He followed her through the narrow corridors, glancing at the rooms, and as he went he could see what she had meant before. The house really was empty, and the echoes of each step were the only permissible sounds. Apart from that it was hushed, like in an old temple. She led him to the end of the hallway, stood on the staircase to the upper floor, and pointed him to the stairs leading down into the dark basement.
– Over there... I will be upstairs. Take what you need, detective. I no longer have any use for it. Just know that whatever you leave behind will likely soon be destroyed. I shall not stay here any longer than I have to.
– Thank you.
Philip turned the door handle. He wanted to do it softly so as to not disturb her anymore but the hinges were stuck, much like Michael's desk, weirdly oily and slimy, so he had to force it open. As he descended the air became colder. The stairs were dark at first but becoming increasingly lit. When he was down there he saw the gray light coming from a single round window near the ceiling. There was a desk and all around it were towers of books, documents, and magazines, all of them old with their pages creased at the corners and decidedly yellowing. He looked through them but there seemed to be no connection at all. Some made sense for Michael to have, such as manuals about the criminal mind and pathological violence, while others were entirely random and almost raving mad, about things like interpretations of obscure works of literature next to periodical magazines about fly fishing. Whatever the others were about they made it quite clear Michael had been busy... Philip went through all the drawers, finding each one filled with more of the same nonsense until he reached the last one. There was a single black box that caught his eye. He placed it on the top of the desk and opened it. Inside was a tape recorder and various tapes with odd labels, but then he noticed that each one was signed with that same hand and that same name, that of Roxanne. Somehow it was best to leave it be but curiosity took hold of him. He fumbled for a random tape, pushed it into the tape recorder and a sweet voice began to speak.
The Bird Trap
I would look out my window and see a tree in a forest. Its old roots pierced along the earth in infinite directions as the grass grew all around it. Their grip was strong, so strong because of how tall the old tree had grown. As its roots spread all along the earth so did its branches spread all along the sky. And in one of the branches a little bird had built her nest. It was a single bed of stems bent in a circle, twigs and leaves for warmth, and even feathers and shiny things for beauty. I never knew animals to be as vain as all that... One day the bird left her nest and flew off somewhere. Then there were all these little eggs in the nest. So when the time drew near, the bird left the nest again to find little living worms for her little living young. But when she returned the nest was gone. The eggs were smashed, painting the fresh green grass with the filth of their unborn bodies, and the nest was turned to thorns drifting in the wind. Then the mother bird ate the worms and began building a new nest...
I still remember this from time to time, a very old memory, one of those I barely know if it's real anymore. When I was a child it always made me cry... But when I told the King he just laughed.
§
– Are you the swordsman's son?
– Yes.
– Indeed you are... Do you know how he died?
– Yes... – Jason whispered, trying to look away, like a sullen child about to cry.
– I killed him myself. You must know that. He fought bravely and with honor, but do you know why he died? He died because he forgot the truth of this world. This is a fine sword and your father knew how to wield it, but the blade has grown dull and rusty. He might have killed me had he sharpened it. It's almost as if he hoped he would never have to wield this sword in battle ever again. But it makes no difference now... Do you know what I will do to you?
– You'll kill me.
– Do you take me for a killer?
Like his father's lessons this too left him confused... Jason wanted to answer but he was incapable of making that sweet sound, incapable of saying yes. There was something about that man, something about his face, something deep in his eyes that seemed truly merciful.
– No, I will not kill you. Nor will I kill your friends, nor your women. I only killed those who would have killed me. Your father would have done the same to protect himself, and of course to protect you, would he not? Oh yes, something tells me he would have killed his own neighbors to protect you... No, what I want is for you to join me. Are you lettered?
– I am. My father taught me.
– Of course. I saw the books too. You will have to tell me all about him sometime. It seems like he was a great man... How did he teach you?
– He forced me to study. Every day until I learned.
– Would he strike you?
– Only once, when I cried.
– And what did you do then?
– I stopped crying, and I learned.
– Good. I will not strike you but likewise nor will you cry. You'll be a man... What I want is for you to squire for me, to carry my sword and my armor, but most importantly of all, I want you to read and deliver my messages. Do you understand this?
– I... No, you can't do this... This is the emperor's land. You and your men... We will all be hunted by him.
– Child, I will transcend the emperor. I will bring forth the new world. And you can be a part of it. You won't be my sword, but you'll be my pen.
The man reached out, laying his soft hand on Jason's shoulder and casting a smile so gracious it was like the sky had opened and dawn began to break. His presence alone seemed to scatter the dark, to dispel the cold, to bring forth his very own light.
– You live at the edge of the real world, even at the edge of this village. What was your father trying to run away from, I wonder... Do you think the emperor will care about what took place here tonight? Do you think he will see it as more than mere words in yet another report? No, your lives are the same as cattle for him, he will only care when we have besieged the walls of his capital, trapping him between our swords and the sea. You have lived under his shadow but from now on you will live beside my light. My coming here has saved you. Yet, you always have the choice. Be a part of my new world, or run away and struggle in the old one.
Jason paused but he had already chosen. During the man's speech his words began to flow free as if Jason already knew what he was going to say next, like he had thought those same exact words before and vaguely remembered them somewhere in the depths of his mind. The man spoke with a deep conviction, there was something about him that was so compelling that Jason couldn't look away from, and yet, even through the constant staring, that same something was ever-elusive. Jason took a very gentle bow, almost courteous, but decidedly a gesture of submission.
– You chose well and so have your people. I will have my most trusted smith sharpen this blade and it shall be yours as it was your father's. You are now officially an honorable member of my army. You will be my messenger whose name is...
– Jason. I... I am yours, my lord.
– Jason... Rise, boy, and become a man. As for me, I am no lord. At this time you may call me Felix. Now we ride out... Burn the village!
§
– I can go first. I don't know what you think of me and I no longer care to find out. In truth I trust you, all of you. We share a cabin for the night, a refuge from the dark and the cold. We would have shared bread if we had any, but as long as I have faith I have sustenance, and that I am always willing to share.
– Go on then, preacher. Get it out of you, once and for all.
– Very well. As you are fond of saying, I am indeed a preacher. I was sent here from the capital where I was ordained, the place in this whole world that is nearest to God. My mission was to verify the reports that had been sent from this land, reports of depravity, blasphemy, violence, the most wicked things... I was meant to return before winter. On that count I have failed. However, my faith remains unshaken no matter how my body may have trembled at what I've seen. My only yearning is to reach the capital and deliver my report so that, God willing, the high priest and the emperor himself can bring down the full force of the holy army to cleanse this rotten land under the wheel of God.
– Just spokes on the wheel, hey?... – said Isaac in a hushed tone.
– Sinners can be forgiven, always. As long as they truly repent. But in this land they are no mere sinners, they are blasphemers, and even worse than all of them, the Devil worshipers... They are the ones who deserve the wheel. The things they did, their rituals... That's where those vile creatures came from. Born in iniquity, in absolute filth...
– Then they are not so majestic after all... – interjected David, hoping to make him stumble.
– All of God's creatures are, but those... They are another matter entirely, another soul, a black soul. Were you to see them as I have...
– Oh but I did, back there, in the trees. And that strange howl as we were coming in here. There was no mere wolf.
– I did not see what you saw. It was dark and you held the torch, David, not me. Faith can indeed light one's path in the darkness, but the winter sky is unforgiving. I'm afraid I don't recall exactly what you speak of, but I do recall the true vile creatures, only too well... And had you seen them you wouldn't have made it here.
– What did you see? From the Devil worshipers. – asked Osman quite eagerly, having been caught up in the story.
The question stunned Vincent for a moment, then he looked to the ground so as to clear his mind. He began to frown as if there was a sudden weight on his shoulders, a weight he had to release, to expel from his body or else it would crush him and swallow him whole.
– We went from village to village. They were all peaceful places with peaceful people, although they didn't have much. There was always the occasional villager asking for food or coin, be it man, woman or child, most of them dirty, wearing rags handed down from the oldest to the youngest. It was a harsh life but it was a quiet one. It was when winter drew near that they began to distrust each other. They would turn to the Devil, him who whispered in their chests, bringing promises of riches untold to people for whom a full belly was paradise. And then they began to... change... It was a sick thing to discover just how much darkness lurked within each little hut, each family, each beating heart. In their rage they yearned for the end of this world with no dawn for the next. I still remember being in my quarters late at night, writing my report, with my hands trembling, my stomach turning... But I corrected myself. I knew what I had to do to some of the most evil souls, so I gave the order on what little power had been bestowed to me. My men put the wretched souls through the sword... But it made no difference. The world will only be cleansed by the wheel.
§
– Was there a problem with the service?
– No, there wasn't.
The waiter took a very gentle bow. Troy let go of the door handle and approached him at the counter, having changed his mind on an impulse.
– Actually, maybe you can help me with something... Do you know of any movie theaters around here?
– I do. I'm proud to say I know the city like the back of my hand. However, I'm afraid I couldn't quite recommend any particular film. Not my area of expertise, you see. – he said, beginning to chuckle.
– There's a specific one I'd like to find. I hear it's called Brickhouse.
– Oh yes, that one. They do call it that indeed, though it's not its original name. They say people call it something different everywhere in the world. Apologies if I'm prattling on... What I'm trying to say is that you won't find it simply by looking at mere placards on the street.
– How do I find it then?
Without so much as arching his back, the waiter reached somewhere behind the counter so as to produce a city map on one hand and a yellow marker on the other. He then flattened it on the counter, inviting Troy to lean in closer, like he was being told a secret.
– You are here, yes? The place you want is right... here, in this town center. However, through here, here and here, you won't reach it as those roads are closed at the moment, and who knows when they'll be reopened. Then again, I'm afraid city planning isn't my area of expertise neither... Anyway, aside from all that it's just a quick descent into here, this circle. They say that during the day, people fill this town center and never notice the Brickhouse. Only at night does it call aficionados and traveling wanderers to its entrance. Very clever marketing ploy, is it not?
The map was all scribbled with his trajectories, symbols for roadblocks and a big circle where the Brickhouse was allegedly located. Troy analyzed it all for a while, knowing every corner of his side of the city but finding that place went a bit further out than he was accustomed to.
– Couldn't I just take this shortcut instead? – he asked, tracing the path with his finger.
– I wouldn't recommend it, sir. Some roads lead to... less desirable neighborhoods than others. Surely you know what I'm referring to.
– I understand. So it's by the train station, near the sea too it seems.
– Exactly, sir. The sea is not a long distance from it. The docks and markets thrive there, and as such many roads are often closed depending on the days, as I'm also sure you well know.
Troy didn't well know. In fact, that path would lead him astray from the city he did know. It made him think of how funny it was that no matter how well one knew his city, there would always be parts of it that felt completely far-removed, where one might not even speak the same words as the neighbors or recognize in them the same kind of face.
– If I want to I can find it. I'm mostly just curious.
– Most certainly, sir. The choice is ever yours. Though from what I hear, you'd be remiss not to try it, at least once that is.
– Why's that? What can you tell me about the cinema itself?
– I'm afraid I've never been but I heard enough stories to know it and almost retain living memories of it. It's rather funny, isn't it? Between you and me... Those people over there, the double date in that table, they just came from a very enlightening session at the Brickhouse. And that man drinking alone on the other side, him too.
– How do you know this?
– Oh, people just speak to me, like you did just now.
– Well then, thank you.
Troy turned to leave but just then the waiter spoke up again, with a voice louder and stronger than his usual hushed tone.
– Sir, the map. Just in case.
§
– You said you haven't seen Mr. Sarone today?
– No, no one did, I think.
– Strange. I might have to talk to him again about Maya.
Neither of them said another word for a while. They both just sat there in a comfortable silence. Glenn closed his eyes, feeling so tired and just about half asleep, unmoving so as to keep the bellyache at bay, almost nursing it, until Owen interrupted yet again.
– You gonna eat that?
– No, take it.
– We're even then. – he said with a kind of sly smile.
He ate with the relish of a working man, a deserving man which, for all his faults, Owen was. His gluttonous chewing annoyed Glenn, growing louder in his ears as he closed his eyes, trying to lose himself in quiet darkness, away from the white bleach-scented room, with his neck weighing heavily but still hoping to relax a bit in order to soothe his stomach. But then another obnoxious interruption came. It was the gift shop girl. Glenn barely ever spoke to her and mostly knew her because she would wave from behind her counter every time he walked by. Still, he knew her to be decent as an employee.
– Hey, Lenny, I knew you'd be here. Got a special delivery for you. Was already heading home but I figured you'd wanna see it first.
– What is it?
– A card and a toy. Some woman came in asking to send it to you, one of those teachers but I forget the name. Just take it. My shift is over and I had to come all the way here for that. Hope it's worth it...
– Thank you, I really appreciate it.
That seemed to calm her down. She just nodded, turned away and left. Glenn knew how to diffuse such situations as he often did with Owen. People were likely to be boisterous and complain on and on when in truth they were just waiting for some words of gratitude for their little efforts, or high praise for their petty inconveniences.
Glenn opened the card. It was a standard gift shop card with cartoon snake drawings made for children, in which she had attached a black rubber snake with red dots, just a small snake toy in a permanent slithering shape and with its tongue out. It was something of a key chain, but so cheap it would likely break if used for its intended purpose. But what was important was that inside the card she had written a message.
Thank you so much for your help. The kids loved the snakes and I'm sure they have a newfound appreciation for them. I'm sorry about that little incident though. It's entirely my fault. I hope this small gesture can make amends. I know it's not the same as Myra but I couldn't quite remember her colors. It looked similar to me but what do I know... In any case, I hope you'll forgive me for that little sadness. You're a sweet man, a gentle giant... I wish you the best of luck.
Sincerely, Susanna.
– What is it? – asked Owen.
– Nothing.
– Doesn't look like nothing, you with that sneaky smile...
– I'm just being commended for my work.
– Well, I'm happy for you, buddy. Hope it works out, whatever it is.
§
– There's something special I want to show you.
Marlo rushed up to a grassy, untrodden path veering off the street. It wasn't particularly well hidden but it also seemed like nothing interesting enough to notice. Looking deep into it she had the feeling of there being no good reason to steer off course and go down that strange little road darkened by tall trees on both sides, a small tunnel of twigs and branches which turned the pavement into fresh dirt. He beckoned her to go in but she hesitated, seeing a thin layer of spider webs coating the hedges and the tail of a lizard slithering beneath the fallen leaves.
– Trust me. It's a nice surprise.
– Okay, but... can you go in front?
– Sure, follow me. No need to be afraid.
He delved right in like he had done it countless times before, sneaking down just enough and treading on. Paige was still afraid, disgusted by the crawling creatures, but she plunged into it with a strong grasp on his arm, feeling that to be left behind in that place, so far removed from her own world, would be way scarier. And so she carried on, trying to look ahead but as it grew darker and darker she sealed her eyes shut, gripping his wrist harder than she thought herself capable of. But just when the little road became small, overwhelmed and swallowed by the surrounding forest, echoing with the creeping legs of unseen lizards and spiders, as well as the faint roar of rushing water, only then did her closed eyes feel light. The path led to a small clearing, surrounded by trees and thick leaves on all sides, with only that one entrance that seemed so secret now that no one would dare follow them through it. And there was a waterfall, the source of that rushing music, now free from the echoes of what at first seemed like her imagination. They were surprisingly high up, the water plunging into a staggering depth, ever-flowing, though its direction was just obscured around the bend that overlooked the now distant city. It was a sight as terrifying as it was beautiful.
– So? What do you think?
– It's perfect. I had no idea this even existed.
– It's just a little wonder from my side of the world. We call it the usual spot. I bet you don't come around here too often.
– No, I'm not really from around here. I've never been to this part of town before, not really anyway... I had no idea there were trees like this, and wow, that waterfall!
– It flows into the river, all through your side of town and then to the beach, so we're not really that far off if you think about it.
– I've never even seen the river.
– You haven't seen much, have you?
– No, I guess not.
– Oh, but you will. I can show you some great things... – he said while clutching at his wrist.
– Oh, I'm sorry, did I hurt you?
– It's quite alright.
§
– This is all I have.
– How much are they worth?
– Nothing.
– Doesn't look like nothing to me.
– Please, son! They're all I have! You can't take them all but I can give you one if you want.
– Don't be stupid, old man. Just know that it wouldn't be my first time using this knife.
– It would be your last.
The warning had come in a rough, almost thirsty voice. He stared Seven straight into his eyes, with an impossibly blank expression on his ancient face. The sudden change threw Seven off his game and made him resize his victim only to realize something obvious he seemed to have missed altogether... The old man's belly was now larger, so bloated and almost disfigured, and he appeared to be much taller than Seven initially guessed. How he could have judged him so wrongly was odd. It made him twitch just before he felt a wave of distress flow through him so as to lend some credence to his threats.
– I won't say it again, old man. Give them to me.
– You have sad eyes, little man.
Those words made him shudder in confusion. They were far more unexpected than any threat, any attempt to barter or any plea for mercy. Seven's sight focused on the old man as if the intense lights of the train station had dimmed all around them both, leaving all else shrouded in shadows as black as those tunnels. Seven had an impulse to tell the old man not to speak so loudly and yet he wasn't making a single sound. He was just there, unblinking, with the traces of a bizarre grin forming on his dry lips, and with a dead glimmer in his eyes. Then he slowly raised his arm, pointing to the black tunnel just over his shoulder.
– Over there...
Seven did look and where before he had seen nothing, now he saw something. There was a movement, something stalking and lurking, something that had been born in the city's darkest underbelly and thus had never seen the light of day. And with very good reason... Whatever it was it made Seven jump and take a few steps back.
– Enough of your games, old man. I swear I'll gut you and leave you here to rot!
– Run along, little man...
§
This has been a collection of seven excerpts from eight of the stories contained within The Wandering King.
The first story has already been published in its entirety here.
Read about the book's synopsis here.
Purchase your copy of the book here.
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