The Blood Line

by Ben Yallop

  Finished, Box tucked the book away inside his coat, stood up and quietly let himself out of the office and into the hustle and bustle of the main part of the station. Where now? Qayin was not far behind he was sure of that. Box queued up and bought a train ticket but then reconsidered and hurried out of the station on foot. He didn't want to be caught on a moving train, with no means to escape. He'd take a bus instead. As he hurried away he did not see the pair of eyes that watched him go and burned into his back with the hatred of the mad.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Romania

  Date unknown

  Hob awoke first and sat up with a yawn. Daylight was filtering through the trees. The strange events of the night before suddenly came back to him in a rush. He looked over to Hödekin who was sleeping soundly on his bedroll, covered by what looked like a blanket of fine, grey hairs or spider webs. How had that happened? wondered Hob, noticing now that he was similarly covered, as though he had been set into his bed like a sleepy child at the end of a busy day and covered in a cobweb blanket. He pushed himself to his feet and the threads disappeared into nothing as he moved. He reached over to Hödekin shaking him awake.

  The kobold came awake quickly and stared down at himself and across to Hob. Hob simply shrugged. Hödekin looked around at the strands which covered an area all around them but which seemed to disappear right before their eyes as the day lightened.

  ‘Angel hair,’ said Hödekin in wonder. Then a look of panic crossed his face. 'Our bags!' he called and scrambled over to them. Neither looked as though they had been touched but when they checked the contents they saw that someone had indeed been through them.

  'All our weapons have gone,' said Hob in dismay. They had each brought two large knives, more short swords to the kobolds given their size. Nothing else seemed to be missing but they were sure that they would come to miss being armed and they set off on the path glumly as soon as they were ready to move on.

  ‘I guess the wisps didn’t like us coming through their woods armed,’ muttered Hödekin.

  *

  ‘We should have been out of this forest by now,’ said Hob. ‘We should have crossed the road which would have led us down into Hoia.’

  Hödekin just looked back glumly. He could not deny that their path did not seem to be leading them in the direction they had expected, but what else could they do? It was the only path and to leave it felt like an even greater foolishness than following it dumbly knowing that it was leading them astray.

  The trees had closed in again and the woods become darker during the day. They again felt as though they were moving in circles. The day was overcast and almost no light from above the trees penetrated the gloom.

  It was mid-afternoon when Hödekin, who was walking at the front, called softly back to Hob in little more than a whisper.

  ‘There’s a gap in the trees ahead, a clearing of some sort.’

  Hob caught him by the arm and whispered.

  ‘I don’t like the feeling of this. I can’t shake the idea that we have somehow been pushed where we don’t want to go. Let’s approach without using the path.’

  Hödekin nodded and they moved off the path as they approached the open ground ahead. The kobolds were expert at moving quietly and they went without a sound but as they got closer the ground became marshy and boggy and they began to struggle. As they neared the tree line they could see that a large pool lay beyond.

  The pool was large, its waters green and murky. Duckweed covered large parts of the surface looking much like a lawn strong enough to walk on. But any animal stepping on it would soon find themselves not only floundering in the brackish water but bound tightly in weed. As the kobolds approached the pool they heard a soft splash from the other side as something large slipped into the still waters. The kobolds kept well behind a large willow whose branches drooped right over the water. As they stood there, each looking out behind one side of the rough trunk, they studied the pool.

  In the middle of the pool was a small island. A few trees and a tumbled pile of grey stones which looked as though they had once formed two columns and perhaps an arch were all that the island held. That and a line, invisible yet tangible. Its hum was clear.

  'We need to find a way around this,' whispered Hob. 'This feels wrong. There is something here that we don’t want to meet.'

  As they stood watching, wondering which way to turn, they noticed a disturbance in the water as though something was moving along under the surface. The swirls and bubbles in the water moved underneath a large clump of weed. Hob and Hödekin backed further behind the tree. As they watched from their hiding place they saw the weed begin to rise as something underneath it pushed up. Soon a face had appeared above the green water, slimy tangled weed around it like a nightmarish bridal veil. The face was similarly green and smooth and held large, staring, orbed yellowish eyes like two sickly moons. Two hands, with long cruel fingernails, at the end of long slender arms came from the water and pushed the weed away from the top of the head revealing long, lank black hair. The creature yawned revealing yellowed teeth which looked like needles in her wide mouth. She began to sing softly to herself as she picked specks of weed from the backs of her hands with her long nails.

  Hödekin backed further behind the tree in horror at the sight of her, making a soft noise against the trunk. Immediately, the creature disappeared under the water with barely a ripple to show that she had even been there.

  Hob touched Hödekin on the arm and jerked his head away from the pool. Together they retreated quietly away from the still waters, back deeper into the forest.

  Once safely away from the pool they sat down to consider their options.

  Hob spoke first. ‘One of the Greenteeth.’

  'Her teeth are yellow, not green,' said Hödekin.

  'Yes, but does it matter when there are such a lot of them?' said Hob.

  'So, how do we get past her? I don't fancy a swim to get across that pool. Do you think we can get round?’

  ‘There’s not much else we can do,’ agreed Hob.

  ‘Then let’s go now,’ said Hödekin. ‘I don’t like the thought of being so close to her.’

  Leaving plenty of space, but staying close enough that they could see the light from the clearing to their left the two kobolds picked their way through the trees across the marshy boggy ground. When they had gone what they judged to be half-way around the pool to the opposite side they began to look for signs of a path, taking it in turns to stand still whilst the other circled around to look for signs of the way. After some searching Hödekin found a track and beckoned Hob over. Putting the clearing to their backs they set off, feeling better for moving away from the Greenteeth.

  They walked for almost an hour before they noticed the trees were thinning ahead again. As before they stepped off the path and approached a large clearing. They were horrified to find themselves at the same murky pond. They came to the same droopy willow tree. As they neared the edge they could hear the Greenteeth singing to herself again, although this time they both had the distinct impression that she was calling to them.

  They moved the other way around the pool, keeping it to their right and, as before, they eventually found a path on the other side. Yet, as before, they soon found themselves back at the pond. This time they made no pretence of hiding, but walked along the path to the pool in plain sight, keeping a careful distance from the edge where the thick green algae and weed came right up the shore.

  After a few moments the top of a head, the round, yellow, orbed eyes and then the wide mouth, filled with sharp teeth, appeared above the surface.

  ‘Hello little ones,’ said the Greenteeth. ‘Lost your way? Come over to Jenny’s island and I’ll help you out of this mess.’ The creature gave a laugh showing off those yellow needle like fangs.

  ‘Let us away from here, siren,’ said Hob sternly.

  ‘Oh,’ pouted the creature ‘There’s no need to be cross. My line here will take you to the edge of
these woods. Come, let me help you across. Just come a little closer.’

  The kobolds retreated from the edge of the pond to what felt like a safe distance.

  ‘I believe that the line does lead out of this maze,’ said Hödekin ‘But I don’t believe that she will ever let us reach it. I can’t believe that we would taste better than the frogs she catches in her pool but I am sure she would like to try.’

  ‘I agree that we need to try the line, otherwise we’ll wander these woods until we run out of food and water. But I have a plan. She won’t expect us to dig our way over,’ said Hob.

  Hob skirted the pool carefully before selecting the tallest tree he could find growing close to the edge of the pool, conveniently growing on a small hummock. The ground around it was mercifully firmer and earthier than in other places where the pool extended to bog. It was far enough from the water to be out of reach of the edge of the pool but close enough to fit Hob’s plan. The kobolds would just have to hope that Jenny Greenteeth could not or would not leave the sanctuary of the water. There, behind the thick, long trunk Hob pulled a short spade from his pack and began to dig. Hödekin kept watch. The mine kobold dug as quietly as he could at the earth, like a fox opening up a burrow. The hole he made was small, only large enough for him to crawl into on his stomach but it wasn’t long before he had penetrated under the trunk and in amongst the roots. There Hob opened up a small cave pushing earth back out towards Hödekin. When he had enough space to turn around he moved his face to the hole, his muddy beard peering out at the red-capped kobold.

  ‘I think we’re okay,’ whispered Hödekin. ‘I don’t think she has noticed.’

  ‘Good,’ whispered back Hob. ‘Now I can tunnel in peace.’

  Taking care not to delve too deep lest he meet the water source which fed the pool Hob turned his back to Jenny’s lair and moved earth as only a mine kobold can. It was hot and dirty work, and not exactly what one would expect of royalty but Hob found he was in his element. Within an hour he felt he had done what he needed to and he came back up and out of the small hole to where Hödekin continued to keep watch.

  ‘She’s under the weed,’ Hödekin murmured. ‘Close, but not too close. When shall we move?’

  Hob made a vain attempt to brush earth from his clothes and from his beard and hair before dragging over a lengthy and strong log and pushing its end down into a second hole he had dug in the earth.

  ‘I’d rather not spend another moment in this place. I just hope that the woodwoses will forgive me.’

  They approached the tree at a run and jumped together onto the log which Hob had pushed into the dirt so that it stuck out at an angle to the tree trunk. For a moment the log only bounced and swayed and both kobolds scrabbled to keep a hold on the makeshift fulcrum. And then the huge tree began to tip. With a noise like the pulling of a giant tooth its roots began to snap free of the space where Hob had undermined it. The log on which the kobolds clung sank to the floor as the large tree moved further over. The kobolds scrambled to safety and before the tree had fully crashed into the lake they were running. With an almighty smash the tree hit the murky water, plunging in slightly before moving back up, making the grey bark dark and slippery and sending huge waves slopping around the pool. Along the thick trunk went the kobolds. The first dozen metres were easy, no branches grew at the bottom and the massive trunk was easily broad enough for their small feet. But within moments they were crashing through boughs which stuck up like uneven fence posts from the makeshift track.

  They could not have predicted the strength which Jenny Greenteeth found in her rage. As they were half way along she hit the underside of the trunk with a scream making it buck like a horse. Both kobolds fell but there were enough branches to avoid tumbling into the water and immediately they were back up and moving as quickly as they could. Hob, in the lead, threw out a hand as he ran, desperately trying to focus on his footing whilst opening the line ahead. Both kobolds had to jump the last few feet where the trunk disappeared into the water. Up and into the air they went. Jenny grabbed at them as they sailed through the air but she was not quick enough and the two kobolds hit the ground running and dashed into the line.

  Adelaide, Australia

  November 1948

  Box stepped down off the bus, the sea ahead of him shone and sparkled under a perfect blue sky. A light breeze stirred his clothes. It really was too hot to be wearing everything he had on but he hated to have his hands full and he didn’t want to leave clothes he might need behind. He really needed to find some kind of shoulder pack which wouldn’t look out of place no matter what era he was in. Was that even possible?

  It was, he decided, time to leave the clue. He had felt that Qayin had been at the station although he hadn’t seen him. He wouldn’t be far behind. Box used a little presence to unlock a car and after a quick look around he dropped the book on the back seat. Hopefully someone would realise it was there. Someone other than the Riven. It was time for a showdown with Qayin.

  The evening was hot. November in Australia was a warm place to be. He stepped down onto the beach. Despite the pleasant evening there was no-one around. A nice enough place to make a last stand. Let him come, Box thought. He didn't have to wait long. After just a few minutes his pursuer stepped onto the sand.

  ‘So, here we are at last, brother,’ said Box to the man standing across the sand from him. Qayin just stared at him from under his dark, knitted eyebrows, his head tilted down. A convulsion shook him and an eye twitched briefly. He showed his teeth in a snarl.

  ‘You know,’ said Box ‘that if we spend too long together then one of us will die. The world just doesn’t seem to like the same person to occupy the same space too many times. It makes the universe uncomfortable. I have been running from you for a very long time, worried about what the world might do to me if I got too close. But recently I have come to a decision. I have a fifty-fifty chance of dying. You might not make it. It’s just as likely as me dying. But I cannot believe the world wants you in it. And I am tired of running. You have killed most, if not all, of the other versions of me. By the law of averages your luck has to run out eventually. So let’s just see what happens.’

  Qayin just continued to stare, pure hatred on his face. He shook again, his black cloak stirred in the breeze. Then with a snarl he leapt forward.

  *

  An hour later, on 30 November 1948 at about 7 o’clock in the evening, a couple strolling on Somerton Beach looked over at the figure lying propped up against the rocks. They assumed he had been drinking and had fallen asleep. They did not get too close. If they had they might have realised that the man was dead. They would have found no marks on him, for murder with presence does not always leave a sign. As it was, all they could really see and all that they later remembered was what the man had been wearing. A suit, tie, coat and a hat. A bit unusual given the weather. They did not see the identical man who lurked nearby, clad in a black cloak wondering what to do next as a small convulsion caused his body to twitch.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  Hoia Baciu Forest, Romania

  ‘Out of the frying pan and into the fire,’ muttered Hob.

  The line on Jenny Greenteeth’s island had indeed brought them to the edge of the woods and they stood on a hill looking down on Hoia Baciu Forest under a heavy, dark-grey sky.

  ‘It’s smaller than I remember,’ said Hödekin.

  From their vantage point they could see the whole forest and it was indeed fairly small. They could easily pinpoint the centre where the line was, but from this height they could not see the bare circle where no trees grew.

  Humans had long ago noted the strange empty centre of the forest and had often reported feelings of unease and anxiety which intensified the nearer one came to the guardians of the line who stalked the edge of the clearing. In more extreme cases humans had reported feelings of nausea, dizziness and headaches and if they ventured too close to the centre the appearance of rashes, burns and scratches. There were
reports of strange lights in and above the trees, glowing orbs and disembodied voices which had led many to say that the area was under the control of malevolent ghosts or a poltergeist. There were all kinds of theories about who these spirits might be. Others had guessed at the presence of a doorway to another place. These guesses were surprisingly close to the truth. At the centre of the empty circle, right in the middle, was the line which the kobolds needed. If ordinary men and women seemed to excite whatever it was which guarded that line then it was Hob’s guess that once he and Hödekin stepped into that wood all hell would break loose. Literally.

  As they approached the edge of the treeline the gloomy day seemed to darken even further. A feeling of being watched began to settle on the kobolds. As they chose a path and passed the first tree the temperature seemed to drop and the voices began almost immediately. Faint whispers at the very edge of their hearing overlapped one another. Mostly it was impossible to hear words amongst the disembodied mutterings but occasionally a few angry words would flash out of the susurration. Get away! Get out! And worse and ruder words besides. Other voices seemed to delight at their presence and there would be the occasional short evil laugh. Each time the words were like fingernails on a chalkboard. The kobolds nodded grimly to each other and pressed on.

  As they walked on through the forest, past curiously warped and twisted trees, they had the impression that they were being flanked by a legion of invisible beings. Occasionally they would feel a short tug of an arm or a hand pulling at their clothing, their hair, their limbs. Hob felt a sharp yank on his beard which wrenched his head to the side and a moment later Hödekin cried in alarm as something like a fingernail raked down his forearm leaving a bloody scratch. Yet still the kobolds pressed on, grimly determined, silent. The further they walked under the dark trees the larger the supporting host seemed to become as though every piece of malevolence in the forest was flowing towards them, pressing against them and trying to hinder their passage. Soon, it was all they could do to inch forward, one agonising step at a time.