THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3 by CHARLES E.J. MOULTON (ereader that reads to you .txt) 📕

/> ”What?”
”I am just suggesting that you need to be alone for a while now. Adnicul will be let go when the time comes.”
“I understand” Alex said and took one last look at the cave.
“The cave you seek lies in the heart of the inner forest.” Raphael’s eyes were so full of love now, a deep secret and even luscious, rich kind of love, that Alexander had pinch himself to realize that he was experiencing this. “Go and find your haunted kingdom.”
His royal highness embraced the angel once more and then walked over to Mercutio. The elves stepped away. He saw a small little creature that flew over the stallion’s head and realized he had seen the creature before. Then he realized where. He was much smaller than the two others, who simply hovered over the ground in white capes, their wings fluttering. It was a remarkable sight. He was much more transparent than the others, who seemed almost human. But his connection with Mercutio was obvious because the horse seemed very weary of leaving.
The little elf had tried to warn him of the werewolves’ arrival during the first days of Alexander’s trip back in the first forest. The elf was giggling.
Raphael chuckled and tapped Alex on the shoulder. “He is very sweet. All he does is giggle.”
Alex looked at the angel and beamed. “Who was he in life?”
”In life?”
Alex nodded and looked back at the elf. It giggled again, covering its mouth with its hands.
“Alexander, this elf was born an elf. There are creatures who never desire coming down here and becoming flesh. They might desire it, but they have always been elves and they will most probably be elves for centuries to come. There are those who choose to come down just for the experience. Jeanne d’Arc was such a person.”
”Who?”
”That’s right. She was known to you as Jean of Orlay but she was better treated here. She wanted to try it in the other reality but swore never to return after trying. She was not well treated. She is an elf today and very happy. This elf” Raphael said and pointed at the jittery little creature “has always been an elf. They have remarkable intuition. They see right through you better than you see through yourself. If they like you it is a huge compliment. He likes you.”
Alex smiled. “I am honoured.”
The king mounted and the elves watched it from a distance.
There was that look again. Alex looked into the distance and seemed to be lost in space.
“What is waiting for me out there?”
Raphael rubbed his face. “I cannot tell you. You will have to find out yourself.”
”Thank you, Raphael.”
The archangel bowed and the smiled happily. He saw him disappear in the distance from where he had come. Soon the elves were gone as well.
Not long after that, his royal highness left the bridge behind him and started riding toward his duty.

§

This place was familiar.
Unfortunately it was all too familiar.
Alex had hoped to say that it wasn’t, but it was.
After riding for a week, he had finally arrived at a palace that he had never thought he would ever see again.
It was very strange, but time was speeding up.
It had grown very hot after two days of riding and by the end of the week it was so cold that he had frost covering his clothes in the mornings. He believed it was fall.
Yes, time had been constant the last year.
Now, with Alex close to his goal that was changing, due to the illusion of reality, and so time was not what it had been. Clear was that it was autumn here. November. It all did not matter because it was a nightmare. But it made Alexander uneasy.
This was undoubtedly Rigor Mortis, the hellhole that he had visited in 1411.
The two towers were the same, pointy and black. The large windows on the top floors were as extravagant as the tiny ones at the bottom and in the cellars. The thick walls were thick that even the most extreme weapons would not be able to make it fall down.
What scared him most was the steep hill up to the castle. It gave the traveller up to it the feeling of tyrannical power. He had forgotten this. Maybe it was just as well that Adnicul was not here. He might’ve killed him on the spot. No, that was not true. But to be honest this whole area was too awful for comfort.
Did he want to go up and see it?
Did anyone still live there?
Was anyone, even ghosts, there?
Did he want to find out?
That dark and stormy night there was, naturally, a full moon out. Alexander, on a whim, decided to recapture old nightmares and rode up to the palace to see old enemies long gone.
What actually bothered him when he saw this place again was that Adnicul had been such a sadistic tyrant back then in 1411, even up to his disappearance after the latest war. It worried Alex that he had been concerned about Adnicul’s wellbeing when Rumar had captured him now. He would’ve been rejoiced and celebrated earlier. Now, he had cried.
He had even wanted to give up because he was gone, his new friend.
What was the matter with him? Had he forgotten what all this was about?
Was he being unfair? Maybe so.
Adnicul was also a victim.
But it did not change the fact that Adnicul had once been the terror of Medatlantia with his influence in all the terror of every country of the continent.
It was almost eerie, almost a silly fairytale cliché. The full moon shone over the dark castle with a lantern like sharpness. A few stars were out and seemed to add an extra little ghostliness to the scene. The rather steep path up toward the gate was hard enough for Mercutio to climb, but Alexander remembered his own coach riding up this very road back in 1411.

Why have I not arrived sooner?
Oh, my God. I see the castle. Did anyone see that flash? What was that? Lightning?
Is my daughter alive? Oh dear, I see torches in there …
My soldiers have gone inside, they’ve broken down the door.
Stop the coach, Driver.
It is raining.
Why am I here?
To save my child, that is why.
I have to run inside.

His mind had been blocked for the last year or so.
He had travelled the road to Rigor Mortis with his army back in 1411.
It had not taken a year. It had been a different road back then.
But this place was the same. It was just the same as back then.
The mud under his feet, the light rain and the full moon, it all served to make him shiver more than he felt was comfortable. Why was he riding up toward this place? It was dark and eerie. Was he riding up toward Rigor Mortis just to recapture … what, old memories? He had to laugh. It was a bitter laugh that actually sounded more like a frustrated grunt than a chuckle.
He knew that Adnicul was either in the arms of the Rumar or escaping it. He knew that he was trying to save his soul, but also that this man had been responsible for almost killing his daughter.
The path curved and opened up in a small square in front of the main gates. Alexander looked up at the castle. He shook his head. It was not as large as Iuventus, but it was certainly taller. Could anyone, even a demon, call this place home? That seemed impossible. The stones, what were they? They looked like stone, but they were black.
He rode up slowly toward the wall and had the stallion trot alongside it. He felt the stone wall. Cold. He looked back at the path he had ridden, the path that lay behind him.
He remembered his daughter’s fear that day, he remembered seeing his soldiers throwing the two culprits against the wall and holding him there. He remembered rushing out of the castle with Belinda in his arms and telling the soldiers just to leave, not even kill the two culprits.
“Just leave, leave, leave. Burn the place if you wish, but leave. Let us all just leave this place behind.”
He remembered feeding his daughter for months after that, he remembered taking care of her.
Alexander felt dizzy, he stepped off the horse and had to hold on to the saddle in order not to faint. Tears were streaming down his cheeks, he could not control it.
His knees were so weak that it seemed like they could not hold up his weight.
Alex felt himself holding on to Mercutio’s furry skin.
“Oh, God” he exclaimed to himself.
He reached into his saddlebag and took out the silver flask of vodka, unscrewed the cap and started to drink. The alcohol ran down his throat like soothing fire. It smelled like bitter root and it felt like nails, but once down in his belly, it made him feel warm inside.
He felt better, not much better, but still better.
He stood up and took another drink and then put the flask back in the pocket saddlebag.
He saw the gate was open.
It was dark in there.
The full moon shone upon the door and made the edgy door and the spikes that were protruding from the wood seem very hellish indeed. He was transfixed at the door. It was open. What was inside there?
He took a step toward the open door and stopped.
Something told him to stop. What was it?
He turned his back to the door.
There was a presence here.
A good presence? He did not know if it was good. He did not know.
All he knew was that he saw the forest and what lay beyond it.
He knew that the forest he was about to enter was haunted.
He knew that he most probably would feel himself wanting to leave once he entered.
He turned to the door again.
He shook his head.
“I have seen enough of you” he exclaimed and walked to the horse, collecting himself and mounting.
He looked at the forest and took a deep breath.
There was no reason to put this off any longer.
He had known that he had been committed to enter this forest when he left his home castle. What was about to come was the entire reason for him being here at all. It was all he had prepared for. There was no turning back now. No turning back. He was about to face a demon, a very old demon.
Sitting there on his brown stallion Mercutio and looking at the haunted forest, with a rejected old enemy castle behind him, he bowed his head and folded his hands and thought of the angels.
“Dear Father, for what I about to go through help me. I have risen to the occasion to face the demon. Send me thy angels to protect me in the forest and in the cave. When I am in hell, please let me win the game against my sister.” He looked up and saw how the full moon somehow seemed to cast a very strange light upon the forest down below. It was obvious that what seemed not