Chapter 8, Shepherd
“It's not that bad” says Raj as Lucy and I sit dabbing at the nasty cut on his head.
“Can you see it?” asks Lucy.
“Nope” says reluctant Raj.
“Then be quiet” says his lady. I don't know how many miles we covered after leaving the services, but it was enough that we collapsed in an exhausted heap, with no breath left to talk about what we'd seen. I just about got enough out of them to know that rather than leaving me they'd revealed themselves to the marauders in an attempt to reason with them. That didn't go too well as evidenced by the nasty cut Raj had taken from a swung crowbar.
Fortunately our friend from the cesspit had emerged at that particular moment and the fight had taken on a whole other persona. We steered the conversation away from the creature. We allowed our concern to take precedence, we lost ourselves in the trickle of blood on Raj's face, we set our sights on stemming the tide, we focused our attention on very human concerns, and let the other stuff deal with itself for a while.
We managed to get to an old farm that night. Aside from the fact that it was deserted, and that in the corner of a nearby field there was a pile of carcases that I hope used to be cows, there was little sign of the troubles here.
We settled down in an empty stable with some passably soft straw. Some might have made for the farmhouse and the thought of comfortable beds, but none of us knows what lays behind the curtains, beyond the front door. None of us knows what might come looking in the night. Beds do not have the safety they once did, robbers are far less likely to search the old abandoned barn.
Raj fell asleep quickly, Lucy not long after. I watched them for a while. I listened to their beating hearts and grew envious of their held hands. What love would I know? What love would be left to me in this world? What they have is so valuable. Yet I risk it.
I waited until their eyes blinked rapidly through a kaleidoscope of dreams, then I snuck out into the night. I found an old lantern, which though reluctant, eventually by luck and many matches was able to shine a light for me. I sat in another old shed, with only the spiders for company I opened the book and bathed myself in the words of Atticus Faraday. But this time I did not read forward. I flipped back through the infinite pages, looking for a memory of that already read. It did not take me long to find it, the passage I sought;
'With eyes that glowed like mountain fire they came, the wrothclida stomped down the hillside, and the Huntsman charged up to meet them. And though the armour of the wrothclida was strong the Huntsman would not be swayed from the purge, the foul stench of the wrothclida was gone from the world for now, no more would they draw life from another, not in this cycle, not in this age'
Glowing eyes, foul smelling, armoured creatures. I closed the book. Am I grasping at straws? Seeing coincidence for more. But there is more, more to this world than I ever knew before, more horror, yes. But there is mystery in horror, fascinating, terrifying mystery. I walked back to the stable. I doused the flame and settled down with Raj and Lucy. When I fall asleep it is by their side, when I wake I am nestled between them, warm and content, if only for a moment or two.
It took us quite a while to get back on track, to locate an identifying landmark that was on Lucy's map. But eventually we found the motorway again. We decided to steer clear of any more service stations. We looked for streams. We were moving beyond the days where we quibbled about the freshness of what came out of them. It was water, it kept us alive, bacteria was a lesser concern.
The days moved along with the miles. By night, in delight, by candle light and bright moonlight, I would read more of what Atticus Faraday once did write. I fell in love with a book. I was afraid, and intrigued, mystified and inspired by 'The Raven and the Wolf'. Who was Atticus Faraday and why did so much of what he wrote seem to bear more than a passing resemblance to the changing world of today?
A number of inches across the map later and we finally reached the borders of the Lake District. Despite none of us being any the wiser about what we would find when we got there, it felt good to be making progress. I'd seen the dismembered girl several more times, always in my dreams, and fortunately all in one piece. She did not say anything, she just stood at the edge of my other fantasy, watching and smiling, and learning. I was not afraid of her, just curious if anything.
Then one night, as we camped just off the M6 near Crooklands, she talked to me again. In my dream I sat atop a vast tower, so large that whole nations could have lived in its shadow. I dangled my feet off one of the wings which protruded from it, when she sat down beside me, and dangled too.
“Hello” she said to me.
“Hi” I said back. We just sat for a while. Around the base of the tower the land moved under the foot of an army of monsters. They battered with claw and club at the tower, it stared down at them impassively. Then, from the skies around the tower there descended thousands of metal ravens. They flew down to the army below, they unleashed fire from their claws and beaks and all was returned to normal.
“Thank you” I said to her.
“For what?”
“For warning me at the service station.”
“That's okay, you would have done the same for me,” she smiled.
“Yes, I would have done, but then I couldn't, because I'm not like you.”
“No, you're not Annabel, and that's no bad thing, believe me.”
“Are you a dream?”
“No.”
“Then what are you?”
“I am an old shadow, a memory of the world that has not yet faded.”
“What is your name?” I ask her.
“My name is Ellie.” We enjoy some more silence. The monsters roll in around the tower, more battles are fought. This time the inhabitants of the tower also march on the enemy with towering metal giants which carve the enemy, the land, and the ash into one with their giant weapons.
“I have to go now Annabel” says the girl next to me. I nod. “Tomorrow you are going to meet somebody, you don't need to be afraid of him.” Then she is gone. As is the tower. I wake up in the old pill box, aches and shivers greet me. I spare a moment to contemplate our grandfathers, sitting in such shelters up and down the country, waiting for an enemy that never came. Well ours did, and we didn't have you to defend us.
We started our days march. I gave very little thought to the dream and this person who she said I was going to meet. Not that is until I nearly bumped right into him.
“Shit” said Lucy going for the knives at her belt, Raj reached for his metal pipe.
“You won't need those my friends” said a figure sitting on a bench but a few feet away. Once we got over the initial shock of seeing him things started to calm down. He was fairly normal looking. Old, grey hair, quite thin. But friendly. He was wearing a long, weather beaten sea jacket that was probably green before it was faded and grey. He wore Wellington boots and a flat cap and sticking out of his mouth was a pipe.
Next to him sat a dog, also quite ancient looking, I couldn't tell you the breed, a mix of this and that, third generation mongrel and not bothered in the slightest. He sat there with his long floppy ears and paid us very little notice.
“Sorry mate” said Raj “We're just not used to bumping into people on the road these days.”
“Times have made you wary my friend, no bad thing, certainly no reason to apologise for your vigilance.” There was silence. For two of us it was awkward. For two of us it was a natural interlude, a period where we allowed time to speak for itself.
“Well” said Lucy “This has been nice but I think maybe we're going to...”
“Leave an old man sitting alone?” said the man.
“You've got a dog” said Raj.
“My best friend” said the old man. “But conversation does tend to lag at times.” The old man stood. He was very tall, and he had an expensive looking black cane which had a metal silver bird at the top of it, around which his old gnarled hand was curled.
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��Perhaps I could walk with you a while, you won't begrudge me that surely? We've all gotten lost in this new world, perhaps the crossing of our paths might be permitted for a mile or two, just to pass the time.” I looked at Raj and smiled my approval. The dog wagged his tail.
“Alright then..?”
“Joe” said the old man handing out a hand which Raj took and shook firmly. So we walked, so we talked. Joe seemed like a nice man, and his dog Percy didn't take long until he was licking hands and chasing sticks.
“Where are you from Joe?” asked Lucy.
“North of here, by a long way.”
“And your heading south?” she asked.
“Not heading anywhere really, just wandering, for the sake of the wander.”
“Bit of a dangerous time to have taken up rambling isn't it?” laughed Raj.
“Bit of a dangerous time to have taken up anything, I was a walker before all this happened” he said gesturing to the world with his hand as if he was talking about a new housing estate or a bypass being built. “And I will be a walker forever more.”
We continued to chat amiably as we went along and moved onto a dirt track going through some woodland. Our eyes still scanned the horizon constantly. Hands were drawn with every flicker and rustle in the trees to the weapons we carried. Somehow though Joe had a relaxing effect on the whole group. Perhaps it wasn't him, perhaps it was Percy, perhaps having a dog running around wagging his tail was helping to remind people of better days.
As we went further Raj and Lucy started to drop back. I turned to them, Raj smiled to me. They held hands and whispered in each others ear. The road ahead was long and clear. I turn away from them.
“So Annabel” said Joe. “I've told you where I'm going, albeit it that place is nowhere, what about you, where is the wanderlust taking you?”
“To Ravensburg” I tell him.
“And what is at Ravensburg?” he asks. Should I be suspicious of this old man? Time has taught me to suspect everyone, but there is no secret to be told, the reasons I need to go to Ravensburg will be as vague and difficult to explain to Joe as they were to Raj and Lucy.
“Well, I sort of, had this feeling...” I start to explain but stop myself, it already sounds like such weak and preposterous reasoning.
“Something called out to you did it, a voice across the land, over the trees, through the valleys and into your dreams?”.
“Yes” said I, surprised at Joe's succinctness.
“Well, we've all heard those voices young lady. The question is whether or not to follow them, where will they lead and will we be willing to make sacrifices to get there?”.
“I guess” says I, wondering if I should mention the book, Joe seems like a wise old man, perhaps there is some light he can shed. Joe stops. The tip of his cane sinks into the mud and he looks far off into the trees.
“Are you?” he says.
“Am I what?” I reply. Joe has suddenly become very serious. Even Percy has stopped wagging his tail.
“Willing to make sacrifices?”. I ponder this. I prefer smiling Joe telling me about coastal erosion. I would like to go back to him.
“I have made many already” says I.
“Your parents?” he asks. I nod. He returns the nod.
“Their sacrifice was their own. Not yours.” He looks down at me. For the first time I notice the steel in his eyes, the coldness, not built of cruelty, but of watching all that one has loved be taken away. “Do you know what has happened to the world Annabel? Has he told you yet, within the pages of his book what devastation has been wrought on the natural order of things?”.
I shake my head. How does he know about the book?
“Do you have what it takes to survive Annabel, do you have what it takes to protect what is left?” I nod again. Several tears creep their way stealthily onto my face.
“And if I told you...” he is struggling to say something. “If I told you that they are going to make him watch while your friend Lucy is raped and murdered. If I told you that once they are done, they will stake Raj to the ground and laugh while he is torn apart by dogs, could you protect them, could you stop that?”.
The adrenaline shot is so fast, so furious; that it is almost painful. The world starts to shake. There is a roar in my ears, a surge of blood that for a second or two blocks out all else such is the force of it. Time has slowed down. I have forgotten to breathe for too many moments. Percy growls. Time returns. I turn around. I face down the dirt track. I scream, I scream so hard my voice breaks and the sound chokes itself off.
They are not there. I start to run again.
Of the Shadows Own Accord (The Green and Pleasant Land, Volume 3) Page 8