The Magic Lands

by Mark Hockley

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father had seemed to really understand him and after the disappearance of his mother and sister, Dredger had become so withdrawn that even he could no longer reach a boy who now wore a cloak of bitterness and rage that warmed his heart with a terrible fire.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

  Don't be foolish, he chastised himself. Was not the Master in control? And was he not the

  Master's envoy? Nothing could stand against them. Nothing. The badger would learn that soon enough.

  They passed over many scars in the land. Dredger did not speak. His mind was tormented by his companion. Who was Geheimnis? What was he?

  Since his ordeal, the acrid taste of defeat and humiliation staying with him, Dredger had tried vainly to rationalise what had happened. So the man was a magician, that much seemed certain. But what was his purpose? Why had the masked man saved his life?

  Whatever his intentions, Dredger knew that they must be of some arcane design. But he was forced to wonder if he could match the sorcery of this man. Doubts, like locusts, swarmed through his mind, devouring his thoughts, consuming his reason. Unable to rely upon logic, he understood on some basic level that all he could trust now was his own will to succeed, the heart of his existence.

  And whatever role Geheimnis might play, Dredger would not let it make any difference.

  Everyone had to die sometime.

  Jack quickly closed the book as the man entered the room, feeling a little embarrassed because he hadn't asked permission to look at it.

  Rising from his chair, Tom waited for the expected invitation to go and meet their host. But none came.

  Jack put down the book and also stood up. "Where's Mo?"

  "Young masters," the man began graciously, "your friend has asked me to advise you that he will be detained for quite some time, as he has very important matters to discuss. He has asked me to relay to you his most profound apologies and to assure you both that all is well."

  Tom glanced at Jack and then regarded the man doubtfully. "How long will he be?"

  "I really cannot say. Your friend asked me to tell you that he would explain everything later and until then, my Master has instructed me to show you to your room."

  "Room?" Jack spoke up.

  "Yes," said the man kindly. "It has been agreed that you shall stay the night. After all, it is The Huntsmen's Ball this evening and you wouldn't want to miss that, now would you? And then tomorrow, there will be the Hunt itself. Who knows, the Master may even invite you to ride with him."

  Tom and Jack didn't know what to say. As far as Tom was concerned it was all very suspicious, but what could they do? He knew that something was wrong, yet until they knew more about what was going on in this house, they were in no position to do very much other than keep their wits about them and see how things went. "All right," he said eventually, "we’ve come a long way and we are tired. I suppose we could both do with a good night's sleep on a real bed." In the corner of his eye, Tom noticed that Jack was staring at him.

  "Very good," said the man, smiling. "If you would come this way..."

  He led them out into the hallway and then up a flight of wide stairs that took them to a long corridor, and as the boys walked along a little way behind their escort, Jack nudged his friend and whispered harshly into his ear. "What do you think you're doing?" he hissed. "Don't you think you're being just a bit too trusting about all of this?"

  Tom smiled tightly. "I know," he replied softly, "but until we find Mo, it's better if we just go along with it. Once that butler, or whatever he is, leaves us alone, we can do a bit of exploring and see what we can find out."

  Jack nodded at this, his confidence restored. "I've got a few questions of my own I'd like to ask Mo," he said enigmatically.

  Tom was about to comment on this when the man came to a sudden halt ahead of them and waved his hand toward a broad oak door. "Here you are, young masters. This is your room. I hope you don’t mind sharing." With that he opened the door, unveiling a lavish suite which for a few seconds took both boys breath away.

  Tom stepped inside onto a deep burgundy carpet. A huge four-poster bed stood impressively against a wall, reminding him fleetingly of the one he had seen in the caves of Rith-ran-ro-en, but he quickly pushed this memory away and continued to survey the room. An ornat
e chest of drawers dominated another wall, a gigantic mirror above it and an adjoining door led through into a very spacious bathroom, the bath itself five times bigger than any he had ever seen before.

  "I hope you will be comfortable," the man said as he turned to leave. "I will come and inform you when the ball is about to begin. Until then, if you require a change of clothing, there is suitable attire in the wardrobes. And of course, all other facilities are at your disposal."

  "Thanks," answered Tom.

  With a brief nod of his head the man left, giving Tom and Jack a chance to have a good look around.

  "It really is like a palace," Jack remarked, taking a running jump at the bed and landing easily on a wonderfully springy mattress.

  "It is pretty impressive," admitted Tom a little begrudgingly.

  "I know what you're thinking," Jack said, bouncing gently on the bed. "Now’s not the time for admiring the scenery. We've got work to do."

  Tom looked back at his friend and smiled. "Let's find out if things are really the way our butler friend wants us to think they are."

  "Do you think Mo is all right?"

  This concern was also on Tom's mind and he wished he could believe the old badger was really discussing important matters with Mr. Blakestone. But he was afraid. Very afraid. "He can take care of himself," he told Jack, hoping it was so.

  "I'll be a lot happier when he's with us again."

  "Come on then," Tom bid the other boy, moving toward the door.

  "What if it's locked?" Jack said, the idea only just occurring to him. Tom took hold of the handle and turned it sharply, the door opening with ease. "I know this may sound stupid," Jack voiced at his side, "but what if they want us to come looking."

  Tom glanced at his friend uneasily. "I only wish it did sound stupid."

  With a grunt escaping from between gritted teeth, Dredger reached the far side of a wide chasm. It was perhaps, marginally, the largest they had yet crossed. Geheimnis stood casually awaiting his arrival. "You are improving." The warrior spat dust from his mouth and looked ahead. "It would seem we near our goal," the masked man said, also turning toward the horizon where the landscape appeared to slope dramatically upward.

  Dredger gazed out into the swirling clouds of powder and dirt roused by a relentless wind and in his memory, buried deep, a recollection began to stir.

  He had been here before, in a dream.

  As the land rose, they would climb to the top of a steep ridge and there below, Hydan would lay, awaiting him. Spitting bitter saliva from his lips, he turned to his companion. "Now finally the truth will make itself known. No more masquerades, no more trickery. The time has come for you to reveal your purpose."

  Geheimnis nodded slowly, his mask plain once more. "Indeed, my eternal friend. The time has come. I have awaited aeons for this moment to come to pass. At last, I have returned home again."

  "Do you think we should split up and look for him?" Jack asked, although his voice indicated that he didn't really like his own suggestion very much.

  "Not likely!" stated Tom firmly. "You know what happens to people in films when they split up."

  "Someone always gets it!"

  "Exactly," Tom went on, "and we've already been separated from Mo, so let's me and you stick together, all right?"

  "I'm convinced," agreed Jack.

  They were now passing along a shadowy hallway that was lit by hanging lanterns suspended from the walls. They gave the place a strange, ghostly appearance that neither boy particularly relished. Arriving at a turning in the long corridor they came to a prompt halt, distant voices audible somewhere just beyond the corner.

  "What now?" whispered Tom, leaning close to the wall.

  Jack bit his lip absently. "There’s no point running at the first sign of trouble.”

  With a nod Tom started forward, Jack following close behind.

  They crept stealthily around the corner and found themselves gazing at what appeared to be no more than a continuation of the hallway. But the voices were much louder now and seemed closer. It sounded as if there were many people in conversation, a great gathering, but there were no doors visible and the corridor went on for as far as they could see. They noticed that this part of the house was also far brighter, even though the lanterns on the walls were exactly as before.

  On closer inspection, Tom saw that further along the hallway to his right the wall was interrupted by an ornately carved, wooden balustrade. Moving very cautiously forward to where light poured into the passage, they peeked down through the balusters and realised that they were directly above a great hall.

  "The Huntsmen's ball?" breathed Jack, kneeling down and keeping his head low.

  They watched as scores of people dressed in the red and white of the hunt milled about below.

  "That means we'll have been missed," Tom whispered.

  Jack nodded grimly. "Look's like we're in more trouble."

  "And that's not the worst of it," Tom returned, looking into his friend's anxious eyes. "Have you noticed anything funny about those people down there?"

  Jack gazed down at the crowded hall and studied the men and women more carefully, and although when he had first glanced at them he had presumed them to have human faces, he now realised with growing horror that none were visible.

  The features of everyone gathered there were concealed beneath a mask. The mask of a wolf.