The Dire King

by William Ritter

  The ground shook again. The building groaned, and another shower of dust sprinkled down around us. “I don’t think the building’s going to weather much more of this,” I said.

  “Whoever Father Grafton really was, the last thing he did with his very long life was enlist us to keep that gem from falling into the hands of the new Dire King,” said Jackaby. “We need to secure Hafgan’s shield before the Dire Council sends their army storming through here.”

  With another creative stacking of church pews, Jackaby and I erected a slightly sturdier ramp leading up to the window. I steadied the base this time while Jackaby ran up to the hidden gem. He pried it out with a little knife and held it up to the light. “This is . . . I can’t . . . it’s astounding, Miss Rook.”

  “Well, bring it down. Let’s have a look,” I said. Jackaby tucked it into his pocket and slid down to me, but before his feet were on the ground the church rumbled again. This time the quake did not ebb, but grew only more and more violent.

  “Oh dear,” said Jackaby.

  “What’s happening?” I said. “Did we cause that?”

  “Oh dear,” Jackaby said again. The rumble had built to a roar.

  “What?” I yelled.

  “I’m still an idiot! The gem wasn’t just hidden, it was right where it was supposed to be—holding the veil shut!” The whole structure was shaking like a carriage on a rough road. “Grafton made it a part of the church. He set the stone dead in the center of the fraying seams of the veil. He protected his church because this church was more important than he was.”

  “Quick! Put it back!” I said.

  As I spoke, Simon the Zealot cracked into two and then ruptured, raining colored glass down on us and all over the greatly abused benches. The walls fractured. Lumps of plaster crashed down, and Simon’s fellow apostles began to burst.

  The ground beneath our feet cracked, and I hopped across the break before I found myself trapped on the other side of the cleft from Jackaby. Emerald light poured up out of the chasm. Through the swirling mist, I could just make out Hafgan’s Hold. I was looking down on the scene from across the courtyard. The medley of monsters was no longer milling about aimlessly. They weren’t forming ranks, precisely, but they were clearly at attention. Someone was at the head of the group, addressing the crowd. Over the heads of giants and ogres and hairy beasts, I caught a foggy glimpse. There he was! The Dire King! Red eyes glowed in the shadows beneath his brow, and on his head sat a midnight black crown of tall, wicked points. Each spike was like a crooked talon clawing at the sky. Even the tallest giants bowed before him. The Dire King was readying his troops to invade.

  And Jackaby and I had just unlocked the door for them.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I caught my breath and pulled my head away from the massive chasm. Maybe there was still time to fix this. Maybe the Dire King had not noticed that the enormous rift had opened. I glanced around. Daylight streamed down on us. The church had ruptured in two. The ceiling was split wide open and the back wall had largely collapsed.

  “We need to get back there,” Jackaby said, heaving a thick sigh. “We need to destroy that machine now. If the Dire King has found a way to manufacture a fraction of the power his acolytes seem to think he has, then this church is only a small sample of what’s to come.”

  “We need Charlie,” I said. “We need our reinforcements. We have support in the city, remember? They should be amassing as we speak.”

  “There isn’t time.” Jackaby’s words were heavy. “Miss Rook,” he said, “you should go. Be with Charlie. Bring them back. I will hold the threshold as long as I can, but I cannot leave now. The war has begun, and we are already losing it.”

  “You’re losing it if you think I’m going to let you go marching into that mess alone! With all due respect, sir, you can’t handle a hot breakfast without me—do you really intend to save the world on your own?”

  “Miss Rook.” He looked pained.

  “Maybe Charlie is already on his way!” I said, stepping over the rubble toward the demolished wall to get a peek toward the street.

  “Charlie doesn’t even know where we’ve gone,” Jackaby said. “None of them do. Pavel never told us before we left. He only showed us the way in. Even if they did heed our call, they would still be hours away on Augur Lane.”

  “Charlie is resourceful. He’s cleverer than you give him credit for, sir. Maybe he worked out where we are.” I reached the broken wall and looked out, the sun hot on my face.

  I gazed at an empty lane. There was no Charlie. There was no Hudson or Nudd or even Douglas. There were no reinforcements. We were staggeringly, achingly alone against the end of the world.

  “We’re it,” Jackaby said behind me.

  I nodded. My throat felt dry.

  “Virgule may come through,” Jackaby said. “He may have reached Lord Arawn by now, and there’s a chance the Fair King might actually take the threat seriously for once.”

  “Yes,” I said. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.” I crossed back to Jackaby. “What’s the plan?”

  The building shook—the quakes weren’t really stopping at all now, just ebbing and surging in intensity. A massive section of the back wall crumbled, rocks cascading and gonging off a toppled pipe organ in discordant tones. The enormous cleft running through the middle of the church had gotten larger.

  “We stop the machine to protect the whole world—that’s our priority. Next, we stall that army, as long as we can. They’re preparing for battle, and we’ve just unlocked the gate for them. If we can delay the army, even for a minute, it gives Charlie more time to arrive, gives New Fiddleham a chance.”

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s save the worlds.”

  After examining the rends from our side, we determined that our best bet was not to drop straight through the biggest gap, but to slip through a small rip in the corner of the church. It deposited us sideways into an unoccupied space at the far end of Hafgan’s Hold. Tall weeds and creeping vines had taken over in the centuries since Hafgan had last held power, and we crouched low among these as we hurried to take cover against the nearest wall.

  The keep was ahead of us, troops lined up in front of it. The enormous tower had felt the effects of the quake as well. I stared at it. Like the church, the keep had been rocked and ruined—but unlike the church, the tower was held together by forces stronger than bricks and mortar. The base of the structure still stood intact, and the dome high atop the tower remained where it had been when we left it. In between, however, the building was effectively gone. Every floor was laid bare, the Dire King’s device naked to the elements. Cracked stones orbited the building weightlessly, the remnants of the ruined tower spinning aimlessly around the massive framework of the machine.

  I couldn’t see the Dire King from this angle, but now and then the troops would respond to whatever he was saying with a roar of malicious excitement. The frenzy was building.

  “Well, we’ve got excellent timing,” Jackaby whispered. “They seem busy getting excited about the prospect of murdering humans with abandon. With a little luck, we can turn that distraction to our advantage.”

  “The evil warlord appears to be much better at pep talks than you are, sir.”

  “I have never subscribed to pep,” Jackaby admitted. “Do try not to die.”

  We crept closer, peering around the corner of the wall. We were a stone’s throw from the keep and the edge of the crowd. My foot struck something hard and I glanced down. The black blade lay at my feet.

  “Sir!” I had seen Morwen’s sword flipping away wildly when she fell, but I had not seen where it landed. “Look!”

  “Who’s back there?” shouted a voice from the other side of the wall we were using as cover. I froze.

  Muffled footsteps began to tromp around the building. I snatched up the black blade and held it in front of me. />
  “You need to hide!” Jackaby whispered.

  More footsteps joined the first. “Over this way!” the voice snarled.

  Jackaby’s eyes flashed. He rummaged in his pockets and pulled out a little pill. It looked like the tablet that had made the ogre’s teeth grow back on the castle wall. That had worked so well the last time.

  “They can’t kill me,” Jackaby whispered. “They’re not allowed. But you . . .” The footsteps had nearly reached us. “Dentimorphic Engorgement. Might tickle,” he said. And then he stuffed the pill in my mouth.

  “Mmph! Sir, what on earth ar—ooomph!”

  There was a sickening popping sound. I felt like someone had attached a weight to the bottom of my chin. My jaw immediately ached. Out of the bottom of my eyes I could see something pearly and realized I was looking at my own teeth.

  “Whurph?” I managed. Jackaby ruffled my hair up just before a pair of trolls turned the corner.

  “Fine!” Jackaby threw his hands up in the air, looking at me. “You caught me!”

  “Good work,” the first troll said, then looked me in the eyes. He jabbed a spear at me and leaned in to his comrade. “What’s she?”

  A strand of my ruffled hair drifted across my eyes. I blinked. “Uhm.”

  “She is the abominable brigand who just captured me,” Jackaby declared dramatically.

  “Er—yeff,” I said through my enormous teeth. “Yeff, thaffs whu happeghed.”

  The trolls looked skeptical. “Yeah, but what are you?”

  “I—uhm,” I said.

  “That’s really quite offensive,” Jackaby interjected. “Be careful. You’ll make her mad. You really don’t want to see her in her wrathful demon form. I’ve only just calmed her down as it is.”

  “I think she’s one of them oni,” the second troll whispered to the first. “You ever been to the Eastern Annwyn?”

  The first shook his head, then turned back to us. “Your prisoner. What you think?” he said to me. “We bring him to the Dire King?”

  My eyes widened. “Oh—I don’ fthing thath a good idea. He’f righ in the miggle of hith thpeech to the troopth, and—”

  “Obviously she’s going to take me to the king,” Jackaby interrupted. He nodded to me slyly.

  “Yeth,” I said. “You can go. I have thith trethpather under control.”

  The first troll’s eyes narrowed. “We’ll just come with you,” he decided. “To be sure.”

  “Thath great,” I said. “Good. Okay. Let’th go thee the Dire King. Right now. Together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  We marched through the center of the phalanx. Over the hubbub all around me and the pounding of my own heartbeat in my ears, I could catch snippets of the Dire King’s voice.

  “What was that?” Jackaby asked, cocking his head to the side. “What did he just say?”

  “Unleashing glorious chaos on earth,” grunted the troll on our right.

  “No, before that.”

  “Rivers of blood?” suggested left troll.

  “The bit about the machine,” clarified Jackaby. “Something about the next stage?”

  “Oh—don’t you worry about that, human. It’s almost fully realized,” said right troll.

  “Not fully realized now, then?” said Jackaby. “Seems to be chiseling away at the old barrier pretty well, all things considered.”

  “That’s not all it’s supposed to do,” said right troll.

  “It’s not?” said left troll.

  “No, stupid,” said right troll. “The Dire King isn’t even controlling the machine right now. Can’t be doing what it’s supposed to do without the Dire King, can it?”

  “Can’t it?” Jackaby prompted.

  “Wouldn’t you like to know,” right troll snarled.

  “Well, can it?” asked left troll.

  “Of course it can’t!” Right troll shot his compatriot a sour glance. “Do you read any of the notices? The Dire King, Unseelie of Unseelies, Lord of all Chaos, Bringer of Destruction, will make ready the road and he will make ready his warriors to travel it. Only then will he reach into the heavens to pull away the veil—for he alone can usher in the glorious Kingdom of Blood.”

  “What does that mean?” Jackaby pressed. “Make ready his warriors to travel it?”

  “None of your concern, human.”

  “Buh the Dire Kigg warned againtht a Kiggdom of Blood in hith poem,” I managed. “That doethn’t make thenth.”

  We had reached the front of the line. At the head of the gruesome ranks stood two men. One was covered with thick, coarse hair and had sharp teeth. He was the man Morwen had called Mr. Loup. The other had white-blond hair. He had the sharp features of a fairy. In fact, he looked as if he could have been Virgule’s brother, except that there was something eerie about him. His eyes were too cold.

  “Where is the king?” the troll on the left demanded. “We’ve caught the Seer.”

  “The oni caught the Seer,” corrected right. “But we were nearby.”

  Loup glared at them. “Quiet. It’s starting,” he said. His eyes wandered to Jackaby and to me.

  “Starting?” Jackaby said.

  I nudged him and nodded up at the keep. Through the spinning wreckage, a figure was ascending the tower. He climbed unhurried from one stair to the next, purposeful with each step, mounting stairs that floated in midair. Around his shoulders was draped a dark cloak and on his head was the wicked black crown.

  “Hold on. That’s the Seer!” Loup cried.

  “That’s what I said,” protested the lead troll.

  “The king has use for him,” snarled Loup. “I’ll take him from here.”

  “No!” I said. “Er—I capthured him. It’th my—erm—glory to prethent him to the Dire King, Lord of Chaoths.” Loup leaned in closer to me. His nostrils twitched and he inhaled deeply as he looked at me. “Bringer of Dethruction?” I added. It was then that I realized the ache in my jaw was subsiding. The Denti-whatever was wearing off. My teeth were receding back into my mouth. I swallowed.

  Loup’s eyes narrowed. “You’re no oni,” he said. “What are you?”

  “Oh. I don’t think you can say that. It’s offensive,” the troll on the right said.

  Loup looked as if he would like to have taken the troll’s head off, but at that moment the massive gates of Hafgan’s Hold shook with a thunderous blow.

  Loup’s eyes turned to the gate. “They’re here,” he said. He smiled wickedly, his teeth glistening. “To your places!” he bellowed. “It’s happening!”

  There was a scurry of movement as the phalanx of monsters braced themselves for battle. Swords and axes were drawn; claws scraped and glinted. The gate rocked with another echoing crack.

  “Hold him until after,” Loup snarled at me. “Time for my moment.”

  I blinked. We were in the center of the army. Monsters were rushing around us on every side, and none of them seemed concerned about us in the least.

  Loup ran toward the tower. High above him, the metal dome over the roof of the keep was moving, tilting up like the lid on a sugar dish. Below it, the constantly moving flower of rotating discs was glowing brighter. It rose, aligning itself within the dome of the roof. The flower became brighter still as the curve of the metal reflected its golden light.

  Just below the glowing machine, I could now clearly see the third-story landing. On one side, there was a seven-foot platform propped up at a forty-five-degree angle, and just above this was a stage bordered by a wall of switches and knobs with countless cables and tubes running up and down from the controls. At this control board stood the Dire King, his back to us as he threw levers and flipped toggles.

  On the next landing down hung the cylinder device we had seen when we snuck in. Lights along this giant cylinder were now blinking to life.

 
; Finally, down at the base of the tower, the generators were humming. Loup had reached the keep and stepped inside. Through the ruined masonry, I could see him walk across the floor to stand beneath one of the coffin-like metal frames.

  The two other frames were already occupied—one by an imp, who danced back and forth on the balls of his little red feet, and the other by a woman who stood stock-still within her arched metal cage. She had wide, angry eyes and wings like an owl’s that wrapped around her shoulders. Above their heads hung the lightning rod nozzles.

  Out in the courtyard, the gate cracked loudly again, and this time I heard the wood splinter. The gate burst. A sea of fair folk swept into the courtyard, and there, at the front of the line, was Virgule. My heart lurched in my chest. He had done it! Arawn had listened! Something had finally gone right!

  The Unseelie horde did not set upon the intruders at once.

  For a tense moment, the two forces faced each other across the turf. The fairies filed in, forming clean, clear ranks with practiced precision. Virgule stepped forward. “Hear me!” he yelled. A few Unseelie growled. “In the name of the Fair King, you are ordered to stand down,” he declared.

  The creepy blond man laughed, pulling on a pair of dark gloves as he strode down the center of the Unseelie army. “You really think you can stop us with Lord Arawn’s second-best battalion?” he drawled.

  Virgule locked eyes on the man and stammered. “You—we—” He took a breath and recovered. “It’s over, Mr. Tilde. There is no need for further bloodshed. My Lord Arawn has sent for the dwarves from the South Mines and the elves from the North. Even if you stand against us, by now the whole of the Annwyn are riding to put an end to this madness. What you’ve done threatens us all. You’ve lost.”

  The blond man, Tilde, shrugged impassively. “We shall see, cousin.”