66.
And I mean his kingdom literally fell.
The castle began to collapse all around us. Giant, car-sized chunks of masonry from the roof began tumbling down on top of us. Somnix's body shrank and twisted, melting into shadows. The rapid decomposition was sped up by a screaming chunk of masonry that flattened him and almost crushed me.
"Pigeon King!" I yelled. "The castle's coming down, come on!"
But the Pigeon King was barely responsive. He twitched and rolled over, desperately trying to scrabble to his feet, but it was like his body had suddenly lost all tension in every muscle and joint. I ran over to him and threw his wing over my shoulder, hefting him up, wishing he was still the cuddly little fluffy pigeon he'd been in my head and not this massive hawk thing.
The Pigeon King groaned, his eyelids fluttering.
"We've got to get out of here!" I said to him urgently. "How do we get out?"
The Pigeon King groaned.
"We must retrieve the feather," he croaked.
"Forget the feather!" I yelled at him. "The whole place is coming down!”
"Without the feather, this would all be for naught," the Pigeon King said.
"Somnix is gone. He won't be bothering your pigeons anymore. We have to go!” I shouted over the sound of collapsing debris.
“Somnix lives still, boy. He's severely weakened, but he will return. And if he has that feather, then we will be doing battle with him again.”
"What?" I said. "But I shot him in the heart!”
Even in his weakened, battered state, the Pigeon King still spared me a sarcastic eye roll.
"You really think a little boy like you could kill a thing like that? Don't be foolish, mageling," the Pigeon King said. "Now come, we must retrieve the feather.”
"Where is it?" I asked him in frustration.
The Pigeon King turned his head and looked around.
"Up," he said.
"What?”
“Up?" The Pigeon King said again, raising a shaking wing to point to a small, winding staircase behind the shattered organ.
"Are you crazy?" I said. "The castle's collapsing and you wanna go further up into it?”
The Pigeon King ignored me and began dragging his broken body towards the steps. I groaned and closed my eyes for a second before hurrying after him. I pulled his wing back over my shoulder and dragged him towards the steps in a very unregal way. The steps were narrow and winding, and weren't wide enough for both of us. So I had to reach back with one hand to support the Pigeon King and pull him up the stairs as he limped up behind me.
Everything in the castle was quaking now. Plaster and masonry cracked all around me. Debris kept falling on my head, and I had the bad feeling that the further up we went, the longer the fall into nothingness was going to be. The Pigeon King's body was so battered that I felt bad pulling him but panic was settling in. From the way the masonry around us was cracking, we might only have seconds before the entire tower would collapse with the rest of the castle.
Finally, after what felt like a heart-pounding eternity, we alighted at the top of the staircase into a small room at the top of a tower. There, floating in a glass box, was an inky blue feather. It shimmered in the half light of the nightmare realm. I heard the Pigeon King make a noise of satisfaction, and he dragged himself towards the box.
"Is that it?" I asked him quickly, looking around. The whole floor was rumbling.
"Yes," the Pigeon King said.
He pecked the box with one sharp blow that cracked the glass. Then the box imploded, and the feather floated down to the floor.
"Take it," the Pigeon King croaked. "Put it somewhere safe and let us get out of here.”
"Finally!" I said.
I scrambled and picked up the feather, and in my desperation, I barely even noticed the power that came from the thing. I tucked it into my waistband and then looked expectantly at the Pigeon King.
"So," I said to him, "how do we get out of here?”
The Pigeon King sighed and limped towards the empty window frame in the tower.
"You won't like this, mageling," he croaked.
"What?" I said, getting a bad feeling in my chest.
"We must fall," the Pigeon King said, as if this were just another inconvenience in his day.
"Fall?" I replied. "You mean out that window?"
The Pigeon King nodded.
"Oh, no way," I said. "I'm not jumping out of a damn window at the top of a castle in some mad creature's nightmare kingdom!" Which is a sentence I never thought I would be saying. The Pigeon King looked at me, sighed as if he was sick of my whinging, hopped up to the windowsill, and before I could yell or say anything else, he simply dropped and vanished.
"Shit!"
I ran to the edge and looked over. I could see the Pigeon King’s battered body falling, his broken wing flapping listlessly as he plummeted.
"Shit shit shit shit!" I said, panicking.
And then I felt the entire tower shift. There was a grinding, crunching noise as the stones beneath me gave out, and the tower began to list sideways. That made the decision for me. I scrambled onto the ledge, clenched my jaw, and leaped into the nothingness.
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I caught up to the Pigeon King, who had extended his good wing and used his natural skill in the air to slow his body down enough for me to reach him. We were hurtling into nothingness; the angry red and purple sky had disappeared, the floating platforms were gone, and there was just inky blackness forever. We had passed the floating rock where the castle sat and were now free falling, but strangely, there was no air, no whip of wind, not even the sound of air rushing past. I had no idea how fast we were travelling. We were in the nothingness. The Pigeon King leveled with me and spoke at a normal volume, as if we were just having a casual catch up and not plummeting through the vast emptiness between worlds.
"The Rune, boy," he said to me. His voice sounded distant and weak, like he was close to passing out from exhaustion. "You must use the Rune. You must pull us back into reality.”
I looked down at my palm and saw the livid cuts and scarring, the Rune was still fresh on my palm.
"Couldn't we have done this from the tower?" I asked.
"Just do it, mageling," he said, rolling his eyes closed and laying his head back.
He reached a wing out to me, and I grasped his silky feathers, held him firm, and then closed my own eyes, imagining nothing but the Rune. I pictured us both back in that deep, dark, dank cellar we had been in. I pictured the cold stone, the smell of damp, the taste of the burgers, the salt, and the cooing of the surrounding pigeons. But the thing that really locked me in was the feeling of the rough, frigid stone beneath my palm. I could feel it right now on my hand, and then I opened my eyes, and we were back in the real world.
It's a strange sensation to have a body again. You're never really aware of your functions until they've stopped for an extended period of time. I was suddenly very aware of drawing breath, feeling my heart beating in my chest, of temperature, of sensation. All of that had just been a facsimile in my mind, something my imagination had conjured. This was the real thing. It was like seeing colour after a lifetime of living in monochrome, like that scene in The Wizard of Oz where Dorothy gets to the Land of Oz.
I opened my eyes with a snort and I felt everything. I felt how cold and hungry I was. My back ached, my arse hurt from sitting on the hard floor, and my shoulder wound screamed in agony from all this time spent hunched over. I could still feel the burning of the Rune sliced into my palm. I snorted again as if breathing was unfamiliar to me and I saw the Pigeon King stir from where he had been sitting so serenely with his wings folded and his eyes shut. I groaned and then stretched my legs.
"Oh man," I said. "Let's not do that again for a long time.”
The Pigeon King stood, wobbled, and then collapsed.
"Pigeon King!" I tried to catch him but my body was still stiff and unresponsive.
The watching pigeons swooped on their king, nuzzling him with their beaks, cooing in worry, propping him up and supporting him.
"It's alright," the Pigeon King said. "I am fine. I've just extended my abilities and need to rest.”
"Are you hurt?" I asked him, and the Pigeon King shook his head. "No damage we sustain in that realm will follow us into this one, well, other than the stains on our minds. But our physical bodies are unchanged.”
"Alright," I said, and then I quickly patted myself down and realized that I still had the feather tucked into my waistband.
I pulled it out and appreciated it now. It was perhaps the length of my hand from my wrist to my fingertip and was so inky blue it appeared black, and it shimmered with navy highlights in the light. It was a beautiful thing and it was certainly powerful. I stared at it for a moment longer and then saw the Pigeon King watching me. I cleared my throat and then passed the feather back to him. One of his other pigeons, one of those black ones that had been doing the ritual, suddenly appeared and plucked the feather from my hand, disappearing just as quickly back into the darkness of the room. I would have jumped, if my body was capable of such a quick movement.
"You have done well, mageling," the Pigeon King croaked. "I was certain you would die on this adventure, so consider me impressed.”
"Thanks… I guess," I muttered, tenderly massaging my aching shoulder.
"And consider yourself forgiven for your lapses.”
I didn't reply to that and I tried my hardest not to roll my eyes.
"Will you help me now?" I said.
"My pigeons will support you in your search for this stash house.”
"Well, they better be quick about it," I said. "I don't know how much time we've wasted down in this basement.”
The Pigeon King cut me off with a raised wing.
"It has been perhaps 45 minutes," he said.
"What?" I replied.
"Give or take. Time moves strangely in the world of the mind. You have not lost much time. In fact, the sun should be just setting, perfect for you to begin your nightly adventures.”
I nodded and then creakily tried to pull myself to my feet. Man, I'd forgotten just how badly my body was wounded. Sharp pains and dull ones all mixed together in a heavy cocktail of physical abuse. I felt absolutely fine in my own mind and I'd forgotten just how battered my real body had become.
"I have a few more gifts for you, mageling," the Pigeon King said, his voice weary and thin. "You cannot fight your enemies in the state you're currently in. You'll simply get yourself killed. You have proven to be a very useful follower. It would be a shame to throw you away so casually. My pigeons have mixed a potion for you that will heal your wounds.”
"Really?" I said.
"Yes, but this is powerful magic. Healing the amount of damage you've taken is not something one can do many times in a lifetime, and there is a cost," he said to me, his voice grave.
"What?" I asked.
"A year of your life," the Pigeon King replied.
"A year?" I said.
"A year will be taken from your natural lifespan and that energy will be converted to heal your wounds. This is powerful magic, mageling, and not something that I do lightly.”
I licked my lips and looked at the Pigeon King.
"What is given, must be taken," I said to him, and he nodded gravely. "Give it to me."
A year of my life to be fully healed? I didn't know if I'd live for another year the way I was going. And the Pigeon King was right: if I tried to take on the Syndicate in my current condition, I definitely wouldn't live another week, let alone another year.
The Pigeon King nodded and two of the black pigeons appeared, carrying a small chalice between them. They set it down in front of me and I eyed the chalice, then looked at the Pigeon King.
"A year of my life?" I said to him.
"Yes, but be aware, mageling, this is perhaps the only time that you can use such a potion, for the next time the cost will be exponentially more.”
I stopped to think for a second and then reached down, picked the chalice up with both hands, and drank deeply from it. It didn't taste too bad, to be fair, it had a fruity aftertaste. I swallowed and then realized how dry my mouth had been. I gave a small, wet cough and blinked a few times.
"Did it work?" I asked him.
"It will take a small while," the Pigeon King replied. "This is complex magic, boy, not a fast-food burger you've thrown in the microwave."
"Right," I said to him. I eased myself to my feet and patted my trousers down.
"I have one more gift before you leave," the Pigeon King said, and then he nodded to one of his pigeons, who flew down from the rafters and gave me a black feather. It was similar to the one we had taken from Somnix, but smaller and thinner, more delicate-looking.
"Take this as a personal gift from me, mageling," the Pigeon King said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"That is a Feather of Undoing. I understand in your current occupation that you are struggling with locks and doors that bar your way, and I assume this stash house would be quite heavily shuttered. This feather will pick any human lock. You simply apply it to the lock and it will do so itself. I cannot guarantee to what complexity the feather will work, but for most standard human locks, they will simply fall open in front of you."
I looked down at the feather and then smiled.
"That actually will be pretty helpful. Thank you… your Highness," I added quickly, and then I gave him a creaky bow. I could already feel the potion working as my neck didn't feel as stiff, and the pain was, moment by moment, becoming more dull.
"Go now, mageling, and I wish you success in your missions. When my pigeons have news for you, I will send you an emissary."
I nodded and tucked the feather away. It was time to get back to hunting the Syndicate, and it was time to break them and drive them from my Estate. I shook off my nightmares and readied for the potential ones that awaited.
It was time to take down the Syndicate.
