The Great Clown

Just beyond the storehouse, Elizabeth led me through another twisting maze of winding grey halls and barren caverns. Compared to the lavish walls upstairs, there was a somber tone to even the chunks of uneven stone holding the hallways together.

Father was always insistent that not a single blemish should be seen on any wall--painted or not. Down here, centuries of glorified abandonment had given way to a corridor of equally depressing gray and blacks.

If not for Elizabeth’s snow-white hair, I'd swear color had been banished from here.

At this point, barely four hours from my estimation had passed up above. I could envision the birds singing their morning tune, merchants rolling through Levinet while the shopkeepers started up another day trading whatever came their way.

All foreign concepts down here.

Occasionally we passed by more of those nightmarish abominations. No two creatures down here looked exactly alike—each more horrifying than the last. Some had crimson fangs longer than I was tall, or deep purple eyes dripping with saliva. Yet ever since we ran straight into that abomination Elizabeth blasted to smithereens, everything else gave us a rather wide berth.

“They’re just small fry,” Elizabeth said, following my gaze to a nearby creature. Its five eerily human legs all shook in fear as we walked past. “Most creatures up this far couldn’t hold a candle to what lies on the lower floors. Well, at least the unintelligent ones.”

“What do you mean by unintelligent ones?”

“You’ll see soon enough, Clair. Just wait until we meet Michael.”

“Michael?”

“Just wait, as I said, you’ll see.”

I’d rather not, actually.

As we turned the corner, I took a few steps closer to Elizabeth. A faint smell of mint shampoo tickled my nose. Amidst a dungeon filled with dirt and grime, her skin felt remarkably smooth, almost spotless. Most of our maids prided themselves on their flawless looks, yet Elizabeth blew them out of the water. I couldn’t find a single hint of how she got something like shampoo down here.

That was just the start of the mysteries. “So,” I spoke up, hesitant to break the silence. “How long have you been trapped down here?” My voice slightly shook, awaiting her curt answer. My impression of her so far made that oh-so-special brother of mine look like a chatterbox.

Luckily, my fears were unfounded. “I’m not sure myself. Long enough to where any sense of time I once had is a jumbled mess. Recalling anything over five years ago results in me collapsing.”

“Like what happened back in the room we met?”

“Exactly. That’s half the reason I’m so interested in heading all the way down to the chamber's depth; It’s the one place I’ve never been able to break through. If I wanted to keep something hidden, that's the first place I’d go.”

“What do you think is down there?” I could envision walls of gold overlaying piles of treasures, or maybe relics from wherever the chambers sunk into the ground. Granted, growing up obscenely rich made all that wealth a bit less appealing.

Woah, another statue made of gold! Haven't seen fifteen of those before or anything.

“Not sure. The furthest I have ever descended was around five or so floors above the bottom, assuming you're willing to trust Alfie’s words.”

“Big ask.”

“I wonder about that myself. The one thing I do know is that whatever's down there hasn't been seen since the heroes of long ago fell. I don’t know if anyone other than one of the Ringers could break past those… things down there.”

“That’s what, five people worldwide?” The tales of the Ringers were glorified fairy tales these days, legends of heroes from over a thousand years ago. The only difference, one which I knew very well, was that once upon a time these fairy tales were very, very real.

Father had taken us to a parade in the capital a few years ago. I’d been hundreds of feet away from the Ringer, barely able to see the tips of his hair, yet the pressure he emanated with a single glance in our direction was enough to knock me off my feet.

I’d never been much of a magic user. Apparently, I didn’t have any talent for it—much to Father’s dismay—but even I could tell the entirety of the country's magicians couldn't compare.

If it took someone of that caliber to survive down there, what the hell was Father thinking?

“I will have to take your word on that. All my knowledge of the heroes of old are from tattered books and random remarks from Alfie.” She exhaled, her chest slowly falling and rising with the steadiness of a trained soldier. “Get yourself prepared. Just around the corner is the convention hall.”

“Convention hall?” What, did the monsters down here try to bore you to death with meetings?

“You remember those so-called intelligent monsters I told you about before? Well, there's a particularly interesting one that loves to call that place home.”

“Why do I feel we have very different definitions of the word interesting?” Elizabeth simply pursed her lips in response, staring straight ahead. “You’ll understand soon; let’s just hope he happens to not be home today.”

                                                                                          * * *

Inside the convention hall, massive arches stretched towards the surface, easily matching in height to the entirety of Galinding Manor. There was a slight shimmer to the stone, almost metallic in nature.

Any signs of nature were miles away.

That feeling of abandonment that permeated the chambers was nowhere to be found, from the smooth oak of the center table to the silver chandelier slowly swinging up above.

White plates were laid out across the table, silverware surrounding each dish. Even the strictest of our maids would have approved of the layout down here. The napkins sat perfectly folded, not a speck of dust could be seen, and every piece of silverware sat straight as a log.

“Damnit,” Elizabeth muttered under her breath. “He’s close.”

“Who’s he? The least you could do is tell me a bit about the monster five feet away from us!”
“Later.” She scowled, her greatsword popping into her right hand. “The easiest way to get that thing's attention is to speak its name.”

We crept along the table, passing each row without making a sound. Looking up again, there was almost a church-like aura to the room, with stained glass windows lining the walls and a small pedestal near the table’s head.

I tried to make out the pictures plastered on the glass to no avail. The flickering light from the chandelier lit the room just enough to see.

From the two dozen or so panels, only one shone directly against the firelight; A carnival tent immersed in flames. People were running away, getting blasted to smithereens by a white light emanating from the burning tent.

How subtle.

“That’s a mighty fine piece of art there, young miss, come to admire my collection?”

“Get ready.” Elizabeth turned on a dime, thrusting her sword in the air. “I wouldn’t admire your art with a sword pressed against my neck, Ringmaster”

“How rude! And I was planning an entire lesson on its history. But the show must go on, as they say.”

Floating ten feet in the air, he donned a bright white suit with a top hat taller than my head of the same color. A red handkerchief flowed against some nonexistent wind. In his left hand, he held a black and gold cane—a round knob adorning its top. All that was just superficial compared to the man… thing… whatever he was.

Where his face should have been, a dark void with two glowing red eyes stared back. Just looking in his general direction gave me the creeps.

“Now ladies and gentlemen, I must ask that we store away any violence here. This is a show! There is no room for any mischief or deception where I’m involved.”

Elizabeth kept her sword up. “Last time you performed your little show, the halls were painted red.”

“Reveries are always a bit messy, my dear. But where is the fun without a little mess? It’s my solemn duty to expose each and every person who traverses through these halls to the show of a lifetime, and you are no exception, Ms. Elizabeth! Why else would you bring a friend?”

“Enough of this. We’re not taking part in your show, Ringmaster; we just want to pass through to the lower levels.”

“That horrid place?” He gasped, making a big show of covering a non-existent mouth with gloved hands. “Why would someone as adorable as you want to traverse all the way down there?”

His pompous voice was starting to get on my nerves. Every word emanated the arrogance of some idiotic rural noble talking to an illiterate peasant.

Except unlike them, he probably had the power to back up that tone.

“None of your business,” Elizabeth scowled.

“My dear, everything that passes through this place is my business. Now would you be so kind as to introduce Mr. Clair Galinding to me?”

“How the hell do you know my name?” I took a small step back. A small ball of flames emerged from the tip of his cane, no bigger than my fist. For some reason, even that small move set me more on edge than half the creatures we had passed by.

“Why, from your father of course! When I said everything that passes through this place, did you take my words as some shallow half-truth? We had a wonderful chat earlier about this and that. Sadly, he wasn’t much for my show either, but no showman lets an opportunity pass them up twice in a row!”

“How much did he tell you?”

“Enough to end your journey before it even begins!” With a simple thrust, flames snaked out from his staff.

“Run!” Elizabeth swept me off my feet. The cavern shook and rumbled with a long groan. My mind raced, thoughts coming one after another as I felt the rush of air that followed every fiery blast from his staff.

Holy… Dangerous thoughts shoved their way through my mind as the truth made itself plain. I could have died, then and there, and there wasn’t a thing I could do about that…

I stood dazed as Elizabeth dashed towards a nearby wall, jumping onto an arch with her sword in hand. “Clair, move!”

“G-got it!” A burning dragon erupted from the Ringmaster’s staff, slithering through the air like some kind of snake. Any hint of that dull convention hall from mere seconds ago was long gone. Flames lit up every nook and crevice of the room, from the arches stretched long towards the sky to those tiny holes hidden away for mice to crawl around in wherever the time was right.

Seconds later, I found myself under the center table. Charred remains of what were assumedly bugs at one point piled up down here, the smell more than enough to make me vomit on any normal day.

What the hell have I got myself into? It took everything I had to not hyperventilate myself out of existence. My heart beat like a drum in the middle of war, and my chest rose and fell faster than I could count. God damn it, I was the son of nobility! I was supposed to be living my life chatting about useless shit while drinking tea and chasing after pretty guys and girls, not hiding as the world's most dangerous ribbon flailed around trying to set me on fire.

Outside my temporary shelter, Elizabeth dashed from pillar to pillar, seemingly defying gravity with every step. Watching from down here made her look akin to a soldier, not some girl shorter than I was.

From her palm, a bright beam of… plasma, electricity? Whatever it was fired out, carving a smoldering hole in the wall just centimeters away from Ringmaster’s face.

“So close! Maybe next time you could give my coat a bit of a trim. Fashion keeps demanding I make it shorter, such a waste if you ask me, but I digress, better to keep up with the times.”

“Down here, time might as well be frozen!” With a thrust, plasma covered the edge of Elizabeth’s blade. She leaped off a pillar and spun through the air. Ribbons of light circled like birds eyeing their prey.

Even as the Ringmaster dodged, her blade left a perfect, effortless cut in the atrium’s floor, cutting through stone and earth equally as if both were made of butter.

“Not bad, Elizabeth! Every show requires a sudden twist, a bit of suspense to get the audience riled up. Tell me, what do you think, Mr. Galinding?”

BOOM

The center table shattered into a million pieces as his dragon flew past. Bits of stone pelted everything in sight like a hailstorm, shoving me back into a row of chairs, breaking their legs one by one.

I glanced down, frantic. Quick thinking had spared my face, but the rest of me was a sticky red oozing mess of blood and bruises.

Every inch of my bare skin sent warning signs up to my brain, yet my muscles refused to move. Grimacing, I tried to push myself up, even just a little bit, to see where that overgrown worm had flown off to.

Stars danced as my vision grew blurry. “Not… yet…” I muttered as my joints burned. Just getting myself off the ground was enough to put me on the edge of consciousness. How the hell am I going to get out of here?

Another blast of plasma whizzed by my ear, followed by a soft string of curse words from Elizabeth’s lips.

“Mr. Galinding, you of all people must know the power of fear! It makes your heart race, builds suspense, and adds stakes to this show of ours. You, who can’t even look your father in the eyes, are an expert on the matter!” He laughed, a chilling, soulless sound that echoed through my skin and bones. “Heroes learn to conquer their fear. They fall to the lowest of lows, to the brink of losing themselves, before rising up to overcome all odds and giving the audience a spectacular show.

You, Mr. Galinding, are no hero.”

“I—” Barely a peep escaped my lips before blood gushed out. I could only stare, stare as the Ringmaster sprouted a glowing red grin—a face akin to that on a child's afternoon drawing. At this point, even my ears were starting to dull.

“Don’t!” Elizabeth's scream brought me slightly back to reality. What the hell was I doing, staring blankly at the creature trying to kill me? “He wants to get in your head, Clair, that's his goal! I’ll give you an opening. Try to get somewhere safe.”

Safe? What the hell was Elizabeth talking about? With that dragon roaming around, nowhere in here was safe.

I followed her line of sight, realization dawning on me.

If there was nowhere safe in the room, the only option was to leave.

But, at this point, there were more stars than stones in my vision and any remnants of the door were a blurry mess at best; the few thoughts that somehow made it through the daze barely comprehensible.

Nevertheless, it was this or become a permanent piece of furniture under this wrecked table.

“Elizabeth Elizabeth Elizabeth… you speak with so much confidence. Anyone in the audience would buy your facade! A girl steadfast in her beliefs, immune to fear from years of suffering in this stone prison. But a facade is all this is.”

“Shut it.” She narrowed her eyes, sending a barrage of blasts in his direction.

“You can deny it all you want, but down in the depths where even the show’s influence dwindles, even that too shall fall and crumble. Stay up here, Elizabeth! Let the show hide your faults as you wallow away in festivities until you wither up and die.”

As the Ringmaster rambled on, I stumbled along the wall, my eyes an ever-dimming mess. Light blasted out again and again at the edge of my vision. At this point, though, all of that was a distraction at best. There was one hope for me, one shot to leave this place with two sort of functioning sets of limbs.

I had to trust in Elizabeth, the girl I barely knew, and hope the Ringmaster was too distracted inhaling his own gibberish. He made your average court jester look stable in comparison.

I grasped the iron door, pulling with all my might. One more obstacle!

A searing fire burned inside my chest. Lungs, heart, chest, all of it withered as pain roared out like a lion on its last legs. It creaked open; the crack slowly grew bigger, inch by inch.

“Well, well, it appears our audience wants to leave the show!” I froze, a sudden flash of cold creeping up my spine. “Very well! I see now that I have taken this preamble a bit too lightly.”
He raised his staff as it emitted a hazardous blue glow. Streaks of light burst out of the seams, cutting through stone and leaving a black trail of ash wherever it shone. A last encore. His dragon withered around, red scales falling to the floor before new replacements of blue and gold popped out. His once red eyes shifted blue as that grin of his grew wider. “As I have always said, the show must go on!”

Right before Elizabeth blasted him in the back of the head. “Bullseye.”

He collapsed down to the ground in a heap, the sinister blue of his eyes fading. Vaguely, I felt an intense pressure lift from my shoulders.

“Very well, I see this show has come to a close.” From the crater where his body collapsed, his voice called out, any hint of that air of superiority now gone.

He crawled back up, levitating just barely off the ground. Where those glowing eyes were now sat glowing white flame, warm and inviting—any trace of that black abyss from before now gone. His new eyes shone with a curious golden glow. “I thank you two for ending this chapter of our show.”

A golden aura emanated from his suit, pushing him higher and higher into the air. “I wish you two well, and remember, Elizabeth, your fear may be tucked deep down inside, but calling it finished would be a foolish mistake.” From the ceiling, a glimmering silver pool of water opened up through a hole, defying gravity. The Ringmaster gave a grand bow before flying up towards the hole. “Good luck! And remember, the show must go on!”

All I could do was stare. “Clair!” Elizabeth's voice came from somewhere, barely louder than a whisper. It had taken me a second to realize, but the streaks of light flashing across the room weren’t coming from the Ringmaster.

“Help…” I barely muttered before finding myself collapsed in my own sticky oozing blood. Any sign of color faded as my eyes closed, and soon after I met the void with open arms.