When it was light again, Wolf was standing there looking terrified. He was holding a full-sized sword.
Effie was still asleep.
‘You’re . . . You’re a . . .’ said Maximilian, trembling.
Wolf looked down at the sword. ‘What the . . .?’ He didn’t know what to say or do. He found himself unsheathing the sword. He couldn’t really help himself. He looked even more like an ancient, like an ancient . . .
‘Warrior,’ said Maximilian. ‘You’re an actual true warrior! That’s what sets off the magic. This is – I can’t believe it – even though when it’s enlarged it looks a bit like a Sword of Destiny, the way it works . . . I think it might be the Sword of Orphennyus . . .’
Wolf looked at the blade. He had never seen anything so sharp, so sleek, so peculiarly beautiful. He was suddenly filled with a strange desire to protect the sleeping Effie, and even silly Maximilian too. With the tiny, sharp, trembling tip of this great weapon he casually flipped the ceiling panel and it fell open to reveal a long-abandoned hatch leading to an entrance to an old servants’ corridor. Then, not knowing what to do next, Wolf cut into the air a few times with the blade. It made a pleasing swishing sound. He could do anything, go anywhere, become brave and true and . . . But this was insanity. He re-sheathed the sword and put it down on the table. Immediately, it shrank back to being a letter opener.
‘Who has given me drugs?’ he demanded. ‘How have you done this?’
Everyone was a bit obsessed with drugs because of Coach Bruce. But Wolf couldn’t see any other explanation for what was happening. And that business with the tennis earlier. That must have been drugs too. It was outrageous.
Maximilian wasn’t listening. He was trying to get the ring off Effie’s thumb.
‘It’s her, isn’t it?’ said Wolf. ‘She’s given us all drugs, somehow. She’s . . .’
‘Can you help me?’ said Maximilian. ‘Please?’
‘What am I going to say to Coach Bruce? If he finds out that . . .’
‘Please hurry,’ said Maximilian.
‘Why?’
‘Because I think she might be dying.’
‘What?’ The feeling of wanting to protect Effie had not quite left Wolf, even though he had now put down the sword. ‘What should I do?’
‘Do you have any sweets or chocolate?’
Wolf looked disgusted. ‘Of course not. I’m an athlete.’
‘What about a sports drink? Lucozade? Something like that?’
‘What about one of these?’ Wolf had a couple of bottles of the athlete’s version of Shake Your Stuff that he’d bought with the wages he earned from his uncle. They weren’t very nice, to be honest, and he’d be glad to give one away. Maximilian looked at the ingredients.
‘No,’ he said. ‘This hasn’t got any real nutrients in it. We need something with sugar or fruit or something.’
Wolf looked in his bag again. There was an old bottle of normal sports drink in there somewhere. As he pulled it out, Maximilian finally prised the ring off Effie’s thumb. Immediately, she opened her eyes, but still looked very weak.
‘Drink this,’ Maximilian said, giving her the bottle that Wolf handed to him.
It was bright orange, fizzy and very sweet. Effie managed a bit and sat up.
‘What’s going on?’ she said. ‘What have you done with my ring?’
‘Don’t put it back on,’ Maximilian said. ‘Not for a while.’
‘Why not? I like it. I want to put it back on.’ Effie reached towards Maximilian to take back her ring. But he held on to it.
‘Are you insane? It’s a magical ring. Surely you must have realised that? You have to know what they actually do, and what that actually costs, before you mess around with them. For more information see any fantasy novel ever written.’
‘Seriously? Are you sure?’
Maximilian paused for a moment. Chewed his lip. Put the ring down on the table. Effie picked it up, but did not put it on.
‘Where did you get all those things?’ Maximilian asked Effie. ‘You’ve got the Sword of Orphennyus, the Ring of God Knows What and, I believe, the Spectacles of Knowledge, as well as . . . Anyway, there are more boons in your schoolbag than you’d find in most of the greatest collections, certainly in this world. Where on earth did they come from?’
7
‘What are you talking about?’ said Wolf and Effie together. ‘Wolf,’ said Maximilian. ‘Show Effie the Sword of Orphennyus.’
Wolf picked up the letter opener again and unsheathed it. Effie watched as the small blade grew to almost twenty times its original size. Wolf then swished it around the room. It was huge, shiny and clearly very, very magical.
‘I’m dreaming,’ said Effie, shaking her head.
‘I’m still pretty sure this is drugs,’ said Wolf, putting the sword back in its holder and replacing it on the table, where it promptly shrunk again.
Effie reached across and took the letter opener. Nothing happened. She took off its silver sheath. Inside was a bluntish blade, ideal for opening letters, but impossible to hurt yourself with.
‘You have to be a warrior,’ Maximilian explained. ‘The Sword of Orphennyus only shows itself to a true warrior. To anyone else it’s just a letter opener. Completely harmless. But in the hands of a true warrior it’s deadly. Orphennyus was a great warrior of the Otherworld who . . .’
Maximilian’s voice faded as Wolf started thinking about what this meant. He rather liked the idea of being a true warrior, although he didn’t believe it could be possible. All this had to be a trick – he just wasn’t sure how. For a second, though, he did let himself imagine. Wolf Reed, standing on a hilltop in some kind of tunic – no, something less stupid – maybe just a really cool t-shirt and some combat trousers and some new trainers, perhaps, with his magical sword, protecting people and fighting on the side of an army that was good and noble and battled for peace rather than war. Where were all these thoughts coming from?
‘How do you know all this?’ said Effie to Maximilian. ‘And what about my ring?’
‘I confess I don’t know that much about the ring. But magical rings are always complicated. Clearly, you were able to play tennis today like you did because the ring increased your strength, and maybe some other qualities too, but it looks as if it also drained you of energy. If you had carried on wearing it, I’m not sure you would ever have . . .’ Maximilian gulped, ‘ever have woken up at all.’
‘How do you know all this?’ asked Wolf, repeating Effie’s question.
‘I read things,’ said Maximilian. ‘While you others are busy playing sports and making friends and shopping and going on outings, I read things. It’s what I do. I collect knowledge. Some of it was bound to come in handy one day.’
‘But where do you read about things like this?’ asked Effie. ‘It’s not what you’d find in most normal books.’ Even Laurel Wilde’s novels didn’t cover such things. The children in her books simply waved their arms about and magical things happened. Sometimes they brewed things in cauldrons. They never had problems with magical rings.
Effie realised again how little she had really known about her grandfather and his life. Of course she had noticed him putting things in his secret drawer, but she’d had no idea that these were really magical items. And now . . . Effie’s heart caught in her chest. She knew she was going to miss her grandfather so much, not just because she had loved