoned.
The Common King screams at her. His back is to me but I can tell from his body language. He’s pissed.
My mother cups her hand to her ear and shrugs with an apologetic look. Over the ogre’s roaring and stomping, the wolves’ howls, and Kenny, Zane, and Nate shouting, I’m not surprised she can’t hear him.
The king rises into the air. I shrink back behind the police car so he won’t see me, but there’s no hiding from the burst of light he suddenly emits. Even shielded like I am, it’s blinding.
The wolves whimper. Mr. Finlay stops pounding the ground. The shouting cuts off. Everything’s quiet.
“There, that’s better.” The king brushes something off his sleeve. “I couldn’t hear myself think.”
Blinking back tears, I sneak up to look again. Through yellow spots I see that the fighting has paused. Shonda’s reappeared, but Dante must still be hiding. Everybody still conscious is watching the king and my mom in surprise.
“Now, Kelle.” The Common King lowers himself back down onto the steps. “What do you have for us here? I was certain you had abandoned me.”
“Not at all, Your Majesty.”
She flicks her wrists and the two ice blocks slide forward. Alisa and Nate jump back out of the way, while Jasmine hops up a few steps.
“I noticed Mr. Liefer wasn’t among them,” Mom continues, “and thought they might be holding him in reserve. I went in search of him and found he had saved Chris from falling. The two were plotting a rescue of their friends when I came upon them. I brought them back for your judgment.”
“Really?” He applauds politely. “Well done. Although I notice, you’ve got Chris muzzled and not Liefer. Any particular reason?”
She stiffens a little. “He tried to appeal to my false memories. I didn’t want to hear anymore. There are air holes. He won’t suffocate.”
The king laughs. “Excellent! I admit, when you ran off after him I assumed the worst. You’ve always sworn to me that you didn’t consider him your son, but I’ve had my doubts, Kelle, I’ve had my doubts.”
“I meant it, Your Majesty. That life is a lie. I refuse to be bound by it.”
He steeples his fingers. “So my promise not to kill him in your presence is…?”
She bows to him. “Thank you for indulging my weakness and confusion, but my mind is clear now. Any promise you made to me, I release you from.”
“How gracious.”
He snaps his fingers. The ice block containing the ghoul explodes into steam. My mother steps back, shielding her face with her eyes, as the creature that looks like me burns. It shrieks in pain, staggers a few steps in random directions, then drops, twitches, and lies still. The body is burnt so badly it’s unrecognizable.
My friends react so truthfully I’m not sure if Alisa got my telepathic message or not. Kenny has to physically restrain Zane from charging the stairs. Alisa and Nate, closest to the body, cry out in horror. Jasmine comes down from the steps to comfort Nate, but he pushes her away.
The Common King throws his arms up and tosses his head back, basking in the sun with a broad smile. “Finally! I’m free of that cursed reflection. Thank you, Kelle. I owe you much.” A sob from Alisa shakes him out of his moment of triumph. He takes in his enemies’ anguish, and with a sneer says, “How much of this is grief over the loss of your friend, I wonder, and how much is because I’ve put paid to your little plan?”
Alisa jumps back from the still sizzling ghoul. “What?”
He laughs, then climbs a few steps higher. “Oh, it was obvious. Why would you bring Chris here when he has no power, unless it was to restore what you have rent asunder? Recombine us, and lock me away again in the floating room? A good idea, but no chance of that now.”
“So what, then?” Alisa asks. “Back to fighting? We were handling ourselves pretty well.”
“Only because I wanted to give my subjects some exercise, and test their loyalties a little.” He cracks his knuckles. “It’s time I got involved and ended all this nonsense.”
“No!” Mr. Liefer’s voice is loud, despite how much it’s quivering from the coldness of his prison. “No, there’s no need for that. We surrender.”
“Yes, we’ve already done that. Surrender not accepted. I need to think, and you’re a distraction.”
He stretches his hands out towards my friends.
“Die.”
Thirty-six
“Wait!” Nate runs to the center of the base of the steps, below the Common King. “Please, wait!”
My double lowers his hands, just a little, and sighs. “I wasn’t going to kill you. I promised my queen.”
“I have something for you.” Nate holds out the framed picture, with the back towards the king. “It’s from all of us. A peace offering.”
Oh, man, this is it. They’re not running. Nate’s going for it, which means he knows I’m here. Alisa must have heard me after all. I get up on my haunches and tune out the stinging pain from my finger. I’ve gotta be ready to book it for those stairs.
The king sneers at Nate. “A trick.”
“No trick. You were right. Without Chris there’s no play anymore. I’m making nice and hoping you’ll spare my friends.”
He laughs. “That’s honest, at least.”
“Can I…?” Nate takes a step.
The king shoots a tiny burst of flame at him. Just enough to force Nate back to the ground.
“Keep your distance.” He beckons to Shonda. “Come and join me, would you?”
Shonda hurries through the torn-up plaza and up the steps to his side. With a nod from the king, she holds out her hand and says, “Conjure.”
The framed photo disappears from Nate’s hand and appears in Shonda’s. She turns it around to look at the picture. “Some woman.” She shrugs. “I don’t recognize her.”
The king frowns and takes it from her. One glance at the woman in the photo and he inhales sharply, his face going pale. His eyes stay locked on the picture as he says in a low and dangerous voice, “You dare to mock me?”
“It’s a reminder,” Nate says. “That’s all.”
Inaudibly, Alisa mouths, “Truth.”
The king gasps. His hands tremble, shaking the photo held in his tight grip. Without looking away from it, he wipes his eyes with his upper arm. Is he crying? I think he might be crying!
The image in the photo was taken from my mind by Alisa, from a memory of the king’s that Jasmine once sent me in a dream. It’s his mother, the one person he’s ever shown any regret about murdering. Alisa’s logomancy is confronting him with his true feelings about that horrible act of matricide.
Nate and Alisa caught him off guard, but the spell won’t last long. He’s too strong. He’ll shrug it off in a few seconds.
I rock back on my heels, ready to move. Come on. Come on! Now. It’s got to be now, while he’s distracted. Do they know it’s time? Can they hear Alisa in there?
Yes! A thick, dark string bursts out of the picture, quickly resolving into the shape of Andy. The Common King drops the photo in surprise but, still reeling from Alisa’s magic, has no time to react before my super-strong drama teacher punches him in the face. The king flies back, landing hard on the top few steps. His head lolls to the side and he lies there, unmoving.
I break from behind the police car and sprint for the steps.
Andy raises his fist, ready to cave in the king’s skull. That’s not the plan!
“Andy, no!” Alisa yells. “Chris is alive, we can still—”
Andy doesn’t listen. He swings his fist.
With a shout, Shonda shoulder-tackles him. He’s too strong for her to knock down, but the impact is enough fo
r his punch to miss its target, instead shattering a section of a glass step. While he’s off-balance, Shonda conjures a chunk of stone, part of a broken curb I think, to her hand. She brains him with it and he falls.
I make it across Seventh Avenue but Mr. Finlay sees me as I step into the square. He roars and reaches for me with his massive ogre hands. The two wolves growl and leap for his throat, forcing him to abandon me and pull them off. I dart around them and continue to the base of the steps. Alisa takes my hand and the two of us hurry up the stairs towards the stunned king.
“Stop!” Jasmine’s eyes are wild with anger. “Stop them! Nightmare!”
A clown appears on the steps in front of us. A ten feet tall clown. With knives for fingernails. With a wet, raspy chuckle, it slashes at us, stopping our ascent. The clown grins at us sickeningly with matted red lips and sharp yellow teeth.
Ugh. I don’t know whose nightmare this came from, but I feel sorry for them.
Kenny and Zane run for us from the far side of the plaza, but Jasmine puts her fingers to her temples and shouts her word again. “Nightmare!” Our would-be rescuers scream in fear, grab their heads, and drop to the ground.
Jasmine’s too strong. Alisa could keep her at bay, but she’s got another job to do.
Luckily, we prepared for this. Nate picks up the framed photo. “Sorry about this, Jaz.” He holds it out towards the clown. “Sic ‘em, boy!”
A gray-brown-yellow-orange streak shoots from the frame and thickens into the shape of Yasu the baku. The horrifyingly adorable little creature looks around, shakes out his fur, then trots a few steps down towards the clown. The nightmare monster turns from me and Alisa to face the new arrival. Still chuckling, it raises its claws.
Yasu raises his trunk and snorts, just once. The clown stops, its fingernail-knives raised, and looks down at our hungry animal friend in confusion. Then, with a painful shriek and a series of sickening cracks, the nightmare bends and folds in on itself. Yasu snorts again, and the clown is sucked into the baku’s snoot, cracking louder as it compresses to fit. In less than a second only the clown’s feet stick out from the end of the trunk, but Yasu gives one last mighty snort and the big red clown shoes disappear with a pop.