World's End

by Jake Halpern

  "Once, many centuries ago, I wrote a prophecy with the aid of a magic pen," explained Imad. "The prophecy was not comprehensive, it did not foretell everything, but it foretold of this cataclysm. And it foretold that only a man by your name and his son could stop this from happening."

  "His son?" inquired Leif.

  Imad nodded.

  "You must be mistaken," said Leif. "My son is just a young boy, a child. Besides he is far away—in Minnesota—with his mother."

  "No," Imad replied simply. "Your son is actually quite near Jasber, and drawing nearer by the day. And I am afraid he is not safe. His bravery and his love for you have goaded him to take many risks."

  "The World's End," whispered Leif.

  "Yes," replied Imad. "Alfonso will try to stop it—with or without you—but he will not succeed on his own." The terrifying monk stared at Leif. "Enjoy your blackberry tart," he said, and then strode off into the darkness.

  ***

  When he finally woke up, Leif was lying on his back in the dark. He groaned through parched, cracked lips. The air was warm and rank. He leaned up on one elbow and pushed his tired brain to think. Above him was a dirt ceiling, its outlines barely visible in the darkness. And outside...

  Then he remembered. Outside were the snow-covered razor hedges, the glistening red berries, the cottage in the middle of the labyrinth. And beyond this was the world at large—the real world.

  Someone stirred nearby. It was Zinedine, the failed Great Sleeper. "Finally, you are awake," said the North African. "I have wanted to take another berry, but first I wanted to see where you had traveled to in your dream. Was it a pleasant place? Did you see your family?"

  Leif sat up and rubbed his dry eyes. "H-How long have I been here," he asked.

  "Several days, maybe a week," replied Zinedine. "I was in the Atlas Mountains! You should have seen my son. He is now a man. No matter, I will describe him to you. But first, tell me, did you enjoy the dream? Wasn't it nice?"

  Leif did not reply. Instead, he turned and clawed his way out of the foxhole and back to the snowy surface of the labyrinth.

  "Don't leave me!" yelled Zinedine, his muffled voice hoarsely echoing through the labyrinth. "We are friends now! Where are you going?"

  There was only one answer to this question. Leif had wasted precious days and already he felt an overwhelming urge to try another berry. He shook his head violently. That was finished. If he was to press on, if he was to escape the maze, then he needed more supplies. He needed to restock. And that meant returning to the cottage at the center of the labyrinth.

  CHAPTER 43

  THE LIGHTHOUSE

  STANDING IN FRONT OF THE LIGHTHOUSE, Hill seemed oblivious to the breathtaking scenery of ice, rock, and sea that surrounded him. He was fixated on his wristwatch. Clink had now been inside the lighthouse for almost thirty minutes and there was still no sign of him. In Hill's estimation, this long absence meant one of two things: either Clink had stumbled upon a great trove of riches that he intended to hoard for himself or he had met an untimely end.

  Misty shifted her weight uneasily. "He's a plum' fool, is what 'e is," she muttered. "Clink's a goner. How'm I gonna tell the rest-a the family about this?"

  "I'm sure he's fine," said Hill immediately. The clouds had thickened and grown darker. A heavy snow had begun to fall, and a paper-thin layer of frost covered their clothes. Hill wondered if Josephus would survive a night in the open. The old historian's breath had turned erratic.

  They continued staring at the portcullis until another half-hour passed and the portcullis opened at last. A tall, gangly, gaunt-faced man, dressed in a top hat and shabby black overcoat, stepped out. He cleared his throat, as if to make a formal announcement, and began to shout. "Velcome von et all to the Dlugosz Lighthouze," yelled the man in a very heavy Uralic accent. "I bid you enter. The master vants you come in. You vill be qvite safe."

  Hill looked at the others, who were shivering in the cold. He nodded and they all walked toward the man, stopping a cautious ten feet away.

  "Who are you?" asked Resuza.

  "I am guard, doorkeeper, and butler," said the man. "My name is Sancholowerotamosucholeshtruvonska. But you call me First-Floor Man because I stay on first floor of lighthouse."

  "What kinda name is that?" retorted Misty.

  "Sancholowerotamosucholeshtruvonska is name of lake in south side Urals where I vas born," explained First-Floor Man. "Translation of lake's name is 'You fish your side of vater, I fish my side of vater, nobody fishes middle so fish can rest.'"

  "That's sensible," nodded Hill.

  "Very," replied Resuza.

  "Come," said First-Floor Man. "Master avaits!" As he walked through the doorway, they all heard a clanking noise. It came from a long chain attached by an iron shackle to First-Floor Man's ankle. The other end of the chain disappeared inside the tower. Alfonso looked inquiringly at Resuza, but they said nothing.

  They walked up the steps and through the door of the tower. Bilblox brought up the rear. He carried Josephus, and Kõrgu padded along quietly at his side. The first floor of the lighthouse was a barren, spacious, high-ceilinged room made entirely of stone. Several flickering torches illuminated the room's only distinguishing features—an empty coat rack, a small cot covered in a beaver fur blanket where First-Floor Man apparently slept, and a stairway leading to the floor above. It was reasonably comfortable but still drafty, and Hill hoped that other parts of the lighthouse were cozier.

  "You leavfe coat here and go upstairs to meet master," ordered First-Floor Man authoritatively.

  "What if I don't want to take off my coat?" asked Bilblox.

  "You vill take off coat!" snapped First-Floor Man. "My job is taking coats. You vant me not havf job?"

  "Where is our friend Clink?" asked Hill.

  "I am butler, not detective," replied First-Floor Man indignantly. "Givf me coats or I begin havfing the anger!"

  They each set down their packs and handed their coats to First-Floor Man. As this was going on, Alfonso noticed that First-Floor Man's long chain was bolted to the wall. Was he a prisoner in the tower? Alfonso was trying to decide how to broach this subject when Misty spoke up.

  "Why in blazes are ya chained up?" Misty asked. "Want us t'free ya?"

  "That iz a crazy idea. Vat are you trying to do? Kill me?"

  They looked at one another, confused, and at that moment a familiar voice called down from the second floor.

  "Hey, everybody, come on upstairs and enjoy a bit of ale!" yelled the voice. "There's roast lamb and some freshly braised salt cod as well. It's a feast!"

  "Is that Clink?" asked Bilblox.

  "It sure is," yelled the voice. "But you may have to call me Master from now on!"

  They quickly climbed the stairs and entered a beautifully appointed parlor. The walls were made of a well-polished dark red wood and lined with dozens of stuffed and mounted fish. The fish were enormous, likely native to the Sea of Clouds, and they looked primordial. Each one grinned maliciously through either fangs, swordlike snouts, or pointy, razor-sharp quills.

  Several large bay windows offered a stunning view of the surrounding seascape. The gold leaf ceiling shone lustrously in the waning light of day. The room was furnished with half a dozen banquet tables, several bearskin rugs, and a long wooden bar behind which was a walk-in pantry stacked with bottles of wine and barrels of ale. At the far end of the room, a fire crackled in a large stone hearth and warmed a steaming caldron that smelled deliciously of lamb, apricots, sage, and nutmeg.

  "Make yourselves at home," said Clink, who sat at one of the banquet tables wearing a starched napkin around his neck. He was devouring a plate full of lamb and salt-crusted cod. "The lamb is excellent, and the cod is unlike anything I've ever tasted before."

  Seconds later, a burly, rosy-cheeked, blond-haired man popped up from behind the bar. The man wore pants and a matching vest made of animal fur and he held a bottle of red wine in each hand.

  "Good ne
ws! I think I've found that vintage cabernet for you, Master," said the man cheerily in a crisp English accent. "It ought to go just splendidly with your lamb."

  The man walked toward Clink's table with the two bottles. As he walked they heard a scraping noise. He too had a shackle around his ankle and was chained to the wall with a much shorter chain of roughly thirty feet. After placing the bottles on the table, he whispered loudly to Clink.

  "Now that your colleagues and friends have arrived, shall I proceed with the champagne? I have a splendid Chateau de Compostelle that should do quite nicely. Your choice of either rosé or blanc de blanc."

  "Uh, excuse me," said Hill in a baffled voice. "Can you tell me what exactly is going on here?"

  The man bowed with a graceful, practiced air. "Kind visitors, my name is Second-Floor Man and I am the official cook and bartender. As esteemed friends of our new master, I bid you welcome. Luckily, I keep a few dishes ready just for these types of unexpected opportunities. Would you be interested in a light repast? I assure you that this is only to tide you over for a few hours until I can whip up something more proper, as befits your high station."

  Hill looked at the others before addressing Second-Floor Man. "We'll certainly welcome some food and drink," he said.

  "Why are they calling Clink 'master'?" Bilblox whispered.

  "We'll figure that out later," whispered Resuza. "Right now, let's eat. I'm famished."

  They all sat down next to Clink, who was grunting in appreciation as he shoveled the steaming hot food into his mouth. Bilblox laid Josephus down on a nearby couch and covered him with blankets. The old historian seemed more comfortable, and appeared more asleep than unconscious. Bilblox joined the others, who were waiting with an expectant air while the delicious smell of warm food filled the room. Soon they were eating heartily as Second-Floor Man looked on with an air of professional attention.

  "Ain't anyone around here got a normal name?" asked Bilblox in between chews. "Why are ya called by your floor, instead of a real name?"

  "A fine question," declared Second-Floor Man, who was serving Misty extra slices of salt-crusted cod.

  "Our previous master, Master Wilhelm Groh the Fourteenth, may his soul rest in peace, was an old-fashioned sort who didn't believe in getting too chummy with the servants. And I rather agree with him. He was exceedingly cultivated. The Lady Groh, who most sadly succumbed to the whooping cough several years ago, was an Englishwoman and therefore a stickler for protocol—matching teacups, silverware just so, beds tucked in, and everybody speaking the Queen's best English all the time. You know the type I'm sure. Anyway, the Master and Lady felt it was best—most professional that is—if we addressed them as Master and Lady, while they addressed us according to which floor each of us worked on. It all works out rather nicely, especially since First-Floor Man and Third-Floor Lady have such exceedingly long Uralic names." His voice grew softer. "You know, First-Floor Man is actually married to Third-Floor Lady and—even though they are husband and wife—they still use their professional names."

  "There's a Third-Floor Lady?" asked Resuza.

  Second-Floor Man nodded and, a moment later, a woman's voice from the third floor bellowed down to them. Apparently, she had been standing at the top of the stairs and listening to their conversation.

  "I am maid and houszekeeper," yelled the voice, which bore a heavy Uralic accent. "Real name is Swonighzezledkinflorij-kluzhba—means 'Being clean isz better than being pretty especially if you weren't born pretty.' I only hope they'vfe been keeping clean down there. On account ahvf my chains, I only clean turd floor. Don' worry! Is moszt important floor. You are to be sleeping moszt soundly up here!"

  "All three of you are chained up?" asked Alfonso.

  "Indeed," said Second-Floor Man cheerily. "First-Floor Man has an especially long chain so he can go outside, around back, do a bit of gardening, and tend to the livestock as well. The chains are really for our own good, you know? Now, would you care to try some wine with your lamb, or perhaps the preference is for ale, on account of the weather? Something tells me that the large, strapping gentlemen—Bilblox, is it?—might care for some ale."

  "Ale would be nice," replied Bilblox.

  "Dark or light?"

  "Dark," replied Bilblox.

  "A bit of ale for your wolf as well?"

  "She's a seein' eye dog," replied Bilblox. "And she'd love some lamb. Probably some ale too."

  Kõrgu growled in agreement.

  "You're chained up for your own good?" inquired Resuza incredulously. "What on earth are you talking about?"

  "Oh, my dear lady, I know what you are thinking," said Second-Floor Man as he gave Bilblox a brimming tankard of ale and provided everyone else with wine. "But we are not prisoners. Quite the opposite actually. You see, these chains keep us free. In the past, servants here at the lighthouse have been tempted to leave, but when they do, they are invariably waylaid and killed by the sorts of villains who inhabit this lonely corner of the globe. These chains remind us of the world outside, and why we never leave the security of the tower. I count my lucky stars that we are chained up and that the chains have held over the years."

  He looked out the window. They followed his gaze and saw that the weather had turned worse, and a blizzard raged across the ice-filled waters. Second-Floor Man turned back and continued. "The Sea of Clouds is absolutely lawless, scattered with bands of criminals, pirates, and slave traders. That's why it's such an event when cultured visitors, like yourselves, come to visit. Sea of Clouds is one of the largest inland seas in the Urals and, without question, the hardest to reach. Its waters are filled with bizarre and enormous fish, perfect sport for the fisherman! Of course, there are also countless islands in this particular sea. Just nearby is the Ferramentum Archipelago, a cluster of thousands of islands, all of them brimming with razor-sharp hedges and utterly devoid of anything useful. More than a few of them are inhabited by pirates and slavers who recognize other attributes, namely, that the area is a perfect place to hide."

  Second-Floor Man paused a moment and looked around. "A bit more ale, Mr. Bilblox? You seem quite thirsty."

  "That'd be nice," said Bilblox with a burp, "though I wouldn't mind trying the light ale."

  "Certainly," said Second-Floor Man.

  "I think you'll like the light ale," said Clink with a smile. "It's really my best stuff."

  "Wait a minute," said Alfonso. "If everyone is locked up, how do you ever see one another?"

  "Ve don't see von another," yelled Third-Floor Lady. "That is how marriage lasted. You think I vould be married turdy-four yearsz if I had to see First-Floor Man evfery day? Ha! Never!"

  "It can be a bit trying at times," said Second-Floor Man. "Of late, both seem to be hard of hearing, which can make relaying messages difficult."

  "I hear vell enough!" yelled both First-Floor Man and Third-Floor Lady at the same time.

  "Of course," yelled Second-Floor Man with an exasperated air. He looked at the group. "Perhaps now that we have a new master life may be a bit cheerier."

  Hill cleared his throat and half-smiled at Second-Floor Man. "I've been meaning to ask you ... Why are you referring to Clink as your master?"

  "Because he wears the master's golden bracelet," explained Second-Floor Man matter-of-factly. "The deed to this lighthouse clearly states that when the master dies he passes on ownership by giving the bracelet to his heir. And now we welcome the Right Honorable Lord Clink to his rightful home!"

  "And you think Clink's honorable?" asked Misty with a mischievous smile.

  "No matter, I am the heir," declared Clink proudly. "I have the bracelet and this is how the old master would have wanted it."

  Bilblox shook his head. "I'll take another refill on the ale," he said.

  "Certainly," said Second-Floor Man.

  "How old is the lighthouse?" asked Alfonso. "It looks ancient."

  "The lighthouse portion was built in the seventeen hundreds by a Kazakh king named Abul Khair Khan
," said Second-Floor Man. "Later it was used as a way station for gold miners who were mining one of the nearby islands. And then, in the late eighteen hundreds, it was taken over by the Groh family and converted into a grand fishing lodge. I can't say exactly how old the foundation is, but quite old—several centuries for certain."

  "Oh it's a great deal older than that," Josephus weakly interjected. For the first time since they had saved him in the Fault Roads, the old historian was awake and somewhat lucid. He was now sitting up on the couch and looked feverish, but alert. "I am sure this structure was built and rebuilt many times," continued Josephus shakily. "But the original foundation is probably well over four thousand years old."

  "Josephus," said Resuza nervously, "are you all right?"

  "Far from it, my dear," he said with a rather sad smile.

  "Would you like some food?" asked Second-Floor Man.

  Josephus shook his head sadly. "I'm afraid I have no appetite," he said tiredly. He looked at Second-Floor Man. "The cellar in this lighthouse—is it long and rectangular and on each end are there several deep holes in the stone, like inlaid buckets?"

  Second-Floor Man looked astonished. "How did you know that? In thirty years, only myself and First-Floor Man have ever set foot down there."

  "Just a hunch," replied Josephus. "That's an old Jasberian cellar, and the holes are used for storing vegetables. I'm sure you find them quite useful; they're perfect for preserving freshness during the long winter months." He looked at the rest of them and shook his head wearily. "I've been studying Jasber my entire life. The lighthouse itself isn't Jasberian, but the foundation is. I remember reading about several outposts built on islands throughout the Sea of Clouds. There were once five guard towers for Jasber."

  "Jasberian?" replied Second-Floor Man. "What a strange name. Is it an old slave trading tribe?"

  Josephus shook his head. He suddenly looked as if he might pass out at any minute. "There should be an island nearby," whispered Josephus hoarsely. "It has sheer gray cliffs that rise out of the water. On the top of the cliffs are thick razor hedges. Do you know the island?"