A curse fled from Herbert’s lips when the man divulged that he knew nothing of their current location. Equally lost then, Herbert supposed, or lying, but from the man’s smart Alec response, he doubted that. There was a slight slur to the words, and as he came closer, the clinical stench of alcoholic fumes barged their way up Herbert’s nostrils. The man would have to be a slobbering drunk most of the day, for he smelt almost of pure ethanol. Little comfort came from the man’s explanation, surely no monk, but instead a brewer, it seemed, or maybe an apothecary. Herbert assumed the man had been riding his horse, Winddancer, drunk. If that were so, ending up in the mountains was no natural happenchance.

Fleeting waves of relief washed over Herbert when it became apparent he was not the only one feeling the wrongness, but then a sinking feel quickly replaced that, dragging the relief into a trench of sweltering dismay. If the drunkard could feel it to, then there had to be some cause, something substantially iniquitous to cause an unerring unease. He shifted his weight from foot to foot, impatient and nervous, wanting to flee. But the castle offered the only sanctuary. 

“Murder you? Good heavens no!” Herbert sounded appalled at the very idea, “I just want to find harbour from the storm and a way off this destitute rock.” 

A truly dedicated drunk, it seemed, more likely a brewer then, but it seemed he was more concerned with drinking than selling, rather unlike the hegemonies he knew who resided in London. 

The man was closer now. He was rather tall, and had he face somewhat hidden by his hood, but it was human, a comfort Herbert had overlooked until he woke up on a mountain. Then alarm bells rang inside his skull. “Strange world”. Was he on some other planet that astronomers had long since dreamed about visiting ever since gazing up at the stars? It would explain the lawless nature of the place, the mélange of horrid apparitions. How would this man come to know that? After all, they may just have been undiscovered creatures. Deep down, though, Herbert knew that such abhorrent things should never grace Earth’s soil, and a frightening prospect announced itself to him. Suddenly his laboratory felt so very far away.

“It is a fine start.” The skeletal creature ventured out from Herbert’s collar and nape, clicking and clacking, leaning its head towards the man, head bobbing rhythmically, as if smelling him. Herbert paid it no mind and went on.

“I am afraid the only thing that lies back that way is an icy shelf,” he looked past the lofty drunk and bit the inside of his lip, his shifting became more pronounced, until he was almost hopping from foot to foot. He did not like what he was about to suggest, for it involved diving into the belly of the beast, where the wrongness was emanating from. “The only way is forward. I hope to find shelter and food in the castle. You can accompany me if you wish. If you don’t, I wish you well.” 

With that he began walking, waiting only at the man’s side to see if he would follow. If he did, then Herbert would be glad of the help, if he did not, then Herbert would continue nonetheless, despite how every fibre of his being protested. He saw no other option, he had to get back his Liza, and he would suffer far greater than a little disquiet of the soul to do so, so he told himself.