Yazpib's teeth twisted in a frown. "You don't let an apprentice anywhere near a carrot. Nastiest buggers of the vegetable kingdom. Levitating a carrot without some experience under your belt is the surest way to lose an eye."
"Can we get on with the lesson, please?" asked Nessy. "I have some sweeping that needs to be done."
"Of course. If you would open your book to Chapter One: Your Enchanting Potato."
As she'd already learned some minor magic, making a potato hover wasn't very difficult for Nessy. Within twenty minutes, she could make it float slowly about from across the room. She even advanced beyond the need for incantation or gesture, achieving magic by thought alone. Yazpib was impressed, though she lost control of the vegetable at lesson's end. It ricocheted around the observatory, nearly striking Sir Thedeus as he nibbled a banana. The potato mashed into a wall.
"Ach, careful there, lass. Could've taken me head off."
Yazpib smiled smugly. "If that were a rutabaga, you would most certainly have been maimed."
The nurgax licked the potato off the wall.
Echo spoke up, startling everyone. Nessy and the nurgax jumped. Sir Thedeus spat up a chunk of banana, and Yazpib sank to the bottom of his jar.
"It's gone, Nessy! It's gone."
"What's gone?"
"The Door At The End Of The Hall."
"What's that?" asked Yazpib.
"It's The Door At The End Of The Hall, that's what it is. Only it's not at the end of the hall anymore."
"Where is it?"
"Aren't you listening? It's gone. I don't know where."
"Calm down, Echo," said Nessy. "Let's go take a look."
"Take me with you," whispered Yazpib. "Don't leave me here alone with her."
"Ye can't expect us to haul ye around the castle, ye git."
"Can you at least screw my lid on? I'm begging you." He dipped low in the yellow fluid beneath Ivy's glaring blooms.
Nessy and everyone gifted with independent movement made their way through the castle halls.
"This can't be good," said Echo. "I mean, that door was the only place even Margle feared."
"Maybe it just went away," suggested Sir Thedeus. "What do ye think, Nessy lass?"
"No point in speculating yet."
It wasn't unusual for rooms and doors to move in Margle's castle. Some doors only appeared at night or day, others for only an hour or two a day. Certain hallways opened only during certain seasons. There was a dungeon in the depths that only showed itself once a year, but there was predictability in these movements. The Door At The End Of The Hall had never gone anywhere before.
Decapitated Dan had said that The Door At The End Of The Hall would open, that the castle would devour them all. For the first time, Nessy worried that he might be right. Up to now, she'd assumed Margle would return or the castle would be looted. But now, she felt as if something else might happen.
It was just a feeling, a pinprick at the tips of her ears. But the walls seemed closer. The halls darker. There was something wrong with the castle.
Something hungry.
Gareth the gargoyle watched the Door from his perch. "It's still gone."
Nessy peered down the hall, forty feet of dusty stone. At the end, there should've been a massive oaken door barred with a heavy iron slab. Instead, there was only a wall.
"Did you see what happened, Gareth?" asked Echo.
"Of course I saw. Not like I can look away. What a stupid question."
Sir Thedeus landed with a flutter between Gareth's horns. "Quit yer blathering, lad. What did ye see?"
"Nothing really." He frowned. "It was there. Then it wasn't."
"Maybe it's just invisible," said Echo.
"It never went invisible before," said Gareth.
"Well, just because it hasn't, that doesn't mean it can't."
"Maybe someone should take a closer look." Sir Thedeus crept forward, draping his wings across the gargoyle's eyes.
"I can't see."
"Nothing to see, lad. I think ye should go down there and look, Echo."
"Why me?"
"Because ye are just a voice. Nothing bad can happen to ye."
Echo scoffed. "You don't know that."
"Dunna be a coward, lass. What's there to be afraid of? That Door has never done anything."
"I don't see you volunteering."
"Look at me." Sir Thedeus spread his wings. "I'm a mere rodent. What can I do?"
"You can look just as well as I can."
Gareth laughed. "Shameful. Just shameful. When I was a hero, I would've walked up to that door, thrown it open, and slain whatever horror awaited on the other side. And I would've used my bare hands too. Just for the challenge. Reminds me of the time I had to drag a sea serpent across twelve leagues of desert to throw it back in the ocean because killing it would've been just too easy. Of course, back in those days, I didn't bother using a sword unless a beast was seventeen feet long at the very least."
"What does that have to do with anything?" asked Echo.
"Ye are an idiot. Why would Margle fear a sea serpent?"
"I didn't say that's what it was. I'm just saying, whatever is behind that Door can't be worse than that." The gargoyle scowled. "What do you think it is?"
"Damned souls." Sir Thedeus darted to the floor and crouched low as he stared down the hall. "Spirits so foul, so wicked, they would plunge this world into eternal darkness should they ever be unleashed."
Gareth nodded slowly, which took a great deal of effort for him. "Oh yes. That makes a lot of sense."
"Sea serpents." Sir Thedeus snorted. "What do ye think, Nessy?"
"I think I'm going to take a closer look." Nessy dropped to all fours and cautiously started down the hall. The nurgax followed.
"There's courage worthy of a hero," said Gareth. "You two should be ashamed of yourselves." He cast a disapproving glance down on them, although he had to sweep from side to side to be sure he caught invisible Echo.
"Ye loon." Sir Thedeus flew after Nessy.
"Oh damn." Echo sighed. "You know, when I had a body, I was a poet, not a hero. I wrote one naughty limerick about some wizard I never thought I'd meet, and here I am." Her voice trailed behind the bat. "Damn. Why did 'Gargle' have to be such a hard word to rhyme?"
Nessy crept slowly toward the end of the hall. There was no reason to be afraid. True, the Door was something Margle feared. True, there was an inexplicable dread that came upon her from merely laying eyes upon it. True, Decapitated Dan had mentioned the Door specifically in his mad rant. And true, as she drew closer to the hall's end, the temperature dropped and the torchlight grew dimmer. But the fear behind the Door, palpable though it was, was all speculation. In a castle full of genuine monsters and cursed inhabitants, it seemed illogical to cower from it.
Halfway down the hall, the air grew cold enough for them to see their breath. In moments like this, Echo could be seen as frosty wisps. "It looks okay. I think we should turn back."
Sir Thedeus, clinging tightly to Nessy's back, agreed. "Aye, everything appears in order. No reason to get closer."
The nurgax whined softly.
Nessy kept on. In most affairs, she was open to suggestion, especially a suggestion that agreed with her instincts, but no fear, particularly one so vague and undefined, was a match for her detestation for disorder and her dogged work ethic.
The castle always made noise. It rumbled and groaned, creaked and murmured, sometimes even boomed and shuddered. Nessy barely noticed the constant racket anymore, but she noticed its absence when they were ten feet from the end. It was as if the castle itself dared not breathe.
Nessy had never been this far down the hall before. As far as she knew, no one ever had. Not even Margle.
"Clearly, we're close enough," whispered Echo. "No reason to get any closer."
Sir Thedeus hopped off Nessy's back. "I agree."
But Nessy kept on, and the nurgax, reluctant but ever loyal, trailed close behind. She reached o
ut and put her hand against the cold wall where the Door had been. The hall shuddered ever so gently.
Then nothing.
"Is it there?" asked Echo. "Is it invisible?"
Nessy shook her head. She'd lost her fear and ran her hands up and down the stone. "There's nothing here."
"Well, it's got to be here," said Sir Thedeus. "Canna ye feel it? 'Tis a dread, a terrible ache in me fangs, and when me fangs ache, 'tis sure to be something amiss."
Nessy agreed. She felt nothing in her own fangs but, to be certain, there was a tingling in her ears beyond mere imagination. If the Door was not here, it was certainly not far away. The question in her mind was finding it and getting it back where it belonged.
"Can we go now?" Echo said. "I think we should go."
"Aye." Sir Thedeus flew back without waiting for the others and smacked into The Door At The End Of The Hall. He scrambled away and clawed his way to a corner in the ceiling as far away as he could get.
The open end of the hall was gone, replaced by the Door.
"We're trapped." Echo's white breath grew into great anxious puffs. "It's trapped us."
The Door groaned as its oaken planks bent forward.
The nurgax howled in terror. Nessy put her palm on its snout. It quieted.
She walked up to the Door, no longer afraid. It was absurd to fear any door, she decided. No matter how much supernatural malice might lurk behind it. She'd never seen the Door this close. The iron bar was covered with dozens of runes, and several more parchments with additional glyphs were nailed across it. There was a great deal of magic dedicated to keeping the Door closed, she guessed.
"We can't get out." Echo wheezed as she did when excited. "We're trapped. We're trapped."
"Calm down, lass. Ye can go get us some help, canna ye?"
"I can't walk through walls. You can squeeze through smaller cracks than I can."
"That dunna make any sense."
"Margle made the rules. Not me." She gulped. "Have I mentioned I'm claustrophobic?"
The Door shook. The gold ring of its handle smacked loudly. Its hinges bulged as if they might break, and the parchments billowed forward like paper tentacles. Hot wind poured from its cracks and filled the shortened hall with stifling warmth.
"I have to get out of here!" Echo screamed incoherently, bouncing around the walls.
Nessy stood before the Door. The nurgax tried to stand at her defense. She pushed it aside, and it obeyed reluctantly.
The Door groaned. Its runes swam about, twisting into new forms.
"That's enough!" growled Nessy. She didn't like raising her voice. She considered it a mark of poor character. "Quiet down. You're scaring Echo half to death."
The Door creaked and rumbled.
Nessy folded her arms and bared her teeth. "I said, quiet down."
It grumbled with one soft squeak.
Echo was reduced to a wheeze beside Nessy's ankle.
The kobold stopped snarling and smiled with good humor. "Now I know you want to be opened, but I'm not going to do that. So you might as well get back to where you belong. You can keep us here all night. It won't change a thing." She sat. "I can sleep here just as well as my bed. Though it would've been nice if I'd known you were going to do this. I would've brought a pillow."
The Door had no face, nor anything resembling a face. But many things in the castle with their own thoughts and feelings were similarly handicapped. Nessy understood animated objects as someone who dealt with them on a daily basis. The slant of the Door's timbers and the tilt of its ring indicated a stubborn resolve. But she could be just as stubborn.
Sir Thedeus was on her shoulder again. "Ye canna be serious, lass. We could starve to death."
"We could, but we won't." She spoke up to be sure the Door heard her. "Because sooner or later, the castle will need tending. And that is my task."
The Door exhaled with disgust. Icy fog rolled from under it. Even with her clothes and fur, she shivered. But she wasn't giving in. She curled up on the floor and closed her eyes. The nurgax lay beside her.
"Good night."
The Door At The End Of The Hall rumbled and groaned loudly enough to shake the walls.
"I said, good night."
Everything fell quiet. The frozen fog danced away. The Door offered one last creaking sigh.
FOUR
Night fell on the castle, although there were precious few indications of it inside the walls. The only reliable sign was the dimming of its eternal torches. As the castle was such a shadowy place even during the day, this was a subtle difference. But, in those hours surrounding midnight, the castle slept.
Mostly.
For Margle's castle was never completely still. Like any living thing, the castle had its dreams. And nightmares. And these nightmares roamed the halls at night, creeping from the shadows. There were certain chambers that no one went near after dark, certain places where depraved dreams waited to swallow up anything they came across. But some accursed residents were drawn out after dark, called out by the cool night air. Others walked simply because their transmogrified nature rendered them nocturnal, despite their better judgment.
Olivia the owl flew through the hallways with a mouse clutched in her talons.
"Faster," said Morton. He loved to fly.
"If I fly any faster I'll fling us face-first into a most unfortunate fate. Let me land and luxuriate my limbs." She let the mouse loose to stretch his legs.
"I don't think that's the proper use of 'luxuriate,' " he remarked.
"Allow me a little leeway in my language. As I can't control my curse completely, I must mangle my mutterings from moment to moment."
Morton groomed his whiskers. "I still don't understand why Margle double cursed you."
"Why do wizards work worthless wonders?" She nibbled her wing. "I believe such befuddlement only boggles our brains. Personally, I postulate Margle was postponing pococurantism."
"Pococurantism?"
"A byword for boredom." Olivia sighed. While it was true her curse of endless alliteration was a minor one, it could prove annoying. Morton spent a great deal of time with her, and she still lost him on occasion.
"Maybe now that Margle's dead, you'll be able to speak normally soon."
"Eternally optimistic as ever, Morton. In spite of my own cynical slant, sincerely must I always admire your interminable ebullience."
"You're too kind." His whiskers twitched with a chuckle. "Although, I think if it did end, I'd miss it a little. It's rather beautiful sometimes."
She laughed. "A perplexing paradox."
He grinned. "Positively."
Mouse and owl were deeply in love. Their metamorphosed forms might limit their relationship, but neither wasted time thinking about things beyond their control. They were just happy to have each other. He drew close to her down, and she covered him with a wing. They sat there contentedly for a few quiet minutes until jingling bells caught their attention.
The Vampire King lurched from the shadows. Once he had been a powerful lord of the undead. Now, he was merely a stumbling corpse unable to procure a fresh meal. Margle's curse on the King was a simple one. First, he'd removed much of the vampire's supernatural talents. Then he'd made it so the King's slightest movement triggered the ringing of invisible bells. When he walked, he chimed. When he ran, he could be heard from a thousand yards away. It made finding a victim quite impossible.
Olivia snatched Morton in her claws and flew to a high perch as the King trudged below.
"Good evening," said Morton.
The Vampire King grunted. He waved and three beautiful tones resonated.
"Off to have a chat with Walter?"
He grunted again. Every night, he rose from his crypt in search of fresh blood, and every night, he had to settle for licking the bleeding wall.
"Woefully withered wretch."
"Could be more friendly," said Morton. "We're all laboring under curses here."
The King stopped and for
a moment, the halls were silent. "We are all not laboring equally." Even when he moved his jaw to speak, the chimes persisted. "I was the general of the greatest undead army the world had ever seen. My legions swept across the land. Seven kingdoms were fed to my ghouls. Those we didn't eat were added to our numbers. We were unstoppable. I was unstoppable."
"A plain prevarication," said Olivia. "Perfectly portrayed by your presence in this pernicious palace."
The Vampire King's red eyes glared in his drawn, white visage. "The point is that before running across that damnable wizard I was someone important. To be reduced to this . . ." He spread his arms and filled the air with a lovely tune. "It is unthinkable."
Morton scrunched his pink nose in disgust. "With an attitude like that, no wonder you haven't any friends."
"I don't need friends." Stooping, the King trudged away with musical footsteps. "I need blood."
A chill wind swept through the halls.
"The Wailing Woman?" Morton shivered.
"The Wailing Woman wanders the west wing when the week is waning."
"You're right. It's too quiet to be her."
At the far end of the hall, the torches extinguished. Though they often dimmed and brightened on their own, they had never gone out before.
"That's odd."
"Unexpected and unprecedented. Something slips surreptitiously." As an owl, Olivia's night vision was exceptional. She could see something in the dark, but she couldn't quite make it out. The creature seemed to wear the shadows as a cloak. "I sense a sinister spawn, a perilous presence."
The Vampire King paused and glanced over his shoulder at the creature in the shadows. The monster stepped forward. A single massive paw was stuck into the light before being covered by the veil of shadows. The beast snorted. Flame burst from its nostrils, but failed to light the dark. Only its snapping yellow teeth were clear.
"It can't be." The King froze in fear. "I didn't think even he'd be mad enough to have one of those in this place."
The beast stalked forward.
"What is it?" asked Morton.
"Death. Death for the dead."
"Well, I guess we've got nothing to fear then. Since we're both alive."
Olivia nodded. "Safe and sound since we still subsist."
Too Many Curses Page 4