The Invisible Tower (8 page)

Artie was dumbstruck. Should he help? If what Merlin said was true, then yes, of course he should. But beyond that there was another, more personal, reason. As the moments passed, a strange voice surged inside Artie, insisting,
You are King Arthur!
All of a sudden Artie was desperate to know where that voice had come from. He knew that if he said yes, he would find out.

Finally he looked into Merlin's deep, gray eyes and said, “All right. Let's go get my
real
sword.”

Thumb yelled, “Huzzah!” while Merlin slapped his knees and stood up with a look of supreme satisfaction on his face.

Kay said, “Okay. I'm in too. It
will
be pretty cool to learn how to use a sword, I guess. We are going to have to learn how to use swords, aren't we, Merlin?”

“Indeed you are, Kay,” Merlin said, beaming with enthusiasm. “I have a special swordsmanship book that I want you to read. Practice with Cleomede. You're both going to need it.”

“Right,” Artie said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Because, you know, we're going to be getting in lots of sword fights soon…”

“Darn skippy we are, Bro,” Kay said, brimming with the anticipation that Artie lacked.

“Okay. So what's next, Merlin?” Artie asked, still thinking about having a sword swung in his direction.

Merlin began to pace excitedly as he said, “Well, tomorrow, after you've gone home and gotten a good night's sleep, fire up
Otherworld
. There's another Easter egg you need to find that will help with retrieving Excalibur. Aside from that there won't be much to do until next Friday, when you will need to reconvene at Serpent Mound. Oh, and don't bother talking to Kynder about any of this. He won't really hear you.”

“What do you mean?” asked Artie.

“I mean I've cast a little spell over your father. Don't worry, it's quite harmless. It's just that we can't rush him into this. I fear it would hit him too hard. For now it means that the two of you will have no small amount of power over your father. He will do many of the things you ask without question. He will also ignore many of the stranger things you do, even if you do them right in front of his eyes.”

“Like practice with Cleomede,” Kay said.

“Precisely,” Merlin confirmed.

Artie added, “Or bring us to Serpent Mound when we ask him to.”

“Precisely again.”

Artie and Kay smiled at each other. This might be fun.

Merlin lifted Thumb back up to his Lego mushroom house and stretched. Artie and Kay suddenly felt exhausted. It was time to go. They got Kynder, went upstairs, said good-bye to Merlin, and walked toward their car.

Before getting in, Artie turned and tried to imagine a huge stone tower standing over them. It was pretty hard to picture. A breeze far too cold for summer blew across his face.

He peered at the store's entrance to see if there was any sign of the old man, but all the lights were out. It was as if the wizard had never been there at all.

Kynder was chatty the whole
ride home, even though Artie and Kay hardly said a word. He talked about orchids and gardening and video games, and even carried on a very Dr Pepper–head debate about whether lightsabers were better than phasers.

They finally got home at eleven that night. Artie ambled out of the car and went to bed. He didn't wake the next day until almost two in the afternoon.

He went down to the kitchen, where Kay was studying the swordsmanship manual. Kynder was relaxing in the backyard.

Artie opened the fridge and stared into it, not sure what he wanted or even if he was hungry. Kay said, “This sword book is nuts. Can I play with Cleomede later on?”

Artie shut the fridge and turned to his sister. “Sure. It's in my room. How long you been up?”

“Hours. Couldn't really sleep. Besides all the other weirdness, I couldn't get that Thumb dude out of my mind.”

“He's hard to forget.”

“No doubt. So are you going to check out the game, like

Merlin said?”

“I guess so,” Artie answered. The long night of sleep had sapped Artie's resolve a little. At the moment he didn't feel like a king of anything.

Artie sighed, stepped next to his sister, and looked at the swordsmanship book. It was full of illustrations in gold and silver that practically leaped off the page. He turned to his sister and asked, “Kay, are you ready for all this?”

Her answer was swift. “You know I am.”

Artie nodded and decided he better get ready again too. He went down to the game room, and started up
Otherworld
. His character, Nitwit the Gray, was still in Caladirth's lair. Artie had no idea where to look, so he headed out the main exit of the cave, and there he found something he wasn't expecting at all.

Just past the cave opening—which had been in a snowy wood near the Vale of Goch—was an arched, blinking electric sign that read “Welcome to the OTHERWORLD.” Beyond this was a pleasant country road bursting with the colors of late spring, not a snow-covered forest. In the middle of the road stood a suit of plate-mail armor.

The armor's metal was as green as Nickelodeon slime, and airbrushed across the breastplate was a bough of holly crossing a battle-ax in front of a large evergreen tree. The visor was up and inside the helmet there was—well, there was nothing.

Nitwit took a few steps forward, and the suit raised a hand in salute. It spoke in a deep, echoing baritone.

“Hello, good sir! My name is Bercilak—though most call me Greenie—and I seek no battle, I assure you truly.” This was good news because Greenie wielded a battle-ax that was twice as menacing-looking as the one Artie's character had. The armor continued, “As the sign says, I am here to welcome you to the Otherworld! Now, please, to facilitate our meeting, affix your headset and speak through the microphone as if I were a comrade of yours playing this game over your ‘internets.' Is that right?”

Artie was thunderstruck, but he did as he was told. When he was ready, he corrected Greenie, “Uh, no, we call it the internet.”

“Excellent! My bad. That is what you say, yes?”

“Yeah. That's right.”

“Excellent again!”

Artie asked, “How are you doing this? Where did all the snow go?”

“Well, I'm not quite sure what you're talking about, but I received a message yesterday that you'd be visiting so I hurried over here. This is where I was told to meet you.”

“Who told you? Merli—”

Greenie raised his hand and shook it violently. The suit of armor rattled and clanked. “Tut-tut! Please, we try not to say that over here! At least, not yet!”

“So, what, you're really over there?”

“Yes, and you are really over there! If you get my meaning. You know, since I'm here and you're—”

“Yeah. I get it. What can I call him, then?”

“How about Wilt?” asked the knight.

“Wilt,” Artie deadpanned. Kynder had passed on to his children his love of basketball, and this name made Artie think of one person and one person only. “Like Wilt Chamberlain.”

“A bit long, but that would be fine too.”

Clearly the green knight didn't get the reference. “How did Wilt get in touch with you?”

“Oh, it's pretty technical and not all that important. What
is
important is that I give you a little orientation and tell you what to expect when you drop by on Friday. You can still make Friday, yes?”

“I guess so.”

“Wonderful! Come with me, Sir Nitwit. You don't mind if I call you that, do you?”

“Actually, you can call me Artie or Sir Kingfisher. Or, you know, sire or whatever.”

“Ha! Not so hasty, young man! Why, I haven't even met you yet. Not really, anyway.”

Artie started to move Nitwit down the path. Greenie fell in next to him as they walked. Artie asked, “So, what, are you playing the game too, but from over there?”

“No, no, my friend! I am as you see me. Take a close look at what you're watching. Does it look different from the other images in your game of videos?”

“Video game.”

“Of course. Well, does it?”

Artie hadn't noticed, but it
did
look different. What he saw was more like an imperfect television signal than the video game he knew and loved. He watched the green knight, who turned his helmet to look at him. Artie asked, “Are you smiling?”

“I am! Are you?” the knight asked conspiratorially.

“You can't see me?”

“Of course not! I only see you as a faint column of moonlight. I have a little headset in my helmet to hear you.”

“So if we ran into somebody, they'd just see you talking to a beam of light?”

“Exactly! But not to worry, I've developed quite the reputation for eccentricity. It wouldn't be the first time I went around talking to strange things!”

“Can the people that live there see you—I mean—see what's inside your armor?”

“No, no! I'm the Empty Knight. What you see is what you get!”

“Okay, Bercilak, let's get on with it then. I need to be practicing my swordsmanship.”

“Of course. Swordsmanship is an essential skill. Look over there.” The knight raised his left arm. Artie brought Nitwit to a halt. He turned his character to see what Bercilak pointed at.

Through the trees was a lake with the bluest water Artie had ever seen.

The knight said, “That is the Lake. You will come with Thumb and Kay. I am sorry, but I will not be able to meet you. You'll need to have a compass with you so that you can find the eastern shore. Along this you will see a gigantic chestnut tree—trust me, you can't miss it—and tethered to that tree will be a canoe.

“Great.”

“You will paddle to the exact middle of the Lake, which is easy to discern because at the exact middle is a large buoy.”

“Got it.”

“Now, Thumb may not approve of a couple things I am going to tell you to do. So, pretend he is your father in this case and—”

“Ignore him.”

“Exactly. Listen carefully. You need to do these three things in this order. First, take Cleomede and dip its blade entirely in the Lake's water. Once wet, turn it around and hold it by the blade. Don't worry, it won't cut you. It can't.”

“Cool.”

“Very. Holding it thus, knock the very end—
the very end
—of its hilt against the base of the buoy. Do this three times, three seconds apart. Then flip Cleomede around, hold it over your head, stand up, yell, “Excalibur!” and throw Cleomede into the water.”

“Okay, got it.”

“Fantastic!”

“Then what happens?”

“I'm sorry, my boy, but my time is up. Till we meet again!”

And just like that, the image faltered and reverted to the video game, and Nitwit the Gray stood in a dark, snowy wood near the frozen Vale of Goch. Caladirth's cave was in front of him, and a large ice bear was rising from behind a boulder to his left. It was a middling creature—Nitwit had slain dozens. Artie reflexively fiddled with the controller, killed the bear, paused the game, sat down on the floor, and breathed deeply as his mind spun.

Over the next few days
Kay and Artie settled into a rhythm of sword practice and messing with Kynder. Merlin was right—enchanted Kynder was more puppet than father.

Fooling with him was a blast. They made him stand on his head in the backyard for thirty minutes. They told him they wouldn't be doing their chores for a while and he'd have to pick up the slack. They made him sing songs and dance for them. They had him make chocolate-chip pancakes with spray-can whipped cream for dinner every night.

They also had him put a bunch of stuff around the backyard: an adult-sized dummy made of burlap sacks, old sheets, and wood; plastic jugs and bottles full of water; and dozens of bales of hay. All of these were to be ravaged by Cleomede.

Courtesy of the swordsmanship book, Artie and Kay learned the following about their new weapon: that it was an arming sword, which was more commonly known as a broadsword; that it was double-edged and had a double fullered blade, which meant there were two grooves, or “blood channels,” that ran its length; that the leather-wrapped handle was called the hilt; that the flared bar above it was called the crossguard; and that the heavy clamshell-shaped thing at the hilt's end was called the pommel.

To Artie and Kay, it was undoubtedly the coolest thing they'd ever seen.

The book taught them how to attack and defend, how to position themselves properly, and how to move their feet so they could most effectively slice their opponent to bits while avoiding the same fate for themselves.

And then there was what Cleomede taught Artie and Kay all on its own.

For one, Cleomede had feelings and passed them on to whoever was holding it. When it sliced through the burlap, they felt each strand of the sack breaking along its edge; when it cut through the water in the plastic bottles, they knew if it was warm or cold; when it sailed through the hay, they could tell if it was grass or clover.

Another cool thing was that no matter how long they worked with it, they never got tired or achy or run-down. It was like it refreshed them—the harder they practiced, the better they felt.

Then there was the fact that it could cut through just about anything. It effortlessly sliced through
empty
bottles that a stiff breeze would have knocked over; it chopped wood like it was made of butter; it cut a glass bottle in two without shattering either half; it also severed a steel fire poker pretty dang easily.

“This thing is freaking awesome,” Artie said after halving the poker.

Kay wasn't about to deny it.

As they practiced over the course of the week, Kynder drifted in and out of the yard, being careful not to get in their way. He never criticized anything they did. He cleaned up after them without complaining, and replaced their targets with new ones whenever asked. He was so at ease with all the mayhem Cleomede had brought into their yard that, by midweek, Artie and Kay started to feel guilty about making Kynder do all the silly things they'd made him do.