Sato’s eyes wandered upward. Dozens of tightly wound clouds of gray mist hovered by the ceiling, lightning flicking and striking both within and between them. He was about to get to his knees, order everyone to flee the castle, when all the clouds suddenly collapsed into one, like some sort of separating membrane had been whipped free. The entire mass began to spin, a whirlpool of thick, gray mist churning in the air. A funnel formed in the middle and started lowering toward the ground. A breeze picked up, grew stronger, whipped at Sato’s wet clothes.
Something terrible was about to happen.
“Run!” he screamed. “Everyone get out of here!”
Chapter 28
A Mighty Wind
Tick was sopping wet. And freezing cold. His ankle hurt from whatever weird creature had been gripping it, trying to pull him under to his death. He was exhausted from using Chi’karda to defend against those beams of fire and to fight back at the Voids.
But something odd was happening above him. His relief at seeing that the Voids were gone lasted all of two seconds. Looking up, he saw that the small, electricity-filled clouds from earlier had grown in number until they’d gotten too big, collapsing into one giant, churning mass of gray. As the funnel cloud began to lower to the ground, the wind picked up measurably, making his already wet skin grow even colder. When Sato screamed for everyone to run, Tick didn’t waste any time pondering the command.
He jumped to his feet, feeling the sogginess of his clothes, the weariness of his bones and muscles. Sato grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along as they ran together toward the giant door with its frame of broken wood.
The wind was increasing in speed by the second, whipping the air in a frenzy. Tick’s clothes flapped like flags on a speedboat, almost hurting his skin, and it felt as if every one of his hairs might rip out and fly away. The spinning funnel of the gray tornado descended rapidly as Tick and Sato ran, and Tick saw Mistress Jane standing on the other side of it all, motionless.
Her body disappeared behind the tornado as its leading point crashed into the stony floor. Lightning arced and arrowed through the cloud, the rattles of thunder sounding like detonations, deafening. The moment when storm met stone was violent, as if the cloud had been a giant fist of steel smashing down, shards of rock vaulting toward the ceiling from the shattered surface. The entire castle jolted, the floor jumping into the air and crashing back down again. Tick sprawled across the floor, still dozens of feet away from the exit. Others fell all around him, and tiny splinters of stone flew through the air, smashing into people.
Tick felt pinpricks of needles on his cheeks and threw his hands up to protect his face. Struggling against the wind and the still-shaking castle, he stumbled to his feet and leaned forward, making it several steps before he crashed to the ground again. He caught sight of the funnel that continued to twist like a giant drill digging into the hard earth below the layer of stones it had already destroyed. Rock chips flew in all directions, and with a broken heart, he realized that even more bodies littered the ground, many of them still moving, still trying to get up.
Like him.
He couldn’t let this destruction continue. He had to do something. It had yet to become his instinct to use Chi’karda, to use his powers to fight instead of running away. But how? How could he fight a giant tornado filled with lightning?
His mind focused on the air around him, on the particles, molecules, atoms. Surrendering to his instincts, he created a wall, a shield from the countless chips of rock flying through the castle like tiny daggers. The wind suddenly decreased, and he saw the rocks bouncing off an invisible barrier inches in front of him. He stood up, his fists clenched, his brain working in overdrive. The exhaustion that had been consuming his body seemed like a distant memory as the pure fire of Chi’karda burned inside of him, raging as strongly as the winds that swirled around his shield did. Speckles of orange swam along his skin and thickened into a cloud, but it didn’t obscure his vision. He was looking at the world through different eyes now.
The tornado of gray mist spun, churning like it was digging a hole to the other side of the earth, thickening at its core. Debris spun out from the ground and was caught in the mighty winds until everything was a fog of dust and stone.
Tick needed to help those who hadn’t been able to escape. Sato was on his back, his face cut up, his eyes wide as he stared at Tick in disbelief as if he were a freak.
Tick’s heart almost broke at the sight, but he knew what he had to do. He threw his hands out, threw his thoughts as well. Sato’s body suddenly leaped from the ground and flew like a tossed football, tumbling end over end and out the broken doorway. Tick swept his vision and his hands across the passageway, doing the same thing to each person he saw, whether alive or dead. Body after body catapulted into the air and went sailing through the exit, ripped from the ground as if a giant string had been attached to them, yanked by a puppet master. Tick didn’t know how he was doing it, but he did it all the same. Instinct ruled his powers now.
He sent the last few people flying out of the castle. He didn’t know if they’d land safely out there, or if they might break bones, or worse, but he knew they’d die if they didn’t leave this place; that was all he could do.
When he was finally alone, he turned to face the massive cyclone of fog, its bolts of lightning flickering down the edges and smashing into the stone. It was almost like the energy from the bolts was trying to help dig the hole even wider. Thoughts rushed through his mind then, wondering if he should just turn and run. The people were safe; they could run or wink away and let this thing do whatever it wanted to do to Jane’s precious castle.
She appeared to his right.
Wind tore at her robe as she inched along the far wall of the passageway, her back to the stone as she moved, her red mask tightening into an expression of fear as she stared at the tornado ripping apart the ground. Water had been sucked up into the churning funnel as well, sending a spray of mist in all directions and adding an odd blueness to the gray core. Jane was soaked.
A terrible thought hit Tick. What if this thing really didn’t stop? What if the Fourth Dimension kept throwing all of its power into the Realities, growing and growing until it consumed everything? A spinning mass of material as big as the universe? He had to sever the link. Somehow he had to stop this; he knew it without any doubt.
He put out his hand toward Jane, manipulating the world with his thoughts. Her body jumped up into the air and flew toward him, landing right beside him. The look of shock on her mask gave him the smallest bit of satisfaction.
“What are you doing?” she yelled over the terrible noise.
“We have to stop this thing!” he shouted back. “We have to break the link!”
Jane’s mask wilted at the suggestion. “I don’t know if I can do it! I’m spent, Atticus! I have nothing left in me! I need to rest!”
Tick had to hide his shock. For her to admit to that . . .
“We have to try!”
Jane stared back at him through the eyeholes of her mask. Then she gave him a reluctant nod.
The two of them turned toward the tornado and held out their hands as if they were going to walk in and embrace the spinning thing.
“Try to collapse it!” Jane yelled. “Throw all your Chi’karda into collapsing its mass then we’ll blow it apart! We have to hope that ends it and seals the breach into the Fourth!”
“Okay!” Tick screamed, his heart pumping. The power was an inferno inside his chest, and he was ready to unleash it. “Let’s do it!”
He pushed his hands toward the spinning beast and released the Chi’karda that had been building and building. Streams of orange fire exploded from his fingertips and into the tornado, getting caught in the spin. Jane was doing the same. Soon the gray funnel was colorful and bright; the lightning was more brilliant and sharp, the thunder louder.
Tick screamed with the effort as he pushed more and more of his powers at the Fourth Dimension, trying to env
ision what he wanted, trying to make it happen. His body began to shake, his muscles weak. Chi’karda poured from him and Jane in spouts; the streams were almost the same color as what had come from the mouths of the Voids.
Now everything was shaking—the ground, the castle, his skull. The funnel of the tornado was white-hot, blinding. Impossible noises erupted from its form, and the wind was torrential, ripping away the shield Tick had built around himself.
He screamed again and threw all of his strength into the storm.
There was a sudden concussion of pure energy that ripped away from the tornado like the blast of a nuclear bomb. Tick felt his body be jerked into the air, and then he was flying. What remained of the castle exploded, every last brick of it cracking apart and flying right along with him.
He didn’t hit the ground until he’d been thrown a thousand yards. A chunk of rock landed on his head, and all he knew was pain.
Chapter 29
Joints and Eardrums
Lorena held Lisa close, and it broke her heart to feel the trembling of her daughter’s bones. The girl had always been strong-spirited and tough, but no one could be expected to hide their fear after the last few days of their lives.
Mordell had brought them back to the Great Hall, whispering something about its natural powers and it being the best place to protect them. They found the farthest corner of the chamber carved from black stone and huddled together while Mordell sat nearby; she had a look on her face as if she wanted to be closer but had to maintain her dignity as a Lady of Blood and Sorrow. There wasn’t much for the three of them to do except be scared and listen to the sounds of battle.
They were distant, but terrible: the swooshing of fire, screams of pain, shouts of command. Soon it all changed to a great, rushing noise, like wind passing through a narrow canyon, or a tornado. The screams intensified. And then the worst sound—breaking rock. It wasn’t the loudest noise, but it made the entire castle quake and tremble. Lorena felt the vibration in her joints and eardrums.
She’d never felt so helpless. Her only son was out there, fighting something that seemed impossible. Something that shouldn’t exist. And to add to it, he was fighting alongside the woman who’d tried to kill him and countless others. Atticus was putting his faith in a madwoman. It took every ounce of Lorena’s willpower to not run back out that door and try to help her boy—she almost itched from the desire. But she had Lisa to think about. And Edgar and Kayla back home. Atticus could take care of himself—he’d proven it over and over.
And so the battle raged on, the sounds of fire and wind increasing in volume. Lorena could do nothing but sit and hold her daughter and imagine all the awful things that might have happened, or might be happening, to her sweet, sweet son.
Everything changed again in a moment. An instant so terrible and horrifying that Lorena knew she’d never sleep again without it haunting her nightmares.
It was an eruption. A detonation. A thunderclap of sound and movement that shook the Great Hall as if it were nothing but an empty cardboard box. Lorena and Lisa both screamed as they flew across the room, smacking into Mordell and rolling another few feet before coming to a stop. The air was filled with the noise of cracks and booms, as if the entire castle had exploded and collapsed in on itself.
Lorena threw away her caution and scrambled to her feet, trying to set aside the panic that thrust itself through her nerves. She grabbed Lisa by the hand, lifted her to her feet, and ran to the exit of the Great Hall, swaying back and forth as the floor continued to tilt and pitch. She’d just stepped in front of the doorway when she stopped, her heart plummeting. Rock and stone and brick had collapsed into a heap, blocking the arched opening completely. Dust choked the air.
Mordell’s voice from behind Lorena made her jump and spin around to see the woman standing there, impossibly looking even more grave than before.
“The Great Hall has survived,” the Lady of Blood and Sorrow said. “But I’d guess nothing else has. We’re trapped.”
Sato was lying on his stomach, his hands held over his head to protect himself from the debris that had been raining down for several minutes. Every inch of his body had been battered and bruised by falling rocks, but luckily, his skull had been spared for the most part. It’d been rough going since everything went haywire inside the castle.
Not to mention the fact that he’d been thrown through the air. Twice.
First when Tick used his powers to pick him up and whip his body out of the castle. Saving him. And second when the castle suddenly exploded, a wave of pure energy erupting from its core and tossing him and the rest of his army hundreds of feet away like they were nothing but dried leaves. That had saved him again, because if he’d been any closer, he probably would’ve been crushed by larger chunks of stone from the destroyed castle.
And so, he was alive.
He pushed himself to his knees, groaning from the aches and pains that riddled his body. He was woozy too, the dusty grass beneath his knees seeming to bob up and down like the surface of the ocean. What little energy he had, drained right out of him, and he collapsed again, but at least he was able to spin himself a bit and land on his rear end. He could see the rubble that had once been the great castle of Mistress Jane, the woman who had killed his parents.
What had been half-destroyed before now lay in utter ruins. A giant heap of crumbled stone and wood and plaster. Pieces of the castle lay scattered outward from the main body all the way to where Sato sat and beyond, reaching the forest that wasn’t too far behind him. But as satisfying as it was to see the carnage, he felt a tremor in his heart for what still pulsed and throbbed in the middle of the destruction like a beating heart.
The tornado of mist still churned where it had been, with nothing but open sky above it. Except it wasn’t much of a tornado anymore.
It was a seething, roiling mass of gray, its billowing surface frothing and foaming before turning back in on itself, leaving little wisps of fog streaming out like some kind of dreary decoration. Lightning continued to flash and strike in huge bolts of brilliant white, the thunder rumbling across the ground and echoing off the wall of trees behind Sato. The mass was probably fifty feet wide and a hundred feet tall. It was still moving in a circular motion, but not as intensely as a tornado anymore. It was like a living thing, devouring the air around it and ever growing, slowly.
Members of the Fifth Army were scattered all over the field, groaning and rubbing their eyes and stiffly testing their joints, looking for injuries. Sadly, some weren’t moving, and Sato felt the heavy weight of leadership once again. He’d led people to their death.
Something caught his eye as he scanned the area—a body that lay lifeless but wasn’t as big as the others. A boy.
Tick.
A blister of alarm popped in Sato’s heart as he leaped to his feet and started running, finding strength from some hidden part of his soul. He dodged and maneuvered around soldiers, his eyes focused on his friend, who wasn’t moving a muscle, not even a twitch. Sato didn’t know if he could take another death of someone so close to him. He was ashamed that he didn’t feel quite the same about his army fighters, but this was different. Tick had become not just one of his closest friends, but a symbol of everything the Realitants stood for.
Sato jumped over a prostrate woman of the Fifth then slid onto the grass like a baseball player, coming to a stop right at Tick’s head. The first thing he noticed was that his back was rising and falling, ever so slightly. Tick lay on his stomach, his arms spread out awkwardly, as if he’d landed and conked out immediately. But he wasn’t dead. Thank the Realities, he wasn’t dead.
Sato reached out and gently shook his friend’s shoulders. No response.
He grabbed him by the arm and carefully rolled him over onto his back so he could get a good look at him. His eyes were closed, his clothes ripped and filthy, his skin covered in dirt and soot. But most troubling was a huge gash on the side of his head, blood matting the hair down like dark red gel.
“Tick,” Sato whispered, trying to fight back the tears that wanted to pour out. Why? Why did everything in their lives always have to be so terrible?
“Tick,” he repeated. Then he picked him up and slung him over his shoulders, grunting under the weight. He began to walk, though he had no idea where he was going.
Chapter 30
Coming Together
Paul walked through the twilit forest of the Thirteenth Reality, Sofia and Rutger to his right, Mothball, Sally, and Master George—using his Barrier Wand like a cane—to his left. No one said a word as they picked their way through the bush and bramble. The massive concussion of sound they’d heard a few minutes earlier was enough to silence anyone for a week. Paul forced his thoughts away from the terrible possible explanations for that sound and concentrated on moving forward.
Ever since he’d returned to the Realitant headquarters, he’d been dying to know what in the world the little button in the box Gretel had given them was for. Old George had sent them to Gretel for a reason, had given them a secret password for a reason, had wanted that box with nothing in it but a plastic green button for a reason. But neither he nor Gretel would tell him what it was supposed to be used for. Phrases like “a need-to-know basis” and “you’ll find out soon enough” were thrown around. But that didn’t satisfy Paul.
Not one bit.
Oh, well. They had much bigger problems on their hands. There was trouble here in the Thirteenth Reality, and any notion they’d had of getting rest and relaxation was out the window. Master George hadn’t needed to tell them that when he said they’d all be winking there to regroup with Sato and find Tick. The situation was surely dangerous.
Paul smiled. It was as if his brain was so used to bad stuff that it wasn’t allowing him to focus on the best piece of news he’d ever received in his life. Tick was alive. Tick was back. Now they just had to figure out this mess and get him home safe and sound.
The 13th Reality, Volume 4: The Void of Mist and Thunder Page 12
