The Pillar of Horns

Chapter Seven

"Was machst du hier?" said the ghost. His face was awash with confusion as he stared at the woman who had appeared before him. He knew, instinctively, that she was alive. No spectre stood before him, no mournful banshee or tormented soul. A woman, an alive one, had found her way into his world of death. "Was machst du hier?" he repeated.

Elspeth replied, defaulting to the translation method of British people world-wide. Loud and slow. "Hello. Do. You. Speak. English?" She was cupping her hands around her mouth as she spoke. It was pointless of course, there was no air here, no sound transmitted by vibrating molecules. She walked carefully towards the German ghost, smiling as she did.

"Some, enough to get by," the ghost replied, his accent thick.

"Oh, thank god."

"There is no God. Not here at least. You are not dead, am I right?"

"You're right there. Good, you're still conscious at least." Elspeth stepped down from the ruined building, her feet hitting the ground. Dust from her boot listed upwards lazily, as though suspended in water.

The ghost raised an eyebrow. "Conscious? Should I be concerned?"

"You know where you are, right?"

The ghost nodded, the loose cap on his head flopping as he did. "I do not claim to understand it. I am trapped between this life and the next am I right?"

"Yeah," Elspeth replied, remorse heavy on her voice. "Look, I need your help. Maybe, in exchange we can help you?"

"You English always want something in return."

"Not English, Scottish. But yes. A little tit for tat. You seen anything unusual around here." She looked at the ghost, taking in his appearance. "Aside from yourself."

"There are a few other spirits. They are not as...whole as me. Some are quite mad. I assume that isn't what you refer too. I think you're talking about the...other thing."

"Other thing?"

The ghost sat upon the doorframe of the building nearest him, scraping his feet idly across the ground. "It is, something. I am not sure what exactly. It is in your world, the living world, but as it stalks the island it...ripples in this one. Everything around here seems wrong as it passes. I don't know what it is, but it has been abroad more frequently recently."

"How often have you seen it?"

"I've never seen it. Not really, just it's wake in this world. I first saw it not long after my, uh, trip to this side. Then maybe once every few years. I've seen it these past three nights though." The ghost pressed his hands to the side of his head. "I worry, when I see it. I try and keep as far away as I can. I felt it once, its wake washing over me. I could feel anger building, like just being near it eroded my sanity."

Elspeth considered his words for a moment. She could feel a pull, her body calling her soul back to its fleshy prison. She resisted, willing herself to remain a little longer.

Cernunnos stalked the countryside, his legs striking the ground in impossible ways as the thundered over the hills. A mighty stag lording over its domain. He was relishing his new hunt. The few tributes his children had provided so far were perfunctory, simple sacrifices arranged by ritual. This was something different. He couldn't sense this new prey, there was no magic binding him to them. This hunt would rely on his skills. It was thrilling.

The stag crested the hill, striking a silhouette against the full moon. It looked down across the island, scanning it with senses beyond human. There, across the island two humans, their scents different subtly from his children, were scrabbling around in a set of old buildings.