Nykur, page 10
There was a note on his bedside table. It was written in the familiar scrawl of someone who even now after having written many notes, still did not seem to be able to gauge the correct pressure to apply on a pencil. As a result the writing was punctuated with black etches and lead dust from where the tip had reached breaking point. It read:
Stay warm. Drink Fluids. Eat.
Hugh looked at the note for a while, not really seeing it. He tried to cast his thoughts back to last night. He remembered the feel of the hands, taking hold of him as he lay helpless on the bank. He thought he could remember looking up at the slice of ice moon whilst those same rough hands worked over his body on a bed of grass, and the rocking movement of being carried came to him with such assimilation that he had to grip the edge of his mattress to quell the nausea it provoked.
He put away those troubling thoughts for later, feeling a desperate need to wet his mouth and throat. He tried to call for Dylan, but only managed a hoarse spitting sound that died in his mouth. He stood on shaky legs and opened his door onto the quiet hall. It struck him as strange that after the night he’d had, the house and its occupants were as they always were; mundane, inactive, nothing was different. He could not expect the care of an attendant however ill he was.
Downstairs his mother was in the kitchen, her back to the door. She startled when he turned the tap on next to her to pour a glass of water. Turning away, he concentrated on getting through every painful swallow. A hollow bang came from the counter behind him. His mother had knocked over a clay pot. It was her turn to keep her back to him and act as though he wasn’t there. Her hands patted the air over the cluttered counter, as if sorting or binding them with a force he could not see. They went to her sides, as if drying her hands as she rubbed the hip of her jeans, and then resumed their pandering to and sorting of the countertop. It occupied little of his attention, his foggy thoughts turning to resting.
“Were you out last night?” she asked him.
“What do you care?” he replied in a croaky voice.
“Where did you go?”
“Nowhere.” He tipped the rest of the water down the sink.
“Hugh? I’m worried about you.” He shuffled around the sticky kitchen floor, opening drawers and looking for painkillers. “I don’t want you bringing people here in the middle of the night. I feel like I’m losing my mind with things being moved and- and strange noises at all hours. Please.”
“Where’s Dylan?”
“He’s in bed, isn’t he?”
Hugh paused as he took in this information, and then dashed from the room on his unwilling legs. He took three stairs at a time, his chest protesting with a fierce ache at every forward lunge. Bursting into Dylan’s room he found him, as told, in his bed.
“Dylan? Dylan wake up, it’s morning.”
He put a hand on his brother’s shoulder and shook, trying to rouse him; it cupped within his palm. Dylan’s head lolled with Hugh’s shakes, but he didn’t wake. His face was a picture of utter peace. His eyelids were closed like a thin membrane veil. His lips, slightly parted, marked the small o gateway for his soft breath to flow in and out as gentle as displaced air from the flap of a sparrow’s wing.
Hugh shook him again, now gripping both shoulders as he applied enough force to lift him off the pillow. But as soon as he ceased, Dylan sunk back into immobility.
“Dylan!” he shouted, but his voice broke and cracked. He studied his brother’s chest, seeing it rise and fall. He was at a loss. Dylan never slept beyond nine, usually not beyond sunrise. But last night had not been usual.
He left the house in a hurry, putting his aches and pains to the back of his mind. His mother called something as he shut the door, but he didn’t pause. He let out only a brief shiver as he passed beneath the trees, keeping his eyes down as he took the shortcut to the clearing.
“Gamel? I need to speak to you, it’s urgent.” he called, projecting his still damaged voice best he could across the water.
He waited a few minutes to give Gamel a chance to come, pacing around and kicking dirt. When he’d decided enough time had passed, he raised his chin and looked around once more. Gamel was not there. Hugh strode to the trees where Gamel liked to eat. He shoved branches aside and looked around where he and Dylan had built the den, but he was still alone.
He took a deep breath.
“Listen to me. I don’t know what you’ve done to my brother but he won’t wake up. Hear me? You don’t mess around with him. If you’ve done something you better undo it right now.”
The birds had quietened as if in respect for his monologue, and around him the air felt heavy, as if the whole woodland was listening.
“What happened last night? Why save me if you’re going to leave me like this?”
He was still alone. High on a distant branch, a bird chirped up its merry call. What if he doesn’t wake up? What if it’s because of me?
On the far river bank he finally saw some movement. It was Sanna. She stood facing him, her head high and proud. Only her tail swished as she stood and watched. Hugh felt a sweep of anger wash over him as this creature stared at him with no idea of the damage, the worry and the pain she had caused. He bent and picked up a thick stick from the ground. With one smooth movement he launched it in her direction. He wasn’t aiming to strike her with it and knew the arc of its flight would peak long before reaching her, but he would do anything to stop those piercing black eyes from fixing him with that disturbing intelligence she possessed, like a scientist examining a lower creature for study or a predator observing its prey.
It had the desired effect. As the stick departed from his hand, Sanna moved with lightning speed. Her head tossed in anger and her hooves kicked up clods of mud as they spun and sent her galloping away. She was gone. He stared at the spot where she had just been until a voice from behind made him jump.
“It’d be wise to treat her with some respect lad.” said a deep, disapproving voice. Gamel was next to him. He looked tired and aged, slightly stooped, as if a heavy burden was drawing from the bare youth that he had.
“Did you hear what I said?”
“I did.” Gamel replied.
“I can’t wake my brother.” The anger was fading now, leaving desperation in its trail.
“It’s undone. You will be able to wake him if he is not already.”
Hugh looked over his shoulder toward home, as if he could see through the trees and the vast space.
“You better not have hurt him.”
Gamel made a slow shake of his head, his cap propped at a jaunty angle.
“I never would. I just brought on a deep sleep so I could make sure you would be ok. I forgot to undo it before I left, and for that I’m sorry. You should be resting.”
Hugh looked down and closed his eyes. The adrenaline and worry for his brother that had taken priority over his pain was leaving him, and as a result the ache of his joints and the awful stuffiness in his head and chest were coming crashing back. Gamel looked concerned, but moved no closer.
“I don’t understand what happened.” he said, trying to hold back tears. “I was trying to find somewhere for Sanna and you.”
“Sanna saved you. She pulled you from the water.”
“Why? That’s what I don’t understand.”
“Because you’re different. For some reason she’s bonded with you. Maybe she senses something in you, something that is not like the others.”
“But she’s a monster.” He hid his face in his hands. The weariness from the night before seemed to have broken down his strength.
“What makes you say that?”
“She killed that man.”
No further word passed between them for a few minutes. Hugh sat and let out the tears he’d been holding back. Gamel sat and watched the river, his right hand absently stroking the log on which he sat. Sanna had returned to the water. She stood like a painting, unbothered by flying insects or the floating pollen.
“Don’t lie.” Hugh said. “She killed him, didn’t she?”
“I can’t say-“
“Please.” he interrupted. “Don’t lie to me.”
“It’s unfortunate, that’s what she has to do to survive. It is her instinct.”
“That’s what you said before, but it still doesn’t explain much. It doesn’t explain what she is.”
Gamel sighed. He looked at Hugh like he was searching for something. He seemed to find what he was looking for.
“I told you she was part of folklore where we’re from. It’s more than that; she’s part of my heritage. In times long ago, people were familiar with those of her kind. In rural areas, anywhere with deep water, people would tell stories of a lone, white horse that would stand by the water’s edge. The horse would lure people onto its back and then run into the water and drown them before they could escape. It was more than a horse. Like I said, most local people were familiar with the danger, but that didn’t stop travelers or children going missing from time to time. ”
“So she is a monster.”
“She most certainly is not. She’s a damn sight more intelligent and complex than a good many of the people I’ve had the misfortune to meet. She is not so primitive as a simple monster.” He pulled a face at having to say the word. “I have watched her man the hills and the water’s edges in both driving wind and battering rain, through the harshest of winters. Like a shepherd to the lost, or rather, the damned. She is part of this world as much as you and I.”
Hugh wiped at his face with the sleeves of his hoodie. From the river, Sanna stared towards him. Her nostrils flared as she watched for any more incoming sticks.
“She saved you.” Gamel said. “Despite what she is, she chose to save your life.”
“Maybe I didn’t want to be saved.” he managed to say, every word scraping in his throat.
“You listen. I don’t want any of that talk from you. And I don’t want you to go wandering around at night by yourself either, far from home.”
“It was better than being in that house.” He was studying the wear of his jeans at the knee where the denim had come apart and faded with age. “What is it exactly that she is, what are they called?”
“I can’t say. Not while she is here. Another time and I’ll tell you.”
“Gamel? What other powers do you have? I know you can disappear, and you can make people sleep, like Dylan.”
“Powers.” Gamel scoffed. He spat at the leaves around his feet. “If I need to, I can hide from sight. If necessary, I can get inside locked places. If it’s required, on a rare occasion, I can influence people, physically.” Hugh’s eyes widened. Gamel caught sight of his expression. “That is no more than you already knew. I should be more careful.”
“I want to know.”
“No more questions. You need to rest.”
Hugh stood; his body was no less painful for having sat down.
“I might have found somewhere for you. There’s a disused building at the local lake reserve, right by the water.”
Gamel buffed the air between them with one hand.
“Recover first, then we’ll worry about that. Get back to your brother, back to your bed.”
After a mumbled goodbye, Hugh headed home. It was true, he desperately needed the warmth and the chance to recuperate, but his mind was anything but at rest.
Dylan was in the kitchen, searching for a clean cup. Without speaking, Hugh went straight to him and dropped to hug him. Nothing felt better than the life and warmth between his arms. His brother clutched against his chest.
“Hugh? Hugh, I want a drink.”
“Ok buddy.” He wiped his red eyes with one rough sweep of his sleeve. “I love you.”
In his room, he phoned Liana. He had no answer on her mobile, but deciding he had waited long enough, tried the house phone. It was her mum who answered. He asked for her, trying to sound polite and well-mannered despite the husk in his voice.
“Hello?”
“It’s me. How come you didn’t answer your phone?”
“Oh.” She sounded flustered. “I was just sorting through my clothes. I must have missed it.”
“Did you get to check out that place yesterday?”
“Yes, I did. Sorry, I was meant to report back to you, wasn’t I. I got distracted.” She laughed briefly, sounding more nervous than light-hearted. “It seems pretty good. It looks like an old bike shelter or small shed or something. It’s a bit cluttered but it's sturdy enough for someone to set up home in, I guess.”
“Clutter’s not an issue.”
“Hugh, what’s wrong with your voice?”
“It’s nothing.”
“Are you sure? Sounds like you’re in a bad way.”
“Yeah, it’s just a cold, no big deal. What else can you tell me about this place, is it quiet?”
“It’s really quiet; you can’t even see it until you come through this thick set of trees. The water isn’t far from it either. Just down this long slope.”
“Sounds great. I need to get over there and have a look. Do you have that printout yet?”
“Yeah, I have it here. My sister will be able to give us a lift, maybe in a few days?”
“No problem, just make sure it’s in the evening please. I’ll come pick up the map in the morning.”
“Ok.” she said in a small voice. He heard her breathe in, as if on the cusp of saying more, but the line was silent.
“I’m gonna get a drink.” he said.
“Sounds like you need it. See you tomorrow.”
It was the following afternoon. A bright sun was overhead and Hugh relished its bright warmth on his pale and freckled arms. In one hand he carried a new carrier bag of meat from Ben, swinging it with every stride. In his pocket was the map from Liana. It was all coming together. He walked with purpose, his trainers slapping against the sun-scorched pavement that led to his house. The last of the village at this end, set apart from the others. At the top of a winding hill where all could speculate, but none could get a close look at. The road was quiet and empty. Somewhere far above an airplane took strangers high and far away, and down here on this quiet road, in this quiet part of the village, he had done what he had set out to do.
The house was in sight. From this distance it looked well maintained. A spacious home. From a nearby garden, the sound of a lawnmower sprung up.
“Hugh!” A familiar voice shouted him from behind. He looked over his shoulder and saw Kain. He set his head down and picked up his pace. “Don’t try to get away, wait up!”
“I’m not interested in arguments.” he replied. He scrunched the handles of the bag into his fist. Kain caught up with him and sidestepped in front of Hugh to block his path.
“Just let me see what’s in the bag.”
“Why do you care so much?”
“Because I want to know what’s got you, Liana and Ben all acting so weird. You can’t just shut me out.”
“It’s just something for my mum, ok? Let me get home.” Hugh tried to walk around him but found his way blocked again, he kept his eyes down and his hand tightly closed.
“Listen. We used to be good mates. Just let me in on what’s going on. I know it’s something. Show me what’s in the bag and we can move on from all this.”
“Are you going to apologise?”
“For what? The party? It was nothing.”
Hugh used his shoulder to push past him. He got in front, but it was seconds before a firm hand gripped his upper arm.
“Get off me. Just leave it.”
“You’ve got a thing for Liana, is that what this is about? You want to get her interested in you, push me out the picture.”
“You’re wrong.”
“Am I? I spoke to her earlier, you know. You can’t keep me away.”
Hugh pulled away from Kain and struggled to free his arm. To his surprise, Kain let go and watched him walk away. Hugh readjusted his misshapen hoodie with a quick shrug and tried to focus on getting home, getting indoors. He kept his gaze fixed on the monotony of the grey concrete at his feet, waiting and wishing for it to break off to his right so he could step onto the crumbling, weedy drive that led to his house.
He heard steps coming from behind. With no time to turn or react, the air was displaced from his lungs and the ground rushed towards his face with startling speed. Kain had shoved him to the ground and on falling, he had dropped the bag. He was trying to get himself back up with scraped palms. He saw Kain scoop up the bag, tipping out its contents with a bemused expression.
“What’s this?” Kain said with a frown. He used his foot to turn over the clear wrapped package of raw meat parts, waste cuts and offal. “What’s so secret about this that Liana and Ben can know and not me?”
Hugh stood up, feeling a little dazed. He put the meat back into the bag and faced Kain.
“They’re real friends. Not like you.”
He turned his back on Kain and carried on towards his house. His knees and his palms and his head hurt from the fall, but he wouldn’t run.
“There’s something wrong with you, Hugh.” Kain called. “You’re not normal.”
“I don’t want you to leave.” Hugh said. He was looking at the map in Gamel’s deeply lined and bulbous fingers. In his deep study, Gamel’s head tilted down and his eyes seemed to shrink amongst the sagging skin of his face as he squinted. His breathing was slight and quick, and Hugh could pick out the small details of his woolen cap sprung with wayward threads, the scars and the red capillaries that flushed his sallow cheeks. Gamel looked up at him.
“I’ll be sad to go. But you can’t want me hanging around forever, a young lad like you with your whole life ahead of you. I’ve spent my life. I want to settle and never move, lie quietly and stop ever having to worry about our future again.”
