by SJB Gilmour
Sarah’s Uncle Benjamin looked very surprised for a moment. His eyes went wide and he tilted his head to one side. ‘You know, you could be onto something there, Mason,’ he said softly. Then, he changed form into his Silver Shroud werewolf self. ‘C’mon, cub,’ he said to Sarah, ‘you’ve got a question to ask Wolfenvald!’ He then made a small portal to the werewolves’ home world and leaped through it.
Sarah stared after her uncle for a moment. Mel nudged her. ‘Go on!’ her dark-haired friend urged.
Sarah changed form and followed her uncle. She found him, lounging in a sunny clearing, casually scratching at one ear with his hind paw.
‘Welcome, Golden Mane,’ the voices of Wolfenvald whispered to her.
Umm, hello, answered Sarah, feeling quite nervous now. She glanced at her uncle, who was now gnawing at a burr between the claws on one of his paws.
He looked up at her. ‘Don’t look at me,’ he told her. ‘I’ve asked already. If your gnome friend is right, then even a Silver Shroud isn’t superior enough to ask for Rufus’s whereabouts.’ He sounded a trifle put out.
Sarah whined and then looked around. Where is Rufus?
‘That Golden Mane is not on this world, Sarah Kopernik,’ the forest whispered back to her. ‘His soul remains on Earth.’
Where is he? Sarah pressed.
‘He is trapped and held treasured by one who is also trapped,’ the forest replied. ‘This much we know. He must be released here on this world or his soul will be lost forever. Rescue him you may, but to achieve that, you must free the one who possesses his prison. Then, return to this, your world and his. His soul will be released. Seek the Deposed One and you shall find Golden Mane Rufus.’
Sarah sat down and whined in confusion. What does that mean?
The moment the forest had begun talking to Sarah, Benjamin had given up his relaxed attitude and become very serious indeed. ‘Don’t talk in riddles’, he growled aloud at the forest. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Be still, Silver Shroud,’ the forest told him firmly. Then to Sarah, the voices whispered, ‘Seek the Deposed One. We know no more. There are ancients on Earth who may be able to advise you further.’
Then the forest was silent and no amount of coaxing from either Sarah or Benjamin (who also threw in quite a few swear words Sarah definitely wasn’t used to hearing him use) could get any more from it.
Finally, Benjamin had had enough. ‘C’mon, Sarah,’ he growled. ‘Let’s get back to the others.’
Together, the two werewolves returned to the Russian forest to rejoin their friends.
‘That’s it?’ asked Angela in frustration. ‘“Seek the Deposed One”?’
Benjamin and Sarah, both now back in human form, nodded. ‘That’s it,’ Sarah muttered.
Angela made an indelicate sound. ‘Could they have been any more vague? Everyone who’s ever lost a throne to someone else has been “deposed.”’
Benjamin shook his head. ‘I don’t know,’ he disagreed. ‘There aren’t that many kings or queens who’ve been overthrown and who are still alive.’ He nodded at Sarah’s satchel. ‘Nathan?’ he called. ‘Come out, old boy. We need to pick your brain.’ The satchel gave a wriggle and opened up. Nathan’s large, bald purple head emerged. He blinked owlishly for a few moments as he peered about to get his bearings, and check for birds. When he was satisfied he was safe, he wriggled a few more metres of himself out of the satchel.
‘Yes, Master McConnell, Sir? How can I help?’
Benjamin relayed everything the forest of Wolfenvald had told Sarah and himself to the purple bookwyrm.
‘Hmm, curious,’ Nathan mused. ‘Of course, “deposed” could also be expanded to include anyone who’s been bumped from the position as head of a department, chief executive officer or president of an association. They’re much more likely to be alive. I’m afraid there are quite a few of them in enchanted society. Of course, the mortal world is full of them, but I doubt a mere mortal could contain a Golden Mane.’ He shook his head sadly.
‘What about these “ancients” the forest mentioned?’ Sarah asked. ‘Who are they?’
Now Benjamin scratched at his chin. ‘That I’m not sure of,’ he answered with a frown. ‘The oldest beings on this planet who’ll help us are the caretakers of Castlerigg, but they’re not really alive.’ He turned to Angela. ‘Well, Angela? Where do you think?’
‘I think Ronny’s right. It’s cold out here and we could all do with some more chocolate.’
‘Angela, will you be serious for a moment?’
‘I am being serious,’ she stressed. ‘Embarking on a quest should never be done without plenty of chocolate.’ Then she smiled warmly at Benjamin. ‘Oh, calm down. I’ve always had a soft spot for Castlerigg. The spirits there are certainly easier to deal with than the Egyptians and less likely to complicate things than the ones at the Temple of Apollo.’
Ronny looked concerned though not afraid. ‘Are you sure you want to go there? There are some major powers involved there and if you’re not on their good side, you can wind up with a nasty curse on your head.’
‘You let me worry about that, Ronny. You worry about finding us some more chocolate in that satchel of yours.’ She looked at the rest of the group. ‘It’s settled, then. We’re off to Castlerigg. I’m suddenly feeling a little homesick.’
Ronny looked up at her as he produced handfuls of chocolate bars from his satchel. ‘You know, Mistress Harding, I’ve got a few contacts here on Earth…’
Angela smiled. ‘Call me Angela, Ronny and no, I doubt we’ll need your contacts just yet. We’ll try Castlerigg first and see where that gets us. If we can’t get anywhere, then I’m sure some of your friends might come in handy.’
The group arrived at Castlerigg just as the evening fog was closing in. The mystical stone circle sat in the mountainous Lake District near Keswick in the northeast part of England. Most of the land nearby had been cleared centuries ago and was now used for grazing sheep. However, a small forest of oaks and elms still stood near to the south of the circle. Even though the thickening fog hid their presence from mortals quite well, Benjamin had no desire for the group to camp out in the open.
The Silver Shroud led them into the trees until they came to a small clearing in the centre of a large copse of elms. There was a fire pit, room for several tents and a small brook trickling nearby.
Ronny looked around approvingly. ‘Good spot,’ he said with a nod.
Benjamin gave the gnome a sardonic grin. ‘Glad you approve.’
Ronny nodded and announced, ‘Right! Let’s get some tents up, shall we?’
The group camped there that night and the following morning had a quick breakfast before they made their way up to the circle of stones that was Castlerigg.
‘Come along everyone,’ Sarah’s teacher told them in a tone that brooked no contradiction at all. ‘I’ve some studies to make of the circle before we begin, but I’d like you all close by, if you don’t mind.’ With that, she led them up to the round formation of ancient stones. When they arrived, she produced a small black leather-bound notepad and a pencil and began scribbling notes as she peered at each block in turn.
‘C’mon,’ Mel told Sarah, pulling her away to one of the outer blocks. ‘She wants us where she can see us, but not in the way.’
Sarah looked about the stone blocks in wonder. She had seen pictures and documentaries about Stonehenge and all the other stone circles of Britain before, but they had failed to portray the eerie stillness of the ancient stone structures. Thirty-eight huge rectangular boulders stood upright in a precise circle. Though they had been eroded by the elements and time and were covered with moss and lichen, the stones had lost none of their forbidding presence. Sarah was aware of a deep sense of dread and death hanging about the stones of Castlerigg. Almost in a daze, she and Mel wandered about the eerie monoliths.
‘This is stupid,’ Mel grumbled as she walked beside her friend. She sat down huffily upon a rock. ‘This
old pile of rubble hasn’t been used in thousands of years. How do we know the spirits are still here?’
‘Is that who Angela is trying to find?’ Do you mean she’s trying to summon ghosts?’
‘She’s the necromancer,’ Mel muttered.
Sarah was confused. ‘I thought you wanted to be a necromancer too?’
Mel nodded. ‘I do, it’s just that… well, never mind.’ She glared down at the ground sullenly.
‘Mel? What’s going on?’
‘I just hope she doesn’t want me to get involved,’ Mel told her. Sarah could tell Mel really didn’t want to talk about it, so she let the matter drop. She looked around.
‘Was she really born here?’
Mel nodded. ‘Most witches and sorcerers are born in places like this. I’m surprised she’s still got all her clothes on.’ She gently scratched at Jimbo who was curled up around her neck.
‘What?’ Sarah exclaimed, suddenly embarrassed.
‘That’s why I don’t want to get involved, Sarah. Most of the old rites in these places are performed naked. They’re not supposed to let children take part in them any more, but Aunt Angela’s not really the law-abiding kind of witch.’
Sarah blushed, not knowing what to say.
Mel’s stomach grumbled loudly. ‘I’m hungry,’ she complained. ‘I’m hungry and I’m cold.’ She began to shiver, pulling her coat around her. Jimbo crooned softly and nestled in even closer around Mel’s neck.
Ronny walked up to them and handed each girl a large ham and salad roll. ‘Thought you might want something more to eat. It was a quick breakfast and we don’t know when lunch will be,’ he said simply and began to walk away.
Sarah looked about the ruins of the stone circle. ‘You said most witches are born in places like this,’ she said to her friend. ‘Where were you born?’
Mel grimaced. ‘I was born in the Temple of Apollo on Parnassos Mountain in Greece. My grandmother made a big fuss about it. She insisted mum give birth in the traditional manner. Now she and mum don’t talk much. I’ve never even met her in real life. I mean I’ve seen her in tomes and stuff, but it’s not the same.’ Mel stared down at the ground.
Sarah and Mel spent much of the rest of the day in silence. They wandered about while they waited for Angela to finish whatever it was she was doing among the ancient stones.
Finally, as the sky was beginning to darken in the English winter evening, Angela called Sarah and Mel to join her in the centre of the circle. While Sarah was very curious about what they were going to be doing, Mel seemed incredibly offended. The dark-haired girl trudged alongside Sarah sullenly, kicking tufts of heather as she went.
When they arrived, Angela was wearing quite a serious expression. She took in Mel’s grumpy demeanour quite calmly, just as she noted Sarah’s eager curiosity. Benjamin, Roberta and Robert, all in wolf form, were lounging in the moist heather. They too, were quite serious. Ronny was standing off to one side. His grey-skinned face was set and his eyes were wary.
Angela glanced at the nervous gnome. ‘Master Mason,’ she suggested, ‘would you mind keeping an eye on the camp?’
Ronny nodded. ‘Just don’t get yourself cursed,’ he advised and then scampered off.
Angela turned to Robert and Roberta. ‘We’ll need some perimeter security,’ she told them. Without waiting a moment more, the two Brown Coat werewolves bounded out into the thickening fog. Benjamin began circling, pacing round the inside perimeter of the circle, his tail low and ears pricked. If anything managed to get past Robert and Roberta, it wasn’t going to get past the Silver Shroud.
‘Now Sarah,’ Angela said to her gently, ‘you’re about to witness something most young ladies your age are usually quite unprepared for. You may find it easier if you’re in wolf form.’
Sarah nodded and changed shape. Her Golden Mane werewolf form was still young and she felt quite exposed out there. Nonetheless, she stood as firmly and as bravely as she could.
‘Thank you, my dear.’ Angela flashed her a quick smile. Then her gaze went to Mel. ‘Melanie, you know the rules,’ she said firmly.
Mel nodded and went to stand behind Sarah. Then, to Sarah’s amazement, her teacher began taking off her clothes! Even more incredible, though she dared not look for fear of embarrassing Mel, she knew that her friend was also stripping off.
Then, as naked as the day she was born, Angela closed her eyes and spread her arms out wide. She began chanting a long, slow spell in a language Sarah did not recognise. Sarah listened to her teacher chant for several minutes. The chant was lyrical and almost hypnotic and then, with quite a bit of surprise, Sarah found she could understand it. Angela was calling in Ancient Celtic for the spirits of Castlerigg to come forward and face her. Just how Sarah knew this, she didn’t know. She hadn’t even felt Wolfenvald’s presence within her mind. She found herself wondering about this for some time and as such, did not really notice that Angela had finally stopped chanting.
She nearly got the fright of her life when thirty-eight glowing spectres appeared out of the ground at the base of each stone around them. One of the ghosts approached Angela. It was vaguely human-shaped, though Sarah could not tell if it was male or female. Its body was a glowing white haze, just translucent enough for her to see through it. Its eyes glowed red with an ancient and terrible power.
Sarah stood on all four paws and stared at the ghost. In spite of herself, for she could tell that this being was not evil, her hackles began to rise.
‘Careful, Sarah!’ Mel hissed from behind her.
Sarah forced herself to become calm and the fur on the back of her neck lay flat once more. The spirit drifted up to stand directly in front of Sarah and Angela.
‘We answer thy call, necromancer,’ the spirit rasped in the same ancient dialect. ‘What is thy purpose?’
Angela bowed in respect to the ghost. Sarah did not bow, for that would look like quite an odd thing for a wolf to do. Instead, she wagged her tail and then sat obediently before the ghost.
‘We’ve come to ask of thy wisdom, caretaker of Castlerigg,’ Angela replied respectfully.
‘And what hast thou to offer in exchange for our wisdom?’
Angela straightened and stared at the spirit more boldly than Sarah would have dared. ‘I have nothing to offer thee, spirit, for it is not I who has questions to ask.’ She gestured to Sarah. ‘It is this Golden Mane who has questions to which you may have answers.’
The spirit then focused its full attention on Sarah. She felt a chill go through her. She stood up again and wagged her tail once more. The spirit stared at her for a long moment. Finally, it spoke.
‘No sacrifice is necessary from the Golden Mane,’ it moaned. ‘Ask your questions, werewolf.’
‘Please,’ Sarah began, ‘I’m trying to find the Golden Mane Rufus.’
‘Ahh,’ breathed the spirit. ‘That one. A long time have we waited for the one to come who will release him from his imprisonment.’ It stared at Sarah with its blood-red eyes. ‘Already art thou on the right path to finding him. The trail of those who burn when wet will lead thee. Another must join thy party, lest ye fail. Son of Demeter and cousin to this necromancer is he. Find the Flower Man and take him with thee.
‘The creatures who burn when wet have grown strong and must be curtailed. Only together and with the help of but one other whom thou shalt meet at the last, shall thee overcome them. ‘Neath their talons, thou shall find this last one who hoards, who has been imprisoned by one who has been deposed. In the possession of this one who hoards is a disguised cage. Within the veil of knowledge is trapped the soul of Rufus, the Golden Mane, whom thou dost seek.’
Even though very little of this made any sense whatsoever to Sarah, it obviously meant a great deal to Angela. ‘Our thanks, great spirit,’ she told the ghost with another bow. Sarah echoed this thanks and wagged her tail again.
‘We will return to our slumber now, necromancer and Golden Mane. Our task is far from done. We have delivered unto
thee part of that which will free Rufus. Return here by the next full moon. Bring with thee the cage that has entrapped the Golden Mane and, if thou hast achieved this first small task in thy ultimate goal, we shall deliver unto thee another tool to aid thee.’
The spirit began to fade. Before it and the thirty-seven others around them disappeared completely, it gave one last statement.
‘Know also that this is just the beginning of a long and dangerous quest, Golden Mane. Locating Rufus and even thy missing dam and sire are not the end of thy purpose. That which is but must not be, will be destroyed at thy command.’ The spirit then faded away into nothingness.
‘Are they gone?’ Mel asked.
‘They’re gone,’ Angela replied in a tired voice. She began dressing herself again. Sarah waited until she had heard Mel put on the last of her clothes before she turned around. When she did, she was surprised. Mel was not angry or sullen any more. Her green eyes were gleaming in awe and her face was rapt.
‘Wow,’ Mel breathed.
‘Come along girls,’ Angela told them weakly. ‘We should join Master Mason back at the campsite now.’
Benjamin appeared at Angela’s side, once more in human form. He draped a thick blanket around her shoulders and put his arm around her to steady her. Sarah’s teacher was pale and wan. Her eyes, normally clear and bright were bloodshot and she was sweating, even in the cool of the English winter. As they returned to the camp, Robert and Roberta joined them.
Ronny had made a small campfire and was patiently tending a large pot of pasta and a slightly smaller pot of rich, meaty sauce. He had also grated an enormous pile of pungent hard Italian cheese. Sarah inhaled deeply through her nose. The sauce and cheese smelled very good indeed. She realised she was absolutely famished. Everyone sat and ate, patiently waiting for Angela to finish two huge servings and a large mug of hot chocolate before she was ready to talk. When she had finished her meal, she replaced her empty mug with a large glass of red wine.
She nodded at Ronny. ‘It looks like we’ve a way ahead of us, Ronny.’ She turned to Benjamin. ‘I think we’re about to notice another coincidence.’