Chapter 5

Interlude: seeking answers

There was a tension in the air. No one claimed the bear, and there was no indication of its origins. There was some worry about informing the Police, in view of the way the creature had met its end, but after the explanations of mangled livestock, and the obvious injuries to the sheep which was saved, shoulders were shrugged and the question let go. There was no answer about the missing nymphs. Clare arrived with Kat and Clare Sanders. Kat was carrying Diamuid, and they went straight to the Elders of the Wood to make their manners.

“You are, indeed, well come, Kat. And Clare, and Clare,” Quercus smiled. “I hope you can spare a few minutes to talk to the Princess and Sir Oliver?”

Kat glanced at the others, who smiled. “Certainly, Father. Is there a problem?”

“There is, and I hope you may be able to help us. Would you like refreshment?”

All three nodded, smiling, and Diamuid babbled, waving his arms. Princess Nyulnos and her Consort arrived at the same time as several nymphs bearing snacks and cordials. The younger Clare approached Oliver, bowed, and handed him a thermal mug, which he accepted with a smile.

“Dear Lady! I thank you from the bottom of my heart!” He removed the lid and sipped the hot contents. “Wonderful.”

They all sipped at their drinks and nibbled finger food, perched on boulders or logs.

“Friends,” Princess Nyulnos began, looking round at them, “It seems we are under attack in some way. Recently, Oliver dispatched a bear with the help of Friend Padraig, and we’ve never got to the bottom of where it came from. We believe it was responsible for the messy death of several sheep. Additionally, however, two dryads have disappeared and their trees have died. This may, or may not, be connected.”

Kat was nodding. “I can see what I can do. However, I wonder if perhaps Chloe and Burt might be helpful...”

“Yes. If there was a way...” Quercus didn’t finish the sentence, but looked at the other two. “Ladies.”

“I need somewhere I can be quiet and undisturbed,” Kat said, releasing the pouch holding Diamuid and lowering him to the ground. “Perhaps you might take care of my son while I meditate?”

“Of course,” the older Clare said.

But Diamuid refused to be separated from his mother. “Well, then, come with me. But you must be quiet, Diamuid.”

Kat was led a few yards to a secluded dell, where she adopted the lotus position and closed her eyes. Facing her, the little boy did the same.

Kat stood, leaving her physical body, and looked down. Surprised, she saw Diamuid, a young man standing there in a white robe, holding a staff next to the boy. “Mother,” the figure spoke, “You should not walk alone here.” He raised the staff.

She dipped her head. “I would welcome your company, my son.”

Overworld is strange, not subject to normal rules. Everyone walks in overworld sometimes, though usually it’s as a dream. Kat and her mother learned how as they grew, but Aibhilin and Diamuid came by it naturally. So, leaving their physical bodies sitting in the dell, they could be anywhere with a thought. Kat took Diamuid’s left hand – he was holding the staff in his right – and they rose into the air to survey their surroundings. Their immediate surroundings seemed fine. Moving higher, and exploring the boundaries of the estate, there was nothing awry. Over the very centre of the estate, Diamuid raised the staff and swept it in a circle whilst chanting.

Kat smiled, recognising the spell. It wouldn’t stop an attack, but it would warn someone.

Looking further down the valley, and hence flying that way, they saw an ... opacity. A grey fog which concealed what lay beneath. It was definitely not natural, though. Barely a hundred yards across and hemispherical, it somehow pulsed with animosity. They didn’t need to discuss what to do, but retreated back to the Wood.

In the dell, their physical bodies remained as they’d left them, and they rejoined them; once more the flame-headed matron and her equally flame-headed toddler son. A keen observer, though, might have wondered at the way the boy stood with his mother and preceded her out of the dell. He appeared more like a miniature adult than a toddling child.

In the Royal dell, Kat described what they’d seen, concluding, “I felt it wise not to probe too deeply. There was powerful magic there. Diamuid has set a trip-wire warning, though. Who should be the sentry?”

Princess Nyulnos glanced at her Consort. “I hate to lay this on you, My Love...”

“No, it is clearly my responsibility,” he responded. “What is needed?”

Oliver:

It was very clearly my responsibility, as Consort to the Princess, to lead the defence of the Wood, thus my response. “What is needed?”

The little boy stepped towards me. No one could describe his movement as ‘toddling’. He held his arms up to me in an unmistakeable request, to which I responded by reaching down and picking him up. His little arms wrapped around my neck, and his face nuzzled my jawbone. I will admit to a degree – more than a degree – of anxiety in respect of the threat to the Wood, but his embrace flooded me with calm assurance. As I held him I became preternaturally aware of my surroundings, of the life around me. I believe I could have counted every living thing from the tiniest insect to the greatest tree, given time.

Diamuid’s grip loosened, though he didn’t let go, and I tucked him against my shoulder. His hand lifted from my neck to touch my forehead. He spoke words in a language I didn’t recognise, then stretched to kiss my cheek. I lowered him to the ground and looked at his mother. She was smiling.

“Thank you,” I said, sincerely. “What next, then?”

There was silence for several minutes, broken only by the soughing of the wind in the trees.

“My father is up to date with the ... occurrences,” Aster said, quietly. “I suspect we will receive some support soon, but I don’t know what or when.”

“I don’t want to probe yet,” Kat put in. “It might be worthwhile to get some input from Burt and Chloe, and I want to see if I can round up a coven to help.”

“Burt will be here this afternoon,” Mother Clio offered. “I don’t know if Chloe will be with him.”

Kat Bird:

I got home a few minutes before Harry arrived back with Aibhilin from school. Aibhilin loves her Daddy, and was delighted to walk home with him. She was skipping along, holding his hand. Perhaps I need to explain that our two offspring have radically different personalities. Aibhilin, the elder, was a Solstice baby, and wields – when she needs to – a greater power than I. She is volatile, by turns eager, loving, easily roused, but less able to maintain the peak of her power. Diamuid, by contrast, is an equinox baby. He is steady, calm and solid. Both are children, and display the expected characteristics of any child, but brought with them knowledge, wisdom and skills which are manifest most clearly in Overworld.

I was in the kitchen, defrosting a frozen casserole meal, when Aibhilin bounced in, followed by Harry. She immediately went to Diamuid and they hugged, then she came to me for a cuddle, holding his hand. Harry was smiling at our interaction.

“Well,” he said, “did you enjoy your outing?”

“Not exactly. Let me get this to heating up, and I’ll fill you in.” I had everything ready, so with the casserole in the oven and veg on the hob, Harry followed me and the kids to the lounge.

Narrator:

About two miles down the valley from the estate, a large house is set well back from the road. An ordinary passer-by would not notice anything unusual about the place, but should anyone stop and think about approaching the building, they would not even reach the gate before being overcome by a desire to be somewhere – anywhere – else. Built in the early nineteenth century of local stone, it replaced a much earlier cottage. That cottage had been derelict since the occupant had been burnt at the stake in the seventeenth century, and no one had cared to live there. A few tried, but failed to stay more than one night. Reports varied, but most included an intense uneasiness, and all reported cold. Locals treated the place with superstition, and when the property, with some surrounding land, was purchased, whispers circulated about the purchaser. Of course, it wasn’t surprising that passers-by claimed they’d heard wails or screams or other eerie sounds, and they would pass by quickly if they had to, and detour if they could.

From the road there was nothing to see that was amiss, but of course a high wall had been built around the site, and iron gates closed the entrance. Time passed. No one was seen to enter or leave, but the grounds appeared to be well kept, if one had the nerve and determination to peer over that wall. The windows all appeared like mirrors, so that even had anyone approached the building they could not have observed the interior.

One of the ground-floor rooms was lined with books, a desk in one corner, but the bulk of the floor clear: highly polished dark wood parquet. A fire flickered in the grate, around the walls candles in silver holders. Black candles. A man, or a being who appeared to be a man, sat at the desk, engrossed in an ancient calf-skin bound book. On the other side of the room, two figures, female, were bound to posts. One had vivid red hair and pale skin, which seemed to have a pale green tint. The other’s hair was a dark green and her skin a greyish brown. Their feet rested upon thick iron plates.

The man – if he was a man – put the book down and turned to look at the figures and smiled. “Well, Lexia, Sylvestria. I hope you are both quite comfortable?”

Neither responded, except that their eyes opened momentarily, then closed again.

“Oh, that’s not very polite, is it? Do you need a reminder?”

Their eyes opened again, and the red-head responded, “No, Master.”

The other also responded, “You know how comfortable we are, Master.”

“Yes I do. But don’t worry, it won’t be for much longer.”

Confusion. Fear warred with hope in their faces. But the man said no more – he stood and left the room.

Kat Bird:

I had contacts, of course, though I’d rarely used them. The power wielded by my mother, my daughter and myself had always been more than sufficient for my purposes. On occasion I’d received help from elsewhere, though I’d never sought it. Something told me, though, that I – and my friends in the Wood – were facing a challenge greater than ever before. Thus, I welcomed a trickle of visitors into my back garden. Ten women stood around in my little henge.

“This is all of us,” the eldest said. I knew her as Mistress Analinda.

I smiled. “With my mother and daughter, we make thirteen.” I wasn’t convinced of the value of that particular number, but I knew many witches set great store by it. I called Aibhilin mentally, and she appeared, robed in white, with my mother in black. They stepped up beside me.