“I don’t know what to tell you” the gruff voice moans with annoyance “the mist comes in and I stay inside doing my job.” Elroy lifts his forehead from an open palm hand shaking it softly and looks at his guest quizzically pondering aloud “why would you want to know about the mist anyways? It’s just mist.”
“Oh come now Honey, they are only being inquisitive” a voice calls out with a touch of sweet mockery only to be followed by the man’s wife entering with a pot of tea and two cups. “Elroy can be a bit grumpy when he knows a storm is coming in. Don’t mind it, he’s sweet in the center.” She winks at the guest and gives Elroy a little peck before whispering “already put the honey in your cup” and exiting with a coy giggle. Elroy looks back only catching a glimpse of Janet before she vanishes around the corner. He sighs heavily before pouring himself and his guest the tea. Taking a long sip he looks across the table “tell me again Croemartee what’s your interest in the mists.”
The gentleman reaches down and with a long pale fingers delicately lifts the tea cup to take a sip. He smiles and with a voice that carries an air of scholarly training answers “I’ve been studying historical records and believe these mists to be” he lapses for a moment looking for the right word before finishing with “too consistent.”
“Alright, but what does that mean?”
“I do not know but I’d like to. It’s why I’m here after all” Croemartee says raising and spreading his hands in front of him like a blooming flower hiding a secret within. His fine robe’s sleeves brush the table as he moves almost knocking over the tea cup. Elroy finds it odd that a robe of such fine material, with decorative embroidery along the seams too, would be so oversized but his guests frame is so slight that the robe still looks as it it will swallow him whole like a dragon turtle to a sailor caught in its maw.
“Well lad here’s what I can say. I’d never come or go during the fog. Too dangerous first off. Can’t see if and where the waters come in. Go for a walk and might end up swept away. After all, the land between here and the mainland isn’t big, you know it yourself having walked here, but give it some hours and parts of it will start to vanish as the tides change. For that matter I wouldn’t leave even if it was safe because” he puffs up his chest as if preparing to below a grand exultation only to be cut off by Janet, again from the kitchen “because you’re the fourth generation lighthouse keeper, right Honey?” She peeks around the corner flashing a smile and finishing “It’s your duty after all to make sure that all ships make it safely into the harbor of Alcern! If it wasn’t for this lighthouse how could the great merchants of this fair city ever hope to do business.”
“Yes, Sweetheart, that is, indeed, what I was going to say” he lets out with a bit of exasperation again watching Janet disappear back to her sizzling pans just barely audible from the table. “With that all said, I’ve had folks leave here, only two mind you, one when I was a mere child and once when I when I was a young man. Neither made it back to the mainland. My father said that they both must have been hit by a wave and swept away. Beyond that I’ve heard that a half dozen or so have tried to reach the lighthouse when the mists are out and also gone missing but that’s more a story to scare children than fact by any account I’ve been able to find.” Croemartee drums his fingers softness as he watches the smile change to that pondering smile creeping across his face as Elroy goes on with his account. He waits a moment, letting Elroy shift uncomfortably in the near silence, broken by the sound of a boiling pot of water that has just joined the orchestra of kitchen work in the background. “So things go missing in the mist. Seems normal by all accounts and rather logical given the tidal patterns that have been recorded to accompany them.” Croemartee’s fingers stop and, lifting his hands tighter, leans forward a bit. “So things go missing, but you haven’t mentioned if anything ever comes out.” Elroy’s complexion shifts from its usual politely red tone to something more in line with the pale complexion Croemartee wears. Elroy watches his guest’s smile twists up at the corners and wonders if their eyes, like those of the orange cat that wanders the island, will narrow, as the feline’s do in the moment when prey comes into sight. “Come now, Elroy” Croemartee continues making the implied question a reality. “What has the mist given us?”
Elroy lifts himself warily and steps around his guest to a large trunk in the corner. Well cared for, the old studded leather appears finely crafted. “It was clearly well loved and taken care of over what must have been at least a few generations. Oh and well oiled too” Croemartee thinks to himself as Elroy lifts the lid begins to rummage before removing a wooden box about the size of a small knapsack. Elroy apologizes and moves towards the kitchen. Even with him trying to hide the box Croemartee noticing signs of hidden compartments, and the mechanisms for unlocking them, on the box as it passes. Alone, for the moment, he dips his pen and sketches the trunk and box before taking a few quick notes: about dozen missing; at least 40 years; mist tied to special inconsistent patterns; local lore ingrained; no returnees, but something has. Croemartee lifts the nib and considered for a moment before Elroy reenters holding a small bag, just a bit larger than a potion of healing, by a drawstring.
Elroy gently lowers the bag onto the table before sitting and eyeing Croemartee again. This guest was an odd one for sure. His gaunt face, with cheek bones almost protruding, and eyes, giving the impression that they were sunken to the point where one might assume he was dead. For that matter it almost made Elroy feel that he was sitting with a corpse. Still, there was something about the strangeness that made sharing the object feel good, no, Elroy correct to himself, alright. Only alright.
“This was found by my grandfather” Elroy expresses in a loud whisper as if he’s both trying to let Croemartee hear him but also make sure no one can. With a slight tremor in his hands Elroy begins to undo the drawstring “I was told he found it just sitting on the ground in the middle of the land after the mists came in. He assumed it must have just washed up there. He never liked talking about it but” he pulls back the bag “I was told it moved a bit” a hollow thunk as a dried human hand severed just above the wrist hits the table. It’s skin a deep grey color, the life long drained from it, except for a spiraling design painted or maybe tattooed on it in the center. Three strands wrapping out from a central point with a circular motion. Each strand, equidistant from one another, curving slightly forward before swinging the other one way and finishing with the tips curving completely over, in the original direction, and in on itself.
Elroy averts his eyes but Croemartee leans in mouthing “fascinating” to himself. He feels the power behind the yellow pattern reach into his mind as if the tendrils were rising off the flesh and extending themselves in an attempt to wriggle behind his eyes and then deeper still. “No no, I haven’t given you any such permission and I don’t intend to. Now sit still while I do my analysis” he thinks to himself as he reaches into his bag, lifts out a book, and flips it open. The tome with it’s soft worn black leather, an embossed pattern his friend Nero once made, now only barely visible, and it’s pages and pages of hand written notes which he flips through rapidly looking for the correct solution. Finding the specific page he begins mumbling to himself and gesturing with his free hand. His concentration unwavering as Janet enters to announce “the food will be” before stopping herself mid sentence to watch. Finally he places the tome down and, with his newly freed hand, plucks a white feather and pearl from his bag continuing with his mumbling and gestures. Finishing Croemartee lifts the pearl, in the open palm of his left hand, and lowers the feather with his right to touch the ocher symbol. The moment they make contact both the pearl and feather give out a hiss and disintegrating.
“Very interesting” Croemartee finally announces brushing the dust off his hands. “Thank you so much for the hospitality! I really wish I could stay for the meal but I must be on my way. Elroy, please put that away. It’s a ghastly thing and I wouldn’t recommend having it out when the mists come in.” Elroy stares, wide eyed, for a moment, and, snapping back to awareness, begins to hastily place the hand back in it’s bag and with Janet’s help returns it to it’s box and then the trunk.
“You’re leaving, but the mist is coming in? You said it yourself” Janet questions as she turns back from the trunk and makes her way back to the cacophony emanating from the kitchen “and didn’t Elroy just finish explaining how folks don’t tend to fair so well out there with the mists and tides?”
“Correct you are Janet but my research simple demands it. I do hope you’ll both wish me the best of luck and not worry too much” and without waiting for a response Croemartee stand, lifting his bag, turning in a single motion, and walks straight to the door. As he swings it open, his spare hand rises, lifted the hood of his robe and, with a smile and nod at the couple, he exits, closing the door politely behind him.
The wind begin to carry a frigid character, that very specific kind that one can only find at the precipice of the oceans. The mist was already rather thick and Croemartee had no time to spare. He quickly marched down the lighthouse path. The grassy hill quickly turning to large rocks, smaller ones, pebbles, and finally just dirt and bare rock. He identified the easiest path and began walking as the mist thickened keeping his ears perked up for the sound of waves that might rush towards him. “Probably should have send a note to Nero or Val’aran” he thought aloud to the mist only a moment before he vanished from the stretch between the lighthouse and the beaches east of Alcern.
It’s been about three years since then. Haven’t seen him myself but Nero told me it only took a year for him to pop back up. I’m hoping I find him soon, after all, these mists sounds very interesting. - Datrius Cerid
leylinia Stories DatriusCerid NeroNightsbane Croemartee Mists