A/N: Up to this point, the fic has been following canon a bit closely, but from this point onward, the divergent will get more and more pronounced. That being said, enjoy!


CHAPTER SEVEN- THE SPIKE

Corbie threw himself into the ditch, panting heavily. The New Nithling- or whatever he was supposed to call it- was standing right on the tile border. With a snarl, it jumped back just as the tile groaned and gave a strange creaking, which was wise on its part. Any longer, and it could be dismembered by the moving of the tiles.

Corbie poked his head over the ditch. The previous tile, of rolling plains, was now replaced with a lush jungle. Or maybe his tile had moved and replaced some other tile. He let out a loud, long sigh of relief. This was a relatively safe portion of the Maze, and he was close to a fort. His men were on adjacent tiles that were also moved to safer portions, though where exactly he couldn't know without checking his Ephemeris.

Corbie reached into his pocket and pulled out a small lead figure. He tapped this smartly on the top of the figure's head, then placed it on his palm. The figure shook, stretched, and then said, "What is it, Corbie?"

"Urgent report, sir! My squadron and I saw a host of Nithlings holding a large and suspicious object, clearly sorcerous. If the ones holding it hadn't moved, they should be close to 500/500, the master tile! Some of them gave chase to me and my men, however, and I don't know where they are now."

"Understood, Corbie. Well done. I suppose I should send this directly to Sir Thursday?" the figure inquired. Its expression showed the fear and trepidation of the officer Corbie was actually communicating with, several tens or even hundreds of miles away and somewhere in the Maze.

"I think that would be best, sir," Corbie said.

"Directly to Thursday…" the figure mused. "Hmm… well, get yourself somewhere safe, Corbie, and I'll-"

The figure stopped as Corbie grunted, his eyes rolling back, and slumped forward, dropping the lead figure, an arrow protruding out of his back.

It seems he wasn't that safe after all.


The (currently dry) Eastern Water Defense overlooked a tile of a bucolic village. Usually, this meant a holiday and fair for the Denizens in the Citadel. Unfortunately, a host of Nithlings drawing near destroyed the slim hope of festivities and replaced with the solemn preparations and churning dread of a much more likely battle.

Arthur was handed a sheathed lightning-charged tulwar, a power spear, and a round buckler. Before, his arms would have dragged down, and he would be a stopped, defenseless poor creature at the mercy of the war tools' cumbersome weight. His training at the Fort, despite his brief interlude in the infirmary, had strengthened him. He had no idea how long he'd been in the Maze, either House or Earth time, but it was long enough that he was slowly conforming to the House's definition of soldier.

Arthur stood on the outer bastion, looking over the Eastern Water Defense with anxiety. Sir Thursday had received a missive about a sorcerous object at 500/500, and was summoning all the Piper's Children. Arthur had begged to be out on the bastion until all of them arrived, curious to know what such a large force of organized Nithlings would look like. It was a dangerous curiosity, but he couldn't help it. Someone would come and fetch him soon, but for the moment, he and several other defenders kept a grim watch.

The cannon on their bastion was out of Nothing-laced gunpowder, a bad portent of the future if its service was needed. Arthur had, with Sir Thursday's permission, called Dame Primus with the intention to pretty much beg her to provide some from the Forges; Sir Thursday may have been his enemy when it came to the Will, but in the Army, they were allies and fellow soldiers. Arthur knew it would not be good if Thursday lost the Star Fort, for either of them, and he was not keen to fight a battle without gunpowder.

If he would be fighting. Maybe the summons would come faster than that. He hoped so. An electric tingle ran through his spine every time he thought of battle, a shiver that was equal parts fear and excitement.

"All right, there?" asked a soldier next to him. Arthur blinked up at him. What was his name again? Darre, that was it. And the other soldiers were Esmeralda, Marrie, Philipp, Sarten, and Perseus. Apparently, Perseus was an apt defender and quite talented. Arthur didn't know how much talent was needed to defend a bastion when the cannon was completely useless, but he hoped Perseus had it.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Arthur said, and gave a weak smile.

"You nervous?" Darre asked.

"A little," Arthur admitted.

"Why don't you run inside with the other Piper's Children?" Sarten suggested, pointing to a dark line on the horizon. "They're coming, see? We don't much action here with the Water Defense, but still… better safer than sorry."

Arthur shook his head, and jumped when something touched his sleeve. He whirled around, pivoting and ready to draw his sword, bringing his buckler up in a mechanical motion Sgt. Gunsworth had beat into him.

Suzy laughed. "Nerves of steel, eh? Come on, you're the last."

Arthur nodded, blushing a bit at the laughs of the other Denizens. He must've looked ridiculous. He should've known it couldn't have been an enemy, if they were at the horizon only seconds ago.

Arthur followed Suzy inside, to the study of Marshall Noon. There were about twenty Piper's Children inside, and he was a bit surprised to know that the Maze had such a small number of them.

They were watching Sir Thursday, who nodded at Arthur and tapped his pocket. Arthur took his meaning- he had the lifeblood of the Cocigure with him.

"As I was saying," Thursday continued, "the Spike is made of Nothing, and is probably going to soon stop all the tiles from moving. I am taking a small cohort with me via the Improbable Stair to the heart of the Maze, here." Thursday strode to a map on the wall and stabbed the point in question with a small dagger. It didn't surprise Arthur to see more than half the blade sink into the wall as if into butter. "I find this… annoying." He turned. "All I need is five minutes to destroy this Spike, and five minutes to be guarded. Due to the nature of this mission, I am taking volunteers only."

Arthur immediately stepped forward. Thursday had his pocket, either because he was trying to blackmail Arthur or had a brilliant plan to get rid of it. He had mentioned the Spike was made of Nothing…

Suzy sighed softly and stepped forward as well.

At least another ten followed suit, including a small, dark-skinned boy who seemed far too optimistic.

"The rest of you are dismissed!" Thursday shouted at the ones who hadn't gone forward, "and if you held any rank, it's stripped! Out of my sight!"

They saluted, spun smartly, and marched out without a word of protest. Wise, thought Arthur.

"Lieutenant Penhaligon!" snapped Thursday.

"I'm just a recruit, sir," Arthur said.

"You are a lieutenant now," Thursday replied, "and my second-in-command for this mission. Come here, beside me."

Arthur obeyed, suddenly nervous. Why would Thursday promote him out of the blue?

"The plan is very simple," Thursday addressed the cohort of Piper's Children. "Simply put, we shall emerge as close to the Spike as possible, and I shall begin to destroy it. All I ask for is several minutes. You shall defend me, and once it is destroyed, we shall go back to the Citadel vai the Stairs. Given that this assault is a complete and utter surprise- or should be, at any rate- we have a very high rate of success. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they chorused.

"Good. The armory is at your disposal. Pick whatever weapons you see fit, though I encourage you not to overburden yourselves- I shan't be able to carry a cannon up the Stairs." He grinned, showing it was a jest.

There was a ripple of dutiful laughter, but the joke was rather lame, and everyone knew the chuckling was forced. Thursday shrugged, seemingly not bothered, and motioned with his hand for them all to scamper off and get equipped.

"Wait, Lieutenant Penhaligon," Thursday called.

Arthur turned. He knew what sort of rages Thursday could get in. If he tried anything, he would duck and run, try and find one of the Marshalls…

"I have the pocket," Thursday said, confirming Arthur's suspicions. "I suppose you could try casting it into the Spike, since it is made of considerable Nothing and may suffice to destroy the cocigrue."

"You're… actually helping me?" Arthur croaked out.

"Why wouldn't I?"

"You're one of the Morrow Days, sir."

" Lieutenant, let me explain something to you. I am a soldier. I follow orders, without question. I may be regent of the Great Maze, but I am not the Ultimate Commander-in-Chief. The Architect was, and now that She has left, I am convinced Sunday has the appropriate power and authority. Of course, most of my orders come from Saturday, his deputy…"

"So she told you to change the campaign and recruit me, sir?" Arthur asked.

"That is correct. I did not want you here, nor do I know why she would want you here. In the House, Lieutenant, one is either on strings or pulling them. Unfortunately, it's quite clear what category I fall under, and I cannot do anything about the situation. Lieutenant, when I broke the Will, all I did was follow orders. Sunday and Saturday ordered me to hide it and keep the Key for myself, so I did. They remain my orders. So unless I hear otherwise, I shan't give you the Key or free the Will, and I forbid you from trying to do either."

"Yes, sir." Arthur nodded.

"Be a good soldier, Lieutenant. A lot can happen in a hundred years," Thursday said.

"My family would…"

"If we destroy the pocket, Arthur, it's possible that the time relativities may adjust themselves to your absence and you will return not too late after the death of the Spirit Eater," Thursday explained, "though I am not a sorcerer, and thus have no knowledge. Also, I kept this from you until an opportune moment could arrive."

Thursday handed him a rumpled piece of paper. Arthur took it and scanned it quickly, his heart sinking with every word.

Dear Arthur,

An agent of ours has your parents under its control. Unless you immediately relinquish the Keys to us, and give up all claims to being the Rightful Heir, we will have our agent cleanse their minds of all knowledge of you. Our agent will also do this to your brothers and sisters and friends. It will be as if you were never born. Your home will continue to physically exist, but you will have no place in it. As we know you wish to, House knows why, return to an inferior mortal existence, you should consider this a great opportunity. You don't know what you're dealing with. Simply sign on the dotted line below, and everything will be taken care of.

Saturday, Most Superior Denizen of the Upper House

"Why did you hide this from me?" Arthur demanded.

"I thought it would be better to show you myself, instead of letting you read it alone."

"Why?"

"Because I'm warning you that Saturday is correct," Thursday answered. "You don't know what you're dealing with."

"I'm not scared of her, Lady Friday, or Lord Sunday," Arthur said.

Thursday shook his head. "I feared that is what you would say. Lieutenant, you should fear them, and you would do well to be cautious of them. I myself fear them. It is not unwise to do so. But I think you will find that, if you continue on your current course, Saturday was warning you of something quite different."

"Then who? Lord Sunday?"

"I think she was warning you of the Will," Thursday replied.

"Of course she'd try to turn me against it. She's a Trustee," Arthur said sourly. "I suppose you want me to sign."

"What I want… is of no consequence," Thursday said slowly. "This Spirit Eater is between you and Saturday, and not between you and me. Though it would behoove you to think careful about what you will do. Is your equipment that you are currently holding satisfactory?"

Arthur blinked at the sudden shift in gears. "Um, yes. It is."

"Good. Fetch the others, Lieutenant, and prepare yourself. We are going to tread the Improbable Stair."


The others were Quicksilver, Sable, Gluepot, Yellowbristle, Awning, Jazebeth, Halfcut, Fineold, Ermine, and Gold. Gold was the one who had been looking far too optimistic; he thought volunteering would get him a promotion.

"I want to be general," he confided to Arthur.

"Everyone!" Thursday called. "Hold on to each other's belts, and do not let go! We are about to enter the Stair, and we might come across landings. If that is the case, do not let go! I shall promptly get us back onto the Stair until we reach the Spike. Understood?"

"Yes, sir!" they cried.

"It may help to close your eyes," Thursday added. "Lieutenant Penhaligon, I want you to lead the line, then Private Turquoise-Blue."

Arthur nodded, and grabbed Sir Thursday's belt, holding on tightly. The other Piper's Children lined up behind him, and Thursday surveyed them. "Ready?"

"Ready, sir!"

Thursday drew a sword that Arthur hadn't seen him carry before, and the sound of it scratching crude steps on the wall resonated within him. He instantly knew it to be the Fourth Key, and part of him was almost beginning to call out the incantation that would make it his. He wanted it, his skin tingling for it, and Arthur wondered if that was normal. Can you get addicted to the Keys? He wondered. Maybe that's what happened to the Trustees…

"Hold on!" Thursday roared, jumping at the wall and the picture of the stairs.

Arthur gave a gasp as Thursday seemed to melt right into it, and screwed his eyes shut instinctively. He forced himself to open them a moment later, telling himself to be wary. Sir Thursday might try something, but he seems really willing to help me so long as it's not against any of his orders… I can't figure out what to make of him. He's really unpredictable, I mean, I haven't seen Marshall Dawn once since…

He pushed the thought out of his mind, noticing the Stair around him. The last time Arthur had traveled the Stair, with Suzy, he'd been blindly rushing through it, but it had been a long, straight climb of steps. Now, it was gently wound into a spiraling corkscrew, the fluid colors rushing past beneath his feet. It gave him a sense of disorientation, so he looked behind. Everyone seemed to have made it onto the Stair, and most had their eyes shut. Suzy grinned, and Gold, right behind her, winked.

Arthur grinned back and then turned his gaze forward. Thursday had a look of pure concentration on his face, and Arthur remembered how difficult it had been for him to drag just Suzy along. There was no way Thursday could do anything carrying so many people onto the Stair; he was having a hard enough time to just get them forward.

Then, with a loud exhale of breath, Thursday lurched forward, and all of them tumbled off the Stair and back into the House, the greenish moon of the Great Maze above them, giving everyone a pallid glow. Arthur sighed, relieved, and frowned. There was a whirring sound, pervading into him, and it made him deeply uncomfortable.

"Let… go," Thursday panted, raising the Key. Arthur let go, and Thursday pointed to a large object several yards away. "That's… it."

Arthur realized they were on a scaffolding of some sort built to encircle the top of the object, which was rotating so quickly it must have been the source of the noise.

"Take positions!" Thursday shouted, drawing near to it. With a mighty growl, he slashed at it, and the Key grew momentarily brighter as it struck the object.

A large swathe of it flew off and hit a camp below, scattering away some New Nithling soldiers.

"They'll be upon us in a moment!" Thursday cried. "Be prepared! Lieutenant, you give the orders; I must concentrate!"

"Um, position, like he said!" Arthur shouted. "Er, Quicksilver, you take up the right, and have some with you… Turquoise-Blue, Gold, you take the left… Yeah, that's right. Ah, yeah. Just… be ready."

Sable and Gluepot rolled their eyes, clearly noticing his incompetence and complete lack of knowledge about what to do, but didn't say anything.

Arthur sidled up to Sir Thursday. "Sir, I don't mean to bother you, but… the pocket…"

Thursday didn't answer for a moment. He was still cutting at it, and though the Spike didn't change noticeably in size, at least the pieces of Nothing that fell off landed on the Nithling soldiers and not the Piper's Children assembled. Then he said, "Reach into my left pocket and cast it in."

Arthur said, "Yes, sir." Thursday's pocket, it turned out, was very, very big. In fact, it was probably trans-dimensional, as Arthur touched a cat pelt. That freaked him out a bit- what would Thursday want with a cat pelt? But he found the pocket and pulled it out triumphantly, then threw it up and into the core of the Spike.

The Spike fizzed, and the whirring became faster and frenzied.

"Impossible. The… pocket is…" Thursday mumbled, then cried, "Everybody down! This thing is going to blow!"

The noise rose to a high-pitched whine that made Arthur wince, but he crouched low anyway. Maybe I should run… this is too close to the Spike, it's going to swallow me up. I bet Thursday wanted me to die on this suicide mission, I know it…

Thursday shouted something, but Arthur couldn't hear him over the frantic drone of the Spike. Then Thursday was pushing him out of the way, covering Arthur with his body as if the Denizen was a shield for the boy.

A low rumbling sounded, and the Spike blew.


Arthur opened his eyes tentatively. Thursday was sprawled over him, and the Denizen had taken the brunt of the damage. Arthur's cheek burned, and he wondered if some Nothing had scalded it, but Thursday was very still. Arthur would have thought him dead, but he was breathing heavily. Blue blood covered at least half his body, and he couldn't see Thursday's left arm, though it may have just been the angle. His right hand clutched the Key, his hand completely misshapen and doused with blood.

"Sir!" Arthur gasped. He couldn't believe Thursday had jumped in front of the blast to protect him. Why would he do that? "Sir!"

Thursday's eyelids fluttered weakly. "Lieutenant… are the others… all right?"

Arthur stood. They were all nursing wounds, and some of them were missing limbs. It was horrifying, to see them splotched with blood that neither red nor blue, but in-between, and hear them crying and wailing for their parents, or bosses, or death.

"They're… alive," Arthur answered, "but I don't think they would say they're all right, sir."

"I did not see that coming," Thursday groaned.

"Neither did I," Arthur said.

Thursday propped himself up on one elbow, and Arthur could tell that took a gargantuan effort. He followed Thursday's gaze, and noticed the tightening of his lips, the Denizen's scowl forming. "No."

"What is it, sir?"

A figure was striding out of the tents of the camp below, looking up at them. Arthur couldn't see much of his face from the distance that separated them, but it seemed to reflect the light of the moon, the light bouncing back as if it had hit a silver surface.

"Not him," Thursday bemoaned. "Curses!"

"Who is it, sir?"

"The... Piper," Thursday said, every word sounding like it was painful.

There was silence as Thursday and Arthur looked down at the man below them, who was raising an object to his lips. From his posture, Arthur thought he looked amused, and he could almost imagine the man winking in mockery.

There was silence.

And then there was sound.