Good Ogre (19 page)

Dirk was the first to his side, followed by Ricky.
They helped Max up, and he managed to steady himself. He took another step toward the armor, and then with a final movement he stepped
into
it. The liquidity vanished and the armor formed into a solid piece. Max stood there, looking like a medieval knight in shimmering black plate mail. And because it had been designed by Rezormoor Dreadbringer, who'd thought in terms of speed and maneuverability, it was perfectly balanced. The sleek armor covered Max from head to toe, and as the others stared at him, they noted a faint black mist that drifted off it, carried by unseen magical currents. Max radiated power—so much so that even Puff could feel it through his inside-out scale.
That
hadn't happened in a long time.

Max dropped to one knee, but he refused to surrender to the exhaustion that was beckoning to swallow him. There was too much to do, and too little time. And he had one more Prime Spell to cast.

Megan rushed over. “Let me heal you,” she said, lowering her staff. But when it touched the armor it shot backward, flying through the air. The staff careened toward one of the wrestlers, who managed to dive out of the way at the last second.

“Magic can't reach him now,” Puff said, stepping forward. “He's enshrined in the most powerful armor ever conceived. Powerful enough for the wearer to take over the entire world, if that's what they desire.”

“It's . . . it's . . . ,” Melvin tried to say, struggling to get the words out. “It's magnificent.”

“No one person should ever have that much power,” Dwight grumbled, and then spat dust from his mouth.

“Yeah, but that's Max in there,” Dirk said. “He's not like that.”

“You mean the same kid who opened the portal and started all of this?” Dwight shot back. “Yeah, I know who it is. I'm not worried about his intentions—frankly, they don't matter. There are consequences for that much power, and it's always people like you and me who end up paying the price.”

Max regained his feet, but there was no heavy thud from the sabaton that covered his foot. And the way that Max moved, it wasn't like he was struggling under the armor's weight at all. In fact, he moved as if the armor weighed practically nothing.

“Dreadbringer must have spent years designing this,”
Max said as he caught his breath. He could feel his strength returning to him—perhaps aided by the suit itself? Who knew what secrets Rezormoor Dreadbringer had woven into his life's work?

“How did you learn how to do that?” Megan asked, still a little shaken from it all. One of the wrestlers had retrieved her staff and brought it back to her.

“In the Tower. Dreadbringer's thoughts blended with the
Codex
when I first made the attempt. But there's more to it than even I imagined.”

“Like what?” Melvin asked.

Max lifted his gauntleted left arm and a symbol began to glow on his wrist. It was a blue circle with eight arrows pointing inward. He touched it with his other hand and suddenly the whole suit began to collapse in on itself. Pieces slid beneath others, the helmet rolled back from around Max's head, and plates moved away, compacted, and folded until the entire set of armor had retreated into a single band around his wrist.

“DUDE!” Dirk exclaimed.

Max smiled. “And that's how Rezormoor Dread-bringer decided to take his armor on and off. Of course the wristband is kind of permanent, I think.”

“Who cares,” Dirk continued, his excitement showing on his face. “That is the most epic suit of armor, ever!”

Max nodded, turning to Puff. “Thanks for letting me do that. I couldn't have done it without the serpent's escutcheon.”

“I'm glad I could help,” the fluff dragon answered. He still felt strange after being touched by the prime spell, however, but Max had enough things to worry about.

“So I have one more spell to cast,” Max announced, turning to Ricky. “That is, if you guys are willing to help us.”

Ricky swallowed. “Look, Max, I've been wanting to say something, so I guess now is as good a time as any. I'm sorry for everything I've done to you, at school and in the messed-up places you go.” He turned to Max's friends. “And that goes for the rest of you. I'm just going to be honest here: I kind of envy you guys. You dress up and do all this crazy stuff, but you know who you are. And you seem happy—until I come along and mess it up. But it's not up to me or anybody else to tell you its wrong, or dorky, or whatever. So I'm sorry—and I guess that's pretty much it.”

“That took a lot of guts,” Megan said, after a moment
of silence. “I'll tell you something I heard once: When you destroy it makes you sad. When you create it makes you happy. That's all we do: create worlds and characters, and even armor and costumes. If you want to be happy, Ricky, just find something you want to create and go do it. Destroying others, their work, even your own self, will only leave you empty.”

Ricky nodded, turning to his former gang of troublemakers. “Just so you guys know, I like ballroom dancing. If you have a problem with that, tough.”

A skinny wrestler stepped forward. “I wanted to play the flute but I was afraid of what people would think.”

“Yeah,” a short and thick wrestler agreed. “I always dreamed of acting on the stage. And not just because sometimes you get to kiss girls.”

George Lobowski, football star and heavyweight wrestler, stepped forward. “And I love to bake!” he blurted out. “I love to bake cupcakes and frost them and make them pretty and delicious and I don't care who knows it!”

“I like cupcakes,” Moki agreed. He thought the idea of baking cupcakes was an especially good one.

“But I need you all to do something first,” Max
continued. “I need you to help me fight our way to the Maelshadow and save Sarah, Madison, and pretty much the rest of the world.”

The wrestlers nodded as they grew serious. “You picked the right bunch of guys for that,” Ricky announced.

“Okay, then,” Max continued. “Step back.” He pressed his mind into the
Codex
and found the limitless space within, summoning the next spell:
Gallimaufry—to create a mixture of diverse things.

Max had never been properly instructed on how to be a wizard. But he was learning, and he was beginning to understand that he could shape things as he bought the
Codex
's magic into effect. This time he imagined the kind of supply shop he used to go to online as he played his games. He concentrated specifically on racks of armor and weapons, pushing that images into the spell and feeling them take hold. Then he concentrated on something else—a memory that was not his. It was, he knew, his father's, and it had been captured within the
Codex
long ago. It was of a world of shadows and gray skies, where a large volcano spewed and coughed rivers of hot lava across an ebony landscape. A forge sat at the foot of the
volcano, where a solitary figure hammered on an anvil.
Dagda
the blacksmith—smithing her steel over the everlasting flame.
The knowledge came with the ancient memory of the place. Then Max found what he was looking for—a solid black sword hanging near the master blacksmith. The blade was like obsidian, and translucent enough to show a volcanic fire bubbling and trapped within. The hilt was shaped into a dragon—the guard formed by two outstretched wings and the grip by the tail. Max focused on the mythical blade and brought it to the Prime Spell. The room shook violently and the spire itself seemed to shift in protest.

Dust floated through the blue bathroom, and several tiles fell from the ceiling. But all around bits and pieces of armor and weapons were scattered on the floor. And at the center was
Penumbra
, the Shadrus weapon now given form.

Max stepped forward, wiping the sweat from his eyes. His gray hair was matted against his head and his body shook from the exertion of the last few minutes. He walked to Penumbra and picked it up. Unlike his armor, the sword was heavy. “The
Codex
said only shadow can destroy the Maelshadow. This sword was forged in
the Shadrus, and I intend to use it to drive the Lord of Shadows away.” But that wasn't exactly true—the
Codex
had said that a
creature
of shadow would have to sacrifice itself. He hoped wielding Penumbra was close enough. As far as the sacrifice part, he was ready to do it. But he couldn't tell the others . . . they wouldn't understand.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

MAX, THE BLUE MEN, AND GRAVITY

T
HEY UNLOCKED THE BATHROOM DOOR
and streamed into the hallway, yelling at the top of their lungs. Ricky was the first through, followed by Dwight and the rest of the wrestlers. They were wearing armor now, and had found weapons that suited them. Max was next, followed by Melvin, Dirk (who had Glenn across his back and a thin sword in hand), Moki, and Puff, with Megan and Sydney bringing up the rear. Max was back in his armor, feeling more tired than he could ever remember. They pressed forward into the hallway filled with at least fifty urinal men—blue, featureless, and looking like the clothes mannequins at the mall.

The wrestlers slammed into the blue creatures like a
wave crashing on the beach. They were strong, athletic, and still upset at the whole toilet-stall thing. They cut, shoved, bludgeoned, and stabbed their way forward. A strong minty smell began to fill the air.

Melvin was busy firing arrows into the ranks of the enemy, while Moki lobbed the occasional fireball. Max moved in the near-weightless armor as he fought to control the Shadric sword. Penumbra was heavy, and he felt unbalanced as used it. He could hear the voice of the Jan Man calling out from the back: “Attack! Attack! Get them, my pretties!” Max figured anyone who called living urinal cakes “pretty” probably lived alone and ate a lot of microwaved dinners. Then Max remembered the strange mop carried by the Jan Man.

“Clear me a path to the janitor,” Max called out. “But stay away from his mop.”

Ricky grunted an affirmative and Max watched as urinal man after urinal man fell beneath the fury of the wrestlers. It wasn't long before an opening presented itself, and Max rushed toward the Jan Man. He brushed past the remaining blue monsters as the former janitor swung his mop-dusa to meet him. Max saw the twisting,
slithering snakes, their small tongues darting in and out as their slitted eyes met his. The Jan Man paused, his eyes wide with expectation. Then he frowned.

“You didn't change! You're supposed to change!” The Jan Man stamped his foot in protest. Max knew no amount of mop-based magic was going to penetrate his armor, however. He brought his sword around and sliced through the handle of the mop. The chaotic bundle of snakes turned into thick coils of cloth as it fell to the floor.

“No!” the Jan Man cried.

The others dispatched the last of the urinal men and rejoined Max. The Jan Man backed up a foot or two toward the large door behind him. “I'm not supposed to let anyone past,” he protested.

“We're going through,” Max said, trying to be sympathetic to Mr. Lizar's plight.

“The hard wway or the easy way,” Dirk chimed in. “That's what you say at a time like this.”

The Jan Man looked at the remains of his mop on the floor. “So my mop-dusa was just a mop?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Melvin answered. “And this building used to be our school.” The Jan Man tilted his head in thought.

“Park—something or other,” he said.

“Parkside,” Max answered.

“Go, Eagles!” Sydney added, then suddenly looked embarrassed.

“None of this is right, is it?” the former Mr. Lizar asked. He looked at Max. “You gonna put it right?”

“Yes.”

The Jan Man nodded and moved to the side, motioning toward the door. “Then you should go and do that. I suppose I'll just wait here and see how it all turns out.”

“Or . . . ,” Dirk said, getting an idea. “You could clean up this big mess.” The hallway was filled with bits and pieces of urinal cakes.

“Bathroom could use some attention too,” Dwight added.

The Jan Man scratched his chin as he thought it over. I
could
clean up this mess,
or
I could go find a quiet place and take a nap.” He turned to Max. “No offense here, but if you guys lose, better to look like I put up a fight.” And with that the Jan Man headed off.

“Well, at least we didn't have to hurt him,” Megan said after he left.

Max sheathed his sword. “It's not his fault—it's mine.”

“So now what?” Ricky asked.

“Duh,” Dirk answered. “We go through the door.”

On the other side of the door was the old gym where everything had started. There was no sign of the bleachers where Max had sat with Wayne, or the basketball hoops, the scoreboard, or the banner on the wall that had read
PUMMEL THE PANTHERS!
Instead, they found themselves at the highest point in the Malaspire. The room had started off more or less a square, but as it rose a good twenty feet or so, it twisted and bent, as if it couldn't support its own weight. In the center a single rope fell from the ceiling to the floor, swaying slightly as the wind howled outside and the rain pounded the roof. But it wasn't just any rope—it was
the
rope. Max's nemesis—the ever-present reminder of his failures and the object of shame and humiliation that had embarrassed him in front of half the school. And above it, pulsing with reddish light, lay the opening through the Shadric Portal.

“No way,” Dirk said, pointing to the rope. “You have to climb the rope to enter the portal? You only climbed like six inches last time.”

Max's heart sank. Dirk was right, of course. He had
no chance whatsoever of doing it. Did he risk casting a Prime Spell again? He'd done it before, by accident, at the great hunting grounds when he'd lifted Sarah, Dirk, and himself to the top of a ziggurat pyramid. He'd been frustrated and emotional, but it had been the thought of Sarah that had given him the strength to summon the spell. He'd also set a frobbit adrift for several days, but he couldn't really be blamed for that.

“So where to next?” Ricky asked, looking more enthused about things than Max thought appropriate. “Up the rope, I guess?”

Max commanded the armor to retract into the single wrist piece, and he slumped to the floor. Megan walked up and shared a concerned look with the others. “What's wrong?”

“Max can't climb ropes,” Dirk answered.

“Yeah, I saw his epic fail the other day,” Melvin added.

Dwight looked up at the twenty-foot climb. “Just use some of your magic again. No problem.”

“Maybe,” Max sighed. “But I'm running out of gas. Am I so pathetic I have to use
magic
to climb a stupid rope? I need the magic I have for the Maelshadow.”

“Can't Megan just heal you again?” Sydney asked.

Puff shook his head. “Maybe, but there are limits. More than once can be dangerous.”

“But I've healed him twice already,” Megan replied. “Remember?”

“Three times in one day is too much,” Puff answered.

“But we can't just stop here,” Dirk protested. “We fought howlers, answered the door riddle, evaded Princess, defeated gracon statues, wailed on a giant were­bear and his scare bear pals, beat the spider, and
then
battled a whole bunch of urinal men—all to be stopped by a stupid rope?”

“You forgot singing our way past the army of ­squirrels,” Sydney offered, trying to be helpful.

“Look, we're talking about the fate of the world here,” Dwight reminded them. “If another healing spell can work, we need to just try it, even if it's risky.”

Max looked up. “I'm willing to do it.”

Puff shook his head. “You don't understand—we're talking life and death here. It could kill him.”

Max shrugged. “I don't have a choice.”

“And if you're dead, then what? Are we supposed to just pick up and go on without you?” Puff snapped angrily. “What's going to happen to Sarah then? What's going to
happen to the entire Techrus? It's not just about
you
.”

“You know what your problem is?” Ricky said. “You're so used to all this magic stuff that you think it's the answer to everything.”

“So what are you suggesting?” Dwight asked. “You think you're strong enough to carry Max all the way to the top?”

“No,” Ricky answered after a moment. “The only person who's going to get Max up that rope is Max.”

Melvin threw his hands in the air. “Then we're back to where we started.”

“I happen to know for a fact that Max can climb it,” Ricky said. “Without magic, without being carried—all on his own.”

“Oh, I get it,” Dirk said. “We're going to yell at him until he makes it, right? My dad was in the army and he said that's how you motivate people.”

Ricky approached the rope. “You know, for a bunch of brainiacs you guys still don't get it. Yelling isn't going to do any good either—I'm going to
teach
Max how to climb.”

“What do you mean?” Max asked as he stared at the thick rope. “Don't you just grab hold and pull?”

“Maybe if you're built like me,” Ricky said matter-of-factly. “But there's a better way.” He turned to Megan and Sydney. “I can teach all of you how to do it.”

“It's worth a shot,” Melvin said. “Max . . . ?”

“What have I got to lose?” Max replied. “But if it doesn't work, then I'm using magic and Megan's going to heal me—that's the deal.”

“It's going to work—trust me,” Ricky said. But trusting Ricky “the Kraken” Reynolds wasn't something that came easy. Max realized that despite the apology and battle in the hallway, he still was unsure about the one-time bully. If he was going to make this work, Max knew he'd have to let go of all that.

“Okay, Ricky,” Max said as he climbed to his feet. “I'll trust you.” And he realized that he really did.

“Cool. So here's what we're going to do—it's called the break-and-squat technique.”

“Sounds like the time I ate a taco out of the garbage,” Dirk added. Ricky ignored him and kept going, grabbing the rope with two hands.

“Rope climbing is all about what you do with your feet. Most people don't know that because they see someone just pull themselves up with their arms. But if you
get your feet right you don't have to have a strong upper body. The trick is to just let the rope slide along your right hip as you grab hold, then use your feet to make a kind of rung, like on a ladder. Here, let me show you.”

Ricky jumped and grabbed hold of the rope. Then he raised his right leg high enough that his left foot was able to get under it and lift it about a half foot so the rope looked like an
S
turned on its side. He dropped his other leg into the “rung” and as he lowered his weight, it drew taut. Ricky let go of the rope with one hand and sat there looking perfectly relaxed.

“I'm not using my arms at all,” Ricky announced. “I can sit here and rest as long as I want, then just do the same thing over and over until I'm at the top.”

Max had never seen anyone climb a rope like that before. He hadn't known it was even
possible
to climb a rope like that. Ricky let go and dropped to the floor. “See?” he said. “No magic, just one person willing to teach another.”

“You might want to teach the rope not to break, too,” Glenn piped in.

Max slipped the
Codex
into the leather satchel and then handed Penumbra to Ricky. “Probably should still
try and be as light as possible,” he said. Max jumped on the rope and began working his feet the way he'd seen Ricky do it. It wasn't graceful at first, but with a little help Max got the hang of it. And amazingly, Ricky had been right. Max could stand on the rope and rest as long as it took to reach up and inch his way a little higher. By the time he reached the top, his arms were burning and he was out of breath. He didn't rest as long as he should have as the thought of time running out pushed him forward. He neared the entrance to the Shadric Portal and saw a mass of swirling red smoke. The rope ran up and into it, and there was nothing to do but follow. He took a final breath and pushed himself higher—into the swirling mist of the umbraverse.