He nodded and the exorcist strode away and climbed into his hammock. He tilted his hat down over his face and folded his arms, his ring pulsing in synchrony with the light. Kye realised then that there was mist trapped in its gemstone. But given what the exorcist just said, he couldn’t understand why he wanted to wear such a thing.
He looked around the clearing now. Suula, Dorian and Steith were laid in their hammocks with their eyes closed. They held their backpacks on their laps with one hand resting on their daggers, looking ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. Rauul and Kail were standing watch with Kring, casting sideways looks that betrayed their continuing distrust of him. But the giant was either unaware or unconcerned. He was staring into the forest with other things on his mind; rooted like a misshapen tree. It was obvious the giant was hurting and he didn’t believe they had anything to fear from him. He had promised to help Della and Kye believed him. He had met plenty of mean and conniving people and he didn’t think Kring was one of them.
He settled back and watched the mist streaming beneath his hammock - a soothing sight despite his initial revulsion. They had told him not to stare into it, but he decided a quick look would be alright. His eyes were barely fixed on it when a deep relaxation swept through him and he sunk pleasantly into the diamond netting of his hammock. Just a bit longer, he thought, as his quick look became a stare. Something was promised by its beguiling glow - something just out of focus. He looked through it until there was nothing in his universe but green mist. It occurred to him then that the pulsing light was changing frequency to match the rise and fall of his chest. Or was it the other way around? His eyes grew heavy, then closed. Soon after he fell asleep, listening to the mist’s strange exhalation as it sped beneath him – hhhhhhhhhh…
Warning
Della sped through the forest, looking for her rescue party. She was working on the assumption that they followed her from Joebel Pass and was searching in its general direction, weaving a likely path through the trees. She rose from the forest every so often to get her bearings, but soon realised she was drifting north. When she began to suspect another force at work she stopped and focused on a large oak about a hundred yards in the distance. Then she willed herself towards it and relaxed, trying to empty her mind. Half way there she detected a sideways drift that confirmed her suspicion. The shadow didn’t want her to find the exorcist and was nudging her off course. She went on, correcting its influence, but the shadow changed tactics – trying to resist her forwards movement, with no care for stealth. But with only a little more focus she pushed through its resistance with ease.
She wondered why this was, given it had taken possession of her twice at school – striking Ismara with her crutch and shoving her to the floor during noon break. And it even made her go out into the storm to search Agelrish for the monster. So why couldn’t it take possession of her now and force her back to the tower? She thought about this as she wove through the trees and came up with a plausible theory. The shadow took control of her at school, because she wanted to retaliate; its intentions perfectly aligned with her deepest desires. And when it took her out of the house to search for the monster, it tricked her into thinking it was her idea.
It could facilitate her desires and work against her only with a stealthy infiltration of her mind. In direct opposition it was evidently no match for her.
She was almost to the mountains when she decided to double back and widen her search. But she turned around and froze. The forest to the east was aglow with a green light that was shining up through the canopy.
The mist!
It had been following her to the mountains without her knowledge. She remembered it and feared it; her leg throbbing with the phantom pain of her old poison. And as it advanced towards her she was transported back five hundred years to the night it first appeared, only hours after the earthquake that tore Joebel apart.
She had spent the day helping her uncle treating the injured and freeing others from the rubble of collapsed buildings. That night they fell into an exhausted sleep, only to be woken minutes later by cries of alarm from outside their window. They dressed quickly and went into the street; joining a group of people gathered around a breathless boy. He was babbling about a strange mist he had seen pouring out of the chasm the earthquake created. Behind him a cacophony of panic filled the night, lending credence to his claim.
Someone gasped and they all turned to see a gown of glowing green mist billowing around the street corner; the front edge splitting into tendrils and reaching for them like a grasping hand. The boy bolted away and they followed, mounting the town hall steps with seconds to spare, the mist flowing past them like waters of a flash flood. It lapped against the houses, more like liquid than gas, penetrating cracks in brickwork and sweeping under doors. And in just a few minutes the streets of Joebel were knee deep in mist, its ground floor windows glowing with sickly green light.
The mist had poured out of the Abyss every night since, soaking into the ground at daybreak and poisoning the soil. Every night it reached further west, pushing her people further away from their once great city. The last time she saw it was the night she left the Eastland for good. She was camping with her uncle at the entrance to Joebel Pass and before going to sleep they looked out at the city, watching mist streaming through its streets and lighting up the lower floors of deserted houses. She cried herself to sleep that night. They were about to start a new life in the west, but she was leaving the land of her parents and childhood behind.
This was the first time she had seen the mist in over four hundred years and it was like coming face to face with an old enemy. She watched it roll through the trees, not wanting to be anywhere near it, but knowing she had to be. She resumed her search, but the wax and wane of its pulsing glow constantly stirred the shadows, giving the impression of movement everywhere she looked. On several occasions a fleeting arrangement of shadow suggested a group of people moving through the forest. But when the light bloomed, they were revealed to be nothing more than shrubs; poised in a way that wasn’t remotely human. In the end she called off her search, deciding it was time to go back. Griglis was bound to check on her soon and even if she wasn’t caught, there was the hardness of the dungeon floor to consider. Her body was transmitting strong feelings of pressure against her shoulder and hip and if she didn’t roll off them soon she would end up with terrible sores.
She was starting to angle up when she saw Kring standing in a clearing. She stopped in front of him, but he rolled his shoulders and yawned, his shining eyes looking at something a hundred yards behind her. In the next pulse of mist, she turned a full circle and counted eight of them: two more standing guard with the giant and another five sleeping in hammocks. She went to the closest and veered away when she saw his wide brimmed hat and throbbing mist stone. She waited to be sure she hadn’t piqued his Membrane sensitivity then went to the next hammock where she found Kye; snoring away with his chin on his chest. Less than two feet below him the mist ran west; the occasional tendril reaching up and stroking his back.
She hid in the foliage and whispered his name, knowing he could hear her in Absence, but not knowing how sensitive the exorcist was to her voice. He turned his head, but didn’t open his eyes.
‘Kye Wake up!’ she said, raising her voice as much as she dared.
This time his eyes blinked open and he stiffened.
‘It’s alright. It’s only me.’
She drifted down to hover next to him.
‘Della! Are you alright? We found… I saw what they did to you. But it’s going to be alright. We’re here to rescue you.’
She had planned to give her warning and be straight off. But when she saw the concern and hope in his face she suddenly felt like crying. Oh how she wished it could be as simple as the brightness in his eyes suggested.
‘Listen Kye, because I haven’t much time. They know you’re here and they’re sending someone to kill you.’
She jerked back a
s Kring took two quick steps over and grabbed Kye’s arm. ‘Who you talking to lad?’
‘Don’t go,’ said Kye, ignoring his question and reaching after her. ‘They already know about Absence. I’m sorry Della, but they tricked me into telling.’
She looked at him in shock, but wasn’t angry. She could hear the shame in his voice and knew he had done his best to keep his promise. Her secret was out anyway. Her captors knew about Absence and so did Izle. ‘It’s alright,’ she said. ‘I don’t think it matters anymore.’
Kring’s sudden movements had alerted the others and in a few seconds the rest of the hammocks were tipped out and the entire company gathered around him.
‘The girl? Ormis asked.
Kye nodded.
She drew back, ready to dart away if the exorcist began firing up his draw. But the Membrane continued to rest. ‘Ask her where she is and who she’s with,’ he said. He wasn’t seeing her exactly, but he was endowed with some Membrane sensitivity and was looking in her general direction.
She heard the question and answered without Kye needing to relay it. ‘I’m in the dungeon of a tower just east of here. There’s two torucks and a man called Griglis. A ghost has been watching you all day and they know you’re coming. They’re sending someone out to kill you tonight… Make sure you’re ready. I have to go now, before they discover me Absent.’ And with that she sped off and was over a mile away before most of them realised she was gone.
Inflation
Della raced over the forest, infused with an unsettling mixture of hope and fear. Hope that her warning had been received in time and fear that her Absence was about to be discovered. As she sped towards the tower it appeared from the forest like a chastising finger. Silly girl, it seemed to say, you took a terrible risk and you’re going to pay. And as she drew closer she became ever more convinced that Griglis was boot heeling it down the dungeon steps; seconds away from turning her over and discovering her gone.
She was so focused on reaching the tower, she didn’t see the amorphous light that streaked up from the forest. It passed beneath her, warping the Membrane in such a way she rose like a swimmer lifted by a wave. She had barely time to register the sensation before it drew up in her path, taking form like a reflection on water.
It was the spirit Griglis had spoken to from the tower balcony, but this close she was able to appreciate its shocking features. It was mostly head and shoulders and what little torso it had tapered into a long glowing tail. A meagre ration of skin was stretched across the jutting angles of its face and its eyes were black and huge - abandoned mineshafts in which hundreds of wasps were swarming.
‘You escaped!’ it said in a buzzing baritone.
She hung in the air, terrified. Besides her uncle, she had never been this close to another spirit and her soul hummed with its proximity. This close she felt a crazy alternation of attraction and repulsion, as if the two of them were spinning magnets – about to be drawn together or forced apart. It was well known that two spirits could share a haunt no more than two bears could share a cupboard. In close proximity spirits were usually compelled to fight until one consumed the other – a process she had always likened to raindrops merging on a window pane. It was a pretty simile, but one she would never use again.
The spirit regarded her with hungry eyes, but to her surprise it didn’t attack. Close as they were it kept its distance, writhing and twisting as if held on an invisible leash. Then it spiralled away and took off in the direction of the tower. Her relief was instant, but fleeting. As the distance between them opened up she realised it was going to report her Absent.
Relief turned to rage and without thought to self-preservation she shot after it. All she could think about was Karkus’s shining knife and his promise to cut her again. She was dimly aware of the shadow trying to restrain her, but it only fuelled her anger and she burned through its resistance with molten willpower.
She struck the spirit and they became a twisting ball of light that arced down into the forest, scattering dozens of squawking birds. She clawed and swiped; fingers raking through a buzzing syrup that ran up her arms like pins and needles. Whatever had been holding the spirit back was rendered powerless by their contact and it spiralled around and grabbed her throat - the wasps in its mineshaft eyes swarming with anticipation.
Its mouth yawed open and it bit her shoulder with teeth like icicles. She released a sound that surged up from the tips of her toes and erupted from her mouth like a jet of water from a geyser. It was more than a scream - a sound that could only be summoned by a wounding of the soul. But then through its clamping teeth she felt something worse – a sudden ramping suction which began drawing her in.
She pushed and hammered at its face, twisting and thrashing in a desperate attempt to detach from it. But it held tight and as she drained into it, her resistance began to wane. Her light faded and the spirit’s brightened in equal measure; the wasps in its pupils becoming blazing stars. It was devouring her soul and in a matter of seconds she would be nothing more than a supplement to its energy reservoir.
But help came from an unexpected place.
The shadow hadn’t wanted this fight, but its fate was inextricably linked to hers and it was forced to act. It rose inside her, detonating in a blast of whispers that streamed through her wound and into the spirit’s biting mouth. Its teeth ripped out of her and its head whipped back as if it had tasted something rotten. The whispers streamed into its baggy mouth and it rippled like a hood in a strong wind.
Della was seized by an all consuming hunger and instead of flying away, she shot forwards and bit the spirit’s neck. And now it was flowing into her – a rush of light and power too wide for her throat. It expanded her in all directions, threatening to burst her at the seams. But she didn’t choke or gag. Quite the opposite – she drew it in ever more ravenously, taking great pleasure in the way it filled her.
The spirit didn’t resist. It had been incapacitated by the whispers and all it could do was bear witness to its own consumption. Its face was last to go and it stretched away in terror as it funnelled into her - its mineshaft eyes lined with carpets of dead wasps.
When it was gone she hung in the air, bloated with power; pleasure spiralling up her spine and dancing along her limbs. It pooled in her mind, drowning all thought - her uncle, the shadow and her rescue party now of no concern. She laid back and drifted over the mist flooded forest, warm currents blowing through her soul.
Deflation
As time slipped by she began to deflate. The ribbons of pleasure that swaddled her loosened and her bliss bled through the gaps. She cried out as the final exquisite trickles abandoned her, reaching after them as though they were something that could be grasped. An intolerable hollowness opened inside her and the fear and grief she had temporarily banished poured back in. It triggered a desperate and seedy need to devour more spirit energy and she set off in search of another life force to ingest. But after only a few minutes she was struck with the reality of what she was doing and drew up in despair.
She had devoured another soul.
Revulsion twisted her gut and she retched so violently her soul turned inside out. Back in the tower she emptied her stomach onto the floor, bringing a smile to Karkus’s face. But the spirit couldn’t be expelled like a belly full of spoilt meat. It was part of her now - a vitality dissolved in the very fibre of her soul. Under the cold light of a thousand stars she cried out. It was a harrowing wail that crossed the Membrane and set jungle creatures scurrying for cover.
A few hours ago she thought she was at rock bottom. But there was a lower place waiting for her and she was there now. She had devoured another soul and taken pleasure in its demise. An appalling and unforgivable act. She flew north on an erratic path, pulling at her face and sobbing inconsolably. Her tears were real, but they ran down a face that was many miles away.
Don’t cry Little Laurie, she heard her uncle say, using the name he reserved for when she was ill or upset. Wipe
your eyes and look at the stars with me.
On some level she understood it wasn’t really him and just some conjuring of her mind. But she grasped at the delusion like a drowning man reaching for a branch. She looked up at the night sky, seeing his smiling face in the Wagon Wheel Constellation and feeling his arm around her shoulders. He pulled her close and she could smell his sun burnt skin and the earthy redolence of his clothes.
‘It’s all my fault,’ she blubbered. ‘If I’d told you about the shadow you’d still be here with me…’ She broke off and sobbed again.
Sssshhh. What’s done is done and you can’t blame yourself. You were scared and the shadow tricked you. You’ve got to remember that.
‘Did you see what I just did? Aren’t you ashamed?’
Of you? Never. He smiled and the stars that were his eyes, twinkled with affection. You were only defending yourself. I wouldn’t have it any other way.
‘You used to say the air smelt sweeter when I was Absent,’ she sobbed. ‘Well what about now?’
Nothing’s changed. You’re Absent now and the air’s as sweet as a breeze over a summer meadow.
She reached for his face, but she might as well have been reaching for the moon. ‘Please come back.’
You know it’s not possible.
‘I can’t go on without you.’
But you must.
‘What should I do? I’m so empty… So lost.’
We talked about this and you made me a promise, remember?
With her poisoned leg and poor health, she had always assumed she would die before him. Like most people she feared death, but she feared his more. To be left all alone in the world was a prospect she hoped never to face. And a prospect she never wanted to talk about. Such talk was apt to put her into a gloomy mood that could last for days. But despite this her uncle raised the subject periodically, needing to know she would be alright if anything happened to him – that she could not only survive, but lead a happy and fulfilling life without him.
Absence_Mist and Shadow Page 3