Sagaria (46 page)

“Hey! You two, come back here! Halt!” The Shadow Knight yelled from behind them. Then they heard the clinking of armor as the Shadow Knight pursued them. Casting a quick glance behind him, Sagandran could see that it was only one knight on solitary patrol, but that was irrelevant. Only one Shadow Knight could easily overcome them.

They increased their speed. Dashing in and out of alleyways and around crooked bends, they soon lost their sense of direction. The road abruptly started to rise and made running painfully strenuous. Perima was clutching her side but kept on pumping her legs. The road came to an abrupt halt. A black, ominous-looking castle rose in front of them. The door had been shaped into the roaring face of a dragon. Two gargoyle statues stood on each side of the door. Sagandran didn’t have to think twice to realize that this was the Ghost Castle. It was every child’s dream under normal circumstances. Without a word, they quickly opened the door and ran inside. There was no sign of their pursuer, but shortly he would be coming up the road.

They stood in a great and dark hallway. Torches blazed angrily in the sconces on the black walls and there was a howling noise coming from somewhere. That didn’t surprise him. Ghost Houses should have howling noises. There were several tunnels or passageways branching off from the main passage. The trouble was, which would lead them away from the Shadow Knight and which one might trap them like rats?

“This the end of the line for you brats,” shouted someone from behind them.

Perima grabbed Sagandran’s hand and chose the nearest passageway. As soon as they had entered, a door closed behind them.

“Oh great,” Perima panted. “Absolutely fabulous. Now we’re in for it.”

“Ever been to a ghost house before?” Sagandran said, trying to get his breathing under control.

“Er, no, not really. Only my aunt’s mansion outside Mattani. She collects dead relatives for some reason. What’s wrong with stamps, I’ve always wondered?”

“Well, the thing is that the door of a ghost house is supposed to close behind you. It’s part of the, er, fun, you see? Scary and all that. But you get out in the end.”

“Good, then lead on,” she said.

Yes
, he thought.
But that is how it works in the Earthworld. Who knows what 
a ghost house in a magical land might have in store.
He peered into the corridor. A casket stood upright against the wall. Sagandran and Perima snuck toward it. Sagandran knew that it would probably open and a skeleton made out of rubber would bounce out at them, a metal spiral holding it in place. This would probably be followed by a sound effect like “hoo hoo” or, God forbid, “boo!”. Sagandran mentioned this to Perima, then wished he hadn’t. She had never seen that sort of thing before and was anxious to have a quick look, despite their present danger. But as they crept nearer, nothing happened.

“I don’t think anything happened,” Perima said disappointedly.

“No, thankfully. Now just hurry up and—”

“The thing is probably broken,” she said giving it a kick.

“Don’t!”

Too late. The casket opened, but instead of a rubber skeleton, a rotting corpse lurched out.

“Ahh,” the zombie gurgled. “Fresh meat. Fresh, delicious young meat.” It stretched its greenish arms toward them.

Sagandran had to admit that he’d been slightly scared by the sight.
Good job, Lamarod.

Perima was gasping with fear.

Sagandran took on a sly grin. “Scared, are you?”

She nodded her head, her beautiful eyes wide open.

“Well then, princess, take a look at this,” he said smugly and grabbed the hand of the corpse. “See, it’s made out of rubber.” He shook it and made a mock greeting. “How do you do, Mr. Corpse?”

The hand fell off. Looking at the rotting hand in his own, he saw tiny white worms squirming around inside the greenish flesh.

“Uh-oh,” he said as he swiftly threw it away and cleaned his hand on his jeans.

“What do you mean? Did you break it?”

“I-I think this is actually a …”

“Yes? Actually a what?”

“A real corpse. Run!”

The zombie gave a terrifying roar and dashed out of its coffin. Scuttling after them on all fours or rather threes, he was close to their heels.

“Faster,” Perima yelled.

“I’m running as fast as I—”

The floor abruptly opened up and they fell through it. They landed on something soft. It was a rubber mat. They could hear the growling monster from above straining down at them. Then it crouched, as if to jump after the two.

“Quick,” Sagandran said, an idea popping into his head. “Help me pull the mat.”

Perima immediately caught on and they started to drag the rubber mat away from the hole in the roof, and not a moment too soon. The zombie was already in mid-air. With a final tug, Sagandran and Perima pulled the mat away from the landing spot. The corpse crashed to the stone floor with a sickening
splotch
, arms and legs flying in all directions. The body and head were still intact. The corpse glared at them.

“Thanks a bunch,” it said. “Do you know how long it took to fix me the last time someone did that? I’ll get fired for sure this time.”

“You were going to eat us,” Perima said accusingly.

“No, I wasn’t. It’s bad for business. Actually, I tried to convince the boss that it would be better if I could, but he said that the customer usually doesn’t come back after that. So that was a washout. Um, would you mind giving me that arm over there? Thank you, and that leg if you would be so kind. Appreciate it.”

“And perhaps your, um, nose?” Perima asked, proffering the zombie a lopsided piece of flesh she was holding between her index finger and thumb, while clutching her nose with her other hand.

“Ear, actually,” the corpse corrected with an air of assumed dignity as it tried to re-attach it to the side of his head. “Ah, you were right, this
is
my nose. Silly of me.” It let out an exasperated sigh. “I just don’t have it in me, you know. This scary stuff, I mean. Oh, the pay is all right, but I’m not sure this is really me. There’s no chance of being promoted, for example. It’s really depressing.”

“Oh, but you got me scared,” Sagandran said. “And I’ve been to lots of ghost houses.”

“Really?” the zombie said, its voice a little lighter.

“Yes, really. Don’t worry, I think this work is really for you. Just think about how many children you can scare. There’s no need to, er,
fall apart
.” Sagandran couldn’t help but grin.

“Yes, you’re right. It’s really time for me to
pull myself together
,” conceded the zombie and it grinned back.

Perima, wincing at the cheap double entendres, obviously had had enough of this. “Mr. Corpse, you know, we’re kind of in a hurry and—”

“Oh, no problem, this is gonna take me a while anyway. You just run along to the next attraction.”

“Which is?”

“Oh, if I told you that, it wouldn’t a surprise now, would it?” With that, it guffawed and limped back into the shadows.

“Well, come on then. Shall we?”

The next room proved to be a horror cabinet of some kind except that the monsters were real. Thankfully, it must have been their coffee break because they were sitting at tables having a snack or playing cards. They looked at them without interest.

A werewolf, who apparently had lost whatever game they were playing, glanced irritatedly at them. “I’m off duty.”

“Yeah, this room is under, um, construction,” added a vampire, causing his colleagues to giggle.

“We’re on strike,” said a skeleton, slamming his fist on the table. It was sitting at a table with other undead creatures of various kinds, who gave Sagandran a collective nod.

“Er, what kind of strike?” Sagandran asked, perplexed. Then he wondered why on earth he was having a conversation with a skeleton concerning strikes.

The skeleton sighed and spread its arms. “The obligation to pay social security and not letting us have free weekends for instance, has been completely ignored by Lamarod, and we also haven’t received free dental care. Until we are granted these fundamental entitlements we scare nobody. Got that?”

“Um, right, so we’ll just go through here then, shall we?”

“You do just that,” a witch said, and turned back to her card game.

Another corridor opened up into a room where a ghost hovered in mid-air. “I’m the long lost soul of Magharta, the evil queen who—”

“Can you tell us the way out of here?” asked Sagandran impatiently.

The ghost seemed a little annoyed by the lack of appropriate dread, but continued its well-practised monologue. “Fear me, for I will haunt you in your dreams. I will—”

“The way out of here, please,” Perima stamped her foot.

“Over there, spoilsports,” it replied, and gestured with its head toward a door that had the word “Exit” marked on it.

As they walked toward it, they could hear the ghost muttering to itself. “One day I’ll quit this dump. Youngsters these days, no sense of fear like they used to have. I wish I was dead, um, deader that is, oh,
drats
.”

They opened the door.

“Thank you for your visit.” A voice was heard from somewhere. “Don’t forget to visit our souvenir shop on your way out. The exit is to the right.”

“All right,” Sagandran said. “Finally.”

They took the route to the right and the floor started to move under them.

“What’s happening?” Perima shouted.

“I didn’t tell you
where
you’d exit.” The same voice echoed over. “Welcome
to the Ghost Train, HA HA HA. The first and last ride you’ll ever take. Good riddance to you.”

The fast-moving floor sloped down and dumped them rather unceremoniously in a cart, which tipped over and started to freefall. They remained inside, but Sagandran thought he would faint. Perima’s shriek was terrible. The cart landed on a set of rails and continued straight ahead. Swords chopped after them and arrows shot out from the walls; a troll leaped after the carriage and managed to climb aboard. Perima took a well-aimed kick and it fell off. Sagandran, on the other side, was busy battling a persistent goblin who savagely lashed out with its claws, just missing his arms. The scratch mark left deep scars on the side of the cart.

“That does it,” he said and punched the creature in the face. It blinked stupidly for a moment, its eyes crossed and it too tumbled off the cart.

Now the ride started to move upwards. Sagandran didn’t like this one bit. Whatever goes up must come down and he hadn’t enjoyed the last “down” part. Higher and higher it went, until he wondered how on earth they could have made this castle so high. He figured that they must be near the clouds by now. Then the cart stopped.

They both looked at each other with worried glances. The next thing they knew the cart tipped over. Arms and legs frantically flapping, they fell through a hole and far below they could see the whole of Wonderville.
We must be hundreds of yards up. How on earth are we going to get out of this one?
He had barely finished the thought when his body landed softly on a gigantic mattress.

He looked down. The whole town of Wonderville was—

“Painted,” Perima said, standing up. “Look, it’s a miniature painting of Wonderville. To make it seem like we were falling from the sky.”

“We probably just fell a couple of meters.”

“Thank goodness, I think I’ve had enough ‘fun’ to last me a lifetime.”

“Me too,” Sagandran conceded. He sighed with relief. They had escaped the Shadow Knight and, more importantly (at least it felt that way at the moment), made it out of Lamarod’s Ghost House alive.

Scrambling to their feet, they started to run. Perima took the lead once more, and they scurried along a dingy passage. Sagandran glanced back over his shoulder to see if any Shadow Knights were following them. No sign of any. Good. Turning to the front again, Sagandran almost tripped in astonishment when he realized they were once more running toward the peppermint tower.

Perima’s breath was coming in loud gasps. “Maybe – this is – where – the city – wants – us – to go,” she puffed.

Was it a crazy idea? No crazier than Sagandran’s earlier notion of a four-dimensional labyrinth designed to keep merrymakers snared in Wonderville forever. Perhaps Lamarod had somehow changed the city’s geometry, so that fugitives would be always guided toward the one place from where they could escape? It seemed more in accord with the image of the mayor they now had, after watching him lie like a stalwart to protect them.

There’s no time to think this through at the moment,
thought Sagandran desperately.
Best to follow Perima’s instincts
.

“Okay,” he yelled. “To the tower.”

They sped across the ceremonial square surrounding the tower, ever conscious of hoofbeats growing closer to them. As they reached the tower’s base, riders began to spill into the square, their armor like blood in the smoke-reddened light of the sun, their cries of anticipated triumph like those of coyotes closing in for the kill.

“Here,” cried Perima. “The door’s open.”

They fled inside. There were no bolts or locks on the door, no way to slow down their pursuers. In front of them was a small hallway. At its far end, a flight of stairs spiraled smoothly upward. Sagandran gulped. It was going to be a long climb, and they were already almost dead from exhaustion. They had no choice. It was the stairs or stay here and wait to be captured.

Perima reached the stairway first, her small brown hand seizing the rail. She started up two at a time.

“Plenty – practice – home – palace.”

Sagandran gulped again and plunged after her.

The steps were also made of peppermint. Their slight stickiness slowed his feet. Not by much, but enough to make a difference, especially if the Shadow Knights were able to float up stairs as easily as they could across level ground. By the time he’d gone just a dozen or so steps upward, he felt that he couldn’t go on any longer and he could hear that Perima was in no better shape, but they had no option except to go on, so they did.

They flung the tower door open and it crashed back against the peppermint wall. Perima and Sagandran could hear nothing else at first, though they knew that at least one Shadow Knight must be below them.