Through a Mythos Darkly

by Glynn Owen Barrass

  “Who’s there?”

  “It’s Daina Mielkutė. I’ve come to ask you a few questions if I may.” She’d not spoken Russian in a long time, and the words felt clumsy on her tongue. “I promise it will only take a few minutes.”

  “Come in, then.”

  Ekaterina Avilova was seated on a large cushion, her clouded eyes fixed in Daina’s direction. In spite of her frail limbs, her back was straight, and white wisps of hair peeked from beneath her scarf. She was the oldest living person on the spit, and the rumors said she always knew the monsters were coming weeks before anyone else.

  “What brings you here, Daina Mielkutė?”

  “I wanted to ask if you feel anything different this summer.”

  Ekaterina folded her hands in her lap. “Different how?”

  “I can’t explain it, but my skin feels different,” Daina said. “Because you’ve been here so long, I thought you might feel it, too, or might remember feeling this way once, and might know what it means.”

  “Child, feeling the monsters is always strange. Some years it’s stronger, some years not so much. Hot and cold, both and neither, but you know this. Maybe you’re not reading what you feel the right way.”

  “If it were only me, I would not be here, but all the women of Pabaigos feel it.”

  “All of them? How many is that?”

  “Eighteen.”

  An odd expression flitted across Ekaterina’s face, vanishing before Daina could discern its meaning. “No one here, not man or woman, has said a thing to me. Perhaps you’re all in cycle?”

  Daina crossed her arms. “No, it isn’t that. Have you been to the beach lately? I know on this side it’s hard to tell—”

  “I walk to the beach every morning, Daina Mielkutė. I may be blind and old but I’m not lazy, and I’m afraid I can’t help you. When I lost my sight, I lost my ability to feel the monsters. Gone and good riddance, I say. I’m too old for such things. Go now, back to your side where you belong, back to your people.”

  Daina swallowed her irritation and the rest of her words and left with what she hoped was a polite farewell, a farewell the old woman acknowledged with only a slight nod of her head.

  Two days later, while keeping watch, the rolling sensation on Daina’s arms intensified. It was a feeling of movement in her skin, as if water flowed over the muscle and back again. Then the sea rippled; she pulled her spear from the sand, and held it in striking position.

  The monster crawled from the surf slowly, digging into the sand with webbed appendages, and Daina hissed in a breath. This was a new beast, not the expected shape of anything she’d seen before. Its body was near in shape to a human’s, though smaller, but its head was reptilian, with a frill on the crown. Talons curled from its fingers instead of nails, and its skin—skin, not a hard shell—was a pearly gray-green.

  The monster lifted its head and from a gaping wet-lipped mouth, let loose a sound that bore an eerie and unpleasant similarity to a newborn’s wail. The cry echoed in Daina’s ears, and the movement beneath her skin quickened. In the monster’s face, she saw something terrible and child-like and intelligent; for a brief moment, her grip loosened on her spear. The beast pulled itself from the water completely, still crawling, and Daina shook away her shock and raised her spear. Fear flashed across its inhuman features, but Daina’s arm was already in motion. One hard thrust, one quick turn. Through the back, pinning beast to sand. There was no crunch, only a meaty thud and a too-human squeal; black, ichorous blood darkened the sand beneath its body. It twitched once, twice, then stilled. The air filled with the stink of offal and rotting seaweed.

  Backing away, Daina gave the call—a short whistle that would be carried along the spit—then bent, hands to thighs, breathing hard. Bile burned in the back of her throat. The face, dear God, its face. It saw her. It knew what she was going to do.

  And it was afraid.

  She shoved her spear deep into the sand to wipe it clean and waved her free arm in the sign for assistance. The man standing post nearest to her came running, his feet kicking up whirls of sand. Algis, another youngster, this only his third year on the spit. Strong, but not so bright, and Daina wondered if his family convinced him to volunteer. It was not unheard of. He came to a halt, opened his mouth, closing it with an audible click when he saw the beast. His face contorted; his throat worked.

  “What is it?” he finally managed.

  Daina shook her head. “Like nothing before. Go get everyone not standing watch. They need to see this.”

  He cast a sidelong glance at the creature before he took off at a run.

  When he returned, Daina was staring at the sea once more, the water calm, no sign of anything that should not be. There were no whistles. One monster then, as usual, in spite of its strange appearance. Tomorrow would bring more, and the following day more. A month with an ebb and flow of monsters and then it would be done. It was always the same. Always.

  But Daina knew what she saw in this monster’s eyes was not the same. What if it could plan and think? What if the sensation on her skin meant everything would be different, not just the monsters? She tightened her grip on her spear, pushing it deeper in the sand. Intelligent didn’t mean human. The thing was still a beast, and their job remained the same: to kill them. No matter what. They swore as such when they came to the spit. Their duty came before allegiance to country, before friend and family, before anything.

  Lukas touched her shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  She nodded. “I’m fine.”

  From the rest of the globėjai, there were exclamations, hushed whispers, sounds of gagging, as they looked upon the monster. She let them look and talk, finally turning when Ieva stepped close and said, “Do you think this has something to do with how we feel?”

  “I don’t know,” Daina said.

  Lukas frowned, but said nothing.

  Everyone fell silent as Daina approached the crowd, and she kept her voice firm. “We need to send word to everyone on watch, Lithuanian and Russian both. We should set extra bonfires tonight as well. Perhaps this thing is unikalus, perhaps the rest will be those we know, but better to prepare than not.”

  Lukas stood over the motionless body. “Maybe they’re different, but they die the same.”

  “Yes,” she said, suppressing a shudder. “They die the same.”

  His face twisted, and he nudged the creature with a foot. It flopped over onto its back, revealing all-too human male genitalia, oversized and grotesque. Gasps ran through the crowd. There was a splitting, popping sound and the monster dissolved into a puddle of lumpy, grayish slime. The stink became a noxious reek Daina could taste on her tongue. Lukas leapt back, knocking into Ruta, knocking her over; more than one person staggered back, swayed on their feet, or fell to their knees.

  Only a solid grip on her spear kept Daina from doing the same.

  Daina woke to shouting. She was out of her cottage and halfway to the beach before she was even fully awake; even so, her hands had remembered to grab both spear and knife.

  At first, she thought nothing amiss. Lukas was standing his post as expected, spear in the sand, hand on his belt.

  Had someone been bitten? It happened now and again, and although no one had lost their lives to one in over fifteen years, the bites were venomous and rendered the bitten deathly ill for a time. But if that were the case, she’d expect to see a body sprawled on the sand.

  And Lukas was still, so still, while all else was chaos—moving bodies, men and women both, and distraught voices.

  “I came out for my shift.”

  “Why won’t he talk?”

  “Is he asleep?”

  “Why won’t he say something?”

  “What’s wrong with him?” Daina asked.

  Ieva spun around, eyes wide, skin pale. “I don’t know. I found him like this.”

  “Lukas?” His eyes were closed, his jaw slack. She tugged his arm, lightly slapped his cheek. Not even a flinch. Pressing a hand to h
is chest gave her his heartbeat, but nothing more. She tried to push him over but he wouldn’t budge, and when several others, including Algis, joined to help, the result was the same, as if he were a statue built into the sand.

  In the distance, there was another shout and three figures ran down the beach toward them. Daina’s fingers tensed on the hilt of her knife until three women stepped into the bonfire’s light, revealing their faces. They were all wide-eyed and breathing hard, and not one had their spears with them. That, more than anything, made Daina’s belly tighten in unease.

  One woman stepped forward. “All along the beach, they are standing like this, like him, all of them, and I tried to—”

  Daina took her arm, gave it a small shake. “What happened?”

  “I don’t know. My skin was crawling, and I was looking for the monsters, then I thought I saw something out in the water, but it was fast and then it was gone. I called out to Giedrius but he didn’t answer. Neither did Karolis, so I ran to see what was wrong and he was like this. Everyone I passed on the way here was the same. They’re all the same. All the men on the beach are the same.”

  She looked over Daina’s shoulder. Algis and the other men who were not standing watch, not on the beach when whatever happened had occurred, were fine. Something to worry about later, not now.

  The group broke out into a frenzy of questions. Daina raised one hand. “Calm down. We will figure out what’s wrong.” She yanked Lukas’ spear from the sand and gave it to one of the empty-handed women. “All of you, come with me,” and started off down the beach.

  At the next post, they found another man—Matas—standing statue-still, and Algis touched her arm, his face twisted in worry. “If they’re all like this, who’s watching for the monsters?”

  The rolling sensation in Daina’s skin amplified—it felt as if a small army was advancing beneath her flesh—and her mouth flooded with the bitter taste of panic.

  Matas’ head tipped back, his face to the sky. His eyelids were open, but his eyes were swirling motes of dark and light. She and Algis had time to exchange a quick glance, then Matas’ mouth opened and the same motes poured out in a silent column toward the sky. As it reached upward, it widened, the unformed edges spreading like ink spilled on a hard surface. Ink dotted with sparks.

  All down the beach, Daina saw more columns stretching up; in moments, the edges collided and the real sky was no more. The night was painted with strange constellations, all moving, as if a new universe was unfolding. The sand turned to rocks, the placid sea to a roiling expanse of black. The air smelled of sulfur and ash and copper. A low hum filled Daina’s ears, as if she’d pressed them against curved shells; the other women frowned or pressed fingertips to ears or temples.

  “Look,” someone shouted.

  On the horizon, an indistinct form was taking shape from the shadows. Daina had an impression of wings, of talons, but staring filled her with the sensation of falling into a great hole and she pulled her gaze away.

  Beside her, Algis went still.

  He let out a scream and dropped to his knees. A flood of gibberish poured from his mouth, yet it had a rhythm as if it were a language Daina wasn’t meant to understand. She dropped her spear and reached for his shoulder, but his body began to convulse, throwing off her touch. She grabbed again, this time for his hands. He wrenched them away, hooked clawed fingers into his eyes, and tore. Eyes first, throat second.

  A torrent of blood fountained into the air, spattering against her in a wash of warmth, and she clamped both hands over her mouth to hold in a shout. Algis’ hands pattered against the rocks, then went still.

  “Algis?” Her voice was a tiny thread in the night’s fabric, and she bent down beside him. So young, he was. Too young to die such a death—

  Someone screamed her name, and Daina grabbed her spear as she scrambled to her feet, scrubbing the blood from her face with a forearm. No time for tears. No time for sorrow.

  Eighteen women stood on the rocks. The men with their faces to the sky remained in place, mouths still open, darkness still pouring forth. To the last, the rest of the men were bleeding out onto the stone, eyes gouged and throats torn.

  “All of them?” Daina asked, hating the weakness in her voice.

  Several women nodded.

  “What in Dievo’s name is happening?” Ieva sobbed.

  Daina took a deep breath. Straightened her spine. “Dievo has nothing to do with this.” Of that, she was sure.

  Ieva said, “What are we going to—”

  “Wait,” Daina said, holding up one hand.

  Behind the group, the old Russian woman was slowly making her way across the rocks, using a spear as a walking stick, a trail of red behind her from the blood on her skin and clothing. Ruta was closest and reached her first. Ekaterina collapsed into her arms.

  But something wasn’t right. There was too much blood on the woman’s clothing. Daina started forward and a choked cry shattered the quiet. Ruta pushed away from Ekaterina and staggered back, revealing a slash across her throat. The knife was still in Ekaterina’s hand, blade dripping with blood. Ieva screamed; the others let out strangled shouts.

  “What have you done?” Daina said, her voice quiet and measured even as her fingers tightened around her spear.

  Ekaterina held up the knife. Her eyes were no longer clouded, but had a strange, silvery sheen. “She was too old and of no use to us. Seventeen will have to do.”

  “Will have to do for what?”

  “For my sons, of course.” She held out an arm, hand palm-up toward the water.

  From the black water, a legion of gray-skinned monsters began to emerge. As tall as human men, these were, but identical in every other way to the one she killed on the beach.

  “To spears,” Daina shouted.

  Ekaterina chuckled. “They are not here to hurt you. You will be the first to bear their children.”

  “I, we, will do no such thing.”

  “Of course you will,” Ekaterina said. “This world belongs to their father now. This is his wish, so it will be done. We’ve been waiting a long time for this moment, a very long time, and now my sons are ready. When I lost my only child and was told I could birth no more, he came to me. He took me into his bed, gave me sons, then he made me his queen, child. He made me his queen.”

  She laughed again, a sound with madness within the mirth. What in Dievo’s name could cause such a thing? Daina glanced to the horizon. Nothing but shadows there, yet she felt a presence. Watching. Waiting.

  So be it. Let it watch.

  Daina hefted her spear. “He lied to you, Госпожа Avilova. He didn’t make you a queen. He didn’t make you anything. He unmade you.” With a clenched jaw, she met the silver blankness of Ekaterina’s eyes and drove the spear through her throat. Flesh tore, bone crunched. With a shout, she wrenched the spear free, and Ekaterina’s body tumbled to the rocks. Daina averted her eyes, not wanting to see her fall.

  No, she fell a long time ago. This was mercy. Mercy.

  Maybe so, but mercy tasted like murder.

  An inhuman cry pierced the air, and Daina shoved her thoughts away. More monsters crept from the surf. At least a hundred. Two dozen headed toward Daina and the other women, the rest branching right and left, heading away. Toward the rest of the spit, however changed it was, and the women there, no doubt

  She, they, would not allow it. No matter what these beasts wanted, no matter their numbers, the job of the globėjai remained the same: to kill.

  She thrust her spear into the chest of the closest beast. It thrashed and wailed, gushing black blood as it died. Another came close enough to touch her, its mouth open. Its skin was slime and ice against hers; its cock brushed against her belly. Using her knife, she opened him from sternum to groin, shrieking all the while.

  Ieva and a few of the others raced to her side, forming a loose circle with their backs facing each other, spears and knives held high. As one, they moved along the rocks. The other women
did the same.

  Time blurred into the rush of breath, the slice of blades, the thrust of spears, the stink of ichor and sweat, the sound of grunts and shrieks and the mewling cries the monsters made as they fell.

  One woman stepped onto the chest of a dying beast and slipped, her skull splitting open on the stone. Two grunting beasts mounted her corpse; Daina slayed them both with her spear. The rest of the women drew tighter together, closing the gap.

  Daina’s shoulders ached; blisters formed on her palms and fingers and broke open; ichor splashed into her eyes, turned the world to a blur. Still, she fought. They all fought.

  And then it was done. All around them, carcasses and the stink of rotting fish. Daina raised her spear; the others did the same. Together, they screamed their triumph to the sky. Never had there been something like this. Would that there would never be such a thing again.

  The monsters began to break open, spilling black fluid and gelatinous organs across the rocks. A roar of rage made the ground shake beneath their feet, and against the horizon, great wings opened, a body unfolded, a head rose. This monster had powerful limbs with sickle-shaped claws, a scaled body, and eyes the color of a gathering storm. Daina’s fingers trembled as the creature heaved its bulk—a hundred times the size of a man or more—into the sky.

  She knew not how such a thing could be, or why it had set its sight on their world, but knowledge belonged to scholars, monsters and duty to globėjai. With careful steps, she scrambled across the rocks to the nearest man standing with his mouth pouring sky, and hit the side of his head with the butt of her spear. His head moved not a bit. Before she could change her mind, she dropped her spear and drew the blade of her knife across his throat, closing her eyes against the splash of blood.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as his body fell.

  “What are you doing?” someone cried.

  Part of the sky sputtered and went out, revealing a slice of blue. Morning already, then? The distant creature faltered but began to approach.

  She faced the others. “We have to stop that thing, whatever it is. We have no choice but to kill them all.”