“Oh God, what?” Michael asked.
“The Skylander Games Gala! She’ll make her social debut there,” Maggie said.
Conn thought about that. By far, it was the biggest inter-clan event of the year, and the largest culmination of Skylanders anywhere, as far as he knew. The Skylander Games were all that anyone talked about these past few weeks. It was where athletes, both young and old, were given the opportunity to proudly represent their respective clans. There, they would demonstrate their collective, but also their individual physical prowess over others within the realm. Beyond the mere bragging rights, competitors strove to win the coveted, heavy, sterling silver award Chalices. Conn had been awarded one for Junior Dueling Lockwood Excellence during the previous year’s Skylander Games. His older brother, Michael, had received the prized Dueling Lockwood Excellence Chalice for adults. No award was more coveted than these atop the cloudbank.
“Conn, I asked you a question.” Michael said.
“Um . . . say again?”
“I thought you’d be happy. You’ve just been invited to be her date.”
Conn, clearing his thoughts, was suddenly nervous and a bit excited. “Date?” He glanced over to Misty.
“Not her—Maggie!” Toag said, putting his own elbow out for Misty to take. “Miss Adaira Drummond, would you do me the honor of accompanying me to the Skylander Games Gala?”
Misty shot a quick glance toward Conn before offering a shy smile back to Toag. “Aye, my good sir, I would be verra honored and pleased to do so,” she said in her best Skylander accent. Her radiant smile seemed to brighten the stairwell, as if the sun had suddenly risen within its very walls.
Conn forced himself to look away, placing his full attention back on Maggie, whom he knew was watching his face. He smiled and offered her his elbow and then withdrew it just as quickly. “I’m . . . betrothed,” he said quietly. “Remember? To Lili Folais. Not sure how things are with the Folais Clan, or if they’re even coming to the games this year. But it’s probably best you find another date, Maggie. Sorry.”
She took his arm anyway and smiled. “Save me a dance?”
“Sure, be happy to.”
Brig said, “Who is going to be my date?”
Maggie patted him on the head, “You’re a bit young for me. Plus, you’re not my type.”
The others laughed as they headed up the last flight of stairs.
Michael asked, “You all do know the penalty for harboring a Grounder, aye?”
No one spoke.
He then said, “And Toag, a relationship with a Grounder girl? That’s a Fall From Grace punishment. Ye best be careful, laddie.”
Toag’s happy smile froze on his lips as full comprehension of Michael’s words took ahold.
Conn, stealing a glance back, momentarily locked eyes with Misty, who was the first one to look away when the building began to shake. Somewhere far below, hidden by darkness and an abundance of billowing dust, came the echoing sounds of walls crumbling and the clanging of falling steel girders. The entire stairwell suddenly dropped.
Chapter 35
Jarring tremors, along with violent back and forth swaying, not only continued, but worsened. Conn, thrown off-balance within the tomb-like murk, dropped his lantern. The group’s lone source of light fell away, cartwheeling end-over-end down the stairs, and disappearing into the dust cloud below. The cloud billowed upward, like a convulsive last gasp from deep within the doomed building.
“Run! Up! Up!” Michael yelled, still a half-flight of stairs below Conn.
But Conn didn’t run. Holding tight to the metal banister with one hand, he blindly reached back for Misty with his other hand. Although Toag was his best friend, Conn wasn’t entirely sure he wouldn’t just leave the poor girl behind in order to save himself. A moment later, he thought he heard the rustling of Misty’s heavy dress on the step below him. His hand, grasping out, found her—clasping onto her right breast.
“Aahh!” she screamed.
Conn, finding her arm and taking a firm hold, said, “I’ve got you. Keep climbing up; don’t stop!”
“Then let go of me!” Misty cried, swatting his hand away. “Get the hell out of the way!”
He did as told but then heard something thud down onto the stairs and continue to roll down the steps into the darkened stairwell below. “Oh God . . . no, no, no! My satchel, I have to go back!” Misty looked desperate in the dim murk. She attempted to turn around. Both Michael from above and Conn, occupying her same step, took hold of her arms.
“There’s no going back, Misty! “ Conn yelled above the near deafening rumble.
“He’s right,” Michael yelled. “The building’s falling and whatever’s in the bag isn’t worth your life.”
Conn saw the despair on her face. Abruptly she turned back around and hurried upward.
A faint swath of light suddenly illuminated the top of the stairs. Conn saw Maggie, propping open the door and holding it against the violent tremors of the doomed building. Frantically waving them upward, she shouted, “Come on! Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!”
Misty collided with Conn hard from behind, causing him to slip and then trip. As she and Michael bowled on past him, strong hands clasped onto Conn’s left arm and half-dragged him, half-pulled him upward. Reaching the top of the stairs, he saw that it was Toag, who’d stayed behind to help him. He felt a quick stab of guilt for thinking Toag would leave everyone behind earlier, but there was no time to dwell on it. Together, with arms around each other’s shoulders, they staggered upward to the open door.
Staring out into the night, it all seemed wrong. Where were the cloudbank’s white, moonlit dunes? Where were all the Midtown towers? All Conn could discern was a solid wall of gray. The Drake building shook and groaned, coming apart all around them as large sections of concrete fell from the ceiling and walls. Conn and Toag, the last of the group still within the crumbling confines, looked at each other. Was it too late? If they stepped out now inside the cloudbank instead of on top of it, they risked quickfall, acid burns, or being trapped. Toag’s expression was grim; he was clearly resigned. Conn’s heart sank.
But then an arm reached down through the mist. “Take my hand!” He recognized his brother’s voice. Conn did as told, and in turn, using his free hand, grasped onto Toag’s hand.
Just as Conn leaned outward through the threshold, the Drake building fell away beneath them. Michael’s handhold was their only lifeline to the realm above.
He was disoriented inside the cloudbank, and found it difficult to discern which way was up or down, or even sideways, for that matter. Conn forced himself to calm down. He took several deep breaths. He knew he and Toag were both suspended within the upper layer of the cloudbank. Fortuitously, it was not a quickfall patch. The strange visionless composition that now surrounded them was like being underwater, though he remained dry except for the mist that had begun to sting his exposed skin. Michael’s grasp on his hand held fast, and he felt himself being elevated. A moment later the top of his head broke free—up above the cloudbank—and he could see the familiar Skylander realm around him.
As Michael, now using both hands, hoisted him upward then free from the cloud’s thick depths, Conn tightened his own grip on Toag’s hand. The injuries on his back protested painfully as he pulled his best friend up to safety, but within moments, they were both standing on their own atop the cloudbank. He turned around and saw the now open void the Drake Building once filled. He could see the dark Grounder realm far below, a strange and eerie sight. Distant streets, moist with mist and rain, glimmered beneath a now-penetrating shaft of moonlight.
“Will it always stay like this? Be an open void in the cloud?”
Conn turned to see Misty, standing by his side, staring down at the world where she’d lived her entire life. A life now consigned to memories. “No, this section of the bank was pretty thick. It’ll take some time, but it will fill back in. At least, I hope so.”
Michael, Maggie, Toag, and Brig
, joined them at the void’s precipice. A full minute past before anyone spoke.
“I didnae hear it crash. Did any of you hear it?” Maggie asked.
“No,” Michael said, “it didn’t. Not completely, anyway.” He walked carefully around the outer perimeter of the void below, prodding the cloudbank with his rackstaff to be sure the building’s fall didn’t compromise its integrity. Once on the far side of the hole, he nodded. “It only fell about one hundred feet farther down,” he called from across the void. “It’s still leaning against another building.”
“Wonder if my room’s still in one piece down there?” Brig asked.
Misty, suddenly snapping out of her funk said, “My satchel. My journal. It’s still in there, too. Perhaps—”
Collectively, they all threw her a threatening glance. “Nobody’s ever going back inside that deathtrap. Neither you nor Brig,” Michael ordered.
Brig nodded. But Conn doubted there was anyone alive who could keep the lad from doing exactly what he wanted to do. He’d lived too long on his own to start changing his ways now. He caught Misty and Brig exchanging a conspiratorial look.
Distant voices and yells, proclaiming the Drake’s sudden demise, carried toward them from afar.
“Best we make ourselves scarce,” Michael said. “It won’t be long before the Dorcha Poileas show up.” All eyes turned to Misty.
“She’ll come with me, like we talked about,” Maggie said. “My parents will be asleep. God, it must be after two or three. Good thing it’s dark out; hopefully no one will notice what she’s wearing. I’ll get her some proper clothes and burn those.” She smiled at the clearly nervous Grounder girl. “We have the rest of the night to come up with a sound justification for why she’s suddenly here visiting me.”
Conn, Maggie, and Toag extended their respective rackstaffs out to their full length. In unison, the group turned and headed toward the distant, towering Empire State Building. Moments later, Conn glanced back, finding Brig still standing where they’d just left him. The boy stared down at the empty hole where his home had once been, clearly at a loss.
“Hey!” he called. “Come on, Brig, we’ll think of something to do with you too, lad.”
Chapter 36
Lagging several strides behind, Misty’s knees suddenly felt weak. She forced herself to concentrate, deliberately setting one foot down in front of the other. Eyes wide, her breathing harsh and ragged, her hands trembled at her sides. It’s all too much, Misty thought. Her father was dead, and her mother as good as dead. Added to that fact, she’d almost died twice herself—back within the deacon’s building, and then later, trapped within the falling Drake building. The past few days were starting to catch up with her. It’s all been too too much. I can’t—
“Come along,” Maggie urged. “You need to keep up, girl. And pay attention. One misstep and you’ll tumble into a quickfall patch.”
Misty looked around, suddenly aware she had no clue where she was, or where the others in the group had scurried off to. Maggie’s shadowy shape stood stationary up ahead, waiting for her. “Where are we going? Do you live in the Empire State, like Conn and Toag?”
“No,” Maggie replied, “but it’s not far. The Pavicon tower is maybe a quarter-mile farther along this trail. It’s nothing like the Empire, but it’s home. And hey, it’s still standing.”
What trail? Misty mused. All she could discern in the bleak darkness were varying shades of gray. Thank God for all the distant lanterns and torchlights; hundreds of flickering flames surrounded the area. They seemed to hover, magically tethered high in the nighttime sky itself. It struck Misty again that she was in a completely foreign place, and not even close to being out of danger.
Maggie, took hold of Misty’s arm and wrapped it with her own. “Oh my, you’re shaking. Take deep, slow breaths. That’s right, just like that, in and out. See that cluster of lights yonder?” Maggie gestured ahead, off to the right. “That’s where we’re going. It’s a mere six stories above the bank. Sometimes the building goes totally unnoticed during daytime hours compared to all the other far more magnificent towers around here. But it’s old and charming, and just as magnificent in its own way. You’ll see.”
They walked the rest of the way in relative silence. Maggie kept her close by her side, occasionally slowing to poke her rackstaff here and there into the cloudbank. When they reached Maggie’s building they walked around it, approaching from the opposite side. Even in the relative darkness, the outside looked far more ornate, exhibiting stylized stonework and stamped concrete patterns. Angular geometric swirls were visible within the stacked square blocks.
“This building was erected way, way, way back, during the early 1930’s: a period, or era, called Art Deco in architecture.” Maggie gestured with the point of her rackstaff toward a set of prominent hardwood double doors. She spoke as though reciting from a book, which Misty suspected she might be. “This secondary, cloudbank-level entrance was added about a hundred years after the Ruin Event. Skylander craftsmen and master artisans matched the form and function of the original entrance that’s down at street level. Of course, the fine doors down there are hidden now behind thick rubber shingles and layer upon layer of Ragoon sap sealant.”
Misty’s eyes followed the upward contours of the stout, six-story building that stood atop so many unseen stories below the cloudbank. It was hard to believe that the ugly, rubber-coated buildings she’d grown up seeing at ground level had ever looked so beautiful as this. She appreciated Maggie talking to her in this way: a normal, soft conversation that helped to settle her frayed nerves. It was a nice respite from all the havoc of having her world so recently flipped upside down. But the aftermath, experiencing one adrenaline rush after another, was now crashing down on her, and sheer exhaustion was settling in. Misty tried to appear truly interested in what the Skylander girl was saying. “It all looks so unblemished. Like it’s a new building. Nothing like what’s below the bank.”
Maggie’s expression turned wistful. “Aye, as a people, we take much pride in these few remaining towers. They’re constantly being attended to. Cracks quickly filled, windows replaced, lightning strikes repaired immediately . . . we strive to keep things looking as they were before. Perhaps it’s all in vain. We ken everything’s on borrowed time. It’s ours to experience for mere moments only, within God’s greater timeline.”
Maggie abruptly sniffed and blinked away what Misty surmised were bittersweet tears. Musings, perhaps, about another era, when buildings didn’t just suddenly fall apart and the sky didn’t occasionally erupt into furious, thunderous, dangerous bolts of lighting. Where each tomorrow was expected to be a day just like today—where normal was normal.
Maggie smiled and held out a free hand. “Come on,” she said, all traces of sadness gone from her voice. “Let me show you how Skylander lassies live.”
Together, they pushed through the building’s double doors, entering into heaven. Misty took in the grand circular vestibule, lit by a chandelier hanging high overhead. A dozen individual ChemBurn lanterns illuminated the warm and welcoming space around them. Framed portraits of men and women, wearing scarlet kilts, hung high on the walls. Hanging tapestries stretched long across the walls, chronicling various epic events from the past. They stopped mid-center in the expansive foyer. Misty gazed up and then all around, her eyes taking in the opulence, the grandeur. She noticed the reflective surface beneath her feet, and recognized it as marble. She’d read about it. Textual descriptions didn’t nearly do it justice. “Oh Maggie, this is dazzling! So much more than I ever could have imagined.” She quickly brushed new tears from her cheeks. “And those smells! Oh, the smell in here.”
“Smell? There’s a smell?”
“Oh yes, it’s wonderful! Scents of lingering perfumes and soap and brewed coffee,” she glanced upward again, taking in the aromas from cooked meals, made with strange and exotic spices. Closing her eyes, she inhaled another deep breath. “I could just stand here and fill m
y senses forever.”
Maggie laughed. “Well, there’ll be more than enough time for you to do that in the days to come. For now, do come along; it’s late and I’m ready to drop.”
The stairwell was nothing like the one they’d climbed in the decrepit Drake. Here it was well lit, the walls donning more artwork. When they reached the third floor landing, Maggie was quick to inform Misty they were actually on the Pavicon’s sixty-second floor. Off to the side stood a wide, deep mahogany-stained door, decorated with six metal inlaid squares. Made in the art deco style, eyes on contoured relief faces stared back at them as they approached. The door was amazing, but also a little creepy.
Maggie put a finger to her lips and whispered, “Let’s tread quietly, we dinnae want to wake everyone up, aye?”
Misty nodded, wondering, How many is everyone? They entered into a miniature version of the foyer below: a half-circular space, with a smaller chandelier that hung down from overhead. Maggie hung her retracted rackstaff onto an available peg on the wall, where six or seven other rackstaffs hung in a row. More artwork donned the walls: broad-shouldered Cloudwalkers, wearing kilts, held extended rackstaffs proudly upright in their hands, and all wore the Brataich Clan tartan colors. There were men with muttonchops and men with full beards. A little girl, no older than five or six, whose yellow-coiled curls flowed out beneath a red plaid cap, was all dressed up as a little Cloudwalker. The largest of all the portraits took up one entire wall: a majestic woman wearing a long, sky-blue gown. Poised upon one substantial hip was a balled fist. Clearly, thought Misty, She’s not a lady you would want to mess with.
“That’s my Great Great Aunt Gilda O’Brian,” Maggie whispered.
Misty smiled appreciably. At a closer glance, the woman didn’t look angry as much as she did sad, as if her thoughts had been far, far away when she posed for this portrait.
Cloudwalkers Page 20