A Familiar Apparition

  12th Day of Autumn

  767 Karloman’s Peace

  The mountain was proving far more challenging than Ekkehard had anticipated.

  At first, Ekkehard believed he had found a path to the distant light, a winding trail that promised safe passage up the mountainside. As he climbed higher, the trail narrowed to a treacherous line, barely wide enough to place one foot sideways before the other. Battling the bitter chill of gathering winds, he clung to the jagged rock with stiffening fingers, knowing a single misstep would send him plummeting to his death.

  Yet, for reasons he couldn’t explain, Ekkehard pushed himself onward, compelled by a deep-seated resolve.

  Clinging to the side of the mountain, he paused, drawing deep breaths of the icy mountain air. Its crisp sweetness filled his lungs and cut through his exhaustion. The universe seemed to hold its breath, the silence so profound that it felt as though the world itself waited to see his next move.

  Every ghost of his past had spurred him to climb further as if the summit might grant him reprieve from their haunting whispers. But that hope was dashed when the trail ended abruptly at the base of an imposing cliff, its sheer face rising like a monolith before him. He balanced on a strip of rock so narrow it barely qualified as a ledge, the heels of his boots hovering over the void below.

  He looked up, seeing the orange glow of the fire that had drawn him here a dozen metres above. Whatever was creating the light was blocked from his sight, but he could tell it was just beyond the lip of the cliff edge.

  Ekkehard scanned the cliff face, searching for any viable route. Grooves and jutting rocks offered fleeting hope, but smooth rain-slicked surfaces created traitorous gaps. Each time he mapped a route, his plan faltered, the gaps and wet stone mocking his efforts. If he attempted the climb, the result was inevitable; he would slip and fall.

  He looked up the mountainside and sighed.

  Admitting defeat, Ekkehard suddenly became keenly aware of the bitter cold seeping deeper into his bones. His soaked clothes clung to him, heavy and unyielding, amplifying his aching muscles. It was as if the weight of failure itself was pulling him back down the mountainside.

  He shuffled back along the narrow trail bit by bit until, at last, there was room to plant both feet. Slowly, he made his way back along the path that had led him here. He stopped a short way down, turning to scrutinise the cliffside one last time before lowering his head in resignation. He would never know who had lit the fire or why it burned, its mystery forever beyond his reach.

  At least it had occupied him for the night, Ekkehard thought, a fleeting distraction from the weight of his despair. He found cold solace in knowing that the climb, at least, had spared his brothers from his temper and his burdens—if only for a little while.

  Perhaps they had even found rest in his absence.

  That would be something.

  Ekkehard kept a cautious eye on the ground as he began his descent along the winding path toward the forest.

  As he descended, it dawned on him how difficult it would be to navigate his way back through the dense darkness. He would likely be stumbling through the forest until daybreak—perhaps longer. He knew this, but the thought scarcely mattered.

  After descending a few hundred yards, Ekkehard paused and peered over the edge of the pathway. He hoped to gauge how much farther the trail ran before reaching the trees below. The night was a thick, impenetrable shroud, rendering treetops and the abyss indistinguishable.

  Then, something stirred within the darkness.

  Ekkehard froze, his breath catching in his throat. Someone else was on the path—climbing the mountainside.

  No. Not someone. Something.

  Something was halfway down, shambling slowly up the mountainside. Whatever it was, it made Ekkehard turn cold, raising the hairs on the back of his neck and making his heart race in chill anticipation.

  From this height, all he could make out was a shadow.

  It had the shape of a man, but Ekkehard knew—deep in his gut—it was not. Its movements were grotesquely inhuman, each step awkward and wrong. Its arms jutted out at unnatural angles, twisted as though broken and left to heal improperly. Its head lolled unnaturally, swaying from one shoulder to the other as if its neck could barely support it.

  Ekkehard’s gaze remained locked on the thing, unable to look away.

  If he continued down, they would inevitably meet within a few hundred metres. There was no other way down. He didn’t want that. Every instinct in his body screamed to avoid coming face-to-face with the creature, but there was nowhere else to go.

  I could hide, maybe, he thought. Wait until it passes.

  Then the creature halted.

  Had it sensed his presence?

  Had it heard the thoughts racing around Ekkehard’s head?

  The creature's torso craned back, its lolling head tilting until it stared straight up at Ekkehard.

  Two glints of silver—where its eyes should have been—fixed onto Ekkehard’s, holding him captive. A cold like icy water surged through Ekkehard’s veins, freezing him in place.

  Ekkehard held his breath.

  The wind died.

  The silence was absolute as the two beings locked gazes, neither moving.

  Then came the faintest sound—strange and alien, something Ekkehard couldn’t quite place. He focused, straining to hear, until he detected a soft wheezing carried on the air.

  As if infected by the creature, Ekkehard felt a chill assault his lungs, forcing him to inhale sharply, shattering the silence.

  The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

  A loud snapping sound echoed through the mountainside as the creature reacted, suddenly bursting into frantic motion. It dropped onto all fours, racing up the pathway with a horrifying, unnatural gait—a grotesque amalgamation of wolf and spider. It surged forward at an alarming speed, rapidly closing the distance between itself and Ekkehard.

  Panic seized Ekkehard. He stumbled backwards from the edge, unsure of what to do. Rising shakily to his feet, he risked another look down the path. The creature was relentless, its rapid, jerky movements propelling it higher with terrifying efficiency. Instinct roared to life, and Ekkehard turned and ran.

  He sprinted with everything he had, his winter wrap sandals pounding the stone path. The air burned in his lungs, but he didn’t dare stop until the pathway narrowed again, forcing him to slow.

  The creature was still chasing. With no other choice, Ekkehard gripped the grooves in the mountainside and began shuffling along the tight walkway once more. His heart pounded as he crept toward the end of the path—a dead end he had already faced once before.

  When he reached the cliff face, dread consumed him. He was trapped.

  Ekkehard glanced over the edge of the narrow ledge, hoping for some alternative, but saw only the sheer drop into the abyss. Turning back, he looked down the path. The creature was coming. There was no way past it.

  Back up the wall? There was no way he could climb it.

  A guttural, ravenous hiss echoed through the mountains, followed by the laboured panting of a wild beast. The sound grew louder, closer, mingling with a wet, ravenous slavering that made Ekkehard wince as his mind conjured the image of gnashing teeth chewing upon his flesh.

  He looked up the cliffside once more.

  No choice, he thought. Climb or die.

  Ekkehard began to climb, gripping at every protrusion and indent he could find as he hauled himself up the rock face, desperate to escape. His fingers screamed in protest with each pull, his muscles trembling as fear drove him to climb faster. His feet slipped on the wet, rain-slicked stone, but he pushed onward, blindly reaching into the darkness for his next handhold. Soon, he wasn’t even looking for holding points, relying on instinct alone each time he reached into the darkness, pulling himself further upward until he was halfway.

  Then his hand slipped.

  His outstretched fingers scraped against the smooth, featureless rock, again and again, finding no purchase. He pressed himself against the mountainside, his face resting on the cold, unyielding stone as his heart thundered in his chest. Each beat throbbed in his ears and temples, drowning out all other sounds.

  He was hanging awkwardly. One hand clung to a stubby outcrop of stone, his other gripping an indent pressed tightly against his chest. His arms trembled, threatening to give way as he fought for balance.

  Painfully, Ekkehard craned his neck to look upward. The next gripping point was over a metre above him, with nothing but flat rock in between. It was too far to jump, even if he wasn’t contorted as he was.

  Something thudded against the cliffside below him. The impact jarred his footing, and one of his feet slipped from its precarious hold. Ekkehard’s heart surged in panic as his leg scrambled for purchase. He dug his fingers into the stone, gripping so tightly he feared they might break. His entire body tensed as he fought to steady himself, pulling closer to the wall, until finally, he managed to replant his foot.

  Secure at last, Ekkehard risked a glance downward.

  In the darkness below, the creature slammed itself against the cliff's edge. Clawed hands scrabbled at the rock face, snapping bones casting grotesque shadows as they lunged upward. A gaping maw of jagged teeth, splitting its face vertically, snapped hungrily in his direction.

  Terror surged through Ekkehard.

  He tore his gaze away from the creature and fixed on the distant jut of rock a metre above him. His heartbeat thundered in his ears, frantic breaths flaring his nostrils as he clenched his jaw to stifle a cry.

  Without hesitation, he heaved himself upward, drawing on every ounce of strength left in his trembling body, and jumped.

  His hand shot out. He caught something—firm and solid.

  There was no time to steady his grip. The thing was closing in fast. He pulled himself upward, his feet scrambling frantically against the smooth stone in an effort to gain traction. He reached for the next hold, then another, his movements wild and desperate. At last, his hand grasped the cliff edge. With a final, straining pull, he hauled himself over the lip and into the glow of firelight.

  He scrambled frantically away from the edge until he found himself on his back, gasping for air as his muscles screamed in protest from the brutal climb. For a fleeting moment, he lay there, staring up at the tranquil stars above, and felt the briefest sensation of calm.

  Then came the thud.

  A clawed hand slammed onto the cliff edge behind him, talons gouging deep into the stone.

  Ekkehard scrambled backward, rolling away from the edge as he fought to get to his feet. His limbs trembled, his breath came in sharp gasps. As the creature began to pull itself over the edge, its movements jagged and unnatural, Ekkehard’s body froze, his eyes locked on the abomination.

  For the first time, he saw its face.

  It was the face of a man.

  A dead man.

  Its features were pale and bruised, its eyes sunken and clouded, and yellowed fangs bared as the creature reached out a murderous hand. Yet, amid the horror, there was something unnervingly familiar about its visage: the shape of the jawline, the height of the cheekbones, the way its black hair fell across its brow. Ekkehard’s breath caught. He saw in this creature the face of a brother.

  “Aldedramnus?” he whispered, the name escaping him before he could stop it.

  The creature did not answer. Its clawed hand reached into the orange glow of the firelight, and in an instant, its entire form dissipated into the night.

  It vanished as if it had been nothing more than a shadow’s trick.

  Ekkehard blinked hard, his body trembling with residual fear.

  His eyes darted wildly, scanning the spot where the creature had been. Again and again, he looked, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.

  It had been there.

  Hadn’t it?

  After a moment, Ekkehard tentatively crawled toward the cliff’s edge. Taking a deep breath, he peered over.

  There was nothing.

  Nothing but lifeless darkness.

  He had half-expected to see the creature lying in wait, ready to drag him down. Yet there was no sign of the beast—or anything else. He couldn’t even make out the pathway below.

  “Am I going mad?” Ekkehard asked aloud.

  A sound, soft and airy, like a faint whisper, came from behind him. Ekkehard flinched violently, almost sending himself over the edge.

  Spinning around, his heart hammering in his chest, he saw nothing but the whistle of wind passing through a cave at his back. A large opening in the mountainside gaped behind him, and from it emerged the light he had followed.

  The source of the light was nowhere to be seen. Whatever fire made, it must be secluded deeper within, Ekkehard concluded.

  His jaw loosened as his heart slowed, and he took a steadying breath. For the first time in what felt like hours, he began to regain some measure of control over his senses.

  Ekkehard inspected the cave entrance. It was massive—large enough for three men to enter shoulder to shoulder. The glow of the light was stronger now, emanating from a bend somewhere deeper within.

  It must be a large fire, Ekkehard thought, for its glow to reach so far.

  A significant camp, then.

  That was good. A better chance for supplies.

  More likely to find a fight, though.

  Yet whoever was inside hadn’t bothered to post a sentry. That was good too—if they were careless, they’d be easier to handle.

  Ekkehard began to move toward the cave, his hand instinctively reaching for the dagger at his belt. His fingers met empty air.

  His dagger wasn’t there.

  It was only then that he remembered he’d dropped it in the pond, back in the woods.

  He was unarmed.

  That wasn’t good.

  But Ekkehard had come too far to turn back. Steeling himself, he decided to press on. Perhaps he could take whoever was inside by surprise. Step by cautious step, he moved through the cave entrance. The warm glow of the guiding light began to recede as he ventured deeper into the cave’s depths.

  A cold mountain wind rushed past him, and Ekkehard shivered.

  Then the light went out.

  Darkness closed in around him.

  Ekkehard froze. His pupils dilated, his muscles locking as fear surged through his body. The abyss swallowed him whole, its void pressing against him like a physical weight.

  He stared into the suffocating darkness, his body refusing to move.

  “What are you doing?” he whispered to himself, his voice shaking. “Get ahold of yourself already.”

  But his words rang hollow in the silence.

  Stuck in the void, Ekkehard could do nothing but watch as shadows of nothingness danced before his eyes. Memories from his past flickered in the blackness, one after another, cruel and unrelenting.

  “Leave me be!” Ekkehard screamed, his voice breaking as the spectres of his past emerged from the shadows and clawed at his eyes.