LITMIR.BIZ

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was dressed in an extravagant purple suit - velvet by the look of it.

      “Sorry about that, sir,” Violet said. “That’s just Theodore.”

      “And I am one of Her Majesty’s valets. My name is Oscar.”

      “Like the Grouch?” Theodore blurted.

      The man turned to him. “What an atrocious little boy you are.”

      “Exactly,” Theodore replied, nodding. “Definitely atrocious.”

      “Believe it or not,” Charlie said, “he’s actually got a few good qualities.”

      “Perhaps we should mount an expedition to find them someday. Until then - follow me, please.”

      With that, Oscar strode through the maze of hallways and stairs as the rest of the group struggled to keep up. Before long, they arrived at a heavy, hand-carved door. Oscar opened it and led the group into an elegant parlour filled with antique furniture. Rex was perched casually on the arm of a peacock-blue sofa that Charlie guessed cost more than his father had made in his entire lifetime. Tabitha Greenstreet stood on the other side of the room, her red, bejewelled hair perfectly framed by the pattern on the ivory wallpaper.

      “There you are,” Tabitha said, rushing to them. She hugged Charlie tightly. “We’ve been so worried.”

      “We’re fine,” Charlie replied. “But the rest of the world isn’t doing too good. Have you seen what’s going on with the Elemental Golems?”

      Rex nodded. “Yup. Just when you think you know every Nethercritter out there, them fiends whip up some new ones to throw at ya. It’s…it’s wearying, is what it is.”

      “May I get you anything?” Oscar asked. Then, with the slightest of devilish grins, “A selection of cheeses, perhaps?”

      “No more cheese!” Rex roared. “I mean, ya’ll been unbelievably kind to us, but I’m about cheesed out. Everything here is cheese! Cheese selections, cheese sandwiches, cheese on toast. I had a dream last night where I was crushed under a giant wedge of cheddar cheese before being rescued by pirates from a cheese boat that was sailing on an ocean of melted cheese. In other words - no more cheese, ya got that!”

      “Am I to understand,” Oscar said mildly, “that you would not care for any more cheese?”

      “Let me put it this way - if I ever ask for cheese again, I want you to—”

      “Is there any way we could see the Headmaster?” Charlie interrupted. “We really need to talk.”

      The Headmaster lay propped up in bed in the room just off the parlour. Her normally brown skin looked waxy and ashen. She listened carefully as Charlie finished his story.

      “So basically, we’re exiled and not allowed to do anything or we’ll get Reduced, but we have to do something because the whole planet’s in danger.”

      The Headmaster nodded and Charlie detected a wince of pain. The wounds she’d suffered in the icy lair of the Named were grave, and she was still only in the beginning stages of recovery. Watching her now, Charlie flashed back to the last time he had seen her healthy and active - mowing down literally hundreds of Nethercreatures as they swarmed across her like ants on a sugar lump.

      “The fate of the planet is in your hands,” she said, her voice not much more than a whisper. “As you witnessed, the Fifth cannot be destroyed by any mortal means. Even weapons with a touch of the Nether on them, like yours—” she gestured to Charlie’s rapier with a trembling hand “—won’t harm her. To destroy her, you need one of the Ancient Weapons, forged in the Nether eons ago. You need the Sword of Sacrifice.”

      “Fine. How do we get it?” Violet asked. Her eyes were as flinty as the axe at her side and Charlie was struck once again by how hard she seemed now. The Banisher that stood beside him was a far cry from the gentle, artistic girl he had met just over six months ago.

      “You don’t get the sword, Ms Sweet,” the Headmaster said softly. “Only a Double-Threat can wield something so powerful. And since Pinch has betrayed us and I’m clearly in no condition to get out of this bed, let alone fight, the task falls to Mr Benjamin, I’m afraid. But he cannot do it alone.”

      Theodore stepped forward. “We’ll protect him - no problemo there. Nobody hurts Charlie Benjamin when Theodore Dagget is around. Nobody.”

      The Headmaster shook her head. “It’s not your protection he needs, Mr Dagget. It’s something far more precious. The Smith will explain it to you.”

      Charlie shrugged. “Who?”

      “The Smith,” Rex said. “As in blacksmith. You can find him in the Netherforge, out there in the mountains of the 3^rd Ring. That’s where Banishers go to make their weapons, and he’s the fella in charge.”

      “Is that where you got your short sword?” Violet asked, gesturing to the one that hung from the cowboy’s belt.

      Rex nodded. “Yeah. The Smith showed me how to forge it, like he does for everyone - like he’ll do for you someday, if there is a ‘someday’.” He turned to the Headmaster. “I can warn them not to touch him, right?”

      The Headmaster smiled dourly. “It seems you just have.”

      “We shouldn’t touch the Smith?” Charlie asked. “What will happen if we do?”

      Rex sighed. “It would be…bad.”

      “Define bad,” Brooke said. “Bad as in…?”

      “Bad as in just don’t do it or you’ll hate yourself for the rest of your natural life!”

      “Oh,” Brooke replied, startled. “That kind of bad.”

      “Will you take us to him?” Charlie asked. “To the Smith, I mean.”

      Rex nodded. “Course I will.”

      The Headmaster shook her head solemnly. “That’s not possible, Mr Henderson - you know that. They must go without you. The seeker of the blade must bring with him his three closest friends.”

      “Rex and I are his friends,” Tabitha replied. “We’re as close to him as anyone.”

      “No. You are his mentors - and there are only two of you. I know you don’t wish to see the children suffer…but if they do not, the world will suffer.”

      Brooke looked a little queasy. “Excuse me, Headmaster, but exactly in what way will ‘the children’ suffer?”

      “Soon you will understand, Ms Brighton.”

      Suddenly, the parlour door opened and Oscar rushed in. “I’m terribly sorry for intruding in this manner, but there’s been a rather dramatic development. Something quite horrific is happening.”

      He picked up a remote control and turned on the wall-mounted television. As a newscaster babbled hysterically, live pictures from four major cities around the world flashed up on the screen.

      In Spain, Air Golems stormed across a large bullring (helpfully identified as the Plaza de la Maestranza). The red dirt in the centre of the arena was funnelled up into the giant, rampaging creatures, turning them a dark, dusky colour. Screaming patrons tried to flee, but soon found themselves hurled miles across the heart of Seville by the tornado-like force of the monsters. Charlie was astonished to see a bull flung into the wall of the stadium, where it hung by its horns like a dart in a dartboard.

      On another corner of the screen, Charlie saw Fire Golems smashing through the heavily fortified walls of Red Square in Moscow. The terrible creatures headed for the colourful spires of the Kremlin where they vomited up great geysers of lava. As they went about their destruction, they all but ignored a Russian military brigade that desperately tried to gun them down.

      Конец

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