by Ben Zackheim
Simon had a bad feeling about this. He suspected the key had something to do with the gold. But how was he supposed to find out what it opened? There must have been a thousand doors in the castle alone. And what if it opened a chest? How many of those were around?
Caradoc. It was his fault Simon was stuck with this færie in the first place. Maybe he could help. Simon didn’t have another idea, so he set out to find the troll.
As Simon entered the main hall, he spotted Maille speaking with one of the groundskeepers. She’d definitely want to know about the key. Simon felt like he needed to find out more before he told her anything, so he tried to slip away behind a column.
“And what are you up to, exactly?” Maille asked. Simon swallowed a shriek. She’d suddenly appeared next to him, hands on her hips.
“What do you mean?”
“You just tried to pull a Merlin on me!” She waved her finger in front of Simon’s frowning face. “Yeah, that’s right. That’s the kind of sneakiness the old man loves to pull on me.”
Simon felt awful. He didn’t want to have anything in common with Merlin. Without a word, he opened the box lid and showed her the key.
“Where did you get this?” Maille had the same fire in her eye as when she’d caught him with the magic seeds. Simon told her of his run-in with the færie and how he thought Caradoc was as logical a place to start as any.
“I agree. That troll is always getting people into trouble,” Maille said, relaxing. “With the best intentions, usually. But this time he may have gone too far.”
She led Simon outside. When they were clear of the crowds Maille broke into a run toward the west wall of the castle. Simon followed her through a small door that opened up on a garden. A garden with a view he would remember for the rest of his life.
His brain tried to soak in what he was seeing. He’d assumed that the back of the castle was where New Camelot ended.
He was wrong.
A vast valley spread out before them, crammed with dense clusters of stone huts, wood cabins, and even a few small castles.
Simon followed Maille down a steep dirt path toward the odd town. They let gravity pull them faster than was wise.
Simon tried not to stare as they arrived at the entry gate. Now he knew what it felt like to visit New York for the first time — so much to look at, so much that he couldn’t begin to give a name.
It was as if the architects spanning a thousand years, from towns and cities around the world, had built in one spot. In one small neighborhood, straw-roofed huts huddled next to stone towers with windows ten feet tall. In another area, houses much like those in New Camelot surrounded a modest castle. A walled-off neighborhood on the main road into the center of town seized Simon’s interest. Its tiny houses were just about big enough for a doll. A large sign warned, “Pixieville. Tread Lightly Or You’ll Ruin Your Boots!” Simon saw some small writing underneath. He walked up to the sign and squinted to read it. “THAT’S NOT FUNNY!” it read. Indeed, it wouldn’t be funny at all to a pixie. But Simon still smiled.
Maille pulled him back on the road, which is when he noticed that above everything, looming thirty feet overhead, were dozens of cabins on stilts. Swinging rope bridges connected them, swaying back and forth under the footfalls of busy folk.
It was only when the sound of flowing water became too loud to ignore that Simon saw the waterfall. It fell from the back of Mount Tripper, feeding a large lake in the center of town where boats dotted the water’s surface. A giant creature, probably a troll, stood out from the rest as he fished with a pole as long as a bus.
“This is where most of the Odders live,” Maille explained, seeing the awe on Simon’s face.
Simon noticed that some of the home’s doors were only a few feet tall while others were two stories high.
“But I thought they lived in town with everyone else.”
“Some do. But most aren’t comfortable there, so Merlin gave them land to build their own homes.” Dwarfs, elves, trolls and other creatures Simon hadn’t run into yet walked through the streets, going about their business. Most were either coming or going from town to do trade.
The kids in the streets were playing loudly. In one game, a young troll tossed a small creature into the air. The little thing reached out and snagged a fly ball, then landed gracefully in a chalk circle drawn on the ground. It raised the ball in the air as some young elves applauded.
“Goblin tossing. Fun game if you have the arm strength,” Maille said.
Another game was something like baseball except the bat had spikes and the balls exploded on impact, much to the delight of the children.
But Simon didn’t get a chance to enjoy the fun. “There he is!” Maille declared, prepared to give Caradoc a thorough tongue-lashing.
The troll was at a well gathering water, whistling an awful tune. He saw them approaching and smiled. The smile quickly disappeared when he noticed the expression on Maille’s face. He looked as if he were about to run away, but thought better of it.
“You!”
“Hiya, Maille Rose. Perfect day for…”
“Don’t you Maille Rose me, Caradoc. A færie? What’s the big deal, you giving Simon a færie? As if he doesn’t have enough to worry about, you have to strap him to a psycho pixie!”
“Um, now hold on a second. A pixie isn’t a færie…” Caradoc wagged his finger.
“It’s hidden the gold somewhere in New Camelot!” she yelled, her face growing an impressive orange.
“Oh, dear.” Caradoc’s worried expression made Simon feel bad.
“Show him the key.” Maille growled. Simon opened the box and placed it in Caradoc’s massive palm. Caradoc smiled a toothy grin.
“This is my key! Been searching all over for it!” His grin disappeared. “Why that little… I bet my færie had something to do with this, too. When I get me hands on her…”
“What’s it open, Caradoc?” Simon asked, trying to get him to focus before Maille brought out the bat.
“Follow me,” Caradoc said. “I’ll show you.”
They walked back up the side of the hill and came to a large door in the hillside.
“The granary?” Maille asked.
Caradoc slipped in the key and opened the door. Torches on the wall lit up slowly as they entered. Simon found himself in a huge cave, packed with grain.
“This feeds the whole city year round,” Maille explained. “Let’s hope that floating rodent didn’t do anything to our food supply. Okay, start looking.” Maille walked into the grain piles and started sifting through with her hands. Caradoc and Simon looked at each other. Maille glanced over her shoulder and rolled her eyes.
“For the gold!” she yelled. “It probably hid the stash in here somewhere. The vents in the roof are meant to aerate the grain, but I bet they make it really easy to smell gold from a long ways away, too.”
“We have to find the gold under all of this?” Simon asked.
“Unless you have a better idea,” she answered, readying herself for a new argument with Simon.
“Can’t you use, like, I don’t know, a spell or something?” Simon plead.
“A grain-moving spell? Oh, sure! That’s magic 101!”
“Fabulous!” Caradoc smiled and clapped his hands together.
“She’s being sarcastic, Caradoc,” Simon said. He started digging.
“Wait a minute,” Maille muttered. Her eyes darted around the cave. She smirked. “I could try something. Stand back, guys. Way, way back. This might get ugly.” Simon and the troll stood behind her. “If anyone else is in here with us, you’d better show yourself now or you’ll be getting much smaller in about ten seconds!” Maille yelled, which made Simon and Caradoc back up a little bit more.
Maille didn’t move for a moment. Then she started to breathe heavily, pulled out her bat-wand and uttered the ugliest words Simon had ever heard.
“GRUFKEK HORX!”
A red haze shot out from her wand and covered the mounds
of grain. Slowly, the piles began to peel away. As more grain moved, the cavern filled with an excruciatingly loud sound, like a billion locusts swarming down on them. The top two feet of grain slid across the room and rested against the far wall. Finally, the grain settled and the sound died down.
Maille was winded. She sat and put her head between her legs.
“What was that?” Simon asked, stunned.
“The Peeler. It’s meant to skin dead animals. Figured I’d give it a shot.”
“Splendid!” Caradoc shouted. They glanced up to see if the spell had yielded anything.
Indeed, across the cave was a single point of silver flickering in the torchlight. But before they could take a step, two færies swept down from the shadows, blocking their way.
“Outta the way, ya varmints!” Caradoc roared. When the faeries just hovered there, getting uglier by the second, Caradoc’s angry face turned into Caradoc’s really worried face. “What day is it?” the troll whispered.
“Friday,” Maille and Simon said together.
“Uh-oh,” all three muttered.
And right in front of their eyes the two færies bleated something and went at each other with a viciousness that would have done cats proud. The two disappeared into the grain with a thud. Then there was silence.
Caradoc and Maille started to back away. “Where are you going?” Simon said. “They took each other out! The coast is clear.”
“Simon! Back away!” Caradoc hollered.
Out of the grain emerged a much larger færie. More specifically, it was the two færies melded together. It had four eyes and four wings, though they were quickly becoming one big, revolting monstrosity. The four eyes became two and the creature shrieked in pain, swelling, mutating with every second that passed.
The party of three were almost backed up to the door when a roar of anger filled the cave. The faerie was only around five feet tall, but equally wide. Its gigantic fangs made Caradoc squeak in fright.
Then it came for them.
Maille reached for her wand but Simon knew she’d be too slow to match its speed. At a full sprint, he grabbed the bat from her hand, twirled on his feet and swung with all his might.
TOK!
The færie flew back as fast as it had sprung forward and hit the far wall hard. It lay still. Within seconds it had transformed into two creatures again. They were sprawled over each other, out cold.
“Home run!” Maille yelled, arms raised. Caradoc started running for the door again. “Caradoc, where are you going?”
“You told us to run home!”
Maille and Simon laughed.
“It’s a baseball term,” Maille said, twirling her bat.
Caradoc tried to chuckle but he didn’t think it was funny.
“You grab my bat again and I turn you into a booger,” Maille said to Simon, with a wink.
The troll slowly approached the shiny object jutting out of the grain. He felt the edges of a large wooden box and heaved it up as if it were cardboard. He opened it and revealed a messy pile of golden leaves.
The dragon on the nearby mountain roared.
“Close it!” Maille screamed. “We don’t need the scent to rile up the dragons any more than they already are.”
“So now we need to get this thing as far away from New Camelot as we can,” Simon said.
“Right,” said Maille, taking a seat on the grain. “We should find a place to take it, though. Someplace where no one will get hurt.”
They sat in silence for a moment, thinking. “We could bury it outside the walls,” Caradoc suggested.
“No. Someone could stumble on it,” Maille retorted.
In the silence, Simon thought clearly. Maybe it was the adrenaline from the færie fight. Maybe it was the fondness he felt for Caradoc and Maille. Whatever it was, he knew he was willing to sacrifice a fortune in gold for New Camelot.
Yes, the answer to their dilemma was, in fact, pretty simple.
“We’ll give the gold to Trejure.” Simon said. His friends looked at him like he was suddenly in his underpants. “It won’t be a danger to anyone if we give it to him. I don’t want it.”
“Oh, please,” Maille said.
“We have to do it,” Simon shot back. “It’s the only way to stop an attack on New Camelot. It sounds like 1803 was no fun and without Merlin here it could be a disaster. Besides, it’s my gold and I want to get it out of here fast. Caradoc, will you go with me?”
“Me? Really?” Caradoc beamed. “Absolutely!”
“Thanks,” Simon said. “You can carry the gold.” Caradoc looked less enthusiastic all of a sudden.
“Then I’m going with you, too,” Maille said. Simon had learned long ago that it was no use telling Maille no.
“But we don’t have any weapons,” Caradoc added. “We can’t go into the forest without a way to protect ourselves.”
“And the armory is under lock and key,” Maille said.
Simon had an idea. It was risky. But everything was risky now.
35
Simon watched Uncle Victor’s workers stream out through the door in the side of the hill. From the expression on their faces he guessed it had been a rough work day.
When Simon felt comfortable that most of them had returned to New Camelot, he glanced back at his friends. “You guys stay here,” he whispered. “Victor has an armory right next to my old bedroom. I’ll bring back a sword for me and, uh, something big for you Caradoc.”
Simon moved toward the door. After a few steps he noticed that Maille was right behind him. He almost protested, but he recognized the frown on her face.
“Fine,” he said. He poked her in the shoulder. “But I’m in charge once we step through that door.” She smirked, but she didn’t protest.
Caradoc kept a lookout as the kids sneaked up to the door. Simon pulled on the handle and was relieved to find it unlocked. He stepped in cautiously.
And, just like that, he stood in Victor’s too-big-for-anyone home. Simon had expected it, but it was still a shock. They’d moved across miles of space by simply walking through a door!
He settled himself down and tried to remember where he’d stumbled on the weapons room. If memory served, he’d need to go down two flights, then enter the third door to the right of his old bedroom. The place was still bustling with workers. Their floor seemed all clear, but they crouched, just in case.
“Out of my house! All of you!” Victor’s voice rang. The remaining workers stopped in their tracks and walked up the steps toward the exit to New Camelot.
“Sounds like uncle’s in a sweet mood,” Simon said.
“Sounds like Merlin after he’s missed his nap,” Maille whispered.
In the racket of the hurried footsteps, the kids slipped into a nearby room. While they waited for the workers to pass by, Simon gave Maille’s hood a good tug from behind her. Irritated, she glared over her shoulder, ready to hit him with her infamous “I’m gonna put chicken poop in your bed” look.
But then she saw what he saw, and chicken poop was the last thing on her mind.
Their hiding place was a long, high room, like a hallway for a giant. The walls might have been stone, but it was hard to tell with the thousands of paper scrolls hanging from them. The arched ceiling was covered in small red lights that covered everything in a creepy glow.
“What is this place?” Maille asked.
“Don’t ask me,” Simon said, searching for weapons. “I wasn’t allowed to wander when I was here.”
Maille walked while running her fingers over the scrolls. “Simon, I think these are spells.” She leaned down and squinted. “Actually, I’d say this one has Merlin’s writing.”
But Simon wasn’t enamored of the size of the room, or the scrolls. He was curious about the odd light falling from the tall windows. One window let a sliver of sun in, while another was as black as night.
He peeked out of one and saw a beautiful green field outside. It was cloudy, about to rain. An animal in
the far distance was grazing, probably a cow. It was too far to make out. The sun barely broke through the dense gray cover.
But the next window showed something altogether different.
New York City at night.
The view was from a high floor, around thirty stories up. He could see Time Square below, neon lights flashing full force, packed with slow moving cars.
Before he could beckon Maille over, he felt a powerful tug under his arms and was flying over the scrolls. Something had lifted him into the air.
“Hang on!” Maille screamed from directly below. “I think I have a bead on him!”
Simon looked up. It was a gargoyle. Identical to the one Caradoc had shattered weeks before. He noticed a window straight ahead. If his captor made it through that window, Simon would be on his own.
ZACT!
One of Maille’s spells hit the ceiling and pelted their heads with plaster. But the beast didn’t slow down. It zig-zaggged until Simon couldn’t tell which way was up.
ZACT!
Another miss. Simon knew he couldn’t depend on Maille’s famous accuracy this time. He had to save himself. The window was only yards away.
Hanging from the gargoyle’s strong grip beneath his armpits, Simon flipped his legs up and over the top of the monster’s head. His heels dug into the back of its neck. The gargoyle let out a screech and lost control.
The impact against the wall was horrifying. The gargoyle’s wings were crushed immediately. The broken stone fell to the floor and shattered.
Simon was knocked silly. He was free-falling and about to hit the floor when another powerful force snagged his ankle and tossed him down the long hall of the room. The force of his fall was transferred from downward to northward, so he slid on the marble floor for quite a while.
The gargoyle wasn’t so lucky. It was in a million pieces by the time Simon’s back tapped a wall gently.
“Are you all right?” Maille rode on her bat to him. She floated above his aching head, her eyes filled with worry.
“Yeah, I think so,” he tried to stand, but fell back on his butt. “Nice catch.”
“I hit well too,” she said, landing and swinging her bat in one smooth move. “But that was a terrific idea with the legs. Very Lancelotian.”