They looked at the young man.
‘I have heard of the Dreaocht,’ he said. ‘Heckie told me.’
‘Then you will know of their origin,’ Onóir replied.
‘I don’t understand,’ Eleanor remarked, acknowledging her brother.
‘Nor do I, for that matter,’ Rosalyn added, equally confused.
Rising from his chair, Gill approached his sister. ‘It means he is… like a spirit, Nori.’
Eleanor gasped. ‘You mean he’s… dead?’
‘In a way,’ Gill replied, shrugging.
Rosalyn raised her hand over her gaping mouth, unable to take her eyes from Kai. Eleanor slowly turned to face him again, then narrowed her eyes; she could not help but see the faded scar circling his neck, despite his efforts to hide it. A deep sense of sorrow overwhelmed her as the sudden realisation of his plight hit home. Raising her small hand, she tenderly placed her finger on the concealed stigma of his past. Kai remained perfectly still, allowing her.
‘It seems they did take everything from you, after all,’ she said softly, with tears in her eyes. ‘How lonely and tragic for you, Kai.’
‘Then how is it we can see him?’ Rosalyn questioned her mother. ‘And how did he come to be… here?’
‘I have always known about Gill—since his birth,’ Onóir began.
They all stared at the elderly woman.
‘Always?!’ Rosalyn returned, her eyes and mouth wide with disbelief.
‘Aye. Oran confided in me, when you doubted everything, at first. I was sworn to secrecy. He, too, had his weaknesses—despite his powers and abilities. Oran struggled with the burden of knowing he would perhaps lose his battle against time, not to mention your son. But he was determined to fight against it, and the Elliyan—anything to protect Gill. That is why he moved us here—to the quietude—in the hope, one day, he just might defeat it—for Gill’s sake.’
‘How naïve of him,’ Reece remarked.
Onóir looked at her husband. ‘Would you not have done the same, my love? Even though you knew, deep down inside, you would fail and have to give up your child.’
Reece glanced at Rosalyn, recalling Oran’s words: “You would do anything to protect them.”
‘You know you would have done anything for her. And it was no different for Oran. He was a father protecting his family—protecting his son from an unavoidable fate.’
She regarded Gill, for a moment. ‘This is no fault of your father’s, lad. He would gladly have taken your place. Trust me when I say, he did all he could to prevent it.’
‘Now do you believe us?’ said Rosalyn. ‘It broke our hearts.’
Gill felt the sudden pang of guilt eat him up as more truths came to light about his family, asking himself: where would it all end? The weight of his unknown burden swung before him like a heavy pendulum, realising it would stop—sooner, rather than later. Dread reached in, ready to take its hold, when his sister’s inquisitive voice snatched him from his encroaching dismay.
‘How, and when did you discover Kai’s secret?’
‘Soon after he took ownership of the Ferry Inn,’ Onóir revealed.
‘After father left?’
‘Three years ago,’ Rosalyn stated.
Kai stepped forward, into the heart of the group, silently asking for Onóir’s approval to address them. She was glad of it, feeling the tiredness seep into her weary body.
‘I am of the Servitor,’ he began. ‘It is our preference of title. We do not like to be referred to as the “Dreaocht”. There are those who would call us “the lost souls of Purgatory”. It is a dark place where the souls of those who are murdered or… who have nothing to live for, reside. There they remain suspended, indefinitely, until the powers that be decide their fate. I have met some who have been there for what seems an eternity, with no way out. It was through the Elliyan’s intervention, we discovered they had the power to choose our providence.
‘As death was not my choice, or doing, they plucked me from Purgatory, saving me from limbo—to use me as their servant. You can imagine my joy when I was allowed to resume my mortal form. However, I can return to my true state at the time of my choosing; it lets me move swiftly, should the need arise.
‘Naturally, there are rules I must abide to. The ability to lie was taken from me, unless my identity comes into question. It is only then I am permitted to…’ He paused, recalling the term,
“Bend the Truth”. Although my life, as you would call it, is spent in their service, it is a welcomed thing to be allowed to walk among mortals.
‘From the moment you were born, Gill, it was my duty to secretly report to the Elliyan on your progress. Oran was unaware of my presence.’
‘Surely not!’ Rosalyn snapped. ‘He must have known.’
‘He…’ Kai hesitated, ‘… sees the Servitor as lowly spies; we are much more than that. It was thought best to keep Oran in the dark. To inform him of my presence held a risk the Elliyan were not prepared to take.’ He passed a knowing look to Onóir.
She nodded in recognition of his meaning.
‘After Oran left, I was ordered to protect his son. This proved somewhat difficult, from a distance. Without his father, Gill would be vulnerable. And so, it was agreed, I was to return to the world of mortals.’
‘Which is when you, conveniently, entered our lives,’ Gill surmised.
‘I must admit,’ said Kai, reflecting on their first meeting. ‘I was wary of Eleanor.’
‘Me?’ she responded, raising her brow.
Kai turned to her. ‘You are more perceptive than you know, young Eleanor.’
‘I am?’
‘Indeed; it was the manner in which you subconsciously questioned and looked at me.’
‘But, of course!’ she exclaimed, staring at his scar. ‘I thought it too deep—I mean—to survive a hanging, and you were quick to conceal it.’
‘Indeed. And I was fortunate, in that, the young woman who was easily distracted, conveniently dismissed her suspicions.’
Eleanor lowered her head and smiled before turning to steal a quick glance with Asai. It was only then she became aware of his absence.
‘Therefore, I had to find an ally,’ Kai resumed. ‘Someone I could trust—someone who had the trust of others. The moment our eyes embraced, I knew Onóir was my true confidant. But
I needed assurance of her honesty and integrity, which is why I discreetly observed her a while.’
‘I always had a sense of someone watching me,’ Onóir admitted. ‘There was no fear in it. I felt… safe, until one day I simply… noticed him.’
‘I made a point of befriending her, which did not go un-noticed by the curious eye of some of our villagers. But I knew it was only a matter of time before I would convince her.’
Balloch 1627: Three years previously.
The old woman stopped in the midst of the busy street she had tread daily for almost two decades. The sense of another following in her footsteps had intensified. She had noticed it for a while, feeling no threat, and yet was bothered by it.
Surely, they would have made themselves known, by now, she wondered.
She suddenly thought of her grandson. Perhaps they had finally come to claim him.
Not without his father! she thought.
She surveyed the busy street. Despite her suspicions, she was relieved she was on her own. At the far end of the market, she caught a glimpse of Rosalyn and Eleanor, tending to their customers. Saturday was always bustling with life, especially when the weather was dry. And, as long as the fresh smell of her daughter’s baking lured her customers into temptation, she knew Rosalyn would not be distracted by the ramblings of an old woman.
Onóir followed her instincts by observing all the passers-by. Those who appeared “strange”, she knew had travelled from the other burghs.
‘Would ye be lost, Onóir?’ Ned McGregor called, pausing to tease her.
She had always been fond of the Inn’s former landlord.
&nbs
p; “He has an eye on you, maw,” Rosalyn occasionally mocked. However, she made a point of keeping a safe distance. She had no desire to encourage a match.
‘Away with you, Ned,’ she returned, waving him off, when something made her stop—her hand still suspended in mid-air—as her eyes were drawn to another’s.
‘’Tis you!’ she whispered, staring over at the kind eyes smiling back at her.
Kai Aitken nodded, acknowledging her.
He heard me! she realised, lowering her hand, observing his approach; he appeared to glide towards her, holding her gaze until their eyes connected. She now looked up at him in new recognition.
‘I had felt the eyes of someone watching me for some time,’ she began, ‘But I could not find them.
‘Do you see them now?’ he replied, his tone calm and pleasant, as usual.
She nodded.
‘As clear as day.’
It seemed, at that very moment, she lost all sense of time in his presence. It was as though they were alone among the liveliness surrounding them.
‘You were in no danger, Onóir,’ he assured her.
‘I never doubted it.’
‘And now you seek answers?’
‘Aye, I do.’
Kai looked above and beyond where they stood, catching the odd curious eye. He grinned, dismissing their ignorance. Following his gaze, she paid no heed to the occasional glance. Just the usual busybodies searching for local gossip, to play Chinese Whispers with. Had she been of the younger, opposite sex, then, no doubt, there would have been plenty to set tongues wagging.
‘Do you trust me, Onóir?’ he asked, lowering his voice. His tone was adamant.
With a tenderness he had not felt, for as long as he cared to remember, Onóir placed a hand on his, and leaned forward.
‘You have no need to ask,’ she reassured him, with a sly wink.
‘Then come with me,’ he urged, ‘to a place where we can speak in private.’
Without question nor hesitation, Onóir followed Kai, willingly, towards the Ferry Inn. Even at the earliest part of the day, the public house was alive with its usual array of customers. Alastair Boyd raised his head from his third glass of whisky, when he spotted Onóir entering the premises. He frowned as if to question her business there—and so early in the day, too—before promptly returning to his sup and heated debate with his three cronies as to the true height of their hero, William Wallace. He pointed at Kai, making comparisons, adding to their deliberations.
Apart from the “feuding four”, as they were commonly known, no other sinner noticed the two figures slip from view.
Kai withdrew a small, ornate black key, to open an arched door he had made from the old floorboards of the restored cellar. He then lit two lanterns, handing one to Onóir.
As they descended the stone steps, the smell of strong ale rose, overpowering her senses; she dismissed it as part of the ambience attached to the Inn.
Throwing light on the contents stored below, she glanced around. The cellar looked clean and tidy. She thought it unusual, considering it was common belief that men were not usually accustomed to tidiness. Then again, this was Kai—one who took pride in his appearance. But, for now, her mind was focused on more pressing matters.
Kai begged her to take a seat on the steps. Onóir surveyed the small cellar: it was dry and stuffy—no doubt a different story during the cold and damp winter months. She imagined mice and rats, taking advantage of its shelter when the seasons changed for the worse. Old barrels of ale lined the walls in perfect formation, like soldiers awaiting their orders, to quench the thirst of the folk above them.
‘I have been watching you from a distance, Onóir—’
‘So, it was you?’
‘—but with good reason,’ he quickly added, pre-empting her reaction.
Onóir waited patiently, ignoring the hard surface she was perched on. She remained composed and collective, ready to take in his carefully prepared words, letting her calming influence assure him of her trust.
‘I have been informed you are aware of Oran’s true identity,’ he said.
Taken back by his statement, Onóir sat up, wringing her hands in agitation, uncertain of her reply.
‘How—how do you know…?’
‘He is a Warlock?’
She hesitated, then slowly nodded.
‘I serve his council—the Elliyan.’
Onóir pressed her lips hard, her eyes widening on hearing the name.
It was then he became aware of her obvious recognition of his peers. ‘Ah, I see you are aware of them.’
‘Aye, well aware.’
‘Then no doubt you wish to know… who I truly am?’
‘If you please,’ she urged.
‘I belong to the Servitor,’ he started, before embarking on a full explanation of how he came to be. As his truths poured out, Kai saw the tears well in her eyes as she tried to come to terms with his heart-breaking story. She winced when he revealed the thick scar lining his throat, from beneath the wide braid of leather he wore, to conceal it. A fine thread of gold had been interwoven in a flamboyant design, making it a fashionable piece. She drew back, alarmed, at the sight of the scar’s ugliness.
‘Surely, no man could have survived—’ She stopped.
The look of trepidation on Kai’s face confirmed her growing uneasiness, as the realisation of his true state struck her hard. The urge to flee grasped her, but instinct intervened, encouraging her to stay. He watched as she kneaded her hands together, carefully contemplating her choice.
‘Do you trust me, Onóir?’ he asked of his friend, again.
His vital question swirled about in her mind, screaming at her, demanding an answer. ‘But you are…’ Her voice trailed away.
‘There is nothing to be afraid of. All I seek is your trust, Onóir. I rely on it. I rely on you.’
Her nervous hands stopped as she felt her body relax in the serenity of his presence.
‘It is only right you know who I am,’ he continued, taking two paces back.
Kai prepared to reveal his true identity, conscious of the risk he was about to take. Closing his warm, brown eyes, he stood motionless.
She moved to address him, then froze, as the Elliyan’s messenger appeared in their true form before her startled face.
Onóir fought to grasp the strain of what was unfolding, reminding herself over and over, it was her friend, Kai. I do trust you… I do trust you…, she chanted inside, until her body and mind found peace, once more.
The cellar glowed faintly from his transformation, casting creeping shadows along the walls. She thought of Gill, and how he would marvel at it. In a manner of seconds, the man she knew as, Kai Aitken, stood silent within reaching distance, waiting for her to collect her thoughts.
‘Kai…?’ she whispered, rising cautiously.
She edged forward, uncertain, reaching out to touch him, then swiftly withdrew her hand.
Overwhelmed by the spectacle she had just witnessed, she could not help but stare.
He appeared taller in height. His hair was longer and darker. Everything about him seemed exaggerated. She was sure he wore clothing, of sorts, and yet was unable to see them. But above all, she noticed the blackness that replaced the warmth of his brown eyes. There was now an emptiness in them—devoid of life!
Kai grinned. ‘You will not evaporate,’ he said, reaching out.
She stared at his open hand, motioning her to take it.
‘Please?’ he urged.
Feeling confident—and slightly foolish—she willingly accepted his hand of friendship, mesmerised by its warmth and kindness. ‘Forgive me,’ she begged.
He smiled at her warmly. ‘There is nothing to forgive,’ he said, maintaining his comforting hold on her timid hand. ‘I should imagine it is not every day you meet a—my kind.’
Feeling her apprehension and tension gradually slip away, Kai released his delicate hold. She failed to notice the subtlety of it.
O
nóir looked deep into his lifeless, black eyes, feeling pity for her friend. Her heart felt the loss of a life that had been cruelly snatched from its prime, as she tried to accept his true identity.
‘Tell me… what became of the men who did this to you?’ she asked.
‘I eventually found vengeance for the ones who sealed my fate.’
‘But… they… murdered you!’
‘True… yet… here I stand before you.’
Onóir narrowed her eyes, shaking her head. ‘But how?’
She recoiled in horror as he resumed his grim story, explaining the concept of Purgatory—the prison from where he had been seized.
‘It is better to serve the Elliyan and abide by their rules, rather than share an eternity with those who truly deserve imprisonment, in the torment that is Purgatory. Because my death was unjust, I was given a choice—one I was willing to receive. The Elliyan allowed me to… live again… if you call it that.’
‘As long as you serve them,’ she stated.
‘Had I chosen unwisely, Onóir, I never would have met you.’
‘Will you ever know peace?’ she asked, with genuine concern.
‘That is for the Elliyan to decide.’
‘I hope, one day, they give it to you, Kai.’
‘As do I. But, for now, I have a duty to Gillis.’
She gasped, lifting her hand to her mouth, hearing her grandson’s name.
Kai, seeing the agitation return to her face, extended his hand towards her. ‘I beg you to be patient,’ he pleaded.
Overcome by emotion, Onóir took a deep breath, almost keeling over, when a sudden pressure in her chest threw her into a fit of coughing.
‘You are ill, Onóir,’ he stated, inching forward.
She waved him away, calming herself.
‘I sense the weight of your sickness. Do your—’
‘No!’ she croaked, trying to clear her throat ‘My—my family don’t know. And I would like it to stay that way.’
He hesitated, observing her. ‘As you wish. However, they shall know soon enough.’
She cast him a warning glance.
‘Your condition will deteriorate in time, and you will have no option but to seek their help.’
Beyond the Darkness Page 37