Mist Mad – Part 2

Follow the link for part 1.

“Mist Mad”

An hour’s worth of candle burned down before Marten came home.  He hung his knife on the wall, and sat down at the table.  He stared into his bowl of fish stew, then reached into his pocket.

He placed my ball next to my plate, and patted my shoulder.

“What of the creature?”  Mama tore a loaf of bread into three chunks and passed one to each of us.

Marten shook his head.  “Jed Smithson’s hammer rusted away to nothing when he brought it within a foot of the thing.”  He bit off a hunk of bread, chewed and swallowed.  “It has a strong will. Seemed physically weak, but that might have been an act.”

“What can be done?”  Mama glanced at me.  “Burn it?  Push it back out to sea?”

Marten sighed.  “Too wet and windy for a fire.  Getting close is risky.”  He dipped his spoon in his stew, but didn’t eat.  “It was trying to breathe on us.  We hammered stakes around it, to keep it contained.  Sy’s riding out to Lyrecrest, to fetch a mage-priest.”  He made a face.  “I doubt they’ll come before winter’s end.”

I watched them both, but they said nothing more.

“When will it die?”

Mama shuddered, and wiped her eyes.

Marten wrapped his fingers around her wrist, and looked at me.  “It won’t die unless the Mist lets it go.”

A sour taste hit the back of my throat.  “I saw his eyes.  The man was still in there.  Will it keep him alive forever?” Fresh new terror seized me.  “Is that what happened to Dad?”  Frantic, I jerked away from the table.  My hand struck the ball.  It fell with a thump, and rolled across the floor.

Mama seized my arm.  “Enough, Lyas.”

“Mama-”

“No!”

“Listen to your mother.”  Marten gripped the edge of the table, as if he wanted to flip it over.  “Calm yourself, and don’t go panicking about things that can’t be helped.  Sit down, and eat.”

We finished dinner in silence.  Afterward, I escaped to the loft.  Stripping down to my long woolens, I crawled to the upper window.  My view faced the village.  The scattered lights mirrored the stars overhead.  I watched them, and thought about the Mist Mad.  Then I thought about my Dad.

Three years gone, his body buried at sea.  Riddin by the Mist.

What if it never let him go?