The Magic Lands (24 page)

Drawing nearer to the house,
Tom noticed the elaborate carvings and statuettes that adorned its
face. The building seemed to be very old, but was nevertheless in
excellent repair. Huge windows, some of stained glass, loomed above
them, reminding him of cathedrals he had seen in the past.

"It’s impressive, isn’t it"
said Mo, glancing up at him.

Tom nodded, peering up at the
high turrets. "But what's inside?" he asked absently.

THE HUNTSMEN'S BALL

Grabbing for the edge of the
crevice, Dredger knew he had but one chance of survival. If his
grip failed him, it would be the end. The rope moved uncontrollably
within his grasp and it would be only seconds before he was thrown
into the darkness below. So with tremendous effort, a grunt
escaping his dry lips, he reached out with one hand and dug his
fingers into the hard earth, forcing them in as far as they would
go. Under his other hand the twisting rope jerked violently as he
held on, his muscles screaming as they were pushed to the limit and
making one final attempt to save himself, Dredger heaved his body
with all the strength he still possessed toward the dark wall of
the chasm.

Damn you. This pit will not be
my grave.

He snatched blindly at the land
above him. In that instant as he clung precariously to life,
swirling dust assaulting his eyes, Dredger knew that death hovered
beside him, patiently awaiting his final moments so that they might
begin their journey together.

His fingernails tore into
the ground and more than at any other time in his life, he wished
there was a friend there to aid him. A
friend
. Now there was indeed an irony. When had
he ever known a true friend? He was a loner and always had been, a
man who went his own way and rarely displayed emotion. Such signs
were a show of weakness.

His existence had been a hard
one ever since he was a child. Only his father had seemed to really
understand him and after the disappearance of his mother and
sister, Dredger had become so withdrawn that even he could no
longer reach a boy who now wore a cloak of bitterness and rage that
warmed his heart with a terrible fire.

The warrior thrust these
thoughts away with a frantic shake of his head. The dry earth was
beginning to crumble beneath his fingers, his nails torn and
bleeding, hot blood running along his arms.

I will not fail.

But there was just no way
up. Every time he tried to gain leverage to pull himself upward,
his fingers lost their grip, sending him, inch by slow inch, down
into the hell-hole below.
No time,
he realised bleakly as his arms began to go numb. No time at
all. The dust licked his body as if it were an animal tasting its
prey.

"Forgive me," he whispered into
the wind and gritted his teeth, ready to plummet into the depths of
the gaping crack.

And then a hand took his and he
was rising up out of the blackness, firm land suddenly beneath his
exhausted body. He lay there breathless and shaken, not wanting to
move, only wishing to savour the feel of the solid earth and
glancing up, he searched for the face of his saviour, ready to
voice the relief and gratitude he felt in his heart.

From out of the dust a figure
appeared. "Thank you," the warrior said breathlessly, his voice not
fully under control. He tried to make out the features of the
person standing over him, but dust stung his eyes. With a struggle,
he staggered to his feet and peered at the face of the one who had
saved his life.

"I trust you are uninjured,"
said Geheimnis with a dismissive wave of his hand. At that moment,
Dredger truly believed it would have been better if he had fallen
endlessly into the abyss, his bones left to rot in hell. He stared
at the ever widening smile upon Geheimnis' mask and knew that words
were useless. "Well, my friend," the masked man continued. "There
are other scars in the land far greater than this. You will need to
be more careful.”

Like a man in a deep,
black dream, Dredger fought to clear his mind.
How…
his mind began, but he realised dismally
that all understanding had passed away. Everything was a mystery
and he was powerless in its grasp. Questions stirred but found no
answers. He was caught as an insect might be, trapped in the web of
some devious, unnatural spider.

A large golden bell engraved
with many dancing cherubs hung beside a great oak door, this too
bearing similar carvings of fine workmanship.

"What was all that about a
ball?" voiced Jack, looking absently over his shoulder.

"It would appear there is to be
a party," Mo remarked, "but it should be noted that Henry
Blakestone is not a man fond of hunting. Quite the contrary in
fact."

"Shall I ring the bell?" Tom
said uneasily.

The badger nodded emphatically.
"It’s the only way we will find out what is going on here."

Reaching up, Tom pulled firmly
on the cord and listened to the bell's clear, resonate chime. The
three friends waited patiently for an answer and soon footsteps
sounded vaguely beyond the doorway. Unhurriedly, the door swung
inward.

"Good day," spoke Mo
immediately, pushing his snout forward, "I am here to see Mr.
Blakestone."

The man who peered out from
inside the doorway was rather gaunt looking, his small, dark eyes
scanning them with nervous agitation. He had a long, beak-like nose
that Jack found quite fascinating, his gaze drawn to it, however
much he tried to look away.

Sniffing loudly, his large
nostrils flaring, the man licked his lips in an unpleasant manner.
"I see," he said eventually.

"If you would notify Mr
Blakestone that we are here," the badger prompted, "I am sure he
would be pleased to receive us. My name is Mo."

The man at the door gave a curt
nod. "Well, would you care to come inside and wait while I inform
the Master that you have arrived."

Mo moved past him at once,
followed closely by the boys. They were directed toward an open
door to their left that led into a spacious study. Huge bookcases
lined the walls, volumes of every description and hue encased
there, many pieces of beautiful furniture also adorning the room
and they were told to make themselves comfortable.

Jack sank into a cushioned easy
chair and sighed with pleasure and Tom followed his lead, Mo
preferring to settle down on his haunches at their feet. "Comfort
at last," said Jack patting the upholstered chair.

Tom looked over at him and
smiled. "This Mr. Blakestone must be pretty rich."

"Now is not the time for idle
gossip," reprimanded the badger. "Things are not as they should be
here. We will have to tread very carefully."

Just at that moment, the man
who had shown them in returned. "Would you come this way," he said,
staring directly at Mo.

"Certainly," replied the
animal.

Tom and Jack rose to their feet
but the man shook his head, affecting a smile. "I am afraid the
Master wishes to see you alone." He nodded towards the badger.

Mo gazed intently at him for a
moment and then turned his attention to Tom and Jack. "We must
respect our host's wishes," he stated evenly. "I will speak with
him and then I’m sure he will be delighted to meet you both."
Although he spoke in a relaxed way,

giving no hint that he was in
any way unhappy about the proposed arrangement, Tom knew full well
that all was not well. A final glance from the badger confirmed
this, a dubious look passing over the animal's features. "I'll be
back soon," he said and then added, "perhaps you should read up on
some local history while you are waiting."

They were left alone,
shut in with only the books for company. "Maybe we
should
do some reading," Jack
suggested. The large study had become very quiet and his voice
echoed from the walls, adding to the uneasy atmosphere.

"I wish I knew what was going
on here," Tom said, pacing up and down between bookshelves, "I
don't like this one bit."

Jack walked over to a row of
thickly bound books and ran his finger along the titles. "Alchemy
Through The Ages," he read aloud, "The Devil And The Deep Blue Sea,
Blood Sports For All Ages…charming!" Finally he pulled out a fat,
coarsely bound tome and returned to his chair.

"What's that one called?"
enquired Tom, only half interested, his eyes on the doorway.

"Just a picture book," Jack
answered, turning the pages.

Tom sat down again and tapped
the arm of the chair restlessly. Something was wrong. What if Mo
was in trouble?

Across the room from him,
Jack read the title page of the book silently to
himself
. A Bestiary: Origins and
Incarnations.
Jack thought for a few seconds and then
turned to the back to check the index. The book seemed to be quite
comprehensive, although some of the names listed were entirely
foreign to him. But there were two creatures he was

particularly interested in and
both were mentioned.

The first was The Wolf. And the
other, was The Badger.

Mo followed the man along a
dimly lit hallway. They walked upon a thick green carpet that felt
oddly uncomfortable beneath the badger's paws.

His guide moved very quickly,
urgency in his step and Mo sensed a nervousness about him. "Are you
taking me to Mr. Blakestone's rooms," he asked, easily matching
pace.

"Eh, no, the Master did not
think it wise," replied the man glancing down before hurriedly
returning his gaze straight ahead. “Much has happened since you
were last here. Emissaries of the Wolf have been seen in these
parts more and more frequently of late. The Master fears that there
may even be spies within the house itself. He said you would
understand the precaution."

"Of course," Mo said, his tone
even.

"The Master will explain more
fully himself," the man continued, "but he is very glad that you
have arrived."

As they continued along the
corridor, Mo noted several paintings that hung on the walls. All
were portraits of elderly men and women, each face gaunt and
strangely sinister. Turning into another gloomy passage, Mo saw
more pictures, this time of huntsmen like those he had seen at the
outer gate. Why would Henry have hung paintings such as

these when he abhorred such
savage charades?

Taking a long flight of steps
downward, the man finally brought the badger to an iron door and
taking the handle, he opened it onto a darkened room, a very faint
light somewhere below them. "There are stairs, so go carefully," he
warned Mo, indicating for the animal to go ahead.

"After you," said the badger,
baring his teeth slightly.

With a brief nod, the man went
inside. "There are about twenty steps," came his voice as he
disappeared into the gloom.

The badger's eyes were used to
darkness but the light within had an unnatural quality to it that
made vision difficult, so treading cautiously, he descended into
the dingy cellar.

Either Henry
has reason to be extremely careful…or this is a
trap
.

Mo was not a fool. However
plausible his guides story may have been, he still suspected that
this was more than likely a snare set for him by agents of the
Wolf. And yet he knew that to learn anything of importance required
a certain element of risk. So for a time at least, he would play
the game.

Just ahead, the man's voice
called back to him, although he could only make out a vague shape.
"Watch the last step." But even as Mo heard these words, he
stumbled over something and tumbled forward and as he fell, a small
chuckle sounded in the dark. "I did tell you to watch your step,"
came the voice that was now behind and above him.

Immediately gaining his
footing, his loss of balance momentary, Mo looked up toward the top
of stairs and saw a silhouette against the partially open doorway.
"A very clever trap," the badger commended, his voice detached.

The man on the stairs chuckled
again. "You certainly fell for it!" he laughed, obviously enjoying
the moment.

Mo gave a low, menacing growl.
"We will see who will be the next to fall." He moved to the foot of
the stairs, eyes intent on the man above.

"I wouldn't do that if I were
you." The badger paused, peering into the blackness. "You see the
stairs have an electric current running through them now, quite
lethal I'm afraid and I really wouldn't like to see you hurt
yourself. We had it installed especially for your visit."

Mo nodded. "You knew I would
come."

"Of course," said the man with
contempt, "the Master knows everything."

"I see," the badger said
calmly, "but you should remember, manmade traps are such unreliable
things."

Silently the man left the
cellar, closing the iron door behind him. He didn't bother to lock
it, because after all, the animal wasn't going anywhere. He felt
rather pleased with himself, for he had accomplished his task with
consummate skill. But even as he congratulated himself, the words
of the badger echoed in his mind.
Manmade
traps are such unreliable things.
There was something
about that creature that made him feel uneasy.