Placing his back against that cold, wet stone, his eyes grew weary. And whether it was the torch burning down or his eyelids closing, he could not tell. Either way, everything went dim.
After a time, our William awoke to the funereal creaking of a door. For an instant, he was not sure if he’d dreamt it or that it had, in fact, actually woken him from his dream. He then noticed how his light had completely extinguished. Suddenly, the door continued to squeak and croak upon its hinges as it drew slowly open, but the poor lad could not see where it was, nor what was pushing it, because he was all alone in the dark.
“H-Hello?” he asked, still curled up by the wall. “Wh-Who’s there?”
Silence reigned, and there was not a whisper.
“...Hello?!” he asked again, louder.
Just shy of his cheek, he then heard a wicked, dry cackle, which conveyed moistness onto his very flesh. Pushing himself away from the wall, William leapt quickly upright. Out went his arms, for fear of unseen walls or, even worse, booby-trapped triggers.
“Who’s there, I said?” he demanded, his voice quivering.
Then, with a sudden spark, the torch struck to red fire again by the black stone wall. Apprehensively, he walked to it, hoping he would hear no more. Carefully, he lifted the torch and probed the room, which was only occupied by his own nervous breathing.
William felt deserted, and could see no sign of any door whatsoever. Suddenly that dead, wheezing chortle returned in his ear. It was like that of a child, a wicked infant who thrived upon the despair of others. This too was pursued by that same livid moaning which he’d become wary of earlier, only now it was in that very room with him. He spun around to see where it was coming from, and as he did, the light skipped past a small figure which he was not sure was even there at all. Quickly William returned the flame to where it stood, but nothing could be now seen or heard. He had seen that face clearly in his mind. His quick glimpse had given him much to haunt him for the rest of his days.
By the firelight there was what looked to be a small person; lifeless in posture, staring up at him with a face like that of a newborn child, save for the aging wrinkles and a head of grubby, thinning hair. It was smiling at him, for its love of witnessing pain was, by the looks of that devilish smirk, its most beloved pleasure.
As he was bound within the terror of that image, William heard a tiny patter of footsteps along the stone floor behind him. Again he swung the torch back to apprehend those to whom the steps may have belonged, though nobody was there. He shone it into each corner of the room, to no avail. Then, plunging him into a surge of sheer terror, his torch blew out, just as a candle would do in the slightest puff of wind. Suddenly, in his left ear he heard, “I HOPE YOU DIE...” in that same infantile, grimacing way. Following that came another whisper from just as near, yet from a different angle, and another, and another after that; all muttering horrible and nightmarish things.
“YOUR SOUL SHALL BE RIPPED FROM ITS ROOTS.”
“I WANT YOU TO SUFFER.”
“YOU WILL ENDURE THE PAINS OF INFINITE DEATH.”
“FAIL, BOY.”
“YOU’LL BE THE DEATH OF ‘EM ALL.”
“DEATH, HE SHALL FIND YOU YET.”
Without warning and with a brutal, growling scream, as of a hound being tortured, William was suddenly dragged from his shoulders back onto the ground by some invisible animal. The mysterious child cackled to himself in delight of this horrifically bewildering spectacle, when all of a sudden, there was no more.
All went back to being silent, and William was accompanied by nobody else outside of himself.
“William!” called a concerned voice. “William! Where are you?”
It was Icrick, and William couldn’t have been happier to hear his little Grogoch voice calling out for him.
“Icrick?” he yelled, grabbing at the wall in the dark. “Icrick, I’m in here!”
A door, concealed by the bricks, snapped and opened. From a window, a most tremendous glimmer of moonlight shone in, with Icrick and Khrum silhouetted before the once-hidden threshold.
“You have no idea how glad I am to see you two,” William sighed, his face as pale as snow.
“Lad, we’re never shplittin’ up again, ya hear?” ordered Khrum.
“Why? What happened?”
“Well,” Khrum continued, in a pleasantly sarcastic fashion, “after ya left us, we were left ta find our way through a gauntlet of even more shpikes, shpinnin’ blades, wasps, ‘n’ at one stage...vicious furniture! After that we fell into a dark pit with no light, after which I eventually found us a way out. So, merrily we made our way through another gloomy maze o’ torture, in the dark, all the while I was walkin’ alongside Icrick ‘n’ ridin’ on his shoulder occasionally. Then, lo and behold, didn’t I jusht bump into him about ten minutes ago in one o’ the hallways.”
“Whose shoulder were you on then?” asked William.
“God knows!” the leprechaun quivered. “So let’s jusht grab the sword ‘n’ get outta here!”
“Yes! Let’s!” Icrick agreed. “And when we get out of this mess I’m going to make sure some giants come back here and knock this place to the ground!”
Disturbed by their tidings, William said, “Sounds to me like you two got the worst o’ this place. But I did come across some weird things myself. There was this music box, or, at least that’s what it sounded like. And then I saw these weird...people. They reminded me of...”
“Reminded you of what, William?” asked Icrick.
“Just something I’d heard about in school before,” the boy replied. “Nothing important. Anyway, how long have we been apart? Believe it or not, I think I actually fell asleep for a while!”
“We misshed another day, laddie,” Khrum answered. “I saw the sunshine come ‘n’ go as I travelled. Fine day it looked ta be, too.”
“Another day?” William gasped. “Well, what about the sword? Did you see it anywhere? I know I didn’t.”
“Indeed we did,” said Khrum, and they both parted to reveal the wide brow of a whirlpool in the deepest shaft of the tower. “...An’ there ‘tis!”
They were on the topmost level, on a platform of stone, where the ceiling was a-clutter with chains and cogs. In the midst of the pool’s rotation, where the funnel was at its loudest, was a floating sword. It spun discreetly above the oncoming waves of the pool, its stubby blade glimmering like clear glass.
Approaching the edge of the platform, a different sensation overcame William. A curious feeling, like he was being reunited with someone he cherished so dearly. He couldn’t quite explain it; all he could say was that it just felt ‘right.’
Icrick then smiled. “Take it, William...it’s yours.”
Obviously, it would’ve been risky for him to just plod out onto the vortex itself to retrieve the sword, because it didn’t appear solid by any means. Rather, an unfamiliar itch had told him to hold his hand out to the blade. With a sudden swish, the grip of the sword spun magically into William’s palm like a boomerang. There it was, the sword of Thérn at last in his grasp...and seemingly not for the first time.
But it wasn’t over yet.
His arm got yanked suddenly skyward when a fierce and mysterious wind ploughed its way up through the tower. It startled them something terrible. They were left squinting as the vortex flared and crackled, blowing their garments dramatically in the gale. Just then, the demonic whirlpool spun into a rapid flow before casting itself back into the blade by which its occupants had once fallen. William appeared so gallant as he stood there, sword held aloft, with a great surge of green light sweeping back into it.
“This is a sight to behold, and that’s no mistake!” Icrick said with amazement. “The tower was almost worth it, just to see this happening.”
The sword consumed it all, as the booms and shrieks of the vortex’s death howled within the depths. Soon thereafter, all went back to quietude, and the wind became little else than a delicate draught.
&nbs
p; With reunifications over, William gazed upon Thérn to see its magical blade transforming from its glassy lustre into a sparkling blade of solid steel. A shimmer of moonlight glinted along its fine edge, revealing a vague tint of an emerald sheen.
Then, “What’s that?” the frightened Khrum exclaimed, as he surveyed the bottom of the shaft.
The main door had flung open, and they could just about see what was going on.
A small pack of four-legged shapes had streamed in from outside and were hastily making their way up the stairs. It could only have been that the commotion of the vortex had roused the suspicions of the outside world, thereby alerting the Devil Hounds.
Ravenously, they gave chase. William and company could hear them scrambling up through the tower. And these hounds knew their way without question, for the voices of their pursuit, as well as their scrabbling shadows, were ever growing amongst the corridors. Crashing through doors without stopping, they could be heard scampering wildly while their voracious panting turned William’s flesh to ice.
Vanishing with fear, the Grogoch panicked, “What ever are we going to do now?!”
He couldn’t prevent it. It simply came upon him sometimes when he got really frightened. Nevertheless, they were in luck.
Spotting a black cord hanging from a well-veiled trapdoor above their heads, William jumped up, grabbed it with his free hand, and with all of his weight, he yanked it down. A most gorgeous gust blew in from the outside world, and this meant freedom.
William was the first to climb up, bringing Khrum on his back; so Icrick was all who remained. The lad reached down to help him up, with the blood rushing to his brain like a river and his chest quaking chaotically from adrenaline.
Stretching out, he groaned, “Here! Take my arm!”
Icrick jumped once but it wasn’t high enough. Meanwhile, they could hear the sounds of nearby scampering, and another door flinging open just a few chambers away.
“Hurry!” shouted the boy.
Again, Icrick sprang, missing it a second time. To make matters worse, he was now completely invisible out of panic.
“I can’t see you, Icrick!” William shouted. “I can’t see you to grab your hands! Turn back to normal!”
“I can’t help it!” the Grogoch screeched.
By then the claws were clearest as they scratched wildly over the stone floors. Then, with a mighty thump, they crashed into the final door, just left of the haunted chamber where William had been of late. Luckily, this room was latched by a sturdy wooden beam. Whether it would detain these hounds or not, was a completely different matter. Their first strike alone had already splintered its wood, making enough holes to fit all of their hungry, slavering snouts. With red mouths full of teeth, they slobbered and snarled, while their crimson gums salivated down along the splintered wood.
“Get me up there, fast!” squealed Icrick, when Khrum had an idea.
“Here!” he said to William. “We found this scabbard down below in one o’ the chambers! We thought it might be o’ some help ta ya when ya got the sword! Use this, sure!”
“Where the hell were you keeping this?!” asked the boy, referring to the length of the sheath in comparison to Khrum’s small stature.
“Magic, lad,” answered the leprechaun. “But never mind that! Quickly! You’re washtin’ good time here.”
Handing William a short, leather sheath wrapped in a heavy belt, the boy then lowered it down for Icrick to grab onto.
One of the hounds almost had his entire head through the shattered doorway, and he could smell fresh Grogoch meat in the air.
“Here! Grab on!” William shouted.
The hound exploded through the door like it was paper.
Granted he couldn’t see the Grogoch, but William could still feel his weight on the sheath, and a high-pitched screech going, “LIFT! LIFT! LIFT!”
Using the best of his might, he hoisted him up, causing the Devil Hound to pounce up and snap onto nothing but air. The Grogoch was safe, and they were all in the sanctuary of the tower’s rooftop. But just because they were on the roof, didn’t mean they’d escaped the Devil Hounds completely.
While William and his companions were settling into their senses of triumph, one of the beasts suddenly lunged up through the trapdoor, sinking his long, jagged claws deep into the very stone. They got such a fright that they all fell against the parapet and huddled in together. Like steel, the Hound’s nails were glinting. All the while, he leered at them through eyes of malice, before hoisting himself topside. As he was doing this, another hound jumped up, and he too began pulling himself up. They were persistent tyrants, let me tell you. Not ready to give in at all.
William peeked over the edge to see if there were any other options. In his alarm, he couldn’t see a way down, except to jump, which simply wasn’t an option. By now the hounds were almost topside, thus forcing him to grasp the handle of his new sword. Now would be the time for him to use it, he feared. Two of the hounds had successfully made the climb, with another well on its way. Keeping their heads crouched, they crept up on our heroes, delectating over the feed they were about to receive.
Just then, from out of the unexpected, a figure, shadowed by the moon, dropped down from the clouds, landing on the far side of the roof.
There was Wren, ready for battle, with two beautiful tomahawks spinning in her hands. Daringly, she stood her ground, awaiting their pathetic attack with a glare which burnt right through them. Ferociously, the hounds turned to her, spitting out slimy strings of barks, only to be quickly silenced. For two great, beating wings, together with a deathly reptilian face, rose up behind the girl. Comrades in arms, both Jimzin and Wren were prepared for whatever horrid deeds these creatures had planned.
“C’mere, puppies!” she said with a wink, blowing them a kiss.
Almost as if they could understand her taunt, every one of those beasts went absolutely haywire and charged. With blind determination, the first one lunged fast and hard, with froth flying from his mouth and his sagging red tongue flapping in the wind. Immediately Wren stooped and sliced her axe straight across his belly, sending him spinning over the edge and into Jimzin’s mouth. Then the second ran in, with the third close after, but they were no match for the girl.
She cut the head off the next with a spin, after which she kicked the third one in the teeth. Backwards he tumbled, bowling into William and the others, knocking them onto their backsides like wooden pins. Before the hound could retaliate, Jimzin had already perched his great crimson talons upon the roof and had his colossal wings spanned out. The hound didn’t stand a chance. Snatching him up, the dragon flipped him into the air and snapped down on him with his powerful jaws before swallowing him whole. It was a beautiful sight. Wren then spun her two tomahawks around and sheathed them masterfully on her back.
“Had you not come here looking for that sword, I wouldn’t have believed you,” she smiled, talking to William. “But you really could use some help until you get your act together. And me...I have no plans. So I think I’ll join you. It’ll be fun!”
She then helped them up, one by one; Khrum first.
“Fair play ta ya, lass!” the leprechaun said. “Ya showed them blashted mongrels a thing or three.”
“All in a day’s work...um...Khrum, was it?” she asked politely.
“‘Tis indeed!” answered the leprechaun. “An’ this is Icrick. We also have a Dullahan named Crosco in our group somewhere, too. Him ‘n’ Ifcus, his horse...remember? And...um...well, ya already know the lad.”
“What? No kicking?” asked William, who was still quite sore about their initial meeting. “Listen, we appreciate your help, thank you. Really! But I think we can manage just fine on our own from here on in.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that.” She smiled. “If you’re not off getting chased by Thiagoné, you’re being diced by faeries...or getting chased by demonic dogs. Seems to me like you could use all the help you can get.”
“How di
d you know about all that?” William asked, suspiciously.
“Jimzin!” she answered. “You tickled his interest when you left. So he decided to follow you...to see what you were up to. Wasn’t my doing.”
“For some reason I find that hard to believe,” William said, fastening the sheath to his left side.
“He goes where he goes, William.” She sighed, tired of explaining the ways of the common dragon over and over again. “I just follow. And, as I said, I don’t give him orders.”
“Well, do you think he might find it in his heart to help us off this tower maybe?” the lad challenged.
“Why don’t you ask him?” she smirked, getting out of William’s way and folding her arms.
Curiously, they all watched as the lad prepared himself to ask for the dragon’s help. He was a tad nervous about it, however, for I think he knew quite well that no good would come of it.
“Um...excuse me...Mr. Greale?” he said.
At William’s somewhat pitiful address, Wren sniggered behind her breath, whereas Jimzin paid no attention to him whatsoever. As usual, the dragon was merely inspecting the goings on in the world around him, and didn’t even consider listening to what the boy had to say.
“Um...Jimzin?” he uttered again, in the nicest way possible, yet the dragon ignored him still.
Grinning at William from behind her hand, Wren asked, “Well? Do you give up?”
The Other of One - Book One: The Lythiann Chronicles Page 29