Mario took off his hat and wrung it out on the ground; he couldn't have been more wet if he had fallen in a lake.
The wind was picking up again, roaring through the bare trees, sucking away what little heat he had left to his name. He fumbled with his pocket, fishing out the sodden map plastered inside, and squinted at it through the glow of his flashlight. The ink had run some and there were a few chunks missing (probably still clinging to the fabric of his overalls), but as far as he could tell, he was still on track.
Emphasis on 'as far as he could tell'. The trees all looked the same around here.
It wasn't making him feel much better knowing he was probably walking to nothing. Mario had known this was probably a hoax going in. Luigi didn't even remember entering the sweepstakes when the flier arrive and had been about to dump the whole thing in the trash before Mario suggested they check it out. If nothing else, it was a reason to get out and about for something other than a catastrophe.
Though, at that point it had been a beautiful, clear afternoon.
Mario wondered if the weather would delay Luigi much. It was likely; you would have to be crazy to walk willingly through the storm that had passed; he was probably waiting for it to blow over. Mario wished he had just waited as well, then the two of them could have gone together in the first place and dodged the weather to boot.
He wondered what time it was.
A fresh wave of rain began misting between the trees. Marvelous. it would be a torrent in ten minutes, Mario would be willing to bet money on it. He picked up his pace, plunging through the trees, wondering all the while what he would do about shelter if the mansion didn't exist.
The ill kept path in front of him twisted and wove, not seeming to go anywhere at all. Then, with no signs of thinning, the woods gave way to a clearing. Mario stopped at the edge of the trees, peering out at the opening. It was fairly large, much wider than it was long, and for the most part hemmed in by a spindly metal fence. Not far from where he stood loomed an ancient, equally crooked gate flanked by a pair of long dead torches.
Beyond, he could just make out the black shape of a building.
Even from that distance he could tell the place was falling apart. This was definitely some sort of joke, but at least there was something here. He pushed at the gate; it didn't budge. A bit of further inspection showed that it was only latched, not locked; it was simple enough to reach his hand through the bars and pry it open. It gave with the most horrifying screech he had ever heard a gate make, and he had been through a good few disused gates.
Beyond, what was left of a stone path led towards the building. He stuck to it gratefully; the overgrown lawn was lower than the ground of the forest, and the whole area was swamped from the storm. As predicted, the rain was growing heavier. He increased his pace again, all but sprinting toward the dilapidated wreck, then something caught his boot and he stumbled, nearly falling face first into the mud.
He turned back as soon as he had gotten his balance, looking for what he had tripped on. It was one of the pave stones, one that had been ripped out of the ground. That wasn't what held his attention, though. Despite the elements he stood there for a long moment, surveying the spot. A long, deep set of claw marks raked across the path, shredding well into the lawn. Pools of water had formed in them, making a network of little streams.
They were huge, and they were new.
Mario diverted off the path, following the shredded turf. Where the marks ended a set of tracks began, massive, taloned prints pressing deep into the ground. The night's first twinge of real uneasiness set in. He glanced around at the rest of the lawn, but all was still and quiet.
There was a moment of hesitation, then he pulled his hat down and continued to follow. He knew from experience it was better to find things like this than have things like this find you. Best to check this out before it turned into a real problem.
In the back of his mind, he began to wonder how innocent this 'prank' really was.
The trail circled up to a protruding wall of the building where there was a deep impression in the ground under the eaves. With a bit of looking, he was able to pick up the trail again, leading around the corner. He followed this bit very cautiously, and only after a long moment of listening; he did not want to find himself face to face with Bowser or who knows what else.
But when he finally made the turn, there was nothing.
The longer he followed the trail, the more he became aware that it was uneven. Some prints seemed larger than others, and they seemed to wander independently, meandering loosely parallel the mansion. He reached a low stone wall, stepped over it, then stopped. The ground was clearer here with more weeds and bare ground than grass. There, in the mud, side by side, were two unique sets of tracks, one significantly larger than the other.
"Mama Mia," he mumbled under his breath.
He lifted his light and looked around him uneasily. There were no signs of the creatures other than the prints. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to track these things down. Not far away was a side door, he made for it quickly, not wanting to be in the open any longer than necessary, but stopped and drew back as it was caught more fully in his light.
The door was devastated. It swung listlessly back and forth, clinging to the frame on half a hinge. The paint on the inside was scraped away, the wood was pulped, and the door frame was in no better condition. Mario placed his back against the outside wall, bracing himself for a fast action if need be, and gave the door a firm push. It creaked abominably, and he snatched his hand away, but there was no other sound. After a few extra moments, he cautiously poked around the corner.
There were claw marks here too, the stairwell inside the door was laced with them. He climbed the steps cautiously, swinging his beam across the rest of the room, but it was empty, or more accurately, intact.
Mario stepped inside and inspected things more carefully, but there were no other signs of damage, at least nothing major. There were a few broken cups on a counter, but he had a hunch that if either of the creatures had gotten in here, the room would look much worse than that.
So the mansion was safe, or at least, relatively safe.
He looked back at the door; the fact that it wouldn't close anymore bothered him. It was a mental thing and he knew it, it obviously hadn't lasted long on it's first encounter with the creatures, but he would still have rathered shut and bolt the thing all the same. Then another uncomfortable thought struck him: if the things came back around and managed to see or smell him, the extra motivation may just be enough to squeeze them through the doorway.
He retreated further into the building.
There were no other signs of the creatures. Excepting the thick coat of dust on everything, the inside of the building was pristine. It was an odd parallel given the way the outside looked. There were sheets of glowing webs over some of the doors he passed, something he did not like, but no sign of imminent danger.
Mario started trying doors, hoping to get a bit further away from the entrance. They were all locked. With nowhere else to go, he climbed the stairs to the second level. The first door he tried there was locked as well, but the second wasn't.
He didn't open it.
There were a few other doors on this level; he tried them all, but as he suspected, none would budge. The little thread of anxiety that had been chewing at him changed to annoyance. So in all this massive place there was only one door that would open? There was no doubt in his mind now, there was something seriously wrong here.
Behind him, the unlocked door rattled, and he whipped around to glare at it. Slowly, with the tiniest creak, it unlatched and swung open. He braced himself, ready for whatever happened next, but nothing came.
Mario crossed his arms, something of a scowl crossing his face as he considering his options. This whole thing was a trap, that was clear enough to him now. So what was he going to do about it? There was no way he would be allowed to just walk out, that wasn't how this kind of thing worked. He wished more than ever that he had waited for Luigi, but he hadn't, so that was out of the cards. He could probably go back downstairs, wait for him to arrive, but Mario had no idea how long that could take, and the longer he stayed in one place the higher the risk of things getting impatient and the whole place coming down around his ears.
He had seen the ruin from the outside, the mansion was huge. Whatever was in that room was just the start, and the whole place was more likely than not chocked full with the most wonderful surprises. He was in for a long night, he might as well get started now, then meet up with Luigi whenever he showed up.
Mind made, Mario approached the room, placing his back against the wall just as he had done for the front door. The room beyond was silent as the grave. He spun forward, unleashing his firebrand and pouring a torrent of fireballs inside. That would be a hard introduction to ignore.
Nevertheless, it was ignored.
Gradually he let the flames die, his every muscle tense, ready to leap to either side if the need arose, but there was still nothing. Cautiously, he stepped further into the doorway, scanning the interior of the room. It was a sort of parlor, a scorched, empty parlor. He wished these things could be straightforward for once. Then the door snapped shut, slamming him in the back and sending him sprawling on his face.
Mario rolled to his feet, rekindled the fire in his free hand, and backed against the door. He didn't bother to try the handle. Lazily, like they had all the time in the world, boos started to drift out from objects in the room. Better than he expected at least; he could handle boos. His confidence started to shake though as they just kept on coming. They seemed a lot braver than other boos he'd encountered as well, staring him straight on as they amassed into a chirping cloud.
Mario didn't wait for them to make the first move; he launched forward with a shout, letting loose a stream of fire. The boos scattered, squealing as they went, then dove for him.
He dropped low at their first pass, sidestepped the second, then bounced off the head of an unfortunate straggler, sending himself launching to the other side of the room. The rest let out a united cry and looped back around, fury burning in their beady eyes. This time Mario stood his ground, bringing his light up into their faces as they charged. It worked a lot better than he had expected, instantaneously triggering the 'hide your face' reaction he was used to. He followed up his advantage, diving right into the middle of the pack with a flaming fist. Boos flew every which way, bouncing and bobbing like so many ghostly balloons.
Leading with his light, he twisted to face the next wave of attackers. Boos scattered as he came, dodging the arch of the beam, ducking behind furniture or through the walls. Mario launched another stream of fire, breaking up an attempt to regroup, and charged again, bearing down on any boos less fazed by the light. He never stopped moving, twisting and turning, bouncing over the furniture like there was rubber in his shoes. Then recoiled horribly as he found himself face to face with another boo.
It was right on top of him, inches away from his face. He backpedaled, swinging his light up into its eyes; it jarred as if it had received a physical blow, but kept coming. For an instant it paled, passing out of the solid spectrum, then dove into the flashlight.
The beam began to flicker, light going from yellow to a purple-white, the casing growing warm in Mario's hand. He dropped it, stepping away as it clattered and rolled across the floor.
There was a triumphant warble through the room as the boos lashed forward, all hesitance gone. Mario spun on his heels and released a barrage of flames from both hands, checking their triumphant surge. They recoiled and scattered, snarling and squealing, then swarmed forward again from all sides, pushing him back with sheer numbers.
Slowly but surely, he was backed into a corner, the boos growing more confidant with every step he lost.
Mario whipped back and forth, fighting to keep the ring from tightening in on him. The boos ducked and weaved, dodging the flames, gnawing away his ground inch by inch. It was like trying to fight a swarm of bees. He let out a ragged blast of fire into the heart of the cloud. Boos flew left and right, squealing and whimpering as the hole was punched through their trap. More tried to fill the gap, but Mario was too quick for them, skidding between their ranks and sprinting for a door at the other end of the room.
He was sure it would be locked, but that didn't matter a whole lot right now. He braced himself to ram it, hoping with all his being it would give.
As it turned out though, it didn't matter.
One of the boos sank its fangs into his shoulder. Mario yelled and grabbed at the creature with his other hand, but it slipped between his fingers, drifting away with a gleeful laugh. He could already feel his arm going limp, courtesy of the boo's special brand of venom.
Momentum broken, Mario spun round, backpedaling against the new door to facing the oncoming horde. The boo cloud was right on his heels. He ducked, letting forward a one handed barrage of flames, but they were expecting that. The cloud arched, split as the attack passed, then dropped in a mass, smashing the man to the floor. It was all over at that point. Mario tried to beat them off, with pitiful success. He was dragged to the center of the room, thrashing all the way, and pinned there.
Slowly and deliberately, another boo emerged, solidifying in front of him. It was by far the largest boo Mario had ever seen.
It looked over the situation leisurely, then chuckled in a self satisfied way.
"So you are the Mushroom Kingdom's grand protector," he said, slowly and deliberately. "It's a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance, Mario, well met indeed.
Mario grit his teeth. The boo laughed again.
"I suppose you know who I am. Or do I need to make a proper introduction of myself?" he asked gleefully.
Again, Mario didn't answer. He knew what the thing in front of him was; he had heard rumors of him before, though never confirmed his existence. And even if he hadn't, the jeweled crown perched on the boo's head would have clued him in.
"Some would consider it quite rude, not answering one's host," said the boo, sounding anything but bothered.
Mario started to thrash again; he wasn't just going to stay there flattened in front of this thing. The boos around him squealed in shock as he managed to get a knee underneath himself, and despite their numbers, begin to heave upward.
Another set of fangs punched into his leg, and he let out a grunt of pain; the boos took full advantage of the situation, shoving him all the way down on his face.
Their king looked amused.
"I must say, you're quite impressive," he said, drifting down to the level of his prisoner, dark sparks fizzing into existence around his arm. "Your reputation is well earned. Rest assured though, I have no intention of underestimating you."
Mario thrashed violently as the king reached down towards him. He yelled again, writhing as the magic leapt through his system, then went limp as a boned fish, senseless.
• • •
It was that perfect time of day; the sun was shining through the massive windows almost blindingly, giving the marble it's own pearly glow. The paintings on the opposite wall watched any who passed with almost a lifelike vigor. In front of each picture rested a stand protected by heavy glass, inside lay each monarch's crown, never to be touched again.
Comet walked down the hall, watching the faces she knew all too well, then stopped at the place she always did. She had never seen those last four pictures, and didn't want to.
She turned around, walking back the way she had come.
The halls were silent; bright colors and glistening tiles only strengthening the feeling of perfect solitude. That is, almost perfect solitude. Up ahead somewhere, a pair of footsteps clicked across the marble. It was an odd, hobbling gait, Comet recognized it instantly. The sound stopped, and was replaced by the soft swiffing of a duster being worked for all it was worth; it was Anna without a doubt.
Comet lengthened her stride, glad not to be alone anymore. She rounded the corner, completely expecting to see the woman cleaning one of the cases, but the hall beyond was empty, and the sound had vanished.
Comet kept walking, confused.
She wandered aimlessly from there on, seeing no one. The place was completely empty; brilliant, glistening, and deserted. She quickened her pace, opening doors and searching rooms, looking for anyone at all. Occasionally there would be sounds: voices, music, footsteps, but any time she approached them they would disappear.
It was starting to get unnerving.
In time Comet found herself in front of the nursery, somewhere she hadn't been in quite a while. She pushed the door open on her old room; the lavender walls were beautiful to see after the sterile gold and white of the halls. It was just the way she had left it, if a little cleaner, even her old teddy bear was still on the bed, the one she had given to Novi when she had been born, along with the room. Comet had always called him Simon, but Novi was always dead set on Samantha. Old drawings still hung on the walls as well, just about every scribble she and Novi had ever made. Comet pulled one of them down; it always made her smile that Novi 'signed' her work with a smudgy thumb print in one corner.
Suddenly she stiffened, all attention snatched by a soft sound from the other room.
It was a song, one that Novi's mother would sing. Every once and again, their father's voice would try to chip in, doing his best to match the soft, sweet tune. Comet dropped the drawing and threw open the door, as if speed could trick the shadows into being seen. It crashed open onto the little playroom that connected to the nursery, toy boxes, pillows on the floor, and all. On the wall hung three paintings, each covered with pure white cloth.
There was no one there.
Her eyes flicked across the room two or three more times, not knowing what else she had expected. Softly and respectfully she closed the door again, then retreated into the hall and ran.
She ran straight for the dragon's chambers.
"Murzim!" she shrieked as she approached, but there was no answer. She continued to call all the way to the end of the hall, without getting so much as a shadow of a response.
Fine.
She switched directions, ducking down a corridor and out into the courtyard. The garden was lovely, flowers spurting up everywhere; Comet tore between them without giving them so much as a glance, forcefully tuning out the voices that sprang up between the hedges.
There was a tree growing against the back wall, Comet headed straight for it. She swung into it with practiced ease, using the rough stones as a brace as she made her way up. Once you were in the branches there was no way anyone could see you, if there really was anyone left to see her in this place, it was simple enough to get over the wall from there.
She got about half way to the lip before she heard the creak of Novi's swing.
Comet turned and looked down at the bit of rope dangling from the branches. The noise kept on, slowly and softly, though nothing moved, and no one was there. Novi had claimed this as her spot, the place where no one would bug her, and though it was never said, the place where she would wait when she sensed Comet was in the mood to 'duck out'.
Then they would argue. Occasionally Novi would win, much of the time Comet would just duck out anyways. Or they would go together...
Comet dropped out of the tree. She couldn't leave, not yet, she needed to go back to the castle, and look for Novi at least.
The sounds in the hedges had been steadily growing louder all this time; a crowd seemed to have gathered, or at least the shadows of a crowd. But something about them sounded wrong. Comet gave an annoyed look back at the bed of flowers, half expecting the whole thing to go silent the second it had her attention, but it didn't.
The din grew louder, high and sharp, a chirping and squealing rather than actual words, then curved inward, flying at her though the flowers.
• • •
Comet thrashed, her arm landing with a puff on the pallet beside her. The blankets shifted as their occupant rolled over, making sound between a whine and a coo.
Light from the still lit lamp was seeping through the weave of the blanket over her head.
She was still in the mansion. Everything was alright.
Comet lay quietly where she was, eyes open, taking soft, deep breaths. There was a gentle murmuring through the room, and a draft was running along the floor. Maybe there was a hole in the window, or the frame didn't fit right. Somewhere along the floorboards, a rodent started to nibble. Comet flinched.
Then jumped straight into the air as a cry rang from the halls.
Comet thrashed the remainder of the blankets off of her, snatched her weapon, and bolted for the door without a second thought. She drew her sword as she skidded into the black halls, activating its ionized edge; the soft light it gave was just enough to maneuver by. Behind her there was a slam as Novi tore out of the room after her.
Comet didn't stop. The cry seemed to have come from near where they had come in, at least, that was her best estimation. She skidded down another turn, retracing their steps to the entry hall with a mix of memory, and the occasional muddied footprint they had left behind.
She stopped when she reached the door of the parlor. It hung just the slightest bit ajar.
Cautiously she gave it a push, it swung open almost noiselessly. The room beyond was perfectly dark; she couldn't make out much without a proper light, but there was a soft, burning smell drifting at her from inside.
Comet raised her sword and entered the room, poking the thing around like a glowstick. It was obvious that something was wrong right off; the place was a wreck. Furniture was turned over and smashed, things that looked and smelled like scorch marks were everywhere. Across the floor was a smear of muddy footprints; some were her own and her sisters, she could tell by the tread of the boots, but the majority of them were not.
Someone else had definitely been here, and by the looks of it, things had not gone well for them.
But what had happened to them, and where were they now?
She stepped through the door back into the hall. She was sure she had shut that door when She and Novi had left the room initially. She remembered it distinctly, the room had bothered her, so she had shut the door. But it was open now, it must have been the way the newcomer had gone, or been taken... She raised her sword and looked for signs of anyone passing, but the hall was empty.
The hall was empty.
Where was Novi?
A fifteen pound brick of panic dropped into her stomach, she had heard her sister follow her out of the room.
"Novi!" she shouted.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew it probably wasn't a good idea to be announcing her position. But it didn't seem to matter; there was no answer from Novi, or anything else.
Notes:
NOT DEAD! Just very busy.
You may or may not have heard it before in one of my other notes, but I run a little textile art business, and like most other retail based businesses, the months before Christmas are equal parts blessing and curse. I am currently sitting on orders for 60+ items to be delivered to three different stores, most of them due November 1st. Needless to say, I've been working like a crazy person, and it makes writing very hard.
The key to this sort of situation is finding a rhythm, some sort of pattern that squeezes everything that needs to be done in a day.
It's about as elusive as the fountain of youth.
But that's not going to stop me from trying, I should have the next part of this up in two weeks. (Probably).
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