ABSENCE
Mist and Shadow
by
J.B. Forsyth
Copyright © 2016 J.B.Forsyth
All rights reserved
ISBN: 1533486123
For Mum
Thanks for everything
Acknowledgement
Thanks again to Lindi for all your encouragement and support
It Lies Amongst the Flowers
Suula led them through the forest for most of the afternoon. At times she took them up steep slopes or along dried river beds when easier passage was clearly on offer. It was a tortuous and erratic route that Kye would have found strange if not for Ormis’s demonstration with the bramble bush. He found himself studying every plant and tree she turned from, trying to guess its potential danger. At one point they came to a carpet of dandelion clocks; much the same as any he had run through with Emilie, kicking up blizzards of seeds. He saw nothing alarming in their delicate heads, but Suula took them on a near right angle to avoid them. Danger it seemed was all around and it engendered him with a simmering trepidation that focused him like a tightrope walker. And if that wasn’t enough, there were several occasions when he felt something watching him from the trees. But when he looked there was nothing there.
It was late afternoon when Suula stopped and made a quick gesture with her hand. They all froze except for Kye. He was looking off into the trees and continued to walk until his chest struck Ormis’s outstretched palm. The exorcist put a finger to his lips and conjured a black warning in his eyes. Up front, Suula crept forwards on her own then disappeared from view; leaving them listening to the birds.
When she returned, she stepped out of the woodland right in front of Kye, giving him a start. She was wearing the same boots they all wore, but hers were functioning like cat’s paws. ‘They stopped,’ she said. ‘There was an incident with the girl and a toruck was killed.’
Kring stiffened. ‘Was it Karkus?’
‘No. He left with the other one about an hour ago.’ The giant was bracing for bad news and his hulking frame relaxed only a little at this. His brother was alive, but one of his countrymen was dead. ‘And there’s something else - but it’s best if you see.’
She led them through a stand of hazel, to a strip of forest abundant with bluebells. The toruck was there; slumped at the foot of a big maple - his dead eyes fixed on a black coffin that lay open in the flowers. Kring went to him, prompting Kail to level an arrow at his back. But Ormis raised his hand in a restraining gesture and he lowered it.
‘His name was Rox,’ said Kring. ‘Karkus grew up with him.’ He knelt, closed the toruck’s eyes and reached around the back of his head. When he brought his hand out it was covered in blood. ‘Fractured skull.’
‘They were carrying the girl in the coffin,’ said Suula, ‘The one at the back fell and this one dropped his end and spun around; drawing his swords. Something struck him – lifting him off his feet and launching him against the tree.’ She spoke with certainty – as though what she was saying was playing out in front of her. And the soldiers appeared to believe every word.
As she talked Kring’s hand wandered towards one of Rox’s fallen blades, but the tip of Rauul’s sword came down and clinked the hilt before he could grab it. The giant gave him a dark look and got back to his feet.
‘The largest of the three was guiding them,’ Suula continued. ‘He ran back, took the girl from the coffin and threw her here, where he cut the little finger from her left hand.’ She sidestepped and pointed to a depression in the bluebells. ‘It lies amongst the flowers.’ They all stared; shock and disgust clear on every face.
Ormis went to the patch of bent bluebells and parted the stalks. A curled finger was nestled within – its fingernail shining in the light and the congealed mess at the other end glaring like a bloody eye.
Kye stared and stared, hardly able to comprehend what he was seeing. He knew they were tracking killers, but the sight of Della’s little finger transformed them into monsters. Unbidden, his imagination began to assemble a scene in which they were cutting it off and he turned away, hurling the contents of his stomach over the flowers.
Kring’s eyes burned the ground around the finger, his face betraying the painful turmoil he was suffering inside. And when he spoke it was like he was addressing the forest itself. ‘It cannot be. Karkus would never do such a thing… Not him. Not ever.’
‘He punished her for killing Rox,’ said Ormis.
Kring went to the finger and dropped to his hands and knees, poring over his brother’s alleged crime as if looking for evidence to absolve him.
But it was a show.
Like most of his countrymen, Kring was a sleight-of-hand master. Whenever he quaffed a few too many in the Moon and Cobbles he would awe the patrons with his talents – making coins vanish beneath upturned flagons and reappear behind someone’s ear or under their hat. And when they asked how he did it; his standard slurred reply was that he had twice their number of hands and each one was twice as big. Now, as he made a show of examining the finger, he palmed a stone with the hand he was using to bear weight. Then he sat back on his heels and got to his feet. As he reached full height he spun on Kail, throwing the stone with a flick of his wrist. The soldier was only ten feet away, but like the others, his mind had wandered at the sight of Della’s finger and he was caught off guard. He flinched as the stone clocked his forehead and staggered away. Kring lunged, stepping around the back of him and lifting him up like a shield. He slid Kail’s sword free and the point was against his neck before the others unshouldered their bows. With his feet dangling Kail looked like a runaway child caught by a monstrous parent, and he looked at Rauul over the giant’s thick forearm with something like an apology on his face.
‘I don’t want to fight,’ said Kring. ‘I can’t deny what’s plain to see and all I want is to help put things right. To get that wee girl back and undo what’s been done to my brother... Let me go on as one of your company and with my countryman’s swords.’ The soldiers held their arrows levelled, waiting for an opening. ‘If I wanted to harm you, this would be my best chance.’ He lowered Kail’s sword and pushed him away, leaving himself wide open. The Elite Guard had clear shots now, but were waiting for Ormis’s signal.
‘Come on! Put me down or let me go on with the means to defend myself.’
Ormis was not a man to be rushed and he regarded him for some time; hundreds of cogs whirring behind his eyes. ‘Very well,’ he said finally. ‘Take his swords – but leave the daggers.’
Kye was stunned. He hadn’t expected Ormis to agree and by the look of them, neither had the Elite Guard. Their eyes flicked to Rauul now and it wasn’t until he gave them a nod that they lowered their bows.
Kring took the swords, slipping them into his empty scabbards under their watchful gaze. ‘I need to bury him.’
‘We haven’t time,’ Ormis replied.
‘It’s not our way to leave him like this.’
‘Karkus left him.’
Kring’s eyes flashed as if he’d been stung. But when he spoke again his voice was surprisingly level. ‘It won’t be long before something finds him.’
‘He’s dead… The girl might still be saved.’
Kring looked from Rox to Della’s severed finger and all protest left his face. ‘Give me a minute then.’
The exorcist nodded. ‘A minute is all.’
He positioned Rox flat on his back and folded his arms over his chest. When he stepped away, Kye saw that the tattoos on the dead toruck’s forearms were now lined up, forming a row of five symbols. Kring bowed his head, crossing his lower arms in a big X to form a single larger symbol from a different set of tattoos. Kye realised he was intruding on a pri
vate ritual and turned away, feeling suddenly embarrassed. He was in time to catch the end of a silent communication between Ormis and the Elite Guard, from which he could tell the soldiers were unhappy with the exorcist’s decision. The giant had his swords, but they were going to be watching him even closer now.
When Kring was done they fell in line and resumed their eastward march, leaving Rox and Della’s finger to the woods and whatever came crawling.
Eavesdropping
Della sagged as the big toruck bound her arms and legs; burning her skin as he tightened the knots. But she was in no mood to struggle and barely felt it. He had carried her to this place with a knife to her throat; no doubt fearing a repeat of her earlier performance. But he needn’t have worried. She was so appalled by what she had done she spent the whole time staring at the forest floor as it sped away beneath her.
She had killed a toruck by lifting him off his feet and smashing him into a tree. She hadn’t meant to, but she was so angry she lost all self-control. What she remembered was wanting to hurt him; but not to kill him. Her father had taught her never to go Absent while angry, because venting on the Membrane risked effecting the physical world. Things could get broken and people could get hurt. It was a warning she had all but forgotten about, for up until now it had been impossible to go Absent when she was even the slightest bit angry. Her preparations ensured she was calm for transition and once on the Membrane her time was usually spent in blissful release from the poison.
She looked down at the raw stump of her little finger and the transparent salve that covered it. There was no real pain - just a vague throb that worsened as she looked at it. The shadow was looking at it too and she could feel its gleeful approval in stark contrast to her dismay.
‘Ah your finger,’ said a voice behind her. ‘Karkus told me what you did. Tell me, what kind of witchcraft allows you to take leave of your body?’
‘Izle said no questions,’ the big toruck said in gruff reprimand. A period of silence followed through which Della watched an ant scurry across the stone floor.
‘My name is Griglis and I’m here to ensure you don’t misbehave again. You might be thinking of repeating what you did back there in the forest. But the flies buzzing around your head are fieraks and if you slip your body they’ll light you up like a beacon.’
Della looked around, through a ball of darting flies. She was in a circular dungeon, lit by a pair of alushia torches. Barrels were stacked against the wall and the big toruck who cut her finger off was sitting on one. The blade he had used was resting on his lap and the sight of it got her finger throbbing again. She turned to look at Griglis. His gaunt face was a haven of shadows - an angular scaffold for sunken eyes that glittered in the torchlight. ‘If Karkus sees so much as a flicker -’ His threat sheared off as their eyes met and he flinched away in what appeared to be shocked recognition. And his reaction was matched by the shadow. She felt it jerk down inside her; like it had been caught peeking over a wall.
Griglis looked over to Karkus as if to confirm an insight, but the giant gave him nothing. When he spoke again there was a waver in his voice. ‘If Karkus sees so much as a flicker of spirit light, he’ll make good on his promise and cut you again… Understand?’
Della nodded. He continued to stare at her, but not to punctuate his words. His surprise was gone and he was looking at her like she was a wish he had just spoken down a well. He made an awkward gesture to Karkus and left, his footsteps speeding up on the stairwell until it sounded like he was running.
She lowered herself to the cold floor and rolled onto her side, facing away from the toruck and his glinting knife.
What was going on?
Griglis and the shadow had seen one another and it was clear they were both rattled by it. The shadow had gone back into hiding; its fear like an afterglow in the place it had vacated. Griglis’s reaction was more difficult to interpret. He was shocked at first, but something more complicated had evolved in his eyes. No one had ever looked at her in such a speculative way and it gave her the creeps.
A few hours ago, she thought they were going to bury her alive. Now, with a cooler head, it made no sense. If Kye had told the exorcists about Absence, they wouldn’t put her in the ground without studying her first. Griglis was most likely one of their interrogators and the coffin, just a convenient method of transportation. She had to escape. There were stories about what the exorcists did to people in their dungeons and it would be her turn to endure their hot irons and choking ropes when he came back.
But how could she escape? She was tied up with a toruck glaring at her and there was a ball of fieraks knitting the air; ready to give her away the moment she went Absent. She was losing hope when one of the fieraks bounced off a barrel, giving her an idea.
She tucked her hands under her head and curled up as though settling to sleep. Then she shut her eyes and started her preparations for Absence. But no sooner had she begun, she was ready - floating inside her body like driftwood on the surface of a lake. She remained in place; shocked by her sudden transition and unable to understand how it had happened. Her mind clearing rituals were usually essential to the process and she had never been able to bypass them. But strange as this was, it served her purpose now and she wasted no more time thinking about it.
She had left her body thousands of times and on every occasion had risen from it. But this time she directed herself downward; through the stone floor and into the earth. It felt totally unnatural – as different as swimming down instead of up. But once clear of her body, her movement became effortless once more. She descended for several seconds before rising to a vertical position and accelerating away through the forever darkness of deep earth. And after a count of ten she angled up into the forest.
She revolved as though skating on ice and saw the outer arc of a crumbling wall. Behind it was the solitary tower she had come from. She had escaped in Absence, but while her body lay in its dungeon she was still its prisoner. She stared at it for some time, trying to place it. But in the end she had to conclude she had never seen it before. Strange she thought, given she had lived in every corner of the Westland. She drifted over the wall and hoping for clues, began to circle it. But when its highest balcony came into view, she froze. Upon it, gilded in the low light of the setting sun was Griglis. And floating in front of him was a ghost.
All at once she felt exposed; a reflex brought about by the presence of another spirit. Such approximations were dangerous and were to be avoided at all costs. She backed up until she was out of sight. Under any other circumstances she would have fled, but she sensed the importance of hearing what they were saying. So she drew close to the tower and made her way slowly around, minimising the distortion on the Membrane. Gradually the voices resolved into clarity.
‘How many of them?’ asked Griglis.
‘Eight: Four soldiers, a tracker…’
‘What is it?’
Della ran cold. Despite her care the ghost had sensed her as easily as a spider senses a fly on its web. Her instinct was to flee, but she forced herself still. A hasty retreat would be the equivalent of struggling on the web and would give her location away. So she waited, knowing it had only to drift a few degrees around the tower to see her.
‘There’s a spirit close by.’
‘Never mind that now. When you’re done you can sweep the area and take your fill. But for now you must stay focused. You said there were eight?’
Della relaxed a little.
‘Four soldiers, a tracker, an exorcist, a toruck and a boy.’
‘A boy?’
‘Yes, and he’s twum. Sensed me from over fifty yards away.’
‘Did you recognise the exorcist?’
‘No.’
There was a long pause when all Della could do was listen to the breeze.
‘Did they come through the Wall?’
‘I don’t know. But their tracker is skilled and she followed the torucks as if they were dripping blood.’
‘We must assume they’re coming for the girl… How long before they arrive?’
‘It won’t be tonight unless they walk the mist.’
‘Good. I’ll send our old friend out to them. Put such things beyond doubt. Follow him, make sure he does a thorough job then report back.’
There was no more talk, just the sound of boots receding into the tower.
Della waited for some time before she dared to move and when she did she drifted down the tower as slowly as a strip of gauze cast from the balcony. She reached the cobbles and accelerated into the forest again, rising into the canopy of a large hornbeam. And as she looked out through its foliage she considered what she had heard.
An exorcist, a toruck and a boy. It had to be Ormis, Kring and Kye. She was sure of it. And if they were here to rescue her, then who were the people holding her prisoner? The answer came in a flash. The man behind the whispers – the one called Izle. His monster had failed to get his shadow back so he had sent the torucks to snatch her from the gaol.
She had to warn Kye that Griglis was sending someone to kill them. But she had no idea where to look for him. She rose up again, hoping to get her bearings from her surroundings. As she broke the canopy she saw what hadn’t registered before: the forest was huge and it ran all the way to the horizon. She stared, bewildered. She had travelled the length and breadth of the Westland and had never seen a forest anywhere near this size. But then she looked towards the setting sun and realised what was wrong. For most of her life she had watched it rise over the mountains – but here, it was setting behind them.
…unless they walk the mist.
She had been so surprised to hear about a rescue party the spirit’s words had gone right over her head. But the significance of them hit hard now. The torucks had brought her over the mountains – into the great forest and jungle of the Wilderness.
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