In Lost Dreams the Four Were Bound

45 - Davnian - In the Depths

Stepping into the shadow of the great tree of the Hyunisti village had sent shivers of dread up Davnian's spine. Yet every nerve in his body directed him back to the miasma-filled trunk of the wraith-filled town. Telling himself to split up with Elis was not easy, but he knew it was for the best. A darkness lurked somewhere deep within the ancient growth, and at its heart was something monstrous.

[I think having her and that dancing briar of hers would have been a better choice,] the other in his head whispered as if trying to conceal itself from unseen forces. [We aren't even armed, and you've already exerted yourself more than enough for one day, young one.]

[If there's a mad sorcerer or worse down here, I'd rather her have a chance to flee than to die with us,] Davnian replied as he stumbled in the dark. The trail of noxious spirit gas bellowed from deep within the earth, skulking through the long spiral passage that rounded the outside of the great tree's interior. Clinging to it, the wails and ghastly faces of the dead seemed to manifest, unseen by all but him. [Gods know an even worse fate may be awaiting.]

[Let us pray for her and the little girl that you're wrong.] It was the first time he had heard an honest wish from the shadow-scaled creature in his mind. The notion that something could be so unsettling to his cohabitating companion was enough to raise the hackles on his neck. Still, he was undeterred. [You really are positive she's here, aren't you?]

[I have perfect guides.]

Three ghastly things crept along the ground in front of him. One was a bubbling, frothy mass of some indescribable black matter with the face of a young Hyunisti maiden stretched over its slug-like form. The other two were the twin wraiths that had coupled the old huntsman earlier that day. The fact all three were so disembodied spoke to desperation that he could not place. Even worse was watching as they waited at Elis's door for him, no doubt aware of a fate crueler than any he could imagine. Had they been unable to find him up top? Or was it pure circumstance? Either way, it did not matter.

[You trust these ghosts?] the other asked. [Are they not just manifestations of a curse?]

[Using my own words against me? No, you're correct. But I was somewhat wrong,] Davnian reasoned, detached from the feeling as much as from the concepts he considered. [Like Rais's wraith, they're all reacting, like souls resonating with the unknown. They've been sold, but they still want to cling to life. Some are stronger than others, more resilient. Others are not. And some are displaced.] Thinking of the shadow that gripped the woman named Thaimi, he remembered how desperate the shade had been as it dug at the empty shell to which it clung. It was trying to claw its way back inside. Deep in the bile-dark recesses of its missing eyes, he had seen a flicker of light, a glow of intelligence and wanting. [They act out because they know their lives are forfeit.]

[This miasma, these forces, we are facing something that we have no way of predicting. And in your state . . .]

The other was correct. If Davian was forced into a confrontation with anything more than a helpless rodent, he would be at a disadvantage. Walking downward with the aid of gravity was causing his knees to creak, and every step tempted his lungs to gasp. But that was not allowable. Not within these haunted recesses. Despite the measured successes of his recovery, the very nature of the place was straining his being.

Coming to the bottom floor of the great tree, Davnian watched the shades wave him onward. The slug-like thing had chosen to cling to him instead, whimpering as he paced across the barren hall. As he stepped into the unnatural round, his boots snagged in something sticky and wet. The tree had opened the way to somewhere unholy, and his entire body told him to run in the opposite direction.

Ignoring his survival instinct, he continued his descent. The air had grown stale. The wispy vapor around him stoppered his nose and curled his tongue. Every sense was overpowered by the feeling of the immaterial substance as it clawed and thrust into his eyes, nose, ears, mouth, and pores. It felt like mud slithering upon his frame, mucus and saliva dripping inside his orifices. Like being in the belly of a giant beast, the mist wanted to dissolve him, to devour his very existence.