THE HAUNTED KINGDOM 3 by CHARLES E.J. MOULTON (ereader that reads to you .txt) 📕

impossible.”

Alex sat up and there was a silence that spoke of so much wisdom.
The wind outside had stopped wailing.
It was dawn.
He could feel it.
There was a morning coming.
Luke patted Alex on the leg.
“You should be off.”
Alexander nodded. “Yes.”
He stood up and hugged Luke. There was warmth there that he had missed. He knew this man as Old Father from the village and their mutual talks had made him find himself.
“Go and find your freedom, Alex.”
Alexander embraced Luke one last time and walked over to the stallion. He then saw the ox looking at him with eyes as strong as fire. He smiled, for he knew that it all had been true.
The ox was strong. Strong and patient.
Together the two men walked out into the morning, one light entering Alexander’s heart.
He had not slept tonight. But he would eventually.
If he understood it right, there was one man left.
As Alex prepared to mount, Luke said, stroking his beard:
“The four houses that the hermit spoke of that were lit in the village were the four lights. One of them is leading you still. The hermits four teeth turned into a castle with a lion. Four ravens lead you over here.” Luke looked over to the hills. “The light will lead you to a place where four robins live.” He looked at Alex. “A surprise awaits you.”
Alexander smiled and nodded. He let go of Mercutio and went to Luke, embraced him one last time.
“Hope to see you again.”
”You will, my friend” he said. “You will.”
And with that, the Lost Emperor of the Haunted Kingdom rode down the hill into the morning lead by one light.
Smiling sadly before going back into the cave, Luke spoke as he watched his friend leave:
“Go and find all of our freedom!”

§

With everything he had gone through, he was surprised in again having been robbed his freedom. Suddenly, he found himself looking at no other way out than riding down a path that simply consisted of a small crack between to mountainsides. A miniature ravine of sorts.
Alexander Roderick Winsletenna had been so happy about having won his heart by learning to calm other hearts. He had been so glad to win patience by learning to cope with not having any. He had been joyous in getting strength by having his strength challenged.
But the fact that he had to win his … what had Luke said. Freedom?
Wait a minute. The hermit had spoken of the four evangelist. Who was the last evangelist? John. The Eagle on Pathmos, after the island where he preached. If Matthew was portrayed with an angel or a human being, then Mark was always accompanied by a lion. Luke’s symbol was the ox. John’s was the eagle, because he was the most spirited, if even cryptic and literate of all the evangelists.
“The eagle flies in the heavens in his freedom.”
Alexander knew then why he was out to find his freedom.
And now he found himself having chosen a shortcut down a hill that seemed to lead away from the meandering curves of the road ahead. Instead he was back in mountain country with only two ways in coming back to the road that he had left: go back several hours or ahead through a crack that was no bigger than Mercutio width.
He looked up. Huge mountainside. He looked forward. Only a small crack. What if the crack got smaller. Would he have to back then?
There was light from above, but where was the way out. Was there one?
Yes, he could see the way out.
Alexander Winsletenna took the chance and suffered the walk through a prison of sorts.
Mercutio was constantly afraid to scratch himself and it was amazing how slow the horse could trot through this crack. At one point, the king looked up and saw an eagle flying up there and found that a good sign.
A moment later, the eagle came again and Alex was reassured.
The old man had spoken of four robins, four birds.
What had he said?
“The light will lead you to a place where four robins live.”
He was determined to look for the robins, where ever they were.
Then Mercutio stopped, refusing to go on. No matter what Alex did, he could not make the horse go on. Alex stepped off the horse from the back and found out why? The crack had grown smaller. There was one stone on each side stopping the way.
Alex was sweating from top to toe, feeling like a slave in the Wilta-Dungeons as he lay on Mercutio banging on the stones with two other pieces of granite in order to break them away.
If stallions could cry, Mercutio would’ve right then.
But then the two of them kept on going.
For a long while nothing happened.
Then he saw the entire world darken. Sand and stones kept falling down in endless stream. Mercutio neighed and Alex screamed. Soon they were almost buried under stone and sand and it took the effort of a million strong men to get out of the heap that they had been stuck under.
The light above disappeared for a while and so they were in complete darkness a while. Alex scratched his leg and his arm. It seemed the stallion received a cut on his hind leg as well.
He saw the way out and could not recall being so happy at any time in his life.

§

When he walked out he saw the most glorious sight of his life. A large abundant pasture as far as the eye could see. Green grass on hillsides and valleys to the left with such flowers one could not dream of beauty so breathtaking. To the right and to his front only grass. The sky had such a blue colour that its depth seemed to be painted on blue canvas with blue flame. The one or two white clouds surrounding the bright yellow sun were so shining and so bright that it dazzled the eye.
Directly, he felt himself bubbling with excitement. He felt at one with the horse. At one with the spirit. At one with himself. At one with nature. Slowly, he began riding down the hill, down the grass, not skidding, not slipping. Riding, bouncing, jumping up and down upon the saddle.
Yes, Sir. He knew that Mercutio did not have a perfect hind leg. He also knew that Mercutio did not care. Alex knew about his own scratches. But he was an imperfect soul with an imperfect life, but he was happy about how who he was. He felt himself riding faster through this endless landscape, the wind against his face. The eagle above him. He did not care what Lucinda thought. He did not care what his enemies thought. He was a free man. Eagles in the sky soaring above him and knowing that Alexander Winsletenna had made it. He had found his way to himself. He was a free man.
In spite of losing an entire kingdom, his entire family, his entire self, he was still standing. In spite of being patronized and hated and ridiculed by demons of every kind he was still strong and was going to fight back.
He saw the world whizzing by. Grass, blue sky, flowers, trees, pastures. The brown mane of Mercutio flying and fluttering in the breeze. His nostrils flaring and Mercutio frothing at the mouth. It was clear that his stallion was as damn proud of himself as the king was.
Yes, there was the biggest issue left.
The duel.
But for thirty five years and more, almost his entire life he had been fleeing from something.
Now he was ready to fight that.
He was going to surprise them all.
He felt it in the yellow sun shining on his face. He felt it in the blue sky above his head. He felt it in the glorious grass under Mercutio’s feet. He felt it in the bouncing gallop that kept him shaking in his saddle and dancing up and down. Oh, and he felt it in the glorious way that he felt himself breathing. Like a stallion. He felt himself soaring. He felt himself soaring. He felt himself soar. In spite of werewolves, he was flying.
And then he did fly. He and his stallion lifted off the ground and they both saw the ground disappear under their feet. The green grass was but a small speck and he rode around, a centaur, at one with his horse.
He heard the horse speak and this time it was no dream. It was Mercutio and a deep voice sing songing, his lips moving.
“At last, we have made it, you and I!”
Alexander started laughing:
”Yes, Mercutio. We have. You hear that, Lucinda. You never ever thought that your brother would make it this far.”
”We are coming to get what is ours” the horse bellowed, wind in his face. “We will not back down!”
”I am an eagle” Alex shouted. “I am an ox. I am a lion. I am humane being.”
”And I am your angel, Alexander” Mercutio giggled.
“We will make it.”
“Ready or not, make it last.”
Ready for whatever is coming now, they thought.
“It is the moment that counts.”
Soaring through the sky, higher and higher, he made a vow to himself never to be used again.
Alexander Winsletenna would not be used. Would not be a victim. Alex, king of a country called Alexander, would not back down. He flew through a cloud, he flew through the sun, he flew down upon Mercutio, he flew down, rode like a fabulous weird centaur through the blue sky of his soul, ready to fight back like the rebel of angels he was, reclaiming angelic property. He was ready to fight for God.
All the world would join in celebration if he now could prevail and fight and win. Together as one they all would be if he made it. Lucinda had no right to do this. to take away what they owned.
All the hope, power and inspiration of a thousand stars lay in the future of his children. The garden of Eden across the ocean. The glory of his country.
He felt the ground come closer. He felt himself, the hero to live forever, in God’s hand, singing a song with the holy ghost and flying towards the ground like an eagle and then soaring up to the sky and down and up and down and up.
Yes, he was surrounded by angels.
With the bright eyes of a thousand stars, laughing at having made it this fast. Now at last knowing he was strong enough to make it. Strong enough not to be laughed at be the demons. Strong enough, Alex was galloping through the clear blue sky.
“Yeeee-haaaaaaa!” he screamed, not caring at all what the demons at this moment were thinking. Brushing off the warnings about this and that and that and this.
Alexander Roderick Winsletenna knew best.
Lord, oh mighty, in spite of the werewolves and the ghouls, he knew best.
He saw himself as a young child dancing in the moonlight. He saw himself dropping the coin into a well at age six and wishing to become a good king. He saw himself smiling and laughing at the comic relief of the jesters of the court. He saw himself being told bedtime stories by his mother. He saw everything that ever had happened in