THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3, CHARLES E.J. MOULTON [best desktop ebook reader TXT] 📗

he had to fetch it back by confronting an old ghost he had feared for decades anyway.
He had set out on this journey completely unaware to everything what this cause was about. He was now a warrior, deeply passionate in his foundation.
He was out to win, but he was petrified of the victory.

§

The royal princess had been running through her own replica of Iuventus for so long now that she felt her legs falling asleep. There were times when she looked out the window and saw the other castled cages hanging by their chains over the bottomless pit and there were so many. She had found out by counting them that were 23. She had seen who the closest ones to her were. Now, she had no proof, but she guessed that the ones encaged were the following: her mother, Steven, her son. Two houses next to each other: Morgana was in one of them, Richard in the other. Then came Maria, Martin, Ellie, Marcus, Patricia, Patrick, Erica, Lance, her maternal grandparents, Ulfaas, Mormidar, Rolf, Geena, Theo, Bantrard, Louis, Marie-Louise.

Now, for whatever reason she thought this was not clear. It was pure intuition. But these were the central characters of the royal palace and they had all been there to take the potion against the epidemic that day.

She believed that whatever their individual minds looked like they experienced. Belinda was a realist. She saw the place for what it was: a timeless cage above a bottomless pit, lit by day, horror at night. There was always food and drink. A visit from Lucinda, now and then, would tickle her fancy. Belinda had been joined often by other family members in the beginning, but it was clear to her that they were illusions. Something was keen to keep her alive until the duel.

She had recalled disappearing from the beach that day. She had recalled being taken back to the castled cage, the caged castle, by Lucinda and told that she had been granted her two visits to prepare for the duel. She was but a messenger, Lucinda had said. Alexander had needed to know his job and he had needed the strength to carry on until the end. But her victory was as secure as rain was in the autumn.

Now, if Belinda saw reality here as the true realities of hell because she was in heart a realist, what did Morgana’s illusion look like? She would hate to think at the prospect of eternal debauchery. All she knew was that she hardly slept at night due to the demons and beasts that chased her up and down the corridors. She longed for home and she wondered what or how much the other family members knew. Did they know they were all dreaming? Did they know they had entered this place of waiting after leaving the illusion of the haunted kingdom? Did they know, as Belinda did, that if Alex did not win the duel with his sister that illusion, that unreal reality would become a given fact? Did they know, like she did, that this whole scam was just a way for evil to finally conquer both of the alternate realities?

She kept herself busy. She had all that she had been given in the actual castle and she had become quite a lute player now. She had read the Holy Scriptures in Latin back and forth five times now. She had practiced her painting skills and tried to recall what her tutor once had said about once again restructuring and reassembling the Roman tradition of painting columns on canvas. She had tried to recall most of the teachings of Greek philosophy and she had used the thermal baths every day.

But Belinda dreaded the night. Sometimes, she was hanging from the ceiling at night and Lucinda was cackling below her. At times she was dragged through the castle by some unknown creature.
Now she was running away from it. But she knew by now that it could not get rid of her.
She was important to them, to it, to whatever was guarding her.
The duel was coming up. Belinda was afraid.
She could feel what her father was feeling and she knew that he had teamed up with Adnicul now, so there was hope after all.

§

For two reasons, Alexander was happy. One, they had at last found a warm spot to rest in, away from the rain. Second of all, Adnicul had stopped complaining and agreed to lie down and take care of his sprained ankle. This cave had proved a good spot to rest in. Yes, there was a fire here now. But there was a fluorescent moss here everywhere that seemed to glow in the dark and the opening far up in the distance gave in light as well. There were truffles here and an apple tree right outside. At the far end there seemed to be a fresh spring of water. But they had enough to drink yet. Or was that a tunnel leading down to another cave?

In any case, there was everything here for the two of them and their horses.

They had been away for a long time now. They had gotten so used to each other’s company that it was obvious that the one could not do without the other. What was it now, a month? Nocturania was a large land and there had been many deserted villages to ride through, many mountains to cross, and many rivers. For every river they crossed a new facet of his personality was revealed to Alex. For every valley Adnicul became more interesting and yet increasingly more mysterious.

Of course, Adnicul’s accident had been somewhat of an unnecessary obstacle. Crossing that river in spite of the hard flow of water was his decision, not Alexander’s. He had insisted on claiming how shallow the water was, but Alex had still told him to be careful and cross the river where the water was deeper but calmer. He had almost crossed it when a wave came crashing in and swept him off the horse. The sprained ankle had resulted in a search for the perfect cave to rest in.
There had been jokes and for the first time Alex knew what his new friend sounded like when laughing. It was a good laugh. A merry laugh that could inspire the most melancholy of men protruded from his lips.
What was better, the truffles and fresh water was accompanied by light and a warm fire.
Just two friends on a trip full of bounty. They almost forgot that they were on a trip toward hell.

§

“Can you find it in your heart to believe me?”
“Believe you?” he responded. “I trust you, but I would not know how to believe such a story.” The honest servant took a long look at the messenger and tried to smile. “Well, I don’s have much of a choice, do I?” The messenger shrugged.
Rolf walked along what he remembered as the corridor between Alexander’s study and the staircase to the Grand Hall. The man that had arrived was tall and rather thin, with a very distinguished face. But he seemed to be a messenger of sorts and had a certain appeal of sympathy about him. His black hair and blue eyes made him look beautiful and almost angelic. He was very muscular, in spite of his thin frame.
The man was patient. He had not come here to quarrel or fight. His mission was simply to relieve Rolf of the burden of not knowing what was wrong with this world.
“How can I not believe you? I know there is something wrong with this world.”
The anonymous messenger smiled. He reminded Rolf of someone. Who?
“You feel what?”
“I feel as if I have experienced this day over and over again. Every day I am here I remember the previous day and nothing else. I had a glass of wine with Geena. I went to check upon Belinda to ask her if she needed something, to cheer her up a bit. Then Alex received a visit. Then I said my prayers and went to bed.” Rolf’s expression turned very serious. The young man who had arrived on horseback just an hour ago saw this expression and found it wonderfully childlike. It was a middle aged man who looked like a six year old trying to figure out where he had left his favorite toy.
“I wake up here now today. But … how can explain this?”
”Try!”
Rolf smiled. “I mean it is all insane. I find myself figuring out why I tell you. But how else can I explain that everyone is gone. Belinda and Alex and … everyone, the ones that are still alive, that is.” Rolf’s face was one of deep sadness now. “They might be just on a trip, for all I know.”
“They never ever leave without telling you. They never have and they never will, Rolf.”
Rolf paced the corridor, trying to remember what part of the palace this was. Sometimes he had a hard time trying to remember anything. “What is your name again?”
”Michael. My name is Michael.”
“Michael.”
“Yes, Rolf.”
Rolf looked out and saw the sun. There were no clouds in the sky today.
“You mean to tell me that all of this is a scam, an illusion created just for me?”
”You say yourself that you …” Michael saw him raise his hand and smile. “No, by all means, go on and say it yourself.”
“You are not cross if I try to find the words myself?”
”I want you to. After all, you are the one living in this …” – Michael looked around the hallway with a mixture of fascinated interest, worry, relaxed neutrality and practical thinking – ” … environment.” He was looking through the walls and seeing the scam of all this. He found it unfair to trap Rolf here.
”Michael” Rolf said, very softly, bending over and almost speaking as if what he was about to say was a secret. “I find myself waking up and remembering that I have remembered this before. It is as if there was only one layer of reality here yesterday. Now there are one-thousand layers on top of each other. It is as if I have experienced this day a thousand times.” Rolf chuckled nervously. “Does that make any sense …” Rolf cocked his head, insecurely. “… at all?”
“Rolf, you are telling yourself the truth. You are being held in a trap. You are a mouse caught in a labyrinth. Your mind has created this reality, but the ghouls responsible for trapping you have manifested this reality for you in your own mind. They use your mind against yourself.”
Rolf looked out of the led glass window again and saw how the reflections of the sun danced against the wall through the green color. Then he looked at the door at the end of the hall.
“That is the throne room, is it not?”
Michael smiled. “Yes, it is.” He had known that Rolf was on the way to recovery when he had mentioned checking up on all the family members. He was recalling his past again. “You recollect your memory now. You have not done that in a year.”
”Year … I have been held here a year?”
”You said yourself that you have experienced this day a thousand times.” Michael shrugged. “That you are wrong by a couple of hundred days is extraneous. The main point is that you recall experiencing this before.” Michael looked Rolf in the eye and sank deep into his consciousness. “Who am