Crik (18 page)

‘What do you mean,
’
said Bill, bewildered, ‘what do I want?’

‘You lit the bloody thing,’ said the little man. ‘So, what do you want?’

Jack noticed the eyes of the man were a light shade of pink. Another oddity was the hollow wooden spokes at the heel of his boots; they played a note with every step.

The man’s irritated expression darkened; angry lines formed through his nest of a beard. ‘The lamp, boy,’ he said, clicking his tongue against his front teeth. ‘I ran the length of Elysium to get here. Now what is it?’

‘Elysium?’ remarked Inara, who was the only one at face height with the stranger. ‘Is that the name of this valley?’

‘Well it’s not the Swine River, is it?’ He swung around the stick, from which swayed his lantern. ‘It’d be manners to offer me something to drink right ‘bout now.’

‘We’ve got some water.’ Inara moved to retrieve a bottle, fashioned from the hide of one of Silver’s kills.

‘Blah,’ shouted the quarrelsome man, sticking out his tongue. ‘Do I look like an otter to you? I expect some rum for running all this way, or if not that then a little beer would go down a treat.’

‘We haven’t got any,’ said Jack.

‘Well, that’s just dandy.’ He planted the lamp on the ground. Free of the weight he sat back on his haunches and shook off the boots. Two mournful notes played as the shoes hit the ground. Tearing a blade of grass, he set it between his teeth. ‘Here Miss, rub these for me.’ He shook his feet at Inara.

Inara stared at the outstretched feet as though they were a nest of worms. ‘I’m not going…’

‘He’s come a long way,’ interrupted Bill.

Her stretching lips skinned back from her teeth. ‘You lit the lamp, so you can do it.’

‘I’m not having a guy rub my feet,’ cried the man, moving the grass from one side of his mouth to the other. ‘Now come on, I’m not asking you to give me a bath.’ The man gave Jack a wink.

‘It’s not going to happen,’ said Inara, narrowing her gaze, as Jack, standing to her side, blinked in astonishment. ‘So you may as well stop asking, and take your paws away.’

‘Not a particularly hospitable group are you. First, you’ve no drink waiting for me, and now you’re refusing to rub my sore feet, which I suspect have blisters after my run. I’ve a good mind to turn tail.’

‘We didn’t ask for your help,’ said Bill, hiding the doused lamp with a self-conscious slight of hand.

The man squinted up at Bill. ‘Not the sharpest blade of grass, are you?’ he muttered. ‘It’s not hard to see by your tracks that you’re headed for the Wold, a dangerous place, mayhap the most dangerous place in Crik Wood. Therefore, you do need my help. Aye, you do.’ He gave them all a grin.

Jack, not liking the man’s smugness, bent forward. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Llast, and what I am is angry and tired.’ Llast turned to Inara. ‘And I’m parched.’

‘If you’re that thirsty then you’d be glad to have this water,’ she said, again offering the water skin.

‘What’s that smell?’ said Llast, ignoring the water. ‘Smells like fish left to rot.’

‘That’d be Krimble,’ said Bill, pointing outside the pool of light. ‘Believe me he smells worst in the day.’

‘Not possible,’ said Llast.

Llast chewed on the grass while he observed Krimble limp closer. The left cheek of the zombie had disintegrated into a mushy mess. What remained of his grey hair had balled into isolated humps on his scarred head.

‘On second thoughts, I think I will have some water.’ Llast snatched the skin from Inara. Pulling the string, that tied the bottle’s neck closed, he upended the liquid so that it splashed his face, dampening his beard and making his eyes squint shut. After rubbing his face, he let his hands drop, and looked once more at Krimble, who stood with a sneer. ‘I was hoping you were just some dust in my eye. You’re one ugly sod. Look at your clothes, all muddy and torn. Count it as a blessing that I don’t mention your face. You’re lucky there aren’t many mirrors in the valley.’

‘I’m beginning to like him,’ said Bill.

‘Thought you might,’ said Jack.

‘You may fool these,’ said Krimble, ‘but I know you. I daresay there’re more mirrors in Elysium, than there are of your people.’

Llast stared at Krimble as a smirk sloughed across the corpse’ mouth. ‘There’re more of us than you think.’

‘Then why the haste?’ asked Krimble. ‘Where’re the others, they would’ve seen the light as well?’

‘Shut up,’ Inara warned.

‘That’s ok girl,’ said Llast. ‘I know who he is now. He’s the Marsh Man. I almost stumbled into one of your traps a while ago,’ he told Krimble. ‘You would’ve got me if it weren’t for my nose. I smelled you then too. I’ve waited a long time to kill you; it’s a shame I waited too long.’

Inara smacked her fist into her palm. ‘He’s suffering. I can feel his mind crying out for mercy that will not come. He will feel his flesh fall from his bones, and the jelly of his eyes bubble from their sockets before I allow him to rest.’

Llast remained silent, the grass clamped between his teeth drew circles in the air as he mulled over Krimble’s fate.

Standing back, Jack watched, expecting the albino to leap from the ground and attack Krimble. He saw such hatred and sadness in those pink eyes. He imagined Llast sinking his two over-sized incisors into Krimble’s rotten neck, and he silently urged him to do just that.

After a while, Llast leant forward, and with a hand supporting his chin, said, ‘I’m almost glad, I didn’t get you. I think this girl has dreamt up a punishment beyond anything I could’ve done.

‘Now go, it’s more than your smell that I find offensive.’

‘You heard him,’ cried Inara. ‘Stand back, and don’t return until I give you permission.’

‘It doesn’t matter what he tells you,’ said Krimble, swiping at Yang, who stood close, ‘there’s no hope for any of you once you enter the Wold. The Myrms know every track in their Red Forest.’

‘Bugger off,’ said Bill, throwing a stone.

With a voice like a barn door, all creaks and groans, Krimble said, ‘Don’t misunderstand; I want you to enter the Wold, that’s my quickest route to peace.’ Enjoying their contempt of him, Krimble at first did not notice Yang touching his ribs. When the probing shadow tried putting a finger through a tear in his shirt Krimble flinched as though struck. ‘Keep your carrion shadow to yourself,’ he warned Jack, swatting his hand at Yang.

He tried not to show the rest, but Yang’s continued fascination with Krimble weighed heavily upon Jack. Memories of the stuffed birds in his bedroom no longer seemed like a simple hobby, it had become far more nefarious now that he knew something other than himself controlled his shadow.

‘I said leave, sit in the dark and do not disturb us till daybreak,’ said Inara, oblivious to Jack’s unease.

With his bent back pulling his grey shirt up like a haystack, and his entourage of crawling things, Krimble struck a lonely figure as he walked away from the light. As he was about to leave he turned, and Jack saw the glint of mischief in his ruined eye. The man who had lived alone in the marsh looked happier than he had since Silver had taken a chunk out of his neck.

When the sound of Krimble’s shuffling feet had died, Llast clicked his tongue. ‘Be careful with him, he still has power, I can smell it even under his rotting skin.’

‘Inara can control him,’ said Jack.

‘Like you can control your shadow,’ replied Llast.

Hoping the others hadn’t noticed the sweat peppering his brow, Jack remained silent, unsure how to answer.

‘At one time we used the marsh,’ Llast finally said, relieving Jack of his stare. ‘We found the soft ground welcome, and it was quite pleasant in the summer; if you ignored the midges. Then he came, and there weren’t any more summers. We still went, despite familiar paths leading us into traps. At first, the traps were obvious, steel jaws and rope snares, none of which gave us any problems. His tricks were more of a hindrance than any real threat. The kids sometimes went to the marsh to play a game where they would follow the Marsh Man’s routes, stepping as close to the traps as they could before stepping around ‘em. They always laughed.

‘The kids disappeared first,’ he continued in a throaty whisper. ‘Guessing they had gone to play their game, we struck out for the marsh. We found the false paths, and the set traps. We never found those kids.’

‘If you knew who was responsible, why didn’t you go to his house and cut his throat? Would’ve saved us a whole lot of trouble,’ said Bill.

‘Steady lad,’ said Llast, wagging his finger, his face as stern as a rock bluff. ‘Of course we tried. My eldest and a few others went to pay the Marsh Man a visit. They returned a week later, minus my son. The hunting party never found the house, the illusion of the false paths were too crafty, leading them far from his home.’

‘What happened to your son?’ asked Jack, fearing the worst.

Llast remained silent, his pink eyes half closed as memories swarmed beneath their glassy surface. ‘I only tell you this as you seem intent on taking that thing with you. Even now he’s dangerous, and you would be best to leave him by himself to wallow in his pain.’

‘No,’ said Inara. ‘He’s wronged too many, I want to see him suffer.’

‘A dark motive can weigh heavy on your shoulders,’ Llast warned.

Inara shook her head, her short blonde hair fanning across her pale skin like a thousand golden needles.

‘Okay,’ said Llast, snatching the blade of grass from his mouth. ‘The path my son and the rest of the party followed took them through the wettest parts of the marsh.’

‘Did you take hunting dogs? The wet ground would upset their sense of smell,’ interrupted Inara.

Llast clicked his fingers. ‘Not as dull as you look, which is a pity; I don’t like women that are too bright. Women who can think are nothing but trouble,’ he said, looking at Bill and Jack with a sage expression.

‘Women are just as smart as men,’ said Jack, thinking about his mother, and then as an afterthought Grandma Poulis, who had kept her secret in the small village.

‘They can be smarter. That’s the problem. You’re so young,’ said Llast, ‘you’ll learn.’

‘What happened to your son,’ said Bill, impatient to hear the rest of the story.

‘He died boy, just as I told you he did. The how of it is more complicated, as no one there saw him fall. The group were wading through the deep waters, when they heard his surprised yelp. Thinking my son had stepped on a trap the party rushed back, but could not find him.’

Bill gave Jack a knowing glance. Could the man who had appeared at their village, be Llast’s son? Krimble, attempting to snare the man, would have turned the woods against him. The serpent charm he wore, mirrored that on the lamp, and Jack had little doubt he had come from this valley. Though not certain that the man was Llast’s lost son, he felt positive his assessment was correct. He saw his suspicions in Bill’s face too. Should he tell Llast what he knew? To what end, he queried with himself. There would be no relief to Llast’s grief, whether he disappeared from here, or back at the village, his son was still lost. If he were to speak of what he knew, he would only re-open old wounds. The decision made, he gave Llast his full attention. Bill, apparently coming to the same conclusion, likewise listened to the old man’s tale.

‘Others they found,’ carried on Llast, ignorant of the look that passed between the boys, and Jack’s inner turmoil. ‘Each was the same, sitting with their mouth agape, looking as though something had clawed its way up their throat.’

Behind the shield of his hand Bill mouthed the word Narmacil to Jack.

‘Did your son have a special Talent?’ asked Jack. ‘A power that was unique to him.’

‘He could speak with the Myrms. Lucky thing too, although I never knew what he told ‘em, they never troubled this valley whilst he lived.’ Llast looked reflectively at the light at his feet. ‘Like my son, most were never found,’ he eventually continued, sounding gruffer than before. ‘Listening to him,’ he looked in Krimble’s direction, ‘they found their way to the marsh house. Those we did find, well, it was never a pretty sight. We would find ‘em lying on the ground with their mouths open, as though surprised by something they saw in the sky.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Jack.