The Candy Shop War, Vol. 2: Arcade Catastrophe (20 page)

Soaring forward, her body horizontal, Lindy streaked out through the hole. Nate paused to pick up the parchment. Tearing the hole in the parchment wider, he watched the hole in the wall expand to match. Nate dropped the parchment and followed Lindy through the widened gap.

Outside, Chris and Risa were flying after Lindy, who glided away from the
Striker,
roughly thirty feet above the water. She veered away from the nearest shore, pointing down as if tracking unseen prey. Nate accelerated and caught up to Chris.

“Does she really see him?” Chris asked.

“I trust her,” Nate replied. “She has a sixth sense for these things.”

“I have night vision, and I don’t see a thing,” Risa said.

“Exactly,” Nate said. “Either Lindy has him, or we’re out of luck.”

They had caught up to Lindy. She continued to stare down at the impenetrable water. She was flying well below top speed, but fast enough to suggest that the Hermit could swim at an abnormal pace.

“He has to surface eventually,” Chris said.

“I’m not sure,” Nate replied. “He didn’t look entirely human. He had webbed feet and hands.”

“He’s a merman?” Risa asked.

“I don’t know,” Nate said. “Some of the people who hang out with magicians have modifications. They’re called engineered apprentices. I’ve met some strange ones, including a guy full of disgusting jelly. The Hermit might be one of those, but I’m not really sure.”

“You’ve been doing this for a while?” Chris asked.

“I’ve had some experiences,” Nate answered vaguely.

They continued to fly away from the ship. As they neared the center of the waterway, the Hermit surfaced. He held up a small box, opened the lid, and then got out of the way as it rapidly unfolded, inexplicably expanding into a twenty-foot sailboat. The vessel looked old-fashioned, with a single, triangular sail that hung from a slanted mast, rising from the front of the craft to the back.

“What?” Chris exclaimed. “Where’d that come from?”

“I don’t know,” Nate replied.

“Pigeon’s here,” Lindy called. “That’s why the Hermit surfaced. The Subs were closing in from all sides.”

The Hermit boarded the vessel and rummaged in his backpack. Nate suspected the Gate was in the backpack. He swooped down as the Hermit withdrew a small model identical to his sailboat. Arms outstretched, Nate closed in as the Hermit blew on the model’s sail. The mast of the twenty-foot vessel creaked as the sail suddenly filled with wind, propelling the craft briskly forward. Due to the sudden motion, Nate missed his target and pulled up to reassess the situation.

The Hermit moved the rudder of the tiny model, and the larger vessel swerved dramatically. One of the Subs came flying out of the water like a trained dolphin. He had been aiming for the Hermit, but when the sailboat changed direction, he arced harmlessly though the air over part of the stern and plunged back below the surface.

The Hermit continued to blow the sail of his tiny model. The sail of his actual boat strained the mast as the vessel skimmed over the water. Nate and the other Jets had to fly at a good pace to keep up.

Nate glided closer to the others, thirty or forty feet above the bulging sail. “The little model controls the boat,” he said.

“Uh, yeah,” Lindy replied. “I noticed.”

“We want his backpack?” Chris asked.

“That’s my best guess,” Nate said. “It was all he took from the
Striker.
”

Another Sub, Mindy, surged out of the water. The Hermit swiveled the sail of the model sailboat, and the actual boom lurched sideways, batting the girl away. She splashed back into the water. The sight of the impact made Nathan flinch—the boom had clubbed her hard.

“Should we go help her?” Nate asked.

“I see a Sub on the way,” Lindy said. She brandished her tranquilizer pistol. “Is it time for this?”

“Probably,” Nate said. “I guess we can wake him up if the Gate isn’t in the backpack.”

Lindy dove down nearer to the boat, keeping well away from the boom. Nate darted down to fly beside her. She took aim and fired twice.

Howling, the hermit turned the sailboat sharply. Setting aside his model boat, he opened a weathered bin on the deck and retrieved a compound bow. As the Hermit hastily nocked an arrow, Lindy veered up and left, Nate up and right. Climbing as quickly as possible, Nate saw the Hermit release the arrow, but he couldn’t follow where it went. Looking urgently at the other Jets, Nate saw that nobody had been hit.

But the Hermit did not stop shooting. He fired arrow after arrow. The fourth took Risa through the thigh.

All four of the Jets broke off the pursuit and climbed straight up. Once high enough to feel safe from further arrows, they huddled together in the night sky. Risa grimaced in pain.

“Take her back,” Nate told Chris.

He looked pale, but nodded. “What about the Hermit?”

“We’ll keep after him,” Nate promised. “But Risa needs a doctor.”

“Do I take her to a hospital?” Chris asked.

Nate shook his head. “Try Jonas White first. Some of these magicians have healing abilities. Even if he can’t fix her, he’ll know what to do.”

“You okay?” Lindy asked, a hand on Risa’s shoulder.

“It hurts,” Risa replied bravely through gritted teeth.

“Go,” Nate said. “Hurry.”

Chris took Risa’s hand. “Can you fly?”

She gave a quick nod.

The two of them accelerated rapidly, racing back toward Walnut Hills.

“Think she’ll be okay?” Lindy asked.

“I don’t know,” Nate said. “Hopefully the arrow didn’t hit an artery or something. One thing is for sure—this isn’t a game. That Sub who got swatted found that out as well.”

“Do we keep after him?” Lindy asked.

“I think so,” Nate said. “But we need to keep our distance. He’s playing for keeps.”

“I hit him with at least one dart,” Lindy said. “I saw it connect.”

“I hope it takes effect soon,” Nate replied.

The sailboat had moved away while they talked. Nate led the way down toward it again. Before long he came close enough to see the Hermit on the deck, blowing on the sail of the model. The compound bow remained close at hand.

The Hermit showed no sign of dropping unconscious. Perhaps Lindy had missed after all. Or maybe he was immune.

Nate felt unsure how to proceed. He wanted to claim the Gate so he could stay close to Jonas White and rescue John and Mozag. But he didn’t want to get himself or Lindy killed by an arrow. How would that benefit anyone?

Lindy flew near to Nate. “Two Subs closing in,” she informed him.

One of the Subs shot up from the water and onto the deck of the sailboat. Nate recognized him as Drew. Instead of leaping at the Hermit, he had simply come aboard. Crouched and completely dry, he remained half the length of the vessel away from the Hermit.

“Get off my boat,” the Hermit warned. “Stop pursuing me. I won’t ask twice.”

Edging forward, Drew produced a truncheon that looked like a miniature baseball bat. Nate had toyed with some similar truncheons at the training facility.

Setting aside the model sailboat, the Hermit grasped his bow in one hand and an arrow in the other. Drew dove over the side of the boat at the same time as Pigeon burst out of the water from behind the Hermit. As the Hermit swiveled to face the new threat, Pigeon ignored him, lunging instead for the model sailboat. The Hermit had barely set his arrow to the string when Pigeon brought both hands down on the intricate model. The actual sailboat buckled and shattered, catapulting the Hermit into the water.

“Way to go, Pidge!” Nate shouted. “What’s going on now?” he called to Lindy.

“The Hermit is heading straight for the nearest shore,” Lindy replied. “He has the backpack. He dropped the bow to swim better. Pigeon and Drew are after him. He keeps fending them off with his hands and feet.”

Lindy flew along, pointing down at the water, and Nate followed unquestioningly. He got his pepper spray ready. The shore drew steadily closer.

“Pigeon and Drew keep harassing him,” Lindy reported. “The Hermit is fighting as much as he’s swimming. He still has his backpack.”

They reached the shore and the Hermit emerged from the water with Pigeon and Drew in close pursuit. But they didn’t stay close for long. On land, the Hermit was at least twice as fast as the two boys. He dashed away into a stand of trees. The Subs stayed after him, but they lost ground with every stride.

Lindy flew over the treetops, still pointing down at the Hermit as she had while over the water. “He’s fast,” she told Nate. “Some of the undergrowth is pretty dense, but he just charges right through it.”

At the far side of the trees, the Hermit sprinted into a field. Lindy looked over at Nate expectantly.

“Let him gain a little more distance,” Nate said. “I don’t want the Subs catching up. We’re going to win today.”

They tracked him across the field, over some rough terrain, and into a field beyond. “The Subs gave up,” Lindy said, looking back. “They’re returning to the water.”

Nate swooped down. The Hermit’s speed might seem impressive to somebody chasing him on the ground, but Nate could have flown circles around him. Once he came too close to miss, Nate discharged the pepper spray. The Hermit collapsed, writhing and shrieking.

Nate and Lindy landed a few yards away from their quarry. Back arched, tendons standing out, the Hermit rocked from side to side, making strangled sounds.

“We have more,” Nate warned. “Don’t make us use it.”

Still in agony, the Hermit waved a hand. “No more! No more. My skin is very sensitive.”

Seeing how pathetic the Hermit now looked, and hearing the anguish in his voice, Nate felt a little guilty for spraying him. “You shot our friend,” Nate said.

“Only after you chased and shot me,” the Hermit countered, his voice strained, his legs twitching. “How dare you blame me?”

“We need the Gate,” Nate said.

Scowling, the Hermit sat up and jerked open his backpack.

“No tricks,” Nate said, holding out the pepper spray.

The Hermit held up a box, his lips quivering with pain and anger. “This is not the Gate,” he explained. “Nor is it a trick. You’ll find the Gate in here.”

Wincing and clutching his shoulder, the Hermit rose to his knees. He peeled open the box, and it promptly unfolded into a large barn made of dark wood. Nate took a step back, staring at the impossible structure.

“How do you do that?” Lindy asked.

“I have my secrets,” the Hermit said. “Same as any magician.”

“I need to tell you something,” Nate said. “Will you listen?”

The Hermit sneered. “Long as you’re holding that attack spray, I’m all ears.”

“You don’t want Jonas White to have the Gate,” Nate said.

“Of course I don’t,” the Hermit said. “But thanks for rubbing it in.”

“Neither do we,” Nate pledged earnestly. “I’m serious. He kidnapped our friends. We’re only helping him until we can rescue them. I don’t want him to find Uweya.”

“Handing over the Gate will move him a major step toward that end,” the Hermit cautioned.

“We’re taking it for now,” Nate said firmly. “But we don’t want it permanently. Before this is over, I’m going to take it back from Jonas, and then I’ll return it to you.”

With one eye squinted more than the other, the Hermit regarded Nate. “Then you’re playing a dangerous game, boy. Jonas White is a magician of no small talent. He’s made a simulacrum of you, I can see that plain as sunrise. Crossing him won’t be as easy as you suppose.”

Nate shrugged. “I’m not expecting it to be easy. But I’m going to do it. And I want to return the Gate to you afterward. We’re only taking it to help our friends.”

The Hermit sighed. “Much as I despise what you’re doing, I hear no falsehood in your words.” He extended an arm. “Travel that way some miles, and you’ll find three hills of nearly equal height. For the next fortnight, I’ll be in a cave on the north side of the farthest.”

“Fortnight?” Nate asked.

“Two weeks,” Lindy supplied.

“Bring back the Gate, and I’ll no longer count you an enemy,” the Hermit said. “But don’t fail. If Jonas gets his hands on Uweya, not much else will matter.”

“I’ll do my best,” Nate said.

“Want to really do your best?” the Hermit asked. “Let me go. Tell Jonas I got away. I’ll run. I’ll take the Gate beyond his reach.”

“He has other helpers,” Nate said. “And he found some way to track you. I have to do this.”

The Hermit bowed his head. “Into the barn, then. You’ll find the Gate in a trunk in the loft.”

“Lindy,” Nate said, “go get it. I’ll watch him.”

The Hermit frowned. “You should both go. You may need to help each other. It’s quite heavy.”

“Then you come too,” Nate said.

“I can’t enter,” the Hermit insisted. “If I go inside, the barn could collapse.”

“If we leave you out here, I’m sure it will collapse,” Nate replied. “With us in it.”

The Hermit folded his arms.

“I hit you with a dart,” Lindy said. “I see it in your back.”

“I felt the sedative in my system,” the Hermit replied. “I’m good at countering such things. The burning spray? Not so much. Nothing has hurt me like that in a great while.”

“We could tell,” Nate said. “Lindy, I’ll watch him. Use the Finder’s Dust.”

“I’ll be right back,” Lindy said, flying off.

Nate watched the Hermit steadily until she returned. The Hermit seemed fidgety and displeased, but he made no aggressive move.

“Wasn’t hard to find,” Lindy said. “It’s kind of heavy. Not more than I could manage.”

“Solid stone,” the Hermit said.

She held a rectangular block of light-colored stone the size of a hardcover book. Set into the stone was an elaborate gate locked with a crossbar on either side.

“What do we do with it?” Nate asked.

“Burn me if you wish,” the Hermit replied, “but I honestly hope you never find out. Sadly, I fear Jonas White already knows.”

Chapter Thirteen

Prisoners