Wick nodded. “Archer?”
Archer looked at him. “What?”
Wick took a deep breath. “I don't know how this will turn out for us, but if anything bad happens, I swear that we are friends. I was an idiot for everything I said to you when I was angry.”
Archer was about to blow the comment off, then changed his mind. “Yeah, you were, but so was I. So let's do this, yeah?”
“Yeah. Good luck.”
“Won't need it. But good luck to you too.” Archer reached for the dripping handle of the door. “This thing had better still work. . .”
He yanked the door open, and the flickering torchlight of the centaur valley poured through the doorway.
The door worked.
The plan was in motion.
Looking at one another once more, Archer and Wick darted through the doorway and launched on their plan to rob the greatest and wisest race in Aro.
Chapter Seventeen
How a Tree and a Seraph Robbed Everyone in the World
The centaurs had called for backup. Even through the torrents of rain, Wick could spot the armor-clad members of each and every race in Aro gathered around the valley of the centaurs, on the land, across the mountains, and soaring through the air. The army that had been waiting for them at the nixie palace now looked small. The entire valley was filled with people bent on their arrest. Or their deaths.
This was it.
“Run, tree!” Before Wick realized what was going on, Archer had taken off around a large group of satyrs carrying fighting staffs, leaving him with the Door in the Wall and a thousand enemies. No one knew where they had come from, so as soon as Archer appeared, most of the gathered forces went after him or at least looked to see the source of the commotion.
According to the plan, Archer was supposed to have run the opposite way with the Door in the Wall. But instead, now he was heading toward the lake. Already the plan had changed.
He would have to adapt. Some of them were starting to turn his way, realizing what was going on. Wick tucked the door under his arm and ran.
He knew that the room where the stones were kept would be locked, and only certain people had the keys.
But he and Archer had already decided whose would be the easiest to take.
Someone grabbed the collar of his shirt, but he shook them off and swung the Door in the Wall like a club, striking the nixie under the chin.
The nixie went down. But there were more behind him.
Wick rammed the door up against the wall of the nearest building and darted through, ripping the door out of the wall on the other side.
He was inside the building before anyone was ready for him.
Archer ran. He had attracted the most pursuers when he had dashed out into the open, taking a lot of heat off Wick as he raced in the other direction with the door.
A manghar dropped from the stormy sky. Archer dodged under a tree, temporarily blocking the manghar's shot at him. Now he just had to shake his other pursuers. He wove through a small copse of trees, then quickly tucked himself in a hollow trunk to hide. The crowd following him streamed past.
He tucked himself further inside the hole as someone passed too close. Getting caught wasn't an option. If he got caught, he would be overwhelmed by numbers and it wouldn't be easy to get free again. He couldn't get caught, and neither could Wick. Hopefully, Wick could handle himself.
Archer peeked out of his hidey-hole. The building he needed was still a hundred yards away, and he wasn't even lucky enough to have the Door to help him go through solid walls. Maybe he hadn't chosen the easiest part of the plan to carry out. But it was too late to change his mind now.
Some of the others had now realized that Archer was still hiding somewhere in the copse of trees. In the corner of his eye, he watched them move slowly through the trees, growing closer. He had to move soon. His wings were starting to cramp in the tight space.
He crouched, carefully so he could stay inside the hollow of the tree, and picked up a hefty piece of rotten wood. When most of them were turned away, Archer threw it as far off into the trees as he could. As he had hoped, it made a huge cracking noise. And as he had hoped, most of the people looking for him turned in that direction.
He made a break for it.
He could make it to the building, and he wouldn't be caught.
A satyr waited for Wick inside. In less time than it took for him to come through the door and stand up again, the satyr had already shouted the alarm and charged at him. Just as the satyr reached him, Wick slammed the door against the wall and popped it open, shoving the satyr through and leaving him outside the building. With the satyr gone, he propped the Door against the other side of the hallway and ducked through to the room beyond, pulling the door free again before anyone else could follow.
But news of Wick's arrival had already been heard throughout the building. As soon as he reached the next hallway, a trio of seraphs dived for him. He beat the nearest one back with the Door in the Wall and raced down the hallway to the end. It was the next room he had to be in, not this hallway.
The two remaining seraphs swooped down the hall after Wick, bent on vengeance. As he reached the door to the room he needed, they both grabbed opposite arms and yanked him backward. He dropped the Door. Rain pounded on the roof as the two seraphs flew back down the hallway, dragging him with them.
He had to get free. Wick managed to catch one foot against a torch holder on the wall. The yank of pulling two different directions almost made him let go, but the sudden jolt was all it took to make the seraphs lose their hold. Wick dropped to the floor. The seraphs spun around to attack again.
As they approached, Wick grabbed them both by the shoulders and knocked their heads together.
The pair of them dropped like stones.
Hoping he hadn't caused any permanent damage, Wick took off down the hallway again, grabbing the Door in the Wall on his way by. No one realized the hallway was now unguarded before he made it inside the room and slammed the door behind him.
The heavy rain was a welcome cover as Archer raced across open space, heading for a golden pavilion on the edge of the lake in the center of the valley. The centaurs clearly didn't believe in glass. Rain was pouring in through the open window spaces on both levels of the pavilion. He grinned as he noticed something else. There were hardly any people posted on guard around the outside of the building. Getting in would be easy.
What wouldn't be easy was getting through the group of human soldiers between him and the pavilion.
So far, they hadn't seen him. Maybe he could burst through if he had the element of surprise. But no. One of them turned his way, and Archer dived behind a rock. He had to wait until they stopped looking again. He cursed his broken wing. If he had been able to fly, a lot of things on this trip would have been a lot easier. But no.
Archer peeked around the rock. Five of them were facing his direction now. They weren't looking toward the rock where he was hiding, but they would see him the instant he moved.
He just had to wait a little longer.
Ongel waited in the middle of the room with a hefty staff in his hand. The black centaur stood tall as Wick entered and raised his head higher. “I thought I heard an intruder, but I hoped it wouldn't be you.” Ongel had hoped beyond hope that it wasn't true, that the visions wouldn't come to pass. He had wanted a different ending for Wick.
Wick tucked the Door in the Wall under his arm and smiled an empty smile. “I don't have the time to explain. All I ask is that you trust me. I need the key to the holding room.”
Ongel's grip on the staff shifted. “I was afraid it would end this way. So I don't have the key.” He saw Wick judging his options and said, “Can't we talk this out?”
Wick shrugged with sagging shoulders. “Like I said, I really don't have the time. I'm sorry.”
Wick hefted the Door in the Wall in front of him like a shield. Then, quick as a rabbit, he r
aced toward the nearest wall and vanished.
Ongel turned his head slowly, watching the sides of the room for where Wick would reappear. Wick was smart; he would try to appear from the place Ongel would least expect it. His grip on his staff tightened.
A soft creak behind his head caught his attention, and he whirled around, staff at the ready.
But as it turned out, he wouldn't need it. Wick already had the key in his hand and was slipping the leather cord over his head. “Before, I wouldn't have noticed that the way you were facing meant you'd hidden the key over here, but unfortunately I learned from the best.” He grabbed the handle of the Door.
Fear for Wick exploded in Ongel's chest. “You're going to ruin everything for yourself, Wick!”
“I'm sorry I've disappointed you,” Wick said with a little smile, “but I think I'll be all right.”
Then he shut the Door.
Archer had endured far too much rain sliding down his collar before the last human soldier finally looked the other way. On a normal day, he would have waited for them to go their own way or at least let down their guard, but that wouldn't be happening today. This was the best chance he was likely to get.
He scrambled out from behind the rock and made a break for the weakest part of the line.
At least a dozen nixies stood between Wick and the great hall that held the Heather Stones. Word had spread by now that he was using the Door in the Wall, and many of the opposers had surrounded the structures, making barriers between himself and the walls of the buildings.
He tried to think of a plan to get past the nixies. The Door was his only tool, but out in the open, the Door in the Wall couldn't help him. Or could it?
Wick judged the distance between himself and the nixies. He was pressed up against a tree, as close to the great hall as he could get, and with the torrents of rain coming from the sky, they hadn't seen him yet. A streak of lightning flashed across the sky.
Once the lightning had passed, Wick held the Door in front of him once again, like a shield, and he charged toward the crowd of armed nixies.
They saw him coming before he reached them but hadn't anticipated the impact. Bellowing a war cry, Wick sped up and slammed into them, sending two flying and splintering the spear of a third. He broke through their ranks with only a few scratches across the face of the Door and kept going. As Wick broke free, one of the nixies recovered his balance and jabbed his spear at Wick's back. The blow only grazed Wick, but it left a streak of hot pain behind it. The pain made him stumble.
He raced toward the great hall with the nixies in hot pursuit. Another spear hit the grass beside his feet, and he dodged. He could still make it! He dove through the Door and slammed it shut behind him. Something pounded against the other side. The nixies. He yanked it away from the wall and started running again.
The great hall in centaur territory was huge. Most of the buildings in the center of their valley were small, allowing extra space for the grass and trees and the visiting crowds. The only large building was the great hall. Wick limped across the glossy marble floor to the opposite side, where a few smaller rooms lined the edge of the hall. The closest of these was the holding room, the quiet, reverent space where all important objects were kept on their way to other places. So long as the centaurs were keeping to protocol, the Heather Stones would be in the chamber.
Wick reached inside his shirt for the key.
The waiting chamber would be too heavily wrapped in magic for any other intrusive magic to force its way in. Even a magic as powerful and sneaky as the Door in the Wall would never make it through from the outside. Wick propped the Door up next to the gold double doors into the room and pulled the key's cord over his head. The key slid into the lock easily. He gave it a quick twist, and the door swung inward.
The moment the doors started to give, something slammed against them from the other side, knocking them shut again. Wick gave the door a shove, but it wouldn't budge. Whoever was inside was holding it in place.
Running footsteps echoed through the hall, getting louder as the nixies found their way in.
Wick tucked the Door in the Wall under his arm and braced himself. Then he rammed the doors with his shoulder.
Archer had hoped the humans would be stupider. He had barely broken the line before he was buried under three of them in a pile. They struggled to their feet, hanging on to his arms so he couldn't escape. Archer fought them, but they held on too tightly. He struggled all the harder, and one of them punched him in the gut. The injury in his ribs, the one from all the fights, blazed with agony, and he gasped, doubling over to clutch his stomach.
The men laughed, certain they had him now.
But despite the pain, Archer heard the opportunity knocking. As soon as the men let down their guard, he snapped out his wings, catching two of them in the face and sending them flying. That was the problem with humans. The problem with many people, really. They always forgot the wings.
Archer's arms were free again. He had a fighting chance.
The men were on the defensive now, but they were still reeling from the surprise attack. Archer readied himself to fight. There was only one man between him and his goal now. He just had to get past the last one.
The problem was that the last one was huge.
The man between Archer and the place he needed to go stood a full head taller than even Wick would be and twice as broad. He wouldn't be easy to take out. In fact, Archer decided to avoid confronting him if he could since it would only leave him smeared on the ground.
The huge man also got on a defensive stance: head down, arms spread like a net, legs apart to block Archer's path.
Archer grabbed the opportunity before he thought better of it. He took a flying leap at the man. As the huge soldier reached out to grab him, Archer slipped onto his stomach and slid between the man's legs.
A classic. The uproar behind him was better than he could have hoped for. But between all the hits he had taken and the sudden impact of falling onto his stomach to slide, his ribs were almost too much to run with. He bent at an angle where they didn't hurt so much and ran. The men were close behind him, he could feel it.
A massive strike of lightning lit up the valley, exposing his position to everyone across the open space. He raced into the lower level of the gold pavilion with a crowd in hot pursuit. He needed an opportunity to shake them. The lower level of the pavilion was mainly just an open eating area hemmed in by pillars, but a winding staircase over in the corner led to the upper level.
The upper level was where he needed to go. Grabbing the handrail of the stair like a lifeline, he raced up the stairs, around and around. He was nearly to the top when the stairs started trembling. The hoard of soldiers behind him was coming up the steps.
Archer rocketed around the last turn in the staircase and threw himself into a small space between a potted plant and an ornate table. Making sure he was out of sight, he waited, clutching his ribs and trying not to groan.
A dozen human soldiers raced up the stairs and thundered down the hallway. When they didn't find him, they would start a search of the building.
He could wait.
Wick slammed his shoulder against the door, harder this time. Whoever was on the other side of the doors lost their balance, and Wick darted inside the room, locking the doors again behind him. The impact had jarred the wound on his back. For a moment he leaned against the doors, breathing hard and grimacing as he tried to push the pain down.
But he had made it inside.
Wick spotted the stones laid out on a gilded table across the room, glistening in the pale glow of an artificial light. For the last few weeks, the stones had been resting in this room, absorbing the magic in the air of the centaur territory, soaking up more power. The room almost smelled like magic. Between him and the table, a young centaur was getting back up from where he had fallen. The close-cropped red hair gave him away instantly. Eland.
Deep in th
e pit of his gut, something had told Wick that Eland would be here.
And yet he still hadn't figured out what he would say.
Hiding behind the fronds of the potted plant, Archer grinned to himself. The humans, having searched the whole building and not found him, decided amongst themselves that he must have jumped out a window or escaped the building by some other means. Archer waited as the humans filed past him and thundered down the winding stairs, back to their posts out in the rain.
To keep on the safe side, he waited a moment, listening, before he slipped out of his hiding place.
“That worked better than I thought it would,” he muttered to himself, almost wanting to laugh. He strutted down the empty hall, glancing inside each doorway as he passed. The last stone was supposed to be here somewhere.
At last, the third doorway on his right yielded results, even if they weren't the results he had come for. Archer padded through the doorway and stopped, a smile growing on his face like that of someone who had just run into an old friend.
Just when he thought his life could never go back to normal.
Across from him, hanging on a peg, was his beautiful unfillable bag.
The bag would be useful, he told himself as he crept across the room toward it. It would help them carry the stones, like it had carried the stones before. It might even be a helpful hiding place if they got in a pinch on their way to. . .
“To where exactly?” Wick's voice asked in his head. “After we get the stones, we're only running to the caves, and then we won't have time for hiding.”
Archer shook his head, trying to get Wick's imaginary voice out of it. He wanted the bag back, and that was the end of it. It was his bag, and it had been stolen from him.
Robbing Centaurs and Other Bad Ideas Page 20
