World's End

by Jake Halpern

"What about the sergeant?" asked Alfonso.

  "I wish we could give him a proper burial, but we can't," said Hill quietly. "We need to go."

  The group ran down the staircase and entered the eerily silent hall. Alfonso felt very exposed standing in this vast, wide-open space. He glanced up at one of the sturdy, treelike pillars and followed its trunk up into the darkness of the ceiling. Along the walls of the room, the countless stone gargoyles stood on their perches.

  "Now where?" asked Resuza.

  Kyn shrank against one of the stone pillars. "KYK MORT!!" he screeched.

  "What's he goin' on about?" demanded Bilblox.

  "I don't know," snapped Resuza. "He's saying something different from before. Something about two humans, but I don't know—"

  "Well, I reckon the feller is talkin' 'bout us," said a creaky old voice that came out of the darkness. "Was a foolhardy idea comin' all this far. Most others woulda given ya up fer dead. But I know ya got strong stock in those youngsters, and I said if I was still breathin', I'd help ya."

  A moment later, two figures emerged from the shadows. One was Misty. The other was an extremely thin man, so thin that his bones seemed to stick out of his skin like tent poles. He had a wildly unkempt head of bushy hair. Both were covered with thick layers of skelter sap.

  "MISTY!" shouted Resuza. "You made it! I knew you'd survive that cave-in!"

  Misty gave a gap-toothed smile. "That's right, little lady." Her smile quickly disappeared and she became all business. "I knew ya'd go t'the Hub and try to fin' Josephus. Luckily, ol' Misty knows the mines better'n anyone, 'n' I followed ya in as soon as I could. Took me the better part of a day to round up some miners and clear out that landslide that separated us. But here I am."

  "And you told the Grand Vizier what happened?" Hill interjected. "What did she say?"

  Misty shook her head dismissively. "Pshaw. I never asked anyone's permission fer anything, and I ain't startin' now. I don't trust those high 'n' mighty fools, but I figured ya might be intent on goin' to Jasber—and passin' through that locked gate—'n' so I brung this 'ere feller. He's Clink, m'second cousin on me mum's side and the best picklock in the city. He's also the only other person I trust in Somnos, after Resuza. I don't much care fer 'im, but he's family all the same."

  "Did you say Clink?" asked Bilblox.

  "That's right, Leafy," bowed the thin man with the prodigious head of bushy hair. Bilblox recognized his old friend right away. On his first visit to Somnos, Bilblox had been branded as a "leaf burner" and he was briefly imprisoned. During his time behind bars, Bilblox's cellmate had been a picklock named Clink. The two of them had become friends and, eventually, they escaped the prison together.

  "It's your old cellmate, the one and only Clink," explained Clink. "Once again, I've come to save the day. My only interest is aiding you, of course, and perhaps liberating a bit of treasure along the way. Just think, Leafy old boy, I'm on my way out of Somnos—finally!"

  "Any signs a Josephus 'n' Kiril?" Misty asked.

  Hill frowned. "We came across a badly wounded soldier from the Somnos Expeditionary Force. Before he died, he said Josephus, Kiril, Colonel Treeknot, and a hundred soldiers came through his area but were attacked by zwodszay. They may have all been killed."

  Clink's jovial face turned somber. "Colonel Treeknot and her soldiers were with Josephus and Kiril? So they're all a bunch of traitors?"

  "We have no idea," Hill quickly replied.

  "Sjurs!" Kyn interrupted. "SJURS!!" He entered the light and they could see the grayish-purple muscles of his heart pounding in his chest. His tapered fingers wavered nervously.

  "Hmm," said Misty as she eyed Kyn suspiciously. "Ya think it's a good idea t'be pallin' around with a stray zwodszay?"

  "Let's find the gate and then we'll talk about it," said Hill. Sweat poured down his face.

  "I'd have to say the gate is this way," said Clink confidently as he pointed to a large, darkened stone archway. Directly above the archway there were three images carved into the stone: a silver pen with an enlarged barrel, a vine containing many clusters of berries, and a bolt of lightning striking a tree. "I believe those are the symbols of Jasber, aren't they?"

  "They were on the cover of the rosewood box," said Alfonso.

  "Then follow me," said Clink. "We'll be through the gate in a flash."

  "Before we go..." said Hill. "Misty, did you bring any more skelter sap with you? We're all out."

  "A-course I did," said Misty, as she set down her pack and pulled out a small wooden barrel filled with sap. "Why doncha lather yerselves up?"

  Misty was about to uncork her barrel when something darted through the darkness and snatched it away from her. It was Kyn. He had moved so quickly that his steps had barely been visible. Kyn was now clutching the barrel with both arms and holding it protectively as if it were a great treasure.

  "Hey, ya varmint!" hollered Misty. "Give that back."

  "Quiet!" yelled Resuza. "Look up."

  Everyone in the party glanced up to the shadowy ceiling of the eleven-sided room. The upper walls of the room were crawling with movement. Alfonso was the first to realize what was going on. The hundreds of ledges and the perches where the stone gargoyles had once been were all now empty.

  "The stone gargoyles are gone," gasped Alfonso.

  "That's because they ain't gargoyles," said Misty. "They were all zwodszay!"

  "It's a trap," exclaimed Alfonso. "Kyn has led us into a trap."

  "RUN!" yelled Hill. "Run for the Jasber Gate!"

  CHAPTER 30

  THE LOTUS BERRIES

  AN EXHAUSTED LEIF PERPLEXON violently kicked his leg, but he couldn't loosen the grip of the hand that clutched his ankle. "Let go!" hissed Leif. But it was no use, and as Leif continued to flail about, he lost his footing and hit the ground with a heavy thud. The hand tightened around Leif's ankle and pulled his entire body under the razor hedge. Leif felt himself sliding down into darkness. He suddenly felt very warm and moist, as if vapors from a hot bath were dampening his face. Slowly, his eyes adjusted to the darkness and Leif was able to get a decent look at his surroundings. He was lying in a spacious foxhole that had been dug out beneath the razor hedge. The air was filled with steam, which appeared to be coming up from the ground. Lying in the foxhole, just several feet away, was the person who had clutched Leif's leg. He was a gaunt man with a nose that had obviously been broken several times, droopy eyes, and filthy long black hair. He wore a heavy piece of cloth that he had wrapped around himself like a toga, and a grimy brown turban was parked securely on his head. The only splash of color on the man came from his eyes, which were a sparkling red-brown.

  "You speak English?" asked the man, in a heavy accent that soundly vaguely Arabic.

  Leif nodded dumbly, uncertain of what to say.

  "You're no sweeper," said the man. "Who are you?"

  "Leif Perplexon, from World's End, Minnesota."

  "Minnie-sota? Strange name. Did you come to this labyrinth bearing a plant?" asked the man.

  Leif nodded.

  "And they took it from you?"

  Again Leif nodded.

  "So you succeeded," said the man with a smile, which revealed a partial set of yellowing teeth. "That is more than I can say." The man reached behind himself and took out the brown withered remains of a plant. It looked as if it had been dead for months, perhaps years. "This was my bloom," said the man with a sheepish shrug. "I came very close to delivering it, but I was starving, and I had to take refuge under the hedges. I was stuck here for some time—days, weeks, months—how is one to know? Ayyy! Anyway, when I came to my senses, the plant was dead. Luckily, the roots of these hedges warm the earth and my den, so I did not freeze to death. As you can see, my friend, I am still very much alive." He said this as if he didn't quite believe it himself.

  Leif nodded, despite the fact that the man's story sounded far-fetched.

  "My name is Zinedine Hanifa," said the man as he reached out his hand.
Leif shook it. "I walked here from Algeria," he continued. "I am a Berber. I come from the Atlas Mountains, perhaps you have heard of them? I am a schoolteacher, and I am pleased to speak English and French. I have a wife and three children there. The children are..." Zinedine paused abruptly and scratched his head as if he were profoundly confused. "What year is it now? Do you know, my friend?"

  Leif told him what year it was.

  "My God!" gasped Zinedine. "Could it be? I left home ten years ago. It's impossible! But maybe not. How could I really know how many moons have passed? The berries have taken away all sense of time. Ten years. That means my daughters may be married. Oh my goodness, I must get out of here..." With great effort he raised himself to rest on his elbow, but after a few seconds he groaned and returned to lying flat on the ground.

  "I know the feeling," interjected Leif. He stretched out his legs to enjoy the warmth of the foxhole, and for the first time in days he began to relax. "That's exactly what I am trying to do. I have a wife and son back home that I would like to see as well. I was trying to escape, but I am just about out of food. Which reminds me—how have you survived all these years? Didn't you say something about berries?"

  "Ah yes, the lotus berries," replied Zinedine with a smile. He reached into his toga and pulled out a leather satchel filled with bright red berries. "That is what I call them. They grow in the hedges. If you know where to look for them they are easy to find. I can show you how to pick them. They have kept me alive, although most unfortunately, they have also kept me here."

  "What do you mean?" asked Leif.

  "The berries are delicious," explained Zinedine. "So delicious in fact that I am incapable of stopping myself from eating them. The problem is ... how to put it ... well, whenever you eat the berries you are sent somewhere else. Somewhere very pleasant, oh yes, my friend, very pleasant indeed. Often I am sent back to a beautiful little lake in the Atlas Mountains, a place I knew from my youth. It is where I met my wife, when we were both sixteen. We spend hours talking and laughing and ... holding hands. And every time I kiss her it is like the first time. Oh, it is wonderful! But then when I wake up, I am in this miserable hole in the earth, covered in snow and dirt. The berries are so delicious. You will see..."

  Zinedine reached into his satchel, scooped out a handful of berries, and handed them to Leif.

  "Go on and try them," urged Zinedine. "I am curious where you will be sent."

  "Are you addicted to these berries?" asked Leif skeptically.

  "Perhaps," replied Zinedine. "But what choice do we have here, my friend? If we do not eat them, we die."

  Leif picked up a berry, studied it closely, and contemplated whether to eat it. His stomach was aching for food. Perhaps he could have just one of these little red fruits. After all, what harm could there be in eating one berry?

  CHAPTER 31

  THE JASBER GATE

  ALFONSO AND HIS COMPANIONS all took off at the same time, like a startled flock of birds. Hill arrived at the archway first. There, he encountered an extremely tall zwodszay who appeared out of the shadowy gloom, almost as if he had been waiting for them there all along. Like Kyn, he had no hair and his skin was pale and translucent. It stretched tightly over the many ridges and bumps of his malformed bones. Hill could see his heart beat slowly beneath his chest.

  Apparently, this zwodszay was not scared in the least.

  Hill also noticed that half of the creature's mouth was fixed in an intelligent smile. Hill felt slightly reassured by this, until he realized that the smile was frozen due to the fact that the zwodszay's lips had been badly mangled. His frozen lips alternated between pale white and blue, as his blood flowed through them. He carried what appeared to be a three-foot-long stone club sharpened to a razor point. Although thin, the zwodszay was incredibly strong. He carried the club as lightly as if it were made of paper.

  Hill unholstered his Colt .45 and took aim. Before he could shoot, however, the tall zwodszay jumped up, soared through the air, landed on top of Hill, and forced him to the ground. The creature salivated at the sight of Hill's bare neck. It opened its mouth, revealing a row of jagged teeth. Hill squeezed off a shot and missed, but the sound startled the zwodszay and it jumped away.

  "HILL!" Alfonso screamed. He had just arrived along with the others. "Hill, are you okay?"

  They gathered around Hill underneath the archway. Alfonso helped his uncle struggle to his feet.

  "Oh no," whispered Hill.

  Alfonso followed Hill's gaze, and the blood drained from his face. They were now surrounded by thousands of zwodszay. The great hall flickered with the ghostly pulsing of their blood as it coursed through their translucent skin and glittered evilly within their tiny red eyes. Moments later, the zwodszay began to move in for the kill.

  "Listen to me," yelled Bilblox authoritatively. "This ain't the first time I've been outnumbered in a gang fight. We gotta stick close together and keep our backs to one another. Understand?"

  "He's right!" affirmed Misty.

  "Come on now, ya blasted, infernal zwodszay!" yelled Bilblox ferociously. "Old Papa Bilblox has got some strong medicine for ya!"

  At that very moment, two zwodszay—as if answering Bilblox's taunt—rushed the blind longshoreman. Bilblox heard them coming and shuffled to his left and then swung his club in a wide arc. At full extension, the club slammed into the chest of both advancing zwodszay and sent them flying backwards.

  Seconds later, Alfonso heard a soft, swishing noise. A zwodszay landed nearby and then swept Alfonso's legs out from underneath him. Kõrgu leapt through the air, knocked the zwodszay off Alfonso's back, and then sank her fangs into the creature's neck. Alfonso staggered to his feet and looked around. The zwodszay were moving in.

  At that moment, Alfonso thought of his dad. A great, sorrowful choke of regret welled up in his throat. He roared in anger at the injustice of it all. His right hand gripped the sphere and he began to hurl it into the zwodszay masses. The sphere, which glowed blue in the darkness, flew through the air in a blur of light and returned each time to Alfonso's outstretched hand. Hill and Resuza fired off a flurry of rounds with their rifles. In the midst of this onslaught of strange weapons, the zwodszay hordes wavered. A few of the creatures retreated and, as they did, they created an opening toward the archway that—hopefully—led to the Jasber Gate.

  "Quickly now!" yelled Misty. "Follow me."

  The old miner sprinted into the darkness of the tunnel and the others followed. It was a vaulted passageway with a slick stone floor and a low ceiling. The walls were coated with bat droppings, which resembled a mudlike paste. Eventually, the passageway began to narrow and, as it did, the bat droppings disappeared. At this point, Misty paused and hurled her lantern back into the tunnel behind them.

  "Get ready fer some fireworks!" yelled Misty. "Them bat droppins burn like gunpowder."

  Seconds later, there was a massive explosion and a wave of fire raced back down the tunnel, toward the hordes of zwodszay.

  "That oughta buy us a few minutes!" yelled Misty exuberantly. After a minute of running, they came upon a small cast-iron door that was locked from the inside. The door was ancient-looking, but very solid. It would be impossible to break it down without a giant battering ram or great deal of force. Misty grunted a sigh of disgust. They had reached a dead end.

  "Now what?" asked Bilblox.

  Without saying a word, Alfonso approached the cast-iron door and studied it very carefully. He remembered the brick wall in Imad's antechamber and the note about omism. Then something happened that everyone present would remember for the rest of their lives. Alfonso took a deep breath, entered hypnogogia, and slowly thrust his arm into the iron door just above the doorknob. Seconds later, they all heard the sound of a rusty deadbolt sliding along its runner. Alfonso withdrew his hand and shook it for a second as if even he didn't believe what just happened. He turned the doorknob and the door immediately swung open.

  "I reckon I spent one too many dark and drea
ry days in them mines," remarked Misty. "Fer a moment there, I'd a-sworn on m' own grave that Alfonso just passed his hand through that door like a ghost."

  "That's exactly what he did," said Hill in disbelief. "But how?"

  "It's just an old Great Sleeper's trick," said Alfonso nonchalantly. He was breathing heavily. "Come on, I think we've found the Jasber Gate."

  Everyone walked through the small doorway and Clink, the last person through, closed and locked the cast-iron door behind him. They had now entered a perfectly square chamber with twenty-foot-high stone walls. In the center of the room stood a hefty, waist-high, bronze candelabra with three prongs, each of which contained a large, half-used candle. Hill lit each candle with his torch. These were no ordinary candles: when lit, they threw off an intense light that bathed the room in something close to daylight. For the group, who had been traveling in near darkness for almost a week, the light was both welcome and uncomfortable. They hoped it would also deter the zwodszay from entering, at least for a while.

  For the most part, the room was quite plain. The floor was dirt and three of the four walls were bare. Yet the fourth wall, the one they were all facing, was adorned with a complex mosaic comprising thousands of square tiles. Most of the tiles were colored a drab gray, although a number of black tiles were scattered throughout the mosaic, usually grouped in curlicues of five or six tiles.

  "I reckon this 'ere wall with the tiles is yer gate," said Misty with a cough. Like everyone else, she was winded from running. "D'ya think Kiril 'n' Josephus an' maybe Treeknot got this far?"

  "I don't see any sign of them," said Alfonso. "Those tiles look like they form some kind of pattern." He looked at Resuza. "Is it some kind of language?"

  Resuza stared at the black lines of tile that soared and danced across the gray. "Nothing I've ever seen," she replied.

  Hill walked over to the wall and pushed one of the black lines. It wouldn't move. He spent a few minutes feeling and pressing every part of the tiled wall that they could reach. The wall was intact, with no trace of hidden doors.