3

Shades and Monsters

The creature lurched towards them, sniffing the air, an ambulant pile of rags and dull flesh. Its hair was clumped and white, and one eye was missing. The other eye shone clear blue and fixed on Candle and Rasmus inside their makeshift iron shelter with unsettling malevolence. It might once have been human, long ago. Perhaps. Black shadows wriggled and twisted on its back. It left a trail in the air like an ink stain spreading through water. It was both like and unlike the indistinct shadow creature that lurked at Rasmus' back. Both seemed to attract a deeper darkness to them. But where Rasmus's companion was insubstantial and unformed the creature stalking them was only too horrifyingly solid.

"If we survive this, I'm going to kill you," said Rasmus conversationally. Candle stared at him, then back at his shadow, silent and still. It was watching her. Was that a smile on its lips? Rasmus had his eyes on the approaching thing, but his shadow was leering at her. She leaned as far away from it as she could without falling out of the protection of the iron circle. Did its smile grow wider? Her stomach lurched.

"Why," said Candle, as calmly as she could, returning her gaze to the approaching monstrosity. "do you want to kill me?"

"I don't need a reason," he said. "But don't worry, I'll make it look like an accident. I wouldn't want to upset Ishbel."

They waited in silence. The shuffling creature was soon close enough to smell. The stench was redolent of sickness and fetid vegetation. Candle breathed through her mouth and squeezed the piece of iron piping she had grabbed from the smith's pile. The iron tingled in her hands, but the weight was comforting, and she held on to it for dear life.

The thing didn't break stride as it shambled towards them, coming to a halt only at the very edge of the iron circle. It leaned towards them, and they both scrambled back as far as they could, which wasn't very far. This close the smell was overpowering. Rotting flesh, sulphur and a tinge of sickening sweetness wafted over them making them both gag. The single blue eye gleamed viciously as it fastened on them. Scraps of mouldy flesh clung to yellowing bone, clearly visible through the torn rags. It clawed at them, letting out an ear-splitting howl. They cringed away from it, leaning backwards. They were bent so far over they were in danger of falling out of the other side of the tiny circle.

"Do something!" cried Candle.

"Will it go at nightfall?" Rasmus asked, urgently. "Will it return to the Night Nation?" Candle wondered how he expected her to know when his shadow replied.

"No," said the Rasmus' shadow, and Candle shuddered, as she realised he had been talking to it all along. "It will remain."

"In that case," he said, searching on the ground, "I had better do something. This is a gift for you Belias-"

Rasmus conjured a wall of flames out of his palms which he directed at the approaching creature. While it was easy to summon a flicker of flame to light a candle, indeed most children could do it before they hit puberty, flame on that level was not an easy feat. It was shocking to see someone use so much raw power, and with such violence. She felt rather detached from her surroundings as if she was watching everything happen instead of experiencing it in reality. Impressive though the flames were they had little practical effect on the creature. The fire washed over it, some of its rags burst into embers and then dissolved in little sooty piles. It clawed at them, unperturbed.

"Right then," said Rasmus, "something else." He reached into his back pocket and drew out a wicked looking dagger. Candle had never seen a knife outside of the kitchen before. This knife was clearly not for chopping carrots. Knives were the preserve of murderers and barbarians. She couldn't take her eyes off the sharp edge. Why was Rasmus carrying such a wicked thing? Where had he got it?

"Rasmus-"

"Shut up," he said and plunged the blade into the creature's chest. It let out a cry that echoed through the valley, bouncing back from the slopes. The torn flesh around the blade started to smoke. Magic flared brightly in Candle's eyes and the creature dissolved with shocking suddenness into a heap of ash.

Candle let out a gasp of air she had not known she was holding in. The beating of her heart suddenly seemed very loud in the stillness of the half-light.

"For you, Belias," Rasmus repeated quietly, to his shadow. It grinned at him, its mouth a gaping maw of darkness. Its features flared momentarily into focus - revealing a slightly crooked nose, a hint of bat-like wings stretching out from broad shoulders. Candle swallowed, stepping away from the pair, not sure what she had just witnessed. Whatever it was, it wasn't wholesome. She stumbled over an iron bar with a clatter. Both of their heads snapped round to look at her as if remembering her presence for the first time.

"Candle," said Rasmus, in that voice she knew so well. It was calm and authoritative, with a hint of violence to come. "Candle, you can't see anything strange, can you?"

"You mean," she said, thinking fast. "Stranger than that thing crumbling into dust?" She forced herself to look away from Rasmus and his shadow and to look at the ash pile. She did not have to pretend to shudder as she looked at it.

"And you can't see anything right now, can you?"

"No," she said, keeping her eyes off... Belias? Or whatever it was called, as it loomed over her brother's right shoulder. "What do you mean?" She stumbled backwards again, scattering iron as the bell rang out, marking the end of twilight. Rasmus looked around at the quiet lane that was now swathed in the shadow of full night. Coming to some decision he leapt over the iron and dispersed the pile of ashes with a swift blast of air. He scuffed the remains away with his feet, just as doors and shutters began to clang open. People poured out of their houses and moments later they were surrounded by anxious villagers asking if they were alright and all talking at the tops of their voices.

The villager's witch lights bobbed in the air, lighting at the air around the smithy, and making the shadows around them dance. Candle kept her eyes on the ground, not wanting to draw attention to herself further. Ordinarily, she would have slunk behind Rasmus but she didn't want to get too close to whatever the thing was behind him. It was indistinct now, she could barely make it out in the crowd. No one else seemed to notice it.

Somewhere at the back of the crowd Candle spotted Steren, standing with her father and looking worried. Candle tried not to twitch at the shadows. Her calm had now deserted her and she was wrung out and exhausted. She just wanted this night to be over now, and she knew her parents were going to be livid.

Rasmus soothed everyone's fears beautifully. She stood awkwardly, as Rasmus explained how his little sister had not come home in time for twilight, so he had gone out to find her. Yes, she was fine, yes she did look a little dazed but that was just how she looked. Yes, they had heard the awful noises but seen a shape in the distance but nothing had come close. Yes, they were both fine.

"How brave you are Rasmus," cried an aunt, who looked at Candle with distaste. "And you, girl! What were you doing out! You should be ashamed of yourself, causing so much trouble for your poor brother!"

Candle knew better than to say anything and concentrated on trying to make herself invisible. She kept her eyes firmly on the ground, not wanting to make the situation worse by reminding everyone of the unsettling colour of her eyes. She had always resented this but then...having seen the creature from the realm of the dead she could understand people's fear. They probably expected her to start moaning and chewing on their children's flesh at any moment, she thought bitterly.

Ishbel burst through the crowd, perfect blonde hair bouncing around her beautiful face. Her cheeks were red with excitement and she had several witch lights dance around her in animated agitation.

"Rasmus! Get Candle home at once, father is furious." Of course, he was, Candle thought dully. She wished she could be back on the hilltop with the wind in her hair. The punishment for this infraction was bound to be severe. It would be ages before she would be able to sneak out again. And she was so tired now. She trudged back up the lane to her parent's estate, trailing her older siblings. It felt a long way, with Ishbel and Rasmus arguing beside her.

Standing in front of her parents Candle tried hard to think of the air currents rising off the mountain, so wild and so free. She stared at the floor to spare herself the coldness of her mother's gaze and the pinched fury of her father's.

"Candle didn't make it home before twilight so I went out to look for her," said Rasmus, glibly.

"Brave man," said Lord Enys, embracing him, "you could have been killed! And for what?"

Candle wondered if they would have preferred if she had been killed. A tragic, but fitting way to get rid of their embarrassing third child. Her parent's eyes turned towards her and she quickly dropped her gaze again.

"What were you thinking?" demanded Lady Enys. "Are you so ungrateful? Why can't you simply do as you are bid and stay on the estate? Risking your brother's life like that? Why, Candle? Why?" Her mother paused for long enough that Candle though she would dare a response.

"It - it's my birthday," she said. "I just wanted to go out for a bit."

Her mother backhanded her across the cheek, leaving it stinging. Candle clapped a hand to it, trying not to look up, tears welling in her eyes.

"And what rubbish is this?" Her mother asked. Candle had dropped Steren's little carving onto the floor. "After all the money we spent on your tutors is this the best you can produce? No wonder the Ancestors are displeased with you!"

"It's j-just a carving," Candle said and gasped as Lady Enys ground it underfoot with her heel. The delicate pieces of the dragon cracked loudly as they snapped.

"Go to your room," said Lady Enys, quietly, "and make sure you stay there. I'll let you out when you've learned to control yourself. Maybe in a few weeks. We'll see."

Candle looked at her father.

"Go," he said, coldly.

Candle went hand clutching her throbbing cheek. She focused on the air going in and out of her lungs, one breath, one step, one in front of the other. In, out...

"The wight - it sounded like a wight," she heard her father say. "How under the sun did it get into the village? I'll have to send for that damn fool Captain to track it down."

"I'm sure it went back to the Night Nation," said Rasmus. "I doubt it will trouble us again."

"You can't be too careful with these things," her father was saying, as she mounted the stairs, "remember that business with the carpenter's apprentice last harvest..." Candle reached the landing and their voices became indistinct. She trailed through the manse, taking care to avoid anyone who might be around.

When she was safely in her room high in the eaves she let the tears out in giant heaving sobs that shook her whole body. She opened her iron shutters and lay on the floor so that she could see the sky and smell the fresh air of the winter's night. Eventually, she cried herself to sleep.