The Long Staff (The Staff Wielder Series)

by Clare Wilson

  Naithara considered his words, closed her eyes and murmured some words under her breath which the men could not make out. After a few moments she opened her eyes and addressed the group. ‘While I can understand the logic of your findings, I don't believe that this has been the case. My own searching has revealed to me that the band left together.’

  The men looked at one another, their expressions held both fear and awe at her immense power.

  ‘I believe they all headed into the hills,’ she continued, pointing towards the path which led further in to the hillside, and to Devil’s Ford. ‘For some strange reason it feels as though there were more than three of them.’

  ‘Perhaps that's the horse you are sensing, my Lady? The boy and his mother did escape on horseback.’ The Sheriff said meekly. He regretted having spoken almost immediately.

  The Lord Provost shot him a look which showed he obviously believed this perception to be utter nonsense.

  The Sheriff slunk back, dejected by the Provost’s constant contempt.

  ‘Perhaps you're right,’ Lady Naithara said brightly. ‘It could be the horse. There was definitely something or someone else with them.’ She then turned and lowered the bag she had been carrying to the ground. ‘For now I think we should all eat a light meal and discuss where we believe they could have headed from this point. I would be happier if I thought we had a definite sense of direction.’

  The men sat down and took various rations from their packs. As they sat eating they discussed amongst themselves where they would go if they headed into the hills for shelter. The murmuring among the group did not seem to provide anything conclusive. Most suggestions were shot down, several of the men had no idea at all where they would go if they were trekking out into the hills and were simply sitting shaking their heads.

  After they had finished eating, Lady Naithara stood amongst them and spoke. ‘We have not yet come up with anything which I would deem to be a plausible suggestion. As our time is short, I think we should take the path from here into the hills. As we walk I will use my senses to see if I can detect the direction we should walk in. I realise it isn't ideal, but we can't sit here hoping that one of us will have a flash of inspiration.’

  ‘We must be careful, my Lady,’ said the Sheriff. ‘There are few places along this path we can hope to find shelter if we don't find the MacKays before nightfall.’

  ‘Be quiet fool!’ the Provost bellowed. ‘Lady Naithara has senses you could never comprehend. She will smoke out Torean quickly, and if that does not happen today, she will be able to find somewhere we can lay our heads for the night. The last thing we need is your nay saying.’

  ‘Thank you, Hamish,’ said Naithara, holding up a hand to stay him. ‘You have great faith in me, and I will prove to you that your faith is well placed. However, if we are to succeed, we must understand that we all have the power to overcome this obstacle. I would not have chosen any of you if you were not capable of such a task.’

  The men looked around one another and smiled vainly. Patting one another on the backs, the group then headed off down the path which would ultimately lead them to Devil’s Ford.

  The Sheriff had thought to himself that this may be the place where the MacKays were hiding, but after being berated for voicing his opinion earlier, he thought it best to keep quiet. He had decided it would be best to blend into the group as they walked. As he walked he thought, with luck this will all come to nothing and by tomorrow evening I can be back in my home. Then I can try to figure out a way to get myself out of this mess. The Sheriff was in many ways a coward. The fact that he had managed to become so involved in something so dangerous was a mystery even to him. Although what he was feeling was not simply cowardice. Since he had understood Naithara’s feelings towards him were not romantic, he felt as if he had wakened from a daze. He felt a great sense of guilt. Somehow he couldn’t help thinking how his father would be ashamed if he could see him now, standing among these men. Remembering how his father had known Torean MacKay so well made him feel sick to his stomach.

  Time passed quickly on the bright and sunny day. Lady Naithara walked at the head of the group. Occasionally she would stop and raise her hand for the group to halt. She would close her eyes and murmur under her breath in order to find a sense of direction. Swaying on the spot, holding her sacred stones in her hands, she would allow her arms to move freely and they pointed in the direction in which the group should continue. The Sheriff thought she looked like a human divining rod. He would have laughed at the sight had he not feared her so much.

  After the third or fourth time doing this she cursed under her breath. ‘This blasted wind is not helping me.’ She looked dishevelled and tired; her blonde hair was hanging in wisps from the clasps holding it in place. ‘I can sense power, but the way it's carried on the air makes it hard to determine which direction it comes from.’ She was looking around herself in an extremely frustrated manner, like someone who was being swarmed by insects. The men were scared to make suggestions for fear she would use her powers against them. She was being bombarded by traces of enchantments that were resonant of Torean’s magic, but she didn't understand how it could all be coming from him. The wind made it seem to surround her. It made it extremely difficult to pinpoint a definite direction for the group to head in.

  The Sheriff, who was the only one in the group to have seen Torean use his staff, thought that the wind being so changeable may have been his doing. He had seen what the old man had done in his cottage with the smoke from the fire.

  After a few minutes the Minister decided it was time for someone to speak. ‘We have several hours before the light begins to fade, my Lady, there is hope yet.’ The quiet, gently spoken man, who looked completely out of place among the group, was looking at Naithara admiringly and hoping that this would help to quell her temper. Even though he was part of Naithara’s group he still looked like a gentle man of god.

  She smiled at him. ‘We will keep going for a while longer. When the light starts to fade, I will focus my energy upon finding us somewhere to shelter for the night. Hopefully we are on the right path and if we cannot find them today, we will be able to move on them early tomorrow morning.’

  The group trudged on for a further two hours and seemed no closer to their goal. Michael was growing weary and finally plucked up the courage to speak. ‘The light begins to fade, my Lady,’ he said hoping he would not be struck down for speaking so. No-one responded to his statement, so he carried on. ‘We should think of shelter if we are to survive to search another day.’

  The Provost glared at him with eyes that suggested he could quite happily slit the Sheriff’s throat in his sleep. He opened his mouth to berate Michael, but Naithara sighed and he thought better of it.

  ‘You are right, Michael,’ she said wearily. ‘It will do my master no service if we freeze to death on this mountain path.’ She closed her eyes and focused again. In her head she could sense the wind passing through the trees. She allowed herself to be enveloped by the patterns of the breeze. From this she could sense which areas were open with ravaging gales, and which were more sheltered. After a few moments she said, ‘This way men, at least with this task my path is clear.’ Leading them down a path among the trees, she said, ‘Fear not, you will sleep safely tonight.’

  She led them into a clearing which was sheltered by some trees on the east side. This kept the worst of the wind away and allowed them to light a fire in order to cook. The shelter from the wind also helped the weary travellers find some warmth. The men huddled around the flames trying to get some heat, and soon mugs of steaming tea were being passed around. Sitting as they were, they looked like a pitiful bunch. Tired and blistered, many of the men at this point were questioning their reasons for being there. Unlike Naithara, this was not their first day trudging through the hills seeking out their elusive goal.

  After their meal they sat around the fire and the Provost led the conversation, trying to focus the group’s attention on whe
re Torean and his family could be. He was acutely aware that if they were not careful the men would lose their faith under such circumstances. He thought if he brought them back to the task in hand, it would help to distract them from any thoughts of desertion. ‘We must use every resource we have. I want you to put yourself in his place. Where would you hide if you needed somewhere safe in these hills? Remember, this would also need to be somewhere which was still within reach of the valley.’

  ‘I have a thought but I dare not utter it,’ said the Sheriff sarcastically. In his tiredness, he spoke with a tone which he would not normally dare use. However, having sat listening to the Provost drone on, he felt he couldn’t help himself.

  ‘That's probably best, Michael,’ said the Provost with contempt. ‘Your other thoughts have produced nothing fruitful thus far.’ The Provost’s voice was thick with bile.

  Lady Naithara looked round at the Provost. ‘Hamish, you're too harsh. We should all have the right to speak. While Michael has made mistakes, he is used to dealing with criminals. He may know how a man like Torean thinks.’ She smiled at the Sheriff. ‘Speak, Michael,’ she said kindly.

  He hesitated for a moment. Naithara hadn't been so pleasant to him for several days. For a second he wondered whether he had misjudged her affection for him, and looked across at her in the firelight, once again noticing her beauty. Nonetheless, a small voice in his head thought that this may mean she was simply becoming desperate. She had only ever been nice to him when she had wanted something. ‘Well,’ he said deciding he had best continue now he had started. ‘I was thinking. If I wanted to hide somewhere which would provide a good vantage point, but wouldn't be an obvious place to go to, I would probably choose Devil’s Ford.’

  The Provost laughed aloud. ‘Hah, you see, my Lady? Every word he speaks is folly. What idiot would go to Devil’s Ford? Especially with his family and a horse in tow, it would be suicide!’ The rest of the group nodded in agreement with the Provost.

  The Provost beamed at the Sheriff, delighted that the whole group agreed with him.

  Lady Naithara began to smile. The Sheriff was now waiting on her mocking him also. He was surprised when she held her hand up to silence the Provost. ‘Very good, Michael,’ she said sincerely. ‘While it does seem improbable, I believe that Torean would take such a risk if it would provide him with somewhere we would not think to look. I think he would stay there believing himself to be safe from our eyes. We can show him that this is not the case. The decision is made!’

  The Provost tried to interject, ‘My Lady!’

  ‘Enough, Hamish!’ she shouted fiercely. ‘We have no other leads. Do you have any better suggestions?’

  ‘My Lady, please!’ the Provost stuttered. ‘You must see reason. I may not have any plausible suggestions, but to risk all of our lives on the say so of someone who has failed us before is madness. Do you honestly believe Torean would have risked the life of his family venturing to such a place?’ The Provost was pleading with Lady Naithara hoping to make her see sense.

  ‘I say that we rise before dawn and start the walk to Devil’s Ford,’ she said, completely ignoring his plea. ‘With luck, we can catch them in their beds! Now, I think it best if we all try to get some sleep. We have an early rise in the morning.’ The fact that she had now decided upon a plan of action seemed to lift a great sense of defeat from her. She smiled around the group as though they were on a childhood camping trip.

  The men seemed to hesitate, looking to the Provost for guidance. Naithara noticed this and was infuriated. ‘You fools!’ she bellowed. ‘Do you look to Hamish for guidance? Have you forgotten who it was that brought you all together? He may have the courage to speak against me, but he does not have the power to give you what you desire. If you do not wish to incur my wrath or that of my master, I would advise you all re-think your positions. I am no mere woman to be treated in this manner. Those of you who would rather follow Hamish may leave here now.’

  The men stared at the ground in shame, and then slowly moved to lay out their blankets. There were several of them muttering to one another in protest at the thought of making the journey to Devil’s Ford. However, none of them dared to utter these thoughts to Lady Naithara for fear of being made an example.

  As he lay down to go to sleep Michael was deeply troubled. If he was wrong with his suggestion then he would have led this group along a very treacherous path. He knew the Provost would surely find a way to dispose of him under such circumstances. It was also clear that it was too late to run. He knew he would need to follow this path to its end. On the other hand, a part of him secretly hoped he was wrong about the MacKays. He already regretted his actions at Torean’s farm and did not relish the idea of the three family members being murdered while they slept. As he watched the group settling down and one by one drifting off to sleep, he found himself wondering how on earth he had allowed himself to end up in this predicament. The whole situation felt hopeless. Closing his eyes, he somehow knew he would not drift off as easily as the others.

  Chapter Thirteen

  A Severing Conflict

  At that very same moment Tom was also lying trying to get to sleep. They were both unknowingly looking at the same sky, both feeling extremely nervous about what was to come the next day. Tom was worried about their journey the following morning. He was not completely sure of the route to their next destination, and didn’t like relying on someone else to get him there. He also couldn’t help wondering about where Naithara and her men were. They must be in the hills somewhere, camping just as he and the others were. The thought of them lying in wait somewhere close by made him feel very cold, even though he was wrapped up tight in his blankets.

  As he lay there he closed his eyes and started going over everything in his mind he would need to remember for the following morning. Suddenly, he heard a noise coming from the undergrowth. His eyes thrust open wide, he laid as still as stone. Could they have found them in the night? How could they have made such a journey after nightfall? He felt his fear subside as no further noises came. He sat up and looked in the direction the noise had come from just in time to see a small head appear through the long grass. It was the Nuggie. Tom felt a rush of relief, the little creature had returned as Torean had predicted. This time the animal appeared more confident as it left the undergrowth and approached his bedding. It looked like the same creature. Nevertheless Tom couldn’t be certain it was the same one. Its dark grey skin was stretched over its oblong head. Large jet black eyes looked at him warily and its large floppy ears bobbed as it crept forward. He noticed there were whiskery hairs growing in large tufts from its ears, and it had similar whiskers growing on its chin. It somehow seemed older than the creature who had visited him before.

  ‘Shassy saw?’ the small creature said, just as it had before.

  Tom slowly reached for his staff, the little animal’s eyes opened in fear and it began to back away. He was able to get it in time and quietly muttered, ‘Suaimhneach.’ As he felt the power flow through him he muttered, ‘Don't be afraid, little one. Can you repeat your question?’

  The animal turned its head on one side and after a few moments said in a little high-pitched voice, ‘I am Low-Paw, I was sent to find the staff wielder.’

  ‘Do you need help?’ Tom enquired.

  ‘We have sensed your presence among the hills and have come to present ourselves.’

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, Low-Paw. Was it you who visited me before?’ Tom asked.

  ‘No,’ the little animal said sternly. He looked slightly insulted by Tom’s suggestion. ‘That was my cousin, Bright-Teeth. His lack of success meant he was deemed unfit to make further contact with you. Do not fear, he will be punished for his cowardice.’

  ‘No!’ Tom said, his voice louder than he had intended. He saw Torean stir in his sleep. He stayed silent until the old man had rolled over again. ‘Don’t punish him. I didn’t know what he was, and didn’t know how to react to his visit. It was my fa
ult really.’

  ‘You are most gracious, staff wielder, I shall pass on your words to our elders,’ Low-Paw said, bowing to the ground so low that his nose almost touched the earth. As he did so his long ears flapped forward and brushed the dirt. He rose again and said, ‘What danger has brought you among the hills, staff wielder? Our tribe does not regularly have visitors such as you.’

  ‘Well,’ said Tom. ‘We're in hiding until we can rise to fight against an evil force which threatens the valley. We'll be able to move soon to eliminate it.’

  ‘We suspected there was danger,’ the strange creature said, rubbing its whiskery chin with his long fingers. ‘Our elders had sensed a foul magic upon the winds in the same way they sensed your presence among us. I shall return to them with the information you have given me and allow them to deliberate.’

  ‘What will they deliberate over?’ Tom asked, confused.

  ‘Whether to join you in your fight or whether we should run. Our tribe has been in this valley for many centuries, and I believe most of our elders would choose to defend it. Even so, there are those who do not wish to become involved in the matters of the Humamans. However, if we leave we run the risk of exposure. Cairn Holme is a special place. We do not know whether our people can survive outside of its protection.’

  ‘Humamans?’ Tom mused. ‘You mean Humans?’

  ‘Yes, as you say, humamans.’

  Tom shook his head. ‘Well, thank you for your visit. I wish you well, and hope to see you again.’

  ‘It has been my honour, staff wielder. I shall tell my people of your grace and your glory.’ With that the little creature raised its hand and blew a sparkling dust towards Tom’s face. He felt a dizzy sensation come over him and he flopped back onto his blankets with a dull thud.