Alistair Grim's Odditorium

by Gregory Funaro

  Shadesmen, I said to myself, terrified. Those armored skeletons out there were the walking dead, just like Noah and his gang, only these Shadesmen had glowing red eyes instead of purple, and looked to have been dead much, much longer.

  “They’re everywhere!” Lord Dreary cried, and another one of the armored skeletons swiped the shield with his battle-ax. I yelped with fright, but Mr. Grim appeared cool as a cucumber.

  “Stiff upper lip, old man,” he said. “We’re counting on you to help Mrs. Pinch. As for the rest of you, if for some reason we don’t make it, well I just want to say what a privilege it’s been knowing you.”

  “Likewise, boss,” said Nigel, his voice coming from the organ.

  “Humph,” said Mrs. Pinch.

  “But—but—!” sputtered Lord Dreary, and Mr. Grim flicked off his talkback.

  “I’m opening the dampers now, Cleona,” he said. “Not sure if you’ll feel any pushback from Gwendolyn, but let me know if you sense a power drain, will you?”

  “No worries, Uncle. I can hold my own against her kind.”

  “Very well, then,” Mr. Grim said, and he flicked some more switches. “Hold on to your helmets, people. Here goes nothing.”

  As soon as Mr. Grim began playing his pipe organ, the Odditorium began to tremble and shake. At the same time, I could hear a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere below my feet. It grew louder and louder until, much to my astonishment, the buildings outside began sinking into the ground.

  Gazing down through the shield, I could see a massive cloud of sparkling green smoke billowing out below us. And as the mechanical spider legs folded back into their original positions, I realized that the buildings were not sinking, but that the Odditorium was rising—no, flying—up into the air above them!

  “I was right,” said Mr. Grim, his eyes wide. “The proper ratio of fairy dust and animus makes the perfect propellant.”

  Of course, I thought. Yellow and blue make green, which meant that the smoke down there was a mixture of Gwendolyn’s fairy dust and—

  “Oh no!” I cried. “The animus will summon the doom dogs!”

  “Nonsense, lad,” said Mr. Grim. “The blue animus is quite harmless when mixed with Yellow Fairy dust. Even the most amateur of sorcerers knows that!”

  I remembered the headless samurai’s helmet from the night before—how it had snuffed out Gwendolyn’s fairy dust and stopped Mr. Grim’s top from spinning. It was the same with Nigel shooting his animus at Gwendolyn’s big yellow bubble a few minutes ago in the engine room.

  “The two energies cancel each other out, then?” I asked, staring down at the swelling cloud of sparkling green smoke. “Like fire and water, Mr. Grim?”

  “Something like that, Master Grubb,” he said. “But unfortunately we don’t have time for a chemistry lesson at present.”

  More and more armored Shadesmen began swooping down on us—some striking the blue energy shield with their battle-axes, while others just wailed and steered their steeds around the Odditorium out of sight. And yet, despite the racket, the different functions of Alistair Grim’s multi-colored energies suddenly became clear to me. The blue animus energy powered the Odditorium’s mechanical features. The Yellow Fairy dust energy gave the Odditorium its power to fly. And the red energy—

  Without warning, a hissing bolt of bright red lightning rained down from above and struck one of the Shadesmen, turning him and his skeleton horse at once into a dissipating cloud of thick black smoke.

  “Cor blimey!” I gasped.

  Yes, come to find out, not only did the red energy fire up the Odditorium’s ovens, but it could also be fired out of the gunnery cannons to blow up Shadesmen.

  “Great shooting, Mrs. Pinch!” Mr. Grim shouted into the talkback. “You too, Lord Dreary!”

  “Humph,” said Mrs. Pinch, and Lord Dreary chuckled modestly.

  “Well, now,” he said, “you know I wasn’t awarded first prize in the Duke’s annual pheasant hunt for noth—”

  Mr. Grim cut off his talkback again as the army of Shadesmen whizzed past us like a swarm of angry hornets. All of them, as well as their horses, were outfitted in bronze breastplates and helmets, the latter of which were topped with red-bristled crests that reminded me of my old chimney brushes. And the skeleton steeds’ eyes, just like those of their riders, glowed red in their skulls.

  Presently, the clang of battle-axes on the outside walls echoed throughout the Odditorium from every direction.

  “We’ve got climbers!” Nigel called out from the talkback, and I spied a Shadesman’s feet scrambling for purchase near the top of the shield. Some of the skeleton horses were now circling the Odditorium without their riders, too.

  “Are the samurai on the battlements?” asked Mr. Grim.

  “They are, sir,” replied Mrs. Pinch, “but I can’t see how they’re faring against—”

  “Help us, Alistair!” cried Lord Dreary in the background. “We’ve lost two of our warriors over the side!”

  “Even a samurai is no match for a cavalry charge,” mumbled Mr. Grim. “Order them back inside, Mrs. Pinch! I’ll take care of the climbers with the levitation shield.”

  “The what?” cried Lord Dreary—but Mr. Grim cut him off again.

  “Any sign of the Black Fairy, Master Grubb?” he asked.

  “Yes, sir,” I said, pointing. “He’s up there, hanging back in the clouds.”

  “He knows better than to tangle with our energy bolts. You see anything else?”

  “No, sir, just more Shadesmen jumping from their horses.”

  “Good,” said Mr. Grim, changing his organ tune to something more festive. And as the Odditorium rose higher and higher, it began to move forward, too—the rooftops quickly rolling beneath our glittering green tail.

  “Eyes upward, Master Grubb,” said Mr. Grim, and he flicked on the talkback again. “Lord Dreary, are the samurai safe inside?”

  “Yes!” the old man replied. “But I don’t see what you can do against these climbing skeletons from down there!”

  As if to answer him, Mr. Grim pressed a button on his pipe organ. In a blinding flash of yellow, a powerful buzz shot through the floor and tickled my toes. A moment later I spied a dozen or so of the armored skeletons floating up past the shield, their bony arms and legs flailing about in scores of Gwendolyn’s glowing yellow bubbles!

  “The levitation shield,” said Mr. Grim. “A quick burst of Yellow Fairy dust that surrounds the Odditorium and thus repels anything not nailed down. Don’t mind telling you how relieved I am to find out it actually works.”

  Mr. Grim winked, and then more bolts of hissing red lightning shot out from the Odditorium in every direction, turning the Shadesmen and their horses into smoke, in some places ten at a time.

  “Huzzah!” cried Lord Dreary. “Take that, you blasted bone bags!”

  “That’s the spirit, man!” said Mr. Grim. “All right, then, people, let’s make a concerted effort to keep those climbers off the walls, shall we?”

  Mr. Grim changed his tune again, his fingers moving even faster across his pipe organ. And as the Odditorium picked up even more speed, the armored skeletons and their steeds gave chase.

  Bolts of red lightning crackled all around us as countless Shadesmen were vaporized into smoke. We were high above the city now and moving out toward the countryside. Far off in the distance, at the edge of the clouds in which the Black Fairy and his army had arrived, I could see the blue of the afternoon sky.

  But as Mr. Grim steered the Odditorium toward it, I noticed a shower of glowing red lights whizzing through the air straight for us.

  “He’s sending out his archers!” Nigel cried from the talkback.

  Mr. Grim looked up from his organ just in time to see the first volley of red-tipped arrows strike the shield. The Odditorium trembled violently, and the shield appeared to fizzle and pop purple as if it would blink out. But in the end it held.

  “Those arrows are tipped with red energy!” cried M
r. Grim. “Prince Nightshade must have found the other Eye of Mars!”

  “Begging your pardon, sir?” I asked.

  “The power source for the gunneries. Legend has it that the god had two Eyes. And since I found only one in my travels, I always worried Prince Nightshade had found the other!”

  I glanced back at the lion’s head above the fireplace. As far as I could tell, old Mars still had both his eyes. In fact, the big cat’s peepers were glowing brighter than ever. So what was all this talk about gods and whatnot?

  “Focus all your efforts on the Shadesmen’s arrows,” Mr. Grim said into the talkback. “It appears Prince Nightshade has found the other Eye of Mars!”

  “Oh dear,” said Nigel.

  “Another volley!” Lord Dreary shouted. “No, no, no! To the right—farther to the right, woman!”

  Crackling bolts of bright red lighting rained past us in every direction. Mr. Grim played some of the pipe organ’s lower keys, and the Odditorium banked hard to the left.

  “That’s it,” said Mr. Grim. “Lay down some strafing fire while I—”

  The Odditorium rocked violently, and I was nearly thrown to the floor again as a mass of crumbling brick bounced off the energy shield.

  “Good heavens!” cried Lord Dreary. “Those arrows knocked out one of our cannons. We’re down to only three!”

  Mr. Grim pulled a lever on his organ and the Odditorium picked up even more speed. More red lighting shot out from Nigel’s station below, and a line of approaching Shadesman was instantly turned to smoke.

  “Gunners,” shouted Mr. Grim, “I need you to hold them off while Cleona gets into position!”

  “Right-o, sir.”

  “Is it time, then?” Cleona asked from the talkback.

  “Yes, love,” said Mr. Grim. “The energy panels in your chamber should have more than enough charge to sustain the Odditorium’s steering systems while we make the jump. Get into position and open the porthole, but remember to deactivate the shields only when you’re ready. If one of those arrows should get inside—”

  “Pshaw,” Cleona said. “You worry too much, Uncle.”

  “Be careful, Cleona. You’re our only hope now.”

  Cleona giggled, but then Lord Dreary shouted, “Another volley!”

  Sprays of red lightning shot out from above and below, wiping out an entire front line of Shadesmen and their arrows at once.

  “Huzzah!” Lord Dreary exclaimed. “Great shooting, woman! You too, Stout!”

  “Thank you, sir,” Nigel replied.

  “Keep those arrows away from Cleona’s porthole!” cried Mr. Grim.

  The red energy bolts picked off Shadesmen left and right, and as Mr. Grim made some adjustments on his keyboard, the Odditorium spun halfway around so that we were flying backward. The Black Fairy was far away from us now, and yet a great shadow appeared to be looming up in the clouds behind him.

  “Mr. Grim!” I shouted. “Look!”

  And with that a huge chariot burst forth from the clouds with a team of four black horses leading the way.

  Mr. Grim swallowed hard. “Prince Nightshade, I presume.”

  As if in reply, the monstrous black steeds neighed with a deafening screech. Fire flashed from their mouths, smoke billowed from their nostrils, and all at once it seemed as though the world grew darker, and the air was thick with fear.

  Most terrifying of all, however, was the figure in the chariot. I could make out only the outline of his form—his chunky black armor, the spiked crown upon his head, and a flowing black cape that swelled like a sail behind him. In one hand he held the horses’ reins; in the other, a fiery red whip that, when cracked, exploded with lightning and thunder.

  “He’s here!” Mr. Grim cried into the talkback. “Hurry, Cleona! Open the porthole! I daren’t turn my back on the prince for long!”

  The prince cracked his whip. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and Mr. Grim spun the Odditorium around again until it faced the clear blue sky.

  “What are you waiting for?” cried Lord Dreary. “Why aren’t you firing at him, woman?”

  “No!” said Mr. Grim. “Any shot from the Eye of Mars will only make Prince Nightshade stronger. Continue firing on the Shadesmen if you can, but keep your energy bolts away from the prince, do you hear?”

  A screech from the Black Fairy, a neigh from the steeds, and another crack of the whip behind us—the lighting and thunder closer now.

  “He’s gaining on us!” Nigel shouted. I could see only blue sky ahead of us, and were it not for the deafening racket, I wouldn’t have known anything was amiss.

  “The Odditorium might not survive a crack from his whip,” said Mr. Grim. “Please hurry, Cleona! What are you waiting for?”

  Without warning, a thick bolt of bright blue light shot out from somewhere above the shield. It traveled only a short distance and then burst apart into an enormous swirl of sparkling silver stars, at the center of which appeared what I could only describe as a hole in the sky.

  “Thank you, darling!” said Mr. Grim. “Back inside with you and close the porthole!” Mr. Grim flicked some switches and played some keys. “Maintaining forward thrusters and coming about to port,” he said, and once again the Odditorium spun around in place, traveling backward, it seemed, as we turned to face our attackers.

  The prince was leading the charge now, and his steeds sped toward us at full gallop as the Black Fairy and the remaining cavalry brought up the rear.

  They were closing quickly.

  “I’ve lost my cannon!” cried Mrs. Pinch from the talkback. “It won’t fire, sir!”

  “It’s that blasted conductor coupling again!” cried Mr. Grim, and I glanced over my shoulder to discover the lion’s eyes were blinking on and off above the mantel.

  “Activating the levitation shield one more time,” said Mr. Grim, changing his organ tune, and once again the floor buzzed and the world flashed yellow. “That will take care of any Shadesmen who try to come through the hole with us.”

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Did Mr. Grim intend for us to pass through that hole in the sky?

  Prince Nightshade’s steeds were almost upon us, and for the first time I could clearly see the prince’s face looming up behind them—a bottomless black pit with only a pair of glowing red eyes beneath an open, black-crowned helmet.

  A blue light began flashing on Mr. Grim’s pipe organ.

  “Hang on, everybody,” he said. “Here we gooooo!”

  The Black Fairy shrieked.

  The steeds spit fire.

  And as Prince Nightshade raised his whip, the glowing red gash that was his mouth stretched apart into a deafening, black-fanged roar of “MINE!”

  I froze in terror, certain that my soul had just been snatched from my body—but then the prince brought down his whip, and in a burst of thunder and lightning the Odditorium shook violently, knocking me once again to the floor.

  Dazed, I thought for certain I was dead. Everything had become peaceful and glowing, as if the world had been enveloped in a brilliant white mist.

  Mr. Grim rushed over to his pipe organ.

  “I’m here!” he cried, gazing out over the balcony. “I’m here!”

  I tried to scramble to my feet, but the Odditorium suddenly lurched forward and knocked me back down.

  A great whoosh sucked the air from my lungs.

  And before I could breathe again, everything went black.

  When I came to, I found myself sitting on the floor with my ears ringing and my head thick with cobwebs. I tried to shake them off, and discovered Mr. Grim on the floor beside me shaking off his cobwebs too.

  “Are we dead, sir?” I asked.

  Mr. Grim shot me a look of surprise, then scrambled to his feet and gazed out over his organ. The shield was gone now and the wind whipped freely across the balcony.

  “I was there, Elizabeth,” Mr. Grim whispered to himself. “I was there.”

  Elizabeth? This was not the first time I’d
heard that name—Lord Dreary had mentioned an Elizabeth this morning in the library, hadn’t he? But then I noticed Mr. Grim’s eyes, sad and distant, as if he was longing for something out there in the sky.

  “Is everything all right, sir?” I asked tentatively.

  Mr. Grim looked startled at first, then smiled and motioned for me to approach the balustrade.

  I could hardly believe my eyes. The sky was clear and blue. And far below the Odditorium I spied an endless sea of rolling whitecaps. I had never seen the sea before, but nonetheless knew what I was looking at. And I must confess that seeing it for the first time awed me as much as anything I’d seen at Mr. Grim’s.

  “Congratulations, Master Grubb,” he said. “You have just successfully navigated an interdimensional space jump.”

  I looked up at him dumbstruck and he gave me a wink.

  “Cleona?” he called, flicking on his talkback. “Cleona, are you there?”

  “I’m here, Uncle,” she replied. “Is everyone all right?”

  “Not sure yet, but how are you faring?”

  “Pshaw, nothing I can’t handle. Although, I am a bit sapped, I must admit.”

  “I can imagine. The space jump has all but drained the Odditorium’s animus. Something to do with the balance of spiritual energies, do you think?”

  “Forgive me, Uncle, but my brain’s too gooey now for thinking scientifically.”

  “Forgive me for being insensitive. Yes, you must rest before you recharge the animus. We’ll get by on the reserves until you’re ready, and then you and I will have to figure out a way to stay longer next time.”

  “Very well, then,” Cleona said with a yawn.

  “And thank you, love.”

  “You’re welcome, Uncle.”

  “Gwendolyn?” Mr. Grim said, flicking another switch on the talkback. “Are you there?”

  “I’m here, twig!” the Yellow Fairy snapped crossly. “But don’t you dare ask me to start spinning again—my head’s gone all loopy, thanks to you!”

  “By all means, rest. We’ve more than enough of your fairy dust to remain airborne. You’ve gotten us out of quite a scrape, and I’ll be sure to have Mrs. Pinch bring you down some chocolates.”