Though the Baron did not hold an official membership in the Templar Knights, the Grand Council had unanimously selected him to direct Iron Bridge Academy. He accepted on the condition that he would maintain his role as Max’s mentor—a position he had inherited from Olaf Iverson, and one he took with deadly seriousness.
“Before we begin,” Baron Lundgren commenced, “I would like to take a moment of silence to remember our friends and family who fell at the hands of our enemies. This has not been an easy year, and as you can see, there are many empty seats in this auditorium—seats that should have been filled with bright minds. Let us remember them now.”
As the room fell silent, a knot formed in Max’s stomach. He considered looking around to see if anyone was glaring at him because of his father, but he decided it was better not to know.
“Our survival was fortunate, but it cannot be taken for granted. Every moment that passes gives our opponents an advantage, and I expect each of you to consider that as you approach your studies. Those who fell to protect your freedom would expect nothing less.”
Determined faces filled the auditorium as the Baron continued.
“Our sister schools in Stirling and Antioch, Carthage and Novgorod, Rome and Jerusalem, have all sent us their well wishes. Many of you have come to Iron Bridge from those academies. Know that you were hand-selected to be a part of this historic launch. Welcome, and well done!”
There was a wave of applause.
“As you can see,” the Baron continued, “much of our campus is still under construction. Though you may be curious to gauge the progress, the Construction Zones are strictly off-limits to students.”
He let his words sink in before continuing.
“Also, I do not recommend that you leave the safety of our campus without an escort. For those who haven’t been to New Victoria before today, sections of the city can be a bit dangerous. However, the mayor has offered his full support to our endeavors, and for that, we thank him.”
“Lastly, you will be expected to behave with discretion when you are in civilian cities, such as Avalon. Templar matters are meant for the Templar only. Guard your tongues as you walk in their streets. The less they know, the more freedom we will have to protect them.”
Max had never been comfortable with all the secrecy surrounding the Templar. Whatever they did and wherever they went was shrouded in mystery. Getting a straight answer was almost impossible, and it didn’t look like that was going to change anytime soon.
“Now on to a more pleasant topic,” the Baron continued. “As you know, each spring the Templar academies come together to crown the Round Table champion and—” Before he could finish his sentence, the crowd erupted in cheers. The Baron seemed to enjoy the enthusiasm, and he let it play out before continuing.
“The varsity qualifying tournament will take place in December. Sixty-four of you will compete for eight positions, as well as the traditional four alternates. But I must confess”—he paused with a grim look, though his eyes had a mischievous light about them—“the other academies are skeptical of our ability to challenge them…”
Cheers quickly turned into boos and foot stomping.
“I, for one, share your opinion,” Baron Lundgren said, calling the assemblage to quiet as he raised his hands. “We may not be at full strength, but with the highest-rated junior duelist in the world, we have a legitimate shot at the title.”
He motioned to Xander Swift, and the crowd erupted in cheers. Frustrated, Max watched as Xander stood and waved to the crowd. And that’s when he realized who Xander reminded him of… his own father, the notorious Lord Sumner!
Xander had that same easy way with people, entrancing them with his charm. As Max connected the two, his dislike for Xander grew.
“Lastly,” Cain said as Xander sat down, “I want to tell you how proud I am of each of you. You have earned your place at Iron Bridge, an institution that has graduated some of the most gifted men and women in our history. I have no doubt that you will uphold their legacy as you study to become our future leaders and heroes—and our world has never needed heroes as much as it does today. Congratulations and welcome.”
12
CHANGELING QUARANTINE
“Look at that,” Harley called out as the Griffins left the auditorium. He had stopped at a picture window that allowed a full view of New Victoria beyond the walls. Airships hovered over what looked like a sprawling replica of nineteenth-century London. There were spires that shot up to dizzying heights, ringing bell towers, bristling smokestacks, and cobblestone streets that wove like spidery veins through a cluster of dark roofs that seemed to go on forever. The sidewalks were packed with strangely dressed figures hurrying to their destinations.
“Who lives there?” asked Ernie as he watched an airship slip overhead, casting the window in shadow.
“Humans, faeries, and everything in between,” Brooke replied. “It’s a port city, so it gets a lot of strange visitors—and some of them aren’t very friendly. Unless you know what you are doing, you could end up getting stuffed in a sack and hauled away to scrub the decks of a pirate airship.”
Ernie’s mouth fell open.
At that moment a trail of sparkling dust flittered across the hall before coming to rest near Brooke’s shoulder. Like Max, she had a Bounder Faerie. The pixie was dressed in a gossamer gown of orange and adorned with gaudy jewelry. Though she was six inches tall, Honeysuckle could be vicious. The pixie folded her arms in annoyance as several giggling girls walked by and pointed at her. If it weren’t for Brooke, Max had no doubt that Honeysuckle would have turned them into slugs. With the exception of Brooke, Honeysuckle didn’t appear to be terribly fond of humans.
“So where’s Sprig?” asked Brooke.
Max shrugged. “As far as I know, she could be off chasing a butterfly in Kansas or snorkeling in San Diego.”
Natalia sighed. “You really need to discipline her, Max. She’s supposed to watch over you, but she can’t do that if she’s never around.”
“You can’t discipline a faerie.” Brooke laughed. “They aren’t pets. You just have to take them as they are.”
“Are there other kids here with Bounders?” asked Max, looking down the hall.
“A few,” Brooke replied.
“Look,” Natalia said, pointing to her watch. “We have to hurry, or we’re going to be late for homeroom.”
With that, the five of them set off with books in hand, heading around a corner and down a long hall that was lined with busts of past instructors atop marble pedestals. Ernie stopped at one that had shoulders and a neck but no head. “Who is this guy supposed to be? The Headless Horseman?”
Brooke shrugged. “I think his name was Strife, or something like that anyway. The teachers don’t like to talk about him for some reason.”
As they neared their homeroom, they found two instructors locked in a dispute. The tall one was none other than Dean Nipkin. Her bony finger was pointing in accusation at her colleague who, as Brooke informed them, was their homeroom teacher, Ms. Merical. The dean was clearly the aggressor, but Ms. Merical didn’t look like she was ready to back down.
The Griffins moved behind a statue to watch the argument from a safe distance. As they did, Max caught sight of a boy hiding behind Ms. Merical’s skirt.
“Hey, that’s Robert!” Ernie exclaimed in a hushed tone. “But what’s wrong with his legs?”
It looked like Robert’s shoes had somehow become a part of the floor. He was literally rooted to the spot.
“He must be a changeling, too.” Ernie smiled.
“…and I am telling you that boy cannot be allowed into your class!” Dean Nipkin continued. “He’s not like the others, and you can’t treat him as such. There are rules here, Ms. Merical. Changelings belong under my supervision, and I would appreciate it if you could ensure that Robert Hernandez is escorted to Sendak Hall in due haste.”
Ms. Merical offered a cherubic smile. “Fortunately for Robert, his sch
edule dictates otherwise.” She held out Robert’s papers as incontrovertible evidence.
The dean snatched the schedule from Ms. Merical’s hand. After a moment of study, she stuffed it into her pocket. “I can assure you this was a mistake. At Iron Bridge, we don’t mix humans and changelings. Not anymore. There have been incidents, Elaine.”
Ernie’s mouth dropped open. “What’s that supposed to mean?” he whispered.
“I am well aware of our history,” Ms. Merical countered. “However, Robert’s schedule puts him under my care. Unless Baron Lundgren instructs otherwise, he is going to stay right here.”
At that moment, one of the instructors ran up to the dean and began whispering in her ear.
“What do you mean, one of the changelings disappeared? Is this some kind of practical joke?” she asked with fury. “Stephen was under constant supervision. Your supervision, I might add. How did this happen?”
The discomfited man wiped at his brow. “One minute he was in his room, the next he was gone. The guards never saw him leave.”
“What about the Quantum Cameras?”
“Nothing. I’ve scoured the video. Perhaps he portaled out?”
“Nonsense! All portals have been shut down on campus. You know that. There has to be another answer…” The dean’s veins flashed red against her temples. She turned to Ms. Merical. “It seems we have a runaway, Elaine. We’ll have to continue this discussion later.”
Robert flashed a relieved smile, but he didn’t budge.
“Happy hunting,” Ms. Merical offered cheerily as Dean Nipkin hurried down the hall. Then she turned to wink at Robert. “Why don’t you go ahead and take your seat?”
Robert’s shoes uprooted from the floor, and he bounded into homeroom.
“Welcome,” Ms. Merical said, turning to greet the approaching Griffins. “It’s quite an honor to have the Secret Order of the Grey Griffins and the fabulous Miss Lundgren in my classroom.”
“You know who we are?” Ernie asked, astonished.
“Of course, Agent Thunderbolt.”
Ernie blushed all the way to the tips of his ears.
“What happened with Robert?” Natalia ventured.
“Oh, just a little mix-up with his schedule, that’s all,” Ms. Merical explained.
“It doesn’t sound like Dean Nipkin cares for changelings very much.”
“I’m sure that’s not true,” Ms. Merical countered with a cheerful expression. “She is one of the leading authorities on the subject of changelings. If she has a fault, it’s that she cares too much.”
Just then, a terrible crash shook the hall.
“There goes another ceiling!” Ms. Merical exclaimed as she ushered everyone into the safety of her classroom. “That makes three in the past week.”
The intercom system crackled to life, and the voice of Baron Lundgren’s secretary filled the halls: “Due to unforeseen circumstances, class will be dismissed early today. All students are to make their way to the Zephyr depot in an orderly fashion.”
13
CAUGHT IN THE ACT
Ernie spent the rest of the day drawing up a roster of potential changeling recruits for his superhero team. Natalia decided to use the spare time to log in to the Templar Library with her remote-viewing card. She was hoping for a breakthrough in her investigation. There was plenty of information on Round Table cards and clockworks. In fact, if anything, there was too much. Despite reading everything from game strategy guides to manuals on clockwork protocol, she wasn’t finding any useful information. Meanwhile, Harley and Max waited for nightfall before heading over to the Shoppe of Antiquities.
“Maybe we shouldn’t do this,” Max whispered as they snuck down the alleyway behind the stores on Main Street. He wasn’t worried about getting caught. The sheriff was at the diner having a cup of coffee, and all his deputies had the night off. Max just didn’t want to face the fact that Iver was really gone. An empty store would only underscore that depressing fact.
When Max had heard that Iver was caught in the explosion on the island of Malta, he felt as though he had lost his grandfather all over again. And when Max found out that his own father was responsible for Iver’s death, his entire world fell apart.
“Look, I don’t mind going in by myself,” Harley assured Max. “I just want to take a quick look around. It’ll be five minutes, tops.”
Max shook his head. “If one of us goes, we both go.”
Harley reached up to unscrew the lightbulb hanging over the back door of Iver’s shop. Then he tested the knob, and the door creaked open.
“That was easy,” Harley said as Max pulled out a flashlight.
“It looks like somebody was already here,” Max remarked, sounding concerned.
Books and papers were scattered everywhere. Filing cabinets were half open, and picture frames lay broken on the ground. The haunting smell of Iver’s pipe tobacco still lingered in the room, but most of the knickknacks had been packed away. All that remained were some shredded boxes and overturned cabinets.
“Wait a minute. Did you hear that?” Harley whispered, pointing up at the ceiling.
There was a soft scraping sound followed by a muffled thud. Max instinctively twisted the ring on his finger, and the enchanted metal flowed over his hand to form the Codex Gauntlet. The blue flicker of Skyfire lit on his fingertips, and he moved past the beware of dragons sign that still hung by the staircase.
The knotted door at the top of the steps was ajar, but they couldn’t see anything. The hall beyond was draped in shadow. Harley nudged the door open with his foot, and the boys prepared for an attack that never came. As they stepped into the hallway, the sound of a rapidly ticking clock filtered from a room down the hall.
“It sounds like that brass beetle,” Max whispered.
They traced the sound to a spare room in the back that had been ransacked like the shop below. Chairs were overturned and the contents of boxes were strewn everywhere.
Then Max saw it.
A mechanical creature no larger than a raccoon knelt on the table in the center of the room. It was methodically slashing its metal claws through one box after another, ignoring the boys entirely.
Max lifted his gauntlet and released a torrent of blue flame. The Skyfire shot across the room, enveloping the machine in a nimbus of enchanted energy. The blast would have been enough to drop a Tanker Troll, but the machine wasn’t even fazed. Instead, it simply turned to Max and its eye flashed. Then it leaped through the windowpane in an explosion of glass.
14
HARLEY’S SECRET
It wasn’t long before the sheriff’s sirens were screaming down Main Street. Avalon didn’t have much in the way of crime, and those sirens were going to draw unwanted attention. Max and Harley were in no mood to stick around and answer questions. Besides, who was going to believe that a machine had broken into the Shoppe of Antiquities?
They raced down the stairs, out the back door, and down the alley to a comic-book shop called the Spider’s Web. Max was hoping the owner had stayed late. He was sure that Monti would let them hide out until everything died down. Harley pounded on the door, but unfortunately nobody answered. So the boys hopped on their bikes and tore off down the alley just as an officer with a flashlight rounded the corner.
Max and Harley stuck to the back streets until they hit the long stretch of gravel road that led to the outskirts of town. Thankfully, the moonlight was blanketed by thick clouds; a few minutes later they were safely inside the barn loft behind Grandma Caliburn’s house.
“What was that thing?” asked Max. He was still breathing heavily as he peered through a window to make sure that they hadn’t been followed.
“I have no idea,” Harley admitted. “I’ve read a lot of stuff about robotics, and we’re supposed to be years away from anything that can move on its own like that. Someone must have been controlling it remotely. It’s the only thing that makes sense.”
“So what was it doing in Iver’s shop?�
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“The same thing we were,” Harley replied. “Looking for something that it didn’t find.”
Max sighed as he sat back. “Do you think our lives will ever be normal again? I mean, if I’d never found the Codex…”
“You were going to find it eventually, Max.”
“I don’t know,” Max said with a sigh. “Sometimes I feel like this is just a dream, and that I’ll wake up and everything will be the way it used to be. I mean, Iver is dead because I gave that stupid spear to my dad. I might as well have killed him myself. After my grandpa died, Iver looked out for me like I was his grandson.”
“I know,” agreed Harley. “He did that for all of us.”
“Saturday mornings used to be my favorite time of the week,” Max lamented. “I couldn’t wait to go to his shop. And it wasn’t just about playing Round Table. I miss his stories—” Max paused as he reached back for memories. “Even when it seemed like the world was falling apart, as long as Iver was around, I felt like everything was going to be okay. I’m not so sure anymore.”
“Well, I miss those caramel rolls and the fresh-squeezed orange juice he would give us,” Harley said with a smile.
“And the smell of his pipe.”
“Don’t forget those plaid shirts and his suspenders.”
“And his laugh,” Max added. “I really miss his laugh.”
Harley frowned. “Your dad killed Iver. Period.”
“But—”
“Look, so you’ve messed up a few times… who hasn’t? You were trying to do the right thing. That’s more than a lot of people can say.”
Max regarded his friend closely. Harley had a rough life, but no matter what happened, he never complained. Max wished he could be like that, too.
“What about you?” Max asked. “Do you ever think about your dad?”
Harley shrugged as he chewed a piece of straw. “He’s never coming back, so what’s the point?”
Grey Griffins: The Clockwork Chronicles #1: The Brimstone Key Page 6