He heard it again, an eerie shrill whine, perhaps a saddened, grief-stricken shriek. Some kind of creature made this sound, he was certain. And it was definitely coming from the mansion’s lower levels, either the dungeon or the wine cellar – and it was definitely inhuman. It pierced the air once more, as an icy chill ran up his spine, and his neck hairs prickle, and goose bumps formed along his arms. Was this something supernatural? Was it some demon come to haunt him? But his spells of protection shielded him from any demons.

            It cut through the air again, like an ominous demonic shriek.

            "What the bloody hell is that ghastly noise!" the old wizard snarled.

He stood up from his rickety chair and crossed the room of his alchemical laboratory. He opened the wooden door and recklessly climbed down the stone spiral stairwell that curved around and around, until he reached the main floor, and then he stepped into the anteroom of his ancient mansion. The eerie sound pierced the air again, more audibly now -- but this time he could swear it was coming from above!

"By the dark gods" he gasped, "what is that hideous sound -- and from whence does it come?"

            He stood stock still, straining to hear, waiting, waiting . . .

            Then he heard it again -- this time it seemed to emanate from outside, beyond the large oaken double doors. A servant lady stepped from an open door, holding a dirty cleaning rag, and the old wizard stopped her with a raised hand.

            "Did you hear that?" he asked curtly.

            The lady shook her head. Did I hear what, sir?"

"That ghastly sound! I cannot tell where it is coming from."

            "I did not hear a thing. Perhaps I was not paying attention. I am sorry, sir."

            "No matter. Go about your business."

            The servant lady scurried off down a narrow hall. Surely she should have heard that ominous sound – but she didn’t. The old wizard was troubled now, wondering if he was going mad. He had heard of such things that had stricken the aged. Fortunately, his eyesight was sharp as ever, his memory was clear, and his hearing was keen -- perhaps too keen. But how could one tell if sanity slowly crept into his mind? Or when?

            He waved his hand swiftly as if to dismiss that wretched thought, for he was determined the sound had to be something tangible, something real. He just had to find its source.

The sound shot from outdoors once again. He approached the double doors, unlatched them, and swung them open. As he looked out upon the flagstone walkway lined with cedars that led out to the cobblestone street, he waited again. The eerie shrill sound came from behind him this time, somewhere within the mansion. He closed the heavy doors and turned, listening, but hearing nothing. He slowly walked along, then stood in the middle of the large anteroom, the stonewalls mostly bare, save for a few painted portraits of his predecessors, such as his father and great grandfather who were also wizards, both wearing long grey beards, like himself.

            The shrill sound of a saddened, grief stricken creature cut through the air again, this time from above, most likely from his laboratory. He stumbled quickly up the steps, tripping a few times, but catching himself by gripping the stone railing. The door was still open, and he ran through it, expecting to see something -- but there was nothing, no creature resided within the large chamber.

            The macabre sound echoed upward through the stairwell from below now, and the frustrated wizard hastily climbed down the stairs. He almost reached the ground floor, when the sound stabbed from above this time. He ran up the stairs several steps, and the ominous sound rang from below once again. He ran down the stairs, and the sound came from above. He ran up the stairs, and the sound came from below. He ran down, and the sound came from above.

He put his hands to his ears and hollered, “What hideous magic is this?!”
            For now he was sure this insidious sound was supernatural in origin. So even if he wasn’t going mad on his own, this piercing noise from nowhere and everywhere was sure to drive him insane.   

However, he seemed to be captured by the clever spell, as if determined to find its source, for when the shrill ghostly sound penetrated from below again, he carelessly ran down the stairs, but this time he stumbled, plummeted headlong, and landed hard on the stone floor, the sound of his cracking skull reverberating off the high walls of the anteroom. Three servants heard it and ran into the large room, seeing blood oozing from his smashed head. Shocked, eyes widened and mouths agape, they knew he was dead.

Likewise, that ominous shrill supernatural sound had ceased now -- finally.

*     *     *

One hour prior, a young wizard glared at the open spellbook, preparing to cast his evil spell, a death curse in particular. For his previous master, the old wizard that lived in that ancient mansion, had wronged him severely. The young man had fallen in love with one of the servant girls, against the old coot's wishes, and the two had secretly planned to become betrothed – someday soon.  The old wizard had attempted to encourage his young minion to stay away from young women, for he heartily believed that they were deceptive demon-spawn, able to cause a fledgling learning the occult arts to lose his focus, and even to lead him far astray from his path. The young wizard did not share this belief. But, from accounts the old man had told him, he had himself been betrayed and deceived by women in his youth; unfaithful, lying lovers they were, so he swore them off – all of them.   

The old wizard was devious in his ways. When the young man had heard the servant girl he loved had fallen down the spiral stairwell, plummeting to her death, he knew his master was behind it. Some sinister spell by his hand had caused her death. When the young man entered the anteroom, seeing the blood pooling from the cracked skull of his lover, lying dead on the floor, he knew who caused it and he knew what he had to do.

That same day, the youth stormed out of the mansion in a rage, never to return. The old wizard had just shrugged it off, knowing he could always find another young fledgling to teach. That was one week ago, forgotten by the old coot, who easily moved on to the next project.

Now the young wizard planned his own spell, one in which the old wizard would die in a similar fashion by which his lover had.

The young man found a worthy spell in the thick volume he had stolen from his previous master, a quite insidious spell cleverly entitled, “Death by a Sourceless Sound.” He grinned wickedly, for he knew that would serve nicely. 

*     *      *

Copyright 2009 by R. R. Stark

Published by Bamblebrush Press