RIDERS OF TUATHA by Bert McKenzie Copyright 2010
Disclaimer: This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any real person alive or dead is coincidental and unintentional.
CHAPTER IX
Scott and Caseldra had to wait for quite some time before anyone arrived that would really help them. About an hour after the office opened, the owner of Two County Auctions finally came in. The company must have had some dealings with the police in the past, because both office workers asked Scott if he was from a law enforcement agency, and then refused to say anything. Once the owner showed up, his first question was if Scott was a cop. Once assured that he was in no legal trouble, he tended to be much more friendly and cooperative.
It took the better part of another hour to locate the requested information. Scott showed the man his receipt, and all they needed to do was to match the receipt number with the sale records. Unfortunately, Two County Auction kept all of their records tossed indiscriminately in a large box. Scott and the owner sat at a table and sorted through the scraps of paper one by one trying to find a match. After an exhaustive search, they finally came upon the correct papers buried about two-thirds of the way down in the box. It indicated that the lot had been purchased from the estate of an old man who had lived on a small farm about sixty miles away. The owner remembered the place once he found his notes, and even drew a crude map showing Scott how to find the farm house. In a short time he and Caseldra were back on the highway, heading in the direction from which they had come.
Rood, Melcot and Akuta walked up the stairs to the old wizard's chambers. Rood knocked loudly on the old wooden door and then they waited patiently. When no response came, Rood knocked again, a bit more insistently. "Think you he has fled?" Akuta asked. "How uncordial were you earlier?"
"I cannot believe he would flee," Melcot answered. "He seemed quite sincere in his pursuit of a solution."
"But if he could not find the solution," Rood suggested, "he may have gone rather than face the high council."
"The high council?" Akuta exclaimed. "My lord, tell me not you threatened him?"
"We threatened him," Rood admitted.
"Then surely he is gone," Akuta concluded and stepped forward to try the door. It opened easily and the three guards entered. The outer chambers were in even greater disarray than when Rood and Melcot left earlier in the day. Several piles of books had been toppled over, scattering across the floor. The floor itself was invisible, what parts that were not covered by the scattered books were buried under unrolled scrolls, charts and various other documents. "It looks as though a wind storm has been through here," Akuta observed.
"Listen," Melcot said. They all stood quietly for a moment. A distinctive muttering sound was coming from behind the closed door to the left. "Someone is still here," Melcot said softly.
Rood walked to the door and pulled it open. The three men stepped through. Inside was a large laboratory. The walls were lined with shelves, each one containing rows of bottles, decanters and jars filled with colorful liquids and powders. On one wall was a large hearth containing brightly glowing embers. It was unusual that anyone would want a fire on such a warm day. The center of the big room held a long table filled with curious bottles, bowls and beakers, all containing bubbling liquids. Elnar stood next to the table consulting a scroll that he had draped over the back of the only chair in the room.
"So he has not fled," Rood said loudly, startling the old magician. "What solution have you found for us, old father?"
"I believe I have a way," the old man told them. "Follow me," he ordered, his excitement showing. He led them back out of the laboratory, across the messy antechamber and through another door. The room they entered was a two story, vaulted chamber that served as a library. The walls were covered with shelves and a wooden balcony was built around the second level from which the upper shelves could be reached. A spiral staircase next to the door led up to this balcony. Many of the shelves appeared empty. It seemed that the books and scrolls they were designed to hold were the very ones scattered about elsewhere in the chambers. Apparently Elnar never replaced anything that he used. A large wooden table stood in the center of the room and held a variety of charts and maps. Elnar led them directly to it.
"See you this map?" the old man asked, indicating a colorful chart of the area surrounding the castle.
"From 'The Borders of Tuatha,'" Akuta said, reading the title across the top.
"Just so," Elnar responded. "This map shows the way to one of the old borders of our world. It is a place of old magic that used to connect to the world of humanity."
"I thought the borders were closed many ages ago," Melcot said. "As I understand, the world of humans is no longer near our land. We cannot just cross a border as in days of old."
"Not now," the old wizard agreed. "This border goes nowhere."
"Then why are you wasting our time, old father?" Rood asked angrily.
"I have found a bridging spell," Elwinar answered. "It is a way to create a bridge between the two worlds and reopen this border. You could then easily travel from one world to the next."
"That is indeed the solution!" Melcot agreed. He slapped Rood on the back. "We can go to rescue our friends after all."
"We must be quick," Akuta said in sudden concern. "You have said that our world travels faster than the world of humans. If we cross not over soon we may arrive much too late to be of any assistance."
"Well spoken," Rood nodded. "How soon can you create this bridge?" he asked the old man.
"I have worked on the spell all afternoon," Elnar told him. "It is very nearly ready. Take this map and make what preparations you can. We should leave in another hour. The spell will be ready then and we must make haste while the magic is still fresh." The three friends quickly left the wizard's chambers. Rood went to assemble the king's knights, Akuta to prepare mounts and arms for their journey, and Melcot left to inform Ellenia, Clive and Rowana of their plans.
Jennifer had no idea what had become of Troy, but she feared the worst. The woman who took him away seemed to have such a casual disregard for life in the way she threatened him. Jennifer tried not to think of it, but she could not help but picture the evil woman shooting her friend in cold blood. To get her mind off of such morbid fears she kept trying to come up with a plan to escape. Finally, something seemed to click in the back of her mind.
She stood and dumped the contents of her lunch sack out onto the floor. Then carefully wrapping the paper bag over and around her hand, she stood and crossed to the little window. Taking careful aim at one of the two small panes, she hit the window with her fist. The glass broke in several large, jagged pieces, falling from the wooden frame to the dirt floor below. She could see a limited field of vision through the opening, revealing only an empty pasture which looked as if it had just recently been plowed. She bent down and quickly picked up one of the larger shards of glass. Wrapping the big end in the paper sack, she held it out, the sharp glass point forming a natural dagger. Jennifer then moved to stand beside the door so that she would be hidden by it when it opened. She now only had to wait.
In a very short time she heard footsteps outside the door, as of someone descending a wooden stairway. The bolt clanked on the metal and the door swung in toward her. She held her breath and clutched the homemade knife tightly. A tall, thin man entered the room, gun drawn. He looked around at the empty space, then turned and walked over to examine the broken window. Seizing her opportunity, Jennifer jumped forward and stabbed violently at the man's back. Unfortunately, the material of his shirt apparently was a lot tougher than the fragile old window glass. She managed to rip the flannel and scratch the skin underneath, but nothing more before the jagged shard fractured and crumbled in her grip. The man turned quickly and struck her hard across the face with the back of his hand. She dropped to the floor, unconscious.
Picking up her body, the tall man carried her over to the metal cot and dropped her onto the mattress. He left the room for a few minutes and then returned with several short lengths of bailing twine. Pulling her arms out, the man tied a piece of the twine to each wrist and then bound the other end to the legs of the metal frame. He stretched her feet out and fastened her ankles in a similar manner. The girl was now spread eagled on the dirty mattress. He was sure that would keep her from again trying to attack him. Just to make sure that no one would hear her outside with the broken window, he pulled a dirty handkerchief from his back pocket and used it to form a gag, tying it firmly at the back of her head. He then went back upstairs to call Tony.
The incredibly fat, greasy man was eating lasagna when the plain looking woman came into the dining room. "What is it?" he asked her between gulps of food.
"You told me to bring the boy who had the book," she said. "He's outside."
"Good. Bring him in," he said and then belched. The woman stepped out of the room for a few seconds, and then re-entered, pushing Troy in front of her. His hands were tied behind his back, but otherwise he was unharmed. "Sit down, my young friend," the man invited while he continued to eat. "Clarissa, untie my guest and then go tell Robby to bring him some of this excellent lasagna." The woman pulled out a pocket knife and cut the cords that were holding Troy's wrists, and then she left.
"I said sit down," the fat man commanded again. "We have a lot to talk about." A young hispanic boy came into the room carrying two plates of food. He sat one in front of Troy and he replaced the fat man's empty plate with the other. As he left, the fat man gestured for Troy to eat and began shovelling the food into his wide mouth as well. It smelled delicious, so Troy finally decided he might as well enjoy it while he had the chance. Picking up a fork, he tasted the lasagna. It really was excellent.
"Now, my friend, I will begin by telling you about myself," he said with his mouth full. "I am an independent contractor. I perform a variety of jobs for various clients. One of those jobs was to obtain a box of merchandise that was accidentally sold at auction. My team managed to accomplish this with two small exceptions, a book and a crystal ball. The book we recovered, as you well know, but unfortunately, the crystal ball is still missing. Do you know its whereabouts?" The man stopped eating and turned his small brown eyes on his guest. They reminded Troy of two dark lumps of coal pushed into a huge ball of bread dough.
"I . . . I don't know where it is," Troy stammered.
"That is unfortunate," the man said as he turned back to his meal. "For if you are telling me the truth, then I have no reason to keep you around. I will have to let Clarissa dispose of you."
Troy felt a cold chill creep up his spine. "Um . . ." He made a noise in the back of his throat.
"Yes?" the fat man said, turning those beady eyes on him. "Did you have something to add?"
"The ball is in my shop, behind the African statues."
"Are you certain?" the fat man asked as he forked in another mouthful of the pasta.
"That's where we put it. It was kind of hidden."
The man shook his head and clicked his tongue in sympathy. "That really is a pity. You see, your shop was the scene of a rather nasty explosion shortly after you left yesterday. A gas leak, I believe." Troy could feel the blood drain from his face. "Oh, do finish your dinner, young man," the fat man said as he put his fork down and picked up his wine glass to take a large swig. "Forgive me. Would you like some wine? It's a very good Chianti." Troy managed to shake his head.
"Well, then. What am I to do with you. My client suggested that I eliminate you and all of your friends who might have come in contact with his merchandise. But I have a few other ideas. To begin with," he said as he shoved his chair back and stood, "I would like you to tell me about your unusual friend."
"What friend?" Troy managed to ask.
"The one we found at your girlfriend's house," the fat man answered, walking round the table. "Oh he seemed to be ill when Clarissa first brought him in, but he came round quickly enough under Lars' ministrations. I have him downstairs in my . . . recreation room." The fat man leaned through the door to the kitchen and called out for his servant.
The young boy who had brought the food came in again to clear away the dishes. "Robby, I'm afraid our guest wasn't really very hungry after all," the fat man explained to the servant. "But I am sure we can persuade him to have a small dish of spumoni." The boy cleared the table and quickly exited. The fat man waddled back to his chair at the head of the table and sat down.
"When we are finished with dessert, we shall go downstairs and you can tell me all about your friend. You see, he is quite uncommunicative. I'm afraid Lars was a bit harsh with him, but it did no good. He still wouldn't speak. But I did notice something very odd. When Lars' whip struck your friend's back, I expected to see bright red cuts. Imagine my surprise to find them turn dark blue instead."
Troy didn't understand at all what was being said. "His blood is a different color. Now how do you explain that? Does he have some rare kind of disease or what?" The fat man was interrupted by Robby's entrance with the ice cream. He placed a small dish with a single scoop in front of Troy and a large bowl of the multi-colored dessert in front of the fat man. The two ate in silence for a few minutes, Troy picking at the frozen cream. "I am waiting for an explanation," the fat man finally said as his spoon clattered on the bottom of the empty bowl. He suddenly slammed his huge hand down on the table top with a loud boom.
Troy jumped and looked up in surprise. "I don't know what you mean," he said.
"I think you do," the man said as he pushed back his chair and stood. "Come with me," he ordered and waddled to the door. Troy stood and followed meekly behind. They turned down a narrow hallway just outside the dining room. The large man's bulk filled the hall and his arms brushed the side walls as he waddled along. He came to a stairway and descended slowly, opening a door at the bottom. "Come in to my play room," he said as he held the door for Troy.
The 'play room' was an unfinished basement with a cement floor. The low ceiling showed the support beams of the house. There was a large, wooden table in the middle of the room not far from a workbench built against the wall. What looked like iron manacles were attached by short lengths of chain to the four corners of the table. The room also contained an open shower with a floor drain to one side, and an old refrigerator stood beside the workbench on the other wall. At the far end of the room, a man lounged in an old, brown, leather recliner. Behind him a curtain made of what looked like painters' tarpaulins hung from a wire strung along a ceiling beam. This effectively hid the far end of the room from view.
"How is our guest?" the fat man asked the other man in the recliner. He immediately rose to his feet.
"He's about the same," came the reply. The man was extremely tall and had to stoop slightly in order to avoid hitting his head on the floor joists above as he got up from the recliner.
"By the way," the fat man said. "This is a friend of his. Let me introduce you." He turned back to Troy. "This is my good friend Lars. Lars, I'd like you to meet . . ."
"Troy," came the nervous reply.
The fat man smiled, showing an uneven row of teeth. "Troy. Lars, you may get to play with Troy later on." He indicated the curtained area. "For now, I think it's time we showed Troy his friend."
Lars smiled and pulled back the curtain allowing them to pass through to the secluded end of the room. Behind was a cage made of old iron bars. It looked like it might have been made to hold a wild animal. Inside, lying on the cement floor was a naked man. His body showed long gashes and cuts, evidence that he had been severely worked over with the whip that was hanging in loose coils from a hook screwed into the wood overhead. The skin on the body of the caged victim was creamy white, but the long whip marks showed an intense blue color, as if they had been drawn onto the body with a blue felt tip.
"Oh my God," Troy involuntarily gasped.
"Oh, don't feel bad, Troy," the fat man said solicitously. "I'm sure he didn't feel any pain. He never even cried out." Troy turned his head, feeling a wave of nausea sweep over him. "Now," the man said, stepping up to the cage and gripping the bars, "what can you tell me about your friend."
"Nothing," Troy whimpered through clenched teeth, his entire body trembling.
"Come, come now," the fat man said, stepping near and draping a heavy arm over his shoulder. "Lars is growing anxious and needs a new playmate." Lars had taken the whip down from the hook and was running the leather through his fingers. "I'm sure you can tell me something."
"He's . . . he's from another planet," Troy stammered. "He's an alien from outer space."
"An alien? Surely you can do better than that."
"Look at his ears," Troy cried in fear. The fat man nodded and Lars stepped around the small cage. He reached between the bars to grab the long blond locks on the reclining figure's head. He pulled, jerking the man up and against the back of the cage. As the bare skin of his back touched the iron bars, they heard a sizzling sound and the victim let forth an involuntary cry of pain. Startled, Lars released him and he fell forward onto his hands and knees, two long burn marks scoring his back where he had touched the metal.
"Interesting," the fat man commented, reaching forward to touch the same metal bars. "He's burned by cold metal. Check the ears," he ordered Lars. The tall man reached through the bars again, pulling back on the blond hair, but not enough this time to pull him into contact with the side of the cage. His effort revealed the pointed ear on the right side of the head. Another nod from the fat man and Lars released his grip, letting the caged victim collapse forward onto the cold cement.
"So it is true," the fat man marveled. "Thank you, Troy. Now that I know the truth I shall have to be more careful with my guest. I'm sure there is a great deal of money to be made here." He turned to look pensively at Troy. "However, we do have a little problem. That means Lars will need a new playmate."
Troy began to shake with renewed fear. "No, please," he whimpered. His glasses had slid down the bridge of his nose again, but he was too frightened to touch them.
The fat man only laughed. "Have fun, Lars," he said as he pushed the tarpaulin curtain aside and turned to leave. Lars looked down at the trembling boy in front of him and smiled a big, toothy grin.