by Brandon Mull
as he said, and Warren used the rope to bind his shirt in
place over the wound. He wiped the blood from the spearhead
onto his pants. Can you go on? Kendra asked.
Not much choice, he said. Let's see if the Minotaur's
key works.
Groaning, Warren used the tall key to pull himself to his
feet. He walked to the iron door, inserted the Minotaur's key,
and opened it.
The Vault
Another stairway spiraled down beyond the open door.
More sunstones, brighter than before, lit the way.
Warren prodded the steps and found that they were solid.
Kendra, he said. Go erase the lines around a few of the
sinkholes near the entrance to the room.
When Kendra returned, Warren was feeling the pulse in
his neck. Perspiration dampened his forehead. How are
you? she asked.
I'm not doing too bad, he assured her. Especially for a
guy who just underwent involuntary surgery. We have the
Minotaur's key. If we shut the door behind us, our friend the
narcoblix will probably have to earn a key of her own.
Okay, Kendra said, stepping into the stairwell with
Warren and closing the door. She turned to face him, and
vanished.
Maybe you should just keep the glove handy for the
next threat, Warren said. It is tough losing track of where
you are when we pause.
Kendra took off the glove. As long as they were moving
around, exploring the tower, it wasn't much of a protection
anyway. Slipping it on would be little more trouble than
simply holding still. They descended the stairs for some time,
finding no false steps until the final few before the very end.
I like the placement, Warren said, jumping over them
and wincing when he landed. He leaned against the wall,
one hand clutching his wound. Just when you assume all
the stairs are solid, you plunge to your doom.
No door awaited them. Instead, an arched entryway
granted access to a broad chamber with a complex mosaic
on the floor. The mosaic depicted an enormous battle of primates
being waged in tall trees. The perspective was from
the ground looking up, creating a disorienting effect.
Motioning for Kendra to stay put, Warren entered the
room. A second archway on the far side of the chamber
appeared to be the only way out. Satisfied that they faced no
immediate threat, Warren beckoned for Kendra to follow.
The instant she stepped into the room, the ax vanished
from her grasp. Below her, high in a tree, a chimpanzee
screamed. Twirling Kendra's ax, the manic primate leaped
from his high perch and fell upwards toward the ground. The
chimpanzee sailed right out of the mosaic, materializing in
front of Kendra, brandishing the ax.
Shrieking, Kendra ran away from the ax-wielding chimp,
yanking on her glove. Rushing up from behind the chimpanzee,
Warren flung the key just as the screeching ape was
beginning to give chase. The key sailed true, striking the
frenzied beast between the shoulder blades, and the chimpanzee
pitched forward onto the floor, long hand twitching,
the ax skidding forward over tiny tiles.
Don't pick up the ax, Warren warned. This chamber
is meant to strip us of all weaponry.
Except the key, Kendra said.
Grunting, Warren bent over and retrieved the key, again
wiping the spearhead on his pants. Right, he said. My
guess is that to pass this room with any weapon besides the
key, we would have to slay every monkey in the mosaic.
Kendra looked down. There were hundreds of apes,
including dozens of powerful gorillas. Maybe it was a good
thing you didn't have all your gear.
Warren smiled ruefully. You're not kidding. Being
butchered by monkeys is pretty low on my list of ways to go.
Come on.
They passed through the archway at the other end of the
room and began winding down yet another stairwell. All the
stairs were real, and at the bottom they found another open
archway, narrower than the previous ones.
Warren led the way into a cylindrical room where the
floor was hundreds of feet below. Widely spaced sunstones
provided sufficient light. A narrow catwalk without railings
ringed the top of the room, level with the entrance. The
roof bristled with barbed spikes. Kendra saw no way to
descend-the walls were smooth and sheer all the way to
the bottom, where she could barely make out something in
the center of the floor.
I'm not sure we brought enough rope, Warren joked,
stepping onto the catwalk. I believe this is our destination.
How are you with heights?
Not so good, Kendra said.
Wait here, he said. He walked along the catwalk, testing
the air with the key, as if searching for an invisible stairway.
Kendra noticed an alcove in the far side of the wide
room. When Warren reached the alcove, he removed something
from it. He levitated a few feet into the air, glanced up
at the spikes above him, and floated back down.
I think I get it, he called. He reached into the alcove
again and there was a bright flash that flung him backwards
off the catwalk. Kendra watched breathlessly as Warren
plummeted toward the distant floor. He began falling slower,
then stopped, then started rising. He floated slowly as he
drew even with Kendra, and finally stopped, hovering in the
center of the room.
In addition to the key, Warren was holding a short white
rod. I can't move side to side, he explained. He floated up
close to the spikes, carefully took hold of one, and pushed
off, sending himself drifting toward Kendra, moving much
the way Kendra pictured astronauts would in zero gravity.
Warren alighted on the catwalk beside her. The short
rod was carved out of ivory. One tip was black. He had been
holding the rod parallel to the floor, but now that he stood
on the catwalk, he tilted it so the black tip was facing up.
That makes you fly? Kendra asked.
More like it reverses gravity, he said. Black tip up,
gravity pulls down. Black tip down, gravity pulls up.
Sideways, you get zero gravity. Tilt the black tip up a little
bit, gravity pulls down a little bit. Get it?
I think so, she said.
Careful of the roof, he warned.
Have you done this before? she asked.
Never, he said. You learn to experiment in places like
this.
He held out the rod. She took it. I want to try it out in
the stairway, without the spikes.
Go for it, he said.
Kendra went back to the stairway. Slowly she tipped the
rod until it was sideways. Nothing felt any different. She
jumped slightly, and it felt perfectly normal.
I don't think it works out here, she said.
The enchantment must be specific to this room, he
said. Still, strong spell, I've never heard of anything like it.
Remember, with the rod, you're changing which way gravity
pulls you. If your momentum
is going one way, turning
the rod won't instantly change your direction. When I was
falling and I flipped it over, I slowed, stopped, and then
started going up. So leave yourself room to stop, or you
might end up a shish kebab.
I'm not going to let myself go fast, Kendra said.
Good idea, Warren said. And, for the record, don't try
to grab a second rod. It felt like I'd been struck by lightning.
Holding the rod, Kendra followed Warren around the
catwalk. She kept the black tip pointed straight up, not
wanting to risk drifting up to the spikes. When they reached
the alcove, she saw that there were nine other rods, each
resting in a hole, black tip up.
What do you say we make sure we can't be followed,
Warren said, grabbing a rod and tossing it off the edge of the
catwalk. Instead of falling, the rod floated back to the same
hole from which Warren had removed it. He picked up the
rod again. When he let go of it, the rod again returned itself
to the hole.
We better hold tight to these, or we'll end up stranded
down there, Kendra said.
Warren nodded, removing a rod for himself. He turned
it so the black tip was only slightly upwards and stepped off
the edge, falling gently, again making Kendra think of
astronauts.
Kendra tipped the rod slowly, marveling as she felt the
pull of gravity diminishing, even without moving. The
sensation was strange; it reminded her of being underwater.
Tilting the rod so the black tip was slightly downward, she
floated up, her feet leaving the catwalk. Tipping the rod the
other way a tad, she drifted back down.
Now that she trusted the rod, Kendra stepped off the
edge of the catwalk and began a mild freefall. The sensation
was incredible. She had dreamed of going into space in order
to experience zero gravity, and here she was, in an under-ground
tower, sampling something much like it. The dizzying
drop beneath her feet was no longer very intimidating, now
that she could control gravity with a twist of her wrist.
Warren rose to meet her. Experiment with the rod, he
said. Nothing too drastic, but get a feel for how to rise and
fall and stop yourself. There's a knack to it. I have a feeling it
will come in handy before we finish here.
Suddenly Warren shot downward. Kendra watched him
slow to a stop. I thought you said nothing too drastic, she
called to him.
He rocketed upwards, drawing even with her again. I
meant for you, he said before plunging away below her.
Little by little, Kendra tilted the black tip up higher,
incrementally increasing the rate of her descent. She
abruptly tipped the rod in the other direction, and her
descent slowed with a feeling like she was connected to an
elastic band. Making the rod parallel with the ground, she
brought herself to a standstill about halfway to the floor.
Kendra glanced up at the distant spikes in the ceiling.
She tilted the black tip all the way down, and with a sudden
rush of acceleration she was shooting up toward the iron stalactites.
The sensation was disorienting, exactly like falling
headfirst toward the ground, and the spikes came rapidly
nearer. In a panic she whipped the rod the other way. The
elastic feeling was much stronger this time, although it took
long enough to slow that she got much nearer to the spikes
than she liked. Before she knew it she was careening toward
the floor of the tall chamber. Her body began rotating, and
she lost some sense of which way she needed to turn the rod
to slow her fall. She overcorrected several times before gaining
control, whipping herself up and down erratically.
When she finally leveled out, Kendra was two-thirds of
the way to the floor, hovering near the wall. She kicked off
gently.
And I thought I was a daredevil, Warren called.
That was a little more daring than I intended, Kendra
admitted, trying not to sound as shaken as she felt. She
experimented more with rising and falling, growing accustomed
to easing herself to a stop and to keeping her body
properly oriented. At last she landed softly on the floor next
to Warren and normalized the gravity by holding her rod
black-end up.
The room was bare except for a pedestal at the center.
The floor was polished, seamless stone. Atop the pedestal sat
a life-sized likeness of a black cat, made of colored glass.
Is that the artifact? Kendra asked.
My guess is we're looking at the vault, Warren said.
Do we smash it? Kendra asked.
That might be a start, Warren said.
How are you feeling? Kendra asked.
Stabbed, he said. But functional. Things could turn
ugly fast. If it comes to it, you may want to fly up to the catwalk
and hope for mercy from the narcoblix. But don't try
to exit the tower. I was very serious about the traps set to
prevent anyone from exiting prematurely.
Right, Kendra said. I won't ditch you.
Warren tipped the rod somewhat and jumped, soaring
over Kendra's head and landing gently behind her, wincing
slightly and clutching his side. See, you can also simply
reduce gravity to your advantage. Could come in handy.
Kendra tilted the rod, feeling herself lightening, and
took a leap, gliding in a long, lazy parabola. Gotcha.
You ready? Warren said.
What's going to happen? Kendra said.
I'll smash the cat and we'll see.
What if the roof comes down on us? she asked.
Warren gazed up at the distant ceiling. That would be
bad. Let's hope the spikes are just meant to impale people
who are clumsy with their gravity sticks.
You think there may be something scary inside the cat?
Kendra asked.
Seems like a safe bet. We better hurry. Who knows how
long before the narcoblix shows up? You ready? Glove on?
Kendra pulled on the glove and turned invisible. Okay.
Warren prodded the cat with the sharp end of the key.
The tip of the spearhead clinked loudly, but the figurine did
not crack. He jabbed it a few times. Clink, clink, clink. I'm
not sure we're meant to break it, he said. Moving close,
Warren touched the cat with his finger and then skipped
away, key ready.
The glass cat shimmered and became a real cat, mewing
softly. It had a tiny key around its neck.
Kendra felt some of the tension leave her. Is this some
kind of joke? she asked.
If so, I don't think we've seen the punch line yet.
Maybe it has rabies, Kendra said.
Tentatively, Warren approached the black cat. It hopped
down from the pedestal and slunk toward him. Nothing
indicated that the feline was anything other than a scrawny
domestic cat. Crouching, Warren let the animal lick his
hand. He stroked the cat softly, and then untied the ribbon
that held the key. Instantly the cat hissed and swiped a paw
at him. Warren stood and backed away, puzzling ov
er the
key. The cat arched its back and showed its teeth.
It turned mean, Kendra said.
It is mean, Warren corrected. This is certainly no
mere housecat. We have not yet seen the true form of our
adversary.
The feral cat spat and hissed.
Warren began investigating the big key. He rolled it,
examining it from end to end. Ah-ha! he said, inserting
the tiny key into a hole just below the spearhead. When he
turned the miniscule key, the handle at the opposite end of
the big key detached and clattered to the ground.
Connected to the handle was a long, slender blade. A sword
had been hidden in the shaft of the tall key, with only the
handle showing!
Warren picked up the sword, swishing it through the air.
The handle had no guard. The sharp blade was long and
sleek, and it flashed dangerously in the glow of the sunstones.
We have ourselves a pair of weapons, Warren said.
Take the spear! Without the sword it has a better balance.
Eyes on the cat, Kendra drew near and took the spear
from Warren. How do I use this? she asked.
Stab with it, Warren said. It's probably too heavy for
you to throw it effectively. Pay more attention to soaring
away if trouble comes near.
All right, she said, taking a few practice jabs.
Without warning, the cat charged at Kendra. She swung
the spear and it veered away, darting toward Warren. His
sword whisked down and lopped off the head of the cat.
Warren stepped away from the corpse, watching it intently.
Both the head and the body of the feline began to boil as if
full of writhing worms. The head melted into a soupy pool.
The headless body began to heave inside out, revealing wet
glimpses of muscle and bone, until the churning finally
stopped and the black cat was whole again.
The cat hissed at Warren, fur rising along its arched
back. It was bigger now, larger than any domestic cat Kendra
had ever seen. Warren took a step toward the cat and it
bolted, body stretching long as it raced fluidly away. The
next two times Warren came close, the cat streaked away, in
the end returning to the pedestal.
Warren approached the pedestal. Baring teeth and
claws, the cat sprang at him. A slash of his sword intercepted
the feline, and the cat flopped to the floor. Warren stabbed it
to ensure the animal a quick demise, and then backed away.
Once again, the lifeless body began to pulse and roil.