Chapter Three of The Blood Gardens

Had it been raining, Baird might have decided it best not to trek through the mountain pass in the dark. On this night, however, the moon was as big and as bright as Daniel had seen in a year, and the path was well-lit. The steady rhythm of a rushing stream resonated against the rocky mountainsides, while soft snowflakes dusted the tree tops.

“The woods come alive at night,” he remembered Baird once saying. “Towners with their cozy, straw beds don’t realize that there’s no such thing as a comfortable sleep under the stars when you’re in the woods. The whole ground moves in the woods at night.” Daniel found that to be true. Even their quarters at the Black Gate had raised beds. On the ground, however, crawlers and rodents frequented his resting area. A half-lit fire repelled most of the flying insects, but Daniel still found it difficult to sleep. On the other side of the fire, Baird lay restfully with a blue cloth wrapped around his eyes, as wolf howls and other night creatures occasionally answered the call of his snores. Daniel didn’t know how Baird was able to sleep so well, but he supposed it made sense given how long he’d been a member of the guards of the Black Gate. He must surely feel at home out here.

Just beyond a patch of brush sat the dark, lone cabin that once belonged to a man named Chester. The boards that made up its sides were blackened by rot and sprinkled with water stains. The thatch roof was missing sections, and a splintered wood door hung in a slant and was left ajar. Chester had lived here with his daughter for years, but while Chester’s decomposing corpse was found by a passerby seeking shelter, his daughter’s remains was never found. Some suspected murder, but what was not clear was whether Chester was suspected of murdering his daughter, or whether his daughter was suspected of murdering her father. One side of the cabin had become overwrought with thorn bushes, but Daniel thought he could see a thin path that still led to the door.

Daniel watched the shadows around the cabin and surrounding trees, imagining they were creatures moving stealthily in the night. What was unnerving about that thought was that it wasn’t a ridiculous thought. They certainly were not alone in these woods. Many dangers lurked within the mountain pass, and Daniel knew that whatever sleep he could hope for would be a light sleep. He drifted to drowsiness by Baird’s rhythmic snores and the occasional moan of the wolves. He felt his eyes begin to flutter and was about to test sleep again when the battered door of the cabin began to creek open before his eyes. Light from a lantern spread outward through the doorway and cracks of the wall and filled dark areas that the moon’s light couldn’t reach. Daniel would have thought what he was seeing a dream if not for the soft voice he heard carried by the wind. It was a man’s voice, and to Daniel, the man sounded weary and morose. “Josephine…” was all it said, and the sound spiraled around him like a slight breeze eddying about.

“Cade?” Daniel rose to his feet, dusting off dirt and night crawlers. “Dent?” It certainly didn’t sound like the voice of the two men they were looking for. Nonetheless, Daniel knew that the sound of a man’s voice could be masked by fear.

He reached for his torch, lit it from the dying fire, and unsheathed his sword. Baird stopped snoring momentarily, and rolled to his side. The cloth that was tied around his eyes had pushed up against his scalp, so that one closed eye was made visible by the fire.

Daniel took slow steps, not wanting to announce his approach. The lantern could be partially viewed through the crack of the cabin door, and it hovered as if someone held it. Is someone watching me? Daniel thought to himself, and he gripped the hilt of his sword tighter. He walked until the light from his torch showed the entire cabin, but still couldn’t make out a figure behind the crack of the door. Shadows danced against the trees and behind the structure, as Daniel swayed his torch back and forth for a better view.

“Cade?” Daniel called, but the only response he heard was the same faint call for a woman named Josephine. He walked closer, straining his eyes as best he could to see whatever lurked within the hut. When he was no more than ten paces from the two broken steps that led to the entry, whatever was holding the lantern turned abruptly and closed the tilted door as much as it could be closed. Daniel walked to it and swung it open.

The interior of the cabin was modest, and no larger than some of the latrines that sat along the walkways within Lott’s Vale. A square, wooden table stood in a corner of the room, packed with grit and laden with small spiders. Cobwebs laced the ceiling boards, and attached the table to an indoor stove, a ragged cot and a small wood dresser. The lantern, which was still lit, rested on the table, and Daniel saw that the room was otherwise empty.

He remembered the story about Chester and how setting up a game of cards at his table might entice his ghost to appear. He didn’t believe in that sort of thing, and the idea of encountering such an apparition charged his anxiety. Yet, curiosity overcame these things, and he fumbled through the dresser drawers. In it, he found rags of clothes, a small, wooden music box, and a deck of cards made from the thick leaves of a Riptus tree vine. He snatched the cards and guessed by the weight that half the deck may have been missing. He didn’t think it would matter, however. He sat at the table, shuffled the cards as best he could, and dealt the appropriate amount for himself and one other player. He left the remaining cards on the table, and waited.

Nothing happened. Dust motes hovered in the light made by the lantern, while wiry crane flies fluttered about the glass that enclosed the flame. After nearly an hour of waiting, the lantern began to dim and Daniel felt his eyes grow heavy.

* * * *

Daniel awoke to the smell of mildew and dirt. His head rested against the table, and he sneezed dust out his nostrils as he sat upright.

“Josephine…”

He felt a cold draft permeate the room, and standing in front of him was a transparent figure that was barely visible by the dim light of the lantern. Daniel could tell it was the figure of a man, and though it appeared real enough, he didn’t rule out the possibility that he was dreaming.

“Chester?” Daniel whispered. The words left his lips with more of a tremble than he’d intended, but he was able to keep his hands still and his eyes fixed on the apparition. His training had taught him not to show fear, though he suspected the ghost could sense it in him anyway.

“I hear you like to play poker.” Daniel kept his eyes fixated on the figure, and reached for the dealt cards nearest to where he sat. He unfolded them in his hands, exposing painted numbers and symbols that had faded over time. The apparition didn’t move, but uttered the words “Josephine” again. The sound was stretched, and sustained long after the ghost’s mouth stopped moving.

Daniel supposed Josephine must be the name of the daughter. He placed his cards back on the table, and moved the lantern closer to the figure to get a better look at its face. When the light hit the apparition, it disappeared momentarily. He put the lantern back down on the table, held out a hand and watched as it brushed through the figure.

“What happened to your daughter, Josephine?” Daniel asked again, but the figure only stared back at him with no emotion in its eyes.

Finally, the figure changed its words. At first, Daniel couldn’t be sure of what he’d heard, and thought he was listening to a foreign language. The apparition spoke again, and the words came out clearer.

“Beware the beast. Beware of Biehl,” the voice whispered.

It was rare to come across a book in this part of the world. Such luxuries couldn’t be afforded by the humble folks of Lott’s Vale. However, Brother Barnabus Bartley of the Order of the Rose had shown him several over the years. Bartley was a monk stationed at the Vale, and a good friend. One children’s book in particular had always stuck out in Daniel’s mind. The thick, tablet pages were hard to turn, and neither Daniel, nor his parents could read the writing anyway. But he remembered the pictures. A green creature, with large, yellow eyes and sharp, jagged teeth, who Daniel’s mother had called “Biehl” tormented villagers. Biehl wore a crown made of tree branches, as small creatures danced around his tree trunk throne. The small creatures looked like what he imagined goblins to look like, only with gray, sickly skin and prickly horns at their temples. Mother had called the creatures “urchins.” Stories about Biehl and his urchin children were as well-known as stories about the Teratalpa and the celebration of Festum, but urchins were a mythological creature of another age, and Biehl was something that only religions dwelled on.

“…Biehl…” the ghost continued, but Daniel could see that the figure was fading, as the lantern continued to dim. Eventually, the ghost of Chester disappeared completely—its whisper ceasing moments later—and Daniel was alone again. He sat in silence, as the lantern reduced to a lone spark, hovering in the darkness. He stood up and gathered himself. Something compelled him to reach for the dresser, open the top drawer, and snatch the wooden music box he’d seen before. Nobody would believe he’d been there, and though the box may not help him prove his story, he felt drawn to it nonetheless.
With the box in hand, he grabbed his unlit torch and stepped outside. The night air seemed crisper than before, and the sounds of forest creatures had quieted a bit. It was as if the woods had finally gone to sleep. Daniel made his way back to the fire, which had reduced to ember, lay against the soft furs of his bedding and slept.