56.

  Just as the final Rune fell into place, I began to weld together the mental image of my chain. I felt the power growing, the Runes taking metaphysical form within my mind. Suddenly, the Pigeon King froze. I looked up at him proudly as I held the thick, heavy, chain up. I had actually done it!

  "Look," I said to him. "I did it!”

  Then I froze when I saw the look of horror on the Pigeon King's face. He was staring over my shoulder. I turned, feeling splinters of ice pierce my heart. There was a giant moon in the sky, hanging far too low, illuminating the creeping stark branches of that white tree. And there at its base was a silhouette with no eyes and gleaming teeth like broken tombstones in a graveyard. It was so close, maybe only 20 feet from me. I was rigid with fear; I could barely breathe. It sat with its knees drawn to its chest, its head resting on top of its knees. Then it raised its head and its eyeless face stared at me. It tilted its head maniacally to one side.

  "Mageling," the Pigeon King whispered, "what have you done?”

  I couldn't look at the Pigeon King. I was too afraid to look away from the thing in the darkness.

  "I didn't do anything," I said to him, my voice quivering. "That thing, it's... it's been…”

  “Quiet!” The Pigeon King snapped at me, terror etched through his voice. "Damn it, quiet your foolish mouth!”

  I fell silent. The silhouette turned its eyeless face to the Pigeon King. Its grossly swollen tongue fell from its mouth and flicked up and down like a snake tasting the air for prey. The Pigeon King looked at me, his golden eyes quivering.

  "Mageling, you have been reading that book, haven't you? What did it say?"

  "W-what?" I stammered. "I don't know. It just taught me stuff, I guess."

  "Fool," the Pigeon King hissed at me. "What did it say?"

  In my panic, I struggled to recall the warnings and the messages in the book. Then a name came to me.

  "It said... it said something about the Hollow...”

  There was a crack of power, the sky rent open, thunder crashed, and lightning illuminated the darkness. The silhouette threw back its head and let out a dry, strangled cackle. Then the whispers began. Just behind my ears. More urgent. More terrified than ever. The Pigeon King staggered away from me.

  "You dare?" he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "You dare say that name?”

  "Say what name?" I said. "I didn't say… the... the book did. I just…”

  "Where did you find that book?" the Pigeon King snarled, panic making his voice tight and strained.

  "I... I don't know. It was in an old bookshop. I just picked it up.”

  Suddenly, I felt like I had done something not only wrong but evil, something perverse. The way the Pigeon King stared at me made me feel suddenly dirty. The Pigeon King looked back at the silhouette. It was beginning to rise slowly, and for the first time, I noticed there was something extending from its back. It was attached to a long strand of fibrous muscle that was as black as the silhouette, stretching far into the distance and pulsing like an artery.

  “We must leave this place,” The Pigeon King said, flapping into the air. “Quickly mageling!”

  He wheeled around and pumped his powerful wings shooting away from the silhouette. I didn’t need to be told twice. I turned and sprinted after him, my feet splashing through the shallow waters. The Pigeon King wasn’t waiting for me. He was almost a speck against the blackness. I felt panic rise in my chest, he wouldn’t leave me alone here, with that thing, would he? I put on another spurt of speed and chased after him.

  There was another mighty crack of thunder behind me. I turned and looked over my shoulder, and then ran, face first, into the Pigeon King. I cried out and stumbled back.

  “What are you…” I stopped mid sentence.

  We were back in front of the silhouette exactly the same as before.

  The Pigeon King hovered in mid air, staring at the creature.

  “How long?” The Pigeon King asked me without turning around, his voice a hushed whisper.

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  “What?” I said.

  “How long have you been consorting with this thing?”

  “I haven’t been consorting with it!” I shot back. “It was when you sent me to get the ingredients for the agility potion. I told you, remember? I told you a thing had appeared and spoken to me!”

  “What did it say?” The Pigeon King asked, his voice a husky whisper.

  The silhouette was standing now. Its arms were too long, passing well below where its knees would have been. It had a hunched stance, leaning slightly forward, that lecherous grin widening on its face.

  “You… you have been seen.” I uttered the phrase that had haunted my nightmares and the whispers intensified. I felt like I was surrounded by a maddening wall of them, barely able to think straight, my mind drowning in terror.

  “You have been seen…” the Pigeon King whispered.

  “He has been seen,” the silhouette croaked in its dry, cracked voice, although its mouth never shifted from that hideous smile. "Broken things always seek to break others.”

  "No, I don't! I said, shaking my head, the whispers were so loud, overlapping each other until they became a ceaseless buzz in my ear, making my brain ache.

  "Shut up, mageling! Shut your mouth and do not speak to it!” The Pigeon King squawked.

  The silhouette turned its gaze upon the Pigeon King and said in a sing-song voice

  "How long have you taken without giving?"

  The Pigeon King backed away a step.

  "Yours is not to ask from me!" the Pigeon King said, trying to make his voice stern. "I am no mortal!”

  “The Void will have what is its.” The silhouette croaked. "Come closer, little spirit." The silhouette took a lurching step forward.

  The ground shook as it stepped, the sky tore open again, lightning struck the scarred tree behind the silhouette and thunder clapped so loudly I felt it vibrate through my chest. It stretched out one of its claw-like hands, fighting against the fibrous strand of muscle in its back..

  "The beast hungers," its voice suddenly dropped into a guttural growl that emanated from somewhere deep within its guts. That wide, pitiless smile stretched across its face, and I saw its thick, fleshy red tongue flop from the side of its mouth. "Feed us!"

  Suddenly, the Pigeon King was in the air, his wings spread, and a golden light emanated from him so bright that I had to turn my face and hide my eyes. I felt searing heat on my back. Then the Pigeon King's claws were digging into my shoulder, and he almost yanked me completely off my feet.

  "Run!" I heard the Pigeon King scream in my ear, and I turned and followed his voice, sprinting without thinking.

  We charged into the inky blackness, and as the Pigeon King's sudden light faded, I heard cackling from behind me. I chanced a look over my shoulder and saw the silhouette swelling and growing. It took another thunderous step forward that seemed to equal a will of effort that could level mountains.

  “The door!” The Pigeon King screamed at me. “Will it into being, mageling! We must escape!”

  I didn’t understand what he meant but sheer, animal terror gripped me so hard that I complied without thought or reason.

  “What is taken must be given!” The silhouette bellowed, its voice had multiplied and sounded like it was coming from a thousand mouths, deeper and louder than even the thunder. The whispers had reached fever pitch. I could feel cold fingers grasping at the back of my neck and legs.

  “Now mageling!” The Pigeon King cried, the golden light disappearing. “Do it now!”

  Tears filled my eyes. My breath caught in my throat. In what felt like the final seconds of my life… a door suddenly appeared in front of us. It was an old wooden slatted door with heavy strips of horizontal iron running across it.

  The Pigeon King flew directly at it and together we burst through it, tumbling across to the other side.

  "You will return, you always return," the silhouettes disembodied voice howled into the darkness behind us as the door slammed shut and disappeared.

  Silence. The whispers were gone. I could only hear the sounds of my panicked gasping. I lay on the floor panting, my body slick with cold sweat. I lay spread eagle, my chest moving like a piston, my mouth dry, and tears dripping down my temples.

  The sheer terror coursing through my vein slowly dissipated. I regained control of my breathing and the tears stopped. Raising a shaking hand, I scrubbed my eyes and nose.

  Where the hell were we now?

  The sky was a roiling mass of dark clouds punctuated with a sludgy mix of purple and red hues. The clouds didn’t roll across the sky, but rather spun hazily like they were caught in a vortex. There were flashes of lightning within the clouds but no thunder. I sat up and wiped tears from the side of my head. I was laying on cold flagstones by the look of it. The flagstones ended abruptly on either side of me. I chanced a look over the edge and saw there was nothing but more of the red and purple sky. I looked up and saw the path leading in a haphazard, frenetic pattern, up and criss crossing at intervals. There were stairs of every style and size, some as narrow and steep as cut outs in a mountain side, and others were sprawling wide staircases of the type you would find in a mansion or ballroom. Some led up, some went down, and others led nowhere. Mixed amongst the chaos were doors and floating walls with candelabras. Chunks of masonry spun by. It was like a castle had been blown up in space. It was a maddening, dizzying sight that my mortal brain just couldn’t make sense of.

  “Where am I?” I wondered aloud.

  “We are here.” The Pigeon King’s voice startled me.

  I turned and looked at the little pigeon standing on the flagstones.

  “Where?” I asked him.

  “Somnix's Kingdom,” the Pigeon King replied. “In the land of Nightmares.”

  The Pigeon King was staring over my shoulder up into the distance. I turned and and at the very top of the spiral chaos of stairs and masonry, I saw a castle straight out of a Victorian horror book. It was all tall black spires, thick masonry blocks, and stained glass windows. Dracula himself would have been proud to call it home.

  “Let me guess,” I said, my voice a dry rasp. “We’re going up there?”