Chessmen of Doom

by John Bellairs

  "My gosh!" Johnny whispered in an awestruck voice. "What do you think that guy is doin' out here?"

  "Playin' chess without a chessboard," Fergie muttered with a laugh. "An' there's somethin' that looks like a chart on the table. I wonder if I can see what it is."

  Putting his hands on the grimy windowsill and rising up on tiptoe, Fergie craned his neck and looked. With a little puzzled snort he lowered himself back down. "Huh! That's funny!"

  "What's funny?" asked Johnny nervously.

  "Well, it's a chart of the heavens. You know, with stars and planets and constellations—that's what it looks like, anyway. I said that guy was a fruitcake, didn't I? Well, this sort of proves it!"

  Johnny said nothing. He found that he was getting more and more jumpy by the minute. Suppose that the man came back and found them here? Grabbing Fergie by the arm, he began to plead. "Come on! Let's get away from this place before something awful happens! I can't tell you why, but I feel like there's somebody here watching us!"

  Fergie was about to exclaim that that was the dumbest piece of nervous nonsense he had ever heard of, when a harsh, grating voice behind them said, "Good evening, boys! And what do you think you're doing?"

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Johnny's blood froze, and Fergie stiffened. Slowly the two boys turned around, and they found that they were staring at the nasty ruddy-faced man with the pointed mustache and the British accent. A halo of greenish light hovered about the man, and when he raised his hand, Johnny and Fergie found that they could not speak or move.

  "What charming visitors you are!" sneered the man, as he stepped closer. "Of course, you did drop in uninvited, so you'll have to take the consequences. Down on your knees, both of you! At once!"

  Awkwardly Johnny and Fergie stumbled down off the box and knelt before the evilly grinning man. After a brief pause the man stooped and put his hand under Johnny's chin. He jerked the boy's head upward.

  "Now, then, you little wretch, listen to me and listen carefully!" snarled the man. "I could kill you both so easily, but I'd rather not do that—not just yet. You two will die along with the rest. The earth will be a smoldering ball of rubble then, but I will survive as a spirit with heightened consciousness and great power. But why should I spend my time explaining things to morons? You'll see the face of doom in a very short while, and I want you to know that there's nothing—absolutely nothing—that you can do to stop me. As for that doddering old fool, that professor friend of yours . . . well, he isn't as smart as he thinks he is. No one can keep me from my destiny! No one!" He raised his hand in the air imperiously. "And now I am finished with you," he intoned, in a haughty voice. "When you go back you will not remember that we've met. You will not remember anything that I have said. In nomine Tetragrammaton, depart! Go back with fear in your hearts and blankness in your minds! Vade inperditionem! Begone, I charge ye, by the names of the twelve living spirits that stand by the throne of the Prince of the Air! Go!"

  The man clapped his hands twice, and his body seemed to melt into the shadows under the trees that grew close to the cottage. A full minute passed, and then Johnny and Fergie slowly pulled themselves to their feet. Johnny's neck ached, and he felt dizzy. He turned to look at Fergie, who was still acting woozy and shaking his head, like someone who has just been awakened out of a sound sleep.

  "What—what happened?" asked Johnny in a thick, groggy voice. He could not figure out why the two of them had been on their knees, facing away from the cottage.

  Fergie rubbed his hands over his face. "John baby," he said slowly, "if I knew what happened, I'd tell you. Somebody must've hit us on the head—that's the only explanation I can come up with. But who did it? And how come my head doesn't hurt?"

  Johnny paused and looked around at the dark, menacing shadows of the trees. "I think we better get out of here," he said in a worried voice. "We might get murdered if we hang around much longer."

  Fergie did not need any more encouragement. He grabbed Johnny by the arm and shoved him ahead and soon they were trotting along, double time, toward the dock and the boat that still bobbed on the choppy water. Quickly they piled in, and Fergie seized the oars. Johnny pulled the rope free of the post, and they glided away, driven by Fergie's strong strokes. The dark shadow of the island got smaller and smaller, and the fear that had gripped them melted away. But neither said anything. They both knew that they had had a strange and frightening experience, and they were still struggling with their feelings. There was a blank spot in their lives, time they couldn't account for, and this bothered them very much.

  Back across the lake water they slid. Fergie rowed grimly on, and Johnny glanced absentmindedly about. Then he happened to look up at the starry sky. Suddenly he let out a sharp, loud exclamation.

  "My gosh, Fergie! Look!"

  "Huh? Look at what?"

  "Up overhead! In the sky!"

  Fergie looked, and his mouth dropped open. A bright, long-tailed comet was burning in the sky. "Holy Toledo!" he gasped. "How about that! I didn't know there was one of those comin' our way, did you?"

  "We wouldn't have known about it," said Johnny sourly. "The professor keeps turning off the TV news at night because it depresses him, and we aren't getting any newspapers." He bent his head back and stared some more. "That really is something, isn't it?" he went on in an awestruck tone. "I've never seen one before, have you?"

  Fergie shook his head. "Nope. Well, now I guess I've seen everything! We'll have to tell the prof about this when he wakes up."

  "If he isn't already waiting for us down by the shore," said Johnny gloomily.

  When they got back to the island where they were camping, Johnny and Fergie were relieved to see that the tent was dark and still, with its flaps tied shut. Carefully Fergie nosed the boat in, and then he and Johnny dragged it up onto the sand as quietly as they could. They put the oars in the brackets and tiptoed back to the tent, lifted the flaps, and crawled inside. Their sleeping bags were ready for them, and the professor was in his, snoring peacefully. The little night-time adventure had turned strange, but they were lucky to have returned safely.

  The next morning, as they were eating breakfast, Johnny cautiously brought up the subject of the comet. "Uh . . . professor? You know what?"

  The professor swallowed a mouthful of eggs and turned to Johnny. "No, I don't have the slightest idea what, John," he said, grinning. "Tell me what."

  Johnny squirmed. He was afraid he might accidentally tell the professor where they had been last night, and this made him jittery. "I . . . uh, well, Fergie and I were sitting up late last night after you went to bed, and—and we saw a comet!"

  The professor nodded knowingly. "Yes, I knew that there was one on the way. I read about it in a newspaper at the library the other day. And for your information, there are two more coming, though they won't be visible till later this summer. The astronomers are all worked up because we haven't had so many comets in . . . well, a very long time. I'm an old geezer, so I remember Halley's Comet in 1910, but I'll bet neither of you has ever seen one before. Have you?"

  Fergie and Johnny shook their heads. Then an odd thought came to Johnny. "Professor," he asked with a hint of nervousness in his voice, "what do you think is causing all these comets to show up?"

  The professor shrugged. "Search me, John! I'm no expert on these things, but if I had to guess I'd say that there was a disturbance in the Oort cloud."

  Fergie blinked. "The what?"

  The professor smiled complacently. "Got you with that one, didn't I? The Oort cloud is just a theory dreamed up in 1950 by a Dutch astronomer named Oort. He thinks that there is a whole mess of comets orbiting the solar system, way out beyond the farthest planet. According to his idea every now and then some asteroid or meteor plows into the Oort cloud, jars some of these comets loose, and sends them streaking toward the sun. At one time, by the way, comets were regarded as evil omens. But we know that's nonsense now. Comets are just a natural phenomenon, nothing more."


  Johnny smiled weakly and felt his stomach turn over. He thought about the chart of the heavens that he had seen in the cottage. A vague fear began to form in his mind. "These—these comets couldn't hit the earth, could they?" he asked in a trembling voice.

  The professor stared at Johnny for a second, and then he laughed loudly. "Good heavens, John!" he exclaimed. "What sort of science-fiction nonsense have you been reading lately? Comets may have hit the earth ages and ages ago, but it's not the sort of thing that happens anymore! Rest easy, we're not going to be blitzed by comets. When they pass the earth, they're usually millions of miles away, and then they zoom around the sun and go back into outer space. Whatever made you ask a question like that?"

  Johnny stared at his plate. "I—I don't know," he mumbled. "Maybe it was something I read about."

  "Well, you should read other things!" said the professor brusquely. "And now, if you two are through feeding your faces, I would like you to help me wash these dirty dishes and pack our things before we head back to the estate. Hop to it, gentlemen!"

  Fergie and Johnny helped the professor take down the tent and clean up the campsite. They packed up their equipment and put-putted back to Mike Flynn's boathouse. As they drove to the estate, the half-memory of the strange incident on the Englishman's island kept flitting back into Johnny's brain. It was a maddening feeling, and Johnny would have enjoyed talking with Fergie about it. But he knew from the look on Fergie's face that he was going to clam up and pretend to be a tough guy. He would act as if the incident had never happened.

  Weeks passed. August arrived, and the Perseid meteor showers appeared in the sky, as they always do. Along with the meteors came the two comets that the professor had told the boys about. Each night the comets burned like lamps in the sky, side by side. A lot of articles were written in the newspapers about this incredible celestial event and nutty letters saying doom was near appeared in the "Letters to the Editor" columns all across the country. The professor laughed whenever he heard of things like this, but Johnny and Fergie were not as skeptical as he was. They felt nervous and tense, and they wondered what was going to happen.

  One hot muggy evening in the middle of August, Johnny, Fergie, and the professor were driving back from a visit to Stone Arabia. They had seen a movie and gobbled Big Ed's wonderful chiliburgers, and they were in a very good mood, singing songs and telling jokes. When they rounded the last turn of the driveway they were surprised to see that the old mansion was ablaze with light. Every window was glowing, except for the boarded windows in the room on the third story of the tower. But even there, through the cracks, faint glimmers of light could be seen.

  "Great God in heaven!" exclaimed the professor as he jammed on the brakes and shut the motor off. "It looks as if someone has been having a party here while we were gone! What do you think we should do? Drive back to town and get the police?"

  Fergie shook his head. "Naah, Prof," he muttered through his teeth. "It looks like some old bum has broken in an' is havin' a high old time. I think the three of us can handle him."

  At first the professor wanted to tell Fergie that he was out of his mind. But then he remembered the time he had charged a machine-gun nest, single handed, during the battle of the Argonne Forest. He pulled himself together and set his jaw. "No doubt you are right, Byron," he said stiffly. "Are you with me, gentlemen? Then it's forward at a gallop!"

  Secretly Johnny wished that his two friends were not so bold and fearless. But on the other hand he didn't want anyone to accuse him of being a coward, so he slid off his seat and followed Fergie and the professor up the sidewalk toward the mansion. The professor led the way, with a tire iron gripped firmly in his right hand. But about halfway up the walk he stopped. He tried to go on, but he couldn't—he had run into an invisible wall that was as solid as the side of a mountain. With an astonished look on his face the professor stepped backward. He gritted his teeth and strode forward again, but he was stopped so suddenly that his glasses were knocked askew. With a muttered curse the professor took two steps back and adjusted his spectacles. Then he turned to the boys, who were standing and watching with their mouths open.

  "Gentlemen," he growled in a low, angry voice, "it seems that we are up against something that is stronger than us. If we were smart, I suppose we would skedaddle out of here. But I want to know what's going on. Are you with me?"

  The boys nodded and folded their arms stubbornly. Minutes passed, as they stood waiting outside the strange invisible wall that encircled the huge old house. Ahead they could see the lights still burning. Overhead, in the night sky, the two strange comets raced along, with fiery tails streaming behind them. For about half an hour nothing happened. Johnny thought that he heard a distant sound of chanting coming from the boarded room in the tower, but the sound was so faint that he could not tell if it was real. The professor got more and more nervous, and he paced back and forth.

  "What on earth time is it?" snapped the professor irritably. "I left my watch in the house. Do you have a timepiece, Byron?"

  Fergie squinted at the luminous dial of his watch. "I think it's about midnight, Prof," he said. "This thing isn't terribly accurate, but I set it this morning so it's probably right."

  The professor scowled and folded his arms. "Ah, midnight! The witching hour! Traditionally this is the time when all sorts of weird and uncanny things are likely to occur. I wonder if—"

  At that moment a loud slamming split the air. It sounded like a heavy load of wooden planks being dropped from a great height. At the same instant all the lights in the mansion went out, and the earth shook. It shook so violently that the professor and the boys were thrown to their knees. Dazed and shaken, Johnny tried to drag himself to his feet, but he found that he couldn't. For some reason he bent his head backward and gazed up at the two bright comets that still streaked across the heavens. As he watched, the comets seemed to flicker and grow dim. Then they went out. They vanished, and only the vast starry gulf of the night sky could be seen.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Something incredible had happened. For a long time the professor and the boys knelt motionless on the damp grass, but finally, one by one, they pulled themselves to their feet. Johnny looked up at the sky where no comets burned; he looked at the dark house that was lost in the shadows of night. Had they all been dreaming? How could burning comets vanish? How could an invisible wall keep them out of their house? Clutching his arms to his sides, he shuddered and closed his eyes. When he opened them he saw the professor brushing grass off his pants. When the professor saw that Johnny was staring at him, he straightened up and pushed his glasses straight on his nose.

  "Well, that was something, wasn't it?" he snorted, as he looked around. "Byron, are you all right?"

  Fergie was standing nearby. He seemed stunned, but when he spoke, his voice was clear and reassuring. "I guess so, Prof," he said as he ran his hands over his arms. "No bones broken, but . . . hey, what do you think happened? I mean, comets don't just go out, do they?"

  The professor shook his head firmly. "No, they assuredly do not! You can be sure that astronomers all over the world will be having a field day with this one! But come, gentlemen! Let us see if we can get into our house."

  Stepping forward, the professor groped with his hands, but he felt nothing—nothing but air. Beckoning to the boys, he led the way up the walk to the wide pillared porch. But when he jerked open the front door and turned on the hall light, he got a rude surprise. The house looked as if a whirlwind had passed through it. Pictures had fallen off the walls, and the coat tree had fallen on its face. Mirrors were shattered, and table lamps had been flung about. The professor stalked from room to room with the boys close behind him, and they all stared in disbelief at the mess in every part of the house.

  "Lord preserve us!" sighed the professor, as he paused to catch his breath. "I'll bet the creep who did this has a red beefy face and a waxed mustache. Boys, will you come with me to the tower room?"

  Joh
nny and Fergie glanced quickly at each other. They felt scared, but they also felt angry and determined.

  "We're with you, Prof!" said Fergie loudly. "Lead on!"

  Without another word the professor led the way up the main staircase, along the upstairs hall, and up the narrow, creaky flight of steps that mounted to the tower room. The three of them paused for a long time outside the stout paneled door, but at last the professor summoned up his courage and stepped forward. Shoving the door open, he groped for the light switch and flipped it on. After a brief hesitation the boys followed the professor inside, and they glanced curiously around at the ugly deserted room. All was still, and an unpleasant burnt smell hung in the air. The professor looked around, and then with a muttered curse he rushed to the fireplace. Standing up on tiptoe and gripping the mantel with his fingers, he peered hard at the metal disk that covered the stovepipe hole in the chimney. With amazement the professor saw that the pretty painted scene of trees and flowers had been scraped away, and now it was clear that the disk was not made of metal at all—it was transparent, like window glass! With a sudden lunge the professor rose up on tiptoe and banged on the disk with his fist. Something fell onto the fireplace hearth with a loud hollow clack! "By God!" said the professor. Fergie and Johnny gasped. Between the brass andirons lay a charred human skull with long black hair.

  In an instant the professor was on his knees. He reached into the fireplace, grabbed the skull, and held it up for the boys to see. A wild light was in his eyes.

  "This is it!" he exclaimed triumphantly as he tapped one of the hollow eye sockets with his finger. "A dead eye in a room with no view! That evil mustached wretch was here tonight, trying to work black magic. And I think he almost succeeded!"

  Johnny and Fergie were stunned. What on earth was the professor saying?