“Not something I wanted to see.”
“Still,” Finn says. “It’s worth a try. Anything’s worth a try.”
They’re interrupted by the distinctive drumming of approaching horse hooves. The Keepers scatter and hide. A white horse appears from out of the fog.
“I know him,” Amanda says, showing herself. The others come out from hiding with her.
Prince Phillip is little like his animated self. Certainly, he’s square-jawed and intimidatingly handsome, but it’s his commanding presence, broad shoulders, and deep, scratchy voice that beguile. His gray uniform and red cape might make other men look soft; not Prince Phillip. He lets his horse feed on the grass. Faintly visible beyond are another dozen horses—real horses, not carousel miniatures—mounted by fully armored knights.
“Chef Remy has informed me of your situation,” Prince Phillip says. “I pledge my fidelity and that of my men to your cause. We, of the realm, are forever in debt to you, the Children of Light. Please know you may trust in us completely, that we shall serve you in whatever form of combat is required.”
His bow, with a forearm across the waist, draws gasps from Amanda and Willa. The girls exchange a look and giggle conspiratorially to one another.
“How may we be of service?” Prince Phillip asks.
Finn introduces the Keepers, presenting Philby as general of their war council, “Jessica” as an enchantress, Amanda as a conjurer capable of magical acts, and “Willow” as the kingdom’s archivist. “We have alchemy on our side,” he says, “as well as two others currently conducting reconnaissance on the enemy fortress.”
“And the foe?” Phillip asks.
“No stranger to you, I’m afraid. The same foe this kingdom has battled for lo these fifty years.” Finn enjoys trying to talk like someone from another era. Judging by Amanda’s scrunched face, he has a ways to go.
“Witches, ghosts, goblins,” says Phillip.
“The same. But with a new leader, a beast unlike any you may have faced.”
“We have faced plenty, my friend, and conquered not a few.”
“This monster is three times the size of any man. Part bull, another part god. He feeds on the souls of the good and sends forth ghosts to do his bidding. This beast has been brought under an enchantment, a renewal of his bond to darkness; we believe this has given new force to his powers. In his present form,” Finn says, thinking of the stories of decapitation and murder, “he is unbridled, unprincipled, and quite possibly undefeatable.”
“Then we shall change his form,” says Prince Phillip matter-of-factly. “For no soul, no power, no force shall be allowed to storm our castle or threaten our kingdom. We here before you do solemnly swear to end this creature that lusts for power not rightfully his. We serve Oswald and all that come after. There are legions more behind us, and legions again behind them. Know this, Children of Light: This day shall be remembered for all time. It is the day when the authority of good shall rise like the phoenix reborn and extinguish this enemy forever.”
Phillip’s horse somehow manages to choose this exact moment to break wind and do his business. The ensuing levity kills the Prince’s momentum, but does nothing to diminish his message.
Maybeck and Charlene appear through the fog. They take in Prince Phillip. To his credit, Maybeck doesn’t make a fool of himself.
Charlene speaks first. “We got up there. The Skyway Station.”
“Charlie climbed to the roof,” Maybeck explains, “which is a mess. Holes all over.”
“I saw down inside. The Evil Queen. Tia Dalma. No sign of Cruella or Chernabog, but how far away can they be? There were workers in there, too. The card soldiers and the Small World dolls. Too many to name. They’re working by candlelight; the station’s boarded up on all sides. They’ve built some kind of…I don’t know, some kind of set? Like for a school play. It’s pretty big, and most of the OTs are gathered around, watching Tia Dalma. She’s got maybe six of her little dolls and she’s doing stuff to them. Moving their arms, legs. Whatever. The backdrop looks like hills, mustard-colored hills, and in front of it are these boxes and ladders and stuff.”
“Tell ’em about the other wall,” Maybeck urges.
“Yeah, across the room, on the opposite side, other OTs are building another backdrop. I couldn’t see it that well. They’ve got this toy truck with the end part of a fishing rod glued to it. All very weird looking, like something out of the occult.”
“I know,” Maybeck says. “We’re supposed to be looking for this Osiris thing, but whatever’s going on up there can’t wait. I didn’t even see anything, but I could feel it, you know? Like when Maleficent’s close. Like everything bad you can possibly imagine is about to come true.”
Philby instructs Jess. “Do it. See if it works.”
Jess uncaps the pen and begins to draw. She focuses on the Skyway Station and, as before, the ink takes on a life of its own. The others ooh and ah. Prince Phillip prattles on about magic, but no one pays much attention.
The hill and the Skyway Station are drawn perfectly. In pen on paper they look like a Christmas card. The moment the drawing completes, it animates. All the images, including the trees, shake. Horses climb the hill, eliciting comments from Prince Phillip. The Keepers appear as stick figures with their initials as their heads. The pen shows up in the drawing, adding flames on opposite corners of the station. The stick-figure Keepers enter the structure. Prince Phillips’s knights surround it. The station starts breaking apart. The stick figures flee as it comes crashing down.
The drawing fades, gone from the paper on which it was drawn.
“What just happened?” Charlene asks.
“I think we won,” Maybeck says.
A dark uncertainty encumbers the Keepers. The image of such complete destruction disturbs them all.
“How did we do that?” Finn inquires. “How do we do that?”
“Isn’t it obvious? We attack!” declares Prince Phillip. “Mount your steeds!” he cries, looking around for horses that don’t exist. “Our time has come.”
* * *
Prince Phillip’s detachment includes eight knights—two of them female, surprisingly—all on horseback of course. They are accompanied by eight squires looking suspiciously like the Cast Members who run the carousel. Each carries his own sword and shield and has another sword and shield slung over his back in case the rider to whom he is pledged should lose his or hers. These extra swords and shields are passed around to the Keepers, who practice their sword strokes and receive a few basic tips from the armored riders.
Phillip, Finn, and Philby kneel alongside Jess and her interactive drawing; it’s Prince Phillip, not either of the boys, who now tests the power and speed of her sketching. “Have you heard the expression concerning the pen being mightier than the sword?” Phillip asks.
“Of course,” answers Philby.
“Let’s put it to work. Shall we?” He asks Jess to draw a small hole in the ground, not far from their current position. It takes all the men-at-arms to find it, but eventually they do. Jess has dug into the soft soil using nothing but a pen. She draws a rock—it appears as well. Finally, she scratches out the rock and, sure enough, the rock in the real world is gone.
“Please, fair lady, if you will,” Prince Phillip says, “remove the tree to our right, just there.” He points.
Jess scratches the tree out of her drawing. In the real world, it remains. Prince Phillip clanks over in his armor and fingers the branches. “Interesting,” he says.
“I guess I can add and remove my own images, but not the things already there.”
“A shame,” says Prince Phillip. “T’would be fine to do away with that beggar’s cottage and all within its walls. Alas, it is not to be.” Despite his words, he sounds pleased.
What knight isn’t ready for a good fight? Finn thinks.
“My men and I shall lead the charge up this trail, here.” Prince Phillip points to the path leading up to the station. “We sh
all surround the cottage thusly, front and back, and capture any cretins fool enough to stand against us. Upon my summons, you and our squires will advance on two flanks, here and here. Sir Philby, to the northeast; Sir Finn, to the southwest.”
“Once we are in position,” Philby says with authority, “Jess will try to draw it again and see if there are any changes in the outcome.”
Jess is already working calmly, but intensely, to draw a deep moat around the chalet. On its outside border, she sketches a line of long wooden stakes with sharpened tips. Overhead, she adds nets.
“You need to keep in mind, Prince Phillip,” Finn says. “These are sorcerers, magicians, witches, who can conjure, throw spells, and transfigure. It’s no ordinary army.”
“And you must keep in mind, kind sir, that my regiment has been battling these spirits for nearly three score years. Our minds are as sharp as our blades, our hearts as devoted, our spirits as resolute as those of our founders. I assure you, we have faced such foes before and matched them s-sword…f-for…s-spell.”
The ground beneath their feet shakes. The fog grows thicker. Phillip’s last few words are spoken with a vibrating throat.
“We have some secret weapons of our own,” Finn says. “So stay close.”
“Then I bid you good fortune, gentlemen! The enemy awaits. May your swords be sharp and your eye true!”
Phillip bows to Jess, says, “My lady,” and is gone before he can hear Philby’s words.
“A simple ‘good luck’ would have been fine.”
“I don’t think there’s anything simple about him,” Finn says. He grabs the hilt of the sword stuck into the earth at his feet. Philby does the same.
“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Finn asks.
Philby nods, a forlorn, grieved look on his face. The words barely escape his mouth. “This is the one.”
“For all time,” Finn says, hoisting his sword. Then louder, “For all time!”
The Keepers pull into a tight bunch, swords raised and touching at their tips.
“For all time!” they echo.
A spark of lightning strikes their swords, or perhaps it’s the other way around. Perhaps their swords throw a bolt to the heavens. The air buzzes and fills with the smell of ozone, and a faint crack of thunder is heard as if a million miles away.
THE TEAMS REMAIN THE SAME. Finn leads Willa, Amanda, and the Dillard to the base of the hill west of the station. The mass of Big Thunder reveals itself through the fog.
By now, Philby, Maybeck, Charlene, and Violet should be positioned on the Storybook Land side. The Dillard’s inability to act in the physical world puts Finn’s team at a slight disadvantage, but this is overcome by the power contained within Amanda.
“Should I alert the Cryptologists about our situation?” the Dillard asks. Finn wonders at the timing of the request, thinking back to Philby’s concerns about the Dillard’s possible spying.
“Are you in contact with them?” Finn asks bluntly.
“Define contact. I am, as you know, a hologram generated from a server under Cryptologist control. I am therefore constantly linked by upstream and downstream data. Your question implies a premise of autonomy that cannot possibly exist given my projected status. Do you wish to refine your parameters?”
“Later,” Finn says. The Dillard can drive him crazy at times.
As the words leave his mouth, Finn is struck by a thought that literally stops his feet from moving. But it’s jarred from his thought as screams arise from the top of the hill.
Jess is right on schedule.
* * *
Despite the egos involved, the inside of the Skyway is a model of efficiency. Two different stage sets have been erected against opposing walls. Tia Dalma manipulates a group of raffia dolls in front of the Oak Hills, California, backdrop, while the Evil Queen serves as foreman, directing a legion of Card Soldiers and dozens of Small World dolls, who are putting the finishing touches on a working model of Disneyland’s Matterhorn Bobsleds. The Small World dolls work on ladders near the top of the backdrop, while the card soldiers are busy at the base.
All this is witnessed by an invisible Violet, who stands in a corner prying up a plank to make it easier for the rats to enter.
As the first wisps of fog seep through into the space, Violet next climbs up the timber-beamed wall and slips out through a hole in the roof. Reappearing, she descends the station’s exterior and hurries through the thick fog, passing the steady breathing of unseen horses, and slides to a stop beside Philby.
“Between the Card Soldiers and Small World dolls, there must be more than fifty of them.”
“Not the dolls,” moans Charlene. “I hate those things!”
“Tell Finn,” Philby directs Violet. “Get back here as quickly as you can. We need you!”
Violet hurries off.
“You’re up!” Philby tells Remy, who’s at his feet, waiting patiently.
Remy salutes Philby, then waves his tiny paw, urging his rat pack to follow him toward the station. Django and Remy split apart shortly thereafter, dividing their ranks, with Remy’s battalion taking the southern side of the building.
Inside, the sudden appearance of mist wins the attention of the female OT leadership. But their minions do not break stride. The result is exactly what Finn and Philby intended: the villains’ eyes track down to the floor.
Through the wispy fog appears the flow of rats, spreading from both corners like spilled ink across the floor. Screams shatter the working atmosphere into chaos.
* * *
“I know this is a strange time to get sentimental,” Finn tells Amanda in a whisper, “but since we don’t exactly know what’s going on up there, I wanted to say how—”
“Shut it! Don’t want to hear it!”
“What a good friend you are.”
“Friend?”
“I’m glad I know you, Amanda.”
“Better.”
“When you’re around, you know, I don’t think about other stuff. I’m not wishing I was somewhere else, with someone else.”
“No offense, but that doesn’t exactly sound like you.”
“Maybe I picked it up from a Nicholas Sparks movie.”
“Do you watch those?”
“My mother does. So, I guess, yeah, sometimes.”
“Wow, important information,” Amanda says.
“I was just trying to say—”
“I got it, Finn. Thank you. That’s very sweet of you. But don’t go talking like we’re going to die or something.”
“It’s the ‘or something’ I’m worried about. This goes wrong, who knows how we end up?”
“You’re not helping any.”
“Wow, important information,” he says, and Amanda laughs in spite of herself.
“Better,” she says.
“Good.”
Finn smiles at her as shrieks peal from up the hill.
“The rats,” Finn says. “It’s started!”
* * *
Remy and Django know a thing or two about scaring people. As fog seeps through every crack and crevice to permeate the station, almost invisible in the rising mists, Remy and his friends lead their packs in swirling eddies around the feet of the Small World dolls and Card Soldiers, brushing their fur and whiskers against every ankle. The faster the rats sweep through the space, the more chaos ensues. As screeches begin to rise from her terrified minions, the Evil Queen stomps her feet again and again, injuring several of the valiant rats. Defenseless, the injured rodents scurry randomly about, creating still greater distraction. The more panic, the more perfectly they are fulfilling their mission.
* * *
Forty yards away, tucked between trees in the midst of coiling fog, Jess lowers her pen.
The scene that plays out before is much the same as the last: the approach of the Keepers and knights, the violent shaking, the collapse of the Skyway Station.
With no one around to see her fail, if she should, Jess tries addin
g lines, drawing flames on opposite corners of the structure as closely packed together as shark’s teeth.
She looks up the hill. The fog stains orange—a flickering orange.
She draws a breath sharply.
“FIIIRRRE!” It’s the voice of the Evil Queen, rolling down the hill like a scream of surrender.
* * *
As the doors to the station burst open, Prince Phillip unleashes his war cry.
The battle begins. Card Soldiers and Small World dolls pour from the station’s front door and into the waiting moat, where the cards pile up quickly. Stepping atop their fallen comrades, the OTs’ remaining troops advance toward the sharpened stakes, on which they are soon skewered like marshmallows prepared for roasting.
The Small World dolls move awkwardly, too, stiff-legged, rocking from side to side as if about to topple. But they stay erect, spilling into the trench, climbing up the other side, and slipping between the stakes, which they wrestle free from the earth, aiming the pointed poles at the oncoming knights like pikes.
Phillip’s knights lower their swords, the blades glinting in the flickering firelight, aiming for the dolls as they pull their mounts sharply to avoid the sharp stakes. But the dolls grab hold of some of the horses’ front legs and bring them down, throwing their riders. Card Soldiers turn sideways as the knights attempt to strike them, all but disappearing; the knights slice only air.
* * *
Inside the Station is another matter. Tia Dalma does not move, refusing to acknowledge the hot smoke mixing with the cool fog. To her right, the Evil Queen stands like a sentry, protecting the voodoo queen as she works her dolls against the boxes, pulling matchstick levers, twisting button dials. Cruella is nowhere to be seen.
Charging through the smog are the Kingdom Keepers, brandishing their swords.
The Evil Queen extracts an ampoule of some blue concoction from a hidden pocket and raises her hand to throw it at the Keepers, but Remy and some of his intrepid friends claw up her dress and out onto her extended limbs; the weight of the creatures on her arms forces her hands lower, and her attempt to spray the Keepers with the charmed potion misses. Instead of the Keepers, the blue drops strike some of the rats, who instantly gray with old age, their faces shriveling, their teeth falling out. But there are more rats than she can hit, and they overtake her.
Kingdom Keepers VII Page 41
