by Bret Schulte
But Sam didn’t leave. She had lost too much to leave now. She was going to stay and watch them take Nero down.
Unfortunately, that didn’t seem to be happening.
Nero was fighting over forty combined wizards, witches, and BEA agents, and he looked as if he was having the time of his life. Not only had Nero shattered his crystal imprisonment, he had turned the three elderly wizards into three shimmering gold statues. He had also summoned up a floating shield that looked like a black hole. It swallowed up most of the spells and ray gun beams that came near him. The few attacks that hit him barely drew his attention.
“You seriously thought I hadn’t planned for your little time-stopping trick,” Nero yelled. “I’m insulted.”
He waved his right arm and unleashed a wave of gold flame that grew into a large glittering snake that coiled and swooped around the room. It passed through two BEA agents manning one of the giant ray guns, turning them to gold. Other agents rushed to take their place; Sam wasn’t sure if it was worth it. Whatever the ray gun did, it didn’t seem to be working.
A burst of green lightning arced its way around the black hole shield, striking Nero directly in the face. He tumbled backward, ripping his now-broken goggles off and tossing them aside.
“Sneaky!” Nero yelled.
Chief Constable Albion released a second burst of lightning that curved around, striking Nero in the back and shredding his cape.
“That actually hurt,” Nero said, sounding a bit impressed.
Deputy Colver summoned a blue hood and shackles around Nero. As Nero thrashed, bound and blinded, two of the large ray guns shot him in the stomach and back, dropping him to the floor.
Albion slowly waved his right hand in a circle, building a ball of bright white energy. Sam could feel the crackle of the energy from several feet away. When the ball was just slightly larger than a bowling ball he hurled it into the floating black hole.
“Abyss begone,” Albion yelled.
The black hole swallowed the ball and then sort of burped itself out of existence. Albion collapsed to the ground; the spell must have taken a lot out of him. A red-haired witch ran to his side, projecting a shield around him. Colver stepped up in Albion’s place and magically hurled a slot machine at Nero. The machine clanged against his armored chest, knocking the wind out of him.
“That’s it,” Nero yelled after regaining his breath. The last of his bindings had dissolved away. “Awaken!”
Cervantes’ crystal prison exploded in a fury of red flames.
“Shrouds of Tartarus,” Cervantes yelled.
Wisps of black smoke flew out of each hand and wrapped around the balls of sunlight like heavy cloth, smothering them until they hung in the air as lightless moons.
“Attack!” Nero yelled as he rose into the air wildly firing orange sparks around the room. Sam narrowly dived behind a suit of armor to avoid one.
She peeked around the armor to see Cervantes toss three BEA agents into the air. They helplessly passed through the glittering snake, turned to gold, and crashed to the marble floor with a great thud.
Meanwhile, Nero was firing green lightning at the shield around Albion when two BEA agents popped up from behind a statue of Lady Guinevere on a horse and hurled grenade-like objects at him. The grenades clung to his shoulder and back, but instead of exploding, they released a blue mist of some sort. He tried to swat the cloud away.
“Gas?” Nero said, a tad woozy. “Haven’t you guys ever heard of the Geneva Convention?”
Judging by the way he started tilting sidewise and lazily floating to the ground, Sam figured it must have been some sort of knockout gas.
By the way he was yawning and shaking his head, it was clear the gas was having a far greater effect than the lasers, which just seemed to get absorbed by his magical armor. The agents must have had the same thought, because when they popped back up they each raised dart guns, like the ones used to tranquilize tigers and bears, and fired at the only exposed skin they could find; his head. Three darts bounced off his armor before one caught him in the neck.
“Dirty cheaters,” Nero said in a slow, sleepy voice as he pulled the dart out of his neck. He pointed a finger at his face and shot himself in the nose with a spell.
“That’s better,” he said, shaking the drowsiness away. “I hope you guys like carrots.”
Instantly the agents’ guns turned into carrots in their hands. Naturally they stared at the carrots in confusion.
“Shazam!” Two bright white bolts of lightning struck the agents.
The agents vanished. Their empty suits crumpled to the floor. Then one of the pant legs started moving. A small fluffy white rabbit poked its nose out of the cuff, sniffing the air.
When Nero laughed, the rabbit scurried back inside the pants.
Sam knew that if they were going to win--and they really had to win--they were going to need more firepower, and she knew where to find some. She was just going to have to run through a volley of spells and fireballs and lasers first.
You’ve been training for this for years, she told herself as she ran headlong into the maelstrom. It’s just like dodgeball, without the stupid catching and throwing. Just pure dodging. Or you die.
No pressure.
Sam leapt over one of Cervantes’ fireballs, ducked below an airborne roulette table, and swerved her way through a cloud of multicolored sparks. An orange spark caught her in the wrist, and it felt like her left arm had fallen off. She couldn’t feel it or move it; she had to look at it to make sure it was still there, but she kept running.
She tried to stay as low to the ground as possible, jumping over the occasional overturned table as she went. The world had become astonishingly simple. She couldn’t hear, smell, or even feel anything. She didn’t even really think. All of her effort was put into watching the hundreds of objects flying around her and avoiding them all. It was oddly blissful.
A wall of golden fire dropped down in front of her. It was the great glittering snake. She winced as she came to a dead stop. Her momentum tried to carry the top half of her body forward, her leg muscles strained in an effort to keep her from tumbling forward, and her head flopped forward until all she could see was gold. She was too afraid to breathe, just in case she would breathe in some of the glittering dust and turn her lungs to gold.
Just as quickly as it had appeared, the snake flew up into the air clearing her path. Luckily for her, it didn’t seem to have a mind of its own; it just randomly twisted and coiled around the room. She saw her prize lying on the ground, half-buried in debris, about three feet away from Cervantes.
He had his back to her, shielding himself from three simultaneous attacks. Sam knew this was going to be her only chance, so she dove for it.
She landed with a crash on top of the slanted felt surface of a broken roulette table. A piece of the wheel slid onto her leg, poking her oozing bruise, opening a floodgate of pain. Sam clamped her hand over her mouth, but it was no use; she couldn’t stop herself from screaming.
Cervantes looked down at her, a charming smile across his handsome face.
“Well now, aren’t we the brave one? Your mother and father would be so proud. But answer me this: What imaginary sliver of hope could possibly make you risk your life so foolishly?”
“I have a favor to ask you,” she said, trying her best to fight her instinct to curl up and cradle her leg, which felt like it was burning from the inside out. Her goal was more important than her leg.
Sam stretched out her good arm as far as she possibly could; she felt the cool metal right at the tip of her middle finger.
“A favor?” he asked with a mixture of curiosity and contempt in his voice. “And why should I grant you a favor?”
Sam’s fingers curled around the metal handle.
“Because I have this,” she said, pulling the Lantern of the Blue Flame free from the debris.
Understanding flashed in his eyes. He lowered his head in acceptance. All of the little spar
ks around him instantly fizzled away.
“Well done,” he said with genuine appreciation. “What favor do you ask of me?”
“Bring me the Witch Hunter’s Gauntlet.”
He instantly lit up with delight. His fangs grew an extra quarter inch, and his eyes danced with a joyous, vengeful gleam. A low, beastly, guttural, and disturbingly joyful growl resonated in his throat.
“As you wish.”
He spun around and leapt into the air, his cape flapping behind him. With a loud crack, Cervantes tore the fifteen-foot tall Excalibur replica free from the anvil.
Wielding the gigantic blade with one hand he flew straight for Nero. He sliced through the flaming golden snake as it passed by, causing it to instantly dissolve into little puffs of glitter.
Just as Cervantes was about to bring the sword down on Nero’s head, Nero summoned a sword of his own to block the attack.
“What are you-,” Nero began. He looked from Cervantes to Sam. “You!”
Sam held up the lantern and proudly proclaimed, “Me.”
Nero freed up one of his hands for a second to unleash a torrent of green lightning in Sam’s direction. It spread out in all directions farther than she could possibly run to escape it. But it turned out she didn’t have to; the red-haired witch that she saw protecting Constable Albion earlier rushed in front of her, projecting a shield.
The witch screamed out in pain as the lightning pummeled her shield. The instant the lightning stopped she dropped the shield and collapsed to the floor. Sam was getting really tired of everyone around her getting hurt because of this stupid glove.
“This ought to be fun,” Nero said, parrying Cervantes’ latest swing. “I’ve beaten every other teacher I’ve ever had. But don’t worry; I’ll bring you back when we’re done.”
“Silence!” Cervantes hurled a flurry of red sparks at Nero.
Nero deflected the sparks with his free hand, letting them rain down on the people below. Sam rolled the unconscious witch under one of the few blackjack tables that was still standing and crawled in next to her. Thunder cracked directly above the table, rattling her bones.
Only it wasn’t thunder; it was the sound of Nero and Cervantes locked in a mid-air duel. But even under the blackjack table she could feel the impact of each and every sword clash. She crawled out from under her hiding place; she couldn’t hide forever. Her plan was only half way done.
“Tempest!” Cervantes and Nero yelled at the same time.
“Oh, what now?” Sam yelled as a sudden and powerful gust of wind whipped her hair into her eyes.
She brushed back her hair to see two tornadoes descend from out of the storm clouds above. The tornadoes thrashed against each other, hurling debris around the room at dangerously increasing speeds while Nero and Cervantes continued their epic duel. Random spells and ray beams criss-crossed in the air, endangering everyone.
“Loser,” she yelled up at Nero, her words whipped away by the howling wind.
A bolt of lightning struck a slot machine no more than three feet away from her. She wasn’t sure if it was a coincidence or a response; but either way, she scurried away as fast she could. If she stood up, the wind would likely pick her up and fling her across the room, so she was forced to crawl through the rubble, dragging the lantern.
Finally she found the sack of weapons lying next to a half-melted suit of armor. It looked to Sam like people had been walking all over it; a few of the ray guns were scattered in pieces across the floor. She prayed that the one she needed wasn’t lost or broken.
She sat crossed-legged on the floor, the wounded leg on top, with the lantern in her lap as she dug through the bag with her good arm.
“Samantha!” Nero yelled in a playfully singsong voice over the roar of the wind.
Sam didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up. She could see the handle of the gun she wanted.
“I commend you on your tenacity,” Nero continued while slamming his sword down on Cervantes’ armored shoulder. “I am seriously impressed here, but you really didn’t think this through, did you? I am wearing the one weapon that has already destroyed Cervantes once before, and I know the spell to do it again.”
Sam fished the tuning-fork-pronged sonic blaster out of the bag.
“Solarus!”
Instantly the casino lit up like noon on a bright summer day. Nero’s sword had transformed into a slice of pure sunlight so bright that Sam couldn’t look directly at it for more than a split second. She focused on Cervantes; his skin was rapidly graying from the sunlight.
“Shroud of Tartarus!” Cervantes hissed.
A solid wall of shadow appeared in midair between him and the dazzling blade.
“Nice try,” Nero said, slicing through the blackness.
Cervantes threw more shadows at him, but Nero shredded each of them, laughing all the while and getting closer to Cervantes with every swing.
Sam knew she had to act fast.
“Go deaf,” she whispered to the lantern.
At that exact moment two very important things happened: Nero stabbed Cervantes in the chest, and Sam pulled the trigger.
A head-splitting screech erupted from the sonic blaster. Sam felt her teeth rattle in her jaw, and her brain threatened to shoot out of her ears, but she kept her finger locked on the trigger. Everywhere she looked, Sam saw people writhing in pain, their hands clamped over their ears. For the one hundredth time in less than ten minutes, she really wished her left arm still worked.
Most importantly, Nero had been forced to release his sword to protect his ears.
The only person not writhing in pain was the person with the most cause. Cervantes hung in the air with the sun sword run through his heart and sticking out his back, gray ash spread out from the wound consuming his body.
But in his eyes Sam saw neither fear nor pain, but simple determination and anger.
As his body deteriorated into nothingness, he brought his gigantic sword down on Nero. At the last second Nero must have noticed this, because he instinctively raised his hand to defend himself. The sword sliced through his arm just below the Witch Hunter’s Gauntlet. The sword, gauntlet, and the rest of Nero crashed to the ground followed by the fluttering ashes of Cervantes’ body.
Cervantes was little more than a floating head, but Sam saw that he was yelling something. She suddenly found that she wanted to know what he had to say in is final moments so she released the trigger.
“-eth!”
And then he was gone, his ashes blown away by the dying winds of the shrinking tornadoes.
“My hand!”
Nero crawled forward, his right arm tucked into his lab coat; his armor had vanished the moment his hand was severed, and he had crashed to the floor cradling his bleeding stump. But he was still the closest person to the gauntlet. If he reached it, Sam knew that this whole battle would start all over again.
Sam limped forward as fast as she could. Every step made her leg burn more than the last. But Nero was only inches away from the bloody gauntlet. She wasn’t going to make it.
“Ow! Ow! What the-?” Nero screamed. Two rabbits were biting his ankles.
As he stopped to kick the rabbits away, Sam dove for the gauntlet grabbing it by the fingers. To her surprise several of the gemstones lit up. Then she saw the reason: Nero had reached the base of the gauntlet. The stones on his end had lit up, but the ones on her end were still dark.
He laughed a deep maniacal laugh. His eyes were sunken and tired but fueled by pain and rage. More gemstones lit up on his side. Thin tendrils of magic reached for him.
At that moment, Sam realized she was about to become a rabbit or a statue or worse.
I’m going to die. I’m going to die without saving the world. Without making the slightest difference.
The longest second ever ticked by and she was still alive. Nero seemed to be just as surprised and confused as she was.
“You’ve just doomed us all,” he spat at her.
Th
e gauntlet exploded in a burst of blinding green light.
When she opened her eyes, Sam saw that Nero had disappeared, leaving her with half a gauntlet, twisted and broken. And his severed hand.
She threw up.
Chapter 25
What Just Happened?
“-an unexpected Halloween treat last night in Las Vegas as thousands of tourists witnessed an unscheduled special effects spectacle.”
“Brilliant.”
Lucas’ head felt like it was about to explode. When he opened his eyes, the sensation only got worse.
“This amateur video was shot by a Tucson man in town for an electronics convention.”
His eyes refused to focus; it was like he hadn’t used them for years.
“Hey, look at that. You are alive.”
Lucas sat up. The blurry image in front of him finally congealed. It was Natch holding a TV remote.
Confused, Lucas scanned the room. He was in some sort of hospital.
And then it all came rushing back to him.
“Jerry is a genetically altered super-bad guy! Cervantes! The gauntlet!” he blurted out. “Did Sam get it? Is she okay? Am I a vampire?”
“Are you a what?” Natch shook his head like he thought Lucas was completely nuts. “Dude, calm down. You are rambling. You passed out in your virtual reality game pod and they brought you to the Student Health Center.”
“What?” Lucas couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “No, you were there. Sort of. Remember, you called me when I was flying away from-“
He was interrupted by Natch’s laughter.
“It happened, it happened. I’m just messing with you,” he said, making calming gestures with his hands. “The gauntlet was broken and everyone is fine. And you are not a vampire. You should be so lucky.”
“Jerk!” Lucas pulled one of the pillows out from behind his head and hurled it at Natch. He missed by over a foot, which just made Natch laugh even more.
“Check it out, you’re on TV.”
Lucas hadn’t paid any attention to the TV on the wall. Apparently Natch had muted it when he saw Lucas was waking up, but up on the screen he saw shaky handheld camera footage of himself flying Santa’s sleigh up over the pirate ship with Cervantes on his trail. The image was too blurry to see who was in the car. Even Lucas couldn’t tell it was him.
