“It’s so strong that I can’t control it alone,” he continued. “I need another person, someone of proven strength, someone extraordinary. I’ve studied and searched every Reality, every region. I have narrowed it down to only two people. I don’t fully understand yet what sets these two apart, but I do know that one of them will do. And I only need . . . one.”
He paused, and Jane was dying to speak. She didn’t know what she had expected, but it was certainly nothing like this.
Chu continued. “One of the two is you. Your powers here do not exist solely because of the mutated Chi’karda in this place. Otherwise, everyone would be able to do what you do. There is something extraordinary about you, and I do not say that lightly.”
Who is the other? she screamed inside her head, completely ignoring the compliment.
“You might be wondering about your competition,” Chu said, smiling. “And here is the proposition. It’s very simple. I’m currently sending the other person through a series of tests. If he passes them and ends up where he’s supposed to, he will win the honor of standing by my side as we rule the Realities. Meaning, of course, you lose and will be disposed of.” He paused. “You may speak now.”
“I . . . I’m not sure I completely understand,” Jane mumbled, hating herself for appearing so weak. Chu had said she could be “disposed of” like a sickly fly. How dare he? And yet, she felt uneasy. “How do I win?”
Chu walked forward, holding out the Barrier Wand and gesturing for her to take it. She grasped the golden rod with its dials and switches eagerly, like a child grabbing for candy. It was cold and hard in her hands.
“Like I said,” Chu continued, “it’s very easy. If the boy makes it to me, you lose. If he doesn’t, you win. Only one of you will survive in the end—only one of you will be worthy to serve with me in controlling Dark Infinity. That’s it.”
“That’s it?” she repeated, her courage returning. “Nothing else?”
Chu nodded. “You’ve been given your test, and I assure you, it’s not a simple task. You must kill Atticus Higginbottom.”
Chapter
21
An Elevator in Stone
Come on,” Mothball said, stopping for the tenth time to allow Rutger to catch up. “You’re slower than a sloth with no legs, you are.”
Truth be told, Mothball appreciated resting for a spell. It was blazing hot in the Arizona desert, and she was hauling a big load of logs she’d gathered from the riverside. Carried down by the Colorado River, stray wood often lodged in one particular bend, and Master George had to have his fires, didn’t he?
Rutger, sucking in every breath, his face the color of boiled cherries, stopped and craned his neck to look up at her. He was like a big ball rolling backward, pivoting on little legs. The man looked absolutely exhausted.
“Can’t . . . really run when I’m . . . carrying all of this . . . wood . . . now can I?” he managed to get out between breathing spells.
Mothball glanced at Rutger’s short arms, holding all of two sticks—one of them barely more than a twig. “Yeah, I’m quite shocked you haven’t called someone on the telly to announce you’ve broken the world’s record for stick-luggin’.”
“It probably is a record for someone from the Eleventh.” Rutger nodded toward the door hidden in the canyon crevice, about forty yards away. The two of them stood at the bottom of the Grand Canyon, its majestic red walls of stone towering over them, reaching so far to the sky they couldn’t see their tops. Having finished gathering firewood, they were making their way back to the elevator shaft entrance.
“I reckon Sofia would call you a flimp right about now,” Mothball said as she resumed walking toward the hidden crevice.
“It’s wimp, you tall sack of bones, and if she did call me that, she’d pay the price.”
“Oh, really?” Mothball called over her shoulder. “And wha’ exactly would you do? Sit on her toesies? Bite her shins, perhaps?”
“I’d do whatever it took to teach the young lady some proper manners, that’s what.”
Mothball made it to the small crack of a cave that led to the elevator and dropped her stack of logs onto the ground. She reached her arms to the sky in a long, satisfying stretch. When Rutger finally waddled over and dropped his pathetic two sticks onto the pile, he put his hands on his waist and took deep gulps of air, as if he’d just completed a marathon.
“Congratulations,” Mothball said. “You’re the first tiny fat man to haul two twigs across a weed-scattered spit of sand. Right proud of yourself, I reckon?”
Rutger looked up at her and grinned. “Push the button, or it’ll be your shins that get bitten.”
Mothball’s booming laugh escaped before she could stop it. She looked around to make sure no stray hikers were around to hear it. “Quit makin’ me laugh, ya little ball of bread dough. Get us in trouble, ya will.”
She stepped through the thin crevice and pushed a button that looked like the nub of a rock. She heard the rumble of machinery and pulleys from deep within the mountain, then the low whine of the descending elevator. She groaned, having expected the doors to pop right open since they’d just exited an hour ago and no one else should’ve used it.
“Blimey, who called up the ruddy thing?” she said as she stepped out of the cave and back into the sunlight. “Probably that rascal Sally, playin’ one of ’is jokes.”
“Oh, calm yourself,” Rutger said, his face finally returning to its normal color. Sweat poured down his face, however, and his hair was matted and wet. “It only takes a couple of minutes. Master George has Sally too busy to mess with jokes anyway.”
“I’ll bet ya tonight’s dessert that when the door pops open, Sally’ll be there with a trick up his sleeve.”
Rutger looked up at her, his face creased in concern.
“D-d-dessert?” he asked, as if she’d just suggested wagering the man’s life savings. “Let’s not get foolish, Mothball.”
“Then you’ll take it?” she asked, folding her arms and peering down her nose at him.
Rutger hesitated, fidgeting as he rocked back and forth on his tiny feet. “Um, no, I think you might be right on this one.” He cleared his throat. “Probably, um, going to throw a bucket of water on us. That silly lumberjack.”