by B G Denvil
I was not actually expecting an answer. This much sinister threat seemed to indicate a wizened old monster bent over a candle on the top floor, refusing to face anyone. So I was actually extremely surprised when a fresh-faced young man bounced to the door and opened it, smiling to greet whoever had come to visit.
I stepped back and knew Fanny was hiding behind me. But I smiled too, and said in as jolly a voice as I could muster under the circumstances, “Hello, I do apologise for interrupting you. Of course, you don’t know us, but I was searching for something and wondered if you could help us.”
The young man kept his smile. “I’m Dominic Doubt,” he said without the slightest frown. “I’ll certainly help if I can.”
I was about to make something up, when Fanny abruptly came to my side, grinning at the young man. “That’s wonderful,” she said, almost jumping up to grab his hand. “You’re my lovely cousin. I haven’t seen you since I was eight and you were twelve.”
The surprise showed on his face. He looked up, realised we were standing in a storm of pelting torrents and said in a rush, “Oh my, come in, please come in. You must be absolutely soaked. Shall I light a fire? Shall I warm some wine? Shall I make some biscuits. I’ll get towels and ale first, but do come in out of this shocking weather.”
So we bundled inside and sat down in the snug little room on the ground floor, rubbed ourselves with the towels he’d brought and accepted the cups of ale.
Now I was more puzzled than ever. Yes, I could smell his magic. He had some, and I could wager he’d recognise mine if not Fanny’s last remaining crumbs. But he did not stink of the shadow force. Indeed, he smelled fairly clean. So as we sat with cups in hand, trying not to soak his stools or shiver in the damp, I asked him straight out regarding the magic.
“You must have sensed I’m a wiccan by now,” I smiled. “And I know that you are too. So I’m delighted to meet another one of our fading race.”
“Oh indeed, madam,” he was nodding eagerly. “This is such a pleasure. Real wiccan folk and my dear little cousin is one of them. What a glorious surprise. How did you find me?”
Well, I couldn’t say that he stank the place out, could I? “I have a highly sensitive friend who can trace wiccan directions,” I said. “You see, up until about a week back, Fanny had been having the most terrible luck. She was homeless, sick, and half starving. When I met her, I insisted on bringing her home with me as I own a large property. But when she explained her circumstances, I felt it would be best for her to find some family.” Fanny was looking dejected again so I smiled and patted her hand. “Are any more of your relations still living here?” I managed to continue.
Oh yes, indeed, that smell lingered, suddenly swelling up into my face. I was almost sick, but the boy Dominic seemed perfectly cheerful, and I couldn’t believe he was the source of the stench.
“Oh no unfortunately,” he said, hanging his head slightly. “My dearest mother died many years ago, as I’m sure Fanny remembers. She had the pox, and no one managed to cure her, not even with all the magic. Besides, my father was a simple human. He only died last year, but he had wedded another human in the meantime. She was sweet. Della, with a daughter of her own since she was a widow just as my father was a widower. They had some very happy years together. But humans, when they’re sick, can hardly ever be saved. My sister is still alive, but she went off to live with her grandmother.”
I wondered. “Was she wiccan too?”
But he shook his small dark head. “Sadly, no. There was only me, and I’m not that strong. But at least I can make my own food, light my fires and do a bit of flying.” He bent forwards as though confiding a secret. “I’m a sixty-two. But I can tell that you are considerably more powerful than that, my lady. Most impressive.”
Even with his head a few inches from my own, I could not smell any of that sickly shadow hell. I asked, “Does anyone else live in the house, Dominic? Do you keep staff?” Although the house did seem far too small for that.
Once again, he shook those dark brown curls. “I wish I could hire staff,” he said, “though I don’t need anyone. I can summon whatever I need, including a little money at times. But I’d enjoy the company. Living alone can be – well, frankly – lonely.”
While Dominic was shaking his head, Fanny was also nodding. “I had terrible sadness being lonely after Father died,” she said. “It’s a horrible feeling. But then the whole house collapsed around me. I thought it was dreadfully strange. It was quite a solid cottage, all stone with two rooms up and two down and a tiny little grassy yard where I wanted to keep chickens. Suddenly I had no home at all, and the local people were ashamed of me and chucked me out. When dear Rosie found me, I was nearly dead of starvation.”
He leaned over again and squeezed her hand. “Sweet cousin,” he said with what appeared to be utter sincerity. “I wish I had known. You could have come here to live.”
Again, leaning forward so closely, and no whiff of evil.
So I asked again, “Sorry, but you’re quite sure no one else is living here with you?”
And for the very first time I caught a hint of furtive guilt in his face. “You catch a bit of a smell?” he asked. “Sorry. I had a dear little cat. She kept me company. But she died two weeks ago. I tried to bury her nearby, but perhaps I didn’t dig deep enough.”
Rubbish, of course. This was a stench of a rotting brain, but it wasn’t real decayed bodies. It was the decayed essence of dark shadow. Fanny could hardly smell it, while I knew exactly what it was. It was the smell of evil.
“I think perhaps the rain is slowing,” I said, without the slightest idea if that was true since his window was so tiny. “I think we should be leaving. We have a long way to fly.”
Fanny was reluctant, but actually Dominic didn’t seem too sad about us leaving, in spite of his declared loneliness.
We did a lot of hugging and saying our goodbyes with promises of returning soon.
But when we were finally out of sight in the main part of the village, I turned quietly to Fanny. “We’ll have to walk for some time,” I said, which she knew already, “so we might as well sit somewhere. We need to talk.”
That did surprise her, but she pointed to a long bench at the side of the village street, and we sat there with our hoods up. It had virtually stopped raining, although a faint drizzle continued, but at least the storm had passed.
Fanny gazed, waiting for revelations. She muttered, “There’s something wrong, isn’t there? Didn’t you like Dominic? I thought he was so nice, and just as I remembered him.”
I tried to explain without being too vehement. After all, I didn’t know anything for certain. “I sort of liked him too,” I said. “He seemed nice enough, and grade sixty-two.” My thoughts were all over the place with confusion. “So, pleasant, average and lonely. But that surely doesn’t ring true. I can’t be sure, but things sounded all wrong. And there’s one thing I can be certain about. The stench of wicked shadow power was so strong, it was making me quite sick. Though not coming directly from him.”
“The little dead cat?”
“Sorry, no,” I told her. “It’s not just that sad smell of natural decay. It was magic, and very, very strong. I know you couldn’t smell it, but that’s because you’ve lost the magic you had. But I know what I smelled. And he lied.”
I expected her to cry, but she just sat there, staring at me in shock. “But it wasn’t him?” she asked.
“No,” I said. “But he knew it was there, and obviously he must know what it is. And he’s protecting it. Now, why on earth can that be?”
“His mother? His father? His half-sister Della? Or just the foundations of the house?”
That reminded me of Angdar. “I think we need to get home.” I said, standing and stretching. My back was feeling sore, and I was tired. “I’ll ask Edna and Peg what they think. But it looks as though I’ll have to come back here very soon and see if there’s a cellar.”
“Not with me?”
“Too dangerous,” I said.
And that was when she burst into tears.
I took her hand, and we flew home through the rain clouds, and at least, I thought, the rain drops might disguise her tears.
Six
Arriving home just before supper, I squeezed in a few things from my list. So Donald got a quick cuddle and some juicy looking weeds. He was in his stable because of the rain, looked warm and well fed, but bored. No Twizzle squawking about magpies in Koo-ee-rupotton! So he was delighted to see me and gave me an affectionate nuzzle.
Then I made a quick inspection of our newly built cottage, and it seemed even prettier and more solid than I remembered, and I was quite impressed. I spoke briefly to both Bertie and Gorgeous, my only tenants in there at present, and they both told me how much they loved it.
So on to number three. I ate my supper and then dragged Peg and Edna outside. There we sat and Fanny squeezed up beside us, and I asked their opinions regarding her cousin Dominic. Whistle had come too, sitting in the little bush beside us.
“This is serious,” Edna agreed with me. “We need to find out what this thing is. Not only for Fanny’s terrible curse, but for the danger of having such a thing prepared to do such awful things. A thing of such evil.”
“There’s an easy answer,” said Peg. “We all go there tomorrow and search the place. Our combined grades certainly won’t be easily overcome, whatever this troll thing might be.”
I sighed. “And I have to find an axe for Angdar.” I wasn’t going to be a moaner and admit it, but actually I was feeling rather ill. My back felt broken and my shoulders too. I didn’t worry since I was quite sure I could heal myself, but I was suspicious about such rare agonies.
“Butterfield and Angdar seem to be getting on very well,” said Edna. “But I’m thinking Angdar will disappear back into his Valhalla once he finds the axe. That’s going to leave Butterfield quite upset.”
“I’m not sure,” and I really was getting to the state where I wasn’t sure about anything, “but perhaps they could just enjoy a short holiday together while no one bothers looking for the axe after all.”
I had a most uncomfortable sense of everything around me going wrong. The curse coming from no one. Me being ill for the first time in my life. Fanny getting worse and worse. And now Butterfield.
As usual, it was Whistle who jumped onto my shoulder and sorted us all out.
“The axe will come when it comes,” he announced. “Perhaps Butterfield will discover it, and that will bind them together. The business of the creature in Grodpop under Lea. Now a shadow power like that could cause death across the country. We shall go there tomorrow, and I shall travel in someone’s cloak. Hopefully it won’t rain.”
“Our King Richard uses an axe in battle,” murmured Fanny. “A good idea, I suppose. Swords just sort of get in the way. Not that I’ve ever fought in a battle.”
“Hardly surprising.”
“Don’t change the subject,” insisted Whistle. “We all go together tomorrow, and I shall remain a squirrel.” He turned to me. “You, my dear, should be a cat. That way we can scurry into small spaces, tunnel underground or delve back into the rock where you say the house sits.”
“Now that,” I said with enthusiasm, “seems an excellent idea. And if young Dominic hears us and comes along with his own battle axe, then Fanny can keep him talking.”
I was engrossed in the idea for almost half the night, and slept for only the last few hours. Yet I woke with enthusiasm, ready to leave before dawn. Still a little early though, as I hadn’t yet dressed when I bustled over to the well with two large buckets. This was a job I’d had almost all my life, and one of the major duties amongst the many laid on me by my very demanding adopted mother. But I didn’t want to think about her now, so I simply thought I’d be useful and take water to Donald and the kitchens. I hadn’t done this since I became the Rookery’s proprietress, but I wanted to fill time and be useful.
Unfortunately, in spite of the enthusiasm, my back felt like snapping twigs and my head was pounding. I ignored both and tried a little magic concentration to heal myself. Frankly – it didn’t work. What a shameful fact for a ninety-eight.
Donald’s bucket was old wood, whereas for the kitchens I used a good copper one, which held more water. I was pumping deep into the well, bending over the low stone surround, trying to ignore the backache, when I smelled something surprising.
Not horrible and not shadow magic. Actually, this smell was invigorating and pleasant. At first, I thought it was yesterday’s rain having refreshed what was already there. But I was busy with other thoughts, so I hauled up the two extremely heavy buckets and started walking. Now convinced that my spine would snap at any minute, but I struggled on.
Then I stopped. Something else had occurred to me. Yesterday’s storm could have managed more than simply refreshing the water already there. It could have churned the hard, earthen bed, deep, deep down. There might be an interesting explanation for that sweet perfume. So I left the buckets where I’d dropped them and walked back. At first, I saw only darkness. I sat on the edge of the stones and peered downwards while raising one arm skywards.
“If you lie deep and sleeping for immeasurable time,” I called, “now you can wake, for your master needs you. Unearth yourself and come to my hand.”
My spells were very rarely common ones, of course. I just used my wiccan magic as the strength to call, since I’d never been taught the words. Concentration with a particular thought uppermost was my way in all things. Bright, powerful and certain of success.
And there it came. I couldn’t see what it was at first, since it was dripping with slush and wet mud. But very soon it became obvious, and I grabbed it, falling back onto the grass with delight. My back twinged so violently, but I was too happy to admit it. Then I hobbled inside and summoned enough water to wash the thing. Yes, it was quite amazingly beautiful. I laid it flat on a high shelf and flew upstairs to alert Butterfield. I wondered if I’d find Angdar at her bedside, but no, our friendly witch wasn’t having any of that. She was still in bed, but hurtled upwards when she heard my arrival.
I explained at once about the Norseman’s axe. “You collect it,” I whispered to her. “You give it to him. He’ll be so excited, and what happens next is up to you. He stays? Or not? Or do you go? Or don’t you care as much as I think you do?”
In the darkness, I couldn’t see if she blushed, so I left her to it and ran out to where we had all arranged to meet. I ignored my buckets – whoever found them could use them – and I sat on the daisies for my feline change.
I was grooming my whiskers and combing my ears with my paws when the others arrived. I didn’t mention the axe, wanting to keep to the more serious situation. It didn’t take us long. Peg wrapped Whistle in her long cape, bundled it up and managed to put it around her shoulders with the large wriggling clump under her arm. I was able to crawl beneath Edna’s cloak, and gripped her belt with my claws. Curling there, I was able to cling on, while she took Fanny’s hand, and we faced up to the clear blue sky. Luckily it was a beautiful day; the storm had entirely disappeared.
It was not a short flight, and I was feeling somewhat vulnerable by the time we arrived. Not to the village this time, but the very top of the cliff. We all stood there on the Lea and finalised our plans. Then, with me in Edna’s embrace and Fanny left on the rocks, we flew down over the house. Almost immediately Edna heaved, flying higher for a moment to catch her breath before descending again.
The house slept. Dawn had peeped over the rooftops, but it seemed that Dominic slept late. Yet in the stark hush of early silence, with the moon still visible before me, and the sun danced pink behind us, we knew that a day of importance had begun.
The stench was violent. With little activity in the area, I attempted to be more exact with my tracing. And as I came to the same conclusion, Edna whispered, “Below and behind.”
I nodded my white fluffy head and hopped down. “I can
find a way in,” I told Edna. Speaking as the kitten was always rather difficult and nasal, but she was now used to it. Leaving me at the side of the house, she flew back up to collect Whistle. It was somewhat later that Peg took Fanny’s hand and flew to the other side.
I blanked the others from my mind and pattered quietly to the back of the house where it joined the rock. It was there I nearly fainted with the strength of that hideous stink. But I wriggled past the wooden join where one wall finished, but then entered into another room. It hurt my back and sides, for the rocky scape was jagged in places, but quite abruptly I discovered myself on a dark little landing with rock in front, and wood either side, and tiny steep and narrow steps leading down.
Shadowed darkness indeed. I was obviously getting closer. The smell was so near and so overpowering that I wanted desperately to stop. Gagging and sick, my headache banging like a minstrel’s drum, I was in great pain but not in the least afraid, so I scampered downwards. I should have been afraid, but it was a bit late for that, and besides, my kitten was always eager for action. More than that – I was angry. Certain that all my pains came from this creature of putrefaction, I wanted to destroy it.
I came to the locked door where the darkness felt even more intense. I could barely see the door, even with my cats’ eyes, but I could certainly touch and feel it. The wood was as thick as a dozen normal doors, and the hinges were huge and heavy in wrought iron. From the keyhole hung a giant key, not something a small cat could easily turn.
So reluctantly, I changed back. I was Rosie again, and now extremely nervous. Something vile was behind that door, yet I’d see nothing. Quickly, I created a small torch of flame.
I unlocked the door and crept in.
Something was hiding in the far corner of the stone cell; it was gulping and sobbing. I stepped carefully forwards. This was a thing of evil, yet also of misery. It didn’t make sense.
Holding my flame to one side, I peered forwards and saw the liquid covering over two bright gleaming scarlet eyes. I couldn’t approach at first, but the snuffling and fall of huge tear drops gave me courage, so I stepped closer.