Falcon Quinn and the Crimson Vapor

by Jennifer Finney Boylan

  “I have always found the merits of snow more than a little overrated,” said a voice, and they turned to see Cygnus walking behind them.

  “Juh—General Cygnus, sir,” said Sam, saluting the man awkwardly.

  “At ease, Cadet,” said Cygnus. He nodded to Falcon. “Good morning, Prince. I hope you’ll forgive my eavesdropping. I remember seeing snow when I visited Maine. I was among the party that was sent to bring back your mother. As you know, she had a rather rebellious youth. Before she accepted her fate.” He smiled. “I remember how disappointed I was by snow, the first time I saw it. It is true, Cadet Samit, that it is beautiful when it falls. And then when it lies upon the ground, sparkling and pristine, there is something almost miraculous about it, as if the world itself has begun to shine.” His face darkened. “But then creatures begin to walk upon it. Dirtying and befouling it. Ruining it! I remember one morning, looking out a window at a field of perfect snow—not far from your town of Cold River, Falcon. I watched that field all morning. And then these creatures—idiots—tromped across it, destroying its beauty. Leaving behind their ugly, careless footprints.” He sighed. “We found out later they were a group of Sasquatches in disguise. I caught up with them later that day and solved that problem. They left no more footprints.” He shook his head. “But there are so many monsters in the world. Tromping through the world and wrecking its purity. Sometimes I fear we can never destroy them all.” He looked lost in thought for a moment more. Then he looked up. “But we shall try, won’t we, gentlemen? Yes. We will try. Because how else will we bring about a perfect world? How?”

  “By killing monsters and stuff, sir,” said Sam nervously.

  Cygnus looked very carefully at Falcon, and his eyes narrowed for an instant. “Indeed,” he said, and nodded. Then he walked past. Sam and Falcon watched him merge into the crowd on the street ahead.

  “Okaayyy,” said Sam. “That was weird.”

  “I’ve walked across a field of snow,” said Falcon.

  “Dude,” said Sam. “Better not tell the general.”

  “Running around in snow is fun, actually. I never thought I was wrecking the purity of anything.”

  “It’d be cool to see it someday,” said Sam. “Don’t they have, like, lobsters and junk up there too?”

  “Yeah,” said Falcon. “Lobster’s a big thing in Maine.”

  “Snow, and lobsters, and moose! That’d be so awesome. It’d make it easier to—you know. Do the other stuff.”

  “What other stuff?”

  “Dude. You know. Kill all the monsters.”

  Falcon shook his head. “I don’t know how many monsters there are in Maine.”

  “Oh, they got ’em, all right,” said Sam. “They showed us a chart. Maine’s a very high-density area for monsters. I think it’s second only to Texas. Course, in Maine it’s like, werecreatures and vampires, and in Texas it’s mostly zombies, but still. If I got sent up there, I’d have to do a lot of slaying.” He sighed. “It’d be better if they sent me to, like, Ireland, or England. I’d rather get rid of a bunch of leprechauns or elves or something that’s not, you know, all bloodthirsty or dead, or whatever. Actually, I’d rather be sent someplace with no monsters at all. Like Idaho.”

  “Why?” said Falcon.

  “To be honest?” said Sam. “Monsters kind of creep me out. What’s it like, being surrounded by them all day? Weren’t you afraid?” He got another piece of beef jerky out of his pocket.

  “You get used to them,” said Falcon. “Most of the time, I mean. Then, other times—I don’t know, it’s like people turn on you, and then you feel like you don’t know them.”

  “Dude,” said Sam. “That’s exactly how I feel about some of the guardians.” He looked around nervously. “Don’t tell anyone, though, okay? But it’s like everybody’s your friend, until the time comes when—you know. They’re all . . . not.”

  Falcon looked over at Sam. “What would you be, if you could be something other than a guardian?”

  Sam’s eyes danced with excitement. “Someday,” he said, “I don’t know how—but somehow I’d like to own a diner.” He looked at Falcon. “What would you be if you weren’t an angel?”

  “I don’t know,” said Falcon. “I don’t think about it anymore.”

  “Tell you what,” said Sam. “We ever get out of here? You could work at my diner, making pies. ’Cause if I have a diner, it’s totally going to have awesome pies.”

  “You really think that’s going to happen?” said Falcon. “Us getting out of here, and you starting a diner?”

  “Sure, why not,” said Sam. “You gotta dream of something.”

  Chapter 15

  Flailing

  The next day, the young guardians had Field Research, which was held in something called the Temple of Honor. Falcon had breakfast in his room—a platter of eggs Benedict brought by Mr. Drudge—and then headed toward the main stairs of Paragon Castle to get to class. Sam and Celeste were waiting for him in the main hallway.

  “Hey, Prince Falcon,” said Sam.

  “Good day, Señor!” said Celeste.

  “We thought we’d, like, show you where the Temple of Honor is. It’s kind of a walk from here.”

  “Indeed,” said Celeste. “It is a treacherous journey, full of twisting alleys and corners of blindness!”

  “Thanks,” said Falcon. “That’s nice of you.”

  “Señor,” said Celeste. “I have decided, in my mercy, to offer you forgiveness for your rudeness of the other day. I am certain you meant no offense.”

  “Plus,” said Sam, “I told her you like jerky.”

  They had almost reached the main door of the castle when Falcon saw a strange, blue light flickering from a room just off of the main stairwell. “Hey,” he said, “what’s that?”

  Before them was a stone chamber lit by a strange blue glow. The light was coming from a dozen computer monitors in an otherwise lightless stone chamber. At each computer terminal was a small, emaciated guardian boy with enormous round eyes. The boys’ hair was thinning, like that of middle-aged men. None of them looked up as Sam and Celeste and Falcon stood on the threshold.

  “Intruder detected,” said one of the boys. “Intruder—oh no! Now look what you did! I was just about to level up!”

  “Dude,” said Sam. “Who are you? What is this place?”

  The boy looked at them. “Scanning life-forms,” he said.

  Celeste looked around the room. “These young gentlemen,” she said, “would appear to be playing a most complicated series of electronic games! Upon their computers they play! With diligence and speed!”

  “We’re the Snoids,” said the boy, walking to a small refrigerator and pulling out a soda, which he then drank. “We’re fighting Smaulgtrons.”

  “Dude,” said Sam. “I’ve played that game. Infernal Darkness II. It’s awesome!”

  “Smaulgtrons are evil,” said the Snoid.

  “But I am confused,” said Celeste. “You are guardians! Why do you not join the others of our kind in learning how to destroy the world of monsters!”

  “We are destroying monsters,” said the Snoid, dumbfounded. “That’s all we do, all day, is battle!”

  “I’ve never seen any of you guys in the cafeteria or the classrooms,” said Sam.

  “We never leave the game room!” said the Snoid. “We have to get to the next level!”

  A red light began to flash, and there was a clanging sound at one of the Snoids’ terminals. “Level four thousand,” he said.

  “Dude,” said Sam.

  “But surely playing video games all day becomes exhausting, even for virtuosos of the form such as yourselves!” said Celeste.

  The Snoid opened up a large bag of crunchy snacks that were an orange color not found in nature. On the front of the bag were the words CHEESE DINKLES. “I don’t understand what she just said.”

  “She means, don’t you ever get tired of playing video games all day? Don’t you want to, like, g
o outside?”

  “Ha, ha,” said the Snoid. “Funny.”

  “Hey,” said Sam. “Can I have some of those Cheese Dinkles?”

  The Snoid held the bag toward Sam, who dug his hand in.

  “But it seems as if you are imprisoned here,” said Celeste. “Imprisoned by your own fun! Can this be true?’

  The Snoid looked confused. “We are fighting Smaulgtrons. Destroying them gives you points. The points can be redeemed for items at the online store. The items make it possible to fight the Smaulgtrons on the higher levels! That gives you more points!”

  “Dude,” said Sam. “Why don’t you come with us? We’re going to Field Research class in the Temple of Honor!”

  “Sorry,” he said. “I’m in the middle of a battle.”

  “But surely you can simply save the game, where you are,” said Celeste. “And return to it at a later time.”

  “This is a cut scene,” said the Snoid. “Can’t save now. Oh look—it’s the princess! We have to save the princess.”

  “How do you save the princess?”

  “By killing her father. The Ruler of the Smaulgtrons.”

  “What happens when you rescue her?” said Falcon. “Do you marry her?”

  “Ha, ha,” said the Snoid. “Funny.”

  “I fail to see the humor in this,” said Celeste.

  “The princess cannot be saved,” said the Snoid. “Because then the game will end.”

  “But then your work would be complete!” said Celeste. “Enabling you to venture out of your cave and explore the wide world!”

  “Ha, ha,” said the Snoid, and started typing even faster. “You have to go now. Gotta kill more Smaulgtrons.”

  “This is a curious place,” said Celeste, looking around the room at the entranced, hypnotized boys. “It is as if they have all been enslaved by their own amusement!”

  The Snoid’s computer began to ding, and the red light flashed again. “Huh huh huh,” said the Snoid. “Level four thousand and one.” He smiled, and Falcon and his friends saw that he had no teeth. “Now I can buy a shield.”

  They hurried through the twisting streets of the Hidden City. Celeste was right—the Temple of Honor was not easy to find. When they arrived, however, Falcon saw that it was a magnificent stone building with large pillars and a domed roof. Inside, the temple was a large, curving chamber. There was a circular hole in the center of the dome over their heads that let in a large column of light. Around the outside perimeter of the room were statues of various guardian heroes battling an assortment of monsters. There was a strong man cutting the head from a Frankenstein. There was a virtuous-looking woman impaling a stake through the heart of a vampire. A man with a thick book stood with his eyes closed and his hand extended as a mummy was driven back by the force of his will. “All right, kiddies,” said a good-looking man wearing leather armor. He had a shock of wild, black hair and eyes of guardian blue. “This here is Field Research. Me, my name is Mortlock. Why don’t you all get yourselves some weapons outta the armory over there, and we’ll see if we can’t chop somebody up.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then Chandler started to cry. “Chuh-chop somebody up?” he said.

  A wicked smile crept across Mortlock’s face. Falcon noticed that the man had a scar that sliced down the right side of his neck, from just below his ear to the top of his collarbone. “Better hurry,” he said. “Could be you.”

  The young guardians scurried toward the armory, hauling out flails and flamethrowers and morningstars and bazookas. Jonny Frankenstein had a dagger. Falcon and Sam got broadswords.

  “I don’t have a weapon,” said Chandler, his voice rising in panic. Behind him, the armory was empty. “There aren’t enough weapons to go around.”

  “Hey, kid,” said Mortlock. “Who says you got no weapon?”

  “What?” said Chandler, looking around. “I don’t see any—”

  “You got your brain, kid,” said Mortlock. “Most important weapon of all.”

  “Hey, yeah!” said Chandler. “I got my—”

  “You don’t use your brain,” said Mortlock, “weapons are useless. You see this?” He pointed to the scar on his neck. “I got this because I didn’t use my brain.” He smiled. “Smarter now.”

  There was an awkward moment of silence. Then Mortlock said, “Course, having the right weapon helps too.” He held up a club with a thick round head. “Take this, for instance. The smashing jigger,” he said. “What would you use this for?”

  “Fighting something close at hand,” said Gyra.

  “Yeah,” said Mortlock. “Good. But not just anything. Like, let’s say you’re up against a ghoul. You gonna use a smashing jigger on a ghoul?”

  “Yeah,” said Snick. “Why not?”

  Mortlock smiled again. “Anybody want to tell Snick here why not?”

  “The Crystal Scream,” said Gyra. “A ghoul’s going to use the Crystal Scream on you.”

  “Score one for the T.A.,” said Mortlock. “You all know what the Crystal Scream is?” He looked at the class. “Cadet Gyra. Tell them what the Crystal Scream is.”

  “It’s a high-pitched blast of aural energy,” said Gyra again. “Fine tuned to resonate at the pitch at which the subject’s eardrums vibrate, usually around eight hundred hertz.”

  “Bingo,” said Mortlock. “So what happens to—well, let’s say it’s ol’ Cadet Chandler here. What happens when he tries to attack a ghoul using a smashing jigger?”

  Chandler looked frightened. “I’m attacking?”

  There was an awkward silence for a moment. Then Jonny Frankenstein said, “His brain explodes.”

  “Yeah,” said Mortlock. “Pretty much.”

  Everyone laughed except Chandler, whose lower lip thrust forward.

  “But all I wanted was to be brave,” said Chandler, his voice trembling. “My mommy tells me I’m the bravest of them all!”

  “If we have to hear any more about your mommy,” said Snick, “I’ll use a smashing jigger on you, Chandler!”

  “Who said that?” said Mortlock, the muscles in his jaw tightening.

  “Me,” said Snick.

  “There’s no dishonor in defending your parents, Cadet Snick,” said Mortlock. “That’s how I got this.” He pointed to his scar again. His face was still dark and angry. “Banshees,” he said.

  There was silence in the class. Then Gyra looked skeptical. “What?” said Mortlock.

  “I thought banshees screamed.”

  “Oh, they scream all right,” said Mortlock.

  “So—how did you get a scar? From a scream?”

  “The scar is from my own mother,” said Mortlock. “Who was carried off by banshees during the attack. She was clinging to me. While I had to stand there, stunned from the effects of the banshee scream. Because I did not know how to fight them. Because I had not yet learned how not to cry.”

  There was a long pause. The Temple of Honor was very quiet.

  “Smarter now,” said Mortlock.

  After Field Research ended for the day, Falcon and Jonny Frankenstein walked through the streets of the Hidden City toward Paragon Castle. Through the windows of the stone houses they saw families gathered around tables for supper, men reading books in soft chairs, women playing guitars and fiddles.

  “Must be nice,” said Jonny, walking at Falcon’s side. “All that.”

  “What?”

  “Having a family.”

  “That’s what I keep hearing,” said Falcon.

  “How about that guy today? Mortlock.”

  “What about him?”

  “No wonder he hates monsters,” said Jonny. “His mother got carried off by banshees.”

  “Remember that banshee girl at the Academy, Elaine Screamish?” asked Falcon. “I can’t see her carrying off anybody.”

  “Not yet,” said Jonny. “But the guardians are right. Once she gets a little older, Screamy will be pretty deadly.”

  They heard a pair of footsteps behind
them, and Falcon turned to see Gyra running toward them.

  “Hey, Falcon,” she said. “You okay?” Her eyes fell on Jonny Frankenstein, and her expression seemed colder.

  “Catch up with you later, Falcon,” said Jonny.

  “Yeah,” said Falcon. “I’ll—”

  But Jonny just turned his back and walked up the hill toward Paragon Castle.

  Falcon turned to Gyra. “What’s that all about? You and Jonny don’t get along?”

  Gyra shrugged. “I don’t trust him.” She wrinkled her nose. “Why? Do you?”

  “I don’t know,” said Falcon. “We got some things in common, I guess.”

  “Like what?” said Gyra.

  “Well, we’re both orphans,” said Falcon. “Or—whatever. I used to think I was an orphan, anyway.”

  They walked up the hilly street. Falcon looked up at Paragon Castle, its many towers and ramparts glowing in the sunset. Flags fluttered in the breeze.

  “You shouldn’t,” said Gyra, giving him a hard look. “You got all kinds of family.”

  “Yeah, I guess,” said Falcon. She reminded him so much of Megan he felt a little bit dizzy. He remembered the moment last spring when he and Megan had stood up in the Tower of Souls, next to the giant clock face, and looked out at the Sea of Dragons.

  “What’s wrong with your eye, Falcon?” said Gyra.

  “What?”

  “That eye patch. Did you get hurt?”

  “No,” said Falcon. “I’m fine. Mr. Drudge thought I should keep my dark eye covered.”

  “Really?” said Gyra. She reached toward his face and slowly pulled off the eye patch. “I don’t see why.”

  “He thought—I might hurt somebody with it.”

  Gyra looked deeply into Falcon’s black eye. “But you wouldn’t,” she said. “Would you?”

  “Gyra!” shouted a voice from a stone house.

  Gyra turned, and there was her mother, wearing an apron.

  Her glance fell upon her daughter and Falcon Quinn, and for a moment there was a look of uncertainty on her face. “Come on, honey,” she said. “It’s dinnertime!”

  Gyra turned back to Falcon. Her face seemed strangely flushed. “I gotta go,” she said.