Ender of Worlds: A Morgan Rook Supernatural Thriller (The Order of Shadows Book 4)

by Kit Hallows

  We hit the pool below. My coat spared me the brunt of the fall but the impact forced the air from my lungs. Ice-cold water filled my mouth and bubbles rose around me like shoals of round glassy fish. We struck the rocky bottom, hard. Osbert had me in his fists, his gimlet eyes boring into mine. He’d drown both of us if it meant getting the job done.

  I pulled a knife from my sopping wet shoulder bag and stabbed at him.

  Osbert roared in a torrent of tiny air bubbles, grabbed my wrist and wrenched it, forcing the weapon from my hand. I lashed out, punching at the clouded bloody water.

  I seized the opportunity, as Osbert clutched his side, to turn and swim away, booting him in the face as I scrambled toward the shore. I broke the surface and gasped for air before half wading, half crawling as my shoulder bag dragged along the rocks like a dead weight.

  I was near the edge of the pool when I heard him burst from the water. “Rook!” he shouted and all traces of the awkward teenager he’d cloaked himself as were gone.

  Before I could reach the trees, he grabbed the strap of my bag and yanked me back. The wet worn leather snapped and the bag and its contents splashed into the water and mud around me. A fist caught me under the chin, thrusting my head back. I tried to stumble away but Osbert’s ham-like hand grasped my throat and hurled me down.

  The water slapped my face as I went under. I reached for the ground to propel myself back up but he’d seized the scruff of my neck and held me firm. Bubbles surged from my mouth as I screamed in rage and panic. There was no hyperbole in his threat, he was going to kill me.

  I reached up to pry his hand away, my nails seeking purchase in his flesh, but his warty hide was too taut and tough. I held what was left of my breath, tried to calm myself and concentrate, but my chest convulsed and his hand had become an unmovable object.

  I’m going to die. The thought was eerily serene and matter of fact. A simple truth. A minnow darted past me and I watched it as it vanished into the murk, then I closed my eyes and sought to focus a final assault on his hand. I grabbed it and pulled with everything I had.

  It wasn’t enough.

  Darkness crept across my vision and the final scrap of air I’d held left my lips.

  Move.

  My dark other had spoken. His first words since we’d fought Wyght.

  Part of me wanted to deny him, to keep him locked away; dead and buried. But my will to survive overrode all else and shoved my consciousness aside.

  He seized Osbert’s hand and focused hard, drawing the magic thrumming through the ogre’s veins, into our own. He absorbed every scrap he could then punched the ogre in his wounded side. Osbert gasped and released us for a moment, but grabbed hold again.

  A heavy pounding rang through my head like the tolling bell of a condemned man. Images flashed past my eyes. Willow laughing. Tom on a park bench feeding pigeons. The portal, the asylum. Mountains in another world…

  A gift for you! My other clamped both hands on Osbert’s warty wrist. His bones snapped, and the ogre released me and staggered back. I broke the water, gasping for air. My lungs burned and a heavy ache stole through my chest as I watched my other turn back to Osbert.

  The ogre was gripping his wrist, his face filled with agony. As he snarled, I caught a glimpse of the scorched and blackened flesh on his arm.

  My other tore open my sodden coat and reached for my sword. No! I put everything I had in trying to wrestle his consciousness back from the forefront.

  Finish him! he growled, his words laced with fury.

  There was no time to finish Osbert off. I had to get out of there fast. If the ogre had found me, other agents could be close behind. I stumbled into the woods, my coat sopping wet as I reached for a crystal that wasn’t there. All I had was my sword and the apple in my coat pocket.

  Another roar of fury echoed off the trees. “I’ll find you, Rook!” Osbert cried. “I always find what I’m looking for. Always! And when I get my hands on you, I’ll choke you with your own guts. You hurt me, you fucking prick!” He sounded as upset and distressed as he was angry. As if I’d betrayed him and irrevocably damaged our friendship. Not that his tracking me down and trying to kill me wouldn’t have done that already.

  I ran, my clothes weighty and sodden as I tore through the ferns and brambles with Osbert crashing through the brush behind me. He was a good tracker, one of our best but he was wounded and he seemed as disoriented as I was as he stumbled and veered off into the forest.

  A flash of light glowed in the trees ahead.

  Someone else was here.

  Ebomee? Rhymes? Humble?

  I had to get out, and fast. I pulled the apple from my pocket and it lit up the gloom as I took a bite.

  It was like no other fruit I’d ever tasted. My teeth pierced through the skin, sank into the apple's flesh and its heady flavors instantly overwhelmed me. Sweet, sour and crisp. Its juice ran down my chin and the world seemed to glow as every leaf and twig appeared in startling detail and absolute clarity.

  I spotted Osbert thundering through the ferns, keeping pace a few feet to one side. Then a suited figure appeared to my left, its flashlight arcing through the night like the tail of a comet.

  I took one more bite of the apple, knowing it was enough to push me over the edge and into the other realm. With that mouthful, a heavy lethargy stole over me and my eyelids turned leaden as I thrust the remains of the apple into my pocket. I had to sleep, the lights were going out and fast. I stopped and slid down a tree trunk, and my eyes fell shut of their own volition.

  The world seemed to tremble and shake, and amid the tumult I felt myself shift from one reality to another, and I knew without a shadow of a doubt I’d left the blinkered realm behind.

  21

  I slept in-between odd, restless dreams. Dreams that seemed to know they were being dreamt in another world. Dreams of a stranger in an even stranger place. Dreams that were being shared by others. I heard conscious cold whispers, as if hidden observers were privy to my most naive vulnerabilities and discussed them from the shadows. From time to time there were sharp fits of laughter as well as deadening silences.

  When I woke my back was still against a tree, but the forest was gone and in its place was a meadow of blindingly green grass. Ahead the land dropped off under an expanse of sky as deep blue as a sapphire. I squinted against the glare of the sun, which was as huge and as golden as honey. But it was an unfamiliar light, one that had never guided me or shone upon on the place I’d left behind. Or indeed any place I'd ever been.

  I forced myself to my feet amid the carpet of crunchy acorns at the base of an ancient oak tree.

  “On your way!” A small irritable voice blurted out.

  I turned left then right, there was no one around… then I glanced up into the lush leafy boughs to find a long fuzzy face spying from the foliage. Its two nut-brown eyes blinked rapidly and then with an angry whisper, followed by a rustle, the watcher vanished into the canopy.

  The meadow that stood behind the tree stretched for miles and I could see hills in the distance and a colossal stone tower. But I turned back toward the fallow field that I'd faced when I woke and headed for the wide pebbled path of chalky stone and flint that ran along its far side.

  The track wound by the edge of a sheer cliff that overlooked a vast sparkling azure sea. Its intense vibrancy was stunning, almost hypnotic and I watched as immense grey and black dolphin-like creatures broke through the surface and frolicked in the waves. The spray tossed up by their enormous tails fell like thousands of silver coins.

  “What are you mooning at?” asked a dry, raspy voice.

  I turned to find an old man standing on the track behind me. And then I realized it was actually a painfully thin old woman in faded brown rags. She had a long white beard and her eyes were outlined in heavy smudged black makeup. Her clothes appeared to be stitched together from offcuts and the pieces all came together in a crazy mishmash of shapes, textures and weaves. Then a piebald horse with an anc
ient leather pack wandered up behind her and peered over her shoulder. The animal looked about ready to stagger into a glue factory and give itself up and it eyed me suspiciously before letting out a low, mocking snort.

  “Care to buy some beans?” the old lady asked as she opened her palm and nodded for me to approach. Ten tiny orange beans glowed like wet jewels as they wriggled and danced in her grimy withered hand. “They’re special.”

  “You telling me they’re magic beans?”

  “Oh, it does talk, Gerald,” she said to the horse. “I told you it would.”

  “Doesn’t he just,” the horse said, his voice as weary as his eyes.

  “Well, young fellow, would you consider them magic if they stopped a fool traveling through these parts from starving. Some might consider that a miracle. Others might consider it a curse.” Her voice was laced with the sharp cruelty I often found in the lonely and friendless.

  “Thanks, I think I’ll pass,” I said.

  The woman stroked her beard and looked me up and down. “You’re new to this place, aren’t you?”

  “I woke up here. Just now. Below that…” I was about to say tree, when I glanced back and spotted it shuffling off into the distance.

  “Tricked were you?” the woman asked. “Did they promise you a hill of gold? Swap your child for a changeling? Or did they tempt you with the most perfectly marvelous fruit?”

  “Yeah, an apple. But I knew what it was meant to do.” My words seemed to take the wind out of her sails and she looked almost disappointed.

  “I came from your world, not that I remember it much. T'was long long ago, centuries I expect.” Her eyes flitted over me, sizing me up once more. She licked her lips, a fast, habitual gesture. “They tricked me, trapped me here, and then they cursed me with this.” She pointed to her beard. “Watch yourself with the folk ‘round here, they can be cruel. Crueler than our kind.”

  “I’ll be on my guard.” Starting with you. I glanced below my coat. My holster was empty and my bag of tricks was long gone, but I still had my sword. If it came to it. “I’m looking for someone-”

  “Robble Heatherby?” she asked, her eyes eager. “He needs putting down, so he does. Or is it Catty Mopsnide? Dried up sniveling bitch. You lookin’ to exact some revenge, are you? You have the air of an assassin. There’s murder and vengeance in those eyes of yours. That’s what I see, and so I’m telling you.”

  “I’m looking for Erland Underwood. Do you know him?”

  Her shoulders sank then she sighed and nodded. “I know him. He was rushed to the village a few days back. Bleeding like a stuck pig he was. Caught the attention of some very dark folk, he did.” Her gaze danced over me. Whatever she was planning wasn’t going to be good.

  “Can you tell me where I can find him?”

  “Stick to the path. After eight or ten furlongs it'll take a dip. Woooossshhh!” Her eyes twinkled as she made a sweeping motion with her hand. “Keep on going, ‘cause you ain’t there yet. You’ll have to take a short jaunt through the woods but you’ll come out the other side as fresh as a summer daisy. Then you’ll see Kebbermadoo.”

  “That’s the village, Kebbermadoo?” I asked. I guessed anything was possible in this place.

  “Well, that’s what we’ll be having to call it. You couldn’t expect me to give a stranger its true name! Ha, that'd be far too valuable a commodity. Names have-”

  “Power, I know. I wasn’t born yesterday.” I snapped. I hadn’t meant to be so direct, but I didn't like the way she was looking at me, it was unsettling, as if I was a goose on its way to market. She held her hand out, palm up and the beans were gone. “What?” I asked.

  “I gave you something, now you give me something.”

  “What did you give me?”

  “The way.” She sneered. “Knowledge don’t come free.”

  I sighed and rooted through my pocket. My wallet was still there, and it was only as I pulled it out that I realized that both it and my clothes were somehow bone dry. I grabbed a few crumpled dollar bills and handed them to her. She held them before the sun and peered through them. “These pictures aren't very pretty,” she said, “and I don’t like this starey eye pyramid.” She wrinkled her nose and threw the money down. “Nope, not one bit. It’s looking at me, and I don’t like being watched.”

  I stooped down, picked the money up and put it back into my wallet. “Well it’s all I've got, and frankly I don’t know that your directions are worth a single cent.”

  “If you ain’t got no gold, how's about a drop of blood.” She licked her lips again. “I’ll take anything I can get.” She moved in closer. Too close.

  “Back off.”

  She held her hand up and nodded. “No need to get all hot and bothered. I’ll be on my way and you can get back to your mooning, right?”

  “Right,” I said as she grabbed the horse’s reins and began to tug it back along the path in the direction she’d come from. She turned and glanced over her shoulder, her eyes darting over me one final time before she continued on her way.

  I proceeded along the dusty chalk path. The distant splashes from the ocean wafted up as the leviathans leaped from the waters, and the rolling waves hit the rocky shore below. This entire place or world, or whatever it was, was so oddly off kilter, and I had the sense there was much more going on around me than I could see.

  Finally the path rounded over the hill, revealing a sweeping view of the forested valley below. The bulk of the trees were oak and ash, but there were many I had no names for. The strangest were tall, spindly things and I watched their branches twist and bow, despite the lack of breeze.

  I followed the track to where it plunged down the hill. It was steep, and I had to steady myself through a skid or two, but it wasn’t quite the rollercoaster I’d been expecting from the old woman’s description. Then again, she’d obviously been dwelling beyond the boundaries of sanity.

  The foliage on the spindly trees rustled and whispered as I entered the valley, and the sun vanished behind the canopy. Then a strange, unsettling feeling crept through me and I gripped the pommel of my sword. There was something wrong, something I didn’t like. I glanced back to check the path behind, it was empty and yet I felt eyes on me.

  Lots and lots of eyes.

  “Oh for fuck’s sake!” I leaped as a fat brown spider the size of a rat scuttled from the brush, stood on the side of the trail and regarded me with beady black eyes. Then it opened its mouth and howled like a wolf.

  Six more raced from the tree line and joined their leader, each regarding me closely, with their fat furry legs tensing to pounce.

  I hurried on, abandoning the path and giving the spiders wide a berth, never once taking my eyes off them as I passed.

  Snap

  I looked down as something snagged my ankle, but before I could focus, I found myself thrown onto my back then, with a jerk of my foot I was yanked into the air.

  A twisted hemp-like rope tethered me to the thick, heavy bough above. I tried to pull myself up but the branch was too high. I let myself fall back and watched as the seven spiders formed a circle below and howled at me like I was the harvest moon.

  Then they turned back as the bushes behind them rustled violently and moments later the old woman emerged, her piebald horse beside her. She glanced up. “Fancy seeing you there!” she said, her voice smug and gloating. She curtsied and lifted the hem of her dress. “Come home my darlings,” she said. The spiders yipped as they scampered across the grass and vanished under the folds of her skirt.

  I shuddered, despite my rising fury. “Get me down. Now!”

  “I only asked for something sparkly or a drop or two of blood, but the tide seems to have turned so I’ll think I'll have to settle for more now. A lot more.” She patted the horse’s manky head. “His shiny eyes are earmarked for you, Gerald. They’ll taste like chocolate and lice. I saw that when I first looked into them.”

  “You’re rarely wrong when it comes to their eyes,” the horse
said, and ran his tongue across his long crooked teeth in imitation of his owner.

  “Let me down,” I said, “or I’ll hurt you.” Blood pounded in my head and I began to feel nauseous. I swung myself up, grabbed the rough hemp and peered back down. “Do it now.”

  “No, no, no,” the woman said. “Does a poacher chase away the rabbit he’s snared? Does the fisherman throw his wriggly fishes back into the treacherous sea? Does a-”

  “I get the picture,” I said. “But if you don't turn me loose, this fishy is going to snap through the line and hurt you just as I promised.”

  “I heard your threats, silly man.” She began to root through the packs strapped to her weary horse. “Now where did I put it? Ouch!” she withdrew her hand and put a finger in her mouth, before giggling. “Well I only went and found it, so I did!” Slowly, she reached back into the pouch and withdrew an impossibly long silver pike, its tip caked in old, dried blood. “Now, din dins!”

  22

  The fall to the ground was at least ten feet. It was going to hurt. But so was the pike the crazy old bitch was jabbing into the air as she licked her lips and sang to herself, her words gibberish as far as I could tell.

  I swung up, grabbed the rope with one hand, and unclasped the sword of intention with the other. And then I took a swing. The sword bit into the rope, but not enough.

  “No!’ the woman yelled, “that’s not fair. I thought you were unarmed!”

  “Seems you were wrong.” I swung the sword a second time. It thudded into the rope and frayed it slightly before glancing off.

  “Stop!” the woman cried. “That’s my property!”

  I glanced down to find her leaping into the air trying to skewer me with her pike as she cried, “That rope cost me three back teeth!”

  “Cut!” I commanded. The sword blazed and bit through the rope as I swung. I dropped the sword and threw my hands up to grab the end of the severed hemp and hung there for a moment.

  “Well, this is pretty!” the old lady said as she approached the sword. The tip had planted into the soil but its blade still glowed with fire as it stood proudly in the swaying grass.