Alcatraz vs. the Shattered Lens Page 6

  "Frailty," Bastille said with a sigh, "thy name is Alcatraz."

  ACT V, SCENE III

  The following chapter introduction is an excerpt from Alcatraz Smedry's bestselling book, How to Sound Really Smart in Three Easy Steps.

  STEP ONE: Find an old book that everyone has heard of but nobody has read.

  The clever writers know that literary allusions are useful for lots of reasons other than giving you stuff to write when you run out of ideas. They can also make you look way more important. What better way to seem intelligent than to include an obscure phrase in your story? It screams, "Look how smart I am. I've read lots of old books."

  STEP TWO: Skim through that old play or document until you find a section that makes no sense whatsoever.

  Shakespeare is great for this for one simple reason: None of what he wrote makes any sense at all. Using confusing old phrases is important because it makes you look mysterious. Plus, if nobody knows what the original author meant, then they can't complain that you used the phrase wrong. (Shakespeare, it should be noted, was paid by other authors to write gibberish. That way, when they wanted to quote something that didn't make sense, they just had to reach for one of his plays.)

  STEP THREE: Include a quote from that play or old document in an obvious place, where people will think they're smart for spotting it.

  Note that you get bonus points for changing a few of the words to make a clichéd turn of phrase, as it will stick in people's minds that way. Reference the last sentence of the previous chapter for an example.

  Note that if you aren't familiar with Shakespeare, you can always use Greek philosophers instead. Nobody knows what the heck they were talking about, so talking about them in your books is a great way to pretend to be smart.

  Everybody wins!

  "O horrible, O horrible, most horrible!” Kaz cried as the alarm went off.

  "Why,” Aydee said. "What should be thy fear?”

  "More matter," Bastille said, pointing at the glass dome of the city, then pulling out her sword. “With less art.”

  “Bid the players make haste!" I cried, dashing away from the fallen gun. We took off at a run toward Tuki Tuki.

  All around us, the camp was coming alert. Fortunately, they didn't know what the disturbance was or what had caused it. Many of the Librarians seemed to assume that the shot had come from the besieged city, and they were forming up battle lines facing the dome. Others were running toward the place where the shot I'd fired had entered the jungle.

  "If there be any good thing to be done . . ." Bastille said, looking about, worried.

  The scrambling soldiers gave me an idea. Up ahead, I saw a gun rack where a bunch of rifles leaned, waiting to be picked up by Librarians for battle. I waved to the others, racing toward the rack. I ran past it, fingers brushing the weapons and engaging my Talent. They all fired, shooting glowing shots up into the air, arcing over the camp and furthering the chaos.

  "What a piece of work is a man!" Kaz called, giving me a thumbs-up.

  Librarian soldiers ran this way and that, confused. Amid them were men and women dressed in all black – stark black uniforms for the men, with black shirts and ties, and black skirts with black blouses for the women. Some of these noticed my group running through camp and began to cry out, pointing at us.

  Aydee yelped suddenly, pointing ahead of us. “Something is rotten in the state of Denmark!"

  Indeed, a group of soldiers had noticed us and - spurred by the Librarians in black - was sprinting for us.

  There wasn't much time to think. Bastille charged them at the head, of course. She wouldn't be able to take them all, though. There were too many.

  Kaz raised his sling, whipping a rock at a Librarian. The man dropped like Polonius in Act III, Scene iv, but there were still a good ten Librarians to fight. Kaz kept slinging rocks as Bastille surged into the middle of them, sword out and raised before her. Aydee hid behind some barrels at a command from Kaz.

  And me. What could I do? I stood there in the chaotic night, trying to decide. I was the leader of this expedition. I needed to help somehow!

  A Librarian soldier came rushing at me, crying, “Let me be cruel, not unnatural!" He carried a sword; obviously, these men were ready to deal with Smedrys, just in case. A gun would have been useless against my Talent.

  I stepped back nervously. What could I do? Break the ground beneath him? That might as easily toss me into the hole, as well as the others. I couldn't hurt myself in order to . . .

  Something occurred to me.

  Without bothering to think if it were a good idea, I focused on the man, activating my Lenses. Then, I punched myself in the head.

  Now, under normal circumstances, this kind of activity should be frowned upon. In fact, punching yourself in the head is most definitely what we call stoopiderific (defined as "the level of stoopidity required to go slip-'n'-sliding at the Grand Canyon"). However, in this case, it was slightly less stoopiderific.

  The Bestower's Lenses transferred the punch from me to the Librarian. He was suddenly knocked sideways, looking more shocked than hurt.

  He stumbled to his feet. "O, what a rogue and peasant slave am I."

  "There is nothing either good or bad,” I noted, smiling. "But thinking makes it so." I punched myself in the stomach as hard as I could.

  The Librarian grunted, stumbling again. I went at it over and over, until he was groaning and in no shape to get back up. I looked up, scanning the chaotic grounds of the fight. People were running everywhere. Kaz was standing atop the barrels that Aydee was hiding behind, and she’d pulled out a few of the teddy bear grenades. I just managed to dodge to the side as she pulled the tag on a blue one and tossed it at some nearby Librarians, causing them to reverse explode toward each other in a lump.

  I picked another Librarian running by and began to pound on him by pounding on myself. However, I wasn't avoiding damage entirely. In fact, when I stopped focusing on Librarians I'd pummeled, the pains started to come back to me. I needed a different method.

  "Thou wretched, rash, intruding fool, farewell!" a Librarian cried, dashing toward me.

  I spun, focusing on him, and did the first thing I could think of. I pretended that I was crazy. I'm insane, I'm insane, I'm insane! I thought.

  The man hesitated, lowering his sword. He cocked his head, then wandered away. "Do you see yonder cloud that’s almost in shape of a camel?" he asked, glancing at the sky.

  Bastille was in the center of a furious battle. She tried not to hurt people too much, but there was no helping it here. She'd had to stab several of the Librarians, and they lay on the ground holding leg wounds or arm wounds. One man, shockingly, had been stabbed in the mouth. He clutched something in his hand, and as I ran past him, he mumbled, "But break, my heart, for I must hold my tongue. . . ."

  "O, woe is me," I said, squeezing my eyes shut, "to have seen what I have seen, see what I see!"

  I couldn't leave my eyes closed for long, though. I opened them, trying to get close to Bastille to help. She seemed to be holding out well. One Librarian came up behind her, trying to attack her from the side. He jumped at her, joined by a group of friends, grabbing her arm and knocking her large, crystal sword out of her hand.

  "O, what a noble mind is here o'erthrown!" I yelled, pointing.

  Kaz glanced toward us and nodded, grabbing a pink bear from Aydee and tossing it in our direction. It hit, blowing all of us backward. I hit the ground in a roll, but like before, the grenade didn't actually hurt any of us.

  That explosion was enough to get Bastille free from her grapplers, but her sword had been knocked far away. I scrambled to get it for her as she pulled her dagger free from her belt, facing down a Librarian.

  "Is this a dagger which I see before me?" the Librarian said, holding up a larger, much more imposing sword. He swung.

  Bastille just smiled, blocking his sword with her dagger, then stepping unexpectedly forward and kicking him in the crotch with a booted foot.r />
  "Get thee to a nunnery," she said as he squeaked and fell to the ground.

  Bastille hates it when people quote from the wrong play.

  I grabbed Bastille's sword, then dashed toward her, tossing it into her hands as I passed. "Neither a borrower nor a lender be: For loan oft loses both itself and friend."

  "Beggar that I am, I am even poor in thanks,” she said with an appreciative nod.

  I looked about for more enemies. Shockingly, most of the Librarians in this group were down.

  "Will you two help to hasten them?" Kaz yelled, running past us, Aydee at his side. "Rich gifts wax poor when givers prove unkind!"

  I nodded in agreement, bolting toward the far side of the camp. Oddly, as we ran, we passed heaped-up piles of what appeared to be glass. Cups, mirrors, windows – all broken, many broken so badly that they were nearly unrecognizable. I didn’t have much energy to ponder on the oddity, though. Using the Bestower's Lenses had taken a lot out of me - my stomach hurt from being punched so often, and the Lenses had sapped away a lot of my strength.

  Fortunately, the Librarians were confused enough by the nighttime attack that we were able to run the rest of the distance without being stopped again. We burst out of the camp and ran up the hillside toward the glass-domed city above. Behind, Librarians shouted, some pointing at us. A rank of riflemen set up to shoot us down, but they made the mistake of pointing at not one but three Smedrys.

  Three of the riflemen got lost while trying to raise their guns, five miscounted and didn't put any bullets in their guns, and the rest of the weapons fell apart as their owners tried to use them.

  Sometimes it's good to have a Talent.

  Unfortunately, I hadn't considered how we were going to get into the city once we reached it. The glass dome ran all the way down to the ground, and although there appeared to be a place where hinges made a glass door, that was guarded by a group of Mokian soldiers. The stout, well-muscled men were bare-chested, their faces painted with black swirling lines and patterns like Maori war paint. They carried spears made from a black wood, and some of the spearheads were on fire.

  Despite the fearsome display, the soldiers themselves looked like they'd had a hard time of it in the fighting. Most of them wore bandages or slings, and they looked at me and my group with suspicion.

  "Our purpose may hold there!" one of the men said through a small slit in the glass. “Who comes here?” They didn't open the door for us.

  I stepped forward. “Sir, my good friend. I do commend me to you."

  Bastille stepped forward, showing her Crystin blade, the symbol of a Knight of Crystallia. "Swear by my sword,” she proclaimed.

  A Crystin seemed enough proof for the Mokians that we were good guys. They opened the small glass doorway, waving us in. we let Kaz and Aydee go first while I looked back at the camp. We'd done it! I puffed in fatigue, but smiled at our victory.

  Beside me, Bastille seemed less enthusiastic.

  "How is it that the clouds still hang on you?" I asked her.

  She shrugged, regarding the chaotic Librarian ranks, particularly the place where we'd been forced to fight. "My soul is full of discord and dismay."

  "The lady doth protest too much, methinks."

  Bastille looked at me. I could tell from her expression that she blamed me for upsetting everything. That was probably fair, since I'd not only been the one to suggest the plan but the one to ruin it by picking up the Librarian's gun.

  "How absolute the knave is," Bastille said, tapping me on the chest.

  "This above all," I said, shrugging and smiling wryly, "to thine own self be true."

  And with that, we entered Tuki Tuki.

  CHAPTER A+

  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  . . .

  Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

  The Mokian soldiers ushered us through the glass doorway, several of them keeping watchful guard at the army behind. Inside the glass shield, a ten-foot-high wooden wall surrounded the city. The wall was battered and broken, burned in places, and looked like it had seen a lot of fighting before the glass shell had been put in place.

  As soon as we were through the door, several soldiers slammed it shut. One of the soldiers called up toward the wall. "Smedrys have arrived! A Crystin is with them! Lady Aydee has returned!"

  Others picked up the shouts, passing them along the line of ragged defenders standing atop the wall. The men around me lost their suspicion and began to look hopeful.

  "Lord Smedry," one of them said. "You are an advance force? How many troops is Nalhalla sending us?"

  “Are there any others with you?" another asked hopefully.

  "Are the Knights of Crystallia mobilized?" yet another asked. "When will they arrive?"

  "Er," I said, taking off my Bestower's Lenses as more questions swarmed me.

  "We're alone," Bastille said curtly. "We didn’t bring any more help, the knights aren't mobilized, and we really don’t have time to talk about it."

  Everyone fell silent. Bastille has a talent for killing conversations. Basically, Bastille has a talent for killing anything.

  "What she means," I said, shooting a glare her direction, "is that we're here to help, and we hope more will follow. But we're it for now."

  The soldiers seemed crestfallen.

  "I'm sorry we didn't let you in more quickly, Lord Smedry," said one of the men. "It seemed like you had young Aydee captive there, and we weren’t sure what was going on."

  Oh, right, I thought. It probably would have made sense to have her approach first, since she's from the city. Ah well. You can't expect me to think of everything, particularly considering how stoopid I am.

  You haven't forgotten that, have you? Don’t make me start spelling things wrong to prove it to you.

  In the distance, a gate opened in the wooden wall and a contingent of Mokians came out carrying spears that were alight with fire in the night. The soldiers around us made way for the newcomers, and I could tell they respected the man at their lead. He was tall, with long black hair pulled into a ponytail and tied with a beaded string. His face was painted with black lines. He had a powerful, muscular chest and - like most of the other Mokians - wore a simple wrap around his waist, colored red and blue. For some reason, he looked vaguely familiar to me.

  "So it is true," he said, stopping before us, burning spear held to the side. "Welcome, Lord Alcatraz Smedry, to our doomed city. You have picked an interesting time to visit us. Lady Bastille, your sister will be pleased to see you, though I doubt the circumstances will make her happy. Lord Kazan, you are welcome - as always – in Tuki Tuki."

  "Do I know you?" Kaz said, narrowing his eyes.

  "I'm general of the city guard in Tuki Tuki," the man said. He had a commanding, deep voice. "I have seen you many times, though I doubt I was worth your notice. Likely, you have seen my face, but we have never been introduced." He looked to Aydee and nodded to her. "Child, your brave mission does you honor. We are already in communication with the embassy in Nalhalla."

  Aydee blushed. "Thank you, Your . . . er . . . General Mallo."

  "We had not expected you to return, however," he said sternly. "You should have remained in Nalhalla, where it is safe."

  Her blush deepened. "But my cousin needed a pilot! He had to come to Mokia!"

  "Yes," Mallo said flatly. "I've received a report from the embassy regarding the urgent departure. A vacation to visit the mud baths? That is ridiculous, even for a Smedry."

  Now it was my turn to blush. "General," I said, "there are other reasons for our visit. I need to speak to the queen as soon as possible - and after that, I'll need a little time with your Communicator's Glass. I might be able to get you some help for this siege."

  The soldiers nearby perked up, and the general gave me an appraising look. "Very
well. The Smedry clan has long been friends, and sometimes family, of the Mokian royalty. You are always welcome." He gathered some soldiers, then led us to the city gate.

  "I feel I should give you some kind of grand introduction, Lord Smedry," General Mallo said as we entered Tuki Tuki. "But these are not days for joyful tours. So instead, just let me say this. Welcome to the City of Flowers." He raised a hand as I stepped through the gate.

  We were at the bottom of the gentle hillside. I looked up along the main road that ran all the way to the palace. Flowers grew on virtually everything. The hutlike buildings were overgrown with vines that intertwined with the reeds that made up their walls, and these sprouted colorful, hibiscuslike blossoms. Flower beds ran alongside the road, with exotic bird-of-paradise blooms perching atop them. A line of enormous trees ran behind the buildings, their limbs extending out over the rooftops. These grew heaps of purple flowers that hung down over the road, collected in batches like bunches of grapes. It was gorgeous.

  “Wow," I said. "Glad I'm not allergic!"

  General Mallo grunted, gesturing with his flaming spear, leading us forward. Carrying that spear around struck me as a little bit dangerous, but who was I to speak? After all, I was the one walking around with a weapons-grade Smedry Talent stuffed inside me.

  “Fortunately, Lord Smedry," Mallo said as we walked, "our flowers are all nonallergenic."

  "How did you get them that way?" I asked.

  "We asked them very nicely,” Mallo said.

  "Er, okay.”

  "It was much more difficult than it sounds, Alcatraz,” Aydee added. "Do you know how many different species of flower there are in the city? Six thousand! Our floralinguists had to learn each and every language."

  "Floralinguists?" I said.

  “They talk to flowers!” Aydee said excitedly.

  "I kind of figured that," I said. "What kinds of things do they say?"

  "Oh,” Mallo said, "they tend to ramble a lot and use big words, but there isn't often much substance to what they say, despite the beauty and ornamentation of the language."