The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  At her words, a stray thought darted through Xander’s mind, the reflection that remaining oblivious might have been a more comfortable way to live. There was a small, fearful part of him that wanted not only to squeeze his eyes shut to this new and disconcerting reality, but to pull a sheet firmly over his head until it went away. Unfortunately, Xander suspected that there was no way back for him. Some things were just too big to be unseen.

  ‘I stayed here several times while I was growing up. Mistleberry is one of the oldest Lodges,’ said Ari, breaking in on his thoughts. She waved an airy hand towards the old building. ‘It’s a bit small and cramped really, a lot of it is in ruins, but I always loved it here. It’s a shame to see it so neglected.’

  Xander followed her across the grass as she walked over to the half-open door. Closer up, Xander could see that the bright-green paint was peeling and there were weeds growing by the door frame. Ari flicked disapprovingly at the bramble fronds hanging over the doorway.

  ‘Is it just left empty if Travellers aren’t here?’ asked Xander.

  ‘Sometimes,’ replied Ari. ‘But most Lodges are placed where there have been historical weaknesses on the border and traditionally we maintain a presence in these places, usually older Travellers who take up residence. Of course, for generations the border has been quiet, for the most part.’ She glanced at Xander. ‘Until recently, that is.’

  Without saying anything further, Ari tugged at the heavy door. It scraped against the ground as it swung ponderously open. Xander peered inside, but all he could make out was a large empty space, with motes of dust floating and dancing in the shaft of sunlight. Ari walked confidently inside, her light boots thudding on the grubby stone floor.

  ‘Hello?’ she called, but only the echoes replied. After a moment Xander followed her inside, his eyes adjusting to the dimmer light in the entrance hall. Several doors stood ajar, but there was nothing to be seen beyond them except a few wind-blown leaves. Ari did not appear affected by the desolate air of the place, and she called out again. ‘Hello, the Lodge.’

  A door opened abruptly, spilling a flood of warm light into the hallway.

  ‘Well, young Ari,’ said a soft, creaky voice. ‘Back again, are we?’

  An elderly woman poked her head around the door, peering over the top of a pair of light spectacles. Her thin fingers clutched a thick woollen shawl around her shoulders, despite the warmth of the morning.

  ‘Hello, Mrs Tavish,’ Ari stepped forward to give her a warm hug. ‘This is my friend, Xander. He’s never been to Mistleberry before so I thought I would bring him over.’

  The old lady stared suspiciously at Xander for a moment. Evidently he passed her scrutiny as she beckoned both of them to follow her as she hobbled, bent-backed, into the room and sank down with a sigh into a large, shabby armchair by the fireplace. Xander covertly eyed the hearth itself as he followed Ari into the room. It was piled high with what looked like clear pebbles, which glowed and flickered with warm light and threw off considerable heat, making the room with its thick, tightly drawn curtains quite stifling.

  ‘Sit, sit,’ urged Mrs Tavish, waving a hand toward the other chairs.

  Ari took the seat closest to the hearth, for which Xander was very grateful. He wondered whether it would be rude to pull his jumper off, as small beads of sweat formed at his hairline. Mrs Tavish tucked her shawl closer and eyed them beadily.

  ‘Did Atherton finally get around to sending someone to investigate?’ she demanded peevishly. ‘We’ve left word over and over again, but no reply. Forgotten about us here, they have. Forgotten about the old Tavishes, I reckon.’

  ‘Sent word?’ asked Ari, with a quick frown. ‘I hadn’t heard anything about that. Is something wrong?’

  ‘Wrong?’ snorted the old lady. ‘I should think so. Why would we leave messages if nothing were wrong? It’s all wrong here. Bad noises and then the cold; terrible cold, it is. That’s why we sent the messages.’

  ‘Noises?’ Ari asked politely, as Xander surreptitiously blotted his forehead.

  ‘At night, hissing like snakes, that’s what. Terrible things moving in the dark,’ Mrs Tavish said darkly. ‘Alvin hears them. He can always hear them now.’

  Ari nodded, her expression sympathetic. ‘How is Alvin?’ she asked.

  ‘The same,’ replied Mrs Tavish flatly. ‘Nothing to be done, they say. He’s out with Tavish now. They’ll be back soon and you can hear all about it. You can tell Atherton to send some people over.’

  ‘I’m not sure that Atherton will listen to me,’ began Ari, but the sound of heavy footsteps interrupted her. Mrs Tavish sat up straighter in her chair.

  ‘They’re back,’ she said. ‘Now you’ll hear.’

  The door opened again to admit an elderly man, with white, thinning hair and deep lines on his face. Xander’s gaze, however, was immediately drawn to the figure that shuffled after him. He appeared to be middle-aged, but it was hard to tell as his features were distorted and marred by a twisted web of silvery scars that covered his entire face and extended down his neck. One eye was shuttered with scar tissue while the other was dull and vague, looking indifferently upon the world. He paused in the doorway, clutching a large bag in his gnarled hand. While Xander was distracted, Ari had stood up to greet the older man, who nodded abruptly back.

  ‘You’re one of the Aldanes, aren’t you? Young Ariel?’ he asked gruffly, glancing at his wife for confirmation. ‘So you’re who Atherton and Wooten send, after all this time? You and this child?’

  He looked disgusted as he walked forward to stand next to Mrs Tavish.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Ari, with an apologetic grimace. ‘I’m afraid I hadn’t heard anything about your messages, although to be fair I’m not privy to the Wardens’ communications.’

  ‘They don’t believe us, do they?’ snorted Mr Tavish, as if Ari had not spoken. ‘Don’t believe the old Tavishes when they say there’s a problem. Sending someone barely trained and a boy, just to shut us up, I reckon.’ Ari shook her head, but Tavish ploughed on, his voice rising. ‘Think it’s my imagination, do they? Paranoid, am I?’ He looked over his shoulder at the figure still standing silently, clutching his bag and staring at Xander. ‘I’ve good reason, I would say.’

  The bitter words hung in the air like something physical, until Mrs Tavish pulled herself up out of her chair. ‘Come on in, Alvin love,’ she said in a gentle voice. ‘It’s only some visitors, nothing to worry about. Let’s get your coat off now.’ Speaking encouragingly, she led the man through another door and shut it behind her. Ari’s eyes had followed them, compassion clear on her face.

  ‘Is there any improvement?’ she asked.

  ‘No’ replied Tavish shortly. ‘Nor likely to be. Shade-strike that bad, you don’t come back from it,’ Xander felt a sudden chill go down his back at the man’s words but Tavish continued on, his face twisted with frustration as he turned to Ari. ‘That’s why the Wardens should listen to my warnings, instead of sticking their ears in the ground. The boundaries are not secure, they’re failing, and if those horrors get loose in Haven there’ll be no help for any of us. Alvin hears them. He says they’re coming.’ He reached out and gripped Ari’s arm. ‘You tell that to young Flint. You tell him to make the Wardens pay attention.’

  Xander vaguely heard Ari’s voice, answering in calm, reassuring tones, but all he could see in his mind’s eye were those shifting, menacing shadows in his home and then again, massing in front of him in the museum. Nausea rose sharply in his throat. He had known instinctively that they were dangerous, but he would have been paralysed with fear if he had understood the truth of what he was facing. Staring down at the neat white bandage on his left hand and thinking of that terrifying pillar of blackness that had struck out at him, he wondered how on earth he had escaped with only a minor injury. Suddenly his wrist was taken in a firm grasp. The old man bent over his bandaged palm, his expression intent, before he looked up with dawning interest into Xander’s face.

>   ‘That’s shade-strike,’ he said, before glancing at Ari for confirmation.

  Ari nodded.

  ‘How did you know?’ she asked.

  Tavish curled his lip contemptuously. ‘D’you think I wouldn’t know the taint of it? It leaves its mark. This though,’ he sucked air in through his teeth, considering, ‘it’s not – quite the same.’ He peered into Xander’s face. ‘How many, boy?’ he asked.

  Xander remembered the wall of cold, hissing blackness massing in the museum, rising up and striking at him. He swallowed. ‘A lot,’ he muttered, and drew his hand back to stick in his pocket.

  Tavish frowned, eying him for a moment, but then turned abruptly to Ari. ‘Just tell Flint to come and talk to me. Tell him I’m Watcher in this place and he needs to hear what is happening. He’s one with his eyes open and his brain switched on, not like that group of pompous –’

  He cut himself off, with a quick glance at Xander.

  ‘I’ll tell him,’ Ari assured him.

  ‘Hmph,’ Tavish snorted. ‘Fine time it is, when a Watcher has to plead for a hearing. Got too comfortable, those Wardens. Can’t see? Don’t want to see, I reckon. Well, off you go. No time to waste. That’s the problem with young people these days – no sense of urgency.’

  Ari smiled at him, lifting a hand in farewell as she drew Xander with her, out of the room. Xander noticed that Tavish’s eyes followed him as he left, his gaze lingering on Xander’s bandaged hand.

  The deserted hallway was refreshingly cool after the suffocating heat of the Tavishes’ sitting room, and Xander couldn’t restrain a sigh of relief as they walked towards the front door. Neither of them spoke until they stood outside again. The sun was high in the sky, shining on the broad green clearing, and a fresh breeze lifted Xander’s hair, sending the long grass and flowers swaying. It appeared to be a place shielded from darkness and fear, and yet Xander shivered as he recalled the Tavishes’ warnings. He could not blot out the memory of Alvin Tavish’s ruined face.

  ‘What happened?’ he asked Ari. She seemed to know exactly what he meant.

  ‘It was a while back, about fourteen years ago,’ she answered. ‘The border failed, and no one saw it coming. We barely even trained for shade-strike. It had been generations since we’d had to face that, and people believed the threat was gone. Alvin and a couple of others were caught out alone and unprepared; he was horribly injured, but the worst effect was on his mind. The Tavishes tried to keep travelling, they thought having people around and keeping some normality for him would help him recover. It didn’t.’ Ari sighed and glanced back at the lodge. ‘That’s when they applied to take on Mistleberry as resident Watchers. It’s out of the way and hardly used. I think they hoped that quiet living would improve things for him.’ Her voice trailed off, and she shrugged helplessly. Clearly it had not.

  ‘What happened to the others with him?’ he asked.

  Ari looked away, not quite meeting his eyes. ‘They didn’t make it,’ was all she said.

  All of a sudden, it became quite clear to Xander why Ari had brought him to Mistleberry. ‘I can’t go back, can I?’ he said quietly. ‘Those things were in my house and targeting me at the museum. I can’t go home.’

  ‘I don’t think so, Xander,’ said Ari, equally serious, with the twinkle missing from her eyes. ‘Not until we know what’s going on and why they keep showing up around you. You need protection.’

  Without another word, she turned and led Xander back over the grass, away from the silent lodge. Xander was content to walk in silence. He was turning everything he had heard and seen over and over in his mind, trying to make some sense of it all. Primarily, he decided, he needed to find out why this was happening to him, and he realised that the answers were most likely to be found here, in Haven. As they passed under the first trees surrounding the clearing, he looked back at the glade and blinked. The ward was flickering in and out; one moment the green lawn sat serenely in the dappled sunlight, and the next, the space was a scrubby brown wasteland. Nothing in Haven, he reflected as he turned away to climb up the woodland trail, appeared to be really as it seemed.

  *

  Ari brought Xander back to Woodside after that, but she did not seem in any particular hurry to leave, and they strolled through the gardens together. Xander looked over at the old grey house, with its many windows reflecting back the morning sun.

  ‘So the Stantons aren’t Travellers?’ he asked.

  Ari shrugged easily. ‘Well, yes and no,’ she said, and then laughed. ‘What I mean is, mostly no. Thea married a Traveller, which was pretty much unheard of for someone from a Founding Family like her, as well as being unusual for us; we Travellers rarely marry out. It was apparently quite a scandal at the time.’

  She glanced at Xander and smiled at the baffled look on his face. ‘Sorry,’ she said. ‘I keep forgetting you know absolutely nothing about Haven. This must all be very confusing for you.’

  Xander nodded, with a wry grin for that understatement. Ari stopped walking and sank gracefully down into the grass, sitting cross-legged.

  ‘Tell you what,’ she said. ‘I’ll start from the beginning.’

  ‘That would be great,’ said Xander, joining her with a sigh of relief.

  Ari plucked a daisy and began absently twirling it in her fingers.

  ‘Way back in the mists of time,’ she began, ‘Haven’s government was founded by twelve families, known as the Founding Families. Even now they’re still the biggest landowners, and they each hold a hereditary chair on the Council of Haven, although these days they don’t control all the day-to-day decision-making. The Families are all extremely wealthy and powerful, and so the Peverells were less than impressed when Thea Peverell fell in love with a Traveller, and announced she would marry him.’

  ‘Why would they worry about that?’ asked Xander. Having seen the Travellers in action at the museum, personally he thought that they were pretty impressive.

  Ari wrinkled her nose. ‘Our role has always been to watch and ward the border of Haven, and the law states that the Families and the guilds have to give a tithe to recompense us for risking our lives on their behalf. However, it’s been hundreds of years since there’s been any real threat on the border, except for a couple of incidents, and most Travellers are more engaged in trading these days than risking our lives in defence of Haven. There’s sometimes bad feeling about that,’ she said, shrugging, ‘but the law is quite clear. So far there’s never been any real attempt to get out of the tithes, but the Families tend to look down on Travellers and think of us as free-loaders. Hence, they weren’t thrilled when one of their own decided to slum it, as they saw it, with one of us.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Xander. Mrs Stanton did not strike him as a very likely subject for a star—crossed romance, but clearly appearances could be deceptive.

  ‘Indeed,’ said Ari, with a twinkle in her eye as if she guessed at his thoughts and they amused her. ‘Anyway, Thea defied her family and got married, and they had two boys, Ollie’s father James, who you’ve met, and Len’s father, Jasper, who’s the only one in the family to have inherited the Traveller abilities. Thea’s old aunt, who was a bit eccentric, had a soft spot for her rebellious niece and left her this house years ago; this is where they have lived ever since.’

  She leant back on her elbows in the grass and eyed him thoughtfully.

  ‘Any other burning questions?’

  Xander’s eyes immediately dropped to the orb on her wrist, glimmering in the warm sunshine. ‘How do they actually work?’ he asked, voicing the question he had been dying to ask since first seeing one. ‘Is it some kind of magic?’

  Ari laughed and shook her head vigorously.

  ‘No, it’s not magic,’ she said, her eyes sparkling in amusement. ‘Travellers are born with certain innate abilities and the orbs simply allow us to draw on the energy generated by the deep earth, and to focus and direct it.’

  Xander frowned. ‘So how come Ollie and other people who aren�
�t Travellers have orbs as well?’ he asked.

  Ari sat up again and held her wrist out to Xander so he could look more closely at the stone. ‘Can you see any differences between mine and the others you’ve seen?’

  Xander bent over her orb, examining it carefully. ‘Yours is clear,’ he said, watching with fascination as tiny points of light flickered deep within it. He frowned as he tried to recollect in detail the other orbs he had seen and then glanced up at her. ‘And the other coloured orbs have something in them, some kind of silvery threading, although it’s hard to see in Ollie’s.’

  Ari drew her hand back with a little smile. ‘Yes, perhaps Ollie’s orb isn’t the best one to use for comparison. For some reason, he’s incredibly hard on them, not to mention rather prone to exploding things.’ She shook her head, laughing. ‘Anyway, he wears a synthetic orb like most of the people in Haven. It’s actually a fairly new technology, invented about twenty years ago, and they’re not like ours, but the coding inside them does allow a limited draw on the power. Before the coding was incorporated, it took people years of training to use orbs, even in the limited manner of non-Travellers.’

  She glanced over at his fascinated expression and her eyes twinkled.

  ‘This is something that anyone can learn,’ she said, reaching out to pluck several more daisies. ‘Watch.’

  Ari laid the flowers in a little heap on the grass. A moment later, they whirled up into the air, as if a tiny tornado was lifting them off the ground, swirling around just above Xander’s head. As he stared up at them, one daisy spun down to tickle the end of his nose before shooting back upwards to re-join the circle. Ari grinned at him.

  ‘This is actually quite good practice for fine control,’ she said, ‘which is why it’s one of the first things we learn to master.’

  ‘Could you lift yourself up in the air, like flying?’ asked Xander, as the daisies began to weave in and out of each other in a complicated pattern.