Crispin Scales and the City of Doors

By Ruby Blessing

Crispin is back, and being the Chosen One still sucks.

Not only is he lost in a strange city, but he has also lost all his magical powers. Situation normal really.

Now he is on another quest – one with more questions than answers. Why are the children being stolen from their homes? What is killing the vampire children? Who are

• Language: English
• Publisher: Mighty Ink Publishing
• Release date: Mar 6, 2019
• ISBN: 9780646998923

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Into the unknown

I couldn’t move, my whole body frozen by fear.

A great screaming monster was barrelling down the tunnel towards me, white beams of magic shooting from its eyes blinding me in the sooty darkness. I tried to will some magic into my hands to slow the monster down, but I had nothing, not even the tiniest spark.

Typical, I thought.

You! Someone threw me with inhuman force against the wall. The monster thundered by, the noise deafening as its cold skin passed only centimetres from my nose.

It’s called a twain, Cwispin, said Greg, his black eyes glinting in the light from the train’s windows, the people inside oblivious to the vampire and boy watching them pass.

And it won’t eat you, stupid. Huwwy, we need to get out of hewe. Another will be coming past in a few moments, and I have better things to do than wescue silly Wealmers from the powtal all day.

Greg ran along the edge of the tunnel, his black leather coat billowing in the waves of hot air that blew across the tracks. A loud toot declared the imminent arrival of another train, and without warning, he darted into a dusty alcove, yanking me after him and slamming a metal door shut just as the train rattled past.

We were in a long corridor, grimy light bulbs glowing weakly along one wall, a putrid ribbon of water trickling alongside the other.

Where is this place? I asked, covering my nose with my hand.

It’s a service cowidor for the wailways, quite conwenient for getting awound the tunnels, chirped Greg, striding briskly ahead while I struggled to keep up.

No, I said. What world are we in?

And why are you here? I was about to ask, when Greg stopped and turned, his sharp vampire fangs extended in a frightening scowl.

You ask too many qwestions boy, he snarled, then with a strange flicker of his eyes, smiled sweetly. Come on silly, I have someone who wants to meet you.

Slightly perturbed by Greg’s sudden aggression I followed him through the labyrinth of corridors. A fine veil of dust drifted down from the brick ceiling as we walked, shaken loose by the constant rumble of the passing trains.

I don’t know what I had expected when I stepped through the time portal in the Great Library, but it certainly wasn’t this dull, and extremely smelly corridor.

Not long ago I was a dragon. Admittedly not a very good one, but I was happy enough. Of course all that changed when King Gary decided to invade my beautiful Aequor, destroy all that I loved, then kidnap my best friend, the Princess Marlo.

Oh, and I died. That was probably the biggest development – when I died and came back to life as a human boy.

Most people would have given up there and then. I certainly wanted to. But the real kicker is that I am the Chosen One. The Unam Mandrax. Destined to save the world, yada yada yada. And you know what? I thought I had when I saved Marlo from King Gary’s tower in Jrepil-Z. When I crushed the evil, armoured dragon Lux. When I saved my mother Hawkmoth from certain death.

But nope. Apparently a Chosen One’s work is never done. Because now I was here, sent into the portal to destroy Lux, his power restored with dark magic. Oh, and to find my brother Marcus (a dragon with issues). I was in a dank, dusty corridor, being led by an extremely annoying vampire, to who knows where.

And of course chasing after two headstrong and extremely impulsive girls. I should have known Chance and Marlo wouldn’t stay out of trouble for long, but to run into an unknown portal without a plan was pretty reckless.

Where were they?

I jogged after Greg, wondering if he knew where the girls were, but too afraid, and frankly too breathless to ask. He seemed agitated and was muttering to himself as he zoomed, vampire style, ahead of me, the thin cloud of dust in his wake coating me in a sooty, black film.

Finally Greg stopped, watching me curiously as I caught up, gasping to catch my breath. He opened his mouth to say something but stopped, his lips pursed in a thin line. Shaking his head he turned to climb a metal ladder, the rungs wet and slippery in the damp air. At the top was a small landing and a metal door, a round iron wheel in its centre the handle. An unmistakable spiral was painted into the circular arch of the door, the black paint faded and peeling.

Come on, snapped Greg, turning the handle and opening the door, the hinges screeching in protest. Neither of us can turn back now, even if we wanted to.

I hurried up the ladder, wondering vaguely what he could possibly mean. Gripping the slimy rungs carefully, I climbed to the top and stepped through the door into fresh air and sunlight.

CHAPTER 2

Bricks and bridges

I think I was being a little optimistic when I said fresh air. Sure, it was sunny, but the air smelled of smoke, sewerage and something I couldn’t quite put my finger on (or nose in this case).

Greg, on the other hand just looked up at the sun and grimaced. Without a word he dragged a soft mask from a jacket pocket and pulled it over his white-blonde hair. The black leather covered his head and neck entirely except for two round holes for his unblinking eyes, the red pupils pinpricks in the bright sunlight. A long hooked beak was attached to the front of the mask, two holes piercing the top of the stiff leather. From the other pocket Greg produced a small felt purse, and growled for it to open. He tapped his foot impatiently as the purse transformed into a wide-brimmed hat that floated up onto his head. The entire get-up made him look like a malevolent black crow.

We stood on a deserted street, numerous potholes full of stagnant water in the black tarmac. A corroded awning, one side hanging dangerously loose from its struts, offered a small amount of shade from the mid-morning sun. Rows of old warehouses lined the street, faded signage painted onto their facades a reminder of industry long past. A massive suspension bridge loomed over the entire block, fat steel cables spanning the chasm between the two gothic stone towers that stood on either side of a wide river.

We didn’t have too many big cities back in the Realm. Solitudo wasn’t small, but you could still see the desert at its edges. And Jrepil-Z, the mutant conglomerate of three adjoining cities, was vast by Realm standards. Both were small compared to this city.

Buildings and towers rose in every direction, roads intersecting the city blocks like streams wending their way through massive canyons of glass and steel. Strange metal carriages (which I would later learn were called cars) crawled along the bridge’s roadway like giant beetles returning to a hive.

I couldn’t see any people but I could feel the energy of constant activity as millions of lives unfolded within the walls of this great metropolis. And I have to admit, I was a little overwhelmed.

Come on, Greg snapped, his voice muffled inside the mask.

I followed him down the empty street, unable to avoid sploshing in the muddy puddles, the sound echoing off the silent warehouses surrounding us. Each facade was almost identical – grimy brick walls punctuated with row upon row of wide arched windows, many sealed with shutters, some hanging loose with decay. Arched wooden doors stood at street level, all boarded up or secured with rusted iron gates. The sounds of traffic drifting down from the bridge and a distant horn blast from a ferry were the only reminders that life still existed beyond this deserted street.

Surely Chance and Marlo weren’t hiding in one of these decrepit warehouses? I hoped not. Neither responded well to being confined. And try as I might, I still couldn’t entice any magic from my fingers. Even willing it from my golden pearl, twisted inside my chest with the black gem of Talicskcan, rendered nothing. Not a skerrick. I sighed. I was back to square one. No magic and no clue.

Well, at least I was used to that…

Are we there yet? I called to Greg, hoping a joke might lighten his mood. It wasn’t like Greg to stay quiet for so long.

I held my breath thinking he was going to snap at me again, but instead he just shook his head and signed.

I would be careful what I wished for, Cwispin Scales, he said, stopping in front of a doorway. But yes, we arwe hewe.

We stood before a nondescript door, with a large iron padlock through the end of the door bolt, small spirals welded onto either side of the keyhole.

Greg pushed the mask back over his head, and rubbing his hands together formed a small glowing web of magic that floated above his open palms. Holding them before the padlock he blew the magic into the keyhole, creating soft clanks and whirrs as it raced through the lock’s innards. The padlock dropped open with a clunk, while soft blue sparks pushed the door bolt aside. The magic spread across the entire door until it shimmered like a sapphire, then silently opened.

Welcome to Haven. Greg said, a smirk growing as he watched me stare in disbelief, my mouth open wide enough to catch a whole swarm of flies.

That will teach you to jump to conclusions I thought as I snapped my mouth shut. I wondered what other surprises this warehouse would hold and nervously followed Greg inside.

CHAPTER 3

Come into my parlour said the spider to the…

Village. Shanty town. Pile of boxes.

Call it what you want, but there was a chaotic and very noisy village inside the warehouse. Hotchpotch dwellings filled every corner of the cavernous space – rooms made of crates, old windows, corrugated iron and junk stacked precariously to the dusty roof. Sunlight streamed into the warehouse through the uppermost row of arched windows, the bright shafts reflecting randomly on mirrors and glass like stars winking in a galaxy of rubbish.

And there were people everywhere.

Not just humans, but gnomes, elves and fairies. Goblin monkeys chattered high up in the ceiling beams, their tiny wings fluttering madly as they fought over stolen scraps of food. There were a few gryphons, some pint-sized pixies and even some creepy lizard faced basilisks. No dragons though. I guess this place was too cluttered.

How did they all get here? I asked Greg as we strode down one of the wider ‘streets’. The crowd moved out of the way as we passed, some crying in surprise when they saw Greg in his mask and hat. I wasn’t really sure why he still had it on now we were away from the direct sunlight.

You weally don’t know anything do you, Greg sighed, his head cocked to one side, making him look even more like a black bird. People have been jumping in and out of powtals fow thousands of yeaws. This city has hundweds of them. Only problem is – not many of them go back to the Wealm.

That was news I didn’t want to hear. Surely Retep wouldn’t send us into a portal that had no way back? But then Retep had told me there were only a few portals left. Retep was considered the wisest mage in the Realm, and had trained me to use my magic. Why would he lie to me? Why would he lie to Chance, his own daughter?

Too many questions and no answers. Situation normal.

Greg stopped. We were in a laneway filled with small shop fronts, a jumbled assortment of wares stacked in high shelves and hanging from colourful awnings. Everything imaginable was on sale in this cluttered market – clothes for every season, shiny pots and pans, intricately woven carpets and glittering gold and silver jewellery. The pungent aroma of herbs, essential oils and elixirs was pervasive as the trinket stores gave way to the spice markets, dried spices piled in small pyramids of red, ochre and gold.

Greg took a few twists and turns and soon we were walking through rows of magical apothecary shops. Every store seemed to specialise in a magical potion – love potions, beauty potions, potions for money and wealth, confusion oils and even some damnation powders. And every store sold something called eau de lac – a clear liquid sold in a variety of blue bottles hanging from awnings or stacked in shiny rows on tables.

Wait hewe, and don’t talk to anyone, said Greg as he stepped into a small, darkened stall advertising Rare & Powerful Potions for Specialised Problems.

I imagined Greg with a purple polka-dotted rash that even his magic couldn’t shift. He really thought he was Mr Cool. If I didn’t think he could help me find Chance and Marlo I would have ditched him there and then.

Hey, a small voice whispered, a little hand tugging at my sleeve.

I looked down to see a scruffy boy, huge brown eyes filling his delicate face.

Please, mister. Please can you find my sister? he begged, a tiny tear trickling down his grubby cheek.

Im sorry, but I don’t know this place very well, I crouched down. What is your name? Maybe we can find your mother or father.

The boy shook his head. That won’t help. She isn’t here. They took her. They only take the bestest ones, and Sharla is the cleverest.

I stood up and looked around. The alleyway was deserted except for the constant tinkle of the hundreds of blue bottles hanging from the shopfronts.

I’m pretty lost myself, I said. Im not sure how I can help?

The boy looked confused, Well, you’re the Chosen One aren’t you? Isn’t that why you’re here?

Before I could reply a young woman came running down the alley.

Persy! There you are! she called, rushing up and clutching him in a desperate hug. Where were you? Don’t ever take off like that again. Ever! I thought, I thought… She sobbed, too upset to finish.

It’s OK Mum, I found him. He is going to find Sharla. Persy smiled as he pointed to me.

Um… um, I stammered. I was about to ask what he was talking about when Greg came out of the shop, carrying a small silver box.

Who’s this? he hissed, his pointed beak looming over Persy and his mother.

It’s OK Greg, the boy was lost, but it’s OK now, I said.

It was probably wise not to mention that Persy had found me, and why. I was very disturbed by Greg’s behaviour.

Persy’s mother pulled him towards her, and began to back away, her distrust of Greg obvious.

Let’s go Persy, she said, as she moved away down the alley. Thank the young man for helping you.

Thank you Crispin Scales, called Persy as they rounded the corner. Tell Sharla I miss her!

Greg turned to me sharply. What did he mean? he growled.

I stared into his eyes defiantly and shrugged. I had decided not to trust Greg and to get away from him as soon as I could. Something more was going on here, and the sooner I found Chance and Marlo, the sooner I could find out.

CHAPTER 4

Timing is everything

Greg started mumbling inside his mask and twitching his head from side to side like a demented raven. I really needed to get away from him. And fast. We had left the chaos of Haven and entered a much darker warehouse through a drab doorway.

Squalid and grimy, this warehouse was filled with mouldy boxes and other junk discarded from Haven and left to rot. I could hear the occasional scratchy scuttle and nervously kept an eye out for rats, hoping they weren’t too big.

Greg’s twitching became more erratic, and the shuffling in the boxes seemed to get louder with every twitch. A low hissing emerged from the nearest boxes, rising to a frightening crescendo as several filthy vampires lurched out, their fangs extended and faces desperate with hunger.

In the Realm, vampires were normally not a threat. They no longer fed on humans and fairies, and bred deer and goats for their blood supply. I had never seen a nest of vampires so wretched. It terrified me.

I ran to catch up with Greg, the vampires pulling my clothes and clutching at my legs. Their hissing turned into a fierce whisper, repeating Chosen, chosen, chosen over and over. They probably thought the blood of the Chosen One would be extra tasty. I certainly didn’t want them to find out.

Greg! I yelled. Maybe he could persuade them not to eat me. But he didn’t even respond. He just kept twitching and jerking, mumbling incoherently.

Greg! I screamed again, You have to help me!

A vampire grasped my hand and was pulling me back into the boxes, her long nails digging into the skin and drawing blood. More vampires caught the scent of fresh blood and began to skulk towards me. I yanked at my hand, dragging the vampire with me as I tried to get away. I would never have been able to do this with a healthy vampire, but this creature was so weak she wasn’t even trying to lick the blood.

Help us, she murmured, Please Chosen One, we are in hell, please help us.

I looked into her eyes, the grey pupils glistening with red tears. This vampire could not have been more than 12 years old! I looked around at the other vampires as they stumbled slowly towards me. They were all just children.

I was totally confused. Why were they here, barely living, desperate and without parents? And why didn’t the people of Haven do something?

Greg had stopped in front of a massive silver door, completely out of place in the dingy warehouse, disturbing images of mutilation and torture etched into its polished front.

I managed to shuffle to where Greg was, the young vampire still clutching my wrist. She looked at the door and groaned.

Too late, she rasped and slunk back into the darkness. Dismal cries rose from the warehouse as the rest of the vampire children crept back into their cardboard nests.

What was I doing here? I thought, staring at the macabre images covering the door. I had only been in this dimension a few hours and I had almost been run over by a train, nearly eaten by rabid vampire children and been recognised as the Chosen One and asked for help. Twice! And worst of all I had no idea where Chance and Marlo were and absolutely no idea where to start looking. No sign of Marcus, and certainly no sign of Lux. As missions went, I was failing miserably.

Look Greg, I said, noticing he had removed his mask and was staring at the door, his mouth twisted in a painful grimace. If it’s alright with you I might just go back to Haven and look for Chance and Marlo. Someone there must have seen them, and…

I stopped talking as Greg grabbed my wrist, twisting my hand so the palm faced the door.

Too late, Cwispin Scales, he whispered, thrusting my hand with his own against the cold silver, It’s too late for us both.

I was consumed with the unmistakable, gut wrenching rush of being magically transported. The stench of burning flesh filled my nostrils as Greg’s vampire skin pressed against the silver, his wretched cries echoing in my ears as my body folded into nothing.

CHAPTER 5

You can choose your friends

but you can’t choose your family

I lay on a cold marble floor clutching my stomach, trying not to vomit.

Transportation in this dimension was nothing like being transported in the Realm. It was worse. I didn’t know why, and frankly I didn’t care. Greg, being a vampire, had already recovered, and stood staring at me silently.

We were in a spacious open room with very high ceilings. Bookshelves covered nearly every available wall – there was even a mezzanine level, accessed via a spiral staircase, metal dragons woven into the wrought iron handrails. Two leather armchairs sat in one corner surrounded by piles of large, ancient looking books, many open and stacked haphazardly on top of one another. I thought of Hawkmoth, the devoted librarian, and how horrified she would be at the careless treatment of these precious volumes.

I rolled over to sit up, and saw that one entire side of the apartment was filled with panelled glass doors, the dark wooden architraves framing a breathtaking view of the city, its towers glinting orange in the afternoon sun.

Do you like my view?

I groaned as a sinuous black dragon stepped into the room. It was Lux.

Greg looked at him sharply, folding his arms as he turned and stared at the city skyline.

"Well, yesss, hissed Lux.. Not mine exactly but a very good friend of mine hasss allowed me to make it my own. You will sssee, Crissspin Scalesss, that I have quite a few friendsss in thisss shiny city. Some old, some new."

Lux looked pointedly at Greg, then continued, "But where are my mannersss. Marcusss? Come. Make your brother more comfortable."

I turned to face a young man in a sleek dark suit, holding a battered metal chair.

Take a seat brother, he said, the corners of his mouth raised in a smug sneer.

I was struggling to process what was happening. It was obvious that Greg had betrayed me, delivering me to Lux’s new lair. But Marcus? He had never transformed into a human in the Realm – or even shown any desire to – but here he was now, with a striking face, clear brown eyes and a head of elegantly tussled black hair. I collapsed in the chair, speechless.

I think he is surprised by my new look, Marcus grinned, binding my hands behind the chair with a rope.

Surprised was an understatement.

"Yet again, Crispin Scalesss, you are ignorant of all that isss, and shall be. And like mossst of the ssstupid people in the city you sssee before you, you dessserve the fate that isss coming."

Lux stood in front of me, his black scales glowing in the amber light streaming in the from the setting sun. He was not quite the terrifying dragon he had once been, but he was still seriously intimidating. He had acquired quite a few scars since his defeat in the tower at Jrepil-Z – I supposed the harpies hadn’t given up their dark magic willingly. I wondered vaguely where King Gary was.

"Tell me Chosssen One, Lux continued. How doesss it feel to have all the power in the world, then lossse it? You took everything from me in that tower, and I’m going to make sssure that here, in thisss backward dimensssion, that I return the favour."

Yes, well. I could see how Lux would hold a grudge. Even be seeking revenge. But why was Marcus here?

I had more pressing questions though.

Where are Chance and Marlo? I asked. Surely they had been captured as well.

Marcus laughed, then stopped abruptly, smoothing the lapels on his suit.

They are not as stupid as you, dear brother. Those girls have managed to evade us for now. But it won’t be long before we have them too. He walked around my chair slowly, his smug grin now a permanent fixture.

Do you not wonder why your magic has deserted you? And how I, not chosen for anything, am now more powerful than you?

I sighed. What is it with bad guys? It seems that once someone turns evil they have the uncontrollable urge to give melodramatic speeches stating the obvious and asking questions they don’t really want you to answer.

I wanted to scream, Of course I bloody wondered where my magic had gone! but I just grit my teeth and let Marcus finish.

"The ignorant humans in this dimension think they are so advanced. They have massive cities, machines that fly, and boxes with moving pictures in them. But they don’t have any magic. They are swamped in things and progress and information. It is like a poisonous fog that surrounds everything and it has made them forget their true power. So, when a Realmer arrives they too are stripped of magic, just as you have been."

Marcus lifted his hands and rolled a ruby red energy sphere in front of my face, the flickering magic reflected in his eyes like flames. But as you can see, there is an antidote, he smiled, tossing the glowing ball from one hand to the other. For those brave enough to take it.

Greg hissed. He was twitching and mumbling again, pacing back and forth in front of the windows. The sun had dipped below the city skyline, now a vision of twinkling and blinking lights.

Marcus glared at Greg. Then laughing coldly, clapped his hands together, turning the sphere from a magical ball of light into a handful of water, which he promptly dropped into my lap.

"Enough of thisss childishnesss, Marcusss, growled Lux. If you have quite finished catching up with your brother, we have a meeting we must attend. Greg, take the Chosssen One to the cellsss. And you Crissspin Scalesss, should try and enjoy your evening. It isss going to be your lassst."

I really had nothing to say. Marcus had bullied me all my life, and even now, after everything that had happened, was still determined to torment me. Once a bully, always a bully I thought as the water soaked through my pants and ran down my leg.

Greg untied me from the chair, retying my hands behind my back. He yanked me roughly to stand in front of a tall thin door, open to reveal an empty, cold blackness. I was numb with shock, my thoughts clouded with confusion and failure.

I pictured Chance and Marlo’s smiling faces and all I could think was that I would probably never see them again. Overwhelmed, I didn’t resist as Greg pushed me into the yawning darkness.

CHAPTER 6

Pleasant and unpleasant surprises

I stood in a beam of light like an actor about to make a speech in a tragedy. Except I had nothing to say. Greg