The Lost
Chapter 1 – Them
The Girl
The late afternoon air hung dead all around. Thick nooses of vines and overgrown shrubbery littered every inch of the dense woodland. Sharp blades of sunlight pierced the heart of the foliage at regular intervals, not illuminating the area but bringing life to the shadows as heavy clouds toiled across the skies. Bark hung thick and brittle from the large buttresses and trunks of the once great goliaths that stood, frozen in time, entombed in their own environment. Never did a thing move or breathe. Never had the grass grew or died. Never did a creature stir from the undergrowth. Long had it been since feet had touched this soil, or the wind blew, or sound had been heard, and today was no different; save for the faint shuffle of rubber against dirt, and voice intruding in the silence.
She had passed this way every day on her way home, so what was the problem. She must have taken a wrong turn somewhere to get so lost. She knew there should be a river, knew she should hear a river, see a river, but she could not. She also knew that her mum was going to murder her for being so late. In frustration she called a halt to the contingent of arms she dragged with her – her large backpack became a dead weight on her shoulders. The girl was the complete antithesis of her surroundings. Everything she possessed or wore was new, alive, loud. The rest was bleak, depressing and still.
"What the hell do I do now?" She asked no one in particular. Only now did she begin to notice the humidity of the forest she found herself in. There was no wind. This struck her as slightly odd – her home wasn't exactly known for its scorching temperatures and parched lands after all. Dismissing any notions of suspicion she removed her mobile phone from its holster on her jeans in an attempt to alert someone of her predicament but her screen simply beaconed the message, "No Signal", much to her aggravation and disappointment.
Swearing under her breath she replaced her phone and irritably pressed on. A breeze blew suddenly through the trees and swirled around her causing her to pause for a second. She was startled – though the breeze was welcomed it made her a little anxious and wary of her rear. Glancing into the trees she had came through she could see nothing. Shadows pranced violently on the crippled woodland like dancers on a stage. It only added to the tension of the situation. She couldn't imagine returning to that direction if she needed to pass through there.
Suddenly, she was jolted back to reality by the sweet melody of a gentle tune floating on the air. Another gust blew through the trees in front of her but this time she felt calmer, the gentle warming sensation actually relaxed her slightly.
"Where is that music coming from?" She inadvertently said aloud.
But as she spoke the song seemed to dart around her. The girl's curiosity got the better of her and she began to try to pursue it. She moved in the direction it came from as though she were chasing a friend through the bushes in fun, smiling slightly to herself as if she was about to catch it. She quickened her pace and began to run through the hanging vines and bushes. The plant-life appeared to grab at her – as though it were hungry for the life she brought to their wood. She found it harder to struggle through. Her leg got trapped on a root, her arm in a vine. The bushes scratched at her face. Turning round she pushed back at the clutching shrubbery, groaning as she did.
When she was free the girl turned to run again – almost forgetting what she was chasing. In her efforts she didn't notice the ground beneath her feet give way and she fell. She tumbled and rolled down a hill into a small ditch within a clearing and landed with a hard crack in a brittle pile of dead branches. Groaning in pain she let out a distressing sigh and gave in to the black.
It was the sound of the soft gentle music tenderly whispering in her ear that made the girl suddenly open her eyes. From where she was lying she could see the small clearing all around her. For an instant while she sat listening in the moment, the strange, unwelcoming woods seemed to come to life. What a beautiful place after all, she thought. It was as if the very air was moving. Sitting up her perception dimmed, her breathing became heavier and she gulped as she regarded the pile she landed in. She stood up very abruptly and saw what it really was. Underneath her was a pile of dry animal bones. From the shape of them, she could tell they were the remains of a large horse. Stumbling backwards, she fell into another collection of bones – roughly humanoid in appearance but abnormally large. Turning, they were littered all around here, a graveyard of all these lost souls, and her perfect image of this glade shattered.
Mortified, she turned and fled, her breathing picking up; thoughts of how those creatures could have died ran through her mind. Through tree – through bush, branches scratched at her face. Her light jacket caught, violently ripping off her body. Before she could retake possession of it from the forest, before the queasy feeling in the pit of her stomach could take hold, the sound of the music once again stopped her. Dead. It was louder. Was it closer? She couldn't hear over her own breathing. Glancing around she realised she didn't know where she was. Where was that river? Panic started well up from deep within. What was the time? How long had she been here? Where was here!
She grabbed her jacket and headed back the way she came, muttering, looking for something familiar. She quickened her pace. Her mind became frantic. She turned. Tree. She ran forward. Tree. Spun on her heels. Nothing familiar. The music had stopped. Where did it come from? No, she thought, No time! Home! The forest seemed to spin around her; she staggered forward, looking for somewhere to go. She turned. Tree. She ran forward. Tree. She spun on her heels and was grabbed by two hands.
"What are you doing here?"
The ManThe soft gentle lullaby woke him steadily, as it had done every day. It filled him with the sadness he had felt ever morning of every day. The man clenched his eyes together to try to hold on to the feeling for just a moment longer. But it, and the music soon faded, as it had done every day, every day for who knows how long. The building he lay in was a small house, hardly even a cabin. The dull, dilapidated exterior reflected perfectly every square inch of the forest it resided in. The wood was brown and rotting on the log walls, the roof, thatched and crumbling through age and weather. The remains of many tools and hunting equipment lay strewn around the overgrown garden area. A bow hung on a single rusted nail, once beautiful with its ornate patterns along the wood, its quiver resting against the wall beside the front door, the leather lining worn away by time. A small hand crafted axe and a large knife – almost a small sword – lay cluttered along with a broken boomerang. All things left from a time long forgotten by man. In passing, one might think the dwelling had been completely abandoned, if not for the faint glow of a single oil lamp sitting on a small wooden table within the quarters. It glowed dimly casting shadows over everything, its dancing bringing the very walls to life. The room was quite large, square in shape and divided by a loose hanging sheet, which separated the sleeping quarters where the man lay from the rest of the room. The table sat across the room on the opposite side of the curtain, two wooden chairs keeping it company. A small window, thick with grime and dust was just above it, barely allowing any light through. On the opposite wall to the bed was a simple stone fireplace, whose flue stretched through the ceiling. Cold ashes lay in the hearth and soot blackened the inside walls. It hadn't been used in a long time. The door was on the opposing wall to the table and lay closed but unlocked. After all, who ever came here?
A small armchair was the only other piece of furniture left in the room, save for a small worn rug, and was angled facing the bed, just in front of the fireplace. However it was not the owner who inhabited this chair.
The man gazed up at the ceiling, eyes half shut and unblinking. He didn't have to look to know He was there.
"Don't you get tired?" He gave the question, breaking the silence. "Just sitting there?"
"Never," came the reply. The figure's voice was strong and deep, and all too familiar to the man. "There's never a dull moment around here. You always know how to make things interesting"
The man on the bed, his eyes tired and heavy, didn't move. He didn't even blink. He had been lying there for almost a week, after he had given in to exhaustion and depression, and simply would not move.
"Oh come now, don't be like that." The stranger spoke again, but his voice was different. He rose. So was his appearance. The figure that stood in front of the chair was now smaller. He was a boy, no older than ten or twelve years of age. His garb was entirely strange; he wore a green tunic that hung just above his bare knees. The fabric was rough and shabby, the stitching crude, as though woven together by an unprofessional hand. It was separated in two by a belt across the waist and a small shoulder harness. He had fair, dirty blond hair that was long and untidy and tucked under a long cap. The man on the bed knew this boy; everybody knew this boy. He shone of strength, courage, and conviction – all the things that were expected of him. It was only his eyes that gave him away to the man. They were the deepest purple he had ever seen and shone brightly yet darkly through even the darkest shadows in the room. The flames danced across his young features adding to the effect of his sinister eyes.
"You know I always enjoy spending time with you. You're better than any father I could ask for!" He snickered. "But you're right. You used to put up more of a fight. You've been lying there for ages. Get up! Take me out! I wanna play."
The Boy began to laugh now. He shook the man playfully. "Come on! You are making my job far too easy, you know. What happened to you? Where is that strength, that courage, that supreme sense of self that used to emanate from you?" The boy walked closer, and the man turned away in response, uttering a short grunt under his breath. The boy lowered his head in defeat. He sounded far less playful now and seemed to speak in a manner beyond his years.
"I guess that's what time will do to you isn't it." He leaned out to touch his shoulder, a gesture to which the man merely shuddered. "No one can resist me," his eyes saddened and dropped and he cocked his head to the side, as if he was no longer addressing anyone in the room. "You tried. Every god knows you tried. But you learned, didn't you?" He drew a breath. "They all learned."
The man on the bed resumed his position on his back. He looked at the boy, sizing him up and down. The mere image of him sickened him; it filled him with so much despair and regret that it almost brought a tear to his eye. His voice was stern, with slight anger, yet desperate also.
"Just go, get out!" His anger faltered as he spoke. "Please. Now, I…you've done what you wanted…just leave me alone!"
The boy's eyes widened. He was shocked and slightly impressed. He didn't expect a reaction like that, no matter how pitiful it sounded. The boy began to laugh. Suddenly a malicious sneer spread across his innocent features.
"Oh no. It's far from over!" The boy spun. He grew, became large again. His appearance shifted also, seeming to waver. Where he stood was a man, with straight medium length black hair, unruly styled atop his head. He wore long black trousers covered by a large, black leather tunic with a V styled band across the front. He was not old, nor was he young, his eyes shined a deep mauve and he had that same wicked sneer on his face. This man, unlike the boy, stood with great poise. He radiated of enormous strength and fearful, hateful intent, and spoke, addressing more than the room. "I'm not done with you yet," he returned to facing the man. "Don't even begin to think that." His voice suddenly softened, becoming facetiously comforting. "I know your tired but don't worry. The sooner you stop resisting, the easier it'll be on everyone."
He crouched in front of the bed, where the man's face became almost level to his, and tilted his head in alignment with the man's. "You wouldn't be showing weakness. The best of them haven't held on for this long. What are you hoping for?"
And the man rolled over to face the wall.
The girl allowed herself to relax and open her eyes. The shock of someone grabbing her caused that natural reaction for her to shut her eyes and tense up completely. But when she opened them to face the person her gaze met with nothing.
"Is uh, is s-someone th-there?" she asked the void. The reply was the deathly silence of the lifeless woodland. Not even a bird crowed or cricket chirped. The thought unnerved her. She was obviously not as alone as she thought. She couldn't have imagined that person, those hands on her arms, or that voice. But where was he?
The girl pushed passed a tree and through some vines which brought her into a large meadow. The forest was different here. No longer was it thick with trees and other decaying plant-life but the grass was green and four massive trees filled with obvious life and nourishment stretched upwards and outwards from the four compass points, shrouding the area. A small stump from an equally massive tree lay at rest in the centre of the clearing. The entire place was like a beautiful natural cathedral in the forest – a complete oxymoron to the surrounding woodland.
The girl crept slowly forward, awe inspired and taken aback by the sheer scale of it all. As she reached the stump she noticed a strange pattern etched on its surface. It was an upside down triangle, divided into three, in the centre of a large pentagram – a strange symbol at each of the five points. Glancing around she notice the four trees were also the victims of some rather strange vandalism. On one was a strange blue heart, painted crudely yet strikingly. To the west was a picture of another pentagram, inverted this time, which she did not like the look of. Opposite that was a simple black etching, a misshapen circle spread across the main diameter of the tree. And the final tree showed the image of a white face shape with black eyes, no mouth and a jester's hat. The image disturbed her – it was as if the eyes gazed through her, reading her for what she was – alone, lost and scared.
She turned around and noticed something on the opposite side of the place. Two stone tablets sat partially hidden on the tree line. She moved over to inspect them. She noticed a strange design on the face of one side. It was a strange looking eye carved delicately and perfectly upon the surface. They stood almost as tall as she and when she looked at the image she felt as though it were piercing into her very mind and soul, and it hypnotically drew her closer. She passed around behind and found that the opposite side was etched with strange runes and symbols – it looked to her like writing or a language of some sort – but none she could recognise. She slowly put her hand out to touch the rock and ran her hand along the surface. As she did, she felt a surge of energy flow through her. It was as if a thousand voices echoed in her head – as if a thousand secrets poured into her mind, but mere whispers – none of which she could fully comprehend. Suddenly the forest surged to life and a strong wind encircled her. She heard animals screech and voices cry out, and the markings on the two stones began to glow. To her amazement the carvings began to transform, changing into words she could actually read. The language was old styled and the syntax not as she was used to but at least it was English.
All ye who wander here. Accursed men, they walk these woods; the
tortured, the damned and the not forgiven. Ne'er may you suffer that
unto which he has suffered. Only She will guide you through the
shadows as terror holds you in its grasp and shows itself upon you –
body and soul. For He will not forgive. For He cannot forgive. It is
said that all those not of the forest who walk these woods will become
a Stalfos. Do not linger. Do not become the lost…
He was still crouching by the bed when the noises started. Birds fluttered and animals screeched, and voices filled the room. The man began to groan and fidget – he had heard these noises once before and they did not bring with them fond memories. But He just stood abruptly, fists clenched. As he glanced around slowly, gazing into what was almost the very fabric of the ghostly noises themselves. His face shifted from one of confusion to one of sudden understanding and realization. He knew what was happening – and He knew just where to go.
When the noises all stopped, and the forest was calm once more, the girl swallowed and allowed herself to breathe. Before she could even take in the meaning of any of the words, from behind her a voice said, "It is not wise for girls to be wandering these woods alone."