by CK Dawn
“Woohoo, shopping palooza. I bet Trista knows all the uber best dress shops in London.”
“No doubt. The woman has some serious style.”
Abbey cocked her head. “The only thing I remember about the King’s Celebration day back in New York is getting the day off from school. I’ve never been to a formal Brenin Dathlu before.”
“Me either. It should be quite an elaborate event considering Castle Clogyn is where it started.”
“Oh yeah, awesome. I totally forgot about that. Dude, do you think there will be anyone dressed in like real medieval armor?”
Lourdie laughed, “Since it’s black tie, I doubt it.”
Abbey frowned, “Right, black tie, stuffy. I’ve got it.” She was slowly warming up to the idea of not being able to wear her boots, but thought the old grumpy stuffed shirts at Castle Clogyn might need a dose of a little monster. “How high a heel do you think I can go? I can pull a Gaga and add a foot or two!” She stood on the bed and crooked her hands into claws. “Rah rah ah ah ah ah.”
Lourdie chuckled. “Let’s keep it under three inches shall we?”
Abbey jumped down. “Back the flux up!”
“Abigail Thorne!” Lourdie rolled her eyes. “What’s wrong now?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all except, OMG, five foot six here I come!” Abbey got on her tiptoes and danced around the room.
“Nice ride, Bishop,” Lourdie said bringing her luggage out the front door of the Victorian town house to the awaiting metallic, chocolate brown Range Rover HSE LUX V8. She helped Bishop put her suitcases in the trunk or, rather, boot, as she had learned the Brits called them. The Rover still had the new car smell, like it had just rolled out of the factory. She hoped her hosts weren’t going out of their way. She didn’t like being fussed over, especially when she knew her training wasn’t going to work. No one else in the history of the King’s Court had ever been able to conjure two orbs at once. No one.
“Thank you, my dear,” the archivist said kindly. “Our special guests receive only the best.”
Damn. Lourdie bit her bottom lip and smiled half-heartedly with nervous anticipation of her impending epic doom.
Bishop Linley had personally volunteered to drive the girls down to Castle Clogyn, giving Abbey her requested history lesson of the area while they travelled as well. Logan Templeton’s second in command had arrived at the Bellows last night and had introduced himself over dinner. He was easy going and seemed carefree, but Lourdie could tell he was a rock solid gentleman and an extremely dedicated archivist and guardian. He was Temple’s eyes and ears, but his friendly personality and mannerisms rivaled the best shepherds around. Lourdie would bet that Bishop’s sincerity and conviction made him pretty great at anything. In a way he reminded her of Marcus, albeit a more casual version, with his slightly greying hair of forty-one years and muscular physique. Lourdie instantly liked the man.
“What’s up, Bishopedia?” Abbey said coming down the steps. “Dibs on shotgun.”
“Good morning, Abigail,” he tipped an imaginary hat. “It’s lovely to see you, though I don’t believe I’ve earned that title as of yet,” Bishop laughed.
Lourdie gave Abbey a ‘remember what Marcus said’ look.
“Oh. I didn’t mean to offend you with the nickname, Bishop. I’m sorry” Abbey apologized.
“Nonsense, I quite enjoy it, my dear,” he laughed again.
“Just don’t wear it out, Abs,” Lourdie tussled Abbey’s hair.
“I won’t,” Abbey settled into the front left seat. “Dude, it is so weird sitting on the wrong side. I look like I should be the one driving this blarney awesome SUV.”
Lourdie laughed, “Your class is ready for their history lesson, kind sir. How ‘bout a brief summary for the American teen as to the history of how travelling on the left came about?”
“Splendid idea. Right then,” Bishop said with vigor. “We’re off.”
Seven
Forces Clashing
The walls of the tomb were dark and damp reminding Lourdie of the subway lines of so many hunts, but these were different, more organic-- alive. She was enveloped by the feeling of continuous motion but was unable to move. Something restrictive, like the hundred arms of creatures grabbing, and pulling her, not arms, she was gripped by the limbs, branches, and roots of a tree. Leaves cut her exposed skin with razor sharp teeth. She healed and then was cut again and again. A voice came from the darkness. Then two voices. One male voice, drowning out a smaller fluid voice. Water was everywhere. The voice split in two, pulled apart. A man’s deep raspy voice, a parched desert, pleaded, ‘Hear me... Lourdes!’
Lourdie woke up grabbing both sides of her head. She felt like she was being ripped in half.
“Lourdie? Hey, did you hear me? Quick, you’re going to miss the hill!” Abbey pointed out her window from the front seat.
“Damn, my head is throbbing.” She slowly shook her head, then glanced up, “What hill?” Lourdie looked out the left window in time to see what Abbey was fussing over.
“Cadbury Hill, duh. Camelot?! Or where it used to be anyway.” Abbey glanced at her mentor slouching in the backseat, “Lourdie, what’s wrong?”
“I’ve got a splitting headache,” Lourdie said looking out at Arthur’s forgotten kingdom. A lush green hill fort surrounded by a grove of trees. Once a seat of great power, the land was now cloaked by myths and legends as to whether King Arthur and Camelot ever even existed.
“Oooh, caffeine withdrawal headache. Yeah, I hate those,” Abbey said tilting her head. “I can’t remember you ever complaining about one before. Seriously, you’ve never even been sick a day in your life, have you? Guess Europe just doesn’t agree with you. Maybe you’re lagging,” she chuckled.
The energy coming off the hill was intense. She felt as if two separate powers were pulling at her. “Bishop, what’s out that way?” Lourdie said gesturing out the right window, still struggling with her bearings and feeling disoriented.
“Glastonbury Tor is about twenty eight kilometers from here,” he said quietly, not wanting to agitate her headache.
“Hmm no, not a tower. More like...in the ground?” Lourdie said still feeling as though the two forces were pulling her head apart.
“There’s Chalice Well near the Tor...”
Lourdie’s mind wandered as Bishop went into the rich history of the county of Somerset. She mumbled quietly to herself. What the flux is wrong with me?
Her headache seemed to follow the landscape. It went from splitting her in two, tugging from the left and right, to a mild pulling at the back of her skull the further they drove away from Cadbury hill and the Well. She tried to shrug off the feeling that something was calling to her. It had to be all the ancient power from Camelot. Wondering if some guardians could sense the remnants of that power more acutely than others, she decided to ask her parents about it next time she called them. I could have inherited it from one of them. Maybe I’ll ask Marcus. Bishop had ended his history lesson about Somerset and was on to Cornwall when Lourdie’s headache and strange dream dissipated from her thoughts.
Before reaching the small coastal town of Porthleven, Bishop turned left off the main highway and headed down an old country road. The trees became denser by the minute and the sun was going down fast. The air in the car was thick with anticipation. Their destination was very close. New arrivals to the castle could always feel it. Lourdie’s skin tingled with energy as they closed in on hundreds of unfamiliar guardians. Her senses hummed as they neared the King’s Court, the cradle of guardian society.
“Ladies, may I present Castle Clogyn.” Bishop beamed with pride as the tree line parted revealing the most magnificent fortress the two guardians had ever seen. The sun was beginning to set and streaked the sky with the most beautiful reds, pinks, and oranges, intensifying the castle’s presence. “Guardians, welcome to the Cloak.”
Abbey stared with her mouth wide open. The girl was actually speechless.
The site took Lourdie’s breat
h away as well. The castle and its estate were enormous. It sat on a thousand acres at the edge of Loe Pool, nestled amongst thick trees. The lake seemed to dance to life as the colors of the sky tickled its surface. The stone castle shined like a brand new penny. Its color ever changing under the setting sun. Lourdie couldn't believe she was looking at a structure that was over a thousand years old. She counted eight massive towers, four turrets, and finally lost count after thirty chimneys. She couldn’t wait to stand atop the curtain wall for a breathtaking panoramic view. The lake was separated from the Atlantic Ocean by Loe Bar. Local legend was that the sandbar was formed when a giant dropped his bag of sand, creating the largest natural freshwater lake in all of Cornwall.
The surrounding rolling hills had cattle and sheep grazing while farmers worked the land. Bishop said the castle also had its own cheese building and hen house. He laughed and said that really the only thing the castle and its land didn’t provide was chocolate. He pointed out the large wind turbines as they drove by and said the south facing rooftops of all the buildings had been recently equipped with solar panels.
A guardian manning the gatehouse opened a set of massive doors when he recognized Bishop. The new guests finally remembered to breathe as the car passed under the grand archway of the wall. To the outside world the ancient castle was merely a private functioning homestead that had housed the same wealthy family for generations on a working thriving farmland. To a guardian however, it was the living, breathing epicenter that stood vigil and protected the earth from harm. It was the King’s Court.
Bishop led the girls to their adjoining bed chambers, apologizing again for the very brief tour and for Temple’s absence. The knight was away on business but would be back in time for Lourdie’s training tomorrow afternoon. Bishop had been bombarded with greetings, questions, and comments as soon as they had entered the castle. He asked them all to meet him in the great hall momentarily. He explained that thirty-two hunters arriving at all times of the day and night had created a bit of a havoc. Lourdie had panicked when she heard the number. ‘Thirty-two?’ Bishop had told her not to worry, the rest of the hunters would cycle through her training within the next week or two. He expected there would be about eighty elite hunters in all going through her course, then returning to their courts, and training the rest. ‘Oh, eighty sounds much better. Not!’ Lourdie had no idea this training was such a big deal. Her stomach was twisting into one giant knot.
Bishop gestured down the dark corridor and gave the girls directions to the great hall for morning breakfast. Louie Templeton would take them on a proper tour of the castle and escort them to the training grounds tomorrow after lunch. Bishop apologized again for having to leave the girls to their own devices, but said to make themselves at home. He gestured to a young girl, calling her Scarlett, and said he would send her up with their dinner shortly. He bid them goodnight and hoped they enjoyed their evening as he quickly walked toward the great hall and the plethora of unscheduled meetings that awaited him.
The young shy Scarlett placed their remaining luggage near the two wardrobes. Her long black hair glistened with shimmers of natural blue highlights as she finished her duties. Fresh towels were placed on the warming racks as Scarlett flipped the switch for the bathroom’s heated floor. Lourdie thought the pre-gloamer couldn’t be more than ten years old, but carried herself as if she were twenty. The pink of Scarlett’s cheeks darkened against her creamy cinnamon skin as she shyly watched an acrobatic Abbey move effortlessly around furniture and suitcases. Her eyes grew larger and rounder with every weapon Abbey placed on her bedside table. Scarlett quietly asked what time Lourdie and Abbey would like their dinner brought up.
Lourdie tugged at her bottom lip, “Whatever time everyone else eats is fine. We don’t want to be a burden. Thank you, Scarlett.”
The pre-gloamer nodded and waved as she closed the door.
“Omg, they have Wi-Fi here!” Abbey squealed as she plopped her bags on her bed.
Lourdie laughed through their open double doors, “We’re in a medieval castle, not in the middle ages, Abs.”
Content with the Internet access, Abbey began exploring their suites. “Lourdie, you’ve got to check out this bathroom! It has a jet tub, a steam shower, and one of those bedazzles, I mean bidets built into the actual toilet!”
Lourdie joined her apprentice in the Jack and Jill style bathroom. “This is really nice, like being in a five star hotel. I wonder if all the rooms are like this,” she wasn’t used to being waited on at all and she felt a bit awkward. If she got hungry she just walked down the street or ordered take out. “I hope we aren’t getting special treatment.” Castle Clogyn appeared to run much differently than their New York home. At the Vaughan, they pretty much fended for themselves. Here, the castle was run more like a bed and breakfast. No, that wasn’t quite right. It was run more like, well, a castle.
“You’re training eighty of the best hunters from around the world! I think you’ve earned your keep.” Abbey jumped around taking in all the beauty and history.
Lourdie’s posture instantly stiffened, “Ugh, don’t remind me.” She tried to take her mind off her upcoming doom as she touched the old grey stone walls and admired the hand honed wood beamed ceilings.
Each of their suites had a quaint dining area near a set of tall narrow leaded glass windows. Lourdie had a view of countless rooftops and thought she even spotted a large greenhouse, but couldn’t be sure until the morning. The chilled wind off the ocean reminded her that winter was coming. She re-latched the windows. For the upcoming winter months the windows were equipped with old rustic shutters with large iron hinges and opulent silk embroidered curtains with a heavy cotton lining. The combination of new fabrics and furniture matched with rustic fixtures and ancient architectural details was beyond beautiful. It was magnificent. Massive fires were roaring from the twin hearths facing one another through the French doors. Their giant stone mantles released heat back into the rooms. Lourdie kicked her shoes off. The old espresso wood plank floors had been retrofitted with a radiant heating system and were already warm under foot. The queen size four poster beds were dressed with even more luxurious fabrics in warm shades of cream, vanilla, and almond. On each side of the beds were antique wooden nightstands. Above them were Murano glass wall sconces attached to the stone walls. They were dripping with amber and clear crystals. Each of the guardians had their own sitting area as well, decorated with an upholstered couch, love seat, and flat screen television. Abbey’s TV had been equipped with gaming controls, while Lourdie’s had already been turned to world news. Lourdie laughed. Well, someone has done their homework. The crowning glory in each room was a Murano chandelier in the center of each of their vaulted ceilings in the same clear and amber crystals as the wall sconces. These suites have to be Trista’s private rooms when she visits. Lourdie was honored by their Vicereine’s gesture.
With all her and Abbey’s talk on the plane about knights in shining armor and sword play, the master hunter let the strange experience in the car ride and odd headache completely slip away as she let herself daydream. She did a little twirl and felt like a princess in a tower. Abbey joined her and they laughed and danced.
Later they felt like royalty as they feasted on whole roasted chicken served with a rosemary fig sauce and a medley of vegetables. The cherry-on-top to their perfect evening in a fairy-tale castle was the sticky toffee pudding and reveling in video games with knights and dragons far too late into the night.
Eight
Storm Brewing
The winds were hurricane strength. Leaves and branches were flying through the air, cutting her exposed skin. Chapped lips cracked under any movement, like the bark of an old tree. Sand and dirt ground in her mouth as she tried to speak. There was no water here. Her arms reached up towards the sun for its warmth and nourishment. Her feet burrowed down under the earth as if searching for water. She couldn’t move, she was trapped. There was no human life here, but there was power. Unrea
chable, unattainable power just out of grasp. No, she could reach it, if only she could stretch out.
On the cusp of enlightenment, she was sucked into a vortex of bright light. It spun her out of control and spit her out violently seconds later. A metallic taste of rust filled her mouth. Water flowed everywhere through stone and earth yet she couldn't move, she couldn’t see. Darkness was all around, it consumed her, as time slipped by and aged her. Her sharp edges dulled and melted into something else, something other. She was drowning in water and mud. She tried to scream, yet had no mouth. She tried to breach the surface, but had no arms. She was melting into nothingness, trapped for eternity. Power, so much power with no way to harness it.
Reaching, clawing, scratching for the surface, she gasped for air and arched her back straight off the bed. Lourdie’s hands and feet cramped up and looked like bent and twisted gnarled tree roots. She slowed her breathing, opened her eyes, and took in her surroundings. Her muscles relaxed from their hyper-tense state as she realized where she was. I’m Lourdes Reese, I’m in my room at Castle Clogyn. It was just a dream. Just a dream. She launched herself out of the bed and quickly put on her clothes in the darkness. She relished each move her body freely made, not caring that the temperature inside had to be about forty degrees. The hearth fire must have died out during the night. Her room had turned ice cold. The curtains rustled slightly as a gust of wind hit the window. She threw the curtains back and stared out the open window. Latching it closed again, she looked out into the dark cold endless expanse. Only blackness stared back, she felt horribly alone.
Wanting, or rather needing, human interaction to reassure her she wasn’t still in a nightmare, Lourdie left the crisp chill of her bed chambers. Seeing that Abbey’s bed had already been made, she remembered Bishop’s directions and made her way down the endless corridors to the great hall. With each step, the nightmare faded. With each breath, the feeling of being trapped became a distant memory. She shook off the dregs of the dream, disregarding it as merely an overactive imagination, inspired by her fairy-tale accommodations. That, and nerves. She was, after all, about to begin training the best hunters from around the world today. They had been handpicked by Logan Templeton himself, or so she had been told.