by Amy C. Blake
Monica frowned thoughtfully for a few seconds. Finally, she nodded and began jotting notes on the back of the paper.
While they waited for the other groups to finish, Levi whispered to Sara, “What was the deal with the play yesterday? Did you ask your dad?”
She shook her head. “I didn’t get a chance.”
“Is somebody else acting as your go-between this summer? Since Miss Nydia’s, you know . . .”
Again Sara shook her head, this time with misty eyes. “They decided it wasn’t worth the risk. I’ll just sneak into their room whenever I get the chance. It’s safer that way.”
Levi nodded. It had to be hard on Sara not getting to talk to her parents any time she wanted. To have to pretend all the time. “I was surprised you told your dad about Brock and Braden and their little trick on the drawbridge.”
Her cheeks reddened. “I had to, didn’t I? They couldn’t get away with throwing that poor girl into the moat. Not to mention Steve.”
Monica looked up from her notes. “Sara, why did they parade all those creatures before the entire camp? It doesn’t seem necessary at all.”
“You’d think they wanted everybody to know,” Trevor said, twisting his pen between his fingers.
“It’s like they want to attract every power-crazed maniac on the planet.” Levi dropped his voice to a whisper. “I mean, dragons? Minotaurs? And what was that hooded thing? If all that got out . . .” He shook his head. “Talk about a media circus.”
“There has to be a good reason. They wouldn’t endanger their citizens.” Sara looked down at her hands. “Or me.”
Levi wanted to bite his tongue off. Of course Sara’s parents wouldn’t expose Terracaelum. They were good rulers, right? And they sure wouldn’t set her up to get snatched. Because if Deceptor got hold of her again . . . He shuddered at the thought. He really had to stop criticizing Sara’s dad. Which meant now wasn’t the time to ask her what she knew about the cellar and why her dad would leave somebody trapped down there.
“Time’s up,” Mr. Dominic called. He looked at Levi’s group. “Ready?”
Monica stood and assumed her teacher demeanor. She reported how Skrymir tricked Thor into believing what he wanted him to believe by making him see things as he wanted him to see them. “Sometimes,” she concluded, “the best way to hide something is to put it in plain sight and let the person you want to deceive explain it to fit his or her worldview. A logical mind pays attention to such tricks so as to see past them to the truth.”
At her words, Levi’s jaw dropped. All of a sudden, he got it. Masks. Animatronics. Hollywood tricks. The campers didn’t call CNN after yesterday’s theatrics because they’d explained away all the weird creatures they’d seen to fit what they believed was possible. And now, since they’d made “trick” dragons and harpies fit their idea of Camp Classic, they wouldn’t be bothered in the least if unusual creatures showed up around them.
Levi’s astonished gaze slid to Mr. Dominic, who leaned against his desk watching Levi. The two exchanged knowing smiles.
Okay, so the director was pretty smart. But that still didn’t explain the cellar.
The next morning during History, Levi’s mind kept wandering to the person trapped beneath the castle. His roommates had grown tired of discussing whoever was pounding on the door, but he couldn’t let it go. Why wouldn’t Mr. Dominic rescue the poor guy? It didn’t make sense.
Wait, what if he did? What if that’s what Mr. Dominic meant when he said he had “a cellar to deal with”? That he needed to go help whoever was stuck down there?
Levi straightened in his seat. There was only one way to find out. He’d slip down to the kitchen after class. If nobody was knocking, he’d know Mr. Dominic had handled the problem the right way.
Satisfied with his plan, he tuned in to Mrs. Dominic’s lecture. “We’ll be learning about the Norse people this summer, including Erik the Red, Leif Erickson, and even some lesser-knowns like Awilda the Pirate Princess.”
A pirate princess? His sister would love learning about her.
“You’ll study the Norse myths in Literature class, and we’ll discuss how the Norse people’s beliefs affected their culture and history. Oh, and Mr. Austin has a treat for you in Literature class this year.” Her gaze suddenly landed on Levi. “But I’ll let him tell you about that when he’s ready.”
He squirmed in his seat. Why did he suddenly feel uncomfortable? Like maybe he wasn’t going to enjoy Mr. Austin’s treat so much.
Levi and Sara walked down the hall together after lunch, speculating about the summer play.
“Don’t you know?” He kept his voice to a whisper. “Since you live here year-round and all?”
She shook her head. “The staff kept it a secret so I’d be surprised along with everybody else.”
“Hey, Levi,” someone called.
He turned to see Morgan coming out of the dining room, Hunter at her side. What was she doing with that creep?
“Uh, hi.” Levi shot her a brief smile and kept walking.
“You need to stay away from that jerk.” Hunter’s not-so-quiet words almost made Levi whirl around and say something ferocious.
Instead, he angled his head toward Sara and glanced back at Hunter and Morgan, using only his peripheral vision.
Hunter had his head close to Morgan’s, his voice a low growl. “You know what I told you from the diary—”
“Yo, Hunter.” Braden, the fox-faced twin, bumped fists with Hunter.
“Hey, man, how’s it going?”
Brock rushed up beside his brother and attempted a fist bump too, but he missed and smashed his knuckles into the stone wall. He let out a howl and started sucking on his bleeding knuckles. Morgan gasped in sympathy while Hunter gave his head a derisive shake.
Cheeks flushed, Braden snagged his twin’s arm and dragged him away down the hall, his exasperated “How dumb can you get, Brick?” trailing behind.
Morgan frowned. “He shouldn’t call his brother that.”
“Why not?” Hunter shrugged. “Everybody does. Brick’s so dense his own parents gave him that nickname.”
Sara squeezed Levi’s arm. “That’s awful. The poor guy.”
Levi nodded, though he didn’t feel too sympathetic for the kid, not after his trick on the drawbridge yesterday. “Come on, let’s go.”
He and Sara continued to the great hall, not speaking again until they settled into deep chairs in a corner. Levi was preoccupied with thoughts of Hunter and Morgan. Why was she hanging around him? And what had he been about to tell her when the twins interrupted? It almost sounded like Hunter said diary, and the only diary Levi could think of was the purple one he’d found beneath Hunter’s mattress the year before—the one belonging to a girl from the 1880s. But why would the bully be talking to Morgan about the journal of a girl who lived more than a hundred years ago?
Then again, maybe Hunter hadn’t said diary at all. Maybe he’d said diarrhea, as in he and his creep friends put something in some poor sap’s meatloaf so they’d get sick.
“Hunter’s sure mean enough to do that,” he mumbled to himself.
Sara frowned, obviously having heard him. “Hunter’s not so bad, not always anyway.”
He snorted. “How do you figure?”
“I mean, this summer he’s been okay.” Her face pinked. “The other day he helped me with some precalculus problems I didn’t understand.”
Levi glared across the room to where some kids played foosball. Sara had no business studying with Hunter. Maybe Levi had been wrong last summer when he’d believed Hunter was Deceptor. But he definitely wasn’t wrong that Hunter was a bully and a jerk.
“Morgan seems to like you,” Sara said softly.
Levi’s ears heated. Morgan was too much like his little sister, following him around and pestering him for attention. “She’s just being friendly.” He shifted his gaze to Trevor and Monica’s Ping-Pong game. “Probably homesick.”
“Uh-huh.”
He watched Trevor’s next serve, which shot across the table. Monica whacked it back, and Trevor missed the return. “What I’d like to know is why a nice kid like Morgan is hanging out with a—” He stopped when Sara cleared her throat. “With, er, someone like Hunter.”
“Jealous?”
“What are you talking about?” He made a how-weird-can-you-get face.
“Oh, never mind.” She hopped up and rushed from the room.
Levi sighed. Girls. Why couldn’t they just make sense?
6
The Truth About the Cellar
The next night, Levi emerged from the bathroom into the middle of a battlefield. He could only duck as balled socks, wadded t-shirts, and bare pillows flew past. At a lull in the assault, he peeked from beneath the arms he’d thrown over his head. A pair of plaid boxer shorts smacked him in the face.
From various places around the room, Albert and his roommates stood frozen, red-faced and sweaty, waiting for his reaction. He could read the question in their faces: would he throw a fit like last year?
He forced down his eyebrows and tightened his lips as he gathered the pillows and articles of clothing. Then, before the others could react, he yelled, “Attack!” and fired ammunition into their stunned faces.
A half-hour later, he flopped in a giggling, sweat-soaked heap on his bed. Why had he gotten so mad at the others for horsing around like this last year? It was a blast.
But when Mr. Sylvester peered in the door for room check, Levi sat up in a hurry, glancing around the trashed room. The elf and his wife had treated the campers so differently this summer, with Mrs. Sylvester barely seeming to notice anything and Mr. Sylvester acting super-strict. After his recent run-in with Mrs. Forest, he sure didn’t need another staff member mad at him.
Thankfully, Mr. Sylvester didn’t snag earlobes or scream. He simply said, “Clean it up,” and closed the door behind him.
Shoulders sagging in relief, Levi stood and scooped up the piles of underwear he hoped hadn’t come from somebody’s dirty clothes bag.
The next morning before Steve and Tommy were dressed, Levi and Trevor left the room, more than ready for breakfast. Trevor ran a hand over the suit of armor that stood guard outside their door, his expression wistful. “One day soon I’m gonna be tall enough to fit in that thing.”
Levi laughed and shook his head. Still, Trevor was right. Give him another inch or two, and he’d fill out the armor perfectly. It’d be another decade before Levi could wear it . . . if ever.
“Maybe I’ll try it on now.” Trevor reached up with both hands and grasped the helmet.
“You’re gonna get in trouble.”
“Maybe, but it—”
The door three down from theirs opened with a squeak. Both boys whirled around as Mrs. Sylvester entered the corridor from her room.
With a noisy gulp, Trevor tucked both hands behind his back, but the hall chaperone didn’t even glance their way. For a moment, she stared blankly through one of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Then she released a shuddering breath and turned toward them. As they caught her eye, she startled and her grayish face paled.
She didn’t speak right away, but when she did, her voice trembled. “Breakfast time, boys.” She headed for the stairs without another glance.
“Whew.” Trevor swiped at his brow. “She about caught me.”
“You were only touching it. How was she supposed to know you wanted to put it on?”
His roommate’s cheeks glowed pink in the early sunlight. “Oh, yeah, right.” He glanced up and down the corridor, reached out a tentative hand, and eased up the visor.
Levi gave his forearm a light slap. “Come on. Let’s go eat.”
Trevor dropped the visor with a clank.
“Oh, no, you don’t.” Levi cornered Albert after lunch. The pixie’s eyes darted around the empty dorm room. He tried to make a break for the door, but Levi moved into his path. “I want to know about the cellar.”
Albert shook his head.
“Come on. I already know about Terracaelum and Deceptor.” He’d even fought the shape-shifting demon sorcerer the summer before, which was more than Albert could say. “It’s not like you have to keep a secret from somebody who already knows most everything anyway.”
Albert rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right, still full of yourself. You don’t know near all of Terracaelum’s secrets.” His voice dropped. “I don’t neither, for that matter.”
Levi crossed his arms over his chest and waited.
The pixie perched on Steve’s bed and let out a nasal sigh. “Fine. Guess it won’t hurt nothin’ to tell you about the cellar.” He gave Levi a stern look. “So’s you’ll learn to leave it alone. Don’t think I haven’t seen you skulkin’ around near the kitchen.”
Though Levi opened his mouth to protest, he quickly snapped it shut again. He’d made lots of extra trips past the kitchen over the last two days, watching for a time when none of the workers were around so he could check out the cellar door again. But somebody was always there. He’d begun to suspect Mr. Dominic of posting guards. “Okay, you’re right, but I’m just trying to understand what’s going on.”
Albert’s mouth tightened like he’d been sucking limes. “What you heard the other night was most likely a sailor from down under.”
“A sailor?” Levi jiggled a finger in his ear as he sank onto the steps beside Tommy’s bed. “From Australia?”
“Australia?” Albert’s face puckered. “What’re you talkin’ about?”
“What are you talking about? You said it was a sailor from Down Under. That’s Australia.”
“I don’t know no Australia. Down under is—” He shook his head and pointed downward. “—down under. On the lake.”
In a flash, Levi remembered Mr. Austin’s explanation of Terracaelum as a sort of island that hovered over Lake Superior, the lake down under Terracaelum. “Oh. You mean a sailor from Lake Superior?”
Albert nodded as if he’d just made the most obvious statement in the world.
Levi scowled. As if anything about Terracaelum was obvious. Then the meaning of his own words sank in. “Wait, a sailor from Lake Superior is trapped in the castle cellar? Here in Terracaelum? How’d he get in there?” He leapt to his feet. “And why won’t Mr. Dominic let him out?” Was the camp director so cruel he’d let a poor man wander in the darkness beneath the castle until something ate him or he starved to death?
“Whoa.” The pixie held up a hand. “Sit. Let me explain.”
Levi hesitated, trying to decide whether he should sit and listen or run down and open the cellar door—whether Mr. Dominic liked it or not. Albert’s pleading eyes finally won out, and he sat, possibly because the pixie’s expression reminded him of his dog begging to play ball. “All right, I’m listening.”
Albert settled back on Steve’s bed cross-legged, heedless of the dirt chunks his boots left on the red comforter. “Where do I start?” He tapped his chin with a stubby forefinger. “Sometimes when there’s a storm on the lake down under,” he said with a downward point, “the worlds sort of mash into each other, so’s boats and sometimes them flying machines from your world end up in ours. See?”
Levi massaged his temples. “No, I don’t see.”
“Hmm.” Albert squeezed his eyes shut as if such deep thought pained him. “You know what storms on the lake are like.” He opened his eyes. “Wind’s wild. Waves real high.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So when a boat’s out in a big whopper, the wind whips it around and the waves take it up real high then drop it real low in the troughs.” He zoomed his hand up and down like Levi’s little brothers Jer and Zeke playing airplanes. “Sometimes, when the weather’s particular rough, a boat rides a wave up . . .” He raised his hand. “And it never goes back down.”
Levi’s mouth fell open. “You mean . . . ?” Last summer, Mr. Austin had told him about his Uncle Filbert, who’d fallen through the moat into Lake Superior during a storm on the l
akes. Was Albert trying to tell him the same thing could happen in reverse?
The little man nodded, his hand still in the air. “Breaks through to Terracaelum in the tunnels under the mountains or maybe into the river. Sometimes into the cellar here. I’m not real clear on how it all works. Mrs. Austin’s the expert on all that.”
“Bizarre.”
Albert picked at a hangnail. “Just the way o’ things here.”
“That may be, but you can’t go leaving that poor person down there.” His voice rose a couple of notches. “I’m going to let him out.” He stood and took a step toward the door, half-expecting Albert to try and stop him again.
But he just gnawed at the nail, his expression serene. “You don’t wanna do that.”
The blood rushed to Levi’s head. “Why not? That’s just cruel.”
“Nope, it’s smart. See, you can’t know it’s a sailor down there. Could be one of them Dvergar.”
“Them what?”
The pixie released a sigh so windy his nose whistled. “The dark dwarves.”
Levi frowned. “You mean like Dr. Baldwin or the Austins?”
Albert snorted. “These guys ain’t nothing like them.”
“So they’re a different color or something? What’s the big deal about that?” His parents had taught him that prejudice was nothing but sinful. Mr. Dominic couldn’t possibly hate these Dvergar creatures just because their skin was dark.
“This ain’t got nothin’ to do with their coloring.” Fear hovered like fog behind Albert’s gray-green eyes. “It’s about their innards.”
“Huh?” Their guts? Gross.
“They’re black-hearted.” Albert clutched the shirt over his own small chest. “Evil through and through.”