Alistair Grim's Odditorium (16 page)

“Likewise, boss,” said Nigel, his voice coming from the organ.

“Humph,” said Mrs. Pinch.

“But—but—!” sputtered Lord Dreary, and Mr. Grim flicked off his talkback.

“I’m opening the dampers now, Cleona,” he said. “Not sure if you’ll feel any pushback from Gwendolyn, but let me know if you sense a power drain, will
you?”

“No worries, Uncle. I can hold my own against her kind.”

“Very well, then,” Mr. Grim said, and he flicked some more switches. “Hold on to your helmets, people. Here goes nothing.”

As soon as Mr. Grim began playing his pipe organ, the Odditorium began to tremble and shake. At the same time, I could hear a low rumbling noise coming from somewhere below my feet. It grew
louder and louder until, much to my astonishment, the buildings outside began sinking into the ground.

Gazing down through the shield, I could see a massive cloud of sparkling green smoke billowing out below us. And as the mechanical spider legs folded back into their original positions, I
realized that the buildings were not sinking, but that the Odditorium was rising—no,
flying
—up into the air above them!

“I was right,” said Mr. Grim, his eyes wide. “The proper ratio of fairy dust and animus makes the perfect propellant.”

Of course, I thought. Yellow and blue make green, which meant that the smoke down there was a mixture of Gwendolyn’s fairy dust and—

“Oh no!” I cried. “The animus will summon the doom dogs!”

“Nonsense, lad,” said Mr. Grim. “The blue animus is quite harmless when mixed with Yellow Fairy dust. Even the most amateur of sorcerers knows that!”

I remembered the headless samurai’s helmet from the night before—how it had snuffed out Gwendolyn’s fairy dust and stopped Mr. Grim’s top from spinning. It was the same
with Nigel shooting his animus at Gwendolyn’s big yellow bubble a few minutes ago in the engine room.

“The two energies cancel each other out, then?” I asked, staring down at the swelling cloud of sparkling green smoke. “Like fire and water, Mr. Grim?”

“Something like that, Master Grubb,” he said. “But unfortunately we don’t have time for a chemistry lesson at present.”

More and more armored Shadesmen began swooping down on us—some striking the blue energy shield with their battle-axes, while others just wailed and steered their steeds around the
Odditorium out of sight. And yet, despite the racket, the different functions of Alistair Grim’s multi-colored energies suddenly became clear to me. The blue animus energy powered the
Odditorium’s mechanical features. The Yellow Fairy dust energy gave the Odditorium its power to fly. And the red energy—

Without warning, a hissing bolt of bright red lightning rained down from above and struck one of the Shadesmen, turning him and his skeleton horse at once into a dissipating cloud of thick black
smoke.

“Cor blimey!” I gasped.

Yes, come to find out, not only did the red energy fire up the Odditorium’s ovens, but it could also be fired out of the gunnery cannons to blow up Shadesmen.

“Great shooting, Mrs. Pinch!” Mr. Grim shouted into the talkback. “You too, Lord Dreary!”

“Humph,” said Mrs. Pinch, and Lord Dreary chuckled modestly.

“Well, now,” he said, “you know I wasn’t awarded first prize in the Duke’s annual pheasant hunt for noth—”

Mr. Grim cut off his talkback again as the army of Shadesmen whizzed past us like a swarm of angry hornets. All of them, as well as their horses, were outfitted in bronze breastplates and
helmets, the latter of which were topped with red-bristled crests that reminded me of my old chimney brushes. And the skeleton steeds’ eyes, just like those of their riders, glowed red in
their skulls.

Presently, the clang of battle-axes on the outside walls echoed throughout the Odditorium from every direction.

“We’ve got climbers!” Nigel called out from the talkback, and I spied a Shadesman’s feet scrambling for purchase near the top of the shield. Some of the skeleton horses
were now circling the Odditorium without their riders, too.

“Are the samurai on the battlements?” asked Mr. Grim.

“They are, sir,” replied Mrs. Pinch, “but I can’t see how they’re faring against—”

“Help us, Alistair!” cried Lord Dreary in the background. “We’ve lost two of our warriors over the side!”

“Even a samurai is no match for a cavalry charge,” mumbled Mr. Grim. “Order them back inside, Mrs. Pinch! I’ll take care of the climbers with the levitation
shield.”

“The
what
?” cried Lord Dreary—but Mr. Grim cut him off again.

“Any sign of the Black Fairy, Master Grubb?” he asked.

“Yes, sir,” I said, pointing. “He’s up there, hanging back in the clouds.”

“He knows better than to tangle with our energy bolts. You see anything else?”

“No, sir, just more Shadesmen jumping from their horses.”

“Good,” said Mr. Grim, changing his organ tune to something more festive. And as the Odditorium rose higher and higher, it began to move forward, too—the rooftops quickly
rolling beneath our glittering green tail.

“Eyes upward, Master Grubb,” said Mr. Grim, and he flicked on the talkback again. “Lord Dreary, are the samurai safe inside?”

“Yes!” the old man replied. “But I don’t see what you can do against these climbing skeletons from down there!”

As if to answer him, Mr. Grim pressed a button on his pipe organ. In a blinding flash of yellow, a powerful buzz shot through the floor and tickled my toes. A moment later I spied a dozen or so
of the armored skeletons floating up past the shield, their bony arms and legs flailing about in scores of Gwendolyn’s glowing yellow bubbles!

“The levitation shield,” said Mr. Grim. “A quick burst of Yellow Fairy dust that surrounds the Odditorium and thus repels anything not nailed down. Don’t mind telling you
how relieved I am to find out it actually works.”

Mr. Grim winked, and then more bolts of hissing red lightning shot out from the Odditorium in every direction, turning the Shadesmen and their horses into smoke, in some places ten at a
time.

“Huzzah!” cried Lord Dreary. “Take that, you blasted bone bags!”

“That’s the spirit, man!” said Mr. Grim. “All right, then, people, let’s make a concerted effort to keep those climbers off the walls, shall we?”

Mr. Grim changed his tune again, his fingers moving even faster across his pipe organ. And as the Odditorium picked up even more speed, the armored skeletons and their steeds gave chase.

Bolts of red lightning crackled all around us as countless Shadesmen were vaporized into smoke. We were high above the city now and moving out toward the countryside. Far off in the distance, at
the edge of the clouds in which the Black Fairy and his army had arrived, I could see the blue of the afternoon sky.

But as Mr. Grim steered the Odditorium toward it, I noticed a shower of glowing red lights whizzing through the air straight for us.

“He’s sending out his archers!” Nigel cried from the talkback.

Mr. Grim looked up from his organ just in time to see the first volley of red-tipped arrows strike the shield. The Odditorium trembled violently, and the shield appeared to fizzle and pop purple
as if it would blink out. But in the end it held.

“Those arrows are tipped with red energy!” cried Mr. Grim. “Prince Nightshade must have found the other Eye of Mars!”

“Begging your pardon, sir?” I asked.

“The power source for the gunneries. Legend has it that the god had two Eyes. And since I found only one in my travels, I always worried Prince Nightshade had found the other!”

I glanced back at the lion’s head above the fireplace. As far as I could tell, old Mars still had both his eyes. In fact, the big cat’s peepers were glowing brighter than ever. So
what was all this talk about gods and whatnot?

“Focus all your efforts on the Shadesmen’s arrows,” Mr. Grim said into the talkback. “It appears Prince Nightshade has found the other Eye of Mars!”

“Oh dear,” said Nigel.

“Another volley!” Lord Dreary shouted. “No, no, no! To the right—farther to the right, woman!”

Crackling bolts of bright red lighting rained past us in every direction. Mr. Grim played some of the pipe organ’s lower keys, and the Odditorium banked hard to the left.

“That’s it,” said Mr. Grim. “Lay down some strafing fire while I—”

The Odditorium rocked violently, and I was nearly thrown to the floor again as a mass of crumbling brick bounced off the energy shield.

“Good heavens!” cried Lord Dreary. “Those arrows knocked out one of our cannons. We’re down to only three!”

Mr. Grim pulled a lever on his organ and the Odditorium picked up even more speed. More red lighting shot out from Nigel’s station below, and a line of approaching Shadesman was instantly
turned to smoke.

“Gunners,” shouted Mr. Grim, “I need you to hold them off while Cleona gets into position!”

“Right-o, sir.”

“Is it time, then?” Cleona asked from the talkback.

“Yes, love,” said Mr. Grim. “The energy panels in your chamber should have more than enough charge to sustain the Odditorium’s steering systems while we make the jump.
Get into position and open the porthole, but remember to deactivate the shields only when you’re ready. If one of those arrows should get inside—”

“Pshaw,” Cleona said. “You worry too much, Uncle.”

“Be careful, Cleona. You’re our only hope now.”

Cleona giggled, but then Lord Dreary shouted, “Another volley!”

Sprays of red lightning shot out from above and below, wiping out an entire front line of Shadesmen and their arrows at once.

“Huzzah!” Lord Dreary exclaimed. “Great shooting, woman! You too, Stout!”

“Thank you, sir,” Nigel replied.

“Keep those arrows away from Cleona’s porthole!” cried Mr. Grim.

The red energy bolts picked off Shadesmen left and right, and as Mr. Grim made some adjustments on his keyboard, the Odditorium spun halfway around so that we were flying backward. The Black
Fairy was far away from us now, and yet a great shadow appeared to be looming up in the clouds behind him.

“Mr. Grim!” I shouted. “Look!”

And with that a huge chariot burst forth from the clouds with a team of four black horses leading the way.

Mr. Grim swallowed hard. “Prince Nightshade, I presume.”

As if in reply, the monstrous black steeds neighed with a deafening screech. Fire flashed from their mouths, smoke billowed from their nostrils, and all at once it seemed as though the world
grew darker, and the air was thick with fear.

Most terrifying of all, however, was the figure in the chariot. I could make out only the outline of his form—his chunky black armor, the spiked crown upon his head, and a flowing black
cape that swelled like a sail behind him. In one hand he held the horses’ reins; in the other, a fiery red whip that, when cracked, exploded with lightning and thunder.

“He’s here!” Mr. Grim cried into the talkback. “Hurry, Cleona! Open the porthole! I daren’t turn my back on the prince for long!”

The prince cracked his whip. Lightning flashed and thunder boomed, and Mr. Grim spun the Odditorium around again until it faced the clear blue sky.

“What are you waiting for?” cried Lord Dreary. “Why aren’t you firing at him, woman?”

“No!” said Mr. Grim. “Any shot from the Eye of Mars will only make Prince Nightshade stronger. Continue firing on the Shadesmen if you can, but keep your energy bolts away from
the prince, do you hear?”

A screech from the Black Fairy, a neigh from the steeds, and another crack of the whip behind us—the lighting and thunder closer now.

“He’s gaining on us!” Nigel shouted. I could see only blue sky ahead of us, and were it not for the deafening racket, I wouldn’t have known anything was amiss.

“The Odditorium might not survive a crack from his whip,” said Mr. Grim. “Please hurry, Cleona! What are you waiting for?”

Without warning, a thick bolt of bright blue light shot out from somewhere above the shield. It traveled only a short distance and then burst apart into an enormous swirl of sparkling silver
stars, at the center of which appeared what I could only describe as a hole in the sky.

“Thank you, darling!” said Mr. Grim. “Back inside with you and close the porthole!” Mr. Grim flicked some switches and played some keys. “Maintaining forward
thrusters and coming about to port,” he said, and once again the Odditorium spun around in place, traveling backward, it seemed, as we turned to face our attackers.

The prince was leading the charge now, and his steeds sped toward us at full gallop as the Black Fairy and the remaining cavalry brought up the rear.

They were closing quickly.

“I’ve lost my cannon!” cried Mrs. Pinch from the talkback. “It won’t fire, sir!”

“It’s that blasted conductor coupling again!” cried Mr. Grim, and I glanced over my shoulder to discover the lion’s eyes were blinking on and off above the mantel.

“Activating the levitation shield one more time,” said Mr. Grim, changing his organ tune, and once again the floor buzzed and the world flashed yellow. “That will take care of
any Shadesmen who try to come through the hole with us.”