by James Stoddard
Hodgson started awake to the sound of an explosion.
Clods of dirt showered down upon him. When it ended, he glanced around
and called to Stephens, "Corporal, what's happened?"
From where he and the private crouched behind the hill,
the man called back, "Stray shell, sir."
Will pressed closer to the hill, waiting to see if more
would follow. Several blasts sounded far behind them, but none came
close. The shelling went on for a little over an hour, then ceased. He
drifted back into slumber.
Again on the ship, traveling west toward the house.
Would he find Bessie there, or would it be Colleen? And if the latter,
what would he tell her?
In the early hours before dawn, the ship began to fade.
Even as he closed his eyes against the blinding light, he heard the
voice of the captain of the phantom vessel, "Wait!"
He turned and tried to look, and as he focused his
attention, the light faded. His surroundings lost their ephemeral
quality and sharpened once more.
The ghost had pulled itself over the rail. Hodgson
lifted his cutlass.
"None o' that, now," the captain said. "I just needs a
bit of parlay."
Without a word, Will stepped forward and slashed at the
specter. The blade caught the creature in the shoulder, and it leapt
cursing back into the sea.
As if that had been a signal, cries erupted from high
up in the masts, and from all sides of the ship. In the lantern light,
Will saw shapes skittering over the riggings, and others sliding over
the rail. He could not stand against so many, and he broke into a dead
run toward the stern.
When he was nearly there, two pirates wielding dark
knives disengaged from the shadows of the Sangier and rushed toward him. He
took the first with a neat cut to the head. The second slashed with its
knife, a raking blow that caught his bicep; but his blood was up and he
did not feel the pain. He jabbed the phantom in the throat and it went
down with a gurgling cry.
Other ghosts closed in, but he reached the stern in two
strides, threw himself into the captain's cabin, and bolted the door. A
dozen ghostly hands hammered against the frame.
He stepped back, his breath rapid, his heart pounding.
Dark blood oozed from his wound.
He heard the roar of the captain's voice, and the
pounding ceased. A momentary silence fell, broken only by Hodgson's
inhalations and the creaking of the timbers.
The full weight of what must have been half-a-dozen of
the ghost pirates crashed against the door. It shuddered, but held.
Will heard the clatter of feet upon the deck; and the door trembled
again. The captain was cursing his crew, urging them on.
At the third hit, the door began to splinter. Hodgson
looked around, but there was no way of escape. He could meet the
assault best at the doorway, though he could not hold out for long.
Another crash. The door was falling to pieces. He
tensed himself for the first stroke.
The top part of the door fell away, and he saw the
phantom shapes beyond. Even as they drew back to strike again, the
vision faded.
-----------------------------------------------------------
He was in the house once more, standing in the kitchen.
He had not returned at the exact moment of his leaving, as was usually
the case. The rifle he had taken from the gun-room lay on the table
where he had left it.
He heard Colleen's scream and the staccato of running
feet. When he turned in the direction of her cry, he saw her rushing up
the hall, her face a mask of terror; and behind her came two of the
Swine-Things, loping with animal strides.
Snatching up the rifle, he took quick aim, but Colleen
was in the way. She came through the doorway, and seeing his pointed
weapon, dodged to the left, giving him a clear shot.
His military training served him in good stead, for he
hit the first creature square in the center of its chest, and it
crumpled to the ground. The second one saw its danger and tried to
swerve, but Hodgson took it with a bullet to the head. It fell nearly
at his feet and lay bloody and twitching.
"The drawing room!" Colleen shouted. "They came through
the side door."
He bolted down the hall, running with all his speed,
and arrived breathless and panting at the drawing room. A half-dozen
Swine-Things were crossing the threshold into the house. Without
pausing to aim, he fired three times in rapid succession, and one of
the creatures fell, but the others came at him from two sides, forcing
him back down the hall.
Rushing to the kitchen, he found Colleen still there, a
shotgun in her hands.
"Run!" he ordered, grasping her arm.
They sped through the house. The grunts of the
Swine-Things rose behind them. He glanced back and saw them loping
steadily after, almost at his heels.
Sprinting into the main room, they saw more of the
beasts at the front door, their faces pressed against the barred
windows on either side.
They turned toward the upstairs staircase as their
pursuers entered the room. Colleen, who had hunted with her father as a
child, raised her shotgun and fired, and the creatures dropped back,
howling in pain.
They took the steps two at a time and rushed into the
hall. One part of Will's mind remembered that they were going to the
very place where they had first met their enemy as children.
With the Swine-Things at their backs, he led them into
a bedroom and locked the door.
"I'm sorry, Will!" she cried. "They made me open the
door. I was looking at the window and one of them was staring in. I
wanted to turn away, but its eyes held me. The next thing I knew I was
throwing the bolts. As soon as the door opened, I came to myself."
"I won't let them have you again," he said.
He had chosen this room because long windows covered
one wall, but when he looked out, he saw only a sheer drop to the
ground, and more of the Swine-Things waiting below.
The doorknob rattled.
"Help us!" Will cried to the heavens. "You helped us
before. Please!"
But if the White Circle heard, it did not answer.
There came the noise of claws scratching against the
door.
Guns ready, Will and Colleen faced the entrance.
Noticing the dried blood on his shirt where the pirate had cut him,
Hodgson realized that his question was answered: he could die in this
vision. But even that would be all right if he could save Colleen.
And then the scene began to fade.
"No!" Will shouted, dropping his gun and wrapping his
arms around her. "Take us both!"
She looked into his face and her eyes were brave and
very green. "I love you, Will."
The room fragmented; the light blinded him. When he
could see again, he was back in Flanders, and his arms were empty.
-----------------------------------------------------------
He woke to the erratic cadence of a terrific
bombardment. The dawn was breaking and the enemy guns were a continuous
roar. Corporal Stephens was on the telephone. Private Ridley was at
Hodgson's side, holding the field glasses.
His heart leaden, he nonetheless rose with all speed,
took the glasses, and ascended the hill, Ridley following.
Even as he made his way, he realized the ghost pirates
had defeated him, keeping him on the ship long enough for the
Swine-Things to lure Colleen into opening the door.
Lying down, he peered through his glasses at the enemy
lines. The German artillery, hidden by distant hills, lit the morning
sky. Their guns were shooting long, over the heads of the British
trenches, but they would soon get the range.
"Send word back," he ordered the private. "Sector 81
under heavy fire. Assault anticipated." He consulted his compass and
gave further coordinates; and Ridley repeated them and scuttled down
the hill to the telephone.
Hodgson looked through his glass again, and an
exclamation escaped his lip. His mouth went dry. Behind the German
lines, unbelievably enormous, loomed a twisted house, built in a
circle. He lowered his field-glasses and could see the structure quite
easily with his naked eye, though it had not been there before. It
seemed to stand above the huns, like a general guiding its troops, and
Hodgson could feel the emanations from it, the pulsing power of its
will radiating
outward, directing the Germans, feeding them with its
malefic energies.
Beyond any doubt, it was Kraighten House, looming many
times its original size over the Belgium countryside, a phantom manor
standing above the German lines. There was no chance of his going back
to rescue Colleen. His heart lay dead within him.
Private Ridley came clambering up the hill and knelt
beside Will.
"Do you see that?" Hodgson asked.
Ridley's eyes raked the distant field. "What, sir?"
"That - that structure. That house."
"Where, sir?"
"Right there, man, plain as your nose. Above the German
trenches."
The man squinted in an effort to see. "I'm sorry, sir.
I don't see anything unusual."
"My mistake," Hodgson lied. "I must have had something
in my eye."
-----------------------------------------------------------
Throughout the early morning, the house stood over the
battlefield, stretching across the horizon, its doorway beckoning, its
lights flickering off and on within it. Clouds were visible behind its
translucence, which turned their colors to a pale green. And always the
Germans, unaware of its existence, maneuvered beneath it, obeying its
directives.
He could not understand. Could an Evil Force be behind
the intent of a nation? The Germans weren't a wicked people, despite
what the propagandists said. No war was good; yet there were surely
just wars. He liked to think the English side was just.
And where are the
Forces of Good? he asked the sky.
Where were you when I needed you to save Colleen? And if this thing
comes against us, who stands for England?
A particularly deafening barrage landed behind the
trenches.
". . .you, sir?" a voice said.
"What?" Hodgson turned to Ridley.
"I said, is there anything I can bring you, sir?"
"No, that's all right."
-----------------------------------------------------------
By mid-morning the assault had begun. The Germans
charged under cover of the guns, crossing the deadly No Man's Land
between the forces, sprinting right into the British rifle-sights,
while the English fired from the protection of the trenches. Thousands
would die, as they always did in a charge.
The German artillery did not cease as was common in
such an attack, but began firing farther behind the British lines. And
suddenly the shadow of the house grew long across the battlefield, and
Will felt its dreadful malice reaching across the distance, groping for
him.
At that moment, he realized it was there to destroy
him. He did not know why this should be so, but he felt it with an
intuitive certainty. And in the process, the forces controlling the
house would not hesitate to cut through the English army, severing it
from its supply routes to the sea. It would mean German victory.
He sprinted down the hill and ordered his men to move
out. Within moments, they had the gear onto the pack horse and were
hurrying away. But they had scarcely left the hill when the German
artillery found it. Hodgson glanced back to see it obliterated by the
impact of shell after shell.
He led in a zig-zag pattern across the landscape, and
wherever he turned, the bombardments followed. Nightfall found them
ensconced within a deep crater.
"I've never seen the like, sir," Corporal Stephens
said. "Shells everywhere we went. You're a good-luck charm to bring us
through, and there's no doubt of it."
But Will wondered if he should give himself up to death
so the house would leave the battlefield, before whatever power it
supplied the Germans resulted in disaster.
He sat down for a moment to rest, and exhaustion caught
him before he knew it. But even as he fell asleep, he wondered how he
could prevent the ghost pirates from finishing him. At that moment, he
did not care if he lived or died. Perhaps better for England if he
perished.
-----------------------------------------------------------
He was back in the Sangier's
cabin, holding his
cutlass, and the door had been nearly torn apart.
"Now I'll have ye," the ghost captain called from the
other side of it. "We have the house and we'll take ye, too. Ye'll be
well-paid for the stroke ye gave me."
Will blew a ragged breath. This was it. But he would
not give up without a battle, and he would try to take the wretched
captain with him.
The pirates slammed against the door again, and it fell
in with a crash. The phantoms poured through in a rush. Hodgson braced
himself for the onslaught.
But no sooner were they within the room than they
recoiled, and with shouts of fear, pressed themselves against the wall,
trying to force their way back through the doorway.
Looking around in astonishment, Will became aware of a
glow overhead. A circle of light, like the one that had protected him
as a child, hovered directly above him.
The pirates fled the room. The captain thrust his head
through the doorway, cursing, but dared not enter.
But Hodgson had no spirit left for exultation. The only
thought that ran over and over through his brain was, You rescued me
now. Why couldn't you save her?
He dared not move from the cabin, but remained beneath
the White Circle's protection. The hours stretched by; the vision
faded.
-----------------------------------------------------------
He walked the gray road above the vast Rift, with
Pepper at his side. His previous treks had brought him past the clouds
of mist, and the whole canyon lay visible below him. And what he saw
made him gape, for in the shadow of the Rift, a hundred yards from
where the road ended far below, appeared a house where none had been
before, a mansion of enormous proportions. It was much changed, a
twisted, gigantic version of Kraighten House, still recognizable only
by its unusual gables.
He halted, studying it, and Pepper whined, as if
sensing the chill which ran along his neck and arms. Sitting down on
the road, he tried to imagine the Night Land as he remembered it from
his dreams, the way it had looked through the tremendous telescopes
from the apex of the Great Pyramid. He stared across the miles at the
place where the Great Bight fell into shadow. The snaking roads built
by the Road Makers ended close to where the shadows began. Something
about that seemed wrong, but he could not remember why.
He followed the line of the last road past the house,
peering into the tremendous shadow cast by the Great Bight. The bottom
of the Rift stretched into that gloom, flat and bare save for scattered
shrubs and lank trees; and then the ground gave way, descending into a
deeper cleft. When the sun was at last extinguished, this would be
known as the Great Slope, and would lead through utter darkness to a
land of volcanoes and strange vegetation.
He glanced again at the house, and its windows
reflected crimson in the red twilight. He measured the distance with
his eyes. It was hard to be certain. And yet, if the walled town to the
south was indeed the Quiet City. . .
He ran his hands over Pepper's warm coat.
"The House of Silence."
He stood, walking back and forth along the road,
staring at the Rift and the house, and perspiration beaded his
forehead. Pepper circled him, puzzled by his excitement.
According to the ancient stories of the Last Redoubt,
the House of Silence had been built by Gosil, a hero in the age before
the Great Pyramid was constructed. Hodgson now saw this was not true.
Rather, the wandering tribes of humans, driven to find shelter from the
encroaching evils as the sun failed, had found Kraighten House standing
upon the plain, and tried to make it their own. But they had not
succeeded; the house had proved unsuitable;
wasn't that the word the old texts used?
Hodgson grimaced. Unsuitable indeed! A hell-house if
ever there was one. And eventually, the terrible forces had taken their
home back from humanity.
He left off pacing and began striding back down the
road.
At last, after many long hours, he reached the canyon
bottom, and there he hesitated, uncertain what to do next. His gaze
traveled upward to the walls of rock rising all around him, mile upon
mile, their peaks lost among the overhead vapors. He was still miles
from the shadow cast by the Great Bight. He saw no sign of another
living creature.
He glanced toward the end of the road to the north,
where stood the house, with machines scattered around it, and he
shuddered as he looked upon it. Could Colleen possibly still be alive,
held captive? But if the Swine-Things were there, how could he overcome
them alone? He considered the Quiet City to the south. He might find
inhabitants there, allies who could help him. But when he left the road
to go toward the city, stepping onto the hard ground, Pepper growled
behind him. He gave the dog a puzzled look.
Pepper sat on the road, eyes firmly fixed on his
master.
"Come on, old boy. Let's see what we can see." Hodgson
turned again, expecting the hound to follow, but Pepper began barking
and refused to obey.
Hodgson hesitated. Once before he had ignored Pepper's
cries of protest, and the dog had been right. How different his life
might have been had he followed the counsel of his old friend.
"All right," he said, returning to the road. "Which way
do you want to go?"
Pepper rose, wagging his tail, and turned toward the
house.
"Apparently one of us knows where he's going."
After long hours, he came to the end of the last road
of the Road Makers. It halted in an abrupt smattering of material
several furlongs from the house, as if those who made it had been
driven off. Paving machines, tall as locomotives, stood quiescent
nearby, their silver sides reflecting the light of the red sun. Metal
steps led up to the driver's seat, which was open to the air.
He sat on the steps of one of the machines, and Pepper
climbed up beside him; and they looked toward the sun which would
gutter and die but never set.
He ruffled the dog's ears. "Well, old boy, you brought
us here. What now?"
Pepper licked his face and lay down.
"We wait? Is that all you've got?" Hodgson chuckled.
"Well, if you're not the most empty-headed captain I ever followed,
you're the most reticent."
He looked back to his right, toward the dreaded house,
and beyond it to the shadows cast by the Bight; and he thought of the
visions of Andros and Naani that had assailed him night after night for
an entire year. If the House of
Silence stood over there, the Great Pyramid would have been back to the
south. It was hard to measure the distances in this light. The
road halted half a mile from where the house had appeared. And it ran .
. .
He hesitated, realizing what had troubled him before.
In Andros and Naani's day, the road had not stopped here, but had
circled the House of Silence and run to the edge of the Great Slope. It
was as if the Forces of Evil had brought the house through time to
prevent the road from being completed.
As if in response to his thoughts, Pepper began
frantically barking. Hodgson looked around for signs of danger, but the
dog's eyes were fixed on his master.
"What is it, Pepper? What is it, boy?"
The dog sprang up the steps of the machine and bounded
back down to Hodgson, then up the steps again, stopping at the top to
look over his shoulder.
Hodgson stared at the dog, who whined and barked and
tossed his head as if beckoning. After a moment's hesitation, Will
ascended and joined his friend. The mechanism was simple enough, little
different from that of a motor-car, except it used an azure sphere to
control direction. He moved his hands over the sphere, and the machine
began a faint hissing and lifted a foot off the ground. Pushing it
forward sent a gray material swirling from the nozzles at the back of
the machine.
With a whisper, Hodgson ordered the mechanism forward,
and it responded, laying the road, continuing the abandoned work.
He laughed grimly. Brought
through millions of years to be a construction worker. I could have
driven a taxi in London to better purpose.
The machine hovered above the ground, inching its way
along. For a long hour, Hodgson drove it, laying the road in a wide
line, his eyes fixed on the door of the house, looking for signs of the
Swine-Things. Nothing moved around the structure, and the windows
stared blind-eyed onto the plain.
Something about the scene was familiar, something about
the house and the canyon walls. "God in heaven help me!" he muttered,
as he realized what it was. Among the many visions he had seen
concerning Kraighten House, one had been of a vast plain bathed in a
red, twilight glow, with the house at its center. And above the house,
perched on nearly limitless crags, had peered all the old gods of
myth - Kali, Seth, Anubis, Chemosh, Dagon - hundreds of them, swine-headed
beasts and vulture-headed monsters, dragon forms and animal shapes - some
he had recognized and others he had not. All of them eternally watching
the house.
He looked upward toward the top of the Rift, hidden
scores of miles above him by clouds of mist. Were there carved upon the
upper reaches the heads of those vile gods? And if so, what did it
mean? Were all the world's forces of darkness focused upon that
dreadful manor?
With one hand on the sphere and one hand on his rifle,
he shuddered at the awesome Power he faced.
© James Stoddard 11 Nov 2011
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