Nightscapes





The Horror from the Well by R.S. Cartwright



9

The Horror From the Sky


The rapid click click click click of the revolver's cylinder as Aaron spun it was the only sound echoing in the cab of Jade's truck. They were on their way back to the old ghost trap. Bob was driving, Aaron on the passenger's side, Jade in the middle. The starstones and dynamite rode in the truck bed. Darkness had already come, Jade not waking Aaron till nearly eight. Bob put the starstones and dynamite in the truck as Aaron grabbed a quick bite to eat. There was a final check. Aaron grabbed the revolver, and, as an afterthought, the piece of paper with the chant.

They rode in silence, no one venturing a word. No one knew what to say. They knew what they intended, what they had to do, but hadn't formulated a plan. Simple enough, dynamite the wells and replace the starstones. Simple. Cut and dry.

"What if they're there?" Aaron suddenly questioned. His voice was soft and uncertain.

"What if who's there?" Jade replied.

"The goddam worshippers," Aaron answered. "The people you saw last night."

"You got the gun," Bob said coldly. His voice seemed automated.

Aaron's eyes scanned the death dealer. "Yeah, I got the gun," he echoed softly.

Silence again. Aaron's mind played over the course. The Route 558 crossing; Lower Elkton Road; Church Hill Road -- dirt and gravel; the old bridge, The Hanging Tree. He rolled his head, looked at the night sky. Bright stars shown, dull ones drowned in the light of a gibbous moon. The sky was free of clouds. Trees arched higher above the road as they approached Church Hill Road's gravel mouth. Shadows danced in the woods. Aaron grinned as his eyes passed through the thickening woods.

There's things there, ugly evil sons-of-a-bitch ... Like that son-of-a-bitch right there!

He shifted as his eyes watched the thing shambling out of the woods. It glanced at the truck, then chased them down the road. Aaron stuck his head out the window, looking back. The thing still came. He shook his head, and with a quick blink of an eye and a glance, it was gone.

Fucking mind games!

Church Hill Road came up rather sudden. They nearly missed the turn. Bob whipped the steering wheel. The truck slid in the gravel. Church Hill Road lay before them, its bed of stone rushing beneath the truck. Ahead in the darkness lay the cutoff, then they'd be on foot into the woods. Aaron's heart pounded in his ears as they climbed the final hill. A sharp drop and they'd be on their way down the other side to park and walk.

"Kill the lights,' Aaron said, breaking the silence.

"They can't see the ..." Bob began softly.

"Kill the goddam lights!" Aaron was nervous, agitated.

"All right, man," Bob replied. "Keep a cool head."

Bob cut the headlights, coasting by the light of the moon into the hollow where the old covered bridge once spanned Middle Fork Run creek. They pulled up to the stump of the old Hanging Tree. The engine died with the turn of the key. They climbed from the truck into the soft silver light of the low hanging moon.

Aaron stood next to the truck, his hands on his hips, his eyes scanning the narrow valley along the little creek. Yep! Goddam Wolfman territory all right! This is where he'd fucking live! Foggy mist risin' from the creek bottom, a white blanket along the creek. Moon risin' in the hollow -- mist ringing it, pale. Aaron shook his head. Yep, goddam Wolfman territory all right!

"Well, let's get this over with," Bob broke the silence. Aaron nearly jumped from his shoes.

"Right," Aaron said cautiously. He turned to the truck.

Bob grabbed the case of dynamite, Aaron the sack of starstones, and Jade the flashlight from the glove box. They headed down the path into the woods. There was silence. No words. Unnerving. Tension was building. Aaron swore their imaginations equaled or surpassed anything a fiction writer could write. The soft hazy silver light of the moon cut oblique angles through the trees, creating all manner of ominous and grotesque shapes. Things danced along the edge of the path, reaching for them, taunting them. Aaron imagined laughing -- maniacal, almost demonic, but reasoned it was only in his mind. Sorting facts from fantasies, a sudden realization came over him. He stopped, peered about, his head cocked, his eyes wide. He was puzzled why he hadn't noticed it before. There was dead silence -- no sound at all.

He caught his breath as he shook his head. Not good. No little furry animals scurrying in the underbrush for something to eat; no night owls; no natural denizens of the dark. Nothing. Bob and Jade gazed inquisitively at him. They hadn't noticed.

"Don't you hear?" Aaron asked, turning his eyes to them. They paused in silence to listen. Bob shook his head no.

"Hear what?" Jade asked, echoing Bob's thoughts. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Aaron replied softly. "No goddam sounds. No animals, no wind, not even the damn water in the creek."

"It's started," Jade whispered, and Aaron nodded agreement.

"What's started?" Bob questioned apprehensively, glancing between Aaron and Jade.

"Whatever's going to happen tonight," Jade replied softly.

"Oh great," Bob said. "Whatever's gonna happen. Just great." Bob trained his ears on the silence of the darkness, glanced at the case of dynamite he held, then at Aaron. "Come on," he whispered, shrugging his shoulders. "Let's go."

They continued on in silence, a silence now more pronounced, more pervading than before. They came to the path cutting over the hill to the clearing where the old house stood waiting. The woods along this second path were so thick that no light from the moon could get through. There were no grotesque shadows like before, nothing to stimulate their imaginations except absolute blackness. Absolute blackness, except where the flashlight fought to cut knife-like through the darkness. Aaron kept glancing back, half expecting to see a pair of glowing eyes steaming ten feet off the ground. But there was nothing there; only blackness.

Bob suddenly stopped on the path. "Hold it," he whispered.

Bob had stopped so suddenly that Aaron had walked into him, nearly dropping the sack of starstones. "What is it?" Aaron questioned.

"Kill the flashlight," Bob said, ignoring Aaron's question.

Ahead somewhere in the dark was a faint sound. It was soft, sounding like flute music, ethereal, unearthly. They paused, listening to the music. Soft and sweet, hypnotic, yet, distasteful, the softness due to distance. They shook themselves back to reality from the black void they found themselves sinking into.

They exchanged glances, and continued on the path toward the sound. Ahead was the small clearing, awash in the soft silver light of the moon. Beyond rested the larger clearing where the old house stood. They stopped at the edge of the small clearing, and looked through the trees toward the old house. There was dancing firelight, presumably torches, and dancing shadows. Through the trees they tried to count the number of people there. It was impossible to tell. The dancing shadows merged with the surrounding shadows, preventing an accurate count. The music of the flutes permeated the air.

They slowly crossed the small clearing, following the edge of the woods. On the other side they ducked into a line of trees and followed it until directly opposite the southwest corner of the old house in the second clearing. They were in clear view of the stone altar and the people gathered there, the worshippers of Yog-Sothoth. Yet, they were still hidden in the line of trees.

Jade, Aaron, and Bob crouched in the shadows of the woods, watching the people gathered at the altar. There were only three of them, and they were dancing around the altar. Four torches were planted in the ground behind the altar, their flickering flame casting eerily dancing shadows across the ground and altar.

"I'd say the odds are fairly even," Aaron whispered.

"Maybe," Jade whispered in reply.

Still the music permeated the air. It danced in Aaron's mind. There were ghost musicians, none to be seen. Colors suddenly erupted from the torches, danced into the sky and around those dancing at the altar. The light coalesced into a rapidly spinning whirlpool, then faded. Aaron rubbed his eyes, then looked back at the altar and the people dancing around it. The swirling colors were gone.

A sudden hideous cry split the night. Aaron bolted eyes to the source of the cry. Four horrid looking creatures sat perched on the edge of the old house's roof, the west side, glaring down at the altar and those dancing around it. They were winged things with wings like bats. Their eyes glowed a soft red, and their bodies were covered in tufts of green fur. Barbed tails flickered behind them. They sported long curving fangs with claws to match. It was hard to tell just how big they were.

As Aaron watched, the things suddenly turned their heads, looking straight at Aaron, Jade, and Bob. There was a silent moment, then one of the creatures hissed and lifted into the air, gliding on its huge bat-like wings toward Aaron and his friends. Its claws were outstretched. It neared, opened its mouth, saliva dripping into the darkness. Aaron closed his eyes and rolled back to fend it off. He dropped the sack of starstones as he raised his arms to shield his face.

The fucking starstones ain't gonna work! Nothin is gonna goddam ... It ... it shoulda hit me by now!

He lowered his arms and opened his eyes. Bob and Jade were staring at him, their eyes questioning. Aaron glared at Bob, then Jade, then the old house. The four winged trolls were gone.

"Tell ya later," Aaron said. "The music got to me. That's all."

They turned their attention to the altar and those dancing around it. The dancing was coming to an end. The people there were spacing themselves around three sides of the altar, the north side remaining open. They lowered their heads and began to chant, their voices monotone and steady.

From the dark of the surrounding wood the whippoorwills began their hideous song in perfect unison with the music of the flutes. In a few moments the chanting, music of the flutes, and song of the whippoorwills reached an equal pitch. The chant was repeated over and over, echoing through the woods.

"Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth cf'fhtagn! Az Yog-Sothoth
fhtagnl naguithaukwa. Naguithaukwa fhtagnl!
Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth cf'fhtagn! Az Yog-Sothoth
fhtagnl naguithaukwa. Naguithaukwa fhtagnl!

Iä! Iä! Yog-Sothoth cf'fhtagn. Az Yog-Sothoth
fhtagnl naguithaukwa fhtagnl! Ayakithaukwa!
Ayakn riuk'fnor nglui claugm naugn! Ai! Ai!"


The nagging doubt of something not quite right hit Aaron's mind again. It was something he should know. He sat back, pounding his memory, thinking of the chant. The chant ... The chant. He followed it with his mind as the people gathered around the altar sang it in unison with the flutes and the whippoorwills. Things were happening fast, too fast. He shook his head, his eyes locked on those at the altar, his mind singing the chant.

Ayakithaukkwa. Goddam ayakithaukwa. Ayakn ... Ayakn ... Az Yog-Sothoth fhtagnl naguithaukwa fhtagnl. Naguithaukwa -- that's the goddam key. Whatever the Hell it means ...

"Damn! It's gettin cold," Bob whispered, breaking Aaron's thoughts.

Cold, cold! Something about the cold. Something about ...

"Yeah, it's freezing," Jade added. "It shouldn't be like this. Not this time of year, anyway."

Aaron glanced wide-eyed at Jade. That's it! Freezing! Cold and freezing! The realization struck Aaron like a blinding flash of light. He felt stupid, should have known it all along. The frozen bodies dropped from the sky; six months later. Whateley said to watch the sky. The sky!

"That's it!" Aaron exclaimed. He shifted his gaze to the people at the altar, thinking they may have heard him. They hadn't. "That's it!"

"What?" Jade questioned softly. "What's it?"

"Jade! We should've known, should've known from the start!"

"What the Hell are you talking about?" Bob asked. There was impatience in his voice.

"What they're chanting!" Aaron exclaimed as he felt the first vibration of approaching footsteps. Something huge was coming. He glanced at those gathered around the black stone altar. The chanting, music of the flutes, and the song of the whippoorwills were loud enough that Aaron knew he couldn't be overheard.

The wind suddenly picked up, a cold wind whistling through the trees. Aaron glanced around, his eyes taking in the trees. Not a branch, not a leaf was out of place. Nothing moved. Aaron smiled, knowing the truth. He glanced back at Jade and Bob, and continued, "Whateley warned me! There's no goddam horror in those wells! It comes from the goodam sky!"

The vibration in the ground was more discernible. Soon it would be audible. The thing from the sky was close. Terribly close.

"From the sky?" Bob asked.

"Yeah! From the sky!" Aaron answered.

The air suddenly grew colder. The wind picked up, slowly at first, then roaring in the trees. Aaron glanced up again, smiling. He knew it before he saw it. Still nothing moved, still no branch or leaf out of place. The sound was there, but the physical evidence was not.

"Look! Wind and nothing fucking moves!" Aaron was shouting now, the wind deafening above the chanting, flute music, and whippoorwills. "The chant! Don't you see?! 'Az Yog-Sothoth fhtagnl naguithaukwa'! What bob wrote! It's not naguithaukwa! It's nagu Ithaqua!"

"Ithaqua!" Jade exclaimed. "The Windwalker!"

"Right! The Windwalker!" Aaron shouted. The pounding footsteps were now clearly audible. "The chant is Az Yog-Sothoth fhtagnl nagu Ithaqua! Ayak Ithaqua! Ayakn riuk'fnor nglui claugm naugn!"

"What does it mean?" Bob shouted.

"As Yog-Sothoth dreams now Ithaqua dreams!" Aaron was translating. "Awake Ithaqua! Awaken and rise from your great kingdom in the north!"

"What are we gonna do?" Jade asked, her eyes growing wide.

"We gotta stop those creeps before it's too late," Aaron replied, gesturing to the three at the altar. "You hear the footsteps?"

"Yeah!" Bob shouted. "What the Hell is ..."

"Ithaqua!" Jade interrupted.

Aaron began to rise with the gun. Bob grabbed his shoulder. Aaron glanced at him.

"What about the dynamite?" Bob shouted.

"Go ahead! Use it! Dynamite those damned wells! Better to be safe."

Bob rose and disappeared into the shadows, taking the dynamite with him.

Aaron stepped from the line of trees into the light of the torches. The three at the altar took no notice of him as they continued their chanting. He leveled the gun. Then paused. It was a moment out of time. Images flashed before his eyes. They are people. Like me! I just can't kill ... He pushed the thought from his mind. People they may be, but Ithaqua wasn't. They were calling on that thing from the cold Arctic north. And Ithaqua was coming!

Whateley's words flashed through Aaron's mind. If the starstones don't get the worshippers, this will. Aaron glanced at the gun and smiled. Yeah, it sure will all right! "You're not gonna bring that goddam thing here!" Aaron suddenly shouted.

The three at the altar had heard. They stopped their chanting, and turned to face Aaron. The ethereal music of the flutes continued to echo across the clearing, the mad song of the whippoorwills echoing from the surrounding woods. One of them stepped toward Aaron. No turning back. Aaron heard three shots ring out, consecutively, and knew then that he had fired the gun. Consecutively, the three at the altar toppled to the ground. Aaron staggered backward with the sudden realization that he had just killed three people. His mind reeled. Makes no difference. Makes no difference! They served the Great Old Ones. No coming back from that. No coming back ...

A hideous roar split the night sky. Aaron dropped the gun between his feet as he looked up. The great black shadow of something evil rose up above the trees and against the night sky, blotting out the stars. The chanting was gone, the three at the altar dead, but the whippoorwills still sang, the eerie music of the flutes still drifted across the clearing. Aaron realized that it was too late, that killing the three at the altar had not stopped Ithaqua. For Ithaqua had awakened, and now Ithaqua stood in the woods just north of the old house, towering high into the night sky.

There was a sudden flash of light. The explosion cut through Aaron's senses. The first artesian well was gone. The sounded faded as Aaron ran for cover, diving behind a large oak. He rolled over and came to his knees as another well detonated. In the flash of light he saw Jade running across the clearing in front of the old house, running toward him. Aaron's eyes went wide with fear. What the Hell are you doing?

"Get down!" Aaron shouted at her as he jumped to his feet. "Get down!!"

Aaron's words caught on the fringes of Jade's hearing. She stopped in her tracks, glancing at him inquisitively. A huge shadow suddenly crawled across the moonlit clearing as the sound of a huge footfall echoed. Jade glanced up, staggering backward. Ithaqua was on the move again.

Time slowed, became forever. The light of another explosion momentarily lit the clearing near the house, but the sound was gone. Aaron burst from behind the oak tree, lunged toward Jade. His senses were dimmed, all sound gone. He did not hear the explosion, did not hear the flute music, did not hear the song of the whippoorwills, did not hear the roar of the Great Windwalker, did not hear Jade scream as she stumbled backward away from the great black shadow from the cold north.

"Noooo!!!!!" Aaron screamed, but he did not hear himself.

Aaron continued toward Jade, the ground seeming to suck at his feet, holding him back, slowing him down. He ran, and ran -- continued to run, feeling as though he was making no progress. If that thing should get Jade, should take her, he knew the result, knew what would happen. He couldn't let that happen. He wasn't going to let that happen.

He was almost there, almost to Jade, when the light of the torches near the altar suddenly were gone. He glanced toward the torches, then looked up. The great shadow of Ithaqua lunged over the roof of the decaying old house, lunged across the clearing, turning everything black. Jade continued to scream, stumbled backward, bringing her hands to her face in defense. Ithaqua reached for her from the sky above the old house. Aaron lunged for her, diving, his feet leaving the ground, a last effort to knock her out of Its way.

Ithaqua was there first. Jade's screams died away as the great black shape of Ithaqua engulfed her, then lunged skyward on a rush of air. Aaron hit the ground where Jade had stood a split second earlier. He rolled over on his back, looking to the sky. The shadow of Ithaqua was up there, blotting out the stars, moving north toward the great frozen wastes of the Arctic. Sound returned as Aaron watched, a maniacal laughter mixed with what sounded like the tinkling of wind chimes trailing into the darkened sky, and fading with distance. Then there was silence.

Aaron struggled to his feet. He peered around the clearing, again noting the soft silver light of the moon. The torches still burned, cutting slanted shadows across the black stone altar and the three bodies of those who had called Ithaqua forth from the cold northern wastes. The whippoorwills had fallen silent. The hideously alluring music of the flutes was gone. Only the occasional crackling of the torch flames were heard. Aaron slowly turned his eyes to the sky once again. Ithaqua was returning to his resting place, taking Jade with it.

Aaron continued to stare at the sky long after the shadow of Ithaqua had faded from view. A fourth blast suddenly echoed across the clearing. He felt the heat of the blast, and noted that the cold that had come with Ithaqua was now fading. There were two more blasts, the last of the artesian wells, a moment of silence, then Bob came walking across the clearing, carrying the sack of starstones and the flashlight that Jade had carried.

"Flashlight's broken," Bob said. Aaron remaining silent, his eyes still turned to the night sky. "What happened? Where'd that goddam thing go?"

Aaron paused, then slowly turned his head, his cold eyes boring into Bob's soul. "Gone," was all Aaron said.

Bob noted the cold look on Aaron's face, a detached look, hollow and dark, devoid of compassionate emotion. Bob realized that, in an instant of time, what it meant to be human had been viscously torn from Aaron. Aaron was different now and would always be different. Bob glanced quickly around the clearing, fearfully knowing the reason for the change which had come over Aaron.

"I'm sorry, Aaron," Bob said softly, turning his eyes back to him.

"She'll be back." Aaron's voice was soft and cold. "In six months. Frozen. Dead. After that thing has fed on her. She'll be back." Aaron paused as he reflected on what had just happened. His eyes stared into the night sky, but it was not the night sky he saw. He saw Ithaqua and others of his kind. Once thought of as great works of fiction, now coming to know it was all too real. "Ithaqua, Shub-Niggurath, Dagon, Azathoth, Yog-Sothoth, Cthulhu, and all the others," Aaron suddenly said, his voice still cold and soft. "They're out there. Waiting." He paused, glanced at Bob, and added, "Come on. Let's replace those starstones."

Bob nodded. They replaced the starstones in the depressions of the five points making up the larger star around the old house. When they had finished, they piled the bodies of the three worshippers atop the stone altar and set them ablaze. They stepped back, waiting, making sure that nothing but the bodies burned. The bodies were quickly reduced to ashes. Bob tossed the broken flashlight into the brush, then extinguished all the torches but one, the one they would use to leave the old house behind.

"Shouldn't we tell somebody?" Bob said as they crossed the clearing.

"Who would believe?" Aaron said softly.

They stopped long enough to pick up the gun where Aaron had dropped it, then continued to the narrow path that led to the first clearing. At the head of the narrow path Aaron stopped and looked back at the old house. He stared into the darkness, the old house buried in the shadows as the moon rapidly descended toward the horizon. The old house seemed just a broken down old house again.

Aaron suddenly became aware of nature. Night sounds were returning. A warm breeze was whispering through the trees, the branches and leaves swaying; crickets chirped their songs in the dark; somewhere far away the hoot of a night owl echoed. The night had grown kind and gentle. And Aaron smiled.

Turning away, Aaron could have sworn he saw three faintly glowing bubbles of green light rising amidst the trees near the old house. He continued to turn away, didn't want to know. No, not Yog-Sothoth. Not after this shit. He didn't really care at the moment, didn't want a confirmation.

Bob and Aaron exchanged glances. By the soft light of the remaining torch they made their way down the path to the creek, then to the truck. They extinguished the torch, tossing it into the little creek. Aaron stood next to the truck, paused a moment as he glanced up into the sky once again.

He had made up his mind. His was now a new path in life, a new destiny. We would fight the Great Old Ones, those he knew as fiction, which had become all too real. And in six months he would return to the old house to get what had been taken from him this night.


R.S. Cartwright

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© 1997 Edward P. Berglund
"The Horror from the Well": © 1997 R.S. Cartwright. All rights reserved.
Graphics © 1997 Old Arkham Graphics Design. All rights reserved. Email to: Corey T. Whitworth.

Created: August 11, 1997; Current Update: August 9, 2004