by Brandon Mull
Lindy flew over the treetops, still pointing down at the Hermit as she had while over the water. “He’s fast,” she told Nate. “Some of the undergrowth is pretty dense, but he just charges right through it.”
At the far side of the trees, the Hermit sprinted into a field. Lindy looked over at Nate expectantly.
“Let him gain a little more distance,” Nate said. “I don’t want the Subs catching up. We’re going to win today.”
They tracked him across the field, over some rough terrain, and into a field beyond. “The Subs gave up,” Lindy said, looking back. “They’re returning to the water.”
Nate swooped down. The Hermit’s speed might seem impressive to somebody chasing him on the ground, but Nate could have flown circles around him. Once he came too close to miss, Nate discharged the pepper spray. The Hermit collapsed, writhing and shrieking.
Nate and Lindy landed a few yards away from their quarry. Back arched, tendons standing out, the Hermit rocked from side to side, making strangled sounds.
“We have more,” Nate warned. “Don’t make us use it.”
Still in agony, the Hermit waved a hand. “No more! No more. My skin is very sensitive.”
Seeing how pathetic the Hermit now looked, and hearing the anguish in his voice, Nate felt a little guilty for spraying him. “You shot our friend,” Nate said.
“Only after you chased and shot me,” the Hermit countered, his voice strained, his legs twitching. “How dare you blame me?”
“We need the Gate,” Nate said.
Scowling, the Hermit sat up and jerked open his backpack.
“No tricks,” Nate said, holding out the pepper spray.
The Hermit held up a box, his lips quivering with pain and anger. “This is not the Gate,” he explained. “Nor is it a trick. You’ll find the Gate in here.”
Wincing and clutching his shoulder, the Hermit rose to his knees. He peeled open the box, and it promptly unfolded into a large barn made of dark wood. Nate took a step back, staring at the impossible structure.
“How do you do that?” Lindy asked.
“I have my secrets,” the Hermit said. “Same as any magician.”
“I need to tell you something,” Nate said. “Will you listen?”
The Hermit sneered. “Long as you’re holding that attack spray, I’m all ears.”
“You don’t want Jonas White to have the Gate,” Nate said.
“Of course I don’t,” the Hermit said. “But thanks for rubbing it in.”
“Neither do we,” Nate pledged earnestly. “I’m serious. He kidnapped our friends. We’re only helping him until we can rescue them. I don’t want him to find Uweya.”
“Handing over the Gate will move him a major step toward that end,” the Hermit cautioned.
“We’re taking it for now,” Nate said firmly. “But we don’t want it permanently. Before this is over, I’m going to take it back from Jonas, and then I’ll return it to you.”
With one eye squinted more than the other, the Hermit regarded Nate. “Then you’re playing a dangerous game, boy. Jonas White is a magician of no small talent. He’s made a simulacrum of you, I can see that plain as sunrise. Crossing him won’t be as easy as you suppose.”
Nate shrugged. “I’m not expecting it to be easy. But I’m going to do it. And I want to return the Gate to you afterward. We’re only taking it to help our friends.”
The Hermit sighed. “Much as I despise what you’re doing, I hear no falsehood in your words.” He extended an arm. “Travel that way some miles, and you’ll find three hills of nearly equal height. For the next fortnight, I’ll be in a cave on the north side of the farthest.”
“Fortnight?” Nate asked.
“Two weeks,” Lindy supplied.
“Bring back the Gate, and I’ll no longer count you an enemy,” the Hermit said. “But don’t fail. If Jonas gets his hands on Uweya, not much else will matter.”
“I’ll do my best,” Nate said.
“Want to really do your best?” the Hermit asked. “Let me go. Tell Jonas I got away. I’ll run. I’ll take the Gate beyond his reach.”
“He has other helpers,” Nate said. “And he found some way to track you. I have to do this.”
The Hermit bowed his head. “Into the barn, then. You’ll find the Gate in a trunk in the loft.”
“Lindy,” Nate said, “go get it. I’ll watch him.”
The Hermit frowned. “You should both go. You may need to help each other. It’s quite heavy.”
“Then you come too,” Nate said.
“I can’t enter,” the Hermit insisted. “If I go inside, the barn could collapse.”
“If we leave you out here, I’m sure it will collapse,” Nate replied. “With us in it.”
The Hermit folded his arms.
“I hit you with a dart,” Lindy said. “I see it in your back.”
“I felt the sedative in my system,” the Hermit replied. “I’m good at countering such things. The burning spray? Not so much. Nothing has hurt me like that in a great while.”
“We could tell,” Nate said. “Lindy, I’ll watch him. Use the Finder’s Dust.”
“I’ll be right back,” Lindy said, flying off.
Nate watched the Hermit steadily until she returned. The Hermit seemed fidgety and displeased, but he made no aggressive move.
“Wasn’t hard to find,” Lindy said. “It’s kind of heavy. Not more than I could manage.”
“Solid stone,” the Hermit said.
She held a rectangular block of light-colored stone the size of a hardcover book. Set into the stone was an elaborate gate locked with a crossbar on either side.
“What do we do with it?” Nate asked.
“Burn me if you wish,” the Hermit replied, “but I honestly hope you never find out. Sadly, I fear Jonas White already knows.”
Chapter Thirteen
Prisoners
Pigeon cruised through the water like no creature under the sea. He didn’t need to kick his feet or stroke with his hands. The effort never tired him. His inexplicable propulsion seemed much like the flying he saw the Jets do, except it worked only in the water.
The temperature felt perfect, neither too warm nor too cold. In the open water, he could reach impressive speeds that were impossible in the close confines of the training center pool. The water was too dark for him to see anything, but he could feel for miles using a sense that seemed a blend of touch, sight, and hearing. He could feel the surface of the water above, the ground below, the shorelines at either side, and the multitude of fish and plants around him. He could sense the wreckage of the sailboat and the bulky presence of the Striker in the distance, and he could clearly discern the three other Subs around him.
“Do we try to head them off?” Drew asked. “Maybe we can steal the Gate from them last minute, just before they enter Arcadeland.”
Speaking underwater felt just as natural as speaking in air. Better, actually, because their voices seemed to carry farther.
“We swim faster than the Jets could guess,” Pigeon said. “But they’re still faster than us. If we ambush them outside of Arcadeland, we’ll be out of our element, and they’ll be flying. Our chance was when the Hermit was in the water. We blew it. It’s over.”
“Are we sure they got it?” Mindy asked. She had been temporarily stunned when she was clobbered by the boom. Steven, the fourth Sub, had stayed behind to tend to her. She claimed to feel fine now.
“Sure as we can be,” Pigeon replied. “The Jets were in the air, hot on his trail. The Hermit was unarmed. No way Nate blew an advantage like that.”
“The Hermit might have had more tricks in his backpack,” Steven said. “Like the sailboat.”
“Possibly,” Pigeon conceded. “Even if the Jets fail, it just means they’ll lose their stamps along with us. Either way, the party is over.”
“You’re giving up too easily,” Mindy complained. “Why not race back to Arcadeland and see if we can intercept it?
One of the Jets got hurt. We’ll probably outnumber the ones with the Gate.”
“Sure, they can fly,” Drew said. “But they’ll have to enter through a door. Maybe they’ll get sloppy.”
“Worth a try,” Pigeon said, trying to hide his lack of enthusiasm. He didn’t want to beat the Jets. And he didn’t think the Subs had much chance of doing so even if they tried their hardest. “Lead on.”
Pigeon followed the others, trying to enjoy the swim. They should have explored big, open water before tonight. It was a whole different experience from the training room pool or the canal where they had sometimes practiced after hours. It felt amazing to zoom effortlessly through the water, breathing easily. He had no fear of colliding with obstacles or encountering danger because he could sense everything around him more clearly than with sight on a bright day. He could feel the textures of surfaces he was not touching. He could sense tiny particles in the water hundreds of yards away. When he lost his stamp, he would miss the experience of flying through water with his senses enhanced.
Drew backtracked toward Arcadeland at top speed. Pigeon tried not to worry about Nate and Lindy. The Hermit had run off into the trees at an unmatchable pace. After the Subs had lost him in the darkness, there had been nothing they could do to catch him.
Nate and Lindy had tranquilizer guns, they could fly, and they were smart. He had to trust that they would be all right.
As they glided through the water, the other Subs talked about what Arcadeland doors they would cover to try to intercept the Gate. Pigeon chimed in just enough to make it seem like he cared. He wasn’t worried about the Subs stopping Nate. He doubted whether any amount of planning would make any difference.
When they finally exited the water, a car awaited to take them to Arcadeland. The ride had been prearranged through Todd, for a small fee. All of the Subs had chipped in.
Pigeon let Drew claim shotgun, content to sit in the back with Steven and Mindy. What would he do without any future stamps? For one thing, he could start working more closely with Mr. Stott and the Battiatos again. Also, once his latest sub stamp wore off, he should be able to use magical candy again.
The car came to a stop in the Arcadeland lot. The facility was closed. Todd and Cleon stood out front.
Drew and the other Subs hurried out of the car, but Cleon raised his hands calmingly. “No rush,” he said. “The Jets beat you here with the Gate.”
“It’s over?” Mindy asked.
“This phase of the contest is done,” Todd explained. “But your involvement hasn’t ended yet. Mr. White wants to speak with you all about a special assignment.”
“And take away our stamps,” Pigeon said.
Cleon held up an objecting finger. “That’s for him to decide.” He opened one of the front doors.
Katie Sung awaited them inside, clipboard in hand. The arcade had only a fraction of its normal lights on. The games created a flickering twilight, mostly blues and reds. Katie smiled professionally.
“Welcome back, Subs,” she said. “We all really appreciate your hard work and dedication. Rest assured, you won’t leave without some impressive consolation prizes. Mr. White wants to meet personally with you all regarding a bonus assignment.”
“Are we losing our stamps?” Drew asked unhappily. “I worked hard for my stamp.”
“Mr. White is calling the shots,” Katie said. “Let’s go find out how he feels about the matter.”
Pigeon wasn’t sure he wanted to know how Jonas White felt.
They followed Katie through an EMPLOYEES ONLY door, then down a hall to a room they hadn’t previously visited. Mr. White was not awaiting them. Instead, the four Subs waited together in the empty room with Katie.
“He’s coming?” Pigeon asked.
“He’ll just be a moment,” Katie replied. “The Jets didn’t beat you four by much. I expect that he’s still congratulating them.”
“And telling them that they’ll get our stamps,” Mindy grumbled.
“Don’t be a sore loser,” Katie chided. “You would have happily taken theirs.”
“How is Risa?” Pigeon asked. “It looked like she got hurt.”
“She’ll be fine,” Katie said. “She’s already good as new. Mr. White can work wonders with healing if he has a simulacrum of you.”
“Wait a minute,” Steven said urgently. “What’s going on? I can’t move!”
“He can do other things too,” Katie said. “Don’t panic, or he’ll render you incapable of speech as well.”
“I can’t move either,” Mindy announced.
Pigeon flexed his fingers and toes. He still felt fine. Should he run?
Drew made a dash for the door, falling rigidly to the floor before he was halfway there. “What’s happening?” he cried, lying in an unnatural pose.
“You should keep still,” Katie advised. “There is no escaping this. You’ll be more comfortable if you relax.”
Pigeon was trying to decide what position would be least annoying when he felt his body lock up. He retained sensation in his limbs, but nothing would move. He couldn’t turn his head. He couldn’t even glance around—his eyeballs were frozen in place. He could breathe. He could swallow. He could blink.
“What’s he doing?” Pigeon asked, fighting to keep the panic out of his voice. At least his lips and jaw could move. At least he could speak.
“I expect he’s preparing you for unwelcome news,” Katie answered. “We’ll know shortly.”
“Can I at least stand up?” Drew asked.
“You forfeited that right when you attempted to flee,” Katie said.
Focusing all of his will to the task, Pigeon tried to twitch his thumb. Nothing happened. It was as if his extremities were no longer accepting messages from his brain. He tried to shift his glance, but his eyeballs remained fixed.
A door opened, and Jonas White toddled into the room. Unable to look directly at him, Pigeon had to content himself with monitoring the magician peripherally. Jonas wore slippers and a silky robe embroidered with a pattern of gold, purple, and black diamonds. He came to a stop facing them.
“My Subs,” he said affectionately. “It would have been quite a coup had you brought home the Gate. But your presence was necessary. Without you there, the Hermit might have fled deep underwater and escaped. Your aquatic abilities may still play a role in upcoming challenges, but alas, those talents will be wielded by others.”
“Why freeze us?” Mindy asked defiantly.
“Out of concern for your welfare,” Jonas replied smoothly. “You may have reacted poorly to some of my news. Out of the water, you’re as vulnerable as any ordinary schoolchildren, and I would hate to see any harm befall you.”
“What news?” Pigeon asked.
Jonas placed his hands behind his back. “This treasure hunt is a very sensitive matter. Now that you have lost your stamps to the Jets, I cannot permit you to leave here until our competition is over.”
“What?” Drew exclaimed.
“You never said anything about this!” Steven accused.
“My parents will freak out,” Mindy warned.
Jonas shuffled over to Mindy and patted her shoulder. “I have seen to it that your parents will disregard your disappearances. Nobody will even realize you’re gone. At the end of all this, I’ll deliver the four of you safe and sound.”
“How long?” Pigeon asked.
“As long as it takes,” Jonas answered. “Hopefully not more than a week.”
“We’ll be paralyzed like this the whole time?” Drew fretted.
Jonas furrowed his brow. “Nonsense. That would be tedious for me. Taxing. You’ll remain inert until I deliver you to your cells.”
“Cells?” Steven cried hysterically.
Jonas waved a hand. “I could call them guest rooms, but that would be an exaggeration. You will have food, shelter—the basic necessities. Not much more. Don’t try to escape. Don’t test me. Do not forget that I have your simulacra. I was gentle this time. Yo
u had not defied me. I am only holding you here as a necessary evil. But it is necessary.” His voice hardened. “If you cross me, I will not be gentle.”
Pigeon could feel himself sweating. Unable to move, he was more aware of his perspiration than usual. He was trapped in his own body. He had never felt so helpless. He tried to think of a way out of this. Nothing came to mind.
“How will we get to our cells?” Mindy asked.
“Don’t worry about the logistics,” Jonas said amiably. “I’ll see to that. Try to relax and make the best of your situation. You will be amply rewarded upon release. That is all.”
Jonas turned and shuffled toward the door. Pigeon realized he might not get another chance to ask questions, but no sensible inquiries came to mind. If he asked about John Dart or Mozag, it would only arouse suspicion of Nate and the others. His best chance to gain information might be to simply keep his eyes and ears open as a prisoner.
After Jonas left the room, Katie approached Pigeon. Her hands traveled over him probingly. She found his stamp and kept it. She disarmed him. But fortunately she missed the tracking button.
Todd and Cleon loaded Pigeon onto a dolly, and Todd wheeled him from the room. They passed along industrial halls, turning a couple of corners before reaching an elevator.
“Are we going underground?” Pigeon said.
“You’ll see,” Todd replied, pushing the call button.
“Will he really release us?” Pigeon asked.
“Be a good prisoner, and everything should work out fine,” Todd replied.
When the elevator doors opened, Todd wheeled Pigeon inside. Pigeon was left facing the rear of the elevator. He heard the doors close, felt the elevator start descending, and then felt it stop. He heard the doors open, and Todd wheeled him out into a drab, concrete hall.
They traveled down the hall a considerable distance, passing few doorways or intersecting corridors. At last the hallway ended at a T-shaped intersection with another hall. Todd turned left, then made a few other turns before stopping outside a heavy wooden door. He unlocked it with a key and trundled Pigeon inside.
