Good Ogre (10 page)

“Why do they all fall?” Puff said, thinking aloud. “There's got to be a simple explanation.”

Max abandoned the door, hoping Sarah or someone else was smart enough to figure it out. Princess, in her horrible nightmare form, was steadily walking toward them. She was the same Princess who had hunted him in both the past and the future. And no matter how tired he was, he was the only one who stood a chance of defeating her.

Wayne matched Max's stride and stood next to him, shoulder to shoulder (or shoulder to top of head).
Wayne's muscles danced on his forearm as he squeezed his axe. Dwight joined them in his heavy plate armor, his battle-axe raised in the air.
It's the three of us, then,
Max said to himself.
It won't be enough.

“Princess, this isn't who you are anymore,” Max called out. “You and I are friends, remember? I saved you from the Mor Luin army. And you fought with me at the Wizard's Tower. We brought down Rezormoor Dreadbringer together.”

“Then perhaps I am his revenge,” Nightmare-Princess answered. “And yet he was nothing—simply a messenger of the true Lord of Shadows. I feel the presence of the Maelshadow even now . . . I feel his loathing of you. I feel his power as he destroys the old world and ushers in the new. You are part of that old world, Max. You will be consumed by the storm that rages around you. And as always, it was your blood that made it possible. From the might of the World Sunderer, who tried to rip magic from this realm, to the precious drops left at the fallen Tower. You have been there from the beginning. Now you will die at its end.”

Max felt a hard lump in his throat and his hands went numb. He desperately reached into the
Codex
, but he was
buffeted by the power of the Prime Spells. The fear that rose in his chest seemed as big and powerful as anything he'd ever known.

“Someone say something!” Puff shouted, running the riddle over and over in his head.

The others all looked at one another, unable to tease out the riddle's meaning. All except for Sydney, who had been desperately trying to say something. “Teeth!” she shouted as loud as she could. “That's what I remembered when Melvin said the candy corn got stuck in his teeth—we have thirty-two teeth in our mouths!”

“Of course, that's it!” Sarah exclaimed. “White horses are teeth . . . and the crimson hills are gums!”

Megan threw her arm around her sister. “And ‘each must rise and each must fall' is about losing baby teeth!”

Sarah grabbed Dirk and turned him toward the door. “Hurry, give it the answer!”

“So we're not going with candy corn?” Dirk asked. Sarah's slug answered the question.

“The answer is teeth,” Dirk announced as he rubbed his shoulder.

“That is correct,” the face on the door acknowledged. Suddenly a white light began to run across the
rock, tracing strange symbols that glowed with an otherworldly power. There was an audible click, and the door swung open.

“Hurry, Max, we're in!” Sarah shouted. She began ushering the group through the door one by one. Whatever lay beyond was sheathed in darkness, but it was less a risk than the dark nightmare walking toward them.

Max turned and saw his friends piling through the opening. Nightmare-Princess did as well, and her nostrils flared in anger. It was going to be a race, then, but if history was any guide, Max did not do well when it came to races. Of course, there was nothing like the fear of being chewed to death to get one moving. As Melvin, Megan, and Sydney scrambled through the small doorway, Max turned and started to sprint. He'd only moved a few yards away to confront Nightmare-Princess, but it seemed like forever as the thundering hooves came closer.

“Go on!” Wayne shouted, ushering Dwight and Max in front of him. Ahead, Moki had jumped on Puff's back as Sarah stood by the door and waved the fluff dragon through, followed by Dirk. Max ran with all the strength he could muster, but as he approached the doorway he could feel the ground shaking. Nightmare-Princess
galloped after them, flames billowing from her nostrils and fluttering wildly from her hooves. Sarah's eyes went wide and she shoved Dwight inside. Time seemed to slow for Max, each stride mirrored by the pounding in his chest. His breath exploded from his lungs like the Old West trains billowing puffs of smoke. Sarah was there, just an arm's length ahead of him, reaching for him to pull him through the door. Wayne was somewhere behind him, most likely standing between him and the charging nightmare. Max desperately wanted to slow down, however—just enough to grab Sarah and send her through the doorway first. The sight of her in her black-and-gold armor, with her once-white cloak now soiled with mud around her shoulders, struck Max with feelings of both joy and sorrow. He had disrupted her well-planned life and had caused her to suffer much because of who and what he was.

Time continued to move in slow beats as Max came to the doorway. He could feel the hot breath of the monster behind him—the wicked flames reaching out and singeing the hair on the back of his neck. And then he locked eyes with Sarah. He could see the orange-and-yellow
reflection of unearthly fire. Max began to veer away. It took only an instant for him to decide to lead Nightmare-Princess away and give Sarah and Wayne a chance to make it inside. It wasn't a particularly well-thought-out plan on his part, but it was the best he could do on short notice.

Then, without warning, Max felt a hard shove at his back. The force sent him flying forward, launching him through the small doorway. Time sped up again as he slammed against something hard.

“Max!” he heard Sarah cry. Then the door swung shut with a muffled thud as its massive weight settled into place. Darkness swallowed them, and Max spun around, dizzy from the impact and disoriented by the absence of light. He reached for where he thought the door was, stumbled forward, and fell to the ground.

And then he sank into a new kind of darkness, passing out on the cold, earthen floor.

CHAPTER NINE

BUFF SONGS

M
AX OPENED HIS EYES.
T
HE
world was a blurry mix of blue ­shadows, and he tasted mud and dried blood in his mouth. He blinked several times, and when he tried to move he felt a stabbing pain along his side.

“Hold still,” he heard Megan say. His head was on something soft, and it took a moment for Max to realize he was resting on her lap. Then the world came into focus, and he looked up at her, seeing the long staff she held glowing blue and bathing the passageway in soft light.

“The door!” Max exclaimed, trying to sit up again. But he moaned as the sharp pain ripped through his side and he was forced back down.

The others had gathered around him. Moki pressed
close and Dirk leaned over him in his ridiculous purple-and-yellow tunic.

“It won't open,” Dirk said, his voice heavy. “We tried, like a thousand times.”

Melvin stood over Dirk, his ears and bow making him look very much an elf in the blue light. “The door won't open again for twenty-four hours,” he said glumly. “I'm sorry.”

Max didn't want to hear it. He refused to imagine Sarah and Wayne trapped on the other side with Nightmare-Princess.

“I know,” Dwight said as if reading Max's thoughts. “We all feel it too. But there's nothing to be done.”

“But,” Max stammered. It was hard to even talk, and the pain in his side was intensifying with every passing second.

“First things first,” Megan announced. “I've been thinking about this strange change in all of us, Max, and I believe I can help you. I think you should trust me and let me try.”

“You should listen to her,” Puff agreed. “You're no good to anyone right now.”

Max wanted to protest—they had better things to do than worry about him. But he couldn't help Sarah like he
was, and he'd do just about anything to fix that. “Okay,” he agreed.

Megan nodded. Even though she and Max were the same age, Megan had one of those faces that made it easy to see her as a mom someday. It was a contrast to the youthfulness of her younger sister, but there was a strength and sensibility there that made Max feel instantly better. “I'm going to touch you with my staff,” she announced.

That better feeling was suddenly gone.

There was no doubt that the glowing blue staff was magic—Max could feel the humming of it in the air. But just what
kind
of magic was the real question. The fact that it had appeared as part of the Cataclysm—even though Max's own spell had interfered with the process—made it dicey at best.

“I am a healer,” Megan announced. “That's the character I always play, and that's who I am now. So I'm going to do what my character would do, and that is heal you with my magic.”

“Yeah, you saw my awesomeness as a bard,” Dirk said, his hand drifting to the strap that held Lute-Glenn over his shoulder. “I totally rocked my song, and I've never had lessons.”

Melvin didn't look like he agreed entirely, but he added, “And I'm an elf and I know how to shoot a bow—even though I've never shot a real one before.”

“And I have wings and can fly!” Sydney added.

“And I'm Moki!” Moki announced. He wasn't sure how this particular game worked, but he was enjoying it nonetheless.

Max looked around at the faces staring back at him and nodded.

Megan had her sister prepare a makeshift pillow before she carefully moved Max's head to rest on it. Then she stood, taking her staff in hand. Max noticed that it grew somewhat brighter, and he could see that they were in a long tunnel that sloped gently downward. The smooth rock door was close enough that Max could reach out and touch it, and he realized that he must have actually started to turn before he'd been shoved through the door. The weird angle must have sent him flying into the stone before blacking out.

“My character would usually pick which kind of healing spell to use at a time like this,” Megan said. “I don't think it works like that here—I think the magic is in my staff and I just have to use it. If everything goes right, you'll be touched by a healing spell.”

“Or a blue death ray,” Glenn remarked. Max decided he preferred Glenn in motivational dagger form.

Megan lowered her staff, backing up several steps because of its length. As it grew closer, Max could feel more magic emanating from it. He immediately began to feel better, the strange power of the staff reminding him of being wrapped in a large blanket on a cold wintery night. He was instantly warm, and a feeling of peaceful tranquility settled over him. Then, when the staff actually touched him, that feeling exploded through his body. It wasn't uncomfortable at all, more like getting into a hot tub that was maybe a tad too hot. But tolerable. Max felt the pain in his side subside at once, and even the coppery taste of dried blood left his mouth. He saw the others staring at him, eyes wide in wonderment. He looked down to see small blue dots—like fireflies—drifting around his body. Each one touched his skin with a tingling sensation, flying around him—down his arms and legs and through his fingers. Then the small lights swarmed together and joined with the blue light of the staff, disappearing from sight.

“Whoa,” Dirk said.

Max felt good. In fact, he felt better than good. He
quickly rose to his feet and began dusting himself off. “It worked,” he said, smiling at Megan.

“I'm a healer,” Megan said to herself. “I really am a healer.”

“Very impressive,” Puff agreed. “I've been around magic for most of my life, and healing magic is a lost art—it certainly wasn't taught at the Wizard's Tower.”

Melvin offered Megan a formal bow. “You've always been our healer and you've never let us down,” he said. She blushed a little. Max's attention returned to the door, however. He grabbed the
Codex
and felt the rush of power flow into him.

“There might be a door-opening spell of some kind here,” he said. “But I don't want to waste time looking for it. I'll summon a Prime Spell and blow this thing off its hinges.”

Suddenly the face in the door popped out and began protesting: “Now hold on just a minute,” it said, looking perturbed. “There's no need for violence.”

“Then you don't know us very well,” Dwight replied flatly.

Dirk stepped forward. “Why don't you just open so Max doesn't have to turn you into rubble or something?”

The face regarded Max and then peered down at
the
Codex of Infinite Knowability
in his hand. “There's no doubt your magic is strong enough to destroy me,” the door conceded. “But that won't do you any good.”

“Of course it will,” Max argued. “My
friends
are on the other side and they need my help—right now!”

“No they're not,” the door replied.

“What do you mean?” Max asked, confused. “They were just there.”

“Max,” Puff said, moving toward him. “You were out for some time. A long time, in fact.”

Max struggled with the thought—the mad flight through the door seemed like mere seconds ago. The feeling of dread began to creep over him as he found the courage to ask the question that terrified him most: “What happened to them?”

“The one in armor and the great beast led the female away,” the door answered.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Max asked. “Led her away
where
. . . ?”

“To yonder tower, though I cannot see it myself. But I heard them say as much.”

Dirk scratched his head. “You mean that Nightmare-
Princess led the
two
of them to the tower, right?”

The face shook its head. “No. The beast and the boy worked together.”

Impossible,
Max thought. Or was it? What did he truly know about Wayne? It was Wayne, after all, who had brought the portal. And Sarah had had her suspicions about him. If Wayne had used Max to open the portal on purpose, it was a betrayal beyond words. But he knew he couldn't get lost in such thoughts—what mattered was that Sarah was alive.

“It doesn't change anything,” Max replied to the door. “We still need to get past you and go after my friends. I'm sorry.”

The face seemed to brighten. “If it's the tower you seek, then look no further than this tunnel. It will lead you there through the secret route.”

“And how do you know this, exactly?” Puff asked.

“Considering the sole purpose of my existence is to guard this hallway, it's not asking too much to know where it leads.”

Max considered his alternatives: find a Prime Spell and remove the door or turn and follow the tunnel. He
didn't really want to hurt the face, and the thought of running into more people turned into howlers wasn't exactly appealing. If the tunnel bypassed the obstacles on the surface, it just might be the fastest route to finding Sarah. “What do you guys think?” he asked. “The tunnel might be quicker, plus we'd avoid the howlers.”

“Dude, this is like dungeon crawling,” Dirk exclaimed. “If you find a tunnel behind a locked door, you
have
to follow it.”

Melvin spoke next. “Our priorities have changed. We have to rescue the members of our party above all else.” He turned to Max. “I vote we take the tunnel.”

Max didn't really remember calling a vote, but as long as he and Melvin were like-minded, he figured he'd let it pass. He turned to the two sisters who said as one, “The tunnel.”

“I agree,” Puff added. Moki nodded, casting his vote as well. Then Max turned to Dwight, but he could see at once that something was wrong. The dwarf looked flushed, even in the blue light of Megan's staff. Drops of sweat broke out on his forehead, and he seemed to shrink under the weight of the surrounding walls.

“I can't do it,” he blurted, the words forcing their way out. Melvin frowned, not understanding.

“What do you mean?” he asked, shifting his bow from one hand to the next. “It's just a tunnel.”

“Look, you don't understand,” Dirk answered. “Dwight has a problem with tight spaces.”

“You mean he's claustrophobic?” Megan asked.

“I don't like talking about it,” Dwight grunted. “It's a shameful thing to happen to a dwarf.”

“But dude, you're totally like a hero now,” Dirk shot back.

“Doesn't matter,” Dwight said. “I can't go down no tunnel—hero, outcast, or something in between.”

“Then we'll just go outside,” Megan offered. But Dwight shook his head.

“No, too many dangers out there. You've got to follow the tunnel—it's your best chance to get to Sarah.”

“What about you?” Max asked, not liking where the conversation was headed. They'd already lost two people, and going on without Dwight seemed like a bad idea.

“I'll just wait it out here. Don't need any light, either—it's better if I can't see the walls. And when the door's ready, I'll knock three times and be on my way.”

“I guess we don't have any choice, then,” Melvin said. “We can't expect a claustrophobic dwarf to walk down a
narrow tunnel. Although I don't like what this does to our party—we've lost all our melee fighters, so now we're down to a wizard, a healer, a pixie, a ranged bowman, and two, uh . . . ,” he started, looking over at Puff and Moki. “Pets.”

“Watch who you're calling a pet!” Puff protested.

“And you forgot about me,” Dirk said, looking annoyed.

“Oh yeah, a
bard
,” Melvin continued, making the last word sound as appetizing as cod liver oil.

“Basically we're a party of magic users and others now,” Melvin went on. “And that's not good.”

“I'm not an ‘other',” Dirk complained. But something Melvin had said was tickling at Max's brain.

“Actually, a bard is kind of a magic user when you think about it,” Max began, working through his thoughts. “At least in the role-playing world, which is pretty much the characters we've become. And bards have a special kind of magic.”

“Party buffs and stuff,” Dirk answered. “It's like helper magic.”

“Magic directed at us,” Max continued. “Remember Sumyl and her carriage? That was magical too, and Dwight
was able to go into the dwarf city as long as he stayed inside.”

Dwight raised an eyebrow. “So . . . ?”

Dirk nodded, suddenly understanding. He grabbed Glenn and swung the lute off his shoulder.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Puff asked. But Moki was clapping his paws together excitedly:

“Songs are neat!” the fire kitten announced.

“We need Dwight with us,” Max insisted.

“Well, I think it's a waste of time,” Melvin added.

“As a warm-up,” Dirk said, adjusting his shoulders and hips just like he'd seen an Elvis Presley impersonator do, “here's an old favorite called ‘Melvin the Frail.'”

“Just get on with it!” Dwight shouted.

Dirk looked momentarily disappointed, but then grabbed Glenn's neck and fingered a new chord. He began singing, and his voice reverberated through the tunnel with a strange power.

Oh . . .

Let me tell you the story of a dwarf named Dwight,

Who when in tight spaces had such a fright!

He needed to go down a tunnel quite long

So the world's greatest bard sang him this song:

The rocks are not rocks waiting to crush!

They are giant stuffed pillows ever so plush!

You've nothing to fear, so please go ahead;

Now this song has been sung, so you'll do as I've said!

“That's the last time you will ever sing about—” Dwight started to say; then he stopped. The fear and anxiety that had played out on his face were suddenly gone. Instead, he looked around the tunnel with an odd expression. “I feel . . . better,” he admitted.