by Eric Wilder
“What happens when I reach the castle?” he asked.
“The party will be in progress, every conceivable act of sexual debauchery on full display.”
“Good,” he said. “I’ve always been a fan of sexual debauchery.”
Tubah grinned as she said, “Your reputation precedes you. You must battle your primal urges and ignore the revelry taking place around you for the good of the mission.”
“I’ll do my best,” he said.
“Amid the confusion and pandemonium, you should be able to make your way to the front gate. Open it, and then lower the drawbridge over the moat.”
“Sounds easy enough to me,” J.P. said.
“Not so easy. Like the Vatican, Sister Gertrude has her own version of a Swiss Army, hers comprised of rogue mercenaries, killers, and half-human trolls. They don’t partake in the festivities and will be on the lookout for intruders. If you are discovered, they will kill you.”
“How much time will I have?” he asked.
“Very little,” Tubah said. “At midnight, the gateway to hell will open, and demons will begin pouring out. You’ll have less than an hour to accomplish your task.”
“Say I’m successful opening the door and lowering the drawbridge. Then what?”
“Rory,” Tubah said. “You have perhaps the most important job.”
“Tell me,” he said.
“You must channel your inner-Scottish warlord because you will be leading the People tomorrow night. I am not exaggerating when I say that only you and they can save the world an untold measure of hardship and death. Are you up to the task?”
“My broadsword Aila and I will do our best,” he said.
“That is all I can ask. You and the People will be waiting. When the gate is open, and the drawbridge crosses the moat, you will likely have to fight your way into the castle. You’ll find the soldiers of the Swiss Guard are fierce fighters. As fierce as they are, they are nothing compared to what you will encounter when you reach the basement.”
“What about Abba and me?” I asked.
“You will enter the castle with Rory and the People. When you find where they keep Desire, you must rescue her and then lead her to safety.”
“I’m not much of a fighter,” I said.
“We shall see,” she said. “Amid the bedlam of the masked revelry, perversion, and battle, you should be able to spirit her out of the castle.”
“What about the other victims?” I asked.
“That is part of the question that only you can answer,” Tubah said.
“What else?” J.P. asked.
“Sleep, if you’re able to. Tomorrow, you leave at dawn.”
***
It was still dark when Tubah and Boris awoke us. It was the first time in my life that I’d ever woken up from a night of drinking without having a hangover. A good thing I didn’t know Tubah’s secret and wasn’t tempted to return to my former alcoholic ways. Tubah fed us breakfast while she gave us last minute instructions. Slick and Lucky were wagging their tails, perhaps in anticipation of what they sensed was about to happen. J.P. gave Lucky a head rub.
“You will require a costume, Jean Pierre,” Tubah said.
The moment the words were out of her mouth, J.P.’s camos magically changed into a tuxedo, complete with a green, feathered mask. He reached into his tuxedo jacket and pulled out a diamond-studded money clip.
“Damn!” he said. “There are thousands of dollars in this wad of cash.”
“Only an illusion,” Tubah said. “But not to worry. Sister Gertrude’s minions will only see what they think is real money.”
“Will I need all of this?” he asked.
“Maybe even more,” she said. “If you do, it will appear.”
“Hey, I already like this gig,” he said. “I can do some damage flashing around this kind of money.”
“Exactly what you do not need to do. Tonight, you will see things you won’t believe and be tempted to join in the revelry. Resist your temptation, or the mission will fail, and innocent people will die.”
“I’m hip,” he said.
Tubah nodded. “Boris will show you the entrance to the portal.”
“You won’t need me for the next eight to ten hours. What will I do until then?”
“Wait patiently beside the fire. Drink coffee. Take a nap. You will be in grave danger from the moment you set foot in Sister Gertrude’s club, so prepare yourself mentally for the trials that await you.”
Before Boris could lead him away, I shook J.P.’s hand. “Good luck,” I said.
Rory also shook his hand. Abba hugged him and began crying, her tears dampening his shoulder.
“We’ll all get through this just fine,” he said, kissing her forehead. “And don’t forget about our date.” He scratched Lucky’s ears. “You take care of these people until I join you.”
Once J.P. was gone, Abba wiped her eyes.
Seeing the smile on my face, she said, “What?”
“Nothing,” I said.
Tubah interrupted us, probably saving me from more of a reprimand.
“Boris will lead you to the castle. It’s not that far away from here, though you would never make it without his help. It is time, and you must go now.”
We were dressed in our camos the same as when we had arrived at Tubah’s house. Rory wasn’t happy about it.
“If I’m going into battle, I’d prefer doing it in my own Scottish battle garb,” he said.
“Before you enter the castle, I will make it so,” she said.
“What about Abba and me?” I asked.
“I will change your hiking clothes into costumes. Until then, the clothes you have on will be better suited for a trek through the swamp.”
“Then I guess we should leave now,” I said.
“Yes. Once you are gone from here, I will no longer be able to provide much assistance. From this point on, everything relies on your instincts, a certain amount of good luck, and destiny.”
“You said that with an ominous tone,” Abba said. “Is there something you aren’t telling us?”
“Just this: if you are destined to fail, you will. If you are destined to succeed, you will, but . . .”
“But what?” Abba said.
“Sometimes, we sculpt our own destinies.”
Chapter 35
Dressed in camo, combat boots, and jungle hats, Abba, Rory, and I left the house of the sorceress. Boris led the way, though not as the little man with the smarmy smile we knew. He’d transformed into a large gray wolf, and his menacing presence proved somewhat disconcerting.
Though his appearance bothered us, it wasn’t as bad as Lucky and Slick’s reaction when he transformed in front of them. They began growling, preparing to fight when Tubah worked some magic on them. Though they sniffed noses with Boris, their body language indicated they weren’t happy about having him around.
Long before we’d gone a mile, morning sun had begun rising over the hardwood trees behind us. The brightness didn’t last long. Ground fog, starting first as wispy strands of vapor, began forming clouds that turned our trail into a ghostly pathway.
Slogging through the fog proved a slow process. Rory learned as much when he banged headfirst into a tree branch and almost knocked himself out. The muddy ground made our trek even more treacherous, Abba and I both slipping and falling on our rears.
Lucky and Slick had finally grown used to Boris and followed closely behind him as he hurried through the thick soup. When gentle rain began dissipating the curtain of cottony moisture, we were once again able to see. Abba wasn’t happy about the rain dripping down her neck.
“Tired?” I asked.
“Aren’t you? Sloshing around in this muck is wearing me out.”
“I’m glad I’m not the only one that it’s bothering?” I said. “You okay, Rory?”
“Aye, though I am probably the first Scotsman that has ever gone on a quest through a Louisiana swamp.”
His comment cause
d Abba to smile. “At least you’re not wearing your kilt.”
Our banter had caused us to slow even more. Boris soon doubled back to find us, howling to voice his disapproval of the rate at which we were moving. Rory took a drink of Southern Comfort and then tossed the flask to Abba.
“Not much left,” she said. “Want the last swig?”
“Not me,” I said. “Tubah’s not here, and I’m taking no chances that her spell has worn off.”
“Then you finish it,” she said, returning the flask to Rory.
We continued along the trail, trying to ignore the rain soaking our clothes, and puddles of water dampening our socks and causing our toes to squish around inside our boots. It was hard not to notice that the trees were even larger than before, making me wonder if we were the first humans to trod this path.
Boris never slowed, and we had to hurry to keep him in sight. I was gawking instead of watching where I was going and almost bumped into him. He’d transformed back into human form, Lucky and Slick looking confused as they stood by his side.
“We are moving too slowly,” he said. “At this rate, we won’t make it to the castle in time.”
“I don’t see how we can go any faster,” Abba said. “I can barely see more than a foot or so in front of me, and I’ve already busted my ass twice.”
“Humans move far too slow. You need to be transformed,” he said.
“Into wolves?”
Boris nodded.
“Can you do that?” I asked.
“I cannot. Tubah can.”
“Tubah isn’t here,” Abba said. “How can she help us?”
“She is watching us at this very moment,” he said. “The dogs must also be transformed, or there will be problems.”
“What do we need to do?” I asked.
“Be aware that when your bodies change so will your minds. You will become wolves and not just humans in the bodies of wolves. Prepare yourself because for some, what you are about to experience can be a life-changing shock.”
Before I could ask another question, the hair on my arm began morphing into thick, gray fur. It wasn’t just the hair on my arms undergoing alteration. My bones began popping as the structure of my entire body began to change: hands and feet into paws, my mouth into a muzzle filled with dangerous fangs, and my human brain changing into the heart and soul of a feral wolf.
Abba squealed, and the dogs yelped as they began experiencing the same phenomena of transformation. When the alteration was finally complete, we circled each other, snarling and nipping. Boris dove into the middle of us.
We quickly learned that he was the alpha and the leader of the pack. It didn’t take him long to establish his authority. I yelped and backed away when he nipped my tail and sank his teeth into my rear end. When Rory and Abba charged to my assistance, Boris’ bared fangs and lunging growls quickly cowed them. Lucky and Slick already knew who was the boss and circled the fray, waiting for the inevitable results.
His authority established, Boris raced away into the underbrush. We howled and followed him. When he disappeared for a moment in a hanging mass of vines and creepers, we thought he’d abandoned us. Once we entered the arboreal tent, we saw that he was waiting.
Boris hadn’t lied when he told us that our transformation would be a life-changing experience. Reality as I had known it had suddenly disappeared. It started with my perspective of everything around me.
No longer was I six feet tall. Now, I was running on all fours, seeing the world around me from a vantage point of only three feet off the ground. The effect on my psyche was astonishing.
I could suddenly smell things I’d never smelled, hear things I’d never heard, and sense things that would have frightened the life out of me had I not also acquired the heart of a wolf. It didn’t dawn on me that no human had ever even imagined the path we were following.
Fairy-like phosphorescence, lighting the darkness of what seemed a well-worn animal path, sparkled like a Christmas tree. The roof of the vegetal tent barely topped our heads. If I’d been thinking like a human, I’m sure I would have wondered if the People had an alternate route to the castle that they were taking. Thinking like a wolf following a pack, the thought never crossed my mind.
The dirt floor of the arboreal pathway was wet, dozens of paw prints marking our course. The multitude of scents was almost overpowering, though we saw no other animals, bears, snakes, or otherwise. When we exited the tunnel, thick fog quickly enveloped us. Boris stopped, circled us once, and then howled. Abba, Rory, the dogs and I joined him.
We didn’t need to have Boris in our sight when he took off up the trail. We only had to follow his strong scent. If there were any animals in our way, they gave us a wide berth. It was raining again. I was running in a pack of wolves, and mere words can’t explain the visceral excitement, intensity, and breathless awe I was experiencing.
My heart continued to race as we followed Boris down creek beds, through almost invisible paths through bramble bushes, and every obscure shortcut that possibly only he knew to the castle of the Sisters of the Mist.
The forest grew thicker, the trees taller. He finally stopped in front of one of the largest trees I’d ever seen. It was hollow, and we followed him into its interior. The lighting was dim though it was no detriment to our elevated senses. As we watched, he began to transform from wolf to human.
All of us began reverting to our former selves, Abba, Rory and I human, Lucky and Slick back into canines. At least that’s what we thought at the moment. As we huddled in the darkness, we quickly realized we were all quite naked.
“Stop staring at me,” Abba said, covering her breasts with her arms.
“Sorry,” I said.
We weren’t naked long. Apparently still with us, Tubah restored our camo fatigues and boots. They were once again clean and dry. Boris was peering up at the inside of the hollow tree.
“I have never seen such a place,” Abba said. “Where are we?”
“Not far from our destination,” Boris said.
Abba was correct. The hollow tree had the look and feel of an enormous wooden cathedral. When my eyes adjusted, I could see the circular stairway that disappeared into the darkness as it ascended. Boris produced a torch, its flame providing eerie illumination as he began climbing the narrow stairway.
“We are no longer beasts of prey,” he said. “We must ascend this stairway or be in danger of being eaten by animals larger than us.”
“What animals are you speaking of?” Rory asked. “Only the Swamp Monster is bigger than me, and they’re on our side.”
Boris grinned though he didn’t answer Rory’s question.
“It’s huge inside here,” I said. “This tree must be gigantic.”
“Not so big,” Boris said. “Tubah has changed us into elves so that we can use this tree as a vantage until darkness comes.
“I am no elf,” Boris said.
“Neither am I,” Abba said. “I don’t feel small at all.”
“Your dogs think you are,” Boris said.
Lucky and Slick had begun their transformation outside of the hollow tree. Even ten feet below us, they looked enormous. When they saw us, they began barking.
“They no longer recognize us. They can rest in the hollow at the base of the tree and will be fine until we return. No more questions. We need to keep climbing.”
My legs grew weary as we followed Boris up the spiraling stairway. I was out of breath when he reached a ledge near the very top of the tall tree and finally drew to a halt. Through a hole, we could see a large clearing in the swamp and the spires of a majestic castle. The growing mist and cottony clouds failed to mask the impressive edifice.
“It’s so beautiful,” Abba said. “I can’t believe this place even exists. Is it . . . ?”
“The castle of the Sisters of the Mist,” Boris said. “It is about a hundred yards from here to the entrance. The drawbridge is the only way to cross the moat. We wait here until Jean Pierre lowers it.”
“Tubah has the power to transform us into wolves and elves,” I said. “Why does she need us to enter the castle? Can’t she just cast a spell and accomplish her purpose?”
“Though Tubah is a powerful sorceress, her powers end outside the castle walls,” Boris said. “There are guards in the turrets surrounding the castle, and that is why you must wait until after dark.”
“How much longer will that be?” Abba asked.
“We made excellent time once we transformed,” Boris said. “It won’t be dark enough for several more hours.”
“Will the darkness be enough to mask us when we cross the open area?” Rory asked.
“With the surrounding trees and thick mist, the swamp becomes almost pitch black after dark. Sometimes the guards set bonfires to light the castle’s perimeter. Tonight is All Saint’s Eve, and surveillance will be lax. With luck, you should be inside the gate before they know you are there.”
“And if not?” I asked.
“You’ll die in a hail of arrows before you reach the gate,” he said.
“That’s not a pleasant thought,” Abba said. “What’ll we do until it’s time to go?”
Boris produced a silver flask from the pocket of his jacket and handed it to Rory.
“We are not inside the castle walls, Tubah’s magic still strong. She sent something for you.”
Rory opened the flask and took a drink. “Hello, Southern Comfort,” he said. “I wondered if I’d ever taste your sweet lips again.”
“It is much more than whiskey,” Boris said. “It is imbued with magic and meant for all of you. Unlike alcohol, it will hone your senses, make you think more clearly, and assist you in completing your mission.”
I glanced at Boris when Rory passed me the flask. “Are you sure about this?” I asked.
“You have my word,” he said. “Now, you must rest and recuperate from our trek. Drink whiskey and wait until dark when Jean Pierre lowers the gate and allows you and the People to enter.”
“And you?”
“I will wait here for your return until shortly after midnight. If you are not here by then, I will assume the mission has failed, and that you are all dead.”