Archer read the rest of the page on autopilot, his mind reeling from what he’d just seen.
“That was well-read, Archer,” Mrs. Mangum said. “You might have a future in acting.”
The class murmured a laugh, but Archer didn’t pay attention. He spun in his chair and grabbed Amy’s book.
“Hey!” she whispered. “What’s up with that?”
“Just a sec.” He hurriedly flipped to page seventy-seven in Amy’s book. He had to see, had to know if it was in her book too or just his. But there it was again, Twain’s original words: “And so I am become a knight of the Kingdom of Dreams and Shadows!”
Archer’s heart swelled with hope and passion. He felt the reservoir of his will flooding with power.
“Archer,” Amy said, her eyes big green worlds. “What is it? You look . . . different.”
“I am different,” he said. “Better. I know what I’m going to do.”
Mrs. Mangum’s abrupt redirection cut that conversation short before it could really begin. But that was okay with Archer. He had plans to make.
TWENTY-FIVE
ENSLAVED
THE CRIMSON VORTEX THAT DELIVERED ARCHER INTO the Dream was more violent than he’d ever experienced. For one bone-rattling moment, the wind current shifted and, like a strong riptide, the wind yanked Archer outside of the funnel. He flailed a thousand feet above the Dream landscape until the vortex gobbled him back up.
When he finally reached the ground, Archer was so dizzy that he walked around like someone just off of a Tilt-A-Whirl. It was a point of personal pride that he had never—not a single time—thrown up in the Dream. As nauseous as he felt, he fought through it.
Archer summoned his surfboard and took off on a speedy wave toward the moors of Archaia. The Dream felt strangely quiet. Pattern District could be a most violent place, but not today. Today, the calm was welcome, and probably deceiving. Looking sideways, Archer scanned for breaches. There were many, but they would have to wait. Visis Nocturne off, he looked toward the horizon . . . and felt a dire chill form across his shoulders. There, climbing into the sky almost as high as Old Jack, was the ice-fire.
If something doesn’t change . . . Archer wouldn’t complete the thought. He carved between two waves and bunny-hopped onto a third. He reflected on his meeting with Master Gabriel right after school. Master Gabriel had taken some persuading, but in the end, decided that Archer’s plan might actually be the only way to turn back the destruction of the Dream, in a world-altering Rift.
The other reason for their after-school rendezvous was this: Archer wanted Master Gabriel to attend the “special” dinner that Rigby had planned. But Rigby had been right: no amount of Archer’s pleading could persuade the Master Dreamtreader to attend.
Gabriel’s final words on the matter echoed in Archer’s mind: “Just as you have a District to shepherd in the Dream, I have certain responsibilities, Archer. I can provide you the same assistance and support that I always have. Nothing more. This is the word of my Superior, and His plans always work out best.”
Archer didn’t understand it. Master Gabriel clearly had otherworldly power. He wore armor and a sword most of the time, but he was apparently fighting other battles.
Archer surfed in peace and quiet until the border of Archaia. The Intrusion waves stopped at the border of that fell land as if hitting a wall. He took to sprinting across the ragged, craggy landscape and came to the copse of trees overlooking the Lurker’s valley, the meeting place he’d selected.
Archer ducked under some low-hanging limbs and darted into the tiny clearing. But Nick wasn’t there. Or so it seemed.
“G’day, mate!” Nick said cheerfully.
When Archer turned around, he saw nothing but a gangly tree. But as if made of wax, Nick’s face melted into the bark of the upper trunk.
“That’s pretty good camouflage,” Archer said.
The rest of Nick’s body materialized. “Thanks, Archer. I figured we might need to keep a low profile.”
“Right about that,” Archer said. “Master Gabriel fill you in on the plan?”
Nick nodded and said, “You’re a bonnie loon is what you are. Do you know how many dominoes have to fall just right for this to work?”
“Yeah, I know it’s crazy.”
“It’ll be a real ripsnorter,” Nick said. “I’m in. All the way, Archer. Count on me.” The Aussie put his hand on Archer’s shoulder.
“Thank you, Nick,” he said. “You ready?”
“Aye,” he said. “Let’s give it a burl.”
Archer and Nick broke into the Lurker’s ridge stronghold by coming in from the north . . . and opening the broad, dark iron door.
“Well, color me gobsmacked,” Nick said. “Why wouldn’t it be locked?”
Archer shrugged. “I don’t know, but really, what good is a lock against Dreamtreaders?”
“Good point.”
The two snaked inside and followed the path Archer remembered to the Lurker’s laboratory. Like a pair of spider-men, they scaled the walls and found a place to wait upon a ledge.
“He’ll have Kaylie in some kind of cell,” Archer said. “It’ll have to be something special because Kaylie can think her way out of anything.”
“Quite the little genius hacker, is she?”
“You have no idea,” Archer said. “Brilliant. Stunningly brilliant.”
“I mean no disrespect, but how do ya suppose the Lurker caught her?”
“I wish I knew,” he said. “We’ll ask her. Let’s go.”
The two Dreamtreaders came out of hiding and fled the lab. They navigated a half-dozen passages but found only empty cells. They found several experimentation chambers, each with what looked like an operating table surrounded by fearsome implements and tools. Archer swallowed and thought about his little sister. It was a thought he couldn’t bear. He only knew that the Lurker would pay if he caused Kaylie any kind of pain.
So distracted with that line of thought, Archer almost blundered right into the Lurker’s study. Nick held out his arm and physically blocked Archer. “Voices inside,” Nick whispered.
Archer scanned inside the door. The study was a vast library built right into the black rock of the landscape. Bookshelves reached up three stories to a border of natural stone.
The voices were close by, likely just inside and around the corner. “C’mon,” Archer whispered, and the two quickly swept down an adjacent passage. Archer searched the left-hand side until he found it: a staircase.
The thing looked like it had been hewn from wood that had been born old. It creaked and squeaked with every step, so Archer and Nick used a bit of will to lighten their steps. Up above they found a kind of attic that spanned the perimeter above the study. Like most attics, it was dusty and full of boxes.
Archer and Nick dropped to the ground and crawled as close to the edge as they dared. Peering out from behind a crate, Archer saw that it was indeed the Lurker, but he wasn’t alone.
Kaylie! The Lurker and Archer’s sister sat at the end of a short rectangular table, piled half with books and half with platters of food.
Archer’s mind spun. Why is she just sitting there? Why doesn’t he have her locked up? Why doesn’t she do something?
“I have to hand it to you, my dear,” the Lurker said, plopping what looked like an olive into his mouth. “Few have dared to attempt Xander’s Fortune and lived to tell about it.”
Archer’s eyes widened.
“The mountain’s dynamics are similar to a volcano,” Kaylie said, wiping her lips daintily with a napkin, “but I didn’t have too much trouble.”
“Remarkable,” the Lurker said. “I am fortunate to have such a capable ally.”
Ally? Archer couldn’t comprehend what he was hearing.
“I’m grateful,” Kaylie said. “And thank you again for this meal.”
“We will share many meals together, you and I,” the Lurker said. “I have missed intelligent company.”
Nick
slithered up beside Archer. “This doesn’t look good, mate,” he whispered. “You want to explain what’s going on here?”
“I wish I could,” Archer said. “It doesn’t make sense. I don’t know why she’s—wait. No, no, no.” Archer looked at the platters of food, all manner of dishes, but some contained specks of black.
“What?” Nick asked.
“He’s enslaved her,” Archer said miserably. “The Lurker’s enslaved my little sister with gort.”
“Oh, mate,” Nick said. “That’s bad. Is there anything we can do?”
The Lurker’s voice silenced the Dreamtreaders. “Well, my dear, you are free to amuse yourself for a few hours. I won’t need anything until this evening.”
Kaylie got up from her seat and dutifully pushed in her chair. She hesitated a moment. “I have a question,” she said, “if I may?”
“Of course, Kaylie. What is it?”
“I guess I’m trying to understand something.”
“And what is that?”
“Well, Rigby’s your nephew, and he threw the Shadow Key into Xander’s Fortune to destroy it. So why would you have me retrieve it?”
Archer felt his blood run cold. No, Kaylie, he thought. No, please, no.
“Rigby made a mistake,” the Lurker said. He removed a long metallic object from his jacket pocket. “Oh, sure, it’s all well and good to let the Scath loose for a little mischief now and then. They have their uses, but you would never want them to stay loose. They are . . . well, like a chemical fire: too hard to control.”
The Lurker held up the Shadow Key and whirled it in his fingers like a rock drummer with a drumstick. “Yes,” he said, “there are times when we elders have to clean up the mistakes of our beloved youth. No matter how well-intentioned, an error still is an error.”
“And what will you do with the key now?” Kaylie asked.
The Lurker stopped the whirling motion and put the Shadow Key back into his jacket. “I’ll let Rigby find out for himself just how volatile the Scath can be,” he said. “And then, I’ll give Rigby the key back . . . along with a lusty ‘I told you so.’ ”
Kaylie laughed as she left the chamber. Somehow to Archer, that laugh sounded both joyful and sinister.
Nick turned to Archer. “This changes things, doesn’t it?”
Archer motioned for Nick to come away from the overhang, and they retreated a few feet back into the attic area. “This changes everything,” Archer said.
“All right,” Nick said, “let’s break this down, then. We’ve got no shot at getting the Shadow Key from Xander’s Fortune . . . because Kaylie already got it. And she gave it to the Lurker, so that means we’ve got to get it from him.”
“And he’s intending to give it to Rigby,” Archer said. “We can’t let that happen.”
“And Kaylie’s under the Lurker’s power by some hypnotic chemical stuff, right? But how far under is she? Will she recognize you? Would she listen to you?”
Archer frowned. “She would recognize me,” he said, clenching his fists. “But she wouldn’t listen to me. She wouldn’t be able to defy the Lurker’s commands.”
“Okay,” Nick said, “so that’s a bigger problem. What if we’re taking on the Lurker, and Kaylie comes into the fray on his side? What then?”
“Then we get our collective butt kicked,” Archer said. “I won’t fight my sister, and even if I did, she and the Lurker are two of the most powerful minds ever to enter the Dream. We’re pretty good Dreamtreaders, but the two of them together? They’d vaporize us.”
“Okay, so definitely not good,” Nick said.
Archer sighed again. “This just doesn’t make any sense,” he said. “Kaylie’s way too smart to eat anything with gort in it. She already knows the creeds better than I do.”
“The Lurker’s a tricky bitzer, right?” Nick asked. “Maybe he fooled yer sister. Or maybe he scared her into eating it. I dunno.”
“I can’t believe it,” Archer muttered.
“Isn’t there something we can do for Kaylie? Isn’t there any way at all to get her out of the Lurker’s control?”
Archer started to shake his head, but then he remembered something. The knowledge crystallized, but it led to a conclusion too horrible for Archer to even consider.
“What?” Nick asked. “What is it, mate?”
Archer exhaled slowly. “Last year, we discovered that the Lurker had been gort-enslaved by the Nightmare Lord himself. It was crazy. It made the Lurker betray his own nephew. But when we put an end to the Nightmare Lord, it freed the Lurker.”
“So to free Kaylie,” Nick said, “we need to take out the Lurker? Well, that’s not such a bad thing, is it? We were planning to anyway, right? Him and Rigby and Kara and Bez—”
“I don’t mean just beat him, as in making him surrender or putting him in some kind of prison. To set Kaylie free, we’d have to kill the Lurker.”
Nick was thoughtful a few minutes. “Well, I’d say he has it coming. How can a human being ever enslave another? I’ve never understood that.”
“I . . . I don’t know if I could do that,” Archer said.
“Of course ya can,” Nick said. “You wiped out the Nightmare Lord. Why? He was threatening the two worlds you’re sworn to protect. So is the Lurker. There’s no difference, except for maybe the fact that he’s made a slave of Kaylie, bitzer that he is.”
Archer understood Nick’s point of view. He was right, in a way, but that still didn’t sway Archer concerning the prospect of killing again. Twin visions of fire and agony lit his imagination. Duncan and Mesmeera, hidden in the tree trunks.
Archer shook his head.
“Look,” Nick said. “You’ve got doubts. Fine. I don’t. If it comes to it, I’ll take out the Lurker myself. But I think we have to act fast.”
Archer nodded at that, and the Dreamtreaders ventured back to the edge to make sure the Lurker was still there, at his table in the study three stories below.
“Look at him,” Nick whispered. “He looks like he’s in a food coma. He’s dozing. We’ve got him.”
Archer whispered, “Okay, but let’s go in quick and try to knock his feet out from under him. We want to get the Shadow Key before the Lurker even knows what hit him.”
Archer and Nick inched closer to the edge. It would be a sudden, silent drop. Maybe Nick is right, Archer thought. With Kaylie out of the chamber, this might be their best chance to deal with the Lurker.
Archer held up three fingers. Then two. Then . . .
Someone tapped on Archer’s shoulder. He and Nick spun around, but something clamped down over their lips to silence them. Archer’s eyes widened in recognition.
TWENTY-SIX
DINNER IS SERVED
RIGBY LOOKED OUT THROUGH THE CHAMBER WINDOW AT Old Jack. “Uncle Scovy is running rather late,” he said.
“I’m sure he’ll be along soon,” Kara said, gazing at the long bare dining table. “Madmen aren’t especially well-known for their punctuality.”
“Bezeal made it on time,” Rigby countered.
The merchant’s beady eyes narrowed. “If that was your humor,” he said, “it was dreadfully bad. Not such a surprise from someone so sad. For I am neither man, nor mad.”
Kara chuckled, but Rigby’s ensuing glare silenced her.
A bell chimed in the distance, but it was not Old Jack. “Ah,” said Rigby, “here he is at last.”
In a minute, the hulking figure of the Lurker strode into the chamber. “What?” he said. “No food? I was told there would be quite a feast.”
“Look again,” Rigby said. He gestured toward the table. It blurred, colors and odd shapes melding into the smeared sight. When it was clear once more, the table sat laden with enough food and drink for a score of gluttonous kings. Roast turkey, beef, rack of lamb, dozens of steaming split lobster tails with pools of warm butter at the ready; herb-rubbed potatoes, pots of rice and gravy, piles of fresh vegetables, salads, and fruit jostled for space among a myriad of cak
es, pies, and pastries.
“Impressive,” the Lurker said. “You willed it up all at once.”
“He can do the rabbit in the hat trick too,” Kara quipped. “Show him, Rigby. Take off your top hat.”
“You’re full of laughs tonight,” Rigby said, giving her a tip of the hat. He turned back to his uncle. “Where is Kaylie?” Rigby asked. “We need her here.”
“Oh, she’s here. Come along, Kaylie. No need to be shy. These are friends.”
Kaylie emerged from the dark doorway. Eyes large and blinking, she hurried and stood at the Lurker’s side. “So this is Number 6 Rue de la Morte?” she asked.
“Yes, yes,” the Lurker replied. “The one and only home of the Nightmare Lord. Or used to be.”
“You were a little late, Uncle,” Rigby said. “Any trouble along the way?”
“Nothing I couldn’t handle,” the Lurker replied. “Shall we?” He held a chair out for Kaylie, and once she sat down, he took the next chair.
“We need music,” Kara said. She glanced into the far corner of the chamber, where large crimson tapestries with gold-laced fringes hung. “I much prefer rock, but tonight feels a little more old school to me. How about a quartet?”
Four simple wooden chairs appeared first. Two men and two women in concert attire blinked into existence. They sat down in their respective chairs and, in a flash, each held an instrument: two violins, a viola, and a cello. A moment more, after each had a stand with sheet music, and musicians began to play a lively sonata.
“Well done, Kara,” Rigby said. “It does somehow fit the mood.”
The gatehouse bell rang out once again.
“The time has come for which we have strived,” Bezeal said, taking his seat near the head of the table. “For us, victory will be no longer deprived. It seems our guests have arrived.”
Rigby took his seat with Bezeal at his right hand, Kara at his left. The Lurker and Kaylie sat on Bezeal’s side. Rigby folded his hands, but then he frowned. “Wait,” he muttered, and the music stopped. “I almost forgot.” He flipped his left hand toward the dormant fireplace, and a merry, crackling blaze sprang up.
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