The Magic Lands (28 page)

The next
door!
His eyes scanned the doorways ahead and the
glint of a golden doorknob caught
his eye.
Please be unlocked.
He prayed that
the key would be inside so that he could lock the door behind
him.

Opening easily, he dodged
inside, pushing it gently shut and gazing down at the lock he found
that it held a small golden key waiting to be turned.

Thank
you!
With a tremendous sigh of relief, Jack locked the
door and leaned heavily against the secure wooden barrier,
breathing hard. "Safe," he gasped, almost afraid the creature would
hear him and smash its way through, but outside everything was
quiet.
Maybe it's lost my scent. Maybe it
went the wrong way.

For a brief moment a terrible
idea surfaced in his mind. What if Tom and Mo were both dead? But
he rejected it with bitter force. Everything would be all right. He
would find them both and they would all get out of here
together.

A faint sound snapped him away
from his thoughts and back to reality.

It's outside
the door. It's found me!
Panic charged through him and
he bit down on his lip to stop himself from screaming. But no, the
sound wasn't coming from the other side of the door. It was coming
from inside the room.

For the first time since
entering Jack examined the interior, dimly noting the expensive
decor. Everything about this chamber boasted vast wealth, the
furnishings lavish and no doubt antique, all fashioned from the
finest materials. Jack listened carefully and realised that the
sound was very much like someone or something breathing.

The monster
is in here with me!
Sweat trickled down his face. Now
he was sure his heart would cease to beat.

In the left-hand corner of the
room a large four-poster bed, far more impressive than the one in
the room he and Tom had been left in, stood imposingly, surrounded
by richly embroidered drapes. Whoever or whatever was making the
sound lay beyond them and he thought to himself that if Tom was
dead, he didn't really care if he lived or died. So with this
conviction at the back of his mind, Jack walked hesitantly toward
the bed and as he drew nearer the breathing became louder, though
not harsh as he knew the creature's would be, but gentle and calm.
He touched the soft material, knowing that it was all that stood
between himself and the unknown.

Fair or Foul? But there was
only one way to find out.

Boldly, Jack pulled back the
drapes that concealed the bed and looked inside.

It really was all just a dream
he understood then, staring down at the figure upon the

bed and he looked on in awe as
he watched the easy rise and fall of the girl's chest, her golden
hair partially obscuring her face.

Tom's mind was beset by
fragments of dreams. Reality and illusion had become the same for
him. He was the sleeper who never slept, the dreamer who never
dreamed.

I am not a
hero,
he thought oddly.
I'm
just a boy with no future who can never grow up.

Something stirred in his
brain.
What am I thinking?
a
small, insignificant voice asked.

The
truth!
his mind bellowed.
Face what you are. Worthless. A pathetic child.

But when I grow up I want to do
good things, help people. I could be…a doctor!

And what
about the Wolf?
the small voice said, very
distant.

He's the
friend of worlds,
his mind assured him, but Tom was
doubtful.

It's all
there in black and white,
argued a firm, resonate
voice and Tom nodded, speaking aloud.
"Yes, and Mo
knows the answers."

His mind seemed to buzz with a
queasy nausea.

He knows nothing.

Why is Uncle
Ira coming down the stairs to kill me?
Tom thought
unhappily.

Because you deserve to die. You
are a thief and thieves deserve nothing but death.

"I must wake up!" Tom screamed
suddenly tearing at his hair, his mind in chaos.

He blinked his eyes and
incredibly he was rushing forward at tremendous speed.
Where am I?
He looked ahead and saw
a gigantic brick wall towering high above him. Tom sped toward it,
his hair flying, air battering his face, but there was something
wrong about the wall, its bricks appearing to pulsate, oozing with
some vile liquid. Without awareness of how he knew, Tom understood
that the monstrous wall was alive and sentient and as he rushed
forward, he saw that it meant to consume him. He wanted to close
his eyes but however hard he tried they remained wide open. His
stomach lurched, bile rising in his throat but still he hurtled
onward until his vision was filled by the throbbing monstrosity,
summoning him on and he was powerless to resist.

"Please God, let me wake up!"
he screamed, tears slowly falling from his eyes.

Abruptly he found himself in a
room, facing a large wooden desk. He was quite alone. A clock
ticked methodically somewhere behind him.

Someone was here.

Then with cruel force
everything came back to him, assaulting his mind. "Jack!" he said,
his voice ringing in the silence.

Throwing open the door, he ran
out into the hallway and as he did he thought that he saw something
turning the corner into the corridor to his left, though the
lighting was muted and cast many shadows and he couldn’t be sure it
wasn't just his eyes playing tricks on him. And yet, all the same,
it had appeared to be something moving low to the ground, and what
was more he had thought, in that brief moment, that he had seen a
flash of white against the darkness of the house.

As he walked through the
streets of Hydan, something that had lain dormant within Dredger
was awakening.

During his trial with Geheimnis
he had learnt many things. The Second Beast he knew now was within
himself, a part of all Mankind. The inner beast. He began to
understand.

He glanced about at the
desolate, broken city, shutters on windows clattering, moved by the
fierce wind, dust swirling and dancing about him as he moved
through the bones of what was once a magnificent place. And like
the wind, something deep inside him whispered low, trying to
communicate some secret, some distant warning.

A chuckle from behind him made
Dredger spin around, his agility and speed startling even in this
small manoeuvre. Once more he faced his dream.

The crooked one, enshrouded by
a hooded cloak, regarded him, perhaps twenty yards distant. About
its waist hung a belt and holsters, ebony handled pistols snugly
held there. He could not see the fiend's face, but then, he did not
need to.

"From dreams come realities,"
it hissed, strangely distinct above the dust-storm and Dredger
looked closely at the one who faced him, noting that the creature
stood tall in

high black boots, despite its
stoop. "I see you are confused," mocked the thing, but the warrior
did not reply. He only watched intently, awaiting the time to move
and strike. "There is only one Beast," it said and cackled, silver,
reptilian eyes glinting from within the blackness of its hood.

"What is it you want of me?"
Dredger said, taking two steps forward and the other's sibilant
laughter met his words.

"Your life, of course. And your
soul."

Dredger smiled thinly. "So who
is the Second Beast?"

The creature's eyes narrowed
and it spat a brown, viscous liquid into the dust. "A tall tale to
snare a gullible fool. I have already told you, warrior, there is
but one Beast. And it is as white as snow. We two, executioner and
victim, are but pawns in a greater game, a timeless game that draws
near its conclusion.” A misshapen, bony hand emerged from beneath
its cloak and long fingers twitched above one of the pistols.

"I suspect I know more of the
truth than you," called the warrior, taunting the thing and taking
another step forward.

His enemy hissed violently.
"You are dead and buried. Your pathetic blade is useless. I will
shoot you down before you have even raised it against me."

Dredger took one more
step and then stopped. He smiled. "Only one Beast," he said, as if
to himself. "So you are nothing more than a minion, a lap-dog. And
you dare to face
me
!" The
creature gave a low chuckle, though the sound lacked the mocking
tone of a moment before. "Draw!" the warrior taunted, nodding
toward the gun at its hip. "Let's see how fast you really
are."

Beneath its hooded shroud, the
demon's eyes became glazed with uncertainty and in that instant, as
if sensing the other's weakness, Dredger drew a sword from his
belt, the blade that he had taken in the aftermath of Geheimnis'
transformation. He had made many mistakes, he understood, many
wrong turns on his long journey to this moment. He had presumed
that his dream of prophecy had shown the Second Beast, that the
hooded thing before him was the one it spoke of, but now he knew
that he had misinterpreted his dream. Indeed, it had revealed the
face of the Second Beast, but that face had been his own.

There were two Beast's in these
lands now. One was white death. The other lay within Mankind
itself.

The thing reached for its
pistol, long, claw-like fingers aching for its cold touch.

Dredger's hurled the blade with
all his strength, his body a blur of motion, the sword like an
arrow, aimed straight at his opponent's heart and the creature
could only brush the handle of the gun with its fingertips as it
watched death approach. The hood fell back, uncovering its hideous
face and the warrior grinned viciously at the sight. No, this time
it was not his own countenance, merely the deformed face of a
pathetic freak in the service of the Wolf.

As the tip of the blade met its
target the thing was thrown backward, its crippled body torn apart
by the force of the impact and it lay motionless on the dust-ridden
earth of Hydan, dead, its features contorted in an expression of
utter shock.

Coming to stand over his
victim, Dredger took the sword by the hilt and wrested it from the
corpse, holding it aloft, wielding it above his head. "Now Wolf,
the time has come." He clenched his fist tightly about the haft of
the weapon. "It is I who will come for you. You will yet have
reason to fear the beast in Man."

Returning the sword to its
place at his side, Dredger turned and walked back through the lost
city, now reclaimed. Ruined buildings stood in remembrance of a
long forgotten time, but still endured to witness the dawn of a new
age.

When he again stood on the
hilltop and looked out over the Land of Scars, the warrior saw that
where once the earth had been torn, it now lay unblemished, whole
again.

"I come," he whispered, the
wind dying abruptly, until only a gentle breeze touched his
face.

Then from out of the sky
something fell, hitting the earth close to him and he looked down
to see the broken body of a small white bird. Smiling, his eyes
changing in an instant from blue to yellow and then to blue again,
Dredger brought his boot down hard onto the dove’s tiny carcass,
crushing it beneath his heel.

Hunched low and still, the
badger sat watching the men and women as they laughed and danced,
indulging themselves in their revelry. Their masks gave them a
ghoulish appearance, which Mo imagined might frighten young
children. But not Tom and Jack. They were of a different breed.

They were both safe for the
moment he knew, but somewhere lurking, sneaking like the foul beast
that it was, the Wolf was near. The badger was not afraid however,
at least, not for himself. He feared for the victims to come. How
many would there be? Millions? Billions? A toll beyond measure.
Whilst the journey continued, the price must be paid.

Mo looked far into the reaches
of his own mind and saw a man who held a sword aloft. Their
dreadful tale had taken another turn toward its conclusion and each
had a role to play.

Although he had told the boys
that time was only a manmade thing and did not exist in this world,
still there was fundamental time that could not be gauged, but
commanded their existences all the same.

He had found his friend Henry
shortly before, in a room on the far side of the west wing. It had
not taken him long to sniff out the scent. Rotting flesh was a most
potent stench after all. The man had of course been tortured. What
he might have told was impossible to say, and sadly, of no real
consequence. His friend's death was just another detestable crime.
Another sin. In Mo's mind he saw vividly an image of the Wolf's
face, fury and madness playing across it as if they were living
things.

Sniffing the air and wrinkling
his nose, the badger ground his teeth. Tom would soon be called
upon to make some difficult choices. And as for Jack, poor Jack,
his trials were only just beginning. The odyssey twisted like a
serpent, unpredictable. Only one thing was certain. Many hearts and
spirits would be broken before the end.

For his own part, sadness and
pain would not be too high a price to pay to see the finish of it
all. For he was indeed old and very tired.

Mo understood one of the great
truths. You can only ever really learn what you already knew when
you began, concealed from yourself by a closed mind, fearful of the
unknown and the changes it must surely bring about when
rediscovered.

He slipped away silently along
the hallway, his bulk hidden in the shadows and after just a few
minutes, he came upon an ancient door of burnished wood that stood
ajar and the badger entered without hesitation. Soon the
celebrations would begin in earnest with the hunt itself as the
finale.