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    Behind a Pale Mask
    Behind a Pale Mask
    Behind a Pale Mask
    Ebook54 pages52 minutes

    Behind a Pale Mask

    By Wayne Kyle Spitzer

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    "You know me to be a ferryman," I said, pushing the circlet up and over my forehead. "How?"

    "Why, by taking one look at you, that’s how! You've no mask, that much is true, nor have you a scythe, as I’ve said ... you’ve the cloak, all right, but that can be purchased at even the lowliest of costume shops; I’ve one just like it in my wagon here, in fact. No, this is something in the face itself. It’s an aura." He paused, appraising me coldly. "You’ve the heart of a ferryman."

    After a moment I replied, "I knew a woman once who said the very opposite."

    "A woman, eh? She must have feared you very much."

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherWayne Kyle Spitzer
    Release dateNov 13, 2017
    ISBN9781370198320
    Behind a Pale Mask
    Author

    Wayne Kyle Spitzer

    Wayne Kyle Spitzer (born July 15, 1966) is an American author and low-budget horror filmmaker from Spokane, Washington. He is the writer/director of the short horror film, Shadows in the Garden, as well as the author of Flashback, an SF/horror novel published in 1993. Spitzer's non-genre writing has appeared in subTerrain Magazine: Strong Words for a Polite Nation and Columbia: The Magazine of Northwest History. His recent fiction includes The Ferryman Pentalogy, consisting of Comes a Ferryman, The Tempter and the Taker, The Pierced Veil, Black Hole, White Fountain, and To the End of Ursathrax, as well as The X-Ray Rider Trilogy and a screen adaptation of Algernon Blackwood’s The Willows.

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      Book preview

      Behind a Pale Mask - Wayne Kyle Spitzer

      BEHIND A PALE MASK

      by

      Wayne Kyle Spitzer

      Copyright © 1992, 2017 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. All Rights Reserved. Published by Hobb’s End Books, a division of ACME Sprockets & Visions. Cover design Copyright © 2017 Wayne Kyle Spitzer. Please direct all inquiries to: HobbsEndBooks@yahoo.com

      All characters appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. This book contains material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this book is prohibited. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

      … being a tale from the self-exiled ferryman Dravidian's autobiography, Diary of a Ferryman; of those days when he did wander doomed Ursathrax alone with but the organic sword Rosethorn for companion—and a collection of maps bearing a secret knowledge as his guide.

      Already the dying world about him had begun to show signs of a violent upheaval, quaking and changing almost as if in reply to Dravidian's own metamorphosis from ferryman to wanderer.

      It would be an hour in which he inspired many enemies both above and below the earth, and in which he would gain his first real presentiments as to the role he would play in the shaping of Ursathrax’s future.

      He was to encounter one such enemy in the starry tangle of the Tinsel Forest—in the form of the actor, Fenris-Wolf, who would be but one of many more to attempt the slaying of the dark-cloaked renegade known in some quarters already as:

      Dravidian—pale-skinned ferryman, yellow-eyed lover, Servant of Death turned traitor.

      Prologue

      I was beginning to learn, at some cost, the difference between being a ferryman and a wanderer. As a ferryman, I'd suffered but sore shoulders and alienation. As a wanderer and a vagabond, I was to suffer blistered feet and trembling cold and fear as I had never known, only inspired.

      But in the days of walking which followed Shekalane's disappearance, I had yet to experience those things which would later wake me shivering in the night, turning to Rosethorn for comfort—as I have turned to her always, whether I knew it or not—since that day she was delivered to me on the deck of the Vorpal Gladio. To the contrary, cavalier in the knowledge I'd nothing left to lose (including my own life), I had taken my leave of the place of Shekalane’s betrayal, and forged ahead into the moon-drenched night, having nothing, really, but the shadow of a plan, and hoping, mostly, just to keep moving and to perhaps thwart my inevitable capture a while longer.

      I’d carried with me all my possessions, those being but the accouterments as ferryman worn upon my person, the organic sword Rosethorn at my hip, and the maps of Ursathrax stored so ingeniously in Jamais’s scabbard. My scythe, the platinum key, my gondola—even my familiar, Sthulhu—had all vanished with Shekalane.

      Real fear would come later, when I had forged a future as well and had much to lose.

      Still, the going had been perilous …

      Though I believed Shekalane had betrayed me, I 'd been unable to write off the possibility of her capture. And if she had been taken, then following the immediate banks of the River Dire could have likely led to my own capture, as well.

      But in Ursathrax, one seldom had a choice—as I have said in previous chapters. In most places, there was but The River itself, a pair of slim banks, and then the East and West Walls looming straight up on both sides. So, I'd had to travel from the place of betrayal to the Tinsel Forest along those very banks, beating a path through the

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