Absence_Mist and Shadow

by J. B. Forsyth

  He sensed his chance and took it. He leant his sword against the wall, grabbed Della by her shirt and hoisted her against the rock – plunging their upper bodies into the hungry darkness above the flame light. Then he bent at the hip and she flopped over his shoulders just as something bubbled and slurped above him. He snatched his sword up and straightened, thrusting its quivering tip in the air. His light revealed only empty cavities, but with Della across his shoulders he was unable to see directly above him. As he backed into the tunnel another thick droplet splattered onto the floor in the exact spot he had been standing. Once inside, he braced himself; expecting the cavern’s slimy resident to drop into the entrance. But nothing appeared. He knew it was there though, hanging from the ceiling just beyond the threshold of the tunnel, for it was dripping more of its thick mucus onto the floor: splat... splat... splat. In the end he convinced himself that whatever was in the cavern had decided to stay. Nevertheless, he backed down the tunnel another fifty yards before turning around and hurrying away.

  It waited for the boy to leave then slid down the section of wall he illuminated with his fire. Darkness had reclaimed the markings, but it pushed its wet membranes against the rock, feeling the deep engravings and using its sense of taste to visualise those filled with blood. On some level it understood the markings were symbols, representing thoughts and ideas. But it couldn’t decipher them. It remained stuck to the wall for some time; pulsating with stomach cramps as it started to remember…

  It remembered a city built around a colossus and a house on a cobbled street with a red door and a window box full of flowers. And it remembered a woman with gentle brown eyes who sung lullabies and kept her hair in a yellow bow. Terrible longing raged through its hearts. It let out a sorrowful gurgle and peeled itself from the wall. These were the memories that gave it the nightmares, compelling it to carve the markings and fill them with blood. In another life it had once been a man. Izle Rohn turned that man into the abomination it was now and with time it forgot all about him.

  But the sight of the inscriptions brought it all back…

  It remembered the day it was bound with its new body – how the man it once was screamed and thrashed at the sudden horror of wearing his new feelers. How he retched at the roll of his membranous stomachs and the hideous stink of his secretions. It remembered how Izle mitigated his revulsion with soothing scours and how he taught him to tame the primitive intelligence that inhabited his new body. With time he had become it and the man it had once been faded into the back of its mind.

  It learnt to coordinate its suckers and feelers - to collapse and elongate its cavities so it could slurry through narrow passages or stretch into a lumpy mat. When the first quaggar was dropped down the chute a formidable hunger took over and it brought its strange limbs to bear gleefully, tearing off chunks of him and stuffing them into its mouths. There was great pleasure as the flesh stretched its stomach sacs, but deep disgust followed and it heaved half the body parts back onto the cavern floor. With time its disgust faded away - no match for the constant demands of its ravenous bellies.

  The man he had once been refused to fade entirely and would often step forward in its mind, reminding it of how things really were. Twice it tried to kill Izle for making it into such an abomination and twice it failed – its master punishing it with painful scours and periods of starvation. It felt a fresh wave of anger now and clenched so hard some of its bladders leaked onto the wall. Next time Izle paid a visit, it would try to kill him a third time.

  It slid over to the tunnel as something more urgent resurfaced. Its stomachs were hurting badly now. When the boy lifted the girl against the wall her sweet redolence wafted up to the ceiling – an aroma so exquisite it spilt from its hiding place and slid over to them. And if the boy had been a second slower, it would have taken them both. It was already detaching its suckers when he raised his flame and it had to use every ounce of its remaining suction force just to stay in place.

  It stretched out now, covering the mouth of the tunnel like a tumorous skin. It sniffed deeply and gurgled through its mucous clogged air pipes. The smell of them was beginning to fade. This might well be a test, but it didn’t care about pleasing Izle anymore. Its hunger was enormous and it would sate its bellies with them before they reached the door. But it had to be careful. It didn’t want to get burnt again, so its first task was to separate the boy from his fire. With a gurgle of anticipation, it set off, pouring into a deep channel in the tunnel wall and beginning to flow.

  The Abyss

  Kye hurried away with Della yoked over his shoulders. The tunnel was narrow enough for his weak light to reach both sides, but what he saw wasn’t comforting. The walls and ceiling were deeply fissured and there were gaping holes that revealed other passages running parallel to his own. He went past these with a spurt of fear, thrusting his flame in to deter anything that might be lurking inside.

  After a while he began to rethink the wisdom of using the tunnel. It had taken a number of twists and turns, but hadn’t angled upwards yet. And now with every step he became ever more sure he was moving further away from the cavern at the top of the chute. He stopped and considered waiting for Ormis. But as he stared into the darkness he heard a strange noise. At first he thought it was a distant waterfall, but when it got louder he knew he was mistaken. It was the sound of rushing sludge and it was coming straight for him. All thoughts of waiting for Ormis evaporated and he began to run - no longer bothering to check the fissures with his flame.

  But the sound soon caught up with him, becoming a bubbling and squelching slurry that filled the tunnel’s walls and ceiling. He froze - his mouth suddenly dry enough to store salt. Something whipped out of the darkness and struck his wrist. He yelped and would have dropped his sword if not for his white knuckled grip on it. He saw something that looked like a length of sheep gut and slashed at its snaking tip. It withdrew into a hole where something much larger shifted in his light – a glistening flank covered in warty tumours and blinking pockets that might have been eyes. It slurped away, but a sinister gurgle told him it hadn’t gone very far.

  He stood there shivering with fear; his heart beating so hard he felt it pulsing in his ears. Cold sweat wrapped him like a damp towel and he gripped Della like a talisman. He backed away, but struck something hard and spun around with a sharp cry – certain the thing in the walls was behind him. But what he discovered was a wedge of rock that forked the tunnel. He looked into both passages and cursed - the choice he had to make, too big and too final. He considered calling for Ormis, but the thought of raising his voice deepened his fear. The silence in the tunnel had a terrible liquid quality and he couldn’t bring himself to ripple it. His lip quivered and his eyes began to well. In any other situation he would have sat down and cried; but the idea of giving up on Della hardened him. He took several deep breaths and walked a short way into both tunnels. The air in the right one was fresher and he hurried down it without looking back.

  It watched the boy go. The choice he made was a good one - though not for him. At the end of the right hand passage was an endless fall or an impossible climb. He would go there and look; but in the end he would come back. All it had to do was curl up and wait. It wouldn’t be easy though; for the smell in the tunnel was maddening. The boy’s skin was leaking a cold sweat that was now seasoned with terror – a good sign he was ready for eating. It found the opening of its favourite ambush cavity and drained in with a slurp that echoed through the darkness.

  Hope leapt into Kye’s heart when he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. As he got closer he saw what looked like a muddy bank topped with grass. But it wasn’t until he arrived at the end of the tunnel that he realised what he was really seeing. For what seemed like an age he could only stare; fully possessed by the spectacle in front of him. When the spell broke and he remembered himself, he spun around with a cold rush - sure his distraction had allowed the horror in the tunnels to creep up behind him. But the tunnel, at least as far
as the daylight allowed him to see, was empty. He lowered Della to the floor, propped her against the wall and looked out again.

  He was standing on the edge of a great chasm and what he had thought was a grass topped bank, was actually a sheer cliff face topped with jungle ruins; perhaps a full mile away. Ormis had mentioned an abyss when talking about the mist and he realised this was it. He took a step forward to peer over the edge and was at once gripped by fear. The chasm dropped to an impossible depth, so deep the two sides seemed to converge. If there was a bottom, he couldn’t see it. And there was something down there, some invisible force that began to appeal to his new senses. He became aware of the Membrane and felt it bending over the sides of the chasm, stretching away to somewhere a million miles beneath his feet. His knees felt suddenly weak and he stepped back from the brink, letting out the breath he was holding. The whole thing seemed alien - something outside of nature.

  He checked back over his shoulder then looked out over the chasm again. The cliff on the other side was pocked with a number of openings, all at various heights. One of them was directly across from him and he realised it might once have been a continuation of the tunnel. It wasn’t too far below the forest and he thought if the same was true for his side, he might be able to climb up. So he laid down and pulled himself forward until his head was sticking out over the edge.

  The first thing he saw as he looked north along the cliff face was a waterfall. It arced over the top of the Abyss and disappeared into a vast cloud of rising vapour in which a huge rainbow was currently on display. He watched in awe for a few seconds, but when he turned to look upward he shrank back into the tunnel with a spasm of horror. All along the cliff, giant tree roots were straining to reach him – the nearest one curling its hairy fingers into the top of the tunnel and feeling around.

  He sat up with a sinking despair. He had made the wrong choice at the fork and now there was nowhere left to go. He thought about going back and taking the other tunnel, but his insides balked at the idea. The only sensible plan was to wait for Ormis. When Suula recovered she would have no difficulty sniffing them out. He hadn’t washed in days and he was streaked with jungle filth and slick with sweat.

  In the light of day Della’s appearance was even more worrying. He could see the rawness of her wounds, her chalky face and sunken eyes. He reached over, shook her again and listened for her breath. Alive, but unresponsive. He had come to the Eastland to help her, but what good was he now? She had suffered enormously in the exorcist’s purge and he was beginning to wonder how much of her had survived. Maybe all he could expect was a living body without a soul. But the thought made him shudder and he was quick to dismiss it. She had already proved herself to be remarkably resilient and while she drew breath there was still hope.

  Time spun out and as the shadows made slow progress up the opposite cliff, he thought about his parents. They would have been told of his involvement with Della by now. Bill would be angry and his mother indifferent. Neither would be heartbroken. And he couldn’t imagine either of them traveling to Irongate to get him. The thought hurt, but he had decided to run away from his parents emotionally as well as physically and there was no going back now.

  The daylight had weakened considerably when he got up to stretch his legs. The sky was a deep blue in the east and the shadows had climbed out of the chasm, almost to the top of the tallest trees. He didn’t realise the significance of this until he looked into the Abyss and was rewarded with a new horror. Way down between the two converging sides was a seam of pulsating green light.

  The mist!

  Ormis had told him it came out of the Abyss at sundown and he had forgotten all about it. He watched it rise and because he couldn’t judge the depth of the chasm, he was unable to judge its speed. But if the mist flowed over the rim at sundown, it wouldn’t be long before it swept into the tunnel.

  He regarded Della with a terrible dread, knowing he had to go back to the fork and try the other passage. If they stayed, they would be forced to breathe the mist and if that didn’t finish them, the slime dripper would. He looked back over the side. The mist was broadening to a wide strip and he could now see faces on its swirling surface. He fought down his panic and tried to think. Whatever waited in the tunnels - the cavern at the bottom of the chute had to be its lair. The fork wasn’t too far back and if he could make it into the other passage he would be moving away from it again. More scared than he had ever been in his life, he hoisted Della onto his shoulder and set off into the gloom.

  Magnificent Canvas

  Stinking darkness enveloped him. Fear swarmed him like flies around a carcass and with each hard won surge of courage he could only swat them away for a few seconds. The walls gaped with deep scars - hundreds of black hiding places with the potential to harbour a slippery horror. He stepped quickly past the shallow ones and stabbed the deepest ones with flame. Despite his fear, he knew he couldn’t afford to be too cautious. If he probed every last crack, the mist would catch him before he reached the junction and they would never escape. But the more hiding places he left unchecked, the more nervous he became and he took to spinning around every few steps to stare into the darkness - sure something was about to slip from an overlooked fissure. Going forwards became increasingly hard. The shadows grew thicker and more reluctant to give way and with each step they retreated over ridges and cracks in such a sly way they courted his imagination; conjuring black feelers and bringing him up short with his heart climbing out of his throat.

  He reached the junction and buttonholed around it; his back tight to the dividing wedge of rock. A few steps into the new tunnel he began to speed up in the knowledge he was moving away from the slime dripper’s lair. But after several more steps he froze. The stink of the thing had never gone away, but in the last few seconds it had become concentrated enough to make him gag. Had he gone wrong at the junction and taken the tunnel back to the cavern? Even if he had, the smell had never been this bad. It was as if the source was all around him now. He spun around twice, sweeping his light over a section of wall replete with pocks and gashes - some so deep and dark they looked like hollow eyes and mocking grins. He saw no sign of the monster, but the stench was so bad and so intimate, it felt like it was condensing on his skin. With his next breath he inhaled a foul vapour which brought a taste of spoilt meat and excrement into his mouth. He gagged and was backing away as something wet slapped him on the knuckles and knocked his sword from his hand. He watched in horror as it dropped through a crack in the tunnel floor. A teardrop of flame remained for a split second, then it collapsed into the rock as the fieraks went after the blade. Darkness enveloped him with the weight and finality of a death shroud and he could only listen as the sword clattered to its final resting place far below.

  The next sound unhinged his knees: a deep two toned gurgle unlike anything he had heard before. But as alien as it was, there was no mistaking its glee. Something huge slopped down behind him; as if some enormous animal were being eviscerated and its guts pouring into the tunnel. In its wake was a waft of air so pungently vile he almost passed out. He wanted to run, but the smell was so debilitating he struggled just to stay on his feet. He heard the thing unfolding its slippery appendages and gripped Della tighter. Something slimy slapped onto his face – like a cloth covered with warm frog spawn. He stood rigid, unable to fulfil the urge to rip it away. It slopped around his face, smothering his nose and mouth. It was a massage of spoilt offal that should have discharged his stomach. But his terror was so great it had seized up his bodily functions like rusty gears.

  A mucus dripping feeler fixed on his neck, sucked up a pocket of sweat from behind his collar bone and slipped inside his shirt; coming to rest over his hammering heart. A gurgle of pleasure in his ear now. The feelers withdrew and Kye had a strong intuition of something gathering to strike. But a word jumped into his head – a word his subconscious mind had tucked away for this very circumstance. It was the word he had seen scrawled all over the wall
at the bottom of the chute and he spoke it with urgency, forcing it through the choked hole of his throat.

  ‘G…G…Gomsa!’

  If he had spoken it a second later, he would have been screaming it from inside a dilated stomach sac – a membrane so thick it would have silenced the sound. But he heard a wet spasm of limbs instead.

  ‘G…Gomsa…That’s your name isn’t it?’ he said, shivering as if he were standing in a tunnel of ice. His question echoed away and a heavy silence pressed in on him from all sides.

  ‘I know w… what Izle did to you.’ These were the hardest words he had ever spoken and they came out in a pitch he didn’t recognise. ‘You w… w… were once a man…’ He could hear feelers sliding up and down the walls and a huge mass seething behind him.

  As his mind searched for another life prolonging sentence, Kring appeared in an orb of green flame light. At first he thought it was a trick of his mind – a hopeful illusion to ameliorate his imminent death. But then the giant spoke. ‘Get behind me quick.’ His gaze was fixed over Kye’s shoulder and his face was chiselled granite. ‘Follow the tunnel. Keep your hand on the left wall and take the first left turn. The door’s not far. Go now and don’t look back.’ Kye tried to, but he was rusted to the spot. ‘Go now! Ormis and Suula await you.’ The change in the giant’s tone oiled his joints and he squeezed past him, feeling his way along the wall.

  The thing saw the giant arrive and it watched the boy go; the word he had spoken still reverberating through its head.

  Gomsa.

  Yes, it had heard that word before. It was the name it had scrawled all over the cavern wall. It was its… his name. The word echoed through its mind over and over again, each time spoken with a different voice. There was the kind voice of his mother, the excited voices of his friends and the scalding voice of his teacher. He saw the busy streets of a city and could smell its spices and filth. He saw a lofty fortress built into a black mountain face and a colossal figure looming over a sea of roof tops. The boy had spoken his name and it had entered its mind like a magic key, unlocking the door behind which the man was imprisoned.