Over
two thousand years ago, a boy called Eoin lived in a tiny village on an island
called Ireland. To him, the village was his whole universe; a world complete,
perched on the edge of a wild ocean. Although he'd not yet travelled further
than a day’s walk, he’d heard stories of lands which lay across those vast
waters, but he was sure they were nothing more than bedtime stories for
children.
The
land was covered in forest, while beautiful, was not without its pearls. The
woods were home to Wolf, Bear, Eagle and Boar, all of which could slay a man if
he were not careful. Then there were the other-world creatures; magical beings
like elf’s, fairy’s, trolls and the like. Ireland was a kingdom of tribes,
ruled by chieftains, and of course, the mystical ones. The enchantresses, the
witches, the druids and the wizards.
Eoin’s
clan was too small to have a chief, but his father was respected by all. We
often led the men of the village into the woods, returning with meat for
everyone. Eoin wanted to follow in his footsteps and become a great hunter, but
he still had a lot of growing to do first. He was popular among the other
youngsters in the village, but there was one he sought out more than most. Roisin
was the daughter of the blacksmith and Eoin thought she was the most beautiful
creature alive. The other boys teased him about her but he would rather cut out
his tongue than tell her how he felt.
One
day, the men were on a hunt and Eoin was watching over the goats, when he heard
screaming coming from the village. He ran home as fast as he could and was
horrified to see men rushing between the huts. Bandits, driven by hunger and
greed, were raiding them. They must have watched the men leave before making
their attack. Eoin rushed forward; his mind filled with only one person,
Roisin. As he ran, he grabbed a bough from a wood pile. A raider was trying to
drag a woman from her hut, and as Eoin neared, he swung the branch and bashed
the man on the back of the head. The raider collapsed and the woman escaped;
Eoin ran on. He came to Roisin’s home as four raiders closed in on it. He swung
the stout timber and connected with one man’s jaw. He heard a satisfying crack
as the bone broke. The other villains paused, circling outside his reach, then
they rushed at him from all sides. He fought like a wild animal, but three on
one was too much to cope with. A lucky blow caused one man to stagger away
holding his forearm. Eoin felt something against his back and spun around. He was
amazed to see Roisin there, swinging one of her father’s swords at the raiders.
Side by side they fought; the battle might have lasted minutes or hours, time
lost all meaning. As all strength ebbed from his arms, he heard his father’s
voice calling his name. The men were rushing from the forest, coming to save
them. The raiders fled; Eoin and Roisin collapsed in exhaustion, their chests
heaving, and as he looked at her, he thought she’d never looked so beautiful.
Right there, he promised himself he'd never look at another woman with love in
his heart.
On
the day he passed from boyhood, he approached Roisin’s father and asked to take
her as his wife. The arrangement was welcomed by all and they were soon wed. After
that, the young lovers were never apart, either by day or by night. They gazed
on each other as if they alone existed. It might sound like a perfect
existence, but there were troubles a plenty. Famine gripped the village, and
all villages around them. Soon it was not only bandits who were trying to raid
them, it was other tribes as well. A new moon didn’t rise without them having
to fight off a new enemy. Many fell in the battle, but not Eoin; he rose to
become greater than his father and protector of his people.
He
won many victories, and with each defeated foe came the spoils of war. His
tribes’ land grew out of all proportion, and those that survived battle were
always given the same choice. Live with us in peace, or die by my hand. Eoin
was a fair man, and a generous ruler. He had never wanted to be king, he only
wished to protect the ones he loved. Others saw his selflessness and were drawn
to it. They wanted to be with this man and were happy to call him Chief. In the
end, he and Roisin found themselves guardians of all the people from the mountains
to the coast. After ten long years, peace came.
Unlike
most other Chieftains, Eoin never took another wife. Only Roisin would ever
share his bed. A year after peace arrived, Roisin’s belly began to swell
and soon the truth of her condition couldn't be denied. There was no happier
man in all Ireland, than Eoin the Red. On the day of the birth, he waited
outside their home, nervously pacing. He’d never felt fear like this, not in
all the battles he’d fought. He listened to Roisin’s cries and vowed he'd never
subject her to such pain again. He got even more scared when her cries suddenly
stopped. He held his breath, then a child’s cry came and he nearly wept with relief.
A wrinkled old nurse appeared and beckoned him inside.
The
air was warm; steam rose from a pot of water which bubbled over the fire and Roisin
held a swaddled bundle to her chest. She smiled as he rushed to her side.
“Are
you good my love?” His first and only worry was for the woman who held his
heart.
“Better
than ever, look,” she said, holding out the bundle for him to take. He hesitated,
afraid to take such a thing so tiny in his clumsy hands.
“A
girl,” said the ancient nurse as she dipped a cloth into the bubbling pot.
“A
miracle. Take her, she won’t break. She's as strong as her father,” Roisin
said, still holding the baby in outstretched arms.
He
looked down and saw the most perfect thing God or man had ever created. His
heart swelled with love until it was fit to burst and he felt a tear creep
close to his eye. He sniffed it away because, after all, he was the chief. He
took the baby in his hands and knew his heart now belonged to two. A tiny hand
extended from beneath the swaddle to wrap around the tip of his finger.
“She
has the grip of a warrior,” he said, and smiled at Roisin.
“She's
a fighter for sure, born of her father.”
“Born
of royalty,” muttered Eoin, speaking to the baby.
“What?
You’re calling her, Riley?” said the nurse, who was near deaf.
Roisin
smiled and raised her eyebrows at him.
“Why
not,” he said. “Riley fits her well.”
At
the sound of her name the baby gurgled and gave the most powerful chieftain in
the land a grin. This time, Eoin the Red couldn’t stop a tear spilling down his
cheek to vanish in his bushy red beard.
In
the years that followed, Riley not only captured the heart of her parents, but
the hearts of everyone in the clan. Eoin the Red decided to move the seat of
his kingdom west, looking to find a home he could better defend. He settled on
Lough Tully. Lough is the Irish word for lake, and this particular lake was at
the mid-point of Eoin’s lands. He built a Crannog Village; buildings raised
above the water on stilts and connected to the mainland by a long bridge. This
made surprise attack nearly impossible. As Eoin and Roisin’s empire grew, so
grew the number of buildings connected to their home until Lough Tully became a
floating city.
Riley
grew into the most beguiling of girls. She had great beauty but lacked even a
trace of vanity. Her love of nature, and her ability to weave happiness into
any situation, brought joy to everyone she encountered. Most chieftains would
pray for a son but Eoin thanked the great creator for the girl he’d been
blessed with. He knew she would lead the clan when the time came. She was going
to be more than capable because she had the best parts of both her
parents.
Turning
nine was a huge milestone in any young person’s life, it marked the end of
childhood and the beginning of something very important. It was the year a clan
member began to earn their place among the elders. Riley’s ninth year was
approaching and Eoin wanted to celebrate it in a manner that would never be
forgotten. He decreed there should be a feast, unlike any seen before. He sent
riders to the four winds with invitations for every; chieftain, king, druid,
wizard and enchantress in the land. It would be talked of for a
generation.
Unknown
to Eoin, on a cold and miserable morning, the messenger carrying an invitation
for, Malten the Twisted, did something terrible. Malten was a cantankerous old
wizard, but his magic was powerful, and he deserved respect from any man with a
brain in his head. Esker Wood, the place he called home, was reputed to be
haunted by a thousand uneasy demons, and as a result, was avoided by all. It
was one of the most malevolent places in the whole of Ireland. The messenger
stopped at the edge of the wood and tried to urge his mount forward. The horse
rose on his hind legs and refused to go a step further. After a few tries the
frustrated and frightened messenger looked over his shoulder. There was nobody
for miles. Fear got the better of him and he reached into his pouch,
withdrawing the invitation scroll and cast it into the edge of the wood.
“Find
it if you want, I've brought it far enough,” said the messenger before
galloping away. The wind caught the scroll and blew it deep into the woods
where darkness and thorns eventually stopped its tumbling journey.
As
the weeks passed, excitement grew and nobody was more excited than Riley. She'd
been promised a new cloak to wear at the gathering and she secretly hoped her
father would present her with a sword of her very own. As the celebration
approached the nobles started arriving. On the day before the feast, the
largest Ox in Eoin’s heard was slathered and mounted on a spit. It would take a
full day to cook the huge beast. As night fell, Bo, an apprentice, was left in
charge of turning the spit. The time passed slowly and in the darkest hour of
the night, Bo’s eyes spotted a shadow moving toward him.
“Who’s
there?” he cried, reaching for the club he carried to ward off Wolfs attracted
by the smell of roasting meat.
“None
but a weary traveller, cold from the night and tired from walking. May I rest
by the warmth of your fire?” asked the shadow.
“Come
closer so I can see you,” the boy said.
An
ancient man shuffled into the ruby glow thrown out by the fire and Bo was
annoyed at himself for being scared of such a pathetic individual. The man was
so old he made the trees look young. His back was so twisted he could barely
stand upright. As he walked, the few remaining strands of hair attached to his
head swung to and fro.
“Sorry
for my rudeness, grandfather, of course you can warm yourself," Bo said.
“Thank
you, you are kind,” said the elder as he shuffled forward and eased himself
onto the ground near the roasting pit. The old man stared into the embers and
seemed to drift on a sea of his own thoughts. The spit creaked as Bo turned the
handle and the stars slowly made their way across the sky. An hour later, a
yawn escaped the boy’s lips. A little while after, came another.
“The
hour is late,” said the old man.
“That
it is, and many more to go before dawn,” said Bo, stifling a third yawn.
“Let
me repay your kindness by turning the beast for a spell. You must be weary.”
The
man was right, Bo’s arms were strong but they were aching. Perhaps ten minutes
would be fine, as long as he kept watch on the man. “I’d be beholden to you,”
said Bo, and the old man struggled to his feet. As he took the handle, Bo
noticed for the first time how long the man’s fingers were, and how wickedly
sharp his nails appeared to be. Bo settled himself on the warm ground and
watched. The ever-circling animal, combined with the heat, soon made his eyes
close.
When
Bo woke, he had no idea how long he’d slept but the old man was gone and the Ox
flesh was spitting above the glowing fire. One side was nearly black having not
been moved in a while and Bo jumped to the handle. He cursed himself for being
so stupid and trusting a stranger with his duty. He turned the beast not
letting the burnt section dwell above the flames. By the time morning came,
even Bo couldn't tell the burnt patch from the rest and he breathed a sigh of
relief. He wondered why the old man had vanished without waking him. The
truth of the matter would have been clear if Bo had only seen what happened
when he closed his eyes. The beggar was no beggar at all, he was Malten the
Twisted. His lack of invitation was an insult that stung him to the core and he
desired vengeance. As soon as Bo had fallen asleep, he’d stopped turning the
beast and dipped his hand into the folds of his cloak. He withdrew a magical powder
which he sprinkled over the roasting flesh while reciting an ancient
incantation. Magic seeped into every ounce of the meat and once the rite was complete,
he simply vanished into the shadows.
The
day of the feast was a sight to behold. The banquet was due to begin with the
last cock crow in the evening and continue until dawn. Riley couldn’t contain
herself and constantly dashed into the kitchens to pick at the fruits and
berries piled high on the dishes. The cooks ran after her playfully swiping at
her escaping bottom with cooking sticks, but she was far too nimble for them.
By mid-day, she was stuffed to the gills but still kept picking. As the elders
gathered, her full tummy turned sour and was starting to churn. Noticing her
discomfort, and the green tinge to her skin, her father drew her to one side.
“Are
you feeling alright, Riley?” he asked softly.
“Yes,
Father. I’m fine, just a belly ache.”
“You
don’t look well,” he said, resting a hand on her swollen tummy and the pressure
made Riley wince. He looked at her and raised his eye brows making it clear he
was not taken in by her deception.
“All
these people are here for me. How can I be sick?” she said cried.
“They’ll
still be here, even if you take a rest. When you feel better, you can join in
the celebration. It will last long enough,” he said, kissing her on the head.
“Are
you sure, Father?”
“Go,”
he said with a laugh and turned her toward her bedroom. His swiping fingers
were much quicker than the cooking sticks and caught her playfully as she
hurried away.
When
she woke, it was already getting bright. She realised she must have slept all
the way through her party and was furious that nobody had woken her up. They'd
let her miss all the fun and she felt like crying. She jumped out of bed and
rushed onto the deck. It was very quiet, and that made her worry because the
world was never this quiet. She reached the great hall and what she saw was
straight out of a nightmare. There were bodies everywhere; piled one on top of
the other, not one of them moved. Plates were still laden with food, goblets
overflowing with ale, some candles still flickered as they burned to the quick.
She
soon found her mother and father slumped side by side at the head of the table.
“Wake
up, wake up!” she yelled, over and over again as she shook them but nothing
changed. They were warm and breathing deeply. Why wouldn’t they wake?
That
was when she heard someone coming at a run. It appeared she wasn't the only one
left. A few seconds later, a young boy came racing into the hall. He skidded to
a stop when he laid eyes on all the bodies. He was followed in by Ruairi.
Seeing him made Riley's heart leap. Ruairi was the next best thing to having
her father here. He'd been part of the clan for years, even longer than her
father had been Chieftain. Now he looked after her father's stables. Ruairi
rushed forward and scooped Riley up in his strong arms and hugged her to his
chest. The boy regained his composure and began moving between the bodies
trying to raise them from their stupor.
“What
is going on? What's happened to them?” she cried and buried her face in
Ruairi’s neck.
“I
don’t rightly know, child, but it’s a wicked unnatural thing. Magic of some
kind is all I can think,” the old man said.
“They
are alive,” said the boy, dropping his head onto a man’s chest to listen for a
heartbeat.
“We
have to wake them, Ruairi. We must do something!” said Riley, drawing her head
back so she could look at him. Her face was wet with tears and she was so very
frightened. It must have shown because the old man’s expression went from
confused to sorrowful.
“I’m
a simple horse man, Riley. I know nothing of magic except that it’s best
avoided.”
That
answer wasn't good enough. Riley wanted him to know what to do, he was all she
had right now. "There must be someone who can help?”
Ruairi
seemed to think for a few minutes and looked around the room. Something must
have occurred to him because he quickly got to his feet. “Perhaps. Wait with
Bo, I’ll return soon.”
The
old man hurried away and Riley went to sit beside her parents. She stroked her
Mother’s long black hair and sobbed quietly as Bo stood to one side, not
knowing what to do. It wasn’t long before the old stable master returned with a
healer woman hurrying behind him. She spent some time examining the sleeping
people before looking to Ruairi and shaking her head sadly. “They’ve been
enchanted, there is nothing I can do.”
“There
must be something!” cried Riley.
“I
only wish that were true. I can heal wounds, and kill a fever, but this is
something else entirely. This malady is not of nature’s making, it’s a dark
magic and can only be cured by one thing…magic. It’s not a healer you need,
it’s a druid.”
“If
it’s a druid we need, then we must fetch one without delay,” said Riley talking
with the adults as if she were one herself.
“Would
that it were so easy, little one. Every mystic in this part of the world lies
here, slumbering,” said the old man, throwing his arms open to encompass the
crowd filling the room. She had to admit the truth of what he said, anyone who
was in anyway powerful have been invited to the celebration.
“There
must be someone,” she said, beating her hands against the old man’s chest, not
willing to give up hope. He took her in his arms and held her as she sobbed.
Then the healer woman spoke.
“It’s
said, there's a witch in the mountains to the north who never leaves her home.
Perhaps she can help, if she exists that is.”
“Can
you get her and bring her here, Ruairi?” asked Riley and she thought her heart
would break when the old man shook his head.
“I’m
an old man. It takes me half the morning to get from my hut to your father’s
stables. If he were not such a kind person, I would have been cast me aside
years ago. That’s why he gave me Bo to assist in my duties. I fear I'd not be
able for the journey, and if something happened to me, who would come then?
Also, who will guard our kin while they are laid so low? My duty is here.”
“Well
if you won’t go, I'll have to go myself,” she said, defiance making her words
sharp.
“You
can’t, it’s too dangerous. Your Father would never allow it,” said Ruairi,
crossing his wrinkled old arms over his chest. Riley gave the old man a stern
look, she loved him like an uncle but that wasn’t going to stop her doing what
she must. Her father had fought when he was no older than she was. Now it was
her turn.
“I’m
not a child anymore, and like you said, who else can go. My family needs me,
I’m not going to let them down,” she said, her eyes were red from crying but
now they also glowed with determination. She would not just stand by and wait.
Something had to be done and wishing for a solution would not make one appear.
“I’ll
go with her,” said the boy who had been standing to one side listening. They
both looked at him and he puffed out his chest but there was trepidation in his
eyes.
“You’re
not much older than Riley,” scoffed the old stable keeper, a scold which hurt
the boy’s feelings. There was no question in Riley’s mind, she was going with
or without the old man’s blessing. If Bo wished to come, he was more than
welcome.
“Time
is wasting, we better ready ourselves for the journey,” said Riley and walked
toward the door with the boy hot on her heels. It didn’t take her long to
gather her bow and some warm clothes. When she crossed the bridge, Bo was
already waiting for her with a club made from the knotted root of an ash tree.
“Are
you ready?” she asked.
“Ready,”
he replied confidently, patting the handle of his weapon. A noise came from
behind them and they turned as one.
“The
miles will pass quicker on these,” said Ruairi, as he led two of her father's
best horses toward them. Draped across their haunches were food sacks and water
skins. Riley had never owned a horse but she could ride as well as anyone. Bo
lived with these beasts every day and easily vaulted onto his mount. Ruairi
helped Riley up and patted her leg when she was settled.
“Take
care of each other,” said the old man.
“Take
care of my family. We'll return as quickly as we can,” she said, mimicking the
way she'd heard her father speak. Confidence and authority colouring her words.
The youngsters galloped north and Riley tried her best to sit tall but she
couldn’t help feeling like a little girl pretending to be all grown up.
For
most of the day they rode north, only stopping to let the horses graze and rest
by a river. Bo ate a little of their food and tried to encourage Riley to do
the same, but she refused. She was too worried to eat. In one day her whole
world had been turned on its head, now she had nobody to rely on except a
stable boy and an ancient horseman.
As
night fell, Bo spotted a large pond and suggested camping there. It was as good
a place as any so she agreed. Riley tended to the horses while Bo collected
wood to start a fire. He was good with a flint and soon had smoke curling up
from the kindling. When darkness fell the flames were strong and warming.
“I’ll
take the first watch,” said Bo, trying to be her protector. She was having none
of it. He may be a boy but that did not make him any more capable than she.
“I
don’t think I can sleep; it would be best if I stand first watch and wake you
when I get tired,” she said. The boy saw sense in this and nodded his head. He
wrapped himself in his cloak and lay in the warm glow of the fire. In no time
he was breathing deeply. Riley sat with her back to a tree and gazed into the
flames. She felt so sad, so alone, and if she were honest, she was terrified.
She didn’t feel herself drift off into sleep, but sleep she did.
A
twig snapped and Riley’s eyes fluttered open. The night was deathly quiet, which
was a bad sign. When danger was near all the tiny forest creatures hold their
breath. She stilled herself, breathing gently and listened. Away to her left, a
branch moved and leaves rustled. Something was circling the camp. That was when
the breeze carried the stench of animal to her nose.
“Bo,”
she hissed. The boy mumbled in his sleep but didn’t wake. “Bo,” she said, a
little louder this time and the boy woke.
“What
is it?”
Riley
pointed into the woods; her eyes big but her lips remained tightly pressed
together. Bo reached for his club and got to his feet. Riley let her hand drift
to the bow and she slotted an arrow on the string without having to look at her
fingers. The fire had dwindled and only glowing embers remained. Another bush
shook. Whatever it was, it was big. She hoped it was a deer, but she doubted
it.
When
the undergrowth parted her worst fears were confirmed. A huge brown bear swung
his head side to side, looking from Bo, to Riley, and back again. Its shiny
muzzle sniffing the air, saliva dripping from its yellow fangs, its rubbery
lips rolled back to reveal its gaping throat. It let out a roar and threw
itself up on its hind legs. The animal was twice as tall as they were, and it
had the eyes of a killer.
Bo
was rooted to the spot, he moved neither forward nor back, as the beast reared
over him. Riley was just as frightened but she was also angry. Angry at whoever
had bewitched her family, angry at being forced out across strange lands, angry
at the bear for looking to eat them…just plain angry. She drew back her bow
string as far as she could and let her arrow fly. The shaft struck the bear in
the face just as it gave another huge growl. The arrow passed straight through
the cheek and hung from the beasts gaping mouth. It was far from a fatal blow
but it clearly hurt. The roar changed into a squeal of pain, a sound which
freed Bo from his prison of fear. He raced forward swinging his club while
Riley let loose another arrow, this one struck the animal square in the
shoulder but failed to penetrate. The beast struck out at Bo, its razor-sharp
claws passing a fraction from the tip of his nose. Bo lashed out at the beast
and this time he connected with the injured mouth, driving the arrow a little
deeper. The Bear roared and dropped to all fours, charging away into the
undergrowth, swinging his head violently side to side as if he was trying to
dislodge the pain he felt.
Riley
and Bo stood shoulder to shoulder, looking at the undergrowth where the bear
had vanished. Her body hummed with tension but that passed quickly and shakes
ran through her arms and legs. She looked at Bo and noticed he was shaking too.
Her Dad had often spoke of the great strength he felt during battle and how it
left him drained afterwards. That was how she felt now, drained.
“We'd
better build up the fire again, he might come back,” said Bo, his face had gone
very white. She felt so cold it was like the night was trying to get at her
bones. She hung her bow around her shoulders and followed him along the lake
shore picking up dead branches to feed into the flames.
Throughout
the night they took turns keeping watch, jumping every time a breeze moved a
branch fearing the injured bear was returning to rip them limb from limb.
Thankfully he never came. They both managed an hour or two sleep which was
better than nothing. When the sun rose, they checked their bearing and set off
north once more.
As
they travelled, they passed several settlements and were greeted by more than a
few people. The villagers were curious and asked why such youngsters were
traveling alone, but Riley insisted they avoid answering such questions. She
was sure it would be far too dangerous for her sleeping kin should word of
their tragedy become common knowledge. The last thing she wanted was a hoard of
bandits descending on their lands when it lay unguarded. All they said too any
who questioned them was, they’d come from the south and had business in the
mountains to the north. Simple and true. They got more than a few disbelieving
looks but none tried to stop them continuing on their journey.
On
the third day the heavens opened and rain drenched them to their skins. Riley
had never seen such a torrent in her life. The drops were as big as robin’s
eggs and each seemed to have ice crystals at their core. Both she and Bo had
their cloaks wrapped tightly around them, and despite having the warmth of a
pony between their legs, they shivered uncontrollably. When they finally saw the
great northern mountains, they were capped with a roof of black cloud. Bo was
beside himself with joy at having reached their destination, but Riley was less
than delighted. The mountains stretched from horizon to horizon and the Witch
might be on any of them. They were no closer to finding help than they had been,
three days ago. As luck would have it, an old woman chose that moment to come
limping around a bend in the trail.
“Excuse
me, Mother, I have a question,” said Riley as the woman came alongside her
horse. The woman paused and looked at the child riding a man’s horse. Riley
dismounted so she would be at eye level with the old lady. It was only then
that she noticed how thin the woman was, painfully so. Her cheeks were sunken
and her eyes bulged in withered sockets. Riley knew that the poor retch was
starving. The old woman looked at her with yellowed and nervous eyes. Riley
turned back to her pony and retrieved a packet of food. The woman’s eyes grew
huge as the parcel was placed in her hand and she devoured the contents. Riley waited
until the food was gone, and the woman’s composure returned.
“Thank
you, my child, you are truly kind,” said the old woman,
bowing deeply.
“Are
you from these parts?”
“I’ve
lived all my life in the shadow of these hills,” said the old woman, throwing a
less than loving glance over her shoulder.
“We’ve
travelled a long way to find a mystic woman. Would you know of her?”
The
old woman’s eyes became slits, and she looked at Riley hard before answering. “A
mystic you call her? Witch would be a better name. She'll do you no good.
You’re best off going back home and forgetting this silly idea.”
“Going
back is not an option for us and any help you could give would make our journey
shorter. It would be a blessing. Could you even direct us toward the right
area?”
“Kind
girl, take my advice and leave that place undiscovered.”
“Even
if it were to cost me my life, I must find this woman,” said Riley letting the
woman see both her pain and her resolve in the matter. The old woman thought
and her eyes softened. She turned slowly and pointed up the face of the
mountain which rose above them.
“Close
to the top, there is a hollow, as if some huge beast had taken a bite out of the
mountain. There you’ll find her. You’ll not miss her for she’s the only living
thing on that whole mountain. Nothing but crows and the she-devil dwell there,”
said the woman and she spat on the ground, as if the mere mention of the
Enchantress left a nasty taste in her mouth.
The
old woman hurried away, her eyes cast to the ground. Riley called after her,
“Would you take some food?” but not even the offer of rations would make the
woman slow her flight from the home of the witch.
“What
kind of place are we going?” asked Bo. Clearly, the woman’s reaction had
frightened him. What had seemed a straight forward task had taken on a sinister
note. They might be facing something far more dangerous than a hungry bear.
“I
don’t know, but we must keep going,” she said, throwing her leg over her horse then
urging it forward.
The
path began to rise steeply. As they travelled higher, the trees grew sparse,
then vanished altogether. A sea of bracken flowed across the mountain, as thick
and unforgiving as any fortress. If it were not for the path they would have
been stopped in their tracks. Each step took them closer to the black cloud hanging
above them. The rain eventually thinned until it became a mist and hung in the
air like a living thing, reaching out to chill any exposed skin. Near the
summit, even the bracken vanished, only bare rock remained.
The
path petered out in a field of scree; the remains of boulders shattered by a
millennium of harsh weather. They tethered their horses and continued the climb
on foot. They had to use both hands and feet to make any progress up the steep
mountain side. At last, they crested a ridge and spotted a tiny house built in
the darkest part of the bowl-shaped hole. Riley was the first to start down, Bo
fell in behind her. There was no sign of life as they approached the dwelling. The
door was made of tortured branches, interwoven at impossible angles. Riley
studied it and could see no joins or pegs holding it together. She rose her hand
to knock but the door swung open by itself. She looked inside, but the interior
was completely black. There were no windows, and the weak daylight refused to go
past the open door.
“Come,”
a voice said from the dark. The word was so quite it might have been a whisper
in her mind. Bo drew back a step, but Reily steeled herself and went on. It was
like diving into a container of pitch. She couldn’t see her own hands stretched
out before her. The house looked tiny, but inside, echoes rang into the
distance.
“We
mean no trouble,” she said. “We’ve come to seek your help.”
“Help?
No one ever comes here, for help,” replied a whisper in the darkness.
“We
have. We’ve come a very long way to talk to you.”
Riley
felt something brush her hand and even in the dark, she knew it was Bo. He
whispered in her ear, “Offer a reward.”
The
voice in the darkness chuckled, “Reward. Clever boy.”
“Our
clan, my Father, has fallen under a spell. His name is, Eoin the Red and our
lands are rich. If you break the spell he will rewarded handsomely,” she said.
“Ha!
What good are riches to the likes of me? What is a treasure to one, is tiresome
to another?”
“Please
you've got to help us!” she cried.
“Silence!
I do nothing but what I choose,” snapped the voice. Riley stood still and held
her breath. She listened to feet sliding over stone as the enchantress moved.
It was hard to pick out her position, she seemed to be everywhere and nowhere
at once.
“What
kind of ailment has lowered them?” the voice asked at last.
“They
sleep without waking,” explained Riley.
“How
interesting. How many slumber?” Riley could hear the witches' voice change.
Something about this intrigued her.
“Two
hundred, perhaps more. My clan and all the nobles who had gathered to celebrate
my coming of age.”
“Amazing!
A truly remarkable feat. I knew it had to be an act of epic proportions when I
felt the ripples so far away,” said the voice. She was closer now and there was
no mistaking the excitement she felt.
“We
desperately need your help. Can you break the spell,” cried Riley? It was
frustrating speaking to someone she couldn’t see.
“You
know nothing of our ways. What you ask is impossible,” snapped the voice,
annoyed at being questioned by one with no qualification to do so.
“I
won’t believe it! Show yourself, there must be something that can be done,”
said Riley, stamping her foot and balling her fists. Her blood was boiling and
she was ready to fight. In the darkness a light flared. A tiny flame danced in
mid-air. It was like a lantern, but one which needed no wick or oil. The flame
grew brighter and started to cast brilliant light on the hut. She got her first
look at the witch and she was nothing like Riley expected. She was tall and
straight, with long golden locks. Her skin was as pure as an untouched
snowfield and her smile was endearing. To look at her, you would bet she had no
more than twenty years on this earth but there was something about her which
made Riley believe she was much much older. Something she couldn’t put her
finger on…yet.
“As
you command, little one,” she said, with a slight bow and a good-natured smile.
“You
said you felt it, how can that be?”
“The
realm of magic is a sensitive one. When a spell is cast it sends out vibrations
that can be felt by ones attuned to such things. The greater the cast, the
bigger the ripples, the farther they travel,” she said, as if explaining the
simplest thing ever.
“It’s
still only a spell, and if a spell can be made, surely it can be broken?” she said.
“That,
as it happens, is true.”
“Then
why can’t you help us? Don’t you want to?”
“Want
or not, has no bearing. This spell was cast by an accomplished wizard, of which
there are only a few, and it takes time for such a spell to weaken.”
“How
long? How much time?” asked Bo, speaking at last.
“Twenty,
perhaps thirty years.”
“Our
people can’t wait that long. Is there someone with more power than you?”
demanded Riley, who had let her frustration and anger run away with her tongue.
“You’re
being insolent, child,” said the Witch. Anger peppered her voice but the calm
look remained glued to her face. Yet again, Riley sensed something unseen
ripple through the woman. It was like another being lived under her skin.
“I
mean no disrespect. Please, forgive me,” she said quickly, bowing her head. She
knew she'd gone too far.
After
a time, the witch spoke, “Such a spell could be removed, but only by the one
who cast it. You could ask them…for all the good it would do you.”
“We
don’t know who cast it, if we did, we would hunt him down and make them take it
back,” said Riley letting her warrior lineage show in the strength of her
words.
“Ah,
this is something I can gladly help you with. The only one powerful enough to
make such a spell, besides me, is Malten the Twisted, of Esker wood.”
“He
can break it?”
“If
he so chooses,” said the witch with a snooty tone.
“He’ll
have no choice,” said Bo, rising to the sting of the mystic’s words.
“I
wish you luck. He is one miserable creature,” said the witch, turning her back
on them and the flame began to dim.
“Come
on,” she whispered to Bo but her good upbringing made her bid the witch
farewell.
“Thank
you for your time, Lady. We are in your debt.”
“True,”
said the witch quietly.
Bo
and Riley had nearly reached the door when the woman spoke once more. “Before
you go, I'll give you one piece of knowledge that may serve you in the future.”
Riley stopped and turned to face the eerie woman now dappled in the half-light.
“Sometimes the juiciest berries are found in the thickest thorn patch.” It was
a piece of nonsense, but Riley bowed as if she had been given a great gift.
“I
shall remember that, always.”
They
left the house and the door shut by itself as they passed. They moved away as
quickly as they could. It was only when they had reached scree-field did they
look back at the hut.
"How
could it be so huge inside," wondered Bo.
"Magic,
I guess," she said, as they paused to catch their breath.
"I
thought she would be older,” he said. Riley said nothing but she knew in her
heart that the woman had not truly shown herself. The vision they'd seen was a
mist thrown over their eyes by her magic. Her true self may have lived since
the dawn of time. She knew they’d been lucky to get away from her unharmed. She'd
seen a world of misery in the witch’s eyes and if truth be known, she feared
they’d not seen the last of her.
***
Esker
Wood is a place known to all, even to one as young as Riley. The reputation of
the place is what made it so famous. Legend had it that the woodland was
possessed by evil spirits and many people who entered the wood were never heard
from again.
A
sadness hung over the pair as they travelled. Riley failed to get the Witch to
help, and now they were destined to face the Wizard who had lain their kin low.
Although they ventured on, Riley felt as if she'd already failed. Something of
her mood must have shown because Bo finally broached the subject.
“Are
you alright? You seem distant?”
“No,
I’m not. How did I believe I could accomplish this task? It’s too much!”
“It’s
hard, but it's far from over. We’ve had a setback, that’s all. There is still
hope.”
“Us?
The hope of our families? That is as good as no hope at all.”
“I
won’t listen to such talk, not after all we've done already.”
“Humph,”
she said, her face said she was sulking. For the first time since leaving Lough
Tully she was acting like a child and she didn’t care. Afterall, she was a
child and this was no task for a little girl.
“Would
a hopeless person face a three-day journey across dangerous and unknown lands?”
asked Bo. She could tell by his tone he was annoyed with her. Well, let him be
annoyed. Who did he think he was anyway to question her? She didn’t respond.
“Would
a hopeless person stand firm against an attacking bear and be victorious?” he
asked harshly.
Still,
she wouldn't rise to the questioning, but silently she acknowledged he had a
point. She had surprised herself in the moment with the bear. She felt the
courage of her father run in her blood.
“Would
a hopeless person climb a mountain to face a witch who is feared the length and
breadth of the country?” This time Bo's tone was softer and that got to her.
“I
guess not,” she mumbled into her chest.
“Do
you take me for the kind of man who would place his life in a hopeless person’s
hands?”
This
surprised her. First, he referred to himself as a man and now that she looked
at him, he was closer to that mark than a boy. Second, he looked at her as
their leader. She hadn't given their ranking any great thought and had assumed
they were simply on this quest together.
“I
hold your life?” she asked, the words were short, but the meaning was
infinitely long.
“Of
course, you’re my Chieftain now, and I'd follow you to the end of the earth. If
you are hopeless, then what’s my existence worth?”
“I’d
not thought of that.”
“You
had better start. I need you, we all need you,” his voice was earnest, and he
looked at her with nothing but trust in his eyes.
“Well
then, we'll have to succeed this time. Malten will release our people if it’s
the last thing we do,” she said, her drive renewed in the face of Bo’s belief.
“I
have no doubt at all,” he said, smiling.
“There
is just one thing,” she said, looking across at him as he rode alongside her.
“What
is that?”
“I
need you just as much, or more.” She watched the boy go red, as pride filled
his chest.
They
travelled till dark but were still a long way from Esker wood. The next morning,
they rose with the sun and only paused twice to allow their mounts graze and
take some water. Still they had to camp under the stars but they knew their
goal wasn't far away. If truth be known, neither of them wished to take on that
particular woodland by the light of the moon. Even the mid-day sun might not
chase all the shadows from such a place.
When
the sun rose again the air was even colder than it had been in the mountains of
the north. As they rode on, the temperature continued to drop and soon they found
themselves at the edge of the wood. It seemed the woods themselves was sucking the
heat from the day? The edge of the forest was almost a sheer wall of
intertwining branches. Ivy, Brambles and all manner of stinging shrubbery grew
in the spaces between the tree trunks. The word impenetrable was made to
describe this place.
Riley
looked over at Bo and said, “Are you sure you want to follow me into this? I'd
not think any less if you.”
He
looked annoyed and healed his pony, forcing it into the gloom. The animal
worried at its rains but he was well trained. Even if its eyes were wide with
fear, it obeyed. Riley had to admit she was glad Bo went first because she
wasn't sure she had the nerve to continue alone. Her horse took some persuading,
but eventually it followed Bo into the darkness.
The
wood was alive with sounds; frogs crooked, insects buzzed, birds twittered,
wolfs barked and crows cawed in the canopy above their heads. So little light
reached the forest floor that it was perpetually twilight. Mushrooms and toadstools
sprouted from every available surface and mist made everything damp. Riley had
no idea which way they were going, or where the Wizard might call home, but they
keep moving ahead.
They
might have been traveling in circles for all she knew; one section of wood
looked much like the rest. Eventually she heard the thunder of water and knew
she was in a place she hadn’t seen before. The trees cleared and a bluff
appeared above them. They followed the sound and a waterfall appeared from the
thicket. At the pool edge stood, a tidy timber cottage with a pig sty and
livestock pens. It was a picture of happy industry.
"Do
you think this is his?" he asked.
"It
doesn’t look like a wizard's home to me. Probably belongs to a farmer or a
woodsman's," she said.
"Why
do you say that? It's the only place we've seen."
"Look
at all the animals, and the vegetable garden. Why would a wizard have these
things?"
"Because
even wizards eat,” said a voice from behind them, making them both jump with
fright.
"You
scared us!" said Riley, holding a hand over her heart.
"And
you invade my land without being invited," snapped the bent old man. Riley
got herself together and dismounted. She looked at the old man and knew in her
soul she'd found Malten the Twisted. He was well named.
"We've
come seeking a powerful wizard who calls these woods home," she said,
keeping her hate hidden in her heart. This was the creature who had hurt the
ones she loved beyond life.
"Then
you've found him. State your business quickly before I turn you into toads,
like I've done countless times before."
Riley
thought about all the croaking frogs she'd heard on their journey and wondered
were each of them was an uninvited visitor? She hoped not. She looked at Bo and
could see fear. Now was the moment she'd been born to carry; she knew it in her
bones. It was time to act like a leader, not like a hurt child. She breathed in
and exhaled her bitterness.
"Did
you bewitch my family?" she asked. The directness of the question threw
the wizard off balance.
"If
I did, I had a reason. Who are you girl?" he stammered.
"I'm
Riley, daughter of Eoin the Red," she said, pride filling her words.
"Then
I did, and I've no shame of the fact. He insulted me, and such a thing I will
not abide." snapped the old man, sending his nose toward the sky.
"What
terrible thing did he do which justifies such vengeance," demanded Riley.
"He
invited all the great people to his feast, but not me. Me! The greatest of them
all."
"That
sounds nothing like my Father. If he had a problem with you, he would stand
before you and speak it. My Father is the bravest of men," she said,
standing toe to toe with the wizard and feeling every ounce his equal.
"Whatever
you say won't take back his slight.”
"But
you could take back what you did. There'll be no answers unless my Father
speaks, and there is no possibility of that while he sleeps."
"I
care not. Be gone before I lose my patience." said the magician,
dismissing the children with a wave of his arm.
"We're
going nowhere until you break your spell and release my family," she said,
folding her arms in defiance.
"You'll
have a long wait, little one,” he said, and shuffled past them toward his house
and slammed the door behind him.
“What
are we going to do now?” asked Bo. Riley looked at the old man's closed door
and knew that no matter how much she wanted to force the old codger to release
her people, she had no power over him. The witch had been right, if the wizard
was going to do it, he had to want to do it.
“We
keep trying. Let’s find a place to make camp and see what we can think of,” she
said, trying to keep the weariness she felt from her words. During the night a
saying her Mother had used many times came to her in a dream. You trap
more wasps with honey then vinegar. When she woke, she knew what she
had to do?
The
next day, she stood outside the wizard’s house and knocked on the door. He
opened it and glared out at her.
“What
do you want?” he barked.
“We
gathered mushrooms for breakfast, we thought you might like some,” she said
holding out a bundle of snow-white fungi.
“Do
you think a few mushrooms will change my mind?”
“I
hope your heart will see the truth, but the mushrooms are a gift,” she said and
laid them on his doorstep and walked away. She heard the door slam and turned
around. She smiled when she saw the mushrooms had gone. Everyday Riley brought
the wizard some new gift, foraged from the woodland. Every day, he slammed
the door in her face but the gifts would still be taken. After two weeks, she
was beginning to lose hope he'd ever lift the spell but she knew she must
persevere.
One
day, she and Bo found themselves close to the edge of the forest gathering
blackberries. She reached among the thorny branches to retrieve a particularly
juicy looking fruit and a vicious thorn opened her skin as cleanly as a knife.
“Oh,
you wicked thing,” she said, as she sucked on the cut to dull the pain. That
was when she remembered what the witch of the mountain had said. Sometimes
the juiciest berries are found in the thickest thorn patch. She looked
back toward the berry and was thinking of trying for it again when she noticed
something white in the depths of the bush. Was the witch’s gibberish something
important after all? She reached into the bush, the thorns tearing her skin,
but she didn't care. She was nearly up to her shoulder when she grasped the
piece of parchment. She pulled it free but her arm paid the price for her
treasure. She unrolled the scroll and was amazed to see it carried her family
seal. It was Malten’s invitation to her birthday feast.
“Bo!
Come quickly,” she cried, as she jumped up and down with excitement.
“What’s
happened?” he asked, rushing through the undergrowth, his club held aloft.
“Look!”
and she handed him the invitation. “He had been invited, and this is the proof!
He'll have to listen to us now.”
Riley
snatched the parchment from Bo’s hand and raced away toward the wizard’s house.
She found him trying to net a trout from the pool. Even wizards have trouble
trying to trick a fish.
“Look
at what we found,” she said, thrusting the paper into his wrinkled hands. He
squinted as he deciphered the words.
“It's
a trick,” he said, and threw the paper to the ground. Riley rushed after it and
snatched it up before it could blow into the water.
“It’s
not a trick, I swear. I found it in a bush at the edge of the forest. Look, see
where the thorns have ripped it, and the way the damp has made the writing run.
It’s not a trick. You were invited!”
She
could see the wizard face change as he processed this new information. He took
the scroll back from her and slowly walked back to the hut. This time when he
shut the door, he did so softly. Riley was heartbroken. Even though the wizard
held proof in his hands he was not going to remove his curse. What more could
she do to convince the man. She felt hot tears running down her cheeks and huge
sobs racked her body. Bo put his arm around her shoulder and tried to comfort
her.
When
the wizard spoke from behind her, his words were soft. “The road will not get
any shorter if we linger. Are you ready to go?” She looked up and he was
wearing a long cloak and holding a walking-staff in his hand.
“Go?”
“To
wake your friends. I think they've slept enough, don’t you?”
Riley
jumped for joy and rushed away to gather her belongings. An hour later they
were on the road for home, and the wizard seemed to have no problem keeping
pace with them. Bo offered to give the wizard his horse but the man refused.
It
took them a day and a half to reach Lough Tully, and Ruairi was waiting for
them when they arrived. Riley rushed into his arms. “It’s so good to see you my
princess, I have been worried.”
“Have
they woken?”
“Not
as much as a stir. I've made them as comfortable as possible and stood guard
over them, but trouble is coming soon, I'm sure. Word has travelled of our
misfortune and I fear we are in great danger.”
At
this, the wizard moved forward and said, “Bring me to them.”
“Who
is this?” whispered Ruairi.
“He's
come to help,” she said with a smile.
When
they reached the great hall, she saw that Ruairi had fashioned beds of straw
for all who slept and laid them in straight lines. Riley rushed to her Mother,
and Malten followed. He knelt beside her and from the folds of his cloak he
withdrew a stoppered bottle. He let a single drop of liquid drip onto her lips
and recited a charm in an ancient elfish. The wizard then did the same for her Father.
Nothing happened.
“Why
aren’t they waking?” she cried.
“It
may take time. I cast this spell in anger which made it all the more powerful.”
The old wizard looked at her sorrowfully and said, “I truly regret doing it.”
It was an apology she never thought she would hear, but it still had not
rescued her parents. Perhaps they would never wake from this slumber. What had
the witch of the mountain said? Thirty or forty years? The old wizard shuffled
on and repeated the procedure, and with nothing left to do, Bo lit a fire for
them to sit by. When darkness fell, none of the sleeping people had stirred,
and the wizard look crestfallen. In the darkness, Riley allowed herself to cry
and imagine the worst. She had made it home, survived all her trials, and still
she had failed. Eventually, exhaustion came to take her to a land of
nightmares.
In
her dreams, she was being attacked and her eyes shot open, only to feel her
body being shaken for real. Was she still dreaming? She must be because her
Mother’s face hovered over her.
“Why
are you sleeping here, Riley. You should be in your bed,” she said, softly.
“You’re
awake,” she cried, jumping up to throw her arms around her Mother's neck. As
they hugged Riley saw lots of people rising from their cots, stretching the
aches from their bodies. Most of them looked a bit bemused as to how they ended
up in such a predicament. That was when Riley saw her Father sit up and rub his
head.
“Father!”
she cried, and few into his arms.
“Oh,
my head,” he said, trying to shake the pain out of it. He looked at her and
smiled. “When you turn ten, I think we'll have less of a party, or at least one
where ale is banned.” From near the door; Bo, Ruairi and Malten looked on with
joy in their hearts.
The
little Queen had won her first great battle.
The End
