Mist & Whispers

by C. M. Lucas

  Michael got straight to his feet. ‘Well, this is brilliant,’ he remarked. ‘All that and there’s nothing even up here!’

  Annoyingly, he was right. Anya looked around, but it didn’t take long to realise that, apart from themselves and a few blankets, there was nothing else up there. Stephanie and Tim’s silence gave her the impression that they were just as annoyed at her as Michael, but then, Stephanie had just escaped a twenty foot drop by a hair.

  Maybe whatever had been hidden in there was already long gone. Maybe it was time to accept the fact that Scott’s was closing, and there was nothing any of them could do about it.

  Michael took the lantern down and amazement swept his face as he stared inside it. ‘This is fascinating, look at this.’ He crouched down next to Tim and handed him the lantern. ‘It’s just a flame; no candle, no wick, no oil – nothing – just a flame.’

  ‘More peculiarly, there’s no air getting in either. Fire needs oxygen to burn. It must be an illusion some how...’ Tim said, finally letting go of Stephanie and trying to work out how the little flame could be burning.

  ‘You guys don’t think someone could be coming back here do you?’ Stephanie asked, wrapping her arms around herself.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Anya said, ‘but maybe it’s best we just get out of here. It doesn’t look like we’re going to find anything and I don’t want anyone else getting hurt.’ She gave Stephanie her best apologetic look.

  ‘Anya’s right,’ Tim said. ‘Here, take this, and Michael and I will figure out how to get out of here,’ and he handed Anya the lantern.

  She barely had a grip on it when instantly, everything changed.

  She was still holding the lantern, but she was alone in the room. The blankets on the floor were suddenly clean and the cobwebs had disappeared.

  Without knowing why, she turned the lantern upside down and opened a panel, revealing a folded piece of parchment.

  She blinked and everything was just as it had been.

  Tim and Michael had found the mechanics for the moving platform and Stephanie was freaking out over a spider crawling up her arm.

  ‘Anya, don’t just stand there, give us a hand or do something useful, will you?’ Michael complained, pulling Anya out of her trance.

  Butterflies filled her tummy and her hands shook as she turned over the lantern. Sure enough, there was a panel on the bottom.

  ‘What are you doing now?’ Michael moaned.

  ‘There’s something in here, I know it,’ she replied, opening the panel.

  There was.

  A folded piece of parchment, looking slightly aged but just as she’d envisioned. She took it out and held it for a moment. How it could be possible that she had just seen it in her mind? People didn’t really have premonitions – that was just stuff made up for books, TV and crazy people, conning money out of the naive over crystal balls. Surely it was impossible?

  ‘O.M.G,’ Stephanie gasped. ‘Anya! How did you know that was there?’

  She didn’t think it would be a good idea to tell them the truth when she didn’t believe it herself.

  ‘I, er... I spotted the panel when Tim passed it to me. Lucky guess.’ The corner of her mouth twitched nervously.

  ‘Well, what is it?’ Stephanie said.

  Anya opened the parchment.

  With rhyme comes reason so heed these words,

  There’s times and places for lessons learned.

  With my silver ink found here in four,

  These words create a map to more.

  Concealed in wonder six works of gold,

  The greatest story not yet told.

  In the ruins where St Michael ley,

  As the sun greets us for the solstice day.

  But harken, beware, before you endure,

  Once stepped forward, step back no more.

  When through cast eyes on the peacock’s tale,

  Where numbers take mystery and lift the veil.

  The first of one and the start of Many,

  Two hundred and three found in twenty,

  Four is twinned with four in eight,

  And six gives five before too late.

  The next ingress the moonlight brings,

  By Lunaris jewel in time with Kings.

  Then blood that falls upon the words,

  Will show you where to find the third.

  My gold; his name, his own in hand,

  T’was his fall that made him stand.

  Once passed three you’ve taken two,

  A summoning draft you’ll need to brew.

  Cascade into cascading blue,

  And find a way it will for you.

  Amongst the fiery eyes that weep,

  A key concealed in snow and sleet.

  Now half my treasures under wing,

  Yet so much more to thee I bring.

  Ancient rivals remain at peace,

  Amid, a passage – Head due east.

  In the mist a secret lies,

  With one who made a sacrifice.

  With such a wealth a choice must come,

  To leave ahead or battle on.

  If you should wish to find my fifth,

  Look no further than my gift.

  Use your heart and use your head,

  My final one I leave unsaid.

  For those who truly brave the quest,

  Will find the answer in my best.

  ‘It’s a riddle,’ Anya said, showing the parchment to the others.

  ‘I wonder what it all means,’ Stephanie said, her eyes still scanning the page.

  Tim, who looked deep in thought, read, ‘My silver ink found here in four... How many of Weaver’s books were found here?’ As Tim’s words permeated Anya’s brain, excitement took over.

  ‘The Weaver! The Weaver wrote this! James found four books here, and this says there’s more – six works of gold! Guys, if we can find these other books, we could save Scott’s!’

  To Anya’s delight, the others all agreed with her. The boys managed to get the chandelier to open, and they came down from the attic with considerably less drama than on the way up. When they got back to their cars, they made a plan of action.

  ‘We’ve got to work out where we’re going first. The riddle says “As the sun greets us for the solstice day” – the solstice is the first day of summer, right?’

  ‘Well, it could mean either the summer or the winter solstice,’ Tim said, looking at his watch. ‘Today is the 20th June, so I think tomorrow when the sun rises will be the summer solstice.’

  ‘Anyone got Google on their phone?’ Anya asked.

  ‘Mine and Tim’s are in the car, I’ll get them – ’

  ‘No need,’ Michael said as he fished his own phone out of his pocket. His fingers flicked over the touch screen and it gave a high toned bleep.

  ‘Battery dying?’ Anya asked.

  ‘Yeah, I didn’t get chance to charge it.’

  ‘Whilst you were stalking me, you mean?’

  Michael didn’t voice a reply but his sharp look was enough for her not to continue.

  ‘The solstice sunrise hits Stonehenge at 5:04 tomorrow morning.’

  ‘So, all we have to do is find out which broken old building this Saint Michael guy laid down in and go there, right?’ This was Stephanie, winding her fingers in her hair.

  Tim smiled at her and a soft laugh escaped through his nose. ‘Not that type of lay, Steph. It’s spelt L-E-Y, as in ley lines.’

  Stephanie’s face was blank while Michael clearly covered up his lack of knowledge by pretending to be deep in thought. His eyes gave him away, or so Anya thought. She could tell he was hoping someone else would speak. It was all in the way his eyes flitted from person to person.

  ‘What’s a ley line?’ Anya asked.

  ‘A ley line is an alignment of places of historical and sometimes mythological interest, spread across the country. I think some ley lines even stretch across more than one country. Some people believe they have some sort of spi
ritual importance. I think there is one known as the St Michael’s ley line, I remember reading something about it in one of my uni books.’

  Michael typed the words Ruins, St Michael and Ley Lines into Google. ‘Top search result: Burrow Mump.’

  ‘Burrow Mump?’ Stephanie repeated, screwing up her nose. ‘Sounds like a disease.’

  ‘It’s a hill in Somerset. The ruins of St Michael’s church are at the top.’

  ‘That must be it,’ Anya said, trying to peer at the phone over Michael’s shoulder without getting too close to him.

  ‘We’ll find these books in no time!’ Stephanie exclaimed, clapping her hands like they were attached to each other by a tiny piece of string. ‘I love the internet. I can’t even imagine how people lived before Google was invented.’

  Tim looked back at his watch. ‘It’s just gone midnight so if we set off now, we should just about make it in time.’

  ANYA TRIED TO get some sleep on the journey to Burrow Mump but her mind just wouldn’t shut down. The thought of finding more of the Weaver’s stories had her heart beating that bit faster than usual.

  They called past Michael’s house so that he could drop off his car and jump in with them. Anya still felt uncomfortable around him but secretly, she was glad that Michael wanted to help. Feelings don’t just switch off, no matter how angry you are at someone.

  Michael made up a few flasks of coffee to keep them all awake and they continued on their way, discussing the riddle as they went.

  ‘Why do you think he refers to the first four books as silver and the next six as gold?’ Tim asked after they stopped for petrol.

  ‘Maybe the gold ones are the first that he wrote and the silver ones were the second lot?’ Michael suggested.

  Anya, who hadn’t taken her eyes off the parchment for the entire journey, didn’t agree. ‘Maybe by silver and gold he meant their quality? Like, the silver books are second best to his gold?’

  ‘Seriously,’ Stephanie said, ‘could you imagine the look on James George’s face if we found six of the Weaver’s books, all better stories than the four he found! That would be priceless!’

  They all agreed that seeing James’ smug smile wiped off his face was just as much reason to find the books as saving Scott’s was.

  IT WAS ALMOST five o’clock when they reached Burrow Mump. During the night, the clouds had gathered and rain had begun to fall, leaving the morning sombre without the song of summer birds.

  The hill looked quite small from where they parked but by the time they had reached the base, the steepness took them by surprise. The mud was soft beneath their feet and the wind blew harshly, bringing the mood of the sleepy foursome down even further. The five hour car journey had been more than uncomfortable, and with no sleep and no food to keep them going, they were all looking forward to finding the first book and going home for some rest.

  Sheep grazed the wet grass in scattered herds, and as they reached the top of the hill, they heard an airy voice floating around the ruins.

  At first glance, it was obvious that St Michael’s was just a crumb of its former self. With no roof to shelter the main body of the church, it had been left wide open to the elements, taking a thrashing over the many years it had been forgotten. Though it had been stripped of all its sentiment and reason for being, a presence still lingered around the remains. After only a few paces, they found themselves at an archway. Peering through, Anya could see it mirrored another at the other end of the church and it was there they found the source of the voice.

  A small family were sitting in a circle by the tower entrance, eyes closed and holding hands. They’d have looked like an average, everyday family; a mother, father, son and a daughter, had they not all been dressed in long, flowing garments, and if their arms and necks had not been weighed down by all the beads, bangles and string necklaces. The mother was talking while the father and daughter appeared deep in meditation, serene smiles resting on their lips. The son, however, was as miserable as grey skies above.

  ‘The sun should rise in about five minutes.’

  The woman must have heard Tim’s voice, or felt their presence, as her eyes burst open and she looked straight at them. ‘Oh, how lovely, more beings have come to join our energy circle!’ She got to her feet, nudging her flock out of their preoccupation as she rose.

  The family came over, three quarters smiling wildly and seemingly ready to welcome the Four into their fold. ‘I’m Harmony,’ the woman said and she wrapped her arms around Anya and pulled her in for a hug. Anya looked around to the others in a silent plea for help, only to catch the back of Stephanie’s head as she made a quick getaway.

  Two minutes later, when the hug had surpassed awkward and started bordering on inappropriate, Harmony released Anya and placed her hands on the shoulders of the bespectacled man beside her, whose mousy beard was even longer than the woman’s tangled locks. ‘And this is my life partner, Light.’

  The awkwardness aside, Anya thought it was nice to finally meet someone with messier hair than her own. It was a rarity.

  ‘And these are our children, Breeze and Ocean.’ Breeze was exactly like her mother. Long ash-blonde hair, two small braids swept back from her temples and tied with floral hair ties. Her nectar eyes were adrift on a utopian sea of peace and free love – a look both her parents shared. Ocean, on the other hand, looked as if he wanted the world to open up and drag him down to depths where embarrassment and shame were the smallest of worries.

  ‘What exactly are you doing?’ Anya asked Harmony.

  ‘We are here to welcome the sun and let it into our heart spaces, to shine light on our lives and allow us to rid our spiritual flower beds of their weeds. We are going to be doing some tapping just before the solstice sun rises, if you’d like to join us?’

  Ocean rolled his deep blue eyes and crossed his arms. Anya wasn’t sure what tapping entailed, but she was sure she’d feel stupid doing it.

  ‘Ugh, this is all we need,’ Michael scowled. ‘Happy clappy hippies!’

  ‘Ignore him,’ Anya said to Harmony whilst shooting daggers at Michael. ‘We’ve actually come for something else, but we’ll try not to disturb you too much.’

  ‘That’s fine dear,’ Harmony said to Anya before turning to Michael. ‘Please keep him as far away as possible though. I sense his negative energy will interfere with the enlightening flow.’

  The family returned to their circle on the ground and back to their smiley meditation, except for Ocean. She tried her best to ignore his staring as they entered the ruins, feeling bad that he was stuck in a place where he didn’t belong. She knew that feeling all too well. No one had understood her passion for books at the home, or her need to be left alone with her own thoughts. She wasn’t into shopping, make up and yelping over posters of boy bands like the other girls there, and she cared little for the fickleness of their friendships.

  Each entrance to the church was guarded by two thick metal bars, but these didn’t take much to bypass.

  ‘So do we just wait for the sunrise then?’ Stephanie asked once they were all inside.

  ‘I guess so,’ Anya replied. She traced the edge of the ruins, feeling the stone crumble under her fingertips as she looked for a sign they were in the right place. She’d expected to find something, a symbol or a marking, a clue that indicated the Weaver’s presence in some way.

  ‘The sun should be rising in the next minute or so, guys,’ Tim called out.

  Perhaps the sun would shed some light on their situation.

  Sixty seconds passed slowly, and Anya found her attention drifting across the view of Somerset and then back at Ocean. He’d stopped staring and was now tapping his hand begrudgingly, his shoulders hunched in the rain. He scowled at his mother. Harmony, however, seemed completely unaware of her son’s distaste for their morning activities and was happily tapping away at her own hand, speaking in that airy tone that could put a person to sleep.

  ‘Even though in the past I have allowed myself t
o be tempted off the path of enlightenment...’ she chanted away.

  They certainly were a little out there. Looking away, Anya noticed something engraved into one of the bricks of the archway. She climbed up onto the top metal bar so as to get a closer look, and as she brushed away cob webs and blew away the dust, a single word was revealed.

  Weaver.

  ‘I found something!’ Anya cried out, and at once the others came to her side. ‘He was here! This is it!’ The others all huddled in the archway, marvelling at the simple word. ‘But, now what?’

  A warm glow swept the length of her cheek and she turned to see in the summer solstice. Brilliant orange burst from a gap in the clouds and over the hilltop, filling the ruins, and then what happened next was beyond anything she could have ever dreamed.

  Everything around her disappeared in the incandescence of the light. She felt a fizz in the pit of her stomach; a tingle like pins and needles, only stronger than she’d ever felt in her whole life. Then, her whole body seemed to implode toward the fizz, and for a split second she wondered whether she was dead, but twice as quickly as it happened, the feeling reversed, and Anya was in darkness.

  IN THE THIRTY seconds it took for Anya’s eyes to adjust to the darkness, a hundred questions ran through her mind. The first was answered as soon as she saw Stephanie, Tim and Michael standing next to her, just as they had been moments before in the archway of St. Michael’s church. The next question, however, was far from being answered.

  Looking around she realised the church had gone. The beautiful orange sunrise had been replaced by the black of night, and what had been a hilltop surrounded by farm land was now a forest of lifeless trees, their roots covered in dead leaves.

  The Four looked at each other, without any sort of explanation, stunned. They still had everything they were holding on to at the time – their bags, their phones, and to Anya’s relief, the riddle.

  She turned to the others. ‘What was that?’

  The sound of her voice seemed to shake Stephanie from her numb state, and she began to freak out. ‘OH. MY. GOD. What just happened? Where are we? How did we even get here? Where the hell did Burrow Mump just go and where did those trees come from? Oh my God! We’ve been abducted! Aliens!’