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As Brendan ran away from Kristoff House in the dark night (the Roman guards let him pass once he explained he was going to Occipus for special training for tomorrow’s games), he started to have doubts. I’ve never been on my own before, never really been away from my family. But I’ve got to stay tough. Maybe being a Roman is what I’ve always been destined for. I always thought I was meant to be a lacrosse star or a player for the Giants, but I’m not really that great at those things. But here . . . maybe I can be great. I’m already close to the emperor. He seems to like me. And I think he respects me. But what if I never see Deal or Nell or Mom and Dad again? . . . No, you can’t think like that. You have to keep going, keep going, keep going—
“STOP!!”
Brendan froze in his tracks, and slowly turned. It was the Wind Witch.
She floated a few feet above the ground, on a gentle gust of air. She wore her new chrome false hands, which glowed, and a long cape that flowed behind her. The curve of her smile and the curve of her bald head reminded Brendan of the eye symbol on The Book of Doom and Desire.
“What do you want?” Brendan asked.
“One final test,” said the Wind Witch.
“Test?”
The Wind Witch stuck one of her false arms under her armpit and pulled it off. Beneath the false arm was another metallic item attached to her stub: a long, razor-sharp, curved knife.
The Wind Witch lowered herself to the ground and started to walk toward Brendan. As she got close, she extended the knife.
The Colosseum was empty. Kristoff House was too far away—if Brendan called for help, no one would be able to reach him until it was too late. He stalled.
“What are you doing?” asked Brendan, his voice shaking.
“I tried to kill your sister Cordelia,” said the Wind Witch. “And I failed. I tried to kill Eleanor. And I failed again. As you can imagine, it’s all very confusing and disturbing to me. I don’t know why my power has weakened. And in my search for an answer, I realized one very important thing: I haven’t tried to kill you.”
“Look, lady,” said Brendan, trying to stop his voice from trembling. “I just want to get back to the emperor . . . I’m not trying to hurt you . . . do you really need to do a test on me? I mean—”
Before Brendan could say another word, the Wind Witch’s arm shot forward, plunging the knife deep into his chest.
Deep into his heart.
Brendan gasped. It hurt. It took his breath away. He felt his heartbeat starting to slow. He couldn’t speak. He looked down. Blood poured from the wound, down his chest. The Wind Witch pulled out the knife and smiled. Brendan fell to his knees and felt himself losing consciousness.
“It worked,” said the Wind Witch. “My power has returned.”
Brendan’s heart stopped beating. Everything around him spun. But before he collapsed on the ground . . .
The wound in his chest began to close back up. He could feel his heart muscles rethreading together. And he felt a thump of life inside him. He was confused, overjoyed, terrified. It was like nothing he had ever experienced. Within seconds, he was able to breathe again. The color returned to his face.
“Nooo!” screamed the Wind Witch.
Brendan stumbled back to his feet and placed his hand on his restored chest, feeling his heartbeat. He smiled at the Wind Witch. It felt like he had just won a huge gladiator fight, like he had beaten her in front of a packed crowd.
“Guess your mojo’s gone, Baldy!”
Hearing that, the Wind Witch shot up into the air like a rocket, screaming “It can’t be!!” before disappearing into the night sky.
Brendan turned away, and with a renewed sense of confidence, raced toward the entrance to the emperor’s palace.
This is a sign, he thought. I’m not just supposed to be a Roman. I’m invincible! I’m supposed to be a gladiator! Maybe . . . the greatest gladiator of all time!
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Cordelia, Eleanor, Will, and Felix spent the night in the Kristoff House living room, with as many manuscripts as they could carry from the underwater bookshelf. They used them as pillows, and even blankets, since there was no bedding, lying down in piles of books.
The next morning, Eleanor awoke to see Felix kneeling over some of the manuscripts. He had placed them in neat rows, faceup, with the title pages displayed.
“What are you doing?” Eleanor asked. Will and Cordelia were still asleep. Gray light stretched across the living room; the sun hadn’t risen but there was a hint of heat in the air. It was going to be a scorcher in the Colosseum.
“Nothing,” Felix said, quickly turning away from the manuscripts. “Just . . . guarding these.”
“Guarding them? You’re trying to read them.” Eleanor approached. “Can you read them?”
Felix hung his head, too embarrassed to say no. But Eleanor understood.
“That’s all right,” she said. “I’ll teach you.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. At least while Deal’s asleep. When she wakes up she’ll be like, ‘Step aside, Nell. You’re the last person who should be teaching people to read.’”
“Why’s that?” Felix asked.
“Because I’m . . .” Eleanor was going to explain, but then she thought, What’s the point? Felix doesn’t know! “Never mind. Where do we start? Do you know your alphabet?”
“Like all the letters?” Felix shook his head. “All I know is how to write my name. But the others . . . ?”
“Oh boy, we’re starting right from the beginning,” Eleanor said.
“Is that a bad thing?”
“No, it’s great. The beginning is what I know best.”
Eleanor started with the letter A and all the different sounds it could make. As she spoke, she realized how difficult English was. A lot of the letters could make more than one sound depending on what other letters were near them. O could make about four different sounds and she had a feeling there were more. If you wanted to design a language to be difficult, it couldn’t get much tougher than English. Really, it was amazing anybody could read it.
“Why do C and K sound alike?” Felix said. “Shouldn’t they just get rid of one?”
“They should,” said Eleanor, “but you’d have to email the dictionary people about that.”
Felix nodded as if that made total sense before he started sounding out the title of one of the books. Then Will woke up and tapped Cordelia.
“Look at this,” Will said. “Your sister’s teaching the Roman to read.”
“You could help,” said Cordelia. “Be the bigger man after almost getting in a fistfight with him.”
“Good point,” said Will, thinking to himself, “Be the bigger man.” I like the sound of that! He walked over to Eleanor and Felix.
“Would you two fancy some assistance from an educated Englishman?”
Felix was wary at first, but then allowed Will to join them. Soon the pilot was helping the gladiator sound out letters, and when Cordelia joined in, Felix felt a bolt of pride as he accurately sounded out an entire title.
“At . . . Atlantis Brigade!”
Everyone applauded.
“Excellent,” said Eleanor. “If you keep practicing, you’ll be able to read the whole book.”
Felix’s voice shook as he spoke: “Eleanor—all of you—I was raised to be a gladiator. My strength training involved the most difficult and deadly exercises. But never once in my life did I have the strength, or more importantly, the courage . . . to attempt to read. And now . . . I’ve actually done it. Because of you. It’s a miracle!”
“Wish Bren were here to see,” said Eleanor wistfully.
They all took a moment to think abou
t Brendan and what kind of trouble he could be getting into, and then Cordelia took charge and started organizing a reading of the books. Eleanor and Felix kept looking at Atlantis Brigade. Cordelia and Will began skimming manuscript titles—The Mine Field Under the Sea; The Lunar Odyssey—in an attempt to find what other books they might be trapped in. It was sobering; Cordelia’s head began to fill with all the horrible and deadly scenarios that were inside each manuscript. They had a tough enough time with gladiators; what if they were attacked by a spaceship or prehistoric creatures?
In the middle of this investigation, Brendan returned to the house. He wore a purple toga, like the men who sat close to the action in the Colosseum, and a golden, vine-shaped crown. His body glistened, covered with oil; he walked with his chest held high as if he had something long and straight sticking up his backside.
“Good morning,” he said. Roman guards stood behind him.
“Brendan!” Cordelia gushed, despite still being angry at how he had left them. “Where have you been?”
“With Occipus,” Brendan answered. He seemed cagey; he looked at his feet, which were adorned with brand new leather sandals. “I’ve been in his palace. We feasted until I-don’t-know-when last night; I just woke up. Check out my cool outfit!”
“Bren, don’t leave us again,” Eleanor said. “We had a horrible night. There were no blankets or anything, and believe it or not, we actually missed all of your dumb jokes and complaining.”
“Yeah, well . . . ,” Brendan said. He kept staring at his toes. “The people in Occipus’s palace were really nice. I mean, nicer to me than anybody back home. . . .”
“Brendan—” started Eleanor, but her brother took a deep breath and interrupted.
“You have to let me finish, Nell. Ever since we came back from our last adventure, I haven’t been happy. I mean, our family has all this money, but we’re not happy, and now we’re at a school with kids who have more money anyway. And the harder I try to fit in—like getting that backpack—the more people make fun of me. And I don’t really feel like I belong, you know?”
“That’s called being a teenager, Bren,” Cordelia said. “We all feel it, even Nell, and she’s only nine.”
“A very mature nine,” said Eleanor.
“But here,” Brendan continued, “I do feel like I belong. I’m special here, and no one will ever take that away from me. I’ll be a guest of honor as long as Occipus is in power.”
“And then, when he’s kicked off the throne, or hanged . . . you’ll take over, right?” Cordelia asked in a mocking tone.
“I don’t want to take over,” Brendan said. “I just want to stay.”
“You’re not serious, are you?” Eleanor asked.
“I’m more serious than I’ve ever been,” Brendan said. “I know you guys are all used to me making jokes. But this isn’t a joke. I don’t want to go home. I want to stay in ancient Rome for good.”
Everyone looked around, waiting to see who would speak first. Cordelia stepped forward.
“Bren, you really need to think about what you just said,” she said, suddenly panicked. “We can’t break up this family. We work together, and it’s the only way we’ve managed to survive. We’re going to need your help to find a way back to Mom and Dad. I think the Wind Witch—”
“I don’t care about the Wind Witch,” Brendan said. “I don’t want to have to worry about her ever again. Especially after last night—”
“What happened last night?”
“After I left,” said Brendan, “she showed up. Said she had to try to kill me to see if she really lost her power. . . .”
“And?”
“Well, I’m here, aren’t I?”
“So she can’t kill any of us,” pondered Cordelia. “Why do you think that is?”
“I don’t care,” said Brendan. “I just want to hang out at the Colosseum, eat some cured meat, rock in the hammock, watch the gladiator games—”
“What kind of horrible person have you turned into?” Eleanor burst out. “What would Mom and Dad think? I mean . . . don’t you even miss them?”
“Of course I miss them,” Brendan said. “But sometimes kids leave their parents early on. Not everybody has to stay home until they’re thirty or whatever. It used to be that you went off and made your fortune as soon as you could. And that’s what I’m trying to do—”
“You won’t make any fortune here,” Cordelia said. “In a few weeks you’ll be lying in a ditch. Maybe the Wind Witch can’t kill you, but there are plenty of other things that can. This is a really dangerous place. Your notoriety won’t last forever—”
Brendan dismissively waved his hand at them, the way he had seen Occipus do. Everyone just rolled their eyes. He really was turning into an annoying, pompous egomaniac.
“This isn’t only something I’m doing for myself,” he said. “All of you are invited to join me. Cordelia, do you really want to go back to school after having one of your teeth fall out? The kids are going to tear you apart! Eleanor—would you rather go to horseback lessons twice a week, or have your own elephant imported from Africa? Will—you hate San Francisco, why not try something different? And Felix—you belong here anyway!” Brendan sighed. “You know I love you guys, but this is my chance for an extraordinary life. Shouldn’t I take it?”
Eleanor grabbed Brendan. “No! Don’t go! Stay with us!”
The Roman guards who had been standing behind Brendan stepped forward. One of them said, “Keep away from the general.”
“The general?” Cordelia asked.
“It’s Occipus’s name for me,” said Brendan. “Isn’t it awesome?” And then the guards put their big hands on Eleanor and pulled her off her brother.
“Hey!” Brendan said. “You don’t need to do that—”
“Emperor’s orders,” said one of the guards. “No one is to touch General Brendan.”
“But she’s my sister,” Brendan said.
“Very well, then we won’t hurt her,” said a guard. “Have you finished saying your good-byes?”
“Your good-byes?” asked Eleanor. “Is this the last time we’re going to see you?” She started to cry. “Bren, you don’t mean this! You’re just confused. You want to stay with us, not that fat emperor with the ugly frog voice!”
“Watch it,” said one of the guards.
Brendan stared at the floor. He hadn’t thought this would be so hard. But then he closed his eyes and pictured the emperor’s quarters, and the great food, and the awesome weapons, and the beautiful girls bringing him whatever he wanted . . . Brendan felt like someone different when he was with the emperor, someone better than a kid who got beat up by Scott Calurio. He had seen an escape hatch through which he wouldn’t have to deal with homework, or designer backpacks, or girls he was supposed to talk to, or college, or getting a job, ever again! He didn’t want all that stuff. He knew from the adults in his life that that stuff wasn’t fun. No. It was better to stay in Rome.
“I have to go,” Brendan said. “I’m sorry.” He turned and rushed out of the house. He didn’t want anyone to see that he was crying.
The guards let go of Eleanor and followed him.
“Bren!” Cordelia screamed. “Come back! You don’t want this!”
But Brendan wouldn’t turn around. He walked into the arena with his head held high, ignoring his sister’s pleas.
“Should I try to get him back?” Felix asked, pulling his sword out halfway.
“That won’t work,” said Cordelia. “He made his decision.”
“Maybe if we just talk to him a little longer,” said Will.
“I don’t think so,” said Eleanor. “Bren’s stubborn. Like me.” She held on to Cordelia’s arm and sobbed. Losing her brother was like losing herself. She felt hollow inside. The three of them belonged together. Couldn’t Bren see that?
“I think the only thing we can do is hope and pray that he comes around,” said Cordelia. “And in the meantime we need to explore more of the house,
see if we can find clues to get home—”
“But I don’t want to go home without Bren!” Eleanor insisted. Cordelia wiped her tear-streaked hair away from her face. How the heck are we going to get through this?
All of a sudden they head a huge crack outside.
Will flinched. He knew that sound.
“What was that?” Felix asked.
“Artillery,” said Will, not believing the word even as it came out of his mouth.
Everyone looked out the window. The Roman guards who had left with Brendan were running across the arena. Brendan was running himself, his purple toga looking like a smear of jam because he was moving so fast.
Another huge crack sounded, followed by a massive crushing and crumbling, like an avalanche.
“Is it Fat Jagger?” Eleanor asked, hopeful to see her old friend.
“Who’s Fat Jagger?” asked Felix.
“He was a friend of mine, a really good friend of mine.”
“No, it’s not him!” said Will. “That sounded like an armor-piercing shell. And—”
Cordelia and Eleanor yelled, “Tank!”
They saw it through the front door.
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A dark green tank had burst through the walls of the Colosseum.
Luckily it was still early morning and there weren’t any people in the stands. But a large portion of the curved building, where yesterday thousands of spectators had sat, was now a pile of chunky rubble on the ground. And the tank, looking like an impenetrable, determined robot, rolled right through this rubble, heading toward Kristoff House.
Eleanor pointed and shouted, “Nazis!”
Painted on the front of the tank was a giant swastika.
“Bloody hell,” Will said. “Krauts.”
“They’ve got to be from another Kristoff book!” Cordelia yelled. “We should’ve known when we found that armband. Two of the worlds are coming together!” She rushed to the pile of manuscripts to find one about World War II. Eleanor grabbed her.
House of Secrets: Battle of the Beasts Page 15