“WAIT.” ARCHER’S HAND FROZE IN THE AIR, THE TIP OF the quill pen, wet with ink, just inches above the contract. “I’m not sure I can sign this yet.”
Rigby spluttered, “Why . . . not?”
“See, I’m a Dreamtreader,” Archer said. “But I’m kind of like a captain or a field commander, not a general. I don’t really have the authority to make a decision like this.”
The Lurker shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He glanced at Kaylie, who remained expressionless, her eyes riveted to something distant.
“Well then, Keaton,” Rigby grunted, “who has such authority?”
White light flooded the chamber. “I do.” His voice was thunder, and his blazing Incandescent Armor was lightning.
Bezeal hissed, rose from his seat, and backed toward the roaring fireplace.
Master Gabriel barely fit through the arched doorway, ducking his snowy head at the last moment. He towered over the gathering, standing with one hand on his hip, the other on the hilt of his great sword. “I have the authority over the Dreamtreader Division, and I absolutely reject your ridiculous contract.”
Rigby bounced out of his chair. Crimson electricity danced on his fingertips and in his eyes. “Keaton, you backstabbing, conniving—”
“Hey,” Archer said, “you’re the one who told me to invite him.”
“Now, you listen to me,” Master Gabriel boomed. “Your socalled treaty is a manifesto of madness, a greed-infested, godless blasphemy!”
“Blasphemy?” Rigby spat. “That’s always the cry of the oppressor. Always so certain of your righteousness while pushing down the common man.”
Master Gabriel’s armor flared. “We protect not just the common man but every man!” he bristled. “We pour ourselves out for the good of all. While you—you—speak of license and freedom as if they are one and the same. You sing of oppression to line your pockets and warm your hands over the world burning.”
Rigby’s eyes bulged. “You indescribably pompous . . . fool! I’ll show you burning. My contract was your last chance. I will burn the Dreamtreaders to ashes! There will be—”
“Be silent, fool!” Master Gabriel thundered. “Your endless talk has made you mad. Listen, for once. You have spent your advantage. All is undone. Archer, make his situation clear.”
“Dr. Scoville,” Archer said, “I know what you’ve been doing. I know all about your secret deep tunnels, the scurions eating breaches unseen beneath the ground.”
Rigby’s mouth dropped open. Kara glared at him. The Lurker appeared ready to leap over the table. “How could you . . . how could you possibly know about . . . about that?”
Archer tensed before he said, “Kaylie, I think it’s time.”
“I’m sorry, Uncle Scovy,” she said. “I told Archer about your tunnels.”
“But—you couldn’t. I control—”
“I never ate the gort,” Kaylie said. “Every morsel of gort I put into my mouth went right into a capsule I willed up, one I could tuck into my cheek and spit out later. No harm done. Gort, really? How stupid did you think I was?”
Rigby turned to the Lurker. “Uncle?”
“I . . . I watched her eat the gort,” Scoville said. “She obeyed my every command.”
“I acted,” Kaylie said. “I like to act.”
“Now, we’ve a fair dinkum bit of work ahead,” Nick said, “but we’re going to close up all the breaches, starting with the underground.”
“I’m stuck here,” Kaylie said. “I can work on breaches all day and all night. No clock for me to worry about anymore.”
“We’re going to stop the Rift, Rigby,” Archer said. “It’s over.”
Rigby’s rage simmered, but he mastered it and took a more relaxed posture. “Have you forgotten?” he asked. “We are past the point of no return. A Rift is inevitable now. I have thrown open the Inner Sanctum. The Scath, even now, are punching so many holes in the Dream fabric, you’ll never fix it in time.”
“Except that they’re not,” Archer said. “Not anymore. See, I have the Shadow Key.”
Bezeal hissed again. “You said you destroyed it!”
“I did destroy it!” Rigby yelled. “I threw it into Xander’s Fortune!”
The Lurker reached into his jacket pocket. “Actually, nephew,” he said, “the key never made it to the bottom. It landed on a ledge.” He held the Shadow Key aloft. “See, I have it here.”
Rigby exhaled. “Ha, Archer!” he crowed. “You are sorely mistaken.”
“Uh, Uncle Scovy,” Kaylie said. “That key’s kind of a fake. Sorry.” As she said the words, the key began to decay until it was nothing but ashes falling from the Lurker’s hand.
“What is this?” he growled. “Where is the real Shadow Key?”
“I gave it to my brother,” Kaylie said, her pigtails bouncing.
“And I gave it to the Windmaiden,” Archer said. “Right about now, I imagine she’s locking up the Scath for good.”
“No!” Rigby rasped. “This can’t be.”
“It is, trespasser,” Archer said.
“You’ve stepped in it this time,” Nick chided. “Master Gabriel, Kaylie, Archer, and I? We’re more than enough to take you down for good.”
“Now, do you want to end this peacefully?” Archer asked. “Or do you really need to learn the hard way. Please, please say the hard way.”
Kara stood and edged toward Rigby. The Lurker did the same. But Bezeal pulled at Rigby’s elbow until he bent low enough to listen. The merchant whispered in his ear.
“There won’t be any more deals, Bezeal,” Archer said. “Save your breath.”
“Archer, look out!” Kaylie cried out.
Kara had will-formed a great spear and, in the blink of an eye, had hurled it. It sped through the room. Kaylie’s conjured shield protected Archer, but the spear sped past him and buried itself deep in Master Gabriel’s chest.
“Nice try, Archer,” Kara said. “You almost had me fooled.”
Archer’s shoulders fell. Master Gabriel began to dissolve. Like a sand sculpture in the wind, the figure of the master of all Dreamtreaders vanished, and the spear clattered to the floor.
“Now!” Rigby yelled. The torchlights and the fire flickered and went out.
A bell sounded, ringing out six mournful tolls.
“Kaylie, Nick, form up on me!” Archer called out. “We fight together!”
“Light!” Nick yelled. “We need blasted light.”
White fireballs like shooting stars launched up from the chamber and lodged at intervals in the arched ceiling, bathing the chamber in silvery light. “That work?” Kaylie asked.
“Much better,” Nick replied.
“Where are they?” Archer yelled. He leaped over the dining table and searched the far wall, but Rigby, Kara, the Lurker, and Bezeal—they were gone. And then, came the howls. First just a lone cry, then an answer. In moments, the night was drowned out by hundreds of feverish howls. The hounds were coming.
“That’s a lot of doggies,” Kaylie said.
“These are not doggies,” Archer said. “Nightmare Hounds. Huge, ferocious things.”
“Good luck getting in here, ya bitzers!” Nick shouted, looking at the fortress around him. “These walls are—”
The eastern wall of the chamber began to tremble. It bulged and then collapsed in a pile of rubble and smoke. Huge red eyes waited on the other side.
An immense black hound stepped over the debris. It had a mane like a lion’s, only black, and it flared out upon its massive shoulders as the creature broke into a rippling snarl. It lunged for Kaylie. Archer dove to her aid but found himself knocked out of the air and sprawling against the north wall of the chamber. He healed up his bruises even as he stood, wondering, What in the world hit me?
“Bad dog!” Kaylie shouted. There was a yelp, and Archer saw Kaylie wielding a rolled-up newspaper that had to be at least three feet wide and ten feet long.
“Bad dog, heel!” Kaylie shouted, whopping the hound on the snout repeatedly.
“Kaylie,” Archer called out. “You’re going to need something stronger than that!”
“I dunno,” she said. “It’s the way Dad did it with Bingo.”
“Bingo was a poodle!” Archer yelled. “These are Nightmare Hounds!”
Fierce growls announced the leaping attack of too many hounds to count. Archer found himself tumbling among snapping jaws and claw swipes. All the while, he heard Nick shouting, “Take that, ya flea-bitten bitzer! And that, yeah! Hooroooo!”
Archer bounced snout to snout before falling to the ground and being battered by the mess of paws and legs. “Too much chaos!” he yelled, and he drew up his will and thunder-stomped the ground.
The shockwave took the nearest hounds. They cartwheeled backward and crashed to the floor ten yards away. They yipped and whined as they righted themselves but then slunk away limping. But others came behind them. Dozens of other hounds. And there was something else. A grating sound like stone.
Archer looked up and caught a glimpse of starlit sky through a crack in the high ceiling. “Dreamtreaders!” Archer called with will-infused volume. “Watch your head! The roof’s caving in!”
Archer saw the crack widen. A car-sized panel of fused stone tumbled loose and fell. It crash-landed a few feet away from Nick. The Aussie Dreamtreader gaped wide-eyed and exclaimed, “Whew! That was close.”
As the stones began to fall, the hounds’ fury increased. They pounced. One knocked Archer to the ground, and Nick leaped onto its back. He slung out massive chains, wrapped them around the beast’s neck, and yanked backward.
Archer called up his flaming blue sword and drove it into the creature’s rib cage. He and Nick heaved the thing to the side just as a swift wind whistled up. It howled louder than the hounds. Dust and debris all but blinded Archer and Nick.
A huge section of the chamber’s roof tore free, but it didn’t fall. It was sucked into the sky. The added light gave Archer a window to see. Kaylie, still wielding her giant rolled-up newspaper, was fighting off a pair of hounds. But she didn’t see the other two approaching from behind.
“I’m on it!” Nick yelled. “I’ll show those bitzers!”
Archer launched forward to help, but an invisible barrier struck him down. “Archer, no!” a female voice yelled in his mind. “Leave her. She and Nick can handle things here!”
“What? You?” Archer called aloud. “Your windstorm?”
“Yes,” the Windmaiden replied. “Listen, you have to go now!”
“What? Where?”
“Rigby has gone back. He’s gone back to the Waking World. He means to kill Kaylie.”
“But Kaylie’s here—” Archer’s mouth snapped shut as he realized. “No, he can’t be.”
“Rigby sees Kaylie as his greatest threat,” the Windmaiden said. “He’s going to the hospital. He’ll destroy the machines that keep her alive!”
“Can you zap me there?” Archer asked desperately. “Please!”
“I cannot,” she said. “But I can return you to your anchor.”
Archer watched as Nick called up an electrified fence behind Kaylie. The two hounds rammed into it, yelped, and streaked away. Archer leaped over a pile of rubble and landed between Nick and Kaylie. “I have to leave,” he said.
“What?” Nick yelped. “No, we work together, right?”
“I’m sorry,” Archer said. “There’s something I’ve got to do.”
“What is it, Archer?” Kaylie asked. “We’ll come with you. We can help.”
“No!” Archer barked, much louder than he meant to. “I’m sorry, but you need to secure Number 6. Find Dad and Mr. Gamber. They’ll be in the dungeons below, I think. But I can’t wait.”
“Why, Archer?” Kaylie asked. “Why would you leave us now?”
How many times will I let you down? The thought just about crushed Archer’s heart. He could barely speak. “Please understand,” he said. “I’m trying to help.”
“Archer,” Kaylie said, “you’re scaring me!”
Archer stepped backward and cried out to the Windmaiden, “Now! Do it!”
Storm winds swept Archer up, encircled him, and he was gone in a cloud of dark turbulence. He opened his eyes, saw his mother’s favorite well, and lunged for it.