The Eldritch Isle

by Michael H. Kelly

  “Sorry,” said Derek, his smile faltering and a blush beginning.

  “Don't sweat it,” she shrugged. “I've just been kicking back and having a couple of cans, getting started early.” She glanced at Steven, said, “Hi, Steven, how are you?”, then looked away dismissively again before he had chance to reply. Steven noted that she used her best 'your brother told me to be nice to you even though it's a pain in the arse you being here' voice. Since she was obviously disinterested, he didn't bother replying; he didn't think she even noticed.

  From that point on, Steven's enthusiasm slumped and things began to work out exactly the way he thought they would. Derek helped him put the tent up, while Becky looked on, drinking a can of cheap lager. Then Derek and Becky both disappeared into the tent, while he was left to prepare dinner, listening to their stupid giggling. He had half a mind to simply catch the next bus back to Douglas, but he couldn't face the humiliation of crawling home to their parents, and he knew Derek would make his life hell for weeks afterwards.

  Dinner was tinned beans and sausages cooked over the campfire, along with some very badly cooked beefburgers, blackened on the outside but nearly raw in the middle. Proper camping food, in other words, just what they had been expecting. Derek and Becky emerged from the tent to share the food and passed Steven one of their tins of beer. As they sat there chomping on this summer evening, Steven began to hope that maybe things wouldn't be so bad after all.

  It wasn't so bad … it was worse! After they had eaten, Steven had been sent across the road to wash the metal camping dishes in the stream that rushed down through the glen. When he got back, he found the tent zipped up against him and could hear the other two giggling within.

  He put the dishes away, deliberately clattering them and making a noise so they would know he was back. When this got no response, he became irritable and shouted, “Come on you two! What are we going to do this evening?”

  His brother's voice, clearly irked at being disturbed, shouted back from inside the tent, “Go for a walk down through the glen or something. That's what you came here for.”

  “What I came here for?” Steven shouted back. “What about you?”

  “Just clear off, Steven. Becky and I are catching up on things,” Derek called back. “Amuse yourself for one night, can't you? Come back when it gets dark.”

  “It's not fair!” shouted Steven. But he was ignored. The discussion was evidently over. For a long moment, Steven considered just unzipping the tent door and going in, but he knew that his brother was likely to lose his temper and give him a pasting if he did that. So left with no alternative, he crossed the road again and passed through the entrance into Dhoon Glen.

  Although it was only about 7pm on a balmy summer evening, it quickly became dim in the glen, as the light was filtered through the leaves above. It looked magical when Steven looked up, a multitude of shades of green, comprised of leaves illuminated from above. But the ground underfoot was dark and he had to watch his step on the steep path to avoid tripping over tree roots and stones protruding through the worn earthen surface.

  The path wound and zigzagged downwards, often at a very sheer slope. Steven was very thankful that it had been dry recently: the way would have been very slippery and treacherous if it had been muddy. As it was, all his feet disturbed was the dusty, fine soil that scuffed into the air as he strode along. Part of him was inwardly protesting that it was all very well descending at such a pace, but had he considered how hard it was going to be to climb back up again? But he shoved such thoughts aside, wanting to simply walk fast and get away from the tent and the two people who had ruined his holiday. Again, he briefly considered catching the late bus back to Douglas and leaving Derek and Becky to their own devices. But the shame of defeat would be too much to bear, and his brother's wrath when their parents discovered the reason for Steven's early return would make life unbearable.

  He was walking alongside the stream now, which raced along and often fell in little waterfalls. Its music was enchanting, mingling with the rhythm of his pace and the shifting green hues of the light through the leaves. The overall effect worked wonders upon his troubled mind, soothing his frustrations and inducing a kind of trance state. It seemed to Steven that the glen was a truly magical place, from which he could step through into a myriad fairy tale worlds, all of them better than the one he currently lived in.

  In this dreamlike state, his pace seemed to slow and he drifted down the path towards the waterfall at the foot of the glen, and the nearby beach. When he finally stood before the majestic torrent, surrounded by trees, the sky just beginning to tint with twilight hues, his face was beaming with wonder.

  Shadows seemed to creep at the edges of his peripheral vision, half glimpsed but never quite seen. He didn't find them at all sinister, but warming and comforting. They promised him a sense of belonging, assuring him that he had come to a magical place, and that the spirit of this place would never push him aside as his brother had. Shapes seemed to shift and dance in the motes of pollen caught in the light that filtered down through the leaves and reflected off the water. Steven found himself swaying gently on the balls of his feet as if he was dancing with them, softly whistling a strange, repetitive tune.

  The light faded still further, a purplish dusk falling. Steven had lost all track of time, he had no idea how long he had been standing there, swaying blissfully to silent music. Now, as the sun was no longer able to penetrate the deep places of the glen, a greater shadow seemed to appear in the space before the falls: the shadow of a huge man, sitting cross-legged with powerful arms and shoulders. The head seemed strangely shaped, with great, shaggy ears and two tall horns. There was nothing physically there, but the shape was defined by the shadows of the leaves and the shimmer on the water, it had a presence of power and solidity despite the absence of substance.

  A deep, vibrating voice seemed to speak to Steven. It had no source, but seemed to simply buzz out of the air around him, resonating deep within his bones, causing his hair to stand on end and his teeth to chatter. This was not a result of fright, but a sensation similar to a mild electric current. “I am the goat who leaps across the mountain tops,” it said. “I jump and climb and prance from one reality to the next, alighting wherever a new peak shows itself through the surrounding astral mists. I am come to you now, Steven, and I offer to you my voice and my eyes, that you may see as I do and speak with the voice that commands and must be obeyed. If you would join me, follow my guidance, and I shall grant to you horns of power and hooves of your own, that you too may leap between worlds, unfettered by time and space.”

  Steven remained in that spot until it was quite dark, exulting in the powerful presence that moved around and within him, its gravelly tones whispering cosmic secrets in his ear. At midnight, the great shadowy horns raised up to the night sky and Steven was bade to depart. He knew what he had to do. He turned and began the long, hard climb back up the steep path to the head of the glen. Despite the lateness of the hour and the dimness of the woods, his feet were guided and his steps were certain; he neither hesitated nor tripped. His trance-like state gradually faded as he ascended and he missed the warm, whispering voice, the comforting shadow and the thick, animal smell that had embraced him whilst below. He understood that his return to the campsite was necessary, but he felt a pang of loss all the same. But soon, he knew, all times would be as one time to him.

  When he reached the head of the glen and crossed the road into the car parking area, he began to hear his brother calling: “Steven! Where are you?” He could see a torch beam flashing back and forth among the trees near the tent. He walked casually across and climbed over the gate into the field. Derek had his back to him, leaning over the hedge, waving the torch around.

  “I'm here,” Steven said calmly. “There's no need to shout and make an exhibition of yourself.”

  “Where the hell have you been?” demanded Derek, storming over in a rage. His face was flushed red.

  Stev
en shrugged. “I just went for a walk down the glen, like you told me to. It was you who sent me off after dinner, after all. I wanted to make sure I gave you enough time.”

  “Don't get smart with me!” roared Derek. “You've been gone for hours! It's past midnight.”

  Steven simply turned and unzipped the entrance to the tent. Seeing that it was empty inside, he looked back over his shoulder at his brother and calmly asked, “Where's Becky?”

  “Looking for you, you moron!” snapped Derek. “She should be back soon, she was taking a look around the woods on this side of the road.”

  “Good,” said Steven quietly.

  “Good?” shouted Derek. “Good! What d'you mean good?”

  Steven turned and looked Derek steadily in the eye once more. “I mean, I'm glad she's still here,” he said with apparent sincerity. “When the tent was empty, I was afraid she might have left.”

  Derek shook his head, mystified. “I really don't get you sometimes.”

  “Don't worry about it. I'm going to bed now. Thanks for waiting up.” And with that, Steven slipped into the tent, took off his shoes and entered the sleeping compartment. A simple cloth separator had been put up to divide the sleeping area into two cramped partitions. Steven crawled into his and pulled off his jacket and trousers, then wriggled into his sleeping bag.

  He lay there in the dark, listening. His eyes were wide open, but his vision was far away, reflecting upon all that he had been promised. He heard the absurdly loud tramping of Becky's feet as she returned to the tent, and the annoyed way she asked Derek about him. He also heard his brother's reply: “It's all right, the little scrote came waltzing back a few minutes ago, cocky as you like. He's gone to sleep.”

  He heard the cracks of their cans of beer opening and smelled the acrid odour of tobacco as they lit cigarettes. They were talking over their plans for the next day in hushed tones. Steven smiled to himself. If only they knew!

  Then he listened as they fumbled their way into the tent, trying to be quiet but making an unconscionable racket in their clumsiness. He heard them having inexpert sex, just inches from him, on the other side of that thin fabric partition. There is nothing worse for a teenager than knowing that others are having sex in their presence, whilst they aren't having any themselves. Under normal circumstances, it would have frustrated Steven hugely and driven him mad. But now he simply listened dispassionately. In any case, it only lasted a minute until he heard his brother grunt in completion and roll over.

  Soon Steven heard soft snores. But he lay awake all night, his eyes opened and fixed on invisible worlds of wonder, as he listened to the silent sounds that filtered down from between the stars.

  The following morning, Derek and Becky awoke to the smell of bacon and eggs and the sound of the pan sizzling as Steven cooked them breakfast over the campfire. They crawled out of their sleeping bag and pulled their crumpled clothes on, emerging to a bright morning, the sky a cloudless expanse of blue, the sun blazing over the sea.

  Steven was sitting on his haunches, waiting for a pot of water to boil to make coffee. “Good morning,” he said cheerily.

  “Morning,” grunted Derek grudgingly, compelled to show some gratitude for his brother's labours. Becky said nothing, but she looked uncomfortable at being treated so well by someone she and Derek had so blatantly sidelined.

  “You were late last night,” grunted Derek at last, squatting down to fork some bacon onto a plate.

  “I got carried away,” shrugged Steven. “I found this amazing spot down the bottom of the glen. There's a big waterfall, with a pool, and all the trees arching overhead. Very atmospheric. You should take a look at it. It's exactly the sort of place we'd hoped to discover on this camping trip.”

  Derek and Becky exchanged a furtive glance, their minds already beginning to turn over the possibilities. “Maybe we will,” nodded Derek.

  “I'll show you this evening if you like,” smiled Steven. “It's especially beautiful with the moonlight reflecting off the water.”

  After planting this suggestion in their minds, Steven made sure to stay out of the way of his brother and Becky for the remainder of the day. When they lazed in the tent, or sunbathed on a rug in the field, he kept his distance and didn't bother them; when they went for a stroll in the woods, he kept out of their sight. The only time he made his presence known was to prepare some food when he anticipated they might be hungry. So they were feeling very benign towards him when evening came around. Becky even grunted a greeting at him when they returned to the tent late in the afternoon and found him preparing some dinner for them.

  As they sat around the fire eating, Derek glanced up at Steven and gruffly said, “What have you been doing with yourself all day? We haven't seen much of you.”

  Steven shrugged. “Just lazing and conserving my energy mostly. I'm going down into the glen again tonight. It was so beautiful down there by the waterfall last night. You should see it. I'll probably walk a little further than that tonight, though, maybe take a stroll along the beach.”

  “Hmm, maybe we'll go with you, just as far as the waterfall,” said Derek. “It would be a pity not to see it.”

  “Yeah,” smirked Becky. “We can go skinny dipping.” Derek grinned at her in response.

  Steven grinned too, though he tried to conceal it. They had taken the bait! Everything was going according to plan.

  All three of them crossed the road and walked down the steep path through the glen that evening. The weather was still hot and glorious, the sun blazing down through the leaves, washing the scenery with a cheery greenish-gold glow. Derek and Becky were in good spirits, laughing and larking around, whilst Steven strolled serenely along, leading the way a few paces ahead of them.

  At length, they reached the broad pool and the waterfall that thundered down into it. Steven smiled and turned to face Derek and Becky. “Here's the place,” he said. “I hope you enjoy it. I'm going to carry on walking a bit if you don't mind. I'll leave you to enjoy the pool and the falls.”

  “Yeah, sure,” said Derek, waving a dismissive hand. “You go on and do whatever you like. Don't rush back.” He was already putting Steven out of his mind as he and Becky sat down by the edge of the pool and started removing their footwear. Soon his trainers and her Doc Martens were sitting on a rock while they splashed about, laughing. Steven watched them for a few minutes, an enigmatic smile on his face, Then he moved on,

  Derek had to admit that his brother had found a good spot. Becky was enjoying it too. And when Becky was enjoying herself, it generally meant Derek was in for some real fun. She had already soaked her jeans through by splashing so much. It would only be a few minutes now before she decided she might as well remove them entirely. When the sun went down, the clothes would come off. It was strange: the water was cold, but Derek felt a great heat in him, a rising passion. When Becky glanced his way, her cheeks were flushed and her pupils dilated, so he could tell that she was feeling it too. Man, but this was going to be a good night!

  There was a strange shimmer in the air around the waterfall, the setting sun playing tricks of the light upon Derek's and Becky's eyes. They were entranced, the sound of falling water seeming like music. They fell into each other's arms and made love there and then in the pool as the light grew dim and shadows embraced them.

  Steven had not gone far. He had only walked about fifty yards from the pool when the presence had surrounded him, enfolding him within itself. Now it murmured in his ear. He could see it more clearly tonight, features discernible among the shadows. It was a great, shaggy beast, but with arms and hands like a man's. It bore enormous horns and had cloven hooves. The light of suns was in its eyes. Its breath was the wind that blew between the stars.

  “I am the render of the veil, the opener of the gate, the dweller on the threshold.” Its voice sounded within his mind in warm, rich, deep tones. “I am called Baphomet, the Goat of Mendes. I am Shub-Niggurath, the black goat of the woods with a thousand young. I leap betwe
en the worlds, spanning the cosmos, and my young dance around me, laughing and slaying in the sheer joy of unbound existence. You are one of mine, Steven. You are touched by me. The Mark of the Beast is upon you.”

  The horned beast reached out its hand and touched Steven upon his brow. There was a momentary burning sensation, then he felt a new vigour enter his limbs. It was as if scales had fallen from his eyes: he could see other worlds and gulfs of space overlaid upon our own, and he knew that he could shift from one world to another simply by stepping sideways from the normal perception of reality. His skin itched all over and he began to hyperventilate. Strange, inexpressible colours wove around him, burning him with their radiance, but not marking or consuming him.

  “Be careful, my young one,” cautioned the beast. “You are not yet ready. You are still counted among the hornless ones. But tomorrow night, when the gate opens and the Dark Young pour through, your transformation will be complete. Then you will kill and feed and leap and be merry.”

  Steven shuddered in ecstasy. His body pulsed with a deep, tingling sensation. He stretched, luxuriating in the sensation, then ran and danced among the trees, laughing aloud.

  It was long after sunrise before any of them stirred the following morning. None of them could remember what time it had been when they finally staggered back up out of the glen and fell into the tent, but the night was all but spent and the eastern sky had been paling. They had collapsed fully clothed, without even climbing into their sleeping bags. All were in a state of blissful exhaustion.

  It was Steven who woke first, perhaps because he was slightly more used to the ecstatic behaviour of the night. He squinted at the light of the sun as it shone through the fabric of the tent. It was directly overhead, so they must have slept till at least noon. He struggled up and out, discovering that they had been so exhausted that they had neglected to even zip the tent closed after they had climbed into it: the flap had been hanging wide open the whole time they had been asleep.