The Secret Burial Grounds of Knocknakil

by Gregg Holt

  The still night air was filled with the cries of the condemned animals and the stench of burning flesh. As the last wolf befell its fate, the light disbanded and Carragah fell heavily onto his knees.

  Lorna leapt to her feet and embraced Graham tightly; no words were needed.

  A sudden gust of cold wind blew across the plains.

  “We must get to the lake,” whispered Carragah, breathless and struggling to climb to his feet following the ritual. Lepy looked at Carragah, his face full of concern; he had never seen him looking so weak.

  Jumping to their feet, they started towards the lake.

  “There they are!” shouted an unfamiliar voice from behind.

  Graham’s heart was pounding out of his chest. The four of them were tired and worn out and running again but their momentum was declining. The ground became softer with large rushes protruding from the spongy ground causing Lepy to struggle with the terrain.

  Seconds later he fell into a spiky rush, exhausted and unable to continue his flight, accepting his fate he lay lifeless on the floor.

  “Lepy,” Lorna shouted, quickly stopping.

  “Go, leave me, I will be fine, I would rather perish than be carried by a girl,” Lepy shouted, defeated.

  “No chance!” shouted Lorna, determination shining through the serious frown; she grabbed Lepy, much to his disapproval, and tucked him under her right arm.

  Sprinting resolutely she quickly caught up; after what felt like days they arrived at the lake. Graham let out a sigh of relief as they started to slow and the heavy breathing and voices of their pursuers sounded some distance away.

  A deep familiar serrated voice destroyed the moment.

  “Going somewhere Carragah?”

  As they approached the lake, a dark image emerged from the shadows standing directly in their way. A large man, his long dark coat flapping as he moved forward, his heavy boots submerging deep into the soft ground.

  “Iroquois,” Carragah sighed heavily, disappointed and shattered.

  “Who else would you be expecting!”

  Lorna pulled at Graham’s arm and nodded backwards with her head intent on escape.

  Iroquois shouted, “Gregorian”.

  As Graham and Lorna discreetly turned around, several large Vikings greeted them, blocking any escape route.

  Iroquois let out an awful laugh which sent chills down Graham’s spine and he shivered uncontrollably. His long menacing sword somehow managed to catch the moonlight as the fiend waved it provocatively.

  “I think you will find there is no escape this time.” The soldiers quickly moved in and grabbed the four of them from behind, tightly restraining their hands.

  Graham and Lorna instantly started to struggle; however the more they struggled the more the pressure increased on their wrists. Lorna stopped her resistance as she felt her wrist about to break, closely followed by Graham.

  “Get off me!” Lepy screamed, tightly tucked under a soldiers arm. He was kicking and screaming but this soldier was disciplined with a tight clench.

  “Bring them,” Iroquois ordered and he started leading the way away from the safety of the lake.

  Silently they were marched up the lane directly past Aunt’s farmhouse. Without thinking Graham shouted “Aunt!” trying to raise the alarm.

  His head violently surged forward, feeling as if it was about to come off his shoulders, as the guard smacked him viciously. Graham’s ears were left with a high pitch noise as he realised what had happened. Glancing back towards the farmhouse, Graham started to lose hope, comprehending there were no signs of life.

  At the bottom of the lane, Iroquois opened a gate and soldiers forced them all through with little resistance. Progressing through the field, the lifeless cows sat there chewing, watching them pass as if this was a daily occurrence. The field gradually became steeper, changing into a sharp hill.

  With firm and consistent force, Graham steadily progressed up the mound, where he noticed a large structure set against the dark sky.

  “Can you see that up there Lorna?” Graham asked as the guard gave him an abrupt push forward.

  “Yeah, it looks like an old castle,” she replied.

  “Never heard about this place,” Graham continued, receiving another unwanted push.

  The castle haunted the skyline; there were several large dark windows lifeless and uninviting. The large defensive walls had decayed over time just like the abbeys a mile or so down the road. Approaching the dark shadowy construction, the parties were forced through an archway door. There was a metal gate just visible high in the arch of the door, it was heavily corroded. Lorna noticed the walls, extremely thick and made from rock; it had thin slants like windows, particularly around the entrance.

  “Jim never mentioned this place, he must have known about it,” Graham said to Lorna.

  “I wouldn’t blame him for not mentioning it; this place gives me the creeps,” Lorna replied.

  It was sinister inside, circular in shape and the walls appeared to close in. Although they had disintegrated over time, they were too high to climb over.

  Iroquois walked to the centre of the forecourt, which was about the size of a tennis court. The guards forced the prisoners to the centre and kicked them at the back of the knees until they fell in the kneeling position.

  One of the guards got some torches and set fire to them. He then placed a few around the castle walls, increasing the light and sordid atmosphere.

  “Come here Carragah!” Iroquois demanded, pointing to the floor in front of him. Carragah ignored his demand.

  The two men behind quickly grabbed him and threw him on the floor in front of Iroquois.

  “Give me the key to the burial chambers,” demanded Iroquois.

  Carragah kept his head bowed without comment.

  “What key?” whispered Lorna.

  “I don’t know,” Graham replied, receiving another stiff blow to the back of his head. Graham quickly looked round at the guard dishing out the punishment, who was smiling, enjoying his sadistic reprimands. The guard continued pointing at Graham and pulling his finger across his neck indicating he was going to slit his throat.

  “The key, Carragah!” Iroquois shouted. Still there was no reply.

  Taking a step backwards, Iroquois struck him hard across the head. Carragah collapsed on the floor. He then took hold of Carragah throwing him around like a rag doll. Reaching inside his cloak he pulled out the old Celtic cross used at the stone circles. Iroquois held his precious treasure aloft, resembling a winning captain lifting the trophy.

  “Ah that’s the key!” exclaimed Graham, realising its significance.

  Instantly, he received another stiff smack from behind which left him with a whistling noise in his ears.

  Glancing around, the guard was looking rather pleased with himself.

  Graham decided to keep his curses silent along with his thoughts of retribution.

  “Gregorian, throw them in the dungeons until I decide their fate,” Iroquois ordered.

  Gregorian nodded his head and the guards abruptly seized the prisoners.

  “Remember to leave someone guarding them; the Boggot will want to see Carragah alive, at least for now.” Gregorian nodded.

  “Oh Gregorian, one more thing, the boy was shouting for his Aunt back near the farmhouse, it might be a good idea to send someone round to look after her.”

  “Yes, Iroquois,” Gregorian replied, quickly looking at the nearest guard.

  “Raven, get round to the farmhouse and look after her.” The nearest guard nodded his head as he started to move away.

  “No, leave her alone!” Graham shouted defiantly.

  Guthrum unleashed another harsh clout across the back of Graham’s head, which instantly silenced him.

  “Don’t worry Graham, the guard will wish he had stayed here,” Carragah said reassuringly.

  Graham smiled, trying to keep his hopes up.

  The guards quickly hustled them through the foreco
urt into a dark arched doorway and down a spiral stone staircase leading to a long dark corridor. Towards the end of the passageway, Graham noticed a small arch at floor level, more like a window than a door. As they approached, he could see a rusted metal door with a large old-fashioned padlock on.

  Gregorian bent down and unlocked the padlock, instantly the remaining guards threw Carragah through it, quickly followed by the other prisoners.

  They all fell heavily on the stone floor of the cell which was below ground level and Gregorian locked the padlock.

  “I will guard them!” the sadistic guard barked.

  “Very well Guthrum, do not harm them!” Gregorian ordered, leading the remaining guards away.

  The dungeon was claustrophobic with damp walls and one way out.

  “Carragah, what is going to happen to the guard who has gone to get Aunt?”

  “Ah, I need to consult with a few friends who will be able to assist,” Carragah replied, still very optimistic, much to Graham’s approval.

  “It’s that guard Graham!” said Lorna glancing up a few feet through the metal gate.

  “Bloody hell!” Graham gasped, his heart sinking rapidly, catching the eye of Guthrum who was menacingly playing with a small dagger.

  “Now what do we do?” said Graham panicking with the thought of the guard above.

  “Now then, let me deal with the guard on his way to Knocknakil,” Carragah replied, as he sat on the cold floor holding the top of his staff.

  Their eyes slowly started to adjust in the dark cell and they could now see each other. Carragah was deep in thought, his eyes tightly closed, quietly he whispered into the dense atmosphere.

  “We have got to escape,” Lorna said, feeling along the solid stone walls.

  The gate rattled and they quickly looked up and noticed Guthrum unlocking the padlock and suspiciously glancing backwards. After releasing the lock he opened the gate “Right you lot, who’s first?” he whispered sadistically holding his dagger in their direction.

  “What about you Graham?” he continued.

  Graham was anxious and quickly edged back to the furthest point of the cell as Guthrum dropped into the cell.

  “Where are you Guthrum?” a voice echoed down the passageway.

  Quickly he placed his dagger back in his belt and turned to climb back out.

  Lepy ran towards him and the guard kicked out sending the leprechaun sprawling.

  “What are you doing in there, Gregorian will be very angry,” he said, helping Guthrum out.

  “Here are some refreshments,” he continued, handing Guthrum a jug of wine. Instantly he drank from it and the wine flowed down his gullet loudly. The other guard relocked the padlock and disappeared again.

  Guthrum sat back on a chair and stared in. “Don’t worry Graham, you will wait.” His chilling laugh filled the air and he took another enormous gulp.

  “I’m dead!” Graham whispered, shaking his head and staring at the floor.

  “Not if I have anything to do with it!” Lepy whispered, revealing the guard’s dagger.

  Edging down the steep-sided valley, Iroquois and Gregorian merged into the surroundings assisted by the heavy mist. They slowly approached the long-forgotten dilapidated cottage carefully, navigating the sharp rocks. A long creak echoed through the sleepy valley as Iroquois opened the door. Walking through the sparse room they went down the stairs deep into the ground. A fire was in full flow, hissing and snapping at the approaching intruders.

  “Iroquois, you have something for me?” a voice in the shadows asked.

  “Yes, I have brought the key to the secret burial grounds,” he replied respectfully.

  “Come bring it to me,” he ordered, remaining concealed in the shadows.

  Iroquois edged forward and held out his arm with the cross tightly clenched in his hand.

  “Ah, Iroquois you don’t know how long I have waited for this moment.” A long wrinkly hand with long dirty nails appeared from the shadows, it lightly touched the cross still embedded in Iroquois’ hand.

  “You have performed well,” he continued, retracting his hand back into the shadows.

  “Now take this and place it in the stone circle at sunrise and the entrance will emerge, Gregorian.”

  “Yes, sire,” he replied, stepping forward and trying to peer through the shadows to see his master.

  “Where are your men?”

  “They are guarding the prisoners.”

  “Good, make sure they don’t touch anything in the chambers and keep that Carragah in your sights at all time, looks can be deceiving.”

  “Yes sire,” he replied, stepping backwards.

  “Now go and complete your task. Be wary, Carragah will not give up the burial chambers without a fight.”

  “What do you want me to do with the old man and the children?” inquired Iroquois.

  “When we have access to the chambers and spring, they are dispensable, but make sure no one ever finds the remains.”

  “With pleasure,” Iroquois replied and they left the isolated cottage.

  Chapter 15

  On a Knife’s Edge

  The jug collapsed on the stone floor, catapulting shards of sharp pottery in all directions. Four sets of eyes gazed intently from a forgotten piece of Ireland. Guthrum’s head dropped, instantly jolting upright as he fought the urge to sleep. The battle-hardened soldier in full body armour was slumped against the wall, struggling to get comfortable on the stone floor. Throwing his helmet down, it bounced, spinning around, its horns landing facing through the metal gate. Lorna noticed the guard’s matted light hair which had not seen water for generations. Seconds later he was snoring, much to the relief of Graham.

  “Lorna, give me a lift up to the gate,” said Lepy, holding the guard’s dagger.

  Bending down on her knees, Lepy climbed up onto her shoulders. Slowly Lorna clambered to her feet and Lepy leant carefully through the gaps in the gate. He withdrew the knife and started to pick at the steel lock, peering every few seconds at the guard.

  Approaching the farm house from the dark deserted country lane the figure of a large man slowly climbed over a dry stone wall. Hiding behind the broad trunks of several large Ash trees, the Viking warrior cautiously inched forward, intent on keeping the element of surprise. Experience had taught him victims don’t struggle as much when they are not aware he is going to slash their throats. Callously, he withdrew his sharp lacerated dagger, noticing Kathleen at the kitchen window. Raven looked skywards into the dark night; the trees suddenly came to life, their branches becoming filled animated. Whispers the air as the trees spoke to each other. Raven started to feel uneasy, the branches swayed deliberately but there was no wind. He shook his head, trying to concentrate on the task at hand and inched forward. After a couple more steps a branch clipped his shoulder quickly followed by another. A deep eerie feeling overcame Raven, beads of perspiration appearing on his forehead, his heart started beating so loudly he could hear it. Grasping his sword, he hacked at the nearest branch. It let out a small cry which unnerved the guard further, he was now utterly frightened. Another branch moved towards his leg, instantly he lifted his sword above his head to strike at it. Instinctively Raven’s body posture changed as he pulled the sword down to bear. Unexpectedly, the sword jerked from his hand; impulsively looking back, he saw a twig wrapped around it, lifting the weapon high out of his reach. Abruptly, he turned as several branches wrapped around his legs pulling him off his feet. Frantically he tried to crawl away but more and more branches engulfed him, now pulling him across the ground effortlessly. He screamed as the roots of the nearest tree heaved him down towards the earth, slowly the soft ground started to engulf him, only his head remained in view. As he let out his last futile scream, the soil crept above his face muffling his cry and condemning him to the land. Calm quickly returned and the whispering stopped; no traces remained of the warrior.

  Seconds later, Carragah snapped out of his trance.

  “You don�
��t need to worry about that guard anymore, your Aunt is safe,” Carragah said, looking totally worn out and exhausted.

  “Why what happened?” Graham asked, feeling relieved.

  “I will explain it to you when all this is over.”

  “What will happen now Iroquois has the key?” Graham whispered to Carragah, conscious not to wake the guard.

  “Well Graham, I am not sure, however you and Lorna will have your part to play,” he replied, placing his hand on Graham’s shoulders.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It is no coincidence that you are here, Graham.”

  “I am just on my holiday, or I was,” he replied, looking confused.

  “Graham, these are desperate times. If Iroquois gains entry to the chambers and the spring, he will have access to a boundless energy source that not only supplies the Earth’s energy fields, it ensures life survives as we know it. Unfortunately, it can also guarantee his eternity along with others.”

  “You mean the spring can grant eternal life?”

  “Whoever controls this natural spring, can do anything.”

  “Oh what you doing!!” Guthrum shouted, kicking the gate and Lepy with it.

  The leprechaun flew backwards and the knife dropped on to the floor near the guard’s foot. Guthrum stared into the cell waking from his sleep. Lepy’s momentum flung the pair of them into the corner of the cell, landing in a tangled heap. Lorna took the full force of the fall and was lying holding her lower back from the impact.

  “Bloody hell,” she exclaimed, disappointed and sore, climbing to her knees.

  They all fell silent and looked at the guard hoping the urge to sleep would return and get the better of him.