Absence_Mist and Shadow

by J. B. Forsyth

  Kring faced the black shape as it writhed in the shadows, listening to its sporadic bubbling as Kye’s footfalls faded away. He could have backed away after him, but it didn’t cross his mind.

  When he saw it gathering to strike the boy he thought he was too late. But Kye had spoken a word that sounded like a name and it shrank back from him. It was clear the boy had reason to think it was another one of Izle’s abominations, and if that were true, it would serve his purpose very well indeed.

  He sensed the God of Battle enter the tunnel and spread another canvas.

  Killing Karkus had shattered his heart. But the pieces had hardened into a cold lump of vengeance. He stared at the thing as it squirmed: unmoved by its foulness. He would hack and cleave his brother’s name into it until he could hack and cleave no more. He hoped Toragin had brought a vibrant palette, for he intended this work to be a masterpiece – a magnificent canvas to make his brother proud. With a roar that seemed to startle the abomination he lunged forward.

  Kye looked back when he heard the roar and was rewarded with a sight that would haunt his dreams for many years to come. The giant was silhouetted in the light of his flame. Beyond him, something boiled and seethed in the shadows. His eyes strained, trying to make sense of the glistening surfaces that moved in and out of the light and the thick eel-like feelers that projected from the darkness and snaked along the wall. He got a sense of something turned inside out – something stitched together from waste on a slaughterhouse floor. And it was huge. Too big to have flowed through the walls. He remembered the thick slime dripping from the cavern ceiling and the idea that such a thing had been suspended from the rock above him was like an infusion of ice.

  He watched Kring leap forward, bringing his blades to bear amongst its feelers and folds. The thing peeled its sticky limbs from the walls and closed around him – the same way some of the jungle flowers closed around insects. The battle raged mostly in the shadows - revealed only in highlights by the erratic swirling of fierak light. He caught glimpses of flailing feelers and rolling wet flanks studded with shining eyes and warty sacs. And he got glimpses of Kring’s broad back and cleaving steel. He heard the giant’s grunts, the monster’s gurgles of pain and the sick sound of cloven flesh.

  He didn’t know how long it lasted, but he watched until the finish; when the fieraks disappeared and the tunnel was plunged into darkness. He heard Kring one last time – a cry dedicated to his brother: Karkus! It echoed along the tunnel, fading into a silence so deep and ominous it rang in his ears.

  He stared into the blackness, unsure what had happened. His ears strained, hoping to hear Kring, but he heard nothing. He knew he should go – to use the time the giant had given him to get Della safely away. But without knowing if he was still alive, he couldn’t bring himself to leave. So he stood there for some time, summoning the courage to break the silence. ‘Kring?’

  He cringed at the sound of his voice, half expecting a reply in the form of a wet feeler on his face. But when silence settled once more, he knew the thing was either dead or gone.

  ‘Kring!’

  When there was no response this second time he knew Kring was dead. He turned with a heavy heart and inched along the tunnel – finding his way by sliding his hand along the wall. As he went he remembered Kring juggling by the campfire and his kind words when he helped him with his hammock. And he remembered his elation when the giant crawled from Fyool’s lair and saved them from the quaggar. In the darkness he began to cry and with no spare hand to wipe at his tears, they ran down his face and dripped off his nose.

  The tunnel angled upwards and after taking the left turn a door opened in front of him. Ormis appeared in the resulting column of light and he rushed by him into the storeroom. Suula was there, sitting on one of the stools with a hand to her head. Karkus was still lying in the centre of the cavern, but Kring had repositioned him. He was on his back now, arms folded over his chest and his tattoos aligned in rows of symbols.

  He lowered Della to the floor, rubbing at his neck while Ormis crouched over her.

  ‘She’s alive!’ said the exorcist in disbelief. He reached down and spanned her face with his fingers. He scoured her for a long time – eyes vacant, body statuesque. When he finally withdrew he gave Kye a black look. ‘Her body survived the exorcism, but I can’t find her soul.’

  It was what Kye was beginning to suspect and he looked down at her with a sinking despair.

  ‘Where’s Kring?’

  ‘There was a monster,’ he replied through a lump in his throat. ‘He saved us.’ It was all he could bring himself to say, but his red eyes and damp cheeks told the exorcist the rest.

  ‘Are you sure?’

  He nodded and a fresh wave of tear began to flow.

  Ormis stood up with a look of genuine sadness in his eyes. He looked like he was about to console him, but a shout from Suula turned their heads. ‘Mist!’

  She was pointing at the tunnel that led back to the cavern. Ghostly serpents of mist were snaking around the corner and winding their way forwards. Ormis looked at the opposite tunnel and after a brief hesitation he gathered Della in his arms and went to the other door instead. ‘In here quick.’

  Suula pulled it open and Kye followed Ormis in. The mist was half way across the cavern when the tracker stepped in and closed the door, breaking off a tendril that was reaching after her. It sank down, spreading to a thin layer on the floor.

  The room was empty and Kye thought there was a good chance it was a holding cell for whoever or whatever they had been feeding to Gomsa. Ormis lowered Della to the floor then joined Suula at the door, removing his shirt and packing it against the cracks, blocking mist from seeping in.

  ‘We’ll see out the night in here,’ he said. ‘What little gets through will go to ground, but the sun will rise before it gets too deep. Once we get a good seal, we’ll take turns holding the girl.’

  They passed the night without a single word between them and Kye had plenty of time to appreciate the change in his companions. Suula had lost her feline poise and from time to time she would close her eyes and sway; looking like she was going to faint. And the exorcist didn’t look much better. He spent most of the night staring through the door and rubbing at his face. Kye suspected it wasn’t just the battle with the water spirit that was weighing so heavily on him – it was Kring as well. Three days ago the exorcist wanted him arrested at the Wall – but he got the feeling he was mourning the giant’s death as much as he was.

  The mist was halfway up their boots when it disappeared into the rock. Kye was holding Della at the time and he slid down the wall, closing his eyes with great relief.

  Man Ablaze

  Della opened her eyes three days later. She was in a round stone brick room with an open doorway and four glassless windows. A bright bar of sunlight was streaming through one, warming her from the waist down. Kye was slumped by her side, snoring away with his arms folded and his chin on his chest. But it came as no surprise to her. She knew he was there long before she woke up.

  She never expected to rise into her body again. She had fled into her darkest memory, but somehow Kye’s voice had found her there; telling her she was safe and that everything would be alright. It allowed her to drift to the place she had meant to go – the sunny lawn outside the hideaway, around which all her old friends were gathered. And when she arrived, Kye was there too – a kind faced bystander who began beckoning her away. In the end he convinced her to leave and she had risen from her memory, reconnecting with her body in cautious increments. When she felt the ridge of his shoulder and heard his laboured breath, she realised he was carrying her. He rested at regular intervals during which she flopped in cool grass, listening to distant birdsong. At those times he shook her and spoke close to her ear - imploring her to wake up. A voice that got louder with every stop. She felt him lowering her to floor a few minutes ago, but he hadn’t spoken this time. By the look of him he had gone straight to sleep.

  She
watched him for a while; taking in his filthy clothes and tangled hair, wondering why he had risked so much to help her. But she was pleased he was here now and the nearness of him was calming. The last time they were together in the flesh, she had thought of him as a troublesome boy who had gotten mixed up in something that wasn’t his business. But the merging of their souls had forged something new between them. They had connected on a deeper level than nature normally allowed; the repercussions of which were yet to be revealed.

  She decided to let him sleep and tried to raise herself to a sitting position. But her hands wouldn’t separate. She looked down and was surprised to see her wrists and ankles bound together with rope.

  ‘You’re awake,’ said Kye, lifting his head. He twisted onto his knees and regarded her with relief. ‘Are you alright? I wasn’t sure if you’d ever wake up.’

  ‘I ache all over, but besides that I’m fine.’ She raised her hands. ‘Why am I tied up.’

  ‘It was just a precaution. Karkus tried to feed you to a monster, but you’re safe now.’ She looked at him in horror. ‘We’re back in the tower again. The one they were keeping you in when you warned us about the spider creature, remember?’ She didn’t know anything about a spider creature, but remembered escaping the tower to warn them they were in danger. It wasn’t far from where she devoured one of Izle’s spirits. ‘We weren’t sure what you’d be like if you ever woke up. The last time we saw you…You were all…You know?’

  She more than knew. The last time he saw her she was a mist poisoned wraith who tried to use his body to run away from Ormis. She was back to her old self now, but the wraith was a black stain that would haunt her conscience forever more. She looked away, feeling unworthy of his gaze. ‘That wasn’t me Kye, any of it. It was the mist and the shadow.’ She began to cry and tears streaked her dirty face.

  He reached out and took hold of her bound hands. His touch was warm and comforting, but for some reason it made her tears come faster. ‘I know. I knew you’d be alright once you woke up, but Ormis wouldn’t listen and he told Suula to tie you up anyway.’ He smiled, but his face collapsed when he registered the fear in her eyes.

  ‘The exorcist’s here!?’

  But before he could answer, she heard someone bounding up the tower’s stairwell.

  Him!

  A liquid cramp gripped her body. In the exorcist’s purgefire she had suffered an agony that surpassed any she could have imagined - an unearthly pain that seared the fabric of her soul. And now he was coming for her again. She jerked to her feet, stiffness and fatigue fleeing her bones like startled crows. She made for the nearest window and was brought down by her ankle bindings. But she was up again in a flash, shuffling away from Kye who was grabbing at her shoulders and pleading with her to stay calm. She managed to get to the window, but he held tight; preventing her from climbing out. There was a hundred-foot drop at the other side and she would have jumped rather than face the exorcist again. She spun around as his boots thundered up the last few steps, flattening herself to the wall; chest heaving and fingernails clawing the stone.

  As the exorcist charged into the room time slowed down. To her he was a man ablaze – his eyes, the tips of black skewers upon which he would roast her again. She felt the crushing oven at the centre of him reaching out and her terror was so great she began rising into Absence. But Kye slipped his hand into hers and she felt the bond between her body and soul strengthen again.

  ‘Wait!’ he said, stepping in front of the exorcist and holding up a warding hand. ‘She’s back to herself and you’re frightening her. She thinks you’re going to exorcise her again.’

  Ormis watched her squirm against the wall, searching her face for the truth of his words. ‘What’s your name girl? … Out with it now.’

  She made no reply. Her breath was rapid and she couldn’t fix words to it.

  ‘Go on tell him,’ Kye said, squeezing her hand. ‘It’ll be alright.’ Somehow his voice reached into her panic and she managed to get her breathing under control.

  ‘Della.’

  ‘What’s the last thing you remember?’

  ‘Returning… to my body… Feeling Izle pressing his fingers to my face and… taking his shadow back.’

  The Membrane tension collapsed and the oven she had imagined inside him ran cold.

  ‘You survived an exorcism,’ he said with utter disbelief. ‘How is that possible?’

  She didn’t know, but she gave him her best guess. ‘I was Absent… not dead.’

  ‘Anchored to this world by living flesh,’ he said and behind his eyes she could see this strange new concept fighting for acceptance within his chiselled beliefs. ‘What you can do defies the teachings of the Caliste. I cannot begin to understand it; but understand it we must. When we return to Irongate you will be detained until our interests are satisfied... But I assure you we are no longer the barbaric order most people still believe us to be and you’ll be treated with respect. If you co-operate there should be no reason why you can’t continue with your life in a way that pleases you… But before I leave this room I need to scour you again.’ Della’s fear spiked and she squeezed Kye’s hand and shook her head. ‘You’ve been in contact with Izle Rohn and you have to be proven pure.’

  ‘Let him do it,’ said Kye. ‘Then he’ll leave you alone.’

  ‘I can’t. You don’t know what it was like.’

  ‘He brought me here to help you remember. Please Della. Let him look if he needs to. If Izle’s left something inside you, he can help.’

  She looked into Kye’s eyes and saw he truly believed what he saying. And she knew there was no escaping it anyway. If she didn’t comply, the exorcist would force his scour on her and it would be much worse.

  ‘Alright… But I need to prepare.’ He nodded his agreement and she slowed her breathing, siphoning Kye’s calmness through his hand. ‘Okay. I’m ready.’

  Ormis stepped forward and spread his fingers over her face. She winced and flinched back, bumping her head on the hard edge of the window. There was no heat in his scour, but it was an ordeal nevertheless. He stayed in her mind much longer than he did the first time, switching between draw and scour in an effort to dislodge anything that might be hiding inside her.

  ‘That’s enough,’ she heard Kye say from a great distance. ‘You’re hurting her.’

  A moment later the exorcist withdrew and he stepped away. ‘I know about the whispers and the shadow you took from them. We searched the caverns and tunnels beneath Joebel, but there was no sign of Izle. The toruck’s that served him are all dead and besides you I have no lines of inquiry. I can see you’re distressed, but you need to tell me everything you know right away. We think Izle killed the King and we need to know what his plans are.’

  The death of the King was news to Kye and Della and they exchanged a look of horror. King Lyrus was widely admired and they were both stricken by the news.

  ‘Go on,’ said Kye, ‘Tell him.’ His hold on her was firm and reassuring and his voice leaked into her like sunshine. She relaxed further, peeling away from the wall and taking the air deeper into her chest. Then with a flush of courage, she looked the exorcist in the eye.

  ‘The shadow was part of him and it was like he was dissolved into me.’ Ormis nodded as if he knew as much already. ‘He sent the monster to get it and when it failed he sent the torucks to the gaol. Once he got me to Joebel he took the shadow back, but I knew he was going to punish me and so I retreated inside my mind. That’s all I remember.’

  ‘Why was the monster in Agelrish in the first place?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Did you learn anything of their plans?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You must have seen or heard something!’ he said with a flare of frustration. ‘You were with them for days.’

  Perhaps there were clues if she had been looking, but she was preoccupied with grief the whole time. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said and meant it. On the matter of stopping Izle,
they were well aligned.

  Ormis paced the room, talking to the stone floor. ‘If word has got out the King is dead; there’ll be three days mourning before the first Reader Ceremony begins.’

  Della gasped - her eyes widening with stunned recollection. A clear memory jumped into her head, transporting her in place and time. Its implications washed through her like a wave, drowning all remaining fear and leaving something more powerful in its wake - an ancient sense of responsibility so great her body tingled with it. ‘He means to go before The Reader.’

  Ormis stopped pacing and turned to face her. ‘I don’t think so. The boy told us about your vision of a Reader Ceremony. But Izle tried once before and was rejected. He has sunk so far into the dirt since then that the Reader would lop his head off if he so much as stepped into the enclosure. What you saw was probably wishful thinking.’

  ‘He’ll do it anyway.’

  The exorcist narrowed his eyes. ‘Why so?’

  ‘He thinks he can hide from it.’

  ‘Nonsense!’

  ‘He hid from you didn’t he?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘At the tree house when you scoured me.’ Ormis glared. ‘He hid from me for a long time before that – putting ideas in my head without me knowing. And he did it while he was divided and weak. Now he’s whole again and more powerful. He might think he can hide his true self from The Reader?’

  She saw the square peg of her reasoning penetrate the round opening of his ear. There was a tightening of his face, but he raised no argument against it. ‘Even if such a feat were possible, how would it serve him to become King? Once his identity became known, Marshal Beredrim would arrested him. No one is above the law in the Westland.’