His mother ruffled his hair again. “I’m going to miss this little booger. I’ll probably be gone for six months, maybe more. This is deep cover, deeper than anything I’ve ever attempted before. And with the Interfacers still out there, I may not … I worry about him so much.”
“I will remain here in the Manse at all times, Amelia. Even if Quintus has to leave, I will be here to watch over Arthur. I swear on my life that I will do my best to keep him safe.”
“If something does happen to me, and Quintus too, hide him with my parents. My father knows … he knows enough to understand.”
“It will never come to that. You will —”
THOOM!
A great boom shook the Manse, and Arthur felt a sudden shift, as if they had stopped moving.
A look of terror flashed across his mother’s face.
Kjor tensed.
Quintus stopped fighting. He looked sad and ill all at once. One of the chugas leapt for him, and he batted it away with his sword as if it were nothing. The beasts closed in on him. He flicked his wrist, the blade of Bright-Cage vanished, and he clipped the handle onto his belt. He placed his palms together and spoke a word Arthur didn’t understand. A giant, glowing triskelion symbol appeared in the air in front of him. It flared so bright Arthur had to look away for a moment. When he looked back, the training creatures had all vanished, and Arms was capping the two cylinders.
Arthur was stunned by the display of power. The room hummed with energy, and the hairs on his arms were standing on end. Quintus and Amelia ran to each other.
After a deep embrace, his father said, “Amelia, you don’t have to do this.”
“Quin, you know I do. What we’re doing will change everything for the better. And no one else can do this. Not you, not Kjor, and … well, there’s just no one else left that we can trust.” She kissed him deeply. “Now, I’ve got to get moving. The Manse can’t stay here long or we’ll be discovered.”
Arthur laughed as his mother picked him up and swung him around. She hugged him tight, and a shudder passed through her, as if she were restraining a sob. She held him at arm’s length. A brief pulse flashed from the circlet gem, mesmerizing Arthur for a moment. It was almost like a plucked string vibrated in his mind, and the note was soothing and peaceful. “If something should happen, my sweet, you will remember me.” The ruby flashed a second time. “You will remember this moment someday, when you most need it. So you can hear me say: I love you, Arthur. I always will. While I’m gone, your father will be here with you. And if he has to go on a mission, your Uncle Kjor and the servitors will watch over you — okay?”
Arthur nodded.
“That’s my good boy.” She handed Arthur over to his dad and turned toward the far end of the Training Room. “Alex, wake up! We must go, and we’ve no time to waste.”
Out from the shadows slinked a large, white panther — it must’ve been his mother’s numen. The powerful beast yawned, nodded to Arthur and Quintus, and followed Amelia as she headed out from the Training Room.
Arthur felt a tear leak down his face. His three-year-old self said, “Bye, mommy! I’ll be brave.”
She turned and blew him a kiss. “I know you will, my sweet.”
Quintus held Arthur out. “Can you take him, Kjor? I want to see Amelia off at the door.”
“Of course.” Kjor took Arthur in his strong hands. “We are staunch friends, the little tyke and I.”
Down from the darkness above swooped a majestic white eagle, which must’ve been his father’s numen, and it followed them out of the Training Room.
Smiling, Arthur at last turned toward the man whose lap he had been sitting in, the man whose voice was so eerily familiar. And he was shocked to see a large man with solid black eyes, gray-blue skin, and no earlobes. The man spoke to him again, but this time without moving his lips. The words simply passed into Arthur’s mind.
“Arthur Primus, I swear to you that should anything ill ever befall your parents, you will always be safe with me.”
Arthur recognized the voice at last. It was the warlock.
2
More Than Just a Dream
Arthur awoke, screaming, and shot off the couch in the Smoking Lounge. He had no idea what time it was; the lights were turned down so low they were almost off.
“Arthur, lad, what the devil?” Vassalus’ stately voice, like a British radio host, called from his post beside the door.
“My mother — I saw her — she was a companion — she left — and the warlock …”
Had it been a memory, or just a dream? It had felt so real.
“Yes?” Lexi prompted. She stood and arched her back in a cat stretch. A yawn muffled her normally smoky, Hollywood starlet voice. “What about him?”
Morgan sat up on the couch across the room and groaned. “What the heck is going on?”
Arthur didn’t respond. Without putting his boots on or grabbing his rayguns, he rushed out of the Smoking Lounge, crossed the now safe-to-travel Grand Hallway, and threw open the door to the Armory. Vassalus and Lexi chased after him, followed by Valet and Arms.
Even though both servitors had been wounded in the battle to clear the Grand Hallway, they still insisted on guarding Arthur and Morgan. Of course, since they couldn't talk and had no faces, insisting meant that they either shook their heads or ignored Arthur’s requests altogether. Luckily, their injuries weren’t too bad, and they were healing fast. Vassalus and Lexi had taken some nasty wounds fighting wraiths, but they were healing even faster, and ought to be fine in a couple of days. Cook was pretty banged up, and Waiter had been gravely wounded. They were recovering in the Smoking Lounge. They’d all had one solid day of rest already, but could use several more.
The Armory’s narrow hallway always reminded him of an old WWII bunker, or maybe a battleship, like the one Arthur had seen on a school field trip. But right now, all he cared about were the glass cases lining the walls. There were seven cases on the left side and six on the right, one each for the Multiversal Paladin and his twelve companions. Of course, Arthur only had Morgan. Theirs were the only ones illuminated; the rest were so dark inside that you really couldn't see what was in them. With all the danger they’d been in, he’d given no thought to the other lockers.
Arthur started with the first one on his right, the case labeled COMPANION #12. The glass doors didn’t have any handles, but whenever he touched the locker that stored his gear, the door automatically swung open. Arthur touched his hand to the door. The interior didn’t light up, and the door didn’t open. I’m the Multiversal Paladin, and it won’t open for me? He put his face so close that his nose touched the glass, but he still couldn’t see inside it.
“Arthur, what’s the matter?” Lexi said as she burst into the Armory along with Vassalus, Arms, and Valet.
Not responding, he went to the other side and tried the locker for Companion #11, but it wouldn’t open or reveal its contents either.
“Are you looking for something?” Vassalus asked.
He went to Companion #10’s locker, saw nothing, and groaned. “Yes, I am.”
Arms walked past him as Lexi said, “What are you —”
Morgan stormed into the Armory and spat a word at Arthur that would have gotten him three days of detention or his mouth washed out with soap.
“Goodness, Morgan,” said Vassalus. “Do you eat with that mouth?”
She shrugged unapologetically.
“Probably kisses her mother with it, too,” Lexi sniped.
“I would — if she wasn’t dead.”
Arthur didn’t know how to respond to that, and apparently no one else did either. He glanced at Morgan and the others, then returned to his search.
“Arthur, what are you trying to do?” Morgan asked with exasperation. “And why?”
“I’m trying to find my mother’s gear … to see if the dream I had was something that actually happened.”
“It was most likely just a dream, darling,” Lexi said, “a drea
m that recalled some random things from your past.”
Light poured out of the locker for Companion #2, and Arms, who was now standing in front of it, gestured toward it. Arthur hurried over. He touched the glass door, but it didn’t open. That didn’t matter, though. Inside sparkled the silver cloak his mother had worn, hanging alongside the circlet with the ruby and her special gloves. All the normal companion gear and armor was there as well.
“It was real,” he muttered. “Morgan, I saw my mother in the dream, and this was what she was wearing.”
She stepped up and whistled. “Wow, that cloak is amazing.”
“It lets you turn invisible if you put the hood up. I think you have to keep still too, though.” Arms gave him a thumbs-up, which was always his way of saying yes. “Each glove can project an energy knife, while the circlet makes these rays that can mesmerize your enemies.”
Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t remember any of this until the dream?”
He shook his head. “It wasn't just a dream. It was a specific memory of … well, I think it was the last time I saw her. I was really young, and she, my mother, hit me with the rays from her circlet. She told me if nothing else, I would one day remember that afternoon and her telling me that she loved me. I didn't remembered any of it until today.
“My mother was going off on a mission, deep undercover. She was afraid she wouldn’t make it back. My father was there, too, and he had his sword, Bright-Cage. I saw him use it — he was amazing. I’m nowhere near as powerful as I should be. I can’t even do a fraction of what he could. He fought the takaturio like we did plus five other monsters in the Training Room. And he toyed with them; they were nothing to him. When he had to quit fighting suddenly, he summoned this giant, glowing triskelion in front of him. It flashed once, and the creatures were turned back into smoke instantly.”
Morgan turned to Arms. “Is that possible?”
Arms gave a thumbs-up, and Valet nodded.
“Wowza,” Morgan muttered.
Arthur put his hands on the case and peered inside. This was the closest he had felt to his mother in a long, long time. He had always thought about his dad more, just because for so long he had thought his dad might come back for him while his mother couldn’t. Everyone had told him she had died.
“You know what’s weird,” he said, furrowing his brow, “I don’t remember my mother’s funeral.”
“Well, you were really little, right?” Morgan said.
“I was three, maybe almost four, so you’d think I’d remember at least a little something about it. I’ve never been to the cemetery, and Grandma has never mentioned it.”
“Well, if your mother was killed on another planet while undercover,” Vassalus said, “then your family might not have a body to bury.”
“But how would they know she was dead?” Arthur asked. “They didn’t know anything about the Manse. Grandpa Nelson might’ve. Mother said he knew a little bit about what was going on, and he seemed to know something about the device over my heart. But the others didn’t know anything. What could my father tell them to convince them my mother was dead but that there was no body to bury?”
“What did they tell you she died from?” Morgan asked quietly.
“Rock-climbing accident.”
“Huh,” she replied. “That really doesn’t make a lot of sense. But maybe you just don’t remember the funeral, and your grandparents couldn’t bear to talk about it.”
“Maybe … Arms, Valet, do you guys know anything about this?”
Both shook their heads. Of course, they didn’t. The Manse’s memory had been wiped clean after Arthur’s father had died, and the Aetherian who powered the Manse had died just getting it to Arthur. So the servitors had all just been rebooted to clean slates. All they knew was how to do their jobs.
“I wonder if that was her last mission … if that’s when she died …”
Morgan touched one of the cases, but it would neither light up nor open for her, either. “If your mother had a cloak that could turn her invisible, and a mind control gem, that stuff would be super useful. Why can’t we use it, too?”
Arms approached her and gestured for her to take off her gloves. She did, and Arms gave them to Arthur. Though they were tight, he managed to slip them on. They didn’t glow or hum. He pressed the gems together to activate the force field, the same way Morgan did, by putting his wrists together, but nothing happened — nothing at all.
“So,” Morgan said, “they’re attuned to a specific wearer, and the Manse figures out which set of gear is appropriate for a companion?”
Arms gave a thumbs-up.
“Huh,” she replied. “Why does it work like that instead of … wait, never mind, you can’t talk so you can’t really answer that, and even if you did, it might not make sense, and then I’d just be irritated about it.”
Lexi giggled, and while Morgan shot her a dirty look, Vassalus looked away, almost certainly suppressing a laugh.
Now that Arthur felt certain it was a real memory, and the excitement of remembering, really remembering his parents wore off, the shock and horror that had woken him came rushing back. Chills rushed along his skin, and his heart began to race. As the truth sank in, Arthur’s knees buckled, and he sat down hard on the floor. Morgan knelt beside him, an unusually comforting gesture for her, and said, “Arthur, you’re shaking. Is it … is it about your mother dying?”
He shook his head. “There was another person there — that day, with my parents. A man they trusted with their lives … a man they trusted to look after me. He was nice. My mother called him my uncle and I sat in his lap. He said he would protect me if anything ever happened to my parents. He swore he would. They believed him.”
“Who, Arthur?” Lexi asked, rubbing her head along his arm and settling in beside him, trying to comfort him.
“His name was Kjor and … and he’s the warlock in the Inner Sanctum.”
“The warlock?!” Morgan said. “How can that be?”
“I — I have no idea.”
“Are you sure it was him?” Vassalus asked.
“Certain. I recognized his voice, but didn’t figure it out until the end of the dream — that’s what woke me up. I saw him, and he was an alien with slate blue skin and no earlobes, and at the end, he spoke directly into my mind.”
“What if the dream was the warlock playing with your mind, like before,” Morgan suggested. “Maybe he pulled up some forgotten memories and used them against you.”
“Maybe,” Arthur admitted. He doubted it though. The dream had felt so real. “But what would be the point? I think he'd save his tricks till we fought him.”
“You know, maybe he was a good guy, and then something went wrong with him,” Morgan said.
“I don’t know,” Arthur replied. “I just don’t know anything.”
Lexi stood straight up and puffed her whiskers out demonstrably. “Well, I know one thing — wait, I know two things. First of all, you both need a good breakfast, and a shower wouldn’t hurt. You stink. And second, it’s time we got some answers to our questions. Let’s start exploring the rest of this Manse and see what we can find out on our own. There are bound to be other things here that can help us.”
“Alexis, my dear,” said Vassalus, “I think you just listed three things.”
“I most certainly did not,” she countered, starting an argument that was likely to go on for some time.
3
Rooms for None
Still feeling unsettled, Arthur trudged out of the Armory with the rest of the group. He couldn't help wondering: if his parents’ friend Kjor — he was pretty certain that part at least was an actual memory — really was the warlock, what did that mean? Had he betrayed them? Or had he turned bad later, after they were already dead?
“Wow!” Morgan stopped so suddenly that Arthur stumbled and nearly fell over Lexi to avoid running into her. Morgan hated being touched, and he expected her to snap at him, or at least glare, for getti
ng so close. But she was too busy gaping at the Grand Hallway.
The long hallway certainly was grand: from the polished floors and mahogany walls to the cathedral ceilings. Ornate lanterns lit the space and made the golden doorknobs sparkle. Along each wall, about every twenty feet, stood a door with a golden plaque on it. Glittering white statues sat in niches, and huge tapestries and paintings hung along the walls. At the far end was the Inner Sanctum and the warlock.
But it wasn't like they had never seen the Grand Hallway before. Then Arthur noticed what exactly had captured Morgan’s attention. He followed her gaze up and up and up to the soaring ceiling. Detailed mosaics covered the spaces between the arching supports. Each one showed a different scene featuring a Multiversal Paladin and their companions. Some were epic battle scenes, but some were clearly treaties and celebrations. As Arthur moved, the light glinted off them, making them seem alive.
“Wow!” Arthur said, echoing Morgan’s exclamation.
After their last battle, when they had cleared the Grand Hallway of shades and wraiths, they had looked around briefly. But they had been too exhausted, beaten to a pulp, and worried about Lexi, Vassalus, and the servitors to pay much attention to the details or explore any of the rest of the house. After doctoring their injuries as best as they knew how, they had gone to the Kitchen, searching for food. They had found peanut butter and jelly sandwiches (and in Morgan’s case, just peanut butter, since she thought mixing the two was a travesty) waiting for them on the Kitchen counter, and inside the fridge was a pitcher of lemonade and two old-fashioned, glass bottles of Coke.
After eating, they had crashed in the Smoking Lounge and slept the rest of the day and through the night, till late the next morning. No one had had the energy to do more than tend their wounds, fix more sandwiches, and nap the next day. (They found bread, peanut butter, and chocolate bars in the pantry, and there was jelly in the fridge with more drinks. Otherwise, the Kitchen was completely empty of food.)
The Warlock's Gambit (The Arthur Paladin Chronicles) (Volume 2) Page 2