“Thank you, dear Lamfada. Now all we can do is wait.” She smiled and faded away.
And four shall come
Innocent of magic
One champion of the Sword be
And one takes the darkest seed.
To defeat the spell once forgotten
Traveling first to Fairy Dell
Following the Fomorian Road
To step upon the shore of Black Isle.
The quest for five
Ends with three
Yet the story ends not with these
But takes its turn in generations.
Until the mirror sliver is freed
And time follows the circle
For which the champion’s blood returns
The Sword to Green Isle.
Chapter One
“We’re here. Finally.”
Matt glared at his mother in the front seat. He hated the fact that they were here. The afternoon rain hit the metal roof of the car like the beating of a loud drum. It matched the pulse in Matt’s ears as he fought off the beginnings of a headache. Staring at the rusted antiquated gate in front of them, all he could do was grit his teeth against the clatter of the raindrops. The noise only made it worse for him.
“And remind me again why I have to live here?” His curt words, dry and emotionless, sliced the thickened air. “I don’t understand why you guys won’t let me stay in Chicago and live with Grandma. It would have been a lot easier finishing school up there.”
Matt’s mother turned in the front seat of the 1939 Ford and glanced over her shoulder briefly, her eyes speaking her disapproval of her oldest son’s complaint. “Matt, I’m in no mood to argue with you anymore. We’ve been over this...God knows how many times, and the answer is not going to change. Do you want to disappoint your father by acting this way?”
“I really don’t care what Dad thinks.”
“Yes, you do care; I can see it in your eyes,” she retorted with a frown before turning away from him and ending the brief argument.
Matt stared out the window, his anger rising inside his chest. His pulse raced harder, matching the rhythmic beat of the windshield wipers. The trip down had been quiet, neither he nor his mother speaking to each other. He had fought hard to stay in Chicago, not wanting to leave everything he had known, but eventually his father told him he had better be in the car when she arrived, or there would be a price to pay. Out of respect, he came, although unwillingly.
Glancing again past the gate at their new home, his mind soaked in the sinister dwelling. Black shuttered windows lined the walls, their shadowed existence hardly visible behind years of ivy growth. The darkened panes imitated the empty sockets of a corpse and forced goose bumps to rise on his skin.
“I don’t like it,” he sighed again. “There’s something odd about this house. It doesn’t look like it’s been lived in for years.”
Next to him in the back, his younger brother Toby imitated the unhappy disposition of his brother. “Yeah, why’d we have to live here? That house is spooky.” He threw his arms over the front seat and hung there.
Taking a deep breath, his mother bent over the steering wheel, her eyes straining beneath her glasses to the house in the distance. She shook her head. “Your father’s company transferred him here to manage the new airplane plant, and there’s nothing we can do about it. With the war going on, everyone needs to make adjustments, including the both of you. This Manor is more than we expected, and you should be grateful we’re not staying in a hotel. The house is fine.”
“I think I’d rather stay in a hotel,” Matt sulked.
“Yeah,” Toby agreed loudly. “I wanna stay in a hotel, too.”
“Nobody is staying in a hotel,” his mother exclaimed impatiently. “I think you should be thankful for having a roof over your heads. Imagine those poor soldiers in Europe, having to sleep outside, being shot at, dying...” Her words trailed off.
Matt turned away from his mother, focusing again on the large stone house. Was she trying to convince herself or them? He continued to stare at the ivy-covered structure in the distance, pushing her words into the background of his mind. He knew better than to say anything more about the move, especially when she started her speech about the conditions soldiers lived in.
Her youngest brother had been killed in Pearl Harbor last December, during the bombing air raid from the Japanese. Uncle James, caught below on one of the battleships, never made it out. It was difficult for her to accept his death.
Toby jumped from his dangling position and bounced back on the seat. “I don’t like it either,” he whispered. “Do ya think it’s haunted?”
“No, I don’t think it’s haunted. It’s just a very old and creepy house.” He paused for a Moment, struggling to keep a smirk in. “But if it is haunted, I’ll be sure to point the ghosts in the direction of your room.” He thrust his index finger at the tip of Toby’s nose and poked him playfully, his anger at his parents forgotten briefly. Toby’s eyes grew large with fear.
“Mom? Did-cha hear what Matt said?”
“Matthew Corey Kelly...!” his Mom started to chide quickly, as she eyed him in the rearview mirror.
“I was only kidding,” he interrupted her. Scowling down at his little brother, he narrowed his eyes. “You’re such a little tattletale, you know.”
Leaning over the seat, he viewed the house again, his anger returning hotly. Ignoring Toby’s whimpers, he studied the gloomy Manor, wondering why the house placed such feelings of uneasiness in him.
Jerking suddenly, the large gate in front of the car began to separate slowly. All three occupants of the vehicle jumped at the unexpected movement. When it finally completed its rusty and agonizing journey, his mother carefully maneuvered their car through the weathered metal and headed up the winding drive.
As she drove slowly through the grounds, Matt recalled her telling them the place had been named ‘Stewart Manor.’ Her somewhat historic story included the biography of an immigrant Scottish farmer, Charles Stewart, who built the house back in the late 1700s to resemble his birthplace in Scotland. Originally, the house had been very modest but soon grew in size, along with Charles’ fortune. The tale concluded with Charles disappearing quite unexpectedly, many in town believing he had come to a foul end and his ghost now roamed the property.
Matt wondered how true all of it was. Surveying the property through the rain, he noticed a stable and corral tucked behind thick leafy trees to the right of the house and to the left sat a large garden, enclosed by a high brick wall in need of repair. The overgrown mess of ivy and bushes stood halfway sheltered within the cover of enormous willow trees. Seemed to him that it was just an old dilapidated house, with nothing but memories from its previous occupants, the ghosts unreal.
“We gonna do lots of exploring, huh?” Toby questioned as he observed the paths running throughout the yard, disappearing into the thick darkness of the forest bordering the lawn.
“Maybe,” Matt answered automatically, not really excited about spending any time with his six-year-old brother.
Stopping in front of the house, their mother shut off the engine and set the brake. “Well, here we are boys, home sweet home.”
“There’s nothing sweet about this place. It doesn’t feel right. I get a sense that we shouldn’t be here.”
Matt watched his mother take a tube of lipstick from her purse, ignoring his complaint. She brushed color onto her lips and gazed at her reflection in the rear view mirror for a Moment before twisting in her seat. She stared at her two sons from behind her horn-rimmed glasses, her brows raised. “I think you should give it a chance before making such a judgment about this house. It’s a generous gift from your father’s company.”
“So they feel they need to blackmail him with some big house?” Matt questioned hotly.
“You can either find something good here or you can be miserable, but I’m not going to be pulled into constant bickering with you over this.”
&nbs
p; “It’s not too late to say ‘no thank you,’ is it? This place really gives me the creeps.” Matt heaved another sigh and leaned his head back.
“C’mon Matt, it’s not going to be that bad. We have a housekeeper. Let’s pretend we’re rich and famous.” She giggled awkwardly.
“I’m not into pretending anymore. Do you forget I’m sixteen?” he replied, widening his eyes, punctuating the statement.
“Yes, I forgot. You’re all grown-up.” She frowned, rolling her eyes as she opened the car door and stepped out into the drizzling rain.
For a second Matt wanted nothing more than to scream at her. He slumped against the seat and stared out the window, resenting her. Still feeling upset and betrayed at having to leave his friends and the only home he had known, he narrowed his eyes in disgust as she passed the side of the car, opening her umbrella.
“Hey, looky. Isn’t that the biggest door you’d ever seen?” Toby exclaimed, bouncing across his brother and straining to get a better look at the exterior of the Manor.
Matt pushed Toby off his lap and leaned slightly forward to look in the direction his brother pointed. A ten foot arched door sat recessed in the stone entry, hidden within the shadows of the porch. The large oak entry was sculpted on the surface with figures he couldn’t quite make out. He shook his head at its unrealistic size.
“Do giants live here or something?” he sneered sarcastically, before pushing on the car door.
Stepping out, Matt and Toby emerged from the shelter of the Ford just as the rain stopped. They stood in the puddles of water on the cobbled drive, their eyes wide in amazement by the monstrosity of the house.
“It’s so huge, huh?” Toby whispered.
“Yeah,” Matt admitted quietly, as his gaze traveled up the height of the building.
The front of the house loomed before them, three stories tall. Its exterior, dulled in the rain, was massive and dark, towering it seemed to the clouds. Matt somehow felt sucked into its presence, unable to retreat. Fear welled inside of him as he noticed a strange flock of ravens sitting on the gutters next to the attic windows. Unmoving and quiet, their presence was disturbing as they sat, stiffly perched upon the metal. Their mirrored black eyes returned his stare, unwavering and still.
“It looks really scary, ‘specially them birds,” Toby commented.
“I wonder why they don’t fly away.” Matt’s eyes remained riveted on the roof.
“Maybe its cuz they’re waiting for somethin’.”
“I guess...” Matt replied thoughtfully. “But birds don’t wait on anything except worms. It’s spooky how their eyes seem to follow everything we’re doing,” he noted, as his mother came from around the back of the car where she had been digging in the trunk for her overnight bag.
“Come on then, let’s see our new home.” She slammed their door shut with her hip, the jarring sound echoing around them.
Matt continued to watch the ravens to see if any reacted to the noise, but none of them spread their wings to fly. That seemed unnatural, he concluded. Maybe there was something weird going on here. Ghosts? No, he shook his head to himself. They were just wet and cold birds who found shelter on the roof, that’s all.
“Quit stalling and get a move on,” his mother demanded from the stone stairs.
“We’ll be there in a minute, okay?” Matt replied coolly.
“I dunno about that door,” Toby pouted, sensing his brother’s wariness. “Its makin’ me feel funny.”
“This whole thing is making me feel funny.” Matt glanced away from the feathered sentinel on the roof. A feeling of caution suddenly entered his mind as he watched his mother approach the old oak door. The carvings of the dragons and elves appeared to shift and move in the shadows. All of it, the birds, the house, the shadows, put him on edge. He glanced at the ravens again, the stillness of the flock unchanging.
“Mom, maybe you shouldn’t go in,” he blurted quickly, his voice reflecting the uneasiness he felt.
His mother’s face twisted into a grimace. “What has gotten into you? I’m getting very tired of dealing with your stubbornness. I know you don't want to be here but...”
“No...the birds...” He pointed upwards.
“What’s wrong the birds?” she demanded.
“Nothing!” he almost screamed, suddenly not wanting to explain himself. “I mean, maybe we should wait for Dad.” His voice cracked, fear tuning itself in his words.
Furrowing her brow in exasperation, his mother sternly replied, “I’m not waiting out in the car until your father gets here. Besides, the housekeeper is expecting us. You had better get a move on, or I’ll be talking to your father about this when he gets home.” Turning quickly, she stared at the door. “Now, where is that doorbell?”
“I think you better knock,” Toby stated, extending his forefinger in the direction of the door's center. A large brass knocker hung low, melting into the open jaw of the dragon’s head.
“I don’t remember seeing that door knocker there a minute ago.” Matt shook his head in confusion.
“Maybe you wasn’t paying attention,” his little brother concluded.
“I was paying attention, and it wasn’t there before, Squirt.”
“You’re just saying that ‘cause you’re mad all the time, and you like to make up things to make it seem like moving here is terrible,” Toby muttered defiantly.
Matt shook his head, unwilling to accept the theory of his six-year-old brother. “Maybe it was you who wasn’t paying attention,” he retorted under his breath.
Matt watched his mother stand on tiptoe and grasp the brass handle in her hand. Struggling with its weight, she finally managed to push the large ring up. The ornate knocker fell heavily, the sound echoing strangely behind the wood.
“It’s too loud,” Toby exclaimed and covered his ears.
The door opened with a click and swung inward slowly. Waiting with a smile, Matt’s mother stood patiently for her greeting, until, after several Moments, she realized no one was there.
“Hello?” she called, peering in. “Are we to show ourselves in?” Shrugging her shoulders slightly, she glanced at her sons before slipping inside, leaving the two boys alone on the drive.
“You know what? That’s how all those scary shows on the radio start out,” Toby commented softly. “A squeaky door opens all by itself and then, no one is there. I don’t wanna go in.”
The thought of having to cross the threshold made Matt ill as well. He shuddered, feeling sick as he viewed the ravens still positioned in their quietness on the roofline. Suddenly wanting away from their stare, he caught Toby by the arm, forcing him along. “If I’m going in, so are you, Squirt,” he insisted, pulling his little brother towards the entrance.
“Let go-a-me,” Toby cried, twisting and struggling against his brother’s grasp.
“Quit being such a baby. Mom’s already inside and nothing happened to her,” Matt exclaimed loudly, unwilling to let Toby out of his grasp.
“I feel like the house is gonna eat me.” Tears streamed down his cheeks as he tried to escape Matt’s hand.
“Squirt, you have an active imagination,” Matt scolded, looking down at Toby. Seeing the terror on his face, Matt realized that at the Moment, it was he that was scaring his little brother. He knelt in front of him, sighing. “I’m sorry,” he apologized gently, regretting his actions. He playfully poked Toby in the stomach. “How about I protect you in case the house is hungry for lunch? I’ll tell it you’re just a squirt, not even good for a snack,” he joked.
“Okay.” Toby wiped his face on his sleeve.
“Let’s go in together, you and me, huh?”
Toby sniffled briefly, a sudden thought changing his face. Cocking his head, he said bluntly, “Are you gonna be mad at Mom and Dad for a long time?”
Rising, Matt faced the open oak door, his mind wheeling. The question, blurted so innocently, caught him off guard. He didn’t know how to answer it. His anger at their move still clung to his
heart, and now, facing the terrifying Manor, he felt even more resentment at being forced to live in this dreadful place.
“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully. “You didn't have to leave all your friends, your school...you're just a little kid. It's hard for you to understand what I’m going through and feeling.”
“It’s not their fault. It’s Dad’s job’s fault, so you shouldn’t be so mad. You’ll make new friends and I bet the school is swell, too.”
Frustrated at his brother's words, Matt stomped up the stone stairs. He didn’t want to admit to himself that his little brother had a point. Matt pushed on the iron handle of the door, opening it further. Peering around in the dim light, he surveyed the interior of the foyer.
“See. Nothing,” he stated calmly, as he turned to Toby waiting behind him. “No ghosts or anything in here, Squirt.”
Both boys entered the massive foyer and stood for a second to allow their eyes to adjust to the shadows of the house. Matt shivered slightly as a cool wisp of air rushed around him, swirling first at his feet, and then traveling the length of his body. It was an odd sensation, as if someone’s icy hands were brushing his skin lightly with their fingertips.
“Golly, looky at how high it is.” Toby pointed to the domed ceiling and chandelier above their heads.
The large foyer consisted of the same kind of drab, gray flat stone as the steps outside. Accented by mahogany wood paneling along the walls, the length was bordered with intricate moldings along the high ceiling and at the floors. Tiny carvings portrayed the same mythical creatures that were on the front door. A large staircase curved its way to the second floor.
Matt’s attention, however, was drawn to a large painting above the fireplace. Unable to distinguish the figure within the frame, he moved closer to the mantle to get a better view. In the foreground of the canvas was a man dressed in a kilt, his posture confident and proud. Behind him rose a white marble crypt amidst a garden filled with statutes and flowers. The light from the chandelier bounced off the aged oils of the painting, shifting the colors and making it appear to move. Matt drew back in puzzlement. He wondered whether the eyes of the figure in the painting really narrowed, or if he imagined it.
The Forgotten Spell (Legends of Green Isle Book 1) Page 3