The Invisible Tower

by Nils Johnson-Shelton

  But then Merlin chuckled and said, “Of course real battle, Artie! Don’t worry, for you it will be no more arduous than playing Otherworld. I’ve watched you. You’re quite good at video games.”

  That may have been true, but the fact was that Artie was not a fighter. The idea of battle—which seemed about a million times worse than the idea of a simple fight—scared Artie to no end. He was a kid who had never thrown a retaliatory punch in his life. He had no intention of following this old guy into the depths of his dungeons, or whatever these crazy rooms were, only so he could be led into a full-on fight.

  Check that: a full-on sword fight.

  Artie tried to change the subject, preferring, like he usually did, to ignore his problems. “Kay’s better at video games. Maybe you should be talking to her. Hey, which reminds me—I really need to get out of here.”

  “In due course. Remember, if you want that controller, then you need to let me show you something.”

  “And what exactly is that?”

  “Come. We’re almost there.” The old man spun around and resumed marching through the mysterious rooms.

  Finally they reached the end of the line. The last room’s ceiling was lower by half than the others. Artie had to stoop slightly to keep his head from banging into the heavy wooden joists overhead. The walls were made of large, damp granite stones, and the floor was dirt. Merlin fit in the room without having to bend at all.

  On the far side was a stone wall and a waist-high wooden door with brass bands and hinges and a large brass doorknob right in the middle of it.

  “Here we are,” Merlin said. “The back room. The caboose, as I like to call it. And in the caboose is this very special door. It even has a name—Mrs. Thresher. Depending on what I tell her, she can lead to many different places.”

  “And you want me to go through it?”

  “Precisely. I want you to go through it to a place not far from here called Serpent Mound. Have you heard of it?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, Serpent Mound is a pre-Columbian effigy earth mound constructed by people belonging to what is known as the Fort Ancient culture around 1000 CE.”

  Artie pretended to know what Merlin was saying and said, “Oh yeah, that. Sure, I’ve heard of it.”

  “Good! It’s in Peebles, Ohio, about seventy miles east of Cincinnati. I’ve never been there, but I know a fair amount about it. The main thing for us, and the reason you’ll be going, is that it’s a crossover point.”

  “A crossover point?”

  “Yes. There are thousands of such points around the world, but, with a few exceptions, they have all been shuttered for a very long time.”

  “But crossover to what? To where?”

  “In this case, to the sword in the stone.”

  “The sword in the stone—it’s in Peebles, Ohio?”

  “No, no! Don’t be ridiculous. It’s in the Otherworld.”

  “Like the video game?”

  “Not entirely, but they do bear some similarities, as you’ll soon find out.”

  “I’m sorry, Merlin, but I’m really confused.”

  “Naturally! That’s why we’re keeping your first trip to the real Otherworld short and sweet—and it’s also why I’ll be sending someone with you who possesses a bit of local knowledge.”

  “You aren’t going to come with me?”

  “Afraid I can’t, Artie. I am unfortunately obligated to remain here. But Mr. Thumb has graciously offered to help.”

  At these words Merlin reached behind him and spun a leather fanny pack from his back to his front. Artie couldn’t figure out how he’d failed to notice the bag before, because it was huge and dorky. Most strange was that the front of the bag—the side that faced outward—was perfectly clear, like a little window, and through this window emanated a steady blue light. Merlin opened the bag and stuck his hand inside, but he didn’t fumble or search—he just put his hand in and waited. Then he pulled it out, peeked into it, and said something very quietly in a language Artie couldn’t understand. Finally, Merlin held out his hand.

  In Merlin’s palm stood a miniscule man, no taller than a thumb, dressed in white and carrying a short red cane. He smiled when he said in a voice far larger than his diminished stature, “Hello, Artie! Mr. Tom Thumb at your service. Are you quite ready to make your mark on the world?” Where Merlin’s accent was hard to place, Thumb’s was definitely British.

  “Tom Thumb. Like, the Tom Thumb.”

  “One and the same, my lad, one and the same.”

  “I thought you were from fairy tales—not King Arthur.”

  “Yes, well, my story has been mashed up over the ages. In point of fact, I was and am every bit a member of the Arthurian milieu. Merlin here made me, and King Arthur the First liked me so much he made me a knight of the Round Table!”

  Merlin nodded as Artie mumbled, “Tom Thumb. I don’t believe it.”

  “Do, my lad! Look me up on Wikipedia! It’s all there in black and white!”

  “Uh, okay…”

  “Right! Now, then, give us your hand.” In a daze, Artie did as he was told. The little man jumped from Merlin’s palm to Artie’s. “Let’s go. No time like the present, I always say!”

  Without wasting a beat, Merlin knelt by the door and began chanting lowly. Artie considered the possibility that here people just sat around and talked to doors all the time. Why not?

  He also considered turning tail and running as fast as he could back outside.

  But then Merlin stopped talking and the door began to creak open. Merlin jumped back. Thumb poked Artie’s hand with his cane and said, “Well, let’s go then! Sally forth, lad!”

  And before Artie knew it, he was gingerly cradling a miniature man in one hand as he got down on the other and crawled through a short and magical door named Mrs. Thresher.

  6

  HOW ARTIE AND THUMB VISIT THE SWORD IN THE STONE

  “Put me down, you’re squeezing me.”

  Artie put Thumb on the ground and stood up. They were on a low rise of grass-covered earth surrounded by forest. It was the dead of night, and as this sank in, Artie had a moment of panic. How was it nighttime? Why was he doing this? Just for a stupid game controller?

  No—he was doing it to find out something about himself. Something totally strange, it seemed.

  As if he could read Artie’s thoughts, Thumb said, “Fascinating, isn’t it? Merlin can make some peculiar things happen.”

  “Yeah. I don’t feel so good.” Artie’s stomach started to fill with butterflies.

  “That’s because we just went from day to night. Your internal clock is spinning out of control. Try not to think about it. Now follow me.”

  They took off.

  The air was warm and thick. A full moon hung high in the sky. A breeze whispered through the trees, and a jet droned far overhead.

  As Thumb ran along the grassy hill, Artie realized that it must have been Serpent Mound. It was definitely snake-shaped, and they quickly reached the head, which looked like it was in the process of swallowing a large egg.

  Thumb came to an abrupt stop and said, “Stand there.”

  “Where?”

  “There! You need to get on the eastern foci. I will move to the western one!” Artie didn’t know what a foci was, but he followed the tiny man’s instructions.

  Artie looked down, and a little to his left was a patch of grass illuminated by a lance of bright moonlight. He stepped onto the light and said, “Tom? I think you’re a little bigger.”

  “Yes, I think I am too!” He was now about six inches tall. Thumb looked for the right spot, stopped resolutely, and several things happened at once.

  Thumb grew a foot and a half. He was now about two feet tall, and all his clothes were still perfectly in place. An arc of moonlight shot up from the two spots they occupied, connecting above them. From this fell a delicate curtain of light, and as soon as it touched the ground, Thumb moved from his spot and parted the curtain with
his cane—except that his cane was no longer a cane but rather a curved short sword in a red velvet sheath that looked kind of Asian.

  Thumb said, “Come, lad, through here.” Artie moved next to Thumb, and the little Englishman indicated that he wanted Artie to step through the moonlight arch.

  And so he and Thumb stepped through.

  Now they were somewhere else entirely.

  They were still outside, and it was still night, but there was no moon and it was as black as tar. Thumb produced a mini Maglite from his pocket, turned it on, and took off at a jog. Artie followed, and Thumb started to speak in a fierce whisper.

  “Listen, things are going to happen very quickly. A door between the worlds has not been opened in some time, so we should be ready for company. Hopefully we won’t see anyone, but you never know. You get what you need to get, then we get out.”

  Artie was incredibly frightened. He felt very stupid for following these weird people to wherever he was. But at this point he had to play along. “And what is it I’m supposed to get?” he asked.

  “Why, the sword from the stone, of course!”

  Oh, that.

  They ran over hard ground, following the beam that danced from Thumb’s flashlight. Artie couldn’t make out their surroundings, but they appeared to be on a country footpath. They were running hard when suddenly Thumb stopped. He pointed his sheathed sword into the darkness. Artie froze.

  “Shh!” Thumb hissed.

  Thumb stuck the flashlight in his mouth and silently drew the sword a couple inches from its sheath.

  Artie couldn’t hear a thing. Thumb whispered through clenched teeth, “There!” Thumb swung his light to the center of a grassy circle in which stood a spur of stone about four feet high. Jutting from the top of the promontory was the hilt of a sword. He commanded, “That’s it lad; go and get it!”

  Artie’s heart raced as he felt his blood course through his body.

  He walked quickly to the rock, breaking the beam of light that Thumb had trained on their prize.

  The stone was easy enough to summit. Once on top, Artie straddled the weather-beaten sword and gave it a little kick. It didn’t budge. He bent over and slapped it lightly—still it didn’t move. He stood and looked into the light and said, “It seems pretty in there!”

  “Quiet, lad! Grab the hilt and get on with it!”

  Artie heard nothing but his heartbeat and breath. “Fine,” he snapped. He bent and wrapped his hands around the hilt of the sword. He felt no tingle of destiny, saw no glow of enchantment. This was stupid. The sword was stuck—it might as well have been part of the rock.

  But then he started to stand, and, unbelievably and quite effortlessly, the sword moved!

  It slid out easily.

  So now Artie had a sword. He didn’t feel any different. He certainly didn’t feel kingly or anything. Artie held it in front of him, the point down, and regarded it like a bad report card or glass of spoiled milk.

  He turned to Thumb to ask if they could go now, but before he could say anything, he heard something. Something that made his knees buckle and the back of his neck go cold.

  Thumb’s light moved erratically and then hit the ground, rolling to a stop. Whatever was out there was breaking branches and moving very fast in Artie’s direction. Then Artie heard the sizzle of Thumb’s sword as it was freed from its sheath; Thumb’s grunts off to Artie’s right; the whisk of his sword through the air, followed very quickly by two liquid pops and then a gruesomely muffled crack. The sounds had moved around the edge of the clearing from right to left. Thumb yelled, “Ha!” And then he said, “Behind you, lad!”

  And in that instant Artie heard something take to the air.

  It goes without saying that Artie Kingfisher had never held a sword before, let alone wielded one in an honest-to-goodness fight. But he’d spent countless hours wielding virtual swords, daggers, axes, spears, pikes, crossbows, maces, hammers, and longbows in video games. And with all the gardening the Kingfishers did, he was pretty handy with pickaxes, posthole diggers, and shovels.

  This sword, however, was nothing like a posthole digger.

  As Artie spun to face whatever it was that was flying at him, time slowed and he became keenly aware of a couple things.

  First: this sword was incredibly light, and perfectly balanced, and even felt a little bloodthirsty.

  Second: the thing flying at him was both familiar and horrifying. It was about the size of a Labrador. It had yellow eyes, super-long ruby-red teeth, and green iridescent skin. Its taloned feet strained toward Artie, like an eagle going in for the kill, and its golden claws had to be at least five inches long.

  The sword was still pointed down, slightly across his body, and by now the thing was only a few feet away. Artie reacted and swung the sword in a long arc. It felt like hitting a hanging breaking ball over the fence. The sword sliced the thing’s skin and severed its neck. Through his new weapon, Artie could feel the heat of the creature’s blood.

  Its head sailed over his right shoulder and its serpentine body fell with a thump on his left side, well past the stone.

  Artie had just killed something that was trying to kill him.

  He’d never felt so alive in his life.

  “Ha-ha! Yes!” exclaimed Thumb from the darkness. He jumped into the clearing, retrieved the flashlight, and ran to the stone. “Come down from there, and let’s get going,” he barked.

  Artie was still in shock. “Did I just—?”

  “You most certainly did, my boy!”

  “Was that … was that a dragon?”

  “Righto! Or not a dragon exactly, but a dragoling.”

  “You mean a baby dragon? A baby, uh, green dragon?” For now it was as plain as day that this thing was a small version of Caladirth, the pesky serpent from the Otherworld video game.

  “Aye, lad. Hellish things, aren’t they?”

  “Uh, yeah.”

  “Got two myself over there in the bush.”

  Then Artie thought of something. “Did they have a mom or dad or anything?”

  “Most likely, lad. That’s why we need to wrap this up and get moving!”

  Thumb didn’t need to say that twice.

  Artie hopped from the rock. Thumb produced a short rope and motioned for the sword. Artie handed it to him, and Thumb tied a sash for Artie to carry his new weapon. As he worked he spoke quickly. “Can’t fathom why these things were here. I don’t see why there would be any need to post a guard on the stone…” He handed the sword back to Artie, who slung it nervously over his shoulder. Thumb, still thinking out loud, said, “Bless my stars, these dragolings are very curious, very curious indeed!”

  Thumb turned back around and, judging by the look on his face, seemed suddenly to have forgotten his concern. He looked Artie over and smiled broadly. “The sword—Cleomede—she becomes you, my boy.”

  Artie didn’t really care about that at the moment. “Tom, shouldn’t we get going?” he asked.

  “Oh yes! Of course we should! To the moongate, lad!”

  Thumb wheeled and ran back to the path they’d come up. Artie eagerly followed him.

  As they ran in silence, Artie thought, I just killed something with a sword. I just killed something with a sword. I JUST KILLED SOMETHING WITH A SWORD!

  But then his mind went blank as a sound unlike any he’d ever heard rose up behind them. It was part wail, part scream, part three-alarm fire. He looked over his shoulder and saw a huge green glow light up the trees from where the sword in the stone had been. Artie and Thumb stopped briefly in their tracks. Thumb turned to Artie with a look of terror on his face and yelled, “Quickly, lad, as fast as you can!”

  They took off at a dead sprint, and in spite of being much smaller, Thumb kept up with Artie quite easily.

  The sound behind them changed. It was like a huge machine beginning to turn on, or like a gust of air pushing itself through a massive bellows.

  It was the sound of two wings beginning to flap. />
  “Don’t look back, my boy!” Thumb implored.

  Artie wasn’t planning on it. He saw the moongate ahead and ran fast and then faster. Thumb did the same. They hit the portal at breakneck speed and tumbled through it head over heels.

  Artie looked behind them. There was nothing there. Just the woods surrounding Serpent Mound in Peebles, Ohio, on a beautifully moonlit night.

  “What was that, Tom?” Artie asked, out of breath.

  “That, my boy, was a close shave, wouldn’t you say?”

  “Uh, yeah! But was that really a dragon?”

  “Can’t be sure, but it certainly sounded like one.”

  Artie started to walk away from Thumb, who’d shrunk back to his smallest size. Artie reached over his shoulder to touch the hilt of the sword. It was too much.

  He dropped cross-legged to the ground. Thumb walked to Artie’s feet and rested a hand on his leg. He sighed and said, “I know this is a lot to take in, lad.”

  “I’ll say. These things don’t happen, Tom. I’m talking to a man the size of a baseball… And we just killed three baby dragons… These things don’t happen.”

  Thumb gave Artie a grave look. “Whether you like it or not, these things do happen, and whether you knew it or not, these things have been happening to you your whole life. You did well back there, but trust me, you will have to do more than that before your days are done. I know this isn’t making sense, but it will. I swear to you, it will.”

  Artie took a deep breath and nodded. “All right.” He stood. “Let’s get back to Merlin. I want to get that controller and go back to my family.”

  Thumb nodded. “Of course, lad.”

  They silently made their way along Serpent Mound. When they reached the spot where they’d crawled through Mrs. Thresher, Thumb tapped the ground. It started to glow and very quickly the light became so intense that Artie was momentarily blinded. When the light faded, he found himself back in Merlin’s basement, in the first room at the bottom of the stairs.

  The little man—or fairy or whatever he was—said, “There’s the sink. Why don’t you wash up?” Artie went and splashed his face and forearms. As he did, he noticed something orange swirling down the drain.