Forsaken

By Paul Melniczek

Three horses carefully picked their way up the steep ridge, avoiding the loose rocks and treacherous roots that strove to thwart their progress. Mossy trees enshrouded the slope, bringing premature shadows to the high country. A chill wind whistled in the bouldered summit overhead, an invisible banshee that darkened the hearts of the three woodsmen who struggled to convince their mounts to press onward. Foremost rode Kyle, the leader of the trio, and he held up a callused hand signaling a halt.

“Well, Richard, you still think this will bring us around the canyon?”

Kyle glanced back to his companion’s huge frame, seeming too large for the brown mare he sat astride, and pulled out his leather water pouch.

Richard rubbed a thick hand through his bristled red beard, the keen gray eyes scanning the ridge that loomed in the distance. “Didn’t expect it to be this rough going around. Let me check my compass again.”

Behind him, Matthew leaped off his horse and stretched leans arms above his head. Despite being younger and smaller, he was an excellent tracker and could keep up with his two more experienced friends.

“Damn, getting cold,” he muttered. “These mountains forgot about fall, it’s only September.”

“Old man winter comes real early to this neck of the woods,” replied Kyle. “Haven’t been up this far north before, it’s all wilderness. Did you notice the lack of trappers the last day?”

Nodding in answer, Richard put away his compass and absently stroked his beard. “Supposedly a no-man’s land. Local Indians have avoided these foothills around Whistling Mountain for centuries. This should bring us a clearer picture after we gain the top. Still have two days to make it back to camp in time.”

“I hope so,” replied Kyle. “Our job was to find a shortcut, not get lost in the woods.”

“This is a confusing area, though,” replied Richard. “The readings haven’t been true. There’s been some magnetic interference. Strange.”

Matthew put a booted foot in one stirrup, hoisting himself back onto his horse. “Well, let’s get it over with. The sooner the better. I don’t like the look of this place, and that wind gives me the creeps.”

“Letting your age show again, boy. Respect the wild, but never fear it. Now, no more breaks until we reach the top,” Kyle replied.

He nudged his mount to move forward, and they resumed their trek.

The territory was unknown to them, and the logging company that employed the three had sent them out to track a new path for when the expansion grant would take effect, opening up previously isolated areas for lumbering. They continued on, the mounts laboring to make the ascent. It became increasingly obvious that the climb would be too difficult at their present rate, and Kyle made them all dismount, leading them in single file as he tried to find the easiest route. Large outcroppings of sharp stone jutted out, and the footing was unsure.

Tiny landslides rolled down the slope behind them, and each of the men fell several times. Bruised and weary, they gained the ridge and found a renewed burst of energy, wanting only to leave the hill behind. A thick cluster of pine trees grew at the top, and the forest floor was littered with cones, nuts, and thousands of acorns. The ground leveled out and they led the horses through the evergreens as the evening wore on. They wound their way between the trees and Kyle gave a quick shout.

“There’s a trail here.” He pointed a finger into the bushes ahead where a narrow path opened up.

“Who would make a path up here?” said Matthew.

“Definitely not a deer trail,” Kyle replied, bending down and examining the beaten ground. “That’s a good question. We haven’t seen anyone this far up, but there has to be somebody to maintain it. This might be what we’ve been looking for.”

The group followed the path, which inclined downward. They noticed a mist rising from the ground, but none of them brought it up. Considering the altitude and climate, there seemed to be no apparent reason for it. After a while, the pine trees gave way to larger and darker oak and maples. The mist was still with them, and now the path was angling to a steeper descent.

“This is taking us down a hollow,” said Richard. My compass isn’t working at all now.”

He showed the instrument to the others, and the arrow was spinning in every direction. Kyle pulled his own compass out with the same result. The men shook their heads and trudged on, knowing that nightfall would be arriving shortly, and a suitable campsite was needed. In the deepening shadows the surrounding forest began to close in on them as the gnarled branches of hoary oak trees rose into the canopy above like wooden fingers of sinister creatures, clicking together in the ghostly breeze.

The air grew steadily warmer, and the woods were strangely devoid of any noise, whether from animal or insect. Each of the men felt a growing trepidation inside, not wanting to announce their feelings, considering themselves singular in each case from the other two. They had continued for over an hour with little conversation, and Kyle started to notice great strands of cobwebs strewn about the forest, intricate tapestries of arachnid designs. There were hundreds of silk weavings clinging to the branches, and he looked warily for any of the creators, finding none.

Richard would at times check his compass, discovering the same result each time, and eventually he gave up on the instrument. Matthew remained in the rear, and he found himself looking over his shoulder constantly, expecting to see some lurid shade following in their wake. He was only twenty-five, the junior of the group by more than ten years, and although proven in the field, he was unsettled by the solitude of the hollow.

It was twilight, and the men hadn’t seen a glimpse of the sun in nearly two full days. First the clouds in the lower valleys and on the slope, and now the pervasive mist which swirled between the trees in lazy circles. Without warning, the path opened in front of Kyle and he stopped short. Matthew reined his horse in sharply to avoid crashing into Richard. A low whistle came from Kyle’s lips and he gestured for silence. Dismounting, he cautiously walked forward, leading his horse on. His companions followed suit, and Richard sniffed the air.

“Fire, do you smell it?” His voice sounded harsh in the still forest, and Kyle nodded.

“Yes, from up ahead in this clearing. Quiet now, move slow.”

In single file they passed through a clump of bushes, which had replaced the tree line. They walked a dozen yards when Kyle gasped in surprise. Waiting until his companions caught up, he stood in mute silence, transfixed by what he saw.

A large cottage lay in the middle of a grass clearing, the likes of which they had never seen. The building was a perfect circle, the bottom section was a reddish hue, the upper part a light gray. A thatched roof sat on top of the structure, and the siding consisted of oval plates, almost like reptilian scales. Two windows faced outward in exact alignment with the front door, which was made of wood, with no step leading up to it. A stone chimney jutted out through the roof, curls of smoke drifting up into the blackness.

The appearance of the cottage in the middle of this isolated hollow, countless miles deep in the wilderness, struck a profound chord within the three men. They stood in awe, each feeling the touch of something, which could only be described as magical, in a bizarre and mysterious way.

Kyle gaped in astonishment, while Richard’s face was an emotionless mask. Matthew’s eyes grew wide, and he glared at the building in dismay.

“I’ve never seen anything that looked so out of place in my life.” Kyle fingered the rifle that was secured in his mount’s saddle. “What do you make of it?”

“I don’t,” replied Richard. “This is no trapper’s cabin, or any style I’ve come across before.”

“Foreign, European maybe. But who in the devil’s name would be living out here in the middle of nowhere? Strangest thing I’ve ever seen.” Kyle felt a twinge of warning in his mind, an extra sense from his subconscious, finely tuned from living in the wild most of his years, but he shrugged the feeling aside.

The cottage held them within its cloak, a vision of something unknown in a place where there should be only forests and mountains. They were under a subtle spell, but one, which they were completely aware of. “Fantastic as this place looks, I wonder who the occupant is? We have to be careful, whoever lives here can’t be used to seeing strangers.” Kyle turned his head to look at his friends, and Richard nodded, while Matthew continued to stare at the building.

“Something is strange here,” said Matthew. “I can’t explain it, but I think we should leave this hollow.”

Kyle’s blue eyes darkened. “What? And turn around now? I think you’re a bit superstitious, lad. We can find some shelter here, it’s almost dark.”

The hollow was deathly quiet, and the mist was solidifying, becoming more substantial, but Kyle was a seasoned hunter, unwilling to give into fears of the night.

“Come on. Tie the horses to those trees at the edge, and we’ll go in.” He pointed to a pair of trunks, which were more tall stumps than anything else. They were gnarled, bent and twisted as if by the hands of a warped mind, waiting to let rot and decay put them out of their misery. Matthew took the reins of all three horses and walked to the trees, looking nervously into the forest eaves.

Richard glanced at Kyle, shouldering his rifle.

“No, that would really scare someone. Our intentions are good, keep the guns with the horses. My hand is never far from my hunting knife, you know.”

The two went to the door, and after a moment’s pause, Kyle knocked on the wood frame, the noise dull and echoless. There was no sound from within. Waiting briefly, he tried again, without a response. The silence was ominous, and they looked at each another.

Matthew finished with the horses and rejoined them, still looking into the woods. Now Richard knocked, the big man pounding solidly.

“Hello, we mean no harm. If you could help us with the path, we work for the lumber company.” Kyle pressed his mouth close to the entrance, while Richard kept his ear flat to the door.

“Hear anything?”

Richard didn’t respond, then turned his head. “I thought I did, for a moment there.”

“What was it, someone coming?” Kyle looked curiously at his companion.

“No, it was odd. Almost like breathing, from a large animal. Can’t be sure.” Matthew stared at him in alarm, but Kyle rubbed a finger under his lip in concentration.

“I guess there’s only one way to find out.” Kyle reached for the doorknob.

“Wait, I don’t think we should do this. We don’t belong here - it feels like a trap.” Matthew moved forward, and the other men were silent.

“What do you think?” Kyle waited for the big man to answer. Richard shrugged his shoulders. “You’re the leader here, I follow.” Kyle clapped him on the arm. “We’ve been through a lot, my friend. With you watching my back, I’m not afraid.”

“Who will watch mine, is what worries me.” Matthew searched the woods behind them, all traces of the path gone. The horses nickered lightly, huddled together in a restless group.

Kyle turned the black doorknob easily and the wooden entrance swung inwards smoothly, an orange glare illuminated the man’s face.

“Hello, anyone here?” He stepped in, Richard close on his heels.

The men had not anticipated what waited inside. The cottage was magnificently furnished. A blazing fire licked the sides of an enormous stone fireplace, an obsidian cauldron resting on the edge. Sitting in the middle of the building was a long wooden table, complete with plates of food and goblets of liquid, enough for a small feast.

Several shelves sat against the walls filled with a host of books, and various ornaments that were clearly made from different parts of the world. Garishly-colored tapestries hung from the walls, depicting scenes of exotic lands and beasts. Overhead, vast wooden beams complimented the hardwood flooring. The lower rafters were adorned with oddly shaped decorations, and the ceiling above was obscured in shadows. A single door was visible at the far end, fronted by a railed landing and a flight of steps. There was no one to be seen.

“Amazing.”

The other men could only agree with Kyle’s description. The building was of a unique design - the furnishings were relics of the old world.

“Whoever lives here certainly has gone to tremendous lengths. How could they have brought such a collection to these mountains?”

Even Richard’s normally stoic demeanor was startled by the building.

“It’s like a fairy tale.”

The other men looked at Matthew. “So out of place. And we’ve been expected.”

The aroma of the meats attracted the ample appetites of the weary group. Steam issued forth from the hot plates, and fruits were scattered about the sumptuous table.

“Hello! Anyone home? We mean no harm.” Again, Kyle shouted a greeting, but the cottage appeared deserted.

“Maybe they’re in the next room. I’ll try that door.”

Kyle and Richard walked further inside, walking up the short landing. Matthew had not moved, his eyes still wide at the fantastic display lying before him. He watched fearfully as his companions reached the door.

“It’s locked.” Kyle knocked, and called out. Richard took a turn, pounding on the door himself, and then shook his head. They returned to the middle of the room, and walked over to the table.

“Well, if our host went to all this trouble preparing a meal for us, and wishes to stay hidden, I guess that is their right. I’m starving, and will gladly accept such hospitality.” Kyle sat down on a cushioned chair, the arms molded into the talons of an unknown beast. Pausing momentarily, Richard eased his frame down across from his companion.

“Come on, have a seat,” snapped Kyle. Matthew had not left the doorway, and stared at Kyle. “Do I have to order you? Listen, I’ll leave some money here if the owner doesn’t show up.”

“What if this meal was meant for someone else?” Matthew replied.

“What? Out here, in the middle of nowhere? If by chance another group arrives, then they’re most welcome to be compensated from the company - a good bargain if you ask me,” Kyle returned. He picked up a morsel of steak, biting off a juicy piece.

Moving over slowly, Matthew stared at the table.

“Coming in here, uninvited, it’s not right.” He sat down anyway, and Richard took a deep gulp from a pewter goblet that was filled with wine.

“Like no vintage I’ve ever had before.” Richard wiped his mouth, drinking again.

Soon all three of the men were eating ravenously. The food was excellent.

Ripe apples, pears, and berries filled several metal bowls on the table. There was plenty of wine to go around, and enough meat and bread to feed twice their number. They became engrossed in their meal, soon forgetting the strange setting which surrounded them. A good half hour was spent on the delicacies that lay strewn about the table, and even Matthew let his guard down after a while. The woodsmen ate to their heart’s content, until finally, Kyle pushed his chair back.

Standing up, he lifted his flagon high in the air.

“Men, I propose a toast. To the benefactor of this outstanding meal. If anyone can hear us, we thank you from the bottom of our stomachs. We are in your debt, and owe you dearly.” He raised the rim and drank deeply, followed by the others. They all finished their swigs when a faint noise echoed from somewhere nearby, and the men instantly froze, their blood running cold.

It was a shrill, mirthless laugh, quickly ending.

Richard kicked out from his chair, and Kyle’s hunting knife was in his hand immediately.

“What the devil was that?”

They looked around, but the cottage was again silent. The only noise an occasional crackling from the fire, which seemed to have grown stronger since their entrance.

“Are we being played the fool?” Richard fingered the short ax, which he always carried. “I don’t like games.”

“Hello. Show yourself. We want to talk with you.” Kyle tried again to entice the owner to come out, but his words had no effect.

“A trap, do you think?” Kyle glanced at the big man.

“Maybe it is. Better check outside.” Richard pointed to the entrance, nodding at Matthew. The younger man ran to the door, knife in his hand. Several lanterns hung from the walls, and Matthew grabbed one of them. “Watch my back.” He opened the door a crack then went outside, while Richard remained at the entrance.

Kyle stared at the man, gauging him for a reaction. His fears came to light as Richard turned around. “They’re gone. Matthew is over at the trees now.”

“Damn!” Kyle swore, slapping his hand onto the table. “Go out with him and…”

A sudden noise broke off his words as the locked door opened on its own. Both men sprang to attention, expecting an attack from the other room. Richard crept over to where Kyle stood, but nothing revealed itself at the landing.

“Walk with me, slowly.” Kyle motioned to his friend and they put their backs to the front door, unaware that it silently closed as if from an invisible hand, leaving Matthew outside.

The horses and rifles had disappeared, and Matthew moved the wick higher inside the lantern, lighting up the tortured forms of the two trees. He whistled, calling out to the horses. The hollow was deathly quiet, the mist damp on his skin.

There was no trace of the animals. Reluctantly he walked closer to the forest, peering into the gloom. As the light fell on the foremost trees, he heard a rustling sound in the branches overhead. Holding the lantern up higher, he saw something move.

As he went closer, a gasp of horror left his lips, for one of the horses was in the tree.

It was entangled inside a huge web, and a pair of yellow eyes stared down at the woodsman from several feet above the imprisoned creature. Matthew backed up in terror, revulsion filling his bloated stomach as the horse struggled to break free. He turned to run and felt something strong grip his arms. Matthew watched in disbelief as the branches from both the tree stumps moved on their own, pinning him where he stood.

A wicked laugh reached his ears and a figure appeared out of the mist.

“Leaving so soon? I’m afraid that would be quite rude, seeing as your debt hasn’t been paid yet.”

Richard gained the top of the landing. “I’ll go first, keep a watch.”

He walked forward with the ax in front. A dim light filtered through the doorway, from an unknown source. Richard braced himself, and then kicked the door apart savagely. As he blasted the frame, the cottage shook, knocking Kyle to his feet.

He yelled out, seeing his companion thrown off balance, falling forward into the open door. Kyle saw the tip of one booted foot, and then watched in amazement as the door slammed shut behind the man, leaving him alone in the large room.

Richard was on his hands and knees, the stone floor warm to his touch. He pivoted, gaining his footing, and faced a blank wall. The door had vanished.

Running his hands along the smooth surface, he expected to find a spring, which would reveal the hidden entrance. His efforts were futile. Light suddenly filled the room as torches flared to life, numerous racks of them lining the walls. Richard spun around, ax in hand as a low huffing sound reached his ears.

A huge figure stood in the center of the oblong-shaped room. It was a nightmare.

Manlike in appearance, its hunched over form was a dozen feet high. A misshapen, hairless body was covered in a small loincloth, and a wicked grin issued from a bulbous head, revealing rows of cruel fangs. Ripples of corded muscles ran the length of the monster’s limbs, and it wielded a spiked club in one of its taloned hands, splotches of green marking the skin like festering sores.

A low guttural laugh came from the creature’s maw, and Richard backed up. There was nowhere to run. He realized that they had entered into a lair of horrors. The ogre moved forward, and a poisonous voice uttered from behind the hideous beast.

“Don’t hurt him too much, his services will be needed.”

Alone.

Kyle tried both doors unsuccessfully, and now stood next to the table, rage and frustration on his rough face. He’d been brash and foolish. Disregarded the warnings that were clearly visible. Ignored his own intuition. Lost the horses and rifles. Maybe their lives too.

And now his group was separated.

Matthew outside, Richard trapped somewhere within the recesses of the cottage. Biting his lip in anger, he was unable to help his companions. They were good men, and followed him into the cottage to an unknown fate. He looked around, scanning the walls for a way out, perhaps a secret panel. Nearing one of the bookshelves, he grabbed a text and looked at the covering. The words were in a different language, but seemed vaguely familiar.

Slovakian, maybe even Russian, he thought. Picking up several more, they were all written in the same dialect. Nothing made sense here. But he knew one thing - a trap had been laid, and they’d walked right into the middle of it.

He noticed a tall ladder leaning against the far wall, and he rushed over to. Kyle peered into the rafters high above, wondering if a door was overhead.

Carrying the ladder to one of the beams, which supported the cottage, he placed it against the side and started up.

Matthew’s eyes grew wide with fear as the huge spider crept towards him. The creature’s forelegs waved in the air, a chittering noise escaping from it. His arms burned from the harsh grip that held him. The figure out of the mist came near, and the imprisoned man saw an old crone dressed in a wraparound shawl, flecks of brown and yellow covering the weaved garb.

The hag spoke, and Matthew trembled in terror.

“I have come to receive my payment, for the hospitality that you greedily accepted.”

“Wh-who are you?” Matthew stammered, as the spider was almost on him. “Make it go away.”

“My name is Jezi, and no, I will not make it go away. How quickly you forget. A toast was made, and you drank deeply, placing yourself in my debt. And now, the time has arrived to fulfill that oath.”

The spider lunged forward, biting the woodsman in the neck as he screamed in agony.

“Don’t worry, my young friend. You’ll wake up soon enough, although you might wish otherwise.”

She laughed mirthlessly as Matthew fell to the ground, the spider dragging him off.

The battle was hopeless - Richard knew it from the onset.

Now wounded in a dozen places, he was limping badly, his breathing ragged. The ogre stood a safe distance from him, face leering with grim confidence. Richard had scored several blows that would have killed any man alive, but the brute merely shrugged them off. It was time now to end the fight, and it walked deliberately toward the woodsman with the club raised.

Richard made a last desperate attempt to catch the monster off guard, but instead was tricked himself. The ogre made as if to bring the club down, but then with a surprisingly quick move it slapped the man on the side of his head with a mighty swipe of its arm. Richard’s ears were ringing from the assault and he flew back against the wall, falling unconscious as the ogre stood over him.

The beast grabbed Richard by the leg and threw him over a mottled shoulder like a rag doll. It lumbered to the far wall where a hidden doorway opened up, leading to a flight of stairs.

Kyle climbed higher, holding the lantern above. The shadows fled, revealing a spacious ceiling much larger than he had expected. All along the wooden beams were small figurines, some of men and others of unknown origin. They were attached by long nails, a bizarre collection of detailed beings.

He gazed at the display with great dread, black suspicions in his mind that he didn’t want to pursue. The ceiling itself seemed to have a leathery texture, an odd pinkish color that seemed familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the resemblance.

Craning his neck, he found what he had been searching for. An opening was tucked away directly beyond the support beam he was climbing against. If he could scramble up the post, it might be possible to gain the entry hole. He put the lantern around his shoulder to keep it from crashing to the floor, and found some handholds in the beam. Grabbing with both arms, he almost fell as a tremor shook the cottage.

The ladder buckled at his feet and his heart raced, not wanting to fall to the floor. He was fairly high up now, and would be injured from such a height if he lost his balance. Hesitating, Kyle again started up, and once more another tremor moved the building. This time he heard something along with the shaking. A soft noise, like an object being sucked into water.

It was brief, and then the cottage was silent.

Kyle remained poised, waiting for something else to happen, but the episode was finished. Resuming his climb, he was able to make his way to the opening, which was not so much a trapdoor but a hole in the ceiling. He listened for movement, hearing nothing. Kyle was directly below it and stretched his head into the hole, holding the lantern with one arm.

A hideous stench wafted downward, reminding him of spoiled meat. He nearly gagged from the smell, and his imagination turned into dark corridors. He stuck his head fully inside, and the light revealed a separate room reaching even higher.

A noise drifted to his ears now - a low moaning, as if from someone in distress. Kyle pulled himself up, straining his eyes to penetrate the retreating shadows. Two forms hovered overhead, several seconds lapsing before they became distinct to his shrouded vision. What he saw shot utter horror into the deepest corners of his heart.

Several yards above him were Matthew and Richard, hanging upside down like human bats. The pair was enmeshed in strands of cobweb, their bodies visible up to the knees. Their lower extremities were joined with the ceiling, which moved in a steady rhythm, like the breathing lung of a living creature.

Pathetic whimpering issued forth from the mouths of the two, kept alive for sinister reasons, which Kyle now began to understand. His stomach churned in outrage, and he felt the bile rising in protest at the ghastly scene. His companions hung well above him, and he saw nothing that could lead him to their aid. There was no ladder or rope to be seen, and he choked in desperation at their abominable plight.

Kyle gasped in shock as a tremendous quake rocked the structure, causing him to drop the lantern and nearly fall himself. Darkness closed in on him, and he held onto the post with trembling arms, trying desperately to maintain his balance. Adding to the confusion and terror, diabolical laughter filled the rafters. He needed to find an escape - his companions were beyond his help. Kyle scrambled down blindly, splinters stabbing into his exposed skin.

Ignoring the pain, the woodsman felt the ladder at his feet and managed to find a grip on it, starting down. He lowered himself precariously, seeing the glow from the fireplace beneath his legs. When he had reached the crossbeams, another tremor swayed the cottage, stronger than the first two. The vibrations knocked the ladder loose , and he plummeted down the remaining distance onto the floor below. The wicked laughter grew louder, and now a desolate voice echoed through the walls of the structure.

“You have served me well and are free to go, but your friends will pay the price for your foolish bargain, feeding the appetite of my home. Lucky for you that two will be adequate. Leaving here with that last thought shackling your conscience is satisfaction enough for me. Flee now, before I change my mind.”

Kyle crawled to the front entrance, and the fire leapt up, licking the sides of the chimney. The door flew open, a gust of wind blasting the woodsman as he righted himself. He stumbled out of the cottage, heading for the cover of the forest ahead. Insect eyes stared down at him from the boughs above, the bodies of the creatures invisible in the twilight.

The fog had dissipated, and a full, bloated moon illuminated the clearing as Kyle turned back for a final look at the building. The cottage shuddered, shifting from left to right. The woodsman watched in disbelief, unable to break his gaze away from the impossible spectacle.

Two monstrous limbs broke out from the bottom of the structure, elongating into enormous avian claws, and memories of an old fairy tale resurrected in Kyle’s mind. A cottage that was not what it seemed - an evil, unforgiving mistress who defied the ages - a black and diabolical witch.

He burst down the path as a tremendous whoosh echoed throughout the forsaken hollow, the last vestige of the ancient evil retreating into the sky above.

The scouting party found Kyle staggering down the slope two days later. Feverish, raving incoherently, the men brought him back to camp, but there was nothing they could do to banish the madness, which gripped the once-shrewd woodsman.

The company physician treated him but no signs of his companions were ever found, and Kyle didn’t respond to any of the questions he was asked. His physical injuries were curable, but not the spiritual ones.

Kyle’s mind was lost to him.

He would speak only a single name, something that was cast aside as the ramblings of a madman.

Baba-Yaga.

Paul Melniczek

Paul Melniczek is a small business owner and a college graduate, with a degree in business management. He also teaches a part time class at a local college, is married with two children. In year 2000 he began writing, and since then has had over seventy stories published or accepted for publication in a wide variety of markets, including print anthologies, print magazines, e-zines, and e-anthologies. Some of these include sales to Fangoria, Black Rose, Cold Storage, and many others.

He is also a musician, playing classical piano and electric guitar. In his free time he enjoys the outdoors, weightlifting, golf, and tennis. Living in the country lends much inspiration to his writing, and he is currently working on another short story collection, a fantasy novel, and a children’s book.

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