Far Horizons: Tales of Sci-Fi, Fantasy and Horror. Issue #20 November 2015 | Page 58

choppy, and the boat started to roll a little as it
approached the green-stained pillars of the quay. The
smell of perfume, incense, rotten fruit and a deeper,
unpleasant tang of decay rolled out from the quay in a
miasma. The man in red coughed and wiped his nose.
He noted the boy’s excitement and the Ferryman’s
slightly stiffened pose.

The boat jarred against the quay and the
Ferryman expertly tossed a rope around a bollard and
pulled it tight so that they came to an abrupt stop.
The three clambered out of the boat, onto the pier and
made their way to the steps leading up to the market.

“I will remain with you until the castle,” the
Ferryman muttered.

The man in red nodded once and indicated that
the Ferryman should lead the way, but the boy ran
ahead of them both.

***
As I pause, I hear seagulls, their screeches
carrying above a low hubbub. I open my eyes and
watch the quayside approach. There is slightly less
colour nowadays, the latest fashions are for muted
forest tones, but the stalking black shapes are still
there.

“Will you be my escort to the castle?” I ask,
not looking back at the Ferryman. When there is no
answer I turn and start to repeat myself. “Will you—”
The mask dips up and down, and I stop.

“Then perhaps I can tell you a little more of the
tale.”
To be continued

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