Arabel found herself quite liking Zander. He emanated both friendly generosity and warmth of spirit and she found herself feeling completely differently toward him now as opposed to when he had so abruptly startled her by grabbing her on the street. Arabel wondered idly how well Eli knew Zander and she wondered how she had borne her life with its inherently boring flavour before all of these colourful Gypsies had entered her sphere and shaken up the monotony of her existence.
Arabel smiled. “We’ll go see my crow as soon as we’ve had our tea,” she said.
“There is one other matter,” Zander interjected, a short time later, as they finished up the last crumbs of their treats and prepared to leave the tearoom. He paused for a moment, gauging her. Arabel fought back a slight impatience.
“Well?” she finally asked. “What is it?”
Zander composed his jovial face into serious lines. He leaned in toward Arabel and assumed a put-upon voice intended to provide gravitas in regard to the subject matter he wished to discuss.
“Miss Spade, on behalf of the Gypsy Council of Elders - of which I am actually not a part, just a mere mortal messenger- ”, Zander intoned gravely, “we are delighted to exonerate you of any premeditated wrong-doing in the matter of the errant thief, one Jonty Governs, lately of Ravenswood Glen.”
Arabel blew out the breath she’d been holding tightly within her chest. “And Eli?” she asked immediately.
Zander’s face darkened slightly for a mere fraction of an instant. Arabel stiffened involuntarily, seeing his hesitation.
“Must meet yet with the Council and abide by their decision. I am sorry, Arabel, I honestly don’t know what the consequences of his actions will foretell.”
At Arabel’s look of distress, Zander touched her arm briefly in a small gesture of reassurance. “I will speak to my brother on his behalf,” he offered earnestly, all prior joking relinquished from his manner. Zander sipped the last of his tea. “Be content, Miss Spade, my brother Xavier is always fair.”
The door to the tearoom swung open just then and the little brass bells chimed a new arrival. Arabel was both pleased and surprised to see the object of their conversation enter the premises.
Eli looked around and spotted Arabel with Zander immediately. A barely imperceptible look of discomfort passed along the contours of his handsome face and Arabel, seeing it, was quick to spring to her feet and move toward him in delighted greeting.
“Are you alright?” Eli asked immediately as Arabel kissed his cheek and he ran a protective arm around her shoulders. The colours burst to life within her eyelids, stunning her momentarily with their vivacity.
“Yes, quite.” Arabel replied. “Zander just came to ask me about the tree, and the shield, and to tell me I’ve been cleared of all wrong- doing as far as the matter of Jonty goes.”
“Yes, I know, my parents told me. I came to inform you as well, but when I called at your house, Morna said you were at the jailhouse, in interview with the Chief. Ira led me here. I didn’t know you knew about this place. Or that you knew Zander Cross.”
“I didn’t. I met him just now, as I was leaving Chief Constable Bartlin’s offices. Zander brought me here.”
At the mention of his name, Zander strolled up and casually shook Eli’s hand in a friendly welcome.
“Eli, you’ll be joining us then, on our adventure to find the shield?” Zander inquired and Eli nodded.
“Of course,” Eli replied shortly and Arabel felt a frisson of tension pass in the air between the two young men.
Arabel wondered if she’d done anything to cause such an energy to erupt but nothing came to mind. Arabel realized suddenly that Eli was prone to suffer from the same jealousies and insecurities as she herself did. Arabel’s heart swelled momentarily as she found her ego quite happily distracted by the thought of two dashing young men jousting for her affections and then it passed. Arabel remembered all too clearly how she’d felt about Francesca, when she’d wondered at the girl’s history with Eli, and of his potential feelings for the younger girl; she’d been heartsick.
Arabel glanced at Eli. He was frowning slightly, staring at Zander, not quite in control of his emotions. Arabel took Eli’s hand and gave it a hearty squeeze. She opened the door of the tearoom and stepped into the bright light of the snowy street, drawing Eli with her. Ira cawed enthusiastically upon seeing Arabel and landed eagerly on her shoulder. Ira nuzzled into Arabel’s neck and she laughed.
“Thank you Ira, for leading Eli to me,” Arabel said appreciatively and the crow seemed to wink at her.
“Now, we will need horses,” Arabel remarked to Eli and Zander as the crow passed her the mental imagery of the circuitous path to where the crooked oak tree and the oddly emblazoned shield had last been spotted.
“I’ve Jovah just over here,” Eli said, pointing to a public paddock where the black stallion waited patiently.
“And I’ve a horse just across,” Zander pointed to a sleek Palomino across the street.
“We’ll start at St. Martin’s Bog,” Arabel decided, “and search thoroughly there. The shield seems to be just a short distance from where the body of Indra Northrup was found.”
Their plan arranged, Zander wandered across the street to his mount and Eli helped Arabel up onto Jovah’s strong back. A strange silence fell and Arabel felt distinctly uncomfortable, as if she ought to be apologizing for something, but she just wasn’t sure what it was she had done to feel badly about.
“Is everything alright?” Arabel finally asked Eli as the silence stretched out a moment longer than she could stand.
Eli smiled at Arabel but his eyes still appeared troubled. He climbed upon Jovah’s back and Arabel wrapped her arms around his waist. Arabel leaned into Eli’s back, resting her cheek against his jacket for a moment. Eli turned around in the saddle, slightly, so their eyes could meet.
“Truly, there is nothing to worry about,” Eli said easily but Arabel remained unconvinced.
“You’re not…” Arabel paused; it seemed so wrong, to have to ask. To have to offer reassurance. Arabel wasn’t sure how one played fairly at love. She would have to go on blind instinct, she realized. She tried again.
“You’re not… jealous…are you? Because I’ve just met Zander Cross, and he’s nice and all - but you, why, surely you know, you have my heart, Eli Frankel! You’ve nothing to worry about, if you were thinking that I -”
The last part of Arabel’s sentence was cut off most effectively by the decisive smack of Eli’s lips as they claimed hers with a territorial force that took her by surprise. Arabel melted into Eli’s passionate embrace and felt him claim her body with the insatiable twin urges of youthful uncertainty and the dizzying grandeur of first love.
Eli tangled his hands in Arabel’s hair and her breath came sharply, hitching in her throat as he broke off the kiss and nuzzled her ear.
“I’m sorry,” Eli said, whispering into Arabel’s hair. “I don’t know what’s come over me.”
Arabel smiled and kissed him softly. “My heart,” she whispered in return, and this time when Eli favoured her with a smile, it was genuine, and the hollow, uncertain intensity appeared to have been firmly chased away from his beautiful, almond eyes.
Zander joined them a moment later. Astride his gallant and feisty palomino, Zander’s keen, green eyes glinted brightly with unspoken merriment and Arabel realized the younger Cross did not miss a thing. Zander was well aware of Eli’s discomfort and although he’d done nothing to provoke it, he was a canny enough fellow to know when to back off.
“To St. Martin’s Bog!” Zander cried enthusiastically, raising a hand in the air in a mock salute to his newfound companions. With this cry, the three of them galloped toward the infamous murder site in the darkening shadows of the late autumn afternoon.
From within the Muilse Tearoom, a lone figure watched. And waited.
Beware the Kings & Queens of Old; Their Fortunes Are To Die For
The sun moved behind a large cloud and
an instant chill washed over Arabel. For a brief moment she thought she could hear the violent sadness of a woman crying with deep, heartrending sobs. Arabel strained to listen above the noise of the racing horses but the sound only became fainter. An insidiously forlorn foreboding hung within the autumn air and Arabel felt it pass through her.
Annoyance crept into Arabel’s body as she shut out the feeling of the violent sadness of the unknown woman and forced her mind to remain completely within the physical world of the five senses. The ‘normal’ world. The reality almost everyone agreed upon. The only reality most people knew, and the one world where Arabel could never, ever take anything for granted.
Ahead of Arabel, in the distance, she could just make out the shape of the crooked oak tree. It was massive. Its army of branches spread out in a threatening curtain to block out the light from above and its enormous web of tangled roots amongst the carpet of the forest appeared intent upon taking over the greenery wherever possible. Lichen and moss grew heartily upon its thick trunk and the crooked branches seemed to wave imperiously at the other trees, signifying their superiority.
Crowning the top of the tree was a thick spike of branch, grown crooked and hooked, as if some giant had pulled and held it until it was permanently bent and could no longer straighten its proud bow. An eerie silence hung over the tree, as if no one dared wake the sleeping giant who must surely be lurking somewhere nearby. Snow decorated the ancient oak with a frosty, glistening veil of white, lending it an imposingly haunted appeal.
“Here lies the oldest part of the forest.” Zander spoke conversationally, although Arabel could see he was alert, his bright eyes surveying the energies, looking for hidden entities.
“Is that the symbol for the Dorojenja?” Eli asked quietly, glancing at the shield, his voice sounding unnaturally loud in the still, desolate location.
Zander nodded. “Thought we’d wiped them all out. Apparently not.” His expression turned grim as he and Eli shared a quick look of mutual understanding. Arabel was at a loss.
“The Dorojenja?” Arabel repeated blankly, looking at Eli. “Who are they? What are they?”
“They existed many years ago; in fact, they are reputed to be the ones who destroyed the Elmatuo Bridge, the bridge to the Ancients and the Contemplatives,” Eli supplied.
Arabel frowned. “Why would anyone want to do that?”
“To unsettle the world, to alter the Grid,” Zander spoke up. “Their motives have never been clearly outlined and they have worked together in secrecy since before the beginning of recorded time.”
Zander picked up a loose stone and threw it, hard, a small symbol of his irritation.
“We thought we’d taken care of them.”
“How exactly does one eradicate a secret society?” Arabel asked. “Sounds to be a most impossible task!”
“It is,” Zander agreed unhappily. “Well, let’s hope I can get something off of the shield.”
The threesome moved toward the shield where it rested against the base of the crooked oak tree. As they approached the tree, a whisper on the wind was felt by all of them – a soft caress, a gentle voice, a subdued fury.
Ira crowed repetitively, Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Caw! Raucous and unsettled, Ira flapped his wings viciously, and stared at something only he could view.
Arabel tuned in to the crow’s mind, to see if she could see as he did.
To Arabel’s utter amazement, she watched as a long limbed, bearded, dirt covered fellow appeared to climb out lazily from within the very insides of the crooked oak. Apparently Arabel’s whimsical thoughts of waking sleeping giants were not so far off the mark after all.
The giant tree man’s eyes were dark pools of black, his white beard stretched to his chest and he wore a pale robe that shimmered around his long, elongated, floating frame. One hand stayed inside the tree trunk, grounding him there, Arabel supposed, and his feet did not touch the ground. His voice, when he spoke, sounded rusty, as if no one had disturbed him from slumber for centuries.
“Who has come to see the Elemental?” the tree creature asked imperiously, his rusty voice a great thundering rumble that gave Arabel and her companions quite an unnecessary shock.
Arabel could tell from the expression on both Eli’s and Zander’s faces that they too could now see the strange creature.
“Greetings, sir, we have come to collect the shield of the black arts. To dispose of it where it can no longer darken your woods with its evil desires,” Zander spoke calmly but Arabel could tell he was both excited and intrigued and his natural curiosity was only held firmly in check until the moment he could be allowed to give it full reign to explore and question.
“What shield is this?” the Elemental demanded. “Let me see that of which you speak.”
Zander and Eli crossed to the shield. It was larger than Arabel had surmised it would be and apparently a great deal heavier. It took both Gypsies to lever it up and hold it so that the Elemental could survey it.
Arabel studied the shield closely and took note that the lines appeared to be arranged in a convoluted pattern of elliptical circles overtop what looked to be a set of some sort of advanced mathematical equations and the murky grey background was that of a headless bird. A dove? Arabel couldn’t be certain what sort of bird had been sacrificed to the shield, but she was certain that the convoluted pattern of circular lines were drawn in blood. Human blood.
The Elemental gazed down at the shield. His expression altered from benign curiosity to slow, burning anger.
“You dare bring this to the forest?” he boomed, his eyes flashing dangerously as they fastened upon the magical shield of darkness.
Arabel took a step back. The Elemental was frightening, his rage was hot fire, and he looked as if he could summon the darkest forces of evil himself. Ira cawed loudly; he flew up toward the Elemental, hovering aggressively by its long white beard.
“We didn’t bring it here, sir! We have come to destroy it!” Arabel beseeched him.
The Elemental swung his gaze toward Arabel, as if noticing her presence for the first time. His eyes softened and he actually smiled.
“You have returned,” the Elemental said gently, with a pleased and surprised expression upon his ancient, bearded visage.
Arabel glanced at Eli. What was the creature talking about? Eli shrugged. He had no idea.
“I am here now, yes,” Arabel responded respectfully, not entirely certain how to proceed and unwilling to further incur the wrath of the ominous tree spectre.
“Vio-letta!” the Elemental exclaimed in delight.
The whole body of the tree creature seemed to light up with his enthusiasm, and the brightness expanded to encapsulate the entire section of the forest they were in with a blue, hazy light. Arabel was sure she could hear birdsong now and the faint chirping sounds of contented creatures and the foraging of animals amongst the greenery. It was as if the forest could live again whilst the Elemental enjoyed a rare moment of pleasure.
“Violetta was my mother,” Arabel said softly.
Eli and Zander both glanced at Arabel in surprise, and then at each other, dumbfounded. Eli took hold of Arabel’s hand; he was unsurprised to find it trembled.
“Vio-letta,” the Elemental said again, rolling the letters off of his ancient tongue with a long cherished delight.
“Come!” he demanded imperiously, holding out one long brown shimmering hand to Arabel. From within it, the Elemental unfurled a long length of glowing, golden cord. He offered it to her. The rope moved toward Arabel of its own accord, twisting nearer and nearer toward her, slithering closer, like a reptile.
Arabel stared at the Elemental. As if in a dream, she released Eli’s hand. She grasped the rope of gold that the Elemental offered and pulled tightly on the cord.
And disappeared completely.
The Dark of Nowhere
Arabel wasn’t frightened. Not at first.
But after several long moments of dark, dank, earthy breaths, Arabel realize
d her eyes were actually open, not tightly compressed together, and that there was simply nothing to see. She was in complete and utter darkness. She was an unwilling prisoner, locked in the trunk of the tree and she could not move. There appeared to be no way out.
A claustrophobic panic wrapped itself closely around Arabel and she fought against the urge to scream. The smell of the earth was old and moist, no sunlight had ever been seen inside. Small insects crawled around and said hello to her and Arabel was relieved that they were merely curious as opposed to being horridly gleeful parasitic bugs that would strip the skin from her bones as she stood there, trapped in the ancient crooked oak.
“Elemental?” she called out softly, wondering where the creature could have gone.
In her hands, Arabel still clutched a bit of gold rope. It must have broken off when she was pulled into the tree trunk. The piece of gold rope had a smooth texture, more like a worn coin than a threaded rope and Arabel rubbed it within her fingers for comfort. She wasn’t cold, but she was damp, and the darkness was rushing in toward her like an unwelcome tidal wave, unrelenting and unrelieved. Arabel told herself not to struggle, not to panic, not to scream.
Arabel screamed.
She screamed as if her life depended on it, because maybe it did. Arabel screamed until her throat was raw and tears fell unchecked down her beautiful face. Her fists pounded against the unyielding structure of the tree and her feet paced the small width of the earthy prison. Damp clumps of earth rained upon Arabel’s head from the pounding of her fists against the unyielding surface of the tree trunk.
The ring Eli’s mother had given Arabel, the square cut gem, began to shine. Arabel ceased her screams, settling herself down to a small occasional whimper as she stared at the glowing stone. Releasing a slight but steady beam of light, it illuminated the space she was held captive within and Arabel struggled to find a corresponding place of calm within herself which would assist her in figuring out a path to freedom. Arabel kissed the ring in gratitude as it highlighted the structure she was locked within.
Autumn Page 17