by C. Mahood
I parked the car by the end of the road two wheels up on the footpath and out of the way of the turning circle. I got out and Tessa jumped over the centre console, out my door and on ahead, under the steel gate and into the field. Within seconds she had found a stick and lay in front of it ready for me to throw.
I locked the car, put the keys in my bag. Jumping over the fence I felt a wave of nerves wash over me. I had been running on adrenalin up until now. Something about large open spaces cleared my mind. It usually relaxed me. So when the effects took hold of me I was met with realisation. Realisation of the situation, the gravity of it all. My wife, my best friend and partner in life had gone missing. She had disappeared. Gone. Vanished from our bed, and what was I doing? I was walking in a field with the dog, looking for a little man, who up until today I believed to be nothing but a dream. I was hoping this little man with green eyes could transport me to an imaginary land that I created in my head and on pages when I was fifteen. How crazy is that! If I had told anyone I would have been committed! What is wrong with me? I knew it had to be done, however weird or strange it was.
We followed the stone path up the hill, through the first two fields and over the lip into the led mine valley. At the top there was a massive boulder, as children we called it Egg rock, and used it as a marker. When standing on egg rock you could see over the whole of Newtownards. You could see Scrabo tower, the castle like structure that overlooks our wee town, all the way down the peninsula, following the horizon you could even see the mountains. Like giant silhouettes emerging from behind the horizon’s lip. Behind, I could see hidden in the tall trees, Helen’s tower.
Helen’s tower is the direction we were going. I always liked the fact that there is a matching tower in France. It marks where the men from Ulster trained before the battle of the Somme is the Great War. Such a beautiful building, like a forgotten monument in the thick forest.
We began down the valley, through the mines and the old abandoned quarry. Following the path past the old golf course and up another hill into the forest. There was no clear way into the woods. It had changed significantly since I was a child. Before there were open spaces of fallen leaves, a few rocks to hide behind and trees tall and thin. Like running through pillars it was easy and enjoyable. Now thick thorn bushes grew between the trees, creating a wall you could not get around.
There is always one sure way to find a way in somewhere with my dog!
I threw a stick over the bushes and followed Tessa as she ran looking for an opening. There it was. A small hole, no larger than a foot high and wide. Most likely used by badgers or foxes. I knelt down, the ground was trodden and dry with flattened leaves, this had definitely been used quite a few times. I had to lie flat and army crawl my way through. I got caught every stage of the way. I spent so much of my time loosening my coat and bag from the thorns, it took me a ten minutes to get through.
I finally emerged and looked around. Like stepping directly into a memory I felt ten years old again. I was walking on an unspoiled part of these woods. Somewhere no one came to any more. I recognised some of the old areas. There were three rocks that we were convinced was a dolmen and used it as a base. I followed the stones we had set out like stepping stones over the stream that still bubbled and flowed. Following them upstream and uphill we came across the little pond in an opening of the wood. Sunlight pierced down like pillars of light, in what seemed to be a perfect circle around the water. We had called it the sacred pond as children, not to be touched by anyone.
That was until Tessa began to drink from it, scaring a frog from its stone into the water. She followed it so intensely until I called her to my side. I knew the hole I had fallen into was around here somewhere. I sat by the pond and just stared around me. I hadn’t thought about how I would begin looking for it. Would I start digging at random spots? Stamping around until I fell? Or use the dog? Throw sticks until she fell into a hole. No, that’s far too cruel. I remained seated, feeling defeated. It was all becoming too much, emotions were banging at the sealed door in my head, trying to burst through, the support beams were cracking and the flood of tears would soon be on me. I slumped back on the stone I sat upon and sunk into a bed of leaves. Staring up into the sky through the cracks of branches and clouds. I just watched the cloud formations pass by overhead for what seemed like an age until I noticed something out of the ordinary. A little puff of grey smoke. I sat up and followed the little, thin cloud only metres above my head. Where was it coming from? It smelt like burning turf. I walked further from the clearing to where the smoke was getting thicker. Looking up I saw it, bellowing out, like a chimney from the stump of a tree trunk. Then I remembered. I could see myself as a child back in that little house. The hollow tree like a chimney. This was it!
I ran to the tree, knocking the wood and feeling around for a trap door. The tree was growing out of what seemed to be a man-made mound. Fresh grass and bluebells grew on it. I am no horticulturist but I knew that it was the wrong season for bluebells. There was magic at work here.
“Hello” I called. No answer.
He spoke Irish if I remember, he greeted me in Irish before. I just couldn’t remember any. I didn’t learn it properly at school, just picked up some words here and there. That was it.
“Dia duit?” I called out again, I think it means Hello. I could be wrong. Sarah knew more than me, quite a lot more in fact. I wished she was with me!
A small rustle came from beneath my feet and a bang. The ground under my feet shook, the dirt subsided and the dead leaves rustled. The banging got louder and more violent. I felt myself shake and look all around me for where there could be a door. No door in sight, and still with the banging, from what seemed below me!
“Hello, Dai duit? Anyone there?”
A muffled reply came from what was definitely bellow me followed by three hard bangs. I stepped backwards and on the fourth bang a circular, trap door opened. A cloud of dead leaves flew in the air, as it did and out came two small ring laden hands, pulling up a body with them. I noticed the familiar cap and beard. The little man I had met years ago stood before me, he seemed much smaller than I remembered but then again I was a third of the size the last time we had met. He stood up brushing dirt from his knees then his small round belly. He lifted some brown dead leaves from inside of his coat and tossed them aside while fixing himself to look respectable. Well as much as someone could after climbing out of a hole in the ground. After a moment of fixing, patting, smoothing and flicking he looked up at me, dossed his cap and gave a warming tooth filled smile.
“Ah, I knew it wouldn’t be long before you showed up, much quicker than I thought though, and yer grasp of the oul language be slipping son.” He said laughing in his belly bouncing, deep gut giggle, light hearted way. “Yer more of an Ulster scot arnt ye? Sure that’s what they speak there any way!”
I was taken aback and confused at first, I remember I couldn’t get my words out, the ones that did just sounded like a post-fight boxer with a concussion. After a few attempts to string coherent words together in a semi-clear sentence I managed to come out with,
“Sorry? What di you say? How did you know I was coming?” Three questions at once. I had that strange craned neck, twisted head, hard of hearing look, that I always got when struggling to understand.
Tessa meanwhile had slowly crept up behind me, the long pointing body sniffing the little man nervously and keeping one eye on me. He gave a slow motion with his hand, clicked his fingers and all the tension was relieved instantly. Tessa walked over, licked his face and lay down by his feet on her back, the playful way she did with me when excited and wanted her belly rubbed. He obliged and tickled her stomach and under her chin. Tessa was a loyal dog for sure, she would rarely do this with anyone else other than Sarah or myself but this little man seemed to have a way with her. She rolled onto her feet and rose to the sitting position, starting into each other’s eyes they looked like they understood each other. A wordless conversation bet
ween two old friends”.
“She is a truly happy dog, ye ave given er a good oul home son!” The little man commented as he continued to stare into her eyes, deeper than the surface. It seemed as though he could see through her eyes. After a short while the two broke eye contact. They stood side to side and turned to me.
“Come on lad, come inside. There is a fair bit I got to be tellin ye.” The little man turned on his heels and began to climb into the hole.
“You can use the door this time, dinne feel like fixin the roof again ye know?”
A little chuckle followed and a wink, as to say, it’s all just a bit of fun.
I followed him down the wooden steps, not quite stairs and not quite a ladder, somewhere in between. Like going between decks on a long ship. Thick timber steps led down a tiny corridor. I had to crouch most of the way, however I didn’t feel claustrophobic, just curious. The child in my soul was showing his face again.
We made our way down the tunnel for longer than I expected, turning several corners. I kept knocking my head on support beams and missing the corners until I noticed some light around each bend. I had lost sight of the little man, Tessa was running ahead but kept coming back to check on me every time I lagged behind. Eventually the tunnel was better illuminated. Tree and fairy lights strung around the corners and led to the door at the end. A small oval door hung on hinges at the top, best described as a massive cat flap. The hinges and wood creaked as the deceptively light wooden door lifted under my touch and I ducked underneath. The light was great in this familiar room.
In my mind this was a dream so I felt as though I was walking into the cinema screen and onto a set of a memory. Everything looked like I had remembered. The surreal feeling came over me while I looked around and familiarized myself. The feeling of Deja vu was overwhelming. The fire was still under the hollow tree chimney, the miniature black iron kettle still hung over the flames. The bed in the same position and the table still lay mounted with books. More books had definitely gathered over the years because the whole surrounding area was piled high with leather bound pages.
“Please sit Christopher”, the little man gestured to a small chair. One I would most certainly break if I managed to balance on it. Maybe if I perched myself on one cheek I could manage it. I declined and sat on the floor instead with my legs crossed. Tessa walked over and lay beside me with her head resting on my lap. Her eyes closed immediately after I began to stroke her soft head. Just running one finger from her forehead, between her eyes and down her nose.
Looking up I caught his eyes with the little man again. He smiled as he looked at Tessa sleeping on my lap. I smiled back and felt at ease for only a moment. The reason I was here again rang true and the relaxation I had been feeling instantly snapped back to panic.
“I know what ye are here fir lad, ano wat ye are ginne ask me!” He said before I even opened my mouth. “Yer gona ask why ye couldn’t get back tae Northland arnt ye? Well the truth is son, there’s a difference between wanting to believe and knowing. The first time you were there ye wanted to be there so badly, yer heart was there and not here. That’s why you went!” He sat back and noticed the flabbergasted and confused look on my face.
“I, but. How come?” I couldn’t get any more words out, it just didn’t make sense to me!
“Right son, OK. Here goes. Let me start from the beginning. Ye see, some people have this gift. Ireland was a very different place many moons ago. The land was full of magic. All the legends and myths we spoke about last time you were here, are not myths. They are all true. This land was rife with mystery and wonder. I mean it still is if you look in the right place, but then it was everywhere. Thing happened that you couldn’t even imagine. Then the so called Saints came and ruined everything. They came bearing the sign of their Murdered God. The man on the cross. The religion they brought carried rules and etiquette and a hatred for magic. More so a hatred for what could not be explained. As time passed the word of this God spread. People began to put their fate into the God’s hands and out of their own. This is when magic died. Many of us who did not convert or comply were hunted. We had to go underground. We had to become extinct to stay alive. The land was no longer safe here so we discovered ways to travel elsewhere. We wrote our own legends. Writing ourselves into books and tales. This immortalised us but it meant we could escape when needed. We stepped into a book and we could leave this land and travel to another. All we needed was a piece of this world and we could return when we wanted. Time re-living lives and battles as the books were read. I choose to come back here but most didn’t. I am not alone here but there are so few of us left. I had believed the magic was dead and the power lost from the blood of Irish storytellers, until you fell into this place. When we spoke I knew you had the gift. Not just the gift of page walking but you had something special. You are a teller! The only one I have ever known!”
He moved closer to me, excited and speaking faster as he went.
“Tellers are the people who wrote the books we walked into. They created worlds. Worlds of love and romance, worlds of horror and suspense, action, adventure and mystery. They created so many lives for so many others. I truly believed they were all gone until I met you Christopher. A creative heart and a wondering soul! You created Northland. I had been watching you for years. One day, when you threw the pages out of your bedroom window I saw you disappear for a short while. Then I gathered up the story and read Dertrid’s deed. When I read it I went there. The world of Northland is so alive! I have visited so many times since. Oh the adventures I have had!” He sat back and went into a world of his own head. I could see him reminiscing and smiling at memories he relived in front of me.
“Um, ok that’s a lot to take in! I have so many questions! Like, what’s your name for a start? All these years you have known and followed me and I don’t even know what to call you! It was you who saved my life that time at the lights when I was running to the library. You were the one with me while I wrote and went to school. What is your name?” I said, in a mess of stutters and on the brink of bursting into tears.
“Ah, I have many names son, some in Irish, Gaelic, in languages you wouldn’t know and some you could not pronounce. Just call me Abe.”
“Abe, ok Abe, well most importantly, Where is Sarah, Where is my wife? How can I get her back?” I said the tears starting to emerge. “I don’t know how she even got to Northland? How could she be a Pagewalker too?” I asked.
“No, she isn’t a Pagewalker, maybe some of your magic was in the pages, I’m not sure how she got there too. Did she write any of the book?” He paused, looking up, thinking hard about his next suggestion “or give you ideas of anything?” He enquired.
“No I wrote it and finished long before I met her, she only read it for the first time last night!” I shouted, then a thought flickered like a flame re-igniting. “Actually, she was the one who re-typed the story to get it printed for me, she said corrected spelling and edited it slightly? Could that have done anything?”
“Surely could son, if she changed things and wrote in that book so full of magic then it definitely rubbed off on her. A story that strong, written with such love at such a young age. There is power there that can’t be replicated. That’s why she was able to page walk.” Abe clapped his hands and stood up with excitement. Tessa’s ears perked up and she jumped with the shock of Abe’s clap.
“Ooh this is exciting Chrissie boy! We are going back to Northland!”
“Really? All of us? Even Tessa?” I asked. Tessa looked at me when she heard her name. The kind of look I got when I said the word walk.
“Yes sir! She is coming too. You see the reason Sarah has not snapped back to our world is because the Story of Northland is still alive!” Abe shouted.
“What do you mean? I finished Dertrid’s deed years ago? How is it not finished?”
“The story of Dertrid’s deed is finished, but not the story of Northland. There are so many tales being told there now that you haven�
�t even heard. Can you imagine that? The world you created has taken on a life of its own. In that world there are storytellers and fables being written! You have to go there to find out what they are. Find Sarah and finish the story!” Abe began to gather up some things, he threw open a satchel and started to fill it from the larder in the back and with small bags and little bottles. Tessa was on her feet ready to go.
“Wait Abe. How will we know where she is?”
“We won’t son, not till we get there!” He said as he continued to pack all sorts of strange objects, muttering under his breath and talking to himself as he went.
“Abe….Abe” I called but he continued packing, sorting, looking at book ends then discarding books in his hands and he continued to pack objects into his ever growing satchel.
“ABE STOP!” I yelled, much louder than I meant to, losing control for a short moment. He stopped what he was doing and froze. Dropping what he was holding and the room fell silent, Tessa cowered between my legs with her tail between her legs, and her nose pointed up looking at me. There was complete silence now. Only the sound of our breathing and Tessa’s murmurs broke the silence.
“Look, we need to find Sarah. Nothing is more important, it is my fault she is there and I need to fix this. I cannot live without her Abe, please believe me!” Tears forming under my eyes. Ready to drop when I blink.
Abe left what he was doing and came over to where I was standing. I could see the concern on his face. The pity. He looked at me as a grandfather looks at his grandchild. A pitying grin on his face his shoulders held high and arms drooped forward, head tilted to the side and eyes fixed on mine.
“Listen Christopher, Northland is the most spectacular place I have ever been. Yes there was war there but peace reigns now. It is a safe place, and escape. People are not judged there, no condemnation. One is valued on their heart and not their wealth of coin, social standing or family birth right. All those things that you hate about this world never made it to Northland. All because you didn’t let it. When you created this place it was to get away from this world, you left the problems of this world behind. Your love will be grand!” He patted me on the top of my back as I slumped back down to my knees.