Warriors of the Black Shroud

WARRIORS OF THE BLACK SHROUD

Peter Howe

Dedication

This book is dedicated

to the memory of

Max Lowry,

whose smile could banish darkness.

Contents

Chapter 1

W
alker felt himself tumbling through blackness. He knew Eddie was ahead of him, but he couldn't tell where. The darkness was deeper and more frightening than any he had ever experienced. He didn't know where he was going or what was happening. Sometimes he felt a floor beneath his feet, and then it vanished and he was floating like a lost space explorer. What if he drifted like this forever? He tried not to panic, but it was hard.

Suddenly his feet hit solid ground with a thud. He swayed, trying to regain his balance, and looked around to get his bearings. Then he rubbed his eyes and stared again to make sure that what he saw wasn't some weird dream. He had landed in an ancient-looking city completely surrounded by high walls. Simple, low-roofed houses lined the wide avenue where he was standing. Only one building was bigger than the rest. It looked like a castle, and from its highest turret flew a flag that bore a sunlike symbol.

The sky above his head was the same inky blackness through which he had just fallen, but down here everything dazzled with light. In front of him a group of people watched a juggler keep a stream of balls flying from his hands in an arc above his head. Each ball glowed like a tiny planet, and so did the juggler and his audience. Everything was alive with light—the people, the buildings, even the flowers that edged the lawns in front of every house sparkled in their beds.

In the dark sky dozens of silver birds wheeled and soared, their broad wings catching the same wind currents that moved the flag. Their feathers were mirrored, and they glittered against the blackness. A young boy was walking down the street leading a baby dragon on a leash. It hopped along beside him, and every so often it would let out a huge plume, not of fire but a cloud of bright light. Then Walker heard the sound of hooves and turned to see a pure white horse with a long, wavy mane and a tail that almost touched the ground. Mounted on its back was a man dressed in armor that was mirrored like the birds' wings. In one hand he held a long, shiny lance, on top of which fluttered a pennant with the same emblem as the flag. The man bowed to Walker.

“Greetings, my lord,” he said. “You are most welcome to Nebula.”

This wasn't the usual way grown-ups spoke to Walker, but it didn't matter because he wasn't really listening. His whole concentration was focused on a spot midway between the horse's eyes. Protruding out of the center of the animal's forehead was a single short horn.

“Yes,” said a familiar voice behind him, “it is what you think it is. They always get it wrong in books. They make the horn much too long. The poor creature's head would tip forward if it were any bigger. But then, they often get things wrong in books, I've found.”

Walker whirled around to see Eddie leaning on his long, fearsome sword. Eddie also shone with a brilliant light, and the
B
on the Boston Red Sox jacket he always wore gleamed like a neon sign.

“Eddie!” Walker cried. “Everything is glowing, even you!”

“Of course!” said Eddie. “We all do here. Without light we would suffer a fate worse than a thousand deaths. You're glowing yourself, as a matter of fact.”

Walker glanced down and, sure enough, all his clothing and every part of his skin radiated a soft light. He lifted one hand in front of his eyes, turning it as if it wasn't part of his body at all. It was strange, but also kind of wonderful.

“That's the way things are in Nebula,” Eddie went on. “There are no days here, and no nights, either. This is how it is all the time. We live in light but we don't forget that the dark is always present just the other side of the city walls, and it could take over at any moment. That's why you're here. You have an appointment to see the king. We must hurry. He's waited long enough to meet you.”

Chapter 2

W
alker had first seen Eddie one day while reading in his favorite place, inside a large cardboard box that had recently held the family's new refrigerator. He had jammed the container into the gap between the woodpile and the stone wall in the large yard at the back of the old farmhouse where he lived with his parents. Walker loved the box. He liked the smell of the cardboard and the soft orange light that filtered in. It seemed safe and secure to him, but even more important, it felt private and his alone.

Therefore he was both surprised and more than a little irritated when his reading was interrupted by the sudden appearance of a strangely dressed boy about his own age. Walker didn't hear him approach, which was not surprising. He often got so immersed in a book that the outside world seemed to vanish. The boy had to crouch down to peer inside the box, using a long sword to balance himself. The weapon was broad, with a golden handle into which had been worked emblems that looked like the sun. He also carried an evil-looking dagger with the same markings in his waistband. Apart from these weapons the boy looked the same as most of the boys in Walker's neighborhood. He wore jeans and a T-shirt with a Boston Red Sox jacket that he had draped over his shoulders. But unlike the other boys Walker knew, he had shoulder-length red hair, on top of which he wore a fedora with a feather. But his most striking feature was his eyes. They were bright green, and shone eerily like two small flashlights.

“What are you reading history for?” he asked Walker, looking at the book that lay open on his knees. “History's bunk. Do you not know that? It's written by people who weren't there and have no idea what happened.”

Walker didn't quite know how to respond to this, which didn't matter because he didn't get the chance.

“All books are bunk, in my opinion,” the boy continued, barely pausing for breath. “They're for people who'd rather think than take action. Action, my friend, is the secret of success in this life, not book learning. You can quote me on that.”

“And who would I be quoting if I wanted to?” Walker asked.

“My name is Eddie,” the boy replied. “Actually, it's Prince Edward the Soon-to-Be-Terrible if you want it in full.”

“Yeah, right,” snorted Walker. “A prince, huh? I didn't know royalty supported the Red Sox. Well, your royal princeness, why are you trespassing in my backyard?”

“Highness,” Eddie corrected him, but ignored the question. “The proper term is ‘highness,' although it's of no consequence where you're concerned. Anyone with the mark outranks me anyway.”

“What mark?” asked Walker warily.

“That mark,” Eddie said, leaning forward and pointing at Walker's face. “The mark of the Chosen.”

Walker had a strange, star-shaped birthmark on his cheek. It had appeared on his face shortly after he was born. He had always hated it and now he covered it with his hand and turned his head away from Eddie's stare.

“I can't help having it,” he said, “and if you don't like it you can leave this box, which is what I'd like you to do anyway.”

“Of course you can't help it,” agreed Eddie. “You're one of the lucky ones, born to good fortune.”

When others made fun of his birthmark Walker usually dealt with it by just walking away. He would have left now, had Eddie not been blocking the only exit. But when he looked into Eddie's eyes he realized the boy was perfectly serious.

“But it's ugly,” he protested. “How can that possibly be good fortune?”

“Where I come from,” Eddie explained, “it means you're royalty, and speaking personally I've always thought it was remarkably fortunate to be royal—although it does have its downsides, of course, like everything else,” he admitted.

“Where
do
you come from?” asked Walker.

“I come from time immemorial, and from no time at all. I come from the mists of Scotland, and the sun-baked plains of Africa. I have fought the English at Bannockburn and the Confederate Army at Manassas—twice, as it happens. I am the spirit of the—”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” interrupted Walker with an irritated sigh. “I mean, where did you just come from?”

“Oh,” said Eddie. “Just come from—that would be the Kingdom of Nebula.”

“Nebula?” Walker asked. “Where on earth is the Kingdom of Nebula?”

“Well, it's not actually on Earth,” Eddie replied mysteriously. “It's more like it's in Earth. You'd have to go there to understand why there's no place like it. I'll show it to you if you like.”

“No thanks,” said Walker. This kid seemed crazy, and he was armed! Walker had to think of some way to get rid of him before he did something dangerous.

“No, I'm serious,” Eddie assured him. “I could take you there. It'd be more fun than reading a book in a box, that I can guarantee.”

Walker decided to humor him in the hope that he would go away.

“I can't go now,” he replied. “I have my homework to do, and this book's due back at the library tomorrow, and I want to finish it.”

“Homework!” Eddie exploded. “Library! I'm offering to show you a place that's so amazing you'll be blown away, and you'd prefer to do your homework! Come with me—you'll never regret it, trust me.”

“It's not that I don't trust you,” Walker said. “It's that I don't believe you.”

“Pshaw!” exclaimed Eddie.

Suddenly there was a thump on the top of the box, followed by two more in quick succession. Eddie peered cautiously over it, his hand on the hilt of his dagger.

“Walker Watson,” came the sound of a jeering voice. “What's on your face?”

“Hey, wimpy Walker!” cried another. “Don't hit me with one of your books! If you do I'll tell your ma!”

“Who's that?” demanded Eddie.

“It's just the boys from down the road,” Walker replied. “Their dad works for the farmer, Mr. Trumbell. Don't worry about them. They'll go away.”

“Oh, they'll go away, all right,” growled Eddie. “You'd better believe that.”

He leaped up and headed toward the picket fence that ran in front of Walker's house.

“No!” yelled Walker. “Leave them alone, please!”

But it was too late. Walker stuck his head around the corner of the box to see Eddie going full tilt toward the four boys on the other side of the fence. He slashed at the air with his sword and made stabbing motions with the dagger in his other hand. His hat toppled from his head, releasing a mane of red hair that streamed behind him as he gathered speed.

“Run, you cowards, run!” he yelled.

The four boys on the other side of the fence were big and strong and a little older than Walker. They loved to fight and normally they would have stood their ground, but when they saw this wild boy they fled down the road, bumping into one another in their haste to get away. Eddie returned to the box grinning.

“There, that's the way to treat people like that,” he said. “Remember, my friend, a bully is either at your throat or at your feet, and I know which one I prefer.”

“I wish you hadn't done that,” sighed Walker. “Now they'll tell their dad and he'll come and complain to my dad, and how I'm going to explain you I have no idea. And that Daniel, the biggest one—he's mean. He won't forget this quickly.”

“You worry too much, that's your trouble,” said Eddie. He had leaned the sword against the side of the box and was now cleaning his fingernails with the tip of his dagger. “By the time they get home they'll have forgotten what happened, but they'll think twice before they try anything with you again, only they won't remember why.”

“How could they forget you?” asked Walker. “I mean you're not very forgettable.”

“I suppose it's what you would call magic,” Eddie replied. “I can make myself visible or invisible at will, and I can make people remember me or have no recollection of ever having seen me.”

“No way!” exclaimed Walker. “There's no way you could do that. It's impossible!”

“Well, just you wait and see,” replied Eddie. “See if that Daniel guy wants to mess with you next time he meets you. He'll be so scared of you they'll call him Spaniel, not Daniel.”

Walker snorted with laughter. The thought of Daniel as a meek dog with floppy ears was so unlike the bully he knew. He watched Eddie as he continued to pick at the dirt beneath his nails with the blade. He was clearly nuts with all his talk of kingdoms and his sword and crazy hat, but then maybe you had to be a bit loony to do magic. Magic had always fascinated Walker—not the stuff conjurers performed at parties, but the kind wizards did, spells and things like that. If there was a chance, even the smallest one, that Eddie was telling the truth . . .

“Really?” said Walker. “You can really do that? Where did you learn a trick like that?”

“It's not a trick,” Eddie protested. “It's real magic, and it's easy when you know how.”

There was silence while Walker thought about what he just said.

“Could you teach me how to do it?” he asked after a few moments.

“Certainly,” said Eddie, looking up from his hands, a sly grin on his face. “But only if you come to the Kingdom.”

Walker thought for a moment and then came to his senses. The boy was clearly a liar, and the sooner he went away the better. He would just have to avoid Daniel and his brothers as best he could for the time being.

“Well, maybe,” he said, “but not today. Perhaps tomorrow.”

Eddie let out a long, frustrated sigh.

“Okay,” he said. “If that's the way it's got to be, but get here at the same time. Don't be late, or I'll come looking for you.”

And he vanished into thin air.

Walker stood for a long time looking at the spot where Eddie had been. There was no way he could have disappeared, but he had, leaving no trace.

Later on, when Walker was in his bedroom about to go to sleep, he checked through all his books that dealt with the subject of magic. One of his favorites was called
The Necromancer's Almanac
, and it covered everything from alchemy to voodoo, but nowhere could he find any reference to a kingdom called Nebula. He started to leaf through a book on wizards when his mother opened the bedroom door.

“Time to turn the light out, honey,” she said. “I know there's no school tomorrow, but it's really late.”

“Okay, Mom,” he replied. “Good night.”

“Good night, sweetie. Sleep well.”

As he lay there in the dark, he thought about Eddie. Maybe he was just nuts, or some weird practical joker. But then maybe, just maybe, he did know magic. Walker would love to have the ability to make people forget they had ever seen him. That way nobody would remember the ugly mark on his face. That would be so cool, and if he could master that, who knew what else he might be able to do?

He would call the boy's bluff, tell him that he wanted to go to the Kingdom, and then see what happened. If it
was
nothing, as Walker suspected would be the case, then at least he would know that the boy was a fraud. But if he really could do magic and there really was a place called Nebula . . . well, that would be something else altogether.