Alcatraz Versus the Knights of Crystallia

Why did I feel so unsettled, as if we hadn’t really won after all?

At that moment, Draulin screamed. She collapsed to the ground, holding her head. Then every Knight of Crystallia in the room dropped to the ground as well, crying out in pain.

“Hello, everyone!” a voice suddenly cried. I spun to find my grandfather standing behind us. “I’m back! Did I miss anything important?”

Chapter

21

At that instant, a lot of things happened at once.

The common people in the crowd began to scream in fear and confusion. A group of Librarian thugs pushed their way down to the floor around Swcbn, who continued to sit and knit.

King Dartmoor unsheathed his sword and turned to face the thugs. Grandpa Smedry and I tried to rush down the stairs to get to the monarchs, but were blocked by the crowds trying to flee.

“Hiccupping Huffs!” Grandpa Smedry cursed.

“Follow me, Lord Smedry!” Sing said, muscling up to the top of the stairs beside us. Then he tripped.

Now, I don’t know how you’d react if a three-hundred-pound Mokian tripped and began to roll down the stairs toward you, but I safely say that I’d either:

Scream like a girl and jump out of the way.

Scream like a gerbil and jump out of the way.

Scream like a Smedry and jump out of the way.

The people on the steps chose to scream like a bunch of people on some steps, but they did get out of the way.

Grandpa Smedry, Folsom, Himalaya, and I charged down the stairs behind the Mokian. Prince Rikers stayed behind, looking confused. “This part actually looks dangerous,” he called. “Maybe I should stay here. You know, and guard the exit.”

Whatever, I thought. His father at least proved to have a spine. King Dartmoor stood over his fallen wife, facing down the group of Librarian thugs, sword held before him. The other monarchs were in the processes of scattering.

It looked as if the Librarians would easily cut down the king before we could reach him.

“Hey!” a voice yelled suddenly. I recognized my aunt Patty standing in the audience, pointing. As always, her voice managed to carry over any and every bit of competition. “I don’t mean to be rude,” she bellowed, “but is that toilet paper stuck to your leg?”

The Librarian thug at the front immediately looked down, then blushed, realizing that he did indeed have toilet paper stuck to him. He bent down to pull it off, causing the others to bunch up behind him awkwardly.

That distraction gave us just enough time to cover the distance to the king. Grandpa Smedry whipped out a pair of Lenses. I recognized the green tint to the glass, marking them as Windstormer’s Lenses. Sure enough, the Lenses released a blast of air, knocking back the Librarians as they tried to rush the king.

“What happened to the knights?” the king yelled, desperate.

“Librarians must have corrupted the Mindstone, Brig,” Grandpa Smedry said.

That’s the problem with having a magic rock that connects the minds of all of your best soldiers. Take down the stone, and you take down the soldiers. Kind of like how taking out one cell phone tower can knock out the texting ability of an entire school’s worth of teenage girls.

Grandpa Smedry concentrated on blasting the Librarians with his Lenses, but they got smart quickly. They spread out, forcing their way around the perimeter of the floor, trying to get at the king. Grandpa Smedry couldn’t focus on all the different groups; there were too many.

The room was a chaotic mess. People screaming, Librarians pulling out swords, wind blowing. The monarchs were trying to escape, but the stairs were clogged again. Sing sat dazed from his roll down the stairs. He wouldn’t be able to help again anytime soon.

“Alcatraz, get those monarchs out!” Grandpa Smedry said, pointing toward the wall. “Folsom, if you’d help me…”

And with that, Grandpa Smedry began to sing.

I stared at him, dumbfounded, until I realized this gave Folsom the music he needed to dance. Both Folsom and Himalaya spun toward the Librarians, knocking down those who had tried to push around the outsides of the room.

I turned and dashed up a section of the elevated seats. “Monarchs, up here!” I said. The seats here were empty, their occupants all trying to crowd out the other door.

Several of the monarchs turned toward me as I reached the far wall. I placed two hands against it and blasted it with breaking power. The entire wall fell away as if it had been shoved by the hand of a giant.

Monarchs rushed up the steps, wearing a variety of outfits and crowns: A man with dark skin in red African-style clothing. The Mokian king in his islander wrap. A king and queen in standard European crowns and robes. I counted them off, but didn’t see Bastille’s father.