by Joe Hart
We rounded another curve, and I nearly collapsed with relief. There was an opening ahead, and I could see a swath of trees growing beyond. But what made me rejoice inside was the sight of Ellius standing at the mouth of the passage, his shoulders thrown back in a posture of courage and his eyes smoldering as he looked past us.
We ran, the ground trembling beneath our feet. A stitch in my side threatened to double me over, but I kept going, each leg speaking of denial and collapse with every step.
We broke free of the pathway and rushed toward Ellius, who stretched out his arms and lowered his head. His eyes were closed, and his lips moved with soundless words as we neared. I risked a look back, continuing to jog sideways, unwilling to stop completely.
There were hundreds of the beasts behind us, slithering and scampering. Some were small and some towered over the rest. All were composed of bone and were missing vital pieces, like eyes, lungs, and brains, yet they continued on. I saw one creature composed of nothing but two rear legs, a spine, and a rib cage. It ran almost upright and reminded me of a Jesus lizard sprinting across a watery surface.
The creatures moved in a wave toward the path’s opening, and at that moment I prepared myself to die. I couldn’t run much farther, and the things that emerged from the bone field seemed to be tireless. They would eventually catch up to me and snatch me from my feet, to crush me inside their bleached jaws. I’d pictured death before, but not like this. I’d watched The Notebook with my wife, and that’s how we’d agreed to go: together after we’d spent a lifetime with our children, who were happy and healthy with children of their own. We wanted to slip away simultaneously, two lovers escaping to a new dawn that we hoped would bring eternal happiness.
Now I imagined my family dying here, it this nightmare world of monsters and evil, without hope, without even my comfort. I closed my eyes, praying that everything was a dream. A rushing sound filled my ears, and I looked back again and came to a stop, as my legs refused to take another step.
Two gigantic tree roots pushed their way through the bone pile at the mouth of the passage, their brown trunks twisting and turning as they grew like the fabled beanstalk in the stories of my youth. They shot up from the ground and created an avalanche, as thousands of bones rolled downward, covering the entrance to the field. The monolithic horse creature in the lead turned its long head just as it was swallowed by the wave, and fell beneath the bones with a severed roar.
The roots continued up toward the sky, and just when I thought they would extend forever and pierce the hovering clouds above, they hooked down and flew toward the ground. Their tips dug into the earth and drove through it like two trains passing into a tunnel. The pile of bones continued to cascade into the passage, filling it until the roots fell still after creating a double archway that crossed near the center.
Ellius dropped his hands to his side and raised his head, looking in my direction. The smallest of smiles played across his lips. “Michael, so good to see you again.”
“Woo! That’s the stuff right there!” Kotis called, throwing a bloody fist high in the air. “Clunking wankers got their rights! Woo!”
Scrim swooped down, landing on Kotis’s bloodied forearm. He raised his head and let out a triumphant cry from his long beak.
Fellow smiled and walked to Ellius. The two stared at each other, and then clasped in a tight embrace. After a moment Fellow stepped back, looking Ellius in the face. “You had no trouble traveling here?”
Ellius threw back the branches on his head and laughed. “I’m sure my trip was unremarkable compared to yours, and we were only apart a day and a half! Come, let’s sit near the trees and we’ll talk over a fire.” He turned, regarding me for a moment. “Michael, I’m sure you’re hungry.”
I was about to say no, that I’d been nauseated only minutes ago, but then I noticed the ravenous gnawing at the base of my stomach and realized I was starving. Weakness overcame me and fatigue settled on my back. I nodded. “That would be great.”
Ellius smiled again. “Come then, we’ll rest and recuperate for a bit.” He spun on his heel and headed for the tree line a short distance away. Without another word, we followed him up the hill, in the shade of the everlasting evening.
Chapter 7
The Valley of Souls
The fire crackled and leapt into the air, attempting to take flight into the twilight above us. We sat in a circle around it, each chewing a piece of sinewy meat from skewers Ellius produced from inside his shawl. I didn’t know where he’d gotten the meat, and I didn’t care. The hunger I’d repressed until that point was painful, a burning ball at my core, and I wolfed the greasy food down as though it were lobster. In all actuality, it tasted a little like venison, and being from Minnesota, I was used to the flavor.
Ellius set down his clean skewer and sighed. “Nothing like a bit of feltson to tide you over, is there?”
“What is feltson?” I asked, popping the last of the meat onto the back of my tongue.
“Up until an hour ago he lived in a little hut just over the hill,” Ellius said, jerking a thumb toward the trees behind him.
I froze mid-chew and felt the insides of my cheeks almost blister with revulsion. The warmth in my stomach that had been so satisfying a few minutes ago became a lead brick, yearning to get out. Vomiting wasn’t a conscious thought, but I must have turned white, because at that moment Kotis broke into deep, rumbling laughter that shook his mammoth frame. I swallowed and looked at Ellius, whose eyes twinkled with wicked mirth.
Fellow smiled and patted me on the back. “He’s just having fun. Feltson is a type of animal here, soulless and heavily muscled. One animal provides food for a man for a month.”
I nodded, willing my galloping heart to slow down, and reassured myself that I wasn’t a cannibal.
“I’m sorry, Michael, couldn’t resist,” Ellius said, his eyes still glinting.
“It’s okay,” I said. I massaged my stomach and spit off to one side. My mouth was full of saliva after the receding threat of being sick.
Ellius reached forward, prodding the fire with a stick before tossing his skewer into the flames. “Tell me what transpired on your journey here,” he said at last.
I breathed out and glanced at Kotis and Fellow. Fellow nodded and began to speak. He related our passage through the fog where we initially parted ways, telling of the lying shadows that we encountered. His description of me straying was mercifully brief, and Ellius’s eyes flitted to mine and then away. Fellow continued, finishing up with our flight from the bone field. Silence fell over the group, except for the snapping of the wood in the fire. Ellius pursed his lips and rubbed the side of his face. A few particles of bark flew free of his rough skin and floated on the heat above the flames, until they drifted away out of sight.
“You were very lucky, Michael,” Ellius said at last. “You must take care not to endanger yourself again, your family’s lives depend on you reaching them in time—not to mention the fate of the worlds. Remember, if you perish, no one else can bring your family home. Only blood can bring blood out.”
I nodded. “I’m sorry, I let my emotions get the best of me in the fog. It won’t happen again.” I turned to Kotis and Fellow. “I’m sorry.” Fellow smiled and patted my shoulder before turning back to the flames. Kotis dipped his head, his eyes more soft than I’d seen them. I looked back at Ellius, who gave a small smile of approval. “What was that thing in the bone house back there?” I asked after a few seconds of quiet.
Ellius sighed. “It is the death collector. It carries the bones of the fallen to the field, adding to its piles, always adding.”
“Where did it come from?”
“The fog you traveled through, it once was the King of Shadows there, the chief liar, so to speak. But it had more ambitious ideals than merely presiding over deceit and feeding upon the odd traveler who stumbled into the fog or tried to cross its land. It wanted power, power to govern over another domain. It wanted to be death incarnate. It de
vised a way to cross the Damning River by persuading another soul to take its place as the King of Shadows. But when it left the fog it realized that it had lost its power to bleed life from living things by simply lying to them. So it began to collect the bones of the dead, amassing what you saw earlier.”
“So it’s something like the Grim Reaper?” I asked. Ellius tilted his head to the side. “Like death itself? On Earth death is sometimes represented by a hooded figure carrying a scythe.”
“It may be a mirroring of your world, yes,” Ellius said after a time.
“Those things that chased us, those were its children, weren’t they?” I asked.
“Yes. Irony, it seems, is fluid and defies boundaries. The death collector was alone when it left the mist in search of more power, and soon it was driven mad, if it wasn’t before. Its only solace was creating life from death, a strange circle that power has a habit of constructing. The semblance of life you saw today was its attempt at creation.”
I felt sick again as I recalled the shambling bones, animated by a power I didn’t understand. “It wanted my blood,” I said, gazing across the fire. “It said my blood would bring its children life.”
Ellius shifted his eyes to Kotis and Fellow before looking at me. “Human blood is a precious commodity here for those who know how to use it. It was unfortunate to run across such a creature, but I doubt it will forget the impression you left on it—literally.”
I frowned. “You talk like it’s not dead.”
Ellius’s face became grave. “That is because it isn’t. You merely disabled it by crushing it beneath the spire. It cannot die. Like all things here, the collector has its function and place. To kill it would be the same as attempting to kill death in your world.”
I blinked. The idea of the thing alive in the field that I could still see was unnerving. I imagined the mouth of the path erupting in a hailstorm of bones as the thing rushed out to claim me and drag my lifeless body back to its children, to make them whole. I shuddered.
“Best not to think on it too long,” Kotis said, leaning forward. Scrim let out a short screech, seeming to agree. “You can get lost in your own head easier than in the wild, that’s for sure,” he continued, rubbing the wound on his chest with his opposite hand. Ellius had cleaned the gash before supper and announced that the behemoth would survive.
“‘The wild,’” I repeated, glancing at Ellius. “Is that where you traveled to meet us here?”
He laughed and shook his head. “No, Michael. I move amongst the trees as their brother, but I am confined to only where they grow. As you noticed, there were no forests anywhere that you traveled, thus I cannot exist there either.”
He stood and stretched his arms out, the bark beneath his shawl rustling with the movement. A gust of wind blew and threw a flurry of leaves into the air around us. I shivered and scooted closer to the fire.
Ellius clapped his hands together with a dry crack and then pointed at me. “I bet you’re cold, Michael. I found something for you.” He spun and hurried away from the fire’s light, and returned a few minutes later carrying something.
“I found it at the base of a tree. It blended in fairly well, so it was only happenstance that I spotted it. Hopefully it fits.” He handed me what was in his hands, and I unfolded it.
It was an olive-drab wool jacket with two large breast pockets. Stains covered nearly every inch of it, but it wasn’t torn anywhere I could see. Something brass on one collar caught the light of the fire, and I looked closer, rubbing my thumb across the textured surface.
“Fifth Division, Victory,” I read, staring at the symbol engraved in the pin. I could make out the design of a tank’s track emblazoned with a lightning bolt. I shook my head.
“What’s it mean?” Fellow asked quietly.
I shrugged, rubbing the pin, cleaning it of dirt and grime. “It’s from a war of my world, the last of two.”
“See if it fits,” Kotis said, gesturing toward the jacket.
I swung it over my shoulders and slipped my arms inside. The wool whispered against my skin, and I smelled a hint of mildew. But the material instantly warmed me and felt wonderful against the cool air. A bulge in one of the chest pockets drew my attention and I reached inside. After some digging, I pulled two objects out and studied them in the firelight. One was a small package about the size of a deck of cards, the faded letters and little crown above them barely discernable on its front.
“Chesterfields,” I said, opening the pack of cigarettes. The tobacco within smelled almost fresh, as if the soldier whose coat I wore had only stepped away briefly.
The other item was heavier and reflected some of the wavering flames. I flicked it open and closed with a loud click.
“What’s that?” Kotis asked.
“Zippo lighter,” I said. “Portable fire.”
Kotis looked offended. “We can make fire wherever we go. All we need is the right rocks and kindling.”
I smiled. “Call it a little magic of my own, then.” My thumb hovered over the small wheel, the urge to rotate it almost irresistible. But I hesitated. If the flame somehow didn’t erupt from the wick, I knew I would feel sad. Perhaps more sad than I’d felt so far. I flipped the cover closed and returned the two items to the same pocket.
I buttoned up the front of the jacket and shifted in my seat. “How’s it look?” I asked.
“Fits you nicely,” Fellow said.
“You look like a prick,” Kotis said and grinned.
I laughed and turned back to Ellius. “Thank you.”
Ellius smiled, his brown cheeks crinkling. “No problem, Michael.” He looked up and then turned in a short circle until he spied the sun. “Well, we should get some sleep before we continue on.”
We all agreed, and I watched Ellius move away to bed down on the ground a few yards outside of the firelight. For some reason I wasn’t particularly tired, so I remained sitting. After a moment I noticed that neither Kotis nor Fellow had moved. I glanced at them, the shadows dancing with the light on their strange faces, and felt a sense of wonder at where I was. The ache of my family’s absence still throbbed in my chest, but I was awestruck that I sat within a few feet of beings that were not human, in a world founded on evil and misfortune. I shook my head, gazing up at the ever-present clouds. Fellow’s soft voice pulled me from my reverie.
“What do you think is above them?” he asked, pointing at the swirling grays overhead.
I stared upward for a while, remembering all the nights that Jane and I had sat on our deck staring up at the clear summer sky, crickets and frogs singing their harmony in the grass, just out of sight. The memory was so poignant I had to blink away a layer of tears before answering.
“Stars,” I said.
Both Fellow and Kotis looked at me. “What are stars?” Fellow asked after a beat.
How could I explain something so elemental and beautiful to someone who didn’t, perhaps couldn’t, understand? “They’re ...” I faltered, but then I felt Jane’s hand in mine, and I swallowed. “They’re points of light in the sky, things so far away you’d never reach them, but you can still see them.” I breathed in the fall air, tasting leaves and dead grass. “They’re beautiful.”
“Maybe it’s different here,” Kotis said in a quiet voice. “Maybe they’re not there at all.” His words were indifferent, but his tone said anything but.
I continued to gaze at the gray sky, searching for a break in the desolation, even though I knew better. “They’re there,” I said finally. “They’re always there, even if you can’t see them.”
We sat in the quiet evening light with our own thoughts, the shadows of the nearby trees falling on us like dark blankets. After a while, Fellow stirred and rose from the log he rested on.
“I’m turning in,” he murmured after offering a sad smile in my direction. His lanky form receded and disappeared as he lay down in the brown grass that coated the field.
“He’s a gentle soul,” Kotis said, as he
stood and moved to the log closer to me. With a grunt he sat down again, and shrugged his shoulders, causing Scrim to readjust his hooked feet. “Gets emotional fairly easy.”
I looked in Fellow’s direction and nodded. “He’s very kind,” I offered.
Kotis blew a breath between his heavy lips. “Oh, never find another that would help you more. We’ve been friends since we were knee-high.”
I nodded, then laughed. Kotis turned toward me, his eyes narrowed. I noticed his expression and shook my head. “I’m not laughing at you. It’s just ... it’s so strange listening to you speak about your childhood friend. It’s very much like where I came from.”
Kotis rubbed his wide jaw. “What Ellius said about mirroring? It’s like that a lot here. Our world, your world, they reflect each other a bit, you know. It only makes sense since they’re connected. Not a day goes by that something from here doesn’t affect something there, and vice versa. Things appear here that weren’t before, like that coat,” he said, pointing to my chest. “That’s been sittin’ in the forest for who knows how long before Ellius picked it up.”
“At least sixty-five years,” I said.
“Yeah, that’s it exactly. How’d it get here? What’s the story with it? Who wore it before?”
“A soldier,” I said. “Someone who drove a tank.”
“What in the bleedin’ hell is a tank?” Kotis asked.
“It’s like an armored ...” I searched for a way to convey how a tank looked. “It’s like a big, rolling beast that breathes fire.”
Kotis’s eyes widened and his eyebrows shot up. “That sounds like it belongs here, not in your world.”
I huffed laughter. “Yeah, you’re probably right.” I let my thoughts ruminate for a while before turning, something nagging me in the back of my mind.
