In the City of the Nightmare King

by V. S. Santoni

  Shrouded in the mist’s oppressive blanket, the normally inviting Misthaven had become a disorienting oubliette, forcing Blake to drive slowly. Alison’s face remained stiff, and as she watched the ghostly mist sweep by outside her mind wandered. She probably wanted to be back at that party, debating how to make Jell-O shots with Tiffany.

  We came to a red light at a four-way intersection with a gas station to our right. The time on the dashboard radio read 12:30. A loud crash frightened everyone in the car and Blake almost bashed his head against the roof. A raccoon scurried across the road, and it quickly became apparent the creature had knocked over a trash can while rummaging for food. Alison snickered at us for acting silly, but I’m certain she jumped almost as high as Blake. The light remained the same bright red. Longest red light ever. I rubbed Hunter’s hair to calm myself, and he smiled peacefully.

  A loud clack split the air. And another. And another. Clack, clack, clack. It sounded like tap shoes. I slowly turned and looked. Hidden in the fog, a shadowy figure danced under a lamppost, creeping across the street toward us. Whoever that was, they were freaking me out. I rapped my knee against Alison’s seat to get her attention. She turned and I pointed, and she saw the figure dancing under the bleary, orange streetlight.

  “What the crap is that?” she asked.

  The dancing shadow stamped on the asphalt, inching toward us with every spasmodic jerk and twitch—sometimes a ballerina, sometimes a tap dancer, always on beat with some unseen, unheard symphony.

  “The mist is messing with us,” Hunter said, “All the kids at the Institute say to ignore it.” But ignoring it didn’t make it go away. It continued its strange, hypnotic motions, coming closer and closer.

  “Forget that,” Blake said as he stomped on the gas and ran the red light. The shadow kept dancing until it vanished in the mist behind us. Blake didn’t make any other stops after that; he sped all the way back to Luther’s camper. Hunter feebly lifted himself off my lap, still holding his aching head as we exited the car.

  Blake opened my door. “You good?” he asked Hunter.

  “I feel like crap.”

  “Good enough. Let’s go.”

  I slid out and waited for Hunter to follow. His white Nikes hit the pavement and I moved behind him, staying nearby in case he needed help.

  “You going to tell me what’s going on?” Hunter asked, putting his arm around me for balance.

  “Do you remember using the cintamani and everything that happened?”

  “Of course,” he said. “What’s going on?”

  I told Hunter everything in the time it took us to reach Luther’s door. He didn’t have much to say in response. By the look of it, he was speeding toward an early hangover.

  Luther cracked the door and eyed us through the opening. “What took you? It’s nearly one in the morning. Do you have any idea the kind of misery we’re going to experience trying to find the cave?”

  Luther grew even more wary when he noticed Alison and Hunter. He gave them a quick scan, surely checking to see if they were copies before he let us in. Hunter pushed passed everyone and fell face-first on Luther’s bed.

  “You brought a drunk teenager with you?” Luther said, annoyed.

  “He’ll be fine. I’ll make sure of it,” I said.

  “Johnny’ll keep me safe,” Hunter said into a pillow.

  “Are you ever going to tell us what’s going on?”

  “We don’t have time. We must leave immediately and venture into Darkwood Forest, or we’ll lose our opportunity and the cave will disappear.”

  “What about that fog?” Blake asked. “We need to know more about what we’re up against.”

  “From what I’ve gathered, the mist is sentient,” Luther said. “And extremely hostile. If it thinks we’re trying to escape, it will use its powers to confuse and even attack us. I haven’t determined whether there are several Void-spawns that exist in the mist or if these are merely manifestations of the mist’s power. The mist itself may be a Void-spawn for all I know. The best thing we can do is stick together and quickly find the cave.” So, the Institute’s powers to track us grew significantly if we traveled in the mist. That explained why no agents came after us at Scott’s—we got there and ran inside before the mist got to us. But if what Luther said was true, that meant the Institute knew our current whereabouts. And that compromised his operation in the Dreamhaven. No wonder we had to leave quickly.

  “Don’t you already know where it is?” Alison asked.

  “The cave is rarely in the same location.”

  “You mean it moves?”

  “Yes. We can find the cave in a grove of aspen trees the locals call ‘the verge.’”

  “Where does the Cave of Miracles lead to?” Alison asked.

  “The City at the End of the World.”

  “The what?”

  “We don’t have time. Just stay close to me and I’ll tell you more when we get there.”

  The City at the End of the World? Luther’s elusiveness around our questions made me uncomfortable. The old man drew out a brass pocket watch engraved with two dragons, one lightly tinted and the other dark, locked in fire-breathing combat inside a heptagram. He popped it open and checked the time before stuffing it back into his raincoat. “I’ll drive as far as I can.”

  Luther’s escort brought me little comfort, and seeing Hunter too drunk to stand made things even worse. Reaching the cave required directly confronting the mist without our powers. The malevolent force hiding in the mist let us sample its twisted magic on our way to Luther’s. Now it didn’t need to hold back. Blake followed Luther without pause, but Alison hung back, shrinking inward, making herself small—something she did when gripped with terrible fear. Hunter woozily slumped off the bed and nearly fell, so I steadied him with my arm around his back. With great bravado and one eye shut, Hunter puffed out his chest, put on a brave face, and marched to the door with me. Alison apprehensively joined us.

  Luther stored his beat-up, mustard-yellow station wagon beside the camper, hidden behind a bush. He packed us like sardines inside the old clunker and drove out of town, heading south along Pine Street. The lonely country roads that spiderwebbed around Misthaven were so dark Luther’s flimsy headlights could barely pierce the gloom. Thick fog clouds rushed past the window like a smoke screen. Even the robust pine trees that dominated this region, lush and full in the spring, lurked spectrally in the mist. Hunter leaned on my shoulder, still fighting the half hangover set upon him.

  Heading east, Pine Street turned to River Road. Luther passed the dam and the water bottling company on the left, going around Lake Misty and deep into Darkwood Forest—toward Thelema Hills, the mountain range around Misthaven. The tense mood in the car hung thick. Blake put a hand on Alison’s knee, and it scared her so bad she nearly screamed. He chuckled and slid his arm around her shoulder, settling her down, but they remained terrified. Uncertainty marked even Luther’s old, craggy face.

  Luther’s old car wobbled to one side, then a loud boom came from behind us. The vehicle tilted to the right, forcing Luther to struggle against the wheel for stability. But it kept veering, so he parked on the shoulder. With that, our short ride met an unceremonious end. Luther turned the crank on his squeaky window and rolled it down, then he hung his head outside and looked back. After a speedy study, Luther brought his head back in and faced us. “I’ve lost a tire. The mist isn’t going to make this easy. Let’s get out and head into the forest. We need to hurry and find the verge—the mist won’t go there.”

  The old man got out of the car and rumbled through his trunk until he found a big flashlight. He flicked it on and started for the tree line. We all got out and huddled close around him, following his shaky beam through the brush. A breeze howled through the spindly pine branches, and an owl uttered a few restless hoots, but below the forest’s scant noises, the mist’s fr
ightening sounds hummed on the air. A powerful and strange aura pervaded the mist—it felt ancient, older than anything on Earth. Reading deeper into the aura, images of the Void filled my mind, its demonic influence leaving an indelible impression upon the mist. It hungered, the mist, and nothing could sate its lust for violence and misery. Because my time directly in the mist had been limited, I never noticed that it stunk like eirineftis. A strange observation I kept to myself. To redirect my thoughts I focused on Luther’s flashlight, but the middling ray only managed a dull spot on the opaque fog wall.

  Branches snapped and cracked loudly, a cacophony resonating through the forest. A hooting owl departed its perch and flew overhead. Then silence. We stopped moving and looked underfoot, but the noise didn’t come from us. Luther swept his flashlight across the blackness, but the light bounced too much for a clear investigation. We suffered some relief when we thought the clamor was over, but the horrifying sounds rose again, stretching furiously into the night.

  “What is that?” Alison asked.

  Luther hushed her and kept waving around the flashlight, hoping to find what prowled behind the noise. We clustered even more tightly around him as he focused on steadying the beam. The light fell precariously on one spot, but Luther’s shaky hands failed to keep it still. More limbs broke, the disturbance coming nearer. A tremble shook the forest floor. Something massive pounded the ground in the distance—it sounded like a giant foot. Blake pointed westward, where an invisible force shattered a few flimsy pines. Another thwomp resounded through the forest.

  “We need to run,” Luther said, turning and taking off like a frightened spider.

  Alison and Blake chased after Luther, but before we joined them, another raucous crash sent Hunter teetering. I reached for him, but he drunkenly backed over a raised root and tumbled down into a brook. We had been walking along an escarpment, but the dense fog had hidden the ledge.

  I called to Hunter from the drop-off, but my voice echoed back without a response. The last distant glimmers of Luther’s flashlight disappeared into the mist, and with them, Alison and Blake. Another terrifying whump warned me not to stick around to meet the one making all the noise. I skidded down after Hunter until I hit the bottom and crashed on my shoulder a few feet away. Searing pain tore through my arm.

  I coddled the injury and got back on my feet. “Hunter!” I called, my vision unable to penetrate the impassable mist. “Hunter!”

  The ground quaked again. I covered my mouth and pressed against the wall. No telling what that thing up there was. More trees shuddered and broke around the top of the scarp. Waiting for the others carried potentially lethal consequences, but darkness curtained everything, making unplanned movements aimless. Hunter had disappeared far too quickly, though—I had to get going in case he was in danger. Moonlight squirmed through the mist, sparsely lighting the forest floor, but the scrambled moonbeams did little to help me find my way. I stretched my arms out and felt for anything.

  Hoofs clopped through the forest, briefly stopping as a horse neighed in the distance. Then a golden light pierced the mist, so bright it hurt my eyes. The glowing orb hovered in place until I approached it, then it darted away, hoofs beating the ground as it zipped through the darkness. Adrenaline kicked in and I flew into pursuit. Even with the light guiding my way, the mist still made the underbrush unnavigable. I banged my foot against a thick shrub and fell on my stomach, but the light didn’t stop moving, and I hurried back up and kept after it. A powerful whomp from behind me rocked the ground, the violent tremor sending me stumbling. Still, I kept my footing and pushed forward, shoving past overgrown bushes and clouds of fog, following the faerie light until the monstrous rumbling tapered off. And I didn’t rest my hunt until the light had disappeared, and I crashed into something dry and wiry. I searched for the golden ball, listened for a running horse, but found neither.

  The semispongy wall I’d crashed into sprang back to normal if I squeezed its surface, but if I closed my fingers around it too hard it seemed to crack. As my eyes adjusted, I found myself standing before a barrier of dried vines. No way to tell how far it stretched in either direction, but I quickly discovered a hole along the bottom, level with my foot. A light vibration coursed from the floor up my leg. That thing in the forest was still looking for me. Stopping meant death, I was sure of it. I crawled into the tunnel. The tight squeeze proved difficult, with stiff knotted vines prickling my hands the whole way through, but I emerged on the other side in a fogless grove with a crystalline pool that glimmered in the moonlight. Right then I remembered Tiffany’s story about a magic wishing pond and a unicorn hidden deep in Darkwood Forest. My thoughts dawdled on the glowing light and the running horse that led me here—not that I normally placed stock in legends, but for a wizard trapped in a dream prison, it didn’t seem too farfetched that a unicorn had guided me here. Now to learn if this magic wishing pond was legit.

  I cupped water into my mouth and wished for all this to be over and for us to be safely back with our families. Nothing happened, though. But something strange stirred in me. It felt like a sapling in my chest, seeing the sunlight for the first time. It spread its roots throughout my body, and as those shining rays caressed the young tree, she took hold and grew stronger. Magic. Golden energy pulsed in my veins and rushed to my fingertips. Again, the world was like clay waiting for me to mold it. The pond had returned my magic.

  My wizard senses, keen and sharp again, immediately picked up the others. Alison and Blake were safe with Luther, but Hunter’s aura was in the opposite direction. He needed me. Wizards’ powers knew no parallels in Everywhen, and I didn’t know anyone with more experience fighting monsters in the dreamworld than me. With my abilities finally restored, that big stompy thing out there didn’t stand a chance—at least, I hoped it didn’t.

  I crawled back through the hole into the misty forest. Happy to use my magic again, I flicked my wrist and made a glowing orb—it was the first spell I’d ever learned. Magic didn’t come easy outside of Everywhen. Spells required great focus, and stories about kids accidentally turning light orbs into haywire fireballs abounded. The results: always catastrophic, and usually deadly.

  Not far into my search for Hunter, I stumbled over a depression on the ground shaped like a giant human footprint, but with no toes. It stretched at least a dozen feet across. My mind exploded imagining what the foot’s owner looked like. Then Hunter’s familiar voice let out a deep, guttural “uuugggggghhhhhh.” I’d never been so happy to hear someone groan. He leaned against a tree with his head, spitting out the last remnants of whatever he just finished throwing up. I gently touched his shoulder, and he screamed and fell backward.

  “Johnny?” He shielded his eyes from the bright light with one hand and wiped away the dribble on his mouth with the other. “You got your magic back?”

  “It’s a long story.” I helped him up. “What happened after you fell down the slope?”

  “I don’t know. I started walking around in the dark, then I got really sick and wound up here.”

  Crows loudly abandoned a treetop in a squawking flurry as the ground rattled. Another shake brought caution. The one after, concern.

  “We’re leaving, c’mon.”

  Hunter wasn’t in the best shape to be running, but impending doom has a funny way of making one fully functional. We got roughly three feet away before a whistling sound cut through the air, and two branches fell crashing to the ground in front of us. Something unseen had sliced them off. We about-faced and fled in the opposite direction, then several misty tentacles shot out of the darkness and came at us like bullets.

  “Drop!” I yelled. One tentacle cut through Hunter’s arm as we hit the ground. He covered the wound and screamed. We didn’t have time to lie there—I hurried to my feet then yanked Hunter up beside me and charged toward Alison’s and Blake’s auras. Hunter fought to keep pace even though his wound bled angrily. “Just a little m
ore,” I told him, stealing a look back—whatever was after us had flattened every tree in its path. A spinning log came hurtling at us through the opening. Hunter and I dove, and the log flew by overhead. Then a second uprooted tree barreled toward us. “Stay down!” I said.

  Whatever pissed-off giant was throwing trees wasn’t going to stop. I got to my feet, formed a light sword, and sprang into the air when the next trunk came. Time slowed down around me, and with magically enhanced precision I sliced the log in two. Once my feet hit the ground, I snatched Hunter and rushed us behind a fir. Another flying log shattered against our cover. Hunter pulled his jacket over his head and let the debris roll off. We hid there until it seemed the monster had ceased. I peeked around the corner for any more projectiles, and finally glimpsed the creature: it rose taller than the trees around it, a reptilian beast with human-like arms and legs and a head like a Komodo dragon. Its skin was a whirling mass of smoky tentacles, screaming faces occasionally surfacing along them. Like all creatures in Everywhen, it lacked an aura, so gleaning information from it was impossible. I realized it had been invisible to me until I restored my wizard senses—just like the Void-spawns in the real world. We didn’t have a prayer against that thing, so we fled.

  The monster took a hulking step forward and its footfall rumbled the ground and almost knocked us off our feet. I glanced back and saw it drive its hands into the earth, puncturing through soil and bedrock for a grip. Then the beast lifted the floor like a carpet and slung a hellish tsunami of dirt and rocks at us.

  “Don’t look back!” I told Hunter. But he didn’t listen, and when he peeked behind himself, he saw the soaring wall speeding toward us.

  “What the fuuuuuu—” He screamed as we bounded through the forest like wild rabbits. We reached the vine wall.

  “What’re we going to do?” he asked.

  The hole to the magic pond was gone, so I searched for a new way out, too preoccupied to explain anything. He impatiently eyed the rapidly approaching avalanche. “J, what are you doing? We’re going to get crushed!”