Host of the Unforgiven

by G D Sheehen

  “He prepared Colm in every way he could, bestowing in him great wisdom of the otherworld’s bright and dark sides. But the most important thing he prepared him for now, was his first mission. To seek out and defeat the Vampire King of the Copper Coast, immobilise him with the sword to the heart and bury him under a thorn-covered rock, standing up. Only this way would ensure his banishment would last.”

  Philip paused and raised his head from his notebook.

  “Wonderful Philip. Such command of the English language for one so young,” said Mr Richards.

  “When does his fearless partner come into it?” asked Rodge.

  “Ah, that’s in the next instalment.”

  “Please, do go on, Philip,” said Mr Richards.

  “It’s not really finished yet.”

  “That’s quite alright. Just take us to where you’ve written it.”

  “Colm was aware of a young girl from the village who was on her deathbed and had family and friends crowded around the house grieving. From what he understood of the vampire, he would come late at night to drain her of her blood, as payment for inhabiting what he thought to be his kingdom. Those in the locality he got to before their final breath, were doomed to float around in the spirit cloud for eternity, strengthening the forces of darkness and never enjoying the gentle repose of the afterlife.

  “Colm lay in wait, late on the night doctors and family believed to be the young girl’s final rest. He took refuge in a hedgerow at the back of the girl’s house, stood at an angle where he could see in her window. The room was lit by candlelight and shadows of her loved ones formed sad motionless figures on the net curtains. The window was open on the balmy summer night giving the vampire his way in.

  “And then, a crow landed in the middle of the back garden and transformed before his eyes into the tall cloaked king. His back to Colm, he made a run for it intending to shove the sword through his back and into his heart. Before he could reach the vampire, it threw its arm back without looking and knocked Colm to the ground with a force of energy that rattled him to his core.

  “The demon turned to face his attacker. He raised his arms to show a body that was nothing more than a skeleton covered in decayed rotten flesh and putrid skin. His features hung as if trying to escape his horrific face. He spoke, his voice conveyed the dread of all the souls he’d sucked the terrified lives out of. ‘“So. Tis a child, the new Cloudcrawler. Why must that wretched horse give such an easy kill?’

  “Without so much as a twitch of his body, he was standing directly in front of Colm. He batted the sword from his hand with his skinny black fingers, grabbed hold of him and bore his shiny white teeth. The teeth penetrated his flesh like burning ice picks being shoved in at full force. Colm felt the life drain out of him but before he lost consciousness completely he was dropped to his back and looked up at the wide-eyed expression of his defeated enemy. You see, he had earlier carved a small dagger from the wood of a yew tree in a field nearby. As the vampire victoriously drew blood from his vanquished prey, he was unsuspecting of Colm’s lightning quick hand movement in jamming the dagger straight through his heart.

  “The vampire dropped to its knees and tried with all its force to fight the Cloudcrawler off, but was paralysed. Colm held his arm around its neck and said, ‘“There’s a new Cloudcrawler now, and I won’t let you terrorise these people any longer.’ The vampire managed a weak laugh.

  “Just as the filthy monster was about the sleep, a dozen red-eyed crows landed in the garden before them. They transformed into a thick grey cloud on which had hundreds of screaming faces imprinted. It then shot through the air and landed directly in front of Colm and took a human-like form, with patches burnt out of its pale white face. It wore a purple gown with a black cape. It picked Colm up by the neck and brought him eye to eye.

  ‘“You cannot win, boy. Come to our side and you will know sensations of unimaginable pleasure. Swear an oath of allegiance and you too can prowl the night time playgrounds for eternity. Refuse and I will wrench the soul from you right here, right now.’ Its voice was neither male nor female but emoted all the sincerity of an all-knowing god.

  ‘“I will never be a part of you and your kind. And you cannot harm me.’ The creature snarled, its eyes inflamed. It squeezed Colm’s neck even harder. Shots of grey mist rose from its coarse skin. ‘You dare speak to me with such insubordination.’ It pointed towards the vampire on the ground and shot black smoke from its finger into his open, gasping mouth.

  “The vampire rose to its feet, bowed to its master and without uttering a single word darted across the garden and in the open window to the girl’s room. A terrified scream filled the empty night air with deafening torment. Colm dropped to the ground, gasping for breath. ‘You will join us Cloudcrawler, just like all your predecessors sent by horseman. If not, we will wipe this village clean of all human life.’

  “Its form fell apart and the crows took flight, leaving Colm alone in the back yard. Wailing from the girl’s mother, on discovering her daughter’s lifeless body, crushed his belief in what he was assigned to do…

  “That’s all I have for now.”

  “Bravo, bravo,” Mr Richards said clapping with an enthusiasm that gave Philip great pride.

  “That was amazing Philip, but what happens next?” said Rodge.

  “I haven’t decided yet. I’ll tell ye next time.”

  “I, for one, greatly look forward to that day. You truly have a talent for storytelling. Don’t ever stop and don’t ever listen to anyone’s criticisms. Once you have an audience, no matter how big or small, you are a successful writer.”

  Philip beamed and said, “Thanks very much, Mr Richards. And thanks for letting us come here to share our stories.”

  “Ya. Thanks, sir.”

  “The fun has just started, boys. Soon it will be time for the ceremony. Eve should have everything set up by now. But before we begin, I’d like again to reiterate how important it is for you to not breathe a word of what we do here. The village folk don’t understand things the way we do. They don’t like the stories we do, so they simply wouldn’t understand the importance of our rituals.”

  “It sounds very exciting. I definitely won’t say a single word,” said Rodge.

  “Me too, Mr Richards.”

  “The bond we’re about to enter shall fuel your wildest imagination for years to come. I hope you’re not fazed by a little blood.”

  Phillip looked to Rodge who was trying to show a brave face.

  “Actually, Rodge hates the sight of blood.”

  “No, I don’t. That was just when I was younger. Now I don’t care.”

  “A strong boy like you Rodge. You should fear nothing. Together, you boys are indestructible. Don’t ever let anything tear you apart. No matter what people say, friendship is just as important as family.”

  Mr Richards stood up and asked the boys to wait a few minutes whilst he makes final preparations. They sat there nervous and excited trying to guess against each other as to what they were about to do. Philip believed it was something involving cutting their fingers and becoming blood brothers like they do in the movies and Rodge thought it might be something more like sitting around candles chanting and making promises to one another.

  They were both right, and wrong.

  25

  Philip is shaken awake and looks up to see the angelic face of Sharon then Julie then Eve before coming to his senses and discovering the old lady smiling with the tenderness only a mother could show to a child who is ill.

  “Night is almost upon us, lovey. Like I said, I never leave my waggon after dark and for all I know, you could be a terrible faerie sent to suck the life right out of me,” she said and chuckled. “So, I’m rescinding my invitation.”

  He sat up and rubbed his face with both palms and felt a lot better than he had that morning.

  “Thanks for letting me rest here. You’re too kind.”

  “You’re very welcome. Now, they’re waiting
for you outside.”

  Philip stumbled to his feet and the old lady had to help balance him for a moment. He admired the mystical waggon one more time and went outside to see three fires burning on the site, once more. The members of the commune were sitting around the large fire. Redwood played a guitar and sudden bursts of laughter rose up from his adoring audience.

  Philip approached in that way one does after a night of debauchery when memory loss brings on a tense anticipation of encountering the ones who last saw you. His anxiety was short-lived as the crowd cheered on his arrival. Redwood jumped up, did a little jig around the fire, then threw his arm around Philip.

  “Philip, my friend. You’ve returned from whatever dimension twas that stole you from us last eve. Did you have a grand time?”

  “It was eye-opening. I’d like to thank you for your hospitality, but I really should be leaving now. I have things I need to get done. I was wondering if I could ask one last favour; for someone to drive me to the nearest village. I’ll jump on a bus from there.”

  “Nonsense. It’s after nine. There’ll be no buses passing anywhere until the morning. Spend one more night of bliss with the Wilderness Saviours, I beg of you. Then I’ll personally drive you to Waterford City in the morning.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that, Maximus. You’ve been far too kind already. If you could bring me to the nearest town that’d be great. And I’d be glad to spend one last night.”

  A roar went up and Sally and the Waterford girl took him by the hand and brought him to the other side of the fire where they had constructed several benches from felled trees.

  The Waterford girl introduced herself as Niamh from Ferrybank and said she ran away to get away from a messy divorce between her parents. Several others told him similar stories of how they were escaping the pressures and anxieties of modern Ireland, ‘trying to hearken back to ways of old’, as one young man put it. He had dropped out of college and was kicked out of the family home by his parents, both of whom were doctors. Philip enquired as to how they survive and they said they sign-on for social welfare payments in various towns in the vicinity, mostly using fake addresses.

  “That’s how fate put us in your path yesterday,” said Sally.

  Their exchange was broken by a goat horn bellowing up from the site, a massive boy wearing a brown animal skin draped over him, cocking his head in the air as he blew. Applause rose up in the soft chilled air, then everyone sat around and looked to Redwood who had placed a headdress made of a bull’s skull and horns over his head. The horn blower then placed the animal hide over Redwood with ritualistic movements and took his place with the crowd.

  Redwood looked like an old druid sage, his face full of wisdom, his eyes glinting a knowledge of life his young disciples couldn’t possibly comprehend yet but were drawn to nonetheless.

  “My good people of the wilderness,” he said raising his arms as a priest does at the start of his sermon. “We are gathered here tonight to celebrate the start of the Celtic month of the yew tree.”

  Philip sat upright and stared intensely at Redwood on hearing the tree of so many stories from his childhood.

  “The yew tree in all its splendour has given us so much to be thankful for. The chalices we drink from, the plates from which we serve our wild fruits and mushrooms. We dedicate this night to thee O great and ancient king of the forest.”

  He picked up a bag that looked like it was made of rubber, out of a black bucket next to him. The crowd gasped. On closer inspection, Philip could see lines running through the surface of the bulbous satchel, like networks of veins on a large leaf. But the lines were red and most probably blood vessels and he soon realised it was an animals stomach holding some concoction they were all about to drink. He became a little nauseous but didn’t want to offend his hosts so tried his best not to react to this discovery.

  “Come forth my brothers and sisters and drink from the yew tree and all that fed on its mycelium infused soil.”

  Half of the members got up and held their wooden chalices under the bulging stomach lining. Redwood pricked a hole in it with a sharpened stick and a line of brown liquid shot out from it. They filled their cups one by one and returned to their seats. When everyone was seated Redwood replaced the stomach in the bucket and raised his chalice high above his head.

  “Now, my people. Let us drink and praise the land in an act of loyalty and appreciation. Slainte!”

  Echoes of ‘Slainte’ rose from the crowd and people drank back their share and passed along the cups, trying hard not to belch on tasting the rancid concoction of mushroom juice and hard liquor. When Phillip’s turn came, past experience told him to throw it back in one quick shot and hope for the best. He immediately regretted this noting how powerful and toxic the taste was.

  His stomach rumbled and his mouth watered to a near dribbling state, the kind one gets just before vomiting from too much alcohol. He managed to gather himself after a few minutes and was quickly feeling the effects.

  Redwood came to him and said, “This is the product of a month’s long fermentation. Goes to the blood in an instant. See you on the other side, my friend.”

  The whole forest around him went into a full kaleidoscopic twirl and he could just about make out the others who were staggering with the same onslaught of surprise as he was.

  Sally threw her arms around him and kissed him softly on the lips and said, “I love you, demon hunter,” then twirled away into the void.

  Niamh came into focus and buried her head in his chest. He hugged her back and by the time he could grasp his next thought, she too was gone.

  The ground breathed and tilted to counterbalance his lack of stability. A twenty-foot tall standing bull danced around the fire and chanted sounds only the forest could decipher. Shadows speckled with multi-coloured random shapes of light and raced between the trees overhead.

  He had just enough lucidity to tell himself to stay with the crowd this time and not wander off and meet creatures lurking in the depths of the forest. He sat on one of the benches and observed the whole commune, appreciating its beauty. The waggon in the background had smoke coming from the black chimney again but this time its colours lit up and came to life, designs swirling and shifting, melding into other symbols and telling stories through their mimicked movements.

  Philip closed his eyes and noticed the beat for the first time, the woodwind instrument that was playing earthly tones and the ecstatic cries of the members of the commune, some of them now enjoying the delights of the flesh of others in their midst. He was tempted to join in but instead walked to the line of the trees to take it all in from another angle.

  On reaching the trees, he looked back but saw nothing but dense forest. He looked in all directions and the firelight was nowhere to be seen. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and listened for the exultant cries of his new friends, but nothing.

  “Here you are,” came a girl’s voice as sweet as any he’d ever heard.

  He spun around and in the distance saw the outline of a feminine figure moving away from where he stood. He pursued, trying to outdo her pace and reach her quickly. A white cloud glided down from the trees and enveloped the girl in its mystical veil. The area around it glowed and the cloud turned to a soft sumptuous surface on the forest floor and placed the girl laying comfortably on it.

  He reached the blanketed area and saw the most beautiful girl, with pale skin and raven black hair, wearing an old fashioned white dress, lying there asleep. He looked down on her and admired her beauty and innocence. Sparks of blue light shot up from the surrounding area. She opened her eyes and looked at him with her lifeless black spheres and beckoned him to join her. The temptation outweighed the fear and guilt many times over and he got to his knees and crawled over, hypnotised, acquiescent to the mercy of her whims.

  Lying on his back, he took in the mesmerising show the treetops had to offer. She got on top of him and he felt himself slip inside her cold embrace. Her neck arched back and
she scraped her cold fingernails along his face. She bowed forward and he felt a quiver of ecstatic relief he’d never experienced before. She leaned down, looking him in the eye and moved in for a kiss, bearing her long white fangs. They sank into his neck, accentuating the palpitations already passing through his body. He closed his eyes reaching a climactic release that would surely be followed by deep sleep.

  As he turned his head to look at his temptress of the Otherworld, he froze, a pained scream trapped in his throat, never finding its way out. The black eyes were all that remained, the rest inhabited by the sagging skinned, bony demon of his nightmares.

  “You are one with us now. Accept this. Accept what you did all those years ago and you will be free, bound to our chain of pleasure for eternity.”

  “Get off me,” Philip replied, starting to struggle underneath his captor, to no avail. The white cloud turned black, agonised faces trying to burst forth from it and the treetops now turned to victims of the bloodsuckers, clutching their wounds, crying in pain. The leathery skinned vampire moved in for a last feed and sucked the life out of Philip, his last vision being of Eve and Rodge, running hand in hand through the forest, making their triumphant escape.

  The soil reeked of the rotten corpses of a thousand dead, his face pressed into it, sucking through the tiny spaces between every grain. He was buried alive and soon it would all be over. Insects crept along every square inch of his skin, readying for burrowing at the time of departure when the corpse is still warm.

  Clawing instinctively at the walls of his final resting place, he turned on his back and a torrent of breath rushed into his lungs causing his midriff to lift from the ground. The few stars he could make out through the trees dazzled him so he clenched his eyes closed as hard as he could.

  The grave disappeared from around him and a thud, like a heartbeat, grew slower and more distant. Is that the drums? Philip rubbed his hand all along his neck and found no wound was inflicted. The first attempt to stagger to his feet brought him crashing down and smacking his face right back into the putrid soil. He cursed Redwood and his potent mix of wild hallucinogens but a more sobering thought entered his fuzzy mind, that he was even less inclined to take another shot of heroin. Unable to rationalise the overpowering feeling to himself, he quickly stopped trying.