by Ian Neligh
Two
After eating bologna sandwiches in a friendly silence, Leland followed his aunt upstairs.
She rummaged in the room next door for a bit, then came back and tossed a small flashlight on his bed. It was black and had small creases filed into the metal, giving it a better grip.
“Oh, and just in case you get scared of the dark—like I do,” she said.
“I’m not scared,” he said.
“It’s not nighttime yet,” she joked. She made eye contact with him, smiled, then left to take care of her work in her basement office.
Leland sat down on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He looked at its details until he grew bored. Then he started giving things new names.
The large window next to the bed became a “glass portal,” and the trees just outside were “dark roots.” The farmhouse became “The Keep.” He went on like this, naming everything, sometimes forgetting the names of things he’d titled earlier but then finding better names that stuck.
Piece by piece a new world formed around him. It became his kingdom.
He decided it was a world filled with magical creatures, and Leland was king, a traveling king. Leland wasn’t just a boy anymore, he was a hero, a leader and wanderer of an enchanted land. This transition inside complete, he left his new castle with his squire the dog sniffing close behind.
Three
Outside, floating willow seeds became fairies. He watched them drift from the forest and was extra careful to avoid them as if they were thieves. Birds became flitting scouts and messengers for the wood nymphs. In the barn next to the house, a riding lawnmower and a half-empty can of gasoline became a mechanical chariot, with its dangerous flammable potion. The gravel road became cobblestone, and the fence became a barrier to keep out monsters. Every kingdom had monsters.
And as such, before Leland could continue exploring this strange new land, he would need a weapon that could protect him and his squire on their journey.
Eventually he found what he sought. A large stick floating in the river west of the farmhouse caught his attention. He was careful not to get too close to the river; he knew if he did, a pale hand would come out and pull him into its murky depths. Inching on his stomach closer to the water’s edge, he waited for it.
Quick as a snake, Leland plucked it out of the cool water. The stick was slippery and wet. He turned just in time to see a troll in the process of sneaking up behind him. Saliva poured onto the ground from its gnashing jaws. Leland slashed at it with his new weapon and watched in amazement as the troll turned into a tree. It was not just a sword—it was a magic sword.
It took several days of careful exploration to document the land and its inhabitants. In the morning his aunt would meet him for breakfast, at lunch she would leave a sandwich on the kitchen counter, and they would meet again for dinner. In between those times, Leland was an adventurer, fighting monsters and exploring the treacherous lands and forgotten ruins.
He eventually divided his kingdom into three realms. There was Riverton to the east, where the prideful water elves let slip from their grasps powerful weapons into the mortal world. To the north behind The Keep was a large field. Its giant bales of hay resembled houses and inns. He called this area Township. To the west was the brooding forest of Blackheart.
After fighting off a horde of barbarians to keep Township safe, his squire brought him to the ruins of an ancient building. It lay just inside the forest. No doubt, Leland surmised, it was the remains of a castle destroyed long ago.
Warm sunlight cut through the trees and splashed over what remained of its foundation.
Leland looked around, trying to find a clue as to what had destroyed the castle. To the east Merlin stood lazily under the shade of a cluster of aspen trees. The forest behind Merlin’s pasture was thick and gnarled.
Leland suddenly knew why Merlin had remained in a horse for so many years. Long ago when the savage Thorn King had come from the east, he had destroyed the ancient kingdom for love of wickedness. With great power, the castle enchanter Merlin banished him to the forest prison of Blackheart.
But there was a terrible price for the magic, and Merlin lost his human form. To this day, however, he remained ever vigilant and watchful for the Thorn King, afraid he will once again regain his magic and escape his wooden prison.
“We will help you, Merlin,” Leland said, holding up his sword. “The Thorn King must never be allowed to wreak his havoc upon the land again.”
“Leland,” came his aunt’s voice from across the field. “Time for lunch.”
Leland frowned; she was never around at lunchtime.
“Come on,” he shouted over his shoulder to his squire and began racing across the golden field.
Rex caught up and easily passed him on the way to the kitchen.
Four
His aunt had already prepared him a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and a glass of milk.
“Have a seat, kiddo,” she said, sitting across from him at the small kitchen table. He sat and took a bite.
“How do you like it here?” she asked.
“Oh, I like it fine,” he said after taking a long sip from his cup. He wondered why it was that peanut butter and jelly seemed to glob up in his throat and could only be washed away with cold milk.
She nodded, unable to say anything for a moment. “How would you feel about spending a few more months here?” she finally asked.
Leland took another bite.
“What about school?”
“Well, we have a very nice school not too far from here.”
“Will my parents come live here, too?” he asked, following the question with another bite.
His aunt turned away, trying to think of what to say.
“I’m sure they’ll visit—it’s just for a few more months.”
Leland put down his sandwich, picked up his stick, which was leaning against the table, and ran out the door, letting it slam shut behind him.
She might have called to him, but he ran so hard that the wind in his ears drowned out all the noise except the beating of his heart.
Five
This was the Thorn King’s fault. Somehow he had worked his magic from beyond his prison to keep Leland’s parents away from him. It knew he had pledged to fight it, and it had punished him for it.
He ran faster still, the ground beneath him becoming a blur. Angry, he ran east toward Merlin’s field. The horse watched him as he crawled under the fence and began running across the grassy space. He would have to destroy the Thorn King once and for all. It was the only way to break the spell. He climbed over the last fence, the final barrier, and entered the forest prison of Blackheart.
Determined, he stalked in deeper, waiting for the Thorn King’s goblins to come crawling out from behind the densely packed trees like so many maggots. When they didn’t, he walked in further and lost track of time. It was only when he reached a grove of trees hidden deep in a hollow that he realized his squire hadn’t come with him. The massive willow trees were in an area lower than the rest of the forest. He slid down into the hollow, magic sword ready.
It was darker here because the branches caught windblown leaves from the rest of the forest. The place was scary and still in a way that he hadn’t experienced before. It smelled like mud and rot. Nothing came down here. Ever.
He looked around, and still there were no goblins or Thorn King. He was angry, and why shouldn’t he be? He would have to start a new school, make new friends, start over—again.
Frustrated, he threw his sword at the closest tree. The stick hit it right where the branches started, knocking loose a collection of dead leaves, which sprinkled to the ground like snow. Just inside the cleared area a skull peered out at him.
Leland stopped and stared at it, thinking at first that it was a trick of light, but as he got closer, the more defined it became. Frightened, he began scanning the ground for his missing sword, when the skull spoke.
“Got some gum, chum?” it asked
without moving its mouth. The voice was deep and gravelly.
Leland took a sudden step back.
“That’s too bad,” it said, grinning. “I haven’t tasted anything sweet for so long.”
More leaves blew away, revealing that the skull was attached to a body that lay twisted in different angles among the dense lower branches. It wore a tattered green uniform and was in some type of harness. Leland took another step back.
“Don’t go yet,” it pleaded. “I haven’t talked with anyone in a goddamn dog’s age.”
Leland inched still further away. Without his sword, he was powerless.
“Well, maybe you could do me a favor then? Shit, you woke me up, the least you could do for me is a favor,” it said. Its black sockets seemed to follow him.
“Wh-what?” asked Leland. “What kind of favor?”
“Praise be! It does talk,” the skeleton said. “Well, I never.”
“What do you want?” asked Leland.
“Stupid training exercise, stupid parachute—if I’d been a regular grunt, I coulda gone over to Germany and killed all the Nazis I’d ever want without jumping out of a damn airplane. They needed me over there, kid, nobody was as good at killin’ as I was. Hell, I did it before the war for free, and they was gonna pay me to do it? Lord Almighty.”
“What kind of favor do you want?” Leland asked again, his voice cracking.
“I’ve been hangin’ in this ol’ tree for an awful long time, and I got this hankerin’ to stretch my legs out and go for a proper stroll.”
Leland hesitated, searching again at the forest floor for his sword.
“Who are you?” he asked, looking up at the grim face hanging from the branches. He tensed to run, but then he saw his sword lying on a bed of moss.
“Who, me? I’m the goddamn Thorn King, boy.”
Leland darted for his sword, bent down, and snatched it up.
“Let me out of this tree, kid, or I swear when the frost comes, I’ll grow strong and slide from these branches like a snake to the ground—I’ll come get you in your sleep.”
Almost tripping on a root, Leland regained his balance and ran as fast as he could from the hollow.
“You hear me, kid? I’ll wrap my bony fingers around your throat and drag you kickin’ and screamin’ away from the world of the living.”
The skeleton shrieked after him as he began to run faster than he ever had before in his life. Recklessly he traversed Blackheart forest as the shouts grew muffled. He scraped his shin as he scampered over Merlin’s fence, which spooked the horse. Leland darted across the field to the castle, refusing to look behind him.
Six
All night he stayed awake in his bed, staring at the forest in the light of a full moon. Remembering the skeleton’s promise, Leland gave the forest a wide berth as summer crept into autumn. Unable to stop it, he watched the leaves turn yellow and fall to the ground. As they did the forest grew thin, almost as if clearing the way for the Thorn King to come. He didn’t tell his aunt. She would just say it was his imagination.
He was almost able to make himself believe that it was all in his head, too. But at night, when the weather cooled, he knew the skeleton waited, slowly inching itself closer to the ground. It was two days before the start of school and already there was an early morning frost nipping at the ground. He knew soon the skeleton would come for him.
“Aren’t you hungry?”
Leland looked up from his cereal bowl at his aunt.“Nope.”
“Nervous about school, huh?” she asked. When he didn’t respond, she brought up a large gift-wrapped package from under the table. She slid it across to him. “Open it,” she said.
Leland moved his bowl aside and began tearing off the brightly colored paper. Inside was a backpack.
“It’s for your, um, magic potions, or school books— whatever you choose to fit in there,” she said, smiling.
Leland felt like crying. His eyes began to water. There was no way to tell her that he wouldn’t be alive for the first day of school. Seeing his face, she got up and gave him a reassuring hug.
“Don’t worry. Whatever happens, I’ll be there for you,” she said, ruffling his hair. “We can face it together.” But Leland knew in his heart that some things you have to face yourself. That night he snuck down the stairs and out the front door with his backpack. His squire perked up from where he slept in his doghouse and came running over.
“I’m going on a dangerous mission,” he said. “You don’t have to go with me.”
But the dog eagerly followed him. Leland went to the barn and picked up the can of flame potion. In his pocket he had a yellow lighter he’d borrowed from his aunt’s candle shelf. Putting the can in his backpack, he started hiking across the dark field. The moon was a sliver and provided just enough light to see by, but in case it got darker, Leland brought along his new flashlight. He reached Merlin’s field, tossed his bag over the fence, and crawled under it. Then he slowly walked across to the other side. Merlin walked with him, and Rex trailed behind. He wondered if it was cold enough that the skeleton had already been able to free itself from the tree. Or maybe it was making its way to him through the dark forest even now. Maybe they would meet in the woods. The thought hastened him over the last fence and into the Blackheart woods. It became much darker, and he was forced to take out his flashlight and push the button on its side. A moderate yellow beam spread out on the bushes in front of him. He could see his breath in the air, dancing over his head like ghosts. Somewhere out there in the darkness the Thorn King waited. Several times, as he made his way in deeper, he wanted to turn around and run back the way he’d come. But he was certain if he did, he’d feel the skeletal fingers creep up on his neck and squeeze, no matter how fast he ran.
He would not run. He was King Leland, and it was his job to destroy the evil that lurked in his lands. As they reached the hollow the dog started to growl, seeing something that Leland could not. They slid down into the patch of trees. His flashlight beam swung from one tree to the next as he tried to remember which one it had been. Leland swallowed nervously as he tried to look everywhere at once. Then Rex started barking. The dog wasn’t at his side anymore.
“Rex?” he called out into the thicket. More barking. Leland started running toward the sound, the light of his flashlight bouncing up and down along the trees.
He came out from behind a thicket and saw the dog looking up. Leland froze. The skeleton half hung out of the tree, its long fingers inches from the ground. The skull was twisted to the side, looking out from the tree.
“I see you,” it said, its black eye sockets appraising him. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”
Without thinking, Leland took the can out of his bag and twisted off its metal top. The skeleton watched him silently as Leland started pouring gasoline around the tree. He was afraid to get too close, so he splashed it on from as far away as he could. The skeleton watched, knowing he would have to step in close to light it. It waited, looking somehow amused.
“Say, pal, you’ve got me all wrong. I can be your friend. Just wait and see. Maybe you’ll come a little closer so I can pull your intestines out your mouth.”
Leland threw some gas on the skeleton, then stepped back. It seemed to inch even closer to the ground. It was trying to touch the earth. Leland dumped the last of the potion onto his sword. Then, taking out the lighter, he struck a flame. It lit up brilliantly.
“I banish you, Thorn King, from this realm,” Leland said in the light of the yellow flame.
Before the skeleton could say or do anything more, Leland threw the burning sword at him. Fire engulfed the bones in a curtain of blue-and-white fire. As the stick dropped to the ground, the dead tree went up in a flash. The heat pushed Leland back, and he watched the fire grow, turning the skull black and burning its tattered uniform and parachute harness off. The tree split open from the heat, and the skeleton fell to the ground, a pile of bones. After the fire had burnt out, Leland walked back to the
farm, past the horse’s corral, and into the barn, where he put the gas can back in its place. He crept like a mouse back into the house and into his room. He lay on his bed for a moment before he noticed his aunt standing in the doorway.
“Where were you?”
“Fighting monsters.”
“Did you beat them?”
“Yes.”
In the darkness Leland could tell she was smiling. He smiled back.
One
“And that’s the way we like it,” Carl said, trying to open the old window without success. It rattled in place but did not budge. “Nice and secure. Nothing coming in or out.”
It was a big window that looked out on the mortuary’s front lawn, its memorial benches, and the road trailing off into the tree line. The old security guard, with his toadlike face, made eye contact with him.
“You paying attention?” he asked, his frown deepening.
“Yes, sir,” Jon said.
“Good, ’cause I’m only going to run through the night duties one time, and I expect you to pay close attention,” Carl said, reaching forward and flicking the security-guard patch on Jon’s new blue uniform.
“You’re going to have to do more than just wear the uniform and earn a paycheck.” He turned away and continued the tour. “Believe me, there’s work to be done, and by the end of the night, if you haven’t done it—I’ll know it.” Jon followed the man as he walked across the black-and-white-checkered floor to the carpeted staircase. It went to the second level, which loomed above them.
With the main room’s grand chandelier, it reminded Jon of a mansion in an old movie.
From over the waist-high railing on the second floor you could look down on chessboard tiles below, and, during the day, the mourning families as they came in and out. Under the stairs was a closet and a breakable glass case with a fire axe and extinguisher.
“If you make a mess that’s where you can find a mop,” Carl said pointing to the closet.
When Jon had answered the help-wanted ad in the back of the local newspaper for Kerrigan’s Mortuary and Funeral Services, he was looking for a no-hassle summer job, something to keep him gainfully employed before the fall semester. He had worked in the town’s crab shack one summer cleaning tables and the following summer selling luggage to tourists.