“Look!” I shouted. Far below us rolled a land unlike any I had ever seen—rugged hills covered with thick forests and crystal-blue streams that zigzagged toward the horizon in every direction. “Where are we?” I asked.
“I don’t know,” Cleona said. “But I can’t carry you on my back like this forever!”
Thunder and lightning crashed behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder to see Prince Nightshade’s chariot burst forth from the clouds—the steeds galloping hard and spitting fire. The Black Fairy and Moth Man emerged close behind, followed by the Sirens and then the Shadesmen on their horses—all of them gaining on us quickly as the prince led the charge.
“Hurry, Cleona!” I cried. The prince cracked his whip. And with a crash of thunder and lightning, the Black Fairy and Moth Man pulled ahead of him.
“The trees,” Cleona said. “Maybe we can lose them in the forests below!”
“We’ll never make it,” I said, gazing down. “We’re still too high, and they’re coming too fast.”
“It’s our only hope.”
“I’m slowing you down,” I cried. “Take Mack and let me go!”
“Pshaw,” Cleona said, and she fell into a steep dive.
The Black Fairy screeched, and I peered behind me to discover that both he and Moth Man were diving straight for us. The Black Fairy arched back his head to spit, and Moth Man readied to throw his spear.
“Look out, Cleona!” I screamed. But then a shimmering ball of yellow light streaked across the sky and smacked the Black Fairy square in the chest.
“Aaaggghhhh!” he screeched, tumbling upward into the clouds—his wings useless in the glowing yellow bubble.
Moth Man looked around in confusion, and then out of nowhere a giant black hawk swooped down from the sky and snatched him up in its beak.
“NOOOOO!” roared the prince in the distance.
And with that the great black bird gobbled up Moth Man whole.
“Gwendolyn!” I cried.
Yes, there was the Yellow Fairy, tucked snugly in the feathery nape of the giant hawk’s neck. She waved at me and then hurled another ball of fairy dust at the prince.
The prince, however, smacked it with his whip, and in a flash of thunder and lightning Gwendolyn’s ball exploded in a shower of sparkles.
“Look!” Cleona cried.
I turned round and could hardly believe my eyes.
An entire flock of the enormous birds was coming straight for us. And at the head of the charge was Mr. Grim, mounted upon the lead hawk’s back.
“Climb aboard!” he shouted, swooping in beside us. Cleona grabbed hold of his outstretched hand and Mr. Grim swung us up onto the bird behind him.
As we climbed higher and pulled away from the prince, I saw there were about a dozen more of the great black birds following us. On some rode the samurai, but on one of the birds in particular rode—but that was impossible!
“Kiyoko!” I cried.
“You look as if you’ve seen a ghost,” she said, steering her bird alongside Mr. Grim’s. Her hood and mask were gone, and her long braid thrashed about wildly in the wind.
“But the Black Fairy said you were dead!”
“He thought I was,” Kiyoko said. “He clipped me with his fire and sent me falling into the clouds. Luckily Gwendolyn had gone looking for you, and she caught me in one of her big yellow bubbles.”
“I believe this is yours, miss,” Cleona said, and she handed Kiyoko her sword. “The prince gave it to Grubb to use in the tournament.”
“Once again I am in your debt, Grubb,” Kiyoko said with a bow of her head.
Mr. Grim must have thought we were talking about our birds, for he nodded his head and with a smile shouted, “That’s right! They’re called Thunderbirds! A species of Odditoria indigenous to the Americas!” He pointed at Gwendolyn’s bird. “They just love to eat moths!”
Gwendolyn swung her bird beside us, and the other Thunderbirds screeched.
“The Americas?” I asked, amazed. “You mean, down there is—?”
“We were close to the shore when the Sirens attacked!” shouted Mr. Grim. “The reserves and Number One got us inland, and then I sent Gwendolyn and the bats out looking for you! They found Miss Kiyoko instead.”
“But how did you—”
“You needn’t worry about the others!” said Mr. Grim, interrupting me. “Lord Dreary and Mrs. Pinch are holding down the fort!”
“Why are you shouting, Mr. Grim?”
“I can’t hear you!” he hollered back, pointing to his ears. “Beeswax! A precaution against the Sirens!”
“That reminds me,” I said to Cleona. “Why weren’t you and Mrs. Pinch—”
“Silly, Grubb,” she said. “Only men are enchanted by the Sirens’ song. Everyone knows that.”
“But how did Mr. Grim get the Thunderbirds?”
“Beats me,” Cleona said. “But I should think if he could convince the Yellow Fairy to join him, a flock of big black birds would be child’s play for Alistair Grim.”
Cleona giggled, and as we sped through the air, I gazed back over my shoulder to discover Prince Nightshade and his army gaining on us. Mr. Grim saw it too.
“Samurai!” he shouted. “You take the Shadesmen! Shinobi, you take the Sirens!”
“With pleasure!” Kiyoko replied, and then she and the samurai flew off on their Thunderbirds toward Nightshade’s minions.
“Gwendolyn!” shouted Mr. Grim. “You know what to do!”
“Get to gobbling,” she shouted back. “Chomp, chomp!”
“No!” Cleona cried. “Prince Nightshade will absorb your magic if you try that!”
“Shut your gob, banshee! I’m not afraid of him!”
“Be sure to aim for the horses, Gwendolyn!” shouted Mr. Grim, oblivious to their bickering. “Your fairy dust will have no effect on the prince!”
“I know what I’m doing, twig!” Gwendolyn shouted, and she quickly banked her Thunderbird away from us. Mr. Grim just nodded and smiled, unable to hear her.
“He’s gaining on us!” I cried.
Kiyoko and the samurai had already split off into two groups, and were now approaching the Shadesmen at their flanks. The prince pulled ahead with the Sirens, and the armies crashed into each other behind them—the sound of clanging metal and screeching Thunderbirds echoing across the skies. For a moment I lost sight of Kiyoko amidst the fray, but then the first of the Shadesmen and their skeleton steeds began falling toward the forest below.
“EEEEYYAA!” Kiyoko cried victoriously, and she emerged from the mass of clashing soldiers with Ikari held high above her head.
The battle raged on with frightening speed, the samurai slashing the Shadesmen into smoke with their animus-infused swords as Kiyoko banked her Thunderbird in pursuit of the Sirens. She came upon them quickly and cut down two of the monsters at once, their bodies exploding against the clear blue sky in a flash of brilliant red light.
The remaining two Sirens screamed in terror and began their retreat toward the clouds. But before Kiyoko could pursue them, Gwendolyn swooped past the shinobi on her Thunderbird and leveled a ball of fairy dust at the prince.
“Aim for the horses!” shouted Mr. Grim, pulling out the wads of beeswax from his ears. “Don’t get too close!”
But Gwendolyn ignored him. “Eat this, you blighter!” she shouted, and hurled her sparkling dust ball straight for the prince. The prince, however, easily destroyed it with his whip, and in a flash of thunder and lighting, caught Gwendolyn with its fiery tip.
“Gwendolyn!” cried Mr. Grim.
But the Yellow Fairy and her Thunderbird were already falling.
“MINE!” roared the Prince, and he steered his chariot into a steep dive after them.
Mr. Grim swung his Thunderbird around and dove after them too—when without warning, Cleona left us and went streaking through the air.
“Cleona!” I cried as she raced downward.
The prince’s horses closed in fast on G
wendolyn, who was gently spiraling toward the earth along with the feathers from her fallen Thunderbird. Prince Nightshade raised his whip and snapped it down—but at the last moment Cleona snatched Gwendolyn out of the way, and the tip exploded against the empty air.
Prince Nightshade howled with frustration as Cleona flew skyward with Gwendolyn in her arms. Pulling hard on his reins, the prince swung his chariot around and gave chase. He was upon them almost at once, but before he could raise his whip, out of nowhere Kiyoko leaped from her Thunderbird and landed beside him on his chariot.
The shinobi slashed Ikari in vain against the prince’s armor, and in return Nightshade let go of his reins and swung his fist for her head. Kiyoko ducked and scrambled to the front of the chariot. And with a single swipe of her sword, she cut loose the prince’s team of horses, and the chariot began falling from the sky.
At the same time, Cleona lighted on our Thunderbird with Gwendolyn.
“Don’t look, Grubb,” Cleona said, but I could not turn away. And as the prince’s horses flew back toward his castle in the clouds, Nightshade knocked Kiyoko’s sword from her hand, grabbed her by the neck, and then leaped from his chariot with the shinobi in his arms.
“Kiyoko!” I gasped in horror. But Kiyoko fought on, fiercely punching and kicking the prince all the while she plummeted with him toward the ground. The chariot crashed and disappeared into the forest canopy below, and then Kiyoko and Prince Nightshade, still in their violent embrace, were swallowed up into the trees too.
“We’ve got to save her!” I cried.
“A human could not survive that fall,” said Mr. Grim, steering our Thunderbird skyward. “Prince Nightshade, on the other hand, could.”
“But, Mr. Grim—”
“I’m sorry, lad, but she’s gone.”
I swallowed hard, the tears welling in my eyes.
“Besides,” said Mr. Grim, “if we’re going to have a chance of saving Gwendolyn, we need to get back to the Odditorium now.”
Cleona cradled the Yellow Fairy in the crook of her elbow. Gwendolyn’s eyes were closed, and her skin, as well as the once-bright halo of yellow light surrounding her, now glowed a sickly white.
“Fall back!” Mr. Grim called out to the samurai, and in the distance I saw the Shadesmen retreating into the clouds with the samurai and their Thunderbirds close on their tails. Indeed, it seemed to me that now that Prince Nightshade and the Black Fairy were gone, the Shadesmen no longer wished to fight at all. Their numbers had dwindled considerably, but unfortunately our boys had lost a warrior or two from their ranks as well.
“Fall back!” Mr. Grim called again, and the samurai dropped their pursuit of the Shadesmen and fell in line with the Thunderbirds behind us.
“Shouldn’t the samurai go after them, Uncle?” Cleona asked. “If they attack the castle, perhaps they can defeat Nightshade’s minions once and for all.”
“That’s exactly what the Shadesmen want,” said Mr. Grim. “The shinobi told us that Nightshade’s castle is fortified with lightning cannons that I suspect are powered by his Eye of Mars. Add to that his archers and an entire army of evil creatures—no, the samurai wouldn’t stand a chance, even with the Thunderbirds and Gwendolyn at full strength.”
“But we’ve got them on the run!”
“We’ve lost the element of surprise, making a siege on Nightshade’s castle at this point impossible. Besides, if my suspicions are correct, the prince’s armor will have enabled him to survive that fall. Thus, once his forces regroup and rescue him, he should prove even more impenetrable than his castle.”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m sorry, Cleona. I simply don’t have the weapons to defeat him. Not yet, anyway.”
Cleona sighed, unconvinced, and Gwendolyn’s eyes fluttered open.
“Chomp, chomp,” she whispered. “Stand and fight, you lily-livers.”
“Ssh,” Cleona said. “Save your strength, Gwendolyn.”
“Shut—your—gob,” she replied weakly.
And then the Yellow Fairy slipped away again into sleep.
Losing Kiyoko once was hard enough, but losing her a second time left me feeling as if half my heart had fallen with her from the sky. She had saved us from Prince Nightshade, and Mr. Grim said the best way to show our gratitude was to make certain that her death had not been in vain.
“We haven’t seen the last of Prince Nightshade,” he said. “Therefore, we mustn’t cheapen the shinobi’s sacrifice by giving him time to catch up with us.”
Mr. Grim’s words, however, did little to ease my sorrow. And as the Thunderbirds flew us farther and farther into the wilderness, it was all I could do to keep from weeping. Finally, we came to a high, rocky cliff pockmarked with caves. At the base of the cliff, hidden amongst the trees in a small grove, was the Odditorium.
The samurai leaped from their birds and took up position on the roof, while our Thunderbird dropped us off on the balcony. Cleona handed Gwendolyn to Mr. Grim and immediately flew up to her chamber to begin charging the Odditorium’s systems.
Just then I felt a rumbling in my chummy coat.
“Begging your pardon, Mr. Grim,” I said, handing him McClintock. “But please don’t scrap old Mack, sir. We couldn’t have escaped Prince Nightshade’s castle if it wasn’t for him.”
“Oh, nonsense,” said Mr. Grim, and he opened the pocket watch.
“What time is it?” Mack exclaimed, but then he saw who was looking down at him. “Ach! You’re not going to scrap me now, are you, sir?”
“On the contrary, old friend. You shall be rewarded for your bravery.”
“Rewarded for me bravery?” Mack asked, amazed.
“No time for particulars,” said Mr. Grim, tapping Mack on his XII. Then he slipped him into his waistcoat, and we rushed Gwendolyn into the library. Mrs. Pinch and Lord Dreary were already waiting for us.
“Blind me!” Mrs. Pinch said, squinting. “Is that Gwendolyn?”
“She ran into the wrong end of a whip,” said Mr. Grim.
“Good heavens!” cried Lord Dreary.
The Yellow Fairy’s color had gone nearly white, and she was shivering and mumbling incoherently. Mr. Grim prepared a makeshift bed for her on one of the armchairs and then instructed Mrs. Pinch to fix her something from the kitchen.
“I know just the thing,” said Mrs. Pinch, and she was gone.
“You stay with her, Master Grubb,” said Mr. Grim. “She’s fond of you, and your presence will undoubtedly do her good.”
Mr. Grim hurried back out onto the balcony, and Lord Dreary followed him, waving his arms frantically.
“Great poppycock, man!” he cried. “Aren’t you going to tell me what happened?”
As the gentlemen exchanged heated words outside, I knelt down and took Gwendolyn’s tiny hand in my own. Her breathing was shallow and her skin ice-cold.
“Chin up, Gwendolyn,” I whispered. “If anyone can take a crack from the prince’s whip, it’s you.”
“Chomp, chomp…” she muttered.
A moment later, Lord Dreary returned.
“How does Alistair do it?” he said to himself, sitting down at Mr. Grim’s desk.
“Begging your pardon, sir?”
“He’s out there right now with the leader of the Thunderbirds. Asked me to excuse him, he did, so they could speak in private. And then there’s the banshee and the Yellow Fairy. How does he find them? How does he convince them to help him?”
Other than what Nigel told me about Mr. Grim giving Gwendolyn some chocolate, I really had no idea. Come to think of it, where was Nigel?
“It boggles the mind, I tell you,” Lord Dreary went on, more to himself. “He uses star charts to calculate our position off the coast of the Americas, lands the Odditorium in its present position, then sets off up that cliff with a mirror and comes back an hour later with a flock of Thunderbirds!”
“A mirror, sir, did you say?”
Mr. Grim entered from the balcony. “We’re not out of the
woods yet,” he said, but upon seeing Lord Dreary sitting at his desk, he cleared his throat with an irritated, “Ahem!”
Lord Dreary rolled his eyes and moved away to the bookshelf. And as the old man was busy wiping his head with his handkerchief, Mr. Grim quickly slipped the Lady in Black’s mirror from inside his coat to its case upon the desk.
“Now, then,” said Mr. Grim, sitting down, “despite the loss of their friend, the Thunderbirds have agreed to assist us if we’re unable to get the Odditorium flying again.”
“I’m not going to bother asking again how you secured their services,” said Lord Dreary. “However, I do think I am owed an explanation as to how you rescued the boy and the banshee!”
“Everything shall be explained in good time. But there are more pressing matters at hand—the first being the unfortunate task of deciding what Odditoria to take with us in the event Gwendolyn does not recover.”
“You mean, you’re planning on abandoning the Odditorium?”
“Yes and no. It’s only a matter of time before Prince Nightshade discovers the location of the Thunderbirds’ caves for himself. And if he should find the Odditorium abandoned here, in addition to pillaging its contents, he would also learn its many secrets. And that is something I simply cannot allow to happen.”
“But that means you’d have to—”
“Yes, Lord Dreary. If Gwendolyn does not recover, the Odditorium will be unable to fly. And therefore I will have to destroy it.”
I gasped, and Lord Dreary cried, “Great poppycock!”
“It’s my own fault,” said Mr. Grim, rubbing his forehead. “If only I hadn’t been so preoccupied with things here, I might have discovered Prince Nightshade’s identity. Consequently, I might’ve been able to stop him in his tracks years ago.”
“So then,” Lord Dreary said, approaching the desk, “the story you told me during our journey here—you’re saying you’ve found proof to support your theory that Abel Wortley’s murderer and Prince Nightshade are the same person?”
“Proof?” said Mr. Grim. “What I wouldn’t give for an ounce of proof. Nothing but hypotheses and supposition at this point, never mind the fact that Judge Hurst is still missing.”
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