Lingering Haze (The Elusive Strain Book 1)

by James Berardinelli

  Midway through the process of changing my position, I froze. There it was, not twenty feet away from me, regarding me with baleful eyes from its position behind a bush. In the ghostly, washed-out light, it was hard to discern clearly; it was squat and misshapen, perhaps the size of a large dog. Its body seemed to…undulate. The thing that captured my attention was the eyes - their darkness reflected the moon’s light, making them glow white. The force of its presence was as powerful as it had ever been. The instant it realized it had been seen, it scuttled away into the forest, moving so fast that it seemingly vanished. But, although I could no longer see it, my mind told me it hadn’t retreated far. It was still watching me, only from a distance.

  Needless to say, any chance of additional sleep was dashed. With my heart pounding, I spent the rest of the night in terror, my only comfort derived from the solidity of the stick in my hands. I had no idea whether it would be effective against that creature - some inner instinct told me it wouldn’t be - but it felt good to know that I wasn’t completely defenseless.

  Morning found me shaken, weary to the bone, and fully convinced I wouldn’t survive another night in this strange world. The tension of being stalked was taking as much of toll as my physical deprivations. The survival instinct that had driven me since my arrival - was it only two long days ago? - was dwindling. But the alternative to soldiering on was to curl up and die. That no longer seemed as unthinkable as it once had. When I had first come here, I had wanted answers. Now, all I wanted was peace.

  An inhuman half-growl/half-scream from not far away in the forest ensured that peace was the last thing this day had in store for me.

  Chapter Three: The Verdant Blight

  I hoped a long, slow soak in the chilly river waters would at least partially revive me. Although my weakness was caused by a combination of hunger and sleep deprivation, I needed some sort of physical stimulus to sharpen my focus. I also realized I couldn’t put off a decision about food for much longer. The idea of chewing leaves wasn’t more appealing today than it had been yesterday or the day before but, since I hadn’t seen an alternative - not even a berry or flower - the choice might soon be taken from me. Survival demanded food but it didn’t require that the food taste good.

  Being in the water helped clear my mind. It also brought back a memory - me, as a teenager, in a pool with a boy. Not that many years ago. I had been crushing on him for a while and that warm summer day was the first time he had approached me. In school, he had never noticed me but the daring bikini I was wearing caught his attention. He smiled at me and then one of my friends dunked me under the water. Thinking about that day brought a smile to my face even as it triggered a pang of longing. Gone. The boy. His smile. All gone. Why??

  I surfaced from my underwater dive, pushed back the wet hair from my face, and froze. In that first moment, I couldn’t accept what my eyes were seeing. But blinking didn’t chase the vision away. It was real, or as real as anything in these circumstances could be. Across the river, one hundred feet away, were two people.

  By the way they were acting, walking briskly along the bank toward the south and talking animatedly to one another, they hadn’t seen me. They were close enough to be recognizable as a boy and a girl. They were oddly dressed in ill-fitting, homespun clothing but they were unmistakably human, the boy being around my age (or a little older) and the girl a few years younger. At this distance, the blondness of their hair was their most arresting characteristic.

  My astonishment lasted only a few seconds. Then I began jumping up and down, splashing, and yelling. “Hey! Over here! Help!” The river’s sound was loud but I was louder. They turned toward me as one and, when their eyes identified the source of the commotion, their surprise matched my own.

  Without pausing to think, I plunged into the water and made for the opposite bank, the need to reach the newcomers overcoming my fear of getting pulled under or swept away. After about ten feet, the river bottom dropped away and I was forced to swim. I kept my eyes on the strangers as I paddled directly toward them but, as I got close to the middle of the river, I realized I’d never be able to maintain this trajectory. As I had feared, the current was too strong. It grabbed hold of me and began pulling me downstream. The more I fought it, the more tired I became, and I was already weak.

  Another stroke and I went under, caught in an eddy that sucked me down. Moments later, coughing and sputtering, I popped back up like a cork only to be slapped in the face by a swell. Gasping, I strove to force air through the water that had invaded my nose and mouth. My waterlogged vision couldn’t latch onto anything familiar. Disorientation gripped me in a vise’s grasp. The current, more powerful than I had anticipated, was sending me spinning downstream like a top. I was no longer thinking about the people. Now it was just about surviving this ordeal. I went under again, came up, hit my arm and shoulder against something unyielding, probably a log or a tree branch. My breath was coming in great heaves. Tiredness and fear had transformed my confidant crawl stroke into a desperate doggie paddle.

  I was dead. I knew it as surely as I had ever known anything. So close to salvation but done in by one rash decision…

  Then I felt a strong, supporting arm close around my waist. Words were shouted into my left ear: “Come with me.” Shaking my head to clear the water from my eyes, I allowed him to guide me toward the opposite bank. It was closer than I had suspected but we were far, far downstream from where I had entered. The girl was tracking us from the shore, jogging to keep up. “Hurry,” pressed my companion, a note of urgency in his voice. “Swim as hard as you can. I’ll help you. There are rapids near and if we don’t get out of the river quickly, we never will.”

  I summoned my fading strength and stroked. Twenty-five feet: his arm, locked above my hips, was keeping me afloat. I couldn’t do this on my own. Twenty feet: I choked as a crest of water overwhelmed me. I faltered but he didn’t. Fifteen feet: my strength was spent. I fought the current but it was a losing battle. If not for his grip, I would have been pulled toward the rapids, a roar that was growing louder by the second. Ten feet: I caught a glimpse of the girl’s face. She was alarmed. The boy gave up all pretense of helping me and manhandled me toward the bank. Five feet: the girl entered the water and grabbed me. Together they got me to land. Before I passed out, I caught a glimpse of the rapids. We were at their edge. Another ten feet and the blow of a rock would have rendered all my questions and trepidations moot.

  I wasn’t unconscious for long - perhaps no more than a minute. When I came to, they were both squatting next to my supine form, watching me with a mixture of concern and fascination. I noticed a familial resemblance - with features that similar, they had to be brother and sister. They had the same high cheekbones, upswept ears, snub noses, emerald eyes, and shaggy white-blond hair. They were fit with sun-darkened skin and lean, muscular bodies.

  I could only imagine how I looked to them - a bedraggled waif with stringy hair and sunburned skin. The fact that I was naked, which might under different circumstances have caused me considerable embarrassment, was well down my list of concerns. I groaned, turned my head to the side, and vomited a considerable amount of water. I felt like I had swallowed half the river.

  “Are you all right?” the boy asked. His features were etched with worry. It was a grave, serious face. A good face. Then again, in these circumstances, anything might be a good face.

  Only then did it occur to me that I could understand what he was saying. I only knew one language: English. (In high school, I had dabbled in French but, other than oui and non, it hadn’t stuck. Now where did that memory come from?) Was he speaking English? Somehow, I didn’t think so. But I was hearing and comprehending him. Would he understand me when I replied in my native tongue?

  “I shouldn’t have tried to cross the river,” I sputtered. My voice was shockingly weak. It sounded strange to my ears. Despite my resolve to sing and talk as I walked, I hadn’t said a word out loud in two days (except for a few choice prof
ane expressions when I had stubbed a toe or tripped).

  “No, you shouldn’t have,” said the girl. I turned toward her. Her brother was on my left and she was by my feet. The seeming harshness of her words was belied by the caring evident in her gaze. More handsome than pretty, she was at that awkward age between adolescence and adulthood. Her body was as robust as her brother’s although with a more feminine shape.

  They obviously understood me. Another mystery. Not that I wasn’t grateful. The absence of a language barrier would make things easier. Or at least I hoped it would. Maybe they were speaking English. Maybe I was overthinking this.

  At that moment, I realized another thing: my stalker was still watching. It was on the other side of the river and I intuitively knew it couldn’t cross. At least not here.

  “Can you sit up?” asked the boy, ignoring his sister’s comment. His eyes never left me, although his gaze wasn’t fixed on my face. It made sense, I suppose. After all, I was naked.

  With a little effort and some help from the girl, who was more willing than her brother to touch me, I got to a sitting position. I resisted the urge to use my arms to cover my breasts. By now, I was past that. It’s not like they hadn’t already seen everything. No sense in getting shy now, especially when protecting my modesty wasn’t near the top of my list of things to do.

  It was, however, apparently high on theirs. Without a word, the boy stripped off his muslin shirt and held it out to me. I took it and slipped it over my head. It smelled of sweat and dirt and felt considerably rougher than clothing I was used to wearing, but it was long enough to cover not only my chest but everything down to just above my knees.

  Stripped bare from the waist up, he revealed a well-sculpted, almost hairless chest. His skin was as dark under the shirt as on his arms, an indication that he probably didn’t cover his chest often.

  “Who are you?” The girl and boy spoke in unison, their words and inflection identical.

  “My name is Janelle. I…” How to explain? How to begin when I didn’t know myself? If I spoke the truth, I was going to sound like a gibbering idiot. But if I didn’t… I had never been good at lying. White lies, black lies, little lies, big ones… I was always found out. And the stakes were too important here for me to begin with a prevarication. “I’m not sure where I’m from or why I’m here. Or even where here is.”

  They didn’t laugh. They didn’t look at me like I was a moron. Puzzlement creased their features but it was a kind, sympathetic puzzlement not a disbelieving sort.

  “I’m Samell,” said the boy. “And this is my sister, Esme. You’re in The Verdant Blight, south of the village of Aeris.”

  My blank expression told them that the places they had mentioned meant nothing to me. The Verdant Blight? Aeris? Every bit of evidence I was presented with pointed to my being far, far from home.

  “I…I’m not sure how to say this. It’s going to sound insane. But I’m not from here. I mean, I’m not from this world. At least I don’t think I am. There was a flash of light and I woke up in this forest. My memories are all messed up. And I’ve been walking for days without seeing another person until you two came along.” I was right when I said it’s going to sound insane. Even to me, that’s how it sounded and I was living it.

  Samell and Esme exchanged a look before he spoke. His voice held no trace of skepticism or condescension. It was as if he had accepted what I said without question. “You need to speak with our village elders. If you’re willing, we can take you to Aeris.”

  My stomach chose that particular moment to grumble aloud.

  “Are you hungry?” asked Samell.

  I offered him a wan smile. “I haven’t eaten in days. I was thinking about chewing on some leaves since there doesn’t seem to be anything better to eat around here.”

  Looks of horror crossed my new companions’ features. “Whatever you do, don’t do that!” warned Esme. “Thank the gods we found you before you ate!” I was taken aback by the vehemence of her tone.

  “The trees are poison,” explained Samell. “Not to touch but to eat. Since you’ve been here for a while, I’m sure you’ve noticed there’s nothing alive in the forest. It takes care of its own. Anything that eats a tree, whether an insect or a bird or an animal, dies. This is the only forest of its kind on the continent and it’s growing.”

  I suppose that explained a few things, although it made my heart flutter when I thought how close I had come to joining the ranks of all the dead creatures poisoned by the trees. But maybe there was something immune to the poison. Something with black eyes that scuttled around hiding behind bushes and watching.

  Esme handed Samell a short sword and small leather satchel she had been holding for him - items he had divested himself of before entering the water. I noticed she had a similar pouch slung over her shoulder in addition to a bow and quiver of arrows strapped to her back. Surely I was safe in the company of a swordsman and archer?

  Samell reached inside the bag and withdrew a crust of bread and a twisted, sinewy strip of cured meat that looked like beef jerky. Neither was appetizing but I was so famished that I made short work of the “meal.” The bread was stale but the meat - whatever animal it was taken from - was surprisingly tasty, having been flavored with a variety of spices I had never before tasted. I would have liked more but thought it would be rude to ask for it.

  “I think we’d better get you to the village. There’s more - and better - food there. Esme and I were only provisioned for a day so we can’t offer you a full meal. Besides, the sooner you talk to the elders, the sooner you’ll figure out what’s happened to you.” Samell rubbed his clean-shaven chin between a thumb and forefinger, giving him the appearance of being deep in thought. As if to himself, he muttered, “There’s something strange going on here.”

  “Can you walk?” asked Esme.

  In addition to battering my body - I was going to be one giant bruise tomorrow - the experience had drained my already low reserves of stamina. There was only so much energy a small portion of bread and jerky could renew. But I didn’t have much choice. This was survival not a camp-out. “How far is it?”

  “About two cycles,” said Samell, not realizing I had no idea what a cycle was. “We left before dawn on our patrol. We could get there faster if we set an aggressive pace but I don’t think you’d be able to keep up. Esme could go on ahead and I could stay with you.”

  “There’s something else,” I said. “In the forest, there’s a…thing…that’s been following me for more than a day. I’ve only caught a few glimpses of it but I can feel its presence. It hasn’t approached me yet but there’s something about it…” I struggled to put into words what my mind had discerned about the stalker. “It’s not clean. There’s something ugly and twisted about it. I haven’t felt comfortable with it nearby.”

  “What does it look like?”

  I described the stalker as best I could. “I only really saw it once, and then only briefly. It wasn’t like anything I’ve ever seen before.” Of course, the same could be said about the trees and bushes, the night sky, and almost everything around me. Samell and Esme were the closest things I had encountered to familiar and they looked and dressed like they’d walked out of a Medieval history book. Based on the simple, homespun clothing they wore, the rough-hewn nature of Esme’s bow, and the inelegance of Samell’s blade, I didn’t expect their village to be wealthy or modern. How deep into a time warp had I wandered? During my period of isolation, I hadn’t considered that this world might have people but no Internet, no computers, and perhaps no electricity.

  “I don’t think we should split up,” said Esme. “If it attacks, one of us won’t be enough. Even both of us might not be enough.”

  “I agree.” Turning to me, Samell added, “We know they’re out here in The Verdant Blight, but we didn’t expect any this close to Aeris. They usually stay to the far west or up to the north. I’ve never heard of any coming close to the road or the river. This isn’t good.”
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  “What are they?” I asked. My companions were obviously familiar with my stalker. Their reaction didn’t fill me with confidence but at least it wasn’t a mystery or a figment of my tortured imagination.

  “I can’t be certain without having seen it myself but it sounds like you’re being hunted by an earth reaver.” Samell’s voice was grave.

  “A what?” I’m not sure what I expected him to say but it wasn’t that.

  “An earth reaver,” replied Esme with less patience than her brother. Implicit in her tone was: Don’t you know anything?

  Samell shot her a warning look. “An earth reaver is a physical manifestation of earth magic.”

  Say what???

  “Normally they’re very rare and stay away from inhabited areas but since this forest became The Blight, there have been sightings and even a few attacks. But the elders can answer all your questions. They know more about this than I do. Workers like Esme and me… things like magic aren’t our concerns. We’re farmers and hunters, not greybeards.”

  They might not be Samell’s concern but they were mine... or would be until I could shake the one that had my scent. The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach wasn’t caused by the bread or jerky.

  “Do you know where it is? Right now?” Samell asked.

  It took only an instant’s concentration to answer the question. The presence was still on the edge of my awareness, just as it had been for more than a day and a night. “It hasn’t crossed the river but it’s not far. I can’t pinpoint it exactly. Can you feel it?”

  Samell was scanning the far bank. “I don’t have any special talents like that. But I’m not stupid enough to say that if I can’t see it or hear it, it’s not there. There’s been strange things going on of late and this might be another.”

  “No stranger than your being here,” added Esme.

  “If it’s there, we’d better move out. The river might slow it down but it won’t stop it. It might not be able to cross but it can burrow under it. The thing about earth reavers is that they’re relentless. If it’s got your trail, we might not be able to shake it. And, if it comes to a fight, I’m not sure we’ll be able to kill it. Things born of magic can’t always be stopped by physical force.”