The Lord of the Curtain

by Billy Phillips

  “That’s a lot of places. How’s that possible?”

  “The Mount Velarium volcano—the second of the Twin Mountains. Inside that volcano are countless portals and endless tunnels that interconnect countless dimensions and endless worlds.”

  “Wormholes?”

  “Yes. The Enchanter needs a human with a mind powerful enough to control all realities—by controlling the most powerful world of all.”

  “Eos?”

  “Precisely.”

  “So he needs Natalie and her big brain.”

  “Correct.”

  “So there’s no hope?”

  “There’s you.”

  “Right. I’m the goblet.”

  “The Dipping Pools are said to be flowing with violet waters. This is where he stores the violet power he’s stolen from us. The plan is to use that power against him.”

  “How?”

  “You. The goblet. You have both fire and water—the red and violet forces—inside of you. Right now, the red is dominant because you’re half blood-eyed. This imbalance connects you to the Enchanter. Each time you resist, you weaken your red, and you weaken him by association as you restore balance within yourself. But the ultimate purge will be the Dipping Pools. The waters will purify you of all the dominating red power. And that will drain him. First, you’ll dip into the pools seven times to purge that walking-dead force from your being. The nail in his coffin will be the draining of the Dipping Pools. Only a living human hand can turn that valve.”

  Caitlin lifted her hand and inspected it, wiggling her fingers.

  Scarecrow continued. “Right now, you have a hand, but it’s not living. You’re an undead human. After you purge the ghoul from the bloodstream, you’ll be able to find the valve and open it.”

  “Where’s this valve?”

  Scarecrow shrugged. “We don’t know. We’ll figure it out when we get there.”

  The plan crystalized in Caitlin’s mind.

  “I get it,” she said. “The Dipping Pools! The separation of the male and female waters. The curtain in the sky impairing the green spectrum. He’s hijacked control of the earth and sky, the waters of the world, and the light of the sun.”

  Scarecrow’s eyebrows narrowed. His eyes flamed red. “You understanding nothing!”

  I do? I mean, I don’t?

  “You’ve got it completely backward. Your grasp of our dire situation is woefully upside down. The opposite of the truth.”

  Caitlin’s mouth went dust dry. She grabbed on to Tin Man as her knees weakened and her leg muscles became jelly.

  “Everything that you perceive with your eyes, all that you discern with your senses—none of it is the cause of anything! Not the scepter. Not the separation of the waters of Velarium.”

  Stop speaking, straw man! My head is turning like a carousel on steroids.

  “It’s only a reflection,” Scarecrow said. “A subsequent shadow. A branch. An effect. An automatic consequence of a prior incident set in motion long before. The prior incident is the true cause. It’s the first domino that was

  tipped over, which then set off a chain reaction of tumbling dominos.”

  A shiver crept down Caitlin’s spine. Her salivary glands seized up, and her bones rattled like fallen bowling pins. The looming question weighed heavy on her like a backpack of bricks.

  “Do you know what the prior incident was?”

  Scarecrow winked his pulsing, red slit of an eye at Glinda.

  She said, “Yes. I read about it in the Great Book of Records.”

  There was a long pregnant pause—until Caitlin broke it. “Well?”

  Glinda winked at Scarecrow, who tilted the brim of his battered burlap hat low over his brow. He set his blade-thin, ruby eyes square on Caitlin.

  “October 31, 2002,” he said. “The birth of Caitlin Fletcher. Firstborn daughter of Harold and Evelyn Fletcher. Your arrival was the first domino tipped. The root cause of this entire calamity.”

  CHAPTER Twenty-Four

  Blackbeard had a good, long wheezy chuckle after Natalie finished her rant on buttheads and mind over matter. “Good god, lassie! Ya can ramble on longer than the mighty Mississippi.”

  After his laughter died down, he sat her back on the stool.

  Thank goodness—mercy! No torture wheel!

  Blackbeard got straight to the point. “Like I told ya, kid—ya already have the ability to control everythin’ with yer mind. Ya just never knew it till now.”

  “When do we walk over the hot coals?”

  Blackbeard went to the torture wheel and gave it a spin, as if to warn her about her dissing him or giving him more back talk. Natalie’s eyes rotated as she watched the spokes whirl.

  “How did I acquire this telekinetic power?” Natalie asked, nervously watching the wheel spin from the corner of her eye.

  “You was born with it,” he said. “Everyone has it. Jus’ that no one knows the secret about how to use it.”

  Her brow furrowed. “So why can’t I put my hand through this wall?” She slapped an open palm against the wood-paneled wall. “See? Solid. Not a dent.”

  Blackbeard cackled with glee. “Ha! Ya proved my point, missy—mind over matter!”

  She rolled her eyes. “Gimme a break. How’s that proof?”

  “I’ll tell ya. I says ya believe that bleedin’ plank o’ wood is more powerful than yer mind. Right?”

  “Duh.”

  “It ain’t. Not even close.” He narrowed his eyes and leaned forward until he was so close his nose hairs almost touched her face. “But ya believed it was, before ya tried to put yer hand through it. And because ya believed it was, yer mind made it so. Yer crooked presumption passed the power over to the damn wall! Just like that. Presto! Mind ruling over matter! And that’s why ya couldn’t pass yer hand through it.”

  Apparently this cadaverous buccaneer is out of his mind.

  She folded her arms. “That’s utterly ridiculous!”

  He sneered. “Back on the rack ya go.” Blackbeard snatched her by her underarms and hoisted her onto the torture wheel. The old pirate fastened her four limbs to the four leather straps, positioning her like da Vinci’s Vitruvian Man.

  He leaned in close, going nose to nose with her. His breath still reeked of cheap rum and stale blood. And this time, a few nose hairs did tickle her cheek.

  Ugh!

  “Now listen up, smart-arse. Ya just said ‘that’s ridiculous.’ Right?”

  “Your hearing’s up to par.”

  Blackbeard tightened a wrist strap.

  “Owww—you’re hurting me!” Natalie cried.

  Perhaps it’s time to tone down the sarcasm.

  Blackbeard wagged a finger in her face. The tips were rust yellow and stank like tobacco. “Can’t help yerself, can ya, lambkins? First ya say it’s ridiculous, ’cuz ya doubt what I’m sayin’ and ya just can’t believe it’s true.”

  He pulled down hard on one of the wooden spokes, sending the wheel into a spin. The blood in Natalie’s head went for a rollicking ride, round and round in her brain.

  “Then ya gotta talk back like some hard nut ’cuz yer concerned for yer safety, worried for yer life. So ya pretend to be a barracuda to hide the fear flutterin’ like windblown sails in yer belly. Then ya go and throw fake piss in my face, tryin’ to escape. And all’s I’m tryin’ to do is reveal a great secret to ya.” He stopped the wheel, but that didn’t stop Natalie’s vision from whirling like a windmill in a windstorm. Blackbeard then cruelly spun it again—but this time in reverse.

  Whooooooooooooooaahh!

  Her stomach spun like wet laundry in a dryer, and her head felt moments from exploding.

  “And yer fightin’ me the whole time like a bloody naysayer,” Blackbeard ranted. “That’s all ya do, naysay and naysay. And this is why a half-pint like y
ou can’t get what I’m tryin’ ta tell ya.”

  His blurred face circled by, over and over, as she spun like a human roulette wheel.

  “And this is why ya can’t control yer mind the way ya’d like to. It’s yer doubt, little bird. Yer problem ain’t with mind over matter. Yer problem is the doubt in that noggin o’ yers. Now I’ll tell ya why.”

  Blackbeard finally stopped the unholy twirling contraption. He gave Natalie a moment to catch her breath and regain her balance and bearings.

  The undead buccaneer retrieved one of the jugs of water sitting on the floor by the wall. He moved to her and held it to her mouth. “Drink.”

  She gulped a few hearty mouthfuls. He pulled it away.

  “Thank you,” she said.

  “Will ya listen now?” Blackbeard asked.

  The water had made her queasy, though, and she was still too dizzy to answer, so she nodded.

  “Okay, now I’ll tell ya the big secret,” he said with glee. “Shine the light of a lantern through a sheer red curtain—what color comes out the other side?”

  “Red.”

  “And Bob’s your uncle!” Blackbeard said, pleased as rum punch. “Ya see, the only way to control the world is to control the mind of the people living in that world. Ya need to manipulate the mind in order to hijack it and pirate all of its power.”

  “The Enchanter?”

  “Yep. The undisputed Lord of the Curtain.”

  “How does he do it?”

  “Just told ya. Alls ya need to pilfer the power of the mind is a curtain.”

  “What kind of curtain?”

  He winked. The pirate seemed pleased that her curiosity was stirred.

  “The mind shines certainty, same as the lantern shines light,” Blackbeard said.

  “Certainty about what?”

  He almost hugged her. “Atta girl. Now yer askin’ smart questions. Certainty in yer mind’s ability to control matter. I’m referrin’ to yer conviction. Yer trust. Got it?”

  She nodded.

  “Good. Now, what ya don’t know is that certainty is yer birthright, little lambkins. You was born with it. Ya always had it.”

  “I’ve always had the power to manipulate matter?”

  “Yep. And not just you, kid. Everyone. In every kingdom. In every world. But if ya slip in a thin curtain of doubt, yer mind shines doubt instead of certainty out the other side. Are ya gettin’ this?”

  “I think so.”

  “Ya think? C’mon, pop tart, it’s simple. Don’t make me spin ya on that rack again. Same way the lantern goes red when ya hang up the red curtain, yer certainty turns to doubt when it passes through the curtain of doubt in your head. Happy becomes sad. Calm turns to fear. Yer natural-born optimism becomes pessimism. If yer mind is tricked into believing that the wall is superior, the mind will use its own power to make it superior. Done! Blindsided. Now ya doubt yer command over the world. Ya doubt yerself. And ya give away all yer power.”

  Blackbeard squinted as he waved his grubby finger at her.

  “And ya know what’s happenin’ the entire time, lambkins? Yer doubt makes ya feel so dang smart when yer right, so darn clever when ya taste it. But it’s a sucker punch, I tell ya. All your boneheaded cynicism. All that thick-skulled skepticism. It’s only the curtain distortin’ yer thoughts and foolin’ ya. Put there by the Lord of the Curtain. But it sure tastes flippin’ good when ya feel—don’t it?”

  Is my mind really self-sabotaging its own power?

  If all this is true . . . the freaking Lord of the Curtain is a genius!

  Natalie’s doubts had always tasted delicious. They made her feel smarter, bigger, better, when she proved someone else wrong. Or when Caitlin complained that she always sucked the joy out of a situation by pointing out all the potential problems. Her mind found it easier to believe the worst and was quick to embrace a negative notion over a positive one. Always compelled to expect the worst instead of the best, the bad instead of the good. She had never stopped to wonder—until right now—why pessimism was such an easy state of mind to attain, while an optimistic view was so dreadfully difficult to achieve. Was it really all a clever con designed to keep her in the dark, powerless to matter, subservient to the physical world? She had never considered that a cynical outlook could be rooted in something external. A projection into her mind by some devious force—or a filtering curtain. A simple curtain that was blocking out the light of truth and only allowing the darkness of doubt to shine through.

  “So that’s it? We’re all prisoners to the pessimism of the Enchanter’s curtain?”

  Blackbeard smiled craftily. “Yep, unless. . . .” His pause was as scheming as his smile.

  She was definitely curious to know what that unless meant.

  Could this world actually offer a way to banish all worry, skepticism, and anxiety?

  And that’s when she felt a painful twinge in her heart, an ache that almost brought her to tears.

  Caitlin’s fears.

  Her anxieties.

  Her big sister had built a world of torment all around herself because she empowered her fears believing in their tangible existence. And Natalie had never been sensitive to the pain Caitlin had felt, or to the dark force that she had surrendered herself to. Of course, that was if what Blackbeard had just said was true.

  Aha—there’s the doubt again!

  Wow. Remarkable. Extraordinary.

  If she believed that Blackbeard was misguided, if she doubted his words and was certain that none of what he had said was true, her mind would manufacture a reality in which Blackbeard was wrong, and that all this mind-over-matter stuff was certifiably untrue!

  Self-fulfilling prophecy on steroids!

  This could drive one to madness.

  I have to find out.

  “Unless what?” Natalie asked the pirate.

  A gleam lit Blackbeard’s eyes as he spoke in a whispery tone thick with intrigue.

  “Unless there’s a way to free ya from the dark, devious force of the Red Spectrum.”

  No more curtain?

  Nothing to limit the pure, raw, consummate power of the human mind?

  Blackbeard cackled. “Ha! That mischievous gleam in your eye tells me ya wanna know more.”

  She knew she had to play it cool. Nonchalant. He couldn’t know that she was so psyched that she was ready to blow a gasket. She responded with a calm, affirming nod.

  “Atta girl. But first you nap. I need ya well rested. Lemme fetch ya a blanket and mat.” He got up to leave, but then stopped. He turned and pointed a sharp finger at her. “Better not be any piss in a bucket when I get back. Ya hear?”

  That reminds me. . . .

  “Actually, I really do have to pee now.”

  “Good god, yer a handful. Bucket’s in the corner. Help yourself.”

  “What about some food?”

  He chuckled. “Don’t think you’ll eat the ghoul’s grub that I eat. Lemme check the galley. I might have a bit o’ cheese and some porridge for ya.”

  He left, locking the wooden door behind him.

  Natalie sat there on pins and needles, anxiously eyeing the filthy, unhygienic bucket that was probably crawling with all kinds of germs and pathogens linked to all kinds of infectious diseases. She muttered to herself, “Here goes nothing!”

  CHAPTER Twenty-Five

  Caitlin, Glinda, Tin Man, and Scarecrow had hiked across jagged rocks and broken stones, trekked around felled logs and weathered boulders. Then they crossed a parched landscape of rotted buttercups and dying daisies. And throughout the entire stretch, a contemplative Caitlin had been as silent as the hushed passage of time.

  Suddenly, she asked, “What does my birth have to do with this whole zombie affliction?”

  Scarecrow put his arm around her as they walked. “The Lord of the Cu
rtain needed another human to help him, but not just any human. He needed someone with a level of fear and anxiety never before seen in human history. Someone who had never activated their own free will to resist fear. Someone robotically enslaved to believe negative thoughts.”

  “Sounds like someone I know.”

  “Indeed it does. The Enchanter can harness that robotic mind by gaining control of one of the mark’s possessions.”

  “My wand.” Her dumb toy wand, which had acted as her security blanket. She always took it with her to help cope with her fears.

  “Exactly. And because it embodied your inability to express your free will, he was able to transform that wand into the scepter, which robbed our world of our will by creating the curtain filtering out the Green Spectrum. That left the Red Spectrum unfettered, free to rule over our thoughts and command our actions.”

  Glinda nodded. “And the zombie affliction was born.”

  They had just arrived at the entrance to Zeno’s Forest.

  The ominous, blue-tinged woodlands buzzed with new life. Caitlin did not remember seeing so much of it the last time she was there.

  As they stood on the edge of woods, Caitlin heard familiar sounds: the pitter-patter of small animals scrabbling up trees, the whisper of swaying branches.

  She felt a twinge in her chest as she remembered the perplexing laws of motion that governed the mystifying place. They reminded her of Natalie. According to the weird laws of motion in the forest, the farther one’s destination was, the quicker the arrival would be. Which meant if you were set on traveling to a distant kingdom, light years away, you’d get there bright and early the next . . . moment!

  Totally bizarre.

  Likewise, the shorter the distance, the longer it would take to reach one’s destination. Which meant that if your true

  objective was to travel a mere centimeter, it would take eons to arrive.