Escape from Jabar-loo, Page 3

  “Not everything,” said Neal. He tapped the splangle on Eric’s back. “We have this.”

  Eric laughed. “Except that it won’t play a note. Who would want a splan —”

  “Hold on!” called Mr. Duppy, his eyes widening. “Is that the one-of-a-kind, genuine splangle? Mr. Beffle, lookee!”

  Grinning, Neal slid the splangle from Eric’s back and trotted over to the traders, while the others scanned the high walls.

  “I could fly us into the trees,” said Julie, frowning at the branches that hung near the wall. “But there might be guards….”

  Khan wrinkled his nose. “Umberto has guards, no doubt! Evil princes always do!”

  A sudden lilt of laughter erupted behind them, and they saw the traders taking the splangle from Neal and shaking his hand.

  Neal raced back to his friends. “I’m so good at this! They’re taking the splangle inside Jabar-Loo!”

  “The splangle?” said Keeah. “But we need to get inside. Did you get us in?”

  Neal wagged his head. “Sort of.”

  “Sort of?” said Julie. “What did you do?”

  “I sold them Eric,” he said.

  Eric blinked. “What are you talking about?”

  “They only wanted the splangle, which didn’t help us,” said Neal. “But when I said you could play it, they bought you, too.” He held up a coin. “I think it’s a Droon dollar.”

  “It’s a nickel,” said Keeah.

  Eric glared at the coin. “You sold me? For a nickel?”

  “Sure,” said Neal. “When we were in the song tower, the droomar said you sang good. You’re a natural musician, Eric.”

  “But you can’t sell me!” cried Eric. “Plus, no one can even play the splangle! The only guy who could play it was never seen again!”

  “You sound like my friend Mr. Duppy,” said Neal. “Besides, if no one can play it, no one will know when you play it wrong. Eric, you’re getting through the gate!”

  “Are you nuts? I can’t play the thing!”

  “Eric, wait,” said Keeah, standing between the two friends. “Maybe Neal’s right. One of us inside is better than none. Once you’re in, you can find a way to get us all inside.”

  “Besides,” said Julie, “Mrs. Khan said few travelers find Jabar-Loo, but fewer enter. You’re going to enter. That’s pretty special.”

  Special. There was that word again.

  Could Jabar-Loo be part of his mystery vision, after all? Could getting inside be the only way to find out the truth?

  Eric looked at the walls, then at the traders, then at his friends. “Well, I guess, maybe, but I still can’t play it —”

  “Time’s up, Smiley!”

  A hand gripped Eric and spun him around. Mr. Beffle was cradling the splangle, while Mr. Duppy held out a chain and handcuffs.

  “What are those for?” asked Eric.

  “You to wear,” said Mr. Duppy. He clamped the cuffs on Eric’s wrists and gave them a tug. “Prince Umberto’s going to love you!”

  As the traders pulled Eric toward the big gate, he looked back at his friends. “But what about not splitting up? You said we shouldn’t split up!”

  “Oh, you’ll be split,” said Mr. Duppy with a laugh. “If Umberto doesn’t like the way you play, you’ll be split by Glok!”

  “Glok?” said Keeah. “Who is … Glok?”

  “Big monster. Lots of legs,” said Mr. Beffle. He banged on the gate, and it slowly swung open as if on command.

  “Uh, maybe I did a bad thing,” said Neal.

  “You think?” said Julie.

  Before Eric knew it — fooom! — the giant gate to Jabar-Loo slammed shut behind him with a sound like thunder.

  As the two traders tugged him toward the great white pyramid, he wondered how in the world he was ever going to get out of this mess.

  The inside of Jabar-Loo was like nothing Eric had ever seen before. Amid the crumbled ruins of old temples that lay scattered within the walls were buildings as new as the big pyramid that rose in the distance.

  Something really has woken up here, Eric thought. But what, or … who … could it be?

  He felt afraid at first, then sensed his wizard power surging in his veins and knew he could break free if he had to.

  He decided to go with the traders all the way to the palace. It might be the only way to find his missing friends.

  The streets from the wall to the palace twisted and turned like a maze. As they passed through them, Eric saw not a single soul anywhere. “Where is everybody?”

  “Sleeping late,” said Mr. Beffle curtly.

  “Oh, but it is nice to have this splangle again!” said Mr. Duppy. “Sold it for a droomar kettle once. Let’s sell it for cash this time, eh?”

  “We’ll be heroes, we will,” said Mr. Beffle as they zigzagged down a street. “Jabar-Loo hasn’t heard music since, well, you know.”

  “Oh, I know,” said Mr. Duppy. “But this boy will turn out better than him, I’m sure.”

  Eric felt his heart skip. “Better than who?”

  The two traders shared a look.

  “Better than the Amazing Flemky, of course,” said Mr. Duppy. “Poor little fellow.”

  “Poor little fellow?” said Eric. “What happened to him?”

  Mr. Beffle mumbled to himself, then pointed up. “See for yourself.”

  In the center of two crossing streets stood a very tall, very skinny pole. A tiny figure sat alone at the top.

  Eric thought he saw the figure wave down at him. He waved back.

  “That’s the Amazing Flemky?”

  “Cut down in his prime, he was,” said Mr. Duppy. “Or rather put up on that pole. He made Umberto angry. He called himself the best splangle player this side of Samarindo.”

  “He wasn’t, though,” said Mr. Beffle.

  “Sadly, no,” agreed Mr. Duppy. “Saying it did get him into the palace, of course.”

  Eric stared at the complicated instrument and gulped. “How bad was he … ?”

  “Well, he played the wrong note, didn’t he?” said Mr. Beffle. “Just one wrong note, and Umberto banished him up that pole.”

  “Will he ever get down?” asked Eric.

  “Oh, I’m sure he will,” said Mr. Duppy with a sigh. “Just not in his lifetime.”

  Eric closed his eyes. “Oh, brother!”

  Soon they were standing at the foot of the giant pyramid. Mr. Duppy pressed a tiny button next to the doors at the base.

  Errch! The doors opened into darkness. Eric followed the traders inside. The doors closed behind them with a boom.

  He shivered as they passed through one empty court after another, until they finally arrived in a vast space that Eric suspected was at the center of the pyramid.

  It, too, was empty.

  The traders waited a few minutes in silence. Eric was about to ask what they were waiting for when the last of the sunlight vanished, and total darkness fell.

  A door flew open and in stomped hundreds of armored knights with rat-shaped helmets. They carried torches and spears twice as tall as themselves. Medallions glowed around their necks — just like the beasts by the river.

  “And now we leave you,” said Mr. Duppy. “We’re off to Samarindo. Play that splangle special, you hear? There’s only room for one on Flemky’s pole!”

  Chuckling together, the two traders released Eric, took a bag of coins from one of the soldiers, and scurried back through the halls.

  “Oh, man,” Eric said to himself. “What has Neal gotten me into?”

  While the guards were still filing in, he looked around to see if he could spot the king and queen, but did not see them.

  All of a sudden, the knights clacked their spears and shouted, “Prince Umberto!”

  The room blazed with even more torchlight, and Eric turned to see a giant, covered head to toe in black armor. The helmet on his head was formed exactly like the huge rat heads on the gate. On either side of him strode a monstrous gray beast
. Their claws were long and razorlike. Around their necks hung glowing medallions like the others.

  Though of great size and bulk, Prince Umberto moved across the floor like liquid. He stopped when he saw Eric.

  Two reddish eyes flashed from the black depths inside the helmet.

  “A splangle,” the giant growled, his deep voice echoing behind his iron face. “I hope you know how to play it!”

  Me, too … Eric said to himself. “Yes, sir!” he said out loud.

  Umberto sat down on a massive black throne that sat against one wall. “In my arena tomorrow, I will be crowned king. I want you to play for the event. Play me something now….”

  All heads in the room turned to Eric.

  “Uh … wow … so soon, huh?” Eric’s fingers felt like sausages when he set them on the splangle’s thin strings. He tried to swallow, but found that there was nothing to swallow. He remembered Flemky sitting at the top of that pole, and he felt sick. He knew this was why he’d never performed in a talent show. It was why he didn’t like to raise his hand in class. He couldn’t stand people staring at him.

  He moved his fingers gently.

  Thwung! Ploing! Bloink!

  Umberto jumped to his feet. “Do you want to join Flemky on his pole?”

  “No, sir,” said Eric.

  “Perhaps this will inspire you!” said the prince. “Bring Glok the Merciless!”

  “Don’t go to any trouble,” said Eric.

  “Bring him!” boomed Umberto.

  One of the giant walls slid up to reveal an iron cage. Eric nearly choked when he saw a gargantuan spider stomp out of it.

  It was the most terrifying creature he had ever seen, all drooling fangs and spiky legs. Around its neck hung a gold medallion.

  Umberto muttered, the medallion lit up, and the spider moved toward Eric.

  It came so close that he could see the symbols on its medallion. He knew them instantly as the dark language of Goll.

  He wanted to turn away, but the creature’s eyes stared into his, and the words of the strange, old boat woman flew suddenly into his head.

  The eyes are windows to the soul.

  Eric practically screamed.

  He knew those eyes!

  They belonged to Max!

  Max! he cried inside his head. Is it you? Can you hear me? What happened to you? Where is Galen? What is going on here?

  “Glok, to your cage!” boomed Umberto. The medallion glowed again, and the spider hurried away.

  “Boy!” said Umberto. “Tomorrow night Glok will fight an army of gladiators, and you will play. When the stars align and the moon is full I will be crowned … Rat King of Pesh!”

  “Om — yee — Peshhhhh!” sang the soldiers.

  Eric’s blood turned to ice.

  What? Pesh? PESH?

  Pesh was the ancient city in the Upper World where Salamandra came from!

  What did Pesh have to do with this?

  What did Salamandra have to do with this?

  What was going on here?!

  Eric knew then that things were far more serious than he’d realized. Pesh and Jabar-Loo were connected somehow. And Salamandra was involved, too.

  But how?

  How?

  “Better come up with a song about me,” said Umberto. “Something full of rhyme.”

  “But I …”

  “What did you say?” growled Umberto.

  “Yes, sir!” said Eric, bowing.

  “That’s what I thought you said,” boomed the giant. “Come, my beasts, to the little red door of my royal crown maker. Come!”

  Umberto muttered words softly, and every single medallion in the room glowed.

  “The medallions …” Eric said to himself. But when Umberto’s two beasts glanced at him, his heart nearly burst in his chest.

  In the eyes of those two beasts, he saw eyes that he knew. Umberto’s hideous creatures were none other than King Zello and Queen Relna!

  “No … no …” he whispered. “No!”

  Eric soon found himself alone in the vast room. He couldn’t believe what he had seen.

  “We’ll get you out of here, Max, Relna, and Zello. I promise! We can do it. I can do it. Whatever it takes, we’ll get you out of here!”

  Eric stumbled through the palace, trying to understand what he had just seen and heard.

  “Umberto’s controlling everyone with his medallions,” he said to himself. “There are Goll symbols on the medallions, and he knows dark magic. Oh, my gosh, the king and queen! And Max! We have to save them. We have to save them!”

  He reached the palace doors and slipped out. He looked both ways and hurried down a narrow passage toward the gate.

  “Galen must be here, too,” he whispered. “But he’s probably been changed like the others.”

  Whatever dark power Umberto had, Eric guessed that being crowned the Rat King of Pesh would only make it worse.

  Pesh!

  The more he thought about that strange city, the more he thought about Salamandra — and about his vision.

  Then he shook his head to clear it.

  There was no time for that now.

  “This way, knights!” boomed a voice.

  Eric ducked behind a pile of ruined stones and spied Umberto, his twin beasts, and a dozen rat-helmeted soldiers heading for the city gate.

  “So how will I get out of here now?” he muttered.

  Just then, he heard a cough. “Ahem …”

  He looked up. The Amazing Flemky waved down at him from his pole. As Eric waved back, he happened to glance from the pole to the trees outside the wall and saw that they were the same height. “Huh …”

  Flemky coughed again. “Water! Please!”

  He motioned to a bucket lying on the ground at the bottom of the pole. It was tied to a rope that dangled from the top.

  At once, Eric remembered something else the boat woman Dora had said.

  Help a friend, and he’ll help you!

  “Of course!” he said to himself. Keeping out of sight of Umberto and his men, Eric ran to the pole and unhooked the bucket. He found a shallow pool of rainwater in the street, filled the bucket, then tied it back on the rope. He scribbled a note and tied that on, too, then gave Flemky the thumbs-up.

  Flemky pulled the bucket to the top.

  A few moments later, Eric saw him read the note, then return the thumbs-up sign.

  This time the rope descended without the bucket. When Eric grabbed hold, the rope began to rise. With one eye on Umberto, Eric pushed against the pole and began to swing. The farther he swung, the higher he flew, until he was nearly as high as the trees.

  On one final swing, Eric soared up and reached out to the branches. He caught one! It bounced under his weight, but he clung tight. He was in a tree!

  “Thanks, Flemky!” he whispered. Tying the rope to the branch, he edged in to the trunk and lowered himself inch by inch until there was one branch left.

  “I can’t believe I made it!” he said.

  He spoke too soon. The branch snapped under him and he plummeted to the ground. “Ahhhhhh!”

  “Ahhh, yourself!” said a tiny voice under him.

  Eric jumped to his feet only to find Khan, the Lumpy king, lying flat on his back in the dirt.

  “Soft landing, was it?” Khan groaned. “You nearly knocked the stuffing clear out of me!”

  Eric helped him up. “Khan, I’m so sorry!”

  The king fluffed his shoulders. “Well, at least you’re all right. Everyone, look!”

  “Eric, we were so worried,” said Julie, running out of the forest with the others.

  “We waited as long as we could, then went to hide,” said Keeah. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

  “Thanks,” said Eric. “But none of us is safe. And we’re about to be less safe still. Umberto is nearly here. Hide!”

  The friends piled up the tree Eric had fallen from just as the city gates swung open. The soldiers, beasts, and Umberto marched through, leading
the band of blue rats the kids had seen before.

  “Umberto is that creepy giant with the rat helmet,” Eric whispered. “He transforms people with those medallions. They have symbols from ancient Goll all over them. I didn’t see Galen, but Umberto turned Max into the monster Glok. And Keeah …”

  She gasped. “My parents! You saw them. They’re in danger. I know it —”

  Eric shook his head. “I’m not sure. In fact, I don’t think they are in actual danger. Umberto has enchanted them, too, and now … well, you see those two beasty things?”

  “Oh, no!” Keeah gasped. “My parents?”

  “But I think they’re okay for now,” Eric said quickly. “Because he’s controlling them, they’re on his side —”

  “Hush!” said Khan. “Look there!”

  Umberto lowered a medallion over the head of each tiny rodent. Then he spread his massive arms wide and spoke.

  “What’s he doing?” asked Julie.

  “You’ll see,” said Eric.

  At once, the medallions glowed, and with a terrifying roar the blue rats transformed into the giant beasts the kids had seen at the river. They stomped and snorted, then bowed before the prince as if waiting for his command.

  “Destroy the song towers!” Umberto bellowed. “Soon I shall be the Rat King, and the time for Jabar-Loo to rise will come! Destroy the towers!”

  Wailing as before, the beasts thundered away into the night. In a flash, Umberto and the others reentered the gate. It closed with a resounding boom.

  Keeah looked at the gate, then turned to the forest. “As much as it hurts me to say it, my parents can wait. The droomar are not a fighting people. We have to stop those beasts, and we have to stop them at the river.”

  Eric’s fingers sparked. “Let’s do it!”

  Keeah conjured a coil of spinning blue light. Before they knew it, the children and Khan were zooming toward the raging river.

  It was the middle of the night and pitch black when they alighted on the near bank. The rapids splashed along in the darkness.

  “This is the narrowest part of the river,” said Keeah. “They’ll try to cross here.”