Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum

by Funaro, Greg

  “Cor blimey!” I gasped, holding out my free hand in front of me. I could see right through it, but at the same time I felt no different than when I was solid. Mack, on the other hand—on the other wrist, I should say—would not stop shaking.

  “If your friend doesn’t settle down,” Dalach said, “the queen will hear us coming long before we ever set foot inside her castle.”

  I opened Mack’s case. “What time is it?” he cried, and then, catching himself, gave a chuckle and said, “Whoops! No need to ask that anymore….”

  “Listen here, Mack,” I said. “I’m a spirit now too, but we need to keep quiet so we don’t get caught.”

  “Say no more, laddie,” Mack whispered. “Dougal McClintock is the man for this mission. And I must say, ya look a lot better in blue than that numpty standing next to ya.”

  Dalach sneered, and again Father put his hands on my shoulders.

  “You’re going to be fine, you hear?” he said, and I nodded.

  “We better get moving,” Dalach said, and he deliberately blinked his eyes. Our color changed from blue to white, and Father’s hands passed right through me.

  “Grubb?” he called, gazing round. “Are you still here, son?”

  “Yes, sir,” I replied. “I’m standing right in front of you.”

  Father and Lord Dreary turned their heads in my direction, but still they couldn’t see me.

  “The lad sees as I do,” Dalach said. “As long as we’re bound together by the spirit shackles, we appear white to each other and invisible to everyone else.”

  “Very well, then,” Father said. “Make sure you stay no longer than a couple of hours. Good luck, all of you.”

  “You can count on me to have us back on time, sir,” Mack said.

  And with that the Gallownog dragged us down through the floor. A blurry tangle of pipes and gears rushed past my eyes, and then we were outside, flying unseen over the heads of the Avalonians and heading straight for the castle walls.

  Over the last few weeks, I’d come to think of myself as quite the expert on flying, thank you very much. In fact, I wagered I’d done more flying than any other lad in the whole wide world. There was the coach that brought me to London in the first place, and all the flying I did in the Odditorium itself. Then there were the rides I took on Number One, the Thunderbird, and in the demon buggy. And this was certainly not the first time—nor the second, for that matter—that I’d been dragged through the air behind a spirit.

  However, unlike all those other flights, there was something noticeably different about being chained to a Gallownog. I could feel no wind rushing through my hair or cold battering my cheeks—just a sense of weightlessness, as if I weren’t flying at all. So this is what it’s like to be a spirit, I thought. Light as a feather and one with the air.

  But then, as we zoomed straight for the towering stone battlements, I recoiled in horror—we were going to crash! I braced myself for the impact, when in the blink of an eye the Gallownog led us safely through the wall and out the other side.

  “You needn’t fret, lad,” he said. “As spirits the two of you can go where even the light cannot reach.”

  We were now flying across the castle’s outer ward, an immense courtyard of crisscrossing pathways and rows of cherry trees. The blossoms swirled like snow behind us as we soared over the branches and headed up a wide cobblestone road that led to the castle drawbridge. It was then that I spied the moat.

  I gasped. Spirits like the Gallownog, like Mack and me, could not fly over water.

  “It’s narrow enough that we’ll be all right,” said Lorcan Dalach. “But it’ll be painful, so steel yourselves and don’t cry out.”

  The drawbridge was down, but it did little to protect us from the water below. And as soon as we entered the space above it, I felt as if I were being crushed by dozens of giant boulders. The pain was excruciating, but thankfully short-lived, and as we passed through the gatehouse and into the castle’s bustling inner ward, the crushing sensation quickly subsided.

  Dazed, the Gallownog and I fell to our knees. “Let’s take a second to recover,” he said. The pain had all but left me now, but as I gazed back at the drawbridge, my thoughts drifted to Cleona. It had taken us no more than a second to fly over the moat, and so I could only imagine how Cleona must have suffered when she flew over the ocean to save me from Prince Nightshade’s Sirens. My heart grew heavy with shame.

  “All right, then,” Dalach whispered. “Keep your wits about you and take heed: not only must we fly and disappear together, but also you must go solid when I do.”

  “What’s that?” Mack asked. “Go solid, did you say?”

  “Aye. It takes concentration and energy for a spirit to grab on to things. Fortunately, you won’t have to learn how to do all that because you’re chained to me.” Dalach picked up a small pebble just high enough off the ground so that all the knights and servants milling about wouldn’t notice. “Go ahead, try it, Grubb.”

  I picked up my own pebble, and then the Gallownog made both our stones drop through our fingers at the same time.

  “So you see?” Dalach said. “As long as we are bound together by the spirit shackles, you have to do what I do when I do it. Any questions?”

  Mack and I said no, and the three of us took a moment to get our bearings. The inner ward was surrounded by high battlements and towers and crammed with a sprawling assortment of wooden buildings. Grooms tended to dragons and horses amidst a massive complex of stables, servants hurried in and out of storehouses, and a regiment of knights marched up the central road toward the gold-domed castle overlooking it all.

  “The humble abode of the queen herself,” Dalach whispered—when a knight trotted his horse straight through our party as if we weren’t there. The horse reared and whinnied, but the knight quickly gained control of the beast and made for the stables.

  “Certain animals can sense a spirit’s presence,” Dalach said.

  “You mean like crows do the doom dogs?” I asked.

  “Aye, lad. Thus, I suggest we get moving before we attract any more attention.”

  We took to the air again along the central road, past an entire village of barracks, blacksmith shops, smokehouses, and kitchens. Finally, the Gallownog led us up a steep ramp and into the castle itself. We passed through a series of dimly lit antechambers and then through a pair of high oaken doors, whereupon we found ourselves in a dazzling throne room leafed with silver and gold. Tall stained-glass windows shone brightly amidst a soaring tangle of pillars and archways, all of which converged upon a domed ceiling that was painted to look like the sky. At the far end was a stepped dais lined with golden thrones; and on the wall behind it, a massive golden sun. The place was completely deserted.

  “Why is this one so special?” Dalach asked, and he dragged me toward one of the stained-glass windows.

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “Its light is much brighter than the others.”

  Now I understood. The window appeared almost too bright, as if the glass itself were glowing. I counted six of the lofty windows on either side of the vast chamber, for a total of twelve in all, and each was cut to resemble a woman holding a sword. Their towering forms, like giants standing guard over the throne room, were dim compared to the stained-glass lady before us.

  “Strange,” Dalach said, gazing about. “The other windows have dates between the ladies’ feet.” I quickly took in some of the numbers—A.D. 816, A.D. 1107, A.D. 1645. “All of them except this one.”

  “I don’t know about you lads,” Mack said, staring at the window in question, “but lookin’ up at this lass is makin’ me dizzy.”

  Suddenly, a large wooden door opened beside the dais. Startled, I made to flee, but shackled as I was to the Gallownog, I only got a few steps before he yanked me back. Dalach raised his finger to his lips and casually moved us behind a pillar.

  Silly me. I’d forgotten that we were invisible.

  A maidservant,
her heels echoing on the marble floor, hurried over to the brightest of the windows and waited. In one arm she carried a blanket, and in the other a towel and a golden scarf. We stood there watching her for what felt like ages, and then the window began to vibrate and glow even more brightly. Threads of white-hot lightning streaked along the metalwork that joined the countless plates of colored glass, and then a beautiful woman stepped through the window as if it weren’t there. I recognized her immediately—it was the lady who had smiled at Professor Bricklewick—but she was sopping wet, and as the maidservant swaddled her in the blanket and began toweling off her hair, I noticed a row of curved slits below each of the lady’s ears.

  I shuddered. Father was right. The Avalonians had gills!

  The maidservant wrapped the lady’s hair in the towel, tied the golden scarf about her neck, and then the pair quickly disappeared through the dais door. The three of us just stood looking after them for a long time, until finally Dalach said, “I think we just found the Lady of the Lake’s shortcut.”

  “Cor,” I gasped—when something occurred to me. “Hang on. Earlier today Lord Dreary mentioned a legend about there being two Ladies of the Lake.”

  “Not just two,” said the Gallownog. “Judging from how many sisters the queen has, I’d say there are at least seven who deserve that title.”

  “Ach!” Mack cried. “You mean we’ve got seven of those sorceresses to contend with instead of one?”

  “Merlin only taught Queen Nimue his sorcery. She may have taught her sisters too, but legend has it that all one needs to pass through this window is the heart of an Avalonian. Thus, I’ll wager that any of these gill people could do it.”

  “Father thinks that, although only an Avalonian can get in, anyone can get out.”

  “All right, enough of the jabberin’,” Mack said. “As I am charged with keepin’ us on time, I demand we resume our search for Excalibur.”

  Dalach ignored him and dragged us closer to one of the dimmer windows. The date between the lady’s feet read A.D. 1461. The Gallownog suddenly released me from his shackles. My entire body froze in terror. I was human again. Visibly human.

  “What the—?” Mack cried. “Are ya out of your mind, neep?”

  “Hurry, lad, touch the window,” said the Gallownog.

  “But, sir, I—”

  “As I am a spirit, even if I could pass through on my own, I would disintegrate as soon as I touched the water on the other side. However, you, Grubb, being human, would not.” Dalach grabbed my wrist. “Touch the window with your free hand. I’ll pull you back if something happens. Quickly, Grubb, before someone comes.”

  Terrified, I reached out and touched the date between the lady’s feet. But nothing happened. Dalach immediately pushed me toward the glowing window, the one without a date. “Now hurry, do it again.”

  I obeyed, but this time, as soon as my fingers touched the lady’s stained-glass foot the entire window vibrated and grew brighter. Lightning danced along the metalwork, and Dalach gave my arm a gentle shove. My fingers passed through the glass as easily as they would a spiderweb—and I could actually feel the water on the other side—but then I quickly snatched back my hand. My fingers were dripping wet.

  “Just as I suspected,” Dalach said. “Those other windows have been closed since the date between the ladies’ feet. This is the only one that remains open to our world. I’ll wager it works the same as the ocean gateway through which we got here but leads to shallower water—a lake, no doubt. If only we could see what lies on the other side.”

  “Would someone mind telling me what’s going on?” Mack cried.

  Dalach lifted his shackles so that his face was level with Mack’s. “Although we would need an Avalonian companion to enter Avalon, as did King Arthur, it appears that all we would need to leave is just this window and the ability to breathe underwater.” His eyes flickered with an idea. “Unless, of course, you’re someone who doesn’t need to breathe at all.”

  Dalach unhooked Mack from the wrist cuff and handed him to me. “Again, Grubb,” he said. “But this time, hold out the pocket watch in your hand.”

  “What the—?” Mack cried. “You’re not stickin’ me in there!”

  “Only for a second,” Dalach said. “We need to see what’s on the other side.”

  “But, sir,” I protested, and the Gallownog raised his hand.

  “Mack is a machine. A machine that’s a pain in the neck, but a machine nonetheless. He has no heart, and should be fine as long as you hold on to him.”

  “Should be?” Mack said. “That’s your idea of a plan? Should be?”

  Dalach ignored him. “You have my word, Grubb. You needn’t worry about your mate. But if Mack is too afraid to try it, well—”

  “What’s that?” Mack said. “Are ya suggesting the chief of the Chronometrical Clan McClintock is a coward?” Lorcan Dalach shrugged. “Why, you—Go on then, Grubb. Let’s show the numpty who wears the kilt around here.”

  Dalach nodded. I hesitated for a moment, and then with a deep breath, thrust Mack through the window. The glass vibrated and flashed with lightning, and I could feel the water again on the other side and Mack trembling in my hand. I couldn’t stand the thought of him being alone out there, wherever he was, so I quickly pulled him back. My heart swelled with relief. Mack was all right.

  “Brrrrrrr!” he said, shivering. He spit out a stream of water and shook himself dry like a dog. “That water’s as cold as a Gallownog’s rump!”

  “Tell me, chief, what did you see?” Dalach asked.

  “Just a bunch of cold, muddy water all around me!”

  “The legends are true,” Dalach said to himself. “This window must lead to a lake in our world, but you can’t see it from the other side.”

  “And even if you could see it,” I said, “according to the legend, someone from our world would need an Avalonian escort to get him through the window into Avalon. Unless, of course, he had a Sky Ripper like Father.”

  “But we’ve just proven that we won’t need an Avalonian to return us to our world, nor will we need a Sky Ripper.” Dalach suddenly cocked his ear. “Quickly now,” he whispered, “someone’s approaching outside the main gate.”

  The Gallownog hooked Mack and me back onto his shackles, and like the flicker of a dying flame we became invisible again. I could hear nothing but my own heart pounding in my ears, but after a tense few seconds, someone dressed in a long hooded cloak slipped in between the throne room’s tall oaken doors. A lady, by the looks of her.

  A shiver ran down my spine. The last time I’d seen a lady dressed like that was Mad Malmuirie. But unlike the daft witch who captured me, there was no sign of curly red locks beneath this woman’s hood. Only the hint of a golden scarf. Yes, whoever this cloaked figure was, she was most certainly an Avalonian.

  The mysterious woman paused for a moment by the gates, listening, and then slunk across the floor, moving briskly from pillar to pillar until she slipped out of sight through the dais door. Dalach raised his finger to his lips and we followed her—down a darkened passageway, up a spiraling stone staircase, and into another passageway, whereupon a pair of guards blocked the woman’s path.

  “Halt!” said one. “What business has a priestess in the royal quarters?”

  The guards were answered with a flurry of blows, and before I even had time to wonder at it, the two men lay slumped together on the floor. The woman listened at a nearby door and then hauled the guards into a richly furnished bedchamber. We followed closed behind, and she quietly shut the door.

  The woman rolled the guards over on their backs and blew some powder from a small vial into their noses. Then she slipped the tiny bottle inside her cloak and dragged the men out of sight behind the chamber’s large four-poster bed. As she was doing so, a long black braid tumbled down onto her breast. The woman tried unsuccessfully to tuck it back beneath her hood, and then removed the hood altogether.

  I gasped at the sight of the woman
’s face—but it couldn’t be!

  “Kiyoko!” I cried, and she whirled with a dart poised in her hand. Dalach glared at me, but I ran to embrace the shinobi even as my mind told me that it could not be her. Kiyoko was dead—I had seen her fall from the sky with Prince Nightshade—and yet here she was, alive again and standing right in front of me.

  The Gallownog yanked me back by my shackles.

  “Please, sir, let me go!” I cried.

  “You heard the lad!” Mack said. “Let him go, ya big bam!”

  “Quiet, the both of you!” Dalach hissed.

  “It’s Grubb, miss! I’m right here!” But of course I was invisible, and Kiyoko couldn’t see me. Her eyes flitted about the room and she lowered her dart.

  “Where are you?” Kiyoko asked.

  I pleaded again with the Gallownog to let me go. He gritted his teeth and reluctantly released me from his shackles. It must have appeared to Kiyoko as if I’d stepped out from the air itself, but her face brightened and the two of us rushed into each other’s arms. She kissed me hard on the cheeks, and after a round of excited greetings, Lorcan Dalach materialized with Mack in blue spirit form.

  “Well hello there, lassie,” Mack said with a wink. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, and looking just as lovely as ever.”

  Kiyoko turned to me, her eyes wide with wonder. “It seems we both have some explaining to do,” she said. I introduced her to the Gallownog, and brought her up to speed on recent events and our present mission—including the revelation that Alistair Grim was my father.

  “So once again we find ourselves in a castle seeking a sword,” she said, smiling.

  Kiyoko was referring to our earlier search for her sword Ikari in Prince Nightshade’s castle, but my mind was spinning with so many questions that it barely registered. “How did you survive your fall from the sky?” I asked. “How did you get away from the prince—how did you get here?”