Everworld #5
Discover the Destroyer
K.A. Applegate
Chapter
I
They had taken my sword from me. Galahad's sword. My sword. Mine.
Christopher and Jalil and April, they'd told me to give it up, hand it to April. Why? Because of Senna. Because they couldn't trust me, so they said, couldn't count on me as long as she was around.
How many times had I come through for them, for us all? How many times had I stood out front, not alone maybe but out on the line, out at the point where danger pressed closest?
How many times had I been ready to give my life, to do what I had to do, and this? To be casually pushed aside with a smirk and a leer?
David can't handle Senna. David wants it too bad, man. David is hers, all hers to control. Senna's boy. Senna's pawn.
Under her spell.
I was. I knew that, and knowing that, I could fight her, resist her, even when she reached for me and touched me and I felt the power that flowed from her, the power that was sometimes so cold and demanding and sometimes so warm, so right, so . . .
I resisted her. Yes, yes, she had power. Yes, she could reach me.
But I was a free man, free to say yes or no, free to make the calls as I saw them.
She was beautiful. Senna was, but it was more than that. In the real world I'd have had a dozen names for it, more excuses than explanations really. I'd have said she was seductive, that she fascinated me, that we had some certain chemistry.
But here, in Everworld, in this universe where the rules were all different, where nothing was what it had always been and yet was so often what it should be, here I knew the name for her power.
Magic.
She had magic. Senna the witch had power, and yet I was a free man. I was still David Levin. Senna could not change that.
And now, now with death looking down at us, death so clear and unmistakable and irresistible, now my friends gave me back the sword.
I had it back. When Nidhoggr had raised his ten-times-Tyrannosaurus head up from the mountain of gold, April had handed it back without a word.
I held it now. Held the hilt that would burn some men's hands, held it tight, the blade down at an angle, pointing down toward more wealth than I could imagine.
I had tried to kill a dragon once and failed. Failed so completely that the dragon had barely noticed my presence.
The dragon that I could not kill might have been Nidhoggr's puppy.
The idea of attacking this blue-whale-sized, diamond-armored monster was a sick joke. I was a mosquito and Galahad's sword was my stinger. If Nidhoggr had chosen to lie there passively, immobile, allowing me all the time I needed, I might, might in a long day of backbreaking effort have managed to hack my way into one of his vital organs. If Nidhoggr were in a coma I might have managed to kill him. But alive, alert? No.
And yet, I had the sword again. And with the sword came the responsibility, the unspoken demand to "do something."
Here you go, David, we're screwed now, so be the hero again.
You die first.
It made me mad. Resentful. Now, when there was not a single damned thing I or anyone else could do, now when the sword was as much use as a salad fork, now, suddenly, it was mine again.
Do something, David. We trust you again. Here: Take the sword and go kick Godzilla's butt.
But my resentment was tempered by several facts. First, the overwhelming fact that our lives were entirely in the claws of Nidhoggr. Second, the fact that we were standing atop a pile of treasure so vast that to count it I'd have to figure out what number came after "gazillion."
We were going to be sacrificed on an altar worth more than many major countries. And the strangeness of that, coming as it did directly on the heels of our escape from the half-living, half-dead, all-dangerous Hel and her charming brother the Midgard Serpent, took some of the steam out of my purely personal resentments.
Nidhoggr had been robbed. Four items had been taken from his treasure. A stone, a spear, a sword, and a cauldron were missing. They were special. Magic. And yet a part of me, some echo of my old-fashioned, ranting socialist grandfather was outraged. I mean, how much treasure did any one dragon need?
We stood there, the five of us, on a three-story, block-long mesa, a plateau of gold, diamonds, emeralds, rubies, crowns, scepters, armor, swords, and assorted fantastic bric-a-brac. We stood there
— five dumb kids from north of Chicago — and stared up at a dragon so big he could have eaten Wrigley Field in about as many bites as it'd take me to eat a hot dog and actually heard him cry in rage as he denounced the leprechauns.
Leprechauns had stolen his stuff and run off to Fairy Land.
And that's when I volunteered to get his stuff back for him. The alternatives weren't good: Nidhoggr could eat us, or Nidhoggr could incinerate us. Or we could cut a deal.
"What the hell are you talking about?" Christopher demanded of me. "Leprechauns? We're going to go get this guy's magic soup bowl back from the leprechauns? What are you, nuts? We can't just take a rest somewhere?"
I looked at Christopher. Waited till he returned my stare.
"Christopher, leprechauns are very little. This dragon is very big."
Christopher blinked. "You make a good point," he said.
"I . . . I thought leprechauns made shoes," April said.
"Old World nonsense," Nidhoggr rumbled in a low mutter that nearly made my ears bleed. "In the old times all the fairies were under control. The druids checked them. The Fianna limited their power. And of course the great gods themselves held their mischief in check. Oh, in the old times none of the fairy folk would have dared to steal from Nidhoggr! The Daghdha would not have allowed it! Times have changed. These fairies today . . ."
"The Daghdha?" April repeated and looked at Jalil, who shrugged. "Who is the Daghdha?"
"The great father god of the Celts, ignorant blasphemers!" the dragon yelled with a blast of wind that would have blown a sailboat halfway to Maui.
"So where is he, the Daghdha? Maybe he could get your treasure back."
Nidhoggr seemed just the slightest bit embarrassed by the question. The man-high iris of his nearest eye narrowed a few degrees. "The stolen goods belonged to the Daghdha. They . . .
came to me, after the Daghdha was eaten by Ka Anor."
"Uh-huh," Christopher said. "That clears it all up for me. Let's get going, hi-ho hi-ho, it's off to Fairy Land we go. No problem. We'll get your stuff."
"Nidhoggr is not a fool," the dragon said. "You say you will bring me back what is rightfully mine. But I require something more binding than your word alone."
"I could leave you my backpack," April suggested.
Nidhoggr smiled and showed teeth silhouetted by the red magma, the burning napalm inside his throat. "I have a better idea."
Suddenly, from the ground before us, up from the mass of gold, rose four figures. Like trolls, thick-limbed, thick-armed, but smaller.
Or did they just look smaller with Nidhoggr as a big-screen backdrop?
Each held in his rough, three-fingered paws a ruby, glittering, blood red. Each ruby was the size of a fist. Larger. The size of a human heart.
The trolls held them out so that the rubies lay in their palms, like offerings.
"You're going to pay us?" Jalil wondered.
Nidhoggr laughed. The noise of his laughter became a physical force that sucked the air out of my lungs.
And then, as we watched with horrified fascination, the four rubies began to beat. Beat. Beat.
And inside my chest I felt a sudden stillness. A quiet, an absence no man has ever felt and lived to tell of.
My heart, my living, beating heart was in the hands
of Nidhoggr's troll. The ruby was in my chest.
"The stones will give you life for six days," Nidhoggr said. "Return in six days with my treasure, and you may take your hearts again."
"Six days, we don't have any way, I mean, what, what if it takes longer than that?" April demanded. She was pressing her hand against her chest, searching, not finding.
"In six days the rubies in your chests will burn with Nidhoggr's own fire. Serve me well, and live. Fail me, and die."
Four rubies exchanged for four hearts. Only Senna stood unchanged. I wondered why. I knew the answer would terrify me.
"Go. Bring what is mine."
Chapter
II
"Well, here's kind of an obvious question: Why doesn't Large and Crusty back there go get his own damned stuff?" Christopher demanded. "I mean who is going to argue with him? King Kong vs. Nidhoggr comes up with The Crust doing the victory boogie twenty seconds into round one. And he can't handle some bunch of leprechauns?"
It was a good question. I said so. Which encouraged Christopher.
"Here's another good question: Just how are we supposed to find Fairy Land or whatever?"
"Yep, that's two good questions," I said. "But right now maybe we need to focus on putting a lot of distance between us and Nidhoggr, the Midgard Serpent, and Hel."
We had a mission. I was in charge. Not busted, not as long as Senna walked silently beside me, but in charge.
"That's another thing: Isn't anyone around here named Joe? Or Steve?"
We were walking along a tunnel. We were heading steeply uphill and had been for more than an hour, but I still didn't have the sense we were near the surface. Let alone what surface we might be near.
There was a stone, a ruby inside my chest. Right where my heart should be. And in six days it would burst into flame and kill me. We were thirsty, hungry, exhausted. Our heads, or at least my head, was full of recent memories of unspeakable horror.
But I was feeling strangely upbeat.
At last a straightforward job. At last a goal, a compelling need, a unifying, simplifying ambition. We had to get Nidhoggr's treasure back to him or else die. In six days. And I was pretty sure the ancient dragon wouldn't be giving extensions.
"He's too big," Jalil said. "He's been down in that hole, down at the bottom of that volcano shaft or whatever it is, and he's been growing bigger over the years."
"So what?" Christopher said.
"So that's why he can't go after the leprechauns himself," Jalil said.
"He's got wings, man. He could fly straight up. Up and out."
"I would say that's impossible," Jalil said. "But I've learned my lesson about what's possible and not possible here. Still, he must not be able to go after the leprechauns or else he'd go, not send us. And the leprechauns must have known he couldn't chase them or else what leprechaun in his right mind would rip him off? And how far gone am I that I'm even talking about the state of mind of a leprechaun?"
I was waiting. Waiting for Christopher to ask the next question.
The third obvious question. But it was April who did it.
"Five of us. Four rubies for four hearts," she said. She looked at her half sister, but Senna kept her eyes straight ahead.
Christopher jumped right in. "Oh, come on, April. You know Senna's got no heart."
Senna said nothing. Her face revealed nothing.
"Um, Senna? Hey. Hey, you, witch lady?" Christopher was prodding her, trying to get a rise out of her. And out of me, too.
Looking for an excuse to demand that I give up the sword. Looking for evidence that I was Senna's puppet.
"I say, witchy woman? Do you have a heart? I'm just curious. I mean, it's like a medical question, really."
Silence. Indifference. Senna's mind was off somewhere far away. She had her own take. She had her own motives. Maybe she saw deeper into things. Or maybe she just focused on her own agenda.
I would think I had her. I would think I understood. I would think, again and again that there was something real between us. But I'm not blind, not a complete fool. I wanted her. She wanted to use me. That's a big gap. I meant the same to her as a hammer means to a carpenter.
Change the subject. "Jalil, you've been keeping notes and drawing maps and all. Do you have any idea where this tunnel may come out?"
Jalil barked a laugh. "It could come out in Loki's dungeons for all I know. Or in Fenrir's butt. You can't make a map of what has no logical organization. It's a twenty-four-hour boat ride from frozen Viking country to steamy Aztec land. Then it's a brief walk to what could easily be the English countryside. And a few days' walk to Hel, where we fall down a very deep hole and land with only minor bruises, and you wonder if I have a map?"
"Spock, we're counting on you, Spock!" Christopher mocked.
After that we walked in silence for a while. Christopher seemed burned out. He falls into these funks for a while where he finally shuts up. But that's normal enough.
It was April who had me worried. I don't know what it is between April and Senna, but whatever it is, it's bad. Jalil and Senna dislike each other. Christopher treats Senna with the same contempt-masked-as-humor as he does the rest of us. But April hates Senna. Hates. And hate isn't an emotion that comes lightly or easily to April.
They share a father, April and Senna. Dad had an affair, I guess, with Senna's mom. Then Mom took off, and her dad stepped up and took responsibility for raising Senna. He brought her into his home.
Senna and April became instant sisters. Maybe that's all there is to it. Maybe it's just some kind of sibling rivalry thing. I'm no shrink; that's not what I'm good at. People's motivations, all their deep, dark stuff, I don't get. Not usually, anyway. Or else I get it a week later than everyone else.
"I think I see stars," April said. "Up ahead."
I peered ahead. The tunnel had a sort of background light, faintly reddish. Of course it made no sense. The light just seemed to glow. Why? Because it did. That's my answer for the mysteries of Everworld. Why? Because. Move on.
Jalil was the one who obsessed over the why and the how.
Maybe he'd write the guidebook to Everworld some day: Galahad's castle definitely worth a stop. But avoid Hel's Underworld Club Med.
I squinted, shutting out as much if the background light as I could. Stars? Maybe. I inhaled deeply. A smell, yes, was it flowers?
Maybe perfume. April, maybe.
No, that was dumb. April had had as little shower and soap time as the rest of us.
"I smell flowers."
"I smell you," Christopher grumbled. "I see the stars, though. It's night. Must be. How is that? Wasn't it daylight back when we were looking up from Large and Crusty's gold pile?"
"W.T.E.," Jalil said.
Welcome To Everworld. The shorthand answer to al of Everworld's bizarreness.
Definitely night sky ahead at the end of the tunnel. Definite stars.
And now a slice of moon. I almost cried. The moon. The sky. After so long underground.
"Hello, up there," I said quietly. "Wasn't sure I'd ever see you again."
April breathed a huge sigh of relief. "I don't know if I mentioned this, but I have not been having a good time down here. Let's go before it turns out to be some sick trick."
Tired as we were, we quickened our pace. April shouldered her backpack, I hitched up my sword. Even Senna moved faster.
It was no trick. I saw the moon now peeking in and out between tree branches. Stars winked. The air was heavy with a smell I identified from when I was a kid and would visit my grandfather's place on Maryland's eastern shore. Honeysuckle. Normally I'd just say "flower," but this was one smell I actually knew by name.
The tunnel ended. I drew my sword and stepped out in front.
Noticed that no one else volunteered for that job. Stepped out, sword at the ready, not really scared, not after what we'd come from. I didn't expect to ever see anything that would scare me as badly as Hel had.
I was standing under a
night sky. Like the stars of home? I didn't know; I'm no astronomer. I was at the edge of a wood, trees not so tall as the forest we'd traveled to reach Hel's land. These trees seemed, even in the darkness, less gloomy. There was less of whatever unarticulated instinct would make my hair stand on end.
The ground above the cave entrance sloped gently up toward a low, tree-dotted hill.
I listened. Heard nothing but breeze in the trees. Maybe a suggestion of fal ing water, couldn't be sure. The point was, it wasn't Hel's underworld, it wasn't Nidhoggr's treasure room, it was open skies and blowing breezes and rustling leaves and the smell of sweet flowers.
I couldn't help it. My eyes filled with tears. Couldn't help it. Too much bad in my head. Too much fear-sweat dried on my skin. Too much adrenaline residue in my veins. Too many pictures, live-action, full-color, HDTV so real pictures in my memory. So many, how would I ever have room for anything else in there?
What could ever claim a place between the scenes of horror?
I took a couple of deep breaths. Brushed the tears away. Forget it all. Try to forget it. Act like you've forgotten it, David.
"Come on out."
Jalil had already stepped out to stand beside me. "I wonder if the moon is real. Stars and all, too."
"Real enough, man."
"You know, way back, back in ancient times, people believed the sky was this big upturned bowl. The sun traveled within it during the day. At night the light of the heavens came through little pinpricks in the bowl. That was stars. Little holes in an upside-down bowl."
"Yeah?"
"Yeah. And you know what's a bitch? Here that may actually be true." Then, in a very different voice he said, "If I knew how to do it, man, I would cut all that back there, everything we saw in the Underworld, I'd cut it out of my brain. I'd take a knife and cut it out of my brain. Damn, the moon is beautiful."
That's when we heard the scream.
Chapter
III
"I didn't hear that," Christopher said, coming up behind me.
"Someone screamed," I said, momentarily not realizing that of course he'd heard it. "Sounded like a girl."