The corridors were lit at intervals by torches mounted upon walls. A cool dry breeze filtered through the castle, bringing with it the scent of incense of some kind. Mr. Lonely led them up a flight of stairs, and then another, until they came to a central chamber.
A bluish glow, emanating from a large crystal ball, lit the entire dome-shaped room. Behind the ball of light, two boney arms gesticulated wildly in the air. Books, papers, writing instruments and furniture flew through the air around the chamber as though held in the grip of a tornado.
A deep voice intoned above the howling wind stirring within the chamber—a spell of some kind, if Percival perceived it rightly. Then, quite suddenly, the light died away from the crystal ball. Everything caught up in the maelstrom flew back to its rightful place in the room as the wind died away completely.
A tall lanky sort of fellow stood behind the pedestal which held the clear orb. He wore dark robes and an excessively tall and pointy, brimmed hat. His white beard trailed away from his face to rest upon his chest where an amulet of some variety lay barely visible on its gold chain beneath the snowy hair.
Percival leaned over, whispering in Violet’s ear. “He looks just like someone from a Tolkien fantasy.” Violet nodded in agreement, but kept her eyes on the wizard. Mr. Lonely approached the man with a gentle, almost grateful smile upon his face. “Marlon, my dear friend, how are you?”
“Very well, Charles, but I dare say, you are late meeting me,” Marlon said. “I thought I was going to have to go on to the dinner without your young friends to accompany me.”
The wizard came out from behind his pedestal of stone, giving Percival and Violet a cursory examination. “What in the devil are they wearing, Charles? They can’t go to the dinner dressed like that.”
Percival and Violet could see nothing amiss about the attire Mrs. Lonely had personally conjured for them. Mr. Lonely, on the other hand, nodded. “Oh yes. You’re quite right, Marlon. I hadn’t thought about it…Mrs. Lonely got a bit eager, I’m afraid.”
“Never mind,” the wizard said. He quickly muttered a spell under his breath, dashing two fingers through the air in their general direction. Instantly the evening gown and tuxedo ruffled themselves, transforming into more appropriate attire.
Violet’s clothing became a period gown—finely woven silk with lace embroidered upon the cuffs and neckline. Percival was captivated, watching her transformation, while his own clothing became a far less elegant version of Marlon’s robes. He looked at himself in comparison to Violet. “Hey, how come she stayed so beautiful compared to me?”
Marlon gave Mr. Lonely a quick grin then focused a rather stern look at Percival. “Because, young man, you are going to be posing as my apprentice—lowly, barely worth my while teaching, since you’ll never come near to my greatness. This charming young lady, on the other hand, will pose as my niece.”
“Should they have different names?” Mr. Lonely asked.
“Hmm,” Marlon said, looking at Percival’s attire. “No, no. I wouldn’t want to make this too difficult for the boy.”
Violet stifled a little laugh. Percival fumed privately.
“Just pulling your leg, boy,” Marlon said cheerfully. “Don’t take it to heart. Still, there is something you’ll need to know before we go to the banquet, if anyone is ever to believe a great wizard, like myself, would nominate you for the office of our next caretaker.”
“What’s that?” Percival asked cautiously.
“Manipulating reality around you, of course,” Marlon said. “I assume you’ve not done it before.”
Percival, perplexed, said, “Not done it? I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
Marlon turned to Mr. Lonely, who looked a bit nervous. “Good grief, Charles, haven’t you explained anything to the boy? He doesn’t even understand what’s going on, does he?”
“We’ve been pressed for time, Marlon,” Mr. Lonely explained. “We’re already running behind and honestly very lucky the boy came back at all.”
Marlon looked at them all gravely. “I see….Well, at any rate, we’ll have to show you a little something in order to make a proper impression on the other delegates. How’s your imagination, young man?”
Violet spoke up this time. “He’s got a great imagination. Percival writes stories all the time…about places like Fantastique and many others…all sorts of weird creatures with strange powers and stuff.”
Marlon nodded, poking his finger at Percival’s chest. “That’s very promising. But here’s the thing, Percival. In order to change reality, you must not think so broadly as story, or world, but character—a particular thing that you want to change or make happen. That’s the key. Focus!”
Percival pondered the idea. “Do you mean like thinking up a fire breathing dragon, or something?”
Both Marlon and Mr. Lonely nearly knocked him down in their rush to stop him. “No, no! Don’t do that…don’t even think it, boy!” Marlon said. “We don’t need to deal with some monstrosity. Control your mind, Percival. You are dealing with imagined reality which mankind is responsible for creating. You are a mortal, created in the image of The Creator, and therefore able to do beyond what imagined beings can in this reality. But you must be careful. Remember this and never forget it. What you create cannot be uncreated.”
“But that doesn’t make any sense,” Percival protested. “Why can’t something be unmade?” Percival was still confused by the explanation.
Marlon sighed impatiently. “Simply understand that if you create something, you will have to deal with it and the consequences arising from its creation. So keep your imagination under control, focusing upon the task at hand.”
I don’t know if I like this,” Violet said warily. “How can you stop yourself from thinking? A hundred different things go through my head every minute.”
Marlon smiled. “Well now, it’s not as bad as all that. It takes some exertion to create in the imagined worlds. His mind isn’t going to just pop off every second making dragons appear.”
Percival and Violet looked at one another, clearly relieved. Mr. Lonely patted Percival on the shoulder, a gentle friendly gesture considering how they were basically blackmailing him for his help. “Percival, your imagination isn’t like a gun with a hair trigger,” Mr. Lonely explained. “More like a bow. You must exert effort to draw the bow and aim the arrow.”
Marlon took up the analogy eagerly. “Yes, and with careful aim, once you release the tension, the arrow takes flight. Whether you hit your mark or not something is going to happen.” He looked at Mr. Lonely, clearly pleased. “That was very good, Charles. Quite right. Now, Percival, you must try something before we go, so that you will be ready when I present you as my apprentice and the new candidate for Master Caretaker of the Manor.”
Percival looked at Violet then at the others. “Well, I’m not sure. What should I try to do?”
Marlon scratched his beard, looking around. “First we need a more appropriate setting. This is, after all, still my home, and I should like it to remain in one piece.”
Marlon raised his boney arms, producing a slight flash. The four of them now stood outside, some distance from Marlon’s castle. Percival looked around. They were standing in a meadow with the castle far away on the distant hill behind them.
“Now,” Marlon said, “we need an appropriate test—not to difficult mind you—but enough to at least impress. “Ah, there we are.” Marlon thrust his boney fingers toward a large willow tree about twenty yards away. He muttered quickly in some ancient tongue then white lightning burst away from his fingers tips. The charge smashed into the ancient tree, engulfing it instantly in orange flame.
Percival and Violet nearly shot out of their skins, seeing the old wizard’s power suddenly unleashed. The ferocious attack quickly consumed the tree, so that only the trunk and thicker branches remained. The flames died rapidly, leaving ash scattered in a loose corona around the base of the burnt-black tree.
“Now,
Percival, it is your turn,” Marlon announced triumphantly.
Percival looked at the wizard, astonished, then at the tree and back to the wizard. “Do you expect me to do that?” he asked.
Marlon laughed. “Of course not, Percival. I expect you to do something much harder.”
“What?”
“I want you to make it grow again,” Marlon said, as though it were the most natural thing in the world to request.
“I can’t make it grow,” Percival protested. “You’ve burned it to a crisp.” As if to punctuate the futility of any such attempt, the boiling sap popped from the branches with an after-fizzle amid the cloud of white smoke rising from the blackened tree.
Marlon gave Percival a severe stare. “You can do it if you are willing. The ability is already there. You’ve been fashioned in the image of the Creator. Just remember where you are—this is not the reality you are used to.” The tension eased from Marlon’s expression a bit. “Now, you saw what the tree looked like before…so make it bloom again.”
Percival considered it, nodding. “All right, I believe you. After all of the things I’ve already seen in the last few days, I have every reason to believe you.”
“Good, now make the tree as it was,” Marlon said.
Percival concentrated on the burnt tree before him. He tried to think about what he had seen of it before. A picture formed in his mind, perhaps not an exact replica of the tree, but that probably didn’t matter. In his mind, he knew he had what he wanted. He only had to make it a reality.
Percival pushed the image from his mind out onto the burnt tree smoldering before them…and something began to happen. The tree started to change, gradually at first, but then more rapidly. The smoldering gray and black char became light brown bark, rising up from the roots at ground level all the way to the tips of the blackened limbs. As the last wisps of smoke trailed away on the breeze, the limbs filled out more and began to sprout new greenery. New whip-like limbs appeared, growing thick like the hair of a woman. They stretched up, then downward, budding with small green leaves all the way to their tips. The willow tree was not exactly as it had been before Marlon’s flames, but it was still a willow and very much alive again.
“Bravo, my boy, bravo,” Marlon clapped. “An excellent first attempt—I knew you had it in you.”
Violet studied Percival, amazed. “I can’t believe it. You actually made it grow again.”
“Of course he did,” Mr. Lonely proclaimed. “That’s why we chose him to help us.”
THE DELEGATES
Percival stared at the newborn willow tree. He still had trouble with the fact that he had caused it to happen simply by pushing his desire out into this imaginative world around him. Marlon spoke privately with Mr. Lonely while Violet stood with Percival, surveying his handiwork. “It really is amazing, Percival,” she said.
“Not so much…you could probably do it too.”
“Maybe, but I’m not the one they want for their new caretaker,” Violet said. Percival felt that she must be proud of him for being chosen. “Violet, I don’t know why in the world they would want me. If they saw you in martial arts class they’d choose you over me.”
She smiled. “Maybe kicking tail isn’t what they need.” She looked at the blooming tree again. “Anyway, I’d say they made the right choice.”
“Come, come,” Marlon interrupted. “We must get on to the banquet. The delegates will arrive, and I must be among them. Charles, we could do with a gateway, if you don’t mind.”
Mr. Lonely straightened. “Quite right. Now everyone jump into the air on the count of three…one, two, three.” They all hopped off the ground as the count ended. Beneath them the ground became a black hole in the earth. They fell through. Violet screamed while Percival gasped, unable to speak. What in the world was Mr. Lonely doing? In that instant, Percival felt his stomach jump into his throat.
Then they were standing again. Solid ground had simply materialized beneath their feet, and an archway with a set of ornate doors stood before them. Violet’s scream had petered out pitifully into a low croaking noise as she realized they were not about to fall into utter nothingness.
“What happened?” she asked.
“We came through a portal created by Mr. Lonely,” Marlon explained. “As the present Caretaker of the Manor House, he has the power to create a portal to any place he chooses. Are you all right, Violet?”
She examined herself, seeming a little embarrassed for screaming. “Yes, I think so.”
Percival had seen the archway and doors before, when they had been watching Mrs. Lonely reorganize and reshape the dining room into an elegant dining hall. He supposed the doorway before them now must be the same one and that it would lead them into the banquet. He also noticed for the first time since falling that Mr. Lonely was no longer among their group. “What happened to—?”
“Charles? Oh, Don’t worry,” Marlon said. “He probably passed through his own portal back into the house. He wouldn’t want to be seen coming to the banquet with us. It might arouse suspicion that he had chosen you as his successor, and that wouldn’t go over well with the delegates of the imagined worlds, or those whom they represent.”
“Then why do it?” Percival asked.
“Because the times are far too dangerous,” Marlon explained. “Rebellion is brewing hot in the minds of imagined creatures. They long to throw off the constraints of our existence and enter your world. I fear that would be a catastrophe. With Mister and Mrs. Lonely’s term as caretakers almost expired, someone new must step up to take their place. Otherwise the office might be left void, which many hope will happen, and the gateway from the imagined worlds into yours might be shattered.”
Blackness surrounded them. A small amount of light illuminated only the gateway. “I suppose we should go inside,” Violet suggested.
Marlon walked ahead of them toward the door. “Indeed. Now remember who you are supposed to be…my lowly apprentice and my beautiful niece.”
Percival grinned at Violet. She blushed and followed Marlon. He had known this girl nearly all of his life. They had been best friends for years. Still, Percival had never quite seen her in the light he now saw her. He knew without a doubt that he wouldn’t fail to see the beautiful part ever again.
When Marlon stepped upon the concrete pad the set of doors opened up before them. The mansion itself was still not visible. As far as appearance was concerned, nothing but the arch and its doors could be distinguished from the unending darkness around them.
When the doors parted light spilled into the void. The noise of many people, assembled and chatting amongst themselves, assailed the Great Wizard Marlon and his company as they stepped into the dining hall within the Lonely Manor. At the door, two zombies stood dressed in servant’s attire. Oddly enough, Percival actually recognized them from the group who had been groping about after him earlier.
One of the zombies turned to the room in order to herald their arrival properly. “The Great Wizard Marlon accompanied by the Lady Violet and his lowly apprentice.” Apparently, these zombies were in on Mr. Lonely’s plan as well. Percival wondered grudgingly if they’d been given a script to follow and where his copy had been misplaced.
All eyes found them as they entered what had already become a rather crowded gathering. Percival’s eyes nearly popped out of his head as he surveyed the spectacular scene before him. Each of the representatives from the imagined worlds had brought others with them. Some, like Marlon, only had a couple of people joining them from their world. Others had brought entire entourages to the banquet. The dining hall managed to fit them all and still seem spacious.
Percival followed Marlon and Violet with all eyes following them. The din picked up again when everyone realized there was actually nothing remarkable to be seen. No one seemed particularly anxious to see Marlon, except for Mr. Lonely, who appeared almost at once, showing Marlon to his place at the vast table, acting as though he hadn’t seen the wizard in ages. Perc
ival noticed that Mrs. Lonely had changed the dimensions of the room again, so that now it was square with a giant round table in the center.
Marlon sat in one of the grandly carved high-back chairs while Percival and Violet were seated in plainer seats to either side of him. Percival looked around the table taking in all of the delegates and their guests. A woman of radiant beauty sat to his left. She wore a toga like the ancient Greeks. To her left, and beyond, sat similarly dressed women.
They appeared to be part of the large entourage of the only man sitting between them. His chiseled physique rippled as he moved. He looked like some sort of Greek god straight out of popular mythology. A wreath crown adorned his curly locks. His single toga strap ran across one of his pecs, leaving the other exposed and bulging for all to admire. His olive skin accentuated his brilliant blue eyes.
Percival stole a glance at Violet still sitting on the other side of Marlon. She had seen the man also. When she noticed Percival looking at her, she turned away as though she’d only been scanning the room in general and not staring at Mister Buff-bod. Percival looked back at the mythological figure, with his female entourage fawning over him, suddenly feeling quite inadequate. He couldn’t have rippled if his life depended upon it.
Beyond this group sat three identically dressed individuals, all wearing brown robes. Percival did not recognize their attire. The one closest was a human female, the next apparently an orangutan and the last some form of alien with blue skin, black bug-like eyes and many fleshy tendrils cascading down onto its shoulders like dreadlocks. As a bonafide Trekkie, Percival knew they must be from some science fiction realm.
Another group, across the huge round table, appeared to be some sort of mer-people with slick bodies and webbed features. A pirate captain also stood with them, though he didn’t appear particularly friendly to his fellow delegates. Another group sat near them but appeared somewhat stranger than any Percival had noticed so far.
One fellow, at the heart of the group, wore a rather over-large hat with the size-tag sticking out of the band like a feather. His clothing was completely mismatched, and his shaggy strawberry blonde hair jutted out from under his hat wildly.
There came a commotion near the door. Percival turned to see another procession making its way through the archway. Two rows of zombies, followed by skeletal warriors, vampires, werewolves and various unrecognized monsters, filed into the dining hall. The noise of conversation had immediately died upon their entry.
It seemed to Percival more like an invading army than a delegation and he tensed with the expectation of something bad about to happen. Violet gave him a concerned look, to which Percival could only shrug. He noticed the intensity of Marlon’s expression as the wizard surveyed the company. Still, the old man said nothing. Whether he expected trouble from these creatures was difficult to guess.
Then, in the middle of the line up, there appeared two individuals of varying type, carrying a very small throne upon staves which ceremoniously rested upon their shoulders, though it couldn’t have weighed even a pound. The throne consisted of small bones—certainly those of a chicken would have sufficed—and a crimson velvet pillow for a seat. A small white mouse sat royally upon the velvet pillow. Percival had to blink to be sure of what he was seeing.
The mouse reclined luxuriantly upon his little throne, hardly regarding the room of delegates watching him. The line of monster types continued around the room until the throne was parked upon a special pedestal, so that the mouse could be viewed by all among the delegations. Apparently no one else, besides Percival and Violet, were the least surprised by this minute guest. Yet, no one seemed at ease by his arrival either.
Dangerous looking henchmen flanked the white mouse. Percival supposed they must be personal bodyguards to the little delegate. The first could only be described as a walking porcupine, for he seemed to have the basic shape of a man, but he was covered dorsally in very fine stiff quills, even down the backs of his arms. The man’s skin was very pale, almost translucent, matching the quills, and seemed to shimmer, changing in color every now and then—perhaps according to his mood.
The other bodyguard was no less strange, though a bit more startling. The living skeleton stood nearly seven feet tall, wearing ragged clothing, as though he’d crawled out of the ground in his blue jeans and torn leather trench coat. In the eye sockets, two small flames burned menacingly.
Mr. Lonely stood at his place on the other side of Marlon several chairs beyond Violet. He held up his hands, to silence the room so he could speak, even though it had become moot with the white mouse’s entry. “Ladies and gentlemen, now that the honorable delegate from Horrif-I has arrived, we may begin.”
THE DINNER
Mr. Lonely rang a small bell sitting on the table next to him. Trays of food began to spill from another door on the other side of the room. Platters and plates, along with glasses of wine and other concoctions, all floated toward the great round table with not a single body to bear them. It appeared as though an invisible troop of kitchen staff had emerged to serve and pour for them—either that, or the platters and trays had taken on thought and motion all on their own.
Percival and Violet watched the parade, astonished, although no one else in the room seemed particularly puzzled or awed by the display. Each silver serving tray settled in place before one of the delegates, or one of their companions seated at the table with them. The domed lids waited until all had found their respective diner then rose in unison and vanished into thin air.
Hot vapor rose from Percival’s platter, the aroma of spicy baked chicken hitting him full in the face. He closed his eyes, sniffing with pleasure. This happened to be Percival’s favorite meal, and he immediately wondered how they had known. He looked past Marlon’s platter of steaming roast beef to find Violet smiling down at her own deluxe sized bacon cheeseburger with sides of barbecue sauce and French fries. They smiled at one another then happily began to eat.
Percival picked up his fork from beside his plate, intending to dig right in, when he happened to glance at some of the other platters sitting before the delegates. Some appeared quite normal, even if he didn’t happen to recognize exactly what they were. Others he spotted made him feel ill.
The mer-people were having fish—so fresh that it still flopped wetly upon their plates. They sank their needle-like teeth deep into the wriggling flesh, tearing away hunks of meat with pleasure written on their glistening faces. Those among the company of the white mouse from Horrif-I ate things Percival certainly thought he recognized, but couldn’t stomach seeing eaten. He didn’t want to think brains, so he tried not to watch. The mouse ate from a small platter with a tiny bowl of pellets sitting upon it. The mouse stuffed them into pouches in his cheeks, drawing them back to its front incisors for real chewing.
Everyone finished their meals quickly then it was time for the business portion of the evening. As Master Caretaker, Mr. Lonely was the sole moderator. He stood once more, waiting while he was lifted up on a podium growing beneath him. He now stood almost ten feet in the air, above all heads, so he could address them properly.
“As you all know, I and my good wife have served in the office of caretakers for one hundred years, according to the agreed upon terms set in place by the Council. The time has come for nominations to the office. Do I hear any nominations?”
Before anyone else could speak, the white mouse stood up on his tiny throne. Everyone grew quiet. “If I may be so bold, Mr. Lonely, I believe we should withhold nominations until concluding our debate as to whether we should even have another caretaker in the office.”
“I don’t believe withholding the application of candidates wishing to apply is actually necessary, Lord Pipsqueak,” Mr. Lonely said.
Percival had just taken a sip of the cola from his goblet when he heard the mouse’s name spoken by Mr. Lonely. He spewed a bit of it across the table, trying to stifle a quick laugh. Every eye immediately fell on him.
&n
bsp; Mr. Lonely looked aghast, as though he were about to have a heart attack, while Lord Pipsqueak glared at Percival menacingly. Percival looked around, wiping away his smile. The color blanched from his face. No one else had found the name funny—not at all.
Silence reigned for only a moment before Lord Pipsqueak spoke. Percival wasn’t quite sure if the mouse said, Quill or Kill, but the effect would no doubt have been the same. The bodyguard, who happened to resemble a large porcupine man, stood forward thrusting an arm toward Percival. Three of his razor sharp spines flew across the table toward Percival’s chest.
With no time to react, Percival tensed in anticipation of his own death. His fleeting thought was of Violet. Would she be safe in this place after he was dead? A streak of pale green light swept across his vision. He only vaguely realized that the orangutan, dressed in his brown robe, had somersaulted out of his seat onto the table in order to intercept the spines just before they struck Percival dead.
A gentle whispering thrum filled the silence as the orangutan stood en guard with a magical sword in his hand—the half melted remainder of three long porcupine quills smoldered at his simian feet upon the white table cloth. No one moved. Percival could only stare at the ape in disbelief.
The light around the sword, almost a vapor, extinguished with a hiss like steam escaping. The warrior did not speak, but climbed down into his chair again.
“Perhaps, Lord Pipsqueak, it would not be prudent to kill the guests of fellow delegates,” Marlon said.
The white mouse still glared at Percival. “He laughed at me…no one laughs at me and lives.” Lord Pipsqueak’s voice was surprisingly baritone for his miniscule stature.
“Marlon is right,” Mr. Lonely said quickly. “You know the rules of the Lonely Manor, Lord Pipsqueak. There is no fighting among the worlds allowed here.” Mr. Lonely adopted a more stern countenance. “I trust I won’t have to enforce the rules of the Council at this time.”
Lord Pipsqueak waved his bodyguard back, taking his seat again. Lord Pipsqueak continued staring at Percival, fire dwelling behind his small pink eyes. Percival could already sense that someday the little mouse would try to kill him again.
The whole room remained quiet, waiting to see who would speak up next. Marlon took the opportunity to address those present while they were ready to listen. “Mr. Lonely?”
Mr. Lonely turned to Marlon with a quiet smile. “The Council recognizes Marlon, the Honorable Delegate from Fantastique.”
“I would like to nominate young Percival Strange here as Fantastique’s representative candidate to the office of Apprentice Caretaker.”
A hushed murmur erupted all over the room. Every eye fell on Percival again, only this time in utter astonishment. Percival looked at Violet then at Marlon standing next to him. “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” he whispered.
Marlon patted his shoulder and whispered back, “Don’t worry.”
Lord Pipsqueak clapped his tiny pink paws in a slow mocking salute. “Very funny, Marlon. I didn’t realize you had a sense of humor.”
“I don’t,” Marlon retorted dryly.
Lord Pipsqueak glared at the wizard. “You honestly mean to foist this pitiful excuse for a candidate upon the Council?”
“The boy is capable enough,” Marlon said.
The whisperers in the room seemed doubtful.
“Just how capable? I’d like to know,” the mouse pushed.
Marlon turned to Percival. “Young man, I think the Council would like a demonstration of your abilities.”
Percival gulped. He looked around the room. Everyone was staring at him. Some were laughing to themselves. All of them looked highly skeptical, but they waited nonetheless for whatever Percival would do.
Marlon pointed at a large ice sculpture adorning the very center of the huge round table. “Percival, I want you to melt that sculpture then reshape it into anything you like.”
Percival stared into the wizard’s eyes. He didn’t feel very confident about this. “Just remember the tree,” Marlon said, reassuring him.
Percival glanced at Violet. She nodded, whispering to him. “You can do it. I know you can.”
He found his courage then gazed at the ice sculpture. It currently held the frozen form of a great bird of some kind. Percival envisioned the ice melting then pushed his desire outward to the sculpture. Instantly, the ice melted, all at once with water crashing down to the table and out onto the Council Delegates in their seats.
Everyone gasped as the sculpture obeyed, and the cold water hit them. Even Percival had been startled by how quickly it had happened. Before anyone could complain, he collected the water again with his mind, pushing it into a new form through imagination. The water obeyed his will, drawing up onto the silver platter where the original sculpture had been sitting, taking the form of a dragon. The new sculpture began to beat its wings, flicking its watery tongue at the Council Members before solidifying into ice once again.
The room became as still as the ice dragon. Nobody moved until Lord Pipsqueak could stand it no longer. “This is outrageous! Only the Master Caretaker can use such power within the House! What sort of trickery is this, Marlon?”
“It is no trick,” Marlon said, grinning. “I have simply found a remarkable apprentice. He shall be the new Master Caretaker of the House.”
Lord Pipsqueak pounded his tiny pink fist upon his throne. “He has to survive the Trial first,” Pipsqueak said, “which he will not.”
“The boy will do well enough,” Marlon protested.
“Master Caretaker,” Lord Pipsqueak said to Mr. Lonely, “I believe I am within my rights to propose where and what the Trial will be?”
Mr. Lonely sighed heavily. “You are within your rights.”
Lord Pipsqueak smiled fiendishly. “Then I propose we reconvene at my castle in Horrif-I, where the boy will begin. There, I will announce the exact nature of the Trial he must face.”
Mr. Lonely looked around the room. “Does anyone second Lord Pipsqueak’s motion?”
Several hands went up around the table. “All those in favor, let it be known by uplifted hands,” Mr. Lonely said. The majority of hands went up. Very few remained against. “So be it. We will reconvene at Bloodmare Castle in three days time where Percival Strange will face the Trial in order to test his worth as a candidate for the office of Apprentice Caretaker.”
HORRIF-I
Three days had shot by like nothing at all. Percival and Violet had gone home to find their families never better. No one remembered anything about Violet’s disappearance. None of their neighbors remembered any of the crazy things they’d been doing. It was as though time had stopped while they were at the Lonely Manor.
But for Violet and Percival nothing would ever be the same. Three days back in school, three days to live normally again. That was all that had been given to them. The time had arrived to be transported back to the House—the gateway between their world and all of the imagined worlds they had never known existed.
Percival looked out his window as the sun set in the west. He had been promised a full briefing from Mr. Lonely and his wife before they traveled through the Looking Glass Chamber into the imaginative world of Horrif-I. That much he looked forward to. After all, Percival had always been a very inquisitive fellow, always had his nose stuck in a book, or on the computer, trying to learn more about almost anything that caught his interest. Now, he would have answers to questions he had never even dreamed of asking. Already, he and Violet had seen beings and places that perhaps no other human being had ever witnessed before.
However, this was no game. Having agreed to stand as the next candidate for Master Caretaker of the Manor House, Percival had consented to dangers as yet unrealized—dangers which had destroyed many who had tried before him. He shuddered, realizing this might be the last time he saw his parents.
Percival walked out of his bedroom and into his parent’s room. They were both lying in bed with the television on in front of t
hem. “What’s up, sport?” his father asked.
“I just wanted to tell you good-night,” Percival said.
“Good-night, son,” his father returned. “Don’t let the bedbugs bite.”
“Sweet dreams, honey,” his mother said.
He stopped at their doorway. “I love you both.”
His parents looked at one another, puzzled, then smiled. “We love you too, Percival,” his mother said.
Percival went back to his room and shut the door. This was it then. Time to go. Only, he didn’t know how he would get there. Mr. Lonely had told them not to bother traveling through the woods anymore. He would open a portal for each of them in their rooms.
Percival sat on his bed. He was still wearing his jeans and a tee-shirt. No use changing into bed clothes when sleep was the last thing he would be doing. He whispered a prayer, hoping for the Lord’s protection.
His bedroom light flickered then went dark. Power outage? The closet door began to open by itself. Percival stood up expectantly. He could not see inside—not his clothes, nothing. Only pitch black space. Percival stepped into the closet slowly, testing the floor, hoping there was a floor. The door closed softly behind him.
Immediately, a door opened in front of him. Light pierced the darkness from the room beyond. Percival stepped into the brightly lit Looking Glass Chamber. Violet stood with Mister and Mrs. Lonely in the center of the elegant room. Violet had worn her usual jeans and long sleeve shirt with a pair of running shoes. She looked like his best friend again. Percival wasn’t disappointed exactly. Only, he knew he would never look at her again as just his best friend.
“Hey, Percival,” she said.
“Hey, Lucky,” he replied. “Are you ready to do this?”
She nodded, turning to Mister and Mrs. Lonely.
“I’m going to make this quick,” Mr. Lonely began. “We don’t have time to delay. The Council Delegates will expect our arrival in Horrif-I very soon.
“What exactly do I have to do?” Percival asked.
“We won’t know exactly until we arrive,” Mr. Lonely said. “Horrif-I is our only choice of where the Trial will be held, since Lord Pipsqueak has invoked his rights as a delegate.”
“But that little rat hopes to kill me!” Percival said.
“Lord Pipsqueak is evil,” Mrs. Lonely said, “but it’s not you, dear. He just hates everybody.”
“Still, you can’t underestimate him, Percival,” Mr. Lonely interjected. “He may look insignificant, but Lord Pipsqueak is one of the most dangerous imaginative creatures there is. His mind is sharp and his magical power is great. He rules all of Horrif-I.”
“He took control from the vampires in a coup years ago,” Mrs. Lonely said in hushed tones, more to Violet. “Very bloody, as you might expect.”
Mr. Lonely nodded. “That’s right and the most dangerous denizens of Horrif-I work for him. You may have noticed his two bodyguards?”
“Yes.”
“The walking pin cushion is called Quill. You’ve already seen some of what he can do,” Mr. Lonely said.
“What about the other one—that skeleton with the flaming eyes?” Violet asked.
“Dim Bones is his name,” Mr. Lonely said. “He’s virtually indestructible. If he gets a good hold on you, he’ll rip out your soul.”
“How do I get past them?” Percival asked.
“Get past them? They’re not the Trial you’ll have to face, Percival.”
“Really?” Percival felt a sigh of relief coming on.
Mr. Lonely grimaced. “Lord Pipsqueak will surely have you face something worse.”
Percival gulped. “Oh.”
Violet put her hand on Percival’s shoulder. “I’m scared for you.”
He tried to laugh it off, but it just wouldn’t come. There wasn’t anything funny about it. He was facing death. He wasn’t sure about imaginative creatures, but he knew humans were certainly capable of dying.
The Lonelys looked at one another. She prodded her husband on the shoulder. “Go on, tell him.”
Mr. Lonely faced Percival and Violet. “Look, Percival, I’m very glad you’ve consented to face the Trial…and I know you were only doing it for the sake of your friend, but I’ve got to tell you something before you go any further.”
“What is it, something worse?”
“We’re not going to force you into this, Percival,” Mr. Lonely said. “Violet is free to go, and so are you.”
Percival smiled at Violet. They both smiled at the Lonelys. But the Lonelys didn’t smile back.
“Wait a minute,” Percival said. “You said without a new Master Caretaker the boundary between the imaginative worlds and reality would be destroyed.”
“I said, it could be destroyed,” Mr. Lonely corrected.
“But Marlon said that many of the imaginative creatures were just waiting for that,” Percival countered.
“True,” Mr. Lonely admitted. “I didn’t say we don’t want you to face the Trial, Percival, only that we weren’t going to blackmail you into it. This decision must be your own.”
Percival didn’t know how to respond. He was glad that Violet was free, and he really didn’t want to face death. But what would happen if he didn’t? Which was worse—facing this trial in the imaginative worlds with great power at his disposal, or having these creatures invade reality, forcing him to face them later as a regular person?
He looked to Violet for reassurance. “You’re my best friend, Violet. What do you think?”
“Please don’t ask me to decide this for you, Percival. I would never want to lose you, but who knows what will happen if they don’t find a replacement for the Lonelys.” Of the Lonelys she asked, “Do you believe Percival can beat the Trial?”
“Violet, I honestly would not have asked him, if I didn’t believe he could,” Mr. Lonely said. “I’m not knocking you, Violet, or any other mortal, but when I saw Percival revive the tree and remake the ice sculpture, I didn’t say what was on my mind.”
“What was on your mind?” Percival asked.
Mr. Lonely looked at him with new admiration. “Lord Pipsqueak was upset for a reason, Percival. No imaginative creature other than the Master Caretaker can wield that kind of power within the Manor—yet you did.”
“But Marlon told me to do it,” Percival said.
Mr. Lonely smiled at his wife, then to Percival he said, “That’s just my point, dear boy. Marlon suspected something about you that I did not, until he asked you to remake the sculpture. As a mortal, you have greater power locked away within you than any imaginative creature. You’re creatures made in the image of the one Creator. Not only that, you particularly possess the natural ability to harness it and make it obey your will. Most of humanity would never get so far as you’ve come in your first try.”
“Percival is special?” Violet asked.
Mrs. Lonely looked at her, grinning. “Oh, don’t act like you didn’t think so already.”
Violet blushed, turning away from Percival.
“He is special,” Mr. Lonely confirmed, “and he can beat the Trial.”
Percival considered the entire situation, pacing the room for a moment. In his mind he prayed for guidance, but the answer was already there—immediate—he couldn’t escape the path he’d been led down. He had never considered himself a brave person—more cautious than courageous, any day—but he’d come this far already.
He turned back to Violet. Hope and concern shone on her face. She had seen his decision in his eyes already. He looked at Mr. Lonely and nodded.