The Magic Lands (30 page)

With an abrupt movement that
made Tom start, the man reached for a mask and held it out toward
him, and plucking it from the outstretched palm, he quickly
fastened it in place.

Silently, the guardian opened
the great doors and Tom walked inside, now just one more wolf
amongst many.

Somewhere, prowling
through the house, a lithe, hunched figure searched for its prey.
The boy had, temporarily, managed to elude the creature.
But I'll find you. It’s only a matter of
time.

It stalked along a dingy
hallway, long fingernails brushing against the carpet. Its arms
hung low to the ground like those of an ape, but its face was that
of a demon born of nightmare, an elongated tongue, forked and as
black as coal, flicking in and out as it moved.

Its nostrils flared and once
more it caught the boy's scent, so delicious and stimulating and it
quickened its pace, creeping stealthily onward, anticipation
burning within its squat, leathery frame. "I'll have you," it
hissed, smirking.

The spoor of its quarry led it
on. Foolish children must learn hard lessons.

Imagining what was to come, the
creature's body convulsed with pleasure. It hardly

mattered that another,
different scent, had now allied itself to the one it pursued. What
had to be done, would be done.

A question formed in his mind
and he wanted to voice it, but messages from his head to his body
were no longer being relayed, his thoughts held prisoner.

What am I doing?

The answer came easily
enough.
I'm trying to find Tom and
Mo.

Was this another dream?

Lisa led him along a hallway,
the walls decorated with oval portraits of sickly looking children,
their pallor reminding him morbidly of corpses. Coming upon a large
metallic door, the girl took the handle firmly in her free hand and
opened it. "This is the place," she told him as they went inside,
closing the door behind them.

It was a storage-room of some
kind, but other than a wine rack containing a few bottles, the only
object within was a large mechanical apparatus that Jack guessed
was some form of generator.

"What is that?" he mumbled,
finding his voice at last, though it was barely above a
whisper.

Lisa glanced at the machine
without any real interest. "It powers everything in the house."

Jack looked the generator
over and although he could not place why, felt that something about
it was wrong. It just didn't look right, not that he was any
authority on such machinery, but there
was
something. His eyes settled on a dial that
measured the voltage and he saw that at its greatest, its output
was 50,000 volts.

"It seems very new," he
said vaguely, shining metal reflecting his drawn face back at
him.
I look terrible
he
thought and smiled weakly. "Why would Tom be down here anyway?" he
asked Lisa, not wanting to look at himself any longer, the image
unsettling him somehow.

She looked around the room,
almost as if she expected Tom to pop out of hiding at any moment.
"I was sure he would be down here," she said with
disappointment.

A scratching noise from the
other side of the metal door caught Jack's attention and he pulled
away from Lisa, listening carefully.

The sound at the door stopped
and he glanced at the girl rather uneasily. "Did you hear that?" he
questioned, gesturing toward the door.

Tilting her head to one side,
she shook her head. "I can't hear anything."

Slowly, Jack edged toward the
doorway and placed his ear against the cool metal. There was no
sound, only his own breathing. Could he be imagining things? He
supposed this would not be so unlikely, considering all that had
happened.

Turning back to Lisa he was
about to suggest they searched somewhere else, but to his utter
amazement, she was no longer there. He spun around, looking
frantically around the room, but there was nowhere she could have
gone to. There was only one exit and there was nowhere to hide.

Glancing over at the generator,
Jack checked to make certain that Lisa was not hiding behind it
somehow, but the machine was flush against two walls, securely
fixed in the corner of the room.

"I don't believe this!"
he said aloud, still scanning every inch of the room. He went over
to the wine rack and fiddled with a few of the
bottles
. Maybe there's a secret passage.
It wouldn't surprise me in a place like this.
Tugging
at the wooden rack, just in case there was a hidden door behind it,
Jack discovered that it too was fixed in place. He shook his head
in dismay.
Maybe it's me. Maybe I'm the
one who's mad!

At the door, the scratching
began again and without thinking, frustration and bewilderment
clouding his mind, Jack marched over and flung it open.

"Found you," grinned the
hunched creature, squatting just outside the doorway. Jack stumbled
backward, absolute terror registering on his face. "You've led me a
merry chase, boy," it breathed, gurgling slightly. "But now I have
you."

If I shut my eyes, it will go
away.

"Time to die," snarled the
thing and it seemed to shiver with delight.

Turning to run, Jack realised
too late that he was caught in a perfect trap. In the shadows of
the doorway the creature came and stood, its long, sinuous arms
dangling to the ground, fingers working, its black eyes fixed on
the boy. "Dwell on this, boy, as you await your death," it rasped,
leering madly. "You are the last. Your friends are gone, flesh for
the master's throne. Now, you will join them."

Stinging tears crept helplessly
down Jack's face. "No," he whispered.

And then with lightning speed,
the demon came at him, saliva dripping from its jagged fangs, greed
in its soulless eyes.

Immense columns of marble
and magnificent chandeliers dominated the great hall and as Tom
walked among the gathering, he marvelled at the huge tapestries
that hung on several of the walls, scenes from the hunt depicted
there in loving detail.
Bloodthirsty
bunch!
Tom thought wryly, but the truth was that he
was absolutely petrified, the fear of being discovered suffocating
in its intensity. He was relieved to see that not all of the guests
wore the attire of the hunt, some more casually dressed and he
prayed that he would blend in and not seem too
conspicuous.

As he moved amongst them, he
passed by small groups huddled together in conversation or sipping
drinks, whilst others danced to music played by a string quintet.
He didn’t seem to be attracting any undue attention and this at
least helped him to relax just a little.

On the far side of the hall,
someone clapped their hands together and the music ceased. The
dancers stopped and drew apart and Tom saw the small man they had
met at the gateway step forward onto a small stage, everyone
seeming to regard him expectantly. "It draws near the time," he
proclaimed, his voice raised so that all could hear. "The time to
bless our Master. And even though he cannot be here with us, his
spirit prevails." There was rapturous applause which Tom quickly
joined in with. "As light approaches, we prepare for The Hunt!" At
this there was enthusiastic cheering and more clapping and waving
his hand to quiet them, the speaker continued. "As you are all
aware, we have with us some very special guests." An excited buzz
went through the crowd and Tom began to fidget nervously, but
no-one appeared to look his way. "It is as the Master said it would
be," smiled the man on the stage, "and very soon we shall have our
reward." He raised a glass. "Let us toast our Lord! Praise be to
the master of dreams, praise be to the Wolf who is white!"

All there lifted a glass and
repeated these last words with a passionate fervour and Tom
realised with an unpleasant lurch of his stomach that apparently he
was the only one who didn't have a glass.

The small man beamed
benevolently at his audience. "We hunt in the name of our Master.
Bring back the flesh and bone of the hunted for his sake. And he
shall give you eternal delight!"

A great cheer rose up from all
those assembled, like the baying of wild animals and a feeling of
horror almost overwhelmed Tom, an urgent desire to run from that
place there and then screaming to be obeyed, for their cries were
barbaric, as brutal as the beasts they resembled.

"Now ready yourself for the
Hunt, my dear friends," called their spokesman joyously. "There is
a game to be played and the prey is ready to run. Look closely and
root out the fox amongst the hounds! Send him on his way." The man
pointed a stubby finger and Tom instinctively knew that it was he
who had been singled out, even before every mask turned in his
direction, their hungry eyes upon him.

He ran, pushing his way past
one body after another, racing desperately on toward the beckoning
doorway, but in his heart he knew that he was lost.

Yet no-one stood in his way and
coming to the great doors, they opened for him as if they had
awaited his departure and out through them Tom bolted, passing the
tall doorman who only watched his flight silently, unmoving. With
legs pumping and heart pounding furiously, all Tom longed for was
to be out of that terrible, depraved house, to be free again and as
if to answer his wishes, ahead of him he saw another open door and
beyond it benign daylight. Into a new day he flew and he did not
look back.

In the crowded ballroom, the
small man raised his glass once more and laughed fiercely. "Praise
be, for The Hunt begins at last!"

And all there cried aloud with
a deafening roar. "Praise be!"

THE BLACK TREE

An intense fury unlike anything
Jack had ever experienced before engulfed him, and in that instant
he feared nothing and no-one.

The foul creature threw itself
upon him, its deadly nails tearing at his chest. But Jack was ready
for it and turning his body suddenly, he smashed his shoulder hard
into the monster's head and neck, knocking it backward and
swivelling quickly around, he kicked out at its flaccid underbelly,
the solid contact invoking a screech of agony.

With savage joy, Jack grinned.
"How do you like it!" he screamed above the writhing figure,
kicking at it again, but this time the thing anticipated his blow
and squirmed away.

"Little boy plays rough," it
hissed, eyeing him darkly from the floor.

"That's right," Jack sneered,
"so why don't you come and get some more!" His whole body shook,
not with fear but with anger and bitterness.

It came at him again, faster
than he had expected, catching his shoulder with its long nails and
gashing him quite badly. Distantly it seemed he could feel the
warm, clinging flow of his blood ebbing out against his shirt and
his mind began to spin backward, pictures of Tom and the great
times they had shared together flashing through his head. All gone
now he told himself, an unwanted coldness creeping into his
heart.

Moving with a frantic speed,
amazing both himself and the thing, Jack feinted to his opponents
left and then kicked out with ferocious strength, hitting the
creature on its right side, ribs buckling beneath the force of his
boot. An appalling howl erupted from the thing's mouth, its long
black tongue dancing wildly in and out of its mouth as it struggled
for breath. But Jack didn't care, he just went on kicking.

It scurried away from him, a
last futile effort to save itself, but Jack rushed at it, bringing
his boot down hard on the demon's throat. With a horrible gurgling
sound, it began to convulse at his feet, clutching at the boy's
leg. Jack shook it off and clapped his hands, laughing wildly.
"See, you're not such a big monster. You're not so tough." Tears
were welling up in his eyes, tears he could not hold back and he
sobbed aloud as he watched the thing shudder and roll over onto its
side. "You shouldn't have hurt Tom," Jack said softly. His fury had
abruptly deserted him.

The creature's murky eyes
rolled in their sockets to find him. "Why…why did you do this?" it
pleaded in a forlorn whisper.

"I…," Jack said through his
tears. "I couldn't help it."

"But I don't want to die," it
murmured, eyelids flickering shut before opening slowly again.

Jack got down onto his knees,
grief and despair overcoming him suddenly and timidly he placed a
hand on its misshapen arm. "You didn’t give me any choice."

But the creature lay silent and
still.

Murderer.

He slowly withdrew, clenching
his hands into fists until his fingers hurt. He felt utterly empty
inside, an awful weariness falling upon him.

An eye for an
eye won't bring them back,
said a voice from
within.

"Forgive me," he begged in the
callous silence, "please forgive me."

But it was too late. The deed
was done and he was all alone.

You might
just as well kill yourself too
, a grim voice advised
him from, it seemed, within his very soul.

"What's the point in going on?"
wept Jack, his grief more than he could bear.

But no answer came. Even the
inner voice had abandoned him.

"I might just as well be dead,"
he decided with finality and he stopped crying, wiping his smeared
cheeks with both hands. His tears were ended, and so too was his
life he realised. Looking over at the generator, Jack knew what he
had to do. Words like vengeance and justice rushed through his
broken mind, crushing any last fragment of reason he had and with
bleak resolve he went to the machine.