Adventures In Otherworld Part One - The Chalice of Hope

by Michael Kerr

CHAPTER TWELVE –

  LAND OF THE VAMPIRES

  They crept under the cart and hoped that the giant hand did not pick it up. All they could do was keep still and wait for the danger to pass.

  Sam found it almost impossible to believe that she was just an ordinary girl, who liked to listen to pop music, go to the multiplex, and study hard, hoping to gain a place at uni in a few years time. She now felt like Alice in Wonderland. Nothing was what it seemed to be. This wasn’t a nice world at all, apart from Fig, Speedy, Gorf and Pook. And if they got away from the castle, they would have to somehow find Pintello and get the chalice back. If that wasn’t enough, Peter had told them that the only way to the Lake of Life was through the Land of the Vampires. She had watched Buffy, Angel, and The Vampire Diaries on telly, and had seen other more frightening movies about vampires, and really didn’t want to meet any. The thought of being bitten on the neck and having her blood sucked out, made her shudder. But the immediate problem was hovering above them in the shape of the enormous hand. They all watched as a massive finger and thumb closed together on Lord Sylvester’s head and picked him up. Tommy couldn’t help but hope that Sylvester would be crushed, or at very least be dropped from a great height.

  It seemed hours before the top of the castle was replaced. Ben believed that they were in a land of giants, where a child had been playing with his or her toys.

  They waited a while longer, and the footmen standing next to the cart came to life again.

  “You’re just toys,” Tommy said to them as he crawled out from under the cart.

  “This is true,” one of them replied. “But we can come to life when the giants are not around.”

  “How?” Tommy asked.

  “I don’t know,” the footman said. “We just do.”

  They all climbed into the cart, and the horses pulled it at a gallop, bouncing and swaying along a rutted track, through a forest, to where it eventually came to a stop in front of a high wall.

  “We’re not back at the dragon preserve are we?” Speedy asked.

  “No,” said the more talkative of the two footmen. “Through there,” and he pointed to a large wooden door, “is Outworld, where you must go.”

  As they stepped down to the ground, the man driving the cart cracked his whip, and the two horses turned and sped back the way they had come, kicking up a cloud of dust.

  Gorf went over to the door. There was no handle, only a knocker in the shape of a monster’s head, which was fashioned from metal that was stained green. The face was fierce and glaring, and iron teeth gripped a big ring in an open mouth. Gorf grasped the ring and swung it against the door three times. There was no reply. He knocked again, louder and longer, only stopping when he heard a voice from the other side of the door.

  “Hold it down, willya? I ain’t deaf!”

  “Then let us in,” Gorf said.

  “Ya mean out, dontcha?”

  “Whichever,” Gorf replied. “Just let us through the door.”

  “No can do. We’re closed. Come back in a coupla days.”

  “He sounds American,” Tommy said.

  “Do you want me to have to go to the trouble of climbing this wall, and probably being in a very bad mood when I get down to where you are?” Gorf said in a threatening voice.

  “Ha! Ya can’t climb the wall, bozo. There ain’t no top to it. There’s here where I am, and there’s there where youse is. And this door’s the only way through.”

  “Please, sir,” Sam said. “We have to go south to the Lake of Life. It’s a matter of life and death.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “Three humans, two fairies, a...a Gorf, and a bear,” Sam answered; not sure now what Gorf thought he was.

  “Are ya a goil?”

  “If you mean, a girl, yes. My name is Sam.”

  “Sam’s a guy’s name.”

  “It’s short for Samantha. Who are you?”

  “I’m the doorman. And without a password, ya ain’t comin’ in. Not now, not ever.”

  “Pintello told us you would let us through,” Ben said, sure that the jester must have passed through the door, if Peter had been right in saying he had headed south from the castle.

  “So why didn’t he tell me to expect ya?”

  “Maybe he was in a hurry and forgot to mention it,” Ben said.

  “And maybe you’re tryin’ to kid a kidder.”

  “What’s your name?” Sam asked.

  “If ya gotta know, it’s Aubrey. And I’m older than ma teeth, and wiser than a fat owl, so don’t think you can fool me into openin’ up. Why dontcha all just go back where ya came from and give ma ears a rest, huh?”

  “That ain’t gonna happen, Aub’,” Fig said, imitating his voice perfectly. “We’ll just build a big fire in front of your lousy door and burn it down. How does that grab ya?”

  “It’d take ya a week to burn through this. It’s two feet thick.”

  “We’ve got no other way to go,” Sam said. “Even if it takes a month, we’ll get in.”

  Aubrey went quiet for a while. They then heard the scraping of metal against wood. Bolts were withdrawn and the door swung open.

  “So come in,” Aubrey said. “Welcome to the real woild.”

  “What’s a woild?” Pook asked.

  “A bear with a sense of humour, that’s cute. But don’t mock me, it ain’t polite.”

  “I only asked,” Pook said. “And I don’t know what mock means, either.”

  “It means, among other things, to make fun of someone.”

  “Sorry, Mr. Aubrey. I only wondered what a woild was.”

  “It’s just Aubrey. An’ the woild is the world, if ya don’t talk proper like what I do.”

  Ben looked about him and thought something was wrong with his eyes. There was no colour. Everything was black, grey and white, like an ancient movie on TV.

  “Is everything―?”

  “Black and white,” Tommy said, nodding.

  They all saw it the same way.

  “Why are there no colours, Aubrey?” Sam asked the doorman.

  “Who knows?” he replied. “I’m a doorman, not a scientist.”

  Aubrey was in fact a very large bird: An ostrich with a long neck and legs, and wings ending in thick stubby feathers that he used as fingers.

  “So whatcha all starin’ at?” Aubrey asked.

  “You,” Tommy said. “You’re a bird.”

  “What’s wrong with bein’ a boid?”

  “Nothing at all,” Sam said. “We’ve just never met an ostrich that speaks with an American accent.”

  “I was hatched an’ raised in Central Park Zoo, New York City,” Aubrey said. “One day I escaped, got lost in some thick, pink fog, an’ ended up here. The guy who owns this wall thought I’d make a good doorman, so gave me the power to speak.”

  “How long is it since Pintello came through?” Fig asked.

  “I ain’t very good with time,” Aubrey said. “But it can’t have been too long ago, or I’d have already forgotten. Trouble with bein’ a boid is, I’ve got a boid’s brain.”

  “Don’t you keep a record of who comes in and out?” Ben asked.

  “Oh, sure,” Aubrey said, lowering his neck to the ground and picking up a bark-covered book with his large beak.

  Ben took it from him and opened it. The latest entry was for Pintello and Turquin. There was no date or time. Flipping back through the pages, Ben saw that the jester had passed through the door at least a dozen times. Ben closed the book and handed it back to Aubrey.

  “There are no dates or times in the book,” Ben said.

  “That’s ‘cause I never know what day it is, an’ time ain’t important,” Aubrey said.

  “Do you know where Pintello and the dwarf went?” Fig asked.

  “Yeah, that’s easy. There’s only one road here. It leads to the lake. But if ya try to get there, don’t travel at night.”

  “
Why not?” Tommy asked.

  “ ‘Cause ya have to pass through the Land of the Vampires, who are the livin’ dead, an’ can only leave their lairs in darkness.”

  “Can we get through this land in one day?” Sam asked.

  Aubrey shook his head. “No, it’s a two day trip, kiddo. You’ll have to find somewhere to hide at night. But don’t go in caves. That’s where they hang out. Ha! That’s funny. They spend a lotta time as bats...Get it? Hang out. I shoulda been a comedian.”

  They all smiled.

  “Where do you suggest we hide?” Ben asked.

  “Search me. I don’t go anywhere near ‘em. Just take plenny of wild garlic with ya. That’s what Pintello does.”

  “Thanks, Aubrey. We’d best make a start,” Sam said. “Do you want to come with us? We’re going to try to get home from the Crossroads of Time. You might be able to get back to New York.”

  “Thanks for the offer, but no thanks,” Aubrey said. “I’d only be locked up in the zoo again. Or treated like a freak an’ sold to a circus. I don’t wanna be known as Aubrey the Talkin’ Ostrich.”

  They signed Aubrey’s gate book, said goodbye to him, and set off along the winding road, stopping once to pick garlic, that Gorf sniffed out in a meadow. Later, as the light failed, they found the ruins of an old cottage. It looked as if it had been burned down. The roof was missing, and only a few charred beams remained over a shell of crumbling, blackened walls.

  Speedy discovered a trapdoor under the thick ash and clay tiles that littered the rotting floor. The steps leading down into the cellar beneath it creaked and groaned under their weight, but did not give way. They checked every inch of the room for bats or anything else that might be a vampire in disguise, but found nothing.

  Tommy split open a bulb of the garlic and wiped it on his face and neck, and the others followed suit.

  “Wipe some on me, too,” Pook said to Tommy. “I’d rather smell bad than end up sucked dry in my sleep.”

  “You can all get some rest,” Gorf said. “I’ll stand guard.”

  “Just don’t invite anyone or anything inside, Gorf,” Tommy said. “Vampires have to be made welcome, or they can’t enter people’s homes.”

  “But this isn’t our home,” Ben said. “They might not need permission to come in here.”

  “A wooden stake through the heart kills them,” Tommy said. “So if one did attack us, Gorf could shoot it with an arrow. That might work just as well.”

  “What if real vampires aren’t bothered by garlic, or can’t be killed by stakes and stuff?” Sam said. “They aren’t real in our world, remember, just fiction.”

  “We have to believe that they are as we think of them. It’s all we can do,” Tommy said.

  It was a very long and cold night in the cellar. Something howled in the distance. And a little later they heard a scrabbling of feet or claws on the floor above them.

  As soon as the first rays of the sun filtered through holes and cracks, they went back up the stairs to leave the ruins of the cottage and set off again, walking fast.

  For mile after mile they followed the dirt road, not even stopping when they drank water. The scenery around them was gloomy and full of shadows. The road led them through a mountain pass, and the tall, pointed cliffs that rose on either side were as black as coal. The sky was grey, and large vultures or buzzards circled high above them. There was no sound, other than when they spoke to each other, which wasn’t often.

  By mid afternoon, racks of dark clouds gathered over them and it started to rain. At first it was just a fine drizzle, but the wind picked up and the rain became heavier and was blown almost sideways at them. They were soon in the middle of a raging storm. The thunder sounded like bombs exploding, and jagged forks of lightning lit the sky. One bolt struck a nearby tree, splitting it in two and making the ground shake.

  “We’ll have to stop,” Fig shouted. “It’s too dangerous to carry on.”

  “Where?” Ben yelled back at the top of his voice, to be heard above the pounding rain.

  They leaned forward and forced themselves onward against the lashing gale that threatened to knock them off their feet and blow them backwards. Being the biggest and heaviest, Gorf led the way, and the others stayed in single file behind him, sheltered a little from the worst of the weather. Gorf’s wide, webbed feet helped him to keep his balance. He was used to trudging through sandstorms, and so was not too bothered about wind and rain. All that did worry him a little was the lightning. It was crashing down like crooked silver spears, and he knew that if one or all of them was hit, then they would be instantly killed.

  Minutes later, Sam pulled at the back of Gorf’s tunic. “Look,” she shouted, pointing to a building that resembled a small castle, not built from bricks, but carved out of the black rock face.

  Gorf shook his head. “There might be vampires inside,” he said.

  “We only need to stay until the storm passes,” Sam argued.

  Gorf thought about it and decided that it was worth the risk. He was not sure what a vampire was, but was sure that he was strong enough to overcome one. He headed towards where stone steps led up to the entrance. The door at the top of them was shut but not locked. They hurried inside, and Gorf closed it behind them.

  The large central hall had doorways leading off it on both sides. And in front of them was a magnificent wide staircase leading up into the darkness. Every surface was covered in dust an inch thick, and cobwebs hung like rotting ship’s rigging from the ceiling.

  Sam walked over to the first doorway on her left. Through it was a large room with furniture covered in damp sheets spotted with mould. And the thick flock wallpaper was coming away from the walls and curling down. She went over to a stone fireplace that was taller than Gorf.

  “We should light a fire,” she said. “We need to get dry and warm.”

  “We need to get away from here,” Tommy said. “I bet this is where the vampires live.”

  “It doesn’t look as if anyone has lived here for a hundred years,” Ben said. “Look at all the dust and cobwebs. It’s deserted.”

  Tommy shivered. “Don’t bet on it. This is probably Dracula’s castle.”

  “Dracula was just made up by some writer,” Ben said.

  “You hope. Don’t forget we’re in Weirdworld, where anything can happen.”

  “Let’s dry off, and then we can search the place,” Sam said. “If there are any vampires, we’ll leave. But if there aren’t, we should stay the night.”

  For a fire, they broke up a couple of chairs for kindling, and Gorf used two arrowheads to strike together and make sparks to set light to a page that Ben ripped from one of the many leather-bound books he found in a bookcase that filled one wall.

  “Downstairs first,” Sam said when they were warm and a little drier. “There must be cellars. That’s where any bloodsuckers’ll be.”

  Gorf tore a long strip off one of the curtains, wrapped and tied it to the end of a chair leg, and smeared the material with some of the goose fat he had kept to polish his bow with. It made a fine torch. As usual, he went first. They found a door under the staircase, which led down into an enormous vaulted crypt. In it, scores of stone shelves lined the walls, and on each one was a wooden coffin.

  “See,” Tommy whispered. “I was right. This is headquarters of Vampires-R-Us.”

  “Let’s open one,” Sam said, walking over to the nearest coffin. “I want to see what they look like.”

  The lid was not nailed or screwed down, and so Sam pushed it back very slowly, ready to jump away if anything inside it moved.

  Puffs of dust rose into the air as the lid creaked back. And By the light of Gorf’s torch they all looked in at the remains that rested on a layer of dark soil at the bottom of the coffin. The skeleton inside was not going to harm anyone. Someone had driven a thick wooden stake through its ribs, over where its heart would have been. The skull
appeared to be human, but the two large and pointed fangs set in its top jaw were definitely not. They checked every single coffin. All of them contained skeletons which had stakes through them; embedded in the soil they rested on.

  We’re safe,” Tommy said. “They’re all dead.

  “Not all of them,” a raspy voice said from the doorway behind them.

  They swung round to be confronted by a hideous sight.

  The vampire was tall and extremely thin. It had wispy, silver hair, its ears were large and crinkly like cabbage leaves, and its eyes and thin lips were the same white as the parchment-thin skin that was stretched tightly over its skull.

  Ben took a step forward and threw a handful of garlic bulbs at it.

  “What did you do that for?” the vampire asked him.

  “It’s garlic,” Ben said. “You’re supposed to cringe away from it.”

  “Why?”

  “Well, er, because vampires are allergic to garlic.”

  “I didn’t know that. I’ve heard we don’t like crosses and stuff. But most of what is believed is not true.”

  Gorf raised his bow. He wasn’t about to stand and talk all day with an undead monster that probably intended to try and drink their blood. He fired, and the arrow hit the vampire exactly where he supposed its heart would be. The wooden shaft sank almost up to the feathered flight, but the vampire just frowned, then raised a large hand with veins like ropes on the back of it and plucked the arrow out with two-inch-long, curved fingernails. It examined the arrow and shook its head. “Wrong sort of wood, I’m pleased to say. You need a particular type of mountain ash, which has been seasoned for seven years and steeped in holy water by at very least a bishop. But why did you do it? You don’t even know me.”

  “We know that you’re a vampire,” Sam said. “And that you drink blood.”

  “Not entirely true, young lady. I can’t stand the stuff. That’s why I’m a little anaemic looking. I eat a little meat, but blood gives me terrible indigestion.”

  “Are you Count Dracula?” Pook asked.

  “No. He was slain a very long time ago. My name is Charlie. Who are you?”

  Sam introduced them, and Gorf apologised for shooting Charlie.

  “No harm done. Let’s go upstairs,” Charlie said. “This place gives me the creeps, with all these coffins and bones.”

  “Don’t you sleep down here during the day?” Tommy asked.

  “Not likely, Tommy. I spend most days up in the attic. It has a great view of the mountains. I stopped sleeping in a coffin many years ago, before the vampire hunters came here and killed all the others. I think I must have claustrophobia. I can’t stand being cooped up in small spaces. I use a regular bed, and have thick drapes up at the windows to keep out the sunlight.”

  Back upstairs, they took the sheets off the settees and chairs and made themselves comfortable.

  Charlie felt a little dizzy, due to it not quite being completely dark. But with the storm clouds blanketing the sun, and being inside, he thought he would be okay.

  “What do you do, if you don’t go out sucking people’s blood, Charlie?” Tommy asked.

  “I spend the days reading, painting, and writing. And at night I sometimes change into a bat and fly around with a local bunch I know. Or I turn into a wolf and jog through the woods with a pack that moved into the area last year.”

  “Don’t you ever get lonely?” Sam asked.

  “Sometimes,” Charlie said. “But it goes with the patch.”

  “Why don’t you come with us on our journey, Charlie?” Pook said.

  “It would be too awkward, having to stay covered up all day. And this is my home. I belong here.”

  “Maybe if you wore shades and slapped a strong sun block on your face and hands, you could go out in daylight,” Tommy suggested, then explained what shades and sun block were, when Charlie looked blank.

  “Too risky, Tommy. If one ray of sun touched me, I’d be toast.”

  As they spoke, a large moth flew into the room and began to circle one of the torches that Charlie had lit and placed in holders on the walls. He furled his black cape around himself, changed into a bat, and flew up to wrap his leathery wings around the insect and eat it. When he turned back into a vampire, he was chewing, and the end of one of the moth’s wings was sticking out from between his lips.

  “I thought you didn’t like blood?” Ben said.

  Charlie shrugged. “Sorry about that,” he said. “I can’t resist moths. And they don’t have blood like yours. They’re very creamy, a little like marshmallow inside.”

  “You’ve got a leg on your chin,” Speedy told him.

  Charlie found it with his tongue and popped it into his mouth. “Thanks,” he said. “Are you all hungry? Would you like some fresh deer meat, or maybe some fox head stew?”

  “The meat sounds good,” Gorf said. But the others shook their heads.

  As Gorf carved himself large slices of raw venison from the side of deer that Charlie had fetched from another part of the castle, the rest of them talked.

  “We’re on our way to the Lake of Life,” Sam said. “But first we need to find a jester called Pintello. Do you know if he passed this way, Charlie?”

  “A small man with an even smaller companion went by before dawn,” Charlie said. “Does that sound like who you are looking for?”

  “Yes,” Sam said. “He’s stolen something from us, and we have to get it back.”

  “May I ask what he took from you?”

  “A cup made of gold,” Ben said. “It’s a chalice, and it’s magical. If the Dark One gets hold of it, then everything good that exists might cease to be.”

  “I’m afraid you may be too late,” Charlie said. “for the town of Ujimar stands on the shore of the lake. It’s a place where all sorts of thieves and murderers trade in stolen property, and will kill for the price of a tankard of ale. It is likely that this Pintello has already reached there and sold the chalice to the highest bidder.”

  “I can’t believe we’ve come all this way for nothing,” Sam said.

  Charlie looked thoughtful. “Perhaps not. It’s dusk. I shall change into a bat again and fly over the mountains in the direction of town. Maybe I’ll come across this jester, and might be able to retrieve your gold cup.”

  “Thank you, Charlie,” Sam said. “We’ll set off now and meet you on the road.”

  Gorf opened the castle door, and Charlie, having shape shifted into a bat, flew off in pursuit of the two thieves.

  ―