Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1)

by K. Francis Ryan

  “You can’t help them anymore.” She felt Julian’s words. He had been projecting his thoughts for several weeks and had gained control of that talent quickly.

  She closed her eyes. He was near. That she knew, but no more. She took a deep breath and exhaled as she looked at the last of the wild flowers growing on the path at her feet. She heard him stand and she smiled. Moira turned, looked at Julian and said softly, “Come inside.”

  They sat in front of the low turf fire. The light played upon her face, sharpening her features and Julian could feel the strain in her.

  Moira began, “You’re right of course. I can’t help them anymore. I can’t help anyone any more, least of all you. Not in the way I want to, the way I should be able to.”

  “What’s happened?” Julian’s asked simply, softly.

  “Julian, I don’t know, I simply don’t know. It started happening well before you arrived. At first, I thought I was growing old and tired, but that felt wrong somehow. I’ve thought on it a great deal as you can imagine. For us, losing abilities isn’t like a head cold. It isn’t something you simply get over. No, no ’tis far worse.

  “For us it is about control. We take the raw talents we are given and through practice, we develop the skill necessary to discipline our thoughts and so guide the use of those talents.”

  She continued. “As I told you before we do not change or manipulate the universe about us. This is not about bending the laws of nature to our will. We see what is real and what is illusion and so we are able to act accordingly. At a very deep level, you know this. I can feel that in you. Sadly, I can feel little else.

  “That control I spoke of, in my case, is now in question and so the talents themselves are no longer reliable. As a result, I can do very little without running a terrible risk, a risk I’m not willing to take. People get hurt when we get it wrong, Julian.”

  He did not understand her loss fully, but he could feel her sadness. In a voice touched with tenderness, he asked, “What can I do to help you? How can we get back what you’ve lost?”

  The old woman smiled thinly, reached out and touched Julian’s hand. He closed his eyes. Where once she could have left that hand tingling at her touch, now there was just the softness and warmth of a troubled woman.

  “That’s what I find so worrying. It isn’t as though I’ve lost it. It feels as if it is being taken. I’m afraid I don’t know how else to say it. At first, it was small things, but now more and more of me has been taken. Now, there is little left, I’m afraid.” Moira said and looked deeply into the fireplace.

  “Then is there a way we can protect you from whatever is robbing you of your abilities? Is it something here? If you left the valley for a while, would that help? Is there someone we can call on for assistance? There must be something we can do.” Julian bunched his fist in frustration.

  “Listen, Moira, you have been good to me – in your own odd sort of way.” The woman chuckled and Julian continued.

  “If you’re worried about me, don’t be. I’ll be fine. I’ll continue to practice and I’ll be as ready as possible when I need to be. I know someone who can come take you away from here. She is like you. She’s someone who understands and who can help. Maybe there is another teacher who can watch over me while you’re away if that would make you feel better. Let’s not just sit and do nothing.”

  “Julian, you are a dear boy – in your own odd sort of way,” Moira said not unkindly and it was Julian’s turn to smile.

  “When you came here you needed my help. Now I need yours and everything is wrong about that. It is outside the natural order, don’t ya see?” Moira went quiet as she looked into the fireplace. She closed her eyes and drew a ragged breath, let it out and turned to look into Julian’s eyes.

  “My place is here. I don’t know why, but I know I’m to stay here and I know no more than that. It’s not clear what we can do, but we will find a solution. It is up to us, Julian, to find the truth of things and understand it fully. We are the only ones here who can do anything. So, it’s you and me, boyo.

  “I’m tired, so run along to your lessons. Julian, I am so dreadfully tired,” she said.

  In a world of thoughts and feelings, knowledge and experience Moira Hagan was lost to Julian. He rose quietly and let himself out.

  ***

  For the next weeks, he practiced harder, longer and with sustained concentration. The efforts left him drained but satisfied with his progress.

  ***

  Brendan Maher watched the trees as they bent in the breeze. By constantly exposing both sides of their leaves, the trees displayed a riot of changing color exclusively for Brendan’s delight.

  As he sat at the tree line looking across a farmer’s field to the other side, he had an unobstructed view of rows of potato plants and the trees. He could smell the damp earth beneath him and could feel the light breeze on his face and through his hair. He saw it all through half closed eyes as his hand rhythmically stroked Dunla’s fur.

  She had grown and could no longer sit on his lap, but she enjoyed having her head and front paws across her young master’s thigh and to feel his hand on her shoulder with an occasional foray up to her ears.

  The sounds and smells that left her master content were the same ones that came to her, but her ability to instantaneously calculate their subtle meanings was instinctive and unerring. Although the dog had her eyes closed and breathed heavily through her nose, she was alive to everything around her.

  Unlike a person, Dunla had no need to weigh the relative value of the things around her. Danger was the only weighted value. The sound of the leaves, the smell of the earth, the feel of the wind lightly rustling her fur, the love of her master – all were simply facts.

  She felt it before she heard it and long before she would have seen it. She tensed and began to rise, but Brendan held her in place and spoke soothingly in Gaelic to her. He knew there was no danger. A truck was coming along a farm road on the far side of the field. The vehicle was a small white pickup truck driven by a large man in a cloth cap.

  Brendan whispered to Dunla, “No need to worry my little lady. It is only a truck – a farmer probably,” he said in Gaelic and the dog heard not a stutter or stammer, only her master’s calm steady voice. This was the voice she knew. This was the voice never raised to her in anger. This was the voice that calmly cautioned her when she misbehaved. This was the voice that lavished praise on her for the simplest activities. The boy watched the truck not understanding what he was seeing.

  It passed level with them and stopped near a small hillock a short way up the road. The man in the cloth cap did not get out, but the passenger door opened slowly and a very thin man in a dark suit emerged.

  The man scanned the area for activity from the sheltered side of the truck and seeing none, he began to slowly walk around the circumference of the mound while the driver pulled forward and turned the vehicle around. The man in the dark suit stopped from time to time to inspect things near the mound. He returned to the truck, spoke to the driver briefly, got in and they drove off in the direction they had come.

  ***

  While Brendan and Dunla sat and watched the day unfold from the base of the trees, in the village, Julian questioned Sean Maher.

  “Why are there all these mounds? Why are these people digging into them? What are they looking for?”

  “After forcing me to consume unreasonably large quantities of porter last night, is it you who would be asking me questions that would hurt the head of a saint? For the answers to these questions, you would have to consult the Hagan. She knows of the mounds. I think they were being made a thousand years ago when she was a girl,” Sean said sourly. “Still, as to the digging, Oi wouldn’t think she knows anything. Still, with witches it is best never to underestimate what they know and what they don’t.”

  “Good suggestion. Let’s go ask her.”

  Maher looked stricken. “Let’s? As in you and me? ME? You are daft. Oi’ll not be seen
conspiring with witches. Oi have me reputation and my immortal soul to think of!”

  “Are you going to be a big sissy about this? How many times do I have to tell you, she is not a witch. There are no witches. None,” Julian stated.

  “If you were not such a vast friend of mine and if my head did not hurt so from the porter, Oi would simply knock you down, Julian Blessing.”

  “There, then it’s settled. Let’s go. It is off to see the Witch of Cappel Vale.” Julian laughed.

  With a groan, Sean set off with Julian and found Moira Hagan working in her garden.

  “Well, the entire police force of Cappel Vale has come to arrest a poor old woman. Is that what the world has come to? Doubtless, Sean Maher has brought his rubber truncheon to beat me while you, Julian Blessing, break me down with your towering intellect,” Moira snorted. Julian noted that she might have lost use of many of her powers, but she had retained her sense of humor and her acid tongue.

  “We simply seek the assistance of a law abiding citizen, Mrs. Hagan,” Julian addressed his teacher formally.

  “And, should I not be able to render such assistance, well, then ’tis I who will be introduced to the rubber truncheon?” she asked.

  “Only if that is what pleases you somehow,” Julian said while Sean tried to hide his massive frame behind his considerably smaller friend.

  “We are wondering about the mounds,” Julian said, but Sean cleared his throat. “I am corrected. I am wondering about the mounds. More specifically I am wondering what you can tell me about them.”

  “You know the Squire of course,” Moira Hagan said and Julian nodded.

  “Go to the Squire and ask to borrow his automobile and meet me by the crossroads east of the village near the holy well. Forty-five minutes should give us all enough time. Oh, and bring your field glasses if you have any. If not, borrow some from the Squire,” Moira said.

  “Good. Now that is settled I’ll be on my way,” Sean Maher said and his mood brightened considerably.

  “Absolutely correct, Sean Maher – indeed you will be on your way with Mr. Blessing to fetch the automobile. You will then accompany us on our outing.”

  “But...”

  “But what?” Moira Hagan snapped and her glance chilled Sean’s bones.

  “But Oi’ll be going with Julian to fetch the Squire’s automobile,” Sean said resigned to having his soul burn throughout eternity for fraternizing with a witch.

  ***

  Julian brought the Squire’s ancient black Land Rover to a stop moments before Moira Hagan shimmered out of the forest and onto the unpaved roadway. Sean looked at Julian and said, “How did you know? The crossroads isn’t for another kilometer.”

  Julian smiled, was thoughtful for a moment and said simply, “Just a lucky guess.” And this answer satisfied Sean Maher not at all.

  The Hagan stepped to the passenger side front door, cocked her head and squinted at Sean who quickly relinquished his position and clambered into the backseat. “Straight until I tell you. Then we’ll take a right turning onto a path where the pasture begins. From there drive until I tell you otherwise.”

  They drove on in silence. Julian watched the road intently trying to anticipate and avoid the ruts in the road. A goat path appeared and, although it looked just like the four they had passed already, the Hagan told Julian to turn. The path rose steeply leaving the road to Cappel Vale and the valley far below and to the right.

  It seemed every variant of green was possible in this impossible place. The breeze, gentle and measured in the village, had become a full wind blowing unimpeded off the Irish Sea. Although not at gale force, the wind buffeted the Land Rover and Julian had to hold on tightly to the steering wheel to keep it on the goat path.

  “This path will crest in awhile. There will be an outcropping of trees at the top to the right. Stop there. We will walk the rest of the way. Did you bring the field glasses?”

  “Yes,” was all Julian said as he fought to keep the back end of the vehicle from losing traction and getting them all mired in the soft earth on either side of the path.

  “You didn’t think to bring anything to drink did ye?” Sean croaked in a choked panic stricken voice from the back seat. He was a man of the land and didn’t much care for automobiles. He looked at them with only slightly less suspicion then he did airplanes, submarines and trips to the moon – not something for a proper Christian.

  “Is it porter you would be talking about, Sean Maher? If you weren’t crouching there on the floorboards you would at this moment be intoxicated by the beauty that surrounds you, you great oaf,” the Hagan said with a half snarl.

  “The back of me hand will be something that’ll intoxicate ya!” Maher mumbled and Julian’s hand shot to his mouth to hide the grin that materialized there despite his best efforts.

  “What did you say? And you, what exactly do you find so funny?” the Hagan said as unkindly as possible.

  “Me?” Maher said. “Oi didn’t say anything, but Oi mayhaps have mentioned that your good self was probably quite correct.”

  “Funny? Me?” Julian joined in. “No, I’m just intoxicated by the beauty that surrounds us.”

  “If I didn’t have other things to do I’d stop this automobile and beat the both of you eejits for your insolence. As you will remember, ’tis I who am doing you the favor and not the other way round, but even if it were the other way round I would probably take the time to beat you both just for good measure. It would do you both a world of good and make better men of you!”

  The remainder of the trip was conducted in silence.

  ***

  Julian stopped the Land Rover at the crest of the goat path and got out. His fingers were stiff from gripping the steering wheel so tightly. Sean slithered from the backseat grateful to be on firm ground. Moira Hagan sat in the vehicle. When she didn’t appear both men turned and were horror stuck.

  Although outwardly tranquil, the Hagan communicated a wordless message that could not be more clearly understood. It seemed to say, “If one of you eejits doesn’t get over here and open my door and hand me out of the vehicle NOW, I will make you both wish your mothers had become nuns!”

  The flurry of activity as each man trotted to the passenger side of the Land Rover was remarkable for its comic clumsiness. Maher wrenched open the door with nearly enough force to tear it off the hinges. Julian extended his hand and took the Hagan by the elbow with the other hand to ease her to the ground. After smoothing her long dark skirt, Moira Hagan reached up and patted Julian on the cheek. As she stepped around the door, she touched Sean’s hand and smiled at him. Julian and Sean shivered.

  “That was very nicely done boys. It is good to know your mothers taught you well. Now shall we go?”

  She led them to the very edge of the outcrop. The Hagan sat down on a comfortable rock and pointed into the valley. “What do you see?”

  Julian was stunned. “Mounds – lots of them. I didn’t realize there were so many.”

  “I suppose this is why you are a policeman and I a mere woman citizen of our little village,” she said and sarcasm dripped from her voice. “Of course there are lots of mounds ya eejit.

  “You! Maher. I don’t suppose you will do much better, but you have lived here all your life so I am expecting something from you, boyo. Tell friend Blessing what he is looking at.”

  “They’re burial mounds lined up between here and the coast, Oi think.”

  “Well, you think correctly or nearly correctly. Let’s begin with what we know of their beginning.” Moira Hagan settled herself, closed and then with heavy lids opened her eyes again. Her shoulders relaxed and she began.

  “Although nothing of Ireland exists that can be dated before the sixth century, burial sites are an altogether different matter.

  “Four thousand years ago, give or take, the people of this area of Ireland constructed these earthworks. Although known as burial mounds very few of them were. Some of the earthen mounds were hollow insi
de with the resulting chambers being decorated with carvings and paintings.

  “There are 300 so called passage-tombs here in Ireland with the largest being at Knowth, Newgrange and Dowth. These mounds are huge and are surrounded by a dozen or more smaller ones. Those smaller mounds are much more like the ones you see below in the valley.

  “Still, in spite of the similarity of size, ours are somewhat different. Rather than surrounding a larger structure as in those other places, ours run in a perfectly straight line. No one living today knows why. They start at the base of the mountain where we are and run east for some way before they reach the sea. Still they do not terminate at a larger mound, as one would expect. Are you two paying attention?” Moira snapped and then continued.

  “A number of the mounds were found to have served as burial chambers or tombs for Celtic nobility, others acted as storehouses, some were just mounds and as such solid through and through with no seeming purpose a’tall,” she said.

  “They are all protected these days by the government, but there was a time when they were freely plundered by the visitors sent to conquer us – that would be our English friends.

  “Little good it did them as no real wealth was ever found. Ours is a poor country rich only in culture, history and heritage – nothing that would interest the English,” she said.

  “Since then the farmers of this valley have simply worked around the mounds. They are not trees to be cut down or boulders to be moved. They are a past to be honored because it is an Irish past.”

  “So, is it possible someone is still trying to plunder them?” Julian asked. “Is it possible someone came into possession of information that one of the mounds contained something valuable?”