The Warlock's Gambit (The Arthur Paladin Chronicles) (Volume 2)

by David Alastair Hayden

  “What did you do that for?!”

  “What?” Arthur asked in surprise.

  “Don’t ever touch me again.”

  “I was saving your life, Morgan. I had to touch you. You had gone into a coma or something.”

  “Nonsense. I was fine. You interrupted me.”

  “How?”

  “I was … I was just …” She frowned at her gloves. “I was … interfacing … with the c|slate …”

  “Interfacing? What does that mean?”

  “My mind was interacting — directly with the c|slate — like I didn’t need the GUI at all.”

  “The gooey? What the heck are you talking about?”

  “The GUI — Graphical User Interface,” she said loudly, as if he were hard of hearing.

  He shook his head, not understanding.

  She sighed irritably. “The part of the computer you interact with. The windows, the apps, the buttons, the cursor, the stuff you see and use … all of that is the GUI.”

  “There’s a name for that?”

  “Of course there’s a name for that, moron. And I skipped it and went straight in. The c|slate was responding to my thoughts … whatever I wanted it to do, it would just do it … like … like my brain was a mouse and my thoughts executables, you know …”

  “Sure.” He had no idea what an executable was; something you killed? “But why would the gloves let you do … that? They came from the Armory.”

  “I don’t know. The other functions make sense.”

  “Perhaps,” said Vassalus, “it is useful when encountering alien technology …”

  Morgan nodded. “Makes sense, alien tech may be very … well, alien. We might not be able to interact with it in a normal way, due to differences in biology or concepts or whatever.”

  “Oh. Well, then sorry I touched you,” Arthur said. “We didn’t know what was happening. We were really worried — all of us.”

  “It’s true,” Lexi said. “Very true.”

  “Indeed, madam,” Vassalus added. “I was most concerned.”

  Morgan patted Vassalus on the head. “I — I understand. Sorry. You were just trying to save me. I appreciate it.”

  “If you want, you can give it another try …”

  Morgan looked at her gloves and then her c|slate. “No, that was pretty intense, and I was already exhausted. I’ll try it again if we survive this. I think that’s probably a high level function, you know? Something I’m supposed to learn about before trying. Because I feel like I just took a three-hour math exam, after spending another hour dodging those rubber cannonballs.”

  Even though Arthur knew he sort of had superpowers in him — like that surge of speed he’d used to rescue Morgan from the takaturio — he was a little jealous of what she’d gotten. He had two rayguns and better reflexes; that was it. Well, he did have a special sword, but they couldn't get to it. She had a raygun, a force field, telekinetic gloves, and could interface with alien computers. His father had been able to create a giant glowing sigil that could banish the training monsters in an instant and probably make sigils like the ones hanging in the doorways on his own. The problem was, Morgan had all her gear and abilities available now, while Arthur’s powers were unpredictable and untrained. He didn't even know half of what he should be able to do. And the few things he could do, he couldn't depend on. But it's not like that was Morgan’s fault, or even the Manse’s.

  They decided to forgo a second training session and spend time studying the c|slates instead. That way they could relax and plan their attack strategy after dinner. They took showers and baths before eating a late meal in the Dining Hall. It was practically a feast: roasted quail, mashed potatoes and gravy, corn dripping with butter, broccoli dripping with olive oil, freshly baked rolls, and layered chocolate cake with icing. Arthur was stuffed afterward. And even though he appreciated the wonderful food, he couldn’t help but feel that maybe Cook had understood this might be his and Morgan’s last meal and had gone all out to honor them.

  Morgan played with the desk computer in the Office and her c|slate while Arthur sketched and watched the Blues Brothers. Then Morgan came in and insisted that he pull up the extended edition of The Fellowship of the Ring before bed. She was pleased when the television had it available. Watching the extended version with all the additional scenes made the movie new all over again. Arthur was so happy that, for the next hour and a half, he completely forgot about the danger they'd be facing in the morning.

  When Frodo offered to take the One Ring into Mordor, despite being small and not knowing the way, because only he could do it, Arthur paused the video. He glanced over at Morgan. She was looking at him, too. Their eyes met, and they stared at one another for a minute — silent — understanding.

  Morgan smiled wryly. “Never thought I’d end up being Samwise Gamgee.”

  Arthur nodded. “Never thought I'd be charging into Mordor.”

  17

  Flickering Out

  “Arthur! Wake up!”

  Scared out of his wits and shouting incoherently, Arthur snapped up in bed. Lexi, who had been curled up beside him, shot six feet up into the air. She landed, hissing.

  Arthur looked around. Someone, Morgan he thought, had yelled his name, but she wasn’t in the room. Had he dreamed it?

  “You heard someone call my name, right?”

  Her eyes narrowed, her fangs bared, Lexi nodded.

  Arthur’s currently-phone-sized c|slate was glowing on the nightstand. Morgan must’ve used the emergency voice feature. He picked it up to call her back, but just then, the elevator rose up into the room with Morgan and Vassalus on board.

  Morgan clapped her hands. “Lights on!”

  Arthur flinched and threw an arm up to shield his eyes. “Morgan, what the heck is —” the bright lights flickered “— going on?”

  “That answer your question? Now, get dressed, quick.”

  Squinting, he looked at her. She had on her power gloves and the belt with her holstered raygun hanging from it.

  Arthur jumped out of bed and rushed to where his uniform hung on its heated rack beside his armor and weapons. His pulse was racing, and his knees wobbled. The lights flickered again.

  “How long has the power been doing this?”

  “About five minutes,” Vassalus said. “Lady Morgan’s third movie cut off near the end, and that is what woke me. Naturally, I alerted Lady Morgan immediately.”

  The lights dimmed halfway and didn’t return to full brightness.

  “Turn your back,” Arthur said to Morgan. The two numina turned as well. He started getting dressed. “Your third movie?”

  “I fell asleep playing with the c|slate while watching a movie. I did wake up during a loud part though, and — oh no!”

  “What is it?”

  She spun around; luckily, he’d gotten his pants on. He pulled his shirt over his head.

  “Valet was there. I asked him to get me a blanket. But I didn’t have one when I woke up — he never came back.”

  “How long was he gone?” Arthur asked.

  Morgan shrugged. The lights returned to full strength.

  “It could not have been more than ten minutes,” Vassalus replied.

  “Not good,” Lexi said.

  Arthur buttoned his shirt, and then moved on to his armor. He was going as fast as he could, but his hands were shaking. Suddenly, the lights went off, leaving them in total darkness. They stood unmoving … silent … waiting … and then, after about twenty seconds, the lights returned.

  “We’ve got to get out there,” Arthur said. “Lady Ylliara is failing.” He felt a knot in his throat. “What if the wraiths have gotten loose? I hope Valet and the other servitors are okay.”

  “Your armor takes forever,” Morgan said.

  “Going as fast as I can — almost done.” He laced up his boots, and then buckled on his helmet and the belt that held his holstered rayguns. “Okay, let’s go make sure everything is okay, and then —”
/>   “We start our attack,” said Morgan, “after very little sleep.”

  Arthur nodded. They piled into the elevator, and halfway down, the lights flickered and the elevator shuddered to a stop.

  Lexi said, “Oh dear. Arthur’s living room isn’t secure. There’s no sigil on the door leading out into the Grand Hallway. If something’s gotten loose out there …”

  Arthur drew his rayguns, and Morgan activated her shield. Though it gave off a dim red glow, the force field was more distracting than anything; it only helped them see a few feet ahead. Arthur was afraid it just made them more obvious. They crouched down, ready to shoot anything that might have gotten inside as soon as it came into view. The power came back on — not to full strength, but enough to let the elevator finish descending. As soon as it stopped, Lexi and Vassalus bounded into the room, circling from opposite directions.

  “I don't see any shades.” Arthur breathed a sigh of relief. “I think this room is still safe.”

  “All clear,” agreed Lexi as the numina returned.

  Morgan groaned. “Oh, I’m so stupid! We can access the camera feeds from my c|slate just like we can with the desktop computer. We can see what’s going on out there without risking our lives or letting an enemy know that we’re on to them.”

  “I didn’t even know my c|slate could do that,” Arthur said.

  “Yours can’t.” Morgan dropped her force field. “You just have a standard account. I’m the administrator on your c|slate.”

  “You — you can be the administrator on my tablet? On the Multiversal Paladin’s tablet?”

  “Sure can.” Morgan took her c|slate off her shirt where she’d pinned it at its smallest size and stretched it out into a full tablet. “I didn’t want you using it to spy on me.”

  “I would never spy on you.”

  “Arthur, I know what boys are like.”

  “You — you know what?” He sighed. “I don’t have time to argue with you.”

  Lexi crept up to the door, pricked up her ears, and bobbed her head, sniffing. Slowly, she backed away from the door. “There’s something moving out there,” she whispered, “and it smells like wraith.”

  “We should go to the Office,” Vassalus said. “If the sigils are still active, it will be easier to defend.”

  “I agree,” Lexi said as she opened the Office door with her paws. They all followed and Arthur locked the door behind them. “If we slide the small writing desk over to barricade this door, then we can kill any enemies in the Grand Hallway while we stay safe behind the sigil.”

  “If the sigils are working,” Arthur said as he moved the little desk in front of the door leading to his suite. The sigil that floated in the doorway between the Office and the Grand Hallway wasn’t visible from this side of the door, so there was no way to know whether it was still there.

  The power flickered again.

  “Argh!” Morgan collapsed into the desk chair. “If the power keeps fluctuating, I’ll never get the views we need. Our c|slates work just fine, but the room cameras work off the Manse’s power system.”

  “So,” Arthur said loudly and deliberately, “we need the Manse to give us a few minutes of consistent power so we can see what we’re facing.”

  Morgan raised an eyebrow. “You think that will help?” She tapped the c|slate. “Ylliara probably doesn’t even remember that we exist.”

  Arthur propped himself against the desk, and pointed a raygun toward each door, ready should an attack happen. “Worth a try.”

  Morgan didn't respond. She was too busy.

  Either through luck or as a response to his request, the power remained on for several minutes straight, long enough for Morgan to say, “Got it! The camera system is up and running.” She frowned. “Valet’s not in my room.” She tapped the c|slate quickly as Arthur rushed over. “And here’s the first view of the Grand —” She gasped.

  Arthur leaned over to get a better view. Standing in front of the open doorway to the Smoking Lounge, which was no longer protected by a glowing sigil, Arms was in a desperate fight against three shades. He was wounded, but his rapier flashed like lightning as he continued to defend himself.

  This was exactly what Arthur had been afraid of. He understood they weren’t human, weren't “real” people, but he’d already grown attached to them. Besides, they had been here when he was a kid, and so he thought of them as part of his family.

  “We’ve got to get out there,” Arthur said. “Arms needs our —”

  A wraith barreled through the shades, took a sword thrust from Arms directly to its gut, and then clawed Arms’ head from his neck with a single, wicked swipe.

  Arms turned into a wispy cloud of smoke that rapidly dissipated. His black army helmet clattered to the floor, and a moment later, it too disappeared. The shades and the wraith rushed into the Smoking Lounge.

  Horrified, Arthur wanted to cry out. But his voice caught in his throat. Instead, he simply stepped back into the wall, shaking his head. This couldn’t be happening. Bile rose into the back of his throat. He was fighting the urge not to throw up.

  Morgan, her voice quiet and shaking, said, “Here’s the interior of the Smoking Lounge —”

  “Wait,” said Vassalus just before Morgan switched the view. “Wait a few moments. Waiter was in there. You do not want to see what comes next.”

  Morgan tapped her slate. Images of the doors to the Dining Hall, the Library, the Armory, and the Training Room appeared. None of the doorways were protected by sigils. A scan of the interiors of those rooms didn’t show shades, wraiths, or servitors. The rooms were dark and gloomy, despite the lights still being on. The enemy had already taken them back.

  The wraith that had killed Arms returned to the hallway. Morgan switched to the cameras in the Smoking Lounge. There was no sign of Waiter.

  “I’ll check the Great Room,” Morgan said in a quiet voice.

  She pulled the image up. It was just as gloomy as when they had first entered the Manse. It was like … it was like they hadn’t accomplished anything. The fires were out; the lights were dim. There was no sign of Waiter or Maid or any of the other servitors here, either. But they had seen what that wraith did to Arms. The others wouldn’t have stood a chance.

  18

  Thump, Thump, Thump

  “Let’s see the rest,” Arthur said.

  Morgan flipped through the views quickly. Only two sigils were still glowing: the one on the door to the Office and the one on the door to the Inner Sanctum, though that one obviously must have failed at some point. And now, right outside the door to the Office, wraiths and shades were gathering.

  “Three wraiths and … ten, maybe eleven shades,” Morgan said. “It’s hard to tell with the shades. When they stand beside each other, their bodies sort of bleed together into one shadow.”

  Arthur barely paid attention. He had spotted, lying in the hallway, a white blanket — halfway between his room and Morgan’s. Valet had gone to get her a blanket.

  A cold anger began to build inside of him.

  Thump.

  His second heartbeat, whatever it was, kicked in. He took deep breaths, trying to contain his anger.

  Thump.

  “Well, it is not completely bad,” he heard Vassalus say, as if from a great distance, or over the radio. Arthur was beginning to pull away into the tunnel of shadows. He had to fight it.

  Thump.

  “How’s that?” Lexi said incredulously.

  “Well,” replied Vassalus, “we do not have to face all eight wraiths and forty-eight shades at once, do we?”

  The lights flickered, and Morgan sighed. “There goes our surveillance.” The lights dimmed to halfway and didn’t come back up. “Probably for good.”

  Thump.

  Arthur swallowed hard. He didn’t want this. He wanted that white, glowing feeling he’d gotten when he had rescued Morgan from the training monster. Fighting creatures of darkness in his tunnel-of-shadows mode didn’t sound like a good idea
. For all he knew, he might get the urge to join them. He had to keep his cool. What was it that had given him that feeling of brightness and strength that he assumed was the power of the Multiversal Paladin?

  Morgan — he had wanted to save her. So it was love, not anger. That’s what he had to —

  Suddenly, Arthur wasn’t in the Office anymore. He was in the Grand Hallway, watching helplessly as Valet got tackled and torn to shreds by two wraiths.

  Thump — thump.

  Then he saw Arms die again.

  Thump — thump.

  He heard steps behind him. He spun around to face Kjor in his warlock form: cloak of living shadows, tattooed skin, and all. Arthur tried to draw his rayguns, but they weren’t there. He charged instead. But when Arthur shouldered into Kjor, he just passed through Kjor as if he were made of smoke.

  Kjor shook his head and laughed. “Poor, lost boy. You’re out of your league here. I tried to save you. What a waste. It would have been kinder if I had killed you when I killed your father. What a fool I was to think you were worth … anything. Quintus would be so disappointed.”

  Thump — thump.

  “Shut up!” Arthur yelled.

  “And your dear mother.” Kjor shook his head. “She was an amazing woman, and I know she wouldn’t even recognize someone as pathetic as you as her son.”

  Thump — thump — thump.

  “And the girl, Morgan. Do you think as she dies, she will still believe in you? Do you think she’ll still consider you her friend? Or will she become one more person who’s disappointed in what a failure you are?”

  Kjor vanished. In his place stood Morgan. She was bleeding, injured; her force field had failed. Two wraiths leapt onto her … clawing … ripping …

  The blood turned to shadows, a tunnel of shadows. Thump — thump — thump — thump. His second heart beat was pounding rapidly. He was back in the Office. The vision was over, but he still boiled with anger.