The Fear You Know

8. The Tower

Eli woke, he couldn't be sure how long it had been since their arrival. He vaguely remembered twisted dreams of expanding hands and dark skies above, of voices of people he had once known echoing through his head and slipping through his thoughts as ephemeral as smoke. But now, he just felt tired, tired and stale, like a piece of bread left in the cupboard too long.

He sat up slowly aware only of the warmth of the fire blanketing over him as he tried to move. His back hurt, his chest hurt, his legs hurt and his arms hurt. He felt weak, and his mouth was dry.

Cold sweat had dried from his clothes leaving them heavy and stiff on his body. A bowl of water lay on the bedside table next to him, and a couple of rags were piled next to that. Another small bowl of crushed herbs sat in the middle of it all, abandoned. The smell of sickness hung around him, a mixture of dried sweat and something sweet. He sat up and rubbed at one of his eyes. His glasses had been removed making everything hazy and indistinct, they sat beside him now resting upon the faded wood of the rickety, bedside table.

He reached out and pulled them on, the tower suddenly sharpening into focus.

He looked around the room trying to see where Peter was and found him sitting at the dining table staring intently at Wink who stared back. Each of them held a fan of cards in one hand...or in Wink's case, a gummy appendage.

As Eli watched, the two of them threw a set of cards down on the table. Peter huffed in frustration as Wink hooted in triumph and oozed forward to scoop up the cards.

Peter picked up what was left and made a face, "Ew, now they're all.... wet."

"Essence of me, you're welcome."

"That's... that's really nasty."
Eli shifted to slide his feet off the bed, and the sound of the creaking metal caused the two to turn and look at him.

"Look who's finally awake," Wink said as Peter jumped up and rushed over.

"How are you feeling?"

Eli waved him off, "Fine." He looked Peter over with a critical eye, "You seem to be doing better."

The young man nodded, "I've been feeling a lot better. Your fever broke last night, but I didn't expect you to be up so early."

Eli grunted, stood slowly and waved Peter off when the young man rushed forward to help. He stretched slowly, his bare feet cold against the stone of the tower.

"Have you eaten?"

"Just a little, there was some stuff in the cupboard."

Eli nodded, 'Good, I didn't save your life just so you could starve."

Eli limped towards the stove, keenly aware of Peter standing to his side looking at him with an unspoken question on his face. Eli chose to ignore him at first, reaching into the cupboard in search of food. When Peter continued to stand there and stare at him, Eli finally gave in.

"I don't like to be stared at, Peter, so spit it out or go sit down."

Peter shuffled his feet awkwardly, "I.... sorry. I was just.... Last night, that... thing?"

Eli tested a rather stale piece of bread with the prod of his finger, "Ah yes, Daunting. Or at least, that's what I call it."

"Daunting?"

"Yes. It is an entity I have only ever encountered where the territories of the Depths, the Sheer and Exclusion meet. So far I am not entirely sure what fear it exemplifies, other than to postulate it might represent the fear of unknown entities that tend to be projected into dark, vast and lonely areas. Of course, this is simply my own conjecture. It is a minor fear and not established in any scholarly volumes that I have encountered."