ALSO BY RAYMOND ARROYO
Will Wilder: The Relic of Perilous Falls
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Text copyright © 2017 by Raymond Arroyo
Cover art and interior illustrations copyright © 2017 by Jeff Nentrup
All rights reserved. Published in the United States by Crown Books for Young Readers, an imprint of Random House Children’s Books, a division of Penguin Random House LLC, New York.
Crown and the colophon are registered trademarks of Penguin Random House LLC.
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Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Arroyo, Raymond, author.
Title: The lost staff of wonders / Raymond Arroyo.
Description: First Edition. | New York : Crown Books for Young Readers [2017]
Series: Will Wilder ; 2 | Summary: “Twelve-year-old Will Wilder is back to protect the town of Perilous Falls from another ancient evil—the fearsome demon, Amon”—Provided by publisher.
Identifiers: LCCN 2016012966 | ISBN 978-0-553-53967-7 (hardback) | ISBN 978-0-553-53968-4 (glb) | ISBN 978-0-553-53969-1 (epub)
Subjects: | CYAC: Supernatural—Fiction. | Demonology—Fiction. | BISAC: JUVENILE FICTION / Action & Adventure / General. | JUVENILE FICTION / Family / General (see also headings under Social Issues). | JUVENILE FICTION / Religious / General.
Classification: LCC PZ7.A74352 Lo 2017 | DDC [Fic]—dc23
Ebook ISBN 9780553539691
Random House Children’s Books supports the First Amendment and celebrates the right to read.
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Contents
Cover
Also by Raymond Arroyo
Title Page
Copyright
Dedication
Map
Epigraph
Prologue: The Brothers’ Staffs
Chapter 1: The Flying Demon
Chapter 2: Black Feathers and Black Belts
Chapter 3: Max’s Dream
Chapter 4: Pothinus Sab
Chapter 5: A Plan and a Plague
Chapter 6: Bobbit’s Bestiary
Chapter 7: Miss Ann Hye
Chapter 8: Into the Darkness
Chapter 9: Croakers
Chapter 10: The Second Prophecy
Chapter 11: The Amulet of Ammit
Chapter 12: Karnak’s Grand Opening
Chapter 13: The Walls Have Ears
Chapter 14: Gnats
Chapter 15: A Massive Defense
Chapter 16: The Purgatorial Course
Chapter 17: Malleus Diabolus
Chapter 18: Flaming Hail and Locusts
Chapter 19: Possessed by Amon
Chapter 20: The Hidden Staff
Chapter 21: Ammit Unleashed
Chapter 22: The Wrath of the Demon
Chapter 23: Bloody Questions
Acknowledgments
About the Author
For Rebecca, who first read our children stories,
and to Lynda, who first read them to me
Detail left
Detail right
Do not plunge thyself too far in anger,
lest thou hasten thy trial…
—William Shakespeare,
All’s Well That Ends Well
Axum, Ethiopia
April 23, 1939
The Guardian bounded across the dusty church toward a soldier clutching the doorway’s edge. A square silk hat bounced atop his head as he ran, golden fabric trembling around him.
Kicking dirt from his boots, the lean American soldier in the pith helmet wore a scowl. He clearly hadn’t come to pray.
“We asked the Brethren to send you months ago, Wilder. Months ago!” The bearded man with skin like caramel and a heavy Ethiopian accent tugged at the soldier’s arm. He pulled him inside St. Mary of Zion Church. But within a few steps, he released the soldier as if he had just clutched a sizzling coal.
“You have such anger, son. Such rage.” The small man’s eyes searched the soldier’s sculpted face for answers. “What is the matter, Wilder?”
“I couldn’t get here any sooner,” the soldier seethed, removing his helmet, not making eye contact. “I was in Hong Kong. I lost the last two Chinese collaborators. Their son got out with me, but—” His lips trembled. “The Sinestri. They released four or five Yaoguai into the house and—” He clenched the brim of his pith helmet hard enough to snap it in two.
“Nah, nah, nah.” The Guardian gently patted the soldier’s forearm and drew close. “You saved a life. You did your best. We will conquer the Sinestri with hope. Not with regret or anger.” In a cracked voice, he whispered intensely, “A German—an archaeologist—has been here for three days. He has been asking questions and looking, looking everywhere.”
“For the Ark of the Covenant?” the American asked, dabbing his eyes.
“No, no. The security of the Ark does not trouble us. The sacred Tabot can fend for itself.” The Guardian yanked his silken robes to his body and leaned in. “Edmund Kiss is the man’s name. The Italians tell me he was sent by some Nazi commander—called Himmler—to collect ‘powerful objects.’ ” A devious smirk suddenly cut across his face. The man’s ghostly blue eyes flickered with glee.
“What’s so funny?” the young soldier asked.
“You should see his face, Wilder.” The bearded man revealed a mouthful of blinding white teeth. “This Edmund Kiss went near the Holy of Holies.” He pointed toward the crimson silk curtain to his right, surrounded by hand-painted murals of saints and the Virgin holding the Christ Child.
“Did he make it inside?”
“He got past the first curtain. But no farther. Only the Guardian is permitted to enter here—to even approach the Ark. Only I, Wilder.”
“So what happened?”
“We heard screaming inside. Moments later Kiss is running out through the curtains, hands over his face.” The Guardian lifted a bleached hand to his mouth, concealing a giggle. “Screaming—yelling, ‘Help me! Help me!’ There was smoke coming off his head. When he pulled his hands back—oh! Blisters. Tumors all over his face. Everything exposed was blistered. He won’t be back for the Ark.” The Guardian’s hoarse snicker filled the sanctuary.
Jacob Wilder shot a worried look toward the curtains hiding the Ark of the Covenant. He sidestepped away from the radiant drapes, dragging the Guardian along with him.
“Abba Azarius, the Brethren told me you were concerned about the safety of something precious and that I should retrieve it. It isn’t the Ark, I hope.”
“No, Brother Jacob. Since the time of Moses, the Ark has slain armies and reduced men to dust. It has been in Ethiopia for thousands of years—snatched from Jerusalem by the son of King Solomon and the Queen of Sheba. It will take more than the efforts of the Italians or the Nazis to possess it. We are concerned about the contents of the Ark.”
“You mean the tablets bearing the Ten Commandments?” Wilder asked.
“No. The tablets are safe inside, as is the jar of manna—the bread God gave the Israelites in the desert. But there is another item—”
“The Staff of Aaron. Moses’s brother’s staff?”
“You know the Old Testament, Wilder. Many centuries ago, the brothers here in Axum used the power of the staffs for protection. Later, fearing that invaders might steal them, we took precautions.” The Guardian walked over to a mural of brightly colored monks raising their hand
s in prayer. Then pushing his hands against those of a monk in the mural, the part of the wall he pressed receded several feet into darkness. The Guardian stepped into the slight opening in the wall.
He descended a dimly lit flight of stairs, followed closely by Jacob. “You have both staffs? The ones belonging to Moses and Aaron?” Jacob whispered.
“We hid the Staff of Aaron, but these barbarians are very close to discovering its location.”
The Guardian spun around as he reached the last step. “In the obelisk field, the one with the granite pillars across the way”—Abba Azarius dropped his voice—“Aaron’s rod is there.”
“Above the underground tombs where I entered? In the field?”
The Guardian cackled. “Inside the first obelisk to the left.” The little man walked to the corner of what appeared to be a low-slung storage room. He lifted his garment at the knees and began dancing a peculiar jig. Stamping his feet in rhythm on the sandy stone in the corner, he never stopped talking. “Aaron’s rod is far more powerful than Moses’s staff. But you must take both back to Monte Cassino. They are not safe here.”
The Guardian stopped his footwork and joined Jacob in the middle of the room. He intently watched the stone in the corner, caressing his chest-length beard. The crunch of rock grinding on rock echoed as the stone he had danced upon slid beneath the nearby wall.
From the opening in the floor, a dark blue rod flew into the air, then hung in suspension. The Guardian lifted one arm, his hand wide. The thick rod hit his palm with a smack. “Behold, the Staff of Moses. The staff of God.”
Jacob Wilder was speechless. His green eyes darted over the rod. The sapphire surface held an ethereal glow, as if it possessed an internal light. Etched up and down the shaft were Hebrew letters. Jacob reached for the rod.
“Mr. Jacob…Mr. Jacob,” a high-pitched voice screeched from the stairwell behind them. A long shadow crept down the wall.
The Guardian aimed the thick end of the staff toward the staircase. “Come no farther!” he yelled to the approaching figure.
Jacob leapt in front of the staff. “Everything’s fine. He’s with me. It’s the boy from Hong Kong. The cooperators’ son. You can come down, Tobias,” he said over his shoulder.
The worried face of a small Chinese boy, all of six, leaned around the visible part of the stairs. “You told me to call if there was trouble. Well…there is trouble, Mr. Jacob. Big, big, big trouble…”
The Guardian passed the staff to Jacob. “What trouble, child?”
“Troops. Soldiers. I saw lots of soldiers coming here. To the church,” Tobias said.
Without a word, Abba Azarius slipped past the boy, up the staircase. Soon the gentle scraping of the wall being pushed back into position could be heard from above, followed by the footsteps of the Guardian returning.
“Who is the guy in the funny hat?” Tobias asked, scrunching up his face.
“Keep it down,” Jacob said as the Guardian reappeared. “Abba, is there another way into the obelisk field?”
“There is always another way, Wilder.” The Guardian opened a woven chest beneath a table lined with brass lamps. He pulled out folded linen robes, which he threw onto the table. “Wear this. You too, boy. Hide the helmet under your vestments, Wilder.” The Guardian tossed Jacob a black linen pillbox hat, which he pushed onto his head.
“There is a tunnel here,” the Guardian said, pointing to a wall behind them. “It leads to the royal burial chambers where you entered. Directly under the obelisk field.” From his robes, the Guardian pulled out three elaborate metal disks emblazoned with crosses. He jammed each one into a distinct slit in the stone wall. Like circular saws, the metallic disks madly spun up and down, side to side, along the space between the stones. When they stopped, the Guardian gave the wall a shove and a square passage presented itself.
Lighting two brass lamps, Abba Azarius led the way. Jacob, carrying the sapphire rod, followed.
“You see the marking on the knob of the staff? The serpent with the straight tail?” the Guardian asked as they moved. “On the obelisk outside, you will find the exact same marking next to a false door. Gently press the knob of Moses’s staff to the marking on the granite and Aaron’s rod will appear. If you are the ‘chosen one,’ you should be able to claim it.”
According to a prophecy revered by the Brethren, Jacob Wilder was “the chosen one” among them—the key to defeating the Sinestri and resisting the Darkness.
The Guardian stopped suddenly and clutched the staff in Jacob’s hands, his tone grave. “This staff is capable of wonders, Wilder. It called down the ten plagues upon the Egyptians. It transformed into a terrible serpent. Throw it to the ground with enough force and it may do so again. Remember, the tail of the thing will remain as you see it here. Clutch its tail and it will become a staff once more. Protect it. If the rod of Moses ever fell into the hands of the Sinestri—”
“I understand,” Jacob snapped, pulling the staff away. “I’ve got it.”
“I hope you do, Brother Wilder. Be quick, but remember the sin of Moses: defiance! Anger! Do not allow your wrath to deceive you. It can blind even a Seer.”
Jacob nodded and raced down the passage.
The Guardian blessed the head of Tobias and sent him down the dark passageway as well. “You will see the light up ahead,” he called out. “Remember, just touch the staff to the obelisk marking. I will distract the soldiers in the church. You will need the time. God go with you.”
Jacob focused only on his task: find the obelisk, seize Aaron’s staff, and get out of Axum. Catching sight of the orphaned boy trailing him in and out of the shadows, sadness ambushed him. Had he arrived a few minutes earlier—struck faster—he might have saved the boy’s parents. They hadn’t seen the skeletal demons coming, but Jacob Wilder had. By the time he burst through the door of the home, the Yaoguai held Mr. and Mrs. Shen by their throats. Tobias crouched under a table screaming for his parents. The winged beasts carried the couple up to the ceiling of the main room and in seconds had pressed the life out of them. Jacob’s jaw muscles twitched with fury.
“Tobias,” he said with more force than he intended. “Stay near the sarcophagus.” He indicated a side chamber with three stone caskets. “I’ll be back in a few minutes. If anyone comes, get in that one—with the cross on it. You know the formula.”
For centuries the Brethren had traveled via sarcophagus in a pinch. Jacob and his allies were no exception.
Tobias nodded, fear in his eyes. “Careful, Mr. Jacob.”
“It’s a deal.” Jacob charged up the stairs into the purple twilight of the field. Within seconds he was in the shadow of the enormous central obelisk. Slim granite pillars reaching into the sky surrounded him. The elaborate towers indicated the tombs of the Axum royalty. After a quick search, he found the pillar with the carved door but had trouble locating the “serpent” marking.
Where is it? Where is the mark—
The distant approach of footsteps distracted him. Leaning around the edge of the obelisk, he could see soldiers emerging from the fortress-like church across the field, about four hundred yards away. They were headed in his direction. Time was running out.
On a circular emblem next to the granite door, he discovered the faint etching of the stiff-tailed serpent. Raising Moses’s staff, he aligned the marking on the top of the rod with the granite emblem and gently pressed them together. Nothing. His heart pumping faster, Jacob repeated the action. He could hear the soldiers drawing near.
Once more he touched the rod to the emblem. His breath quickened; his mouth went dry. In frustration, he smashed the sapphire knob into the granite. CRACK. It was a hollow space. The granite gave way. CRACK. He hit it again, hard, and a three-foot area of the granite face dropped like broken eggshells to the ground. Inside stood a tangle of blooming vines connected to a central shaft.
“What am I supposed to do with this?” Jacob asked himself. At first, he felt for his knife. Then recalling what the Guar
dian had said, he reached into the opening for what looked to be the slender trunk of a sapling. There were Hebrew letters carved into the bark. The moment his hand made contact, the white blooms retracted and the vines slithered into the shaft as he held it. He easily pulled the wooden staff from the obelisk.
“Quite a trick,” Jacob said, marveling at the two staffs in his hands.
“Quite a trick indeed,” a slurred, German-accented voice spat from behind him.
Jacob stiffened. When he turned, there was Tobias, a Luger pointed to his small head. Holding the gun was a portly figure in khaki, his face full of raised boils, some of them oozing.
“I have paid a dear price for those sticks. Give them here”—he cocked the gun’s hammer back—“or the boy dies.”
Tobias flinched as the hand, covered in red, open blisters, tightened its grasp on him. Seeing the boy once more in distress, something snapped inside Jacob Wilder. He had but one thought: Protect Tobias.
“Of course, Mr. Kiss. Here are your sticks.” In one fluid movement, he smacked Kiss on each side of his head with the two staffs and kicked the gun from the man’s hand. Wilder positioned himself between the boy and the blistered archaeologist. Before the German knew what was happening, Wilder turned him around and pinioned him against the obelisk, the staffs holding his neck in place.
“Help me! I’m here behind the obelisk,” Kiss yelled to the Italian soldiers entering the field. “The staffs are here. I have the sta—”
Jacob punched him in the face, which quieted the German. He wiped the back of his sticky hand on Kiss’s shirt.
“Tobias, don’t let anyone get this.” Jacob handed the plain wooden staff, Aaron’s rod, to the boy. “Hold it tight. Run straight to the sarcophagus. Get in and go.”
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