Beyond the Door

by Maureen Doyle McQuerry

  “Artemis, goddess of the woods and hunt!” The words burst from Sarah, and she looked surprised to have said them out loud. “I read about her in mythology.”

  “Yes, Artemis, but also many other names. Tonight, in this place, I’m Cerridwyn. That is how they know me here, just as you have known me as someone else.”

  “But what happened to Clapper?” Timothy was afraid that his voice was quavering.

  “You will see Mrs. Clapper again, just as you knew her. We’re all part of a larger story written in the trees and stones. You, Timothy, and you, Sarah, are part of that story, too. Everyone I am is a reflection of that story. Before all things and after all things, the story is.”

  “What story?” Sarah asked.

  “One in which you two will play a very important part tonight.” At her side, Gwydon’s ears twitched. He looked into the dark and whined.

  “He’s bigger,” Timothy almost whispered.

  “He’s in his true shape now. In your world, he was a doglike creature, but now he is a different creature altogether.”

  Timothy did not like her use of “your world,” as if they were in some other place. Before he could say anything more, Gwydon whined again and a shadow moved out from the trees.

  At first, Timothy thought it was just a tree moving in the wind, but this tree walked into the clearing where they were standing. He looked more closely. As the tree approached, Timothy saw a human face encircled by a wreath of leaves. Vines draped from his eyebrows and leaves grew from the corners of his mouth. Light glowed from a knothole in his side. His eyes were kind and merry all at once, and suddenly Timothy recognized this creature with the body of a tree and the face of a man.

  Timothy slipped close to Sarah’s side. “It’s the pale man,” he whispered in her ear.

  “What?”

  “I can tell by his eyes. And something else. I know we can trust him.”

  “Greetings, Greenman.” Cerridwyn spoke with formality. In reply, he bowed very low, then stood and jumped like a jester. Sarah laughed out loud. This seemed to please the Greenman, and he swayed and dipped until she laughed again.

  Suddenly, hounds howled. Their cries were right overhead. Sarah pressed her hands over her ears. Timothy felt gooseflesh rise on his arms as he ducked and covered his head. The Greenman stood absolutely still, and Gwydon howled, an ancient cry that filled the night. Timothy, looking up, could see small red pinpricks of light moving through the dark. All he wanted to do was hide, somewhere safe, anywhere away from the piercing lights.

  A squirrel dashed from the bushes. It ran to the Greenman, climbed one of his massive legs, and disappeared into a hole in his side, safe at last. A deer crashed through the undergrowth, eyes wild and sides heaving. Again the hounds called. They were closer now, and the deer, breathing heavily, ran blindly on. Timothy thought he could feel the hot whisper of the dogs’ breath as they passed overhead.

  “The hunter rides.” Star Girl looked up at the sky. Her voice was calm, but Timothy shivered as though he might never be warm again.

  “Who is that?” Sarah’s voice was tight and high.

  Cerridwyn looked fierce once again. “Herne and his hounds ride tonight.”

  By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.

  IN THE SHADOWS

  T FIRST, the wind seemed to be her friend, echoing her anger and embarrassment. Jessica walked quickly, barely thinking where she was going. She was just glad to be away from the party. She would show them all—how dare they treat her that way!

  She headed west, in the general direction of home. She had a good sense of direction, and she was confident that she could find her way, even though she knew the walk would be long. These streets were unfamiliar, but she remembered the car ride here. Once she was out on the main road, everything would be easier.

  The wind tore through her light top and scoured her arms. No matter which way she turned, she seemed to be walking into a headwind. She couldn’t remember it ever being this cold at the beginning of May. Her toes in her high-heeled sandals felt numb. And the wind kept the clouds scurrying across the moon, changing the landscape from dark to light.

  She shivered and thought of her conversation with Timothy. Aren’t you ever scared of the dark? he’d asked. Tonight might make her change her mind. Twice she felt as if she were being followed. The back of her neck prickled and she turned around quickly, but no one was there. It’s just the wind, she said to calm herself. If only she had remembered to bring her cell phone!

  In the distance, she heard geese honking. Did geese fly at night? Jessica looked up, but saw nothing but clouds scudding across the moon. Her sandal straps rubbed her ankles raw. They definitely weren’t made for long walks. Ahead was a large park.

  She decided to cut straight across it to the main road.

  The people at that party were all losers, especially Tina and Jimmy. Why hadn’t she noticed it before? They tried too hard; they knew a few popular people, but they’d never really be popular themselves. If Jimmy thought he could humiliate her in front of his friends, then he was wrong. At the memory of everyone in the kitchen laughing at her, her face grew red again. She would find a way to make him regret embarrassing her.

  Jessica slowed to a stop. Shouldn’t she be at the edge of the park by now? Maybe she had cut across it diagonally. It was too dark to tell. She adjusted her direction, and wished again for her cell phone. The call of geese, harsher this time and right overhead. Their cries sounded like dogs, angry dogs, barking and snapping. She huddled close to a large willow until the noise passed. When she stepped forward, something grabbed her hair! Her heart jumped to her throat.

  “Who’s there?”

  Silence. The grip on her hair didn’t lessen. Slowly, she turned her head and looked behind. Willow branches had snagged her hair. The more she moved, the tighter her hair was caught. She tried to reach back and untangle it from the branches, but it was impossible. Her fingers were numb with cold. She yanked harder; a few strands ripped. In a panic, she closed her eyes and gave one swift tug. The remaining strands of hair tore away; her eyes stung with tears.

  The trees were thick in this part of the park, willows and ash. They crowded in around her. She came to a small, muddy stream and jumped over it, sinking into the bank on the other side. Ahead, the ground rose steeply. She climbed the first few feet, only to slip backward in the wet grass just as she neared the top. Her sandals sank into the mud. She pulled them off, gripped the straps with her teeth, and used her hands to pull herself up the last few feet. The legs and knees of her pants were heavy with mud and grass. At the top of the bank, she stopped to catch her breath, wiping the mud from her hands on her jeans.

  The clouds parted, letting the moon silver the tops of trees. Instead of arriving at the edge of the park as she expected, she was on the verge of deeper woods. A narrow path led into a dense jumble of trees and then disappeared.

  Jessica dropped her sandals and sat on the grass in frustration. Mud caked her sandals and was packed under her fingernails. Her new shirt offered no protection against the chill. And worst of all, she was completely turned around. There were no woods she knew of near this side of town. She wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. She’d have to go back the way she’d come, but when she turned to look behind, her way was blocked by trees. They stood like sentinels crowding the stream, and all she could see now were more trees in every direction.

  Dogs again. Their cries rose to a deafening pitch right above her. How could the sound of dogs be coming from the air? She looked up into the sky. Small red lights, the size of laser pointers, were coming toward her. Instinctively, she ducked her head, tucking herself into a ball. The baying became a furious clamor, a sound that made her heart beat cold. She had to get away, before whatever they were saw her. She pulled herself to her feet, left her sandals, and ran along the path into the woods. Tree roots twiste
d across the path, and she fell, skinning her palms and twisting her ankle. The fury of the dogs came closer.

  Crouched on her hands and knees, she looked desperately for a place to hide. Not far from the path, she noticed a bulky shape among the trees. She crawled toward it. There, among the stands of beech and oak, was a small stone building no larger than a garden shed. Ivy twined over the top and sides, but the door stood open, and with a grateful whimper, Jessica scuttled in, pushing the door closed behind her. Inside, it was pitch black. She didn’t move. Was there anything else in here with her?

  The barking dogs were all around now. She drew her knees in close, buried her face in her arms, and huddled against the cold wall. The mustiness of the forest floor rose around her. She held very still. Finally, their calls grew distant, and then silence surrounded her.

  Flying hounds? Impossible. But she had no other explanation for what she had heard. She couldn’t shake the feeling of being hunted, of being prey, a rabbit pursued by a fox. A great shudder passed through her. She was completely lost in woods she hadn’t even known existed. Her pants and blouse clung to her in cold, wet patches. Her hands stung and her ankle throbbed. Tears welled up in her eyes, and she swiped at them with the back of her hand, leaving a broad streak of mud across one cheek. If she didn’t keep moving, she might freeze and never be found here in the stone hut. The hut must mean she was close to other houses. The woods must form a greenbelt, blocking the sight and noise of the road.

  Jessica opened the door and stepped outside, pressing her back against the hut’s wall. She listened again for the hounds, but their noise was gone. The clouds had swallowed the moon. There was nothing to do but limp along the path in her bare and blistered feet. A path must lead somewhere. And feeling slightly more optimistic, she hobbled into the woods.

  Once the hounds had passed, Timothy realized he had been holding his breath. The Greenman moved again, but Sarah and Star Girl still remained motionless, as if they were still listening to something.

  “Can’t you hear it, Timothy?” Sarah asked. “Music.”

  Timothy listened carefully, and he could just make out something that might be the faint sound of flutes. The music came closer. Nothing else could surprise me tonight, he thought. Mrs. Clapper—or Cerridwyn, or whoever she called herself—ignored them all as she talked in low, hushed tones to the Greenman. Timothy was cold and hungry, which seemed silly things to worry about at a time like this. Still, his body persisted in sending these ordinary signals, even when nothing else was ordinary at all.

  “Sarah, should we try to get away?” He spoke in a whisper, but he had the feeling Star Girl could hear every word.

  “Why? Didn’t you hear that we’re part of the story, too? And—” She stopped midsentence. “Morris dancers, Timothy!” Timothy’s knees grew weak as if he needed to sit down. Here in the middle of the woods, six dancers appeared, all dressed in white. Bright red ribbons hung from their arms, and small bells tinkled as they danced. One of the men played a tin whistle. The last dancer walked solemnly, bearing a pole at least eight feet long. At his signal, the rest of the men stopped while he wrestled the pole into the ground. Timothy forgot about his growling stomach as he watched. Bright streamers floated from the top. A maypole! He had danced around a smaller one in elementary school. Each of his classmates held on to a ribbon, and they danced in a circle around the pole until the teacher stopped the music. Then they reversed direction and danced the other way. But that maypole was only a shadow of this tall one.

  While the one man played the tin whistle, the others wove in and out between each other, and as they danced, the ribbons on the pole became braided. The swiftest dancer of all was the smallest. Timothy found it almost impossible to track him in the dance. He moved like a high and intricate melody that wound itself among the other dancers.

  Timothy looked at his companions. Star Girl watched without expression. Gwydon, the wolfhound, lay by Cerridwyn’s side, with his nose on his enormous paws. The Greenman swayed in rhythm to the music, and Sarah laughed as if she were delighted to be lost in a storm with a group of insane people. Only Mrs. Clapper wasn’t watching the dance; her eyes were focused on something at the edge of the clearing, something that waited in the shadows.

  By using the key provided here, you can decipher the Ogham script that appears in this chapter. Zoom in or increase font size to see code more clearly.

  SWORDPOINT

  ORE THAN ANYTHING, Jessica wanted to find help. She had given up hope of braving it outside by herself and finding her own way home. So when she heard the music, she limped toward it, despite the branches that snapped her face.

  The music came from a clearing under a massive tree. She ducked under low limbs, swatting leaves from her face. A tall, fierce-looking woman, with long red hair and arrows on her back, was staring straight at her. By the woman’s side was a very large wolf. Jessica swallowed hard and took a step back. And most terrifying of all was a dancing tree. Beyond the woman and wolf, a group of men in funny clothes danced around a maypole to the music of a tin whistle. And outside the circle of dancers were Timothy and Sarah Maxwell! They stood next to the most beautiful girl Jessica had ever seen.

  Jessica called to Timothy, but only faint rasping sounds came from her throat. The redhaired woman continued to stare at her. Why didn’t the woman say something? Couldn’t she tell that Jessica needed help? Her ankle throbbed, and she shivered from the cold and wet.

  Sarah jabbed Timothy in the ribs. “Look—isn’t that Jessica?” She pointed across the clearing. There, under the edge of a tree, Timothy saw a disheveled Jessica. Her curls were tangled and plastered against her head, her jeans were muddy, and her feet were bare. Her face was pale and her eyes wide. He thought of Mrs. Clapper’s statement that Jessica could use a friend. He’d completely forgotten the reason they had set forth.

  “Jessica!”

  He started to walk toward her when Cerridwyn gripped his arm, hard.

  “Ouch!”

  Cerridwyn didn’t say a word, and she didn’t let go. Didn’t she see Jessica?

  “What are you doing?” Timothy tried to jerk his arm away, but she held him back.

  The dancers broke their circle, the music stopped, and one man stepped forward. In his hand was a simple crown: gold vines were woven together with a single gold leaf at the center. He walked toward Cerridwyn, and she inclined her head, finally dropping Timothy’s arm. The dancer nested the crown in her red hair. It gleamed in the moonlight with a glow greater than that of Star Girl.

  The dancer with the tin whistle called out in a loud voice, “Spring has come, the winter is past. The earth awakes!”

  Cerridwyn looked so much like a queen standing there with the gold leaf crown that Timothy felt as if he should bow down. As if she could read his thoughts, she turned to him. “Never mistake the creature for the Creator.” And Timothy turned away, embarrassed to have someone read his mind.

  Quick as an eyeblink, the Greenman began to dance. The whistle player blew a lively tune. The Greenman’s leaves rustled, his branches dipped and swayed. He stopped and bowed toward Sarah, who flushed, took hold of a long knobbly branch, and joined him in the dance. The other dancers shook their bells and clapped.

  As Timothy watched, he forgot all about Jessica. He forgot his fear and found himself longing for something he couldn’t name. It was the same kind of longing he felt when he looked out his window in the very early morning when no one else was awake. The feeling he got just before Christmas, of something wonderful about to happen. If he had looked across at Jessica, he would have seen that she felt something very different.

  Jessica also watched the Greenman turn and bow to Sarah and then, for the first time, she saw his face. It wasn’t quite the face of a man, but it was a face that she recognized. She saw Jimmy Salcedo peering back at her from under a fringe of leaves. She could see the mocking look in his eye, the disdainful curve of his lip. All the shame and anger from the party flooded back. He chose
Sarah to be his partner and not her! The dancers were laughing at her, too. Laughing and clapping! Her breath came in short gasps. She wouldn’t let them mock her! She wouldn’t be the fool! Timothy was talking to the beautiful girl, and they both looked in her direction. Jessica’s hands clenched and unclenched. A trickle of sweat rolled down between her shoulder blades. Slowly, she crept toward the dancers.

  The pace of the dance slowed. From the sidelines, Timothy watched each dancer reach under his white tunic and draw out a short wooden sword. Time for new tricks. Would they juggle the swords or fence with one another? The Greenman dropped Sarah’s hand, and she slipped out of the circle.

  Then the mood changed. The Morris men turned toward the Greenman. They held up their swords. The lead dancer shouted and leapt, his sword pointed at the Greenman. The treelike man backed away. Timothy didn’t understand. What was going on? The dancer chased the Greenman round and round and in and out between the braided ribbons. The other dancers cut the Greenman off at every chance. Two dancers grabbed him, one on each side. As he struggled, they tied him to the maypole with the braided ribbons, wrapping him as tightly as an insect trapped in a spider’s web.

  The pursuer dropped his wooden sword and reached under his tunic. From a leather scabbard, he withdrew a short sword. Its silver blade gleamed in the moonlight.

  Flickers of fear ran down Timothy’s spine.

  “Stop!”

  Cerridwyn, Star Girl, Gwydon—nobody paid any attention to Timothy’s shout except Sarah. Sarah was crying.

  Jessica stood just outside the circle. With both hands clenched into fists, she stared at the sneering face of Jimmy. Anger jolted through her. Finally, Jimmy was getting what he deserved. Solemnly, the dancer handed his short sword to her.