Blindsighted Wanderer Page 6

  The sight of so many of such a few types of trees sent a shiver through Silas immediately. Even before he had reached the great Lake, there was note that this place was completely and utterly ruled by the water.

  His pulse throbbed in his throat and his lips began to subconsciously move in prayer as he slowly put one foot before the other and set off into Evertodomus. The mist was unmoving and blank as he entered its grasp, and it sent tendrils swirling out around his ankles. Using only the faintly-growing dawn light for guidance of his direction, he moved with the utmost care, not wanting to disturb the surroundings too much. Every single time he set his boot down for another step, he expected something terrible to come and strike him down.

  But nothing came. And in its eerie way, that worried him even more.

  Nevertheless, he held back his fear as much as he could. He kept his hands in tight fists – in both a half-hearted attempt to feel more in control, and also to stop them from shaking.

  Silas didn’t know how long or far he walked, but it felt like an age before the trees up ahead began to thin. A soft light shone between the silver birches and he shuddered.

  A twig suddenly snapped under his boot, startling a large crow perched on a branch of a willow sapling nearby. It let out a harsh caw. Silas’ heart leapt and he spun around. He saw the bird’s black beady eye glaring at him for a split second, before his ankles caught a root and he tumbled backwards with a yelp. He rolled head over heels down a sharp incline, and came to a halt lying spread-eagled on a gentle slope of grey shingle, the net entangled around his legs.

  He lay still for a moment, staring up at the long leafy fingers of the trees before quickly checking for any injuries. The only pain he found was his left shoulder, and he gently rolled his arm in the socket to judge the damage. To his relief, he found it was only bruised, and began pulling the net twine free.

  It was only then that he realised that a strange rhythmic sound, like water in the wind – or someone hushing under their breath – was lapping right behind him.

  CHAPTER VI

  A Fatal Encounter

  T he Lake was huge. It stretched so far into the distance that Silas couldn’t make out its end as it simply melted into the mist. The light that he had seen was actually the reflection of the brightening sky in the flat water, waving with doubles of the Western Ridge and forest, as though the glassy surface was a bizarre living mirror. Soft waves washed against the bank at his feet, creeping up over the dark soil.

  It was laced with tiny islands: most of them of reeds standing taller than a man. But in the very centre, there was a single rock, larger than any other that broke the surface, and topped with a huge willow. Its surface, along with that of the surrounding banks, were thickly carpeted with orchids and ferns, but one – a beautiful red in colour – stood out starkly above the rest, only upon that island. Even from his distance, Silas immediately recognised the blossoms as amarants.

  He stared in wonder, his fear momentarily forgotten. This place was unlike anything he had ever seen or imagined. The most water that he had ever set eyes on at once was the oxbow lake that surrounded Ullswick. This Lake was something completely different. It seemed far too big to even be a lake. Silas had heard tell of great bodies of water outside the Elitland, which stretched as far as the eye could see, called oceans. That was what he likened it to: this grey, shimmering land of water. None of the lakes on the other side of the Wall were as huge, or as dark, or as beautifully menacing.

  The cold water seemed to be hissing at him with every breaking wave. You are not welcome. You are not welcome here!

  Silas tore his eyes away, clenching his teeth together so hard that his jaw ached, and he was amazed. A small group of wooden boats lay sheltered in the shadow of a huge hazel. He forced himself over towards them, curiosity getting the better of him.

  The boats were old; that much he could tell before he even laid his hands on them. He didn’t hazard a guess at exactly when they had been made, but their simple design and build hinted that they were far older than him.

  Perhaps, he wondered, even older than the Wall.

  He ran his calloused fingers over the prow of the nearest one. It was the size of a two-man fishing boat similar to those more modern ones used in the villages further south. A single oar lay inside. The boat looked plain, but was incredibly sturdy and well-built, and had been coated with a strange resin that had hardened into something that felt like smoothed stone. Even if the vessels were old enough to exceed the Wall, the varnish may have protected them enough to keep them in almost pristine condition.

  A sudden thought crossed Silas’ mind and he quickly snatched his hand away. What if these boats belonged to the demons? What if they were part of a whole elaborate trap, disguised as something familiar to lure any fools like him?

  He glanced up warily. A sharp breeze, tinged with unexpected coldness, swept past the treetops, making their boughs shiver. It blew through him as though he wasn’t there. Every knot in the wood, every stubby brown reed-head and ripple on the water – all were like eyes, watching him unblinkingly and with an intent that was anything but human.

  But Silas cast his own eyes down, and looked back over the faultless blanket of water. He had come this far, had crossed the Wall and found his way through the labyrinth of forest to the shores of the great Lake. In its depths, he saw his father’s eyes.

  “Lord, give me strength,” he muttered for all of the invisible whisperers to hear.

  Then he gripped the nearest boat again, harder, and with one huge shove pushed it towards the Lake. The sharp reeds strained against the keel as though trying to hold it back, but he forced them aside, and the water took it with a splash. Before he could change his mind, he leapt inside – rocking with the boat to counterbalance it – and threw down the net at his feet before taking up the oar and beginning to paddle.

  Determination set over him like a film of heated water over glass, cloaking anything else there might have been to see. The Lake’s mist closed around him as he tied the net’s cord securely around his wrist. The wind blew down again and disturbed his reflection into an indefinable shape of pointed shadow.

  A clamour of frogs croaked from the marsh banks, the reed-island tussocks rattled in the breath of the air, and the shadow of a goosander in flight crossed the boat. Silas’ shoulder ached as he hefted up the net and threw it. Hope filled his chest as it spread out like a strange wing before slapping down onto the glossy surface and beginning to sink.

  ‘Pap?’ he distantly heard himself saying, his voice sounding soft and child-like as he stood beside the bed.

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘Can I bring you anything to drink?’

  Julian shook his head, his red hair darkened with sweat and plastered to his face.

  ‘Very well, I shall leave you be.’

  ‘Nay, nay, stay awhile.’ He felt the sick man’s fingers clench around his arm. Nothing held tighter than a dying man clinging to life.

  The net sunk deeper.

  ‘Silas, I want you to promise me something.’

  ‘Anything, Pap.’

  Through his obvious pain and suffering, Julian managed a smile; the same smile that he had passed down to Raphael, and had not granted to Silas.

  ‘I want you to take care of everybody when I am called to God. Look after your Ma and siblings, my son. Do you swear to this?’

  Silas paused. He swallowed. ‘Why, of course. I shall care for them with all I am able until the day I die. And so shall Raph, I know it. The two of us shall, Pap.’

  And deeper.

  *

  A sudden tremor rattled over the Surface and through the water, like a deep grumble of some ancient beast. Merrin’s eyes snapped open and she hung still. The only movement was her hair flowing loosely about her face. Her hand sill rested on the Remembrance.

  The unnatural sound reverberated off the walls and the slopes, coming back again like a physical blow. It was something not of the Lake: something far too rau
cous; too clumsy and ungainly to belong anywhere below the water.

  Chills stabbed at Merrin like pike teeth; her fin flickered anxiously and her heart drummed in her ears. She forced herself to take a deep breath, and concentrated on the feeling of her gills, softly slapping against her neck.

  In... and out. In... and out, Merrin. Relax.

  She decided that it was probably just an old tree falling into the Lake. That hadn’t happened for several years, but the sound was similar to a small sapling coming down. So she swallowed, withdrew her hand with a nod of respect, and began to leave. She thought of the poor tree dying so young, and then came another sound: sharper – with a sudden shadow of ropes and knots.

  Before she could even cry out, it was too late. And then there was only sheer, uncompromised terror. Her arm tore through one of the holes. Thick twine clogged her face. The demon from her past leered at her through the haze of bubbles and hair. As the dreaded, hated thing drew tighter around her body; his eyes shone from the depths.

  He whispered her name, and Merrin screamed.

  *

  The rope suddenly pulled taught and Silas gave an almighty lurch. He grabbed at the side of the boat to avoid being pulled overboard, and the cord tightened around his wrist. He clutched it so that it fell slack, and immediately felt the distant underwater thrashing reverberating up from beneath.

  A shoal of minnow darted under the boat like silver arrows, the almost-risen sun shining off their bodies.

  Silas bit his lip, heart hammering. He worried that he might have caught something similar to them, but then he shook his head.

  Nay, he thought. Even in a place such as this, whatever that is, it is no fish.

  The demons lay in the bottomless Lake. They had brought the sickness upon his family and upon Julian, so that he drowned in the air...

  Silas’ eyes flashed, and he began to pull in the net; hands trembling as they never had before. He gritted his teeth against the pain in his shoulder. The first heave took him by surprise. The thing that he had caught was either tremendously heavy or strong enough to match him, and it almost pulled him in again. But he quickly braced his feet against the side of the boat, and hauled as hard as he could. The net rose towards the surface by a few feet, and he grasped at the ropes before the creature could move again.

  After a few minutes, a film of sweat had formed on his forehead and his cheeks were flushed with the effort. His shoulder throbbed under the strain, but still he held on fast and dragged with all his might. And then, when he barely thought he could manage another pull, the net broke the surface and rolled into the bottom of the boat. A horrendous shriek exploded from within it.

  Silas immediately clapped his hands over his ears and screwed his eyes shut. The sound was bloodcurdling and sliced through him like the sharpest dagger. It made him tremble uncontrollably, and it wasn’t helped by the fact that the creature was fighting so violently that the boat was rocking from side to side. Silas felt some water trickle in and soak up into his hose, and it filled him with such alarm that he quickly pulled out his knife and cut the cord from around his wrist.

  He turned back to the net in a frantic attempt to pacify whatever lay inside, his fear instantly returning. He gaped in awe.

  Among the wet tangle of hardy twine lay a body of shimmering blue-green skin, taught and toned across a slender frame, and shining with patterns of shifting white, similar to light shining through water. Long green hair streaked from the head and waved weightlessly in the air. A large flickering fin stretched down the entire length of the back. Long limbs clawed and kicked wildly, hands and feet thickly webbed. He glimpsed a broad, woven gauntlet of greenery covering each forearm as they struck out at him.

  “Please!” Silas cried over the screams. “Please, hear me! I mean no harm, I swear to you! Please listen to me!”

  But his words only seemed to agitate the demon further, and it suddenly whipped around towards him. Silas stared into a strangely delicate feminine face, contorted into a furious snarl. Large, sparkling purple eyes locked onto him with all the disgust in the world.

  The shrieks echoed in the desolate home of the demons as the sun crept closer; full of anger and abhorrence, and... fear. Even Silas, through his own terror, could notice the creature’s panic, but of what was beyond him. He quickly tried again to speak, holding out his hands to show that he was not a threat.

  “Please listen to me, I beg of you...”

  But the demon reached out and slapped his left hand so hard that Silas fell back into the boat. A sudden agony tore into him and his own cry escaped into the air. He clutched at his wrist, fingers curling against the immense pain shooting through his flesh, so cold it burned more than the hottest flame.

  The demon suddenly paused, and through eyes misted with tears, Silas noticed with horror that the creature’s fear had gone. Now, it was suddenly replaced with pure hatred; if it was possible, even stronger than before. The scream transformed into an inhuman roar, and it sprung at him, the expression on its face purely murderous.

  “Atégo!” he thought he heard it bellow. “How dare it be you! How dare you take me! How dare you come here! Death! Curse you! I shall kill you!”

  Through the pain, Silas barely had time to think before he instinctively threw himself aside in a desperate attempt to avoid the demon, and he crashed into the Lake. He wrenched his eyes open and yelped at the unfamiliar feeling, sending a stream of bubbles bolting towards the surface. The water – freezing even at the height of summer – was green and murky all around him, never-ending and thicker than the fog. Distantly, he made out the bottom before it suddenly cut off into a black nothingness: covered in mossy boulders, thick mud and long, waving weeds.

  He looked up. The boat had flipped, upending the demon onto the top of the water, as though it was completely solid. It shimmered white at the creature’s touch, but when it made a movement to follow Silas into the depths, terror returned to its face. It tried again, but remained suspended.

  It quickly flung itself out of the net, and the ropes immediately sank into the depths. The demon jumped to its feet and ran for the shadows on the bank, sending up sparkling drops of water with every leap.

  Terrified and desperate for air, having barely swum before in his life, he kicked clumsily towards the surface – only just managing to move out of the way in time as the boat moved past. He pushed himself upwards and emerged back into the air, gulping it down as though it were a rich drink. He spun around in the water, beginning to splash his way back towards the other boats still standing on the shore. All the time, he was alert for the escaped demon – and for the others that were surely below in their thousands, to drag him down into the darkness.

  And all the while, his stricken hand coursed with sharp pain, unlike any he had ever experienced. Then he heard the demon, and it filled him with a new fear. It wasn’t nearby, but it was definitely on one of the banks, hiding somewhere in the trees. He frantically pulled himself up onto dry land, his sodden clothes clinging to him as he shook all over.

  “How dare you set foot here!” it screamed. “How dare you! How dare you come here! Get out! Get out! Get out!”

  Silas saw the sun fully rise. Its light struck him, and he yelled out in horror. His hand seared and he flung his palms up to his eyes. The shingle and damp soil of the bank appeared under his knees as he fell heavily. He clutched hysterically at his face, cries of terror ripping out into the air as the entire Lake looked on, calmly appalled and satisfied in the same instance.

  Frantic, he forced his eyes as wide open as was physically possible, and spun in all directions, sending pebbles flying. He staggered to his feet and almost fell back into the water. The burning in his hand had died down, but in his eyes, but there was no change. At the moment the pain had flared, and he had seen the sun, his vision had shrunk into darkness.

  He heard the demon’s shrill roar one last time. It echoed around him like a tightening snare and crushed the breath from his lungs. Whimpering,
and blundering in his fear and sightlessness, Silas stretched out his hands and ran back into the forest.

  He slammed into countless trees and tripped over invisible roots; his pounding pulse, frenzied gasps, and the furious shouting rung in his ears. The cruel wind tore through him and chilled his wet body to the bone. Tears flooded uncontrollably down his cheeks as he searched for the Wall. He eventually found it and scrambled over, landing on his back in the flowery meadow.

  Time blurred as he ran with his hands held before him, fingers splayed and groping. His eyes were screwed shut so he could see nothing – and so he couldn’t open them and still see nothing. The air touching his left hand stung like the teeth of a wild animal.

  He lost count of how many times he tripped. The taste of earth was strong in his mouth from falling down. One time, he had felt a sharp rock dig deep into his forearm, and a dull pain carried on throbbing warmly as he ran.

  His hose were sodden from when he found the river and went crashing through it, listening out frantically for the trickle of water over the mill-wheel to guide himself in the direction of Fanchlow. As soon as he had cleared its banks, the ground had sloped upwards suddenly – which he didn’t remember, but then he reminded himself that he might be slightly further downstream; the mill had sounded more to the right than usual.

  He was breathless by the time he collapsed, too exhausted to take another step. He was a wretched heap of brown clothes and red hair on the ground, his limbs dream-heavy and gasps too far away to sound like his own anymore.

  The horrifying truth slammed into him as his cheek rested against the earth. He was blind.

  He thought he heard voices and then felt hands rolling him onto his back before deeper slumber came, and he dived to embrace it.

  PART TWO

  Anyone can carry his burden, however hard, until nightfall.