Clash of the Worlds

by Chris Columbus

  The passengers screamed. Several took out phones and started recording. The realization of what had just happened hit Brendan and Cordelia at the same time and their knees buckled.

  Eleanor had just used the Invictum to rip open the barrier between the two worlds. And not only had they failed to prevent it, but they had been the ones who’d inadvertently helped make it happen. They had delivered the Invictum right to the Wind Witch!

  “Now it is finally time!” the Wind Witch screamed, raising her arms and spreading them apart like she was tearing open a curtain. As she did this, the rest of the sky fell away and the two worlds were now joined together, almost like the book world was a new sunroom attached to the front porch of a house. “Let my new reign begin! Let the city of San Francisco experience a tragedy and horror unlike anything they have ever seen! Residents of San Francisco . . . please welcome your new neighbors . . . FROM THE BOOKS OF DENVER KRISTOFF!”

  A vast array of creatures from Denver’s novels appeared below them from within the castle walls. Some seemed to manifest from out of nowhere as if summoned by magic. Others had been there in hiding all along, waiting for this very moment.

  A whole squadron of Nazi World War II planes streamed from the book world into the skies above San Francisco. They flew straight toward the piers beside the bay, firing their high-caliber weapons indiscriminately at the sailboats and massive cruise ships that peppered the water.

  Krom and his band of Savage Warriors had already pulled alongside the Alcatraz ferry in a smaller boat and were boarding it with their weapons drawn. They began to mercilessly attack and rob the unarmed, innocent tourists.

  From the forest outside of Castle Corroway, Eugene Kristoff waited with his entire army of Resistance fighters. He saw the chaos erupting behind the castle and gave the order for his soldiers to charge. He knew they were outnumbered, outmanned, and outgunned. There was nothing left to do but fight.

  From the top of the tower, all Cordelia and Brendan Walker could do at first was helplessly watch the chaos and destruction around them. More and more of Denver’s evil creations spilled into San Francisco.

  Nazi tanks and cyborgs were moving onto the Presidio, firing cannons and blasting away at the buildings. Frightened residents ran screaming in terror. But with more creatures and villains streaming into the city, there was truly nowhere safe to run or hide.

  Meanwhile, hordes of white frost beasts were attacking Eugene’s Resistance fighters on the outside of the castle walls. There were more fighter planes in the sky now, some newer, likely from a Cold War–era novel. Brendan and Cordelia noticed that several US and Allied planes from Denver’s novels had joined the fray, but it appeared to be far too little, too late.

  Legions of Roman soldiers stormed across the Golden Gate Bridge, tipping over cars and throwing people over the sides.

  Behind the mountains to the east of Castle Corroway, Brendan saw several huge UWOs and a family of mean-looking colossi approaching. He knew once they arrived, it would definitely be all over.

  A few fighter planes and divisions of medieval-era Resistance fighters would be no match for them. But then another sickening realization dawned on him: The battle likely wouldn’t even last that long. From the look of it, Kristoff’s villains and creatures were going to destroy San Francisco in minutes, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

  The Wind Witch was finally going to win.

  Gilbert was the first of the stunned spectators on the castle tower to act. He had somehow managed to summon his spaceship. He climbed inside the sphere and beckoned Adie, Cordelia, Brendan, and Celene to join him. It was a cramped fit, but they were just able to squeeze inside.

  The sphere zoomed away, seconds before a cannonball from a nearby pirate ship slammed into the base of the tower, sending stone bricks flying. The tower teetered and then collapsed into the San Francisco Bay with a thunderous splash.

  From Gilbert’s ship, Cordelia saw Eleanor and the Wind Witch flying over the city, watching the destruction and chaos. The most gut-wrenching part of it was seeing Eleanor laughing, enjoying the devastation of her beloved city. It was like some awful nightmare that couldn’t possibly be real.

  But it was.

  Cordelia turned toward the alien.

  “Start shooting at the bad guys, Gilbert!” she yelled.

  “I can’t reach the controls,” Gilbert replied. “There are too many people in here.”

  “Then land this thing and unload us!” Celene yelled.

  Gilbert put the tiny sphere down in a small clearing next to the castle. The bloody remains of a whole platoon of Resistance fighters were scattered across the opening. Brendan, Adie, Celene, and Cordelia exited the ship.

  As soon as they set foot outside, three frost beasts charged out of the nearby forest. Adie screamed and ducked for cover. Brendan shielded her, but there was no need.

  Blue lightning erupted from Gilbert’s sphere and incinerated all three frost beasts.

  “I guess their fontanels aren’t their only weakness after all,” Brendan said.

  “Good job, Gilbert,” Cordelia shouted at the sphere. “But you have to get back up in the sky, you’re needed most up there.”

  “I should not vacate your presence,” Gilbert said. “You are my companions, I must protect you.”

  “We can handle ourselves down here,” Brendan assured him. “Now go!”

  Gilbert nodded and the sphere’s door closed moments before the ship ascended, zooming brazenly into the middle of a fighter-plane dogfight. Gilbert’s sphere quickly destroyed several World War I–era German biplanes with ease.

  “It’s not going to be enough,” Brendan said, looking across the clearing and into San Francisco, where smoke rose up from the city in thick plumes. “Gilbert can’t win this battle alone.”

  “He won’t have to,” a voice said.

  They looked up. The Storm King hovered above them, smiling wickedly.

  “Oh great,” Cordelia said. “Now we’re definitely finished.”

  “I’m here to help you,” the Storm King said. “Don’t be so cynical. I have already summoned the assistance of several characters from my other novels. This battle isn’t over yet. It’s just beginning!”

  The arrival of the Storm King and his reinforcements brought with it a little hope as the battle raged on around Castle Corroway and San Francisco. If nothing else, his presence extended and expanded the battle to where the destruction now seemed endless.

  Three massive colossi were slugging it out inside AT&T Park, where the Giants played (or, more likely now, used to play). One was Fat Jagger’s cousin, summoned by the Storm King and fighting on behalf of the Resistance; the other two were bloodthirsty colossus thugs fighting for the Wind Witch. The colossus fight broke out during the fifth inning of a sold-out Giants game, the stands filled with fans. The players of both teams huddled in their respective dugouts.

  Everyone watched the colossi battle as if it were the seventh game of the World Series. On the field, every punch exchanged between the three giants sounded like a clap of thunder. And each time a blow landed hard enough to send one sprawling to the ground, it demolished entire sections of the legendary baseball stadium. Before long, the colossi leaped over the ballpark’s walls and into the surrounding streets. They were plucking up cars and hurling them at one another like rocks. But the two evil colossi were too much for Fat Jagger’s cousin to fight on his own. They pelted him with vehicles until he collapsed into the bay and didn’t get back up again.

  Gilbert and his sphere were still in the air, looping and diving through a massive mess of aircraft. On the Wind Witch’s side, several dozen squadrons of World War I–, World War II–, and Vietnam War–era fighter planes and jets zipped and whirled, blasting machine guns and firing missiles everywhere. They far outnumbered the Allied aircraft from the same novels. And further tipping the scales was the arrival of six flying saucers from Invasion Apocalypse, one of Denver Kristoff’s many pulpy science-fiction n
ovels. Their red laser beams were nearly as devastating as Gilbert’s blue lightning, and with six of them, it completely neutralized the effect he’d been having.

  Two massive UWOs from The Terror on the Planet 5X stood waist-deep near the rocky shore of Alcatraz Island, blasting green flames up onto the historic compound. The huge mass of legendary buildings melted under the green, alien substance as if they were made of marshmallows instead of concrete. After melting down the entire island into nothing but a puddle of gray goop, the UWOs turned and headed toward the mainland.

  As they approached, US army tanks from one of Denver’s World War II novels and current National Guard tanks worked together and began firing their huge guns at the invading UWO robots. The large-caliber shells repelled the invading robots for a few minutes, but ultimately, the artillery rounds could not pierce the highly advanced, fictional metals that made up the robots’ armor.

  Before long, the two UWOs were stepping out of the water and onto the Marina, home to tens of thousands of people. The UWOs coated the nearby buildings with their green fire, destroying countless historical and prominent buildings throughout the Marina. The Palace of Fine Arts, one of the city’s most stunning locations that had stood since the 1915 Pan Pacific International Exposition, was completely destroyed in a matter of seconds—vanquished into a pile of goo, as if it had never existed at all.

  San Francisco would soon be nothing but a memory.

  And the creatures would move on from there. Across the country’s Midwestern and Mountain states, eventually all the way to the East Coast, laying waste to America and eventually the world.

  There were other creatures and monsters among the battle of San Francisco that appeared to harbor no affiliation with either side. They merely acted on behalf of their own predatory instincts. A Tyrannosaurus rex from Dinosaur Island ran down Taylor Street and into the Tenderloin, stopping every few steps to snap its jaws at many of the area’s homeless people.

  In the Financial District, packs of giant lions, bloodthirsty from years of being trained to eat Roman gladiators, roamed the streets, attacking bankers, lawyers, and accountants, running down the slowest of them like gazelles. A flock of giant black dragons perched on all sides of the Transamerica Pyramid downtown, occasionally swooping down and snapping up a poor bicyclist or jogger in their long, wicked talons.

  Meanwhile, on the Golden Gate Bridge, an all-out battle had erupted. On the San Francisco side of the bridge, a small army of Resistance fighters, along with Wangchuk and several of his monk warriors, joined a group of local police and SWAT officers in an effort to hold off an opposing army of Roman soldiers, Nazi cyborgs, aliens and undead mummies led by a vengeful pharaoh with glowing red eyes.

  Wangchuk and his monks attempted to use magic against Wazner’s evil army, but they were simply outnumbered. Monks and SWAT team members continued to fall. Soon, Wangchuk was the last man standing. And, after a valiant battle for his own life and for the sake of a city he did not know, he was finally taken down by a cluster of vengeful mummies.

  The Golden Gate Bridge was lost.

  Wazner’s evil army, packs of malicious aliens, Roman soldiers, and Nazi cyborgs moved into San Francisco, where they would soon overtake the entire city.

  And then, in time, the rest of the world.

  Brendan, Cordelia, Celene, and Adie hadn’t made it very far once Gilbert dropped them off at the perimeter of Castle Corroway’s exterior wall. Just as his sphere departed to rejoin the air battle, a band of forty Savage Warriors led by Krom was behind them. Within seconds, they had surrounded the four kids.

  “Kill them all,” Krom said to his men. They raised their weapons to attack.

  Suddenly, Eugene Kristoff arrived, leading a small squad of Resistance fighters and a platoon of Union Civil War troops.

  “Step away from those children,” Eugene commanded.

  Krom and his men turned to face Eugene and his men. With a loud roar, they charged at the troops—axes, swords, spears, and blunt weapons swinging wildly.

  “What do we do?” Adie shouted.

  “We need to help,” Brendan said, snatching a small crossbow from the cold grip of a dead Resistance fighter.

  “No, I mean about those things,” Adie said, pointing in the opposite direction.

  A pack of angry frost beasts was marching right toward them.

  “Okay, Adie,” Cordelia said, picking up a sword from the ground. “Me and you will fight those things. Brendan, you and Celene help the others!”

  Brendan nodded as he and Celene ran into the madness of the battle. He fired his crossbow once at Krom, missed badly, and then realized he had no idea how to reload it. So he dove for cover, searching the ground desperately for other weapons. Krom growled and charged at him with his ax swinging right toward Brendan’s head.

  A Union Civil War solider stepped in front of Brendan and lunged with his bayonet. Krom evaded him easily and dispatched the soldier in one quick motion. But it had bought Brendan just enough time to get to his feet and run for safety.

  Celene was the most in her element of the four of them, as she twirled and slashed with two small daggers, slicing Savage Warriors on their arms, calves, faces, wherever she could get her blades to land. She danced and twirled like an artist, always managing to stay one step ahead of the incoming swords and axes.

  Meanwhile, Cordelia was wildly swinging her sword from side to side, trying to fend off a frost beast that had her cornered. Adie picked up a fallen Union soldier’s rifle. She worked to reload it as quickly as possible, just as her daddy had taught her several summers ago. First the powder, then the ball, then packing, mash it all down with the rod. Put the firing cap on the hammer.

  Cock. Aim. Fire.

  The bullet from the old Civil War musket embedded into the back of the frost beast’s neck.

  It spun around, its eyes burning with hatred and rage. They weren’t intelligent animals, but this one had just enough brains to identify the small, trembling girl holding the musket as its attacker. It charged at Adie.

  Cordelia climbed to her feet again and quickly recognized that Adie had just saved her life. She knew she couldn’t let the little girl sacrifice herself, fictional character or not.

  The frost beast was just a few steps away from Adie.

  Cordelia took three steps forward and launched her sword like a spear. It spiraled upward, spun around in midair, and headed back down toward the ground, right at the top of the frost beast’s head. The sword fell short and instead thumped into the back of its thigh with a soft thwack!

  The creature led out a blood-chilling roar. He spun around again and charged at Cordelia, who was still cornered by the outer wall of Castle Corroway. There was nowhere to run or hide. She was trapped.

  Above the battle, hovering somewhere between Castle Corroway and Fisherman’s Wharf, the Wind Witch and Eleanor watched the chaos with glee. It was obvious that their army was going to win. There was nothing the puny Resistance army or the confused modern-day military could do to stop them. Even when more reinforcements showed up, the Wind Witch would still outnumber them with her vast array of terrifying characters.

  She turned to Eleanor.

  “Isn’t life so much richer, so much more meaningful, when you possess such great power?” the Wind Witch asked.

  “Oh yes,” Eleanor said, still holding the glowing red Invictum.

  The Wind Witch shrieked with delight and dipped down toward the ground, incinerating a few Resistance fighters with lightning, before rejoining Eleanor in the sky.

  Across the bay, the Storm King was locked in a heated battle with a UWO. For most of the battle, the Storm King had been flying around the giant robots, hitting them with every form of powerful magic he could muster. But it had no effect. They were virtually indestructible—and he only had himself to blame since he was the one who’d written them that way. The Storm King was desperate to stop the robots, since they were causing the most significant damage to the city, melting every
thing in their path.

  But then a chillingly familiar sound diverted his attention.

  His daughter’s evil laughter.

  She and Eleanor were still hovering above the action, enjoying the view of the destruction. That’s when he saw it: the glowing red blade of the Invictum in Eleanor’s hand.

  For the first time during the battle, the Storm King was hopeful.

  He knew the Worldkeeper was their only shot at victory. He needed to get it back. It was his only chance of stopping the UWOs and all the other horrific creatures obliterating San Francisco. The Storm King loved his characters. . . . He had created them after all. But the last thing he wanted to see was them destroying the city he loved. Even in death, San Francisco was still his home.

  He disengaged from his futile battle with the UWO and immediately launched himself at the Wind Witch and Eleanor.

  Eleanor saw him approaching first.

  “Watch out!” she yelled, swooping left.

  But it was too late. Blue lightning erupted from the tips of the Storm King’s fingers. The Wind Witch was able to avoid the bulk of the blast, but the lightning still struck the lower half of her body, sending her tumbling down toward the bay.

  Eleanor’s knowledge of the magic that the Wind Witch had been teaching her was still raw, in its experimental stage. She knew she didn’t stand a chance against the more powerful and experienced Storm King. Instead of fighting a useless battle, Eleanor used that moment to flee.

  She swooped down toward Castle Corroway, hoping to find somewhere inside to hide. The Storm King dove after her and easily closed the distance between them. By the time they reached the castle, the Storm King was fewer than twenty feet behind Eleanor. He couldn’t miss. He uttered a quick spell and fired more lightning from his hands. This was a more concentrated attack, aimed at Eleanor’s right hand still tightly clutching the Invictum.