A little bit of goodness can be very powerful against evil. But the boy needed light and warmth and life. He could not bear the burden of stunting Pitch forever. His glow would eventually weaken and die, and Pitch would have walked again. But now the spectral boy was free. He wanted, needed, to just go. To see whatever seized his attention.
This Earth was new to him, and he looked upon it in very simple terms. Things were either good or bad. Riding clouds was good. Fearlings and Nightmare Men were bad. He thought of people almost as simply. There were Small Ones (children)—they were good. And fun! They were playful and wild, like himself. As for the Tall Ones (grown-ups), his feelings were more complicated. Some were good and some were definitely bad.
And Pitch was worse than bad. Pitch meant to harm all Small Ones, especially those in Santoff Claussen. The boy wasn’t exactly sure why Pitch wanted to hurt them, but he was sure that it wasn’t fair. Or right. He thought it might be that they were so strong and happy that they never had nightmares. So no matter where he was or what far-flung corner of the planet he was exploring, come night, he would rush back to the village and hide near Big Root, watching and waiting.
He noticed that the Tall One named North had stayed in the village. He liked North a great deal. He was brave and strong and always kind to the Small Ones.
But there was something else about North that intrigued him. The old man named Ombric was teaching him how to do all sorts of fascinating things. Magical things. The boy had once peered into the window of Big Root and saw North intently reading a thick book by the fireplace. Ombric was going over ledgers at a table nearby. Sleeping in her own little bed was the girl they called Katherine. He liked her too—she was very brave for a Small One.
The spectral boy had the oddest sensation . . . a memory of something familiar, something good. He didn’t know the word for it, but what he felt was “friendship.”
The spectral boy
Then the moonbeams arrived and caught his attention. They were ready for their game of chase.
The clouds were waiting.
It was time to play.
But if Pitch or any of his kind returned to hurt these people, the boy would do his best to help them.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The Warrior Apprentice proves to Be Clever
UNLIKE THE SPECTRAL BOY, Nicholas St. North only thought he knew what it was like to be cooped up too long. Before a week was up—his bruises hadn’t even turned all the way from blue-black to yellow-green—he was back on his feet and doing a hundred pull-ups at a time on a sturdy birch branch. He had the strength and determination of a herd of mustangs. North hadn’t touched a saber since the battle with the bear, for the slightest thought of a weapon sent dark, troubling images bubbling up to his brain: children cowering, claws raging, so much panic and screaming. Ombric had created Santoff Claussen as a sanctuary, and right now that was exactly what North needed. And so he took sanctuary in Ombric’s books. To steal treasures from every country in Europe and the Russias, a bandit needed to read and speak in their various languages. So North had no trouble diving into ancient Italian texts or even Greek or Latin.
What was remarkable was North’s consuming fascination with spells and histories. And that Ombric even allowed the young man to study his books of magic. Their secrets were too powerful and could only be shared with those who Ombric thought would not be corrupted by their knowledge. Something about North interested the old wizard. He saw in him potential.
Santoff Claussen had always been a charmed place, literally. For much longer than anyone could remember, Ombric had used all his powers and abilities to protect it from real evil. No thief, savage, or ruffian had ever successfully trespassed its defenses. Pitch, with his dark ways, was the first genuine wickedness the village had had to face.
The experience had affected everyone—grown-ups, children, even the forest and its creatures. They went about their lives as they had before, but the freewheeling joys of the past came less easily now. The trees in the enchanted forest were ever watchful. The animals were skittish as they worried about every shadow. Even the Spirit of the Forest felt anxious. “I have no power to use against Pitch,” she sighed. “My treasures are not to his liking.”
The children were not sleeping well. Ombric felt at fault. “I was too precious with this place,” he confided to North. “Kept too much of the harshness of life from making its way in.”
But the idea actually amused the wounded North. “You did fine, old man!” he reassured him, laughing. And though the children’s parents were so distracted that virtually all inventing in the village had stopped, it was not so with North.
North was growing more and more enchanted with the village—and with the idea of “enchantment.” Spells, legerdemain, conjuring—all came quite naturally to him, and it did not take long for the villagers (and Ombric himself) to consider him the wizard’s first and only apprentice. North quickly became masterful in the alchemical arts, making Big Root bustle with activity again—or with the explosion of a spell that didn’t go quite right. He worked with gusto, and regularly overstepped his new abilities without properly thinking things through. When creating a ball that would never stop bouncing, he added too much bounce. After the ball hit the ground, it rocketed up to the sky with such force that it could easily have traveled to Mars.
In another experiment he tried to make a young cat stay forever kitten-size. First, he accidentally shrunk the animal to the size of a microbe, then overcompensated. A regular-sized kitten is cute, but one that is twelve feet tall is a problem. The cat tried to eat Petrov and the bear repeatedly, even after being returned to a normal size.
This was all a welcome diversion for the village, a chance to laugh again. But North was not the type to take setbacks in stride. He fumed for days whenever things didn’t go as he’d intended. Sometimes these angry moods would cause small catastrophes. Furniture would burst into flames, or very small thunderclouds (usually no bigger than a pillow) would follow North around until he calmed.
“Knowledge without wisdom,” Ombric remarked sagely, watching the kitten leap after Petrov’s tail, causing the horse to knock over a wagon, “can get a bit messy.”
North knew the wizard wasn’t trying to provoke him, but regardless, it felt like a challenge. No longer able to settle hard feelings with a duel or a round of arm wrestling, he instead went back to work, determined not to fail.
Ombric admired his student’s willingness to keep at it, despite the lad’s outbursts of temper. But, just like he’d been as an outlaw, North was also extravagantly cheerful and charming and always ready with a story, especially for the children. If Ombric imparted knowledge and wonder to them, North was now their guide to adventure and good times. In fact, he was no longer a thief of treasures but a buccaneer of fun. He regaled them with tall tales of his early life. He claimed to know of a kingdom governed by a giant egg that ruled from its perch atop an ancient wall. He’d seen a cow that could jump higher than the Earth’s atmosphere. North’s stories were as soothing a tonic to the battle-scarred children as anything Ombric could have concocted from a medicine bottle. And little Katherine was the most rapt of all, devouring his stories and scribbling versions of them in her journals. It was apparent that the children adored North and, subsequently, so did their parents.
As North continued on as the wizard’s apprentice, he became interested in ways to combine Ombric’s old magic with the curious mechanical devices that the villagers loved to build. It could be claimed that the birth of what we now call “machines” began in Santoff Claussen. There were mechanical brooms that could sweep indefinitely. Small boxes that could fit over both ears and play music of one’s choosing. Special magnifying glasses that, when pointed at the sun, could focus the rays and actually cook food. North eyed those inventions with the glint of thievery in his eyes.
“I’d have stolen all the wealth in Asia, Europe, and Africa, too, with any one of those toys,” he told Ombric one morning at bre
akfast. The wizard looked at him quizzically. Katherine frowned. “Don’t worry, either of you. Those pastimes are behind me now. I’ve plans to make my own device—something truly new.”
Katherine was delighted. “I know you’ll do something grand.” Her confidence in him quieted his boastfulness. He did, after all, want to please her. Ombric, however, felt a pang of unease. He knew that North liked to tease him. Yet he sometimes worried, Have I made the right choice? But one thing was certain: Nicholas St. North had brilliant imaginative instincts. With luck and guidance, the lad could achieve great things. Things that Ombric could probably never imagine.
“Well, old boy, get ready for something you’ve never seen. I’m ready to combine man-made devices with your ancient hocus-pocus,” North proclaimed, levitating honey into Ombric’s cup. The wizard regarded his apprentice carefully. He knew he was getting old, and his alchemy would need youth, newness, chance, and a change to stay magical. But there were some risks.
“Mix the old and new with great caution. Remember, Nicholas, there can be dangers in the unknown.”
North nodded, receptive to the advice, but eager to begin. He had a fantastic idea. An idea that would change all their lives! And while he’d grown very fond of the old man, he found his caution amusing. He’s been talking to bugs and reading books too long, he thought. Those bouncing balls and the giant kitten weren’t so dangerous. And my new idea would pose no such risk.
North knew exactly what his first experiment would be. He would make a mechanical man of magic—a robot djinni that would do wonders, but only when commanded. Cook for them! Clean! Help the children with their studies (which, North felt, they spent far too much time doing). What could possibly go wrong with that?
As for Ombric, he’d keep a watchful eye on his apprentice, but in truth, he was glad to have North distracted and even more glad at how North occupied the children. For Ombric had important work to do—the most important work of his long life: He must find a way to stop Pitch. He knew full well that they had not defeated the Nightmare King completely. They had only checked him, like players in a game of chess. And the old wizard knew that the game was far from over.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Wherein Wizard and Apprentice Make Discoveries That prove to Be Momentous
MAKING A MECHANICAL MAN is not an easy task for any wizard, and North was still very much a student. But the construction of his robot djinni had caught the interest of the entire village and further steadied the mood of Santoff Claussen. Plans had to be drawn. Methods and materials were discussed, argued over, agreed upon.
They toiled away in the workroom in Big Root. North consulted ancient scrolls and dusty texts he’d found in the darkest corner of Ombric’s cupboard and then discussed with the villagers the proper tensions of a pulley that would serve as an elbow or knee of the djinni.
“The djinni has to know us—like a good horse knows its rider!” North decided. He based his theory on an old trick for domesticated Siberian tigers, who slept in nests of their masters’ clothes as a safeguard against rebellion. “Get me your lucky penny, your favorite rock, your mother’s comb. I’ll put them in the djinni’s chest.”
The children were in charge of assembling the precious trove. There were many debates over whether a shoe was more personal than a locket, a pocketknife more cherished than a beloved pebble. After days of gathering valuables together, the children rushed to the workroom, treasures in hand. North carefully placed each item in a small hinged box. He was just about to tuck it into the cavity by the djinni’s heart when Katherine dashed up, waving a scrap of paper—a drawing of North himself.
“Will the djinni know us both from this?” she asked. North looked from the childish drawing to the small girl in front of him. He looked to the drawing again—at the detailing Katherine had added. He looked grand, noble, heroic even. Was that how she saw him? He unhinged the box and gently laid the paper on top of the other items, but in truth, he most wanted to fold it into his pocket, to keep it for his own.
He realized with a start that Katherine, in her quiet way, was waiting for a reply. “Indeed it will,” he assured her. “It’ll recognize the portrait, and know whose hand has made it.” At that, the children huddled close as he sealed the box and carefully placed it inside the djinni’s chest.
“Is it finished?” asked Fog.
“Soon enough,” North told him. He looked down proudly at his mechanical creation. At nearly eight feet tall, it was shaped like a man but built entirely of metal gears and clockwork, all in shades of metal—silver, bronze, copper, gold, and darker tones like gunmetal and iron. It was strangely beautiful, like something that hadn’t been made but had been dreamed into being. Around the chest, shoulders, and joints were plates that resembled armor but with intricate, graceful curves. The face and head were simply shaped, yet had a handsomeness that recalled a finely made toy. One slim silver key protruded from the area over the heart—that’s how North intended to wind up the djinni, he’d explained to the children.
All told, there was a wondrous quality about it that surprised them all, especially North. He’d built weapons and shields before. But the robot djinni was designed to do only good, and it looked the part.
North fastened the last chest plate over the treasure box, then turned the silver key five, six, seven times. There was a soft, almost musical whir of sound, then the robot djinni sat up. It looked at them with a curious expression, not of surprise, but as if it had been expecting to see them, and appeared to smile. North and the children erupted in cheers.
“What is your command?” the djinni asked in a smooth, measured voice.
They were all caught off guard. A first command! They hadn’t thought of what their first command would be! Then North spoke up. “Katherine, you may give the order.”
Katherine’s eyes widened, a rosy glow creeping onto her cheeks. She thought for a moment, then in her most polite voice said, “I should like you, Djinni, to walk outside, please.” The djinni nodded just as politely and did as she asked.
The group followed the djinni out the door of Big Root and into the light of day. And Nicholas St. North, for the first time in his wild, adventurous life, felt that he had done something truly fine.
The robot djinni
Ombric, however, was unaware of his pupil’s success. He was locked inside his own room, lost in his studies. He had made considerable progress: With the use of a millennium’s worth of astrological records, along with charts yellowed with age, and bits of stories and legends, he was able to piece together a plan he hoped would stop Pitch.
He’d discovered that five relics of the Moon Clipper had fallen to Earth, scattered across the globe after the great explosion. But, Ombric reasoned, if they were brought together, they could hold great power—a far greater power than that of the wisps of ancient stardust that had enriched the ground of Santoff Claussen, and perhaps even greater power than that of the moonbeams.
Ombric had been tracing the location of the five pieces. We must gather the closest first, he murmured, rolling a chart back up and tying it with a thin leather cord. But he alone knew that getting to the first stop would be the most dangerous journey of his very long life.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Partly Cloudy and Most Unfair
THE DJINNI HAD BECOME the undisputed center of excitement in the village. It was able to do almost any task it was asked. “Djinni, can you move these boulders?” asked one of Old William’s sons, Not-as-Old William. “I was thinking of making a new tower.”
“As you command,” replied the mechanical man, and in minutes it had assembled, quite artfully, the hulking stones into a splendid tower, complete with turrets.
Other villagers made requests of the djinni, but one day Katherine had a request she desperately wanted to make and North could read her impatience. “Djinni! The lass will explode if she doesn’t get her turn next,” he boomed. Katherine bounced on her toes in anticipation—she had been drawing pictures of t
he jumping cow North had told them about and wondered what it had seen when it had leaped in the sky.
The djinni turned to her, and she asked excitedly, “Djinni, can you throw me as high into the air as you can and catch me?”
“As you command,” it answered. And quite effortlessly, it tossed Katherine so high that the villagers lost sight of her. They peered into the sky worriedly, North using a telescope of his own design.
“There she is!” he said at last, pointing to the small bank of clouds Katherine was gleefully skimming over.
Though the others watched uneasily, Katherine was delighted by her sudden journey into the atmosphere. She’d soared above the tallest trees in Santoff Claussen and passed a flock of startled geese. She soared higher than she had even imagined; below her, Santoff Claussen looked rather small, and the outside world very large and inviting. She trusted the djinni to catch her—after all, North had made it.
Then, floating just a few feet in front of her, was a small cloud, not much bigger than a feather bed. On that cloud, to her complete and utter surprise, crouched . . . a boy. The same boy who had come to their rescue back in the forest! He was looking right at her. Katherine gasped—she had seen him only that one time. In daylight he shimmered even more brilliantly. He looked as if he were made of light and mist, like a breath on a cold winter’s night, and . . . and . . . how was it that he could stand on a cloud? She stared, stunned.
They had only a single second together. She smiled at him. He smiled back. She reached out her hand, and he did as well. Their fingertips were just about to touch. Then she began to drop.
Whereas going up had been a delicious mix of terror and glee for Katherine, falling the rest of the way back down was entirely different. She was so deep in thought about the strange enchanted boy that she was barely aware that she was hurtling toward Earth. Nor did she notice Ombric emerge from Big Root, lean on his staff, and watch. She landed—to North’s great relief—gently and comfortably in the djinni’s outstretched arms. A wisp of wind touched her cheek, and she glanced up toward the small cloud once more.
The Guardians: Nicholas St. North and the Battle of the Nightmare King Page 5
