The Well of Many Worlds

by Luke Metcalf

  “Thanks,” she whispered in awe.

  Mitchell rushed back into the battle.

  The blinded beast stumbled about, waving its great hands in the air and howling. Mercurios appeared near its feet, snapped his fingers, and the creature tripped, crashing to the ground just as Mitchell rushed up and hacked off its head with three fast swipes from his sword. Mitchell, Emily, Mercurios and Ivan stood for a moment, surveying the corpses turning to ash and contemplating the great man-like creature as it dissolved into a pool of green-and-gray ooze.

  Emily sank to the ground and drew in a long, deep breath. “Whoa!”

  “Mercurios,” said Mitchell, “what was that creature?”

  “A troll, sir,” replied Mercurios.

  “From the Abyss? Like the demon?” asked Emily.

  “No, trolls live in parts of Magella.”

  “Lovely,” she muttered.

  “And what sort of creature are you?” asked Ivan, staring at Mercurios.

  “An imp,” said Mercurios, obviously offended.

  “Do you mean to say that was some kind of dimension door it came through?” asked Mitchell.

  “Yes, indeed.”

  “But… how?” Mitchell asked. “Is it the Well? What’s happening?”

  “I can’t say for certain,” Mercurios said. “However, I believe that the Well of Many Worlds has kept a bridge open between Magella and Earth for so long that the divisions between these worlds are blurring, yes indeed. This bringing together of a large group of beings, whose blood is from Magella and who are using powerful magic, has destabilized the delicate balance of the various worlds, which is resulting in the brief opening of random inter-dimensional doorways, like the one at the warehouse.”

  Mitchell contemplated this. “So the more destabilized the barriers between the worlds become, the greater the chance for catastrophe and chaos.” He turned to Emily and Ivan. “Ivan, take me to this mineshaft. I want to see it for myself.”

  They followed Ivan into the building that the four vampires had emerged from and came upon a wide, round shaft that descended straight into the earth.

  “So this was intended to be my tomb,” mused Mitchell. They stood staring into the dark hole in silence for a moment, and then Mitchell glanced at Ivan. “Did you hear that?”

  “What?”

  “I thought I sensed a whisper of a thought.”

  They stood concentrating intently.

  “It’s Princess Katharina!” Mitchell cried.

  “What?” Ivan gasped.

  Without replying, Mitchell leaped into the mineshaft.

  Twenty-Three

  “Mitchell!” He heard Emily’s scream coming from far above him.

  Ivan followed him into the mineshaft. They plummeted together through the blackness for what seemed like an eternity. Finally they landed, hundreds of feet below the Earth’s surface, standing either side of a rectangular steel box, bound with heavy chains.

  “Hurry!” shouted Mitchell. “Grab one end.”

  Together they lifted the box and began the seemingly endless climb back out of the mineshaft to where Emily was anxiously waiting. When they reached the surface, Mitchell tore the chains apart with his bare hands and ripped the lid off the box, revealing what looked like a mummy.

  “I had no idea,” Ivan stammered. “They keep secrets in case we are captured.”

  Mitchell stared at the desiccated corpse, trying to think what it could mean. “Baelaar must have meant this to be a tomb for both of us. It’s not your fault, Ivan. Listen, I know a place we can take her to heal. She needs blood, but it might take a few days until we can communicate with her or I can read her mind.”

  Mitchell pulled out his cell phone, barking instructions. “We need to be ready to fly within two hours… Very good.”

  They closed the box and carried it to the closest road, where Mitchell had arranged for the limo to meet them. Emily and Mercurios followed.

  “Thank you for everything, Ivan,” Mitchell said as they reached the car. “I cannot have any other vampire know the whereabouts of my home so I will bid you adieu here. I will keep you updated by text as to the recovery of the princess.”

  They exchanged numbers and Ivan vanished into the night. The limousine sped Mitchell, Emily and Mercurios to the airport where they loaded the box onto the jet. As they flew Emily watched in a turmoil of mixed emotions as, every half hour, Mitchell sliced open his wrist and allowed thick drops of ruby-colored blood to fall into the dry mouth of the mummy. With every new cut she would wince as if she could feel the pain herself, but every time Emily was elated to see how fast the wound on his wrist would heal. The mummy seemed not to change. Although Emily shared Mitchell’s wish to restore the princess, she also dreaded meeting someone who might be her rival for his affections.

  “As I thought,” Mitchell said after a couple of hours had passed, “it looks like it will be a few days before she has recovered enough for us to get the information we need.”

  “Where are we going?” Emily asked.

  “To my place in England. We should be safe there.”

  Once the adrenaline had slowed down in her system, Emily realized that she was famished and she started to eat from the array of fresh fruit and hors d’oeuvres that had been laid out for her, holding in the many questions she wanted to ask. Mitchell sat, frowning, deep in thought, and she was too intimidated to speak.

  When they landed in Newcastle upon Tyne there was a silver Rolls Royce Phantom waiting on the tarmac. After putting the still shriveled corpse of the princess in the back, Emily enjoyed the feel of the expensive leather as they slid into their seats. She took a deep breath, pleased to be alive and excited to be able to breathe in the scent of luxury, unlike the princess in the back.

  Mitchell was still silent and brooding. Twice she was about to break the silence but couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t sound like she was pestering him for information. She was afraid of annoying him. As they roared northwards Emily could see through the window the moon illuminating the lush rolling hills of the English countryside. After about an hour they veered off down a side road, driving for another twenty minutes.

  As Mitchell slowed down, Emily leaned forward in her seat and peered through the windshield. She could see an ancient cemetery at the base of a hill to the right. They approached the main gates, defended by two round towers, each crowned by overhanging turrets covered in wild plants that had taken root among the stones. Mitchell pushed a button on his keychain and the gates swung open to allow them through.

  “Um… Mitchell,” Emily said as the building came into view, “you live in a castle?”

  “Yes, this is my home.”

  “Whoa.”

  Even in the moonlight she could distinguish little more than a part of the dark outline of massive walls and ramparts, but she could see that it was vast, and ancient. Silent and lonely it seemed to be frowning on all who dared to awaken it from its brooding slumber.

  Another gate delivered them into a courtyard where a grove of ancient oaks had taken root and flourished over centuries. Climbing out of the car Emily looked up at the high Gothic windows above and breathed the damp night air.

  “Wow,” she murmured. “It’s beautiful.”

  Mitchell gently lifted the desiccated corpse out of the car and carried it to a set of double doors. Emily grabbed her backpack as Mitchell took out a large key and opened the doors. She and Mercurios followed him inside.

  They passed through the entrance foyer into the great hall and Emily gasped as she looked down the long room. She had never seen such grandeur and luxury. It made her feel like a princess.

  “Oh, Mitchell, this is amazing,” she said, staring at the works of art hanging from the walls.

  He said nothing as he led them through another set of double doors into a second chamber of equal splendor. Above the couches and tables, the soaring Gothic windows had been preserved with reverential care, a complete contrast to the overgrown
exterior. Along the wall to her left was an opening and a broad staircase of shining oak and red carpet ascended into the darkness.

  The centerpiece to the room was the biggest fireplace Emily had ever seen. It was built with slabs of marble, and there were ornaments over it of the prettiest English china. Above the fireplace, hanging on the enormous chimney made of granite was a large painting. It was about ten feet in height and six feet in width. Emily stared at it. The canvas had been burned so only about a third of the painting remained on the bottom right side. Emily could make out what looked like the lower section of a flowing gown and guessed that it was a portrait.

  She slowly lowered her backpack to the ground as she gazed around. Mitchell laid the corpse of the princess on a table in front of the fireplace and then knelt to light the fire. As the flames licked over the dry logs he straightened up, rolled back his cuff and once again slit his wrist and dripped his thick blood into the dry mouth of the princess.

  “It’s very late,” he said once he had finished. “I expect you’re exhausted. Come, I will show you to your room.”

  “Uh, thanks.” She felt self-conscious and out of place. She gestured to the picture. “Is that a portrait of someone? Was there a fire?”

  Mitchell looked up at the charred painting. “Yes, there was a fire here long ago in one of the wings when my family was attacked. That was all that could be salvaged.”

  “Attacked? Who attacked you?”

  “It’s a long story.”

  “Who is the portrait of?”

  “I’d rather not…” He stared at her long and hard, then looked up at the portrait and then back at Emily. He gave her a quizzical look. “I’d rather not discuss it,” he said. “Follow me.”

  He walked off before Emily could say anything else. They ascended the broad staircase of shining oak and red carpet.

  “Wow, this staircase is incredible, right out of Gone With The Wind!” said Emily. Mitchell didn’t respond.

  After many flights and many landings, it brought them onto a long, wide gallery. On one side it had a line of doors and on the other side were windows. Emily looked through one and discovered that it overlooked the quadrangle, looking down on the oak trees.

  “How long have you owned this place?”

  “I grew up here in the 1500s and then eventually purchased it back in the early 1700s.”

  “You grew up here? Tell me about it.”

  “Here is your room,” he said, ignoring her question and opening a door.

  Emily walked into a large, ornate bedroom. It was beautiful. There was a huge, four-poster bed. Thick velvet curtains covered high windows and in the corner an old-fashioned black cabinet stood, at least twelve feet tall. On the floor was a Persian rug that glowed with a thousand different-colored threads as Mitchell lit the fire, which had already been laid in the fireplace.

  “Make yourself at home,” he said. “Sleep well.”

  Emily opened her mouth to speak but Mitchell strode out of the room and shut the door behind him. She stared around the room in silence for a moment. “Mercurios, this bedroom is like the one from that dream I’ve been having.”

  “Your dream took place in this room? Are you sure?”

  She slowly turned around in a circle, inspecting her surroundings. “I think so, it’s similar, yet different, I mean I was lying in a four-poster bed like this in a bedroom in a castle, bit of a different setup though, but… I don’t know, it’s kinda freaking me out.”

  “What do you want to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  Emily shook her head then thought of something and pulled out her cell phone. She texted Cindy, asking her to cover for her for one more evening.

  “I guess that’s a bonus of having a workaholic mom who lives at the office, Mercurios,” she mumbled. “Probably won’t notice I’m gone, but just in case I’m gonna get Cindy to cover for me again.”

  The imp appeared, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Good thinking.”

  “I guess I’ll go to bed now, privacy please.”

  “As you wish.” The imp disappeared.

  As Emily slid under the sheets the touch of the silk on her skin made her sigh with pleasure. She quickly fell into a deep sleep.

  A couple of hours later she awoke with a start and sat bolt upright in bed. For a moment her heart was gripped with fear as she looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings. The fire had died and the embers barely illuminated the room with a soft orange glow. She stared about and the events of the previous day came flooding back. The castle was silent except for the wind outside the windows. Emily lay back down and was about to close her eyes and go back to sleep when she heard what sounded like a muffled shout. She sat back up again and concentrated, trying to hear more clearly.

  “Mercurios?” she whispered. There was no response. Emily heard the sound again and she slid out of bed and started putting on her clothes. “Mercurios,” she hissed again.

  The bedroom door opened and the imp appeared. “Yes, Emily?”

  “Did you hear that?”

  “Yes, it sounded like it was coming from the west wing of the castle, where the chapel is.”

  Emily crept out of her bedroom, followed by the imp. Her heart pounded as she descended the giant staircase one step at a time. She heard another muffled shout in the night.

  “That is so creepy, um, maybe I should go back to bed.”

  “Yes, a good idea,” the imp agreed. “No business of yours.”

  “Do you think the castle is haunted? Or what if it’s the princess? If she’s awake Mitchell will want to know.”

  Emily made her way down to the hall. Crossing to the table before the still flickering fire, she leaned over the corpse and put her ear close to its mouth. She could hear nothing. The fire gave a loud crack and pop, making her shriek and jump back. Without saying a word, she and Mercurios continued over to the doors they had originally arrived through. They walked down the hall and crossed over to another set of double doors with a huge white wooden crucifix hanging upon them, signaling it was the entrance to the chapel. Emily stood staring at the door handle for a moment before tentatively reaching out to open it. The door was locked.

  “Do you want me to try to pick the lock?” whispered Mercurios.

  “No,” Emily whispered, backing away.

  She turned and ran back through the great hall and up to her bedroom, keen to get back to the safety of her warm silk sheets. As her fingers touched the door handle she heard the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Looking around her she spotted a tall potted plant and dodged behind it, peering through the thick foliage. A moment later Mitchell walked across the landing and continued up the stairs to the next floor. He was covered in blood.

  Once the sound of his footsteps had died away she went back into her bedroom, pacing back and forth in front of the fire as Mercurios watched, sitting on the edge of the bed amongst the rumpled silk sheets.

  “Do you think he’s into some kind of satanic stuff?” she asked. “Was he in the chapel with the door locked? Why was he covered in blood? What is that all about? Human sacrifice? Like, I know he’s a vampire and everything, but a chapel? I mean, you say that the nine planes of Hell actually exist and the Abyss and all that; so what if he worships some kind of demon? What if he’s been lying all along and is involved with the Priests of Mezzor? The blood of the world is the blood of the god…”

  “I don’t know Emily, these are all possibilities. Perhaps you should use your ring of teleportation and get out of here right now.”

  “No. No, I need to find out what is going on. We need to find the Well so I can get an exorcism, remember?”

  Once back in the bed she slept only fitfully. When she eventually rose and opened the curtains she was struck by the beauty of the castle’s surroundings and felt foolish for all the black thoughts she had allowed to disturb her night. The sun was high and she was excited at the prospect of exploring.

  “Mercurios,” she said. />
  “Yes?”

  “I want privacy when I’m with Mitchell.”

  “As you wish.”

  She found her way downstairs and noticed that the mummified body of the princess was now gone. She heard noises from behind a door on the opposite side of the room and when she entered she discovered it was the dining hall. The long table of polished oak could easily seat twenty people and the most spectacular chandelier Emily had ever seen hung above it. The chairs and the ornate sideboard were also made of polished oak. A distinguished-looking gentleman wearing a tuxedo entered through a doorway, which she guessed led to the kitchen.

  “Ah, Miss Emily,” he purred, “you are awake. Master Keats has instructed us to have the chef prepare whatever you desire for breakfast and to assist you with anything you may need. I am the butler. My name is Willard.”

  “Nice to meet you.” Emily blushed slightly.

  “And for breakfast is there anything that you particularly like?”

  “Well, anything really, thanks, I mean what does the cook have?”

  “Pretty much anything you wish, Madam. What would you normally order at a restaurant if you went out for brunch?”

  “Ummm, not sure.” Emily laughed and shifted on her feet, feeling self-conscious. “Maybe French toast or an omelet?”

  “Excellent, Madam, any particular type of omelet?”

  “Uh, I guess the cook can surprise me.”

  “Excellent.”

  “Can I ask where Mitchell is?”

  “He will not be available until later.”

  “Okay, um, is it okay if I look around the castle? I’d love to see what it looks like from outside now that it’s daylight.”

  “Of course, just give me one moment to place your order with the cook and I shall show you around.”

  Willard disappeared into the kitchen and returned a few moments later. “If you will follow me, Madam,” he said and led her through the great hall into an enormous library, through another set of doors and out into the courtyard. He opened a gate onto a lawn, which looked out to wild countryside all around.