by Funaro, Greg
“Will you get a load of this one,” said Mr. Smears, twirling his finger beside his ear. “Still babblin’ on about her magic wand. A shadow lady stole it, she says. Gone off the deep end for good, I reckon.”
“A shadow lady,” Father muttered, thinking, and Dalach’s entire body tensed with alarm.
“We need to tell him about Kiyoko,” he whispered.
“You backstabber, Smears!” Mad Malmuirie screamed, and the Black Fairy roughly stopped her mouth. Mr. Smears laughed, and again the knights and Shadesmen began to tussle. This distracted the prince, whereupon the Gallownog flew us down to the floor and, invisible to everyone except Mack and me, whispered in Father’s ear.
“We are here, Alistair Grim,” Dalach said, and he quickly informed Father of Kiyoko’s presence in Avalon. At the same time, the queen pleaded for the scuffling to stop. The prince echoed her command, and just as everything began to settle down, Father’s eyes flashed with an idea.
“How fortunate for you, Bal’el, that your prisoner has lost her wand,” Father called out loudly to the Black Fairy. “For although Queen Nimue’s magic is useless against you, Malmuirie’s wand would have proven quite effective against a fairy of your kind. Your spiritual makeup is similar to the doom dogs’, is it not?”
The Black Fairy’s white crescent mouth bared its sharp black teeth. “You are the only dog here, Alistair Grim.”
“Clever,” Father said sarcastically.
“I haven’t got all day,” said the prince. “Give me the animus, Queen Nimue, or I shall tear Avalon apart—beginning with your crazy witch of a sister.”
“I’m afraid you’re out of luck, Nightshade,” Father said. “McClintock has been repaired. He no longer runs on animus.”
“Oh, well, in that case I’ll just leave,” the prince said mockingly, and the Black Fairy and Mr. Smears laughed.
“He’s telling the truth,” said Queen Nimue. “I mended Dougal McClintock myself, and thus you cannot use him to create your army of purple-eyed Shadesmen.”
The prince heaved a heavy sigh. “I would expect such a pathetic bluff from Alistair Grim, but how unbecoming of you, Your Majesty. Now give me the pocket watch or I’ll break the lost princess’s neck.”
The Black Fairy tightened his grip, and Mad Malmuirie squealed in pain. The knights and Shadesmen again readied themselves for a brawl, but Father held up his hand and calmly said, “Now, now, there’s no need for all that.” He slipped the Black Mirror into his coat and began fumbling through his pockets. “I know he’s in here somewhere. McClintock, old boy, where are you?”
“Don’t you dare toy with me,” said the prince, but Father continued searching.
“I assure you, I’m not. Oh, McClintock? Where are you, McClintock?”
Dalach’s eyes widened with understanding, and he abruptly unhooked Mack from his shackles. The watch became visible at once, but the Gallownog deftly slipped him into Father’s hand and retreated with me beside a pillar.
“Ah, here we are,” Father said, pretending to find Mack in his pocket.
“What the devil is going on?” Mack cried. His face flashed red and Father held him up for the prince to see. “Ach! Not you again!”
“Have a look for yourself,” Father said, and he tossed Mack to Prince Nightshade. I gasped, unable to believe that Father would hand over our friend just like that, but Dalach held me by the shoulders.
“Remember Mack’s picture on the temple wall,” he whispered. “All will be well.”
The prince turned Mack over and over, examining him closely. “Trickery,” he muttered, but I could hear the anger mounting in his voice. He tapped Mack on his XII, and when all he got in return was a slew of Scottish cusswords, the prince growled, “Curse you, Alistair Grim!”
And then Prince Nightshade crushed Mack in his hand.
“No!” I cried out in terror. A brief explosion of red light shot out between the prince’s fingers, and then poor McClintock was on the floor in pieces. At the same time Dalach clamped his hand over my mouth, but he was too late. The prince had heard my cries and, cocking his ear in my direction, roared:
“Bring me the son of Elizabeth O’Grady or your sister dies!”
“No!” cried Queen Nimue, but I barely heard her. My heart was breaking for McClintock, whose parts lay strewn about and crushed at the prince’s feet. I began to sob.
“The temple wall, lad,” Dalach said gently. “All will be well.”
I glanced over at Father, who appeared entirely unmoved by Mack’s demise. How could that be? Father loved Mack, and he would never do anything to hurt him. Unless…
At that very moment, as if reading my thoughts, Father winked in my direction. He couldn’t see me, of course, but the message was clear. All would be well.
“You’re the one bluffing now, Nightshade,” Father said. “You must know that Excalibur is close at hand, and surely if you harmed the lost princess, one of her subjects would cut you down for it. So it seems you’ve gotten yourself into quite a pickle. Or as they say in chess, check.” The prince stiffened. “Go on, then. It’s your move.”
A tense silence hung about the room, and then Prince Nightshade sighed wearily. “Oh, we are proud, aren’t we? I seem to recall that being your problem. Always so pleased with yourself, always so blind to what was right there in front of you. Sadly, it was Elizabeth who paid the price for your hubris.” It was Father’s turn now to stiffen. “Anyhow, looks as if we’re back to square one. Bring me the boy and the banshee, and I’ll let Princess Malmuirie live.”
“I’m afraid you won’t find Cleona here,” Father said. “Nor the Odditorium, for that matter. And so there’s no chance of you stealing my Odditoria as you did Abel Wortley’s all those years ago.”
The jagged gash that was the prince’s mouth broke apart into a smile. “You fool,” said the prince. “I am Abel Wortley!”
Father’s face dropped like a stone, and my heart along with it. Had my ears deceived me? Did Prince Nightshade just say that he was really Abel Wortley, the very man my best mate Nigel had been framed for murdering?
“And now that you know the truth,” said the prince, “ask yourself if your old friend would come all this way with no moves left to get him out. Ask yourself if Abel Wortley, your old chess opponent, would leave himself open to a checkmate.”
Father set his jaw and clenched his fists, but I could tell that he was distracted—his mind spinning with what the prince had just told him. How could such a thing be possible? How could Prince Nightshade and Abel Wortley be the same person?
The prince chuckled. “And so, after I tear Avalon apart and kill your son, know that I shall never rest until I find the Odditorium and your banshee. For if Cleona really was here in Avalon, then surely she’d be wailing your death by now!”
The prince whirled and, in a crack of thunder and lightning, struck Father with his whip.
“FATHER!” I screamed in horror, but Dalach held me fast as Father staggered backward and slumped lifeless on the dais steps.
“I hear you, Grubb!” the prince cried, cracking his whip again, and he turned to the Black Fairy. “Kill the witch and find the boy!”
The Black Fairy smiled and was about to snap Malmuirie’s neck when a bolt of lightning shot down from above and struck him in the back. The Black Fairy uttered a deafening shriek and then burst apart in a cloud of thick black smoke. Malmuirie, collapsing to the floor, glanced about frantically, unable to fathom what was happening. The Black Fairy was gone, and she was free.
“Shinobi!” cried the prince, and I followed his gaze to find Kiyoko perched high among the pillars with Mad Malmuirie’s wand in her hand. The prince leaped for her and cracked his whip, but Kiyoko quickly disappeared down the narrow catwalk.
The ground shook as Nightshade landed. “Kill them all!” he screamed, and the throne room erupted into battle. Mr. Smears dove for cover under one of the sharks, axes and swords clanged, and Shadesmen burned in the dragon’s fire. Prince
Nightshade began mowing down the Royal Guard with his whip.
Queen Nimue and her sisters flew toward Malmuirie. The ladies held her by the arms as the queen slipped a long pin from her hair—the same hairpin with which she had turned Mack red at the festival. Malmuirie screamed as Nimue touched it to her forehead. A flash of brilliant white light blinded me for a moment, and then there was Mad Malmuirie, standing tall and holding a gleaming silver sword.
Dalach gasped. “Excalibur!”
Prince Nightshade saw it too. But before he could react, Mad Malmuirie was upon him—only she did not look mad anymore. Her eyes were fixed and fearless, and in a swipe of flashing steel she brought down Excalibur hard on the prince’s shoulder. Nightshade cried out in pain and dropped to his knees, unable to use his whip, and then I lost sight of him as a horde of Shadesmen came to his defense.
Malmuirie quickly dispatched them with Excalibur, their skeleton bodies exploding into smoke with a single blow from the magic blade. From out of nowhere Kiyoko joined the fray, and as she and the knights set to work on the other Shadesmen, the battle escalated to a fever pitch.
It was then that I saw Mr. Smears helping the wounded prince into the hatch of his mechanical shark. It had been unchained from the others. The devils were making to escape.
“Prince Nightshade!” I cried, running after them, but the Gallownog pulled me back by my shackles. “What are you doing? We can’t let them get away!”
“I swore an oath to protect you,” he said. “I cannot risk you getting hurt.”
Prince Nightshade and Mr. Smears were inside the shark now, its engine revving and roaring in a cloud of demon dust. And as Mad Malmuirie and the others finished off their Shadesmen, the mechanical monster skidded out and zoomed back through the window whence it came.
The throne room was now littered with fallen knights and their dragons. All of the Shadesmen were gone, their undead bodies blown to oblivion by Excalibur. As Captain Fox Tail and Queen Nimue’s sisters began tending to the wounded, Kiyoko dashed over to Father and hovered with her ear close to his mouth. Dalach blinked us visible and released me from his shackles. I was human again. Queen Nimue and I joined the shinobi at Father’s side, and I knelt down and cradled his head against my breast. His flesh had gone snow white and just as cold.
“Father!” I cried, the tears beginning to flow. “Can you hear me, Father?”
No response. Kiyoko rested her fingers on the side of his neck, then closed her eyes and bowed her head. There were no words for what she had to tell me.
Alistair Grim, my father, was dead.
I wept openly, unable to speak. And what would I have said if I could? For even now I cannot find the words to describe those agonizing moments wherein I held Father’s lifeless body in my arms.
“His destiny is now in your hands, sister,” said Queen Nimue, and through my tears I looked up to find Malmuirie standing over us with Excalibur. Her eyes were full of compassion, and before I had time to grasp what was happening, the once mad enemy of Alistair Grim touched the sword to his breast. Father’s breath hitched, the color flooded into his cheeks, and he began to cough. My insides gushed with joy.
Alistair Grim was alive!
“Father!” I cried, at which he opened his eyes and struggled to his feet.
“Well, that was unpleasant,” he said, dazed, and I threw my arms around his waist. “Sorry to put you through that, son, but it was necessary to gain the advantage over the prince.”
“You mean you—you planned all this?”
“Not at first. But after the Gallownog told me of Miss Kiyoko’s return, and with Malmuirie’s magic wand, no less, my next move was clear. I spied her watching us from the rafters and hinted that she should fire Malmuirie’s wand at the Black Fairy.” Father gazed round. “And so, Miss Kiyoko, once again we find ourselves in your debt.”
Father gave a slight bow, and Kiyoko pulled down her stocking to reveal her face. “The Black Fairy and the Shadesmen are dead,” she said. “However, the prince was wounded by Excalibur and escaped through that window there with Mr. Smears.”
“Unfortunate, to be sure,” Father said, thinking. “But at least we know now where he’s headed. Hang on—where is the prince headed, Your Grace?”
“That particular window leads to your Lake Ullswater,” said Queen Nimue. “It is the last of our windows into your world, but you needn’t fear. The prince cannot return to Avalon without the heart of one of us to guide him.”
“I thought as much,” Father said. “Nevertheless, now that Prince Nightshade thinks I’m dead, we will have the element of surprise on our side.”
“But I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir,” I said. “You mean you got yourself done in on purpose?”
“You can thank the prince himself for giving me the idea. After all, in chess one must often sacrifice a piece or two in order to gain the advantage. However, the rules of the game clearly state that if you can get one of your pawns to the far side of the board, you may exchange it for a more valuable piece.” Father turned and bowed to Princess Malmuirie. “A queen, perhaps, if you’ve lost one.”
“Well done, Alistair Grim,” Malmuirie said. “It was because of your sacrifice that I am returned, both in mind and body, to claim my rightful place here in Avalon. And thus you and your friends have proven yourselves worthy of Excalibur.”
She handed the sword to Father. It was somewhat smaller than I imagined, its blade plain and unblemished, its hilt ordinary and unadorned. And yet I shivered in awe at seeing it up close. After all…Well, if you’ve stuck with me this far, I needn’t remind you that the most powerful Odditoria are often those things that, on the surface at least, appear to be ordinary.
Father examined the sword and tested its balance. “It was the hairpin, wasn’t it?” he asked, and Queen Nimue smiled. “I suspected as much after you mended Mack at the festival. Excalibur was forged to unite armies rather than destroy them. To heal rather than to hurt.”
“So you knew Excalibur would bring you back to life, Father?” I asked.
“I’d hoped so, yes, and decided in the end—as do all good chess players—to trust in the power of my queen.”
“It was the Lady of the Lake, sir,” I said. “Princess Malmuirie—she was the one who wounded Prince Nightshade and brought you back to life with Excalibur.”
“You have my undying gratitude, Your Grace,” Father said. “No pun intended.”
“The gratitude is all mine,” said Princess Malmuirie, the soon-to-be queen of Avalon. Her voice was gentle and kind, her eyes clear and content, and despite everything that had happened, it did my heart well to see her so. Father’s too, I could tell, and with a smile he bowed to her and Queen Nimue.
“And now I beg your pardon, Your Majesties, but we do have an evil necromancer to catch.”
“I will dispatch the Royal Guard into Ullswater to pursue the prince,” said Queen Nimue.
“That will not be necessary, Your Grace. Prince Nightshade will undoubtedly have more of those mechanical sharks waiting to ambush us. Besides, the prince thinks I’m dead. And although he’s wounded, he will no doubt set out to destroy the Odditorium and capture Cleona for her animus. First, however, he will need to take care of that business with his armor.” Father smiled. “And I know just where he intends to do it.”
The queen closed her eyes and pondered this—and for a moment I thought she was trying to foretell our future—but in the end all she said was, “Very well. I bid you good fortune on your quest. However, aren’t you forgetting someone?”
“Good heavens!” Father said, spying Mack’s scattered parts on the floor, and he held out Excalibur for Princess Malmuirie. “If I might trouble you one last time, Your Highness?”
Princess Malmuirie took the sword and touched its tip to Mack’s crumpled case. There was a great flash and a pop, and then all Mack’s pieces began to join back together of their own accord. His case straightened itself out and his eyes flickered to life, and th
ere was the chief of the Chronometrical Clan McClintock, beaming red and hopping about as good as new.
“Wha-wha-what time is it?” he sputtered, hands spinning. I scooped him up off the floor and hugged him close.
“Mack!” I cried with tears of joy. “You’re all right now!”
“What the—?” he said, squirming about. “What’s all that blubbering for? And where’s that devil what tried to squash me?”
“I’ll explain it to you later, old friend.” I closed Mack’s case and slipped him into my waistcoat, where he promptly began shaking up a storm.
Princess Malmuirie handed Excalibur back to Father. “When your quest is over, you must return Excalibur to Ullswater. Toss the sword far out into the lake and one of my sisters will be there to catch it.”
“After which this window to your world shall be closed forever,” said Queen Nimue, and she touched Malmuirie’s cheek. The other princesses joined them, their shimmering white gowns like a curtain of loving light around their sisters. Kiyoko passed Father the magic wand and he offered it to Malmuirie.
“Keep it for your collection,” the princess said. “A gift of Odditoria for bringing an old witch back to her senses.”
“I shall cherish it always,” Father said. He slipped the wand inside his coat and turned to Queen Nimue. “And speaking of gifts, Your Grace. That prophecy of yours—it wouldn’t happen to say anything about our defeating Prince Nightshade, would it?”
Queen Nimue smiled. “That story has yet to be written.”
But something had been written—or pieced together, I thought—on the temple walls. Fragments of the future that were unalterable—the battle with Prince Nightshade, the pictures of Mack and Moral’s golden egg. But now was hardly the time to tell Father about all that, nor did I think it proper to ask him about what was sure to be the most mind-boggling revelation of them all:
Prince Nightshade was really Abel Wortley!
“Very well, then,” Father said. “This Aquaticum of ours is not over yet.”
