Silence filled the mini bus as it drove away from the castle and exhaustion took its toll. Debbie fell asleep in Nightjar's arms, followed in turn by Ravenscort and then Nightjar herself. Peter was sitting in the front with Hardgrist, determined to stay awake, so that he could ensure sleep did not overcome the driver.
The journey was not a long one, but it was long enough for Peter to put together some sort of plan. He was still worried about Gorn. He had not defeated him, only delayed the inevitable confrontation. He knew there would be a time when he must face Gorn and that it would be soon. There was a bigger picture beyond Gorn wanting his Moonstone, but Gorn had to be sorted first. Then there was Nightjar. He remembered their embrace with joy. He wanted her affection more than anything. She was his personal goal and he believed his feelings were reciprocated. He had no family anymore, but somehow, as he looked around the mini bus, he seemed to be growing a new one.
For the first time in days, he suddenly smiled. 'You can't say life's boring!' he thought to himself, and he wondered what it would bring next.
They drove through the village, past the square and out on the Moorchurch Road. Within a few minutes he could see the walls around the garden, and then the bus pulled off the road and stopped at the side of the gates.
Chapter 15 - The House
As they stopped, the sleeping passengers awoke. It was still early morning and the streets in Lightholm were quiet. Those that were about were getting ready to start the day. The milkman and the postman were beginning their daily rounds and the shopkeepers were preparing to open. The sky was one of those that are seen in cartoons; bright blue sky with spaced cotton-wool clouds. The day spoke of optimism, of new life, but not for the travellers. They had witnessed the deaths of over forty friends, seen the dead rise to fight against them, seen creatures that were half-wolf and half-man be destroyed by some sort of supernatural hunt. Hardgrist and Debbie were the most shocked and sat in the bus in a stupor.
"Tell me it's not real. That I will wake up soon," moaned Debbie Mathers. "They were all my crew, my friends, my life, and they are all gone."
She began to sob again and Nightjar held her and soothed her. There was nothing anyone could say that would make it better.
"It is all real, isn't it?" muttered Hardgrist. He had lost his spark, his sense of optimism. "Things will never be the same?"
"No they won't. I felt the same as you when I first got involved. Since I arrived on Demeter it took me a while to accept this reality, but I don't think anything will ever be the same. I used to think that everything would end up for the best, but then I lost my mum and dad, and then my grandma. That was just the start. Since then there has been nothing but struggle. We fled from Fell Craven, arrived at the Gill to be attacked by Gorn. He sent me back here and we have been running from him ever since. We have lost friends and seen evil, real evil, arrive in ordinary England."
"How can you face it? How can you carry on?"
"I guess I have just had to grow up. I have friends. Ravenscort and Nightjar have helped me make sense of it all. They have stood by me against all manner of attacks and I am sure they will carry on doing so, until the end. I have also found two new friends. You and Debbie are now part of this, whether you want to be or not. I will stick by you now and, somehow, I still have a belief that things can get better. I don't think they will ever be the same, but I have to believe they will get better."
The others were looking at him, listening to him, sharing his belief that things could improve.
"It all started here! I am sure that I can make a start at sorting this all out. From this place we can go back to Demeter or any of the other worlds. I think Gorn will have come back this house. He will either have fled through the gate or he will be waiting for us. Either way, I am coming for him. I won't run any more. I will face him and I will get his stone and then I will set about returning the stones to the Moondial."
None of the others said anything, but there was a look of respect in their eyes and hope. Peter wasn't sure he felt quite the same himself, but he was determined to sort Gorn out, one way or another. It was true though, he wouldn't run any more. The choices had all been made for him in the past and now he had chosen to attack, and the house and garden where it started seemed like the right place to finish it.
With resolve, he opened the bus door and took his first step out into the new morning. He and the others were still dressed for battle and they appeared a rag-tag group. They did share one thing though, there was a steely look of determination on their faces. Debbie and Hardgrist seemed to have recovered their fight and they clearly meant business.
After locking the bus, an act that everyone thought unnecessary, as they felt they would not be returning anytime soon, they pushed open the gates. Peter heard the familiar metallic screech, and felt once again the sense of being observed. From above, the gargoyles looked down as they entered the grounds. The gravel path wandered off towards the house and everything seemed familiar and still deserted.
They crunched their way up the path, alert and ready for any surprise attack. There was no sign that Gorn, or anyone, had been there in a long time. The gardens that had appeared overgrown from outside the gates, were beautifully manicured once viewed from within the boundary. As they got nearer to the house, they could see that the main door was open. Peter was sure this was not the case the last time he had been there. The house itself had been closed and he had felt excluded. This time it said, 'Come in', but was this a welcome or an invitation to a trap?
The group shared the same sense of foreboding as they made the long walk up the driveway. There was no doubt that the house was where they were going and where this part of the journey would end, but they were all nervous about what they would find inside.
The sun was higher in the sky and the morning was warm. Insects buzzed their busy way through the garden. Birds could be heard singing their summer song. The contrast between what they saw and heard and what they felt was confusing. The garden was a blaze of colours set in a wealth of green. Everything looked as it should, but there was an undercurrent. They could all sense it, but what it was eluded them.
They approached the door and Peter peered inside. It took his eyes moments to adjust to the dim light within. The entrance hall was wide, old fashioned, but in good upkeep. The paint looked new and well kept and a wide staircase led upwards in a wide circle. A thick woollen carpet covered the central strip of the parquet floor, and this and the thick wall hangings deadened the sound and removed any echo.
"Hello?" he cried, aware that if Gorn was in the building then he had announced their arrival. He didn't care. As he had told the others, he was tired of hiding. If Gorn was here, he intended to face him, to confront him. The evil that Gorn had done to his world was too extreme to be forgiven. Gorn would pay the price.
They all entered and stared around. Portraits hung on the walls and told the history of the owners of the house. Peter wondered at this. Clearly, the house stood at a gateway between the seven worlds. The smith had told him that he was a watcher and that they observed the comings and goings through the gates. If so, was the smith here now?
"Hello?" he cried again. "Is there anybody here?"
At first there was no reply, but after a second or two they could hear the sound of approaching footsteps. The steps were steady and unhurried. Whoever it was did not seem to be creeping up on them. The steps moved along the landing above them, at the top of the stairs.
All eyes were on the top of the staircase when a young girl appeared. The girl looked about seven years old and she was dressed in the manner of a Victorian child. Her dress reached to her feet and it had a high neckline with a ruffled collar. It was covered at the front with a white apron. The girl's feet were shod in leather boots.
"Hello!" she called down. "I am so glad to see you. I don't get many visitors and here there are five of you."
She giggled at this point and skipped down the stairs. At the bottom she shook hands with ea
ch of them , in a very formal manner.
"My name is Amaya."
The others introduced themselves and the girl seemed to take a shine to Nightjar. Maybe she saw her as more of a child than the others.
"Come, I have arranged afternoon tea in the drawing room."
She escorted them along the corridor and into a well lit room with large french windows that overlooked the garden and the column that Peter had been drawn to when he first visited.
"I believe you have had some troubling times?" asked Amaya. "But first, have some tea."
She indicated for them to take seats on the sofas that surrounded a low table, set with tea things and some fine cakes.
They were all hungry, as they hadn't eaten since the previous evening, but they were cautious.
"It's alright. The food is safe, and the tea. Please help yourselves. I can get more if needed."
Peter nodded his approval and they set about the refreshments with gusto. After they had eaten and drunk their fill, they sat back and Amaya looked at them.
"You are safe in this house, but I can't say the same for when you leave. I know you have stayed at the Gill and the same laws apply here. Nothing can harm you until you leave the sanctuary of the house. Gorn is waiting for you, Peter. He will try again to get the Moonstone. I could offer to look after it for you, but have no fear, I won't."
Peter's face had darkened at the suggestion, but relaxed.
"No, Peter Calender, I will not take the stone. The desire for it is in me , as it was in Constance, but we both know the consequence. I can only offer advice to assist you."
"What should I do?"
"Why, that is easy! Take Gorn's stone. With both stones in your possession, search for the missing five, go to Celeste Horn and restore the Moondial. Bring the law back to the seven worlds and give hope to those who are suffering. Destroy Fell Craven and rid the worlds of his evil. Easy to say, but... Yes, Peter not easy to do. Danger is lurking for you when you leave the house. Look after your friends. You will need them. Now I have said what was necessary. Stay as long in the house as you like, but beware when you leave, danger awaits you. Take care, Peter Calender, I must depart."
She got to her feet and walked out of the room, without looking back, leaving the companions sitting in shocked silence.
Nightjar was the first to speak.
"Well, I'm not in a hurry to leave now."
"No, Nightjar, she was just warning us. We knew there was danger outside of house, but now we are sure it is waiting for us."
"I don't know about you others, but this rest has really done me good. I feel as if I have had a really long sleep," said Ravenscort.
"Now you mention it, I feel the same," said Debbie, and Hardgrist agreed.
"I think Amaya has given us more than advice. I think she has given us back our strength. I believe she understood that we could not face Gorn in the state that we were in. We were all dead on our feet," Peter added.
"But now what do we do?"
"We leave, Ravenscort. We must go out and face Gorn. We must be careful and use our brains. Gorn is waiting for us and I do not know if I have the power to defeat him, but now it must be settled one way or another."
Peter got out of his seat and the others followed suit. Looking out of the window, they all realised that it was getting dark. It had seemed a very brief stay in the house, but clearly, the day was nearly spent and night was starting to fall. They had been there for hours.
Leaving the drawing room and returning to the entrance hall, they stood listening. Weapons were drawn in anticipation of an attack. The door was still open and the evening was fast becoming night. They stood at the threshold, listening for any signs of danger, but there were none. Night had fallen. Clearly, time seemed to pass slower within the house. What had seemed but a few minutes was several hours outside.
Peter was about to step through the opening, sword in hand, when Ravenscort stopped him.
"We should go first, Peter. If Gorn and his servants are waiting out there for us then it is better that we are taken, rather than you. Wait a few moments. If it is clear we will send one of us back in to let you know. If we don't, then assume we are taken and seek another exit."
Peter wanted to argue, but Ravenscort did have a valid point and the others were clearly in agreement. He acquiesced, and watched as the others left through the doorway, alert and prepared for an attack.
Peter waited and he heard nothing from outside in the grounds. Knowing that time was passing much quicker in the house than outside, he could only assume the worst. He was becoming desperate and made the decision to leave anyway, when he remembered the French windows. It was more likely that Gorn would be waiting for him to follow the others through the door. At least the different exit may give him an element of surprise.
Peter was very concerned for his friends, as he retraced his steps to the drawing room. Double french doors were shut to the garden and he saw his reflection in the glass panes, as night had now fallen completely. He could see nothing outside and wondered if Gorn was watching him. He felt very vulnerable and was unsure this was a good option, but he had to act. The handle turned and he smelt the warm summer air tinged with night-scented aromas. The air was still and he could hear no sounds. They were too far away from the village and there was no sound of traffic. No bird calls, no insects, nothing. It was too quiet. 'Quiet like the grave,' came unhelpfully into Peter's head.
He stood with his sword in hand, heart beating rapidly. He could not afford to hesitate, but for some reason his eyes were drawn to the weapon. The intricate basket of the hilt struck him as strange. It looked as if something should be held in it. Looking closer, he noticed a spring catch. It seemed ludicrous for him to be distracted at this moment, but as he touched the fitting, it sprang open and he became aware of a throbbing in his pocket. For some reason, the Moonstone had come back to life. It gnawed and nagged at him, as if it was speaking. He pulled the stone out and gazed at it, wondering what it wanted. The milky white egg-shaped stone in his palm pulsated with power. In his mind's eye he saw that the shape and size matched the filigree basket of the sword hilt and somehow he knew what to do.
He pushed the stone into the lattice and snapped the clasp shut. They fitted perfectly, as if they were meant to be together. Immediately, the light of the stone began to extend throughout the sword and within seconds the sword glowed with the same pale white light as the stone. It was the identical luminosity as moonlight and Peter could feel the power, the sense of purpose and the life of the stone, now within the sword. That same energy began to spread through him. He felt alive in a way that he had never experienced before, but he also felt a real strength of purpose and determination. Everything had come into focus. This was the moment and the place. The time when the future of the seven worlds was hinged.
He could delay no longer. He opened the doors and stepped out into the night. The moon was rising and it cast its pale watery light across the grounds. Colour was gone from the garden, but he could still recognise the layout, hedges, flower beds and the column, clearly. He also saw the group of once-wolvesskulkingaround the doorway. The ambush was set and they were waiting for him. He had made the right decision avoiding the trap. He could not see Gorn. He hoped that his friends were safe. He trod on the gravel and the crunch shattered the silence. Twenty-four sets of rabid eyes turned, glowing in the moonlight. The element of surprise was gone. The creatures turned, formed a hunting wedge and stalked slowly towards him.
Peter was ready. Fear never entered his mind. He felt a calm that was unnatural in the situation he faced; his heart rate was slow and steady, but he felt adrenalin flood into his muscles. Sword in hand he waited, as they approached at growing speed. The first three bounded towards him. Half-human faces contorted with hatred and hunger. Loping on human arms, but wolves' hindquarters, they leapt. As if in slow motion, the sword sliced a bright trail through the night, cutting into flesh, crippling the lead beast, sending it careering past Pe
ter. It writhed in agony for a moment, snapping and snarling, then lay still. The following creatures were mid-leap, when they too felt the steel slice through them and they howled in anger and pain as their life drained from them.
The other beasts learned from this and changed the attack to avoid a similar fate. The nine, working as a team, encircled Peter and remained outside of the sword range. Peter advanced, but they retreated to ensure they were beyond his sword. This stalemate lasted for minutes and it seemed the impasse would not soon be broken, when a voice echoed through the night.
"We meet again, Peter Calender. I said we would. As you will have worked out, I have your companions. Fancy a straight swap?"
"Harm a hair on any of their heads and you will pay the price, Gorn. There is no way that I will give you the Moonstone, not even to save them."
"Is that so? I wouldn't bet on it. Mind you, I don't see you as the kind to take a wager. I wonder what would happen if I let my friends have one of them? Which one should I start with? The Earth woman? Shall I start with her?"
With a gesture Debbie Mathers staggered forward, like a marionette. She was clearly under Gorn's control. Her eyes were alert, but she appeared to have no control over her movements. Her lips were moving and she seemed to be trying to speak, to say something, but all that could be heard was a soft mumbling.
"A feisty woman! I like them with a bit of spunk. Shame she will be the first to test your resistance! Want to think again? Give me what I want and I will give you what you want. Do you really want your friends to suffer. Oh and I can really make them suffer!"
The Moonchild (The Moondial Book 1) Page 16