THE RELIC GUILD (and other stories) Updated regularly.

CUCKOOS OVER WEST SPIRE (part 4 of 9)

Outside, another rainy day had arrived.

The steam engine to and from West Spire ran three times a day: morning, noon and evening. It was a small, one carriage train, driven by a portly fellow called Archie, who had a round face and ruddy cheeks, along with a habit of continuously trying to loosen his neckerchief. A return ticket cost Doug two pounds, and he was the only passenger on the midday trip.

Doug settled down in his seat, intent on using the journey as time to think up a way in which he could ease his wife's problems; but the chugging of the train, the tapping of rain on the window, and the distant rush of the cold, grey sea, quickly lulled him into a nap. He stayed asleep until Archie prodded him awake. Drooling and crumpled on the seat, Doug stared up at the engine driver, confused for a moment as to where he was and what he was doing.

Archie pulled at his neckerchief and announced, "Last stop."

"Oh," said Doug, "we're here already?" He looked out the window at the grey sea. A dark, pointed tower rose from the waters in the near distance. It looked just like the one in the painting hanging in Ocean View House. "So that's West Spire, eh?"

"That's right," Archie replied. "Come on, I'll take you across."

Taking Doug across entailed a short ride on a small and rickety boat, propelled by a rather weak outboard motor. The rain had lessened to a fine drizzle, and, although the sea was calm enough, the flimsy boat rocked and swayed Doug into a bout of motion sickness. To take his mind off his queasy stomach and the nauseating smell of oil from the puttering outboard, he examined the height of West Spire. It seemed an ominous place that reminded him of the dark tower that belonged to an evil lord he had once fought in some computer game or another.

The closer the boat sailed to West Spire, the more the structure seemed to loom. On its smooth, black surface, there were no windows or carvings at all. Why would Alice want to visit such a grim place? Did it somehow represent her state of mind?

The boat came alongside a small promontory at the base of the tower, and Archie motioned for Doug to disembark.

"I'll be back at five," the engine driver-cum-boatman said. "But I don't hang about, so if you want to get home tonight, don't be late."

And then, without so much as a smile or a wave, Archie puttered back towards shore, leaving Doug alone on the promontory.

He leaned back and stared up at West Spire. With a puffing of his cheeks, he climbed the steps to the entrance: huge double doors as black as the rest of the tower, and they were already open a crack. Doug pushed his way in.

He had expected admission kiosks, information desks, coffee bars, gift shops, and floor after floor of attractions with milling tourists; but the interior of West Spire was deserted, gloomy and utterly hollow. The dark, circular wall rose and narrowed conically until disappearing into the shadows high above. From what Doug could see, arched alcoves were recessed into the wall, here and there. At ground level, to Doug's left, there was a single wooden door. It was closed.

As strange as Doug found West Spire, stranger still was the absence of other people, most notably his wife.

"Hello!" he called, and was stunned that in such a hollow place his voice created no echoes whatsoever. "Alice?"

He flinched as the door to his left opened. A figure appeared, dressed in a hooded robe much like a monk's habit. The figure approached, and although Doug couldn't make out a face in the hood's shadows, he decided it was a man by the way he walked.

"Can I help you?" the man said, in a quiet voice.

At first, Doug didn't reply. There was something in the man's voice that rang a faint bell of distant memory. The man was a similar height and build to Doug, and stood surprisingly straight even though he clearly carried some deformity on his back – a hump, Doug reasoned – that pushed the habit up around his shoulders.

Realising that he had been staring, Doug said quickly, "I'm meeting my wife here. She's a slim lady with brown hair, not very tall – have you seen her?"

"Hmm," said the man. "Perhaps you could give me her name?"

"Alice."

"Ah, yes. I believe I know the lady you mean." Again the man's voice tickled Doug's memory. "Please, if you'll follow me."

He led the way to the door from which he had emerged, and stood to one side, allowing Doug entrance to the room beyond. Doug stepped inside and frowned. The room was as gloomy and empty as the main building he had just left. As he turned to the man with a questioning expression, Doug was met by the door closing in his face, followed by the telltale clunk of a key turning in a lock. He tried the door anyway. It wouldn't budge.

"Hey!" Doug shouted. "What are you doing?"

But there was no response other than the low thud of bigger doors closing and a bigger lock being fastened. Realising that the man, whoever he was, had trapped him inside West Spire all alone, Doug's mind began sprinting towards full panic.

And that was the moment he heard the Sound.

Thank you for reading. If you're enjoying the story, please remember to vote. I try my best to reply to all comments, and questions are always welcome.