by Dylan Peters
I helped Jim set up the two tents we had packed. He, Kay and the wild dog, Reego, stayed in one tent, while Anna, Wisket and I stayed in the other. We told each other that as long as we had Wisket and Reego we would be safe. The plan was to go into the tents before night fell and not leave them until light returned the next morning. I would be lying if I said any of us thought this was a particularly good plan, but we were already on the roller coaster, so there was little to do other than to hold on and pray we made it through.
Jim gave Anna and I a fleeting glance before zipping his tent closed. He said nothing, but he didn’t need to. I’m sure we were all thinking the same thing: I hope I see you again in the morning.
Hope. I’d wondered a lot over the last year if hope was a miracle or a curse. I think I decided it didn’t matter one way or another. Hope keeps you going, for better or for worse.
Anna let me help her into a sleeping bag, and asked that I not put mine too far away.
“I don’t want you to think I’m being a baby, though,” she added.
“You’re not being a baby,” I said. “I’m practically scared to death.”
She smiled at me, and I put my sleeping bag down right next to hers. I got in, and Anna rolled so her back was to me. I rolled so my back was to her. Then, Wisket curled up against Anna’s chest, and I thought it was good that she was protected between the two of us. The idea was pretty corny—as if I could protect Anna, or that she would even want me to—but it gave me a small bit of warmth inside.
We didn’t talk, and after a while I heard her snoring gently. That made me feel good also, and I needed it because I wasn’t going to fall asleep easily. For hours, I used Anna’s low breathing as a foundation to stand my courage on. If I hadn’t had that sound next to me, like calming waves against a shoreline, I might have broken down. There were too many dark things lurking in my mind. I was haunted all night.
The wind howled, or maybe there were things that howled like the wind. I didn’t know. At first, I feared a storm might come and force us from our tents, but as the minutes ticked by, my mind warped all things into the forms of terrible hellish creatures, creeping closer and closer to our tents, desperate to rip the flesh from our bodies.
I heard a branch snap, and I envisioned a shadow bear plodding closer to our camp. When the sides of the tent moved slightly, my mind conjured outlines of mynahs dragging their claws across the nylon sheet, or pressing their beaks against the tent. Of course, they weren’t truly there. Why would a mynah be so subtle?
I tried to close my eyes, but it was worse when I did. There were no limits to my dark thoughts when given a canvas of infinite black. I envisioned us all dying that night, in a hundred ways or more. I watched every death, created each one, gave it detail, and lent it temporary breath. I haunted and tortured myself until my fear turned into shame and my stomach tied in knots. After all, I had spent hours making things worse than they really were, just like a fool.
I wished I could be as strong as Anna. I focused on her breathing, let my shame numb my fear, and finally, after hours, I fell asleep.
We packed up and got moving early in the morning. I wasn’t the only one who had slept poorly. Jim had bags under his bloodshot eyes, and he seemed too ready to pack up and move. I knew the feeling, as if leaving the gully behind would also leave behind the terrible things I had imagined in the night.
Those visions had only been imagination though, and we had come through the darkness unscathed. Outside our tents, the world was exactly as it had been before we went in, with only one exception: The mist was completely gone. The skies were still cloudy, but we could see as far as the trees let us across the floor of the Nullwood.
Anna said Wisket and Reego wanted to continue west, so Jim and I helped carry her and the wheelchair out of the gully. Jim was extra chivalrous with Kay, offering her help and deference minute after minute. Thankfully, she stopped him, taking his care as patronizing. She was tougher than he was giving her credit for, and after a good night’s sleep, she was again ready to go.
So we continued west for the greater part of the morning. The Nullwood felt less ominous without the mist, as we were now able to see the woods in greater detail. Again, we could see the colorful tree flesh in places where black bark had been scraped away. It pulsed with pastel colors, and as time passed it felt less alien and more alluring. Pink lichen flecked rocks along the dark forest floor, and every so often we found rocks that looked more like gems; slightly transparent and amber-colored. Kay picked a couple of them up to carry with her, and Anna seemed interested as well, but she refrained from asking for one.
With the mist gone, we could also see more activity in the Nullwood. There were different types of birds, though not one of us could identify them. Anna wondered aloud if we were seeing birds we were unfamiliar with, or if these birds were unique in the same way the Nullwood was unique. One bird in particular made us certain that it wasn’t an inhabitant of the past earth. It looked like a peacock, but much smaller, and its wings were decorated just like its tail, beautiful iridescent green patterned with blue and black eyes. As it flew through the forest above our heads, light filtered through its wings and tail. It was like looking into a kaleidoscope.
We also saw mouse-like creatures in the trees that may have actually been lizards. Both scales and tufts of fur adorned their lithe bodies. I wondered if the mysticism that followed the Demise hadn’t warped or changed the animals we knew in ways that made them more like each other. Or was it possible that the Nullwood had fundamentally altered the DNA of the things within its borders? That could have implications for me.
Change is almost always unwelcome when it involves the self. We want change for other things, not for ourselves. Even under the prospect of improvement, we cling to the things we regard as fundamentally us. Could I accept claws instead of fingernails if they improved my self-defense? Could I handle looking into the mirror to see eagle’s eyes instead of my own, even if they provided greater sight? Could I learn to be proud of new features, or would I shrink away in shame?
I wondered what negative things we humans hold onto because we fear fundamental change.
Kay found some hanging vines and pulled them free from the trees. As we moved west we watched her weave them around the little amber stones she had found until she had fashioned a wreath. She placed it on her head like a crown and turned to Jim playfully.
“I’m the queen of the Nullwood,” she said. “Would you be my king?”
He laughed politely, but also a bit dismissively, as if such childishness was uncomfortable for the serious man he thought himself to be.
“I could make you one,” Kay offered.
“No thanks,” Jim said.
“Oh,” Kay said. “You’re too cool to be king.”
“Yeah,” Jim said with a chuckle. “That’s it.”
“Okay, fine,” Kay said coyly and turned her attention away from Jim. “Hey, Anna, you want me to make you a crown? I saw you looking at the stones.”
“N-no, that’s okay,” Anna said bashfully. “It wouldn’t look good on me.”
“Oh c’mon. You can be co-queen with me.”
“I don’t know,” Anna said. “You’re pretty. It looks good on you. I’m not, and I’d just look stupid.”
“Who told you that you’re not pretty?” Kay asked, her playful tone disappearing.
“I—I just know I’m not,” Anna said.
Kay turned to Anna with her hands on her hips in protest. “You’re pretty. I don’t want to hear you say otherwise, and if anybody tells you otherwise, you tell ‘em to go to hell. Okay?”
“Sure,” Anna said awkwardly, tilting her head and shoulders in such a way that illustrated how very uncomfortable she was talking about being pretty.
Kay took the crown she had made from her head and placed it on Anna’s.
“There. Be queen for a while,” Kay said. “It feels good.”
“Thanks,” Anna said.
We co
ntinued walking and I could see that Kay had embarrassed Anna, but not in a bad way. It was like Anna wanted to be happy but she was fighting it. Almost like she refused to believe she could be happy.
I could understand that.
The day wore on, and after hours of walking, we could see a body of water through the trees.
“I think we might be at Crescent Lake,” Jim said.
“Really?” Kay asked.
“I mean, the Demise could have fried it up or something,” Jim said. “At this point I’d believe almost anything. But we’ve been walking west, and given how long we’ve been traveling, this is just about where Crescent Lake would have been. We could bottle some of the water to take with us.”
The logic seemed sound, and we were all happy to believe it. The thought that something could survive the Demise, even in the midst of the Nullwood, was encouraging. So we made for the lake. Maybe the world we knew hadn’t completely vanished in an instant.
We were still surrounded by black trees, and the sky overhead was still littered with gray clouds, but the discovery of the lake felt good. I was eager to reach the water’s edge, if for no other reason than to demarcate a point in our journey. It made me feel light and powerful, almost as if we had won a battle against the Nullwood. I wanted to run toward the water, but I didn’t. Instead, I turned to Anna and smiled.
She looked up at me but didn’t smile back. Instead, she called for Wisket and pointed toward the trees back over my shoulder. We all stopped and looked up to see a tall man sitting in the trees above us. Both Wisket and Reego growled at him menacingly.
“Hello,” the man said as he sat on a sturdy branch ten feet over our heads. One of his long legs hung down and swung nonchalantly. “You weren’t planning on walking over to the water’s edge, were you?”
Jim grabbed the short-handled shovel off of his backpack and held it tight. “We were,” he said. “Why?”
The man dropped out of the tree, and we could now see how very tall he was. He was about a foot taller than Jim, and he was dressed in black pants and a black vest, both of which were too short for his long frame. He also wore a small green cap that he took off after he landed on the forest floor, which he spun on his index finger.
“There’s a bunch of wobb-wogglers and garblers down there,” the man said with a bright smile across his dark face. “I wouldn’t go there.”
“What does any of that mean?” Kay asked.
“It means it’s dangerous,” the man said. His smile faded as he looked us over in confusion. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“You are?” Jim asked.
“I am,” the man said with a nod. “My name’s Wembley. I’ve been living in these woods long as I remember.”
“How long is that?” Kay asked.
“Well,” Wembley began and then twisted his face in confusion. “I don’t exactly remember. I suppose I’ll have to ask Ignatius.” Wembley put his hat back on and began walking away.
“Where are you going?” Jim asked.
“Home,” Wembley said.
The wild dog walked up to Kay and nudged her hand. She shivered like a chill had crept up her back, and then looked down at the dog with a furrowed brow.
“You want us to follow him?” she asked.
The dog barked and wagged his tail.
“Wisket agrees,” Anna said. “He says we can trust Wembley and Ignatius. He says they can offer us protection.”
“They?” I asked.
“Yeah, they,” Anna confirmed and then shrugged. “I’m just telling you what Wisket is telling me.”
Jim sighed and shook his head, resigning himself to chasing Wembley down. “Hey, hold on a minute,” Jim yelled, and then trotted after Wembley.
We all followed.
“This can be a dangerous place,” Wembley said as we approached where Jim had stopped him. “Ignatius and I have the safest house in the woods, though, or close to it.”
“We’re new here,” Jim said to the man. “We could use whatever help you’re willing to give.”
“You have two mysticals with you,” Wembley said. “They can protect you, can’t they? Besides, I don’t know you.” He shot a glance at Jim’s shovel. “I don’t know anything about you. I should be going.”
“Wait,” Anna said, wheeling herself forward. “You know about mysticals?”
“I do,” Wembley said and his face softened as he looked upon Anna. “Yours protects you, doesn’t he, love?”
“Yes,” Anna answered, “but we haven’t been together long. I’m still… learning.”
“And the dog?” Wembley asked.
“Not ours,” Kay said. “We’re trying to help him get back to his owner.”
“He’s not owned,” Wembley said, glaring sharply at Kay. Yet his harshness was fleeting as he realized he was dealing with novices. “You’re all from outside the Nullwood, aren’t you?”
We nodded.
“All right,” Wembley said. “It’s a bit of a walk before we reach Ignatius, but you can follow me.”
“Is Ignatius—” Anna began.
“Yes,” Wembley said, guessing at her question. “Ignatius is a mystical.”
We followed Wembley as he walked northwest at a distance from Crescent Lake but still within its sight. We traced its shore for some time, and while we did we told Wembley a bit about ourselves. I told him about Ah’Rhea and that we wanted to return her mystical to her. I didn’t mention the Everflame, though, and no one else revealed that secret. We told Wembley of what had happened with the long-tailed cat, and after we did he let us know just how fortunate we’d been.
“It’s called a dopplemar,” Wembley said, “and they’re all over the Nullwood, scattered in holes, caves, and other tucked away places. You should all consider yourselves lucky. If the one you encountered stopped running and turned to use its manipulating venom, that meant he was trying to lure you to other dopplemars close by. There might have been a pack of them.”
“So that’s how it made me do and say what it wanted,” Kay said.
“Yeah,” Wembley affirmed. “The cat bites its victim at the base of the neck and injects a venom that assaults the nervous system. Through that, it can force you to do what it wants. As I said, you’re lucky it stopped and gave your mysticals a chance to fight. Its tail is strong, very strong. It could have dragged you all the way to its den and no one would have ever seen you again.”
“How do you stop them?” Jim asked.
“Knowing where they live and avoiding those places is the first step,” Wembley said. “It also helps to have a mystical at your side.”
“What if you don’t have a mystical?” Jim asked.
Wembley shot a glance at the short-handled shovel Jim carried. “You make do.”
We walked for another hour, and the clouds in the sky thickened. The day was growing long, the winds picked up, and Wembley mentioned the potential for a rainstorm.
“Don’t worry, though,” he assured. “We’ve almost reached Ignatius.”
Through the black trees, Wembley pointed out a large gray mound. I assumed his home was on the other side of it because the mound itself looked like nothing more than a small rocky hill. I did find it odd that the hill sat with no other hills, boulders, or rock formations around it. It seemed very out of place.
As we came within twenty yards of the mound, Wembley called out. “I’ve returned, Ignatius, and we have company.”
The fifteen-foot-tall stone mound certainly didn’t look like a home, and I couldn’t see a doorway even if it was hollow. Yet as we came closer and traced our way around the right side, an opening suddenly presented itself. The opening wasn’t what I would call a door; more like a large crack in the rock face. It was odd, and we were all hesitant to enter. But there was light coming from inside, and we had placed our faith in Wisket and Reego, so we followed Wembley through the crack.
The mound was hollowed out inside, revealing a large circular room maybe twenty feet in
diameter with a domed ceiling. The walls were gray rock, rough, with long cracks and dark patches. The floor was dirt, and strangely there were no tables, chairs, or other furnishings. Stranger still was the large glowing orb at the apex of the domed ceiling that lit the entire room. How it generated light out here in the Nullwood was a total mystery.
Wembley sat down in the middle of the room and gestured for us to do the same, so we all gathered in a circle underneath the large orb. I couldn’t help but notice that there was no mystical animal in sight. Whoever Ignatius was, he wasn’t around.
“Rain is coming, and then night will follow,” Wembley said. “You’re welcome to stay with us through the night.”
“Thanks,” we all said.
I looked around and I could tell I wasn’t the only one wondering where Ignatius was. However, I quickly reminded myself that both Wisket and Reego had the ability to disappear, and it was likely Ignatius possessed the same skill. We were strangers in his home, and it wouldn’t be odd if he wanted to stay out of sight until he felt comfortable with us.
“Can I ask you a question?” Kay asked Wembley.
“Of course,” the man answered.
“I couldn’t help but notice that you call this place the Nullwood just like we do, but none of our people have met you until now. In fact, our people only recently discovered this place and made a name up for it. Also, when we told you that mynahs took our friend, you seemed to completely understand what mynahs were, even though that’s another name our people recently made up.” Kay paused awkwardly before continuing. “Don’t you find that all to be strange?”
Wembley was wide-eyed. “Well, I hadn’t known that, but it is pretty strange.” He scratched his chin as if thinking hard on the subject. “Maybe I’ll ask Ignatius.”
Wembley looked up slightly but didn’t say anything. He simply stared into the air. We all waited a moment, expecting Ignatius to appear, but he didn’t. Nonetheless, Wembley returned with an answer.
“Ignatius says someone outside of the Nullwood must have known someone inside the Nullwood. Otherwise, it’s all madness.”