‘So be it,’ Serapia said, startling him.
Kayn stood there, looking at her, unsure. Was she letting him go free?
When he didn’t move, the Incantatrix motioned toward the entrance behind her. ‘Go,’ she told him.
Kayn ran like a wild man, keeping the river on his right, falling over shrubbery and tree roots, fresh cuts and grazes covering his arms and his face.
He had plunged into the cold river, satiating his thirst and quickly washing the vomit off him, then hauled himself up the bank and resumed his run, heavy in his wet clothing. The cold water invigorated him, washed away his tiredness. He grabbed berries as he ran, whenever he past a bush, shoving them into his mouth, chewing hurriedly and swallowing without tasting.
The grey sky above spurred him on, a constant reminder of what little time he possessed. He needed to reach the hamlet before nightfall. He had to find Tiffany.
He thought back to the Incantatrix. I must be the only man who’d made it back alive, he thought. He had no doubt her reading him had somehow spared him. He was different, just like she was.
He thought fleetingly of her transformation, when she had become withered and ancient in a moment, and felt himself burn with shame at the lust he had felt for her.
He also felt shame at the fact that, had she not revealed her true self to him, he would have taken her back with him instead of Tiffany.
Serapia smiled darkly to herself. Her skin sagged like melting flesh, exposing deep eye sockets in a cadaverous face. She had known about the other woman, had read his heart as easily as his lie, when he’d told her he’d return for her.
And so, she had told a lie of her own.
And now it was done.
He would never take this woman with him. The great storm was gathering from the West, but tonight’s storm was only a prelude to what was to follow, for the true storm would not happen until tomorrow. Kayn’s time was not yet up. But when it was, she would be waiting for him, to remind him of his promise.
The sun was high up in the noon sky, breaking through cloud briefly but unable to dilute the grey day. Kayn ran along the path, his clothes now dry and warm. He had not yet taken rest and was loath to do so, although he knew that he would have to at some point. But for now, whilst he had the strength, he kept his pace up, eager to reach the hamlet before dusk.
A few miles into his journey, when finally his limbs ached and his lungs seemed fit to burst, he was forced to stop and rest. But when a drop of rain fell on him, he was spurred on to renew his effort, knowing that he could not afford to stop until he reached Tiffany.
He ran dizzily through virgin forest, his pace much slower now, desperate to reach his goal, encouraged further as the vegetation became less dense. Eventually, he reached a glade, which he recognised instantly: it was the glade where the gypsies had set up camp.
At once, he grew apprehensive. He stopped and crouched behind a thick bush, breathing harshly, his lungs aching as much as his legs. He peered over the shrubbery and watched the gypsies about their business, wondering how best to round the glade without being seen, remembering how he’d been spotted last time after he had be careless in his movements.
The gypsies were dancing around a small fire on which a small platter had been placed. The smell of roasting conquers and almonds reached him and he felt almost crippled by hunger.
When he was sufficiently rested, he began to rise, intending to skirt around the bushes in order to resume his journey, but he found to his dismay that his legs would not support him. The blood seemed to have drained from them, leaving them hollow.
Cursing, he sat down on the ground and stretched his legs, casting his eyes up at the clouded mid-noon sky. He heard a sound behind him, and when he turned, saw two gypsy men eyeing him with suspicion.
They lifted him and carried him into the glade, over to where the gypsy king sat. Kayn did not resist, for he wanted to preserve what little strength remained in him.
The gypsies ceased their dancing at once, parting as the men reached the fire and dropped Kayn onto his knees.
The gypsy king watched him from his seat.
‘You know,’ he said, ’we could see you even before you reached the glade.’
Kayn’s weary eyes fell upon the food on the fire.
‘Feed him,’ ordered the old king, and conquers and chestnuts were removed from the fire and replaced with a fresh supply. Kayn gladly accepted handfuls of the food and ate fast, burning and blistering his mouth until he had lost all sense of taste. He accepted a jug of water when it was offered and gulped a quarter of it down, drenching his clothing in the process.
When he was done, he felt a little stronger, but less inclined to move.
‘Did you meet with Serapia?’ asked the old gypsy king.
The rest of the gypsies had gathered about Kayn.
Kayn nodded.
The gypsy king eyed him wearily.
‘I am surprised to see that you are well after your encounter. You are the first outside our kind that has returned from her domain with his life.’
Kayn waited for him to finish speaking.
‘I am the chosen one,’ he said then, and the gypsies gasped and fell back.
The old gypsy king raised a thick eyebrow.
‘But you are not of our kind,’ he said.
Kayn nodded.
‘Your kind are slaves to the Incantatrix,’ he said, daringly. ‘Whereas I am not.’
The gypsies were taken aback by his comment, but held their silence, looking over at their king for guidance. The old king held his mouth in a sneer.
‘You come here and insult us,’ he said, ‘after we feed you and restore you back to health.’
‘You do so because it is the Incantatrix’s bidding, and I am her chosen one,’ Kayn retorted. ‘Now I must return to the hamlet and carry out her bidding, but I must reach it before the night is upon me, and so I will take one of your animals.’
The gypsy king eyed him coldly, his fury evident in his expression. The glade was soundless, yet thick with the atmosphere of anticipation. Finally, the old king nodded toward one of the donkeys grazing on the edge of the glade. A young gypsy unfastened its ropes and brought it over to Kayn, who rose and mounted it at once.
‘Now I bid you farewell,’ he said. But the gypsies said nothing as they watched him march upon his way.
Kayn rode the donkey along the narrow winding path, past the old oak tree where he had first dreamed that strange dream of Dayna. The beast ambled rather slowly, but still it was faster than he would have been on foot, considering how tired he felt.
Before too long, the rain came. A few drops quickly turned into a downpour, slapping the ample tree leaves high above. The light was already dim and Kayn grew worried that the storm would begin before he could ever reach the hamlet. Trees twisted and closed around him and his mount wearied of the trek, but Kayn kept pushing the animal, until finally he reached the end of the tree line before the first crack of thunder.
Wasting no time, he dismounted the beast and dragged it with him down the precipitous hill. The donkey fought against his pull, but he managed to drag it along the steep ridge and on to flat glade midway down the hill. Here, Kayn left the beast to graze under the pouring rain. He looked toward the centre of the glade, trying to spot Tiffany in the gloom, somewhere in the rain, but he couldn’t see any shapes there.
Without moonlight to guide him, he ambled forward in search of the flat stone, slipping on the muddy terrain. He knew deep down that Tiffany would not be here, waiting for him, least of all in this rain. But he needed to know for sure.
However, he was wrong. Even before he reached the centre, he saw Tiffany sat on the rock, shaking under the rain, her hair plastered to her face. He hurried toward her and dropped to his knees when he reached her, startling her.
It took a moment for her to recognise him. Kayn was dismayed to see her flinch away from him at first, but he held her elbows tenderly.
‘It’s me,’
he told her, his heart aching for her.
But still, she seemed withdrawn.
When he reached out to her and tried to embrace her, she flinched back from him, shivering.
Kayn realised then that she was crying.
His stomach was in knots as he grasped her shoulders and turned her slowly to him. Her right eye was completely closed in a hideous wink, sealed in a thick waxy mess of black and blue. No, he whispered, God no. He felt the blood drain from him as tears welled up in his eyes. He cried with her, for her, as he took in the terrible change brought upon her delicate features.
A long anguished moan escaped him when he saw that the back of her neck was also badly bruised. He could make out clearly in the darkness two thick lines, a sickening purple across her delicate skin.
Rage bubbled up inside him. He felt his body begin to tremble with rage. Holding her chin, he forced her to look at him.
‘Who, Tiffany? Who?’ His voice was low, a bitter whisper through clenched teeth.
She shook her head, trying to look away.
He had no doubt that she understood him, and felt dismayed at the fact that she would protect the person that did this to her.
Her delicate shoulders sagged, her head hung low.
She has no enemies, Kayn thought. She only has...
‘Your father!’ he gasped, looking into her eyes. Tiffany looked away, breaking from his hold, and suddenly he knew that he was right.
‘Tiffany,’ he said, once again lifting her soft chin, but this time gently, with his finger, until she was looking at him with her open eye. ‘It was you father, wasn't it?’
She stood still, a statue of grief. She hung her head low, and he held her close to him, hurting, bringing her head to his chest, protecting her from the rain.
He vowed then that he would break the sire’s neck if it was the last thing he did.
Under the pouring rain, shivering with cold and anger, Kayn looked into her face.
‘Do you… love me, Tiffany?’
She hesitated, hiding her closed eye behind her wet fringe. Then, slowly, she nodded, once, twice. Kayn kissed her forehead and held her to him, gently, shocked at how frail she felt.
‘I love you,’ he told her. But she already knew.
‘Tiffany, I want you to come with me,’ he told her, kneeling before her in the mud.
She nodded.
‘I mean, to come with me wherever I go,’ he said.
Tiffany nodded again.
He felt himself growing desperate.
‘You will never see your father again,’ he said.
At that, her face grew ashen.
He held his breath.
He stood with her on the hill, looking at the glade through the thick curtain of rain. They were soaked to the bone, and chilled. Kayn knew they had to get to Titch’s stable soon, away from the rain and into warmth. But he needed her decision before he ventured back into the hamlet.
‘I haven't got all the answers,’ he explained. ‘But I want you to come with me.’
Fresh tears spilled from her eyes.
One small shake of her head and he knew he would lose her forever.
She looked away from him and his heart ached unbearably. Finally, she looked back at him and nodded, slowly, and Kayn felt hot tears of his own rolling down his cheeks.
Then they held on to each other for the last time, under the cold rain.
They found Titch in the stable. Upon seeing Kayn, the little man became agitated. He looked haggard, his face pinched with worry.
‘What are you doing here?’ he hissed, quickly ushering them both inside and locking the splintered door behind them. Inside the stable, by candlelight, Titch saw the state of Tiffany’s face and let out a cry of anguish.
‘Oh!’ he cried, biting his lip and reaching out to touch her. Tiffany held his hand in both of hers, stooping and then crying into it. The little man turned and eyed Kayn furiously.
‘What have you done to her?’ he bellowed.
‘Nothing!’ Kayn protested. ‘I found her like this, up on the hill. It was her father.’
Titch gasped and took his hand away from her face.
‘Lord!’ he cried. ‘The sire will have us both hanging if he finds her here. And he will burn me alive if he sees that I have sheltered you!’
‘We’re going soon,’ Kayn told him.
Titch turned on him.
‘You promised this once before, and yet here you stand before me, bringing nothing but ill and sorrow!’
‘This time it’s for good,’ Kayn said solemnly, aware that Titch hadn’t realised he had meant himself and Tiffany.
Titch shook his head and hurried over to a corner, where he gathered a handful of straw and a blanket, bringing them over to Tiffany.
‘They are blaming you for the murders,’ he said as he tried to make her comfortable.
Kayn nodded, sadly.
‘They found Fürgos’ dog ripped open this morning, at the gate, which pleases me only because of the pain it has brought to him. Some say the murderer grows desperate now that folk are keeping themselves indoors. Others say it was your doing.’
Kayn shook his head.
‘Titch, you know it wasn’t me,’ he said. ‘I was here when little Eva was-’
Titch put his hand up, looking away from him. Kayn stopped talking. He had not meant to awaken painful memories in the little man.
‘They say you disappeared in the storm,’ Titch said, his voice breaking as he threw a blanket over Tiffany. ‘And that the prophecy of the witch has come true: that you are the evil sent to us by her.’
He faced him.
‘Is this true?’
They eyed each other silently. Titch’s eyes were moist with sorrow, anger and fear. He stroked Tiffany’s hair next to him. Kayn saw then the toll stress and worry had taken on the little man these past few days.
‘The Witchfinder General arrived this morning,’ Titch continued, without waiting for an answer. ‘His men arrived ahead of him, came here last night looking for you with the sire.’
Kayn looked down at him and took a deep breath.
‘I saw Serapia.’
Titch gasped and fell back, away from him.
Tiffany watched them, shivering under the blanket.
‘Titch, it doesn’t matter that you understand this or not, since I don’t understand it myself. But tonight I will be gone forever. And I will take Tiffany with me. All I ask of you is that you don’t alert anybody until tomorrow.’
Titch looked gravely at Tiffany. She looked back at him with great sorrow in her eyes. He went to her and held her shoulders in his hard hands.
‘No, please’ he croaked, shaking his head. A torrent of tears fell form Tiffany then as she shook with grief. Titch wailed inconsolably, hugging her close to him.
Quietly, Kayn slipped out of the stable, giving them time alone in which to say goodbye.
He could hear upon straining his ear, that Titch was trying his best to persuade her to stay, warning her that many evils would face her elsewhere, away from the hamlet. But before long his voice grew thin and broke, and Kayn was touched by the great pain in his words.
Some time later, Tiffany stepped out into the night and the rain. Her face was set with a look of determination. Kayn nodded and went inside, where he found the little man facedown on his bunk, crying into the straw.
He had planned on telling him about the donkey he had taken from the gypsies. It was his gift to him, to thank him for all he had done for him. But he could not bring himself to utter a word, after bringing such pain to him. He turned and left quietly, leaving the small man sobbing quietly. Kayn tied the donkey outside the stable and, talking Tiffany by the hand, walked with her into the unknown.
The rain came down fiercely, like a warning. A dreadful wind had picked up. It howled at their ears as they strained against it, moving away from the huts and into the open. Kayn was not entirely sure where they should be headed, other than beneath the brewing sto
rm. Nor did he know how he would accomplish taking Tiffany with him, wherever that may be. He tried to remember the Incantatrix’s words: There will be a great storm, with lightning such as has never been seen before. And the lightning will claim you.
He wondered what Tiffany must be thinking as he pointed in the direction of the hill. Then came a cry, somewhere in the distance behind them, drowned in the sound of the howling wind and the falling rain. But when he turned, there was only night behind them.
Watching him, Tiffany squeezed his hand, running alongside him. He heard the sound again, and this time he made out the words. It was a man, and he was alerting everybody to their whereabouts. Somebody must have seen them as they had woven their way through the huts.
Feeling a dreadful fear, Kayn ran ahead, pulling Tiffany along, urging her to go faster.
The hill lay about two hundred meters ahead, where they faced the steep climb to the top, and already many a man had heard the cry and was now on their way, running after them in pursuit.
They began the climb up the precarious hill, slipping and falling together. The rain had turned the hillside into a sheet of slippery mud. Kayn hauled Tiffany back on to her feet and pulled her up the incline, using his free hand to steady himself against the steep face of the hill. Tiffany copied him, using her free hand to haul herself upward.
The men giving chase also found the ground treacherous, but, unlike Kayn, they were well rested. And so they ran that much faster, reaching the bottom of the hill soon after them, climbing toward them with much more ease and speed.
When Kayn chanced a quick look behind, he saw one of the men almost within arm’s reach, holding a makeshift spear. Kayn kicked out, catching the man in the face. Yelping, the man lost his footing and fell back down, dropping his weapon and taking one of his companions, who tried to stop him, down with him. The other men in their line of descent tried to hasten out of the way, but not all of them succeeded. Those who were too slow to react had their legs taken out from underneath them by the falling men and tumbled down the hill also.
The Man Who Vanishes_a gripping horror thriller spanning 3 timelines_One Man. Everywhere. Page 18
