Shownotes
When a war-haunted veteran of the Crimean War is roped into a hunt for an enigmatic fugitive in the wilds of northwestern England, he finds that one of his companions is more than a mere man.
Tonight’s story is “Darker Things Than Man” by Casimir Laski, whose debut novel, Winter Without End, a post-apocalyptic survival story told from the perspective of a dog, is now available from Fenris Publishing. He also operates the YouTube channel Cardinal West, primarily devoted to discussion of literary xenofiction and western animation.
Read by Ianus J. Wolf, two wolves in one.
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https://thevoice.dog/episode/darker-things-than-man-by-casimir-laski
Transcripts
You’re listening to the Ghost of Dog
Speaker:on The Voice of Dog,
Speaker:and Tonight’s story is
Speaker:“Darker Things Than Man”
Speaker:by Casimir Laski,
Speaker:whose debut novel,
Speaker:Winter Without End,
Speaker:a post-apocalyptic survival story
Speaker:told from the perspective of a dog,
Speaker:is now available from Fenris Publishing.
Speaker:He also operates the YouTube channel
Speaker:Cardinal West, primarily devoted to discussion of literary xenofiction
Speaker:and western animation. Read by Ianus J. Wolf,
Speaker:two wolves in one.
Speaker:It is wise to be
Speaker:cautious in the dark.
Speaker:One cannot know what one might stumble on,
Speaker:either literally or metaphorically,
Speaker:without being able to see it.
Speaker:And if the darkness has residents, it is reasonable to suppose them to have their own business with eachother.
Speaker:Into which one ought not intrude.
Speaker:A lesson to be learned
Speaker:by one William Conroy,
Speaker:a man who believes himself already acquainted
Speaker:with horror. Please enjoy “Darker
Speaker:Things Than Man” by Casimir Laski
Speaker:They came upon the corpse just as dawn was breaking, meek and tepid,
Speaker:over the rain-sodden crags to the east.
Speaker:Nearby, several crows sat perched in the boughs of a gnarled hawthorn, observing in solemn silence.
Speaker:William, himself no stranger to the Reaper’s handiwork,
Speaker:sat rigid astride his chestnut palfrey. He
Speaker:recalled lying amidst the dead and dying in the triage in Constantinople,
Speaker:the stench of rot welling up in the sweltering heat,
Speaker:anguished cries mingling with the liquid tongue of the Mohammedans.
Speaker:He remembered a Moor with a raw stump where his leg should have been,
Speaker:his skin dark like ebony,
Speaker:but his blood as carmine as William’s own.
Speaker:The man had screamed and screamed in a voice coarse like sand
Speaker:and yet all too possessed of youth.
Speaker:William hadn’t understood the words.
Speaker:He hadn’t needed to.
Speaker:Shuddering, he breathed once more the crisp English air. The
Speaker:grey chill of November still lingered here in the Lakeland,
Speaker:even as the smoldering April sun crested the horizon.
Speaker:Knife-sharp shadows skittered and fled,
Speaker:slinking to the deeper recesses of rock where they might hope to endure.
Speaker:He thought, not for the first time,
Speaker:that this was no place for a solicitor. In
Speaker:fairness, theirs was a peculiar company.
Speaker:Amidst the mill of hounds and huntsmen,
Speaker:Lord Culpepper sat atop his courser,
Speaker:greyer now than the captain a young Leftenant Conroy had served under,
Speaker:but still possessed of command.
Speaker:As he turned, the rifle slung across his back caught a sliver of fire from the rising sun.
Speaker:Even bereft of uniform, the old cavalier would not have looked out of place at the head of a mounted column. By
Speaker:his side waited the lead huntsman, Asher Drakeford,
Speaker:a stern, steely-eyed Welshman,
Speaker:while Tom Jackson, the portly whipper-in,
Speaker:had dismounted to tend to Laelaps, the lord’s prized hound.
Speaker:As Doctor Trelone completed his inspection of the carcass,
Speaker:William’s gaze fell upon the pair of foreigners whose arrival had drawn them here. The
Speaker:first, Monsignor Clement,
Speaker:surveyed his surroundings with a languid grace bordering on utter disinterest.
Speaker:William was loath to trust a Papist, but the clergyman,
Speaker:whose accent hinted at the maritime cities of northern Italy,
Speaker:had possessed all the proper documentation,
Speaker:affixed with all the proper seals and signatures.
Speaker:For the apprehension of one Richard Roe,
Speaker:fugitive from justice, to be dealt with as deemed necessary
Speaker:by Monsignors Clement and Reinhardt.
Speaker:The priest had come to Lord Culpepper for his hounds, the finest pack in Cumbria
Speaker:—and to lend further legitimacy to the proceedings,
Speaker:His Lordship had in turn brought William. But
Speaker:the priest had not come alone.
Speaker:Where the black-clad monsignor took in the land with a poet’s gaze,
Speaker:his associate sat amidst the company like a fox among fowl.
Speaker:Reinhardt. He had given his name in more proper English than most of the locals could manage,
Speaker:leaving William to guess at his origins.
Speaker:The Low Countries, he assumed,
Speaker:or perhaps one of the German states
Speaker:—the man’s calm regality conjured images of Prussian aristocracy
Speaker:—though his voice carried a sonorous charm
Speaker:that was almost French. While
Speaker:Lord Culpepper’s suit boasted of wealth,
Speaker:Reinhardt’s merely whispered of it.
Speaker:His crimson cloak stirred with the same subtle grace he himself bore,
Speaker:and atop his head rested a wide-brimmed hat,
Speaker:festooned with a single white cock’s feather.
Speaker:The man’s skin was fair yet hale;
Speaker:his short, curly hair a russet dashed with hints of autumn fire;
Speaker:his sharp, vulpine face clean shaven.
Speaker:His countenance perpetually rested somewhere between pensive interest
Speaker:and mocking mirth,
Speaker:as if he were privy to some secret jest,
Speaker:curious but unperturbed as to how it might play out around him.
Speaker:But most striking were his eyes,
Speaker:a piercing emerald
Speaker:that few men and even fewer beasts could dare to hold. William
Speaker:had taken a dislike to the man at once. “There’s
Speaker:not a mark upon his body,”
Speaker:declared Doctor Trelone.
Speaker:After trudging over to Lord Culpepper, he shot a furtive glance at the foreigners,
Speaker:who had dismounted to inspect the corpse.
Speaker:“He’s likely been dead since dusk, but…”
Speaker:Trailing off, the doctor leaned in and lowered his voice.
Speaker:“…but he’s not been touched since,
Speaker:by man or beast. Not even the crows.”
Speaker:William’s eyes flitted to the black-feathered carrion birds,
Speaker:who held their secrets and bore his gaze in mocking silence.
Speaker:In their shadow, the Papist began to mutter a benediction. “Shouldn’t
Speaker:we bury him?” asked
Speaker:Asher. Clearing his throat, he nodded to the corpse.
Speaker:Several of the men murmured in agreement. “We
Speaker:shall do so upon our return,”
Speaker:Reinhardt replied, striding over. “Our
Speaker:quarry knows we draw near.”
Speaker:In the distance, one of the hounds gave tongue,
Speaker:and the rest of the pack soon took up the cry.
Speaker:Tom Jackson clambered atop his horse,
Speaker:answering the din with a shout of “Howay, bonny lads!”
Speaker:By William’s side, Lord Culpepper grinned as his courser stamped the grass.
Speaker:“Just like the good old days, eh, Will?” Asher
Speaker:and Tom galloped ahead while the rest of the party set off at a gentle canter.
Speaker:The only respite came during a brief midday dinner,
Speaker:and upon resuming their pursuit, William’s eyes went at once to the continental, riding near the head of the column. “If
Speaker:he’s canny,”
Speaker:an older man beside him grumbled, “reckon he’ll be goin’ doon to Coniston, or Grizedale Forest.
Speaker:Mayhap Kirkby Moor, if he’s not femmer.”
Speaker:William’s mind worked to convert the rugged Geordie dialect into proper English. “By, thou heard what Liam said?”
Speaker:another asked. “Even the crows didn’t touch him.”
Speaker:A cold, delicate silence followed,
Speaker:but it did not long endure.
Speaker:Their voices low, the men began to speak of monsters.
Speaker:William sighed. He had smelled the singe of black powder and the reek of rot,
Speaker:heard cries of anguish drowned in thunder,
Speaker:felt bodies clustered close,
Speaker:trembling in discordant symphony.
Speaker:He had seen the glint of bayonets amidst ash and smoke, and watched the florid red of uniforms mix with a deeper,
Speaker:richer crimson. He remembered the grip of fingers around his throat,
Speaker:recalled the terror and fury
Speaker:as he smashed the Cossack’s face to red ruin on the shores of Sevastopol. If
Speaker:man sought monsters, he needn’t look beyond his own neighbors;
Speaker:the only shadows worth scouring lingered in the depths of the human heart.
Speaker:In this enlightened age, when the very heavens themselves could be charted and tracked by telescope,
Speaker:when the methods by which the Creator had fashioned the Earth’s myriad species
Speaker:were even now being divined,
Speaker:how could men still cling to superstition? “Halfwits,”
Speaker:he muttered. “I
Speaker:would never be so remiss as to mistake erudition for wisdom,” Reinhardt said.
Speaker:Starting in his saddle, William turned to see the stranger drawing up alongside him.
Speaker:“…nor its lack for folly.” “A
Speaker:little information would go a long way towards easing the men’s fears,”
Speaker:he replied. “Do you even know this fugitive’s real name?” Reinhardt
Speaker:studied him like a fox observing a wounded hare.
Speaker:William could not help but shy from his gaze.
Speaker:“Our quarry is… an old acquaintance of mine,”
Speaker:the continental said.
Speaker:“One of my kinsfolk, after a fashion.”
Speaker:The hint of a smirk played at the corners of his mouth—but as always,
Speaker:the smile never reached his piercing green eyes.
Speaker:“As to a name… now that, Master Conroy,
Speaker:is a most prescient question.”
Speaker:He left it unanswered. Ahead,
Speaker:Tom Jackson cantered up,
Speaker:falling in with the party and raising his voice in song:
Speaker:When canny ol’ tod
Speaker:come doon from fell To reave an’ raid o’er moor an’ dell
Speaker:The snare’ll be no use
Speaker:against ‘is cunnin’! So ah’ll fetch me hounds an’ ah’ll fetch me hinnies, An’ root through every lea an’ spinney An’ by we’ll send
Speaker:tha’ bloody tod a-runnin’! By
Speaker:the time he finished, several of the locals had joined in.
Speaker:Lord Culpepper glanced back and flashed a wistful smile,
Speaker:while Reinhardt, chuckling,
Speaker:stroked the neck of his mount.
Speaker:“A most auspicious ballad,”
Speaker:he muttered to himself.
Speaker:At his side, Monsignor Clement sat stoic as ever atop his own mare.
Speaker:As far as William could tell, the Papist still wasn’t sure if this English backwater was worth his time. The
Speaker:hounds had little trouble keeping to the spoor, following the line over gentle hills and into rockier terrain as the light drained from the sky.
Speaker:By evening the party overcame the pack, finding them casting about the heather near a cliff face. Dismounting,
Speaker:William strode to the edge of the precipice.
Speaker:Dozens of metres below lay mist-shrouded moors, a patchwork of murk and shadow,
Speaker:while descending from on high, a soft wind whispered threats of a bitter chill.
Speaker:The vista brought to mind an old rhyme from his youth,
Speaker:one whose first lines returned to him now with striking clarity:
Speaker:They walk the moors in black of night
Speaker:And if, one eve, by chance you might Encounter in the deep’ning gloom
Speaker:A wordless cry where shadows loom An icy hand that grips you fast A shade
Speaker:without a form to cast As visage fell and fey draws near
Speaker:And strikes you still with
Speaker:nameless fear There was more to the rhyme, William knew,
Speaker:but memory failed him.
Speaker:Staring out into the gathering dusk,
Speaker:he could almost believe the tales he’d heard. As
Speaker:he stood beside the ledge, Tom Jackson plodded over and placed a hand on his shoulder.
Speaker:“Mind, hinny, it’s a canny way doon.
Speaker:No use gettin’ bashed aboot.”
Speaker:The whipper-in’s weak smile and tense eyes belied his easy tone.
Speaker:With a nod, William stepped back.
Speaker:After sipping from his canteen, he remounted his palfrey. Asher drew the party’s attention to a path descending the cliff face, wide and gentle enough for horses to traverse.
Speaker:Several of the men struck torches,
Speaker:while others hefted rifles or pistols.
Speaker:Reinhardt sat in their midst,
Speaker:firelight bathing his face,
Speaker:autumn leaves flickering in his emerald eyes. “Our
Speaker:quarry will be drawn to light,” he announced.
Speaker:“Keep near me, and do as I say.”
Speaker:Taking a deep breath,
Speaker:William unshouldered his own rifle and checked the weapon.
Speaker:Even after nearly a decade, the motions came as naturally as donning a coat. By
Speaker:the time the party reached the moors below, the last of the sun’s fire was bleeding across the darkling western sky.
Speaker:Hovering above the sodden loam,
Speaker:tendrils of mist swirled,
Speaker:reaching out before melding back into the shadows. A
Speaker:shriek shattered the evening calm.
Speaker:William’s blood curdled, his eyes scanning the darkness as trembling fingers clambered for the strap of his rifle.
Speaker:While others were hoisting weapons or waving torches,
Speaker:Asher simply raised a fist to his mouth and coughed. “Naught
Speaker:but a lovestruck tod,”
Speaker:the huntsman muttered. “A
Speaker:vixen,” Reinhardt corrected.
Speaker:He advanced into the darkness without waiting for the others.
Speaker:After a moment, William urged his horse onward amidst the rest of the party. Scrub
Speaker:and hawthorn loomed, dappled in shadow and cloaked by mist.
Speaker:By now the sun had sunk below the distant fells, leaving the pale, bronzed moon to peer from behind a cloak of thick grey clouds.
Speaker:As the remaining warmth drained from the air, the torches guttered,
Speaker:surrendering their already-tenuous hold over the surrounding darkness.
Speaker:William’s heart quickened as the skin of his arms prickled even beneath his coat.
Speaker:Laelaps uttered a soft whine.
Speaker:Nothing moved. Not a man so much as breathed. A
Speaker:clamor of barking and baying erupted,
Speaker:and a rifle exploded in the gloom.
Speaker:William was thrown from his palfrey, sinking into the peaty morass.
Speaker:Dodging a hoof, he glimpsed men and horses scattering as dusk swallowed the torchlight.
Speaker:By the time his eyes adjusted,
Speaker:only Reinhardt remained. The
Speaker:stranger motioned,
Speaker:his green eyes glinting in the darkness. “What
Speaker:about the others?”
Speaker:William asked. Retrieving his rifle from the muck, he staggered upright and glanced about once more. “The
Speaker:good monsignor will watch after them,”
Speaker:Reinhardt replied. “What…
Speaker:what was that?”
Speaker:William cursed the quaver in his voice,
Speaker:but the answer he received did nothing to quell it. “We
Speaker:are near.” As they advanced into the hawthorn, William could not help but think of Ulysses’ descent into the Underworld.
Speaker:Jagged, skeletal branches clawed at him from the shadows,
Speaker:the talons of a thousand carrion birds eager to feast, closing around the interlopers as they pressed deeper into the brush.
Speaker:After several minutes of stalking through the trees, the ground squishing and sloshing beneath the tread of their boots, his eyes could hardly make out Reinhardt’s silhouette mere paces ahead of him. Even
Speaker:as a boy, William had known that the last wolves in England had been shot centuries prior
Speaker:—and yet here, in the dark of the undergrowth,
Speaker:that knowledge strangely lacked the solace and conviction it held when enjoyed from within the walled warmth of a firelit dwelling.
Speaker:Every rustling bough or scratching twig,
Speaker:every shift of shadow
Speaker:might have been a beast out of history or myth.
Speaker:The darkness had a way of unduly freeing the mind. Just
Speaker:as he was about to question their approach, a glade opened up before the pair.
Speaker:Reinhardt stepped forth,
Speaker:then turned back to face him. “This
Speaker:will do. Remain here, and be ready.
Speaker:ready.” “What do you mean?”
Speaker:William asked. “What are you–” When
Speaker:Reinhardt’s gaze met his directly, William found himself swallowing his doubts.
Speaker:Rather than bandy words with his companion,
Speaker:he merely nodded.
Speaker:“And remember,” the continental said, his voice barely above a whisper,
Speaker:“even the faintest light
Speaker:will betray your presence.”
Speaker:Without another word, he vanished into the night. William
Speaker:stared after him, then took a moment to examine the glade for himself.
Speaker:Crouching atop a patch of moss, he propped the muzzle of his rifle on a gnarled branch before him
Speaker:and resigned to wait. Time
Speaker:shifted and stretched in the black of the undergrowth,
Speaker:allowing ennui and exhaustion to bubble up amidst his apprehension.
Speaker:Thinking back on Reinhardt’s words,
Speaker:William strained to listen.
Speaker:After another minute of eerie, unbroken silence,
Speaker:he rummaged through his pack and retrieved a fire striker.
Speaker:Snapping a dry branch from the closest hawthorn,
Speaker:he kindled a small flame
Speaker:and tossed it into the clearing.
Speaker:Then, steadying his trembling hands,
Speaker:he stared down the rifle’s sights. He
Speaker:did not have to wait long. The
Speaker:first he saw was a deeper darkness moving at the edge of the glade.
Speaker:Two burning eyes flared amidst the shadows,
Speaker:watching the flames flicker and dwindle with predatory interest.
Speaker:Raising the cool wooden stock to his cheek,
Speaker:William lined up his sights,
Speaker:then let out the softest breath. The
Speaker:eyes went to him at once. Shards
Speaker:of ice prickled his skin as the thing in the darkness emerged
Speaker:—and by then, William could see that it was no man.
Speaker:It did not move among the shadows,
Speaker:but as one of them,
Speaker:dragging them along as it advanced into the clearing.
Speaker:The flames shrank at its approach. William
Speaker:fired. Daylight graced the glade as thunder roared
Speaker:—but the creature did not so much as flinch.
Speaker:As it drew nearer, a swirl of mist and shadow,
Speaker:an unseen hand tightened around William’s throat. By reflex he clutched at his assailant, but even as the grip tightened, his hands found nothing but his own flesh.
Speaker:Choking and writhing,
Speaker:he glimpsed the stars through the canopy above,
Speaker:watching as they danced,
Speaker:listening as they sang in alien tongues. The bitter chill sank ever deeper into his flesh.
Speaker:Icy claws seared their way through his veins,
Speaker:grasping at his heart,
Speaker:until the cold dark of winter was all he had ever known.
Speaker:It was all there was to know.
Speaker:And in that knowledge,
Speaker:beneath the primal,
Speaker:abject terror gripping his mind,
Speaker:he found something almost…
Speaker:serene. Closing his eyes,
Speaker:he resigned to let the void claim him. A
Speaker:streak of russet flashed in the underbrush,
Speaker:and William was thrown to the sodden peat.
Speaker:Gasping for breath, he scrambled into the heather quick as a hare, his heart hammering like a war drum.
Speaker:After plunging through several metres of foliage, he stumbled on a root and splashed into a murky pool. Rising from the foul water, William found himself gazing into a pair of piercing green eyes.
Speaker:The sight set his limbs to stone. As
Speaker:he stared, the contours of Reinhardt’s face materialized in the shadows.
Speaker:The man put a finger to his lips,
Speaker:a sly grin playing at the corners of his mouth.
Speaker:After a moment, William felt his own hand begin to move.
Speaker:He had not thought his blood could run colder, nor his heart beat faster.
Speaker:Shuddering, he watched as his fingers, bound to some alien will,
Speaker:fumbled in the depths of his coat pocket,
Speaker:while he was left powerless to stop them.
Speaker:His other hand then joined the first,
Speaker:and together they retrieved a single match. In
Speaker:the darkness, Reinhardt grinned. A
Speaker:tiny fire flickered to life in William’s wracking hands,
Speaker:even as a deeper chill gripped his heart.
Speaker:His breath clouded as the enveloping shadows drew ever tighter around him,
Speaker:and yet still he could not move
Speaker:—and still Reinhardt watched with unblinking eyes. Then,
Speaker:his face contorting with a savage snarl,
Speaker:the stranger stepped from the foliage.
Speaker:William watched him speak,
Speaker:but the words never reached his ears.
Speaker:A blackness beyond midnight engulfed him. … William
Speaker:awoke to find the continental kneeling before him,
Speaker:gazing into a pile of smoking char.
Speaker:Monsignor Clement stood nearby, clutching a rosary and muttering in a foreign tongue.
Speaker:Reinhardt’s eyes flitted to the priest before coming to rest on William. “That
Speaker:was a clever trick.”
Speaker:As he spoke, his countenance shifted,
Speaker:almost like a mask had slipped—and for but a moment,
Speaker:William glimpsed the visage of a grinning fox.
Speaker:The sight drove the breath from his lungs.
Speaker:He blinked, and once more found Reinhardt in the beast’s place. “Who…
Speaker:who are you?” Even as the question passed his lips,
Speaker:William knew it could not hope to suffice. Reinhardt’s
Speaker:smile never reached his emerald eyes.
Speaker:“I am the turning of the leaves and the changing of the moon,
Speaker:a shadow by twilight
Speaker:like a breath from a tomb.
Speaker:A traveller from an antique land, who mocks with his heart
Speaker:rather than his hand.” When
Speaker:he leaned nearer, William recoiled.
Speaker:At this Reinhardt stood,
Speaker:adjusting the clasp of his cloak before cocking his hat slightly.
Speaker:After letting the silence stretch for a few seconds more,
Speaker:he looked back to William. “In
Speaker:Lorraine they named me Reynard,
Speaker:while beyond the Rhine the old poet of Weimar knew me as Reineke.
Speaker:Chaucer gave my name as Rossel,
Speaker:and when Tyler and Wycliffe marched on London Tower
Speaker:I trod in their footsteps.
Speaker:A Greek slave once called me by a simpler title…
Speaker:though I must confess that
Speaker:time crumbles things.”
Speaker:His grin broadened,
Speaker:ivory glinting in the shadows of the underbrush. “That
Speaker:-” William stammered,
Speaker:“that doesn’t answer my question.”
Speaker:At this, the smile finally reached Reinhardt’s eyes—which flitted, ever so briefly, to the priest. “A
Speaker:name, Master Conroy, is a powerful thing.”
Speaker:From the depths of his throat arose a low,
Speaker:bestial chuckle. “The boy who flees from shadows possesses a wisdom
Speaker:lacking in the man who fetches a torch and plunges headlong into the abyss.
Speaker:You’ve managed to convince yourselves that you are the only true monsters…
Speaker:but far darker things than man
Speaker:dwell in the deep places of the world.
Speaker:And while some of us may from time to time cloak ourselves in human skin,
Speaker:we don and doff it but lightly.” William struggled to his feet,
Speaker:doing his best to calm his racing heart.
Speaker:“Then why… why are you aiding us?” Reinhardt
Speaker:lifted his chin, drawing a hand to his breast. “Did not blessed Francis sway even my savage cousin the Wolf?” he asked with feigned solemnity. After a moment his countenance sobered, and his gaze returned to William. “Because the world is changing under your dominion.
Speaker:In this, I abide by nature’s most ancient law:
Speaker:adapt, or perish.” He smiled once more,
Speaker:then stepped forward to clasp a hand on William’s shoulder.
Speaker:“And I must confess…
Speaker:I do love a good trick.” A
Speaker:shiver snaked down William’s spine.
Speaker:Out of the corner of his eye, he caught Monsignor Clement watching him from the shadows.
Speaker:The priest’s dour gaze held a glimmer of compassion,
Speaker:the kind William himself had seen far too many times in the eyes of the triage attendants. Reinhardt
Speaker:briefly lifted his hat to stroke his hair,
Speaker:then exchanged a knowing glance with the clergyman.
Speaker:As the latter made to depart,
Speaker:the former looked once more to William.
Speaker:“I do hope we may meet again under more…
Speaker:auspicious circumstances, Master Conroy,
Speaker:for I would very much like to set my wits against yours.”
Speaker:He stepped after the priest, then turned back, his face darkening.
Speaker:“I only pray you do not encounter one of my kinsfolk first.
Speaker:You will find most of them are far less amicable than I…
Speaker:and some doors, once opened,
Speaker:can never truly be closed…”
Speaker:This was “Darker Things Than Man”
Speaker:by Casimir Laski,
Speaker:read for you by Ianus J. Wolf,
Speaker:two wolves in one.
Speaker:You can find more stories on the web at thevoice.dog,
Speaker:or find the show wherever you get your podcasts.
Speaker:Thank you for listening to
Speaker:The Ghost of Dog.