The Man Who Vanishes_a gripping horror thriller spanning 3 timelines_One Man. Everywhere.

by J M Gonzalez Riley

  He grew anxious when he found he could hardly see in front of him, such was the vegetation, blocking the little light that remained. Before too long, he was walking blindly along the trail, forced to slow his pace by the encroaching darkness and guided solely by the rushing waters of the narrow river beside him, which had cooled the forest and the air inside it to a chill.

  Kayn’s heart beat fast, and not merely from exertion. His senses were keen, his step light and his muscles tight with adrenaline. The forest seemed to be awakening in the dusk, rustling every leaf on every tree in the windless night, as if chattering to itself, aware of the intruder.

  He fumbled in the darkness, bumping into the thick trees and stepping over tangles of weed that he felt sure should not be there, grown over the trail. He was growing desperate when, finally and unexpectedly, the tree line ended abruptly and he was out in the open, on top of the hill, under a great white moon. He breathed in great gulps of cold air, awash with relief to be out in the open once again with the dismal forest behind him and the warm burning flames of the hamlet down below him.

  Invigorated, he broke into a run down the hill, toward the light of the hamlet. He ran carefully down the treacherous terrain, holding fast on to the various roots that surfaced from the ground here and there until he reached the plateau half way down the hill.

  There was somebody here, up ahead. Two shapes, sitting in the centre of the glade.

  There was nowhere Kayn could hide. The plateau was flat and he was reluctant to climb back up to the top of the hill, where the forest lay in wait.

  Kayn approached the figures cautiously, ready to run past them when he got near enough. He had the element of surprise on his side and felt certain he could beat them to the edge of the plateau and down the rest of the hill to the hamlet.

  As he stepped closer, he realised it was Titch, in the company of the lovely maiden he had seen earlier that day: the sire’s daughter.

  Titch caught his movement from the side of his eye, and yelped in surprise. The maiden however didn’t seem startled by him.

  ‘Damn you!’ Titch spat, pointing at him.

  ‘I’m sorry if I scared you,’ Kayn said, joining them.

  Titch slapped the ground hard, raising dust all around him, much to the maiden’s amusement. Kayn knelt next to him, smiling at the maiden.

  ‘This is the stranger I saved last night,’ Titch said quickly, pointing at Kayn.

  Tiffany smiled at him. Up close, she was even more beautiful than he had first thought. Her emerald green eyes flashed brightly, perhaps reading the thought in his eyes, and she looked away, as if embarrassed.

  ‘We’ll meet again,’ Titch said suddenly, grabbing Kayn’s hand and pulling him behind him. ‘I have to see to this buffoon, lest he come to some harm.’

  The maiden watched them go, her eyes fixed on Kayn, wondering about him just as he was wondering about her. When they reached the bottom of the hill, Titch still had hold of his hand, gripping it hard. He stopped and scowled up at him, shadows falling on his face, settling in the deep grooves.

  ‘What are you doing back?’ spat the little man. ‘I thought you had gone into the forest!’

  Kayn shrugged.

  ‘I did!’ he protested. ‘I didn’t reach the berries before sunset, though. But I’ll try again tomorrow.’

  ‘Be sure that you do,’ Titch snapped, turning and knuckling his way back to the stable. Kayn followed him in silence, rubbing at his hand. He hadn’t imagined the little man would be this angry upon his return.

  Inside the stable, Titch drew a small piece of black bread from a small leather pouch. He looked up to see if Kayn was watching him, and when he saw that he was, he turned his back on him and began to munch noisily.

  Kayn sat down quietly on the straw.

  ‘Was that Tiffany up on the hill?’ he asked, hoping to make conversation.

  Titch stopped eating at once, then slipped the bread back inside the pouch.

  ‘What of it?’ he grunted.

  Kayn shrugged.

  ‘You seem good friends, that is all.’

  ‘We are,’ he growled. ‘Now sleep. You have a hard day ahead of you tomorrow.’

  Saying no more, the little man lay on his bed of straw and began to snore, quicker than sleep could have taken him, Kayn thought.

  And then, he too lay and tried to sleep.

  Kayn was filled with thoughts of the dream he’d had in the forest. He wondered at his purpose. He did not remember who he was, or where he was, but he felt sure that this was part of his journey, his quest. And so, he must venture further until he was given another clue, and perhaps then return to Dayna, when he knew how.

  He wondered about Dayna, about her rushing colours, about the coldness that lived inside her. Perhaps his mission then was to find something with which to draw the cold out.

  Slowly, his mind and body filled once more with the weariness of recovery. And so, a long, dreamless sleep descended over him.

  But no sleep came for Titch, who lay quietly on his side, his brow creased as he thought long and hard about his strange new guest.

  17

  Middle Ages

  Kayn awoke at midday, refreshed from his long sleep and ravenous. Titch was nowhere to be seen. Instead, he was surprised to see Eva, the young girl he had met in the square, standing there, looking down at him with her bright eyes.

  He sat up, wondering what she was doing here, then saw that she carried a piece of bread and some dried fruits, which she placed on a slab by him. Then she turned and ran.

  Kayn tucked into the food, eating the hard bread and all of the fruit after it. He felt replenished, his strength returning.

  Presently, Titch returned to the stable, shutting the wooden door and locking it after him. He was evidently flustered and, when he spoke, Kayn realised that the journey alone was not entirely to blame for the little man’s panting.

  ‘Murder!’ he said. ‘The killer struck in the early hours. The poor lass...’

  Kayn watched him curiously, wondering at the look of wretchedness that befell him as he delivered the news. He tried to search inside himself for a similar feeling, but found nothing other than numbness.

  ‘Samuel's little one,’ Titch’s voice was thick with emotion. ‘The poor soul.’

  Kayn watched him in silence.

  The little man was shaking his head from side to side as if trying to dislodge his distress. ‘He goes free, this man,’ he whispered. ‘Dear Lord.’

  ‘You think it's a man,’ said Kayn.

  Titch watched him, aghast.

  ‘Of course it's a man!’ he cried. ‘Who else could stomach such a beastly deed? Indeed not many a man could, never mind a lass! Not unless she were a witch!’

  At this, he fell suddenly silent and eyed Kayn with wide, fearful eyes.

  ‘You know something!’ he spat.

  Kayn began to speak, but already Titch was clawing toward the locked door. He jumped up and ran after him, standing in the little man’s way when he reached the door to stop him from running out shouting something he might regret.

  ‘Let me go!’ cried Titch.

  ‘I don’t know anything!’ Kayn told him. ‘You have to believe me when I say I don’t remember anything!’

  Titch looked up at him, his eyes narrow, and struggled some more with the door. Kayn realised there was nothing he could do to change his mind, so he stood aside and watched him knuckle his way out into the hamlet.

  He sat back down on the straw and thought about his predicament. Titch would want him out of here before sunset, unless he redeemed himself somehow. But in the meantime, the little man was out there, convinced that Kayn was holding back something from him.

  He felt anxious about what Titch might do or say in his absence and decided to venture outside into the hamlet, to look for him, to try to talk to him and calm him down.

  Children with dirty faces watched him curiously and folk stopped their work to stare at him as he weaved his way thr
ough the huts toward the guarded doors. It was high noon and Kayn had a feeling that Titch might be in the town square.

  He passed through the open doors and into the town square, bustling with people, traders and buyers, watchers and walkers. Kayn fought his way through the bustle, toward the spot Titch had taken him to yesterday. However, when he arrived, the little man was nowhere to be seen.

  He sat down on the grass and watched the crowd, hoping that Titch would appear, but early afternoon came and went and still there was no sign of Titch.

  He was considering heading back to the stables when, to his surprise, he saw the maiden Tiffany walking toward him. He felt his spirits pick up.

  ‘Hello,’ he said when she reached him.

  She cast her emerald eyes down at him and smiled.

  In the daylight, she was simply breathtaking. His heart raced.

  ‘I’m looking for Titch,’ he said, finally.

  She shook her head gently, her long curls moving playfully across her face.

  ‘You haven’t seen him?’ he asked.

  She nodded, pointing behind him.

  Kayn turned and was surprised to see Titch there, knuckling his way sullenly up to them.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Kayn asked him.

  When he looked back at Tiffany, he saw that she was running back toward the mansion.

  ‘She can’t speak,’ Titch said sharply.

  Kayn looked at him, dumfounded. It took a moment for him to register what he meant.

  ‘Oh,’ he said.

  ‘Oh,’ Titch mimicked.

  There was an uncomfortable silence.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ Kayn said finally. ‘I don’t really know what to say.’

  Titch stared at the ground.

  ‘Tiffany was born with the curse of deafness and dumbness,’ he said sadly. ‘Her father is all she has. The cold bastard sire. He blames her for his wife's death during her bearing, says she is the cross he must bear for his sins, for his being human.’

  Kayn watched him sigh.

  ‘Me, I was born with no legs, and so I was dumped outside the wall, with the rest of the muck. Tiffany would have been too, were she not the sire’s daughter. But her heart is made of the purest gold and she takes pity on me. We’ve been friends ever since I can remember. She always played outside the wall when she was a wisp of a girl, up until she became useful to the sire as a servant. She looks out for me, she does, brings me foods craps and black bread from the mansion every morning, or sends little Eva with scraps when she can’t come herself. And at night, we meet up in the glade, where nobody ever goes anymore since the burnings.’

  Kayn sat and listened to Titch’s story ‘What about the murder?’ he asked when Titch stopped talking.

  The little man eyed him narrowly.

  ‘Strange things have been happening here ever since you arrived,’ he growled.

  Kayn sensed the implication.

  ‘And you think I’m the murderer, is that it?’

  Titch shook his head, slowly.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘I watched you last night and you slept like a babe. And the murderer struck in the early hours, whilst you slept.’

  Kayn exhaled, relieved.

  ‘But you are a stranger without a story,’ Titch said sternly. ‘And that’s unwanted in most parts, by most folk.’

  Kayn nodded.

  ‘I’ve been honest with you, Titch. I don’t remember who I am. I only know what I told you.’

  Titch nodded, looking away.

  ‘Aye,’ he said. ‘And that is worrying. You said that you were sent here by a woman. The Witchfinder General has been summoned to save us from the prophecy. He will be here soon. But there, I’ve said too much already. And I mustn’t keep you from your promise any longer.’

  Kayn raised his eyebrows questioningly.

  ‘What promise?’

  Titch smiled broadly, bearing his black teeth.

  ‘You were going to fetch berries from the forest.’

  Kayn had forgotten about that. His heart sank. It was already afternoon, so he would have to get a move on if he hoped to be back before dark. The thought of the forest made him feel suddenly anxious.

  ‘What about this prophecy?’ Kayn asked him curiously.

  Titch shook his head gravely.

  ‘When you return from the forest. I’ll explain it then.’

  The little man raised himself up on his knuckles and thrust himself into a gap in the crowd, disappearing under many legs. Kayn stood up and walked after him, but when he managed to push through the hubbub, he found that he had lost the little man. He was wondering where he could have gone when suddenly he heard laughter nearby. He thought nothing of it at first, but the laughter prevailed and he soon realised that the crowd was growing dense just ahead of him, gathering around the object of amusement.

  He heard a slow, thick voice, rising above the laughter, and felt his insides tighten with fear. He turned and walked against the flow of the crowd, away from the voice, when all of a sudden he heard Titch cry out in pain.

  Kayn froze as laughter erupted from the crowd behind him, his ears straining to pick up the sound of Titch’s voice from the noise. He heard Titch cry out again, before the crowd swallowed up the sound with shouts and cheers.

  Kayn about-turned, frantically pushing through the crowd in the direction of the laughter, reaching the front of the crowd where he found Titch. And the brute that had given him a beating two nights ago.

  His stomach turned.

  The brute Fürgos had taken hold of the little man, lifted him up in the air, to the crowd’s delight. Titch was pleading with him, terrified, as the crowd cheered on. A bony dog jumped up and down, snapping at Titch excitedly as the crowd roared.

  Kayn stood on something hard. He looked down and saw that he was standing on a fist-sized stone. He stooped down quickly and picked it up.

  Titch cried out in pain as the brute squeezed him. The little man flapped uselessly, held at arm's length by the mountain man, the dog running in circles, yapping and jumping up at the brute.

  ‘Leave him be!’ Kayn cried, breaking away from the tangle of people. Fürgos slackened his hold on Titch and turned to glare at Kayn defiantly. A thick, twisted smile spread across his large face as his eyes widened with sudden recognition. The peasants held their breath expectantly, watching.

  ‘Leave him be, now,’ Kayn growled, coming to a halt a few paces from the bully, just out of his reach. His fist was curled tightly around the stone.

  Taking advantage of the diversion, Titch swung back his best arm and brought his fist crashing down on his tormentor's nose. His steel knuckles connected with a crunch, fracturing the bone and drawing blood. With a cry of astonishment, the brute let go of him and stepped back, clutching at his bloodied nose. Titch scurried away from the spot like a frightened mouse, hiding behind Kayn.

  The crowd roared with laughter, the children dancing in ecstasy, the men and women retelling the scene to each other before it was forgotten.

  Fürgos glowered at Kayn, his face twisted with hatred. He stepped closer, towering over him. Kayn raised the stone and threw his arm back, aiming at the brute’s forehead, willing him to come nearer. Seeing the weapon, Fürgos paused and slowly considered his options. The crowd held its breath, then moaned in disappointment when - much to Kayn’s relief – the mountain man let it pass this.

  ‘You saved me back there,’ said Titch when they reached the safety of the stable. ‘You risked another beating to save me.’

  ‘That’s okay,’ Kayn shrugged.

  Titch pulled on his leg, looking up at him, motioning him to squat, his face was grave.

  ‘Don’t go to the forest,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘There’s no need.’

  Kayn laughed out loud. ‘Of course there is need! We need to eat, do we not?’

  Titch shook his head gravely.

  ‘There is enough with Tiffany’s bread and fruit,’ he insisted.

  ‘No,’ said Kayn sta
nding up. ‘I promised and I’ll keep to it.’

  The little man looked pale and wretched.

  ‘Look,’ Kayn told him. ‘You have given me shelter, and this is one way I can pay you back. Now, let me go and I’ll see you before sunset.’

  Titch looked anxious but said nothing else as Kayn departed.

  18

  Middle Ages

  Kayn reached the top of the hill by late afternoon and went quickly into the forest. He was here much later than he wished and so he intended not to waste any time. He walked briskly down the winding trail, following the streaming river on his left, spurred on by the memory of the foreboding woods at sunset.

  The silence was most unsettling, but he tried to ignore it by keeping his mind busy with thoughts of Tiffany and Titch, and of all that he had learned so far. A smile broke out across his face when he thought of the little man begging him not to return here on his errand. Evidently, standing up to the brute had earned him Titch’s respect. At least he felt confident that he would be forgiven if he returned without berries again.

  Soon, Kayn reached the oak tree in whose shadow he had slept the previous day, remembering his dream about Dayna and wondering once again at its significance.

  After the oak tree, the terrain became unfamiliar to him, so he tread a little more carefully. The sun was still high above the winding trail and the vegetation was no thicker than it had been a mile ago, so Kayn was not too discouraged by the trek ahead. He kept his eyes peeled for the berries as he walked deeper into the woods.

  Before too long, he came to a wide clearing where the trail disappeared altogether. A procession of gypsy travellers had settled there, leaving their mules and ponies to drink and feed from the river and the generous grass around.

  Kayn edged closer to the clearing, watching the gypsies about their tasks. They seemed to be preparing for some sort of feast. There were songs and laughter, and an air of excitement.

  After a while, Kayn decided to circle around them and continue with his search, moving cautiously away from the edge of the clearing. But one of the gypsies spotted him and cried out.