Absence_Whispers and Shadow

by J. B. Forsyth

  The others strained their eyes on the flames and then all at once those closest to the building began to back away, their sudden cries filling the rest with unfocused fear.

  ‘The Lake Girl’s here!’ shouted one of them. ‘The witch must’ve summoned her!’

  Emilie drifted across the front planks, numb to the inferno that blazed all around her. She felt weak here, a ghost of a ghost, washed out by the sunlight and her distance from the lake. But she was pleased to see that at least some of them could see her. Several were on the verge of full flight and others looked poised to run as they searched for her with panicky eyes. But if there was going to be any chance of Kye getting away, she would have to do more.

  After the giant dispersed the villagers she had followed them to the tavern and listened to their heated discussion. The blacksmith’s call to arms was passionate and convincing and he quickly convinced them to march on the holdings. Their primary concern was the toruck and they all agreed his elimination was critical to their success. So when three of them suggested taking him out with arrows, they were sent for their bows immediately. She looked around now and was dismayed to discover that the three bowmen were among a resolute few who were standing firm. These then were the men on which she needed to focus her efforts – the ones she needed to rout.

  She shot over to the nearest one who was taking him aim over a hitching rail. His eyes widened when she materialised in front of him and he jerked back, tripping over an empty pail and falling into a stack of crates.

  Good enough.

  She turned her attention to the second bowman, but the first one scrambled to his feet and ran into her path. She passed straight through him and drew up with an ecstatic gasp as slivers of warmth ran up her spine and erupted in her mind. The sensation lingered for several blissful seconds, blurring her vision and transforming her into a wisp of pleasure. Then it was gone and it was as if the cold waters of the lake were rushing back into her.

  She refocused with a wail of misery and remembered what she had been doing. The second bowman had seen the reaction of the first and was already fleeing, so she swung out into the street in the direction of the third. But instead of weaving through the frightened mob she swept through them. After her interaction with the first bowman their life force was calling to her and she couldn’t help herself.

  The first man saw her just before she entered him and his resulting terror was a lightning bolt of exhilaration, shooting up her back and fizzing off her limbs. She entered the next just as his heart struck an explosive beat and it thudded inside her chest as if it were her own. She zigzagged across the street and through a succession of disparate and fragmented sensation she began to remember what it was like to be alive again. There was air passing up her nostrils, the chaffing of a ragged belt on her waist and an after taste of a peach. There was the throb of a rotten tooth, the smell of smoke, the warmth of the sun on a sweaty brow and the trickle of sweat down the back of her neck. She was a cold wind blowing over warm islands of exotic sensation and she could have gone on forever. And as she felt them, the villagers felt her too - their stolen sensation replaced with splinters of ice that sent them bolting away.

  Kring exploded from the front door as if born of a belching fire god. He leapt off the steps and landed at a run, reaching over his shoulders and whipping out a pair of swords that glinted in the fire light. His blood lust was up and his eyes blazed as he looked around for villagers to dice. But they were running like bugs from beneath an uplifted stone and the street around him was emptying fast. He knew he was an easy target for bowmen without anyone to engage and he swerved and ducked as he sought them out. But it was only after an arrow whistled past his left ear that he saw the solitary archer. He had been positioned in the shadows of a shop front, but he was crashing away through boxes now, tripping over his own feet like something had scared him. In seconds the only man left in the swirling dust was the blacksmith. He was brandishing an axe and his face was fixed in grim determination. But as he strode over, swishing his swords, the blacksmith’s courage crumpled and he dropped to his knees, relinquishing his axe to the dirt.

  Kye watched as Ormis disappeared in a waft of smoke then turned to Della and offered his hand. Some of the firewood the villagers had stacked against the door had fallen inwards and flames were now slavering over the inside of the frame. The exorcist had told them they wouldn’t feel the fire if they ran out quickly, but he wasn’t sure if he believed him. ‘Come on,’ he said, before breaking off into a violent coughing fit that shredded his throat. ‘We’ll go together.’

  ‘You first.’

  ‘No. Together.’

  He grabbed her hand, but she planted her feet and pulled him back. He was about to tell he it would be alright, but when he looked into her face, he saw what had been there all along. She wasn’t scared of the fire, or the villagers. She wanted to stay until the building collapsed. Her grief was deep and painful and she saw this as a way out.

  ‘If you don’t come, you’ll have to watch me cough to death,’ he said, his words racing out of him ahead of several hacking coughs.

  Her eyes focused with alarm. ‘No Kye! You’ve got to get out.’

  ‘Only if you’re with me.’

  As hungry flames ran up the inside of the roof he planted his feet and folded his arms. She glared at him with a mix of anger and despair, but when he bent over to cough again she gave in and ran out through the burning door with her arms in front of her face. When he recovered his breath, he ran after her. There was a brief sensation of heat and then he was out in the street, gasping fresh air.

  He expected to see fighting, but the street was empty except for a single man who was kneeling by a discarded axe and sobbing into his hands. He followed Della to where Ormis and Kring were waiting. The giant waved them around the side of the building, but as they ran past the wagon an arrow drafted Kye’s ear, gouged the stone wall and clattered to the ground. They ran on in a crouch after that and several more arrows whistled over them before they jumped the wall that bordered the cornfield and disappeared into the nearest aisle. Kring bounded in after them, his broad shoulders slapping through the green leaves, leaving a trail of swaying corn in his wake.

  ‘Weave the aisles,’ he shouted. ‘There’ll be bowmen on the wall in seconds!’

  Ormis yanked Della into an adjacent row and Kring bounded up behind Kye, scooped him up beneath one huge arm and crashed through into another. Behind them the giant’s prediction took shape. Two of the three bowmen had rediscovered their courage and they ran out of their hiding places to stand on the wall. They watched the disturbances in the corn speed away, predicting their targets location and letting their arrows fly.

  Emilie watched the arrows rip through the corn and was relieved when Kye emerged from the far side of the field unharmed. The threat to his life had served as a temporary distraction to her cravings, but as he disappeared from sight they returned with the meanness of a starved dog. Below her, the villagers were swarming around the back of the holdings. She regarded them now the way an owl regards a litter of field mice. The sensations she had stolen from them were simple ones, but to her they were beautiful eruptions in a numb and wretched existence. Her wintery soul had flash thawed as she trespassed them and for the shortest time she had felt the warm touch of spring. But after she scared away the last bowman, she had turned to find the street empty and her soul froze over again.

  She stared hungrily at the milling crowd and thought again of how her mother stopped her going into the shops in Irongate all those years ago. She now knew what it would have being like to have gone in, only to be dragged out after smelling the warm sponge cakes or stroking a pretty doll’s hair. The villagers were like little shops now, stocking all the sensation she craved for and her mother was no longer around to stop her plundering them. Her only restraint was the feeble hand of her remaining morality and its grip was already slipping from her shoulder.

  But why should she resist such temptation?
Would someone caught in a blizzard turn away from the warm light of an inn? And would a starving man lift a hot chicken leg to his mouth only to lay it down again? No one would expect them to and they shouldn’t expect her to either.

  Nevertheless, she turned her back on temptation and drifted back to the lake. But whether it was willpower that took her there, or simple submission to the relentless pull of her haunt, she couldn’t tell. She went to the centre of the lake and sank into the dark water in which she had drowned. It was the heart of her haunt and the place she always gravitated to. The girl she had once been was almost gone now. Soon there would be nothing left of her but the cravings themselves and every action she took thereafter would serve only to gratify them. But she had decided to fight the cravings until she could fight them no more. She would hold herself prisoner at the bottom of the lake; away from people and away from temptation. She planned to slip into one of her frozen trances and without Kye coming by to call out her out of it, she hoped to stay there forever. She closed her eyes and settled, knowing her brother would be proud.

  Campfire

  When they were safely into the trees at the other side of the cornfield they stopped to catch their breath and look back at the holdings. The entire roof was ablaze now, sending up thick plumes of smoke to sully an otherwise pristine sky. Villagers were looking over at them from the rear of the buildings, but there were no signs of pursuit. The archers were still at the wall, but they had lowered their bows and were standing together in conference.

  ‘Will they come after us?’ Kye asked.

  Ormis shook his head. ‘Unlikely. Their plan has failed and they’ll expect riders from the Caliste in the next few days. Most will try to distance themselves from all this and will swear they played no part in it.’ His eyes darkened as he looked at them over the corn – as if they were giving such testimonies to him right now. ‘But the ringleaders will be gone from the village by sunset. When the riders come, they’ll find the forge cold and the warden’s house empty… Even so we mustn’t take any chances.’ He turned to Kring. ‘We should keep to the forest until we reach Sambry. Take the road back from there.’

  ‘What will happen to my mother?’

  ‘She’ll be sent for once we arrive in Irongate.’

  ‘I mean now? The villagers are pretty angry.’

  ‘I cannot deny she’s at risk, but most will have lost their appetite for reprisals.’ And with that he turned away and signalled for Kring to lead them into the forest.

  They went without the need to hurry now; through a maze of oak and hazel and beneath a sun drenched canopy that gossiped in the breeze. As he walked Kye thought about what the exorcist said, but took no comfort from it. Even if Ormis was right and the villagers never visited their wrath on his parents’ front door, they were finished in Agelrish now. Because of him, they would be blackwashed and ostracised – left with no option but to leave. And if that happened, there was a good chance of Bill taking off and leaving his mother to fend for herself. He couldn’t care less about the fate of his stepfather, but he couldn’t bear to think of his mother out on the streets.

  After an hour of brooding he turned his attention to Della and adjusted his pace to come alongside her; working up the courage to strike up a conversation, but racking his brains about what to say. He could tell she was mad at him for making her run out of the fire and although he would do it again if given the chance, he felt a bizarre need to apologise. He tried to make eye contact, but when she looked away he realised there was little chance of getting her to speak. So he fell back and relaxed into his stride, tuning into the fragrance and sound of the woods: the smell of wild garlic and wet earth; the competing melodies of hidden birds and the occasional flap of their wings.

  They walked all day with only two short breaks and the shadows were long when Ormis chose a place to make camp – a small clearing within a ring of arthritic oaks that leant over the space like wise old men. Kring trudged off to gather kindling and Ormis began to clear some ground for a fire pit. Kye and Della dropped down exhausted, but she sat away from him with her back turned.

  Kring soon returned with armfuls of deadwood and dropped them beside the pit Ormis was digging out. When the exorcist moved away he set about starting a fire; his lower two hands making sparks with a flint and steel while his upper two arranged the kindling. In less than a minute the wood was crackling and shadows were dancing in the fire light.

  Ormis walked over to Kye and Della, unshouldering his back pack. ‘It’ll be cold tonight,’ he said, taking out a couple of blankets and tossing them on the ground. ‘Be sure to get half underneath you. It’ll be warmer that way.’ He reached in again and took out a cloth which he unrolled on the ground, revealing some salted pork and goat’s cheese. He took some for himself, gestured for them to help themselves and walked away.

  For the last few hours Kye’s insides had been working like a millstone without corn to grind so he shuffled over and tucked in immediately. ‘You should try some,’ he said to Della between mouthfuls. ‘It’s good.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  He considered eating her share, but despite his aching stomach he decided to leave it in case she changed her mind.

  ‘I’m sorry about your uncle. I’m sure he was a good man.’

  She didn’t answer this time. She was gripping her knees to her chest and staring into the fire.

  ‘Do you have any other family?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘I know why you wanted to stay back there. And it’s not the answer. I lost my sister and I understand how you feel. But after the pain, there’s still life to be had.’ He couldn’t understand why he said this last part, because it certainly hadn’t been true for him. After his sister’s death his life had gotten worse with every passing day.

  ‘You shouldn’t have helped me. You’re in trouble now and you can’t go home.’

  He shrugged. ‘I was already in trouble. And as for going home, I was leaving anyway.’

  ‘Then you would’ve been far away by now.’

  He looked away into the fire, imagining himself walking along the road to Irongate and smiling at strangers; the sun on his face and a pouch of money in his pocket. But it seemed like a stupid fantasy now. ‘I’m glad I helped you. I was running away to find work and I’ll find it soon enough.’

  They watched the fire together and after a while a squirrel ran along a branch to look down at the pork and cheese, its eyes shining in the light of the flames.

  ‘I heard your screams. While I was dozing in the tree house last night, and the day before while walking the lake.’

  She looked puzzled at first, then recognition jumped into her eyes and she looked away. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Emilie said you were in danger… And that you and her were alike.’

  She whipped her head back around and spoke to him in a harsh whisper. ‘Stop it! If you want to help me, you won’t say those things. Not to me or anyone else.’ She grabbed her blanket, wrapped it around her shoulder and curled up on the ground with her back to him.

  Kye felt his face burning up as he realised what he had been saying and the trouble she would be in if certain people overheard. Sometimes it was as if his mouth had a mind all of its own. He looked over at Ormis and Kring and was pleased to see them engaged in their own conversation at the other side of the fire. He grabbed his blanket now and threw it out behind him. There were a lot of questions he wanted to ask Della, but he knew he might never get the chance to ask them now. She didn’t trust him anymore and when they got to Irongate tomorrow he might never see her again. There was certainly something mysterious about her. He didn’t think she was a witch, but she was definitely different. She heard every word Emilie said last night and he had heard her scream and suffered her grief through deeper hearing. Not least was the look on Ormis's face after he scoured her. If Della had some secrets of the sort exorcists would be interested in, then she was right – he shoul
d keep his big mouth shut. She was suffering enough without him dropping her in hot water just to appease his curiosity. He looked over to where the shadows from the fire danced on her back and wished her pleasant dreams.

  Ormis strode over a while later. ‘Kring’s keeping watch so you should get some sleep. We’ll be off to Irongate at first light.’ With that he went to the nearest oak and sat down at its foot, tipping his hat forwards to cover his face.

  Kye wasn’t ready to sleep yet so he watched the fire for a while. For the last two years he had lived in the background of Agelrish - like a child with a blurred face in the background of a painting. The events of today had yanked him into all the brightness and scrutiny of the foreground and all he wanted to do now was shrink back into obscurity. He had wished for adventure his whole life, but this wasn’t what he had in mind. It was a while before he settled down to sleep and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Ormis’s mist stone - its poisonous green light pulsating in the shadows like the eye of some magical reptile.

  The Lady of the Forest

  It was deep into the night when Kye’s eyes flicked open again. The fire was burning low and several stars twinkled through the shadowy foliage. Kring was standing guard at the other side of the clearing and Ormis was sleeping beneath his hat; the nook in which he was wedged, brightening and dimming with each pulse of his mist stone.

  He threw off his blanket and sat up, searching the forest for the presence his sizzling nerves were telling him was there. Della sat up next to him and as soon as she turned her face to catch the firelight he could see she was feeling the same thing. The sensation strengthened until he felt the urge to flee and he partially satisfied it by standing up. Della followed his lead and Kring came around the fire to join them.