In the Vale of the Shadow King (Part Five of Six)

Parts One to Four at: https://www.abctales.com/collection/vale-shadow-king

In the Vale of the Shadow King (Part Five of Six)

Grandpa Rhys was waiting outside the garden wall when they returned. He could see that they were both in a panic. Ushering them inside, the peril approaching was not lost on any of them. They convened in the kitchen, Rhys filling the kettle with water and flicking the switch to set it to boil. In times of trouble, tea was invariably the answer.

“What should we do, Grandpa? I think the shadow is coming for us.” Billy sat in a chair at the kitchen table, his mother sitting next to him.

“I think we should do as you have been asked. We leave soon. The mountain can only be accessed from twilight. Until then, we hold our nerve.” Rhys was draped in his thin, black cloak, loose, black trousers and a dark blue jumper making him look like a magician ready to perform at a cabaret.

“I can’t say I am thrilled about all of this.” Marian had worry lines etched on her forehead. Whilst she knew about the family heritage, it had never felt particularly real up until now. Being based in London, a couple of hundred miles away down the M4 meant that she had remained detached from this supernatural aspect of family.

“It’s the only way, Marian. The shadow will keep coming, causing wanton destruction on its journey. We have to stand and fight. There is no choice. Notwithstanding, I will make sure that Billy comes to no harm. Trust me.” At that moment, Rhys looked all of his seventy-three years. It was a huge responsibility to protect his grandson, especially having lost his son in a similar encounter. 

His daughter stared at him, long and hard. This was a big deal allowing her boy to get caught up in the occult so soon. Whilst she accepted his fate inherited from the family tree, there was a time and a place to be active and that was almost certainly after someone had at least shown him the ropes. However, she did trust her father and if there was a chance to get his son back…

The next few hours passed at funereal pace. The shadow they had encountered at the cliffs was now just a few hundred feet away. In its wake, silence followed. Where there was the sound of birds singing, animals foraging and trees rustling, now there was a dead zone of lifeless vacuum. It looked like an area trailing all the way back to the bay had been bulldozed leaving trees flattened, bushes swept away and the ground razed.

Rhys checked his watch. It was nearly 8.30pm. It was time to leave. Both he and Billy marched to the bedroom that housed the flying carpet. As the young boy hugged his mother and his grandfather kissed his wife, they both took a step back. There was no need for the Book of Spells as Rhys muttered the phrase from memory that Billy had before. It translated from Latin to English as “In dreams, it takes you from place to place.” And was taken, word for word, from the grimoire.

Rhys sat cross-legged on the carpet, his grandson copying him albeit with trepidation. The edge seemed only too close and the crashing waves of the sea would be waiting below. They glided through the sky, the flight path arcing across the horizon, the sun setting like a ball of amber fire. Mist was rising from the water below, soaking the air in a veil of moisture. It was hard to see more than a few yards ahead but the elderly Welsh wizard trusted the magic carpet. It was thousands of years old and born of a different time; a time when incantations and spells were common place and ancient gods were assuaged with candescent devotions.

The fog cleared as they crossed to the far side of the bay. Billy could see the mountain again, the cave just a tiny dot on the rocky landscape but getting bigger and more prominent as they approached. The carpet set down in a similar location to the one the previous night. As it landed, drops of water could be heard falling from the cave ceiling into pools on the ground.

Billy felt more prepared this time. Once again, he had a torch with him. His grandfather was carrying an oil lamp that looked like a relic from the laboratory in the basement. An arc of light lit up the insides of the mountain. With both man and boy readying themselves to venture further, a sudden rush of noise assailed everything around. There was a crescendo of leathery, flapping noise and, above their heads, a mass of bats swooped out of the cave and into the night sky.

They made their way to the cavern where the Shadow King and his minions would be waiting. The cave smelt dank and foreboding. Fetid. The air around them was freezing, their breath visible as they exhaled. Neither of them felt like adventurers. This was a mission into Armageddon where destiny awaited wearing the rictus grin of the Devil.

What felt like eternity was, in fact, a matter of minutes when they eventually made it to the lair of the waiting Shadow King. Billy recognised the clearing. The amphitheatre of rocks circled around them on a higher level. There was nobody there. Only Time stood watching, invisible to mortals and only too happy to blend into the background and bide itself.

Rhys and Billy looked at each other wondering what to do next. They both sensed the rank nature of the situation they found themselves in. They needn’t have worried as the shadow that had appeared the night before slyly slipped onto the same area of lichen-marked rock.

“Ah, you came after all. Of course you did. You come to bargain? The return of your son for my release?” The covert creature was matter-of-fact in its declaration. There was to be brevity in any dialogue.

“You know I wish to see my son again. State your terms.” Rhys was equally terse. He wanted the confrontation dealt with as soon as possible. He knew he was in the weaker position. This was the Shadow King’s domain even if it was a prison.

“But you know the laws of the Otherworld. A life returned demands a life in return. It has always been so.” This simple statement changed the dynamic. Rhys realised that the surreptitious scoundrel was saying that either himself of Billy had to sacrifice themselves. His heart filled with dread.

“Would it be so simple? Would I be that forgiving? The years have passed slowly in here. No new souls to feed on has made this a Purgatory of the cruellest kind. A crime I do not feel ready to forgive.” The Shadow King sounded bitter, resentful, hateful. The silhouette shifted on the rocks and the minions started to become restless.

The watchful wizard felt the atmosphere change. Looking down, he could see shadows approaching both him and his grandson from all directions. The buzzing of bluebottles filled the cavern. Pestilence was here. Billy noticed that the patch of ground they were standing on was becoming enclosed in a circle of gloom that was getting smaller and smaller. He shone the torch on the shadows. The light simply illuminated approaching opacity; an impenetrable adumbration. The future was to be caged in darkness. The diminutive, leering creatures watching from rocks above were making more noise. Strange, high-pitched shrieks and howls echoed around the natural chamber.

Both the old and young man looked up at the Shadow King and then each other, alarm stamped on their features. The net was tightening and the demonic umbra had them surrounded and was closing in, slowly. There was a sense of forlorn doom as the creatures watching celebrated, smelling blood from their brief hunt. They would shortly have fresh souls to feed on.

With the shadows about to breach the makeshift circle that Rhys and Billy had withdrawn in to, the old man unceremoniously reached into his cape and pulled out a glass tube from an inner pocket. It had a stopper in the top. He pulled the piece of cork out and held the container out with his arm. A stream of fireflies flew out into the air. Where there were three or four, more appeared in an unending column. They filled the cave, hundreds then thousands, lighting every nook and cranny so much that the two wizards had to shield their eyes. This was no ordinary illumination; this was light forged from old magic.

The effect was swift. The Shadow King’s silhouette was consumed, the advancing gloom about to engulf man and boy was sucked into the atmosphere like the most rapid of osmosis. The absurd, red-skinned devils scuttled off into the depths of the cavern whilst the fetid swarm of flies flew off down towards the outer part of the mountain in search of fresh carrion. Where there were malevolent, dark shadows, now there was only the curious, red luminosity thrown out by the alchemy of the fireflies.

“Quick, we should leave now.” Rhys shouted and both man and boy broke into a jog then a run. They made their way, full pelt, through the corridors of rock and back to the flying carpet. As they neared the exit, they could hear the increasingly loud shouts of the minions who were now in pursuit. They made odd scrabbling noises, scratching and scraping as they chased after their prey.

Hurling themselves onto the Egyptian rug, Billy mumbled the magic words and, before they knew it, they were rising into the air again. The carpet was not more than a couple of feet off the ground when the first of the clutching claws grabbed the edge of the rug. More hands appeared, faces contorted in rage looking up at the pair making their escape. For a few seconds, there was an impasse as the flying carpet remained static in the air. Both grandfather and son held their breath and closed their eyes.

Part Six at: https://www.abctales.com/story/marandina/vale-shadow-king-part-six-six

Image free to use at: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Firefly#/media/File:GluehwuermchenImWald.jpg