“Sit there and don’t say another word,” he said as he wrapped the rope around her body twice and then strung the rope through the tight spaces between those strings of dark rock. Once he’d tied that off, he took a set of metal shackles from his pack and clamped them around the Alterant’s ankles, securing them to a couple of strands that bent out more than the others. There was no way she could get away, and the stone was far too heavy for her to drag and shuffle along in tiny steps.
Everything was set.
“Are you going to leave me here?” she asked, having lost her bravery from a minute before. “Let me die?”
“Yes and no.” He loved giving that answer, loved seeing the perplexed look that came over the Alterant’s face when he said it.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” she responded.
Frazier placed the prepared sack of food and water next to her feet. “Just answering your question.” He stood up, then turned and started to walk away.
“Wait!” she screamed. “Please! I can help you. I’m the best of the best! Please don’t leave me here! Please! ”
Frazier didn’t respond. He found it was better that way. He just kept walking, knowing it’d be easier to make it to the winking point without a huge block of stone on his back and dragging a prisoner behind him. Ignoring her desperate pleas, he reached the end of the swatch of vegetation and reentered the vast forest.
The Blade of Shattered Hope was almost complete.
Part 2
The Black Tree
Chapter 12
Sweet Digs
Mothball had to grab Sato and physically pull him away from the spectacle. The sight was just too hard to believe and had put him in a daze. Luckily the fighting clowns didn’t seem to notice them.
“Come on,” she yelled at him, dragging him across the field as easily as a sack of raked leaves. “Soon as those lugs take notice we’ve got one the likes of you, we’ll be the ones they be fightin’, not themselves-bet your buttons. Come on! ”
Sato finally got his feet under him and regained his composure, walking quickly alongside Mothball as Rutger struggled to keep up. “What was that? Who are those people?”
“Bugaboo soldiers,” she replied. “Nasty people, they are. Completely insane.”
Sato forced out a chuckle. “They’re dressed like clowns and trying to stab each other with sharp swords. What makes you think they’re crazy?”
Mothball seemed to miss his sarcasm. “Not right in the head. Been crazy ever since the war ended, not knowing what to do when there’s no one to fight. Rutger, chop-chop, little man!”
Sato turned to see Rutger a good twenty feet behind them, pumping his short little arms as he tried his best to run. “Slow down! ” the short man yelled. “Before I croak!”
They topped a small, sparsely wooded rise and headed down the other side. Once they were out of sight from the odd group of battling clowns, Mothball finally stopped and allowed Rutger to catch up. The poor man’s face was blood red-a cherry on top of a black ball. Sato expected a blur of insults and smart remarks from Rutger, but it was all the guy could do to breathe, heaving air in and out.
“I still don’t get it,” Sato said. “Who are those people?”
Mothball rolled her eyes, in a rare bad mood. “’Tis a long story and no time to tell it. Once we make it to me mum’s house, you can ask your questions. Can we go now?” She loomed over Rutger with her hands on her hips.
The robust little man looked up at her. “How far?”
“Just ’round the bend up yonder,” she answered, pointing toward a small paved lane that came out of a forest to their right and went over the next hill. “We can stop runnin’, we can. I ’spect them Bugaboos’ll be quite occupied for a spell. Come on.” She headed off for the road.
Sato looked at Rutger. “Do you know anything about these Bugaboo soldiers?”
Rutger shrugged, a movement that shook his whole body. “Enough not to bug Mothball about it. She has a long history with those nutsos. Let’s just get to her house and then we can talk about it.”
“Whatever,” Sato muttered, consumed with curiosity. Sword-fighting clowns were bad enough, and the fact that Mothball was scared of them only made it worse. He felt a disturbing chill that made him shudder. “Let’s go.”
Rutger started off down the hill, and Sato followed.
The road led to a cluster of homes surrounded by an enormously tall wall of roughly mortared stones. In fact, everything about the neighborhood was tall: the houses, the trees, the carriages and their horses. And once he got past the sheer size of it all, Sato was amazed at how medieval everything looked.
What kind of a world had Mothball grown up in?
She seemed to sense his thoughts. “Don’t ya worry, Master Sato. Plenty of fancy things in this Reality-cars and tellies and the like. We just enjoy livin’ the old fashioned way ’round these parts.”
“Just be glad they have fridges and real toilets,” Rutger muttered.
They made it to the wide opening of the border wall, where a massive iron gate was closed and locked to prevent anyone from entering.
“Can’t be lettin’ in the Bugaboos,” Mothball said. “Gate stays closed every minute, ’less you say the password.” She took a deep breath, then yelled in a slow, booming voice, “Donkey hoe tea!”
Sato wasn’t sure he’d heard right. “Did you just say Don Quixote? Like the book?”
Groans and creaks of metal filled the air as the gate swung inward.
“No, never ’eard of that one,” Mothball responded as she stepped forward to enter. “I said donkey… hoe… tea. Chooses three random words, it does, and every day’s different.”
Sato hurried to keep up with her, Rutger hustling along right behind him. “It? What is it? ” A loud clang announced the gate had closed again.
“Old Billy’s fancy ’puter that runs the place. The gate, the lights, the whole bit.”
Sato couldn’t help but be fascinated by this Reality. Up until now, he’d seen only the cemeteries of Tick’s Alterants, and he was excited to have a break and meet more people, see if they were a lot like Mothball.
A gravel path led them from the entrance through a greener than green patch of grass, speckled with red and yellow and purple wildflowers. A slight breeze picked up, running across the grass in waves, bringing a sweet scent along with it. It hit Sato that the temperature was perfect here-not too cold and not too hot. For the first time in awhile, he had the urge to kick back and relax, take a long vacation. And right here in his tall friend’s neighborhood seemed like the perfect place.
With a deep sigh, surprised at his sudden good mood, he followed Mothball as the path intersected a wide, cobblestone road, running away from them for at least half a mile, both sides of the road lined with those ancient-styled houses. Made of large rocks and roughly hewn brick, the homes would have looked almost like natural formations that had stood for a thousand years, except for the countless boxes of flowers hanging here and there, the roofs thatched with bundles of long grasses, the multi-colored windows, and the brightly painted wooden doors-mostly reds and yellows.
And the yards. Sato was used to his home country of Japan, where the small homes sat almost on top of the streets and had maybe just enough room for a tiny tree and a single bush. But these houses had huge yards, filled with green grass and finely groomed bushes and majestic trees. And gardens. Lots and lots of gardens, growing every veggie and fruit known to man, by the looks of it.
As they walked down the street in silence, Sato had the feeling that if he’d been born in this Reality instead of his own, he would’ve grown up the happiest person ever. How could anyone be grumpy in a place like this?
Then he remembered those psycho people dressed up like clowns and fighting each other with swords. The big stone wall and locked iron gate. Maybe life here wasn’t so blissful after all.
“Which one’s yours?” Sato asked. “And where is everybody?” He’d yet to see one othe
r person.
Mothball absently pointed somewhere up ahead. “Just a bit farther. And most folks are off to town, doin’ their jobs and such. Thems that ain’t are havin’ afternoon tea in their parlor, I ’spect.”
“I don’t think my feet will ever forgive you,” Rutger said through heavy breaths. “We need to bury a bunch of dead people in your backyard so we can wink straight there next time.”
“Mayhaps we’ll start with you,” Mothball replied.
Rutger barked a fake laugh. “Well, the way my heart’s beating, you just might be right! I’ve probably lost ten pounds already.”
“Walk another few weeks straight, and maybe you can fit through me mum’s door without me kickin’ ya in the ruddy bottoms.” She laughed, a rolling stutter of thunder that lifted Sato’s spirits even more.
“You guys are the weirdest best friends I’ve ever met,” Sato said. “Maybe you should just go ahead and get married.”
“Married?” Mothball roared. “What, and have little monster babies with my ugly face on little balls of fat? Methinks I’d rather marry a horse.”
“Feeling’s mutual!” Rutger countered.
“Would eat a lot less, that’s for sure,” Mothball murmured.
“And wouldn’t complain at your incessant gibbering!”
“Smell better, too.”
“You know what they say-sometimes a husband and wife look like brother and sister. You and a horse-well, perfect!”
Mothball scratched her chin, acting like she couldn’t hear him. “There’d be horse patties lyin’ ’round about me flat. Might get a bit messy.”
“Okay, this is getting creepy,” Sato interjected. “Where’s your house?”
Mothball stopped, then threw her arms up and clapped once as she looked at the large home to their right. “Well, bite me buttons, here we are!”
The house and yard looked a lot like the others, though the front door was pink. Mothball’s proclamation had barely ended when the door swung open and a gigantic woman with a huge mop of curly black hair on her head came rushing out to greet them. Her clothes were the same style as Mothball’s-loose, dull colors, hanging off her skin-and-bones body like drying laundry. Or maybe dying laundry.
“Me love!” the lady yelled as she ran down the stone steps, all gangly legs and arms making her look as if she might collapse into a heap of sticks at any second. “Oh, me sweet, sweet love! Been ’specting you, we ’ave!”
She reached Mothball, and they squeezed each other tightly, circling around, both of them crying. Sato looked away, uncomfortable at intruding on something intimate and personal. When they finally let go of each other, Mothball pointed straight at him.
“This here’s Master Sato,” she said proudly. “And, of course you know Rutger, me best friend.”
“Ah, yes, yes,” her tall mom replied, the enormous smile she’d worn since opening the door still there. Sato noticed her teeth were just as crooked as her daughter’s, but much whiter. “So good to see you again, Rutger. And you, Sato, welcome. My name is Windasill, and I’m so happy to say we’ve finally met. I’ve been waiting for months.”
“Really?” Sato said, surprised.
“Of course.” She looked at Mothball, a slight look of confusion on her face. “You didn’t tell him?”
Mothball shrugged, clearly embarrassed.
Sato couldn’t imagine what was going on. “Tell me? What didn’t you tell me?”
Instead of answering, Mothball nodded at her mom.
Windasill grinned again and curtsied-quite the display from someone so big. “You do look just like him, I must say. A wee bit shorter’s all.” Then, inexplicably, she started crying, the stifled sobs accompanied by tears streaming out of her eyes.
Now he was beyond confused. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”
Rutger answered for them. “Sato, you’re the Alterant of Grand Minister Sato Tadashi, who was the supreme ruler of this entire world-in this Reality anyway.”
“ Was? ” Sato repeated, not knowing how to react to the strange revelation.
Mothball’s mom answered, right after spitting on the ground. “Bugaboos killed him last month, they did, just weeks after he took office. Sacrificed hundreds of blokes to break through security and get to him. He was the most respected leader we’ve had in ages, despite being so young. Gone and dead now.”
“Why… why’d they kill him?” Sato asked. He had an uncomfortable feeling this was leading somewhere he wouldn’t like. Mothball’s answer confirmed it.
“They thought he was you.”
Chapter 13
Sleepless in the Dark
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
That was all Tick could hear, and it was driving him crazy. The others were asleep, and even though the soft sighs and snores of their slumber floated through the air, all his mind could focus on was that stupid dripping water.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
Everything had happened so fast after Jane revealed that she’d kidnapped his sisters, Lisa and Kayla. The news shocked every bit of surging power out of him, and he’d collapsed to the floor in defeat, knowing he couldn’t take the risk she might be lying. He couldn’t risk their lives. Not them.
As soon as he’d given up, Jane had winked them all away. He didn’t know how she did it, or who helped her, but one instant they’d been in his basement, and the next they were here, in some kind of cell made of gray stone, damp and cold and dark, with that maddening drip of water as a constant companion. The only light was faint, coming from somewhere down a long hallway outside the bars of their prison.
They’d been there for hours and hours. Every question in the world had been asked, every nook and cranny of the room examined, and they had shouted and screamed for help until their voices went hoarse. Then exhaustion crept in, and now everyone was asleep.
Except Tick. He huddled with his back against the hard, cold wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, his hands clasped in front of him. He felt empty, like his mind and heart had become a complete void of space, sucking every last bit of strength and will away. Jane had his sisters-but who knew where or how or why. And he was here, with his mom and dad, his two best friends, and the leader of the Realitants, all of them captured and helpless.
He’d tried several times to summon even the smallest trace of the power he’d felt against Jane in the basement of his house, but nothing came. Just emptiness. He floated in a void. A yucky, blecky, hopeless void.
“Tick?”
The voice startled him. He put his hands down to the ground, ready to spring to his feet. But a second later he realized it was Sofia, just a few feet from him, lying down with her head resting on her folded arms. She pushed herself into a sitting position and looked at him. He could barely see the features of her face, but they didn’t look as sad as he would’ve expected.
“Still here,” he replied. “Did you actually fall asleep?”
She yawned in response. “Think so. Had a bad dream.”
“I wish this were a bad dream.”
“Yeah.”
“Dude, I finally snooze and you guys wake me up.” Paul was getting to his feet, rubbing his eyes. He made his way over to sit next to Tick and Sofia. “You think the geezer and your mom and dad are actually sleeping?”
“I hope so,” Tick said. “They’re old-they need it.”
“Actually,” Sofia whispered, “the younger you are, the more sleep you need. Just for the record.”
Tick wasn’t in the mood for her smarts. “Whatever.”
“So what do you think she’s up to?” Paul asked. “Jane the Beast, I mean. And what’s the deal with that robe and mask, the scratchy voice? Tick, you’re the only one who’s met her before-did she talk like that? Did she have that mask?”
Tick shook his head and was happy to realize he didn’t feel any guilt at what Paul had just said. In fact, he wished she’d died. “Remember when I broke
apart Dark Infinity and attacked her with it? I think it burned her and melted stuff all over her. Kind of like it.. fused them together.”
“And maybe it made her more powerful, too,” Sofia added. “Maybe she somehow kept the powers of Chu’s weapon. How else could she have winked into your basement and winked us all here?”
“Huh?” Tick asked. “How do you know she did it? Not someone with a Barrier Wand?”
Sofia pointed in front of her as if Jane were standing there. “Because I was staring at her the whole time. As soon as you quit trying to do whatever you were doing with your orange hocus-pocus stuff, she reached out with her hands and swept them through the air, like she was picking up a big pile of leaves and throwing them. Then I felt the tingle, and next thing I know, we’re here.”
“What were you doing to her, anyway?” Paul asked.
The question hit Tick like a thump in his chest. He hesitated, not knowing what to say.
“Hello?” Paul pushed. “Earth calling Atticus Higgin-bottom.”
Tick shifted to get more comfortable. “I don’t know, man. It’s hard enough to understand it in my brain, much less explain it to you guys.”
“Well, try,” Sofia said. “If we can help you figure out these freaky powers of yours, we might get out of here someday.”
Freaky powers, Tick thought. Did she have to say it that way? After a long pause, he cleared his throat and resolved to tell them everything. “Every time I’ve had an… episode, I feel this heat in my chest and gut, something burning inside me. I’ve been able to push it down a couple times recently and make it go away.”
“Hey,” Paul said, “at least that’s progress over what you did at Chu’s shack. Maybe you’re learning to control it.”
Tick nodded. “Maybe. Anyway, in my basement, I kind of panicked when Jane started talking, and when the heat came, I didn’t stop it. I
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