The Ladder: Part 1

by David Hodges

  Fíodor took Hazel’s hand and brought her over to the loom. “This is for weaving their silk. I’ve taught them exactly how to move to make whatever it is I ask of them. There are all sorts of spiders here that produce all sorts of web. Elastic, adhesive, smooth, whatever is needed.”

  “What’s this silk being made for?” asked Hazel, pointing at the loom.

  “Er...” Fíodor hesitated. “Coats.”

  “It seems so tedious, is it worth using all them for a bit of fabric?” said Hazel

  “It’s no ordinary fabric, their silk is strong. It’s more durable than anything else you could use, all while maintaining pliability.” He stepped closer to the loom and reached out both of his hands toward it. His fingers turned brown and lengthened by several inches into fine points. Short, rigid hair grew from his fingers and extended to cover his palms and part of his wrists as well. He moved his fingers over the large sheet of webbing, deftly weaving the webs with a blur of flicking fingers. By the time he was done, it was condensed into a strip of silk, about half an inch thick, yet it still draped in his hands. He handed the strip to Hazel.

  It was incredibly light and soft to the touch.

  “With that many layers, it can stop a ball from a musket.”

  “Incredible. Is it for the Laochra?”

  “Aye. Ayalon has commissioned dozens of orders. I can hardly keep up.”

  Hazel noticed that Fíodor looked particularly haggard. “What’s he need this for? They’ve got centuries worth of equipment in the armory.”

  “He wants updated armor for the Laochra. He’s being precautious, given the state of things.”

  Hazel said, “You’re being compensated, aren’t you?”

  “Oh yes, pet, don’t worry, your grandfather is a considerate man.” He smiled. “At this rate I’ll be the richest merchant in Talamh before long.”

  Hazel smiled. “What else can you make with the silk?”

  “All sorts of things... rope, nets, I even made a sail once.” He smiled pensively and stared closely at Hazel. “I remember delivering that order like it was yesterday. It was for the voyage. Your mother requested it. That was the last time I ever saw her.”

  “You knew her?”

  “We all did. She wasn’t much older than you then. Forgive me, I don’t mean to make you melancholy. How have you been? You said you’re already attending lessons?”

  Hazel was distracted before she registered the question. “Aye, the Trínasúile has gone well. I’ve already got to practicing Ag Léiriú with Zofia.” A thought occurred to Hazel as the words left her mouth. “You said you remembered that day well. I know it’s a lot to ask, but...”

  Fíodor said with a smile, “You’d like to see what she was like?”

  Hazel nodded.

  “Of course.” Fíodor held out his hand.

  Hazel took it.

  The blackness of her eyelids was replaced with Fíodor’s memory. He was in front of the Roman building. He hopped off his horse and went to the hefty saddlebags on his horse and began untying them.

  “Fíodor!” a girl’s voice called. Fíodor turned and saw a young woman rushing through the columns and down the stairs. “That was fast!” she said as she reached him. “Can I have a look?”

  Fíodor finished untying the saddle bags and opened one of them. Inside were folded sheets of white silk. They were flawless. “I made them thin like you asked. You’re sure you don’t want me to make an extra set before you go? It’s a long way.”

  The girl touched the sheets. “It won’t be necessary. I’m going to cure them. They’re perfect.”

  “Oh, of course... should’ve known,” he smiled.

  “Your payment.” She handed him a large pouch then reached into her jacket. “And a bit extra for the quick delivery,” she said as she handed him another pouch.

  “Oh no...” Fíodor said as he tried to hand the pouch back to her.

  “I insist.” She smiled as she gave him a quick hug. She rushed back up the steps to the Roman building with the bags of silk.

  Hazel felt Fíodor letting her hand go and he appeared in front of her, back in his workshop.

  “Thank you,” said Hazel, dazed by the memory.

  “It’s no trouble.”

  Elisedd’s mother shouted from up the stairs. “Food’s on the table, come on up!”

  “Let’s not keep her waiting,” said Elisedd.

  They went up and Hazel seated herself beside Elisedd. She dipped a piece of bread into the vegetable stew and took a bite. She tried not to contemplate her mother as she sat at the table with the others, but she could not help thinking of how young she had looked. She looked so much like her. Despite that, the young girl in the memory just did not feel like her mother. She had yearned her whole life for the chance to see her. The experience did not live up to her expectations.

  Fíodor said, “So you’ve met with Zofia, what about Ollamh? Have you learned much of Bheochan? Any luck with the shield and the comb?”

  The questions brought her out of her daze. She was surprised he knew of the gifts. Word must have spread fast in the village. “I’m struggling with it. We haven’t discovered anything yet.”

  Fíodor nodded.

  Elisedd’s mother asked, “Have you been in contact with your family? Do they know what’s happened, where you are?

  Hazel was discomforted at the reminder of their abandonment. “I wrote them when we first arrived to let them know we were safe, but I didn’t tell them much otherwise. I’ve been told not to for the time being.”

  “I suppose it’s an unusual situation. I’m sure it’ll be sorted out.” She changed the topic. “Are you making friends? Aside from Elisedd, of course.”

  “I met a few young Laochra at the training grounds, some of them seem nice.”

  “Some of them?

  “A couple were not the most outgoing, but it was only a brief encounter. I’ve actually been invited to meet with them later tonight.”

  “Oh good, I’m sure you’ll get along well with them.”

  Fíodor said, “I saw Bjarke escorting you the other day, he’s a kind lad, much like his father. There are many of the Creachs who would do well to follow their example.”

  “Oh, don’t get started,” said Elisedd’s mother.

  Fíodor said, “Hazel should know what she’s getting herself into. The Laochra are known to let the old ways linger, some would argue that they’re impeding progress.”

  Elisedd cut him off. “Don’t worry Hazel, for every stuck up Laochra you meet you’ll find another humble one.”

  Fíodor said, “I think your ratios are a bit exaggerated.”

  “You get my point.”

  “Yes, there are exceptions, but let’s not forget that all the Laochra, nice or not, don’t have to work the way we’ve had to of late. Sure they play with their swords, no offense, Hazel, but what do they do to really earn their status? Not to mention they get the most time beyond the walls.”

  Their conversation was interrupted by a loud knock in the window. A man stood there beckoning Fíodor. Hazel could just make out his features in the dim light of dusk behind him.

  Fíodor sighed. “Pardon me, carry on with your dinner. I shouldn’t be long.”

  Hazel could see Fíodor and the man through the window. The man was animated with his his words, his hands moving and his head shaking. As she wished she could hear what they were saying. She felt her ears twitch, then she could make out voices. They carried a higher tone then she would expect with a slight ringing, but the words were clear enough for her to make out.

  “I swear, if they order me to weave another bloody—”

  “Quiet,” said Fíodor.

  The man shook his head. “Have you spoken with Faron about Einar’s—”

  “Bloody hell, shut your mouth. I’m beginning to think it was a mistake letting you in on this.”

  Hazel felt a tap on her shoulder. She looked to Elisedd who smiled as he pointed to his ear.


  “Curious, are you?”

  She touched her ear and felt short, soft fur covering it. It was much pointier than usual. She blushed and felt her ears changing back. “Sorry.”

  A short while later, Elisedd’s father returned. He looked worried. “Forgive me, but I must leave dinner early.” He looked to Hazel. “Hazel, it was a pleasure having you, even for this short time. I hope to see you again soon.” With that, he left. He walked away with the other man across the window.

  “Who was that?” asked Hazel

  Elisedd’s mother answered, “A friend of Fíodor’s, another weaver.”

  Elisedd said, “So, you’ve been at the training grounds quite a bit it seems. Has anyone told you about the Samhain?”

  Elisedd’s brother exclaimed, “It’s the best festival of the year!”

  Hazel smiled. “No, sounds like something to look forward to. What’s it for?”

  `“It’s an end of harvest festival we celebrate here in Talamh, a Celtic tradition. It’s less than two weeks away. There are all sorts of festivities, but the main attractions are the tourneys. They feature all sorts of combat, grappling, archery, sword fighting, most of the Laochra partake. Perhaps you could have a go.”

  “I don’t know about that. Sounds like it’ll be delightful to watch, though.”

  “Not sure delightful is the best way to describe it, but it’s certainly entertaining. There’s plenty more to look forward to. More light hearted games, music, performances, dancing, anything you could hope for.”

  “I can’t wait,” said Elisedd’s little brother with a strip of pheasant hanging from his mouth.

  “Mind your manners!” said Elisedd’s mother.

  Hazel smiled at him. “Me neither.”

  After they finished dinner, Hazel was escorted by Elisedd back to the stables near her flat where they put up her horse. The street was silent outside the stables, only distant voices could be heard. Elisedd moved close to Hazel, then gave her a long hug. She felt herself melting in his arms.

  “Thank you for coming to dinner and for the ride this afternoon.”

  She managed to reply, “It was my pleasure,” in a higher pitch than she had intended.

  Elisedd took her hand lightly and gave her a light kiss on her cheek.

  Her heart was racing.

  “I hope we’ll become good friends, Hazel.”

  “Me too.”

  He let go of her hand, mounted his horse, and with a wave goodbye he rode off.

  Hazel took a deep breath and smiled to herself. She went to her flat where she reflected on her day and waited for Bjarke and Uschi to pick her up. She thought about how incredible Talamh was, the unscathed forest north of the village, all of the beautiful animals, some of which she would never have seen if she were not there. She thought of the view from the quarry. She thought of Elisedd, opening her eyes to all of it. He was unlike any boy she had ever known, so kind and in such a soothing way. She would have been overwhelmed by his gestures, holding her hand, hugging her close, kissing her cheek... but the way he did it was different, selfless somehow.

  Hazel heard a knock at her door. She got up and opened it, expecting to see Bjarke and Uschi. Instead, she found Fergus waiting at the door.

  “Fergus, what are you doing here?”

  “I just saw you arrive, thought I’d come by and chat... you look disappointed.” He had a tone about him.

  “No, no. I was just expecting Bjarke.”

  “Oh, another date?”

  “What? I’m meeting with some of the Laochra, they’ve invited me.”

  “Oh, so there’ll be even more strapping lads there.”

  “Fergus, there are women in the guard too, you know. What’s this about?”

  “Sorry. You’re right.” Fergus looked ashamed, his tone softened. “I heard you were out at dinner with that lad Elisedd.”

  “His family was there too.”

  “Right. You fancy him, don’t you?”

  “What if I do?”

  Fergus looked wounded.

  “Fergus, I’m sorry.”

  He sighed and shook his head. “Nah, you’re right. Just the same old thing, I should be sorry. I ought to be happy for you. Suppose I’m just feeling a bit left out.”

  He was right to. Hazel had not had the chance to spend any length of time with him for several days. She had been meaning to catch him up on things, maybe show him the armory, but she had not had the chance to, at least that was what she told herself. “I’m sorry, Fergus, they’ve been keeping me busy, and tonight I happened to receive two invitations. There’s a lot I’ve been meaning to tell you and show you. I promise I’ll set aside some time.”

  “No, Hazel, I don’t mean to be a burden. I was just being...”

  “You were being reasonable. You’re my best mate, and I haven’t been treating you like it.”

  There was a knock at the door. Hazel opened it.

  “Evening, Hazel, Fergus,” said Bjarke.

  Hazel looked to Fergus apologetically. “I’ll see you soon, Fergus.”

  He gave a meek smile and left.

  Hazel arrived at a building that was located at the village center, just across the Roman building. She followed Bjarke and Uschi inside where she found what resembled a tavern or a coffeehouse, but it was too lavishly furnished to be either. The chairs and sofas were plush. Groups of men and women, some of them wearing armor and weapons, were spread throughout the large room, most gathered near the large hearths along the walls. Several dogs and wolves were curled up around the room.

  They walked toward one of the hearths where Coinín, Ulric, Tod, and a girl that Hazel did not recognize were sitting. Ralf was fast asleep in front of the hearth, his paws twitching as he dreamt. Tod’s red fox was curled up next to him, his eyes open as Hazel approached the group.

  Uschi introduced Hazel to the girl, Lupa. Lupa was polite, though she seemed a bit too relaxed, on the verge of the displaying the disinterest that Ulric and Tod continued to display at that very moment.

  Coinín said, “Glad to see you here, Hazel. I was just telling everyone about our sparring. They won’t take my word for it.”

  Ulric said, “We don’t doubt she’s faster than you. Whether or not that’s actually fast, we’ll have to see for ourselves.”

  Coinín rolled his eyes at his brother.

  Hazel said, “I’m sure it wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. I’ve got a lot of work to do before my sparring resembles anything close to yours and Tod’s.”

  They displayed no modesty at the statement.

  Bjarke said, “I dunno, Hazel, I’d be curious to see how you fared. I think you’d be able to surprise them before long. You are Faron’s blood after all.”

  “Is he good for a Laochra?”

  Coinín replied incredulously, “Is he good? He’s the best! He’s never lost at the Samhain.”

  Hazel knew he was more than proficient from what she had seen, but she did not know that he was exceptional. Unlike Ulric, he had displayed no airs about it.

  Ulric said, “He’s been beaten at tourneys before.”

  “Not at the Samhain,” said Bjarke.

  Uschi asked Hazel, “Do you know about the Samhain?”

  “Elisedd told me about it. It’s a festival, isn’t it? I suppose the tourneys are the centerpiece.”

  “Elisedd?” scoffed Ulric. “The Capall? Been spending time with him, have you? Don’t get your hopes up with that lad.”

  Hazel did not know what to make of the statement, though it was clearly meant as an insult.

  Uschi glared at Ulric and returned to her conversation with Hazel. “Yes, Hazel. It’s the biggest festival of the year. There are other seasonal festivals as well, Imbolc, Beltane, and Lughnasadh. The placing at their tourneys determine the matches at the Samhain. It’s half the reason we train as hard as we do. We haven’t had a real conflict in our lifetimes. Well not until Einar took the Sphere, but competing in the Samhain is plenty of incentive to stay in top f
orm.”

  Hazel said, “I heard there’s other festivities as well, smaller games, dancing.”

  Ulric said, “No one cares about that nonsense. The tourneys are the only reason the Samhain matters.”

  Hazel was not surprised by the sentiment. Elisedd had given her that impression, though not in the same deprecating manner.

  Uschi said, “There’s plenty of good fun. Ulric is just speaking for himself.”

  Tod said, “You’re too modest, Uschi. You know it’s true. The villagers just want to see us fight.”

  Bjarke said, “We all know the tourneys are exciting, no need to bicker about it.”

  Coinín said, “So who do you all have pegged to win?”

  Uschi said, “Bjorn for grappling.” She looked to Hazel. “He’s Bjarke’s father, Mathúin as well.”

  “Cuyler for all the archery events,” said Tod.

  Uschi said, “I dunno, Alviva’s getting good.”

  “Faron for swords,” said Coinín.

  “I pick Father for swords,” said Ulric firmly.

  “Maybe ten years ago,” said Coinín.

  “He’s adjusting to Faron’s style. You saw how close it was at the last tourney. Not to mention I’ve been his sparring partner of late.”

  Coinín said, “Are you likening yourself to Faron?”

  “I’m better than he was at my age.”

  Bjarke said, “What makes you think that?”

  “I’ve got twice the training he had at eighteen. He wasn’t even raised Creach.”

  “Please,” said Uschi, rolling her eyes.

  “You wouldn’t know, but it makes a difference,” Ulric said with a scowl.

  Hazel could see that it did.

  19

  CAMERON

  Cameron had only been back once to the Sphere under Ollamh’s esoteric tutelage. Ayalon had been keeping Ollamh and the Sphere busy. He had spent most of the last lesson watching Hazel’s frustration as she unsuccessfully tried to extract Fuil to replenish a pair of cured gloves.

  As Cameron held onto Ionga and focused on it, he had to close his eyes to keep Hazel’s excited gaze from distracting him. He felt like a feather in front of a kitten as she anxiously waited for something to happen between him, the Sphere, and the bow.