The Invisible Tower

by Nils Johnson-Shelton

  To Artie and Kay, it was undoubtedly the coolest thing they’d ever seen.

  The book taught them how to attack and defend, how to position themselves properly, and how to move their feet so they could most effectively slice their opponent to bits while avoiding the same fate for themselves.

  And then there was what Cleomede taught Artie and Kay all on its own.

  For one, Cleomede had feelings and passed them on to whoever was holding it. When it sliced through the burlap, they felt each strand of the sack breaking along its edge; when it cut through the water in the plastic bottles, they knew if it was warm or cold; when it sailed through the hay, they could tell if it was grass or clover.

  Another cool thing was that no matter how long they worked with it, they never got tired or achy or run-down. It was like it refreshed them—the harder they practiced, the better they felt.

  Then there was the fact that it could cut through just about anything. It effortlessly sliced through empty bottles that a stiff breeze would have knocked over; it chopped wood like it was made of butter; it cut a glass bottle in two without shattering either half; it also severed a steel fire poker pretty dang easily.

  “This thing is freaking awesome,” Artie said after halving the poker.

  Kay wasn’t about to deny it.

  As they practiced over the course of the week, Kynder drifted in and out of the yard, being careful not to get in their way. He never criticized anything they did. He cleaned up after them without complaining, and replaced their targets with new ones whenever asked. He was so at ease with all the mayhem Cleomede had brought into their yard that, by midweek, Artie and Kay started to feel guilty about making Kynder do all the silly things they’d made him do.

  At one point, as he reconstructed the burlap-and-wood dummy for the twentieth time, Kynder turned to Kay with a puzzled look and asked, “Can you remind me again what it is you’re doing, Kay?”

  Kay smiled at her father and said, “Sword practice, Kynder. We’re learning how to use our invisible sword, Cleomede.”

  “Oh yes. I’m sorry, I’d forgotten.”

  Again Kay felt a little bad, but there you have it.

  On Thursday after breakfast Artie informed Kynder that he’d need to take them to Peebles, Ohio, early the next morning to visit Serpent Mound. Then Artie and Kay decided to try cutting some really crazy things.

  First they tried soft things like string, cloth, paper, and plastic wrap. All of them were cut cleanly, like Cleomede was the world’s sharpest razor.

  Cutting a piece of Saran wrap with a slow swing of the blade gave Artie an idea. He wanted to see if he could slowly push the sword through hard objects. They tried a log. It worked. They tried a cinder block. Ditto. Finally Kay got an ancient desktop computer from the garage and she very effortlessly and very slowly pushed their magical sword right through it to the hilt.

  Impressed, Artie said, “Nice work, Sir Kay!”

  Kay yanked Cleomede cleanly from the computer and said, “Sir Kay! I like that.”

  “Sir Kay it is then. I shall knight you once we’ve procured Excalibur,” Artie said in his most kingly voice.

  “Excellent, my liege.”

  Kay handed Artie the sword, and he started to flip it in the air, catching it by the blade and then the grip. He felt great, and fearless, and powerful.

  “Ahem. What is going on back here?”

  Apparently they felt so good that they hadn’t noticed Qwon standing at the open gate behind their house.

  Kay and Artie snapped around. Cleomede was in the air, and when Artie didn’t catch the sword, it righted itself and landed point down in the earth. It wagged back and forth as its energy dissipated into the ground.

  “Qwon!” quacked Artie.

  Qwon Onakea stepped into the yard, a hand on her hip and a confused look on her face. She wore khaki shorts and an Amar’e Stoudemire Knicks jersey.

  Qwon was a huge Knicks fan.

  Kay tried to play it cool. “Hey, Qwon, how’s it going?”

  “Uh, fine.” She took a few steps into the yard.

  “How long have you been standing there?” Kay wondered.

  “About ten minutes,” she said incredulously.

  “Wow. Okay.”

  “Yeah, ‘wow’ is right. Wow is, in fact, sticking into the ground next to Artie.”

  Artie coughed. “What do you mean?”

  Qwon pointed directly at the sword. “That! That sword!”

  “Oooohhhh, that,” cooed Artie.

  “Don’t play dumb with me, Artie Kingfisher,” Qwon said. “You have a sword, and from what I can tell, you … you … you look like you know how to use it!”

  Artie mumbled something, trying to play it off, but Kay figured what the hey and pulled the weapon out of the ground. She gave it a few whistling swings through the air. “Pretty neat, huh?”

  “I’ll say,” Qwon said. “Can I try?”

  Kay looked to her brother. Artie smiled at his sister and nodded.

  Kay turned back to Qwon and said, “Sure, Q, here ya go.”

  Qwon took the sword and held it in front of her. Then she dropped into an attack position and whipped it through the air.

  Artie shook his head and said, “You sorta look like you know what you’re doing there, Qwon.”

  “Of course I do! My grandpa is a kendo expert—that’s, like, Japanese sword fighting, except they use a bamboo sword instead of a metal one—and he taught me a bunch of stuff.” She swung the sword again and looked at it approvingly. “This is a good blade, guys.”

  Kynder came from the house carrying a tray with a pitcher of lemonade. He put it on the patio table and said, “Hey, Qwon!”

  Forgetting the weirdness of the situation, Qwon looked up and said, “Hey, Mr. Kingfisher!” Then she remembered that she was holding a sword. She looked at Kynder, who was pouring out drinks. Then she turned to Artie and asked under her breath, “He doesn’t mind that you’re playing with this thing?”

  “Uh, no.” Artie said lamely.

  “Yeah,” Kay tried to explain, “it’s kinda like he doesn’t even see it. I think he’s in denial or something.”

  Artie went to get some lemonade. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this development. How could Qwon see the sword? Why could she see it? Was Qwon supposed to be one of his new knights of the Round Table? He wasn’t sure he wanted that. He really liked Qwon and didn’t want to feel like he was putting her in any kind of trouble.

  Then again, she did appear to know how to use a sword, which was pretty cool.

  Qwon shrugged and jammed Cleomede back into the ground. She went to grab some lemonade and asked innocently, “So where’d you get it, then?”

  Artie and Kay looked at each other and then back at their friend. “Online?” Kay said pathetically.

  “Ha! As if.”

  Artie said, “No, that’s where we got it. You wouldn’t believe how many people are selling swords online!”

  “Really?” Qwon downed her drink as she considered what he said. “I don’t believe you. That thing looks special, you know?”

  “Yeah, we got lucky,” Artie tried to explain.

  “Whatever, Artie. If you just let me take a few more hacks with it, I wouldn’t care if you told me it fell into your hands out of a rainbow.”

  Artie smiled. He pulled the sword from the ground, took it by the blade, and presented it pommel first to Qwon. She grabbed it, stepped back, and gave it a few rips through the air.

  Artie swore that he’d never seen her smile so big.

  10

  ON MEETING THE VORPAL BUNNY AND VICTOR X. LANCE

  They spent the rest of the afternoon hanging out, drinking lemonade, teasing Kynder, and acting like normal kids on summer vacation.

  If kids playing with a medieval magical sword could be called normal.

  Qwon left shortly before dinner. The Kingfishers ate and turned in early. They had a big day ahead of them.

  The ride to Peebles the next
morning was pretty boring, except for the weather. It was like the sky was schizophrenic: it alternated between bright sun and ominous storm clouds that looked as though they were about to unleash a cascade of fierce, earth-cracking lightning.

  But the lightning never came.

  They arrived at Serpent Mound State Memorial after lunchtime. They parked and got out their picnic stuff. Artie slung Cleomede over his shoulder, and they searched for a place to eat. The weather had decided to stay nice, and by the time they dug into their sandwiches, it was a steamy summertime afternoon.

  The plan, arranged between Artie, Merlin, and Thumb on the Otherworld message boards, was to rendezvous at five o’clock in the woods just north of Serpent Mound’s head. Merlin had assured Artie that Kynder would be sleeping on account of being full and happy—but also on account of a little magic.

  Right on cue, at precisely four forty-five, Kynder said, “Guys, I’m pooped. Do you think it’d be okay if I conked out for a few minutes?”

  Kay, unable to contain her anticipation, said excitedly, “Oh sure, Kynder!”

  Kynder gave her a sidelong glare and, for a brief moment, seemed to be completely aware of what was going on. Then his face softened and he smiled. Artie thought he looked like an amnesiac who’d remembered and then forgotten his own name. It made both Artie and Kay a little sad—they wanted their old Kynder back as soon as possible.

  Kynder settled against a tree and said, “Great. Thanks, guys. Just fifteen minutes or so, all right?”

  “You got it, Kynder,” Artie answered.

  “Yeah, don’t worry about us. We’ll stay out of trouble!” added Kay, knowing she was definitely lying.

  Kynder closed his eyes and instantly fell asleep.

  Artie grabbed Cleomede, and they made their way to the serpent’s head along a paved walkway.

  A small brown river to the west of the mound babbled along pleasantly. Beyond that was a large cornfield. All around was postcard-perfect rural America—big old oaks and maples and ashes and beeches dotted rolling hills with small farms. It was picturesque countryside, and the last place one might expect to find a portal to earth’s sister world.

  They got to the snake head and milled around while they waited for a family of four to clear out. When the family finally left, it was just past five. Artie and Kay exchanged a look of mutual assurance and moved into the woods to the north.

  The woods were very thick and dark. They hadn’t walked ten paces before the snake-head clearing was out of sight. The little river had gone totally silent. And the light in the west was weak and orange among the trees.

  “So where’d the little guy say he was supposed to meet us?” asked Kay.

  Artie concentrated on his feet. He said, “Five more paces if I’m counting right.”

  They took five steps and stopped. They found themselves in a little depression, the ground choked with gnarled roots. The air was still and heavy.

  “Thumb? You here?” Artie asked of the trees.

  No response.

  “Mr. Thumb?” Kay called.

  Still nothing.

  A branch snapped to their right. Artie jumped and swung Cleomede from his shoulder in a smooth motion. He gripped it loosely, as the book had instructed, and held it slightly to his side, point up, ready to strike.

  Then a high-pitched wail echoed through the undergrowth. They looked in its direction, where they saw a large brown jackrabbit hopping from behind a birch trunk. It reared like a mighty stallion and wailed again. Neither Artie nor Kay had ever heard a rabbit before.

  The small beast settled, and that was when they noticed something wrapped around his head.

  Kay pointed and asked, “Are those reins?”

  Before Artie could answer, two miniscule hands parted the jackrabbit’s long ears and there, framed between them, was the beaming face of little Mr. Tom Thumb. “Hello, good sir and madam!” he proclaimed.

  Kay chuckled nervously and said, “Tom, you scared the you-know-what out of us!”

  “Aha! Not too often you get spooked by a screaming jackrabbit, is it?”

  Artie said, “Nope.”

  “Well, this is my steed, Vorpal.”

  In addition to the battle-ax, Artie’s video game character Nitwit had a vorpal blade in Otherworld, and he found the contrast pretty funny. “A vorpal bunny, huh?”

  “Quite, lad. He’s got vicious teeth—”

  “—and he can jump!”

  This voice came from behind them, giving them a start. Artie twirled around, Cleomede at the ready in front of him.

  Standing in the trees was someone who looked vaguely familiar to Artie. He wrinkled his brow and asked, “Who are you?”

  The young man cleared his throat and said, “Victor X. Lance, cab driver and archer, among other things.” He bowed as he added, “And I am at your service.”

  “No offense, but you look pretty ridiculous!” Kay blurted.

  And this was the honest truth. Victor Lance, who looked to be about twenty, wore high-top leather moccasins, leather and chain-mail pants, a camouflage hunting shirt under a black bulletproof vest, and a green felt Robin Hood–looking hat with a big pheasant feather sticking out of it.

  The silly hat wasn’t the only merry prankster-ish thing he had, either. In his right hand was a huge compound bow that was all strings and pulleys. It was decorated with a patriotic motif, like American flags and screaming eagles. Slung over his back was a quiver of very long arrows with very ornate feather fletchings, and strapped to his waist was a commando-style buck knife.

  Artie still couldn’t place him. “Where do I—”

  “Cincinnati. I was your cab driver. I tried to be friendly, but you were pretty preoccupied.”

  Kay turned to her brother and asked, “Artie, you know this guy?”

  “Not really. But I remember him now. He’s who he says he is.”

  Artie lowered Cleomede, and Kay shook her head. To the list of crazies they’d met over the last week, they could now add a militiaman taxi hack from Cincinnati. Why not? Weirder things happened. For instance, they also knew a miniature man who rode a rabbit.

  Thumb interjected and said, “Artie, Kay, Mr. Lance is a friend and ally to myself and Merlin, and he will be the same to you. Quite a resourceful chap. He knows a little about you and a fair bit more about the Otherworld.”

  “It’s, like, one of my hobbies, you know? Along with archery, I just can’t get enough of the Otherworld. It’s a long story, but I kinda found out about it on my own. Got pretty obsessed. Did a bunch of arcane research all over the place, and that led me to the Invisible Tower and old Lyn—I mean Merlin. Still getting used to calling him that.”

  “You’re telling me,” Artie said. Kay nodded.

  Lance continued, “Anyway, I’m a tough kid and good in a fight. Was in Iraq with the Hundred and First before getting an honorable discharge two years in. Can’t hear in my right ear and I only got one lung. I can’t travel with you to the Otherworld. We can’t figure out why, but for now only kids and people like Thumb, who’s originally from the Otherworld, can go back and forth. So my job is to stay here and watch the portal to make sure no one messes with it.”

  Artie and Kay looked at each other and shrugged. Sure, why not?

  “I won’t let you guys down.”

  As they were hashing this out, Thumb had arranged a strand of silver thread in a wide circle on the ground. Inside the circle were him, the rabbit, Artie, and Kay. Outside the circle stood Lance.

  Thumb bounded over to their new friend and handed him the free end of the thread. Lance removed an arrow from his quiver, tied the thread to it, and nocked the arrow to his bowstring. He pulled the string to his shoulder and aimed into the canopy.

  He let go, and the arrow zinged through the air. It hit its mark with an impressive thwack.

  Suddenly there was a sparking electrical sound, and then a pale see-through curtain encircled all but Lance. The archer said, “I’ll be here when you get back! Good
luck!”

  And before they knew it, the dark forest was no more.

  11

  IN WHICH THE PARTY ENJOYS A QUIET LITTLE PADDLE ON THE LAKE

  A blinding flash of light came and went.

  They stretched their faces and rubbed their eyes and when they recovered, they found themselves on the road that Artie had strolled along with Bercilak, the green knight.

  “Everyone all right?” Thumb asked.

  “Yep,” said Artie.

  “A-OK, Shorty,” affirmed Kay. “But whoa—what happened to you and your rabbit?”

  As before, Thumb had grown two feet taller. His rabbit had followed suit. He was now as big as a medium-sized mutt. At that size, his teeth really did look pretty vicious.

  “I’m bigger here,” Thumb explained. “Vorpal, too.”

  “I can see that. And you have a sword, too.”

  Thumb patted the sheathed sword on his belt. “Ah yes, the Welsh wakizashi. An old friend.”

  “Great, so I’m the only one without a weapon,” Kay said.

  “Yes, for the time being, but don’t worry. Cleomede will be yours soon enough. Artie—do you know where we are?”

  Artie dug his compass from his pocket and flipped it open. “Yeah. Let me just get our bearings.”

  He held the compass level to the ground. The needle swirled around in both directions before grooving into the magnetic field. Maybe it had had a tough time crossing over too.

  Artie pointed Cleomede in the direction he thought was right and said, “It’s this way.”

  “Very well, lad. And remember something—Cleomede is perfectly visible here. More than a few are likely to recognize her on sight. You’re no longer anonymous like back home.”

  “Got it,” Artie said.

  They started off and didn’t talk because there was so much to take in.

  The trees were huge. Their trunks were measured in yards rather than feet. Artie figured they must be the oldest trees he’d ever seen. Many of the flowers along the edge of the road looked like flowers from back home, but then there were tons more that Artie had never seen. There was a green flower in the exact shape of a butterfly; an orange poof that looked more cloud than flower; and a flat brown one that was a perfect square.