Midnight Law

by Geanna Culbertson

  Doloris escorted us to the fourth domino down. Voices could be heard from inside. Doloris knocked.

  “Enter!” said a male voice.

  Doloris led us inside. It was a war room, but the most colorful war room I had ever seen. It was like a bumblebee had taken an interior design course. The desks and chair cushions were bright yellow. The gold lamps had striped black-and-white lampshades. The walls were painted metallic gold and covered with maps.

  Seven “men” were positioned around a huge, rectangular table. Only one of them was human. He had dark hair and stood in the center. The others were toy generals, judging by the regalia on their jackets, and were as lifelike as Doloris. Each man wore a different colored jacket—navy, red, black, gold, royal purple, pink, and forest green—with military style buttons across the chest, epaulets on the shoulders, and long tails at the back.

  The table they congregated around displayed an awesome 3D model of, presumably, this realm—detailing its diverse cities and their various themes. Some looked abundant in greenery and gardens. Others were composed of candy and cookies. Two featured innumerable kinds of metal. And the city surrounding the castle was a floral, dessert, metal hodgepodge mashed up with miscellaneous items like cereal boxes, books, building blocks, and more.

  “Your Majesty.” Doloris bowed. “I realize that battle is imminent, but these four humans are in pursuit of the green trail that has confounded us since this morning.”

  The human came over to us and I reassessed my first impression of him. Though he appeared human, his cheeks were unusually rosy, his jaw uncommonly elongated, and his posture a bit too erect. The king’s military jacket had more buttons and golden epaulets than the generals’. His black hair extended into a short ponytail, and he wore a humble crown of tightly woven vines.

  “Thank you, Doloris. Salutations, children. I am the Nutcracker King, protector of Toyland.” He bowed to us, which I thought odd since he was the king. I bowed in return, as did Chance. Girtha and Blue curtseyed rather awkwardly, given that they were not wearing skirts.

  Chance looked at us. “Full disclosure?”

  We nodded our approval.

  “I am Prince Chance Darling from the realm of Book,” Chance said to the king. “These are my friends Jason, Blue, and Girtha, who are great heroes from our realm. We don’t mean to interrupt, but finding the end of that green trail is a life or death matter. Where did you see it?”

  “The trail is visible through there.” The king pointed to a big window framed by three-foot-tall birthday cake candles. We went over to the window as the king saluted his toy generals. “Men, you know your assignments. I will meet you in the Deployment Chamber. Doloris, I will escort our guests should they choose to accept the risky endeavor they are facing.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” they chorused in unison. The toy generals saluted and bowed, Doloris curtseyed, and the group departed.

  My friends and I shared the window. Our green light trail shone vividly against the pale silver sky. The trail stretched into the distance over mountainous peaks.

  “What did you mean by the risky endeavor we are facing?” I asked the king.

  “Today is Krakatuk Day,” the king replied. He wandered back to the model kingdom and gestured at mini representations of soldiers spaced across it. “A long time ago, I led Toyland’s forces in a conflict against the Rat King, known as the Christmas War. He was a Hydra-Rat—a rat with seven heads.”

  The king pointed to the model mountains where a fake rat with seven heads had been positioned. My friends and I drew closer.

  “I cut them all off,” the king continued. “Which triggered the death of all his anointed rat legions. However, the dark magic that lives inside the Rat King—put there by his evil mother and this realm’s previous overlord, the Rat Queen—causes his body to rise from the grave every seven months. That is the amount of time it takes for his heads to regenerate. His rebirth also causes all the rats who swore allegiance to him to rise from where they died in the mountains during the final battle of the Christmas War. Today is that day.”

  “Krakatuk Day,” I clarified.

  “Exactly. At sundown, the rats will rise and my forces must keep them from invading the rest of Toyland.” The king pointed at the green trail. “Your trail has a trajectory that leads into the mountains where this conflict will occur. If you wish to get there as soon as possible, you will need to come with my troops. Though I must warn you, it is likely that you will still be in the mountains when the battle commences.”

  “Well, we haven’t fought rat zombies yet,” Blue commented, tilting her head toward us. “This is a new one. Everybody game?”

  “According to my watch, we only have seven Book hours left,” Chance said glancing at his timepiece. “So definitely game. If the king’s army is willing to escort us, we should take that offer no matter the risk.”

  “Agreed,” I said.

  Girtha seemed a bit hesitant, but nodded in agreement.

  “Very well,” said the king. “But know that I cannot guarantee your safety.”

  Girtha shrugged. “It wouldn’t be much of a war if you could.”

  The Deployment Chamber was a cross between an armory, a barn, a hangar for flying vehicles and flying animals, and a meeting hall for the troops.

  My friends and I observed the hustle and bustle while trying to stay out of the way. Since we were going with the troops, all four of us had been given jackets to wear like the other Toyland fighters. There were seven regiments in the Nutcracker King’s army, and we had been assigned to Regiment Four. As a result, our military jackets were black with slanted, silver lines embroidered across the left and right side of the chest, each line ending in a gray button. The parallel lines of buttons ran down the middle of the jacket. Shimmery gray epaulets rested on the shoulders. And a trio of silver lines came down the sleeves, reaching the cuffs. The right upper arm of each jacket also had a red-and-gold insignia featuring the Toyland coat of arms—a duo of swans with crowns framed by two swords.

  Chance, Girtha, and I had our jackets on full display. Blue’s was partially hidden beneath her cloak, which she refused to remove, and her backpack, which she also wouldn’t part with. I didn’t blame her; Crisa’s wand was in there. I respected Blue’s idea to reunite our friend with it immediately. The sooner we drove the Shadow out of her the better.

  “Jason? Blue?”

  We turned around. A white mouse in a navy military jacket came scampering over. He stood on his hind legs so we were eye to eye.

  “It’s me. Kevin!”

  I blanked for a moment.

  Kevin . . . Kevin . . . Kevin!

  “Oh, crud. How are you?” I said, the memory flooding back.

  “I’m sorry, how do you know this giant mouse?” Girtha asked warily.

  “This mouse saved our lives the first time we went to Oz,” I said. “He’s a prince.”

  “In title and in personality, according to the lady mice,” Kevin said with a wink. “I’m Prince Donahue Van Winklevolt III, but I go by Kevin.” He twisted his pink tail and held it up to Chance and Girtha. He kept it extended until Chance realized what Kevin wanted. My friend shook the mouse’s tail like he was shaking hands. Girtha did too, but she looked pretty uncomfortable about it.

  “If you’re from Oz, what are you doing here?” Chance asked.

  “My people lived in Toyland until a few generations ago when my great grandfather, the Rat King, went nuts. As my people’s future Mouse King—thank you, cross-breeding—I come every Krakatuk Day to help fight the threat. It’s an act of goodwill to heal our relationship with Toyland. It is also my responsibility to make sure my great grandfather stays dead. While a lot of toys still don’t trust me, the Nutcracker King is a good man. I am proud to fight alongside him.”

  “Alrighty, kids.”

  A sock monkey in a black military jacket and newsboy hat came over with a clipboard. “You will be under my command. I am Captain Varsunckle. Follow me to your de
signated transports. We move out in fifteen minutes.”

  “Good luck out there,” I told Kevin.

  “You too,” he said. “And watch yourselves. If you run into trouble, I may not be able to save you like I did last time.” He winked again and saluted with his tail, then scampered off.

  “He saved you guys?” Girtha asked in disbelief as we followed the sock monkey out of the Deployment Chamber.

  “It’s a long story,” I responded. “We’ll tell you later.”

  As we walked, I watched a bunch of toy soldiers push several interesting vehicles out of the hangar. They looked like modified versions of aircrafts I’d seen in Bermuda and in the Die Hard movies.

  “Are those airplanes?” I asked the sock monkey.

  “Yup a doodle,” the monkey replied. “Specially designed for our aerial assaults. Okay, here we go.” He came to a stop next to a pair of massive, plastic white swans. They had crowns on their heads and wind-up gears on their necks. Huge saddles sat between their wings with side by side seats built into them, like the kind of seats one might find on a rickshaw. Golden reins rested on the saddle horns at the ready.

  “The king said you were confident with air travel, so you will be a part of our Swan Soldier Unit,” said the sock monkey. “If you have any questions, ask the squeaky toys.” He pointed at a trio of colorful plastic bears smoking cigars nearby. They looked at us, squeaked, and nodded.

  “They’re the flight instructors,” the sock monkey continued. “They’ll be leading the Swan Soldiers. They know your objective is the end of the green light trail, but they expect you to stay in formation until you reach your target. Remain at the back so you can peel off and not get in the way. Understood?”

  “Understood,” we echoed.

  He saluted us. We saluted him.

  The sock monkey glanced to his side. “Oh good, my ride is here.”

  My eyes widened. Three colossal cats—each as tall as a barn—wearing leather saddles strutted around the side of the building. There was a tabby, a black cat, and a gray cat. The tabby crouched down and the sock monkey swung a leg over the cat’s neck and settled in the saddle.

  “Our realm has many cat guardians,” the sock money explained, adjusting his hat. “They have been used since the years of the Christmas War to fight rodent invaders. “Onward, Mr. Whiskers! To battle!” The sock money kicked the side of his cat, which jogged off.

  The four of us paused, marveling at the organized, insane display around us. Then Blue started laughing.

  “What?” Chance asked.

  Blue shook her head and smirked. “I know the stakes are high, I know our deadline is short, but this is just great, right? I mean, it’s funny. We’re on the brink of a battle with a bunch of toys and swans and giant cats who’ll be fighting rats in the snow. No one will ever believe us. I wish the rest of our friends were here to see this.”

  “I don’t,” I said, staring at the massive felines milling about. “Daniel has a thing about cats. He would not be a fan of this storyline.”

  “So I guess this is a bad time to mention that I have a thing about rats?” Girtha said.

  Blue laughed again.

  Girtha didn’t. “I’m not joking.”

  Blue stopped. “Oh. Sorry.”

  “Thanks for the tips, Roy,” Girtha said, saluting the hot pink squeaky bear. It amused me how such a silly looking toy could have such a serious mustache.

  The bear squeaked, saluted, and strode off.

  “When I told the king we were good with flying, I thought he’d give us some of his toy Pegasi,” Chance said as we walked back to our swans. “I’m glad we asked for help operating these birds. Better safe than sorry.”

  “For sure,” I said, then straightened my jacket. “Look alive. King approaching.”

  The Nutcracker King rode up to us on a brown plastic horse. “I wanted to check that you children are all set. And also make certain that you wish to go through with this.”

  “We do,” Chance said. “A friend is in danger and the magic flame at the end of this trail is the final key to saving her.”

  “I respect that,” the king said. “People can be driven to great things in the name of protecting those they care about. I am only human because of the immense risk my wife Marie took when she left Earth to break the spell that had turned me into a nutcracker for many years. I fight for her on this day, as much as I fight for all the citizens of Toyland every time this battle rears its ugly head.”

  “Does it ever get tiring?” Chance asked. “You have to fight the same war every seven months. You have to kill the same monster again and again, knowing he won’t stay dead.”

  The king shrugged. “That is not only my burden; it’s everyone’s. Life is a war and monsters keep coming. Kill one and it is only a matter of time before another springs up. But you fight anyway, for two reasons. Life without fighting is not life at all; it is sleep—passive and a waste of a soul. And furthermore—there is a better way out there, but it is up to us to find it. Every seven months, my forces do not simply aim to stop the Rat King in the same way. We believe there has to be a means to permanently defeat him, and every chance we get to face him in battle is an opportunity for us to try again. We have tried killing him a dozen different ways now. Perhaps today will be the day we do it for good.”

  “I admire your optimism,” I said, glancing over at Blue. “Sometimes it can get tiring fighting the same battle and hoping for a different outcome.”

  She held my gaze—a proud, yet somewhat guilty look in her eyes.

  “It’s not optimism, son,” the king said. “Optimism is positivity without contingency. This is perseverance—determination and grit fueled by faith in the face of negativity.” He pulled out a pocket watch and checked the time. “Better mount up, kids. Three minutes until departure. I hope you are able to find your flame quickly. When you do, fly out of the mountains as fast as you can. I pray you can get in and out before the rats rise. I would not wish a moment of this battle on anyone; it is gruesome and many of my soldiers die.”

  “Can toys really die though?” Blue asked.

  “Anything can die,” the king responded. “No matter how powerful or seemingly invincible, death can find a way. My men may be made of plastic and fluff, but they all have souls. And souls can only take so much. On that note, I have a Hydra-Rat to behead. Good luck.” He kicked his horse into gear and rode off to the front of our assembled army. It did look intimidating, despite its unusual nature.

  Chance climbed into the swan seat beside Girtha. “Stay close,” he said.

  “Yeah, we will. Come on, Blue.” I waved for her to follow me to our swan, but she just stared vacantly at the ground in front of her. “Blue?”

  She released a deep exhale then looked up at us. Her fists were clenched, but her expression was pure vulnerability—probably the most seldom seen expression in her repertoire.

  “August,” she blurted.

  “What about it?” Girtha asked.

  “It’s not an it, it’s me. My real name is August. August Elliot Dieda.”

  The revelation hung in the air and we all froze there in shock. I seriously couldn’t believe she’d finally told us the truth—thistruth. It meant so much, but it was so unexpected. I took a couple of steps closer to her.

  “Blue, not that I’m not super happy to hear it, but we’re about to go off to a toy war with rat zombies. The timing is . . . surprising. What spurred you to tell us now?”

  “Because of what the Nutcracker King said. It kind of struck a chord.” Blue sighed. “Look, I make sassy jokes, I have a lot working in my favor to make me feel powerful and invincible, and I am known for being fearless. But those attitudes don’t stem from optimism. It’s perseverance—in what I can do, and what we can do as a team. I can afford to have faith not just because of my magic and skill, but because you guys are there to back me up, tell me when I’m being stupid, and support me when I fall. I finally accepted that in The Giant’s Keep. An
d now that we are about to go into another crazy circumstance with a high chance of death, I feel like if we all have learned to forgive, respect, and be patient with each other, then we should be honest with each other too. This is my way of tying a bow on everything we’ve been through as a team, and my way of showing—no matter what happens out there—I know I can count on you.”

  Another long silence. Then Chance eventually spoke.

  “Thank you.”

  Blue looked at him. “You’re welcome.”

  A whistle blew in the distance and one of the toy generals shouted, “One minute!”

  Blue walked past me to our swan. I exchanged a glance of disbelief with Girtha and Chance before following her and mounting the rectangular seat on the saddle beside her. Blue handed me the reins. I studied her as she looked ahead.

  “Your birthday is in August,” I said.

  She nodded. “That’s why my parents named me that.”

  “And you don’t like your name or your birthday.”

  “My father was killed in August,” she said emotionlessly. “On my birthday. By a wolf. My father’s name was Elliot.”

  Now it was my turn to stare ahead. Getting so much vulnerable, unprovoked honesty from Blue was like looking straight into the sun—full of power and hard to process. She hadn’t just offered Chance, Girtha, and me an olive branch. She’d given us the whole tree.

  The toy general blew his whistle and the regiments moved out—some troops taking flight, others traveling on the ground.

  I sent our swan into flight too, though still in a daze. What Blue had presented to us—to me—was nothing short of the most miraculous and unexpected thing I had experienced on this quest. It gave me hope and threw me for a loop because suddenly, the girl sitting beside me was not the same person who’d broken my heart weeks ago.

  he sun was barely above the horizon and sinking fast. Our green trail shone brighter by the moment much like our anticipation. This was our final flame. After this, our next portal would lead to Crisa.

  Operating the swans was a two-person job; I’d definitely gotten the easier assignment. While I steered with the reins, Blue cranked the wind-up gear on the swan’s neck. Our bird soared at the back of the V-shaped Swan Soldier Unit.