Alabas Warbold

Shrieking screams of a child cascaded through the darkness of the cavern where no light could reach. The final moments of that tiny life were severed sharply followed by the sound of wrenching snapping bones. There would be no escape. The Shadow of shadows devoured its prey with eager ferocity.

Beneath Alabas’ naked form the stony cave floor was cold and slick. The scent of blood was becoming more intense as It fed. Survival would be impossible. It had no eyes yet could see, no ears yet it could always hear the faintest trickle sweat falling from one’s brow and into the air. It was hunger and terror given form.

Sickening noises continued to echo off the unseen walls of the cave. It took every ounce of will to move. Alabas’ hands shook with effort reaching for salvation in the dark. He crawled slowly away from the fitful gnashing to find any way out. If such a thing even existed.

It was unclear why he struggled. It was clearly over. Death was finishing its meal and soon would find him wailing between its jaws before any thread of hope could be seized. Still, Alabas continued reaching, crawling, and sobbing. The desperation moving him all by itself.

There was a gulping groan that resonated as Shadow of shadows swallowed the last morsel. Alabas’ head struck something solid. It was the cave wall. Whatever pain the impact created was snuffed out from the panic that exploded in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, there was a mouth to this cave that led out.

RUN! A voice inside his head was banging inside his skull like a caged animal inside a flaming oven.

The need to live was so strong that his feet just took over. Rancid air filled his lungs then erupted as screams in the pitch black cave. The rough wet stone cut his hand as he used it to guide his path and fleeting hope to survive.

Blood pumped so hard Alabas could hear it over his own screams. Jagged stone bite into his bare feet as he ran losing all thought save the encroaching terror that pursued him silently.

When Its jaws slammed shut around his torso the symphony of shattering ribs finally overpowered the sound of rushing blood in his ears. It lightly tossed Alabas into the air with his frail legs twitching impotently with the sudden shock of fatal injury. Gravity took hold once again pulling him down into the gaping mouth of the creature. The last thing that he could feel was the hot wet acrid breath of doom before startling awake in his bed.

The nightmare was over.

As Alabas sat upright and panting as the tears streamed down his cheeks. Moonlight came through his bedside window allowing some relief from the agony of being alone in some dark womb of the earth and being devoured.

Eventually the slow chirps of the crickets outside meshed with the pleasant silence of the room. The shadows in the corners seemed less threatening. The front of the oversized tunic he wore had been soaked through. The fabric clung to his chest with a chill. The room was a bit cold from the fire being nearly burnt down to the embers in the main room. The door leading in showed with a pale red glow of the dying flames. It stood in stark contrast to the darkness hanging behind it.

Going back to sleep didn’t seem like a good idea. Staying in bed with a tear soaked tunic sounded pretty awful also. The wool blanket that covered the bed would be a good enough shroud to keep out the chill of early fall at least. Alabas wrapped it around himself and quietly padded his way to the main room where the fire burned quietly. The occasional soft popping of pitch that burst in the hearth was pleasant. It was always strange how that sound was resonant with home and safety in his mind.

Near the center of the living room just past the table was a smaller chair that hovered close to the open hearth. It was for his mother as the frame of it was smaller and the cushions stuffed more plentifully.

Alabas plopped down on the chair with the blanket wrapped around himself creating a cloak like cowl that kept his head warm. Fall was approaching and there were signs of the nights becoming bitter. The smooth stone floor was cold except near the fire that had be set.

For an unknown amount of time Alabas rubbed his bare feet on that warmth losing himself in the embers of the fire.

On the table there were some scraps of food and an apple left behind. A red delicious with pristine skin. It was large and likely the last one of the season given the frosts would be coming soon. His father abhorred late night snacking. Often, he’d been caught rummaging in the pantry in the night looking for a small bit of something to nibble on. When he was caught it was always a lecture. Then there were times where the spoils of luck were in his favor and he’d escape with a morsel to his room.

Snatching the apple from the table was easy. The flavor of the crisp fruit was sweet and cool. It was heaven. Even before the initial bites could be fully swallowed Alabas’ stomach made loud gurgles like it was yelling at him to hurry up. Back to the fire he went, apple in hand and enjoying silence.

The last of the dim coals were burning away. The wood stacked next to the hearth was set for the morning. Burning more wood now would likely earn a stern talking to once the sun had come up. Yet sitting in the cold for the night as the fire slowly burned out seemed less appealing. So more small logs found their way into the bed of hot ashes. They popped and crackled to life after a few good breaths to help it along. Once they were lit Alabas finished the apple with smile and sticky hands from the juices.

It wasn’t long before the heat from the fire made things more comfortable. The wool blanket was soothing. The chair cradled his body quite nicely which made his eyelids heavier. When darkness threatened to overtake him Alabas shook a little. The nightmare would most certainly be waiting for him. It was always waiting.

His father, with deep concerns that his son had been afflicted with some curse or spirit had gone to market several times looking for healers or tinctures that would cure the night terrors. The Shadow of shadows was something that was very real to Alabas. Like it was a threat from something outside himself or maybe a warning. No matter how many times the dream came it was just as terrifying as the last time he had it.

It was lucky that his father was a merchant. There’d be no way to manage a farm with a son who barely slept and was so small that pushing a plow would be impossible. A great deal of his father’s time was spent on the road. Most recently he’d found a medicine witch who’d apparently known that there was a young boy who was suffering from bad dreams and swore to have a cure in her stock.

She sold a goblet with strange writing all over the stem and bowl. It appeared to be made of wood but felt a great deal heavier. Something about it felt off. The first time he felt it in his hands Alabas sensed something about it. His hands tingled. It was like ants crawling on his palms.

Despite this his father reassured him that there was magic in the goblet. That it would finally cure his ailment. So, despite the vaguely threatening feeling that the object created Alabas agreed to try it the following night. His father would go to town to pick up some herb to grind and use for the concoction that he’d have to drink. Maybe this one tasted better than the tincture he’d been taking up until now.

It was getting harder to stay awake now. The light of the flames was coming through the slit of his eyelids like a flickering blade. The struggle to keep awake was going to be lost.

Then he heard something. It was subtle at first. A sound like silvery bells rang nearby. The softness of it was otherworldly. From the adjacent window a gentle luminescent light emerged from where Alabas had been nodding off. A spectral butterfly the size of his hand slowly flapped its wings as it hovered gracefully into view. The motion was slow and ethereal. Again, those same bells jingled as it crossed through the pane of glass as though it wasn’t there leaving a fine frost spidering out behind it.

Quiet excitement made Alabas sit upright with a smile, “Hello!” he whispered loudly.

“Where’ve you been? It was last winter since I saw you last.” He reached out a hand to allow for a perch.

When it touched down onto his outstretched hand there was a feeling of something cool on his skin. Like the way stones would feel after being in the shade for a while. Motes of light fluttered from its wings looking very much like what he’d imagined faery dust to look like.

No one believed him when he said that he’d seen this creature before. His father had nodded his head acting as if it could be true, but it was clear that he was merely humoring his son. His mother had listened more closely. She seemed to have been intent on hearing every word of the story. Then she told him that he should keep that sort of thing close to himself. She had said that if it were true then he was a lucky boy and to treat his friend kindly as it seemed to want to do the same.

He just called it Blue. There wasn’t much else to name it. It was blue after all, and it didn’t seem to mind that name. At least, not that Alabas could see.

“I’m glad you’re back after all this time. I thought maybe you had forgotten me.” Alabas stared at the butterfly with wonder as it moved across his finger to his wrist then taking flight towards his parent’s bed chambers.

That was odd.

A low thud came from the same direction. It made Alabas jump. He’d been absolutely sure not to wake his parents this time. Not wanting to risk getting in trouble he darted to back to his room trying to keep his feet light so that they didn’t slap against the stone flooring. As quickly and quietly as he could he whirled around his door and pushed it mostly closed. He fixed his peeking eye down the little hallway through the slight he made which led to the main room and to the closed door of his parents’ room at the other end. He strained his hearing listening for anything that would indicate that he’d been caught.

Another heavy thud came from his parents room. Not like what you’d hear if they were getting out of bed or rummaging in a drawer. It was something that was much harder. Then a sound that he couldn’t recognize followed. Like a muffled voice maybe?

Blue kept close to the door to his parents bed chamber. The sounds of bells rang out, but much more powerfully now. The light that Blue gave off pulsed steadily. There can more noise now coming from behind that door. It sounded like a struggle was ensuing.

Sweat beaded on his head. Blue started to fly in erratic patterns leaving puffs of glowing powdery dust in the air. There was danger in his house. He knew there was.

Blood rushed in Alabas’ head. His limbs felt numb suddenly. His father made a terrible loud cry. It sounded like pain as well as terror. Tears flowed freely now as he watched the door from behind his own unable to move.

Bells in his head rang out with urgency now. Maybe like it had been a voice telling him to move, to act.

Blue was speaking to him. Demanding that he move. That he stop hiding and to be brave. Still terrified Alabas stepped from his room into the hallway. After several shaking steps he placed his hand on the latch handle of the door to open it.

“Mother?” Alabas called out weakly as he came slowly through.

Something wet and cold touched his foot. It appeared to be akin to tar which made him shiver. The floor was covered in this ichor that poured from the bed in gushing little rivers over the sides.

In shock the room became clear. Moonlight gave way to long shadows on the walls that became thicker toward the back of the room to his left. Suspended above the bed his mother floated like she was under water, her hair shifted slowly and wildly in all directions. Her skin had become as pale as a cadaver. Frothing from her gaping mouth came the dark fluid that covered everything below. Her belly was swollen as well with the same substance spewing out from between her legs.

Smashed against the headboard and wall by an invisible force was his father. His eyes wide had darted to where Alabas had entered. He was naked, shuddering, and managed to screech out a final cry, “Ruuun!”

His father’s voice distorted toward the end drowning in blood. The flesh of his head became soft like a rotting fruit that imploded then dissolved in mere moments. The headless corpse remained on the wall convulsing as it spit up something viscus from the open neck.

Alabas could do nothing. He just stood locked into place crying and screaming for his parents impotently.

Blue suddenly flew past so quickly that it left a fine line of azure light pointing at the cup sitting on the bedside table. The goblet that his father had bought that day was glowing in a menacing indigo light. Bells in his mind urged him to take it. The sound was piercing, almost painful. It managed to pull enough of Alabas’ mind to his instincts to allow him to move. There was no explanation for it, he just had get that thing out of his house. He had to.

Wailing with the agony over his parent’s grotesque death and raw fear he sloshed through the black liquid to grab the goblet. It stung his palm when he managed to get his grip on the cursed thing. Worse it shook with vile vibrations as he clutched to himself.

Blue spun around him then disappeared out the door beckoning him to follow. The silver bells in his head sounded like they were growing distant. Just as Alabas went to run out of the room a tearing sound he was all too familiar with rippled overhead. The corpse of his mother was being breached from with within. Her legs were splayed too far apart like an open pair shears before her belly and pelvis ruptured birthing out something with arms and legs as it made inhuman growls. The monstrosity landed onto the viscera soaked bed thrashing wildly.

Panic set in.

Alabas sprinted to the door sliding on the oozy slop on the stone floor. The frame of the door was hard as he crashed into it. The goblet nearly came free from his hands as crumpled against the wall of the hallway the air in his lungs burst out violently. It took a hard pitiful inhalation before he could scramble back to his feet to make way for the main room. The creature that had come into being would be at his heels fast. He could sense it there. He could feel it’s desire to eat.

From the main room, Blue cascaded with pulsing light near the door to the front of the house as Alabas cleared the archway of the hall in a mad rush. His breathing was erratic and raspy. The oversized tunic he wore threatened to make him trip to and fall the ground again from the weight of the putrid after birth he was soaked in. As his hand reached out for the door handle there was a scuttling sound from claws scraping against stone. It was on all fours chasing its prey.

Without even chancing a glance back to his pursuer Alabas flung the door wide open. A rattling shrieking roar pierced the night sky as he ran across the small garden path leading to the gate to the road. The goblet shook in his clutched hand with a greater power now as if it were struggling to be freed. There was a feeling, an instinct about this. As though an answer could be just beyond that little wooden gate just ahead. Blue glided beyond him keeping his path lit as he went.

Alabas slapped the latch for the gate as he reached it ramming his shoulder into it at the same time. It sprung open cracking against the half wall of mortared stone that surrounded the gardens of their home. Again he met the earth with his face. He rolled up clumsily trying to put distance between himself and whatever chased him. There was something hot running down his cheek from his head where he’d collided with a rock in the dirt. His hands burned with scrapes and the hateful aura of the cup he carried.

His eyes came up to see the creature come through the doorway of the house. From there it propelled itself into the garden with a short leap using the door frame as leverage. Its deathly thin and pale skin was covered in the gore and muck. Breasts hung to its saggy swollen gut which rippled in a similar way that was like wet parchment. Spindly limbs and claws tore at the air as a jumping a spider might have when finding a fly in its web.

Its maw was wide and chattered rapidly in anticipation of its meal. The near bare skull showed very little flesh failing to conceal the slippery sinew beneath. In its sockets were green gold embers that burned and smoked with ravenous bloodlust.

Blue whirled wildly in front of Alabas then plunged into the earth at his feet. The bells sounded in his mind with intent. Looking down where he’d seen his gossamer companion disappear was the rock that had injured him a moment before. Realization erupted within him. The goblet had to be destroyed. In that instant the creature seemed to know that something had shifted.

The shriek of rage it made caused Alabas to wince. The adrenaline was making him shake horribly in that cold night. In his hand he raised the goblet high. More bells thundered in his mind giving him courage to do what needed to be done. With all the power he could muster in his small frame he smashed the goblet onto that same rock.

The monster had lept to snare him but happened to fly over him instead. It had been shy gutting him by only the smallest hair on his head. It spun to face Alabas again chittering jaws drooling with hunger.

Alabas stood up now facing his killer. Not with any sense of relief really. He was resigned to his fate now. The goblet was gone. That was what mattered. He didn’t really understand why, but he knew with a strange certainty that it was what needed to be done. Bloodied he accepted his fate now. It wasn’t like he hadn’t known what being devoured felt like. Every single night was the same. This time at least would be the last time he’d have to die. And he’d do it facing his nightmare instead of running from it. Maybe he’d know what it was like to sleep in peace afterward.

Blue came up suddenly from out of the earth between them letting out a powerful knell of beautiful bells once more followed by a burst of light. The vibration shook deeply in Alabas’ chest. The light so brilliant that it forced him to clamp his eyes shut while holding up his arms against it reflexively.

Then there seemed a sense of movement. A shift in everything like as if he were falling. The last of the ringing sound stopped finally as darkness swallowed Alabas whole again.

There was no way to know how much time had passed. The night sky was obscured with trees. The stars were oddly brighter than he remembered them. Underneath him was a bed of moss that felt like a cushion. He was in a forest now though not one that he recognized.

Memories flooded back. It threw his world into chaos. The deaths, the smell of his tunic, and everything that had happened all came back into focus. Nothing could stop his tears. There was nothing left to do but to weep. Death didn’t come for him. Instead, he was here in this forest alone carrying the weight of his thoughts. Without shame he cried out for his parents in that wood as he clutched that bed of moss in his still stinging hands.

Eventually exhaustion overtook him again for a short time and he couldn’t cry anymore. It took too much effort to do so. He just stared at the underbrush of this foreign with eyes puffy and half lidded.

There was soft ringing that made Alabas a bit more alert. Materializing slowly overhead came Blue shining against the dark shadows of the trees. Its wings raised as it descended to land on Alabas’ hand. That familiar coolness of it’s touch made the cuts in his hand seem less pronounced.

Alabas sniffled, “What do I do now?” His voice cracked from straining against the pain he still wrestled with. Blue just moved across his hand then took flight again. Alabas wiped his eyes and stood up to follow while hugging his shoulders not sure what else he could do.

Blue was the only reason that he was alive. Trusting it made sense. There was no telling what could be in these woods given the way things had gone so far.

The trees weren’t familiar at all. They had long branches that hung to the ground in a lot of places. Some were so tall that they seemed like giants compared to the pines that he’d been used to. The moss on the ground was pillowy soft and had dew clinging to it in places. The ferns that covered the forest floor were also unusual. There was a lot of life here, but in a way that was different.

It became clear that Blue was leading Alabas down a path. Maybe a game trail. There wasn’t a way to be sure as he’d never been a hunter or tracker. When the smell of burning wood smoke emerged there was a sense of relief. Maybe there would be a place to sleep that wasn’t just beneath the stars where predators could snatch him up. Ahead a small cottage became visible past some trees. The windows glowed with the welcoming golden light of candles and a hearth set with a fire still burning in it.

There was no fence to be seen and no garden in the front. Just a stone path that was covered in that same moss as everything else which led to the front door. A hint of something else floated in the air to. It was bread. Fresh bread.

Alabas shakily came to the door as Blue gave a cursory pulsing glow just before it passed through into the cottage. A voice inside seemed quiet and intrigued at first followed by some footsteps. Shortly thereafter a woman opened the door to find him standing there soiled and bleeding from the head.

The warmth from inside hit him like a wall making him realize that the soaked tunic he wore was making him chilled. The woman had her hair braided and she wore a dress of wool that seemed well made. She looked at him with deep empathy raising a hand to her mouth.

“Great gods child, you poor thing!” Her voice was just as warm as the inside of the house had felt. She knelt before him took his hands in hers. “Come in, child. Come in. You’ve been through a lot tonight. I’ll help you. Don’t you fear.”

Alabas looked into her dark green eyes and felt all his pain burst to the surface again. It didn’t matter if she was telling the truth or not. If she killed him and ate him then it would at least stop this agony. His legs buckled as he felt his face screw up from crying once more. He found himself in her arms as he slumped over being carried inside.

“I know,” the woman consoled him with her soft voice, “I know. You’re going to be alright my boy. I have what you need here, and you will be safe now. Let’s get you cleaned up and throw that tunic into the fire.”

Alabas wept harder still but didn’t want to let go. He was carried to the fire at the hearth where she sat and rocked him. His parents had died. His home was likely still beset with some monster doing horrifying things to his home or to anyone that would be foolish enough to check on what had happened to them all.

Yet he found himself embraced by this gentle soul who kept him close. The sound of the crackling fire was soothing mixed with the aroma of bread and herbs. Fatigued was catching up with him quickly now.

Perhaps it was facing his death in the real world that stopped the nightmares, but for the first time since he could remember the Shadow of Shadows did not disturb him as he drifted to sleep in the arms of a stranger.