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I hopped over his body, grabbed the sword, and met the other one coming through the door. He saw his fallen companion and gave a little cry. I grabbed him by the front of the robe and flung him behind me.
“Stop him!” the leader choked out from the floor.
I sprinted down the hall, the tip of the sword tapping against the carpeting as I ran. I punched the down button at the elevator. If no one had hit the call button since my attackers came out, it should be waiting for me.
The doors slid open, and Uncle Farrell was standing inside with a third monk in a brown robe, also holding a black-bladed sword, which was pressed across Uncle Farrell’s neck.
7
“Alfred!” Uncle Farrell squeaked at me.
“Throw down the sword,” the new monk said. “Throw it down or he dies.”
; “Uh, Alfred,” Uncle Farrell gasped. “I think you better do what he says.”
I heard the stairway door open behind me. I glanced over my shoulder and saw the first two monks coming toward me, the taller one—the one I had kneed—limping a few steps behind his partner.
“There is no escape,” the tall monk said. “If you give us the sword now, you still may live.”
“If you kill my uncle,” I said to the monk in the elevator, “I’ll kill all of you.” I sounded a lot braver than I felt. There was no way I could kill anyone, but these monks didn’t know that.
“We don’t want to hurt anyone,” the tall monk said. “We want only the sword.”
“So give it to them, Al,” Farrell said. “Stop screwin’ around!”
Right then the smaller monk behind me lost patience, I guess, because he leaped forward with a cry, bringing his black blade over his head. The tall monk cried, “No!” as he came for me. I blocked his downward thrust with an uppercut (if that’s the word for it; I don’t know fencing talk) of my bigger sword. I heard a loud screech of metal hitting metal. It sounded just like a car wreck.
His smaller blade shattered on impact. I grabbed his wrist and swung him into the elevator, pieces of glittering black metal raining down on us.
He fell into Uncle Farrell and the third monk, knocking both off balance. I reached into the elevator, grabbed Uncle Farrell by the hand, and pulled him out. I dragged him a couple of steps toward the stairs, but there was still the tall monk standing between us and the exit.
“Upon my honor,” he said. “All we want is the sword. Please. You know not what you are doing.”
He held out his hand. “Give me the sword and you will not be harmed. You have my word.”
I walked toward him, dragging Uncle Farrell with me, the tip of the sword pointed at the tall monk’s stomach. I didn’t know what I was doing, but I was doing it pretty well up to this point.
“Step out of the way,” I told him. “We’re leaving.”
“You will not get far,” he promised.
From beneath the hood, I swear I could see his eyes glowing, not red, like a demon or something, but a gentle bluish light, like the glow of a night-light.
“You cannot keep it long,” he said. “We know who you are.”
Then the tall monk did something that took me totally by surprise: He stepped out of the way.
Behind me, one of the other monks cried out, and the head monk raised his hand. His hand was very pale and his fingers long and delicate, almost like a woman’s.
“No,” he said quietly. Then he said to me, “We will meet again.”
We hit the stairs, and the large door slammed shut behind us, echoing like a gunshot.
8
I took the steps two at a time, dragging Uncle Farrell behind me. I went down two flights, then paused at the landing, listening, but heard nothing.
