Will Wilder #2

by Raymond Arroyo

  Andrew was so irritated by the display, he smacked Simon on the arm, hard.

  “What’d you do that for, moron?”

  “To bring you back to earth. We need to stay calm so we can stop the last plague from coming,” Andrew said. “What do ya think we should do, Will-man?”

  Will paused at the gates of the museum. “I’m not sure. Miss Ann, the woman who works for Bobbit, told me he had the staff. But there’s no telling if he still has it.”

  “So you think Bobbit is the guy, not Sab? I mean, the dude has a picture of Amon in his office.” Andrew smacked himself on the forehead. “But they’re both eating the geese, right? So it could be either of ’em? Maybe both of ’em?”

  “We should check up on Mr. Bobbit,” Cami offered. “Andrew and Simon and I can stake him out at his store. We’ll let you know if he has the staff.”

  “Have you seen anything out of the ordinary, Will?” Simon pointed his index fingers up to his wide glasses as a visual aid. “Have you seen any of your strange, shadowy, imaginary friends?”

  “Keep this up and you’ll need some imaginary friends,” Will said. “To answer your question, no. I haven’t seen any demons with sapphire walking sticks—and no shadows either. Just those feathers—and they’re all over the place.”

  The carved door on the front of the museum, the one with the image of a knight driving a lance into a dragon, swung open. From behind the door, Bartimaeus squinted at Will’s friends, giving them a wave. “Will, you’re late for your training. You kids come up in here for a sec.” He disappeared back into the large structure that appeared more Byzantine monastery than museum.

  The kids walked into the vast, dimly lit outer library. Bartimaeus threw his crutches out, propelling himself to a bookcase on the left side of the room. Like the other cases, it was fronted by a brass grill. He opened the grill with his key and pulled on one of the brass pelicans attached to the grating—which looked just like the one on Will’s pith helmet. Bartimaeus opened the cage and reached for the middle shelf. He shoved a red volume into the shadows. He did the same to a blue book on a lower shelf and finally gave a black leather-bound diary a shove. He then stood back and leaned on his crutches, tilting his head as if pondering something weighty.

  “Is he okay?” Simon asked after several seconds. “What are we waiting for?”

  “We waitin’ for you to get some patience. That’s what we waitin’ for,” Bartimaeus said derisively, looking Simon up and down. “This place is old, young man—and old things take time. Sometimes the things we have to wait for are the ones we appreciate the most. So enjoy the anticipation.”

  Half of the entire bookshelf creaked backward, sliding into darkness, creating a passageway.

  “What’d I tell ya? It might be old, but the action’s reliable.” He ambled into the dark space. “Can’t find this kind of stuff at Ikea, I’ll tell you dat.” Moments later, he emerged from the darkness clutching a handful of twelve-inch candles. “So put these in your bags and take ’em home,” Bart said, handing out the candles.

  Cami studied the white wax work as she took it. “Do they have some purpose?” she asked.

  “You’ll find out soon, miss. When we’re in the middle of the three days of darkness, you won’t be able to see ya hand in front of ya face. The electric lights’ll fail—ya flashlights, ya phone. You’ll be outta luck. In a supernatural darkness, the only thing that might provide a glimmer of light is a blessed candle. That’s what these are. So keep ’em close and give ’em to ya friends and family. We gotta be defensive here.”

  Simon, on the verge of tears, stared at the candle. “Does this mean you think all the other plagues are coming? The hail, the locusts?”

  “Son, I get sensations every now and then, but I don’t get to see the whole picture.” Bartimaeus pulled the books forward to their initial positions and hobbled out of the way as the shelf returned to its place. “I do know one thing, though: As long as there is breath in us, we gotta have hope—and we have to keep fighting for what’s right, no matter the cost.” He momentarily glanced down at his twisted right leg, the one a demon had shredded so many years ago. Bart’s lower lip trembled. He quickly shifted his weight on the crutches and spun himself around to avoid saying anything further.

  Will huddled near his friends and whispered, “Cami, I think you’re right. Watch Bobbit today. See if he has the staff and let me know where he goes. Text me if you see anything.”

  Cami, Andrew, and Simon nodded.

  “Tomorrow morning, if we can, let’s meet at Bub’s Treats and Sweets at ten o’clock. Okay?” said Cami, gripping Will’s hand for a second.

  “You’ve got it,” Will said, squeezing back.

  “So you kids stay indoors, ya hear?” Bartimaeus warned, locking the bookcase tight. “If this flamin’ hail is as bad as advertised, this town’s going to have burn marks before it’s over. Best if those marks are not on you. Let’s go, Will. The abbot’s waiting for ya.”

  “Mr. Bartimaeus, if the days of darkness start, how dark do you think it’s gonna get?” Andrew asked earnestly.

  “Dark as the hearts of the people. Darker than you ever imagined, son.”

  Will found Abbot Athanasius at the end of a hallway, in the rear building of the Peniel complex. The abbot was staring out a leaded Gothic window lost in thought, his back to Will.

  “Abbot, I’m sorry I’m late. I have something I need to—”

  “It’s fine, Will. I have made a decision, or rather these wretched plagues have forced one upon me.” He turned to face the boy, his eyebrows nearly touching, his mouth stern. He seemed almost apologetic. “Will, I must accelerate your training. Normally, I would have waited a year or two before even introducing—”

  “Sure, Abbot.” Will started searching through his backpack, his mind elsewhere. “But first I need to show you something I found at the Karnak Center.”

  “Why have you been in that place?” the abbot asked, hiding his hands beneath the black folds of his habit.

  “Aunt Lucille thought I should go with my friend Cami and her family, so I did. The guy who runs the place has pictures of Amon all over the center. Then I found this.” Will held up the Ziploc bag with the wax figurine. “It was in a weird room with food and feathers all over the floor. These little guys were stacked in a corner.”

  “Tell me you didn’t touch this.”

  “I stabbed it with a knife and bagged it.”

  The abbot smiled for the first time since Will arrived. “At least you are paying attention.” He eyed the wax figure shaped like Will. Whenever he was forming a thought, the abbot made a sound like a tiny locomotive gaining speed, which he did then. “I told you the Sinestri knew you, Will. This is proof that they do. The Ancient Egyptians would deface images of their god’s enemies. The temple priests would cut the heads off the figurines, impale them with pins, snap off limbs. They thought they were assisting the god to achieve a common goal: the death of their enemy.”

  Will went pale but managed to keep his balance. “I need Aunt Lucille! We’ve got to get her out of jail.”

  Athanasius laid the Ziploc on a chair in the corner of the hall and addressed Will calmly. “Your aunt Lucille is fine. Brother Amalric has been working to secure her release. She would want you to focus on your training now, Will.”

  “I’ll ask her when she’s free. I need her. This demon is trying to kill me. Sab is snapping little Will dolls in his crazy center. Bobbit has the staff—Mr. Timothy Bobbit. A woman at his store told me he has Moses’s staff.”

  “A woman at his store told you this?” The abbot looked as if he smelled something foul.

  “Yes, Miss Hye! She works for him. I think she’d know!” He adamantly stood eye to eye with the abbot. “Look, my friends are tracking Bobbit now. We might be able to get the staff back. Can you help us or not? With every minute—”

  “Shhhh.” The abbot placed his hands on Will’s shoulders. “Whatever the hardship, it can best be overcome
with silence.”

  Steam was practically leaking from Will’s ears. “A demon is targeting me with Moses’s staff and it’s—”

  “Silence.” The abbot’s blue eyes widened. “Your anger over the past is blinding you in the present. This demon, this Amon, has worked its way into your head. Once it lodges hatred and wrath there, you will see nothing. Silence and deliberate action are your best weapons against this beast.”

  Will wanted to scream. He wanted to kick and wail and thrash about on the floor. Why won’t he ever listen to me? Will yelled inside. Air rushed in and out of his flared nostrils. And though he said nothing, he couldn’t mask his rage and frustration.

  The abbot, with a hint of pity, said, “Stillness will dispel your anger. Release it and follow me.”

  “Where are we going?” Will hissed as he followed the abbot.

  “To a place I thought I could spare you until you were older.”

  They walked down a wide stone staircase, a place where shadows and light wrestled. As they reached the bottom, the shadows eventually won.

  “Your great-grandfather created this chamber for his personal training. Later your grandfather, Joseph, and your…Many of us were trained here.” They came to a dank passageway of slick stones, with cobwebs lining the edges. The abbot pulled a torch from the wall and led Will to an arched door that blocked the entire passage.

  “Remain here,” the abbot said. Will held the torch several feet away from Athanasius, who fished a key from a hidden pocket in his habit and approached the door. Black metal bands etched with flames crisscrossed the old wood. There were at least twenty keyholes along the main band at the middle. The abbot inserted his key into the second to last hole on the right. He quickly dashed back to join Will.

  The massive door rumbled and shuddered. To Will it was as if some ancient animal were inhaling for the first time in eons. That’s when the top of the door started pulling away from the stones framing it. Just as Will realized that the hinges were at the base of the door, the whole thing suddenly flopped forward, sending dust, cobwebs, and moisture into their faces.

  “Jacob’s idea of a precaution. Your great-grandfather never liked unexpected guests.” The abbot walked over the flattened door, which resembled a varnished boardwalk, and slipped a key into a newly revealed slender metal door. “Here we are. You may enter.” The abbot took the torch and jammed it into an iron holder inside.

  “What is this place?” Will asked, removing his hat to get the wide view.

  The enormous cavern rose up for several stories. From the platform where he and the abbot stood, three wooden suspended catwalks reached across an expanse of murky water. The railless, winding walkways terminated at another platform about forty yards away. But it was hard to see that far since the isolated pools of flame on the water’s surface below provided the only illumination.

  “Jacob called this the Purgatorial Course,” the abbot said, closing the metal door behind them. “It approximates combat with a major demon. You might call it a demon fighter’s conditioning center.” He pointed a long finger upward. “Your great-grandfather constructed a network of ropes and ladders up above. It’s a most challenging course. Some of the Brethren use it as Jacob did: to prepare ourselves for sudden combat. I believe you will be facing another demon soon, Will. We thought it best to bring you here now.”

  “We?” Will glanced around. “Who is we?”

  “The council members. We discussed it as a council and even your aunt Lucille agreed that it was time. Brother Baldwin is there.” He pointed up to a nook on the right side of the rocky cavern, about twenty feet up.

  “Hello, William.” In the flickering light, he nodded. Just the beak of Baldwin’s nose was visible from below.

  Will grimaced and slammed his helmet back on his head. “What is he doing here? And how does this help me?”

  “It will help you to be vigilant outside and in. This coming battle is principally inside of you. To succeed, you will have to see the external while guarding your thoughts—guarding your heart! Do not allow anger or hatred in. Leave no room for the devil, Will. Only love and faith will save you.” He raised a knowing eyebrow. “I’ve chosen Baldwin specifically to assist us. I’m aware of your fondness for one another.”

  Will stamped his foot and stared at the ground, trying to control the bubbling volcano he felt inside. Next to his feet, chiseled into the stone platform, were the words Though a host encamp against me—my heart shall not fear.

  “Look at me.” The abbot spoke intensely. “Unless you obey my instructions, you will not survive. The danger is very real. On the far platform, there is a staff. Your task is to secure it. Choose a path. Keep your eyes and all your attention fixed on that staff. Don’t be afraid to use your instincts and improvise—”

  “Why him?” Will sputtered in a quiet voice, pointing up to Baldwin. “He hates me. He probably stole the staff in the first place and now you’re letting him join me for some kind of war games.”

  “Sometimes the people we most dislike are our paths to self-mastery. Use this challenge. Push yourself. The gifts are already within you.” Abbot Athanasius was practically at Will’s ear. “Baldwin will attempt to impede you. Do not be distracted. This course demands dexterity and calm. When you reach the staff, shove it into the hole on the stone at your feet and Baldwin will be blocked.”

  “What exactly is he going to be doing?” Will nervously shifted his lips from side to side.

  “There is a cannon up on that ledge. He’ll be shooting fireballs at you. Calm down. They can’t kill you, though they might burn a little. Move quickly and maintain an inner silence. Try not to fall off the walkway and do not allow the circumstances or whatever is spoken to influence you. Just secure the staff.” The abbot ran a thumb over Will’s helmet and hid himself in a rocky niche near the door.

  Will took a deep, uncertain breath, pulled his helmet strap under his chin, and made a run for the faraway platform.

  He chose the middle path. Seconds later, a spinning ball of fire came hurtling toward him from above. “Keep moving,” Baldwin taunted him. “Don’t you dare look at the fire. Keep your eyes trained on the goal.”

  Out of the corner of his eye, Will could see the fireball getting close. He danced back six steps. The fireball hit the path just in front of him. He turned his body away to avoid the fiery backlash. The moment it dissipated, he sprinted forward, the path trembling beneath him. It started to weave back and forth. To avoid panic, Will forced himself to breathe deeply.

  He paused and stood stock-still in the middle of the pathway.

  “Don’t stop. You’re not allowed to stop, William!” Baldwin barked. “I told you he was not up to this, Abbot.” Two fireballs rained down on Will in rapid succession.

  In the inner quiet he had carved out amid the chaos, Will saw what he had to do. He would somersault the way Aunt Lucille had been teaching him for months. He would land on his feet, drop to his knees, and grab the edges of the catwalk.

  Just as the fireballs approached him—as if he were moving in slow motion—Will flipped forward, evading the spinning infernos. His somersault carried him three-quarters of the way down the quaking catwalk. Falling to his knees, hugging the edges of the pathway, he was ten yards from the platform. Immediately, the whole thing tilted to the left, tipping him sideways.

  Will screamed, wrapping his legs and arms around the narrow planks of the pathway. Shimmying forward, his goal in sight, the path unexpectedly flipped the other way. He dangled over the fiery water below, barely hanging on by his left arm and leg. Will froze. Fear overwhelmed him. He considered letting go of the wooden bridge and dropping into the water. He might be able to avoid the flaming part of the pool below. Maybe it wouldn’t be so hot…

  “I knew he couldn’t do it,” Baldwin wailed, firing three more fireballs directly at Will. “He’s a boy, Abbot—an obstinate boy. Just like his father!”

  Will felt the heat rising in his body. He wished he were the on
e behind the cannon, firing at Baldwin. As his fingers lost their grip of the catwalk, he envisioned Baldwin burned to a crisp begging for—Then he recalled the abbot’s instructions: Guard your thoughts…and the words on the platform: My heart shall not fear.

  A newfound courage gave him the strength to pull himself up onto the edge of the tilted walkway. He regained his balance just as another fireball landed low, missing the path entirely. But a second ball of flame closed in on Will. He rose to his feet and did his best high-wire impression. Arms out, dancing across the narrow edge of the wooden planks, he barely dodged the second fireball. By the time he hit the platform, a third flaming ball smashed into the walkway behind him.

  Will casually reached for the staff while Baldwin leaned over his ledge above yelling, “Dumb luck. You are far from ready, Will Wilder. Keep your guard up! Keep it up!” Baldwin violently pulled on the cannon lever, attempting to unload another volley of fireballs. But nothing happened and the rumbling sound of the cannon engine died.

  Baldwin was pounding his fist on the underbelly of the cannon when Brother Philip stepped out of the shadows. “It works best when these are inside the engine,” Philip confided out the side of his mouth. He held two fuses in his open palm and slammed the iron grate on the side of the cannon shut.

  “Put those fuses back immediately,” Baldwin barked.

  Tobias Shen emerged from the darkness behind him. “Vicar, this was intended as a test for Will, but it has revealed much more.”

  “What does that mean, Tobias?”

  “You were to help train the boy, not hurt him. The abbot thought we should be here—in case your emotions got the best of you,” Shen said calmly.