Whispers From the North

by Matthew T. Acheson

part 2

“The sky was entirely clear and the air was crisp and cool on the morning of our departure, and we decided to ride with the cover off the wagon and the sun on our faces. For my own part, I must confess to a certain degree of excitement; facing the open road with dangerous business ahead and trusted friends at your back. It is a feeling that only the young can truly experience and appreciate, as age and wisdom tend to dull those impetuous instincts of youth.

“Once we had crossed over the Ayerwyne Bridge and cut north we headed into a region wholly unfamiliar to me, and we did not encounter a single person during that final thirty-mile stretch of our journey. The transition from the sparse oak, maple and birch forests and rolling green fields of my own village to the dense and ancient growths of firs and pines in this region was stark, and to be truthful I think we all found the change a little discomforting. It has always seemed to me that people have an instinctive fear of the deep forests of the world, especially those that have remained untouched by the hand of man.

“As the afternoon wore on the sky began to darken with storm clouds on the horizon. When thunder began to peal in the distance, Khalide insisted that it was a bad omen and he got down on his knees and prayed to his god for our safekeeping.

“‘Turn the cart around and abandon this folly,’ he urged us over and over again. Being educated in the natural sciences I quickly dismissed his pleas as the fear induced ramblings of an overly superstitious man, and chided him playfully about his outbursts. But as time wore on and we drove deeper and deeper into that country I noticed that Aidan became increasingly quieter and his expression uncharacteristically somber.

“A few hours before dusk we reached a fork in the road just outside of Coventry, and whereas hanging a left would have brought us directly into that village, we went in the opposite direction, which took us into even darker and more heavily forested terrain. After a few miles we reached a spot where the forest opened up into a small clearing of tall grass, and there we stopped to water the horses in a brook that snaked its way across the glade. The road continued on to the northeast, but we had no need to follow it any further as we had nearly reached our destination.

“According to Effie there was an old trail that led from the far end of the clearing all the way up to the Abernathy mansion. From what her grandfather had told her it had once been a magnificent cobblestone road, but it had fallen into disrepair long before his tenure as the groundskeeper for the estate.

“After a brief search of the glade we located the road, but a century of rainfall, overgrowth and neglect had left it little more than a moss-covered cow path. Realizing that we could bring the wagon no further, we decided to set up camp right there in the glade.

“We pitched the tents and dug the fire hole behind a natural decline in the slope of the terrain about twenty feet from the tree line to shield our camp both from the wind and from any would-be passers-by. Likewise we pushed the wagon just far enough into the woods that it could not be seen from the road. We tied the horse up with enough slack in the rope to allow it to graze and drink from the stream. And while Khalide busied himself with the preparations for dinner, Aidan and I hiked down the path to reconnoiter the mansion and locate the entrance to the crypt.

“From afar the mansion had a sort of creepy look to it, but up close the atmosphere it seemed to generate was positively unsettling. Like some vast, hideous creature that had been stained dark by the ages, it squatted atop the small but steeply banked hill.

“The stone manor had stood for centuries, and it looked as though it could stand for many more. The very sight of its angry walls and leering windows gave me an eerie feeling that brought chills to my bones and pinpricks to my skin, but there was much yet to be done and little time to contemplate such oddities.

“We discovered the entrance to the crypt behind the mansion, excavated into the northern face of the hill. The entryway did not at all resemble what either of us had anticipated based on Effie’s description of the Abernathy family’s wealth, for the stonework was of very plain, roughly hewn granite. The portal itself was a heavily rusted set of iron double doors which was secured shut with an equally rusted iron crossbar and padlock. There were no statues, carvings, inscriptions or decorations of any kind.

“I remember raising the possibility that the stories Effie’s grandfather had told her were overblown, and that we very well might have gone through all this trouble to procure a handful of funerary beads and other worthless trinkets. But Aidan’s faith in her judgment was unwavering, and he assured me that we would find all that we sought after and more in those depths.

“As we started back to the camp we came upon a small copse of hideously twisted oaks not more than a hundred feet from the crypt. I recall taking special notice of it because it was such an unusual formation of nature. The trees and underbrush surrounding it were so thick as to restrict entry into the grove from all directions save that which faced the crypt.

“The inner sanctum was carpeted with wild grass, and near the center of the copse was a mossy pool of water and a large outcropping of dark grey rock. Had it been high noon on a sunlit day I might have thought the place beautiful, but as the shadows of trees played tricks with my eyes in the gathering dark my only thought was that the place unsettled me somehow.

“Upon our return to the camp we found that Khalide had set out all the makings of a fine dinner. As dusk settled in and it began to drizzle, the three of us sat huddled around the fire and supped on venison rubbed with fresh sage and bits of garlic, a vegetable broth, fresh baked bread that Khalide’s wife had made only the night before and a small amount of honey wine. He was a talented chef and it was a meal fit for princes on the hunt.

“After devouring the meal, for the three of us had not eaten since breakfast, we all filled our pipes and passed the time in conversation about the task at hand.

“During the course of our discussions Khalide made it clear that the thought of entering the tomb at all was abhorrent to him. ‘In my religion’ he had said, ‘we do not bury our dead; we burn them. To bury a body is to invite the spirit to linger in the earthly realm, and that is wholly... unnatural.’

“I attempted to allay his fears by returning the discussion to practical affairs, but to no avail. In a hushed tone and with the odd glance over his shoulder into the darkness of the woods, he related to us various supernatural tales from his religion to illustrate his point ‘that men were not meant to tread in the places of the dead, lest they be damned themselves.’

“I wish I could say that I was unaffected by his superstitious ramblings, but absolute darkness and the total silence of the forest around us added an ominous degree of realism to his stories. No matter how far-fetched a yarn might seem in the light of day, in the darkness of night and the seclusion of deep forests far away from the touch of civilized man, even the most rationalistic mind is willing to entertain any possibility.

“The sharp crackling of thunder roused us from our thoughts, and within minutes a hard rain began coming down. Using embers from the campfire to light our lanterns we gathered what tools we needed and made our way up the pathway.

“The going was slow and difficult as our light extended barely twenty feet in front of our faces. One thing I recall vividly was how the rows of trees stood on either side of us like grim sentinels, and seemed to create great walls of darkness that our lamplight could not penetrate.

“Periodically throughout the hike, one of us would stop and raise his hand for silence, and the others would follow his lead and turn their ears to the forest around them. In that remote setting, with our imaginations working on the knife’s edge, every falling branch and flash of lightning seemed to reveal the presence of something sinister and deadly. But finally, after frequent stumbles and many curses, we arrived back at the entrance to the crypt of the Abernathys.”

Proceed to part 3...