Absence_Mist and Shadow

by J. B. Forsyth

  He started one such discussion after a huge storm struck Pebblesham whilst most of the fishing boats were out at sea. By the time the wind blew itself out and the sun broke through the clouds, half the women in town were widows. It was only by a stroke of luck her uncle’s boat was on the dry dock for repairs. He ran through the morbid prophecy she had heard many times before; that much of his work was dangerous and if his long years continued, he was bound to fall foul of a serious accident. Simply put, his good luck couldn’t last forever. So he made her promise to do two things if he died before her: to live at the hideaway for a full year before making any big decisions. And while she was there; to read the book he had written for such an occasion. She had seen him working on it, but couldn’t bear to think about what was written between its leather covers.

  Do you remember? he asked again patiently.

  She nodded. ‘But I’m a prisoner in the tower and I’ve got this awful shadow inside me.’

  But there’s still hope. Kye’s here with Ormis and they’ve come to rescue you.

  She looked into his face and her tears dried up. ‘Do you really think they can help?’

  Yes, I do… Now be at peace and listen. He hugged her close and began to whisper one of her favourite rhymes:

  Hear the wind soughing through the trees,

  Hear the rain pattering on the leaves,

  He blew in her face and drummed his fingers on her temple.

  Hear the butterflies fluttering through the flowers

  Birds and bees going round for hours…

  He rubbed his fingertips together, mimicking the sound of tiny wings then pushed one through her hair, making figure of eights on her scalp. She looked over the Eastland in a nostalgic trance, feeling the warmth of a glowing hearth as he pantomimed each line.

  …And when you return weary from the lanes

  Sit with me and watch the flames.

  He finished and she continued to stare into her past, content with the closeness of him.

  You’d better go now before they discover you gone, he said after they had drifted many miles together.

  ‘But I don’t want to go. If you’re not coming, I’ll stay here forever.’

  But even as she spoke he began to fade.

  The hideout Little Laurie…

  …Remember your promise.

  Then he was gone and it was as if he had never been there. The place where she had imagined his face was now just another patch of cold, star embroidered sky.

  But she felt better now.

  She looked around and realised she had drifted all the way to the foot of the mountains. She saw the mist rolling up the lower slopes and knew dawn was close. They hadn’t discovered her Absent yet, but they would when they tried to wake her up. She turned east and sped towards a brightening horizon, in search of the tower once more.

  Spider Costume

  The seven of them waited; pressed up against trees that only minutes ago were supporting their hammocks. They faced outwards from the clearing, a set of eyes covering every possible line of attack. The mist was the only thing that moved and it continued its relentless journey to the mountains, streaming through their legs like luminous broth spilt from a witch’s cauldron.

  Kye occupied the same tree as Ormis and his senses were raw with expectation. He had told the others what Della had said, then listened with increasing concern to the discussion that followed. They puzzled over the foolishness of sending an assailant through the mist and Rauul pointed out that even if it survived the trip unscathed, the care it needed to navigate the mist would make it an easy target for their arrows. In the end they all agreed that whatever was coming was unlikely to be a man or a toruck. A number of possibilities were suggested, each of which filled Kye with a different shade of dread. Kail described a creature that had been sighted close to Rockspur - one that hunted solely in the forest canopy, using suckered tentacles to pull itself through the branches. A few months ago it plucked a soldier from a patrol, reaching down from its hiding place and circling his neck with one of its slimy appendages. Yanking him up into the trees like a fish on a line. They got eyes on it as it disappeared in a thunderous thrash of foliage and the last they saw of the soldier was his boots - sticking out of a body that looked like glistening offal. After that Ormis mentioned a flying beast with a hooked beak and sickle like talons that had been known to swoop on patrols and carry soldiers away. And worst of all Kring spoke of huge worms that could sense where you were standing. They would eat away the ground beneath their intended victim until it collapsed, dropping them into its belly. All were creatures that could hunt unimpeded in the mist, but no one could understand how they could have been brought into the service of Izle Rohn.

  Kye gripped the tree whilst his eyes did mileage, jumping around the mist and the shadows of the canopy. It was a cloudless night, but it was hot and his shirt stuck to his sweaty skin. In Agelrish forest the temperature dropped quickly once the sun set. The reverse was true here. He suspected it had something to do with the mist - some heat radiated by its strange glow. But when he held his hand above its rolling stream he couldn’t feel anything.

  He looked down at the knife Rauul had given him. With its heavy blade and ornate handle, it was something altogether different to the rusty knife he sometimes used to skin rabbits and sharpen sticks. ‘Just in case,’ Rauul had said when he handed it to him. But what did he expect him to do? He thought of asking Ormis, but when he looked at the exorcist’s face he didn’t look receptive to such questions. So he held his tongue and waited, clinging to the tree like a human vine.

  When their assailant finally arrived, it came from the north east and was of a nature that hadn’t featured in their discussion.

  They heard it before they saw it - a series of sprung branches and a rustle of foliage that suggested it had no concern for stealth. Ormis pulled Kye a little way around the bole of the tree and there was a similar reorganisation by the others, until they all faced the same direction.

  They got their first look at it in a pulse of mist light; when it was still over a hundred yards away. Kye strained his eyes. At first he thought it was a man. It was the right shape, but covered in a strange skin that seemed to be in constant motion. Before he could discern any further detail Kail loosed an arrow. It cut the air with a whispering swoosh and pierced the figure’s chest. There was a strange cracking sound as the arrow passed through it, then a woody clock as it became embedded in a tree.

  The figure neither swayed nor staggered. It held its pose for several seconds then collapsed as though made of sand.

  Kye saw dozens of dark streaks beneath the mist, travelling from the place it collapsed and heading directly towards them. It reminded him of fish schooling in Agelrish Lake. But whatever was beneath the mist couldn’t be swimming and as the streaks swept into the clearing, some sixth sense told him they were scurrying. He jerked into Ormis with sudden revulsion and grabbed his tunic.

  ‘Be still,’ said the exorcist, pushing his away.

  Kye turned to follow the streaks through the clearing. They went past Rauul and disappeared behind his tree, but he took no notice; his gaze fixed on the place where the figure had collapsed. He realised then that Rauul hadn’t seen it and when he looked around he saw none of them had.

  He was about to shout a warning when a figure stepped out from behind Rauul’s tree and grabbed him like an assassin. He spun in reflex, striking the heel of his hand into what should have been its face. But his hand disappeared into the shifting structure of its head and the figure stepped forward, opening up and closing around him like a cloak. The others rushed to his aid, recoiling when a pulse of mist light revealed the true nature of their aggressor.

  The figure was comprised entirely of spiders; hundreds of thick shiny bodies held together with thousands of interlocking legs - reforming around him like an outer skin. They had already covered his body and were octocreeping over his nose and mouth, shutting his face away. His fingers were wedged in
behind those on his cheeks, trying to prize them off. But they clenched in response, holding together like wire mesh.

  They tried to free him, eschewing their weapons for fear of causing injury, pulling at the seething mass with bare hands. But they had little success - the spiders clothed him like a suit of chain mail and all they could do was pull him in different directions. Kring was the most effective; crushing spider bodies in his big fists. They imploded with a loud crack, wet innards squirting through his fingers and running off his wrists. Rauul braced himself stoically, grimacing as the spiders closed over his face in an increasingly tighter cowl. From the shifting ensemble’s humanoid surface, hundreds of eyes shone with mist light – a collective arachnid consciousness that eyed them with primeval contempt.

  Kring got all four hands inside it and began prizing it open, tearing dozens of legs from their bodies. He had just exposed Rauul’s chest when the spiders unlocked their little legs all at once and the foul garment collapsed again.

  ‘Stay away from the trees!’ shouted Ormis, drawing them together in the centre of the clearing.

  ‘Carrion spiders!’ said Kring, jerking his foot when his feet gave false reports of their return. ‘I’ve seen them strip a dead horse in a couple of hours, but I’ve not seen them do anything like this.’ He looked at Rauul. ‘Did they bite you?’

  ‘Here and there,’ he said, rubbing his neck.

  The figure came at them from behind another tree, gliding out of the shadows with outstretched arms - like a mother rushing to embrace her children. There was no movement of its legs but Kye could imagine the groups of spiders it was using for feet, scurrying beneath the mist. It went straight for Kail who took its head off with a horizontal swipe of his sword. It fell to the ground with the sound of a discarded wicker basket and rolled away in the mist. But its body didn’t slow. It struck Kail full on with a whispery crackle, making him stagger back into Kring. The spiders that comprised its severed head separated and scurried after it, running up its back and reforming on its shoulders as it enveloped him.

  Kring started crushing spiders with his hands again, but as one perished another shifted to fill its place. There seemed to be a never ending supply – a constant stream that came up from a tail that only Kye could see beneath the mist. The others rallied and were getting some combined leverage when the figure fell away again, leaving Kail swatting wildly at his face.

  ‘Over there,’ said Kye, pointing into the mist.

  ‘You can see it?’ asked Ormis.

  He nodded. ‘It’s right there.’

  ‘Track it with your finger,’ he said stepping alongside him.

  Kye commanded everyone’s attention with his trembling index finger, tracking the clutter of spiders around the clearing. They went between Suula and Kring and when they went behind Dorian his finger stopped moving. The soldier took a step forward, his face betraying what he thought about being the next to wear the spider costume. But a reprimand from Rauul froze him in place. As they swarmed up his back, Ormis ran over and placed his hands either side of his face. When they were covered to the wrists his draw yawned into existence. The spiders clenched and in the relative darkness before the next pulse of mist light Kye saw the ghost of a man wrapped around Dorian’s body. It funnelled into the exorcist and the spiders collapsed for the last time. He made ready to track them again, but couldn’t see them anymore.

  Ormis staggered to the nearest tree and braced against it like a man about to vomit. Yellow light erupted from his face, burnt through the tree and streaked away, lighting up the forest. It separated into streamers as it faded, taking the look of a huge ghost spider, frozen in a pounce.

  Shadow and mist light reclaimed the forest and Ormis sagged against the tree. This was the second exorcism Kye had witnessed and it occurred to him they were the only times the exorcist lost his rigidity; the only times he looked vulnerable. No one went to assist him. They kept their distance, just as Kring did the last time. They waited for him to recover and come to them. ‘The spiders were bound to the spirit of an exorcist… Izle killed him and used a spirit meld to bind them together.’

  They all gawped, unable to comprehend the cruelty of such an abominable act.

  The Old Dog Springs

  Kass Riole slept, his mist stone pulsing in a steady rhythm, staining his pillow with a contracting and expanding pool of green light. His sleep was thin. His mind was deeply troubled and even in his dreams it refused to abandon the circumstances surrounding the King’s death and the re-emergence of Izle Rohn. It was warm when he turned in and he had decided to leave the balcony shutters open. Gentle currents caressed the drapery and exercised his oil lamps, causing shadows to gyrate on the walls.

  His eyes blinked open and the hairs on the back of his neck stood to attention. There was a spirit in his room. Most people would have cowered in response to what he was feeling, but he was a veteran exorcist and he made the transition from sleep to wakefulness with little outward signs. He closed his eyes and rolled onto his back. To an observer he was just an old man shifting pressure around his tired bones. But inside, his mind was narrowing to a fine focus.

  He was one of the rare few born with Membrane sensitivity and his years as an exorcist had sharpened and refined it. But even a commoner with blunt senses would have sensed his late night visitor. For the Membrane was bulging so much, it felt as though it was going to tear.

  Most professions worked with a medium; carpenters with wood and farmers with soil. Exorcists worked with the Membrane and he focused on it now, reading its tension and pinpointing his visitor’s size and location. It was hovering at the foot of his bed and it was easily the most tangible spirit he had ever felt. He wiggled to the edge of his bed and stuck a leg out, as if escaping the warmth of his sheets. In the same way heat diminished with the distance from a fire, so did the power of a draw. He didn’t want a spirit this powerful at liberty in Irongate and he wanted to ignite his draw as close to it as possible. He sat up in a groggy pretence of adjusting his sheets and when his foot was planted on the floor he lurched forwards and fired it up.

  The bulge in the Membrane puckered and split apart, reshaping itself into a funnel that emptied into his draw. He drew as hard as he could, meaning to surprise the spirit and exorcise it quickly. But it was the mental equivalent of lifting an iron ball with buttered hands and to his dismay it remained fixed in place.

  ‘The old dog springs,’ said a voice from the Membrane, ‘but he has neither teeth nor claws.’ Invisible fingers slipped around his throat, tightening in a burning vice that severed his draw. It lifted him clear of the bed and he grabbed it with both hands to support his weight. The patch of emptiness at the foot of his bed shimmered like an oven and his eyes bulged as he stared into its boiling nothingness.

  ‘Whatever happened to the great Kass Riole?’ it said, turning him in the air as if to examine him. ‘To think I once admired you... I came here hoping for a test. But your draw is like that of a child pulling water from a well!’

  Kass kicked the air, the pain in his hip forgotten, his throat pulsing with blocked blood vessels and stars flashing in his eyes.

  ‘Feel my power! I could crush your throat right now and devour your shade as it rises… Leave your sagging flesh on your fine linen for the guards to find.’

  The fingers slipped from his neck and he dropped to the bed in a choking heap.

  ‘Perhaps it was unfair to catch you unaware. Perhaps you’d like time to wake up and try again.’ There was a deep rumble of laughter. ‘Breathe Kass Riole, breathe. This is not your night to die.’

  The air seethed patiently while he rasped for air.

  ‘Who are you?’ he croaked when he got his breath under control.

  ‘You know me and you know who sent me.’

  ‘Izle?’

  ‘Very good.’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘To humiliate you in front of the citizens you serve and to strip you of your undeserved reputation. After that�
�� Perhaps then I will devour your soul.’

  ‘Where’s Izle?’

  ‘Coming… But only after you are gone.’

  There was a thudding on his chamber door followed by the voice of a tower guard. ‘High Exorcist! Is everything alright?’

  Kass tried to shout a warning, but what passed his throat was only a breathy croak. As he raised his breath to try again the spirit drifted away, stretching the Membrane like a tumour moving beneath skin. His bookshelf toppled from the wall, spewing its contents with a thwack and clatter.

  The door burst open and one of the tower guards stepped through with a drawn sword. He took two steps, hesitating when he saw him knelt on the bed nursing his throat. Kass waved him away but he crossed to him anyway, either not understanding the gesture or choosing to ignore it.

  ‘Lord Riole, are you alright?’

  ‘Go, quickly… A spirit…’

  The guard was yanked from his feet and driven against the vaulted ceiling, his skull imploding with the sound of a crab being smashed on a rock. He fell as a dead weight, thudding to the floor in a spray of blood, his sword clanging to the floor.

  ‘You have languished in the Caliste too long and I am here to slaughter and torment the citizens of Irongate. They will call on you and you will fail them… And when they have lost faith in the Caliste a public spectacle will be contrived to frame your death. Your end is near Kass Riole and it is Izle’s pleasure you be forewarned of it.’

  The opposite wall came into focus as the seething spirit vacated his room and slipped out through the open balcony. He climbed off the bed and limped to the tower guard, but all hope for him was vanquished when he saw the crushed shell of his skull and the oblique angle of his neck. His name was Arloc and as he stared into the dark pool forming around his head he thought about the wife and three children he left behind. He started for the door to summon help, but when a distant scream pierced the night he limped onto his balcony instead. As he looked across the city a second scream cut the air and a cascade of lights winked on in the market quarter. He hobbled back inside and began to change; a single phrase repeating in his head: They will call on you and you will fail them.