The Dark Stranger

The woman's footsteps were quick but furtive, her head and eyes turning almost frantically around her, and she was heedless of the seemingly endless branches of underbrush that caught her simple dress, while she almost forgot to ward off the raking boughs that appeared over and over again in front of her face. It seemed almost fitting that she would need to come to such a place as this to find what she sought. A fog-shrouded forest of dead and dying trees and underbrush would have been bad enough, but the fact that delays and urgency required her to come here so late in the day only amplified the soul-deep foreboding that fought against her need. She was almost certain she would become lost forever.

She had come to the edge of the forest as the sun neared the horizon, darkening the forest as the trees cast their shadows across one another. Only the trees and shadows themselves deterred her then, thickly grown though they were, but not long after she entered that netherworld the fog arose around her, as though the forest had decided to keep her as its own. She hadn't even noticed it ahead of her, nor even in the environs as she checked them for danger. The utter silence that pervaded the woods did little, if anything, to quiet her fear. Indeed, it seemed only to feed it.

At last, a looming shadow appeared in front of her. Many in the village had told of its existence, but none had described an exact location or provided directions to it, as it was something to be avoided. And yet, here it was, directly in front of her.

The Monolith.

On the rare occasions that people spoke of them, they said that such stela were scattered throughout the land, and that they had been there longer than anyone could remember. Some said that It had put them there. Others, that It had merely appropriated them for Its own uses. Regardless, all agreed that if a person touched one and called out to It, then It would come, though at great peril to one’s soul. Many even went so far as to say that only those who sought to bring evil into the world would even think of doing so. One of her closest friends had privately whispered to her that, given some stories that friend had heard, it might be worth the risk for her or her husband to risk making contact with It.

The thought seized her mind, and she rushed forward, almost falling against the Monolith. Her hands pressed against its hard, cold surface, her fingers spread, almost clutching it as if the standing stone itself would provide the help she needed.

"Please!" she cried, her anguished voice announcing her presence, seemingly, to the entire forest. "Please help me! My child is dying!" 

There was no answer. She looked around her, expecting to find It standing there, or to see It appear out of the fog. She opened her mouth to call again.

"Why have you sought me?" She nearly jumped in shock, and looked immediately in the direction of the voice, if a voice it could be called. The sound was as though the Underworld itself were trying to speak through a corpse.

There It stood, next to the Monolith, another looming shadow, though not as tall as the stone and far darker - impossibly dark. It had the shape of a tall, broad-shouldered man in a cloak, a hood apparently drawn up over the head. Within the hood-like shape were two spots of solid yellow, but they were not quite shaped like eyes. Amid the dark shape they appeared to glow within the void, but they cast no light.

It took a step forward. She came to herself, realizing that she had been staring.

"Are you the being they call the Nameless One?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes, that is how people speak of me. What do you want?"

"Didn't you hear me? My son is on the verge of death!" she cried again, tears stinging her eyes.

"I did not hear your words," It replied, "I only sensed your need when you touched the stone."

"Some say you can heal diseases."

"That is not quite accurate."

"But we have no other hope. The physicians can't figure out what's wrong. The last one left just before I came here. We don't know what his ailment is."

"If the physicians cannot find it, then it is most likely not a physical wound. If that is true, then I may be of help. Take me to him."

She turned away from the stone, in the direction she thought she had come.

"Do not hesitate," It instructed, "even if you think you have lost me." At this advice, she hurried on the best she could through the fog and darkness. Whatever it was like in this forest, she thought she must not have much time to get home before all of the day's light was lost.

She was, in part, correct. The twilight was nearly gone by the time she reached her small house, but she had made it safely. The firelight within was a welcoming beacon shining through open windows. She could see her husband inside, pacing the main room. As she neared the dwelling, the Nameless One came out of the night from one side, startling her. Ironically, the yellow lights within the hood were what allowed her to be calm, as they told her that this was not someone come to attack or rob her.

When she opened the door, her husband rushed to her, but he stopped when the dark form of the Nameless One entered the home. The man's face went from shock at the shadow's entrance to anger as he looked back at his wife. He pointed a finger at her.

"I told you not to seek that thing out! And now you've brought it into our home! Are you trying to curse us all?" He almost resumed his pacing in his agitation.

"It didn't bring this upon our son!" she pleaded. "What choice do we have?"

"You've heard what everyone says about It! That thing will make it worse, at the very least!"

"This is your son," the Nameless One observed, going to a makeshift bed in front of the fireplace and kneeling down beside it. The boy, about ten years of age, lay still upon the mat, though convulsions wracked various places in his body every so often. A pained expression never left his face.

"Aye, and I will die before you do anything to my son!"

"If I do nothing, then your son will die. I sense darkness within him."

The man began to speak, but the woman stopped him with her own words. "Is it a disease, or some magical curse that has been placed on him?"

"It matters not whether the malady is of disease or magic. I can help him, if you will allow me." The woman looked at her husband plaintively. After the deep considerations played across his features, he gave a quick, grim nod.

The Nameless One bent over the lad as Its gloved hands went up into the hood, and then drew out a simple, contoured mask of some ebon substance, and set it on the floor. It then made hand motions over the boy's body as though It were gathering gravel from the ground, reaching out over his frame with spread fingers, and then curling them as the hands drew back to a point in the air above his chest. As the Nameless One did this, dark tendrils began to lift from the lad's body, snaking through the air like black smoke, flowing to the focal point indicated by the Nameless One's hands. The father started forward, but his wife held him back, her hand on his chest. Their already intense gazes grew more emphatic in their bewilderment at what was happening, and in response to the nebulous, numberless fears that filled them as to what it meant and what might happen next. When the streams of darkness nearly met, the Nameless One stopped Its hand movements, and supported Itself with Its palms on the floor as It bent closer to the boy. A soft whisper, like an intake of breath, could be heard in the stillness of the room as the plumes of shadow flowed together and were then drawn up into the hood. The whisper continued for an interminable amount of time, until the last of the darkness left the boy's body and ascended into the Nameless One's hood. 

The lad's face now looked calm and peaceful.

"He is sleeping, but he is well now," the Nameless One said as It replaced the mask and stood. Indeed, the young man's chest was rising and falling steadily. The convulsions were gone. The Nameless One went to the door.

"Wait," the father called as he picked up his son. The Nameless One stopped, but didn't turn. "How can we recompense you for your help?" The man's voice nearly caught in his throat and his eyes stung, in spite of himself.

The Nameless One turned only slightly. Though there had never been much expression in its voice, there now seemed to be something of a wistful sadness, and perhaps even shame, as It said, "Neither you nor anyone else will ever owe me anything."

And with that, the Nameless One opened the door and vanished into the darkness before they could speak their thanks.

1595 words

Word Count: 1676
Hours Spent: 15
Software Used: Poser 12