Quests for Glory

by Soman Chainani

  It was all connected.

  Tedros’ trapped sword.

  His friends’ failed quests.

  The attacks.

  It was all the work of a new villain. More powerful than the School Master. More powerful than anything their world had ever seen.

  Each new attack was part of a bigger plan.

  A plan to destroy Camelot and its king.

  A plan to take down Good and Evil.

  A plan to rule the Endless Woods.

  Chaddick heard footsteps get closer.

  He’d tracked this villain all the way to Avalon.

  He thought he could vanquish him on his own like a real knight.

  He didn’t know the villain was tracking him too.

  Chaddick wiped his eyes. He couldn’t go down like this. Not when his friends needed him. Not without a fight.

  He focused on his fear . . . his loyalty to Tedros . . . his love for his fellow Evers and Nevers . . .

  His fingertip glowed silver—

  Now.

  He leapt out of his hiding spot to face his attacker and shot him with a stun spell, not waiting to see if it hit before he dashed for a staircase thirty feet away. Chaddick hurtled down the steps towards the lake, slipping on snow and tumbling to the next landing, almost knocking himself out. Bleary with pain, he could hear his attacker’s hissy laughter, his footsteps descending the stairs. . . .

  Wheezing, Chaddick lurched to his feet, leaving a smear of blood in the snow, and continued to limp down. The lake . . . I have to make it to the lake. . . .

  He staggered off the last steps and slid through icy mud on the shore—

  “I need the Lady of the Lake!” he choked, dripping blood.

  The clear, gray surface stayed still.

  He looked back and saw a shadow moving down the stairs in no hurry at all.

  Chaddick swiveled to the water. “I’m Camelot’s knight!”

  Now the lake changed. It spun into a whirlpool, mirroring the circle of towers above. The waters churned faster, faster . . . so fast that a thick foam spewed from the pool’s eye, coalescing into human shape. . . .

  A ghostly, silver-haired nymph in white robes floated out of the lake. She had pale skin, a long nose, and big black eyes that honed in on Chaddick.

  Smiling with relief, he rushed towards the water, but the instant his foot touched it, it repelled him, flinging him to the ground.

  The Lady of the Lake’s expression didn’t change.

  “What are you waiting for!” he cried. “You have to protect me!”

  “I protect those most loyal to Camelot,” the Lady of the Lake replied.

  “I am loyal! I’m Tedros’ liege!”

  Again he crawled for the water—

  Again it repelled him.

  “What . . . what are you doing . . . ,” he gasped.

  But the Lady of the Lake wasn’t looking at him now. She was looking past him.

  Slowly Chaddick turned to see his assailant coming off the stairs, dressed in black, his face covered by a scaly green mask. He was holding Chaddick’s sword, coated with Chaddick’s blood.

  Chaddick dropped to his knees and clasped his hands towards the nymph. “Don’t you see? He’s going to kill me! Help! Please!”

  But she didn’t.

  Instead she did something that made Chaddick sick.

  She looked back into the eyes of his green-masked killer . . .

  And smiled.

  8

  SOPHIE

  One Quest to Save Them All

  “Where is the cake, Bogden? Where are the gift bags? Where is the bouquet?” Sophie berated, barreling towards Evil Hall in her white taffeta gown, crystal tiara, and spiked silver heels.

  “Um, you need those things for a school dance?” Bogden asked, holding her train and stumbling behind.

  “All Tedros had to do to seal his reign was host a coronation and now look where he is. You know why kingdoms fall, Bogden? Because of bad parties,” Sophie flared. “How long until the doors open?”

  “Five minutes. The Welcome Committee is almost done decorating—”

  “Why don’t I hear music, then? Why don’t I smell cucumber-and-dill-butter canapés?

  Bogden gaped at her.

  “Were you taking notes when we went over this?” Sophie squawked, trundling towards the ballroom. “No wonder you failed all your classes!”

  “Dean Sophie, I’ve been knocking on your bathroom door for five hours to ask questions—”

  “As if anyone has time for questions! First Gavaldon Girl caves in a classroom and now you with your questions! Why did I bring Readers into this school at all?” Sophie moaned. “This is the first time a Dean has ever thrown an Evil party, the first time the Evers will see our castle, and the first time Clarissa Dovey will realize there’s no need for a new School Master when the students already follow me. I’ve even invited the Royal Rot in case they want to write a story about Tedros’ former flame, moved on to a life of staggering success and fawning fans, unlike her once-prince and now maligned king.” She flung open the doors to Evil Hall with dramatic flourish—

  The ballroom was lit dungeon-brown by two dying torches. The six first-year Nevers of the Welcome Committee beamed proudly at her as they hung wispy tinsel and laid out a cloudy punch bowl on a crooked wooden table along with a hunk of misshapen cheese. In the center of the room, under a dented mirror-ball, two bats perched on top of Sophie’s statue, swiping and eating circling moths attracted by the weak, pulsing lights. A banner drooped between two walls—“DEAN SOPHIE WELCOMES U”—with the U looking more like a V since the painters had started their letters too big and run out of space. A wolf slumped on the floor beneath the banner, burping loudly and playing a dirge on a broken violin.

  Sophie clutched her throat. “It’s like one of Honora’s garden parties!” She whirled to Bogden. “Where’s Hort?”

  “Um, Professor Hort said if he can’t be your date, he’s not coming.”

  Sophie curled her fists. “That whiny, mangy rodent . . .”

  Through the windows, she saw the lights of fairies leading the Evers through Good’s glass castle towards Halfway Bridge.

  “Oh, I try to empower you fools like I’m supposed to and make you feel supported and involved and appreciated,” Sophie seethed, shaking her fists. “But if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.”

  In a flash, she whirled into action, pointing fingers at the Welcome Committee. “Fatima, fetch an enchanted pot from the kitchen! Barnaby, get a pouch of lizard tongues and a vial of cat tears from Professor Manley—if he won’t give them to you, steal them! Vladimir, remember that putrid band you formed?”

  “The one you sent us to the Doom Room for because you said we ruined your beauty sleep?” he peeped, blinking beneath his unibrow.

  “It’s legal for one night only,” Sophie commanded. “Rex, open up the windows! Bharthi, borrow Professor Sheeks’ spellbook (the password to her office is ‘Ooty Queen’), and someone tell Professor Hort if he doesn’t get here in the next ten seconds, I’ll tell the whole school their history teacher sleeps with a stuffed turtle!”

  Her finger glowed pink and she thrust it at the mirror-ball, which blinded all of them in an explosion of red.

  Five minutes later, Sophie sat on the shoulders of Hort’s giant man-wolf, cheerily greeting awed Evers and Nevers as they came through the doors. Towering seven feet tall, Hort made sure to roar for each one and beat his hairy chest while the first years moved into Evil Hall, glittering with magical red and gold fireworks that ripped across the ceiling, spelling “NIGHT OF A THOUSAND SOPHIES.” On the walls, scarlet shadows played scenes from Sophie’s fairy tale, occasionally reaching out to spook passing kids. In the corner, Evers and Nevers filled their cups with sparkly soda from a fountain made out of two hundred crystal goblets; the glittering liquid changed colors and flavors every minute: green apple, golden honey, red raspberry, blue winter mint. . . . Nearby, a horde of kids raid
ed a table with trays that magically replenished with wasabi shrimp, herbed biscuits, persimmon bruschetta, dill-stuffed cucumbers, pork-wrapped mushrooms, baked potato bites, salmon pinwheels, olive crostini, and vanilla-sage canapés. But most of the revelers were jam-packed in the center around Sophie’s statue, headbanging to Vladimir’s band (“VLADIMIR AND THE PLAGUE,” the drums said), while Good’s fairies sprinkled fairy dust on band members, levitating them over the crowd. (A few intrepid Nevers scooped fallen fairy dust off the floor and gobbed it under their tongues, sending them shooting across the dance floor like comets, earning raucous cheers.)

  “And they’ve all dressed for the theme!” Sophie marveled, high atop Hort’s shoulders, as both Evergirls and Nevergirls thronged in, flaunting Sophie’s most famous looks from The Tale of Sophie and Agatha. There was a Kimono Sophie, with shimmering makeup and ruby-red hair; a Babydoll Sophie, in a black lacy dress and licking a pink lollipop; a No-Ball Sophie, complete with pink gown, bald cap, and stick-on warts; an Evil Queen Sophie in full-black leather and snakeskin cape; a Rebel Sophie, in a dazzling slit-back black dress, with red sequins that spelled “F is for Fabulous.”. . . There were even a few Filips.

  Not to be left out, several boys had dressed like Tedros, with some in his creamy white breeches and royal-blue lace-up shirt from the first-year Evers Ball, a few in his loose ivory shirt and black pants from his night with Sophie in an Avalon cave, and two tall Neverboys who’d worn the tightest of shorts and forgone shirts entirely.

  “Hort, darling, there’s even one of you!” Sophie said, pointing to a bone-thin, rabbit-faced boy in handmade frog pajamas, who’d just spilled his drink on a girl.

  “Got the pajamas wrong,” Hort’s man-wolf grumped.

  “Oh, don’t be a louse. You know, they’re all having so much fun I can’t tell the Evers from the Nevers anymore,” said Sophie, watching more of Good’s students flood in with giddy smiles, as if they’d secretly been waiting their whole lives for an Evil party. “Even the teachers have stopped searching for a reason to shut it down.”

  Professor Manley and Professor Sheeks were snickering as they stealthily shot flames across the soda fountain every time an Ever reached for a glass. Nearby, Castor and Professor Anemone shook their rumps on the dance floor while students of both schools hooted them on.

  “Listen, I can’t last much longer like this. I’m hot, hairy, and hungry,” Hort grouched, drool dripping from his snout. “Any second, I’m going to shrink back to human without any clothes on.”

  “You can’t go now. The Room 46 boys are almost here!” Sophie said, squinting at a pack of Everboys crossing the bridge. “I knew Bodhi, Laithan, and the rest of their delicious little clan would come, even if they didn’t RSVP. Handsome boys never RSVP. They just grace you with their presence like a balmy day in winter.”

  “What? Who’s Bodhi? Who’s Laithan?” Hort growled. “How do you know Everboys’ names—”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Everybody knows the boys of Honor Tower, Room 46. Besides, I’m sure you can last as a man-wolf for as long as you want. Think of first year when you could only do it for five seconds. Now you can go all night if you put your mind to it.”

  “I’m not lasting all night for a bunch of Everboys,” Hort snapped.

  “Don’t be irrelevant, darling,” Sophie wisped. “For six months, I’ve been obsessing over Agatha and Tedros, wondering how they were doing in Camelot. I know I said I hadn’t given them the slightest thought, but we both know that’s a lie, so I might as well be honest. I couldn’t bear the idea that they could be happy without me, even after that hellfire of a coronation. But tonight’s the first night I haven’t thought of them at all. Which goes to show: if Agatha doesn’t want me to help her plan her wedding, then I’ll happily throw a party for myself. And I assure you, mine will be far better.”

  She smiled as the fireworks over the dance floor arranged into a vision of her own face and students from both schools hollered their approval. Nearby, kids dug into a red velvet cake shaped as a giant S and flanked by piles of oat-ginger cookies frosted with sayings like “S is for Sublime,” “S is for Succulent,” “S is for Sophie.” A pimply, sharp-toothed Neverboy climbed her statue and kissed it triumphantly, eliciting whistles and cheers, but Sophie didn’t mind it in the least, soaking in the Ever-Never chants from the dance floor: “SOPHIE! SOPHIE! SOPHIE!”

  “If you think about it, Aggie and I don’t even have much in common anymore,” Sophie added, waving back at the adoring crowd. “She has her life with Tedros, the two of them about to marry and become each other’s family. And I have my own life: wedding-less, family-less, date-less, but so filled with possibilities. . . .”

  “I thought I was your date,” Hort said.

  “Look at my little peaches. Aren’t they scrumptious?” Sophie gushed, nodding at a few awkward Nevergirls in hip-hugging black leather talking to a shrimpy Everboy. “Spent all week teaching them how to fake self-esteem. What do you think? They’re all your age. Any of them catch your fancy?”

  “My what? Are you insane!” Hort retorted. “Not only are they first years, but I’m their teach—”

  “Put me down!” Sophie gasped.

  “What?”

  “Down, Hort! Down!”

  Hort quickly swung her to the floor and Sophie lunged in front of him—

  “Bodhi, darling, welcome to my school,” Sophie purred, holding out her hand to a tall, reedy boy in a royal-blue coat with dark-caramel skin and big black eyes, who gently took it and kissed it like a prince.

  “And hello, Laithan, you’re looking exceptionally handsome tonight,” she said to his short, muscular friend with chestnut hair and freckles. Laithan smiled flirtily and kissed her on the cheek.

  “Well, if that’s how you’re going to say hello, I’ll say hello to all of you,” Sophie cooed, presenting her cheek to the rest of their Everboy gang: swimmery, silver-haired Akiro; dark, wavy-haired Valentin; bald-headed, ghostly Devan. . . . “Save a dance for me,” she whispered to each one.

  “A dance!” Hort hissed in her ear, apoplectic. “You’re a Dean, not a hostess at the Pig and Pepper! You can’t dance with students!”

  “I’ve combed The Ever Never Handbook thoroughly and see no rules against it. And besides, some of these boys look far older than I do,” Sophie said, turning to greet the next boy—

  Only it wasn’t a boy at all.

  It was a Dean.

  And she wasn’t alone.

  Dean Dovey clacked past Sophie into Evil Hall, green gown sweeping behind her, as if this was her school and Sophie the intruder. The silver-haired professor was flanked by three witches, each of who glared at Sophie one by one.

  “Everboys in our castle,” said the tattooed witch.

  “Everboys in our school,” said the albino witch.

  “Told you, told you, told you,” huffed the jolly witch, turning Sophie’s tiara into chocolate and gobbling it down in one bite.

  “You lied to me?” Sophie mewled, gaping at Clarissa’s Quest Map, floating over the sand on Evil’s side of Halfway Bay. All her classmates’ names were colored red beneath their moving figurines instead of blue like they were on her map. “But I’m supposed to know everything! I’m a Dean! I’m your equal! Instead, you give me a false map . . . you make me think all our quests are going well . . . you keep me in the dark on the fact my friends are failing miserably—”

  “‘Friends’ is a loose term,” Hester murmured.

  “And you being ‘equal’ to Dovey is like Dot being ‘equal’ to me,” said Anadil.

  “We’ll see who’s equal when I turn your rats to fudge,” said Dot.

  “Oh be quiet, girls,” Professor Dovey said, sitting gingerly in one of Evil’s cabanas that Sophie had added when she turned the once-barren shores of Halfway Bay into a beach. Music and laughter from the party carried down the hill. With the August nights sultry and fresh, the elder Dean had recommended they speak outside, where students wouldn’t overh
ear. But now Dovey was peering around at the torchlit huts decorated with glamorous portraits of Sophie . . . the golden sand speckled with S-shaped conchs . . . the once-sludgy black moat of Evil turned royal blue with a statue of Sophie astride a dragon spraying water from its mouth. . . .

  “I honestly don’t know where I am,” she murmured.

  Sophie cleared her throat harshly.

  “I know you’re upset, Sophie, and you have every right to be,” Professor Dovey sighed, massaging her knees. “Fairy godmothers don’t make it a habit of using magic to deceive. But fairy godmothers also have a duty to protect the greater Good. If you’d known what was happening, it was only a matter of time before word of the older students’ struggles leaked through the school and distracted the first years. I know you’ll say you can keep a secret, but frankly, you seem incapable of setting boundaries with your new charges at the moment.”

  Sophie put her hands on her hips. “What in heavens makes you say that?”

  Dovey turned towards the castle’s open windows. Inside Evil Hall, two Neverboys danced saucily on Sophie’s statue, while an Everboy spotted Sophie watching and yelled: “DEAN SOPHIE, WILL YOU MARRY ME?”

  Sophie stabbed out her glowing pink finger, shutting the windows and drawing the curtains. “Well, if you were so scared of telling me about these failing quests, why are you telling me now?”

  Professor Dovey turned to her. “Because I need you to lead a quest into the Woods and save your fellow classmates before any more of them die.”

  Every trace of defiance melted out of Sophie’s face. She saw the three witches staring at Good’s Dean the same way.

  “Die?” Sophie rasped.

  Professor Dovey looked away, mouth quivering.

  Sophie could hardly get the word out. . . . “Who?”

  The elder Dean watched the waters of the bay roll between Good and Evil, thin to thick, water to slime.

  “The map,” Dovey whispered.