by Will Bly
A root snagged Irulen’s foot and he stumbled forward. The images that haunted him faded into the morning fog. Rany tucked her tail and skittered away from commotion. Stupid dog.
Irulen dusted off his pants as if the action would make his legs walk better. Stupid human.
A sound came through the air just then, low in volume but high in pitch—almost as if the wind whistled. But the leaves were still—the woods were windless. Even still, Irulen listened hard against the fog. Nothing, and then something… something farther down the path. The sound developed into a strange melody, one that grew louder the closer he came.
Thinking it strange that someone would be out whistling in the morning’s fog, Irulen carried himself with caution. And that whistle… is not a happy whistle… but a sound of sadness. It is not often tone hears a whistle representative of anything but jollity. The notes were drawn out, wavering and solemn as if they floated within walls of fog.
Irulen thought to the folk tales he heard as a child. Stories passed on endlessly through the generations about different sounds and sights designed to lead men to their peril. He thought first of the singing women of the sea whose beauty and sound coaxed passerby ships onto rocky shoals to their doom. It seemed that every traveler he met, no matter where they hailed from, knew of these perils at sea. Perhaps more relevant were the local stories of a demon in the woods named Rishanti, who came with the fog. Rishanti would lure children, mimicking the sounds of people the child knew and obeyed, drawing her victim into the woods. Once far enough that no one could hear the screams, Rishanti would pounce from above, pinning the hapless child to the ground. The victim would never see the face of that which devoured all flesh, bone, and soul. Rishanti liked it when her victims screamed into the dirt while she tore into their backs. It had often been said that the demon would fill its belly, fall asleep, only to wake up and eat again. Her unlucky prey that survived the first attack would lay broken and torn on the ground while she slept off her gluttony. The vicious cycle would continue until all the blood was gone. Each red droplet of the splatter, whether on leaves or other ground fodder, would be consumed.
Irulen remembered the terrifying stories his parents had told him and Lynette. One such story told of a disappearance long ago that was attributed to Rishanti. A little boy never came home one day, and the following morning the entire town set out. They found nothing but a circle in the woods which had been cleared of compost. The dirt was fresh and as clean as dirt could be. The boy was never heard from again. After that, Irulen and Lynette promised never to go to the river without each other.
Of course Irulen had long ago ceased his belief in demons. Humans were far evil enough and were just as brutal in their methods. Demons felt unnecessary in the design of things. Such creatures only lived within the most wicked corners of the human mind; the same areas that encourage destruction so that our better selves could feel good recreating and rebuilding.
Rany trotted forward, and Irulen lost her in the fog. He looked up for Max, but the raven was nowhere to be seen. Probably having a little raven celebration with that lady he picked up.
The fog thickened to the point where Irulen could see vapors dance around him. The effect proved hypnotic, as if he were falling slowly instead of walking forward on solid ground. He felt pulled through the fog like a feather through a cloud. His blindness in the haze matched the blindness of his faith. The whistling resonated in a way that confused him. It sounded louder and yet still distant. Rany barked not far off. Irulen smiled at being led on by the old mutt. He walked until he almost tripped on the old girl, and he figured himself lucky that he kept his balance.
Behind the brown, slobbering dog opened a large pit with something looming over it. They must have come off the path a bit, because Irulen didn’t remember any such thing along the way to town. He called the dog away and made sure she stayed clear and safe. He listened. The whistle no longer resided in the air—it had flittered away like a fairy in the woods.
Still, Irulen couldn’t help but investigate the new curiosity. He laid on the ground and shimmied forward, flipped his hood back over his shoulders, and peeked over the ledge. Across from him, a ladder extended down along the side wall. A rope hung over a sturdy crossbeam and descended below. Above it all loomed a sturdy roof which Irulen didn’t understand. A water well? But why here? There’s nothing around… And why the roof—to keep water out of a well? It made no sense to him.
Just then, the distinct scent of something burning filled his nostrils. Fog did not compose all of the haze around him. Some of it was smoke. It seemed to rise from below, deep inside the pit. He stared deeply. That’s why there is a ladder and a rope. Sure enough, a flickering of light caught his eye. Someone is at work down there… and that someone is coming back up here.
Though he didn’t see anything clearly, Irulen detected a stirring in the darkness between him and the flickering light deep below. Do I leave? Do I just stay here? What if I scare this person and the person tumbles to his or her death? Do I call out? I’d better call out.
“Oy! Sorry for the bother! Came by your hole by mistake. Foggy up here.”
“Don’t mention it. Do hold on a moment, though. Haven’t had company in a while.” A crusty, dry voice of an older gentleman erupted from below.
Irulen mouthed profound words to the air and shook his head. Company is the last damn thing… He hated himself for getting involved with a stranger. Should have just left it all damn well alone. He cocked an eye up at his inner pun. Or I should have left the well damn alone? Or the damn well alone? Better. He blew a heavy breath. Just... shut up.
He sat against a nearby tree, and Rany laid down next to him. He jostled a bit, cleared his area by the tree, and rested his head against the trunk. His eyes failed to stay shut, and so he looked around for other forms of stimuli. After he threw all the nearby pebbles into the woods, Irulen’s hand made it to the soft fur of Rany’s head. Stupid dog. He rubbed the dog for his own comfort. Comfort. Comfort is not possible without suspension of care. In comfort there is ignorance.
He wanted to leave, but something kept him in place. Manners, perhaps. He peeked over the edge of the well again. From the distant darkness below, Irulen could see two shiny, wicked eyes, like a serpent inching up a wall.
Every so often he heard the man breathe heavy in exertion. Irulen couldn’t help but wonder how oxygen made its way down there at all. As the hole-dwelling stranger neared the top, the shiny eyes were revealed to be two round glass cylinders pulled up over the man’s head.
“This is always the tricky part!” the man said as he reached the top. He patted around until he found a metallic handle jutting from the ground. What secured the handle, Irulen did not know. He pulled himself up and sprawled out onto the dirt. He panted while resting.
Rany walked up and sniffed at his face.
“Oh,” he startled. “Oh—oh!” Irulen couldn’t tell, but it looked like the dog might have snuck in a lick. The man laughed and spat as he turned over and sat up. “Nice dog you have here. Quite pleasant fellow.”
“She’s a lady.”
“So she is,” the man said as he had a look under. “So she is… a proper little lady.”
Irulen pushed the man’s strangeness aside. “My name is Irulen—”
“The Irulen, eh? I’ve heard of you, son. Maybe too much.”
Irulen shifted. “I’m sorry, sorry to bother. I’ll just head on my—”
“No, no! Don’t be absurd. Stay a while. Haven’t had much company to speak of these past days. My name is Johanis. Pleasure to meet you, Irulen. And your little lady here—”
“Rany, that’s Rany. From the village.”
“Ah, so it is. Perhaps I’ve met her before, though I don’t head into the village much at all. This, here, is my village, until someone kicks me out anyway.”
“What are those on your head? What are you doing here?”
Johanis sprang to his feet. He had a strange look, appearing both
young and old depending how the fog hit him. His hair, either blond or gray, peeked out beneath a dirty hood overlapping with other grimy, gray and loose-fitting clothes.
“These? These are called goggles. Made with glass fronts, they are. Keeps the dirt out of my eyes. The most expensive thing I’ve bought. Working near a path that leads to the Great Trade Road has its benefits. We get a lot of run-off trade through here. This one was from an old man with a pointed hat. Called himself, um—”
“Merlane?”
“Ah, yes. That’s the man.”
Irulen’s thoughts drifted to the present Merlane had gifted to him. The looking glass snug in his bag. “I know him.”
“Good man.”
“Yes, not a bad one, at the least.”
“You sound a little bit like a skeptic.”
“Guilty as charged. Though perhaps my spirit is feeling worn by a tough journey.”
“And tougher people, I’m sure.”
Irulen nodded. “So what are you doing here?”
“Walk with me. Be careful, I have a lot of things you might trip on out in this fog.”
“Will do.” Irulen followed Johanis for about ten strides when a strange contraption appeared. The rope that descended into the dark shaft came here to find itself coiled around numerous wooden cogs, gears, and latches. Johanis lifted a latch that seemed to free up the device and then turned a wheel that engaged the rest and the rope started pulling in.
“It only takes a moment,” Johanis said. “If it doesn’t get stuck.”
Irulen had to admit to himself that all the moving parts intimidated him. He felt almost as if something might lash out at him and steal his fingers.
Johanis laughed. “There we are!” They walked back over to the deep hole. A large, heavy bucket of dirt swung above it. “Now this is a bit tricky. There’s a side to the bucket that will unlatch and spill the dirt over to the side of the hole. We need to have the wheelbarrow ready.”
The wheelbarrow itself seemed built specifically for the job. It was close to the ground, sturdy, with long handles. Johanis pushed it near the edge of the hole.
Irulen’s heart crawled up into his throat as Johanis, using the side posts as a brace, leaned over the hole to unlatch the bucket. He did, and a smaller part of the bucket fell away. A small wooden pipe with walls that kept the dirt from spilling over funneled the dirt into the barrow at a slow but constant rate. Eventually, the dirt ceased to pour on its own. Johanis poked and prodded at the bucket with a long stick until he was satisfied he had extracted as much dirt as possible. “Hmph!” He nodded at a job well done and turned his attention to the wheelbarrow.
Irulen, feeling rather useless, offered the labor to push the haul of dirt to where Johanis needed it.
“Oh, thank you!” Johanis said. “Much obliged. This way please.”
Lifting the handles of the wheelbarrow proved easy, moving the thing much more difficult. Irulen kept getting snagged on sticks and rocks on the ground. Eventually, Johanis led him to a straight, clean track. They soon arrived at a small clearing with many piles of dirt partially concealed by the fog.
Johanis outstretched his arms. “These are the barrows of my soul. Each pile guards a piece of me as I work toward the end.”
“To what end do you work?”
“I’m digging to the underworld to retrieve my family.”
“You—what?”
“I know, I know—It seems strange. It seemed strange to me too, once upon a time. When the plague first blew through, I couldn’t cope. ‘Why them, not me?’ The insurmountable question, that one. Nearly drove me mad.”
Nearly?
“But along that line of madness I found questions and with those questions the possibility of answers. Where did they go? In what form are they present? I considered many questions. Under the earth didn’t seem a likely place for the Otherworld to be. For why would the departed go under when we release them into the sky? But I can’t reach the sky, can I? So the small chance that the Otherworld truly is an Underworld grew in my mind. So I began digging this hole. Purpose again filled my life, and here I am.”
Damn, can’t really argue with that, can I? “I think I too may have lost my family. Again. Once, long ago, I was pushed from their presence… you know the story… And now they are gone. My brother deceased and my parents to the wind. I have no idea where. It’s possible they are also deceased.”
“Well, if I find your brother, I’ll be sure to bring him back with me too. At least your parents are still in this world.”
“One hopes.”
“One should hope. Is hope a problem?”
“For me, it has been a complication.”
“Sit with me a minute.” Johanis directed Irulen to rudimentary seats crafted from cut stumps. “Let me speak a moment,” the digger said as they sat together.
Irulen nodded and listened.
“They say the fog obscures things… makes things something they’re not. Fog covers reality. But I say fog reveals the truth—the truth of how things are. A tree is not just a tree—it is a life-giver, a source of shelter, a barrier… a symbol… and so much more. There are spirits in the trees. No, the fog is not a veil… The world as we see it is the falsity. The world without fog is false. Nothing is black and white… It’s all… gray. We can’t see all that is in front of us. There is energy… elements... nuances… Objects we’ll never fully understand. You do not see what I see. Nor can I see what you see. It’s all fog. Life is foggy. But in that fog lies possibility, and in that possibility more possibilities. Great big trees of hope and curiosity. Unfathomable, truly unfathomable... Endless. These are the trees I climb even as I dig deep down below. I dig to find the Underworld. Once I get there, I’ll bring my family back. If I can’t do that, I’ll stay there with them. Hope may hide from sight, shrouded by the fog, but it never leaves you.” He laughed. “You can’t get rid of hope no matter how hard you try! She’s a stubborn bitch.”
Irulen thought of Farah. “So it seems.”
“I’m having a meal soon, care to join me?”
“I think I have somewhere I need to return to.”
“Something to hang onto, is it?”
“Something to hope for, I suppose.” The fog seemed to loosen around them. His nostrils no longer choked on the thickness of it. For the first time in a while, Irulen felt genuine. “It’s nice to have met you, Johanis. Good luck with your endeavor.”
“And to you, too.”
Irulen came to the road. Max and his new mate awaited his arrival, sitting among some nearby branches. “You two look like a lot of fun, sitting there all stone-faced together. What happened? Get married while you were away?”
Max croaked his displeasure.
“Fair enough,” Irulen answered.
He barely took another step. Something was missing. Where’s Rany? He turned back to where Johanis roamed in the foggy mist. Rany followed the lonely man to and fro. Well, they seem to suit each other. Irulen smiled. His step filled with renewed energy. The forest may have been full of fog, but Irulen’s mind cleared.
Chapter 15: Not Your Time
By his account, Irulen was precisely where he was supposed be to meet back with the others. But they were late—really late. He sat stewing in his jealousy as Max played above with his new companion. The two ravens fluttered about from tree to tree chasing each other in silence.
“Get a room!” Irulen yelled up to them. Winged gremlins.
He hated to admit, but it bothered him that Max hadn’t perched on his shoulder for some time now. It felt as if a small piece of him had gone missing. He picked up a small rock and tossed it Max’s way.
The raven crooned his displeasure and sprayed a wet stream of turd from his tail-feather. Irulen barely made it out of the way.
He shook his fist at the animal and resettled. “You are ridiculous, you know that?”
Irulen was suddenly jerked forward. “What the…” He felt as if an axe might bury itself between hi
s shoulders. He stumbled and fell forward, prepared to defend himself from his attacker.
Kay laughed as she stepped in front of him. “In the end you are just a silly boy, aren’t you?”
“And you a sadist,” he said as he brushed himself off. “Where are the others?”
“Yes, about that. The road isn’t safe for us right now. Come with me.” She sauntered into the woods, leaving him in a moment of confusion. He shook it off and followed. Somehow, she managed to swing her hips while treading silently. She didn’t crack a single branch or kick a single leaf. There must’ve been extraordinary method in the way she walked, but she made it look easy.
Irulen began to think she still pulled his chain. “What is this about?”
She responded by putting a finger in the air.
Irulen felt like the least respected, most ignored creature in the world.
The forest opened up into hardwood. The trees inched farther apart. The trunks grew wider. Large roots swelled underfoot. Underneath a fat, scraggly ash tree sat Farah, Merek, and Leofrick.
“What is this about?” Irulen repeated.
“We had a bit of an event,” Farah said. She sat with her back against the tree, her legs balanced on a large root. Her hands wringed over bent knees.
“Well, that makes all of us, then. What sort of event?”
“Farah smashed a fellow in his face with a mug of beer,” Leofrick said.
“That’s not fair!” cried Farah. “That’s only part of the story!”
Kay laughed.
Irulen lost his patience. “Kay, what in the demon is going on?”
Kay spoke through a smile, “Leofrick, here, defended my honor. Farah and I saved his bacon. Got a bit messy at the tavern. Farah broke someone’s jaw. The townsfolk aren’t happy with us. Best we keep off the road for a little while is all.”