by Funaro, Greg
“All that hullabaloo out there is no mere welcome celebration, but the opening festivities of a tournament.”
“A tournament?”
“Yes, Oscar. The armored knights with their lances, the jousting lists, the makeshift blacksmith forges, all of it indicating a medieval tournament of some sort—one in which I suspect our champion, whoever that may be, shall fight the queen’s.”
“Why of course,” said Professor Bricklewick, his eyes wide. “What the queen said about the decision being yours—whether or not you shall wield Excalibur depends on your decision—as in a decision awarded you by means of battle!”
“Very good, old friend.” Father took out the Black Mirror from the case upon his desk and, gazing into it, said, “Show me our champion.” But nothing happened. Father heaved a frustrated sigh and slipped the mirror into his inside coat pocket.
“There, you see, Alistair?” said Lord Dreary. “It’s quite possible you are mistaken about this tournament after all.”
“Perhaps,” Father said. “However, since the Black Mirror can only play back the last reflection of someone who has gazed into it, I submit there’s an even stronger possibility that our champion has never done so.”
“Great poppycock, what do you intend to do?”
“Take heart, Lord Dreary. Champion or not, I have no intention of giving the queen her tournament, nor do I plan on leaving Avalon without Excalibur.”
“But we’ve seen her magic firsthand,” said Professor Bricklewick. “Magic so powerful that even the sorcerer Merlin was no match for her. How then can you expect to leave without her consent?”
“Merlin, as you’ll recall, was blinded by love. We are not. You just worry about finding a protective charm in that book and leave the rest to me.”
“And should the professor’s search come up empty?” asked Lord Dreary. “What shall we do then?”
“I suspect there’s someone else on board who might be able to help us,” Father said. “Someone who is quite good at battling fairies, and of whose presence, I’ll wager, the queen is entirely unaware.”
“Who?” we all asked.
“The Gallownog,” Father replied, and he dashed from the library.
An intriguing turn of events,” said Lorcan Dalach, and he stepped closer to the glass.
Lord Dreary, Mack, and I had accompanied Father down to the engine room, where he’d just finished explaining to the Gallownog our present situation, including the particulars of our journey to Avalon and our quest for Excalibur. Dalach had listened intently, his hazy green form barely visible amidst the sparkling yellow walls of his prison sphere. But now, as his face became clear, I could see in his eyes that Father’s words had done little to break the ice between them.
“Looks like you’ve gotten yourself into quite a pickle,” Dalach sneered.
“I’m afraid we’re all pickles in the same jar,” Father said. “Even if you managed to escape the Odditorium, there is no way you could ever get back to our world without my help. The kingdom of Avalon is on an island in another dimension—a dimension inaccessible to even the doom dogs.”
“You’re lying.”
“Who ya callin’ a liar, neep?” Mack said, his eyes flashing red. He hopped out of my hands and onto my shoulder. “I suggest ya take that back, or you’ll find out what it means to brawl with the Clan McClintock!”
I snatched Mack from my shoulder. “Sorry, old friend, but now’s not the time for picking fights.” I tapped Mack on his XII, but instead of going dark, he just laughed.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to do better than that, laddie!” he said. “No more fizzling out for this old ticker!”
“As you can see,” Father said, “Queen Nimue has restored Mack to his former self. He no longer requires the animus to work—animus that the doom dogs most certainly would’ve picked up on had they been able to travel into Avalon from Tir Na Mairg. And so it stands to reason that, if not even the doom dogs can get in, not even you can get out.”
Lorcan Dalach pondered this a moment. “So what do you want from me?” he asked, eyes narrowing.
“A truce and temporary alliance. Help us get Excalibur and defeat Prince Nightshade, and I’ll let you out of this sphere.”
“Alistair!” Lord Dreary gasped, but Father held up his hand to silence him.
Dalach snickered. “You must be joking, Grim.”
“I assure you I’m not. For you see, although Queen Nimue knows much about our journey to Avalon, there are still some particulars that remain unclear to her. I am convinced that she is unaware of, or at the very least has forgotten, your presence. Therefore, should one of us have to fight her champion, we could use an ally like you—someone who is used to battling fairies and can make himself invisible.”
The Gallownog fixed his eyes into Father’s.
“Cleona has spoken admirably of you over the years,” Father went on. “Many times has she told me stories of how you protected your clan from fairies and other supernatural threats. And thus, despite your present charge to capture her, I know that deep in her heart Cleona still admires you very much—if you take my meaning.”
Father held the Gallownog’s gaze until finally Lorcan Dalach looked away.
“Suppose I agree to help you,” he said. “Suppose you somehow manage to obtain Excalibur and make it back to the gates….How do you plan to escape the queen’s magic?”
“I’ve got Professor Bricklewick working on that as we speak. There appears to be at least one other gateway too—a shortcut into a lake that the queen used in her dealings with King Arthur. If my suspicions are correct, we won’t need the Sky Ripper to pass through it.”
The Gallownog grew silent again, his mind racing.
“I hope you’re not thinking of navigating this shortcut yourself,” Father said. “You would disintegrate as soon as you hit the water.”
“I’m well aware of that,” Dalach said. “But you underestimate your enemy. Since the death of King Arthur, the Lady of the Lake has shown little interest in the matters of humans. However, should you cross her by stealing Excalibur, you’ll have a war on your hands that’ll make your beef with Prince Nightshade look like a game of tiddlywinks.”
“Let me worry about that,” Father said. “Give me your word that you’ll help us, and once we defeat the prince, we can take up the fight for Cleona again as you see fit.”
“Alistair, I must protest,” said Lord Dreary. “Surely you’re not going to trust this scoundrel at his word and set him free?”
Instinctively I glanced up at the gauge above the flight sphere. It read less than one-quarter full, which meant that Gwendolyn would need to get spinning again very soon or the field of fairy dust that kept Lorcan Dalach imprisoned would disappear and he’d be free anyway.
“The word of a Gallownog is sacred, Lord Dreary,” Father said. “So what do you say, then, Dalach? Do we have a deal?”
The Gallownog was silent for a long time. “You have my word,” he said finally. “You could have destroyed me but chose not to, and for that I am in your debt. However, Cleona is another matter. And just as I am bound to you by my word, so too am I bound to the Council of Elders to bring her back for judgment. So take heed, Alistair Grim. Should you defeat Prince Nightshade, you’ll find my loyalty lies elsewhere.”
“I understand,” Father said. He turned a valve on a nearby pipe and the shield of fairy dust surrounding the sphere fizzled out. Lord Dreary gasped, but my throat felt too tight to breathe. A tense silence hung about the room as Lorcan Dalach looked us over warily, and then he picked up his spirit shackles and stepped through the glass of his prison as if it weren’t there.
“Look out!” someone shouted, and we whirled around to find Gwendolyn flying down the stairs that led to the servants’ hallway. She was on her way back from getting her headache cured by Mrs. Pinch, I gathered. But before Father had a chance to tell her about our truce, she hurled a ball of fairy dust straight for the Gallownog.
&nbs
p; “Gwendolyn, no!” Father cried, but Dalach was ready for her, and as quick as lightning whipped the dust ball into a shower of sparkles with his shackles.
Gwendolyn growled and instantly transformed into her chomping shape—a massive yellow ball with razor-sharp teeth. She flew across the room, her mouth opening wide to gobble up the Gallownog, when at the last moment I jumped in between them and cried, “Don’t!”
The Yellow Fairy screeched to a halt in midair with her teeth just inches from my face. “Out of my way, Grubb!” she roared. “There’s only one thing left for him, and that’s a good chomp, chomp!”
“Gwendolyn, you don’t understand,” Father said. “The Gallownog is on our side now. He’s going to help us on our quest for Excalibur.”
Lorcan Dalach draped his spirit shackles about his neck and bowed his head submissively. Gwendolyn just hovered there, trembling for a moment, and then in a burst of sparkles she became her tiny, dragonfly-winged self again.
“Have you gone mad?” she said to Father. “I’d rather have that demon of yours roaming about than this swine.”
“I’ll explain my reasoning to you later. In the meantime”—he pointed to the dust gauge—“you better get spinning again or we won’t have enough power should we need to make a hasty retreat.”
Gwendolyn folded her arms and floated so close to the Gallownog that their noses almost touched. “You might have fooled the others, but I’m warning you, prig: I’ve got my eye on you.”
Dalach stared back at her coldly, and then Gwendolyn flew up into the flight sphere and started spinning—her light brightening and expanding until the needle on the dust gauge began to move.
“I’d like to speak to Cleona,” Dalach said.
“She’s sleeping off the effects of the Sky Ripper,” Father replied. “Besides, you’re needed on an invisible reconnaissance mission at present.”
“An invisible reconnaissance mission?”
“Find out anything you can about the queen’s plan—the whereabouts of her shortcut or even Excalibur itself—and report back to me here at the Odditorium before the banquet at six o’clock.”
“Which, if I might add, is exactly three hours and thirty-three minutes from now,” Mack said proudly.
“The Yellow Fairy is right,” Dalach said. “You’re mad if you think I’ll venture outside the Odditorium alone. How do I know you won’t take off while I’m gone? I’d have a bugger of a time getting back on board should you surround yourself with more of that poppet’s fairy dust.”
“Who you calling a poppet, ya big bamstick?” Mack said, and he hopped up again onto my shoulder.
“Please, not now, Mack,” Father said. “And you have my word as a gentleman, Dalach. We’re not going anywhere without you.”
“I’m sorry, but after all your double-dealing for Odditoria over the years, your word carries little weight these days.” Father stiffened. “That’s right. I’ve heard about your little quests, not to mention what you did to Mad Malmuirie. So if I’m going to help you, I need a bit of insurance.”
“What kind of insurance?”
The Gallownog slipped one end of his spirit shackles onto his wrist. “Should I bind myself to a living person with these, that person can do whatever I do as long as we’re chained together. They can become invisible, fly through the air alongside me, and even pass through walls as if they were a spirit themself.”
Father heaved a heavy sigh. “I see,” he said. “All right, then. Give me some time to instruct the others what to do in my absence, and I’ll accompany you on your mission.”
Dalach chuckled. “Not you, Alistair Grim. You’re needed here. Besides, should the Royal Guard come calling before the banquet and find you gone, that would look a bit suspicious, don’t you think?”
“I see where this is going,” said Lord Dreary. “Very well, then, Alistair. I shall accompany the Gallownog on his mission.”
“No offense, old man,” said Dalach, “but I need someone with a bit more spring in his step—someone who won’t hold me back should things get squirrelly.”
Lord Dreary sputtered and was about to protest, but Father spoke first.
“Then who do you propose to take with you?”
“The one person you’d never think of leaving behind.”
The Gallownog smiled and bore his cold blue eyes into mine. My heart skipped a beat, and Father cried, “Out of the question!”
“Then it appears we’re at an impasse, aren’t we?” said Dalach.
“But you gave me your word!”
“Aye, and I mean to keep it, Alistair Grim. But on my terms.”
“I’ll do it, Father,” I said. “I’m not afraid.” That last part, of course, was a bit of a lie. Father’s eyes flashed with rage and he gritted his teeth.
“You have my word, Alistair Grim,” said Dalach. “I swear I shall protect your son’s life as if he were my own child.”
“It’s too dangerous,” Father said. “You’re a spirit, Dalach. The queen and her Royal Guard cannot harm you. However, should they learn of your presence, there’s no telling what they might do to Grubb.”
“You’re wrong. It’s actually safer for the lad to come with me than to remain here. For as long as we’re bound together by these shackles, he’s a spirit just as I am. Not even Excalibur itself could harm him.”
“Please, sir,” I said. “It really does make the most sense for me to go. I’d have no problem keeping up with him. And certainly the Royal Guard wouldn’t miss me should they come calling before the banquet.”
Father raked his fingers through his hair and heaved a heavy sigh. “Very well, then,” he said, and rushed over to the talkback. “Cleona, are you there, love?”
“What is it?” she said groggily.
“I’ve just made a decision to allow Grubb to do something very dangerous. Feeling any urges to start wailing?”
“No, Uncle, just the urge to start yawning.” And she did.
“All right, then, go back to sleep.” Father flicked off the talkback.
“There, you see?” Dalach said. “Your decision bodes well for everyone.”
“We all know that the future can be profoundly impacted by seemingly insignificant decisions made in the present. Therefore, at the first sign of trouble, with or without Cleona’s wailing, you must return to the Odditorium immediately. I warn you, Dalach, should anything happen to my son—”
“I gave you my word, Alistair Grim. I will protect your son as if he were my own child. However, what would you have us do if we find Excalibur?”
“Excalibur will be well guarded, no doubt. And we certainly don’t want to risk the queen’s wrath by stealing it just yet. Therefore, just locate the sword if you can.” And then Father muttered to himself, “That is, if it still resembles a sword at all.”
“What’s that, Alistair?” asked Lord Dreary, but Father ignored him and flicked on the talkback again.
“Nigel, how are things coming along with that steering damper?”
“It’s worse than we thought, sir,” the big man replied. “The outside casings are gone and its animus line is leaking and needs to be replaced. I’ve got Number One supervising that job herself. The rest of the wasps are working on the upper gunnery, but I wager it’s going to take them some time to fashion a new cannon.”
“That’s the least of my worries right now. What’s going on with the Avalonians?”
“Still reveling and gawking about as before. The wasps have been giving them quite a show, and when I opened the hangar doors, one of them knights flew up on his dragon and looked inside. The samurai blocked his view of the demon buggy, but since then they’ve been itching to have a go at one another.”
“They may very well get their chance,” Father muttered under his breath. He flicked off the talkback and scooped up Mack from my shoulder. “Tell me something, Dalach. Would it be possible for Mack to accompany you on your mission? After all, you’ll need to keep track of the time.”
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p; Dalach held up the free end of his spirit shackles. “Aye, but I’d have to hook him onto this wrist cuff here.”
“But I’m a pocket watch, not a wristwatch!” Mack cried. “Whoever heard of such a thing?”
“Desperate times call for desperate measures, my friend,” Father said. He tossed Mack to the Gallownog, who immediately hooked the watch’s single crown link onto his shackles. Mack flickered for a moment and then his form dissolved into the transparent, glowing blue light of a spirit.
“Ach!” Mack cried. “I’ve gone blue again!”
“Shut your gob,” Dalach said, and he closed Mack’s case. Mack rattled and shook, but the Gallownog ignored him.
“Now listen very carefully, son,” Father said. “You do exactly as Dalach says. He’s an expert at this sort of thing, and I wouldn’t entrust him with your care if I didn’t think you’d be safe. He’s right, you know. Should the queen try anything before the banquet, you’ll be better off out there than stuck inside the Odditorium with us.”
“But, Alistair,” said Lord Dreary, “if Queen Nimue meant to be deceptive, why would she allow you time to get your affairs in order? Indeed, why not just dispense with the banquet altogether and get on with the tournament?”
“I don’t know, old friend, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned over the years about fairies and prophecies, it’s that neither of them are ever what they seem.”
Father jerked his thumb at Gwendolyn, and then Professor Bricklewick’s voice crackled over the talkback. “Hello, is this thing on?”
Father flicked the switch on his end. “Go ahead, Oscar.”
“That chap with the foxtail on his helmet has asked to speak with you. Sounds serious, from what I can tell.”
“Any luck with your research?”
“Some basic defenses against curses, some Odditoria and whatnot, but I can’t see how any of it will protect us from the queen’s magic.”
“Wonderful,” Father said, rolling his eyes. “I’m on my way.” He flicked off the talkback and hugged me tight. “Promise me you’ll be careful.”
“I promise, sir,” I said. As we parted, Dalach slapped his shackles, along with Mack, onto my wrist. My body flickered just as Mack’s had done, and then all at once I dissolved into the form of a glowing blue spirit.