‘Certain!’ she replied eagerly, spinning round to face him.
‘So be it!’ he returned, looking to the night sky. ‘And look!’ he added, pointing up. ‘We even have the full moon to light our way. So, there’s nothing to be afraid of.’
She followed his gaze, in awe at the spectacle high above them, trying to blank the sinister thoughts preying on her weakness.
‘Does the moon look’— he stopped, then tilted his head— ‘brighter than usual?’
‘’Tis always brighter at its fullest, Gill,’ she replied, casting him a peculiar glance.
‘True, but… see how clear the markings on its surface are,’ he said, pointing directly at it. ‘I’ve never seen it so… illuminated!’
Eleanor looked higher, stretching her neck, her mouth opening wide. ‘Aye, so it is,’ she agreed. Then, letting her eyes wander, she added; ‘And look how crowded the sky is with stars.’
‘How many do you think there are?’ he said, keeping her mind occupied from sinister thoughts.
She frowned, shaking her head. ‘They must be infinite. Who could possibly count them? It would take forever!’
‘Look!’ he whispered. ‘Did you see that?!’
She gasped. ‘I did! Blair, once told me, for every shooting star we see, it is a soul passing into the next world. ’Tis sad, but a beautiful thought.’
‘Well… paw told me,’ he challenged, ‘They are restless, lost souls, waiting to be plucked from a never-ending journey of perpetual suffering.’
‘How awful!’ she exclaimed, staring at him, horrified at the notion of an eternity of pain and anguish.
He laughed.
‘Don’t be fooled by myths and legends, Nori. See them for what they are… shooting stars. None of us truly know what waits for us, beyond death.’
Eleanor’s mouth fell at his unexpected statement; she had never heard him speak of such things—things she could only imagine coming from an elder. It was at that moment she realised: she was saying goodbye to the “boy”.
‘Rave!’ Gill suddenly called, watching his dog race ahead into the stretch of trees before them.
‘I think she’s hungry,’ said Eleanor, finding her smile again. ‘I believe she can smell maw’s cooking from miles.’
‘I can sympathise with her,’ he replied, hearing the rumbling sound coming from his stomach. ‘I’m starved, and these hares will not cook by themselves. Best be on our way. And if maw scolds us for being late, I will lay the blame entirely on you, Eleanor Shaw.’
They quickened their pace, keeping a watchful eye on Rave’s shadowy silhouette, pouncing away in the distance—the moon highlighting the whiteness of her paws, and the tip of her tail. Every few moments she stopped, glancing back, making sure the hands that fed her were close behind. And, when satisfied, she turned to resume her position as leader of the pack. Eleanor smiled at her display of loyalty.
‘Do you think… paw is still alive?’
The unexpected question made her stop, catching her off-guard. Eleanor was lost for words at her brother’s enquiry. She could not recall the last time he had asked, coming to the conclusion, he had accepted his father’s demise—and the issue no longer up for discussion.
Gill turned to meet his sister’s stunned face, and waited.
‘Gill…’ she began, approaching him, her mind racing, unsure of what to say.
‘Be honest with me, Eleanor. Do you believe he is—’
‘No!’ she returned, in a solemn, flat tone.
He drew his head back, surprised by her bluntness. ‘Well… I do!’ he retorted, turning brusquely, to resume the journey home. Behind him, he could hear her light footsteps trying to keep pace with his long stride, as he stomped on.
‘I’m sorry, Gill,’ she pleaded, catching up with him, feeling breathless. ‘But—but you did ask me to be honest.’
Gill stopped abruptly and turned to his sister, throwing her a disgruntled look. For a moment the two siblings stared at one another, biting their tongues on the unspoken subject. Then, rolling his eyes, Gill shook his head and walked on, grunting beneath his breath.
With heads hung low, they walked on in subdued silence—the seconds dragging, as Eleanor searched for something to say.
‘Why now—after so long?’ she finally asked.
Gill, keeping his eyes fixed on the ground, sighed.
‘I—I’m being foolish, Nori,’ he mumbled. ‘Pay no mind.’
‘Tell me!’ she insisted, staring up at him, still doing her best to keep up.
Aware of his sister’s persistent and determined nature, Gill slowed his pace, then took a deep breath.
‘Because… I sense him… and have done, for some time. At first, I banished all notions of his return from my mind, but of late… they persist, and torment me.’
Eleanor knew she had to be sensitive in her response, knowing he was on the edge of seventeen—a difficult age for any young man. And, without his father to guide him through to manhood, it was evident her brother’s coming of age was causing him some concern.
‘They never found his body!’ he added, feeling the need to remind her.
‘Gill, you know how it is when they go to war. Nothing is guaranteed. That’s the way of it. It was the same when my father died.’
‘But, did they not find his body?’ he replied.
‘Aye, but—’
‘And you were only a wee bairn. It was a long time ago, Eleanor.’
‘Perhaps,’ she said, slightly annoyed. ‘But it does not make it easier.’
‘I believe it does,’ he retorted, convinced. ‘When there is a body to place in the ground, it gives closure to those left behind.’
Yet again, Eleanor was stumped by his words, admitting to herself the truth behind them. She opened her mind to the possibility, letting it gnaw on her thoughts.
‘Think about it, Nori,’ he continued, combing his fingers through his thick hair. She detected a hint of excitement in his tone, as he insisted on relaying his observations. ‘Father was presumed to be another “victim of war”. I don’t recall an official announcement. Do you?’
She shook her head, sceptical.
‘In fact,’ he continued, ‘there was none!’
Keeping an eye on her footing, Eleanor listened intently, nodding, as her brother persisted in his deductions.
‘And answer me, truthfully, Eleanor…’
She looked up at his tireless and determined face.
‘Have you, in all honesty, seen maw mourn his loss?’
‘That is unfair, Gill,’ she replied, annoyed at his suggestion their mother could be so cold and distant.
‘I…’ He hesitated. ‘I’ve discussed it briefly with Onóir.’
Eleanor could not believe he had just referred to their grandmother by her name!
‘Granted, she was none too pleased,’ he continued, ‘but I could see it in her eyes.’
‘See what, Gill? And… do you not think it disrespectful that you should call her by—’
‘I suspect she may be in agreement with me,’ he cut in.
Eleanor groaned.
‘Gill… I saw the sadness in maw’s face when he did not return,’ she said, growing frustrated by her brother’s theories.
‘Aye, saddened, I would agree… but mournful? I don’t think—’ Gill stopped dead, and glanced around. ‘Rave!’ he yelled, his voice bellowing through the forage of ghostly trees. He then listened for his dog’s response.
Nothing.
‘She’s gone ahead, Gill. She knows the way.’
‘Not as well as our usual route,’ he replied, casting her a knowing glance.
Feeling the pang of guilt being placed upon her, she called out; ‘Rave!’
Overhead, a night owl hooted in response to their calls. Gill pursed his lips, ready to whistle, when they heard a distinct noise, coming from their far left. As they turned to call out, in its direction, Rave came pounding towards them. Gill spun round to greet her, discarding all other sounds, praisin
g the hound for her obedient return. However, Eleanor remained still, her eyes focused, elsewhere.
‘What is it?’ he asked, noting her fixed stare.
‘I think there’s someone following us,’ she said, placing her hand on the neck of her dagger.
‘’Tis just a wild animal, Nori.’
‘Do you think I am not familiar with the sounds of the woods, Gillis?’
Detecting the aggravation in her voice, he moved to her side, following her gaze.
‘The sound I heard was not Rave. She came from the other direction—towards home. I’ve heard it several times, today. It is no wild animal, Gill. What I heard was—’ She stopped, seeing the scepticism in his raised eyebrows.
Gill lowered his head slowly, throwing her the same look he always gave, when in doubt. ‘Well?’ he said, in that cynical tone she hated.
‘I heard… footsteps—I think!’
He stared at her, trying desperately not to laugh. Quite often she would wield her dagger at him for his taunting. But he was more than aware of her skill, of the small, deadly weapon, however, equally mindful of her empty threats. His father had taught her well in its use, regarding her as a “most attentive student”. He recalled hearing his words, during one of their lessons. “You must only use it, Nori, when you feel your life, or the life of another is threatened; but most importantly, when your brother teases you”.
‘Footsteps you say?’
Eleanor nodded.
‘Are you sure?’ he enquired, detecting concern in her determined eyes.
She lingered a moment, checking her thoughts, with a seed of uncertainty. ‘Almost.’
‘Almost!’ he retorted, sniggering at her. ‘Until you are confident of it, little sister, your assailant, I should imagine, is nothing more than a wild animal, or that imagination of—’
‘Little sister!’ she cried, in an act of horror. ‘I’ll show you how little I can be?’ she added, swiftly removing the dagger, resting on her hip. She wielded it before him, while he raised his hands in a display of feigned terror.
‘Ah, so you still insist on acting on paw’s advice, I see.’
‘Aye, I do,’ she said, threatening him in jest. ‘And always will.’
Rave danced around the siblings as they continued to tease one another, barking at intervals, as though joining in with their humorous taunts. Gill, eventually proclaiming defeat, threw his muscular arms around his sister. She felt a strangeness in his strong embrace; there was something different in it—something different in him.
‘I will miss all this, Nori,’ he said, his voice tinged with sadness.
Eleanor stepped back from him and tilted her head with pleading eyes. ‘Must you go to Eddin?’
‘You know I have no choice. I’m expected at the castle at the end of this month, to sign for duty.’
‘I must admit,’ she replied, detecting an air of finality and acceptance in his tone. ‘You don’t appear to be troubled about going.’
She held his gaze until he felt compelled to turn away from her probing look.
‘I swear I heard maw’s voice,’ he said, promptly changing the subject. ‘She sounds angry. Step lively, lass!’
Eleanor narrowed her suspicious eyes, aware her brother was coveting a secret.
‘There is something you’re not telling me, Gillis Shaw!’ she cried, chasing after him.
‘We’re late, Nori!’ he replied, over his shoulder, turning a deaf ear.
‘Tell me what you’re hiding!’ she demanded, struggling, again, to catch her breath.
Gill stopped with such abruptness, she nearly tripped over herself.
‘Promise me you won’t tell them!’ he said, lowering his voice, as though protecting his words from absent ears.
Eleanor nodded sharply, and stepped closer, eager to hear what he had to divulge.
‘I am not going to Eddin alone.’
She drew her head back, baffled.
‘Meghan is coming with me.’
He watched his sister’s face stretch in absolute shock.
‘We are both of age,’ he stated, intent on not being swayed. ‘No one can stop us!’
‘Her father will do his best to—as will maw, and if paw were here—’
‘But he’s not, Eleanor,’ he snapped. ‘And we shall be well gone by the time they notice our absence.’
‘It seems you have it all planned out.’
‘Aye, we do. Now, make the vow!’
‘What vow?’ she said, scowling at him.
‘To stay quiet—for the time being, at least.’
Eleanor hesitated, reluctant to keep their secret.
‘Say it!’
With a heavy sigh, she closed her eyes. ‘I promise.’
Content by her word of honour, Gill smiled. ‘All will be right, Nori. Trust me.’
Forced into secrecy, she knew she had no option. It was too much to absorb—the burden he had just placed on her. But she would use the time they had left, doing her best to make him see sense.
Wanting to avoid further inquisition from his sibling, Gill marched ahead, with the three hares still dangling over his broad shoulder. However, Eleanor, worn out by the day’s revelations, slowed her pace, her thoughts racing with each sluggish step.
Suddenly Rave howled and leaped forward, telling them they were a short distance from home. She glanced up, just in time to see her brother’s form pass through the familiar opening ahead—joining the path, which lead to their house—the brightness of the full moon bathing him in a ghostly hue, before he disappeared.
Unable to comprehend what her brother had told her, she was now relieved he had gone ahead, leaving her to digest the changes life was about to deal out. She was simply at a loss. He had put her in a difficult position. How would she conceal it from them all? Whatever about their mother, it was Meghan Downy’s protective father that really concerned her.
Think, Eleanor! she warned herself, before you get back—before you look into their faces, pretending everything is normal. How could you, Gill?! How could—
She halted as she stepped into the clearing, her heart beating with apprehension. She had heard it again. That sound! She held her breath, daring to peer into the trees beyond the clearing. She felt surrounded—not by nature’s eerie presence—but by something else.
‘There!’ she whispered, spotting a shadow, moving rapidly between the trees. Now, fully alert, she concentrated, letting her instincts guide her. She turned swiftly at the sound of dry leaves being disturbed from behind. It seemed impossible, how quickly it moved. She heard it again—this time—from another direction. Her head began to reel, trying to follow each rapid footstep.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes, focusing hard on one place. She jumped, seeing the sudden movement of a dark figure, before it blended into the shadows. She swallowed, feeling her hand shake as she slowly removed her dagger from its sheath. Another sound came from behind. She turned, catching the figure again, then gasped, when another joined the first. The two shapes stood in the moonlight shadow of a large tree, concealing their forms.
Gripped by fear, Eleanor felt unable to move.
“Run! Run!” the voice inside her screamed.
‘Who—who are—' Her words suddenly failed, when the sight of a third—and much larger figure—appeared, throwing her into a frenzied state. She opened her mouth to scream, but nothing came out—the sound of her racing heart, luring her into a false sense of her demise.
One of the figures then slowly began to move towards her. She quickly glanced back in the direction of her home. Through the thicket of trees, she could clearly see the flickering of her mother’s night-flame guiding her, filling her with renewed hope.
“Don’t look back!” the voice cried again. “Run to it, Eleanor!
With every anxious breath, and her instincts telling her what she should do, the young, woman’s natural curiosity, however, provoked her to stay, despite the unknown threat. But when the sound of their footsteps loomed close
r, from behind, she jolted and held her breath.
“Don’t look—don’t—”
As Eleanor slowly looked over her shoulder, three dark shapes emerged into the clearing.
Chapter Twenty-One
The Realm of Meddian - (Central Europe)
Late Spring: 1630
The Warlock lay silent in the dim light of what he referred to as his “temporary abode”, focusing hard on the spider spinning its web, over and over again, until it succeeded. He had become acquainted with its constant comings and goings, discovering it, too, had habits and routines—no different from man. There was a pattern in its methods, which had played on his curious mind, bringing his attention to the familiar movements of his own captor.
Each day, or night—he could not tell, hidden away from the world—the arachnid crawled from its hide-out. He noted how its entrance and exit changed regularly, surmising it was its way of fooling a predator, of sorts.
‘It seems we are all creatures of habit, my little one,’ he told it, rising from his small, but comfortable bed. ‘However, unlike you, I intend to release myself from these walls, with no intention of returning.’
Despite his imprisonment, Oran complimented his captor on the layout of his chamber. Small, yet adequate, he wanted for nothing, except his freedom, which regularly became the subject of bargaining—one he was unwilling to trade. His incarcerator had surrounded him with the familiarities of a home they once knew. The hand-made, silk rug—beneath his feet—hailed from the Realm of Saó—in the far east. He recognised its pattern, curious as to how they came upon the luxurious item—its rarity, solely commissioned for royalty.
A beautiful rosewood, huanghuali, low-backed armchair was his only seat. Acquired from the same Realm as the fine rug, he had tormented her with complaints of its discomfort. Thinking the added luxury might loosen his tongue, she promptly provided him with a silk cushion—to ill effect.
The small, writing table, he knew, had once resided in the Realm of Kah-luan—west, across the big ocean. The walnut and mahogany finish on its elaborate surface and carved legs screamed opulence. He grunted at the irony of it: she allowing him a writing table, without its implements. In their place, lay the works of a particular playwright she had claimed to have met while “on her travels”, surmising they were original. And when he enquired—as to how they came into her possession—the reply had been; “William insisted I have them… before a fever claimed his untimely death! Such a great pity. We can only assume his greatness… had he lived longer!”
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