Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum (29 page)

We said our good-byes to Princess Malmuirie and her sisters, and then, with Excalibur in hand, Father and I mounted one of the dragons behind Captain Fox Tail, while Kiyoko rode on a dragon behind Queen Nimue herself. And with an escort from the Royal Guard, the queen led us from the castle and out over the walls.

The sun was low in the sky, alarum bells rang out at us from every direction, and the Avalonians, who had come out from hiding, cheered as we flew overhead. The entire kingdom had come alive with music and dancing. And as we passed over the port city, the inhabitants spilled out onto the rooftops to give us a hero’s welcome.

The lost princess had returned, the prophecy had been fulfilled, and the whole of Avalon was celebrating.

When we reached the harbor, Queen Nimue waved her hand and the Odditorium rose up out of the water. Its protective dust bubble dissolved, revealing Professor Bricklewick and Lord Dreary at the organ and Nigel and Mrs. Pinch in the gunneries. Father held up Excalibur and the professor’s mouth hung open in disbelief. Lord Dreary dragged his handkerchief across his head and steadied himself against the balustrade. The old man appeared on the verge of collapse—from relief, I reckoned.

“But I thought the Odditorium was no longer in Avalon,” I said.

“A bit of a fib, that was,” Father replied. “Queen Nimue insisted on hiding it underwater, but I wasn’t clear why until I realized I needed to die in order to trick Prince Nightshade. After all, if we were going to convince the old devil that the source of his animus had left Avalon, we needed to hide Cleona someplace where he wouldn’t hear her wailing.”

“Cor. That queen is a crafty one, eh?”

“Well, as I mentioned earlier, fairies and prophecies are never what they seem. Fortunately for us, it all turned out well—so far, at least.”

The dragons dropped us off on the Odditorium’s balcony, while Number One flew out to shore to pick up Lorcan Dalach—her black paint would protect him from the sea, of course—and once the Gallownog was safely inside we said our good-byes to the queen. Father handed Excalibur to an awestruck Professor Bricklewick and spun the Odditorium around to face the Guardian of the Gates. I barely had time to wonder at the colossus again, for Father quickly activated the dust bubble and plunged us back beneath the waves.

With evening fast approaching, the ocean depths had grown dark. Father flicked on the searchlight to illuminate our path and continued on with his organ playing. His fingers moved across the keys like lightning, and with a violent lurch the Odditorium headed for the Guardian’s legs.

“Listen up, everyone,” he said into the talkback. “We won’t need to fire the Sky Ripper again, but who knows what will be waiting for us on the other side.”

Cleona yawned. “I’m happy to hear that. I’m still tuckered from that first jump, not to mention all that wailing you caused me. What about Lorcan? Is he all right?”

“He’s fine, love,” Father said. “In fact, it was Lorcan’s quick thinking that saved us. Had he not told me about Kiyoko, I’m not sure what I would have done.”

Father, his expression suddenly grave, fixed his eyes on the Gallownog. Dalach pressed his lips together tightly and dropped his eyes to the floor. He looked almost guilty, I thought.

“Great poppycock, man!” cried Lord Dreary. “Aren’t you going to tell us what happened? What with the way Cleona was carrying on we feared the worst!”

“I’ll explain the details to you later, but this should give you an idea.” Father handed Lord Dreary the Black Mirror. “Show me Abel Wortley,” he said.

The mirror flashed and swirled with sparkling color, and then in its glass appeared the image of Prince Nightshade greeting Father in the throne room. Indeed, Father had secretly captured nearly their entire confrontation, and as the Odditorium pressed onward through the water, Lord Dreary and Professor Bricklewick watched the scene unfold before them in stunned silence.

“So it’s true, then,” I said when it was over. “The prince really is Abel Wortley.”

“But how is that possible?” Lord Dreary asked. “Abel Wortley is dead. We both saw him buried with our own eyes!”

“I have my theories,” Father said, and he lowered his voice. “But, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d rather break this news to Nigel myself. No telling how he might react.”

Father returned the Black Mirror to his coat and my heart sank. Poor Nigel. Somehow, it was Abel Wortley who’d framed him for his own murder. Abel Wortley, the old man for whom he sometimes worked, who kept William Stout from his daughter all these years. And even though I couldn’t fathom how such a thing was possible, I swallowed back a sob at the thought of everything my dear friend had suffered.

“All right, listen up, everyone,” Father said into the talkback. “We’ll be through the gates momentarily. Everyone keep an eye out for sea serpents.”

“I had Number One recalibrate the cannons, sir,” Nigel replied from the lower gunnery. “But I can’t guarantee they’ll work.”

“You needn’t worry about that,” Father said. “We’ve got something much more effective now.” He removed Malmuirie’s magic wand from his coat and handed it to Kiyoko. “You
will
show me how to use this one day, won’t you?”

The shinobi smiled. “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.”

And then, as Father steered the Odditorium past the Guardian’s massive stone legs, the statue simply dissolved before our eyes.

“It worked!” said Lord Dreary. “We made it to the other side!”

The ocean had grown dark in our world too, I imagined, but I could hardly tell in the gleam from the searchlight. Nevertheless, I shivered at the thought of what lay in the murky depths beyond its reach. And as if reading my thoughts, Mrs. Pinch cried out over the talkback, “The monsters are back, sir!”

“Good eyes, Mrs. Pinch,” Father replied. He steered the Odditorium to face them, and the monsters’ eyes flared up like torches in the searchlight. They were close too, the largest of the three once again leading the charge. But before the beast could open its jaws to chomp us, Kiyoko fired the magic wand through the dust shield. The bolt of white lightning found its target smack between the eyes, and then the monster was sinking, its head streaming with blood and bits of flesh until it disappeared from view.

Undaunted, the pair of remaining serpents kept coming. Kiyoko made quick work of them too, and soon the Odditorium was heading for the surface. Finally, we burst out of the ocean and rose high into the air. Father turned off the dust bubble, and what a beautiful sight there was to behold. The setting sun had painted the sky in low-hanging strips of pink and orange. The sea was calm and smooth as glass, and far off on the horizon I spied the jagged silhouette of the coastline.

“Blackpool,” Father muttered. His eyes had grown sad. He’s thinking of Mother again, I thought. There was something more in his gaze, though, as if he were searching for something out there in the distance. And perhaps because of what I had seen in the Avalonian temple, I began to wonder if he was asking the same questions I was. Why, of all places, should Elizabeth O’Grady’s body have been found so close to the Gates of Avalon? Did she know of their existence, and had she journeyed to the North Country with some purpose other than leaving me with the Yellow Fairy?

“Don’t mind if I conk out for a bit, do you, Uncle?” Cleona asked from the talkback. “I can barely keep my eyes open.”

Startled, Father was about to answer, but Dalach spoke up in his place. “Might I have a word with you first?”

A long silence crackled back, and then Cleona said, “Aye, you might.”

As Dalach turned to leave, Father rose from the organ and reached out for the spirit’s arm. His fingers passed right through him, but their eyes held, and this time the Gallownog did not look away.

“I had hoped you might reconsider your business with Cleona,” Father said. “We couldn’t have gotten this far without you and…well…let’s just say my offer to join our family here at the Odditorium still stands.”

Lorcan Dalach’s eyes were hard and unblinking. “I gave you my word that I would help you defeat Prince Nightshade. After that, you’re on your own.”

Father nodded solemnly, and then the Gallownog drifted into the library and disappeared up through the ceiling. Flicking on the talkback, Father ordered Nigel to remain on lookout in the lower gunnery and asked Mrs. Pinch to fix us supper. Then he plotted our course into the organ, set the helm to autopilot, and rushed over to his desk with the rest of us following close behind.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” I said, “but you don’t really think the Gallownog will try to capture Cleona again, do you? It’s obvious they still care for one another.”

“I have every faith that Lorcan Dalach will keep his word—both to us and the Council of Elders.” Father began flipping through the book he’d loaned to Professor Bricklewick earlier—
Protective Charms for the Necromancer
. “However, we’ll need the Gallownog on our side if we’re going to stop Wortley before he gets to London.”

“London?” asked Professor Bricklewick.

“How do you know Wortley’s headed for London?” asked Lord Dreary.

“You recall how the old man and his housekeeper were murdered?” Father asked.

“A dastardly deed if ever there was one,” Lord Dreary said with a shiver. “Stabbed to death, they were, with one of Abel’s antique daggers.”

“A
transmutation
dagger, to be exact,” Father said, and he held up the book for all of us to see. The page to which he’d turned showed an illustration of a long, thin dagger with a cluster of strange symbols scrawled beside it.

“Good heavens!” cried Lord Dreary. “That looks just like the murder weapon!”

“That’s because it
is
the murder weapon.”

“But of course,” said Professor Bricklewick. “The transmutation dagger is the only one of its kind known to exist. Its origin remains a mystery, but according to legend, the transmutation dagger is said to have the power to transfer a person’s spirit into a magical receptacle that will shelter it.”

“Shelter? You mean from the doom dogs?” Kiyoko asked.

The professor nodded. “Precisely. The technical term for such a receptacle is solphylax, and it can be anything, really—an urn, a chest, even jewelry and such. But its purpose is always the same. A solphylax allows a person’s spirit to exist outside its body without being drawn into the Land of the Dead.”

“The prince’s armor!” I cried. “That’s his solphylax!”

“Very good, my young apprentice,” Father said. “Wortley used his transmutation dagger on
himself
. He transferred his own spirit into his suit of magical armor, after which he framed Nigel for his murder and slipped away from London reborn as Prince Nightshade. What a fool I was not to have recognized the murder weapon as Odditoria—not to mention that the answer has been right here in my library all these years!”

Father slammed the book shut and rubbed his eyes in frustration.

“It makes perfect sense,” said Professor Bricklewick. “And as Wortley was getting on in years, I’ll wager he initially acquired the transmutation dagger with the hopes of capturing a spirit and using its animus to prolong his life. Little did he know that he would need a spirit like Cleona—a spirit pure of heart and uncorrupted by its own intentions—for such a thing to work.”

“Yes,” Father said. “No telling how many people fell victim to his little scheme before he realized their spirits would not give him the animus he desired.”

A heavy silence hung about the room, all of us shuddering at the thought of Abel Wortley gadding about London offing people with his transmutation dagger.

“But this armor of his,” Lord Dreary said finally. “Where did he get it?”

“Perhaps our resident Regius Professor of Modern History would care to handle this one,” Father said.

Professor Bricklewick cleared his throat. “Well, judging from the queen’s comments and what I saw in the mirror, I would venture to guess Prince Nightshade’s armor once belonged to the Black Knight himself.”

“The Black Knight?” asked Lord Dreary. “You mean the archenemy of the Knights of the Round Table?”

“That I do, old friend. The Black Knight appears in one form or another throughout Arthurian legend, invariably possessing some sort of supernatural power. Indeed, according to one legend, the Black Knight’s armor held the ghost of an ancient Roman gladiator. Regardless, as we all know Abel Wortley was a collector of antiquities, it’s clear that one of his early finds was the armor in question—fortified, no doubt, by a bit of his own black magic.”

“The Return of the Black Knight,” I mumbled.

“Something more to add, son?” Father asked, and Kiyoko and I related what we’d seen in the temple—including the panel of my mother handing me over to the Yellow Fairy and the tiles forming themselves into pictures of Mack and Moral’s egg.

“An intriguing turn of events,” Father said. “And given the fact that prophecies are never what they seem, I would submit that all this fits into the mix in ways that—how did the queen put it? Ah, yes—in ways that not even I can fathom at present.”

“But this temple,” Kiyoko said. “What purpose does it serve?”

“I cannot say for certain without having a look at it,” Father said, rising. “However, as we will not be traveling back to Avalon anytime soon, there’s no point in speculating ourselves silly.”

Father mounted the ladder and returned the book of charms to its shelf.

“Yes, but that scene you played for us in the mirror,” said Professor Bricklewick. “I saw for myself how Wortley reacted when he learned that Grubb was your son. He specifically called him the child of Elizabeth O’Grady. Don’t you think that odd, Alistair, especially in light of what the boy just told us?”

“Yes,” Father replied.

“Do you think it’s possible, then, that Wortley could’ve known about Elizabeth giving up a child? Do you think he might have had something to do with her disappearance, or at least knows why she left?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes, but don’t you think—”

“I don’t know what to think!” Father snapped, and the room grew silent. My heart was pounding. Clearly Father had been entertaining the same idea that Wortley knew more than he was letting on—but then he sighed and descended the ladder.