ARCHER HAD A PROBLEM. LOTS OF PROBLEMS, ACTUALLY, as usual. This was a new one, however, and as he tried to soldier through a droning Chemistry lecture, this fresh issue vexed him. He’d brought Bezeal’s coveted puzzle box, the mysterious Karakurian Chamber, back from the Dream.
He hadn’t meant to. He’d meant to take it straight to Bezeal and be done with it. But the Stroke of Reckoning had sounded, and there had been no way to get back to Kurdan in time. Still, when the Dreamtreader hit his anchor, he hadn’t expected the puzzle box to come back with him. That’s not how things worked.
On one of his first Dreamtreading trips, Archer had found a six-inch, superfuzzy, talking caterpillar. He wanted to keep it as a pet, so he held on to it when he touched his anchor. The caterpillar did not enter the waking world. Archer had repeated the experiment with metals, stone, paper, leaves, jewels—even food. Nothing came back. Ever.
Yet the Tokens of Doom had come back. Somehow the Nightmare Lord had attached them to Archer before he went to the anchor. That was the first time. Now the puzzle box.
“. . . hope you are all preparing well for the Battle of the Brains,” Dr. Pallazzo was saying. “Monday will be A through H. Tuesday, I through P . . .”
Archer bolted upright. Tuesday? Tuesday! I haven’t started studying. Rigby is going to slam me. No, that wasn’t quite accurate. Rigby is going to beat me fiercely about the head and shoulders, drop-kick me into the lower atmosphere, and then slam me.
Archer shook his head. Okay, so I have two problems. I’m going to fail Chemistry. And I’ve brought back some kind of powerful relic from the Dream. A little voice in the back of Archer’s mind whispered that there was a third problem that maybe trumped them all: he’d defied Master Gabriel. Inexcusably. Directly. Absolutely. Archer rushed that voice back into a dark mental corner.
The bell rang, emptying classes out into the halls. Kara pushed by Archer to catch up with Rigby. She didn’t say a word. All Archer could do was shake his head.
Amy appeared at Archer’s elbow. “You getting ready for the big match versus Rigby?” she asked, bubbly as usual.
“Kaylie’s on board,” he said dismally. “But there’s only so much she can do. After all, it is Chemistry, and I am, well . . . me.”
Amy laughed. Archer laughed too, his snorts inspiring new rounds of snickers and giggles.
“I love your laugh,” she said. “You sound just like Elmer Fudd, uh . . . with snorts.”
“You love my laugh?” Archer asked. “Most people think it’s annoying.”
“How can anything that makes you laugh be annoying?” she asked. “Laughter makes the world go round.”
Just like that, Amy was gone, off on her way to Tech Ed. Archer had a random thought about Amy, but tossed that one quickly into the same mental corner as his imprisoned worries about Gabriel.
Puzzle box! Think! Archer wondered what it was. Why did Bezeal want it so badly? Why had the other Dreamtreaders gone after it? Had they also been tempted by the offer of a sure-fire way to dethrone the Nightmare Lord? That was the only answer that made sense. Duncan and Mesmeera were not stupid. They didn’t take unnecessary risks. Still, they had gone after the puzzle box.
Archer wasn’t thinking about his path to Gym class. He came to the T-junction in the hall. To go left was the long way, around the auxiliary gym. Going right was much shorter, past the custodial offices and supply rooms, and up the hallway known as Gallows Hall.
Still puzzling over the puzzle box, Archer turned right.
The best thing to do would be to contact Gabriel, confess his lack of obedience, and give him the puzzle box. If anyone knew what to do with it, Master Gabriel would. If anyone could see through Bezeal’s deceptions, Master Gabriel could. And if anyone could banish Archer into some nether-region hole in the ground, Master Gabriel could. Archer chucked that idea into the already crowded corner.
That led to an even more frightening thought. What about the Superior? Would the Superior be upset about Archer’s lack of obedience?
Suddenly, Archer stopped walking. The light in the hall dimmed ahead. It was not a gradual thing either. It went from full light to a little light . . . to no light.
“Gallows Hall,” Archer muttered. “Why did I come this way?”
He looked ahead. The Gym entrance was the very last door on the right at the very end of the hallway. Prior to that, there were two alcoves on the right: one to the girls’ locker room; one for the boys’ locker room. There was one gap on the left-hand side for restrooms and two drinking fountains notched between. Even on a blazingly sunny day like this one, all three of these areas were in almost complete shadow.
There had been more fights and so-called “jumpings” in this hall than all the other halls in Dresden High put together. The principal and assistant principal did their best to patrol the area. They published a newsletter saying that the school had ordered new track lighting, but the Board of Ed had frozen school funds until a district shortfall could be taken care of. The result: Gallows Hall stayed Gallows Hall.
And it was Friday. Archer had heard Guzzy and his cronies talking about something going down on Friday in Gallows Hall, but what, and exactly when? He couldn’t be certain, but he couldn’t help but wonder if it might be some form of payback to Rigby.
“I should probably at least mention it to him,” Archer muttered as he stepped into the shadows of Gallows Hall. He passed the guys’ locker room, moving a little to the right as he passed the restrooms, and back to the left as he passed the girls’ locker room. He could handle himself. Dreamtreader training had been heavily dosed with hand-to-hand combat. Archer wasn’t really worried about a fight for himself, at least not one-on-one.
And Rigby had pretty much disabled Guzzy with one strike, though it had been an unexpected blow. But taking out several very strong, very devious guys would be a lot more dangerous.
Archer passed through Gallows Hall without incident and headed into Gym. Mr. Gant and Ms. Simmons divided up the classes into six soccer teams and turned them loose for the block. Archer loved soccer, but his mind was so busy with other issues that he all but phoned in his effort. Worse still, Rigby was on a different team, and they never played against Archer’s.
But after class, Archer was determined to catch up to Rigby. The locker room was crowded, and Archer raced through the other boys trying to get to his locker. He passed Rigby’s row and was about to turn in and talk to him, but three senior football players plowed right past and blocked the row. Archer figured he’d change first and then catch Rigby. He ducked under a towel battle and finally found a clear path to his own locker. He changed faster than ever, feeling very much like Superman ducking in and out of a phone booth. But unlike the Man of Steel, who usually arrived on time to save the day, Archer zipped around two banks of lockers to find Rigby already gone.
“Did you see which way Rigby went?” Archer asked Chris Hopper, whose locker was close by.
“Nah, man,” Chris said. “But he has Physics last with Mrs. Shapiro.”
“Thanks,” Archer said, racing out of the locker room.
The bell had rung and so the hallway just outside the gym was flooded. Archer hopped up and down as he passed through the throng, looking for Rigby. He wasn’t headed the safe way, not unless he was ducking down for some reason while he was walking. That meant Gallows Hall. And that meant trouble.
Archer reversed course, pushed his way through the crowd, and started to duck down Gallows Hall. He felt a hand on his shoulder.
“Whoa, where are you going in such a hurry?” Kara Windchil asked.
Something in the back of Archer’s mind mentioned that this was the first thing Kara had said directly to him all week. He was tempted to ignore her.
But then again, Archer thought, maybe she could help. “There’s something going on,” he told her, freeing himself from her grip to keep up his momentum. “Get a teacher, would ya? It’s Guzzy in Gallows Hall.”
Archer pressed on and passed into the shadows. He slowed just a step, wondering why he was wandering into Gallows Hall when he knew good and well that Guzzy and his buddies would be waiting. He heard the deep voices before he saw anyone. One, slightly annoyed, perfect diction, and an English accent: Rigby. The other, hoarse, gravelly, full of mischief: Guzzy.
Not thinking of what he was doing, Archer drove ahead. He passed the door to the girls’ locker room, finding the group in the twilight near the restrooms. Archer skidded to a halt and instantly took in the situation. It was four against one: Rigby surrounded by Guzzy, Dev Gates, Gil Messchek, and Randy Pell.
“. . . think you can just step off the boat and be the man?” Guzzy was saying, the rasp in his voice thicker than ever.
“Look,” Rigby said, “I don’t know what you think you know, but I’m not about takin’ over your territory, right? Just startin’ a club, that’s all. I’d let you boys join, but I don’t think you have the brainpower to handle it.”
“Is he sayin’ we’re stupid?” Dev mumbled.
“Shut up!” Gil hissed.
Guzzy fumed. “Whatever, man, but you cheap-shotted me, made me look bad. You made it personal.”
“That hurt, did it?” Rigby taunted. “Well, there’s more where that came from. You and your boys better back off, or I’ll do far worse than that.”
Archer was initially frozen by Guzzy’s speed. In a blink, he’d lunged at Rigby and launched a right cross. Rigby spun with the blow, but when he looked up, his lower lip was split and bleeding.
“That was a mistake,” Rigby said, his voice quiet and menacing.
Dev surged forward, taking a wild swing, but Rigby slipped the punch and caught his attacker’s forearm. With blurring speed and agility, he seemed to swing on Dev’s arm, leaping up and hooking his lower legs on either side of the kid’s throat. The move threw a ton of weight on Dev, felling him in a split second. Rigby rolled off, leaving his attacker gasping for air.
That was apparently enough of the one-on-one approach for Guzzy and the others. They came at Rigby from three different directions. That was also enough for Archer. He launched forward and performed a perfect base-stealing slide, taking Randy Pell off his feet.
“Keaton?” Randy breathed. “What’re you doin’? Stay out of this!” Gil had awkwardly grabbed Rigby from behind in some kind of improvised wrestler’s hold. Guzzy smashed a heavy fist right into Rigby’s midsection. Rigby coughed, but must have been feigning because he used the blow and drove Gil backward into the hall’s brick wall. Stunned, Gil let go, but Dev jumped up and thundered his cinder-block fist into Rigby’s jaw.
All Archer could do was watch out of the corner of his eye as Randy came back in, ready to fight. Unlike Gil’s wild punches, Randy’s quick jabs seemed to have some real skill behind them. It was all Archer could do to duck and dodge them.
Back in the center, Rigby shrugged off Gil’s heavy punch, but there was a lot of blood around his mouth. Gil and Guzzy seemed to be converging on Rigby.
A flash of movement, and Archer ducked two of Randy’s quick jabs to the head. The uppercut that came next might have knocked out Archer had he not twisted his trunk to catch the punch in his shoulder. It still hurt, but Archer was able to hold on to consciousness.
At that point, there came shouts in the hall, but it wasn’t a teacher, as Archer had hoped. Somehow high school students turned their fight-recognition-radar on all at the same time. Even half a school away, students could sense the buzz or tension in the air and come running to watch. On a Friday, it was all the more keen. As Archer ducked and bobbed and darted around Randy’s relentless attacks, he saw the crowd gathering. This would not end well, no matter what.
Finally, the moment Archer had been looking for came. Randy had thrown so many shots that he’d grown weary, his breath ragged and heavy. He’d also missed with most of his jabs, turning his face red in anger as well as effort. Randy’s next swing was clumsy and put too much of his weight forward. Archer kicked out his leg, hooking Randy’s, spinning his opponent sideways before driving a side kick into Randy’s ribs. Randy went down in a gasping heap.
When Archer looked up, the crowd of teens were yelling, Gil was on the ground clutching his elbow, and Rigby and Guzzy were slowly circling each other. Archer’s blood ran cold. Guzzy had a knife.
“Move aside!” came a very loud, nasal voice. It sounded like the assistant principal, Mr. Bohrs. Archer wasn’t sure that he would make it in time. “Let me through!”
Guzzy’s nose and lip were bleeding. The corner of his right eye had a red, golf ball-sized welt growing. His face was a mask of fury. He brandished the knife as if he’d used it before.
“That changes things,” Rigby said.
“Do that martial arts stuff now!” Guzzy hissed.
“Guzzy, don’t!” Archer yelled.
“Should’ve minded your own business, Keaton,” Guzzy said, never taking his eyes off Rigby.
“Are you certain you want to cross this line?” Rigby asked. There was something different in his tone now, something Archer hadn’t heard before. There was an odd inflection on the end syllables of every word, almost as if there was a second voice speaking Rigby’s words but ever so slightly off in timing.
“You started this!” Guzzy snapped.
“Look around,” Rigby said. “There are fifty witnesses. Put the knife away now, maybe no one says anything.”
“Everybody! Move! Now!” Mr. Bohrs yelled, still too far away.
Guzzy tightened the circling. He lowered the knife hand to his side. Archer thought for sure he would strike. Less than a yard lay between the fighters.
“Are you sure you still have a knife?” Rigby asked, his voice still strange. With a rippling of his fingers, Rigby made a gun with his hand and pointed.
Archer blinked, stupefied. He blinked again, but what he saw, well . . . it was still there. Instead of a knife, Guzzy now held a bouquet of bright yellow daisies.
“What . . . ?” Guzzy’s mouth dropped open. He dropped the flowers, and his knife clattered to the floor.
“I can do things,” Rigby whispered as he lunged forward. “You don’t want to mess with me. Ever.” Guzzy retreated so far that his back hit the wall.
Just then, the crowd parted and Mr. Bohrs lumbered forward. He slammed Guzzy up against the wall and simultaneously put his rather large foot on the knife. “This is it, Guzzy!” the assistant principal rumbled. “This is a weapons violation. You’ll be expelled . . . if you’re lucky!”
Kara was suddenly at Archer’s side. “You fight pretty well,” she said. “I never knew.”
Archer didn’t know what to say. “Thanks for getting Mr. Bohrs. This was getting ugly.”
“I didn’t get Mr. Bohrs,” she said. “Not sure who did.”
“You . . . but I asked you . . .”
“And miss the fight?” she said. “Are you kidding?”
“Keaton, Pell, Gates, to my office!” Mr. Bohrs yelled. “Now! And someone call the nurse for Messchek!”