The Invisible Tower (16 page)

“The Font of Sylvan?” Thumb complained, standing bolt upright in his chair. “But no one knows where the Font is!”

“I am truly sorry, Mr. Thumb,” Bercilak begged. “Please understand that I am trying to be honorable to all sides. The Great Library is full of maps. Really, I can say no more.”

Bercilak stood, made a little bow, and turned away from King Artie Kingfisher and the New Knights of the Round Table.

He walked down the great hall toward the darkness, opened the front door, ducked out, and was gone.

“Wow. He wasn't kidding, huh?” asked Kay.

“No, I guess he wasn't,” Artie mumbled.

A moment of stunned silence passed between them. But then Thumb jumped on top of his chair. He clapped his hands and exclaimed, “Buck up, lads. We rest here today. Tomorrow, we go to find a map! Tomorrow, we begin to hunt a dragon!”

Artie and Kay had spent
a little time camping and hiking with Kynder, and they'd both been in scout troops when they were younger, but those things were nothing like tramping through the wilds of Sylvan.

For one, instead of just being out there to enjoy themselves, Artie and Kay were on a nutty fantasy mission to free their wizard friend from an invisible prison. This camping trip was
important
. Also, they were carrying different things. Things like magical medieval weapons and armor.

In addition to the buckler, Artie now had a blue metal great helm with curly horns, and an ancient dagger named Carnwennan that had belonged to Arthur the First. He wore this blade behind him on his belt.

Kay had grabbed a dagger, too, and a simple military helmet. Both she and Artie now wore light chain-mail shirts and leather-and-iron leggings with bendy knees. When they put all this on over their other clothes, they looked like something out of a post-apocalyptic zombie flick.

The other different thing was that they were bush-whacking through a pathless wood.

Fortunately, thanks to Thumb, they weren't totally lost.

Thumb claimed to know more or less where they were and he concluded that if they moved east for three or four days, they'd eventually hit Sylvan's main road, which ran its length from north to south, and which cut right through the town that was home to the Great Sylvan Library.

The only bummer was that by the fifth day there had been no sign of the road at all. Just forest, forest, forest, and more forest.

But what a forest! As they stamped through the woods, they saw more pigeons and giant birds. Thumb pointed out the tracks of a short-faced bear, another animal that had gone extinct on their side. At one point they glimpsed through a thicket the rack of an enormous stag-moose, and every day at dusk in the middle distance they spied a large golden laughing owl. This last sighting Thumb took to be a good omen, since over the years Merlin had been very close with owls.

For some strange reason Artie felt at home in these woods. There was something about them that felt second nature to him. On the first night he impressed them all—Kay especially—by whipping up a raging fire in a matter of minutes, in spite of the fact that it was raining. On the second day as they forded a medium-sized stream, he showed them that he could catch fish—
with his bare hands
! He simply found a low stone and wiggled his fingers under it and waited, and sure enough, after about five minutes, he was able to grab a nice brown trout by the gills. Along with Bedevere—who with a pistol-sized crossbow was able to bag rabbits, pigeons, and squirrels—he made sure they were never hungry.

On the third night, as Artie constructed a watertight shelter from pine boughs and giant fern fronds, Kay marveled, “Man, Artie, your outdoor skills are crazy!”

Artie agreed, just as amazed as his sister. “All thanks to Excalibur. It keeps showing me things I never knew or even would've noticed before. It's pretty sweet.”

“I'll say.”

As they drifted off that night, they felt really good.

But it wasn't to last, because late on the fourth morning, a long howl echoed through the trees.

They stopped dead. Vorpal sank low to the ground and gathered his haunches instinctively for a strike.

“What was
that
?” demanded Kay.

Artie's hand rested on Excalibur's pommel, and his sword gave him the answer. “It's a dire wolf,” Artie said.

“Blast,” Thumb said. “Big things, dire wolves.”

“Best we try to ignore it, guys,” Bedevere said. “It's a wild animal, and there's no shortage of prey out here. We shouldn't have any trouble.”

“Are you referring to the whole ‘it's more scared of us than we are of it' theory of wild animals, there, Beddy?” Kay wondered.

“I am,” he answered.

“All righty then,” Kay said, unconvinced.

They moved on and tried to forget it, and for the rest of the day they were successful. But as night fell and as their fire crackled, they heard the howl again. And this time, from farther off, more howls answered.

They decided to post a watch. Artie insisted that he go first.

Just before they turned in, Thumb offered this piece of unencouraging advice: “I'm not saying this is at all likely to occur, but if the wolves attack, the most important thing is that we stand our ground.”

“Got it,” they all said.

Artie stationed himself on a log by the fire, his unsheathed sword resting across his knees. The light of the snapping fire played on the surrounding forest. After a while a wet drizzle began to fall.

Artie opened one of the umbrellas Kynder had put in the magical backpack and huddled underneath it. He threw a dry log onto the fire, and it quickly roared to life. The needles of a pine bough near the flames caught fire and exploded like miniature firecrackers. Artie poked the coals with Excalibur and breathed in deeply, expecting the sweet smell of wet forest and a lively fire.

Instead he was nearly bowled over by an overpowering wet-dog smell.

Artie stood, but there was nothing there.

He dropped the umbrella, hoisted Excalibur, and put on his helmet. He checked that the buckler was strapped on tight and drew his dagger.

He spun a few circles looking for a wolf, but there wasn't one.

The owl swooped out of the darkness like a stealth fighter, hooting furiously. Artie looked up, and he was not ready for what he saw.

A creature was directly overhead in a tree, not ten feet away.

Wolves didn't climb trees, did they?

Artie raised Excalibur, and the thing inched closer. Artie blinked as he tried to make sense of what he was looking at. The way it moved was mind-boggling. Clearly the creature's head was a wolf's—but the creature's body… the creature's body was a man's!

The thing threw back its head and began to howl.

Ahoooooool! Ow-ow-ow-ahoooooooooooooool!

The terrifying call echoed between the damp forest and the thick clouds above.

Then the wolf-man turned and scampered farther up the tree. Before it disappeared from sight, Artie saw that it definitely had human skin and hands and feet, and that it wore a red cape over a shirtless torso.

Artie felt his sword hand tingle and looked back to the camp. His knights were still out cold. How had his friends slept through that wolf cry?

“Guys?” Artie called desperately in their direction.

None of them stirred.

Artie strained, looking into the blackness of the forest. He saw nothing beyond the reach of the firelight.

That is, until a dozen pairs of wolf eyes opened at once, like a platoon of yellow lightning bugs glowing on at the exact same moment.

Artie whispered, “Some light!” Excalibur brightened, and the wolves were revealed. They crept into the circle of light surrounding Artie and his sleeping companions.

“Uh, guys? Time to wake up!” Artie yelped futiley.

Seriously, how could they be sleeping through this?

And then a communal growl erupted as the wolves bared their teeth and narrowed their eyes.

“GUYS! REALLY!”

Kay tossed and Bedevere snorted. They were still out.

Artie spun one way and then the next. He was sure these creatures could smell the blood pumping through his body. Artie checked that he was wearing Excalibur's sheath. He hoped it would keep him from getting totally mauled to death.

One of the smaller wolves lunged within reach of Excalibur. Artie stabbed at its nose but didn't make contact. The animal jumped back, a long stream of drool whipping from its jowls.

Artie sheathed his dagger and picked up a burning log. He threw it into the shelter where his so-called knights were blissfully knocked out.

Kay sat bolt upright, kicking sparks off the log. “What the… ?”

“Nice of you to join the party!” Artie yelled.

It didn't take more than half a second for Kay to realize what was happening. She shook Thumb and Bedevere, and as they got up, the wolf pack divided. Six stayed with Artie while the rest surrounded the shelter.

They attacked. A massive canine jumped and crashed into Artie's great helm. One of its paws raked his shoulder and neck, and Artie could tell that he was bleeding.

Then another wolf vaulted. Artie blocked with the buckler, and the creature's snout smashed into it with a loud crunch. He sidestepped as it fell to the ground, then hit the crown of its head with Excalibur's pommel. The wolf yelped and quickly ran into the woods.

Next, two lunged at Artie's heels. One got its teeth into him, the other got the glowing edge of Excalibur across the top of its head. Wounded, it ran off.

The wolf that had bitten him held on, and Artie brought the dagger back out. He stabbed at it and took a deep slice out of the wolf's shoulder. This animal released him and retreated into the woods as well.

Three wolves still surrounded him and they jumped at once. Artie spun and waved his sword furiously, keeping them from getting too close. They continued to jump around him, teeth bared. The wolves scooted back as the blade scratched two of their black, wet noses.

Artie glanced to his left as Bedevere's claymore arced up and down in a blur. Thumb's Welsh
wakizashi
buzzed, slicing the very molecules of the forest air. Vorpal bounded up and down, attacking with his long teeth. Kay, even while fighting, was saying snarky things like, “Take that, Marmaduke!”

Then two of Artie's wolves pricked their ears and better turned from him as Kay and another wolf tumbled into Artie's circle. Kay managed to separate herself from her wolf and stand next to her brother. She winked and threw her back against Artie's so that they had eyes on all sides.

“How's it going, Bro?”

“Pretty good now that you're here.”

And that was true. For all their practicing, Artie and Kay had never actually fought side by side—or back-to-back—and adding the adrenaline of actual combat to their sibling connection made it incredibly intense.

They turned a small circle while the wolves, now four, turned in the opposite direction.

“You're hit, huh?” Kay asked, noticing blood on Artie's leg.

“Yeah, but not bad. The scabbard's working. You hit?”

“Not yet. These guys you're dealing with are a lot bigger than the ones over there, though,” Kay said, pointing her chin to the other side of the campsite.

Then, without saying another word, Artie and Kay sprang on their assailants. Each sibling felt exactly what the other was doing. It was like having four arms and four legs and two minds. Their awareness and ability increased by a factor of twenty.

Artie went high and Kay went low, expanding outward in a whirl of steel. Artie hit one wolf under the jaw, and then sliced another across the shoulder. Kay stuck Cleomede between the toes of one and slapped the back of the remaining one with the flat of her sword so hard that all of the animal's legs buckled. It lay flat on the ground like an embarrassed puppy for a moment before getting up and following its brothers and sisters into the woods.

Artie and Kay looked around. The camp was clear. Bedevere, Thumb, and Vorpal had also dispatched their wolves into the night. The wet drizzle suddenly turned into a hard rain. Drops exploded on the leaves like a round of applause.

They moved toward the fire. Artie asked, “Did you kill any?”

“No, sire,” said Bedevere. Thumb, sweating heavily, shook his head. Artie already knew that Kay hadn't.

Artie said, “Good. I'm glad. Something's strange about this wolf pack.”

“Agreed, sire,” said Bedevere.

“I saw something before it all started, while you were asleep. Which, by the way—why were you all asleep?”

“I'm sorry, Artie,” said Thumb.

“Me too,” said Kay. “But I was having the most wonderful—”

A crash and a quick breath of air interrupted Kay. Before they knew it, Artie was gone. Kay wheeled and saw him rolling past the shelter with the largest wolf she'd ever seen. This one had not been in the fight.

It had been waiting.

Artie felt the animal's wet fur in his fists and smelled its stale breath. It snapped at his face. They rolled for what seemed like forever, rocks and branches and roots jamming into Artie's back and sides as they moved over the ground. Finally they stopped and sprang to their feet. Excalibur was gone, but Artie still had Carnwennan, the dagger.

The wolf snarled—really, truly snarled. This was no warning. This was the sound of a protector, a thing full of hate.

Artie knew immediately that this was the other wolves' mommy.

A bolt of lightning flashed, and he caught a glimpse of his adversary. It was easily six feet tall.

Artie should have been scared but more than anything he was angry. What gave this wolf the right to be so upset that King Artie and his previously sleeping knights had dispatched her pack into the night?

“Come on!” he yelled, his voice shamefully cracking, as if he were shouting across the playground.