by Dan Brigman
An oddness fell about Melek which discomforted Loken in a way he had never felt before. Melek was unshakeable. Until last night. The familiar bright light in his eyes burned fiercely yesterday; it’s now subsumed by a light of doubt and paranoia. Whatever happened to me pales in comparison. His problems are tenfold more difficult than my own, Loken mused.
“Are you alright?” Loken asked, his voice tinged with curiosity and dread at an answer he feared.
His friend’s voice nearly caused Melek to fall completely out of his saddle as he drew his dagger. It had come out in a sweeping blur, which never failed to astonish Loken. Melek looked around wildly for an enemy to strike. To Loken’s eyes, Melek seemed prepared to strike anyone or anything. Melek’s tension became even more evident to Loken, as he noticed the corded muscles on Melek’s forearms were as taut as a bowstring.
“I’ll take it you’re as anxious as a mare before branding time. You cannot let this dominate your mind, Melek,” Loken stated empathically. Melek visibly relaxed atop the horse yet continued holding the prized dagger in a white-knuckled grip.
Despite his own advice, Loken glanced nervously toward the path closing upon the companions. He knew the path intimately since he had traveled between the Olst camp and Molston since childhood. The woods ahead surrounded them with an ominous aura.
“Nothing has changed here, Melek. Everything is still as we left it a week ago.” The lie came easily to Loken’s lips and eyes. The lie did not placate Melek at all, though; Loken saw a slight paranoia brush his face in fine strokes. A heavy sigh escaped Loken’s lips, and he turned his head to watch the path.
As the valley became dense with red oaks, silver maples, redbuds, and golden sycamores that had been ancient when he was a boy, Loken asked, “Should we continue? If we stop here, we can begin tomorrow morning in full daylight. I, for one, would rather not have a liability slowing us down through the woods.” Loken looked pointedly at the man who continued to lay unconscious atop the Hustian steed. He had not made a sound since he fell unconscious yesterday. His color had improved significantly, but he would not take any food. Dehydration held no concern, as he drank furiously anytime a waterskin was put to his lips.
Melek looked up at the crisp, darkening-blue sky and at the woods ahead. His demeanor did not change until his eyes fell upon the stranger lying on the horse’s back. Melek had become solely protective of the man’s safety since last night, despite Loken’s effort to assist in caring for him. Loken had asked only once if Melek needed any help, and his only response came as a stern, “No!”
Soon, Melek’s face held a pall of mourning, something Loken had not seen in years. Melek tore his gaze from the man and stared up the path. He scanned the trees in the half-light of the evening and focused upon an area forty to fifty paces off the path.
“You are right, Loken. We better camp for the night—you know the dangers lurking within those trees. Look. Up there is a good spot.” Loken followed Melek’s finger to the clearing that he still focused upon. Loken noticed it was the last opening in the trees before the woods completely dominated the landscape. It was far enough off the path not to attract notice by the untrained eye.
“Yes, that is perfect.” Loken’s fervor seemed to spark some life back into Melek’s face.
Using his knees, Loken directed his massive black stallion to the clearing, and Melek followed without hesitation. “We need to boil water for clean bandages before darkness takes hold,” Melek stated forcefully. “I believe that fire will draw the evil like moths to the flame.” His vehemence brought a nod from Loken.
“You’ll get no argument from me, my friend. Besides, the blue of Einmyria will be bright enough this evening to see well. At any hint of resemblance to last night’s events, we will be forced to move without delay.” Loken glanced at Melek to ensure he heard his words, and a small nod from Melek allowed Loken to continue. “You need rest. You are about to fall asleep where you sit. I will take first watch and prepare the bandages, if you’ll stay and watch over him while I fetch some water.”
“That sounds fine to my tired eyes,” Melek stated in a tone laced with drowsiness. He stifled a jaw-cracking yawn with the back of his weathered hands. Loken slid down from his saddle and stretched his stiff legs. The day’s ride had been ordinary for the skilled riders’ bodies, yet tension had persisted throughout the entire day to settle throughout his back and legs. After rubbing his stiff joints for a few moments, Loken noticed that Melek had not moved from his saddle. He should have already been down and feeding his horse by now. He looked closer at Melek and realized with a start that Melek had fallen asleep.
“Melek, wake up!”
The sleeping man woke with such surprise that he tumbled from the saddle onto the packed earth with a loud oof. Loken bounded to his friend and reached out to help him to his feet. Melek looked up and took the hand appreciatively. He stood slowly onto shaky legs.
“My eyes are more tired than I thought,” Melek stated apologetically.
Melek dusted himself off and glanced at Loken, who had not moved since helping him stand. Loken grinned widely while Melek turned a shade of red Loken had never seen before on his friend. Melek reached to grab Loken, but Loken stepped back too quickly for Melek’s still-unsteady feet.
“Ahhh. Get your sorry hide out of here, before I skin it,” Melek stated with a hint of humor in his voice. Loken let a playful laugh escape his lips and walked gracefully back to his black steed.
With complete patience, the steed waited for Loken to grab his reins. “So, what do you think, Sa’un? Can our old friend stay awake for a few minutes to take care of you?”
The horse snickered noncommittally, and Loken heard Melek mutter, “Get on with you before I let my anger get the best of me.” With a laugh, Loken grabbed the black pot and strolled away toward the river that bordered the woods.
“I’ll be back shortly. Do try to keep your eyes open.”
Despite Loken not being able to see where the river flowed, he approached it with careful steps. Tangled roots covered this part of the valley, extending from the rapidly-expansive woods. He had stopped wondering years ago why the golden sycamores and various species of oaks dominated the woods; he simply focused on remembering the location of individual trees. I could almost smell my way through these trees, Loken thought confidently. He moved up the ridge line to follow a path through the trees which provided the least resistance.
Within a few moments, Loken stood at the top of the ridgeline. He quickly glanced back at Melek, as well as the stranger still lying on the ground. Melek had already unsaddled his horse and had searched nearby for firewood. Loken glanced at the sky and noted the daylight’s waning. He tore his eyes from the sky and began trekking down the opposite side of the ridge. Loken soon noticed the river flowing lazily south. The ridgeline cast a shadow over the river and to Loken’s eyes, it appeared to be a long black ribbon extending southward to Olst. Without watching his feet, he climbed swiftly down the incline.
Minutes later, Loken stood on the bank of the river. His feet crunched on the gravel as he moved to the water’s edge. He crouched and placed the pot into the slow-moving river. The river is low for this time of year, Loken thought curiously. He looked up and down the river but saw no signs of any human activity. Approximately two hundred paces downstream he saw three white-tailed deer carelessly stroll to the river’s edge. All three dipped their heads low for a drink. This river is a blessing to all manner of beasts, Loken thought. The river’s cleanliness is nearly a legend in most parts of the world. Not one person has died of disease from drinking this water, at least as far as I know.
Loken finished filling the pot to its rim. He stood slowly while watching the deer continue taking sips from the river. No reason to spook them. Loken noticed the sun had dropped more than he had planned on, yet he would have enough light to easily hike back to Melek. Turning, Loken observed the hillside closely as he walked back to the campsite. His eyes darted from tree to tree
while he steadily climbed. He never lost his footing, yet he nearly tumbled backward as a twisting shadow seemingly cast itself directly in front of his path.
To Loken’s eyes, the shadow seemed to come alive long enough to stretch inky tendrils at him. He immediately knew the shadow’s movement could be attributed to the swaying of the trees above, but something with the subtlety of its movement caught him completely off guard.
In an effort to protect himself, Loken reached for the greatsword still sheathed on his back. Loken realized the futility of the action, as his feet began slipping out from underneath him. Fallen leaves and loose rocks brought him to his knees so quickly, he stared wide-eyed at the shadow which had nearly caused him to break his neck. His breathing escalated to quick panting as the intangible shadow, its edges ill-defined, flowed closer to him. Loken continued kneeling on the ground slack-jawed, with no control over any of the muscles in his legs; he felt as though his legs had become part of the earth. He managed to grasp the pot’s handle; only a scant cup full of water had spilled out the side when he had lost his footing. He glanced quickly at the pot and noticed it still held more than enough for clean bandages.
“Thank the gods,” Loken muttered.
As Loken looked down at the pot, he caught slight movement at the corner of his vision. His gaze lurched to the spot which had caught his attention. The world around him blackened as his very being staggered. Loken stared in disbelief as the tree’s shadow solidified directly in front of him in the moment he had taken to check the water. He could do nothing but stare at the being; his body would not respond to any of the commands he gave it. RUN!!! his mind screamed. His body refused to heed the warning.
The solid shadow flitted almost imperceptibly toward Loken. Shadowy appendages took shape at the creature’s side and clutched outward. Despite all the mental walls he had tirelessly constructed since childhood, nothing had prepared Loken for such a night. In all his travels he had heard of such creatures only once and passed them off as mere tales. I had completely forgotten about these things until now. The stories didn’t mention any way to fight them except running away, Loken thought. Misery ripped at his mind.
With a grin, he suddenly realized fear had not wholly gripped his mind. Still, his body did not respond to thoughts of fleeing. With excruciating slowness and every shred of will he could muster, Loken stood and watched the creature move closer to his body. His throat gave off a high-pitched whining he could not halt. If Melek saw me now, I would be dead, Loken thought. At least he would end this terror.
Seemingly cautious, the solidifying blackness glided through the night, ostensibly uncertain what it intended to do to the figure before it. Even though the creature had no eyes, Loken felt as if it bored into his mind while it closed the distance between them. Within seconds, the shadow loomed over him, and he felt pure terror attempting to block out any other thoughts. His bladder suddenly emptied and soaked his legs. Even the wetness felt as if it were happening to someone else.
Loken observed the creature flitting around to his back. Seeing only the darkening woods in front of him, terror became even more pressing in Loken’s mind. The night’s noises were not stifled by the activity of the creature borne of rune-weaving. Gods, no. Not a Blighter. According to the stories, only Blighters could create one of these. Things. He felt a whisper of wind across his ears, and Loken thought he heard a voice carried on the wind, yet he could not discern any specific words.
Without warning, Loken felt a presence forcibly enter his mind, pressing against his mental walls. A voice echoed from within, nearly causing Loken to cry out in anguish. The voice seemed to take on a physical form within his consciousness. Any mental barriers Loken had created over years of practice weakened, as the hiss of the shadow’s voice filled Loken’s mind. The hiss reminded him of the breath escaping a dying person’s mouth. For what seemed like an eternity, the presence flitted around his awareness searching for something. Loken saw only vague images of the presence’s probing.
As suddenly as the presence had penetrated his brain, it escaped. Loken could do nothing but watch while the solid blackness moved away even as shadowy tendrils echoed the terror against his mind’s walls. Loken’s body unfroze, and he felt himself fall. He grunted in pain when he landed hard on a rock protruding from the ground. As the pain mingled with terror, Loken lay shaking on the ground. He could do little more than force himself to breathe raggedly.
Several minutes passed and Loken managed to gather his wits. The lingering miasma of terror the shadow had put into his body did not dissipate in any measurable amount. If anything, the feeling of terror grew incrementally with each passing heartbeat. Loken's breath had slowed considerably as he diverted all his energy to keeping a grip on his sanity. He pushed his being into a deep meditative trance that he had never attempted prior to the encounter. The process had a name, but Loken’s mind focused beyond simple labels. He had no time for stray thoughts as all his focus went to stifling the beckoning insanity. All other thoughts and feelings floated away, forgotten and meaningless.
Pure insanity threatened to replace the terror. Voices he had never heard before reverberated throughout his mind. Voices screamed, whispered, even tried to seduce him. Loken knew all the voices were mental constructs of the shadow which had hissed in his consciousness. Despite that knowledge, he had never experienced an attack on this scale. He could barely reckon its possibility. Through the trance, Loken allowed the voices to pass through his mind unhindered, like driftwood along a slow-moving river.
The voices pressed against the invisible barrier in Loken’s awareness searching for cracks in the foundation of his mental stability. After what seemed like days to Loken, the voices smashed into the barrier after many failed attempts to destroy him. A deafening scream of frustration filled his mind, nearly breaking his trance. Barrage after barrage continued hammering into him, then nothing. The slams stopped as quickly as they had begun.
Several moments passed before Loken could grasp the slightest shred of power within his mind or body. His eyes moved upward, and he recognized moonlight streaking through gaps in the trees shrouding the forest in shadow. He could only hear the shallow breaths his body took in while he lay in a near catatonic state. Loken gradually felt his faculties return to his control, and he situated himself into a sitting position. He inhaled deeply and smelled the cool night air blowing from the river. Reminded suddenly of his task, he quickly scanned for the pot around the site of the struggle. Barely two paces away, the pot lay upended. To Loken’s keen eyes, the spilled water left a barely-discernable stain on the soil.
With a deep sigh, he turned inward to inspect any damage done to his consciousness. I must find the damage and heal it quickly. A sharp intake of breath through gritted teeth allowed Loken to locate the presence. He could only detect a shadowy presence in the back recesses of his mind. Despites its lack of substance, it hid and worked. Only through my training could I have sensed this thing. Already, he could feel it struggling to instill fear into his mind by reforming his brain’s activity. The only way he knew how to fight the entity was to enshroud it in darkness. The light within his mind allowed for the creature to have shape. I cannot afford to waste any more time. He focused entirely on temporarily eradicating certain parts of his mind. Emotion was the first mental power to be nullified. That will serve a two-fold purpose, Loken thought calmly. With no emotions, the fear will not be able to take hold, anyway.
As Loken searched for his next target, hunger and thirst, the creature attempted to take hold elsewhere. It darted to another section of his mind; Loken encapsulated his hunger and thirst—those two receptors blazed brightly. He shut off any memories of when he last drank or ate; the mere idea of sustenance no longer meant anything. In the span of a heartbeat hunger and thirst could no longer be recognized and the creature shrieked in pain. The sound’s sharpness threatened Loken’s focus, yet he saw it melt into his mind’s black recesses. He remained seated for a few more moments while
he thoroughly inspected his consciousness to find any lingering parts of the shadow. Finding nothing, he nodded satisfactorily and let the receptors rekindle.
With a quickness belying the pain his body suffered, Loken stood and moved to pick up the pot. He gritted his teeth in pain and instantly regretted the movement, as his vision blackened, and his brain felt loose in his skull. A low moan escaped Loken’s throat as he forced his legs to keep him standing. He blinked mechanically, causing his head to swim with pain. He slowly kneaded his forehead while moonlight gradually trickled into his vision. The light suddenly caused him to remember something of vital importance. Oh, gods! Melek is waiting for me! The thought hit Loken with such vigor that all the events of the past few minutes were forgotten.
Minutes? It had to be years...
He cut any other thoughts off while moving with a renewed energy to the pot. With barely a downward glance, Loken grabbed the handle and sprinted to the river’s edge. He still noticed its lazy movement, despite the darkness. Several large branches stuck out of the top of the river’s edge as the flow moved them past Loken. He hurriedly dipped the pot and filled it within a breath. Spinning on his heels, he moved up the shore and into the forest. Nothing stopped him during his second attempted trip back to the campsite. Thank the gods for your leniency, Loken thought sarcastically.
Keeping his mind focused, Loken stalked closer to where he had left Melek and the unconscious trespasser. As he approached, he heard a slight wheezing which did not fit the forest’s natural harmony. Slowing his movement further to listen closer, with a grin he knew the noise’s origin. That old bear is never going to live this down, thought Loken. With newfound energy, he paced to Melek’s position. If there is one thing about Melek, he will never cease to surprise me. Loken eyes caught Melek’s position next to the Hustian stallion. He stood with his hand holding a brush and his head upon the horse’s back. A loud buzzing sound came from Melek’s mouth, and the horse appeared asleep, too.
