Andy and the others rushed from the plane.
“It’s this way!” Andy exclaimed as he ran from the building, hurtling down a nearby path that he’d taken when he and Jack McGraw’s group had headed toward the spot where the Key of Fate had been hidden. Part of the mission to find the key had also involved Jack and his friends creating detailed maps of the area. Andy hoped that even though it had been days earlier, his grandfather and the expedition group might still be there making maps.
It was strange to be running in the opposite direction from the one Andy had run to escape the horde of angry beasts he’d been so afraid of earlier. When he thought about what he’d done before, he felt ashamed.
How could I have been such a coward?
But he didn’t have time to dwell on his past. Right now, all that mattered was the present. His legs pumped, taking huge strides as he dashed down the path, all the while ducking low-hanging branches and hurdling any other obstacles in his way.
Andy held his Zoomwriter clutched in his hand as he ran. He was itching to use it on Cedric, to blast him as far away from his grandfather as possible.
When the group finally made it to the clearing where Jack’s group had set up camp, all of them were sweating and out of breath. Andy didn’t want to rest. He scanned the area, taking in the tree where Jack and his team had been trapped by the rhino and the hut where the gorillas had recently been.
But then he spotted the thing he feared the most. At the edge of the clearing, standing over a broken heap of metal lying on a table, was Cedric. Andy took in the curved knife he held above his head and the numerous bodies crumpled on the ground next to him.
There were other people there, too. Jack McGraw was bound and gagged, and looked battered and bruised. Standing guard over him were six members of the Collective, all heavily armed. The guards were watching Cedric, who seemed to be in the middle of some kind of strange ceremony.
Andy wasted no time. He pointed his Zoomwriter at the group and shouted, “Cedric! Put down the knife!”
He pushed down hard on the cap, but nothing happened.
Cedric, who was wearing his usual tribal mask, wheeled around at the sound of Andy’s voice. The thugs did the same.
“Get the boy!” Cedric shouted.
All six of the thugs rushed at Andy.
Andy stood his ground. He was aware of his friends on either side of him, all standing in solidarity and ready to defend against the attack.
When the clash came, it sounded like a train slamming into the side of a mountain. There were shouts and the ring of metal as Betty’s and Dotty’s swords clanged against four of the attackers’ long knives. One of the other thugs, a big ugly man with a tattered bandana, slammed into Rusty. He might as well have been slamming into concrete. The big bush pilot was as strong as ever, and it quickly became apparent that, even with his injury, he’d lost none of his fighting prowess. He smashed his single mighty fist repeatedly into his heavyset foe in a blur of attacks too quick for the eye to follow.
Another attacker, a woman with a long silver streak in her hair and a purple scar across her chin, came for Abigail. Andy hesitated, torn between wanting to help Abigail and wanting to rush to the table where Cedric was standing with his knife. Andy had the sickening feeling that the witch doctor was standing over someone he knew and that he was up to something horrible.
He and Abigail exchanged a look, one that told Andy right away that she had the situation under control. And as the two women began an exchange of martial arts moves, Andy rushed toward his traitorous foe.
At the table, Andy’s worst fears were realized. There, amid the broken glass and pieces of metal that had once been Boltonhouse, lay the small shrunken head of Ned Lostmore. His face was gray, and Andy feared the worst.
I’m too late. He’s killed him!
Cedric turned toward Andy, and the boy noted the leering grin of his tribal mask. He’d never liked the mask, but now its expression seemed to be mocking him, telling him that Cedric had won and that Andy, in spite of his best efforts, had lost.
Angry tears blurred Andy’s eyes.
“What have you done to him?” Andy shouted.
Cedric lifted his mask and looked Andy squarely in the eye. Andy noticed that the small man was smiling and looking very satisfied with himself.
“I’ve given him a dose of nightshade mixed with tanglethorn. It’s a poison that’s quite deadly under any circumstances, but it has special potency on victims of magical curses like the great Ned Lostmore here.”
He lectured Andy as if he were in front of one of his classrooms at Cambridge. “In a few minutes, complete paralysis will set in, and then, after a very painful series of spasms, Ned Lostmore will die right here on the table.”
“How could you?” Andy demanded. “He trusted you!”
“Yes, yes, he did,” Cedric said. “That was his mistake. I never liked him much, but I played my part well, don’t you think?”
Cedric cocked his head and gazed down at Ned, as if proud of his handiwork. It was too much for Andy. Even though his Zoomwriter wasn’t charged up yet, he leapt at the foul villain.
As the two fell to the ground, Andy, who had never been much of a fighter, attacked with all his might. It seemed like every bit of rage he possessed had taken over, and he fought blindly, rolling in the dust while slamming his fists into Cedric over and over again.
For the first time in his life, Andy was winning a fight. But it didn’t matter. It wasn’t even something to be proud of.
