Barnaby the Wanderer

Chapter 24: Mind the Rug and Broken Heart

Beneath the house lurked a basement maze worthy of such a grand ruin. Sexton led, holding a lantern before him. Barnaby followed, stretching shoulders, waving arms, seeking to become used to this covering of stiff leather. It felt the same as when he'd awoken to find Alf had wrapped him tight in layers of twine. A jest, of sorts.

They halted before a blank stone wall.

"I shall open the outer ward first," said Pentateuch. "You must hurry through. I cannot keep it open past the count of, hmm, three. Then it seals again. Beyond is a door, here is its key. Past the door awaits your foe." He considered further instructions. "See you do not damage my furniture. Nor my books." He considered yet further. "And mind my vases. Seek to slay the beast away from my rug. I suggest by the hearth."

"Seriously, Pentateuch?" asked Night-Creep.

"Well, never mind the rug then," sighed the necromancer. "If, or rather when you achieve victory, I will know, and open the wards. Ready, oh Marquise of Millstones, Lord of the Thousand Winds?"

"Yes," said Barnaby, hoping it was true.

"Yes," said Bodkin

"You?" asked the cat.

"You?" asked Barnaby.

"You?" asked the necromancer.

Bodkin bowed, nodded. "Is there some reason the Marquise must fight alone?"

"Have you even a weapon, child?" asked Pentateuch.

"I've a sword," said Bodkin, pulling back his long coat. From his belt hung the magic blade Barnaby left behind. On his short frame the tip near touched the floor.

"Sly work," observed Night-Creep, admiring.

"That is a valuable object of my collection," declared Pentateuch. "If this heroic youth joins the battle, he must return it forthwith. And empty his pockets afterwards."

Night-Creep considered Bodkin, angel-wing eyes unblinking; then turned to Barnaby.

"Your decision, my lord. Do you wish his company?"

Barnaby shook his head. "No. He's too young." Gave the discussed boy a rueful smile. "Sorry, Bodkin."

At which Bodkin stamped a foot, glaring upwards.

"I'm not near as young as I look."

Of a sudden, Barnaby felt old and wise. He'd never felt so before. Was this what Professor Shadow Night-Creep and Dark Michael felt? It was a sad, rueful sort of sensation.

"I understand. And I think much of your courage. But best you wait till you look older to the world."

With that, Barnaby turned to the door. Dragontooth before him.

"Let us to it, Master Pentateuch."

"Well, what about light?" said Bodkin. "Can't wave a torch while fighting two handed, can you? Let me take some candles."

"Ah, yes," sighed Pentateuch. "How quickly one forgets the frailty of mortal eyes." He waved his one hand. To Barnaby's surprise and delight, he found himself glowing.

"Well, now, look at that. I'm a lantern." He considered a glowing arm. "No, it's more like the glow on clouds before dawn."

The necromancer stared, but not in wonder of a glowing Barnaby.

"What is that you carry, Marquise? I sense something of power upon you."

Barnaby considered. "This axe?"