The Dark and Shadowy Places

  ~*~

  The ballroom under the lake was abandoned, full of dust, undisturbed for decades, perhaps even centuries. Next to it, down a short, narrow hallway in total darkness, all of the lights that ran along it had long since burned out, was an office, or study. It had been unused for a long time. Dust coated all surfaces and objects thickly.

  On the desk large sheaves of paper were spread out across its entire surface covered with maps, technical diagrams, plans, for inventions that never saw the light of day. The study was empty and had been so for a long time. Across the papers in thick dark ink that stained the paper in dots and messy splotches were two words in a shaky, scrawling hand. Owner Beware.

  There are Things In the Well

  Leza’s nose itched with drying mud. She looked up at the small bright circle of blue sky high above. There were no faces. She turned away angrily, swiping tears from her eyes. Why was everyone always so mean to her? She spun in a circle and spotted what made it brighter than what it seemed from above – there was a tunnel from which a breeze blew. Leza shrugged. What other choice did she have?

  There was light at the end. Eventually she came out the other side. She couldn’t suppress her shock and gasped. She was standing in a clearing, almost like the one she had come from, with the crumbling well, but everything was opposite. The sky, Leza briefly wondered how there was sky in the first place, was a strange burnt orange. The grass, which should be green like she was used to, instead was a disturbing dark red. There was a small stand of trees that edged the blood red field, their trunks a bright blue, as if someone had played a prank and painted them all.

  Leza’s pulse rose. She heard the hissing again. It was growing louder. She heard them before she saw them, and she had to stifle a scream. She was grateful for the mud that the boy had painted onto her face, hiding her emotions.

  The hissing, she realized, was the rustling, whispering sound of dried leaves. The creatures, what was it the boy had called them? Gibbering something? They crawled down from the trees, and Leza realized they were almost like the trees themselves – tall, and thin, their arms and legs far too long and spindly. Leza shuddered in disgust. They had branch like spines growing out of their backs, topped with what looked like dead leaves. Their skin was greyish-blue; camouflage.

  They walked in an odd, loping gait, on all fours, but when they got close to Leza they rose up on their hind legs, towering above her.

  “New blood?” one Whispleaf said to another with the rasping sound of leaves.

  Leza raised her chin defiantly and stared at the grotesque creatures in their world of opposites. “I was tricked.”

  The Gibbering Whispleafs looked at each other, shaking their spines noisily in confusion. The one at the front cocked his head, its long face pulled into a look of perpetual screaming. “Tricked?”

  Leza nodded, relieved her heart had slowed and proud that she hadn’t shown any fear.

  “Yes, these boys, above, tricked me and sent me down here.” She had an idea. “Have you ever been above? There is a lot of fear,” she said. As soon as people see them, she thought.

  The Gibbering Whispleafs looked at each other, their spines clattering. They spoke over each other, gibbering. She caught the words “new blood” again.

  “No.” They said as one, trembling with excitement.

  “We can’t,” said the leader.

  “Why not?”

  “We need to be invited,” the leader explained.

  Leza smiled widely. She had always wanted to get revenge.

  Coming Back Again

  I could still see the footprints, etched in the mud, as is preserved for eternity. I never thought I would be coming back again, back to this place that haunts my thoughts daily, as well as my dreams.

  After it happened, I left, as quickly as I could and didn’t look back. It was still mostly dark – the sun had not yet risen and a hazy glow on the horizon was the only indication that dawn was near. It was too dark to see the blood that had been spilled on the ground, and for that I was thankful.

  A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, making me jump.

  “Sorry,” the owner of the hand said. “Didn’t mean to scare you. It’s just…you’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes. I thought you’d turned into one of Medusa’s statues or something!” A laugh barked loudly near my ear and I jumped again. This place had me on edge.

  I turned and looked at my companion. “Don’t remind me of Medusa!” I almost shouted in the pre-dawn quiet. I tried not to sound bitter or angry, but I don’t think it worked.

  The man who had come to me took a step back and I saw his wings fold up tighter against his back. I could hear the whisper of their feathers across the metal of the armour he wore. He dipped his head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”

  I put my hand on Boreas’ shoulder. “It’s okay. You weren’t here. You don’t know what it was like.”

  He ruffled his wings and a cold wind sprang up suddenly, swirling my cloak around my legs. I pulled it tighter around me and glared at him, realizing I was being disrespectful. He was a god, after all. The bringer of winter. But I was already uncomfortable enough, having travelled so far to get here again.

  He must have caught my look because he apologized again, and then looked of into the distance, towards the jagged snow topped mountains. I knew what he was looking at. The cave. Medusa’s cave, that was no longer inhabited. Because I had her head. Not with me, but back home. There was no reason for me to bring it back here – to where all of this happened.

  I scanned the ground, trying to remember where the fallen bodies of my friends and allies lay as the sun began to rise slowly stretching fingers of light over the mountain, but I couldn’t. I saw an indent in the ground and wondered if that was where Thor landed. I remember the crater that his hammer left in the soft earth. Being one of the more powerful of the gods on the battlefield that day, I remember being surprised at how easy it had been to carry him off the field, once it was all over and there was no more bloodshed. I shook my head, brushing stray hair out of my face. “I don’t understand why it was me.”

  “Eh?” Boreas glanced at me again and I could see the concern in his eyes. “What do you mean?”

  “Why did I survive? And not Thor, or Fenrir?” Fenrir’s wolf-self appeared in my minds eye, filling the hole in the ground in front of me. I remember the blood that matted his fur, and he hadn’t even had time to change out of his wolf-form before he died.

  Boreas shook his head and ruffled his wings again, causing another icy wind to blow across the empty, desolate plains. “Even though we are gods, it is not our purpose to understand who of our races lives and who dies.”

  I sighed. He was right. I tried not to pay attention to the long list of casualties that threatened to fill up my mind, being brought back to life by being back in this place. I looked off into the distance, skimming over the emptiness of the land. There were no markers, nothing to let anyone know what happened here – except those who were like me. The survivors. The few of us that were left.

  I moved forward slowly. It was an effort to move my legs. I stepped over the disturbed ground, careful not to touch any place where someone had died. Gods are very sensitive to energy, and death leaves a residue. The last thing I wanted was a disquiet spirit of one of my friends attaching itself to me, in the wrong order. I shuddered, this time not from any wintery breeze that Boreas may have inadvertently caused. I had come back here for a reason, and I wasn’t going to leave until I had done it. But I needed to do it right.

  I looked back over my shoulder at Boreas standing at the edge of the battlefield that had been full of chaos, looking forlorn. I could see his wingtips near his boots, crossed over each other.

  He didn’t move, but instead shouted across to me as I picked my way over and around the invisible bodies of my fellow gods. “Are you sure you want to do this, Mercury?”

  I barely registered his words, all I knew was I had
to do this. It was my job. I was the god who guided the dead to the afterlife, after all. But I had never thought I would be doing this for my own kind. I was trying to picture Odin in my mind’s eye. Where was he? Where did he die? I stopped and looked around me, spinning in a circle. There were protocols. I needed to work top down, from most powerful to least. And then I saw him, as if he were there in the flesh. I moved toward him with a smile. “Well met,” I said with a bow, remembering how he liked to be greeted. I placed my hands on his shoulders. “Are you ready?” I asked with a heavy heart. He nodded and I got to work.