The Land of Broken Roads

It didn’t matter where Socks put Dirt. On his back, under his belly, or even floating in the air, the ghosts found him immediately. Their fingertips brushed his skin or pinched him. They tugged his hair or the hem of his pants. Whispers from empty air wormed into his ears, rarely distinct. When Dirt could make out what they were saying, it was in Hèctor’s language and didn’t make sense, things like, “Is this the one?” or “They’re coming.”

Socks snarled at the empty air and clawed at shadows, to no avail.

“Let’s just go! Let’s get out!”

-Where?-

“Just anywhere! Out of town!”

Socks dug his claws into the overgrown dirt road and lunged forward at full speed, leaving the two men behind, hopefully unnoticed by the unquiet dead. The ghostly whispers faded against the sound of rushing wind and the town was small enough it took no time at all. The pup didn’t go too much farther, though, and once they were truly out into the brush, Socks turned and looked back again. Dirt felt deeply unwell, crazed with fear or some similar but deeper thing. He couldn’t make himself calm down, even though they were safe now, so he just clung to Socks’ soft gray fur and waited.

“Wait, what about Hèctor and Ignasi?” he said, poking his head up. He couldn’t bring himself to look at the town, though.

-They look fine so far. Do you want to go back?-

“I guess not.”

-I wonder why the dead humans are only bothering you and not me. Maybe this is why Mother never warned me about them. Do humans just stay where they died forever?-

“I don’t know, but that doesn’t sound right. The gods… the gods should…” Dirt puzzled over that. Anything to distract him from the other things in his mind right now. “Socks, did Mother or Father ever tell you about gods? What they are?”

-I asked after you saw that statue down there, but Father just said not to worry about it because they don’t matter anymore.-

“Did you get the milk?” asked a man standing nearby, fully formed. The moonlight made his pale shirt and hat glow, but he cast no shadow. He vanished a moment later.

Dirt shrieked and buried his face.

“Wake up, Galla. We have to go,” whispered a woman’s voice nearby.

“Go! They found us again!”

-I know.-

Socks dug in and ran again, circling the town this time instead of just running straight away from it. He stopped on the opposite side, and back a bit farther.

They paused, the pup watching with ghost sight and Dirt straining his ears to listen, hoping he heard nothing. Just crickets and some far-off chirping, and both of their heartbeats. Dirt was so scared that his was faster right now, which almost never happened.

-I never see them moving,­- said Socks. -I wonder how they go from place to place.-

Dirt didn’t care enough to answer and didn’t want to know. He never wanted to see another one as long as he lived. He felt like he was suffocating under crushing dread. All he could do was bury his face in the pup’s fur and try to think of something else.

-I don’t see as many on this side. I think this was the right place to go. There are some by the two men, but I don’t think they’re waking them up. Probably giving them nightmares.-

Socks padded around quietly, looking into town from different angles. No ghosts appeared and no whispers floated on the still air.

“I hate this. I wish I could at least know when they were coming. How do people deal with them? Are there just lots of them around, and humans all live like this?”

-That sounds unlikely. What do you want to do now?-

“I don’t know. You?”

-I think I am figuring something out. Just relax for a bit.-

“About what?”

-About ghost sight.-

“What about it?”

-How it works.-

“What do you mean?”

Socks didn’t answer right away and Dirt realized the pup had not an ounce of fear in him. Probably since they were leaving him alone. He was concerned and pitied his little human, but he wasn’t scared. That was comforting. Slightly.

-I want to know why I can’t see them move.-

“Maybe ghost sight isn’t actually the spirit world,” said Dirt, not really giving it much thought.

Socks lifted his head up backward and looked at Dirt with one eye. -Why do you say that?-

Now that he was on the spot, he had to hurry and come up with something, so he said, “Well, I’m pretty sure they’re moving and since you can’t see them doing it, what you see isn’t where they really are.”

-That’s what I was thinking. Why don’t I see spirits all over the place, all the time? I never really thought about what it was I am looking at, but now I wonder.-

“Is a ghost different from a spirit? I know it’s just words from my language, but maybe that’s a clue?”

“They’re gonna kill you!” said a man nearby, his voice quiet even though it sounded like a yell.

Dirt whimpered and tried to be strong, but knowing another dead person was right over there was too much.

-All right, I am getting annoyed with this. Hang on, little Dirt.-

Dirt buried his head, relieved to be finally leaving the town behind. He promised himself they’d come back for Hèctor and Ignasi, if for no other reason than to make sure they got Marina back, or what was left of her. Hopefully all of her, happy and healthy as ever. He kept his eyes closed, letting the worry leak out of him like sweat. As Socks ran, the moving air created a chill that felt soothing now instead of menacing.

It was a short run, though. Much shorter than Dirt expected.

-All right, you humans. Wake up and tell Dirt how to take care of ghosts,- said Socks in the new language. Loudly. Not just for Dirt to hear.

Dirt shot up and found himself in that barn where Hèctor and Ignasi were sleeping. The men were shocked awake, gasping and reaching for their weapons.

-Do not grab those. Tell Dirt how to take care of ghosts. They are bothering him.-

“He speaks!” said Ignasi, stunned, jaw hanging open. His beard had gotten all disheveled and he pushed some of the stray hairs out of his mouth with his tongue.

“No, he does not speak. That was something else,” said Hèctor, wary.

Dirt slid off Socks’ back and immediately regretted it, because the whispers started up again.

­“Of course he speaks,” said Dirt, anxiety redoubling. “I told you I can talk to him. Now, listen. Do you hear that?”

The men paused, never taking their eyes off Socks, who only barely fit under the roof. “You can’t bring it,” said a little girl, plain as day. She sounded younger than the dryads.

Hèctor’s eyes hardened and Ignasi went pale.

-Well? Do you know or not?-

“My apologies, friend Socks. I am slow to wake up. What is going on?” said Ignasi, running his hand down his face and tugging his beard to help wake up.

­-It is dead humans. They will not leave Dirt alone.-

“How is he doing that?” asked Hèctor, looking around. He poked a finger in one ear and twisted as if cleaning it out. He inhaled sharply and spun, looking behind himself. “Something touched my shoulder!”

They were starting to become visible again. Vague shapes in shadow, hints of movement in the corners of his vision.

“Please,” begged Dirt. “Please hurry and tell me what to do.”

Hèctor said, “The dead are upon us. It is too late.”

-There has to be something. There are more dead than living, so if they could kill you, there wouldn’t be any of you left.-

Dirt asked, “Isn’t there anything? Will they at least go away in the morning?”

Ignasi said, “If we let them be, we will not be here to see the morning.”

“So what do we do?!” yelled Dirt, trying his best to keep from growing frantic and screaming.

“Fire. The light might preserve us for a time,” said Hèctor, turning to look for wood.

Socks yanked the frame right out of a nearby wall with his mind and split it in midair. He dumped the pile of shattered wood fragments right next to Hèctor. -What else?-

Hèctor wasted no time and took an armful of firewood and stepped to the coals of the small fire from earlier. He set the wood in a triangle shape and leaned in to blow the embers. As he worked, invisible hands pulled his arms back and he fought against them with decisive forcefulness.

-Get back. I will light it,- said Socks to everyone.

Hèctor looked up, worried, but he backed away without arguing. Socks made a few sparks in the triangle and ignited them and a moment later, the flames were waist-high and hot.

-Now what?-

Ignasi said, “Now we wait. If they are strong enough to put the fire out, our souls will join theirs.”

“That’s it?” Dirt asked.

Hèctor said, “If it were our town, we would all gather together and hold a festival, with songs and bright fires to drive them out. We would put up signs to keep them away, and shout until they leave. Then we’d all get drunk. But this is not our town. There are some places that should never be touched. I should have known. I felt it when we walked in here. I should have paid attention.”

“That can’t be all! How do you keep them away the rest of the time? Does this happen every night in a human town?” said Dirt. A fingertip traced his spine from his neck to his pants and gave them a gentle tug backward. He ignored it, but couldn’t keep from shuddering so hard his teeth clacked.

Ignasi said, “This is their place. Hèctor is right. Our best chance was not to disturb them.”

A burning man, arms waving wildly, ran into the barn from outside and crashed into the fire. The area smelled like burning hair and roasted flesh and a scream of pain split their ears. And then stopped. The scent vanished. The man vanished. Socks picked up the scattered fire logs with his mind and put them back.

-Why weren’t they here in the daytime?- said Socks, loudly enough to get through to the minds of the three stunned humans.

“They cannot abide the light,” whispered Hèctor. “Their place is dark and cold. Empty.”

A boy screamed, shrill and desperate. Goblins laughed and a series of sickening thuds filled their ears. When they looked for the source, there was nothing there.

Dirt slapped a hand to his neck, feeling a deep scratch. When he pulled his palm away, he saw blood.

­-Dark and cold and empty? Then make more light. Dirt, make a light.-

Dirt couldn’t move. He stared at the blood in horror. The ghosts could hurt him for real. They were going to kill him. He was going to die here and become one of them.

-Dirt. DIRT.-

“What?” he whispered, unable to tear his eyes away from his palm.

Socks howled, so loud the humans had to plug their ears with both hands. His enormous lungs kept the note going, going, going.

Then he inhaled again and howled once more. -MINE,- yelled the wolf in their minds.

In the silence following, there were no whispers, no ghostly voices. No fingers traced Dirt’s flesh or tugged his hair.

-Now, my dear little Dirt, make a light.-

Dirt complied before he’d fully regained his wits. He snapped his fingers and the little ball of flame appeared above his head. In the light of the flames from the fire, it had hardly any effect.

-Make it bigger. Brighter.-

“I can do that,” said Dirt. He inhaled mana and fed it in, and when the ball of flame started to get bigger, Dirt compressed it instead. He pictured the sun in his mind, just a little thing the size of his pinky fingernail in the sky, but with tremendous, unwavering power.

The flame gleamed hotter as it compressed. Its color brightened from orange to yellow to white until it shone more brilliantly than even the waist-high flames.

Then Dirt made a second one, only possible after watching Socks make fields of sparks so many times. Then another. He held his palm out and gathered them to it, having them slowly rotate around each other in the air.

­-Good. That is very bright. They do not like it. I think I know what ghost sight is,- said the pup, just to him.

“What?”

-It’s the border. The skin where the spirit touches the physical, or maybe the world of magic. I’m not sure but that’s what I see. It’s not either place, just between. Too much happening on this side pushes them back out. Noise and commotion and light. You are good at those things, so make them.-

Fear left him and was replaced by anger. Dirt turned and strode out into the night. He made the lights leave his hand and circled them above his head like gems in a crown of glory.

“Come get me now, you dead ghosts! Come get me now!” he shouted. He stomped as he walked and swung the staff in front of him like he was swatting away goblins.

Ignasi and Hèctor rushed out after him, followed by Socks. The pup sent him a puff of affection tinged with pride and relief, and Dirt sent it back. His mind felt clear now. It was bright as sunlight out here, and nothing could harm him.

“Where are you going?” asked Ignasi. He seemed calm, like he was starting to get used to this.

“I’m going where the stupid ghosts came from. That’s what they get for messing with Dirt!”

The swirling lights above his head made shadows dance everywhere, as if trying to escape the burning gaze of one that could eat them. Some whispers still reached him as he got closer to the tower, but not many.

Each footstep was set heavy, resolute, and unwavering. Dirt felt like something long forgotten had awoken in him, a portion of the man he might once have been. His mind was clearer than ever as the focus required to keep the lights burning pushed away all unrelated and useless thoughts. Mana cycled naturally within him, guided by a will sharpened to razor’s accuracy.

Dirt stopped before the tower, burning white light piercing every window. Inside the main door, however, on the ground floor, the interior was shadowy and dark. Black fog swirled as a sense of menace and hatred assaulted his spirit.

“Be gone!” he screamed, his voice high-pitched, like a woman’s. It had been a long while since any part of him had seemed wrong, but it wasn’t the voice he expected. He gestured with the staff and screamed again, so fiercely his whole body tightened up. With full discipline and sincerity he commanded, “Be gone!”

The blackness swirled. He’d been wrong. It wasn’t fog. Something in there was eating the light itself.

Dirt waved the staff and summoned a strong gust of wind to blow right into the doorway. He heard it knocking the dry bones around, crushing the skulls in that pile against the walls. He stepped forward. And again.

“Try and eat this, you old ghosts! Come eat this light!” He made a fourth light. A fifth. The gleam from the pale tower stone was so bright it hurt his eyes, and everything else was black from losing his night vision.

He stepped forward again. And again. Right up to the doorway. The wall of quivering blackness was an arm’s reach away, retreating by inches under the assault of the wind and lights.

-Don’t go into that.- said Socks, just to him again.

Dirt blinked, having almost forgotten anyone else was around. It felt wonderful, reliving his old self. “I won’t.” He waved a hand and fired a light into the midst of the blackness. It shook and struggled as if poisoned from inside.

He stepped forward again and the black retreated. “Be gone, dead ones. Harm the living no longer!” Dirt waved a finger and stuck a light to the interior wall, right above the doorway. He created another one, just as bright as the rest. He stuck it to the wall a few feet to the side. Then again, and again.

And then it was over. The blackness succumbed and split apart, leaving nothing but a messy, well-lit room, dominated by a pile of skulls.

Socks poked his nose in the doorway and gathered the skulls together with his mind. Then, with one solid swat, he crushed the entire pile into dust, which the wind carried out a far window and into the night, where it spread into a cloud and slowly dissipated.

Dirt let all the lights wink out except one, finally relaxing. He exhaled and leaned on the staff.

All was silent again. Not even crickets or birds this time, after all that ruckus. No shapes hiding in shadow, not gentle tugs or menacing whispers.

-They’re gone. That seems like too much work for just a bunch of dead humans,- said Socks, to everyone again.

Ignasi laughed.