Della froze on the ladder and looked down, her face ignited by some new fear. ‘It’s still here Kye! It’s changed itself to look like the tree.’ She pulled herself back into the tree house and gestured for him to climb. ‘Come back up, quick!’
‘What type of tree was it touching Emilie?’
‘Oh no! … It’s an oak, just like this one!’
The hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention and a rush of purest terror swept up his spine. There was a rustle of foliage and he looked up into two dead eyes. He had imagined the monster breathing on his neck as he climbed down and now he saw that it really had been. It had used the whispers as cover noise; settling into the branches below the trapdoor while their hands were over their ears.
It dropped from the tree, squelching into the mud and straightening up without taking its eyes off him. Its appearance had changed just as Della had predicted and now it looked like something that belonged to the tree. Its arms and legs were comprised of thick sticks that rippled like muscles and its torso was deeply fissured bark complete with yellow moss and spirals of oak leaves. Its face was the same caved in imitation of Della’s, but now it had a bird’s nest for a neck and a mat of gall infected leaves for hair. It was a horror far beyond anything his childish imagination could ever have conjured and as it stretched up to its full height all notions of terror were redefined for him. It was as if the tree had grown tired of his residence and had birthed some grotesque attempt at human life to see him off.
It tipped its head back to look up at Della and the bird’s nest gave off a dry crackle. When her horrified face disappeared from the opening it fixed its dead regard back on him. It had come for Della, but he was going to be its first order of business. He knew he had to run, but the capacity to move had deserted him. All he could do was watch in terrified fascination as its arms lengthened – the sticks that constituted them growing from its arm pits like snakes and pushing its woody talons below the level of its knees. With a sudden explosion of movement, it lunged for him.
It grabbed him by the throat before he could swing the branch in his defence and he stumbled back, slopping down into the mud and bringing the hideous creature down on top of him. He squirmed beneath its huge weight and would have cried out if not for the tightening grip that held his breath prisoner in his throat. But his paralysis had lifted now and he swung his branch in a desperate arc, smashing it with all his might into the side of the monster’s head. There was a dull thud, but its Della-face continued to regard him with its dead doll-eyes; the pupils of which were glowing with poisonous green embers. It squeezed his throat tighter, sinking its stick fingers into his flesh and choking off his air. As black spots began to cloud his vision the monster’s breath enveloped him. It was the rank miasma of death - the smell of a mass grave splitting open to swallow him.
He started to fade, but all of a sudden the grip on his neck was ripped away and he was gasping for air, looking up at the sky through a leafy canopy. He rolled onto his side coughing and spluttering and as the colour came back to the world he turned his head to a totally unexpected sight. Not ten yards away the monster was embattled with the biggest man he had ever seen: a bald and bare-chested giant, endowed with four muscular arms and covered in strange tattoos. He slid in the mud as he fought - parrying the monster’s swiping stick hands with thick forearms and pounding its body with mallet sized fists. His blows were savage – powered by a driving back foot and a rapid twist of the hips and they thudded against the monster’s bark-like torso. He knocked the monster off its feet twice, but it kept coming back at him. When it came a third time, he gathered it up in a four arm bear hug and squeezed. There was a leathery creak and then a sudden sound of splitting wood. The monster convulsed violently, but the giant held it firmly, crushing it in a vice of muscular arms. But it was not done yet. It yawned its Della mouth open to an impossible dimension and bit the closest arm. The giant roared in pain and pushed it away, sending it staggering backwards with its baggy mouth gaping and its disproportionate arms clawing the air.
The giant took no time to nurse his wound. He went after the monster, reaching over his shoulders and drawing a pair of swords from scabbards strapped diagonally across his back. He brought the first blade over and down in one savage arc, striking the monster between its neck and shoulder. It shlocked into its bark like body and became buried there, like an axe head driven too far into wood. The second blade followed, skewering the monster straight through its middle. It shuddered violently then went still - its strange arms dropping limply to its sides and its oak leaf hair covering its face. All of a sudden it looked like the giant had pierced some strange shrubbery – a scene of savage combat transformed in an instant to one of woodland management. He brought a boot up against the monster’s chest and pushed it off his blades with a squeak of wood. It thudded to the ground, sending a puff of green gas up from its wounds.
As the giant bent to check the monster’s body Kye felt a strange magnetism rip into existence behind him. He turned to see the back of another man. This one was tall and slim, with shoulder length black hair, topped off with a wide brimmed hat. Unlike the giant he had the usual compliment of arms and they were raised in a broad Y. Emilie was right above him, thrusting skyward but going nowhere. Her lower half was tethered to the man and she seemed to be flowing into him in a brilliant waterfall of light.
Kye didn’t know what he was doing to her, but he knew he had to stop it. He scrambled to his feet and dived at the man, encircling his waist and knocking him to the ground. The man went down, but not as Kye expected. Emilie was joined with him in some physical way and although she tore free of him as they fell, she caused them both to corkscrew as they went down. They hit the ground hard, but the man had been so focused on what he was doing he barely reacted to break his fall. He struck the ground with a winded grunt and lost his hat to the mud. But he recovered fast. With red faced fury he wrestled himself on top of Kye and pinned him down – one knee on his chest and both hands gripping his collar.
Scours
The man dragged Kye to the nearest tree and propped him against it. Then with fingers spread like spider legs, he pressed his face against the trunk.
‘Do not resist,’ he said with scolding authority. ‘You will feel some unease, but I will cause you no harm.’
Kye could see a section of his face through the gaps between his fingers and it was screwed up in anger. But he had neither the breath nor strength left to fight him off, so he did as he was asked and settled.
The instant he did he regretted it. All at once he felt a sudden, unpleasant connection to the man. It was as if the centre of his hand had become an eye that could see straight through his skull and into his head. Its glare went deep and wide and his mind soon felt as naked as a winter hedgerow under the full force of the sun. And just when he thought it couldn’t get any worse the eye reversed its glare, turning into a terrible suction that threatened to pull his mind right out of his head. He gasped and started to struggle, sure he was going to be turned inside out. But then the suction ceased and the fingers withdrew from his face.
The man retrieved his hat and twisted it back into place as he looked down at him. His tanned face was streaked with mud and his eyes were cold and grey like a winter sea. A tattoo of flames rose from his shirt, climbed his neck and licked hungrily at his left cheek. On his right hand was a ring that pulsed with a sickly green light. Kye recognised it from a picture he had seen in a book. It was a mist stone and it marked him as an exorcist. He knew then he had just experienced a scour – the dreaded technique the exorcists used to assess purity of soul.
The stories told about exorcists were frightening and under any other circumstances he would have been rendered mute by the appearance of one. But the stories were no match for his current concern. ‘What have you done to my sister?’ His voice was ragged and sore and he could still feel the monster’s woody fingers around his throat.
‘She is not your sister. The spirit
that haunts this lake is just an echo of her. You shouldn’t be up here. Trespassing a haunt is forbidden and punishable by law.’ His voice rose as he spoke and Kye brought his hands up to defend his face. He had heard the same tone in Bill’s voice plenty of times and it usually meant one thing.
‘Get your arms down boy - I’m not going to beat you.’
Kye lowered them hesitantly. One of Bill’s tricks was to make similar promises, just so he could get a clean slap at his face. ‘Why can’t you leave her alone? She’s not hurting anyone!’
‘But she will try. Your sister’s echo is festering and soon there will be nothing about her you would recognise. But know this. In disrupting her exorcism, you have only delayed it. I will return as soon as I’m able and rid her from this place forever.’ Kye glared at him, promising himself he would do everything in his power to stop him. ‘What’s your name boy?’
‘Kye.’
‘Where do you live?’
‘North village.’
‘Is that your tree house?’ he asked, half turning to look up to where Della was peering through the trapdoor. The giant was standing beneath, holding the rope ladder and beckoning her down with one muscular arm.
Kye nodded.
‘How well do you know the girl?’
‘I met her last night.’
The exorcist raised an eyebrow. ‘But you hid her from the villagers?’
‘They were going to kill her.’
‘Do you know why?’
‘They think she killed some people in the village. But it wasn’t her. It was that thing over there. It stole her face.’ The exorcist looked puzzled and Kye realised he hadn’t had chance to look at their faces yet and make the comparison.
‘My name is Ormis and the toruck over there is Kring… Interfering with my exorcism was reckless and dangerous and you will answer for it in due course. But provided you give me your full cooperation I may be steered towards clemency.’ He turned back to the tree house when Della was halfway down the rope ladder. ‘Wait here and don’t try to run away. If you do, it will go badly for you.’
The exorcist strode over to Kring and replaced him at the foot of the ladder. Kye had never seen a toruck before, but Lady Demia had given a lesson on them. The torucks were a race of four armed giants that lived far away and had little interaction with anyone outside of their own lands. Several years ago the toruck King Treigus appealed to the Westland for help. They were suffering under a plague of spirits and none among them had learnt the art of exorcism. King Lyrus welcomed the opportunity to build bridges and sent five exorcists to the torucks’ aid. King Treigus expressed his gratitude by loaning the Westland twenty of his best toruck slayers – to be put to use in whatever way King Lyrus saw fit. Lady Demia had showed them a picture of a toruck; an image that did no justice to the four armed behemoth that stood only a short distance away now. But she had assured them that contrary to their fearsome appearance, the torucks were a well-mannered and respectful race – an assurance that seemed at odds with the brutality he had just witnessed.
Della stepped off the rope ladder and turned to face them. The exorcist regarded her with clinical eyes, but Kye saw something like surprise jump onto the toruck’s face.
‘You know what I am and what I must do to you?’ asked Ormis, lifting his hand so that she could see his swirling mist stone. When she nodded he stepped forward and gripped her face with splayed fingers. The exorcist was calmer now and his hold was gentle. But Kye flinched regardless. He knew what she was about to experience and his sympathy went out to her. Time passed and Kye became concerned. His scour had lasted only a few seconds, but hers was slipping into minutes. When the exorcist finally withdrew, he looked confused.
‘I think you should have a look over here,’ said Kring. His voice was a rough baritone - a talking well with a throat full of gravel. Ormis went over to where the monster’s body laid in a mush of leaves and squatted beside it. He looked into its face and then up at Della – registering the similarity with disbelief.
Now you understand, thought Kye.
‘From over the mountains,’ said Kring as Ormis straightened up. ‘It had the mist in its eyes and on its breath.’
They both stared at Della in what Kye imagined would be an uncomfortable appraisal. But she was staring absently at the lake and didn’t seem to notice. Kring took a bandage and some salve from a pouch on his belt and began dressing the wound on his arm.
‘It bit you?’ asked Ormis.
‘Barely broke the skin,’ Kring replied, turning the bandage in the air. ‘But I’ll get the surgeon to take a look when we get back.’ He tipped his head to the monster as he worked. ‘What do you want me to do with it?’
‘Leave it. I’ll send someone from Rockspur to take a look and get their trackers to run its back trail.’
Ormis walked back over to Kye and pulled him to his feet. ‘It seems there might be something to your story. But for now we must get back to the holdings. We tracked you here through the woods, but is there an easier way back to town?’ Kye nodded. ‘Then show us.’
They left the tree house and set out for the lake. In the resulting quiet of the woods the dead monster looked up through the canopy with vacant eyes – its expression the same in death as in life.
Broken Nose
They emerged from Agelrish Wood along the same path Kye took during the storm. But now the land was awash with sunlight. In the distance fields of corn stood proudly alongside vast meadows speckled with red, blue and gold flowers. Close by, nervous sheep hurried away, creating dark trails in the wet grass.
Ormis took Kye’s place at the front and led them down towards the little bridge that connected the path with the main road. They were halfway across when they were spotted by an old man who was fishing on the far bank of the river. The sight of them shocked him out of his lazy repose and he stiffened up and gripped his rod, pointing it at them like a weapon.
They were soon spotted by workers in the fields and some of them shouted or whistled to get the attention of those too engrossed in their work to notice. In a matter of seconds there was more than a dozen villagers glaring at them like scarecrows. In one field a man turned a small boy in their direction, spoke into his ear and sent him running. As he jumped a fence onto the road and ran off towards south town Kye began to get a very bad feeling. He was walking towards a whole lot of trouble and when the exorcist and the villagers were finished with him he would be in for the biggest hiding of his life. Bill would be called for once the exorcist began his inquiries and he would soon learn of his visits with Emilie and his part in saving the girl from last night’s lynch mob; crimes to rival running away with his money and splitting his head open with a candlestick holder. Barely a full day had passed since he decided to run away and every action since had gotten him deeper into trouble.
They turned onto the main road and came upon two men repairing a dry stone wall. As one of them stepped away to judge his work he saw their strange company and tapped the shoulder of another man who was on his hands and knees breaking rocks. Together they watched them pass; their eyes first drawn to the fantastical figure of Kring and then to Della. They gave Ormis a grim faced nod and sent Della along with a slaughter house stare. Kye felt the hostility in those stares even though they were cast over his shoulder. But when he looked back, he saw she was oblivious to them. Della was following like a sleepwalker with her eyes focused a thousand miles in the distance. He turned his attention back to the road, feeling his own problems shrink as he considered hers. He was due a severe hiding, but provided Bill left him able to walk, he would be miles away from Agelrish in a few days’ time. Della’s problems had only just begun. Her uncle was dead and there was a village full of people baying for her blood.
They entered town and found it eerily empty; like the plague towns he had read about in school. It was so quiet that all he could hear as they trudged the main thoroughfare was his own laboured breath and the beating of their boots. But when they wer
e a little further in he realised there were people all around; hiding in shadows, peering around doorways and peeping through windows. They passed a cart of produce fresh from the fields that was unattended except by a swat of flies. Beyond it, a restless horse was standing by a hitching rail. As they came by, it stretched its tether, twisting its head in a circle as it sought their attention. And when Kring stroked its neck and patted its flank it didn’t seem to mind. A woman came right out of a shop and drew up in fright when she saw them. She turned around and hurried back in, the clatter of her door roaming briefly around the street before they were back to boots and breath again.
They passed the main square and turned a corner into a wide street. At the far end was a large stone and timber building. A wooden sign above its door proclaimed it Agelrish Holdings. There was a crowd out front, gathered around a speaker who was punctuating his words with a series of angry gestures. He was the only one facing in their direction and when he caught sight of them he stopped his ranting in mid flow. Almost as one, his attentive audience turned to follow his gaze.
Ormis led them to the crowd, unperturbed.
As they got closer Kye felt the stirrings of a new fear. The crowd were knotted together like school kids gathering for a fight and there was the same range of expressions on their faces: the same awkwardness, uncertainty and outright menace he had seen many times before. And the fact that they were fully grown men made it ten times worse. They unbunched at their approach, spreading out into a wall of people that reached from one side of the street to the other. He searched their faces for Bill and found that his absence did nothing to allay his fears. Some were eyeing him up and he heard one or two say his name.
Kring came alongside Ormis as they approached and some of them shrank back as if they thought he was going to trample them. Exorcists, torucks and witches were rare eye fodder in Agelrish and their eyes jumped around as if they couldn’t decide on the point of interest. The man that fronted them had no such trouble. He was the one who had been speaking and his eyes were fixed firmly on Della. He was a powerful barrel of a man - bald headed with a plume of chest hair that sprouted from the opening of his sullied white shirt. With what looked like a great effort he tore his molten glare away from Della and branded the exorcist with it. ‘Why do you not bind the witch!?’
Absence: Whispers and Shadow Page 15
