The Eldritch Isle

by Michael H. Kelly

  Danny had no answer. He knew of the influence wielded by Kneen, a very wealthy landowner. He had no doubt that the man could carry out his threat. He nodded dully.

  “Good,” purred Kneen. “You know, if you'd only told me from the outset that you planned to go poking around in the Curraghs, you could have saved yourself all this trouble, as I would never have allowed you to rent the cottage in the first place.”

  As they walked off, Parker sneering back at him, Danny understood that whatever was going on here, Kneen was in it up to his eyeballs.

  By late afternoon, Danny had finished loading the bulk of his stuff into his car. Fortunately, he had moved very little furniture into the cottage, as it was already furnished. He would have to arrange to collect the few larger items at a later date.

  He drove to Kneen's large manor house a couple of miles down the road and left the cottage's keys with the housekeeper who answered the door, saying curtly that he would be in touch in due course. He then drove away, heading back towards Sulby.

  He wasn't going far, however. He had already decided that he wasn't going to give up. The very fact that he had engendered such hostility and opposition among the locals assured him that he was onto something much bigger than he had first suspected. So when he reached the village of Sulby, he pulled up outside a little bed and breakfast and negotiated a room and board for a week with Mrs Clague, the sweet little old lady who owned the place. Her daughter Clare showed Danny up to his room.

  Danny left most of his belongings packed in the boxes and bags he had carried them up from the car in. He would sort them all out tomorrow and try to make more long term arrangements then. But tonight, he would be busy. Kneen had been most adamant that he should be out of the cottage before nightfall, and this suggested to Danny that perhaps the strange group of people who were preying on the wallabies had something planned for tonight.

  The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. All of his forays into the Curraghs so far had been during the daytime, and he had seen no trace of any other people then, just the nervous, reduced wallaby population. And his cottage had been visited by prowlers on two occasions, both in the middle of the night. It seemed evident that this group's activities were nocturnal. They now believed that Danny was well out of the way, chased off with his tail between his legs. So tonight he was going to sneak back and discover exactly what was going on. He wasn't a fool and he didn't plan to confront anyone, but he would bring his camera, which had a night vision setting and a good zoom, and he would collect as much damning photographic evidence as he could.

  Danny stuffed everything that he would need into a single satchel and took this out to his car, locking it in the boot. He then had dinner at the guest house, smiling and nodding amiably as he pretended to listen to Mrs Clague's ceaseless chatter. Dinner over, he said goodnight and went up to his room.

  He quickly and quietly dressed in a dark, heavy duty coat, a black woollen hat and a pair of waterproof boots. He crept back downstairs and out the back door, wincing as it creaked slightly. Moving swiftly to his car, he removed the satchel from the boot, slung it over his shoulder and set off on foot. It was only a couple of miles from here to the edge of the Curraghs. He would be approaching the swamp from the opposite side than he was used to, but he had explored it enough to be fairly certain that he wouldn't lose his way.

  He set a good pace, then skirted the edges of the Wildlife Park as he pressed on past it and deeper into the heart of the marshy undergrowth. He occasionally flicked his torch on momentarily to get his bearings and by eleven o'clock he recognised the area he was in, just a short distance from his hide. He decided to go to the hide first, to allow himself a good look at his surroundings from a concealed position.

  Treading very carefully now that he was approaching the wallabies' territory, taking great care not to make a noise and to keep as concealed as possible, Danny crept to the tree that bore his hide. He looked around him furtively to make sure that he was not being watched, then he rapidly climbed up into the lower branches and entered the hide.

  He was pleased to note that there were no signs that anyone had been here since his own last visit. There was, after all, no reason for Parker and his cronies to assume that Danny had a hide in the area. It would make his job tonight so much easier if he could keep an eye on the wallabies from this hidden position. If anyone came along and tried to interfere with them, he would be able to see them easily without being seen.

  Danny set up his camera on a tripod and pulled a small pair of binoculars out of his bag. He then trained these on the area where the wallabies seemed to be concentrated. As soon as he did so, he froze, adjusted the focus, and checked again. He had not been mistaken: there was a flickering light visible through the undergrowth on the far side of the colony. There was somebody or somebodies already here in the Curraghs, and they had lit a fire in the pit in the clearing that Danny had discovered down by the deeper dubs.

  He set his jaw grimly. Now he had them: he could circle round and creep up behind them with his telephoto lens on his camera; catch them in the act. He felt a great surge of satisfaction, the adrenalin pumping through him. He wondered if investigative journalists felt like this when they cracked a story and finally found the elusive evidence they had been searching for.

  He slipped down from his hide and began circling around towards the fire pit. He had to take a circuitous route, as he didn't want to alarm the wallabies, which would warn the men of his approach. He also had to take regular detours around the thickest bushes and undergrowth, to avoid making too much noise.

  He soon reached the deep, dark waters that flooded the lands beyond the fire pit, and he knew he was drawing close. He crouched down and crept towards the reddish light that could be seen between the trees, taking every step very cautiously indeed so as to avoid any squelching noises or snapping twigs.

  Shortly, he very very slowly raised his eyes over a low branch and was able to see half a dozen people in the clearing beyond. They were milling about and chatting amiably; he could distinguish both male and female voices, though he couldn't make out their words or identify the speakers. They all seemed to be wearing dark, cowled robes, which didn't give him a lot to go on, but he nodded to himself with satisfaction as one figure turned to look at another on the opposite side of the fire, and for a moment he saw the features of Parker quite clearly beneath the hood.

  He turned his attention now to the fire itself. His jaw tightened with anger as he saw the carcase of a wallaby roasting over the flames. These people were sitting about in the dark, around a fire, wearing robes, but they behaved as casually as if they were at a family barbecue on a sunny afternoon.

  Slowly, very slowly, Danny raised his camera to eye level, supporting it on the branch. He kept it trained on the group of revellers, his eye fixed to the viewfinder and his finger poised upon the shutter release. As soon as one of them turned enough to show a face in the firelight, he would snap their picture that very instant. It was simply a matter of patience.

  He stayed like that for some fifteen minutes, managing to take the picture of a burly man whose face he didn't recognise, but who might well have been one of Parker's henchmen the previous night. Then, while he waited, he felt the hairs at the back of his neck prickling and a terrible chill running up and down his spine. At first, he couldn't work out why he was feeling so alarmed. Then he realised it was nothing he could see before him, but there was a soft sound which was causing him distress. It was a wet, wheezy breathing noise, and it was coming from behind him.

  Danny turned around, his heart sinking and his bowels loosening. He felt sick to his stomach and he wasn't sure if he was more likely to faint, throw up or soil himself. All he knew was that there was someone behind him and there was nothing he could possibly do quick enough to take the initiative.

  He had a quick glimpse of a towering form, rank and dripping with mud, a black, peaty film that overlaid its dark green hide. The head was huge and heavy, wi
th pale, bulging eyes, no nose, no hair, and a wide slash for a mouth. And it stank. Oh God, but it stank! No sooner had the stench hit him than a branch did too, as the great green thing swung a piece of fallen tree like a club, smacking Danny on the side of his head. He fell senseless into the murky water.

  When he came round, Danny's head was spinning and his ears were ringing. He was lying on his back and he immediately rolled onto his side and was noisily and copiously sick as a tidal wave of nausea swept through him. He gagged and choked, his eyes streaming. The left side of his face felt scraped and bruised, he was sure he could feel blood trickling down his head, and his mouth was in enormous pain, with a few teeth broken. He whimpered uncontrollably. He couldn't even cradle his wounded head in his hands, because as his awareness returned fully, he realised that his hands were bound tightly and very painfully behind his back. His feet too were bound, to the extent that he could no longer feel them. Even if he could untie them, he wouldn't be able to walk or run anywhere.

  He groggily became aware that he wasn't the only one whimpering. His left eye was crusted with blood, but he opened his right one and took in his surroundings. He was in a little wooden pen which contained himself and one other occupant: a wallaby, its front paws and hind legs all tied up mercilessly tightly. As he looked at it, it stared back at him, its eyes filled with a hopeless resignation. This was what the animals had been living in fear of, and this one had been caught. No, he corrected himself, two had been caught: he had already seen one being roasted over the fire.

  Thoughts of the fire brought his predicament fully home to him. He looked around to find out where he was in relation to the clearing. He could see the flicker of firelight through the foliage to his right, not very far away. He could also hear the murmur and leisurely laughter of voices, but only through his good right ear: his left ear seemed useless. He hoped he wasn't permanently deaf in it following the blow to the side of his head. The pen he was tied up in seemed to be in the midst of a little stand of bushes on the drier side of the clearing.

  His thoughts went back to the moment he was clubbed and the hideous thing that had towered over him. How on earth had it got behind him like that? It must have come through the water to do so, and yet it had been silent. He noticed that he was mentally referring to it as 'it', because one thing was for certain: it was not human. It was quite clearly the same horrible figure that had been up on his roof at night when Parker and his chums were outside the cottage. What in God's name was it?

  The undergrowth surrounding the pen was abruptly pushed aside and there it stood, as if evoked forth from Hell by the power of Danny's thoughts. His heart nearly stopped as it leaped over the side of the pen, huge bare feet landing in the mud without a sound. Danny could see it more clearly now as it stood there, swaying slightly from side to side, its breath rattling thickly. It was a couple of feet taller than a man and was naked, quite clearly a male. But its skin was dark green and wet, with lumps, ridges and very fine scaling. It reminded Danny of the skin of a frog. The flat toes splayed in the mud were webbed, like diving flippers, and Danny recalled the weird footprints he had photographed outside the cottage. The flat face was curiously fish-like, the mouth containing razor teeth, but the body, which was so broad and muscular that it seemed squat in spite of its size, resembled that of a very powerful man.

  The thing stooped lower, seized Danny's wounded head by the hair, making him wince and cry out, and hoisted him up so it could sniff at him, staring at him myopically with those huge, bulging eyes, which were obviously very near-sighted and not so keen as their size would suggest. Danny whimpered and struggled in its punishing grip. He could feel the blood starting to trickle down his face again.

  Abruptly, the creature dropped Danny face down in the mud, and it reached out and seized up the terrified wallaby instead. The animal struggled madly, making piteous noises, but the horror shoved it into its mouth head first, the great throat swelling to accommodate it, like a snake swallowing its prey whole. In moments the wallaby had gone and the huge bulge in the creature's throat ceased moving as the powerful bands of muscle got to crushing, squeezing work.

  Danny watched in horrified fascination as the ever-shrinking lump of wallaby passed further and further down the creature's throat, into oblivion. The creature turned to stare at him once more.

  Please God, thought Danny, don't let me end like that. Please, please, don't let me end like that.

  The abomination – like a bipedal frog of enormous size and strength – held Danny in its baleful glare for several long seconds, as if considering swallowing him whole too. Then it turned and disappeared through the underbrush as suddenly as it had arrived.

  Danny was given no opportunity to think things over, however, for almost immediately there was a rustling from the foliage on the side nearest the campfire, and a couple of the robed figures pushed through. They stared down at him in silence for a few moments, then pushed back their cowls, revealing themselves to be Kneen and his henchman Parker.

  “Good evening, Mr Kennaugh,” said Kneen drily. “So good of you to join our little assembly at last. You know, I was half afraid you wouldn't wake up after your little head injury. It would have been most unfortunate if I hadn't got the chance to gloat like this.”

  “Why?” spluttered Danny. “For God's sake man, why?”

  “Not for God's sake, Mr Kennaugh,” said Kneen. “Nor indeed the Devil's. No, this is something far older and more real than any petty desert religion. This is a cult that dates back millions of years, long before the remotest ancestors of our species even began walking on two legs. The Deep Ones were there then. Even some of those who dwell and slumber beneath these Curraghs were alive back in those ancient days. They don't die, you know, not like us. Sometimes they'll turn inwards and sleep for a millennium or so, but mostly they just continue. They outnumber us ten to one, in their coral cities and craggy catacombs, beneath the sea and below the shifting mud. There is an underworld of weird and beautiful grottoes beneath this Island, and the Curraghs are one entrance to it.” He leaned down closer to Danny, sitting on his haunches. “I've been down there, more than once. They put you in a trance so you don't need to breathe during the journey, and you awaken in those fantastic halls that few mortals ever see. They love receiving humans there, some as guests, others as slaves. Parker has been down there too.”

  Parker nodded in confirmation.

  “What are they?” croaked Danny. “What the Devil are they?”

  “Not the Devil, Mr Kennaugh,” said Kneen. “Dear me, I've already told you that. I know you have a headache, but you really must try to pay attention. They are an ancient race, very wise and very powerful. Fortunately for our own species, they tend to keep themselves occupied in their own underwater realm – for now. As for where they came from, they have always been here. It is they who ask where we came from.”

  “The wallabies,” pressed Danny. “Why have they been hurting the wallabies? And why are you all helping them?”

  “The wallabies are a perfect food supply for the Deep Ones,” said Kneen. “If they didn't have them to eat, they'd have to resort to seizing local children, like they used to do. Besides, the wallaby population needs to be controlled They always fetch one for us to eat too. They're quite delicious, you know.”

  “They used to seize children and eat them?” repeated Danny, horrified.

  “In times gone by, yes, indeed,” nodded Kneen, as if it was the most natural and reasonable thing in the world. “We can be a little more discreet these days, though, thanks to the wallabies.”

  “So they're forcing you to help them?” pressed Danny. “You're helping them so they won't hurt children? I can understand that, I really can, but if we all joined forces together, I'm sure we could get the better of them.”

  “Oh dear me, Mr Kennaugh, you do disappoint me,” said Kneen, with a touch of irritation. “You're really not getting this at all, are you? We assist the Deep Ones because we want to, because they hel
p us to gain positions of power, they teach us the lost magicks of the ancient world, and although we may never attain immortality like theirs, they extend our lifespans. I'm ninety-five, you know, but I look and feel thirty years younger. And in case you still doubt me, back in the old days, our forefathers used to share in the feast when we provided fresh children for the Deep Ones' repasts.”

  Danny's heart sank. He knew then that he was in the presence of fanatics and lunatics. “So why am I tied up like this?” he demanded. “You have no right to keep me bound like this. I demand to be released at once! I'm not a member of your devilish cult and I can't be bound by its rules.”

  “We could let you go,” nodded Kneen. “It's a reasonable enough suggestion. In fact, when we debated this matter among ourselves, we thought of three possible solutions. We might persuade our Deep One friends to place you in a trance and take you down into their grottoes far below the surface. Or we might ask them if they'd like to eat you. Mr Parker favoured this particular suggestion, but I'm afraid the Deep Ones aren't so keen on adult human meat. Besides which, they've just fed on wallaby. This left us with a third option, which is to let you go. After all, I'm sure you're intelligent enough to realise that no one you tried to tell would believe you, and that the Deep Ones would hunt you down and kill you if you tried spreading word of their doings. But then, just as we were all agreed, one of our amphibious friends came up with a suggestion of its own: the Deep Ones may not have any interest in eating you, but that doesn't mean that we shouldn't.”

  By the time these words had sunk in, Danny was already being manhandled out of the pen by Parker. “No!” he shouted. “Wait! Wait, I say!”

  “Oh, we can't wait, Mr Kennaugh,” said Kneen, still in that maddeningly calm and affable tone of voice. “It's late already. And we're so very hungry. Normally, we would have eaten one of the wallabies, but when you showed up, we gave it to the Deep Ones as an extra offering. They were very pleased with us. But now we're certainly ready to eat, and there's no doubt that you will take a while to cook. We'll probably be able to eat your limbs tonight, but someone will have to stay here through tomorrow to make sure your torso is roasted properly. Still, it does mean we'll have a good feast in store tomorrow night too.”