“That’s light?” Arthur said.
“Well, most days I’d have my iPad and my Chromebook with me as well.”
“Your backpack must weigh a ton.”
“I’ve gotten used to it. I’m stronger than I look.”
“And you really need all those devices at once?” Arthur said.
“You wouldn’t understand.”
“You could try explaining it to me.”
“Don’t you think you’ve had your mind expanded enough for one day?”
Arthur chuckled. “Know what’s funny?”
“Haven’t a clue.”
“We’re talking! You know, like how actual friends do.”
Morgan stared at him as if he were something completely alien, and then almost smiled. “I don’t think I’ve ever talked this much in a single day before.”
“See, it’s not that hard.”
“Are you kidding? It’s making my skin crawl. I’m running on pure adrenaline, and if I don’t have some down time all to myself soon, I’m going to start having panic attacks.”
“Ah, see, you’re even joking with me.”
Vassalus shook his head, and Morgan sighed, “That was not a joke, Arthur.”
“Oh — okay.”
He didn’t say anything else. It was probably best to leave her alone for a while. Unfortunately, that meant having to sort through his thoughts. He’d almost rather go ahead and charge into the hall full of shadows, even if it meant dying, than to have to think over all that he’d been through … everything he’d learned today … everything he’d seen … from the terrifying to the absurd …
He just might have a breakdown soon, as well. He really needed days, weeks … maybe even years to absorb all of this.
He’d been right after all. He was meant for something more. He was supposed to be learning something more than Algebra and Spanish — only this was far more than he had expected — and it was too much, too soon. The entire universe — the Multiverse! — depended on him, Arthur Primus Paladin. All that weight on his shoulders, and no one had prepared him. Was there something wrong with him? Was that why his dad hid him away without training him? Or had his dad just been trying to keep him from getting assassinated like his mom?
Arthur angled the sword across his lap and gazed at his reflection. I’m the only one left. He looked at Morgan fiddling with her computer. And it’s up to me; not just to take on the bad guys throughout the Multiverse, but to get Morgan back home safely … or at least keep her from getting killed. He couldn’t let her be like … like Derek.
If only he’d known about all this sooner …
Anger bubbled up from deep within. The shadows in here might be responsible for his parents’ deaths — at the very least they were threatening Lady Ylliara and Morgan. They stood in between him and his legacy and the truth.
Arthur stood up and brandished the sword. “I’m tired of resting … tired of waiting. I’ve been waiting my whole life. This is my house, and I’m taking it back. Let’s go.”
Lexi woke and sprang up. “That’s the spirit! Let’s get ’em!”
Chapter Eight
To Arms! To Arms!
Arthur stomped over to the doors, with Lexi hot on his heels. Valet stepped aside.
Morgan stuffed her laptop into her bag, but left it sitting in the chair. “Wait up!”
“You should stay here,” Arthur said. “Where it’s safe.”
“Not a chance.”
“Morgan, this isn’t your fight.”
“It is now. I have a numen, and I’m your companion. You heard Lady Ylliara.”
“Well … that’s fine, but … you don’t have any way to fight them.”
“I’ll stick behind you, the numina, and Valet. I’ll be the brains of the operation. You’re going to need someone with brains for this operation. I’ll keep my eye out for the Armory.”
“Whatever,” Arthur snapped.
He grabbed the handle to one door, and Valet grabbed the other. Lexi and Vassalus stood nearby, waiting to attack. They pulled the doors open —
A mass of shades charged them. Arthur readied his sword, and the numina bunched their muscles to leap into action.
“Wait!” Morgan said. “Hold your ground!”
Arthur paused. Apparently, he trusted her completely — this surprised him.
The shades neared them. Arthur cringed, and Morgan, despite her command, eased backward. The sigil flared, and the space within the doorway shimmered like sunlight on a waterfall’s mist. The shades struck this energy field, and with a flash of smoke, disintegrated. A dozen perished instantly, clearing the nearest section of the hallway.
The dimly lit Grand Hallway stretched before them, as long as the main hallway in his school, with polished wood floors and a cathedral ceiling. There were at least ten doors on each side and a final door at the end of the hallway. A glowing sigil floated before most, but not all, of the doorways. That was good news. They’d only have to face the bad guys one room at a time. The bad news was that the opposite end of the hallway was packed with shades and at least a dozen similar, but nastier looking monsters — wraiths, he guessed.
“We need the Armory,” Arthur said to Valet. “According to Lady Ylliara, it’s the third door on the right …”
Valet confirmed that with a nod.
“Then let’s go!” Morgan said.
They took off down the hallway, their sneakers squeaking on the polished wood floors as they went. Vassalus and Lexi bounded ahead of them, and Valet followed alongside. The shades and wraiths at the other end rushed toward them. Arthur searched for dark-hearts as they ran wildly toward the third door, but he didn’t see any — they could be almost anywhere in here.
A wraith and five shades, the nearest Entropian monsters, charged toward Arthur and his companions.
“Hurry, they’ve got the angle on us!” Lexi cried out.
“No use hurrying,” Vassalus declared. “They will intercept us before we reach the door. Prepare for battle!”
“HAVOC!” Lexi cried, bounding toward the enemy, with Vassalus sprinting right behind her.
Arthur got a good look at the wraith as it got closer. It was clearly a nasty piece of work. Where the shades were lean and featureless, the wraiths had dimly glowing purple veins, bulging muscles, wicked claws, spiked tails, and bulbous eyes that resembled the dark-hearts.
With a great leap, Lexi pounced onto the wraith and knocked it flat. She bit at its neck and raked its legs with her back claws. The shades surged toward her, but Vassalus barreled into three of them, knocking them aside. Then he bit into the leg of a fourth, tearing the limb free at the knee. As the shade fell, it slammed a fist into Vassalus’ back. Vassalus howled and snapped back. He locked his jaws on the shade’s neck and tore its throat out. Arthur was surprised that Vassalus didn’t have a burn on his back. Apparently contact with the shades didn’t work the same for numina as it did for humans.
The wraith swiped its tail at Lexi. It struck her in the back, and a bright, silvery trickle of blood flowed forth. Snarling, she continued to rake it with her claws. As the wraith began to weaken, she locked her teeth around its throat. She bit down hard and shook her head, trying to break its neck. A shade rushed up behind her — Arthur lunged forward and chopped it in half with his sword.
“Get out of here!” Vassalus snapped at him. “We can take care of these few.”
Valet stepped in and cut into one of the shades. Morgan swung open the door, which was clearly labeled ARMORY, and hurried through the glowing triskelion sigil — before Arthur could warn her to enter carefully. What was she thinking?
She screamed. Arthur ran in to help. Morgan ducked under the vicious swipe of a shade and dropped into a crouch. Arthur swung his sword in a wide arc that severed its head. It staggered back, tendrils of shadow quickly reconnecting its head to its neck. He slashed back-and-forth rapidly, chopping through the shade’s chest and into the next shade moving up. Morgan scooted back into the corn
er behind the door.
The room was rectangular and lit dimly by low-hanging light fixtures that looked like leftover pieces from a World War II bunker. A door on the opposite side was labeled TRAINING ROOM. Glass storage cases lined the walls, like fancy gym lockers. Dozens of shades were packed inside, so thick they could hardly move around. They pressed toward Arthur.
“We can’t stay in here,” Arthur said.
As Arthur kept slashing, he glanced back out. Valet, Lexi, and Vassalus were backing toward them. Dozens more wraiths and shades were charging toward them en masse.
“We’re doomed,” he added.
He couldn’t keep this up much longer. No matter how good his attacks were, they didn't kill any of the shades.
“Arthur!” Morgan cried. “The dark-heart is just above the opposite doorway.”
He squinted and saw it just above the sign that said TRAINING ROOM. “I can’t reach —”
Morgan held out one of her black, knee-high Converse boots. “Hit it with this!”
“Are you kidding?” he asked as he stabbed at the shades closing in on him.
“Got a better plan?”
“You throw it,” he said, as he slashed low to prevent one that dove toward his legs from reaching him.
“I throw like a girl!”
“Lexi! I need help!”
On cue, Lexi bounded inside and barreled into the shades, knocking them down and back. As quickly as they recovered, they’d tear her apart if he didn’t do something fast. Arthur took Morgan’s boot, cocked his arm back, and hurled it as hard as he could toward the dark-heart. The boot flew true, struck the stone, and smacked it against the wall above the door. It shattered like a Christmas ornament, and a rain of shards clinked onto the floor.
A shade's hand turned to a wisp of smoke inches from his face, then the entire shade vanished — along with the rest of the shades in the Armory.
“Everyone in!” Lexi shouted.
Vassalus and Valet dove inside. A few shades struck the shimmering force field protecting the doorway and disappeared. The wraiths snarled just outside, glaring at them. Arthur slammed the door shut. Just because they couldn’t get in didn’t mean he wanted to see them.
Valet had a nasty wound that was oozing a stream of silver gray blood.
“Are you going to be okay?”
Valet nodded yes.
“Can you die?”
Valet shook his head yes … then no … and then did a funny motion spreading his hands out wide. Arthur wasn't sure what that meant, but he pretended to and didn’t ask any other questions.
“Are you all right, my dear?” Vassalus asked Morgan.
“Not a scratch — Arthur saved me.” She looked at Lexi. “You’re bleeding on your back.”
“It will heal in a few hours,” Lexi said. “Wait, how did I know that?”
Arthur rolled his eyes and sighed. “I don’t know how you know. But it’s a good thing you’re going to heal. That wraith spiked you a half-dozen times with his tail.”
Lexi whipped her head around and looked at her flank in surprise. “By the stars, you’re right.” She sat and began to lick the wounds she could reach.
A fog cloud appeared, and then condensed into the form of another servitor. Like Valet, he lacked facial features and was covered in what looked like bandages. But instead of a bowler, this one wore an old-fashioned army helmet. He also wore a flak jacket and gray-and-white camouflage pants. A broadsword was belted to his waist. He saw Arthur and immediately threw his hand up in a salute.
“Um … at ease,” Arthur said.
The servitor finished his salute and stood waiting.
“You’re Arms, right?” Morgan said.
The servitor nodded. He beckoned them forward.
Arthur stepped further into the armory.
Seven glass storage cases lined the left wall; six cases lined the right side. The last case on the right was twice as big as the others. That case and the one across from it were lit on the inside. All the others were dark. Arthur followed Arms down the hallway. Each case they passed contained a suit of armor and an array of weapons.
A plaque at the top of the last case on the right read: ARTHUR PRIMUS, MULTIVERSAL PALADIN #107.
The case across from it was labeled: MORGAN APPLE, COMPANION #1857.
Arthur looked inside his case and muttered, “Wow, oh wow, oh wow. Rayguns!”
The two rayguns hanging inside the case looked like they’d been taken straight out of an old black-and-white science fiction movie — the kind Grandpa Nelson used to make Arthur watch with him. The rayguns had black rubber handles, bulbous main bodies of a silver metal, sleek barrels with coiled wires weaving in and out, and an array on the end that looked like a miniature satellite dish.
“Looks like a blaster pistol from an old movie,” Morgan said, standing beside him, “only more funky. Bet it shoots out some sort of energy beam that can hurt the wraiths.”
“I hope so.”
Arms nodded vigorously and gave a thumbs-up. That was good news.
“My father’s sword … er … Bright-Cage … it’s not here, is it?”
Arms shook his head.
“Have any idea where it is?”
Arms shrugged his shoulders.
The rest of his case held a sheathed knife and a suit of armor. There was an empty hook, and Arthur guessed the sword probably hung from it.
“What’ve you got, Morgan?”
“Gloves … very fancy gloves.”
Arthur stepped over beside her. Morgan’s case had the same style of armor, a knife, a single raygun, and a pair of strange gloves. The gloves were made of thick, black leather but had raised ridges along the back, like there were coiling wires embedded into them. The gloves looked like a cross between the lightweight sparring gloves he used in karate and an electric blanket. They reached up about two inches past the wrist, and a single ruby button was positioned on the inside of each wrist.
Arms touched Arthur’s glass case, and the door swung open. Reverently, Arms took down the suit of armor, starting with the jacket, which seemed to be made of canvas with reinforced patches of hardened leather over the chest, stomach, and back. As he handed it over, Arthur slipped it on.
“Wow,” Arthur said. “It's not much heavier than a big winter coat!”
Next, Arms gave him leg armor, which was two separate pieces for each leg. The first one he tied around Arthur's upper leg, so that it protected his thigh. The second went on his lower leg, right above the boot to protect the shin. Both were made out of the same tough leather plates sewn onto the jacket. Next there were two forearm guards that fit over the thinner sleeves of the jacket. Finally, Arms set the helmet on Arthur's head. It was silver, made of steel, and very basic in design, like an old war helmet. Leather sections came down over his ears and the back of his neck, and a chinstrap held it in place.
Morgan snorted.
“What are you laughing about?”
“You look silly.”
“Hey! This might keep me alive. Besides, you won’t be laughing when you put one on.”
“I am not wearing that helmet. I’m not wearing any of this.”
“You can’t go around in just your uniform all the time.”
“Watch me.”
“At least wear the vest.”
“No.”
“The arm guards?”
“No.” Morgan put her hands on her hips. “And not the leg guards, either. I will not wear any of that. I am happy with the clothes I have on. I don’t want anything else touching my skin. These are the only clothes I wear.”
“You wear white leggings and a black leather jacket in winter.”
“Yes, and it took me forever to find ones I was comfortable in. That’s different.”
“You could try the armor on, you might —”
“No.”
“It’s a lost cause,” Lexi muttered. “Give it up — she’s a weird one.”
“Madam!” Vassalus snarled, b
aring teeth. “You watch what you say about Companion Morgan. Honestly, I would expect more decorum from the numen of the Multiversal Paladin.”
Lexi snarled. “You’d better watch it, doggy.”
“I suggest you watch your attitude, you … you fluffy, half-witted, catnip fiend.”
“Outrageous!” Lexi said. “You cannot get away with such slurs. Arthur?” She looked at him expectantly.
“Oh no,” Arthur replied. “Leave me out of this. I’m not getting involved in any disagreements between you two.”
“Leave me out of it, too,” Morgan said.
“I guess,” said Vassalus, “that you will have to fight your own battles, Madam Alexis.”
Lexi stuck her tongue out at Vassalus. “You can’t handle me darling. Why I could —”
A rapier blade swished down between them. Both paused and glanced up at Valet, who wagged a finger at them. The two numina shot a dirty look at one another, and then backed down.
Arms tied the belt with the pistol holsters around Arthur’s waist and put the pistols in place. Arthur touched the hilt of one pistol, but Arms shook his head no. Morgan tied her own holster belt on — she wouldn’t let Arms do it — and fingered the pistol. Arms gave her the gloves, and she slipped them on herself. She started to press the ruby buttons against one another, but Arms shook his head no.
He spun and pointed to the sign at the end of the hallway: TRAINING ROOM. They followed him to the door. Arthur reached for it, but Arms slammed his arm across it, barring the way. Then he arched his arms up and acted as if he were a mummy or a zombie in a bad horror movie.
“More shades?” Arthur asked.
Arms gave a thumbs up.
“Any wraiths?” Vassalus asked.
Arms gave a thumbs down.
“That’s a good thing,” Arthur said. “But there’s no glowing triskelion — what’s holding them back? Why didn’t they come through this door?”
The Shadowed Manse Page 7
