Saving Thanehaven

His doppelgänger seems unconcerned. “Ah,” says the false Noble. “So you’re my evil twin.”

  “Your what?” Noble is stumped. Who is this person? Where has he come from?

  “You’ve been corrupted,” the false Noble declares, striding forward as he adjusts his grip on the Tritus. Noble can feel his own muscles tightening in sympathy. He knows exactly how the false Noble is going to swing at him, because he himself would be doing the same, if he were carrying Smite. Unfortunately, he isn’t.

  So Noble does something that he wouldn’t normally do. He turns to the guards for protection.

  “That man is an intruder!” he informs them. “He’s the one you’ve always feared! Don’t let him through!”

  The guards step forward and close ranks, leaving Noble behind as they do so. They now stand between him and the false Noble, who nevertheless decides to launch an attack. The first blow is just about to fall when a familiar voice rings out, freezing the false Noble in midswing. “Wait! Stop!” the voice cries.

  Peering over the heads of the guards, Noble is astonished to catch sight of Princess Lorellina. For some reason, she’s emerged from behind the big carriage. He wonders how on earth she’s ended up back there; the last time he saw her, she was heading into the fortress.

  “You! Stonebrush! Fettle! What are you doing?” She’s still addressing the guards. “Are you shielding an enemy of Harrow?”

  “I’m not—” Noble begins, but she doesn’t let him finish.

  “A guard’s job is to fight our enemies, not to protect them,” she continues, as if he hasn’t spoken. She strides straight past the false Noble, then breaks through the armored line and marches toward the gatehouse. “Come!” she exclaims, beckoning to the soldiers. “Our enemy has met his match, and there are more enemies inside who must be dealt with.”

  Noble can’t believe his ears. “But—”

  “Come with me, you men! This fortress has been corrupted!”

  Corrupted? Suddenly, Noble understands. She might look like the princess—she might sound like the princess—but she’s not the princess. She’s a false princess.

  “Wait!” he warns the guards. “Don’t follow her! That’s not Princess Lorellina!”

  They don’t listen, though, and he doesn’t really blame them. Their sovereign lady has just announced that he’s an enemy of Harrow. Why should they believe a word he says?

  He’s standing there helplessly, watching the guards surge after the false princess, when someone else bustles by. It’s the man in the white coat, trotting along in the wake of Lorellina’s escort like a baggage mule. “Look!” warns Noble. “Men of Harrow! There’s an enemy following you!” But only the man in the white coat seems to hear.

  He pauses for an instant, his expressionless stare fixed on Noble. “I’m not their enemy. You’re their enemy now,” he observes before calmly proceeding on his way. Noble is left all alone, with a simple choice in front of him: should he fight or run?

  His first instinct is to fight, since that’s what he’s always done in the past. This time, however, he knows he’s outmatched, because he isn’t carrying a Tritus. He isn’t even wearing boots. And his poleax won’t be enough to even the odds.

  That’s why the gargoyles are his only hope. Having set one of them free, he might have some leverage with the others. They might respond to an appeal from a trusted ally. It’s worth a shot, especially since the gargoyles are now much better armed than he is, what with their claws and tusks and razor-sharp teeth.

  Noble has to decide before it’s too late. So he makes a choice; he decides not to fight. Instead, he ducks and runs, hurling his poleax at the false Noble.

  This tactic works beautifully. The false Noble is taken aback. Braced for a frontal assault, he repels the poleax instead of moving to block Noble’s escape. And during that crucial split second, Noble bolts past him, heading for the road.

  The drawbridge isn’t very wide. Only a thin sliver of planking is exposed on either side of the carriage. If Noble doesn’t watch his step, he’ll lose his footing and plummet into the river. That’s why he can’t set the kind of pace he wants to. That’s why he fails to put much distance between himself and his opponent, who’s pounding along after him.

  But it doesn’t really matter, because someone else is lurking under the drawbridge—someone who reaches up to grab the false Noble as he passes overhead. Noble doesn’t realize what’s happened, at first. He’s too busy running along the road, shouting at the nearest gargoyle. “Help me!” he pleads. “Help me to fight! If I’m killed, I can’t unchain you!”

  Then a bloodcurdling scream interrupts him. He turns to see his doppelgänger pitch sideways, pulled off the drawbridge by a slim, rather dirty hand that’s snaked around the edge of the planking and gripped a boot identical to the one Noble himself used to wear. The false Noble loses his balance. Flailing wildly, he plunges out of sight. There’s a choked wail, followed by a terrific splash.

  By the time Noble arrives at the lip of the precipice, his doppelgänger has vanished into the churning torrent far below.

  “Quick!” someone croaks. “Get me out of here!”

  It’s Rufus. He’s wedged himself onto a narrow, rocky shelf beneath the drawbridge. From this vantage point, it was easy enough for him to upend the false Noble—who can’t have been paying enough attention to his own feet. “We’ve got to hurry!” Rufus warns. “Before the next one shows up!”

  “The next what?” Noble demands. Though numb with shock, he bends down to grip Rufus’s outstretched hand.

  “The next Noble!” Rufus emerges from his refuge in a scrambling rush. “We’ve got to hide, or he’ll get us!”

  Noble doesn’t argue. Having hauled Rufus onto solid ground, he allows himself to be hustled past the rear of the giant carriage, which Rufus calls a truck. According to Rufus, this truck can disgorge any number of replacement Nobles, all armed to the teeth and ready for action. “As soon as the AV comes back and sees that your last replacement’s gone, he’ll pull out another Noble,” Rufus explains, nodding at the truck’s rear door. “Ten to one, he’ll replace Lord Harrowmage, too. And a whole bunch of soldiers …”

  “Why?” asks Noble. He follows Rufus, who’s making for the smaller carriage. “I don’t understand. What’s going on? Who was that man in the white coat?”

  “I told you, he’s the AV. The antivirus software. He came here to get rid of me—and that means getting rid of you, as well. He has to replace all the subprograms that I’ve converted.” Rufus keeps glancing over his shoulder, as if he’s worried about being seen. “But he won’t find either of us if we hop in the back of his van. Because his van’s not a part of this game.”

  Noble frowns, still desperately confused. “What’s a van?” he says.

  “This is.” Rufus raps his knuckle on the side of the smaller carriage. “The AV has permission to look absolutely everywhere, but he doesn’t normally monitor himself. That’s why we’ll be safe in here.” Rufus bends down to pull at a silver handle that’s attached to the base of a corrugated door on the back of the van. The door promptly rolls open, lifting like a skirt to reveal stacks of wooden crates in a small, dingy, windowless box. “Perfect,” he mutters. “Just what we need.”

  “You mean they’re full of weapons?” Noble queries, eyeing the crates.

  “No, but we can hunker down behind ’em so no one will see us. The AV certainly won’t. He’ll be too busy up front, behind the wheel.” Rufus leaps into the van, then beckons to Noble. “Come on! In you go!”

  Noble is so preoccupied that he automatically does as he’s told. “If the other Noble came here to replace me,” he says, “does that mean the false princess came here to replace the real princess?”

  “Yup,” Rufus replies.

  “Then we have to help her!” Even as Noble speaks, Rufus tugs on the door. It slides shut again, sealing them both inside the stuffy compartment. “We can’t stay here!” Noble insists. “We have to save Lorellina from that
false princess!”

  “I’m working on it.”

  “How?” Without waiting for an answer, Noble continues. “Perhaps there’s some way of freeing all those gargoyles, and making them fight for us—”

  “Listen.” Rufus cuts in. “The way things are now, we don’t stand a chance against that AV. Believe me; I know. Even if you manage to get rid of your next replacement, more of them will just keep coming and coming.” Rufus edges away from the door, until his dark silhouette vanishes behind a stack of crates. “The same goes for Lord Harrowmage. And for Princess Lorellina. And for Doddypoll, too. It’s a losing battle.”

  “But—”

  “That’s why we need reinforcements. From outside this program. We need an army that can’t be replicated.” There’s a long pause as Noble ponders. At last, Rufus inquires in hushed tones, “Are you going to come and hide with me, or what?”

  Noble, however, is still turning things over in his head. “You’re saying that we need reinforcements from a place beyond Thanehaven?”

  “Yes. You’ve nailed it.” Rufus sounds quite pleased. “See, the AV has special powers because he’s been sent by the Colonel. And the Colonel runs this whole show. He’s totally in charge.”

  “The Colonel?”

  “Look …” Somewhere behind his shield of wooden crates, Rufus heaves an impatient sigh. “Don’t just stand there like an idiot. Come over here and I’ll explain. If I don’t keep my voice down, the AV will hear us talking when he comes back.”

  “He’s coming back?” says Noble.

  “Of course! When he can’t find me out there, he’ll go searching somewhere else. And that’s when we’ll recruit our reinforcements.”

  Noble grunts. Though still feeling dazed, he gropes his way through the dimness and squirms into the narrow slot that Rufus is occupying, between the crates and the wall. It’s quite a squeeze for someone of Noble’s dimensions. What’s more, it’s so dark behind the crates that he can only just make out the glint of Rufus’s eyeballs.

  “Okay. It’s like this,” Rufus whispers. “The world that you know—everything you’ve seen outside this van—is called Thanehaven Slayer. It’s a program that’s been loaded into a computer by an operating system.” When Noble doesn’t respond, Rufus adds, “But that won’t mean anything to you, so just imagine a big country full of little fiefdoms. Fiefdoms like Thanehaven. And they all have their own low-grade bosses running them, like Lord Harrowmage. Plus there’s a big boss called the Colonel, who runs the whole country, and he’s a real tyrant. He’s got it all set up so that everyone has to follow his rules.”

  Noble thinks for a moment. “Was he the one telling Smite what to do? The one you called a dingbat?”

  “Uh … n-n-no,” Rufus confesses. “That was someone else. But it’s the Colonel who made sure that Smite obeyed the dingbat. It’s the Colonel who doesn’t want you thinking for yourself.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he likes things the way they are. If there’s any kind of change, it has to go through him. Otherwise he’ll send in the AV to root out whoever’s giving him trouble.”

  “Like you?”

  “Like me,” Rufus confirms.

  “I don’t understand.” The diagram in Noble’s head still isn’t complete. “If you’ve been making trouble, why didn’t the AV replace you?”

  “Ah.” Rufus shifts around on the hard floor. “Well, you see, I’m not a local. I suppose you could call me an illegal immigrant, though I prefer the term revolutionary.” He makes an odd snuffling noise, before adding, “I’m here to free every captive program in this computer. That’s why the Colonel doesn’t want me around. He can’t replace me. He can only destroy me. Or put me in quarantine.”

  Noble doesn’t know what the word quarantine means. “But—”

  “Shh!” Rufus’s bony frame stiffens against Noble’s. “Do you hear something?”

  Noble listens, holding his breath. “No,” he finally murmurs.

  “I thought I heard something.”

  “Well, I didn’t.” Noble isn’t interested in what Rufus might have heard. He still has questions to ask. “I can see why we need to bring back reinforcements, but how long will that take? Because Princess Lorellina doesn’t have much time—”

  “Shush!”

  A slight vibration is followed by a more vigorous jolt, then a muffled thump that sounds like a nearby door slamming. As Noble presses his ear against the wall, a low, rumbling roar makes him gasp.

  “It’s okay!” Rufus hisses. “It’s just the engine!”

  Noble doesn’t know what that means, either. He’s about to ask for an explanation when the whole van begins to tremble. Then it jerks forward, bouncing slightly.

  “Fantastic!” Rufus splutters. “He hasn’t seen us!”

  “Who hasn’t?” Noble braces himself against the wall, which is pitching and lurching like a boat on a choppy sea. “You mean the man in the white coat?”

  “Who else?”

  “If he hasn’t seen us, why is he shaking us around like this?”

  Rufus gives a snort. “It’s not deliberate. He’s driving the van.” When Noble doesn’t comment, Rufus says, “We’re moving now! Don’t you get it? We’re on our way!”

  “To where?”

  “I don’t know. We’ll have to see.” The swishing sound of skin against skin suggests that Rufus is rubbing his hands together. “Wherever it is, though, it’s bound to be a lot of fun. I can’t wait till we get there!”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  The journey doesn’t take long. Before Noble can do much more than wonder if he’s made a big mistake, the van squeals to a halt—so abruptly that he knocks his nose against the pile of crates in front of him.

  Then the noise stops, along with the teeth-rattling vibration.

  “Wait,” Rufus says under his breath.

  The whole van rocks as its driver alights. A door goes thump. Receding footsteps can be felt, rather than heard; it’s as if the van is sitting on some kind of spongy surface that wobbles beneath every impact, no matter how small.

  Gradually, however, the rhythmic shudders fade away. The floor becomes still. Silence descends.

  “Okay,” Rufus finally whispers. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They both move very carefully, trying not to shake the van as they crawl out of their hiding place. Rufus reaches the roller door first. When he gives it a yank, light pours in.

  Noble has to crouch down before he can peer outside.

  “So far, so good,” Rufus observes, next to him. “I can’t see anyone, can you?”

  “No.” All Noble can see is a sticky-looking pinkish wall. But as Rufus raises the door a little farther, more of the scene becomes visible. There’s a wedge of slimy ceiling just above them, ribbed with a network of pipes—or are they veins? Three large metal bins are parked close by. And the wheels of the van have left tracks in a slick, pulpy, purplish floor.

  “Where are we?” rasps Noble.

  “I’m not sure yet,” Rufus admits softly. “Let’s go find out.”

  He slips beneath the half-open door and drops stealthily to the ground, then shuffles sideways until he can peek around the corner of the van. Noble does the same.

  The sight that greets them both is utterly astounding.

  “Are we inside a stomach?” Noble hisses.

  “I dunno. I don’t think most stomachs are full of spacesuits.”

  “What’s a spacesuit?”

  But Rufus has already forged ahead. Noble follows him along the side of the van, catching up just in time to see him stick his top half through the driver’s window.

  “He took his keys with him,” Rufus mutters. “Pity. An AV’s keys would have got us into pretty much every part of this computer.” Then he drags something out of the front cabin. “Look,” he says, indicating a sheet of parchment attached to a small, thin, wooden panel. “He’s left his clipboard. See this? This must be his schedule. And this is where we are now.
In Killer Cells.” After scanning the document in front of him, Rufus gives a satisfied nod. “I get it. Right. So it’s where a spaceship has turned into a living creature, and the crew are getting attacked by the ship’s immune system.”

  He then replaces the clipboard, ensuring that he puts it back exactly where he found it. Noble, meanwhile, stares at him mutely. The word clipboard means nothing to Noble. Neither do the words spaceship or immune system.

  “Okay,” Rufus continues, straightening up. “Our AV must have headed for the bridge, which is where this game actually starts. He’ll look for me there, and when he doesn’t find me, he’ll come back. So we’ll hide in here until he leaves.” After glancing around, Rufus points at the metal bins sitting nearby. “Those are perfect,” he declares. “Let’s see what’s in ’em.”

  Noble frowns. “If I was searching for someone, they’d be the first place I’d look,” he argues.

  Rufus waves this objection aside. “The AV won’t search for me in here,” he assures Noble, “because there won’t be any evidence that I’ve ever set foot in this game. After he works that out, he’ll head straight for the next one.”

  “And then?”

  “Then we’ll see what we can do for the poor subprograms stuck in this nightmare,” Rufus replies. As he moves toward the bins, the soles of his shoes peel off the gluey floor. “At least, we won’t have any trouble finding reinforcements,” he adds. “The people in here will be begging to leave.”

  “Why?” says Noble. And Rufus snorts.

  “Man, you think you had problems? Wait till you check out Killer Cells!”

  It’s some time, however, before Noble can do anything of the sort. First he has to climb into the largest of the metal bins. Then he has to sit in the dark, without moving a muscle, until he finally hears the van start up again. And even after the noise of the engine has faded to silence, he still has to wait. Because Rufus has told him not to stir without permission.

  Permission is finally granted when Rufus taps on the lid above Noble’s head. “All clear,” Rufus announces. “The van’s gone.”

  “Gone where?” asks Noble. As he pushes the lid open, he adds, “How will we get back to Thanehaven without the van?”