Guinevere followed her friends through the veil of light separating Albia from Wonderia. Mister Carroll had provided both door and key, so their destination was secure. They wouldn’t appear right where Asbel was — no one knew his exact location — but they’d be on the outskirts of a town where the most sightings had been reported.
Guinevere did not savor the experience of passing through a door between realms again. She hadn’t done this since her first departure to Wonderia. There had been other very strange experiences and sensations…
But there was nothing quite like the disorientation of the veil of light. Her stomach lurched at the feeling of being spun, up and around, flung about like the hand of a clock turning far too fast. Clockwise, then counterclockwise, her feet were in the air, then back below, gravity no longer a reliable companion. Her stomach was doing horrible, nauseating flips, and she was in terrible danger of emptying its contents through her mouth…
But no! She’d done this before, she could do it again. It had to get easier with practice! Tobias and Alice never had trouble with it, so Guinevere could learn, too. She could —
The light was gone, and all was dark. She also felt strangely solid — until she realized she was pressing against something very solid. And very cold.
Not again…
Guinevere pushed herself up, trying to rise quickly before anyone noticed she was facedown on the cold, hard stone. She shivered, glad she’d changed into warmer clothes after Mister Carroll had told them where they were going, and Tobias had warned about the colder climate of Northern Wonderia.
When she was on her feet, looking around at this new landscape, her worries of what others thought of her blew away in the chill breeze. Because sparkling in the rolling hills, clinging to the fir trees like a soft, delicate coat, as far as the eyes could see, in every direction…
Was snow.
Stars above and the full twin moons shed a beautiful blue glow that reflected off the snow in a silver sheen. There were tracks on one hill, tiny little pawprints of a small woodland creature probably not much bigger than Akko.
The stone path had been swept clear, thankfully, or Guinevere would have gotten a face-full of snow. But gazing upon this beauty, somehow she thought she might not have minded.
“Never seen snow before?” Alice asked, smiling up at her.
“Of course I have,” Guinevere said. “But never like this.”
“Snowy cities are lovely,” Alice said, “but there is something to be said of snow out in the wilderness like this. In its natural state. And under a Wonderian sky… there’s precious little in this world quite as beautiful.”
“Is everyone ready?” Sheena asked. She fixed a determined stare up the stone path, towards the crest of a hill. There was light beyond it, the warm yellow glow from a town.
“Let’s see what we can find out,” Alice said, starting on after her. But she looked back, and Guinevere followed her gaze…
To Tobias. He looked ready to go, except that Elliot and Ninian were both talking to him, concern evident in their voices and expressions. “Fine,” Tobias finally said, resigned. He waved to Sheena, Alice, and Guinevere. “You go on ahead, we’ll catch up in a minute.”
“I can’t just leave without you,” Alice said, pouting at him.
“Then…” Tobias started, then looked at Elliot and Ninian helplessly.
“I’ll just wait here,” Alice said, parking her trunk and taking a seat atop it. “Take your time.” She didn’t seem the least bit impatient, content to sit back and gaze at the night sky.
“We’ll get a head start, then,” Guinevere said. She and Ava went to join Sheena. But as they were leaving, Guinevere overheard a faint conversation begin between Tobias, Elliot, and Ninian. She couldn’t catch the words, except for one. A name.
“Mordred.”
She stopped for a moment, her heart skipping a beat. She knew that name.
Artorius had written of a boy named Mordred in his letters to her. Artorius, Eliwood, and Mordred had been best friends in the Wonderian compound during the five years he was there for his protection.
It might not be the same Mordred.
But of course it is. Elliot would know him — Eliwood was his brother. And Tobias would know of him because of Elliot.
But why would they be talking about him?
It’s nothing to do with me. Or Artorius, I’m sure. It’s something else. Something private, and that’s… fine. It’s fine. I’m sure it is.
Guinevere fixed her eyes forward and followed Sheena up the hill.
But as they walked, with snow and untamed nature on either side, and with a name Guinevere thought she’d never hear again in her mind, her thoughts turned to Artorius.
He’d always loved the snow. So had his parents. So had Guinevere, for that matter. That family had loved nature, in all its forms. As fond as Artorius was of reading, he didn’t do much of it cozy indoors, like Guinevere liked to. He was too fond of the outdoors, and if he was reading, it was usually up in the branches of a tree, or in the grass by a pond, or on a cliff’s edge by the sea.
His mother had always called him her “wild child,” and she’d done so affectionately. Not teasingly, and not as a reprimand. It wasn’t because Artorius was unruly or rambunctious — though he could be, at times — but because his heart was set on nature, on the outdoors, on what his mother, Ariana, often called “the wild.”
Sometimes, when Artorius went for his long runs in the woods or his cliff-diving swims, and Guinevere had no interest in joining him, she’d join Ariana in her garden, where she tended to apple trees. But along with the orderly planted and carefully tended fruit trees, there were always parts of the garden that had little bits of plants Guinevere didn’t recognize, left to grow without Ariana’s attention. She’d always thought these little pockets of nonsense looked rather garish, so one day she’d asked Ariana about them.
“Little bits of the wild,” she’d called them. “The wild,” she’d said, “is free and unpredictable. It cannot be tamed. But just because the wild cannot be controlled doesn’t mean we need to fear it. It’s a part of our world, as much as it might seem like a whole different one. It’s important to be connected to the wild. It, too, is Created. It is beautiful, and wondrous, and can teach us so much about the world, and ourselves.”
She’d loved the wild. So had Artorius. Artorius’ father, Kieran, had been more of an indoors kind of person, and he and Guinevere had frequently bonded over that. But Guinevere had loved those moments with Ariana, too.
Tears stung her eyes, and she wiped them away.
Ten years. Ten years, and the grief is still all too near.
Just then, they crested the hill, and laid eyes on the town beyond: Cuindeigh. It was a sleepy hamlet, nestled in a pocket of forested hills. Cozy cottages puffed cheerful clouds of smoke up from their chimneys. Candlelight danced in the windows, and sparkling ornaments were strung up with lights throughout the town square. There was a frozen pond on the far side that looked like it had seen a lot of ice skating, judging by the marks on the ice.
But there was something odd about the lovely little hamlet.
Cuindeigh was empty. Or, the streets were, at least. There were signs of life through some windows here and there, but no one was out in the streets. This didn’t fit at all with the image Mister Carroll had conjured up for them, of a town full of festive cheer, with dances and games going on outside through all hours of the day, and the night. It wasn’t long past sundown, and that meant it was still fairly early in this region where the sun set before dinner time, yet…
The streets were empty.
“Frightened indoors because of…” Guinevere started, but halted at the last moment.
“Fear of my brother?” Sheena asked sadly. “Perhaps. Let’s see if anyone answers their doors.”
They headed down into the town and walked the main street right up to the town hall, a green two-story mansion with red shingles on the roof and a huge, ornamented wreath on the door. Sheena reached for the door’s brass knocker to announce their presence…
And something very strange happened. Guinevere had to look again, to be sure, and even then, it was just so… absurd. But… yes. Yes, it had happened, strange as it seemed.
The door had moved.
Sheena frowned at the door, and then reached for the knocker again. And once again, the door moved! It was such a strange, subtle thing, Guinevere still had to look twice to be sure it had happened. But yes, she’d come to a stop with the wreath centered in front of her — and now it was to her right! The door hadn’t jumped or walked or slid, no. It had just… moved. So subtly, so quietly, it was easy to believe it hadn’t.
“This isn’t funny,” Sheena said, glaring at the door.
“I completely agree,” answered a voice — a rather wooden voice, Guinevere thought, and slightly tinny. Like it was coming through a strange mechanical contraption. “But, then, I wasn’t trying to be funny.”
“Then stop moving,” Sheena said.
“I’m afraid I can’t do that,” the door answered. And yes, Guinevere realized, it was the door. The door was talking. “You never know when they’ll slip through. So even if I let you knock, I couldn’t open for you. Terribly sorry.”
Well. At least the door was making an attempt to be polite.
“When who will slip through?” Sheena asked, her glare intensifying.
“It means us,” said a reedy, high-strung voice, accompanied by the jangle of bells. Guinevere and Sheena whirled around, to find themselves face-to… well, not quite -face, considering the height difference. But they were looking down at two dumpy, egg-shaped twins, clad in scarlet jesters’ outfits, complete with jangly bells on their hats.
“Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dum?” Guinevere asked, staring. She’d never expected to see the pair again after Saoirse’s palace — and certainly not this far from home, this soon.
“She remembers!” Dee said, hopping slightly, a smile brightening his face. “Us, I mean. You. Remembered.”
“What he means,” Dum started in his slow, sonorous drawl.
“I know what he means,” Guinevere said. She had no interest in listening to this song-and-dance again. “What are you two doing here? And why are the doors themselves moving to keep you two out?”
“Homes!” Dee said. “We need them. For ourselves. Nobody likes us, so we traveled! But… they still don’t like us. Nobody, I mean. What?” And he did seem genuinely confused at the end.
“What he means,” Dum drawled, “is when you defeated Saoirse, the people rejoiced. But when we joined them to celebrate, they didn’t want us.”
“Called traitors!” Dee said. “Us. For nothing, we didn’t do anything, I mean! Of course.”
“Saoirse dressed us up,” said Dum, “and the people hated us for it. So we left. Traveling far and wide. But nobody will welcome us.”
“You ought to at least have some proper clothes,” said Alice, arriving with Tobias, Elliot, Sheena, Flynn, and Hector. “What are you doing, going around in those jester outfits when Saoirse’s defeated and you’re free?”
“No other clothes!” Dee said. “For us. It’s all we have. The clothes, of course. What?”
“He means,” Dum started.
“You don’t have anything else to wear,” Tobias said, brow creased with concern. “And no one here will even open their doors to you.”
“That’s right!” Dee said. He tottered up to Tobias, jester hat jangling all the way, and then bowed deeply. “Thank you! For saving us, I mean. From Saoirse! She was terrible. We’re so grateful! To you, of course.”
“What he —” Dum started.
“It isn’t right for you to be free but left like this,” Tobias said. He looked around at the quiet, doors-shut town, and anger flickered in his eyes. “I’ll make this right. And you —” Guinevere was confused for a moment, until she realized — Tobias was addressing the town hall’s talkative door. “If the Tweedles are with me, you can be assured they won’t be anywhere else. You’ll open for my friends, as long as I walk away with them. Won’t you?” It wasn’t a question.
“That I could,” the door said in its wooden, tinny voice. “If you insist. It is the town hall, after all. Ought to be a bit more welcoming than those privately-owned doors. Got a reputation to uphold.”
“Thanks,” Tobias said. He turned away. “Come on, you two. Let’s get you something better — and warmer — to wear, at least.”
“I’ll come, too!” Alice said, following after Tobias and Flynn.
“And we’ll stay to help with the search for Asbel,” Elliot said.
Guinevere took a moment just to steady herself. Today was already far stranger than she’d expected — and she’d learned to expect the strange, when it came to Wonderia.
Then Sheena took the lead, and the door was opened to them. Into the town hall they went, in search of any clue they could find about Sheena’s brother.
——
“How many towns have you visited since leaving Saoirse’s lands?” Tobias asked.
“Three!” Dee said.
“Well, that’s not terrible,” Alice said.
“He means three and ten,” Dum drawled.
“Oh,” Alice said. “Thirteen… well. That’s unlucky. Is this thirteen, or fourteen?”
“This’ll make fourteen!” Dee said. “Towns. That we’ve visited. What?”
“He —” Dum started.
“Then this is your lucky stop,” Tobias said. He found his way to Cuindeigh’s tailor — he knew the shop, had been here several times before — and went to knock on the door.
But the door moved out of his reach.
Tobias glared. “Let us in,” he said.
“No can do, sonny,” said the door, in a much haughtier tone than the town hall’s door. “This is a privately-owned business, and we get to choose who we serve — or don’t serve. Ha!” There was a pause after that barked laugh, and then the door continued. “Sorry. Hard not to burst out laughing at those two ridiculous eggheads.”
“I’ll go through you,” Tobias said, his glare intensifying.
There was a pause, as if the door was considering the threat. “Well, now,” it responded, audibly nervous. “There’s no need for threats, sonny. I can’t just let you splinter me apart. But I’m sure we can come to some kind of arrangement.”
“Like what?” Tobias asked. His patience was wearing thin. Beside him, he heard the tiny tinkling of bells as the Tweedles shivered in the cold.
“Well, sonny,” the door said, annoyingly chummy all of a sudden, “now that I get a good look at ya, you’re that student of Merlin’s, aren’t ya? All grown up, a Knight Jouerve and everything. Yep, we all know Obsidian’s reputation. For you, a total discount. No payment at all! You just gotta win a game of chance.”
Tobias stared. “Seriously?” he asked.
“Ooh, let me!” Alice said, stepping up to the door — which moved aside at her approach.
“Ha, sorry, habit,” the door said, chuckling.
“What’s the game?” Alice asked. “I’m a master of chance. Blessed by Lady Luck, my sisters always said.”
“Oh-ho, lassie, now you’re speaking my language,” the door said. “Speaking of Lady Luck, how about a thrilling game of Find the Lady?”
Three playing cards appeared, floating in front of the door. They turned to reveal their faces — a two of diamonds, a ten of clubs, and a queen of spades, her visage stylized like Lady Luck herself, reclining at a gaming table, with a black cat curled contentedly in her lap.
“I’ve got this,” Alice said, eyes aglitter with expectation. The cards turned around, hiding their faces. They began to dance in the air, as if to start the customary shifting of places, requiring the player to have a nimble eye to keep watch of their target…
But then they shimmered with light, and vanished. A moment later, they reappeared, still hiding their faces.
“Hold on,” Tobias said. “That’s not right. You’re supposed to move them around, not vanish them and bring them back.”
“I said it was a game of chance, sonny,” said the door. “Not a game of skill.”
“It’s all right,” Alice said, holding up a hand to quell Tobias’ argument. “Lady Luck is right… here.” She tapped on the right-most card — the same spot where the Lady had been before the cards disappeared.
They flipped, revealing their faces. And Alice’s choice… was the Lady.
“Blessed by the Lady herself, make no mistake!” the door said with an unmistakable grin in its voice. “All right, you win. I’ll open up — but you’ll still have to convince the proprietor to serve ‘em. Good luck. And… thanks for playing, lass. It was a pleasure.”
“Oh, undoubtedly,” Alice said, grinning.
The door opened, and Tobias, Alice, Flynn, and the Tweedles stepped into the workshop of Cuindeigh’s tailor, an austere eagle in a three-piece suit, wearing a pair of half-moon spectacles.
“Hello, Thaddeus,” Tobias said.
The eagle fixed Tobias with a hard stare. “Tobias,” he said in a throaty voice full of unspoken meaning. “I take it you want some clothes for these… things.” He turned his hard stare on the Tweedles, who wilted under the scrutiny.
“They’re people,” Tobias said. “Oh wait, are you worried you can’t make clothes to fit them? And here I thought you were the best tailor in Wonderia.” He gave Thaddeus a pitying look.
“Playing to my ego isn’t very kind, Tobias,” Thaddeus said, ruffling his feathers. He stood up to his full height, an imposing seven and-a-half feet, glaring down at Tobias. “And here I thought we were friends.”
“Then do a friend a favor,” Tobias said pleasantly. “Make them some nice clothes. Don’t you feel sorry for them, made to look like that? They’re dressed that way because of Saoirse — not by their own choice. And why is this whole city rejecting them, anyway?”
“They’re… absurd,” Thaddeus said.
“Isn’t everyone and everything in Wonderia, though?” Tobias asked. “And who’s the one not being kind, now?”
Thaddeus ruffled up again at that, but then slowly wilted, stooping down closer to Tobias’ eye level. “You always were too kind for your own good. One set of clothes. And don’t worry — I’ll make them look good. And comfortable. Those… abominations on fashion do look… thin for this climate.”
Dee sneezed, and wiped his nose with his sleeve. “What?” he asked, to no one in particular.
Thaddeus got to work, and Tobias and Alice waited outside — with the chatty door open, and not so chatty anymore — with the Tweedles. Tobias and Alice took turns tossing a ball for Flynn, who happily ran it back again and again. Dee alternated between cheering for him and getting confused about what was going on, while Dum sat on the step beside Tobias.
“Thank you,” he said, after a long silence. “You set us free from Saoirse. And now, you’ve secured us real clothes. Not these…” He held up his puffy, ridiculous sleeves, and the bells on his hat jangled. He shrugged, which was an odd gesture for someone without shoulders.
“I don’t know why you keep getting rejected,” Tobias said. “I wish I could do more for you. But this way, you’ll at least have proper clothes. You’ll be warm, and you’ll look your best. I… wish I could do more.”
“You opened a door that no one else could,” Dum said. “Or would. Thank you.”
Tobias took the ball from Flynn and tossed it, watching as the happiest dog in the world sprinted across the snow.
He couldn’t bring himself to smile.
“Why don’t you go home?” Alice asked Dum. “Why travel from town to town looking for shelter?”
“Home!” Dee said, perking up. “Rejected there, too. Of course.” He sighed, slumping. “No point going back. Just forward.”
“He means —”
“You have nowhere,” Tobias said. He retrieved the ball that Flynn brought back, and tossed it again. Flynn took off, tireless in his play.
“But that’s…” Alice started, then bowed her head, “not right.”
Flynn came back, dropping his ball at Alice’s feet this time. That got her to smile again, just a little, and she didn’t delay in throwing the ball for him.
There was a lull in conversation, with Flynn chasing the ball three more times before Alice spoke up, this time to Tobias.
“The door knew you were Merlin’s student,” she said softly. She looked at him. “Are we close to his home?”
Tobias nodded. “When we’ve saved Asbel,” he said, “we could go to visit him. If you want.”
There was a deep ocean of emotions in Alice’s eyes. Slowly, she turned away. “We could,” she said softly. “I’ll… think about it.” After a pause, she added, “Thank you.”
Silence returned to the group, but only for a moment. Thaddeus announced he was finished, and they headed inside, where the Tweedles tried on their new clothes. Emerging from dressing rooms, they looked upon themselves in mirrors. They now had tweed jackets over smart, fashionable suits. Dum’s was a lovely pine tree green, while Dee’s was a fetching periwinkle blue. Better yet, instead of humiliating jester hats, they now had fluffy woolen caps that covered their ears. Perfect for the winter weather.
“Normal!” Dee said, hopping a little, a smile lighting up his face. “Us, I mean. We look normal. At last!”
“Better than normal,” Alice said. “You two look quite excellent. Thaddeus, you’ve done marvelous work. You should be very proud.”
“Pro bono, at that,” Thaddeus said with a disapproving sniff. “Tobias, I expect you to pay next time you call on my services.”
“You know I will, if it’s for me,” Tobias said. “Thank you, Thaddeus.”
“Thank you,” Dum said, and he and his brother bowed to Thaddeus, and also to Tobias and Alice. “We’re very happy with our new clothes.”
“What comes next, Tweedles?” Alice asked.
“The road,” Dee said brightly. “On it, I mean. Us. On the road. Of course. More travels, to who knows where? When? What?”
“He means,” Dum started, and when Tobias moved to interrupt, Alice motioned for him to let Dum continue.
“Let him have this last one, hm?” she asked softly.
Tobias smiled, and let Dum explain what Dee meant, which was exactly what it sounded like.
Of course.
With that impromptu mission accomplished, Tobias, Alice, and Flynn bid the Tweedles farewell and good luck on their journeys, and then tracked down their companions. They found Sheena, Akko, Guinevere, Ava, Elliot, Hector, and Ninian just departing the residence of Cuindeigh’s mayor, their expressions grave.
“The town didn’t just shutter their doors to the Tweedles,” Sheena said. “Asbel did pass through here, quite some time ago. But on his trail weren’t Sword Dancers. Pursuing his scent, and passing through here just one day ago, was Bandersnatch.”
Tobias’ blood ran cold. When Guinevere asked about Bandersnatch, it took him a moment to find his voice. “He’s the oldest of the Old Hunters,” he said, “and the greatest. His prey was the Jabberwock, and he slew the beast single-handedly. But, while the rest of the Old Hunters departed when their Hunt was concluded… Bandersnatch remained. No one knows why. But he continues to roam the land, searching for worthy prey. When he catches the scent of a creature or person he deems worthy… nothing will dissuade him from a new Hunt.”
“So all we need to do is reach Asbel before him,” Guinevere said. “Once Asbel is sealed, will Bandersnatch pursue him still?”
“Maybe not,” Tobias said. “But…”
“You’re frightened,” Guinevere said, staring at him. Slowly, Tobias nodded. Flynn came alongside him, leaning against his leg to offer support.
“I have heard the tales,” Sheena said, “and know enough his danger from them. But your fear… it’s from experience, isn’t it?”
Tobias could feel every eye on him. Slowly he collected himself. “I… fought Bandersnatch, once,” he said. “He was hunting a marvelous creature, a beautiful beast, one-of-a-kind… a creature of the wild that didn’t mean anyone any harm. It wasn’t a threat to anyone. But Bandersnatch thought it worthy prey, and was hunting it. I got in his way, and fought to protect the creature. The only reason I survived, without even a scratch… is because he didn’t deem me worthy. He didn’t see me as a threat. He tossed me aside, and went on his way. Like I was… nothing.”
It had been such a brief encounter, but he still trembled at the memory of it. The greatest of the Old Hunters, huge and imposing, the most powerful and dangerous foe any man or beast had ever faced… and Tobias had placed himself before the Hunter. And Bandersnatch… hadn’t cared. Had barely even noticed him.
His great and terrible Vorpal Sword, the blade that had cut down the Jabberwock, hadn’t even left its sheath. Tobias wasn’t a threat worthy of the blade.
But the peaceful creature Tobias had been protecting somehow was. And Tobias had failed. That beautiful being of the wild lay dead. Tobias hadn’t been able to do a thing to prevent its death.
To confront Bandersnatch again, to try and prevent him from claiming his prey once more… and to succeed this time…
Could it be done?
“We don’t need to fight him,” Sheena said. “Bandersnatch was weeks behind Asbel. If we hurry, we could overtake the Hunter, speed past him, and seal Asbel before Bandersnatch even knows. Then we move on, and the scent ends. Bandersnatch loses his prey.”
“Right,” Tobias said. He didn’t miss the little hints of desperate hope in Sheena’s eyes, in her voice. But she was also correct. There was hope, if they were fast — and lucky.
“Then we have to know the way,” Alice said. “Where does our own hunt lead us?”
“North,” Sheena said. “He was sighted in the fields near Suiren just two days ago.”
“Two days?” Tobias asked. There was hope yet, then. “We can get there in a few days ourselves if we start now.”
He began to lead the way out of town, starting along the main road north. But just then, there was a chime in the air, and another chime answered it. Immediately, both Tobias and Sheena drew their swords, adopting fighting stances.
And then, out from the trees flanking the road — and the shadows of the buildings behind them — came a full troop of Haruo Sword Dancers. Four in front, and more than a dozen behind.
They were surrounded.
“Tsukuyomi-san,” said a hard, male voice from behind them. They turned, and Tobias didn’t miss the anger in Sheena’s eyes when she saw the man at the lead of the troop. About Tobias’ height, with jet-black hair and dark, piercing eyes, he looked to be in his early thirties, with a lean, dancer’s physique and a full-length katana in one hand, a wakizashi in the other.
“Itsuki,” Sheena said. The lack of an honorific clearly rankled the leader of the Sword Dancers, whose piercing glare hardened. “You will not stop us.”
Itsuki seemed to smirk, almost. And then he spoke in Kisetsugo, an unmistakable arrogance in his voice. The Dancers behind him stepped closer, ready to block off all escape.
But Tobias was ready. He shared a look with Sheena, and then shot the same look at Elliot, knowing he’d understand. Only four stood in their path. If they could break through, they’d no longer be surrounded, and would have a chance to control the battle. Even outnumbered — and even with Alice and Ninian to protect, and Guinevere’s inexperience to consider — there was a chance for victory, if they were fast and decisive.
A little bit of luck wouldn’t hurt, either.
But just as they were about to act, something flew out from the trees, a dark, soft shape that slid across the street to come to a stop right at Tobias’ feet.
A black top hat.
Tobias leapt back, just as a portal burst open from the hat, and out leapt the Mad Hatter himself, blade extending from his mechanical gauntlet, questing for Tobias’ throat. Tobias blocked the first strike with ease, and pushed the Hatter back. They faced off for a moment, a manic gleam in the Hatter’s eyes, a wild smile on his face.
“Found you!” he said in a singsong voice.
“You just don’t know how to quit, even when you should have forgotten all about me,” Tobias said.
“Not even the Oblivion Hills could steal the memory of our rivalry from me!” the Hatter said. “Now, then…”
Whatever he was about to do or say halted, as he suddenly noticed the Sword Dancers gathered round. “Well,” he said, looking at them. “I’d be grateful for an audience, only you aren’t here as spectators, are you? And I’m afraid I can’t have anyone getting between me and my triumph.” He turned his back on Tobias, then flashed a grin at him over his shoulder. “When next we meet, I’ll finally win.”
Tobias stared for a moment, comprehension lost to him. And then, he saw a flick of the Hatter’s wrist, and heard a sudden burst of light and the hiss of smoke behind him. The four Dancers who were blocking the path collapsed, coughing and gasping for breath.
“Hatter… you…” Tobias started. And then, he nodded. “We’ll see about that win. But thanks… Mad.” He turned and started off, urging Alice and the others into a run. At the same time, the Hatter charged the Sword Dancers.
“You won’t get past me!” he said with insane cheer. “Just you watch. I’ll make my ingeniator proud!”
The sounds of battle erupted behind them. But no one looked back.
They’d be fools to delay a second longer in accepting the Hatter’s unexpected generosity.
And, Tobias realized, he’d need to revise his opinion of his would-be “rival.” Mad he may be, but perhaps madness wasn’t always such a bad thing.