Tenebrae Manor

by P. Clinen

  Bordeaux soon gasped and fell to his knees. The girl was gone – though he scrambled across the ground and clawed vainly at the air, the apparition was no longer there. Again Bordeaux’s vision begun to fade and the final thought preceding his drift into slumber was a pondering of the ground beneath him. Why, it almost feels like a road.

  It was still dark when he awoke. Yet when he rolled onto his back it was not the starry sky that met his gaze, rather a roof of dank and dripping stones. He winced in his delirium and choked on the rank scent of mud. Beneath him was a strange indentation on the ground – wheel tracks.

  Bordeaux sat up and as he did so, he met the gaze of a small pock-mouthed man staring at him from his perch on a horse-drawn carriage.

  The imp from the tavern.

  The goggle-eyed imp continued to stare intently at Bordeaux, until a flick of his head gestured the demon to turn about. When he did so, Bordeaux’s heart swam with affection, for the elated Mute Chef stood there with a smile of disbelief and an offered hand.

  Taking his hand, Bordeaux rose in tears and, after embracing the chef, turned to thank his engineer of his deliverance. But the pock-mouthed imp was already on his way, with the empty crates and barrels rattling upon the back of his cart.

  Bordeaux knew words were wasted on the chef and prayed the sagged gentleman in the greasy kitchen smock could read the appreciation in his face. Before him loomed a large door which led to the underbelly of that monumental and awe-inspiring spectacle. That nocturnal castle that teetered on the edge of time itself; surrounded by knuckled rock and jagged pine. Tenebrae Manor – Bordeaux was home!

  33: Libra Tries To Kill Deadsol

  The irrepressible Deadsol, once so cocksure of disposition, was now faced with a confrontation that left him shaking at the knees. Inasmuch as he stood sweating profusely with a damp palm wrapped about the handle of Libra's door. A fearful sense of dread consumed him, brought to a pinnacle by the cluttering commotion of noise on the other side of the door. In the end, it was a rare display of genuine concern for his little friend, Comets that urged him forward. For the imp had become possessed by some mysterious object of Libra's and so, swallowing the painful anxiety in his throat, Deadsol opened the door.

  Libra's room was in shambles, trashed as though some unforeseen hurricane had swept its vapours through. It was this dishevelment that caused the complexion of Deadsol to become white as a sheet, yet he felt some solace to discover that it was not Comets but Libra herself who had made the mess. The Lady Libra could be seen upturning the entire contents of her room with considerable perturbation; the dark curls in disarray about her flustered face. She huffed as would a child who had lost a favourite toy, short and irritable bursts of profanity were expelled from her mouth.

  Deadsol stood still as a statue; he and Libra had not encountered one another since his imprisonment. As far as he knew, Libra still considered him incarcerated. Yet when she looked up and saw him, Libra stood with arms akimbo and fumed as though she had just gotten rid of him but minutes earlier.

  "You."

  "Me," uttered Deadsol in reply.

  "I thought I told you to knock."

  "Indeed, I believe you did say that at one stage. My apologies, Miss Libra."

  Libra's brow upturned., "What manner of decorum are you feigning, Deadsol? I thought I imprisoned you."

  Deadsol sprung forward with his hands submissively clasped. "That you did, madam. Yet Tenebrae Manor called for me and I rose from the ashes in response!"

  "I see that incarceration did nothing to stem that infuriating eloquence. Whatever. Leave me, I am not fit for visitors."

  Here, Libra returned to rummaging. She was undoubtedly searching for the wood heart and Deadsol remained idle in the room with bated breath. All at once, Libra's vain search became too much and she struck at the wall with her fist.

  "Where is it?" she fumed. "Where? Where!"

  She plucked a perfume bottle from her vanity and threw it menacingly. It shattered but a foot from where Deadsol stood.

  "Miss Libra..."

  "What?"

  "That which you search for; it is not all that valuable, no?"

  "Deadsol, you blighter, you fantastic idiot... I am looking for something very valuable of mine. And you standing there makes my gorge rise! Go away!"

  Libra threw another bottle of perfume at him, the sweet scents filling the air slowly with sickening fumes.

  "If I were to say," probed Deadsol, "That you were looking for a lovely, heart-shaped amulet... Would I be correct?"

  Starting suddenly, Libra's mouth twisted with rage and through her teeth she snarled, "Where is it?"

  Deadsol whimpered, "A thousand pardons, Miss. Comets has it. He ran away into the forest..."

  The face of Lady Libra turned paler than before, the stony porcelain beauty of her face seemingly crystallizing into a frozen state, as though she had been immortalised in a painting utterly devoid of expression.

  From her position near the vanity, she and Deadsol remained locked in a standoff, motionless as though posing for a portrait. For a moment it looked like they would remain forever thusly, until Deadsol noticed a minor change in the Lady's face that caused him to frown. It was a subtle change, although this smallest of tweaks had given Libra the appearance of a psychopath and her eyes drilling into Deadsol with punishing indifference to his wellbeing caused the copper demon to shudder involuntarily.

  When Libra finally spoke, it was slow and deep. "You allowed that insect to make off with my treasure?"

  Deadsol shook from head to toe and cowered from his stance. When he nodded timidly in response, Libra turned her gaze away and squeezed her eyes shut. There was another subtle movement - this time her arm, which reached for the axe that leant against the stone wall. Again, she looked at Deadsol, her amber oculi burning hotter than the forgotten sun, scorching him to the core.

  "Fool!" she roared. "Confound you to have blundered upon my very ruin!"

  Here she rushed to him, launching the axe with a sickening force that would have split Deadsol in two had he not leapt out of the way.

  The axe stung the ground and echoed resonantly with the shrill scrape of steel on stone. Libra gasped for breath through her grinding teeth. Again she threw the axe into motion, slicing the air horizontally and missing Deadsol by the hair of his moustache. The most minute of cuts split open on his cheek and the sight of blood hurled them both into a primal state of instinct. Libra; the ferocious predator, merciless as a great white shark. Deadsol; a defenseless rabbit bounding desperately from mortal peril. The demon danced in a panic around the room, dodging the onslaught of blows from Libra's axe. Her dispossession of the wood heart had blunted the potency of her magic, so she could only resort to a physical violence. She struggled to move her heavy body around, yet the blood-thirst that possessed her drove her on.

  "You may be incapable of dying but that doesn't mean I can't chop you into pieces!" she bellowed.

  Deadsol jumped on the bed and ran across it to put an object between himself and Libra. "Lady, please! I implore you to stop!"

  "You've ruined me!" cried Libra. "Oh agony of abhorrence! My hate for you is unending, my blood boils at the sight of you!"

  "Not my fault!" blurted Deadsol, so fearful, he was almost in tears.

  He was backed into a corner, yet as Libra approached, she needed a moment to catch her breath. Both sweated profusely with exertion and the sight of Libra so powerless made Deadsol laugh hysterically on a sudden. His laughter only amplified Libra's rage; she readily composed herself and raised the axe again.

  "Incorrigible fiend! You will not see the moon rise again! I will pry your heart from its dark cage! I will wrench that vile thing from the very pit of your ashen soul!"

  She made to land the deathblow, before a voice stopped her hand.

  "Enough of this."

  In the doorway stood a familiar emaciated man with clothes most haggard and face covered with dark red stubble.

  "B
ordeaux!" cried Deadsol.

  Libra dropped the axe in shock as Deadsol ran to hide behind his wayward friend.

  "Odysseus returns!" he laughed.

  As the pair embraced, Libra stood shaking in the corner, the axe lying idle at her feet. Her murderous dominance had escaped her at the sight of Bordeaux; she felt now that it was her that was vulnerable. Indeed, she had reason to believe herself to be under fire, for Bordeaux, looking much like death animated, turned to her with anger in his eyes.

  "You had hoped to be rid of me?" he said.

  "Bordeaux, I..."

  "How you could lead Tenebrae into ruin so shamefully..."

  "I didn't want it like this!" Libra interrupted. "I wanted to be worshipped! I should be worshipped! If I am to remain on this earth for eternity, then I damn well want to live my own way!"

  Bordeaux paced towards her. "You should pay the highest price for what you've done. You've placed us all at risk and if Tenebrae Manor falls, you will topple down with us!"

  Libra's resilience failed her and she slumped onto the chaise lounge and buried her face in her hands.

  Deadsol remained silent near the door, absorbing every word spoken.

  "There is so much I want to know from you," said Bordeaux. "But I'll start with a simple question. One that I believe I already know the answer to. Why did you banish me? Are you so infatuated with yourself that you would erase a friend without so much as a thought?"

  Libra pretended she didn’t hear and only sat there shaking her head.

  “What happened to Madlyn?” asked Bordeaux.

  The Lady looked up at him, her face smeared with mascara and frustrated tears. “She’s dead. Died in the forest. Crow found her. Nothing can be done of that.”

  “The monsters got her,” added Deadsol.

  “Shut up, Deadsol!” Libra snapped.

  Bordeaux paced back and forth in an arc around Libra like a moon about a planet, seemingly readying another barrage of questioning, when Crow and Edweena burst into the room.

  “They’re in the house!” cried Edweena.

  The three originally in the room were brought instantly to attention. Libra stood and felt her anger rise again.

  “What did you do?” hissed Libra. “How did they get in?”

  Crow was irate; “I told you we could not hold them back much longer!”

  Both he and the vampiress noticed the disheveled figure in the presence of Libra and Deadsol and, when Edweena realised who it was, she flew to embrace him.

  “Edweena,” said Bordeaux. He could not help but smile for a moment.

  Edweena hugged him fiercely. “What happened to you? We thought you’d left us for good!”

  She slapped Bordeaux’s shoulder with her palm as he and Crow shook hands warmly. But the wood hermit’s face soon returned to its grave pallor.

  “But it seems you’ve returned just in time to see us fall,” said Crow.

  From the floors below, deep down into the core of Tenenbrae Manor, a multitude of groans echoed up the stairs.

  Deadsol fell to his knees, screaming like a little girl. He clung to Libra’s dress and hid his frightened face behind a swath of charcoal skirt, much to the irritation of the Lady Libra.

  “There’s no more hope,” he sobbed quietly.

  “Steel yourself, Deadsol,” said Bordeaux. “We have one last chance.” The crimson demon grabbed his friend by the scruff of his coat and pulled him to attention.

  “Libra! Hide nothing from us any further, our very existence depends upon it!” said Bordeaux. “That shining amulet, that wooden heart! You must give it back to the golems! That is what they want.”

  Libra sighed vexingly. “I don’t have it anymore!”

  “There is no time for this, Libra,” said Edweena. “Throw aside your pride and relinquish the thing!”

  “I said I do not have it anymore! If you don’t believe me, ask Deadsol.”

  As all eyes fell onto him, Deadsol’s own eyes widened. His moustache quivered like a sparrow’s wing as the lips behind it trembled.

  “I can’t bear to think of it!” he wailed. “Dear Comets, my little friend! He has the heart! And he ran into the forest before I could stop him. I’d never seen him so obsessed, so vile!”

  “Have you any idea where he could have gone?” asked Edweena.

  Bordeaux’s mind raced, a kaleidoscope of thoughts swirling erratically in the form of ink scratched across parchment. The pages of the great book he had read fluttered like bat-wings until one particular page tore itself from the spine and unfurled into the petals of a black-coloured rose. From its centre, a single eye opened and stared with deranged indifference. He recognised the eye, bulging owl-like from a sunken face. His heart shuddered and he exclaimed, “Wait!”

  They turned to him as their saviour, the eyes of Bordeaux’s friends imploring him to redeem them from their peril.

  “I have an idea where Comets is.” He turned to Crow. “Libra tells me you found Madlyn in the forest. Where was it that you found her?”

  Crow scratched his head. “At the foot of a massive tree. But my mind is a little hazy; I had to escape so swiftly. I don’t know that I recall how to get there.”

  “The Black Rose Tree,” came the voice of Lady Libra.

  “Libra?”

  “That is the tree he speaks of,” she continued. “I know where it is.”

  “What makes you think Comets went there?” said Edweena.

  Libra sighed, “The wood heart was a strange thing. The monsters seemed drawn towards it, I believe it is probably their lot to try and retrieve it. And, in turn, the heart itself must be drawn to its proper pedestal. Comets is a weak-willed little creature, he has likely been put under its spell with the hopes he will return it to the tree.”

  “I had hidden two of my horses outside,” said Crow. “Pray the golems have not yet found them. They will take us to the tree. But we have to go now!”

  “I will stay behind,” said Libra. “But I will tell you how to find the tree.”

  “But you know where it is!” exclaimed Edweena. “You should come with us!”

  Libra rolled her eyes. “Look, I’ll give you this one jab at me. Do I look like one to sit on a horse? I’ll only slow you. It is better that I don’t accompany you.”

  Crow and Edweena drew their weapons and raced to the door, with Bordeaux following, slowed by his dragging of the reluctant Deadsol.

  34: The Black Rose Tree

  Stricken with a feverish energy, an unbridled chaos, the forest quivered with discomfort. As though it were trying to shake off a coat that does not fit properly, it shuddered with the increase of commotion under its canopy. Fog shrouded all. Through the haze, the boles of ageless conifers rose ominously like the undead, thrusting jet black from the opaque grey of fog.

  As the horses charged on, the trees gave off the impression of marching. A poorly formed assemblage, for the trees sprouted wherever they pleased, yet they carried the same cold indifference pertaining to a ruthless army. Above the sound of hooves that stamped out a war-drum percussion, the cries of the forest monsters resonated. Their throaty bellows rocked the branches and caused the pine needles to shiver with a whispering rustle.

  Even with the tumultuous uncertainty seeded in his heart, Bordeaux still breathed deep the air of his darkled home. The sickly sweet permeations of pine invigorated him and he found himself feeling more alive than he had in some time. Not deterring from the urgency of his mission, this euphoria he felt was not shared by his companions.

  As he held the reins tightly, Bordeaux felt a similar gripping on his shaggy clothes, as Deadsol, who was sitting behind him, clung in fear to his friend's shoulders. Ahead of them, Crow rode at a furious pace with Edweena as his passenger.

  The wood hermit cut through the trees one-way and then another in a desperate attempt to find the black rose tree. Part of him prayed he was heading in the correct direction.

  The terrain rose and fell in no particular pattern and eventu
ally the ground beneath them began to slope steadily downhill. The pounding of drums took on a clearer sound, so that soon the clacking of sticks could be discerned above the din. The horses tore on down the slope, until a clearing spread out before them.

  The tree grew immense from the pit, overshadowing the ground that lay littered with roots and thorny tendrils.

  "There is no mistaking," called Crow. "This must be the place."

  It needn't be said, for each of them regaled some instance of recognition at the sight of the tree. Bordeaux instantly remembered the drawings he had seen in Rune's book. Edweena and Deadsol were certain they had seen similar tree-like shapes about Tenebrae Manor - on sigils and tapestry, jewelry and ornament.

  There was an evident commotion at the foot of the tree. For while most of the wood golems circled the tree in some tribalistic ritual, several hovered around a certain part of the trunk, swinging their clubbed arms.

  "There he is!" cried Deadsol.

  The four of them dismounted and looked towards the chaos where Comets was thrashing about like a feral dog. His eyes were glassed over with a frighteningly absent shade of red; he gnashed and scratched at the golems like a creature threatened. The wood heart remained firmly in his grasp and in plain sight of the monsters, so that he was clutching the thing under one arm and throwing a flurry of punches with the other.

  "We can't get to him. He is utterly surrounded!" cried Edweena.

  "All they want is the wood heart," said Bordeaux. "We just need him to give it up and get out of there."

  "They seem uninterested in all else. We don't have much time," added Crow.

  "There must be a simple way of going about this," Bordeaux began but before he could continue, he felt a push in his back.

  From behind him, Deadsol had raced forward into the mess of monsters.

  "Deadsol!"

  "No time for this! I must help him!" blurted Deadsol.