An Age of Mist Read online

  Santori’s mother watched him eat, and her annoyance seemed to fade as Santori offered his little sister a bite from the steaming bowl. Asfyra chewed, swallowed, then burped and opened her mouth for more. Santori made a face and waved his hand back and forth after she burped to make Asfyra laugh as he pretended to rid the air of the imagined smell. When he had finished eating, his mother walked behind Santori and smoothed his hair off of his forehead, planting a kiss upon his brow. He groaned and wiped away the wetness, and his mother smiled.

  “Go on,” she motioned as she took his bowl to clean it for him, “get yourself to bed. The sooner you go, the sooner she’ll go,” his mother flicked her eyes towards Asfyra to indicate about whom she was speaking, “and the sooner she goes, then I will finally be able to get some sleep.”

  Santori nodded wearily as he slung his sister over one shoulder and trudged towards the third portion of his house, the area for sleeping. The entire family slept in one long room. Asfyra followed him around at all times, it was a source of bother to Santori, and it transferred to sleeping as well. Santori’s sleeping pallet lay in the corner of the sleeping room nearest the door, and by default, Asfyra’s sleeping pallet was right beside his. She had decided years ago that sleeping with Santori was preferable to sleeping next to anybody else in the family, and once she made her decision without fail she would sleep curled up next to his stomach. It wasn’t a problem, seeing as she kept him warm from the occasional breeze that wafted through the cracks and crevices in the walls, however it did raise issues on a night such as tonight in which he was out and about. This was because not only had she chosen to sleep by him, but also she decided she could not fall asleep without him next to her. His sister had an unnatural ability to remain awake when she wished, uncommon for children her age. Therefore it forced his mother to stay awake with her waiting for Santori to return from night fishing.

  Asfyra giggled as he dropped her unceremoniously onto their joined sleeping pallets. “Why, oh why, did you choose me?” he groaned aloud to her. Her mouth widened into that mischievous grin again and she promptly closed her eyes as he lay down next to her, ignoring his question. She frustrated him to no end, constantly following him, all day and even to bed at night. Yet as much as he complained, in the end he knew she did not bother him as much as he let on. Santori stifled a yawn with his free hand, and then wrapped it protectively around his little sister. It was comfortable to have her there. Sleep took him quickly and he slept long and deep, dreaming of mermaids with silver hair shining like the White Moon and flying fishes that talked aloud and taunted him as he attempted to catch them with his net to no avail.

  * * * *

  “White Moon Arisen; there’s nothing to fear

  Red Moon is danger; look to those you hold dear

  Purple Moon shining; there’s no need for tears

  Both Red and Purple; the feasting draws near”

  -Old Wives Saying

  The Second Night

  The Warning Moon was the second of the moons to rise in two nights. It hung red and swollen, a tic that had gorged itself on too much sweet blood to do anything except sit there and look ripe enough to burst. As Santori sprinted home towards safety, terror clutched his insides at the thought of the horrors which legends said the Red Moon ushered in with its presence. His throat hoarse from ragged breaths, he imagined sticking a pin in the Red Moon to make it pop. It would splatter against the night sky spreading its redness across the heavens like an open wound. The fantasy helped him regain a measure of calm for a moment with its distraction. Then panic crept in again as the image faded and once more his mind became occupied with the present danger. The bells, high in their bell towers, chimed dully and were spread all throughout the isle for times such as this. He had never heard them ring like this. They reminded him of the flock of deep throated gulls that roosted on the cliffs below his house. He was left to run with the sound of the night and the distant tolling of bells.

  An inhuman screech tore through the night air. It was only slightly muffled by the dense fog swirling in and around the woods through which Santori raced. He shook himself out of the surreal feeling that clouded his mind and urged his feet faster, in order to reach the crackling Hearth Fire awaiting him at home. Running could be perilous at night. The small Glow Lamp he carried made it difficult to run, and his arm tired quickly from holding it up in front of him so he could see the path. He switched the lamp to the other arm and gave the previous limb a much needed rest.

  How was this happening? Legends were being realized tonight, he need only look up to the gap in the clouds above to see the evidence staring down at him crimson and violent in its appearance. He had never seen the Red Moon in his lifetime, nor would he again if the myths were true. It appeared that the old tales had some credibility to them after all. He supposed that if the Red Moon was real then it all must be true. This would be the most terrifying event of his life. I just have to make it home and all will be well. Once I get home the worst will be over-over for good. He forced himself to focus on making it to safety. Thinking about anything else would just distract him from the task at hand.

  A terrified fawn materialized abruptly out of the mass of foliage beside the trail and startled him so badly he fell and dropped the Glow Lamp. The glass bowl was smaller than that of a bigger lantern, and shattered as it struck the ground. Pieces of glass scattered about the narrow trail as a result. On his knees Santori felt an odd wetness as he made to push himself up from the ground. He raised his moist palm to his face and looked at it curiously in the soft blue tinted light emanating from the fish. He touched his tongue to his palm gingerly in an attempt to decipher what it was. Oil! A small trickle of oil flowed in from the underbrush to form a small pool beside the trail. It must be a fresh spring, newly welled up, for it to be unknown until now.

  Screams from a dying animal off in the distance pierced through the wonder he felt at uncovering such a precious substance. The fawn stared at him with fear in its eyes for a moment longer. Then another screech cut the night in two and the fawn bolted across the trail, disappearing into the ferns and underbrush that cluttered the other side of the path. His mind returned to the terror of what was coming and he ignored the immensity of his discovery of oil. He had to get home now. If the legends were true, then the only safety for him lay at home.

  Santori cursed his ill fate and clumsy hands. The single Glow Fish that had been his light in the lamp lay flopping pitifully on the moist earth of the path. He cupped it in his hands and lifted it off the soil. It still glowed blue in the night, providing a meager light by which to see. Tonight of all nights was not the night to have to follow the path blindly in the dark, yet despite his wishes, the glowing light was fading gradually as the fish succumbed to death. Santori felt fear grip his insides and twist them in knots. Desperation pushed him onwards and he raced hazardously along the narrow path, tripping often on stones and roots that grew across the trail. His hands and knees stung from a hundred cuts and scrapes by the time the Glow Fish died and its light was finally extinguished. As if on cue, the clouds closed over head obscuring the Red Moon and all its evil foreboding, leaving Santori in the pitch dark to attempt to feel his way slowly and gingerly along the path. Luckily he had covered much ground in his helter-skelter sprint out of the forest, and he figured that he must be nearing the edge of the woods and closing in on home.

  The tiny, shining eyes of rodents and other small forest creatures occasionally peered beadily at him as he passed, then ducked quickly back into whatever hiding place from which they had appeared. The voice of the ocean reached him finally, after his trek out of the forest, which had felt like an eternity. The crash of waves and the sound of the spray rebounding off the rocks that was at the base of the cliff upon which his house was built, was sweet music to his ears.

  Too far, he never should have wandered so deeply into the forest on that trail. He had followed his mother’s advice not to leave the trail, that was true, but he had disr
egarded the rest of it, and had explored too far into the forest that abutted the back of his family home. Exploring was dangerous in a world where you often could not see farther than an arm’s length in any direction. The thick mist and fog of the isle made adventuring into the unknown dangerous. It was for the same reason that a fisherman, like his father, never sailed too far out of sight of the shore. It was too easy to get turned around in the dense grey shroud that swallowed their world. Sailors who left sight of shore for too long were often never seen again. A strong internal sense of direction was a requirement for being a sailor. Wandering too far into the forest was no different. Losing your way in the misty confines of that dark, primeval wood could be fatal. Sticking to the trail was necessity, and going too deep was ill advised. His mother was right.

  Thankfully, it was over, he was out and only a brief run home now from the edge of the woods to his house. Santori pushed his way out of the last fiendish branches of the forest that clutched at him as if they were eager to hold him a moment longer in that dreaded place. It had tested his sanity as he struggled to find his way out of that blackness. With a lamp Santori was as brave as any, but in the dark, even familiar places transformed into places of fear and the unknown, such as he had been exploring, even more so.

  The fog was thick and he couldn’t see his house, but he knew the way from here like he knew the back of his hand. He ran on, tired and out of breath, but grateful he was almost to safety. Part of his mind questioned whether the myths were true. Had he worked himself into a panicked frenzy for nothing? No, he told himself, everybody believed this story. Even his mother acted as if she thought the Wraiths were real. If his mother believed it, then it was probably true.

  More screams of a foreign nature sounded somewhere too near for comfort, and gave credence to the tales of death and woe that came with the Wraiths. The fear Santori discarded briefly after leaving the forest returned again in full force and he raced his fastest to arrive home. Finally, his ramshackle house came into view but it was surrounded by a wall of fire. They had already lit the Hearth Fire to protect themselves. How was he going to be able to get inside its protective circle?

  “Santori!” his father’s voice called out to him urgently, “You must hurry!”

  His sister Maeri shrieked in fear and pointed. Santori turned to look behind him. A dark shape drifted out of the mist at his back, followed by another and another. Somewhat akin to humans in their appearance, save for the fact that they floated a good arms length above the ground, the shapes of what had to be the Wraiths that were spoken of in stories, closed in on him.

  “How can I get through the fire, Father?” Santori wailed in panic. The flames were thick and hot as he approached them cautiously.

  “There is no time, you must jump as high as you can and hope you clear the worst of the heat, son. There is no other choice. The only other option is certain death.” The word death sounded particularly ominous and close in light of the Wraiths behind him.

  He turned back once more to see what was at his back. He had a clear view of them now. There were four in total. They were wispy and ethereal, with dark cloaks of grey and black hanging over their insubstantial shoulders. If death could be personified they were it. A frightening mix of real and ghostlike, they approached. Their faces appeared similar to those of men, only greyer and decayed, as if they had just been pulled up from the grave. Some were noseless or earless. All were slightly different. One opened its maw and flicked a forked, reptilian tongue at him and hissed. Another showed four fangs that protruded from its blood red gums-two above and two below-with no other teeth in sight. Santori had no doubt after seeing them, they indeed were intent on sucking his body dry. Somehow they intended to make a meal of him.

  They floated towards him and one extended skeletal hands in his direction as if it could not wait to grab hold of him. The breeze carried them, not in a random, thoughtless way, but rather as if they controlled the air that lifted them.

  His mind made up, Santori took a step away from the fire surrounding the edges of his home and then burst forward and upwards in a desperate attempt to clear the flames that licked hungrily at his feet, and to escape the insanity of what lay behind him. He jumped high, and with all of his might just as one of the skeletal hands snatched at him in a much quicker fashion than he anticipated. Luckily he was through the flames, and inside the extended circle of their normally contained Hearth Fire, to safety.

  His mother embraced him tightly. “I’m so sorry we didn’t wait to ignite the protective ring of Hearth Fire, but we didn’t know where you were or if you were even coming.” She paused to look at him. “What were you doing out at night?”

  Santori answered, “I was scavenging for berries, nuts, and mushrooms in the woods. I left in the afternoon and wandered deep into the forest.” He looked at his mother bravely in an attempt to validate his answers. “I brought a Glow Lamp with me so I thought it would be all right if I returned at night fall. As soon as I heard the Warning Bells I dropped the basket and came as quickly as I could.”

  She shook her head and hugged him again. Their embrace was cut short by the wailing of the Wraiths outside the fire. Their forms were indistinguishable through the flames, but Santori watched the dark shadows swirl effortlessly about the edges of the fire. They glided on the air above the surface of the ground, but seemed unable to rise high. It was a cheapened version of flight, more akin to levitation. Sometimes more than just the four that had followed him were seen, and sometimes during the course of the night there were less.

  The night consisted of his sister Maeri weeping, Asfyra clutching his leg in typical fashion, and his mother and father standing guard over them. Grandpa sat in his chair inside the house.

  “Santori, come here,” his father motioned to him. Santori approached his father near the ring of fire outside their house. His father pointed to the ground. “Do you see what I’ve done? How I made the Hearth Fire surround our house?”

  “Yes, Father,” Santori replied. “You dug a narrow groove around the house and then filled it with oil. Then you lit it from the Hearth Fire inside the kitchen.”

  His father nodded approvingly. “This is precisely why we save our oil,” he began, ever the teacher, “if we had not stored enough, then our ring of Hearth Fire might not last long enough to protect us. This is exactly why we never use it for anything other than when the Red Moon appears. Hearth Fire is our only defense against the Wraiths when they come. It was given to us by the world itself, and we must make certain that we have enough oil to maintain the fires.” He peered at his son through the darkness. “You must know how to do this. You are nearly a man grown now, and it may be that the next time this is required, you will be the one who must do it.”

  Santori was overwhelmed by the night’s events and could do little more than nod dully at his father. His father noticed his physical and emotional exhaustion and said, “Go on, son. Go back inside and get some sleep. I will remain awake. Never fear, the Wraiths cannot penetrate Hearth Fire. We are safe within its protective circle.” Indeed they appeared to be, for after a short while longer, the shadows dancing eerily around the outskirts of the flames disappeared and were not seen again that night.

  “I suppose the mist will be gone tomorrow,” Santori ventured tentatively to his father. It was almost unheard of, that idea. He’d never witnessed a single moment during the day when the mist and fog had not completely obscured the sky. Even most nights the moon did not appear for more than a brief instant.

  His father nodded again. “Yes, that is what the myths say, that the Wraiths drink up all of our mist and fog, exposing us to the sun’s deadly heat. Legends say they thirst for the mist much the same way that they hunger for our flesh.” His words echoed grimly in the night. “Go on. Get some rest.”

  Santori took his father’s advice and retired to his sleeping pallet, trusting all would be well, just as his father promised. Asfyra curled up next to him, shaking slightly from fear.
r />   “Why does the Hearth Fire protect us?” Asfyra mustered up the courage to voice a question. Santori looked around the sleeping room, but nobody else was nearby to answer. The task fell to him.

  “Well,” he began, “Grandpa told me the story when I was your age. Would you like to hear it?”

  Asfyra nodded, her lower lip pulled up over the upper one, in a tearful pout.

  “Alright then,” he began, “long ago when the world was young, the sun shone all day everyday. The people loved its pleasant warmth, and their crops were plentiful. Life was abundant and everyone prospered. However, gradually the sun grew bigger in the sky, and closer. It burned hotter and more brightly and it began to dry the land and scorch the crops. Famine spread like wildfire and many people perished.” He felt Asfyra’s shaking begin to subside as he told her the story. He continued, “The Earth itself lashed out at the sun, and from the Heavenly Grottos, high in the mountains, the mist was born. It poured forth from the depths of the earth, and covered the world protecting the earth and its inhabitants from the heat and death that now came with the sun. Crops were less plentiful, but they still grew and it was better than when the sun scorched the earth barren.”

  Santori lost himself in the story and forgot the troubles of the night. “The mist and fog protected the earth from the sun and kept all the people in peace and safety. Thus the Age of Fire ended and The Age of Mist began.”

  He felt like a boy again, listening to Grandpa tell the tale. It’s telling comforted him as well as it did Asfyra. He continued. “After some time during the Age of Mist, the clouds parted briefly one night and the Red Moon appeared.” Santori thought on the way the world was. It was unheard of to see the sky during the day, but at night, for some unknown reason, the clouds would part for brief moments and the moon would shine through for all who watched. Perhaps it was nature’s way of providing a warning for the people of the land, allowing them a fair chance to see which moon had risen. Knowing which moon shone behind the cloud bank was crucial for survival.