by David Hodges
Hazel awoke to the sound of young men’s voices. “Not now. It’s a bit early, isn’t it?” said one of them.
She tried her best to stay still and quiet, waiting for the sound of their departure, when a frog landed on her chest. She gasped, then covered her mouth.
“Did you hear that?” whispered one of the voices.
“Go downstairs,” said the other.
Hazel waited and ignored the stout amphibian, hoping she would be overlooked. The frog hopped off her chest and rustled the hay as it landed. She should have tossed it out the window.
She heard footsteps approach her hiding spot.
A young man peered over the haystack.
Hazel got up and tried to bolt by him, but he stopped her.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay. What’s wrong?”
Hazel looked up at him; he seemed genuinely concerned. “I’m sorry. I’ll go.”
“Wait, what are you doing sleeping up here?”
“I... I.”
“Let me guess, trouble with the family?” He let go of Hazel’s shoulders. “I’ve had my ups and downs but I’ve never resorted to sleeping up here.” He looked down at Hazel’s riding coat. “That’s a beautiful coat you’ve got, you shouldn’t be mucking it up in the barn.” He concentrated on her face. “You know, I don’t think I recognize you.”
“We haven’t met.”
“Seems unlikely, doesn’t it?”
“I’m not from here.”
The young man looked puzzled. “What do you mean? Are you from Mannin?”
“Mannin? No, I’m from Leicestershire.”
He took a step back with a grave look. “How did you get here?”
Hazel began to worry. “I’m sorry. I have to go.”
“Wait!” He stopped her again, this time his grip was firm.
Hazel began to panic. “Please let me go, I didn’t mean to...”
“Shh. I can help you.” He looked into her eyes. “You can trust me.” He let go of her. “What’s your name?”
“Hazel.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Hazel. I’m Elisedd. Please, come with me. I’ll take you to my father, he’ll know what to do.”
His sincerity was hard to ignore. Hazel nodded. “Okay.”
Elisedd led her downstairs where a teenaged boy and an older man were cleaning the stables. The boy looked surprised when he saw Elisedd with Hazel. Elisedd raised a finger to his lips. The boy understood and looked away, carrying on with his raking.
Just as they were about to leave the barn, the older man said, “What were you doing up there with that lass? Augie came down here in a hurry, seems he might’ve seen you in the midst of something...”
Elisedd stopped and rolled his eyes. “Sorry, sir, won’t happen again.”
“Not in my barn it won’t. There’s a time and place for romance.”
Augie looked down and blushed at the comment as he cleaned a stall.
Elisedd replied, “Of course, sir. She’s ashamed, may we go?”
“Go on,” he said, gesturing with the handle of his broom.
Hazel followed Elisedd outside. It was a clear morning. The field surrounding the barn was a rich green, still wet with dew. She noticed small clearings and cottages spaced far apart. The buildings were round and made of stone with thatched roofs, far from contemporary in their design. Tall trees were interspersed between the clearings, giving the landscape a more blended appearance than Hazel was accustomed to.
Hazel saw the tall gray-green wall in the distance. She had not realized how long it stretched. She could not make out the entirety of the wall, only portions of it through the large trees and in between rolling hills, but it was clear that it surrounded a large area, as far as she could see.
Hazel noticed a pair of horses on the road. They were pulling a small wagon full of vegetables, much like the one she used for her deliveries. There was no driver. “Are those horses loose? Should we stop them?”
“Oh, no they’re fine, c’mon.” He walked over to a horse with no saddle on it and jumped on.
“Do you ride?” he asked.
“Yes, but not bareback.”
“Ah, same thing, his canter is as smooth as they come. It isn’t far, you’ll be fine.”
Without a command, the horse kneeled down on his front legs.
Hazel stared for a moment, astonished, then looked to Elisedd. “Did you teach him that?”
“You could say that, go on.”
Hazel sat on his back, then was lifted up gently as the horse stood, he followed after Elisedd. Elisedd was not lying, the horse had a steadier gait than any she had ridden. They rode in the opposite direction of the wall. As they passed by a large garden, Hazel noticed a group of wild boars digging up vegetables. “Are those imported?”
Elisedd looked at Hazel confused, then seemed to understand. “Oh right... err, not exactly, just well cared for.”
Hazel was certain that boars had gone extinct to hunting in England. Perhaps someone had held on to a few. “Should we warn someone, they’re tearing up that garden.”
“No, don’t worry about it, c’mon.”
Hazel looked back at the boars and realized they were leaving the uprooted vegetables on the ground, moving on to new ones as they removed them.
She continued on behind Elisedd. The buildings become more densely packed though they still had private yards. The construction was a hodgepodge of rustic styles, Medieval, Gothic, Roman. The dirt roads turned to old cobblestone and widened, and lantern posts and walkways began to appear.
Elisedd stopped in front of one of the houses on the street and dismounted. “Here we are.” There was a garden in front of the house, Hazel noticed a group of tiny, furry animals scurrying around in the garden. They looked like shrews with their pointed little snouts, but were smaller than any she had seen. They were feasting on a mound of dead spiders.
Hazel followed Elisedd into the house where a middle-aged woman was cooking in the kitchen. At the table, a small boy sat with a pile of biscuits. He looked up at Hazel with his mouth full and paused his chewing.
“Is Dad awake?” asked Elisedd.
“Shouldn’t you be at the barn?” asked the woman without looking up from her skillet.
“Mum, it’s important.”
“He’s downstairs weaving, what do you—” She was turning and saw Hazel. “Oh... who is this?”
“Her name’s Hazel. Mum, sorry, but we’re in a rush, could you get Father and tell him I need to speak with him.”
“Alright, we’ll be right up,” she said with a tone of concern.
She returned with Elisedd’s father, a spindly man wearing circular spectacles.
Elisedd said, “My new friend, Hazel... she’s from out of town.”
His mother looked confused, “Are you saying?”
He nodded.
His father registered the information and held out his hand. “Pleasure, I’m Fíodor. What brings you here?”
“I was following my brother, he was traveling with a search party. They set up camp, not far from here, then they were attacked not long after... all of the soldiers were killed.”
“The soldiers, you said?” he asked as he pushed his spectacles up his nose.
“Yes, men of the royal army. The attacker fled when some other men arrived. They took my brother and my cousin, and a friend. I followed them here. I just want to find out what’s happened to them.”
“I see. These men who took them, were they dressed in armor?”
“Yes, they were. It looked rather antiquated, actually.”
Fíodor nodded. “I have an idea of where your brother may be. You should come with me.”
Elisedd said, “Are you planning to take her to Ayalon? I’m not sure that’s a good idea. I was thinking we could get her out of here.”
“What good would that do for the lads?”
Hazel wondered why Elisedd was so eager to have her leave.
“Maybe we could keep her out of sight unti
l we find out what’s going on,” proposed Elisedd’s mother.
Elisedd’s father sighed. He stepped toward her and said in a hushed voice, “There’s been word that the Ladder is open, no one’s aged in.”
“You think she’s—” She stopped herself.
His father nodded.
“You’re certain? If you’re wrong, they won’t just let her walk away.”
“We won’t know unless we take her.”
The cryptic conversation was making Hazel nervous. “What are you talking about? What’s the Ladder?”
Elisedd’s mother went to Hazel and massaged her shoulder, “it’s alright pet, this is all quite confusing I’m sure. I think we can sort everything out. For now, why don’t you have some breakfast, you look famished. You can go with Fíodor and Elisedd after you’ve eaten.”
Her touch was soothing. Hazel did not know what to make of any of it, but Elisedd’s family seemed kind. Her stomach grumbled. She had not eaten since noon the previous day. “Alright, thank you.”
When she was finished with her meal, she rode with Elisedd and his father farther into the village where the buildings were larger and more grand. This had to be some small town she had not heard of. Perhaps it was just the constables that had taken her brothers, perhaps that was where Fíodor and Elisedd were taking her, to sort things out.
They arrived at an enormous structure wrapped with columns. There was a large dome in the center flanked by a pair of smaller ones. It resembled the imitated Roman architecture that was popular in London, though the stone construction was a distinct shade of gray that matched the rest of the stone architecture in the town.
“Follow me,” said Fíodor as he walked up the stairs which led to a grandiose set of doors. He spoke with two guards who stood at the entrance. Their armor was similar to that of the men she followed from the campsite. He nodded back toward Hazel. When he was finished speaking with them, he waved Hazel and Elisedd over as the guards opened the doors.
One of the guards accompanied them as they entered a palatial foyer. The domed ceiling rose high up and let light in onto the gleaming marble floors and columns. A pair of spiral staircases led to the second story. Hazel followed Fíodor and the guard up the stairs and through a hall to a doorway. They waited there while the guard knocked.
A lithe man opened the door. He was dressed in contemporary plain clothes, though a stout blade hung from his hip.
Fíodor said, “Faron, we were hoping to speak with your father. Is he here?”
The man called Faron looked at Hazel, his gaze stuck on her for a moment before he nodded. He whispered something to Fíodor, then opened the door fully. “Come in,” he said before walking into the room.
The large study was lavishly furnished, though it was sparsely decorated. Only a few shelves of books occupied the tall bookcases. Like the foyer, tall, dark columns of marble rose up to a smaller domed ceiling. Faron was speaking with an older man who was reviewing paperwork at a large desk. He too wore a contemporary three-piece suit. When his son finished speaking with him, he looked up at his guests and rose.
“Good morning, Fíodor, Elisedd,” he said as he approached and shook their hands. He went to Hazel. “Hazel, I’m told.” He held out his hand and gave her a soft handshake. “Delighted to meet you, I am Ayalon.” He walked to the door and closed it. “You’re here about your brother.”
“Yes, sir.” She nodded. “And my cousin and friend. Are they in trouble?”
He shook his head. “Not from us, they’re safe and well.”
Hazel sighed with relief. “May I see them?”
“Soon, but right now there’s something I need to show you. First, I must be sure of something. The boy, the one called Cameron, he is your brother by blood?”
Hazel nodded. “Why does that matter?”
Ayalon walked to the door and waited. “Everything will be explained to you in time... for now, will you please follow me?”
Hazel was frustrated, though not surprised by yet another elusive statement. Just tell me what’s going on. She followed Ayalon back down stairs to another room. It too had a high-domed ceiling like the foyer, but there were no windows in the room. It was bare of furniture, there were only stone platforms, cut like large steps, extending from the curved walls. The sole source of light was from a small hole in the center of the dome that let a beam of light down onto a stone pedestal in the center of the room. Above the pedestal, a shiny silvery object was hanging in the air.
They moved closer to the pedestal, and Hazel realized that the object was not attached to anything. Her limbs began to feel cold. She thought about the strange animals she had seen earlier that day, and the town’s eclectic architecture as well as its peoples’ eclectic wardrobes and silly names. It all reminded her of something, a dream, but she was too tired for it to be a dream. She felt lightheaded.
“Hazel, I need you to hold the ladder.” The old man gestured toward the floating piece of metal.
“Why? I don’t understand.” She backed away. “Please, just show me to my brothers and let us go.”
“Hazel,” said the lithe Faron who walked smoothly toward her.
She turned toward the door and was stopped by Fíodor. Tears rolled down her cheeks. “Can’t you just tell me what’s happening! Why are you doing this?”
Elisedd came to her side, gesturing for his father to let her go. Fíodor followed his suggestion. Elisedd took her hand and lightly brushed the tears off her cheek. “Hazel, this will all make sense to you soon, I promise. You can trust me.”
He was telling the truth. She gave a light nod and wiped a tear off her cheek. He guided her slowly toward the pedestal and reached for the ladder. He raised Hazel’s hand up toward it, then looked to her. “Ready?”
“What’ll happen?” she asked anxiously.
“Let me show you.”
She nodded and let him press her hand to the ladder. She gasped as it rearranged itself and crawled up her arm toward her neck, cold metal slithering over her skin.
Elisedd pull her close to him. He looked into her eyes as a sharp pain shot down her back. With his hands around her waist and shoulders, he kept her crippled body from collapsing. “You’re alright, Hazel. Everything will be alright.”
12
ALEXANDRA
Alexandra swallowed the last of the dried meat. She had expected it to be laced with whatever was in the meal the night before so she refrained from eating any until early that afternoon when she decided it would not make much of a difference whether she was awake or not. She had yet to feel any sort of unnatural fatigue. She scooped a cup into a pail of water and took a drink, then went to one of the cots.
She was alone with her thoughts the entire day and wanted nothing other than to be distracted. All she could think about was what that man had said about Cameron. He wasn’t there? Of course he was there, that much she remembered. He had thrown that thing in Cameron’s neck and whisked her away.
As she lay in her cot ruminating, she heard the front door swing open. It was followed by loud coughing and irregular footsteps. It must have been her abductor, returning that night as he had told her. She went to the door and listened. She heard the sound of glass shattering, then he was fumbling with more clinking glass. He yelled out in frustration as a liquid splashed on the floor. There was another crash of glass on the floor. Then it was quiet.
A minute later, the door opened. The man was in the doorway holding a lantern and a loaf of bread. He was pale. He staggered to a cot and reached to set the bread down. His shirt draped down as his arm extended, it was stained with a large crimson splotch. He left a red handprint on the loaf. As he rose, he struggled to keep his eyes opened. Then he collapsed.
Alexandra walked slowly over to him. He was completely still. The lantern had broken and the lit candle was next to his sleeve. The cloth ignited. Alexandra reflexively patted it out. She stepped back and grabbed a candle off the wall, then examined him with it. He was still breathing.
She had to get out. She rushed into the main living area, then looked around the kitchen to see if there was anything useful there. She spotted a large knife off and took it of the wall. There was a canteen on the counter. She shook it and felt that it was empty. She went back to the room and submerged it in the pail as she looked at the dying man on the floor. When it was full, she capped it off and made her way to the front door.
When she stepped outside, she saw the sliver of the crescent moon obscured by clouds. That was all she could see. She did not know which direction to go toward. She knew there was some sort of path nearby, there had to have been to accommodate the carriage they arrived in. She looked to see if the carriage was still there, or maybe there was a horse nearby. As she moved through the darkness, she saw no sign of either.
She continued walking cautiously in search of a path, but the candle allowed her to see only a few feet in front of her as she held it low to the ground. She became frustrated with herself as she searched without any sign of a clearing. It had to be somewhere.
She realized that the ground might not have indicated the path. It was all well packed dirt; it could be hard to discern a defined route. She looked up, hoping to see the outlines of trees that might indicate a clearing. There was only a black wall.
A cold gust of wind rushed by her. The candle’s flame was horizontal as it flickered for a moment before it was extinguished. She could see nothing now. She sank to the ground and wept.
After a few minutes of self pity, she willed her way back to her feet and returned to the cabin behind her. She went back to the room where the man was still lying, then looked down at the knife in her hand. She knew she could not afford to allow him to wake and lock her back in the room. It was the only option. There was no reason to feel remorse. The man had kidnapped her, and Cameron might be in danger by his hand. There would be no struggle; he might have already been dying anyway. She crouched down and held the edge of the knife to his throat. As soon as she felt it touch his skin she felt a chill and threw it aside.