“What happened?” Joey asked. “What’d you do?”
“What is that?” Leanora added, indicating the cube.
Shazad held the cube in an open palm. A soft glow at its center was fading down to nothing. “Redondo’s book called it Kadabra’s Cube. It’s a magical transport item. Teleportation,” he clarified. “One catch. You can only go as far as you can see.”
“Ouch,” Joey said, gawking at DeMayne’s body sprawled out on the ground. “That was hard-core.”
Unfortunately, it wasn’t hard enough. DeMayne picked himself up, no worse for wear. “Now I’m starting to get annoyed,” he said, rising to his feet. “Do you have any idea what this is? What I’m wearing?” He slapped his iron breastplate with an open hand. “This is the Armor of the Ages. Nothing can harm it, not even the passage of time. The older it gets, the stronger it gets, and it’s over a thousand years old. You could drop me from orbit and it wouldn’t make a dent. I told you, you can’t stop me. The best you can hope to do is slow me down, so if that’s all you’ve got, you might as well give up now. Before I have to hurt you.”
Shazad took out a small, polished piece of black wood, the size and shape of a rolled-up diploma. “That’s not all I’ve got.” He twirled the stick around, transforming it into a full-size bo staff. “The Staff of Sorcero,” he said to Joey.
“Right. The Staff of Sorcero,” Joey repeated, as if everyone knew what that was.
Leanora took the firestone pendant off her neck and tied it around her left hand. “Joey, I think we’re going to have to team up against the Black Knight here. Can you hold off the red lady?”
“With what? Card tricks?”
“Try this.” Leanora handed him a familiar length of thick, maritime rope.
Joey took the Gordian rope reluctantly. He had not had great success with it in the past. “I’ll try.”
“Try hard,” Leanora said. With that, she and Shazad went off to fight DeMayne. Shazad took the lead, charging in first. Just before he reached DeMayne, he activated Kadabra’s Cube and disappeared. DeMayne swung hard, trying to punch him, but his fist found nothing but air. Meanwhile, Shazad reappeared behind DeMayne, swinging the staff. Sparks flew as he connected with the side of DeMayne’s helmet. It was a jarring blow, amplified by magical energy. DeMayne stumbled a step, but he recovered quickly, sweeping an armored hand around at Shazad, who backpedaled, spinning the staff in front of him defensively. At the same time, Leanora was running up through the air, getting into position over DeMayne. Golden discs lit up under her feet with each step she took. One, two, three—and she threw a fiery punch into the back of DeMayne’s neck, driving him to his knees. Shazad followed that up with a hard strike across his faceplate. DeMayne fell backward, landing with his feet up in the air. Leanora moved in for another firestone-charged punch. DeMayne rolled fast—way faster than Joey would have thought possible in that armor. He dodged her blow, sprang up, and caught Shazad by the cape. The next thing Joey knew, DeMayne was swinging Shazad around like a mace, right at Leanora. She got out of the way with time to spare, thanks to her magic boots. DeMayne let Shazad go, and he tumbled through the air, but he vanished and reappeared, landing safely on his feet thanks to his magic cube. While they were busy saving themselves, DeMayne marched on the theater. He didn’t have far to go. Just the width of the street. Shazad and Leanora paused for a quick conference.
“You go high, I’ll go low?” she asked.
“That works.”
This time Leanora went in first. As she approached, DeMayne shot a hand out at her like a football player trying to stiff-arm an opponent. She slid under that and delivered a crushing blow to the side of his knee. It probably would have crippled him if he wasn’t armored up, but with the protections he had, she succeeded only in throwing him off-balance. As DeMayne bent over, steadying himself, Shazad leapfrogged him. When his hands hit DeMayne’s armor, Kadabra’s Cube whisked them both away, moving them back to the door of the NATL building, effectively hitting a reset button on the fight.
Joey and the lady in red stood transfixed, watching the battle begin again. She shook her head as it went on. “They’re wasting their time. This is only going to make him angry. That’s not going to be good for anyone.” Joey didn’t think a happy Ledger DeMayne was good for anyone, either, but that went without saying. The lady in red took off her sunglasses and fixed Joey with a penetrating gaze. “You’re the one who wielded Houdini’s wand. Is it true you threw it into a black hole?” Joey said nothing. She took his silence as confirmation. “What were you thinking?”
“I was thinking about keeping it away from people like you. And I did.”
“For now.” She let out a condescending sigh. “Such a lack of imagination. I don’t have that problem. I’m an artist. You can call me Scarlett.”
Joey tensed up as Scarlett opened her coat. She had holsters for several long paintbrushes sewn into the lining of each side. “Have you ever studied art? Really studied it? You should. It’s a magic all its own.” She inspected her brushes, tapping the bristles, trying to decide which one to use. “Think about it.… Making something out of nothing? The infinite possibility of the canvas? What’s more magical than that?” She chose a paint-splattered brush from the right-hand side of her coat. “Lately I’ve been on something of a pop-art kick. Warhol, Lichtenstein, Haring… Are you familiar with their work? No?”
Joey stared at Scarlett with a blank expression. He found it odd that she wanted to have a discussion about famous artists while their friends duked it out five feet away.
“Never mind. I’ll show you.” Scarlett turned away from Joey to address the wall of the NATL building. Working quickly with what was clearly a magical brush, she re-created several images Joey recognized from a recent class trip to the Museum of Modern Art. There were multiple-exposure images of Elvis Presley and Marilyn Monroe, handsome men and women who looked like the romantic leads of a fifties-era comic strip, and colorful, clean-lined, faceless figures with rounded heads and hands. “See? You recognize it. I can tell. It’s one thing to hear the names, but when you experience the art up close, that’s when it comes alive.”
She patted the wall, and the figures she had painted started moving. No longer content to be two-dimensional images, they stepped out of the wall, leaving person-shaped holes in the concrete. Joey backed away as they advanced on him. Scarlett scoffed at Joey’s lack of art appreciation. “What are you doing? Don’t run away. Pop art is supposed to be less intimidating, more relatable. That’s the whole idea. Don’t be afraid, Joey. Embrace it. Open your mind!” The artwork chased Joey through the street, swinging heavy stone fists that would literally open Joey’s mind if he wasn’t careful. He kept moving as iconic pulp images tried to smash him into a pulp. Marilyn Monroe in particular had never looked so dangerous. Once again, Joey wished he hadn’t thrown away Houdini’s wand.
Across the street, Leanora and Shazad were still fighting DeMayne, but they couldn’t stop him. Shazad was teleporting and Leanora was speeding. Their attacks hit hard and looked painful, but their magical weapons had no lasting effect. Joey’s friends were getting tired. Meanwhile, DeMayne hadn’t lost a step.
Joey wanted to help them, but he had his own problems to deal with. Elvis, Marilyn, and the others had him cornered with his back up against the theater wall. Hopelessly outnumbered, Joey had one chance—the Gordian rope. As they closed in on him, Joey let the rope go. It shot out, springing to life like an out-of-control fire hose. Joey hugged the wall as the rope grew impossibly long, running circles around his attackers, weaving in and out of gaps between their arms and legs, around torsos, over shoulders, and then pulling itself tight to draw them all close together. After the rope had the stone figures tied up, it kept going—and growing—until they were all trapped at the center of a giant, impenetrable knot.
“I can see this is lost on you,” Scarlett said. “Pearls before swine.” Frowning, she waved her brush like a wand, and her living homage to the pop-art
movement stopped struggling. Paint dripped away like melted ice cream and pooled on the street. The concrete figures crumbled into dust and returned to the wall behind Scarlett, leaving no trace they had ever left it. “Let’s try something else.” Scarlett put the pop-art brush away and selected another. “What do you know about abstract expressionism? Ever hear of Jackson Pollock?” She came around the tangled mess of now empty rope and shook the new brush at Joey, firing splotches of paint like bullets. Joey dove behind a parked car just in time. Scarlett kept up her assault, pelting the car with paint. It splattered everywhere in a mix of colors, hitting hard enough to dent the doors and shatter the passenger-side windows.
Keeping as much of his body behind the car as possible, Joey peeked his head around the rear bumper. The Gordian rope lay in a tangled heap, three feet away. If Joey could reach it, he could turn it loose on Scarlett, but he wasn’t close enough. More paint struck the car, smashing the taillights. Joey pulled himself back behind the car, but an idea popped into his head. He couldn’t get to the rope, but maybe the rope could get to him. He stuck a hand under the car, mentally asking the rope to slither into his hand, and most important, believing it would listen. Sure enough, the rope did as it was told, but as soon as he had it, a well-aimed shot of paint tagged him in the shoulder. It ripped through his shirt, hitting him with the force of a thrown brick. “Ahh!” He fell backward, losing his grip on the rope—and his only chance at defending himself. “Guys, I’m hit!” he called out. He had no feeling in his right arm. “A little help here?”
Shazad and Leanora were in no position to help anyone. They were too busy fighting an invulnerable enemy who hadn’t even busted out his big guns. “Enough,” DeMayne said, drawing out half a sword. “This ends now.”
Shazad froze in place. “Is that…?”
“The Tempest Blade,” DeMayne said, flipping up his visor with his free hand. “Also known as the Sword of Storms,” he added, holding up a broken sword that cut off in a jagged line a foot from the hilt. “Do you understand now? We’re armed with the most powerful items of magical antiquity. You can’t hope to defeat us.” DeMayne turned to Joey, who was lying on the street, covered in paint. “You chose the wrong side.”
DeMayne pointed the sword at Leanora and Shazad, and tornado winds lifted them off their feet. Gripping the Tempest Blade with both hands, and struggling to hold on, DeMayne turned, blowing Leanora and Shazad over to where Joey was. As he angled the sword down to deposit them on the street, Joey thought the winds might drive him into the pavement. Scarlett turned her shoulder to the wind and found shelter behind the same paint-splattered car that Joey had used for cover. Even that was no good, as Joey saw two of its wheels lift off the street. The car was about to flip. “Ledger! Turn it off!” Scarlett shouted over the roaring gale.
DeMayne nodded in reply. His arms were shaking. A large vein appeared in his forehead, and he tightened his jaw as he worked to get the blade’s wild magic under control. Judging by the strained look on his face, it was a hard-fought effort, but he stopped the wind before he blew everyone away. It cut off suddenly, as if someone had turned off a giant fan. Grateful, Joey let out a deep breath. His ears were ringing. He couldn’t sit up just yet.
“There we are,” DeMayne said, spinning the sword in his hand with a dramatic flair. He cocked his head and smirked at Scarlett, amused. “Look at your face. You were worried.”
Scarlett tucked her paintbrush away and put her sunglasses back on. “I hate that thing,” she said, pouting.
DeMayne gave a shrug and sheathed the Sword of Storms in a scabbard at his waist. “What can I tell you? It had more finesse back when it was whole.” He tapped his wrist, and the Armor of the Ages retracted into his gauntlet, which shrank into an armband, then turned back into a watch. He swept an arm out, presenting the theater to Scarlett and stepping aside in a gallant motion. “Shall we?” he asked.
Her dour face brightened. “We shall.”
Joey propped himself up on his elbows and watched DeMayne and Scarlett approach the door. Leanora and Shazad did the same. There was nothing they could do to stop them. They had given it their all, but it wasn’t enough. The Invisible Hand was going to loot the theater and do what they had already done to the world at large—rob it of its magic.
But first they had to get inside. When Scarlett touched the handle of the Majestic’s front door, Joey heard a loud boom, like a cannon going off. Time slowed down as a concussive force rippled out from underneath the theater marquee. Something happened to the air. It turned thick and took on a viscous, gel-like quality. Joey actually saw the shock wave spiral out of the theater in slow motion, focused entirely on DeMayne and Scarlett. The intruders went tumbling back onto the street, settling next to Joey and his friends, completely unconscious.
Joey rubbed his head as time sped back up and the air returned to normal. He staggered to his feet in a state of shock. “What just happened?” He nudged DeMayne’s body with his toe. Leanora checked Scarlett. “They’re out cold, both of them.”
“They couldn’t get in,” Shazad said in a daze. He got up slowly. They were all struggling to process the Invisible Hand’s sudden reversal of fortune.
“What stopped them?” asked Joey. “Did you leave something in the lobby? A last line of defense?”
Leanora and Shazad exchanged curious looks, asking each other the same question with their eyes. “It wasn’t us,” Leanora said. “Maybe Redondo?”
“I don’t think so,” Joey said. Redondo was gone. They were on their own now. Weren’t they? “What if it was the theater?”
“You think the Majestic defended itself?” Shazad asked.
“Stranger things have happened,” Joey said. “They happened right here.” He gestured to the street where they had just had a bombastic magic duel unbeknownst to the rest of the city.
“I guess it is possible,” Shazad admitted.
They all looked at Redondo’s former stronghold in awe. “I wish I’d known that was going to happen,” Leanora said. “We could have saved ourselves a lot of trouble.”
“I would have stayed in school,” Joey said. “Is that it, then? The theater’s safe? It’s over?”
“No way,” Shazad said. “They’re not going to give up that easy. Especially now that they’ve seen a bit of what we’ve got here. This is just this beginning.”
One Month Later
2 Green Energy
Joey’s mom and dad dropped him off outside Exemplar Academy. Normally, Joey rode the PATH train in from Hoboken with his father and took the subway by himself from there. Today both his parents were with him, and they’d taken a car into the city. Door to door service. Joey’s mother had said it was because Joey had a big bag to carry, but he knew his luggage wasn’t the reason they drove in. It was because she wanted to put off his actual departure as much as possible. He wasn’t just going to school for the day; he was going away for the week on a school trip. His mom was more anxious about it than anyone else was.
“Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”
“Mom, it’s no big deal. Really. I’m thirteen years old, don’t forget.”
Joey’s mother looked at him. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
“Come on, honey,” Joey’s father said, putting an arm around his mother. “He’s a very mature thirteen. He’s not going to get into any trouble.”
“I know that.” She pulled Joey into a group hug. “I still worry. I don’t like the idea of you traveling by yourself, all alone on the plane.”
Joey thought his mother was being overly dramatic. “You don’t have to worry. After everything I’ve been through in the last month, a little plane ride is nothing. Besides, I won’t be alone. I’ll be with Janelle.”
“I know,” Joey’s mother said again. She gave him one last squeeze before letting go. “That’s the only reason I’m okay with it.” Janelle Thomas was a fellow student at Exemplar Academy. She was Joey’s age and also from Hoboken, but the si
milarities between them ended there. Janelle was a legitimate genius—a child prodigy in the field of physics. She was Joey’s best friend at school and the only “normal” person in his life who knew that magic was real. His parents didn’t have any idea.
“He’s going to be fine,” Joey’s father said. “If Joey can handle going to school here, he can handle anything.”
Joey smiled. There was a time when the thought of enrolling at a school like Exemplar Academy had been enough to freak him out. Discovering magic and the conflict between the Order of the Majestic and the Invisible Hand had put life’s little challenges in perspective for him.
“Okay, okay,” his mother said, putting her hands up in surrender. “What do you want me to say? I’m his mother. I can’t help worrying. It’s my job.” She looked at Joey like she didn’t want to let him leave. “You’ve never been away from us this long. And it’s a big trip! California. You’ve never been that far from home before.”
Joey smiled innocently. “First time for everything.” The truth was, he had once traveled as far as Siberia to visit a friend of Leanora’s family, and there no way to quantify the distance he had traveled to the alternate dimension Redondo had created to hide the Majestic Theatre. His parents knew nothing about that and probably never would. They couldn’t handle the truth. His mother could hardly handle California. “It could be worse,” Joey said. “Janelle’s staying in LA for a month.”
“Oh!” Joey’s mom made a noise like such a thing was unthinkable. “Don’t tell me that.”
Lost Kingdom Page 2
