“This is the final destination.”
It made no sense. Anne had come down here to find the Matron’s device for traveling. How could this room be the final destination, unless—
“I’m the heir to Saint Lupin’s,” Anne said suddenly, and in saying it, she knew it to be true. This must be Zarala’s lab that the Construct had mentioned. More than that: If Saint Lupin’s really was the final destination of the quest, this was Anne’s true home. She studied the room anew, trying to soak in every detail while a million questions flooded her head. Had she been down here before? Had she touched these pillars? Had she watched the BGFM through the glass floor? And what had happened to her family? How had she ended up at the orphanage?
“You’re not the heir yet,” said the Matron. “Only the one who completes the quest can become the true heir.”
Anne was hit with a sudden realization. “You never really cared about the gauntlet or the medallion, did you? All you ever wanted was access to this place.”
“Smart girl. Not smart enough, of course, but this is only your first quest. What a pity that it’s going to be your last as well. Personally, I think you would have done well as a Keeper. But please, don’t let me stop you,” she said, gesturing to the pillars. “I believe you were in the process of opening these chambers.”
“I’m not helping you.”
The Matron’s cane flattened once again into a thin blade, and she pointed it at Anne. “Oh, but I insist. And if you test me, this time I really will cut off that gauntlet of yours and simply use the key myself.”
Anne didn’t know if that would work, but she decided not to find out. For the moment, she chose to cooperate, which would at least buy her time to try to figure out a way to stop the Matron or to escape. Anne moved to the next pillar and inserted the key. Another hatch opened, revealing a similar chamber lined with cushions. She worked her way along the row of pillars until all seven had been unlocked. Then the Matron motioned Anne to step away with a wave of her blade.
The Matron chuckled. “Ah, simplicity itself.” She turned to Anne. “Surely you’ve figured it out, no? The meaning of the last line of the riddle.”
Anne hadn’t, in fact. She had guessed that perhaps, since she didn’t have a crown, maybe that’s what would allow her to claim the throne. She brought the line to mind again.
Claim the throne without a crown.
She stared at each chamber in turn. They were identical, down to the cushion-lined interiors. Down to the engraved words at their base. Except she now realized she had missed one important detail. She hadn’t paid close attention when she was unlocking them. A small crown symbol had appeared over the words of each chamber—each one, that is, except for the center pillar. That had to be it.
The correct answer must have shown on Anne’s face, because the Matron smiled. “Figured it out, have we?”
Anne leapt for the center chamber as the Matron also sprang forward. Before Anne could even place her hand on the side, the Matron swung her sword. Anne blocked the blade with her gauntlet, but the force of the blow sent her stumbling back. When Anne recovered, the Matron stood between her and the chamber.
“Let me finish,” said Anne. “You can have Saint Lupin’s, if that’s what you want, but I need to get into that chamber and finish this quest or else a lot of very bad things are going to happen.”
“That’s the part you don’t seem to understand,” said the Matron. “I’m not here to prevent very bad things from happening. I’m here to ensure that they do.”
The Matron swung her sword at the pillar, and Anne watched with dread as the blade ripped a gash down the side, producing a shower of sparks and exposing bundles of metal wires underneath the smooth exterior. Anne ran forward, knowing she stood no chance against the Matron but knowing equally that she had to at least try. She grabbed the Matron’s arm, but the Matron flung her away and sent her crashing into one of the other chambers. Anne fell to the floor, momentarily dazed. The Matron continued to attack the center pillar, swing after swing, each blow tearing through the outer shell and creating deep, gaping wounds.
Anne jumped to her feet and launched herself forward yet again, this time seizing the sword hilt. The Matron hurled Anne away forcefully, but this time Anne managed to pull the sword from her grip. Anne landed hard beside the end chamber, and the sword clattered onto the glass circle in the floor. She tried to rise, but she fell back, struggling for breath.
The Matron didn’t bother to retrieve the sword, but simply tore at the pillar with her metal hand, reaching into the gashes she had already made and yanking out the wires inside.
“She failed,” snarled the Matron. “All her elaborate plans to destroy us, all her brilliant scheming, and she still failed. Now she’ll never be able to—”
A brilliant flash seared Anne’s eyes.
The concussion of the exploding chamber reverberated in the closed space.
The glass floor shattered.
The Matron was thrown backward and tumbled through the open space where the glass had been.
Anne was protected from the blast by the other chambers, all of which were damaged to some degree. She crawled through the debris from the destroyed chamber and over to the edge where the glass floor used to be. The Matron dangled several feet below; her metal hand was entangled in some still-attached wires extending from the center pillar. They were the only thing keeping her from an unthinkable fall. The Matron’s face had also been severely burned. Anne thought of all the terrible things the woman had done, all the punishments for minor infractions, all the endless chores and shifts in the coal mine, all the freezing nights with few blankets and no heat. Perhaps this fate was her just deserts.
Then Anne recalled Jocelyn’s words, about always having a choice, and after a moment of reflection she sighed and reached over the edge.
“Take my hand,” she said.
The Matron coughed. “You could never lift me, child.”
Anne extended her gauntlet-hand farther. “Take it.”
The Matron smiled a wickedly evil grin. “I told you…” she said with effort, her words slurring. “I told you that you have no idea what’s really going on.”
The Matron brought up her other hand, and Anne caught the flash of metal as a thin blade arced through the air. The sword. Anne flinched, but the Matron didn’t strike her. She struck the place where her own metal hand attached to her arm and sliced it off. Now free of the entangling wires, the Matron dropped away from the tier. Anne’s eyes widened in shock—not at what the Matron had done to herself, but rather at what it had revealed.
Thick black smoke poured from the Matron’s severed arm.
The same as Shard.
Anne watched the Matron fall toward the BGFM until there was nothing to see except the wispy trail of black smoke. Only an intensifying heat brought her back to her circumstances. Anne looked behind her. One of the other chambers had erupted into flames, and smoke was rapidly filling the room. Keeping low, Anne scuttled back over to the entrance only to discover that the door had become solid again. She tapped the wall, but the grid didn’t appear.
“Hey, did you not hear the part about fires and enclosed spaces!” said Jeffery, who suddenly appeared in a flash of light. He wasn’t solid as per usual, but instead had a transparent, almost ghostly appearance. He also kept flickering erratically.
“Jeffery, where have you been?” asked Anne. “And what’s wrong with you?”
“Something was blocking me again. Now it’s not. Or at least, not completely.”
Anne glanced back at the shattered section of the floor. Back at the tower, Jeffery had only reappeared once they’d reached the top, which was mostly open to the air. If the room itself was the thing blocking him, perhaps the hole in the floor allowed him to appear again.
Anne scanned the room. “We need to get out of here.”
“Try one of the other doors.”
Anne crouched and ran over to the next section of black wall, whi
ch was closer to the burning chamber. The heat was suffocating. She tapped the wall, but nothing happened with that one, either.
“What’s wrong?” she said. “Why isn’t it working?”
Jeffery shook his head. “Try the last one!”
Before Anne even made it to the third black section of wall, another chamber exploded. The concussion shook the room and sent her tumbling to the floor, and she was hit by burning debris, which she hastily brushed from her cloak. Now two more chambers were on fire.
Anne crawled to the third section of black wall and tapped repeatedly. Nothing happened. She collapsed against the wall in a coughing fit, bracing herself with her gauntlet-hand. As the gauntlet touched the black surface, the wall responded by scanning Anne with a green beam of light. As soon as the beam touched the medallion, the entire section of wall disappeared, revealing a dark space beyond. Anne half-fell, half-crawled through the new doorway and into the pitch-black room. She took a deep breath of the cooler, cleaner air that welcomed her. Smoke poured in from behind, but she had no idea how to reclose the door.
“See if you can find an exit,” Anne said to Jeffery.
Jeffery flew ahead of her into the room. The only light was that filtering in through the open doorway, making it difficult to see. Anne felt her way along, banging into crates and tripping over random objects scattered on the floor.
“Over here,” called Jeffery from somewhere ahead.
She followed his glow to a stack of crates.
“You need to see what’s back here,” he said.
“Jeffery, we have to get out of here! If this quest fails, everything on the tier I’m on might die. So I have to get off the surface…”
Anne left the rest unspoken. She now realized what she had to do. The only way to save Saint Lupin’s, to save her home, was to go back to the first room and jump through the shattered floor before the quest deadline expired. At least that way she wouldn’t be on any tier when the quest officially ended.
She turned back toward the burning room.
“Trust me,” said Jeffery, and something in his voice convinced her to stop and risk a look.
She squeezed herself between the wall and the crates. In a small alcove, hidden by the crates, another pillar rose from the floor. This pillar wasn’t smooth and sleek and white like the ones in the first room. This pillar was rough and gray, and it looked as though it had been built out of scraps. Wires dangled out of missing panels. Jeffery landed on the floor next to the pillar and pointed to the engraving at the bottom.
“Look,” he said.
The engraving didn’t read PROJECT C.R.O.W.N.
It read PROJECT A.N.V.I.L.
It was the final piece of the puzzle, the true throne without a crown.
“Jeffery, how much time is left?” asked Anne.
“Two minutes.”
Anne frantically searched the base for a keyhole. Once she located it, she activated the key in the gauntlet and inserted it. The hatch opened. As with the other chambers, the interior was lined with cushions, albeit ones that were worn and dirty. Anne climbed inside. At first nothing happened. Then the hatch shut on its own with a soft click. Instead of being pitch-dark, as she had expected, she found she could still see through the walls to the room beyond. From this side, the hatch was transparent.
“What now?” asked Jeffery.
Anne felt around the space.
“What’s this down by my left side?” she asked. “I can’t get a good look at it.”
Jeffery hopped over. “It looks like some sort of slot.”
“Big enough for a gauntlet?”
“Maybe.”
Anne hesitated briefly, recalling the gray box on the dead tier, but now wasn’t the time to be timid. She jammed her gauntlet-hand into the hole. It clicked into place.
Nothing happened.
Jeffery danced from one foot to the other. “There’s less than thirty seconds left.”
Anne closed her eyes and thought of the last line of the riddle one more time.
Claim the throne without a crown.
“Twenty seconds.”
Claim the throne.
“Ten.”
Claim—
“I claim the throne!” Anne shouted.
The interior of the chamber sprang to life. All around them tiny lights turned on, some blinking, others glowing steadily. Words and symbols scrolled across the opening, most too fast for Anne to read. She caught fleeting glimpses of strange phrases like decryption key and upload commencing, but little else. A whirring noise came from somewhere above her head, and the air inside the chamber cleared of smoke.
A blue square flashed on the window in front of her.
She quickly tapped it.
More words appeared:
COMPUTER ACCESS GRANTED.
WRITE ERROR CHECK PROGRAM SUCCESSFULLY UPLOADED.
RIGHTFUL HEIR QUEST COMPLETED.
The last line kept flashing.
There was another click, and Anne found she could remove the gauntlet from the slot. The silver medallion was gone. And the gauntlet felt looser on her hand.
Anne sighed as a flood of emotion washed over her. She turned to Jeffery and smiled. “We did it,” she said simply. She rested her head back against the cushions. Despite the odds, despite the many obstacles and the opponents she and her friends had faced, she had finished the quest. She had become the heir, and in a Level Thirteen quest, at that. This was going to take a while to sink in.
“That’s it?” said Jeffery. He hopped onto her shoulder and read the flashing words. “It’s a bit anticlimactic, if you ask me.”
“I’ll take it,” said Anne.
“What, no lively music? No medals? No dancing flamingos?”
“Well, if you really—”
An explosion rocked the chamber, and the lights and the words disappeared.
“I take it back,” said Jeffery in a rush. “I’m fine with a nice boring ending. We can skip the flamingos.”
Suddenly, flames were licking the outside of the pillar, and the temperature in the chamber rose rapidly. Then the hatch was ripped away—or was it blown away?—and smoke poured in. Anne couldn’t breathe, and as she coughed, smoke filled her lungs; she became wracked with convulsions. Tears blurred her eyes, and her mouth and throat burned from the scorching air. Dark edges crept into her vision from all sides, but she thought she saw a dark figure looming over the chamber like a phantom floating above her.
Then there was only blackness.
DUE TO THE UNPREDICTABLE NATURE OF QUEST OUTCOMES, THE ADVENTURER’S GUIDE TO HAPPY ENDINGS OFFERS THE FOLLOWING DISCLAIMERS:
1) A happy ending cannot be guaranteed.
2) In the interest of fairness, an unhappy ending likewise cannot be guaranteed.
3) The aforementioned lack of guarantees themselves cannot be guaranteed.
4) Fireball Travel Incorporated has redefined guaranteed to mean “eaten by a sand wolf.”
The Rightful Heir
Anne opened her eyes.
And immediately let out a yelp.
She was lying in a bed—her old bed in her room at Saint Lupin’s, or so it looked at first glance. Except the sheets were brand-new and clean and soft, and sitting next to her, staring directly into her face, was a cat. Not just any cat, Anne realized, as her initial shock wore off, but the headmistress of the quest academy: Her Royal Highness Princess Fluffington Whiskers of the Mousetrapper Clan. The orange cat seemed unperturbed by Anne’s reaction. She blinked slowly, curled into a ball, and promptly fell asleep.
Something else was different, too. The gauntlet! Anne was no longer wearing it. She was about to leap from the bed and begin a frantic search when she saw it lying on her nightstand. Even it looked a little cleaner. She looked at her left hand. Given the dramatic way in which the gauntlet had attached itself, she hadn’t known what she’d find when it came off (if it ever did come off, that is), so she was greatly relieved to see that her hand was completely normal
and unharmed.
Footsteps echoed in the hallway outside, and a moment later the door opened. Jocelyn stood holding a tray of food.
“Finally awake, I see,” she said.
Jocelyn walked into the room and set the tray next to the gauntlet. “Wonderful. One of the council healers fireballed by earlier and said she expects you to make a full recovery.”
Anne noticed that Jocelyn’s eyes seemed slightly puffier than usual and that her voice wasn’t quite as bright and chipper.
Anne sat up and looked around the room. “How did I get here?”
“As soon as Nana sent you off at the council yard she realized something was amiss with the coordinates she had received. It turns out they were not coordinates for a specific place, but rather a formula for returning any given traveler to their place of origin. Of course, in your case that worked out and sent you where you needed to be. It took Nana a while to trace where the fireball had actually taken you, though, and by the time Ms. Shatterblade, Mr. Darkflame, and the rest of us arrived, events had already progressed considerably. Luckily, Rokk was able to pull you out before the lab became completely engulfed in flames.”
“Did much survive?”
Jocelyn shook her head. “I’m afraid not. A team of archaeologists has arrived from the council and are sifting through the debris now, but I’m afraid the fire did quite a thorough job.”
Anne sighed. That room had held the promise of so many answers. But they were all destroyed, thanks to—
“I’m sorry about your sister,” said Anne. “I really did try to save her. I don’t know if this helps, but I… I think something might have been controlling her.” Anne described their encounter and what the Matron had done at the end, and she also shared everything Shard had said and done and explained about the black smoke in both instances. “There was definitely some connection between the two of them, but I don’t know what any of it really means.”
Jocelyn turned away momentarily, dabbed her face with a handkerchief, and then turned back. “I felt something terrible must have happened, for her to have changed so much. It doesn’t provide all the answers, but it at least gives me a place to start looking, so I thank you for sharing that with me. And it serves as yet another example of your generous spirit.” She smiled. “Speaking of which, I must say, I have taught many talented students over the years, but you have distinguished yourself among them. Rarely have I witnessed someone demonstrate such fierce determination, leadership, and self-sacrifice, and at such a young age. I realize we’ve only known each other a short time, but for what it’s worth, I want you to know that I am very proud of you.”
The Adventurer's Guide to Successful Escapes Page 20
