The Magic Collector

by Clayton Wood

It took a good hour to clear up all the rubble from Gideon’s Conclave, using large live canvases to scoop up the rocks one-by-one. Luckily the only boulders that had been able to get through the portal were no bigger than it…and Gideon had a few canvases that were just as large, if not larger, than the portal itself. And even after they cleared the rubble from the floor, more rocks spilled in when they took care of the pile blocking the portal. It took some time before no more rocks came through.

  After they were done, it was clear that the Conclave was going to need a lot of repairs. There were dents in the wall opposite the portal, and the floor was pretty well chewed up. Even the bookshelf had sustained some damage.

  But the repairs would have to wait; they had a far more pressing mission to attend to.

  When they peered out of the portal, they found a narrow tunnel made of rubble leading up to the starry night sky above. They climbed their way out – and Myko moon-dashed out – leaving Grandpa in the Conclave…and found themselves standing atop a veritable mountain of rubble.

  The Collector’s castle was gone.

  All around the perimeter of what remained of the castle were Dragonkin soldiers, some standing on the mountaintop, others flying high above. A few of the latter descended toward Bella and Gideon, landing nearby.

  “You are alive, Gideon Myles,” one of them said, clearly relieved. “The Creator…?”

  “Alive and well,” Gideon answered with a weary smile.

  “Then you have done well,” the soldier declared.

  “Not as well as I would have hoped,” Gideon confessed. “The Collector escaped, with a boy and a woman. Did you see them?”

  “Indeed,” the Dragonkin confirmed. “We fought to contain them, but were overpowered.” He shook his head. “They are gone, to the Underground.”

  “Damn,” Gideon swore.

  “Wait,” Bella interjected. “That means Simon can put the Collector in a painting and heal him!”

  “The Collector would never allow it,” Gideon argued.

  “But…”

  “Trust me,” he insisted. “I know my work.”

  “Okay,” Bella agreed. She turned to the Dragonkin. “We’re looking for other survivors. The other man that was with us…his name was Piper.”

  “We shall aid in your search,” the Dragonkin declared. “But thus far we have found no survivors amidst the rubble.”

  The Dragonkin flew off, and Bella, Gideon, and Myko spent hours searching the ruins for Piper, Kendra, Nightmare, and Goo. But by the time the sun peeked above the horizon, they had no success. Bella was nearly sleepwalking by the time Gideon threw in the towel.

  “Bella,” he stated, putting a hand on her shoulder. Her eyes snapped open, and she glanced at him wearily. He shook his head mutely.

  “We can’t stop looking,” she protested, pulling away from him. “They’re out there somewhere. We have to…”

  “Bella, they’re gone,” Gideon interjected. “Myko can’t even find their scent, and he’s combed the rubble twice over.” He sighed. “If they’re here, they’re buried under tons of rock. No one could survive that.”

  “But…”

  “I need rest,” he interrupted. “And so do you. Myko will keep looking while we sleep…and so will the Dragonkin.”

  Bella hesitated, then sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Okay.”

  With a heavy heart, Bella followed Gideon back to the hole leading to the Conclave. But as Gideon started to lower himself down, she froze.

  “Wait,” she blurted out.

  Gideon stopped, turning to face her.

  “What?”

  “I feel something,” she explained. And she did. A faint presence, as if someone were nearby. But somehow far away. It was…strange. She said as much to Gideon.

  “That’s your Familiar,” he realized. Bella blinked.

  “She’s…?”

  “Alive, yes,” he confirmed.

  “But her head was cut off!”

  “Did you feel her thoughts afterward?” he asked.

  “Well, yeah. For a while.”

  “She’s undead,” Gideon theorized. “Maybe she can’t die…not in the traditional sense anyway.

  “She’s here!” Bella realized, turning in a slow circle. “Over there!” she added, pointing at a spot amongst the mountain of debris a few dozen feet away. She sprinted to it, then circled around, trying to pinpoint Nemesis’s exact location. But she couldn’t. The sensation was too vague.

  “You think she’s around here?” Gideon inquired. Bella nodded.

  “Somewhere under the rubble,” she replied.

  “We’ll have to start digging tomorrow,” Gideon decided. Bella gave him a look.

  “We can’t just leave her,” she retorted.

  “She’s not going anywhere,” he pointed out. She put a hand on her hip, shooting him a murderous glare. “Bella, you’re exhausted. I’m exhausted. We’ll do it after a good rest…I promise.”

  She sighed, her shoulders slumping.

  “Alright.”

  They went back to the tunnel leading to the Conclave, easing themselves down to the portal. Grandpa was still there on the bed when they arrived, fast asleep. Bella’s exhaustion returned with a vengeance, the short burst of adrenaline from realizing Nemesis was still alive suddenly spent.

  She slipped in bed beside Grandpa, and within moments she was fast asleep.

  * * *

  When Bella awoke early that afternoon, she was alone on the bed. The bookshelf opposite the bed had been left rotated open, and she went into the closet, opening the door to Gideon’s studio. Gideon was still asleep, using his cloak to float above the floor as he had when they’d traveled to Havenwood what seemed like a year ago. And Grandpa and Myko were nowhere to be found.

  Gideon woke at the sound of the door opening, rolling over to squint at Bella.

  “Oh,” he mumbled, getting up. “Hello Bella.”

  “Didn’t mean to wake you,” Bella apologized. “Want me to…?”

  “No no,” he reassured her, sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “I was actually waiting for you to wake up.” He grimaced, touching his shoulder gingerly. “I’m having a hard time sleeping.”

  “Want me to heal you?” she asked. While she was eager to start digging for Nemesis, Gideon was clearly in pain. He nodded, giving a wry smile.

  “Thought you’d never ask.”

  He pulled off his shirt, then stepped into a canvas Bella placed against the wall. She got to work, mixing her paints, then painting over Gideon’s wounds. She fixed his shoulder, then focused on the wounds to his face, being extremely careful to get the details right. When she was done, she pulled Gideon out.

  “There,” she stated, looking him over. She smiled at him. “Looks good.”

  He turned around…and she saw the hole in the back of his right shoulder.

  “Oh! Right,” she blurted out. Ushering him back into the painting, she fixed his back, then pulled him out again.

  “Much better,” Gideon stated, testing his shoulder out. He smiled at her…and she noticed the chip in his tooth. Back into the painting he went, and this time she finished the job, making him whole once again.

  “Where’s Grandpa and Myko?” Bella asked. “I still have to fix Grandpa’s wrist.”

  “I already did,” Gideon reassured. “Last night, while you were sleeping. He couldn’t sleep because of the pain.” He frowned then, a faraway look on his face. “Myko says they’re searching the wreckage,” he answered, his eyes focusing again. “Let’s go join them.”

  They made their way through the portal and up the tunnel to the surface, and were surprised to see a literal army of Dragonkin all around them…far more than before. They’d clearly organized since the night before, and were continuing to search the wreckage. Some were picking through the rubble, while others were helping to clear it. Grandpa was close by, talking to none other than King Draco himself. When Bella and Gideon approached, Grandpa stopped, t
urning to address them.

  “How’s it going?” Bella asked.

  “Not well,” Grandpa admitted. “The Dragonkin suffered significant casualties…over two-thirds of their army is dead or badly wounded.”

  “Any word on Kendra or Piper?” Gideon inquired. Grandpa shook his head grimly. Gideon sighed, and Bella lowered her gaze, feeling a familiar glumness come over her. She had the sudden urge to go back to bed, to curl up in her blankets and hope that sleep would rescue her from this feeling.

  “We did find something,” Grandpa offered. Bella lifted her gaze to his, and Grandpa pointed far off in the distance, at a silver wolf sniffing at the rubble. She spotted a hint of green beside Myko, and her heart skipped a beat.

  “Goo?” she blurted out.

  She broke out into a run, speeding over the rubble. It was Goo, crawling over the rubble. Large stones were embedded in his gelatinous body; as she watched, he ejected them into a pile, then crawled into a large hole he and Myko were near, enveloping more of the stones. She reached their side quickly, a huge smile on her face.

  “Goo!” she cried.

  Goo’s surface vibrated excitedly, and he extended a human-sized lump of himself to Bella. She hugged it, then let go, frowning at the two.

  “What are you guys doing?” she inquired. And then it hit her. This was where she’d sensed Nemesis earlier! “Did you find her?” she asked excitedly.

  Myko wuffed, pointing his nose at the hole. It was some ten feet in diameter, and equally deep. Goo crawled all the way down to the bottom, absorbing some stones, then crawling back up to eject them.

  He was digging…and doing a rather good job of it.

  Myko barreled down the steep slope to the bottom of the hole, slipping and sliding until he reached the bottom. He dug with his forepaws then, sending small hunks of debris flying. Goo joined him, taking more stones and hauling them out. Being far larger now than when she’d first painted him, Goo made quick work of deepening the hole…and soon it was quite clear what Myko had sniffed out.

  They were bones, Bella realized. And a very familiar skull.

  “Nemesis!” Bella cried.

  She burst forward, sliding down the hole on her butt, then running to Myko when she reached the bottom. There, lying amidst the rubble, was her Familiar’s skull. Somehow, someway, it was intact!

  “Nemesis!” she cried, picking the skull up. Two red lights looked back at her from deep within the dragon’s eye-sockets.

  Hey there, Nemesis greeted.

  “Where’s your body?” Bella asked.

  Couldn’t have gone far.

  “Good point,” Bella admitted. She turned to Myko. “Can you smell them? Her bones?”

  Myko nodded, and he and Goo dug a little further. Sure enough, Nemesis’s body was nearby.

  “How do we…you know,” Bella asked. “Put you together?”

  I assume you put my head back on my spine.

  “Right,” Bella replied. She did just that…and a faint red light seemed to bridge the gap for a split-second. With that, Nemesis’s body came to life…or rather, un-life…and she spread her wings wide.

  That’s better.

  “I’m so glad you’re okay,” Bella said, reaching in and hugging Nemesis’s neck. She felt a pulse of tenderness from the dragon.

  Might want to make me some armor.

  “I will,” Bella promised.

  Make it look awesome.

  “Oh yeah.”

  Like, dark and badass. Needs to be epic.

  “You can help me paint it,” Bella decided. By the emotion Nemesis sent her, the dragon clearly endorsed this plan.

  “Ah, congratulations Bella,” Gideon stated, walking up to the edge of the hole above and peering down at them. “Hello Nemesis.”

  Nemesis flapped her wings, flying upward…and grabbed Bella by the shoulders, bringing her right up to Gideon and depositing her beside her father. Myko moon-dashed out, and Goo crawled right up to join them. Bella noticed a few porcelain shards stuck in Goo’s goo.

  “Is that…?” she asked. Gideon turned to look, and Myko sniffed at Goo just above the shards.

  “They’re from the Doppelganger,” Gideon confirmed. “Better hold on to them, Goo.”

  “So…what now?” Bella inquired, glancing at Gideon. He smiled.

  “How about we go back home?” he answered.

  “To Havenwood?”

  “To Havenwood,” he confirmed.

  And, with the Dragonkin army escorting them, that’s exactly what they did.

  Chapter 53

  The long, winding tunnels of the Underground were cast in a deep purple hue, from the strange light peeking from between the seemingly endless series of doors lining the walls. It’d been hours since Simon had entered the magical series of tunnels, following behind Miss Savage, General Bowen, and a few remaining members of the Collector’s army. The Doppelganger was right behind her, the Collector carried in his Familiar’s arms.

  The great man’s breathing was terribly shallow, his chest barely rising and falling with each breath.

  There was a fork in the tunnels ahead, one leading down and left, the other up and right.

  “Left,” the Collector rasped.

  Miss Savage obeyed his command, taking them down the leftmost tunnel. It wound deeper into the earth, eventually bringing them to a dead-end. A lone door stood at the end of it; this, however, was different than the other doors Simon had seen. It was much larger, with an ornate stone doorframe surrounding it. And, also unlike the other doors, it had a golden keyhole just above the knob.

  They stopped before it, and General Bowen glanced at the Collector.

  “The key?” he asked.

  “Not physical,” he explained. He cleared his throat, reciting the following:

  “Painted worlds stuck in time,

  One world they share,

  For a single person’s frame of mind

  A place called Anywhere.”

  There was a click.

  Miss Savage reached for the doorknob, but the Collector stopped her.

  “Not yet,” he rasped. “Go…after.”

  “After what?” she asked. He grimaced.

  “After I go.”

  “I can still put you in a painting,” Simon offered. “We can find a way to save you.”

  “Put me down,” the Collector requested.

  The Doppelganger obeyed, gently lowering the Collector to the rocky floor. Even so, he cried out in pain as he was set down, clutching at his ruined leg. He took a few gulping breaths, then calmed down. Simon knelt before him, gazing at the Collector. His face was pale, his skin slick with sweat. The Collector gazed back at him, raising his left hand to Simon’s cheek.

  “My boy,” he murmured.

  Simon swallowed, his vision blurring. He wiped away tears, not saying anything. Afraid that if he did, he would break.

  “Take care of her, Simon,” the Collector requested. “Take care of each other.”

  “Sir,” Simon blurted out, tears streaming down his cheeks. His voice cracked. “I can still save you, I can…”

  “You…” the Collector replied with a smile, “…already have.”

  Simon’s eyebrows furrowed.

  “I don’t…”

  “All my adult life I’ve hated Painters,” the Collector admitted. “I dedicated my life to ending their…tyranny. To make a world where…paintings could be real and Painters would be fiction. Like…me.”

  “You’re real, sir,” Simon protested. “You’re more real than anyone I’ve ever met.”

  “I can never be more than what my creator painted me to be,” the Collector retorted gently. “But you, my boy…you’re already more than your father ever imagined you could be.”

  Simon lowered his gaze, swallowed past a lump in his throat.

  “Seek the truth, Simon. In your art, in yourself. In others. The truth will hurt you only once,” the Collector declared, tracing one of the scars on Simon’s cheek. He reache
d down then, pulling up Simon’s sleeve…and exposing the multitude of scars there. “Running from it will hurt you over and over again.”

  Simon nodded mutely.

  “Lie to your enemies if you must, but never to yourself,” the Collector counseled, covering Simon’s forearm once again. “And never to her,” he added, nodding at Miss Savage.

  “Yes sir.”

  The Collector smiled, patting Simon’s cheek gently.

  “No one can ever hurt you again,” he murmured. “Not with what I’ve given you.”

  Simon shook his head, more tears streaming down his cheeks.

  “They still hurt me,” he said in a near-whisper. He grabbed the Collector’s hand, pressing it to his heart.

  “Then bring them to justice, Simon,” the Collector stated. “Take their power from them, like you took your father’s. Not for revenge, but because it’s right. Don’t be the victim that I was. Be a hero.”

  “You are a hero, sir,” Simon replied.

  “No.”

  “You’re my hero,” Simon insisted.

  The Collector smiled, closing his eyes and resting his head back on the rocky floor of the tunnel. His hand slipped away from Simon’s cheek, falling limply to the ground.

  “Sir?”

  The Collector opened his eyes, taking a moment to focus on Simon. His breathing was even more shallow now, his breaths coming so seldomly that Simon wondered whether he was breathing at all.

  “Don’t leave me,” Simon pleaded, leaning over and burying his face in the Collector’s chest. “Please.”

  “Remember what I taught you,” the Collector pleaded.

  Simon nodded mutely.

  “I wish…” the Collector murmured.

  Simon waited, but he said nothing more, laying there with his eyes closed, his mouth partly open. Seconds passed, and Simon realized that he wasn’t breathing.

  “Sir?” he asked, shaking the Collector’s shoulder gently.

  No response.

  “Sir!” he nearly shouted, shaking him harder. The Collector’s eyes opened, and he smile up at Simon, squeezing Simon’s hand.

  “Thank you Simon,” he whispered.

  “For what?”

  “For opening my heart.”