Kingdom Keepers VII Page 24

  “They’ll stop at nothing,” Maybeck says, more bluntly than Philby would have. “So if we want to stay healthy, if we want to help Finn and Willa, we’d better stay all clear.”

  They separate into two groups and head away from each other, moving in opposite directions.

  Charlene feels an uncharacteristic shiver overtake her. “I don’t like this,” she says to Maybeck.

  * * *

  “That’s it!” Finn says, spotting the railroad tracks. He and Willa skid to a stop. “We jump the train and ride it around to the entrance. The OTs think we’re over here somewhere. Security is expecting us to leave the park.”

  “But if we get to the front entrance, we’ll be entering the park to reach the Plaza! And going in the direction opposite to the one they expect. That’s brilliant!” Willa pauses. “But guests will see us getting on the train.”

  “Only if we get on the train.”

  “I’m assuming you’re going to explain that,” Willa says.

  “You assume correctly.”

  * * *

  “You okay?” Jess asks.

  “No,” Amanda says.

  Philby stays several yards ahead of them, walking quickly toward New Orleans Square. Maybeck and Charlene are headed for Fantasyland; from there, they’ll circle back around into Frontierland.

  “The park’s too big. We’ll never find him.” Amanda sounds like she’s going to cry.

  “Maybe Willa’s seen him. Maybe she’s with him.”

  “She can’t help him the way I can.” Amanda clenches her fists, knowing the power she has locked away in her palms. It started so small, moving a toy an inch or two every so often. She never thought anything of it, had no idea others couldn’t do the same thing. It wasn’t until she was eleven years old that inches became feet, that a few ounces became many pounds. Then many, many pounds. Once she got angry at her foster mother and slammed the door to her room without touching it. That’s when she’d scared herself for the first time, and knew other people couldn’t do that for sure.

  “We have to stay positive,” Jess says.

  “You shouldn’t be talking to me,” Amanda snaps. “You’re supposed to see what’s coming. You’re supposed to help me find him. Do that, will you please? Help me find him!”

  They walk in silence, passing the Mark Twain Riverboat docks.

  “I’m sorry.” Amanda interlaces her fingers behind her head, leaning back into the space of her palms. “Ugh! I’m about to explode.”

  “Save your energy,” Jess says gently. “We may need it.”

  They navigate around an approaching family, the kids carrying helium balloons.

  “They’re all so happy, you know? I can’t stand that. They have no idea what’s going on!”

  “Don’t go blaming the magic.”

  “No, I suppose not.”

  “You care about him, Amanda. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

  “It goes so far beyond that…” Amanda says, her throat tightening. “I’ve let this get out of hand.”

  “Your feelings are genuine. They can’t hurt anyone. They’re part of the magic. Maybe they are the magic. It’s good you care—having something to care about is the best. That’s why we’re here, you know? And I don’t mean Disney-land.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “Then trust it. Go with it.”

  “As if I have a choice!” Amanda says. She stifles the laugh that wants to escape. “I’ve tried not to care about him. Believe me, I’ve tried.”

  A train whistle sounds, floating over the park. Jess stops. She stands absolutely still and closes her eyes, squinting.

  Amanda opens her mouth to speak, but recognizes what’s happening. She takes several steps toward Jess and extends her arms, forming a protective barrier around her, keeping her from being bumped by any park guests. How badly she wants to say something, to encourage Jess to “see” visions that will help them find Finn.

  But all she can do is wait.

  * * *

  Charlene feels a chill as she and Maybeck pass through the castle’s interior. It’s not a Maleficent chill, not something from outside, but from inside. The passageway is overcrowded; it smells of people, food, and sunscreen, but the cold is the cold of suspicion, the awful sensation of a lack of privacy.

  “Someone’s watching us,” she says.

  “Well, that’s plain creepy,” Maybeck says. “Why would you say that?”

  “Because it’s true. Someone’s watching us.”

  “Heard you the first time.”

  “Maybe from inside the walk-through,” she says.

  “The what?”

  “We don’t have a castle walk-through in the Magic Kingdom. It’s only here. It’s a hallway that starts on one side, goes over this passage, and comes out the other side.”

  “I don’t love the sound of that.”

  “It’s Sleeping Beauty Castle. That means Maleficent.”

  “Well, she’s gone. Finn took care of that. So we can scratch her off the list.”

  “Would you take me seriously, please?”

  “I take you way too seriously.”

  “Really?” Charlene says hopefully.

  “No,” Maybeck cracks.

  “Then why did you say that? What do you mean by ‘seriously’?”

  “Leave it, would you?”

  “Of course I won’t leave it! This is important to me.”

  “What happened to our being watched?” he asks.

  Charlene steals a glance at the castle wall, still feeling eyes on her. “I just know these things,” she says. “Someone’s watching me.”

  “Then I’m going to punch them in the face.”

  She yelps a tiny laugh, a bubble bursting from within her.

  Maybeck reaches out, but his hand passes through her DHI arm. “Okay,” he says. “I feel it, too.”

  “Don’t mess with me!” She’s angry.

  “I’m not messing with you. But Maleficent’s gone, Charlie.”

  “We don’t know what she’s capable of. What gone even means with her. Besides, the Evil Queen’s attraction is right next door.”

  “Say what?”

  “Snow White’s Scary Adventures. It’s up on the left there,” Charlene says, pointing. Maybeck stops walking, and she stops beside him. “Guess who wouldn’t seem out of place at all if she were seen around here?”

  “As in, cruising the castle walk-through and spying on kids?”

  “The Cryptos are convinced that the Queen and Tia Dalma and…you know, the Beast…escaped the temple. Right? If they’re back in the park, where will they go? Tia Dalma to Pirates, the…big boy to Fantasmic!, and the Evil Queen to the next door on the left.”

  “She’d bring Finn here if she caught him,” Maybeck says. “We’re going to look for her in the walk-through.”

  “That’s crazy.”

  “Maybe so. After that, we’re going to her ride, and to Pirates and Fantasmic! if we have to.” He takes her by the arm, confirming she’s no longer pure DHI. “You stand guard. I’ll go through.”

  “No way! What if you get into trouble? How am I supposed to know?” Charlene asks. “It’s a bad plan. Besides, no offense, but I’m the action figure here.”

  “Seriously? You’re going to go there?”

  “We stay a team,” she says. “That’s the whole reason we’re in this mess—Philby shouldn’t have crossed Finn over alone.”

  Maybeck nods, and they start off again in the direction of the attraction. “She uses witchcraft, conjuring, and transfiguration,” he says. “The body changes, but not the eyes. The eyes are always the same.”

  “You might be able to see something like that, but I can’t,” Charlene says.

  “You’d better trust me if I do.” He steps back, allowing her to lead him to the door of the walk-through.

  * * *

  “The train,” Jess says, opening her eyes.

  Amanda calls out for Philby, who backtracks begrud
gingly, dragging his feet as he returns to them.

  “What?” he says.

  “I saw them running for the train,” Jess says. “They’re together. Finn and Willa.”

  “Brilliant!” Philby says. “It’s the perfect way to get around the park—the least exposure by far.”

  “I’m not always right,” Jess reminds him.

  “This time you are,” he says.

  “The train whistled a minute ago,” Amanda says, pointing in the general direction of Big Thunder Mountain. “Over there.”

  “You sure?” Philby asks.

  “No. But I think so.”

  “Are you always so honest?”

  “Yes.”

  “No wonder he likes you,” Philby says. His professor brain engages as his DHI eyes fix on a distant point, one only he can see. “The next stop is Toontown. If we hurry, we just might make it.”

  * * *

  An oak-trimmed glass case holds a large leather-bound book open to the page upon which the Sleeping Beauty story begins. It’s colorful, all simple drawings and fine calligraphy.

  “‘In a faraway land, long, long ago,’” Charlene reads aloud.

  The walk-through is an authentic castle passageway: thick stone walls, dim and shadowy lighting, and narrow windows set back in deep embrasures. Charlene’s words bounce and echo in the narrow space. One small window is positioned just above the bookcase. No light streams through; the glass is pitch-black, giving Maybeck a bad feeling.

  “Let’s keep moving. I don’t think we want to stand in any one place for too long.” Charlene nods. She closes her eyes and takes a deep, cleansing breath.

  Maybeck performs a similar exercise, attempting to maintain all clear. Being stuck in v1.6 is like being held back a year in school—something Maybeck knows about from personal experience. The limits frustrate him; he’s constantly forced to remind himself that he’s not in 2.0, that he’s bound to the restrictions of the new system’s predecessor.

  They move on, passing more leather-bound pages that advance the fairy tale, as well as small stained-glass windows.

  A few minutes later, they find themselves back outside.

  To their right, the lights in the Castle Heraldry Shoppe flicker repeatedly, pulling them in that direction.

  Charlene leans her head through the door. “Weird…there aren’t any Cast Members. It’s empty.”

  Maybeck takes a look, then steps inside with her. “Hello?”

  “You think it’s closed?” Charlene says.

  Maybeck eyes a vertical glass case with a red velvet backdrop; it contains a shield emblazoned with a lion crest and a multitude of swords and axes. At the top of the case is mounted a dragon gargoyle holding two drinking goblets in the claws of its forefeet. Its lower right talons grip a curled snake. Maybeck finds the image disturbing; he feels certain it must be symbolic but has no idea what it might mean.

  “Cups can signify punishment being doled out,” Charlene says over his shoulder, startling him. “The Bible is filled with references to cups and God’s fury. The contents are bitter, not fit to drink. Sometimes blood.”

  “Cheery!”

  “The snake represents the underworld. The fact that the dragon has killed the snake probably means the dragon is good, that it’s conquered the underworld.”

  “She, not it. We know who the dragon is,” he counters, “and she’s not good. Was not good.” He pauses, staring into the darkness, and then speaks again, slowly. “If Maleficent conquered the underworld and was the judge handing out sentences in this one, what does that mean, now that she’s dead? More important to us: if she had control of the underworld, could you actually kill her, or is it more like mole whacking? You know, is she just going to pop up somewhere else?”

  “It’s just a symbol, Maybeck.”

  “It’s Disneyland,” Maybeck says, resolutely. “Nothing is ‘just’ anything. Everything has meaning, including this.”

  They continue along the corridor, down the stairs.

  “You think the Queen took over her powers,” Charlene says. A statement, not a question.

  “After seeing this, I’m not sure anyone took over anything. How can you kill something that’s already dead? If you’ve conquered the underworld, you’re playing on their field, not ours.”

  “So Finn killed her, but not really?” Charlene gasps. “Are you kidding me?”

  “I’m just saying…it’s possible. Anything’s possible.”

  A crash of breaking glass knocks Charlene and Maybeck to the floor and sends them scrambling backward. A full set of armor—about five feet tall and of Japanese design—hauls a samurai sword out of the display case, loosing it from its scabbard. The Asian Warrior breaks his trailing foot off from his pedestal and lumbers forward, taking giant steps despite his diminutive height. He brings the sword down onto Maybeck’s arm with such force that the blade chips a piece of the stone beneath the boy’s holographic limb.

  His failure to sever the arm catches the Asian Warrior by surprise. His helmet rocks from side to side in curiosity, the gaze of his invisible eyes trained first on Maybeck, then Charlene.

  Maybeck is slow to move, hindered by his injured leg, but not Charlene. She springs to her feet and cartwheels in front of the warrior, distracting him. Arriving at the shattered display case, she takes hold of an Arabian sword; it’s smaller, lighter, curved—more to her size and liking than the long samurai sword would be.

  In the time it takes the Asian Warrior to hoist his sword, Charlene connects with a blow, knocking him off balance and causing him to stumble. Maybeck crab-crawls backward out of danger.

  Charlene wields the sword nimbly, slicing left and right. The warrior blocks the first of her attempts, but the samurai sword is too long, too slow to defend the next stroke.

  Another crash to their right. A four-foot tall set of armor with a white plume on its helmet marches stiffly toward Charlene, a sharpened lance in its hands. Charlene feels suddenly, uncomfortably aware that she is wearing next to nothing. The Asian Warrior regains his balance, raising his samurai sword. Charlene turns, facing an empty space between the lancer and the warrior.

  A blur from the display case—Maybeck; he’s in midair, a sword in hand. He slices off the end of the lance and collides with the smaller knight, knocking him to the floor. The creature breaks apart: arm and leg armor in scattered pieces, breastplate.

  Charlene spins to face the Asian Warrior, blocking a sword strike intended for Maybeck. She and the warrior go at it, swords clanging, the warrior advancing confidently with each contact. Charlene loses ground one step at a time; she’s backed up toward the wall. Another few steps and she’ll be trapped, with too little room to maneuver her weapon in front of her.

  She catches a glimpse of movement behind Maybeck.

  “Terry!”

  Maybeck spins, and lucks out—he’s holding his sword exactly where it’s needed. A six-foot-tall set of knight’s armor wearing an elaborately decorated helmet has broken loose from the corner. Armed with an ax from the Lionheart case, the knight is prepared to reduce Maybeck to mince pie.

  Swish! The ax slices the air.

  Maybeck’s limbs tingle; there’s no way he’s all clear. He makes sword contact with the ax, defending himself and trying to hold his ground, but the knight is big and strong and entirely encased in heavy armor. The one or two blows Maybeck manages to land seem to stun him only briefly. It’s like chopping at a tree trunk with a kitchen knife.

  “We…get—get them,” Maybeck stutters to Charlene, “to…to hit each other…and, and maybe…we get out of this.”

  She’s fighting for her life. The Asian Warrior advances steadily, its joints loosened up now, the samurai sword swinging effortlessly.

  Maybeck adjusts, moving back in order to stand shoulder to shoulder with Charlene.

  “Can you all clear?” Maybeck asks.

  “No idea,” she answers. “Doubt it.”

  “We have to!”

  They each
block a blow, metal clanking on metal. Maybeck’s no match for the behemoth. An attempt to decapitate him mercifully strikes the Lionheart case as Maybeck ducks, or the boy would be talking from the floor.

  “How quickly can you…can you—all clear?” He’s stuttering, struggling to calm himself and drive the needles from his limbs.

  “Don’t know.”

  “We…it’ll have to b-b-be…basically—instantly. Can you do that?”

  “Can try!” she says between parries. “When?”

  Maybeck uses his artist’s eye to measure the timing of the blows from each set of armor. Charlene’s opponent is faster than the knight confronting him. Maybeck defends two blows in the time Charlene defends three.

  There will come a moment when both swords strike at the same time once more. That is the moment at which they must dematerialize.

  “Wait for it…” he says. “Steady…”

  The two sets of armor draw back their swords in unison.

  “Now!”

  Charlene closes her eyes and takes a calming breath.

  She hears her sword and Maybeck’s sword clank simultaneously onto the floor. In achieving pure DHI state, their hands could no longer hold them. Partners, she thinks.

  The warrior and the knight swing their weapons fiercely. But the blades swipe right through the projected light of the holograms. The clap and clangor ring and sing in the narrow confines of the room, loudly signaling their mutual destruction. The ax cleaves the Asian Warrior’s chest; the samurai sword finds a gap in the knight’s chain mail, slicing into his throat. The two collapse and fall bloodlessly, a mingled pile of empty steel and leather. Mere pots and pans banging down on kitchen tile.

  Charlene throws her arms around Maybeck in a full-fledged embrace. It’s a hug of victory, of rejoicing, of thanks.

  Maybeck doesn’t know how any of this works, not really. But he knows that a moment earlier they were pure DHI, invulnerable and undefeatable. They’re far from that now, for he feels her, holds her, and revels in the armor’s defeat while a nagging voice—his own—whispers gravely in his ear.

  “The Overtakers are stronger here.”

  THE TRAIN’S STEAM WHISTLE sounds for the second time. Finn and Willa grip the transom of the last car, tuck their legs up, and ride along.