Silvermoon. A Tale of a Young Werewolf. A YA Novel. 12-18

by T. J. Edison.

  Yvette ran in their tracks, she came upon signs of a struggle, slowly fading as the snow drifted over them. She saw the tracks leading away from the trail and she could sense its scent, the scent of a goblin, on the wind.

  She stopped as she saw more signs of a struggle, this time more vigorous, and then deeper tracks. She ploughed through the snow, sinking thigh deep, she had to find this goblin devil. How could she have been so naive?

  A cold blind fury fed her energy as she surged on with murder in mind. Suddenly, she saw a form on the ground, half-covered by the snow. She moved nearer and saw Ingrid lying on her side. She removed a glove and felt on her neck for a pulse. She found it easily. Still alive, thank goodness.

  She pulled her to a sitting position, squatted down and pulled her onto her shoulder. She rose up and paused as she was about to turn back. A faint odour caressed her senses, sheep dung and cooked food. She turned fully and continued back, following her tracks, hurrying before they disappeared.

  Jason pushed his goggles back and undid his mask. “Yes, Yvette is quite surprising, a real bundle of energy. I feel though that she knows what she was doing, and she said she was an experienced climber.”

  Jennifer’s brow creased, “Just a second, how could Ingrid get lost, John was behind her.”

  “They might have changed places or he got lost and she went after him.”

  “Then why didn’t she say something?”

  “You don’t like John do you?”

  “I don’t trust him,” she said.

  “But you hardly know him.”

  “When I look at him a voice screams out in my mind, ‘Liar, liar, liar’.”

  “Is it because he dyes his hair?”

  Her eyes unfocussed, they seemed to look through him, past him as she sat there, then her brow creased. A sudden gust buffeted the tent and she looked at him. “Sorry, you said -.”

  He found himself asking her, “Do goblins really exist or are they just wicked humans?”

  “Of course they do, so do dwarves and pixies, but the dwarves live underground in the northern wastes and only come out to hunt, and the pixies, tiny gentle creatures that live in the woods, have almost vanished from sight because of the cold weather.”

  It was as if somebody was prompting him as he asked, “Tell me about goblins and trolls, and the myths surrounding them.”

  She warmed to the subject and he listened to her lilting voice, only half listening to what she was saying, “People of old called them vampires because they drank blood, but not human blood, only from herbivores. Only the females do that, and they stink something awful.” She shook her head and smiled, “They remind me of mosquitoes.” The smile vanished and she said, “But there is nothing mythical about them, Jason. These creatures, in their natural state, are pale and anaemic in appearance. Their irises are almost white. They are changelings like the werewolves. They are indistinguishable from ordinary humans, except they age quicker. The females eat raw or dried meat and when they can they drink animal’s blood like the vampire bats, not killing their hosts, but living off them. Human blood is highly distasteful to them. The male goblins abhor red meat and consume mostly fish or poultry. They both fear water, for they cannot swim, they will try and breathe underwater and they drown. They are stupid, greedy creatures. They have no idea how to fight a battle; they just rush on, regardless of casualties swinging their clubs throwing their javelins. The only thing they are good at is remembering trails they travelled years ago.”

  “And the trolls?”

  “Ancient creatures, very low intelligence, they breed slowly, they live up to fifty years and they burn up if the sun’s rays touches them, it’s quite a bonfire I’ve been told.”

  He gazed at her face, “Fascinating, so if we come across any goblins we throw them into the nearest river and pray for sunlight if we meet a troll in the daytime.”

  He waited for the smile that never came. “You will find a troll hard to kill, Jason. My mother and I pierced one with eight arrows. My father had used three on the same one just before it downed him. It knocked him senseless with one swipe and broke his arm. We finished him off with two in his throat, but not before he ran some eight hundred meters and collapsed on the frozen river near the ford. We left him there for the crows and the forest animals, and we will burn his bones when they have finished.”

  “Your life is fraught with danger,” he said.

  She sat there. In his eyes she appeared frail and delicate, her eyes soft and warm, and he found it hard to imagine her killing something in the fashion she mentioned.

  Sadness changed her features as she spoke, “I’m an elf…” Her voice trailed off, like a tiny bell at the last ‘ting’. Then she continued, “…who has fallen in love with a human, and he has turned out to be a werewolf.”

  He sat there and stared at her. She thought I was human! And he knew to whom his heart belonged, to the angel seated before him, an angel whose blood he dared not touch for fear of contamination. His heart ached, damn them, and their prophesy. He just wanted to lead a normal life with the only woman he had ever wanted, a woman who just happened to be an elf.

  Her brow creased, dismissing the sadness and she said, “You said John dyed his hair. Tell me, did you ever go swimming with him?”

  “No, his parents drowned in a boating accident, he was rescued…” He slowed down as she quickly reached behind him and unzipped the opening. The wind had died down without their knowledge. She fumbled with her pack and pulled out a canvas case. He watched as she extracted her bow, it was in pieces, but she slotted them together in no time, she started on the arrows and he joined in and they were finished in minutes. Her face was an ice-cold mask as he asked, “What is the matter, what are you doing?”

  “I fear for Ingrid, I fear for Yvette.”

  He searched her face for some clue as she remained silent, filling her quiver. She managed to string her bow in the confines of the tent, and then she said, “John is your friend, is he not?”

  He shrugged, “I would have said, the other way round, he has nobody else, he’s like a shadow.”

  “Is he left-handed?”

  “Yes.”

  “Is he good at memorising things?”

  “Almost as good as myself, but he can’t play chess, his mind isn’t -.”

  She cut him off, “He may know you are a werewolf, as he is a goblin.” He searched her features and saw the truth in her words. She continued, “It’s an old trick of theirs, get close to the enemy, appear human, watch them, deceive them and kill them.” She paused then added, “I don’t understand his motives, why is he still with you, after all this time, as if he’s waiting for something.”

  He almost shouted, “The rune stone!”

  Her eyes widened, “Exactly, this must be where he intended to leave us. We must be near an old goblin trail, he’s heading for home, and he will warn them.”

  They both turned in the direction of a sound, a sound only they, a werewolf and an elf could hear. He left the tent first, the snow now fell lightly and he called out. “Yvette, Yvette, over here.”

  Jennifer ran past him over the snow, complete with face-mask and goggles, he struggled with his mask as his legs sank deep. He heard her voice in the distance. “It’s Yvette, she has Ingrid with her.”

  He pulled down his goggles and ploughed on and saw Yvette with Ingrid slung over her shoulder. As he reached them he gawped at Yvette, tiny Yvette. She wasn’t even out of breath, she saw his look, smiled and said, “I know this might seem an inappropriate time, Jason, but I have a confession to make. I am a werewolf too, and you, Jason, are my brother, we are twins. Your name is Silvermoon and I am Swiftfoot.”

  Her words rang in his ears. I have a sister? But of course, how could I have been so naïve, she’s like me in many ways.

  And he hardly heard Jennifer say, “She’s alive, only just though. We have to bring her to safety.”

  He stared at her; she seemed unconcerned about Yvette’s stateme
nt. He turned her to him and he shouted above the howling wind, “You knew about Yvette, about her being a werewolf and my sister too?”

  She shook her head and said as she looked from Yvette and back to Jason, “Not about her being your sister. I was convinced she was a werewolf after she ran off in search of Ingrid. I guessed it earlier when you told me she burned candle wax, as that’s how they disguise their scent.”

  Yvette said forcibly moved between them and said, “Listen to me, Jason, you too, Jennifer. I saw a light in the distance and I could smell humans, probably a sheep farmer. I only came back to tell you for we have to get Ingrid out of the cold.” Then she turned and walked off the way she came, with Ingrid hanging over her shoulder.

  Jason came out of his shock and called out, “Yvette, wait, I’ll get our things.”

  “Follow me when you’re ready, Brother,” she called out.

  Jennifer ran past him once more over the snow. By the time he reached his tent, it was gone, already packed away. She shouldered her backpack, picked up her bow and quiver, and said, “Come on slow-coach,” and ran off, again over the snow, ignoring now the path they had made.

  He picked up his pack and ran along their trail and then onto Yvette’s. It had ceased to snow and as he caught up with them Yvette pointed and shouted, “There it is.”

  But she needn’t have bothered, he could smell them, but the smell was inviting, his mouth watered, mutton stew, with turnips and onions and potatoes. They headed towards the yellow light as it beckoned them. It guided them to a stone-built farmhouse with a sturdy wooden barn. Jason knocked on the wooden door. It opened several seconds later and an elderly woman faced them and she gasped as she saw Ingrid’s body. “Come inside, come in, don’t just stand there.”

  The heat hit them as they entered, coupled with the smell of food. “Over here, lay your friend on the couch, loosen the clothing, and take off the shoes.” They did as she bid and as she saw Ingrid’s face she said, “Oh it’s a girl, the poor thing, what happened?”

  Jason said, “We don’t know, we became separated during the blizzard and she wandered off. We found her not twenty minutes ago.”

  She bent over Ingrid and examined her, she explained, “I used to be a nurse at the local doctors. Too old now though. Now let me see.” She gasped once again, “The poor thing has been strangled,” She looked at them, “Who would do such a thing?”

  Jennifer said, “There was someone else with us, he has disappeared, it may have been him.”

  “Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of her.” She eyed them and said, “You must be hungry-.”

  She stopped as the door opened and a man came through the doorway, he had a sheepdog with him, the animal bared its teeth, it snarled and its hackles rose. The man said as he closed the door, “He doesn’t do that in the presence of humans,” he looked at the three; he frowned as he saw Jennifer’s bow, then he saw Ingrid, “What happened?”

  Jennifer came forward, she reached out to the dog with her hand and the creature ceased its growling and licked her hand. The man frowned and addressed Jennifer, “You’re no werewolf then.”

  “Thomas!” Said the woman, “They are our guests, and this young lady is injured, werewolf or not.”

  Jason asked her, “How d’you know -.” He broke off as he realized the woman was not fully human.

  The man jerked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s hard not to notice what your neighbours are when they don’t get any older and their scent becomes all too familiar.”

  The woman said, “We get on well with them, they keep to themselves.” Then she smiled widely, “You must be hungry,” then she frowned and stared at Yvette’s contorted visage, “Whatever’s the matter child?”

  Yvette turned to the door and said quietly, “They are out there.”

  Jason asked, “Who?”

  “Goblins,” she hissed.

  The man moved towards the door, but Yvette stopped him and said, “It is we who must go and find them, as they know of us.”

  Jennifer said to the woman, “Please take care of her, we will be back, just bar the door after us.”

  She turned to Jason and who watched as Yvette drew a long, wicked-looking knife out of her back pack and said, “Let’s go.

  “Wait!” The woman thrust a small sack into Jason’s hands, “Take it, it’s bread, meat and cheese.”

  Jason took it and said, “Thank you,” and followed the others out the door.

  Chapter eleven.

  Goblins.

  John, a goblin named Jorgul, now transformed into an ugly muscular brute, cursed the weather. He cursed the human female, Ingrid. He cursed her werewolf companions, though he suspected the newcomer was an elf. He hated to admit it, but he feared the elves. If he was right they would find him any second now, he looked behind him to where Ingrid’s body lay, half expecting a form to emerge, one carrying a bow, aiming it straight at his back. He hadn’t spotted a bow as Jennifer packed food into her rucksack, but elves were devious, they could dismantle a bow and its deadly projectiles and hide them quite easily.

  He cursed the human he had just killed, or half-killed, it didn’t matter anyway, the snow would cover her quickly and the cold would do the rest. He did feel some guilt though, humans were not his enemy, but it wasn’t his fault, she had seen too much as he removed his mask. His face still hurt where it had swelled out, he felt the cuts where the mask had caught in his flesh. Because of the cold he had changed his form involuntarily; it was his first time as a human and that for over five long years. Ingrid had called out as she saw his fangs and his distorted features. He’d tried to quieten her as she called for the others and lost hold of her as they struggled because of his mittens.

  After chasing her he caught her easily when she stumbled. He’d grasped her by the throat and held onto her until she collapsed. He’d thought it best to hide her somewhere and if he managed to change back he could return to the others saying he had lost sight of her. But he knew they wouldn’t believe him and he felt his goblin form was with him forever. After a while, he felt his strength fading, he dropped her onto the snow and decided to leave her there.

  He felt weary, he wanted to sleep and the cold slowed him down and he must find home, and soon. If the others found him they would imprison him, hurt him or even kill him. He recalled the instructions about the pathways over the hills and around the lake, but now he could cross the lake in safety in its frozen state. As he had left, it was one shimmering place of death. Many a goblin had slid down its grassy slope into its cold and callous embrace in the dark and drowned. He shivered at the thought as he struggled on in the fading light.

  He stumbled and fell over a carcase, an animal, a calf or something. The animal stirred, he brushed away the snow and pulled back the fur. He didn’t recognise her at first, it was less than a year ago near the woods by the college and she was in human form then, now she looked old and ugly and she had put on weight. He pulled her to a sitting position. “Hello sister, what happened to you, I heard someone stole the rune stone, I guessed it would be you, father will be pleased.”

  Reega came round slowly and focussed on his face. “Jorgul, is that you?”

  ‘Jorgul’ he hadn’t heard that name in years, it had been ‘John’. ‘John this and John that’, now he was home and it would be Jorgul once again, he grinned, baring his fangs and asked her, “What happened to you, where’s the rune stone, show it to me?”

  “I haven’t got it, I did have it, but he took it from me.”

  He glanced around quickly and then back to his sister. “Who do you mean, who is this ‘he’?”

  “You were not part of his plan, but you know of him, he is the one with the silver tongue, the one who found us a home here in the hills. My troll and I were taken by surprise at the Rune House. I managed to obtain the rune, but Burr, my faithful troll, died at the hands of the elves and I had to make my way home on foot.”

  He pulled his twin sister to him. “Burr, not
Burr, oh, those wicked and deceitful people, poor Burr, I shall miss him dearly. You know that if I had known I would have joined you.” He helped her to her feet, her features creased in pain. “Are you badly hurt?”

  “My head hurts. I may have ruptured something. That treacherous swine had a punch that would have downed a troll.”

  “Do you know the new path home, I could recall this one, but I don’t know the one leading across the lake?”

  “Yes, across the frozen water, I will show you, we must follow the track to a fourth inlet, a frozen stream will guide you there, but everything has been altered because of the weather and the path from the lake is at the second inlet, then - .”

  She stopped as an arrow thudded into her chest.