Alistair Grim's Odd Aquaticum (27 page)

“Looks like that daft enchantress is worth her weight in gold,” he said, gazing about. “Which, from what I can tell, there’s no shortage of in this place.”

“Patience, Smears,” said the prince. “You’ll get what’s coming to you.”

“So you’re the fiend who abused my son,” Father said to Mr. Smears. “I had thought to teach you a lesson when all this was over, but no time like the present.”

Mr. Smears sneered and scratched his scar. Father stepped forward to pummel him, but Queen Nimue raised her hand and stopped him where he stood. “Take heed, Alistair Grim,” she said. “Yours is a fight for another day.”

“Your son, did you say?” asked Prince Nightshade. “You mean the lad who stole my animus is
your son
?”

“Forgot to tell you that, I did,” said Mr. Smears. “Come to find out, the little grub worm is a Grim one at that.” Mr. Smears chuckled at his pun, but Nightshade’s demeanor had completely changed. He glanced furiously about the room and unhooked his whip from his belt.

“Where is he?” the prince howled. “Bring me the child of Elizabeth O’Grady!”

“How dare you soil her name with your tongue!” Father cried.

The prince roared and cocked his whip, but before he could let it fly, Queen Nimue waved her hand and froze his arm in midair. Prince Nightshade’s eyes flashed and he smiled.

“Extraordinary,” he said, his demeanor calm again. “So the legends are true. You
are
a most powerful enchantress.”

The prince lowered his whip, and with a wave of his hand, forced the queen to sit down in her throne.

“Please, use your magic on me again,” he said.

“No, Your Majesty,” Father said. “Nightshade is capable of absorbing magical power, and thus any spell you cast on him shall be turned back on you in equal measure.”

Queen Nimue and her sisters looked at one another in confusion, and for the first time since our arrival in Avalon, all of them seemed afraid.

“Well, well, Alistair Grim,” said Prince Nightshade. “It seems you know quite a bit about me.”

“Likewise, from what I gather. My son tells me you’re an expert on our family history, which makes me wonder why you’ve suddenly become so obsessed with him.”

The Prince chuckled knowingly. “Where is he? And where are the others from your Odditorium? I was so looking forward to seeing them again.”

“Thanks to the queen here, the Odditorium and its inhabitants are in a place where you cannot find them. You didn’t think I’d risk you getting hold of my animus, did you?”

“A wise move, Alistair Grim. And speaking of moves, still fancy the odd game of chess, do you?”

“When time allows. But I can’t say I’ve had much of that lately thanks to you.”

“The secret of all good chess players, as you know, is their ability to plan many moves ahead. However,
your
problem was always worrying too much about your own moves and not your opponent’s.” The prince turned round and shouted, “Bring forth the prisoner!”

A hatch opened in one of the sharks and out flew the Black Fairy. Last time I’d seen the foul creature he was trapped inside a bubble of Gwendolyn’s fairy dust. But now it was he who was doing the trapping; for there, struggling in the Black Fairy’s arms, was Mad Malmuirie!

I gasped. “The lost princess!”

Terrified, the queen and her sisters leaped to their feet as the Black Fairy circled high above the throne room—his empty white eyes, oblivious to our invisible presence on the catwalk, passed only inches from our faces. Queen Nimue held up her hand to stop him, but her magic had no effect, and in return the Black Fairy blew apart a section of a pillar with a bolt of his thick black fire.

“You needn’t bother, Your Majesty,” said Prince Nightshade. “My second-in-command is immune to your magic. Therefore, if you want a fight, you’ll have to do it without Merlin’s trickery.”

Captain Fox Tail and his knights began to scuffle with the Shadesmen, but the queen quickly commanded them to stop. The Black Fairy swooped down and, with his massive claw clamped tightly over Mad Malmuirie’s mouth, landed beside the prince.

“Only an Avalonian could get Nightshade through that window,” Dalach whispered to me. “He must have captured Malmuirie after her battle with Kiyoko.”

“Mr. Smears,” I replied. “He told the prince where to find her. He betrayed her to save his own skin!”

“Yes, Your Grace,” Prince Nightshade went on below us. “I too know something about Avalonians. The Black Fairies, of which our friend Bal’el here is the last, were once your mortal enemies. And so this is sizing up to be quite the homecoming, isn’t it?” The prince turned to Father. “But who’d have thought that Alistair Grim would join the party too? Something to do with Oscar Bricklewick, Mr. Smears tells me?”

Father smiled—but it was genuine, I could tell. Prince Nightshade did not know about the professor’s map and the gates off the coast of Blackpool. All that had been revealed
after
Father had disposed of my warding stone in the Cambridge sewers.

“So you’re acquainted with Oscar Bricklewick, are you?” Father asked. “Know him from way back when at university? An old family friend from London, perhaps?”

Father was baiting him, looking for a clue as to Prince Nightshade’s true identity. But the sly old devil didn’t fall for it.

“Nevertheless,” the prince said, ignoring him, “once my crows tracked the doom dogs to Mr. Smears and I learned of your meeting with Bricklewick, I temporarily set my sights on acquiring another bit of Odditoria. One that you, being the fool that you are, simply overlooked.” He stroked Mad Malmuirie’s hair. “The Lady of the Lake, the lost princess of Avalon. After all, who needs a Sky Ripper when you have the heart of an Avalonian to get you here the old-fashioned way?”

Mad Malmuirie squealed and struggled in vain against the Black Fairy’s grip, but without her magic wand, she was no match for him.

“Dear sister, come to your senses,” the queen said gently. “You have returned to Avalon. The prophecy has been fulfilled and all is forgiven. There is no more shame, only the love of your family.”

Mad Malmuirie screamed something unintelligible behind the Black Fairy’s hand. Prince Nightshade chuckled menacingly.

“You were always so predictable, Alistair Grim,” he said. “And so I was not surprised to learn of your quest for Excalibur. However, who could have predicted that a thousand-year-old Avalonian princess would reveal her true identity to Smears here?”

“That she did,” said Mr. Smears. “I overheard Malmuirie jabbering on about it in her sleep. Talkin’ to herself like a regular loony, she was.”

“And so,” said the prince, “after Smears led me to her, the Lady of the Lake and I struck a bargain. Princess Malmuirie would bring me to Alistair Grim, and in return I would recover her stolen magic wand. A simple yet effective strategy on my part, wouldn’t you agree, Alistair, old boy? For as we both know, in the game of chess the most powerful weapon is not a sword but a
queen
.”

Father exchanged a nervous glance with Nimue.

“Go ahead, Your Majesty,” the prince went on. “Command Alistair Grim to give me the animus-powered pocket watch and I shall return your lost princess here. After, of course, we are safely back in our world.”

The Black Fairy removed his hand from Mad Malmuirie’s mouth. “My wand!” she cried, her eyes crazed and darting. “The shadow lady stole my wand!”

“Please, calm yourself, sister,” said Queen Nimue. “All will be well now that you’ve returned to Avalon.”

“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!”