The Flutes of Aeran

The Flutes of Aeran

by Michael McCloskey

Copyright 2014 Michael McCloskey

Smashwords Edition

ISBN: 978-0991052400

Cover art by Lindsey Look

Chapter 1

Well into evening, Keran heard the sound for the first time. It faded in and out over the expanse of grasses, otherworldly, a series of forlorn notes that raised the hairs on the back of his neck. He stood at the edge of a creek bed. A few short trees grew by the water, breaking the monotony of the plain. As the sun set across the wide-open land, the ex-soldier looked for the source of the keening.

What’s that? demanded Ulthar, searching the horizon. Keran’s burly friend held a hairy arm up to shield his eyes as he scanned.

I don’t know, Keran said. His own gray eyes swept across the plain. The two watched for several long seconds. Keran saw only the tall grass lining the gentle slopes, extending to the horizon. The mud of the creek bed had a few bird tracks in it, meandering around the occasional rock. Keran looked for a large bird for a moment before dismissing the idea that any avian could create such a noise. The evening wind moved through the grass in gentle waves. The sound went on for five or ten seconds, almost lost in the wind. It faded away.

It was nothing, Keran told himself. Wind through an oddly shaped tree?

A new burst of notes sounded out, slightly louder. This time it struck Keran as more animated, less mournful. Keran’s heart sped up. Some instinct combined with his imagination and fear was the result.

Something has found us, and that excites it.

Maybe it’s coming up the creek bed? Keran said.

It’s nearing. Whatever it is, Ulthar said rapidly. Keran heard in Ulthar’s voice the same nervousness he felt clawing up from his own gut. The sound felt wrong.

Keran was not as familiar as the others with the terrain. He had grown up an islander, amidst a sea of water, not the sea of grass that now surrounded them.

Maybe it’s just some strange creature I’ve never heard before… it could be harmless.

Let’s go warn the others, Keran suggested. Ulthar gave him a quick nod. Forcing their way through the weeds and mud to the water’s edge, they finished filling the water skins as fast as they could. Then the two men headed back toward their camp at a half run. Keran was lighter than Ulthar, and his stride shorter, but for his size he was as strong as his friend. They wore the sun-cracked leather of veteran travelers. Scabbarded short swords hung at their belts, cutting rivulets through the tall grass beside them as they hurried along.

Geere and Sharn stood near their preparations for a fire, looking out across the plain. They watched Keran and Ulthar approach with apprehension. Clearly they had heard the same sounds and felt as anxious about the wailing as the other two. Their five horses skittered about nervously. Keran saw that Geere and Sharn had left the saddles on the horses’ backs.

Did you see anything? Sharn asked. The man’s shaggy mustache couldn’t hide his frown. His bow and sword were close at hand.

Keran handed him the water skins and shook his head. The weathered skin of his forehead showed wrinkles of worry through errant locks of brown hair.

It sounds like flutes, almost, Geere said. Except louder, deeper. Sometimes it trills before falling back to the long howl.

I’ve heard many flutes before, but never music like this, Ulthar said. I don’t like it.

It began to get darker as the sun finally passed the edge of the world, accompanied by the alien sounds. Sharn lit the fire. Keran knew Sharn had been this far from home many times before, but he could tell the man was shaken. At first the sound had been only a curiosity, a trivial anomaly. But now it wore on them. The arrival of darkness was not helping.

Keran drew a breath deep into his lungs through his nose. He didn’t smell anything except the smoke of their own fire. His nose had attenuated to the strong plant smells of the plain.

Should we keep the fire? Maybe we should just hide here without it, suggested Ulthar.

Depends on what’s making that hellish sound, Geere said. If it’s an animal we should keep the fire; if it’s something smarter that knows fire, we should hide.

No animal I know makes a sound like that.

There’s many creatures we don’t know in the world, Sharn said.

I’ve read of creatures far beyond our imagining, Keran said. There was a book in Woldwall that said Ganar war parties sometimes blow horns to strike fear into their victims.

Keran realized it was the first time he had mentioned reading books. He had let slip his ability to read Emerish once before, as they negotiated with a merchant over a contract, but they probably had assumed he only knew enough to get by.

Of course it’s not a Ganar war party, Ulthar sneered. There’s no city nearby, and they wouldn’t blow the horns to scare four men. They could just come in and skewer us.

Unless they mistake us for scouts. The vanguard of an army, Keran said.

I don’t believe you can read books, anyway, Sharn said half-heartedly, his eyes searching the grasses around them.

Keran looked at Ulthar. Would he remind Sharn of the time with the merchant? No. Ulthar’s attention was on their surroundings.

Clearly, nothing could make that sound on a horn, human or Ganar, Geere said.

I was just saying that out here, it could be anything, Keran said. He scanned the darkening landscape with narrowed eyes. In a few minutes blackness would envelop the land, curtailing their vision.

We keep the fire, then, Geere snapped. It’s some kind of creature, I think. Or even a group of predators. I’ve heard of things like wolves that use the noise to scare prey toward the other members of their pack.

Too loud and strong for a bird, Sharn said.

There are flightless birds taller than a man, in the island jungles, Keran said. I haven’t heard what they sound like. Never thought to ask. But I have seen their bodies with my own eyes, brought back by brave hunters.

Geere drew his sword. I’m leaving the saddle on my horse.

The four nervously went about preparing the camp for nightfall. They were traveling lighter now, having just sold the season’s furs for coins of gold and a few supplies. Keran decided to leave a pack on his horse, recalling what Geere had said about being prepared to flee. The pack did not weigh much compared to the animal skins that the horses had borne on the way out. Keran kept the gold he had earned on himself, trusting no one. If the strange fluting sounds came from a war party, they would have to snatch the gold from his bleeding corpse. Keran wondered if he would dare charge off into the night on the horse. He decided he would if certain death was the only alternative. He had not even seen a horse until he was a young man, so his riding ability was limited.

The four men returned fireside. None of them made any move to find sleep.

The piping sound grew, another step louder. Some indefinable presence in the clearing sent another thrill of fear down Keran’s spine. The air, which had been dry and smoky from the fire, turned humid, electric, like after a storm. His heart reacted, speeding up again. Keran forced himself to take a deep breath. He pushed a few strands of his wavy hair out of his eyes.

Do you feel that? whispered Sharn.

No sooner had Keran registered Sharn’s words than the night exploded with the sound of a scream from his left. Keran jumped to his feet and drew his sword. The scream had come from Geere. Keran’s friend thrashed about, struggling against something, then he bucked and leaned in an unnatural way.

By the gods! Sharn exclaimed.

He’s possessed! Ulthar said simultaneously.

Keran bolted forward sword first, looking for any foe. Something glistened on Geere in the firelight. At first Keran though it was only blood, but then he saw tentacles of some kind, barely visible in the firelight, wrapped around Geere. Finally the man found his voice.

Help! Geere shrieked, thrashing and swinging with his sword. What is it? Help me! Then Geere continued to scream as he rose off the ground.

Sharn came up on the other side, holding a burning branch out to illuminate the area. A bit more light was cast onto the tentacles, which were now a sickly gray-green, with white spines or studs on them. Keran took another step around Geere, trying to see if the tentacles were coming from the ground. Then Keran saw a large shape, a thrashing thing attacking his friend. It was so transparent as to be almost invisible. Its presence was only a tall wavering outline, larger than a man, detectable only by reflections of glistening wetness in the firelight. Keran’s shocked mind could only think of it as a huge, diaphanous jellyfish impossibly out of the water.

The shadow hovered a few feet behind Geere. Keran lunged at it with his sword. Somehow Keran thrust completely through the creature with no resistance. He fell forward to hit the ground, stunned by the occurrence. He had not even brushed the thing.

Geere stopped screaming. Keran heard Sharn shouting, the stomping of the panicked horses, and the fluting sound, now diminishing.

Where is it? Sharn? Ulthar bellowed.

It just… it was hard to see… Sharn said, padding out away from the fire with his torch.

Are you hurt, Keran? Ulthar called, moving towards his fallen comrade.

Keran sat up and looked for the thing. He had not wits with which to answer. He did not see the ghostly monster or Geere.

Are you struck? Ulthar asked again.

No. Did it carry him away? Which direction? demanded Keran. He regained his feet.

Hells, I don’t know, you were the closest to it! Ulthar ranted. Geere was thrashing there, and I started to cut at those arms…

Look for the blood! shouted Sharn, holding his burning branch low. We can follow it!

Of course. Keran nodded. All reason had fled his fear-whipped brain, but he grasped the idea and knew it was good as soon as he heard it.

Ulthar lit another thin piece of wood to light the ground. Ulthar carried the stick around the fire. Keran saw fresh blood on the ground where Geere had been before the attack.

Look at this, Sharn held his torch down to the ground beyond the pool of blood, away from the campfire. Streams of clear ichor scintillated in the light. Keran realized the glistening reflection in the substance was exactly what had outlined the creature.

Then Keran saw something else. Several large white spikes lay on the ground.

They look like shark’s teeth, Sharn whimpered.

An old memory flared in Keran at the mention of shark’s teeth. He flinched. The image of a huge maw opening through murky water came unbidden to his mind.

I misspoke, Keran, Sharn said. They’re not shark’s teeth. Just thorns or something.

He’s seen the scars. He knows what happened to me.

Keran focused on the white spikes again. They did look exactly like teeth. But he could not use that word.

Spikes from its arms, Keran noted. It’s almost all that’s left of what we cut off the thing. It was big… it towered over him. Yet I could barely see it. It must be covered in that slime.

They circled the fire many times, but they did not find blood trails leading away from the camp, or even signs of the horrible thing’s passage. Keran saw only slime, spikes, and blood by the fire.

Are we just going to sit here? Ulthar pleaded.

He’s dead. We can’t go looking for him anyway, Keran said. We’d never find anything in the dark, and if we did find that thing, what would we do?

Whatever the thing was, it’s been sated, Sharn told him quietly. It won’t be back. By the time it gets hungry again we’ll be long gone.

Keran didn’t say anything. It seemed cold to brush aside the death of their companion so quickly. But Sharn was sensible. Best to be callous, and concentrate on survival. Keran had learned that lesson from his time as a soldier.

Keran noted the fluting sounds had ceased. He now only heard the insect sounds of the night. No trace of the weirdly musical tones lingered. He walked over and took the equipment off the horses. He was still wide awake from the adrenaline of the ordeal.

The rest of the night was unpleasant, trying to take turns sleeping and starting awake at every noise. Keran felt miserable, knowing the pool of Geere’s blood dried only footsteps away. It brought back dreams and memories of the shark that had scarred him, his time at war, all the things he thought he had managed to forget.

Several times he caught himself imagining the thing, whatever it was, ready to take another one of them away to be eaten.

The three survivors wasted no time in leaving the area the next morning. No one mentioned the attack, although Keran walked about the camp, looking for anything they might have missed in the darkness. Somehow the creature had taken Geere away swiftly without leaving a trace. He saw more of the spikes on the ground. They were just like shark’s teeth. His hand shook as he collected them into a travel bag.

I want to know more about this thing.

They mounted the horses and left in haste. The group had been on the trail for several hours, traveling towards the city of Tokele when Sharn pulled his horse alongside Keran and mentioned the creature.

What did you see last night, Keran? You were as close as I was when you fell.

I tried to run it through, but I just fell forward where I thought it was, Keran told him. It was so big, yet I missed it. I fell flat.

It wasn’t just you. At first I couldn’t see it, but then, when I did see… something, I could see right through it. Like it wasn’t really there at all. Your sword must have gone right through without striking flesh.

Those spikes were really there. Geere was really there. Sharn did not argue these points. They fell silent.

It was two days later that the sound came again. Sharn heard it first, and nearly panicked, riding up to Keran, pointing back the way they had come.

It’s back! It followed us! he told Keran, his voice rising in fear. Keran simply spurred his mount faster. They galloped for the few minutes of light they had left, trying to leave the monster behind. When it became too dark to continue at speed, they stopped and circled on their horses.

Keran couldn’t discern which direction the sound came from. Sharn saw him looking all around.

"It has to be behind us.