“Lets go then.”Kendall said.”The faster the better.”
“Let me help this kid with her cloth.”Marie said, taking Allissi to the room beside the kitchen. “I need to catch a breath too.”
“Okay, let me just get a fill then.”Kendall said, trying to get a few drops from his empty flask.
As Marie helped Allissi out with her inner garment, she said:”Ma’am..”
“What is it, kid?”
“Thank you so much.”
“It is fine, kid.”Marie said softly.”I should thank you first, for warning us. I should have listened to you. Now let us go and run away from here.”
“It will be fine, right?”Allissi said.
“Yes, we will just go with mister Kendall. He is a sensible and strong man, who will guide us to safety.”Marie dragged Allissi out of the room.
They heard a smashing sound in the kitchen.
“Mister Kendall, is everything alright?”
“Mister Kendall, we are ready.”
“Mister Kendall?”
The empty kitchen mocked them, with the sheer dreadful silence. There was Mr Kendall’s flask at the table, left sideways near the pitcher of wine he had taken early in the morning, but could not use it. The flask was open, and the contents had spilled on the counter and the floor. The small barrel of ale was smashed on the floor, broken into parts, remaining ale still spreading away from it.
Marie felt like her throat was aching, with the fear, with the sadness and anger and grief and the unfairness of it all.
The sound whooshed nearby. Marie cried out in a broken voice to Allissi
“Run!”
They ran. They ran through the half dark corridors and the hallways, the sound chasing behind them. Slushing, whooshing, thrashing sound of water. Allissi was not being able to keep up.
Marie pulled Allissi behind her as fast as possible. She ran, dragging her behind herself.
Marie said as they ran.”You go right, I go left. Try to get to the garden through the East wing.”
“No ma’am!”Allissi gasped for breath.”Do not send me alone!”
“Do not be silly. This way at least one of us will live.” Marie said.
Allissi understood. Pained, but no other way, Allissi did as Marie said. She could hear the ominous sound chasing after Marie. Her little eyes filled with tears.
Chapter 8
Marie was running through the hallways in utter panic, hearing the slushing sound coming after her. It had chosen her, she realized. Scared, panting and out of breath, she ran, stumbling on furniture, balancing herself on the walls, knocking over things behind her in vain attempt to slow down the unseen horror, though nothing seemed to be working. As a last hope, she was trying to head to the place
Still, she was not running aimlessly. She was heading to the place where utensils were washed. There was a door down there, so she hoped she could escape that way.
Almost there! She jumped into the washing yard. The door was right before her, around the water tank in the middle. But much to her dismay, almost making her crying out loud in hopelessness, it was locked.
She pushed against it, knocked on it, and rattled the lock securing the door. Loudy’s work no doubt, but there was nothing she could do now. Tears rolled down her cheeks, as she frantically looked around for any other way. Going back would mean suicide, the thing was coming down that way.
She would try to hide, she thought, though not too hopeful about it. Better than waiting for death out in the open though.
She looked at the large old tank like tub in the middle where water was stored, and the well. The well could be better, but there was nobody else in the house to pull her back up. She quickly went to the tub and slid herself into the water, drawing the lid back up, leaving a very thin gap at the end so the air could pass. She left only her face out of the water, tried to stay still as much as possible, and prayed.
Then she heard the sound. It was here. It roamed around the tub, as if a body of water rubbing against it. She closed her eyes and clenched her teeth as salty tears welled up from her eyes, mixing with the water in the tub. The sound outside did not go away. It came over to the tub. On top of the lid. Was it sliding away? Not it seemed. But the sound came closer and closer, as if through the small gap. Marie sunk down under the water, holding her breath. She could not hear anything anymore. Water was already around her. But this was familiar water, water of this world, water of God. She would not raise her head up into the air till she can. She will hold her breath down there. She will drown if it would save her soul from the invisible abomination.
She felt things. She could feel the water shifting around her, her eyes closed tight, her mouth shut and a few bubbles coming out from her nostrills, she could feel movements in the surface of the water; movements not of her own. Something was trying to reach her.
Chapter 9
Allissi ran into the garden, crying and trying to find a way out and get help. She first went to the gate, trying to slip through the gaps between the bars, but they were too closely placed for anything but a cat to pass through. Climbing it was out of the question with the spikes at the tall ends, so she went around the walls to find a tree or a high enough ground close to the walls. Scared, she ran along the walls, through the new and hastily planted decorative vegetation and old weeds that grown again from leftover seeds from last weeks rain. She stopped and looked around at every little sound that was not her own, and the garden was eerily silent, except the birds that were chirping somewhere tirelessly. The sun kept shining its waning rays through the branches and the leaves as she walked along the wall to the other end of the compound. When she was about halfway along the wall, she heard the chanting. She did not know from where it came, and the language they sang was alien to her, but for some reason they sounded eerily familiar, and it felt like they were calling her. She looked around, but nobody was there. She just felt her vision darkening and her body feeling tired. She was feeling sleepy for some reason, an irresistible urge to lay down and fall asleep. Panicking and knowing fully well that doing that now would certainly be deadly, she tried hard to fight it and staggered through the garden, in search for something she may use to climb out from this cursed place before she loses consciousness. Finally, she grabbing on and taking support from branches and the wall, she came to the other side of the mansion’s compound, where she saw something she can use. It was a bunch of odd figures left at the corner of the wall. They were like pillars, and moss grew over them to cover their features, except the top portions where strangely made figures of forgotten pagan gods were perched atop some clouds. Or were they clouds?
She suddenly felt the uncomfortable, nauseous sensations coming over her again, which she had felt again and again through her life, and most recently through her dreams. These pillars were not unfamiliar to her. Nor were the figures on top of them. And the clouds. Oh God the clouds! They were not depicting clouds at all! They were…The sleepiness and the strange feeling all mixed up within herself, leading her to a trance.
Allissi came closer to the pillars. At this point she did not know why she did it. Maybe, they could be used to climb over the wall from inside? At least that is what she reasoned, in her half awake state, but she knew that they were here for a reason, just like herself. She laid her bony fingers on the pillars, over the velvety, healthy, moss covered surface, familiar feelings, and lost her consciousness.
Chapter 10
Dominik and the other villagers walked through the leafy woods through the mostly untrodden paths that were covered in dried leaves and branches. They soon reached a small forest stream, which was running across a rocky field, besides with was an old cemetery. They went to an old stone structure, marked by seven stone stele around it. It seemed like a tomb, or a memorial of some sort, and in place of epitaph or a cross, or the plain chunk of stones like most other village graves are, this one had a pillar similar to the ones seen at the Waering mansion by Sir Houston.
The tomb itself
was made out of a large flat boulder, set on a giant flat piece of rock, smoothened through the ages as elements worked on it. Dominik and his allies gave way to an elder, who went beside it. He pressed down on some hidden lever, which lead to the upper round boulder to slide out from the stone platform. As the flat boulder moved away, supposedly covering the grave, it revealed an ancient set of stone stairs that went down the earth to some unknown depth. They looked at each other, and walked into it one by one after lighting half of their torches. Inside, they reached a system of underground cavern, once carved out from the earth by some underground river, remnant of which still ran through the floor of it. There was an obscure path beside the underground stream, and the smooth stone surface of the riverbed, walkable with the little ankle deep water it had now. The cavern was not wholly natural, as there were ancient marks and pictures made by people from bygone era, done over things that were even older. They walked upstream, and here and there met some cracks and holes through which light was falling down on the river bed, lighting their paths. Further they went, a pungent odor kept on filling the tunnel. Soon it reached an unbearable level, to the point where they had to cover their noses. But they did not have to bear it for long. They reached the end of their road. Further upstream, the river emerged out of an underground pool of water, peculiarly churning as if it was alive. A stream of water was falling into this pool from a small hole in the wall ahead of them, and the overflow from this pool was giving rise to the stream they had been following till now.
The wall on their right side had given rise to a shelf like platform now, projecting out from the rocky surface. A set of stairs went up from here to reach the platform, the upper few of them missing. There were a few crudely carved wedge shaped gaps in their place, barely usable on the liquid soaked wall, slimy and repulsive from the unknown material rolling down the slippery stone platrom.
They climbed up. On top of this platform, there was a rectangular stone chamber underneath a bunch of crystals hanging from the ceiling. The dark pungent liquid was constantly dripping from it, coming out from small channels around it, possibly running through the rocks above it, from some unknown source hidden within them. The hollow chamber was overflowing from the dripping liquid, the spill going into the river as it trickled down the wall.
They clenched their teeth and closed their eyes, digging into the pungent slime, they took out a corpse that was being soaked in the liquid for god knew how long. It was naked, and it was corpse of an old man.
Dominik and others started to chant incantations, standing around the corpse of the old man. Nothing happened for a time, but after a while, slowly the corpse started twitching. Then, all of a sudden it got up, opening its eyes, which was all white.
“The time has come.” One of the men spoke reverently.
The reanimated corpse opened its mouth, spilling out a lot of the dark oily liquid. Dominik and others carried it back up the way they came, as the corpse slowly began to return to life.
Chapter 11
Sir Houston returned in the evening. It was a great day at Berkshire, although the host he was supposed to be invited to had a family feud at home, which lead to every guest leaving early and cancellation of his plan to stay at Brent manor for a longer time. It did not matter. In fact, Houston was glad that the old Sir Brent was not boring him to death with his anecdotes and his families glorious role in the crusades. He successfully mingled with the right crowd, and the news of his ownership of the Waering mansion had already spread without a lot of effort on his part. For the most part, it seemed like his plan to be accepted to the upper echelon of the local nobility was already working, and he was already considering this mansion lucky for him. The shred of doubt that he had about buying this mansion with so much money was gone. This was a great day in his thought, and that was why he did not notice from afar that the lamps of the mansion was not all lit. He frowned at the locked gate. Was not Loudy supposed to be here bearing the news of his arrival? Then again, maybe it was thoughtful of Loudy to keep the gate locked till he gets in with the rest of the guards, lest there be robbers.
Loudy has always been cautious, to the level of paranoia. But that was something of a quality for someone managing a Lords estate, Houston thought. He did not mind the locked gate much, and unlocked it with the key he had, and having no reason to keep it open for the rest of the day, locked it back on. It was a bit odd inside too. There was no sign of any servants or maid? This was raising concerns within Sir Houston, but then he remembered that there was a village fair in the nearby village, some sort of pagan ceremony of fig or yig..?
‘Whatever it is, it is where the servants must have gone. But all of them absent when he is coming? That is a major indiscipline and must be punished.’ He thought. He considered cutting wages for a week for all of them, and the money saved thus immediately made him feel better. But he was starving! He was counting on the meal at home, and only had a few tarts before leaving, even though they were excellent. Just as he was regretting not eating more of them, a soldier informed him that the table was already set for him.
Good news! He considered cutting only two days worth of wages for the kitchen staff..those who get wages, that is. ‘No penalty for Loudy, though. If he has granted them leave, he must have good reason.’
Sir Houston thought as he disrobed and went to the washing chamber. He had a bath with hot water kept for him, and then came straight to the master’s dining hall while the soldiers went to the lower floor. He then slipped into daydream of his bright future, which was when it striked him.
What if it was something else? It might have been some entirely different reason Loudy and no one else was at the house. Some reason, less benign than a village fair perhaps. Some sort of emergency? Some threat?
Sir Houston stopped eating. There was no salt pot either, though the food items were perfectly seasoned; but it was clear from a lot of things that the table was set hastily. He would not be too careless. He went to his room, wore his gambeson and took his longsword and his shield with him. It may look ridiculous, but who ever is there to see? He hastily finished a meal, did not touch the wine and went out to meet up with the soldiers. They need to be on guard if there was some emergency.
He stepped into the corridor. It was silent. Too silent for comfort. For the first time, Houston felt the house was too big. All the other times, he had company. He also felt something. Something within him making him more alert, tensing up his muscles. He had felt this during a few battles he has been before. The gut feeling of threat. He suddenly felt he was being watched, and heard a slushing sound in the distance, as if some water was being splashed against the walls. He readied his sword, and his shield, but something deep inside told him that they were useless. He ran the other way. His footsteps echoed in the hall of the empty mansion. He ran to the soldiers quarters first, but could not see any of them there. The dining hall of the guards was empty, the food half eaten, chalices thrown all over the place, meat still half eaten, bread untouched, the lid of the stew pot opened and left beside it, slanted; the steam escaping from the stew.
Houston had a cold perspiration. He wanted to shout, but he stopped himself. It must be raiders. It must be a group of assassins that have taken the whole mansion. He must not give away his position. He slowly backed off, and went to the servant’s wing. Since he caught no wind of the enemy here, this must have been a trap, which must be set up for him. Whatever enemy has taken over the mansion to set this trap must have considered guarding the front door after trapping him, so the only possible way could be the back door of the servant’s wing, to escape into the compound.
Chapter 12
Kendall was pouring ale from the kitchen barrel into his flask when it happened. He was holding the small barrel carefully inside the bend of his elbow, supporting its weight on his forearm, as he left the butcher’s cleaver on the table beside him. He needed this drink to calm his nerves. The flask was shaking in his hand, steady as a rock in other times. Ale was s
pilling around, to his dismay. It was such a pleasant day for such horrible things to be happening. An yellow bird was chirping outside, rather odd for it to be doing this at this time of day, but it was calming him down so he was thankful. Suddenly, it stopped. There was an awkward, instant spell of silence that made him think once that he was losing his hearing. Truly, he could hear nothing; not even the sound of his own breath or heartbeat. Then he heard that fateful sound of surging liquid. It was all around him, on every side, and it was closer than all the times before. He could see the world around him strangely skew and bend, as if he was inside a giant pond with surface on all sides. He tried to scream in horror, understanding within a fraction of a moment that he was going to face the same fate, but he could hear nothing himself. He quickly threw the flask on the table and grabbed the butcher’s cleaver, fortunately just in time.
Then, he felt it. It made him shiver, and have goosebumps in his skin, as the sheer touch of the unworldly, unholy, unseen presence was enough to churn out unthinkable horrors from deep within human psyche, perhaps the memories of ancestors that have known what this meant. There were things that were grabbing onto him. Neither soft as flesh, nor hard as bone; neither tentacles, and nor limbs; many such things grabbed onto him. He could see them pinching and dragging out his clothes, but his attempts at hacking them away with the cleaver bore no fruit, other than scratching himself here and there. As he was busy trying to cut the invisible things that were trying to get him, he was getting soaked with ale from his pants downwards, as he was still holding the ale barrel in his other hand, forgetting about it completely. Ale spilled all around him as a result of his frantic slashing and hacking in desperation. He could also begin to feel a drain. Something was draining him, dragging him to some destination; both mentally and physically. He felt his spirit itself was being attacked and preyed upon. He still did not give up, and hopelessly hacked at whatever way he felt might help.
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