The Invisible Tower

by Nils Johnson-Shelton

  Thumb continued, “But we must remain vigilant. If the witch manages to find out where he discovered us and when, we may be in more imminent danger than we think.”

  They continued on in silence, passing a grove of small chestnuts and elms. In due time they came to a wooden sign with gilt lettering. It read in plain, modern English:

  VELTDAM, THE TOWN OF KNOWLEDGE!

  Behind the sign was a small brick building. Past this stood the beginnings of the town, which looked pretty abandoned.

  Just beyond the sign in a small clearing stood a tight group of golden metal rods about ten feet high. They surrounded a very brightly glowing blue pole. At the top of this cluster was a golden upside-down bowl, out of which jutted an antenna-looking thing, and from which extended a cable that stretched to a wooden pole twenty feet away on the right side of the road. The cable went on this way down the road and into the town.

  Artie was reminded of Merlin’s electricity demonstration with Excalibur back at the Invisible Tower. “Are those power lines?” he asked.

  “That’s right, lad,” answered Thumb. “The blue rod has a tiny bit of sangrealite in it. Deep belowground its other end is immersed in a vein of lava. Capacitors and transformers are distributed along the power line as it gets through the town. And that’s quite simply how the whole thing works.”

  “Clean energy in action,” Kay marveled.

  “Indeed, Sir Kay,” Thumb said.

  Suddenly the round door of the building swung open. Two Veltdam guards emerged, scratching their bottoms and heads as if they’d just woken from a nap.

  Finally the guards noticed them. Surprised, the shorter one turned and fumbled with a halberd on a weapon rack. The larger one simply shouted, “Halt!” even though no one was moving.

  The shorter guard stepped forward and lowered his weapon. “Who goes there?” he demanded.

  Kay took one look at them and mumbled, “Tweedledee and Tweedledumb.”

  Thumb stepped forward and said, “Just travelers, friends. No need for alarm.”

  The large one started, “Traveling where—”

  “—might we ask?” the shorter one finished.

  “To the library, we were hoping,” Thumb answered.

  “You are Sylvanian,” the taller one said, indicating Thumb.

  “And that one is too,” the shorter one said, pointing to Bedevere.

  “But where do the younger ones come from?”

  Turned out they really were like Tweedledee and Tweedledum.

  Thumb said, “The children are not Sylvanian, it is true.”

  “Well then—”

  “—where are—”

  “—they from?”

  “I’m sorry but I cannot tell you that,” Thumb lamented, bowing slightly.

  Both recoiled, looked at each other quickly, turned back to the knights, and coughed, “Pfaw!”

  The shorter one pushed the point of his halberd forward so that it was mere inches from Vorpal’s chest. He said, “They wouldn’t be Fenlandian—”

  “—would they now?”

  Everyone turned as Bedevere laughed loudly. He looked so cool—his helmet was off, his hair fell around his shoulders, his hip was thrown out, and his right hand rested lazily on the handle of his claymore.

  A quick flush washed over Kay.

  Bedevere asked, “Fenlandian? Please, brothers. When was the last time you saw a Fenlandian in these parts?”

  The guards scoffed at Bedevere but quickly added, “We have—”

  “—never seen—”

  “—a Fenlandian.”

  Bedevere beamed. “Exactly. And as Sylvanians, as guards no less, wouldn’t you think that if these were Fenland child warriors you would know it? We are all marked in our subtle ways, we can all see from where we hail. Is this not true, brothers?”

  Artie was struck by how glad he was that Bedevere was with them.

  The guards grunted and said, “Well, yes.”

  “Of course you are right.”

  “They are not marked. But where then—”

  “—are they from?”

  “Not Fenland,” said Thumb.

  And then the larger one lowered himself and said directly to Artie, “Tell me, child, where I might find your forebears!”

  The sudden abandonment of the guard’s habit of talking with his partner had a chilling effect, and before anyone could stop him, Artie barked, “Avalon!”

  Why this word came out instead of Pennsylvania or America, or even Earth, was anyone’s guess, Artie’s included. But Artie knew in his heart that it was true. He knew that when he got to Avalon he would be returning there. Shadyside, Pennsylvania was home, but Avalon was in his blood.

  The taller guard’s eyelids tensed and his head turned very slightly to the side. “Perhaps,” he said.

  Thumb seized on this and said, “Yes, perhaps. Have you ever seen one from Avalon?”

  “Of course not. There are not many alive who have ever seen one from Avalon.”

  “No, there are not,” confirmed Thumb. “Do you think you might let us pass now, friend?”

  Before he could answer, the other guard started to ask, “Do you think—”

  But the tall guard cut him off, saying, “Shush! Enough, Larry. The little ones are not Fenlandian, and the other two are Sylvanian, so they shall be granted passage.” This guard seemed to be in charge, and no longer looked even remotely Tweedledum-like. In fact, he now seemed totally terrifying. “Call Lavery and tell him to expect four visitors, plus a large bunny.”

  Larry followed his orders and disappeared into the guardhouse. The remaining guard, still addressing Thumb, asked, “I assume you know where to find the library?”

  Thumb smiled. “Yes; as I recall, you can’t miss it.”

  “No, you cannot,” the guard huffed.

  With that, he went to the side of the house and dropped heavily into a yellow plastic patio chair. He picked up a book, better began to read, and then looked at Artie and his knights, who were watching him curiously. He squinted at them and barked, “Well, on you go then!”

  And they did.

  Many of Veltdam’s buildings—which ranged in shape from normal A-frames to Smurf-like mushrooms—appeared empty. Artie thought that had something to do with the fact that, as Merlin said, there just weren’t that many people in the Otherworld anymore. It was sad—Veltdam was a pretty little town, but it was on its way to being rundown and forgotten.

  But then they arrived at the library, which was the total opposite of run-down and forgotten.

  The Great Sylvan Library was housed in a massive elm tree whose trunk was no less than fifty feet across. This had been converted into a building and had windows and doors, not unlike the front of Artie’s court-in-exile. It was obviously the library on account of the huge, gilt wooden sign saying as much, but also on account of the huge cats that guarded its steps; they resembled the famous lions in front of the New York Public Library on Fifth Avenue, which the Kingfishers had once visited with Kynder.

  Except these cats were totally and completely alive. And like Bedevere’s kitty, they were massive saber-toothed tigers.

  As soon as he saw them, Bedevere said, “Aw, would you look at them. So cute!”

  “Beddy, those are not kittens at a cat shelter, you know!” Kay exclaimed.

  Bedevere put a hand on Kay’s shoulder. She blushed as he said, “Oh, I know they’d rip any of our heads off, but look at them!” The cats squinted and licked their massive paws. Kay had to admit that they were pretty cute.

  Kay and Bedevere didn’t linger too long on the cats, though, because coming down the stairs between them was a greeting party of one.

  He was a very tall, very thin creature that could only be described as a wood elf. His long, ponytailed hair was every color of autumn leaves; his skin was the hue of freshcut pine boards; and his eyes were the vibrant color of fresh spring foliage. He had reading glasses pushed onto his broad forehead and a long nose. He wore blue
jeans and brown loafers and a ragged green T-shirt that read, “Choose Your Weapon!” under which sat a line of Dungeons & Dragons dice of various shapes and denominations.

  Kay could barely believe it. For one, where did he get that shirt? These Otherworld people lived Dungeons & Dragons—they played it too? For a second Kay thought she might be looking at the most ironic T-shirt and T-shirt-wearer combination ever. She choked under her breath and whispered to Artie, “Now that’s a freaking Dr Pepper head!”

  Still, he looked kind of cool—he was an elf, after all. And there was no doubt about this on account of that thing that gives all elves away: his ears. They were so long and pointy that they extended above the top of his head like horns.

  As the knights approached, he smiled in a way that was equal parts welcoming and sinister.

  “Hello, friends! I am Lavery. On behalf of Veltdam, I welcome you!” He held his arms out. Everyone exchanged greetings. Kay went last, and when Lavery got to her, he said with a tone that chilled her spine, “Hello, Sister Kay.”

  For perhaps the first time in her life Kay couldn’t think of a snide comeback.

  “Lovely cats, Sir Lavery,” said Bedevere, not noticing Kay’s discomfort. “I have one myself. A white one.”

  “A white one, eh? Quite rare, those. But thank you, yes. These are very good felines, very good.” He pointed at the one on the right-hand pedestal. “That is Schrödinger,” and swinging his extended arm to the other, “and that is Mrs. Tibbins. Where the guard of the road fails, these dears cover. Nothing gets by them.” Then Lavery turned to his guests, stooped slightly, and with what seemed to be a signature tone of slippery kindness he repeated, “Nothing.”

  Lavery straightened and clapped his hands together, visibly tightening his long fingers around his hands. “Well! Shall we go inside?”

  Thumb was determined not to let this elf’s oddities throw them. They needed a good night’s sleep, not to mention a map, and in spite of Lavery’s strangeness and possible feline threats, Thumb could see no reason to be wary of a library. Quickly he insisted, “Yes, please show us in, Lavery.”

  Lavery led them in, pushing the doors closed. They boomed ominously. He grabbed an electric lantern from a peg on the wall and turned it up. Its light was warm and welcoming. The air smelled of wood and leather and paper.

  Lavery started to walk, saying, “This way, my friends. We don’t get many visitors so we don’t often bother with the lights in the hall. We get even fewer overnighters, but we’ll have no problem accommodating you.”

  Thumb said, “Thank you, Lavery. We won’t be a burden. In the morning we wish to consult some of your archives and then be on our way.”

  Their footsteps echoed in the dark spaces around them as Lavery growled, “Archives, you say?”

  “Maps,” Kay corrected nervously, which was strange. Kay had never once in her thirteen years felt nervous about saying anything.

  “Maps, eh, Sister Kay?” inquired Lavery. Kay found his voice to be terrifying and yet marvelous.

  “That’s right,” Bedevere answered for her.

  The elf said proudly, “Well, we have those! Subterranean or terranean?

  “Terranean,” Thumb said. “Really, we’d just like to have a look at a good map of Sylvan.” Thumb sounded very convincing as he lied, “We lost ours while we were bivouacking in the woods and we need one before we leave Veltdam.”

  “Aha, I see. Never convenient, losing one’s bearings, is it?” asked the elf. Something about his tone suggested he was making a prediction rather than clarifying a point of fact.

  Thumb said, “Not convenient at all, no. You see, we’re taking the children here on a summer trip, before their schooling resumes.” The lie grew. “As a project they proposed finding and observing the nest of a magnificent Argentine. You see where a map may serve us then.”

  “Indeed I do, good Sir Thumb. If I recall, they prefer to nest on higher ground. A topographical map would do quite well for that.”

  “Exactly,” Thumb agreed.

  Lavery cleared his throat. “Well, we shall see about all that in the morning, but now”—and here the elf stopped at a short round door and rested his hand on the knob—“you would like something to eat, no?” The tone of his voice took yet another turn, this time becoming so gracious and welcoming that they nearly forgot that Lavery had been acting strangely.

  Thumb smiled and said, “That sounds grand, don’t you think, lads?”

  They agreed and followed Lavery into a warmly lit room. There were coat pegs and a long weapon rack along one wall, and nightshirts folded on a sideboard along the opposite wall. There was a table set with a delicious-looking meal. Beyond the table were four comfortable-looking cots and a padded dog bed for Vorpal. At the very back was another door that said Washroom on it.

  Lavery crouched in the doorway as the party settled in. He smiled and produced a small spiral notebook from one of his jeans pockets and fumbled through the pages, finally reaching the one he wanted, and looked it over. He turned down the corners of his mouth a little, drew a nib of pencil from behind his spearlike ears, and made a note. He closed the book and stuffed it back into its pocket.

  The party sat at the table as Lavery clapped his hands and said, “Well, I shall take my leave. There is a bell by the door should you need anything, otherwise I will see you in the morning for breakfast. And then I will take you to the map house. Sleep tight!”

  And before any of them could return the sentiment, he was gone.

  Kay felt like a charter bus full of gaming geeks had been lifted from her shoulders.

  They ate to their stomachs’ content, took turns showering, and turned in to bed. They were happy to be sleeping indoors instead of outside under another makeshift shelter.

  As they lay in bed, Artie became aware of a low, rhythmic rumble, like someone was blasting hip-hop in a faraway room. He listened to it and fell quickly asleep. So did everyone else.

  That night they all had horrible dreams of tall, slimy hippies with super-pointy ears.

  21

  IN WHICH THE PARTY DISCOVERS THE EYES!

  They had no idea how long they slept, but when they woke they were refreshed and ignorant of their nightmares.

  Not long after they got out of bed, Lavery appeared in the doorway holding a tray with breakfast.

  “Good morning, guests! I trust you slept well?”

  Artie said, “Yup. Better than we’ve slept in nearly a week. Thanks, Lavery.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Lavery drifted into the room and set out a breakfast of cheese, fruit, and cold cuts as the knights seated themselves around the table. While they ate, he watched them from the low doorway.

  Everyone was in good spirits, including Kay, but whenever she looked in Lavery’s direction she felt horrible and sick and empty. She couldn’t figure out why this was until it dawned on her that their hair was very similar. Mostly red and silken and long and pulled back into a smart, athletic ponytail.

  When she realized this, her stomach did an immediate and violent turn. Kay pushed back and left the table quickly, heading for the washroom.

  Thumb asked, “So Lavery, when can we see the map house?”

  “As soon as you’re finished, if you wish.”

  “We wish it. We should probably get a move on if we’re to have any chance of finding a great Argentine’s nest!”

  “Yes, you’re right,” said Bedevere a little hollowly.

  “Fine, very fine,” Lavery said. “I’ll return in a bit and we’ll see if we can get you your map.” Then he stepped backward into the hall and said good-bye, making sure to close and lock the door behind him.

  None of them thought this was strange at all.

  Except for Kay. As soon as the elf was gone Kay returned to the table and asked, “Is he gone?”

  The others looked at her curiously and answered yes.

  “Good,” said Kay.

  No one thought to ask what was wrong, because non
e of them felt like anything was wrong at all.

  They continued to eat their delicious meal. When they were done, they decided to take a nap.

  It was hard to say how many hours they slept. When they woke, they quietly went about cleaning their weapons and making their beds. Bedevere found a deck of playing cards and he taught Artie and Thumb how to play cribbage. Kay spent the whole time sitting on her cot or pacing the floor.

  Something was not right, and only she seemed to notice it.

  Finally Lavery opened the door and stepped in. Behind him in the hall sat Schrödinger the saber-toothed tiger.

  “Well, my friends, are we ready to see the maps?”

  “Sure, Lavery. Just give us a few minutes to get our stuff together,” Artie said, moving toward the weapon rack.

  “No need, my friends. It is only a house full of dusty old maps. You can leave your belongings here.”

  Thumb laughed as if to agree, and Artie and Bedevere moved toward Lavery unarmed, ready to go.

  But Kay wasn’t so game. Being careful to avoid the elf’s gaze, she said, “I think we should take our stuff, guys. We were going to leave from there anyway, right? I mean, we’re not spending another night here, are we?”

  Thumb’s body shook as Artie and Bedevere turned to him for advice. Thumb looked hard at Kay, and she could see that his wheels were turning. Kay thought this was both bad and good. Bad because it confirmed to her that they were definitely all under some kind of spell; good because if Thumb was thinking, then maybe he was breaking free of it.

  Kay moved to the rack and grabbed Cleomede and belted it on. She grabbed the rest of her equipment and then took up the Welsh wakizashi and placed it in Thumb’s rugged little hand. Fighting back a wave of nausea, Kay looked directly at Thumb and said, “Here, Tommy, take this. We have to leave after we visit this map house, okay?”

  Thumb’s pupils widened to the size of dimes, and the color drained from his face. Kay thought Thumb was gone. But then the little man nodded and slipped his sword under his belt. He turned to Artie and Bedevere and said, “Sir Kay is right, lads, we must get going. Take your swords.”