Absence_Mist and Shadow

by J. B. Forsyth

  ‘Kass? Surgeon! Over here now!’

  It was Beredrim’s voice, but he seemed to be talking from miles away. Time for drawing the spirit was running out and if he didn’t act soon the meld would have achieved nothing. He started to rise. But there was no air in his lungs and an invisible vice was crushing his chest. He had just enough time to appreciate his greatest failure before the colour drained from the scene and his thoughts turned to sludge. He collapsed into Beredrim’s arms; his dead eyes staring at the sky.

  Beredrim lowered Kass to the cobbles. He would mourn his friend, but he was a man with responsibility and he packed his grief away – to be taken out at another time. He rose to face the spirit. Kass had subdued it; but it was stirring now. His protocol for dealing with ghosts was to evacuate their haunt and keep people out until the exorcists arrived. But this spirit had been raging over the whole city and didn’t seem to be restricted to a haunt. And as for help; he couldn’t expect any in the near future. Kass and Djin were dead and it looked like Hayhas was unconscious. The eyes of the people were on him now. He was their only hope, but he had never felt so impotent. The sword he held was useless; nothing more than a symbol of his willingness to fight.

  He was about to order the square cleared, when a man pushed his way out of the crowd. He was wrapped in a thick travel cloak and his boots clomped confidently over the cobbles.

  ‘Move back all of you,’ he said, striding past Beredrim to where the spirit sparked and billowed like a volcanic ash cloud. He braced himself in front of it, hands balled into fists and head bowed in concentration. The spirit began to ripple and distort. He drew its fire-smoke tail towards him and the moment it touched his chest, it funnelled into him. His hands became glowing mittens and he thrust them into the air, orange fire blazing from his fingertips; so high and bright that noon shadows were cast across the city. Even The Reader was touched by the light and for a short time it looked like a regular man, warming himself by a campfire. The light burnt out and the man sagged in the resulting shadows.

  Beredrim rushed to his aid, but he raised an open palm, declining assistance. ‘Is it gone?’ he asked instead. The man nodded and when he turned, he got a better look at his face. There weren’t many exorcists these days and he would have said he knew all of them. But he didn’t know this one. A little strange he thought, given the man’s evident prowess. ‘Well done. The city’s in your debt.’

  ‘The exorcism was easy. Lord Riole did the hard work.’

  Lord Riole thought Beredrim. Didn’t the exorcists refer to him as High Exorcist? ‘What’s your name? I don’t believe we’ve met.’

  ‘Ri Paldren,’ said the man, offering his hand. ‘I got word of the recall this morning and came as quickly as I could.’

  Beredrim shook with him. ‘And you were just in time. My gratitude once again.’ They stood together in silence as Kass was lifted onto a stretcher and taken away. Beredrim was so saddened by the scene he was totally unaware of the indifference with which the newcomer watched him go. ‘Who ranks now the High Exorcist has fallen?’ he asked.

  Ri hesitated. ‘That would be the High Exorcist’s aide.’

  ‘Hayhas. Yes of course.’ He looked over to where a surgeon was attending him. ‘But it looks like it’ll be some time before he’s back on his feet. The spirit gave him a hefty backhand before you arrived… Can I ask a favour of you?’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘When the recall’s complete, I’d like you to report back to me?’

  ‘I’ll come as soon as I can.’

  Beredrim thanked him again then strode away to the barracks.

  Raphe pushed through the crowd, tolerating their applause and the occasional pat on the back. He had assumed the name Ri Paldren to keep his true identity a secret. If Lord Beredrim was to check the name he would find it on the Caliste’s investment register. But the real Ri Paldren was wrapped in a bloody blanket and going cold in a dank cellar.

  He left the barracks behind and set off along the first of many streets that would lead him to the Cragg. The High Exorcist’s demise had not gone entirely to plan. His use of the Indomitable spirit was totally unexpected; a bold and brilliant tactic that would have worked if the old dog’s body had been as strong as his mind. But it wasn’t, and in the end they had achieved their goal. This morning the city’s faith in the Caliste was broken, but it had been spectacularly restored tonight. The difference now was Kass Riole was dead and they were in charge. He picked up his pace and when he got a glimpse of the Cragg through an alleyway he thought of Solwin; wondering if the old librarian pleaded for his life when he was dragged to the battlements to be thrown off.

  The Last Place

  Kye surprised Kring when he bolted away and he even got a few seconds head start on Suula, who gave chase the instant she heard a twig snapping under his sprinting feet. He ran on a near straight line; his thudding boots broadcasting his unwary flight to a sentient jungle that primed itself in response. Strange creatures shifted in their burrows; flowers opened deadly pollen sacks and dozens of creeper vines looped down from low branches or snaked along the ground. He ran on oblivious; his eyes streaming and his grieving heart boiling with anger. The only thing that mattered to him now was getting away from Ormis and the scene of his monstrous crime.

  It wasn’t long before he was seized by a creeper. It coiled around his ankle as his boot came down; jolting him back as he ran on. Fortunately, his momentum was sufficient to break free and he stumbled forward in a low run, ducking a swiping branch that would’ve raked his face open. As he recovered his rhythm he looked over his shoulder and saw Suula right behind him; short arms pumping like pistons and her dark eyes fixed on him with predatory purpose.

  He sped up in response, taking a line through a patch of violet flowers that coughed up a cloud of pollen. Their green stems stuck to his britches and within a few steps he was ripping great clumps out of the ground. He slowed, taking several panting breaths of rising pollen. The jungle began to blur, but he staggered on; tearing free of the flowers with a rising nausea. He was so disoriented, he didn’t see the steep bank in front of him and he ran right out over the top. Where his feet expected firmness there was only air and when his boot found the incline, he fell forwards. The bank was studded with rocks and tree roots and their harsh edges pummelled his tumbling body. The last four feet were near vertical and he rolled off the edge; thudding to the ground with a violent huff of breath. He squirmed onto his back, face furrowed with pain.

  When he opened his eyes he found himself staring up into two transparent, blurry faces. ‘Lie still and the dizziness will pass,’ said one. He could do nothing else and as the swirling nausea subsided, the little ghosts crystallised above him.

  ‘You’re lucky,’ said Allie. ‘If you hadn’t escaped those flowers, you’d be turning to sludge right now.’

  ‘Stay where you are boy!’ came another voice, lancing through his head. He pushed up onto his elbows and saw Ormis glaring down from the top of the bank. And through Allie’s transparency, he could see Suula working her way down; picking a path between several burrow like openings - too big to belong to rabbits.

  ‘Your friend survived his exorcism,’ said Najo with bright eyes.

  ‘What?’

  ‘His fires failed and her ghost remains.’

  Kye sat up, feeling some of his anger returning. ‘Why would you say that? I saw what he did to her.’

  ‘So did we. But her light came together and now she’s whole again.’

  Kye’s head swam – more with confusion than with pollen. ‘Came together? I don’t understand.’

  ‘Nor do I,’ said Allie, her face glowing with wonder. ‘But it’s true.’

  ‘Then she might still be alive!’

  Najo frowned. ‘No. She was dead when we found her.’

  ‘You don’t understand. She’s different. She can leave her body without dying.’ The little ghosts exchanged a worried look. ‘It’s not the pollen - my head’s clear now.
I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true. If she survived the exorcism, she could still be alive.’

  The ghosts looked at one another again, but this time he couldn’t read their faces. ‘We could take you to her,’ said Najo, ‘and you can see for yourself.’

  Suula was working her way past the last of the ominous openings. In just a few seconds she would reach the ridge from where she could jump down.

  ‘Hurry up and decide Kye. If you’re coming you’ve got to come now.’

  With no time to think, he stood up and steadied himself against a final swish. ‘Okay. Take me there.’

  ‘Stay close,’ said Najo as he floated away. ‘You’ve pricked the jungle’s ears and now it listens.’ As if on cue, the glistening snout of some strange creature poked out of an opening. But after sniffing the air it disappeared back inside.

  He ran after them, squelching along the muddy channel at the foot of the bank and staying well clear of the openings. He limped heavily to begin with, but he’d sustained no major injuries during the fall and soon relaxed into his stride. Ormis didn’t call after him – the risks of shouting this deep in the jungle were too great, but he could feel the exorcist’s furious gaze scorching his back.

  The little ghosts led him on, instructing him when to jump and when to duck; when to slow down and tiptoe and when to sprint. He didn’t hesitate in his flight and by the time they stopped at the foot of a massive tree, he had opened up a substantial lead on Suula. Breathing hard and sticky with sweat, he looked around.

  The area was littered with twigs and leaves, snapped branches and severed vines. It looked like a strong wind had blown through; but only a small area was damaged. A dozen feet to either side the foliage was untouched and the jungle floor devoid of leaves. On closer inspection the earth around the tree was scarred with narrow trenches; as if dozens of roots had been ripped up. He could smell moist dirt and something less pleasant behind it – a meaty odour that seemed to rise from the ground.

  Najo pointed. ‘She was slumped against that tree.’

  Kye squatted to examine the area, but what he saw made his heart sink. There was a vague impression in the dirt that could have been made by anything. He turned back to the ghosts and was taken aback by the way they were looking at him. Their eyes seemed to be on fire and their light had dimmed to a moody purple. He straightened with a spurt of fear and spun around; certain he’d been led into a trap and that someone or something was about to spring from their hiding place and seize him. Nothing did. For the time being at least, they seemed to have this part of the jungle to themselves. But if this wasn’t a trap, what was it?

  ‘We can see you don’t believe us Kye,’ said Allie. ‘But she was here. I swear it. If you’re right and she’s still alive, your tracker will find her.’ The ghosts took one another’s hand and he knew they were about to reveal their reason for bringing him here. ‘We thought if we helped you, then you’d help us.’

  ‘To do what?’

  ‘To pass,’ Najo said, brightening with the words.

  Kye shook his head in disbelief. ‘I’m not an exorcist.’

  ‘But you’re twum, and we felt what happened when you took your friend inside. You stretched the spirt plane so thin, we felt the Last Place calling.’

  Kye was stunned. ‘I was just trying to help her. I don’t know what I did, or even if I can do it again.’

  ‘You don’t have to know,’ said Allie, drifting closer. ‘We just want you to try – to open up and let us in.’

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘Do what you feel is right. Please! Your tracker will be here soon.’ There was a dreadful pleading in her voice and a wild desperation in her eyes. What they were asking him to do was insane, but he felt pity for them.

  ‘Okay. I’ll try,’ he said, his heart quickening with the decision.

  The ghosts looked at each other, shocked that he’d agreed to it. Somewhere in the distance there was a rustle of foliage, signalling Suula’s imminent arrival.

  ‘Let my sister go first and I’ll follow if there’s time.’ He wrapped her up in a bright embrace, then she broke away and drifted towards Kye.

  He steadied himself, but couldn’t help taking a step backwards as she passed into him. It wasn’t like it had been with Della and as their souls merged, he started to panic.

  ‘Don’t fight her,’ said Najo from a thousand miles away. ‘Just relax and let her in.’

  Somehow, after a few disorientating seconds he managed to do just that and all at once he felt like a puddle upon which Allie’s reflection was settling.

  But what was he supposed to do now?

  Suddenly, bizarrely, he was remembering Lady Demia’s lesson on traditional dance. She had positioned his arms before stepping aside for one of the older girls, who placed herself against him in a way that made his cheeks glow. When they started to move, his legs felt wooden and all he could manage was a clumsy shuffle that made the other girls giggle. Lady Demia silenced them with an angry rebuke, then told him to just relax and let her lead. He took the advice and after a dozen steps he was dancing like the best of them. He decided to let Allie lead him now and closed his eyes, turning his mind over to her. What resulted was another memory - her memory; and it played out as if it was his own…

  She skipped up the path towards her crooked house, letting out an exaggerated, ‘Aaaaw,’ as an acorn struck the back of her head. She turned and watched Najo slip through the branches of a large oak and drop to the ground.

  ‘Race you to the swings,’ she said as he straightened up. She whirled away and sprinted around the side of the house. There was a trim lawn at the rear and a thick woodland beyond that. Two elms stood apart from the other trees and it was from a thick branch of each that their swings were suspended. She had a good start and sprang onto hers before Najo was halfway across the lawn. She leant back with a cry of victory and kicked herself forward. But as she swung back again, her smile vanished. Najo had stopped running and was frozen in place - his saucer eyes focused over her left shoulder. She twisted to follow his gaze, but didn’t get to see the monster before it ended her life. She heard it bounding through the leaves and a second later there was an enormous crunching pain.

  A brief period of blackness…

  Now she was looking down from a considerable height. Below her, a hunched form was crouching beside her broken swing. Its humped back was covered with a ridge of spines and its scaly skin bled streamers of green mist. She watched as its head jerked back and the last of her body disappeared into its excited mouth. It swallowed hard and looked across the lawn with hooded eyes; dropping down onto its cracked yellow belly and bracing on muscular forelimbs.

  Her brother was rooted to the grass along the line of the monster’s gaze. His shoulders were slumped and his hands shaking. His face was bloodless; his eyes glassy and silled with tears. On claws like rakes, the monster heaved itself across the lawn towards him, leaving currents of mist in its wake. Its nostrils flared and the long spines on its back swayed like boat masts. It leapt and her brother went down in a frenzy of slashing claws. As its ranks of slimy teeth went to work on him, his terrible screams scraped the air.

  There was a smash of plates and through the kitchen window she saw her mother running from the house. When she looked back, all she could see of her brother was his forearm - hanging limply from the monster’s mouth. As it worked its jaw, Najo seemed to wave goodbye before disappearing into its gullet. It fixed a considerate gaze on the house as if wondering whether there was another meal waiting inside. But then it turned away and bounded back to the woods; its flanks distended with large chunks of their little bodies. It nudged the broken swing with one blood soaked shoulder, leaving its varnished seat twisting on a single rope.

  A moment later Najo materialised beside her.

  Now they watched together as their mother streaked around the corner. She ran across the lawn; drawing up sharp when she reached a patch of grass covered with splotches of dripping blood. She saw th
e twisting swing and ran to it screaming their names, dropping to her knees when she discovered a much greater spillage of blood and clutching her chest as if dealt a mortal blow. She remained there for a time, body shaking and chest heaving. Then with a guttural moan she pushed herself to her feet and disappeared into the trees in a hysterical run.

  They watched their mother stagger through the woods until well after dark. Watched as her voice hoarsened with desperate maternal cries. And they watched until she collapsed in a ditch many miles from home.

  Kye got flashes of memory now…

  He saw how their mother had been found by a woodcutter, shivering and wet. He saw how the villagers spent a whole week looking for them; and their grave faces when the search was called off. He saw how they haunted their old house; watching their mother’s grief leach her like a cancer. And he saw them reveal themselves in a bid to ease her pain; an act that served only to deepen her distress. He saw their mother die a lonely death only days before the advancing mist reached their door; her natural passing robbing them of the reunion they were hoping for. And he saw the woodland becoming a jungle that enveloped their empty house; penetrating its mortar and wrestling it down to rubble. He saw, he saw and he saw and his eyes streamed with it.

  As he took Allie’s pain to heart, he became acutely aware of the Membrane. It was under extreme tension now; pulling away from him in all directions. A depthless void tore open in his chest and he flailed and staggered; feeling himself draining into it. But then he realised it was Allie; separating from him and flowing into the opening. It was the Last Place and he felt her relief as it received her.

  When she was gone he opened his eyes, inviting Najo to follow with a wave of his hands. He wasted no time blending with him; but despite his longing for the void he held back on the brink, filling his mind with a whisper of gratitude before funnelling in: Thank you Kye.