by Brandon Mull
Jason climbed the gate without any trouble. He backed away, curious to see how the dark figure would handle the obstacle. It remained outside the gate as Jason walked backward. Jason turned away, then whipped around in time to see the shadowy apparition landing on the ground inside the gate. Jason pointed at the figure. “I saw that. Part of it, anyway. Nice jump.”
Turning, Jason directed his attention to the village. The buildings were constructed from weathered wood accented by the same rounded stones prevalent beyond the sandy beach. Most of the dwellings had stone chimneys, and several boasted stone foundations or garden features. Nobody walked the dirt streets.
A few curious villagers poked their heads out of doorways or windows, only to hastily withdraw once they caught sight of Jason and his mysterious escort. Jason heard a panicked woman calling to her children and saw a group of young kids hustle over to a small dwelling on the far side of town.
By the time Jason advanced up the road to the largest building in the village, all was silent except for the swishing of the waves against the shore. He paused to consider the large structure. A splintery, faded sign proclaimed it TAVERN. Jason found the front door locked. He knocked.
Nobody answered.
“Open up!” Jason called, banging harder. “I just want to talk. I’m not here to cause trouble. I need some food, then I’ll move along. And if anyone wants to make some money, I’d love a ride to Ithilum.”
“Go away,” replied a female voice muffled by the intervening door.
“Look, I’m exhausted. I’m just passing through. How about some food? I’ll pay double.”
“We don’t make deals with your kind.”
“My kind? I’m not with the creature. It started following me in the woods. I’m hungry. Please help me.”
“It’s too late for you. Move along. Take a boat if you must, but move along.”
“I don’t know how to sail,” Jason said. “If you send out a sailor who can take me to Ithilum, I’ll not only leave, I’ll pay him well.”
No response.
Jason shoved his hands in his pockets. Maybe he was being too nice. “Hello? I’m still here! Hello? Lady, you better answer me. Not a good idea to make the guy with the shadow demon angry.”
He heard a bolt being thrown, and a wide-eyed woman in a beige canvas apron pulled the door ajar, her frizzy brown hair streaked with gray. “What’s the matter with you?” she hissed, trying to keep her eyes focused on Jason instead of his dark companion.
“I’m starving.”
She said nothing.
Jason tried to make his tone gentle and reasonable. “I need some food. Like I mentioned, I have money. May I please come in?”
Her anxious eyes flicked to the tenebrous figure.
“Don’t worry about him. He doesn’t eat much.”
Tears brimmed in her brown eyes, and she shook her head. “Death has marked you. This burden is yours to bear. Go.” She closed the door.
“Now!” bellowed a hearty voice.
The door to a relatively large establishment across the street flew open, and a burly bearded man led out two younger men. Each brandished a weapon.
“Don’t!” Jason yelled. He pivoted to face the attackers, raising his palms.
The bearded man threw a hatchet at the back of the dark figure. In a simple, fluid motion, the figure spun, caught the weapon, and hurled it back. The hatchet blurred through the air, striking the bearded man with enough force to bury the entire head into his chest as he flopped to the dirt.
Shocked by the abrupt demise of their comrade, the other men skidded to a stop, looking from their fallen leader to the shadow creature. Jason stared in horror. The black figure did not stir.
One of the remaining men looked jittery—a stout, swarthy guy with youthful features and a stubbly beard. He shuffled sideways and glanced down the road, clearly ready to bolt.
“Stay with me, Vin,” the other man encouraged, tall and gangly with hollow cheeks, gripping a pickax. “Take the sword. We’ll rush him together.”
The bearded man had dropped a short sword when he fell. Vin held a gaff. He set down the iron hook and took up the sword.
“Get out of here, Vin,” Jason advised the stocky man. “This thing generally stays tranquil unless people attack it.”
“Don’t listen to him, Vin.”
“Are you blind?” Jason asked the other man, pointing at the corpse. “Did you see what it just did to that poor guy?”
“You mean our uncle?”
Jason frowned. He held up his hands calmingly. “This demon is no friend of mine. It refuses to leave me alone. If you attack it, I promise you’ll join your uncle.”
The lean man appeared uncertain. “Why lead it into our town? Who would do such a thing?”
“I need help. I don’t even know what it is. I didn’t imagine anybody would try to fight it.”
The tall man glared at Jason. “Our uncle was not about to let his sister become endangered.” His eyes shifted to a point beyond Jason’s shoulder.
Jason glanced at the tavern door. It had cracked open enough to show half of the face of the woman he had confronted. She held a quivering hand to her lips. Tears streaked her cheeks. Briefly she met Jason’s gaze.
“I’m sorry,” Jason said around a lump in his throat. “I didn’t mean—”
Releasing an inarticulate cry, she raced from the doorway to the fallen man in the street and collapsed atop him, shoulders shaking. Jason stared down at his boots, wishing he could disappear.
“Come on, Gil,” the stocky man said, stepping toward the creature, sword raised.
“No!” the woman shrieked, freezing him. “Obey the stranger; leave the demon alone. Help me with your uncle.”
“But—”
“No discussion. Gil, Vin, help me with him.” The grieving woman turned her head to address Jason without making eye contact. “Help yourself to whatever you can find. Forgive me if I do not cook for you.”
The two young men lifted the lifeless bulk of their uncle. The woman gathered the sword and the gaff and the pickax. Jason wanted to express further apologies, but only grossly inadequate words came to mind. They toted the bearded man into the building across the street and then closed the door.
Embarrassed and shaken, Jason entered the tavern. The figure followed him. The common room was empty. Evidently all patrons and workers had vacated the premises.
Jason felt guilty and frustrated. He slumped down at an empty table. He had never thought somebody would attack the creature. Had he suspected something like this might happen, he would have starved to death rather than lead the shadow fiend into this town.
Remaining seated, Jason rounded on the creature. “What’s the matter with you? You killed that guy! He was just worried about his sister!”
The figure offered no response.
“How about you hit him in the leg with the hatchet?”
Again, no response.
Jason rubbed his face. Resisting tears, he tried to force from his mind the shocked expression the bearded man had worn as he flopped to the dust. He tried to forget the devastated sorrow of the man’s family.
Standing up, Jason glowered at the living silhouette. “If I thought there was the tiniest chance of success, I’d wring your neck. This wasn’t my fault. I never asked for some shadow freak to haunt me. You were never welcome. You’re the one responsible for anyone you hurt.”
The words did nothing to sooth Jason’s conscience. It was like scolding a statue.
“I should have stayed away,” Jason grumbled miserably. “I should have known better.” The damage was done and irreparable. He had come here to eat, and despite the tragedy, his hunger lingered.
One table held a pair of plates with good portions of food remaining, as if the meal had been served shortly before the gatekeeper raised the alarm. One plate contained a cooked fish with a couple bites missing and some vegetables that looked like tiny potatoes. The other plate had several gray, curl
ed shellfish; a pool of beige sauce; and stringy green vegetables.
Jason sat at the table. Despite the hassle of eating around all the spiny little bones, the fish tasted good, the meat flaky and soft. Jason ate carefully. He doubted the dark figure would rush to his aid if a bone lodged in his throat. The gray shellfish were rubbery, but not bad when smeared in the sauce. The miniature potatoes tasted a little like dirt, and the green veggies were too chewy, but Jason ate them for the sake of his nutrition. Anything that terrible had to be healthy.
Although the two meals filled him, Jason wandered back into the kitchen. He found a pot containing pink chowder. Sampling the concoction straight from the ladle, he found it was the tastiest food yet, and slurped some as dessert.
After finishing, Jason leaned against the wall, feeling sluggish. How could he go from feeling so empty to so overfed in such a short time? He studied the shadowy figure. How would he get help in Ithilum with this thing tailing him? Tark had expressed that Aram might be reluctant to aid Jason. With the shadowy apparition at his side, Jason doubted whether the man would even speak to him. The whole town would end up in an uproar, and possibly more people would be killed. But what was the alternative? Give up? Jason needed advice, and in spite of the risks, he could think of only one source.
Jason explored the kitchen. One door opened to a cellar, another to the outside, and a third to a spacious pantry with a small window in the back. Jason shut himself in the pantry and sat on the floor, waiting to see if the creature would follow him. It did not.
Jason fished the severed hand from his backpack. He slapped the palm to get its attention, and then began tracing letters with his finger. CAN YOU TALK?
The hand began signing. Jason preferred to write the letters down as they came, to keep a record of the conversation. Lacking writing utensils, he focused on mentally combining the signed letters into words.
You returned to Lyrian through the hippo.
WHAT MAKES YOU SAY THAT?
You got all wet and have carried my hand in the same backpack for multiple days.
Jason shook his head. So much for secrecy. WHY WAIT SO LONG TO TALK TO ME?
I presumed you were hesitant to trust me, so I waited for you to make the first move.
I AM HESITANT.
You should be. But I have told you the truth. In fact, the last time you tried to contact me, I could not respond because I was on the run. I fled south to a different town.
WHAT TOWN?
A minor village. I will tell you as a token of trust. It no longer has a name. Once it was called Truek. I do not plan to linger here for long.
I AM IN TROUBLE.
Explain.
A DARK CREATURE IS FOLLOWING ME. LOOKS LIKE A LIVING SHADOW.
The hand convulsed. Is it with you now?
I AM IN A PANTRY. IT IS OUTSIDE THE DOOR. I HAVE KEPT YOUR HAND OUT OF ITS SIGHT.
Good policy with the hand. You are in supreme danger. A lurker has found you.
I THOUGHT IT MIGHT BE A LURKER.
None of Maldor’s servants are more powerful. This is calamitous. Do not provoke it. Do not touch it.
I ALREADY LEARNED THAT THE HARD WAY.
Unless a torivor appears bearing swords, it will only attack if provoked. How long has it been with you?
THREE DAYS.
It shows itself openly?
IT JUST FOLLOWS ME AROUND.
Has it visited your dreams?
Jason felt chills. IT KEEPS GIVING ME NIGHTMARES.
It will bring ruin upon you. Lurkers communicate mind to mind with those capable of hearing. Do you hear it while awake? In your thoughts?
NO.
Maldor may already know of your whereabouts. I assume you are in a remote village or farmhouse?
HOW DO YOU KNOW?
You are in a pantry, but the lurker remains near you. You must hasten to a large town. It will not follow you there.
WHY?
They are secretive beings. They have been known to enter remote outposts if on a mission. They almost never venture into a city. Certainly not openly. Do you know where to find a town?
Jason hesitated momentarily. He supposed with a lurker tailing him, his destination would be no mystery to his enemies. I AM GOING TO ITHILUM.
Perfect. How near are you?
I AM MOVING EAST ALONG THE NORTHERN COAST OF THE PENINSULA.
Hurry. You cannot be far off. Contact me again when you arrive. Keep both eyes open. Try to resist the torivor in your dreams. Expect an ambush at any time. Maldor is undoubtedly moving against you.
THANKS.
Jason returned the hand to his backpack. Even without good news, the communication left him in higher spirits. He had underestimated how alone he had been feeling. At least he had confirmed that his mysterious companion was truly a lurker. And it was good to know that it probably wouldn’t follow him into Ithilum.
He looked at the small window at the rear of the pantry. Leaving that way might seem predictable, but it was worth a try. He opened it and found the lurker waiting for him. Instead of trying to squirm out, he returned to the kitchen through the pantry door. Again he found the lurker waiting.
“You can really move when you’re in the mood,” Jason said. “I think we’ve done enough harm here. How about we get out of town? Any objection?”
Jason scavenged around the kitchen, stuffing bread and cheese into his backpack. He left several drooma on the counter, along with a couple of jewels. He would not be surprised if the suspicious villagers threw the payment into the sea, but he wanted to try to leave some reparation for what had occurred, even though he was painfully aware that no amount of money could replace a lost life.
After exiting through the back door, Jason turned to the dark figure. “Now I know you’re a torivor. No need to pretend otherwise. Can you talk to my mind?”
Jason sensed no thoughts besides his own.
“Come on.” He saw no one as he returned to the gate and climbed over.
Jason tramped through moonlit snow up to his knees. The still, frigid air seemed almost brittle. His hooded parka, gloves, and snow pants kept out the worst of the chill. He moved along a slope populated by tall pines shrouded in white, his breath pluming frostily with every exhalation.
A long howl reached his ears from farther down the mountainside, the mournful notes echoing hauntingly. A louder howl answered from higher up the slope, making Jason pause, frozen by primal, instinctive fear.
Where was he going? Somewhere important. How did he get here? It didn’t matter. Or did it? If he didn’t hurry, he might end up as wolf chow. Or would he?
Jason put his hands on his hips. Why would he come alone into snowy mountains? He wouldn’t. Hadn’t he been hiking along a beach in Lyrian? This was another dream!
“I’m not playing,” Jason announced, sitting down. He stared at the snow in front of him, willing it to melt. Nothing happened. The icy air felt real in his lungs.
From higher up the slope came a distant, thunderous rumbling.
“Avalanche,” Jason mumbled. “Didn’t see that coming.” He remained seated. If he could learn to endure these dreams without panicking, maybe he could finally get some sleep.
“You should not be here,” said a male voice behind him.
Jason looked over his shoulder and found Drake standing there, taller than he should have been, hand on the hilt of his sheathed sword, eyes black. Resisting his fear, Jason stood and faced the phantom seedman. “What’s with all the snow? Is this the Christmas special? Let’s do the roller coaster again.”
“You are going to die.”
“True, sooner or later. You’re the annoying shadow creature following me. I’m glad we have a place to talk. You shouldn’t have killed that guy back at the village. Now I really don’t like you.”
“You have brought destruction to all you love.”
Jason could hear the avalanche building momentum as it drew nearer. The oncoming roar was terrifying, but he tried to think of
it as nothing more than impressive special effects. “Another spooky warning. Honestly, after today, this dream feels sort of minor league.”
Drake cocked his head, as if perplexed, then pointed up the slope.
Jason could now see the avalanche coming, a massive tide of whiteness devouring everything in its path. It was seconds away. The ground began to tremble.
“I get it,” Jason said, deliberately making his expression bland. “I also get that it isn’t real. Smell you later.”
Drake held up a hand. As the avalanche reached them, it forked, devastating everything to either side, but leaving Drake and Jason untouched. The uproarious sound was unnerving, as was the quaking ground, as were the few stray bits of snow that peppered Jason. Eventually the avalanche passed, leaving a bare field of white to either side, all trees swept away.
“Does this mean we can talk?” Jason asked. “I’d love to know what’s really going on. Why are you following me?”
“I obey,” the fake Drake said.
“You obey Maldor?”
“You must be taken.”
Jason brushed snow off his parka. “Why do you even care?”
“I am indifferent.”
Jason stared at the phony Drake. “Are you his slave, Lurky? Do you mind if I call you Lurky?”
“Come. Attack me. You want to hurt me.”
Jason almost grinned. “Is that what you’re after? No way. I’ve seen what you do to people who attack you.” Jason sat down on the snow.
Drake remained standing. “You should not have returned.”
“To Lyrian? You’re like a robot. Do you have any of your own thoughts?”
“I am more than you can imagine.”
“What I imagine is a shadowy guy who sneaks along behind me on the beach. Then he comes, disguised as my friends, and talks to me while I’m sleeping. At first he’s scary, then he just gets annoying.”
Drake stared down at him, face impassive. Jason stared back. The flat black eyes betrayed no emotion. Jason winked.
“YOU! WILL! DIE!” Drake shouted, each word exploding with supernatural volume. Jason could hear a second avalanche coming.