To Call Down the Thunder... # added a chapter on page 4

[Mojo Chick'n]

A truth I speak, of hidden things, A rune of justice, magick and wonder,
Of kith and kin and Elven guest, of those who dare call down the Thunder.

For not only in the mundane world, must we in life long blunder.
But also in the Elsewhere lands, where we call down the thunder.

For naught is this world but a veil, a woven coverlet of lace.
And near beyond this world does lie a strange and wondrous place.

Where those who dare, and those who may, and those who cannot comprehend
go dancing through our lives as they weave their own wyrd~fated ends.

But in this place does fine light fall, a light which shows our wonder.
Our fame and fault, it sees it all, and taunts us to call down the thunder.

To do this deed might be thy end, dare not the task take lightly.
Best know thy path, and every bend, before thee move off spritely.

Know thyself, the law doth say and heed it well thee should,
for many feet have trod this way and many gone for good.

Is it blessing or is it greed that makes us seek this skill ?
The gaining of it will decide the bent of our true will.

For we may hide ourselves from Grace, but Grace will not be deceived.
The mask shall fall from our dark face when Skuld comes to perceive.

Blessings come in many forms, lessons, too, I’m told.
Not all of them are sweet and soft, nor covered in rich gold.

But for our blessings and our truths we all must strive to gain,
Working with the wyrd we weave through happiness and pain.

For the Forestwife did tell me so, In darkling times all torn asunder -
All things deserved shall come to those who dare call down the Thunder
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

note -- In Norse mythology, the Wyrd Sisters (three of them) weave the web of our fate - the third sister Skuld, is the one who cuts the thread at the end of our life, thus completing the web.

eta also... for those who missed the original thread, this story was written by my oldest son and myself when he was in 6th or 7th grade - he is now 22 years old.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

To Call Down the Thunder

CHAPTER 1 -

It was Mother Night, the longest night of the year. All of the forest folk were sitting back after the feasting, and reminiscing about the year past. The fire was still burning bright and high, fed by the young ones who would throw dry roots and wind-fallen branches onto it. The fire would burn all through the night as a sacrifice and an encouragement to the sun to return to warm the land and the children of the forest.

The Bard sat near the fire, leaning on his staff and nearly dozing. The children were all in high spirits from the festival and were in no mood to settle down for the night. They chased each other, squealing with self-induced fear, in their games through the dark.

Finally, when he had been bumped awake one too many times, the bard raised his head, looking into the night sky and said slowly, “ It is a fine night. “

Instantly there was a rustling of clothing as the folk moved closer to hear the bard’s words. The children, sensing something magical in the air, came to sit at the bard’s feet.

“ Yes, “ he said, once the folk had settled themselves, “ Tis a fine night, indeed. A night for tales of what has been, what is and what shall be. “

The assembled audience sighed with pleasure at the thought of a well-woven tale.

“ Once, before I was born, before any of you were born, there lived a king. Now, this king was an indifferent sort, not taken to paying any mind to anything but matters of state. Ask him what he had for breakfast and he could not tell you, such was his indifference to the mundane acts of life.
He was neither a good king, nor a bad king, but was such a king as would follow tradition and law as it had been set down by his father’s, father’s fathers. He had no imagination, and therefore saw no reason to be changing what had always been.

The Queen, on the other hand, had far too much imagination for her own good. She could not be trifled with mundane tasks, as it would take too much time away from her dreaming and cloud gazing.
But this tale is about neither of them, except in the fact that they had produced a son who would change this land and bring peace and comfort to all who lived here. “

As the bard spoke, his musical voice wove the tale so that all assembled could see those he spoke of and feel their presence at the fire.

“ The Prince,” said the Bard,” did not look very remarkable at all. Medium of height, a bit on the pudgy side, with blonde hair which was rather lank and, no matter how he tried to style it, resembled nothing more than unraveled twine. He was, however, in possession of such a remarkable wit that all in his presence scarcely noticed his homely appearance. Indeed, the most lovely ladies of the time would follow him around whenever he went to a ball or walked through the market.

The loveliest of all these ladies was the lady Rebecca, cousin to the Prince’s foster brother, Sir Stephan. The lady Rebecca was different from the others. Instead of always being prim and proper, she liked to run barefoot through the meadows in spring. Her favorite pastime, however, and one she kept from everyone save for Edward and Stephan, was sliding down the banisters in her uncle’s great hall. “

The folk all smiled at the thought of a lady sliding down a banister, and they all instantly liked the lady Rebecca for being so unconventional.

“ Now, Sir Stephan was probably the best friend that Prince Edward ever had. They had grown up together, the Prince being fostered out to Stephan’s family at the age of 8. Rebecca, being Stephan’s cousin, spent many summers at his father’s house and the three became close friends. Rebecca, also having grown up with Edward, did not see him as the Prince, but as her friend Eddy, who used to lift her up into the apple trees in Stephan’s father’s orchards. She secretly had a crush on Edward, and as she was now a grown Lady, she dreamed of one day being wed to him.

Stephan was as different from Edward as night is to day. He was tall and dark, and broad at the shoulders. The very picture of a knight in shining armor. He was neither aware of being handsome, nor would he have cared if he were aware of it. His one wish was to forever be with his two best friends and good looks did not matter to either of them, so it mattered even less to Stephan.

One other who plays a large role in this tale, perhaps the most important role, for all would have been lost without her being there, was Bronwyn. Bronwyn was the serving maid of the lady Rebecca, and the two were as close as close could be. She was lovely of face, and even of temperament, but the one thing which set her apart from all other pretty maids was that she was half elven folk. She had forest green eyes, and had certain precious things which held magic within them. One of these was a flute which, when blown, would charm any animals within hearing to do the player’s bidding. This flute she had given to Rebecca on her 16th birthday, and Rebecca never went anywhere without it tucked into her pocket.

Another magic item she had was a Harp, the like of which could only have been made by Elven hands. It was a lovely little harp with a sound like the voices of the Gods themselves which sang out of it. Whatever emotion the player was feeling at the time came out of the harp and was experienced by all within hearing.

The assembled folk were drawn deeper into the magical tale the bard wove and it seemed as if it were not his voice, but the actual events which were forming in the air around them…

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 2 -

Bronwyn woke and stretched a long, lazy stretch. She rubbed the sleep out of her eyes and got out of bed and threw on her shift, grabbing a brush as she passed the night stand. She pulled the brush through her hair and set out down the hall to the stairway towards Rebecca’s room.

It was a sunny day outside. She could tell that it was by the streams of light floating in through the slit windows in the large manor house, which was really nothing less than a small castle. She always felt like she was in a closed box in the hallways, where they had put small window slits rather than large open windows. She felt much more at home out in the kitchen gardens, or better yet, in the forest edges which came right up to the property line of Sir Hector’s holding. Indeed, the forest encroached on the holding land more each year, because Sir Hector paid more attention to his parties and his friends at the local Alehouse than he did to matters of business at home.

Sir Hector had few servants left, only the cook and a couple of men who kept the horses and tended the yards. There was far more yard than two could handle, though, so the wildlife of the forest were coming in to reclaim what had once been their sole property. Luckily he seldom held parties in his own home, or even had guests stay, as he was nearing poverty level from his ill spent pastimes. So, Bronwyn became Rebecca’s main source for companionship over the years, and the two had become such close friends that they were more like sisters.

Bronwyn smiled at the thought of what they had planned for today. With a spring day so lovely as this, they absolutely must spend it outside in the air and sunshine. Perhaps the violets and other wildflowers were opening just this moment out at the edge of the yards and Bronwyn could hardly wait to run to smell their elusive fragrance.

‘ I must remember to keep an eye out for any medicinal herbs I may come across,’ she thought. She had run short over the winter from tending to everyone’s colds and ailments. It was too far of a trek in the deep snows to ask her mother, the forestwife, to borrow herbals from her. She knew she must depend on herself to provide what she needed. Now that it was spring, perhaps she could risk a visit to her mother’s cottage, though, if she could figure a way to get Rebecca out of the house for a day or so. She had never told Rebecca where she came from, and Rebecca had never asked. It wasn’t that Bronwyn was ashamed of what her mother was, or how she lived, but more of a protective act in not giving her away, even to her best friend. When one was in the business of midwifing and herbals you could never be sure who might call you out a witch, and then there would be the devil to pay.

“Devil indeed” snorted Bronwyn to herself, “ those nasty minded priests know more about evil and devils than my Mother ever dreamed or imagined. “

Bronwyn missed the forest. She missed waking to bird song and the smell of wood smoke and cloves and peppermint, or whatever herb her mother had snatched on her way back from the hen house. The herbs usually hung out of her apron pockets looking as if they would tumble to the ground at any moment, but she never lost a single one. Those herbs and weeds she would turn into medicinals and teas, and sometimes, if she was in a frivolous mood she would make a lovely perfume for one of her favorites of the forest women.

Bronwyn came to Rebecca’s door and stood listening to see if she could hear any stirring. She heard Rebecca rustling around and humming to herself, so Bronwyn knocked, then went right in without waiting for an answer.
“Good Morning,” said Rebecca brightly. She had never been much of a morning person, so Bronwyn knew immediately that something must be up.

“Why are you so cheerful ?” she asked.

“Oh,” Rebecca smiled, twirling about the room, ”Cook has already been up with a note for me. Stephan and I are to go riding with Edward today, we will probably stay for dinner, too.” She smiled dreamily, then the smile left her in an instant. “Oh, Bronwyn,” she said, “I forgot we were to go hiking today.”

She sounded genuinely upset, so Bronwyn laughed and said, “It’s fine, I can make other plans. Really, don’t look so frightfully sad.”

“Well,” said Rebecca, “I did tell you first that I would go hiking.” Bronwyn smiled and took her by the shoulders.
“Go,” she said, “How can a day with me, wandering and getting muddy, compare to a date with a Prince?”

Rebecca laughed, then, too, ”Well, if you’re sure.”

“I am sure,” said Bronwyn. She had been half afraid that Rebecca would change her plans. Bronwyn had wanted a day to visit her Mother, and it looked like she was going to get one.

~~~
The sunlight took longer to warm the paths of the forest, so Bronwyn had her shawl wrapped around her in the chill morning air. As she walked she hummed a little song to herself. She nearly lost herself in remembering her childhood spent wandering the woods, hiding in this tree or that cave, playing tag with Adam, Maggie, and the rest of the forest children. Maggie was now her Mother’s apprentice, and she would get a chance to reminisce a bit with her if she wasn’t kept running here or there by Meriah.

Bronwyn thought about what it would be like to be apprentice to her mother. She laughed then, thinking of how poor, shy Maggie must be very intimidated by her mother’s lack of patience when she was in a hurry. ‘The poor girl is probably nearly in tears most of the time,’ thought Bronwyn. Bron was used to her mother’s harsh tone when something was on her mind. She knew that her mother really didn’t intend to be harsh, she just took care of business when it was called for. She was a bit of a perfectionist, and therefore expected everyone else to be perfect too.

She was coming near to the clearing where her mother’s cottage stood, and looked for the stone which would tell her if her mother was home, or was out birthing or tending the sick folk. The stone lay pointing to the house, so she knew her mother was home. A few more steps and she could hear Maggie out in the garden tugging weeds up. It had rained the day before, and the weeds had grown up so thick overnight, that it looked to be a daunting task.

“Hello Maggie,” Bronwyn called out. Maggie jumped, startled to hear a voice come out of the forest at this time of day.

“Bronwyn !” Maggie jumped up, glad to stretch her back after so much bending and picking weeds. “I wondered why Meriah added extra vegetables to the stew she was making for midday meal,” she smiled.

Meriah always seemed to know when company was due, and Bronwyn had no doubt that her mother knew just who was coming to lunch today. She smiled, “Well,” she said, ”I figured it was time I came visiting, it’s been a long winter.”

“Long indeed,” Maggie sounded a bit sad, ”We lost so many this winter. Lack of food, and in their weak condition, well, they just couldn’t fight off the chills as easily as they could when well fed. Even the deer seemed to be hiding extra deep in the forest this year.”

Bronwyn looked as sympathetic as she could. Even with the news of death she had a hard time feeling anything but exhilarated this morning. She was Home.

She left Maggie to her weeding and walked on around the corner and into the kitchen, which was the main room of the cottage. Her mother was at the fire, bending over a pot of something which smelled wonderful.

“Good morning, Mother,” Bronwyn said.

“Yes, the spring has finally arrived, it is a very good morning.” Meriah straightened then turned to greet her daughter. “You look thin,” she said looking at Bronwyn with a critical eye.

“Oh, mother,” Bron said, ”I am fine, and not thin at all.“ Meriah smiled, then, at her beautiful daughter. Bronwyn was one of the few people who ever dared dispute anything with the Forestwife.

“Good, then you are healthy enough to work for your lunch. I’m sure that Maggie could use another hand at weeding.”

Bronwyn made a terrible face, ”Don’t you have any other chore I could do to earn my keep, I truly hate weeding.”
Meriah laughed, “Well, alright then, you can fetch me a pail of water from the spring.” She motioned to the pail which sat by the door. Bronwyn took it in hand and went off merrily to the spring.

The morning was warming, finally, so she loosened her shawl and washed her face in the cool spring water. Looking at her reflection she was pleased. Bronwyn was not a vain girl, but she liked to be well looked upon. “Not that there is anyone to look at a serving maid,” she said to herself with just a touch of self pity. She immediately chastened herself, for it was by her own choice that she was in the village with Rebecca.

Her mother had told her of a possible future, and given her the choice whether to follow it or not as she pleased. Not for the first time Bronwyn thought of her Mother’s crystal orb. Actually it was a half orb, the other half having been lost before Bronwyn had even been born. The orb would tell of things that were and might become, but it only told half the story, since it was just half of the whole, itself.

“Well, if it isn’t the Lady of the Manor house.” A snide sounding laugh came from the bank across the stream.
Bronwyn had been so engrossed in her musings that she had not even seen Adam walk right up to her.

“I am in too good of a mood to allow you to goad me into arguing today, Adam.” Bronwyn looked at him with a bit of smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knew that Adam really did not mean to sound as antagonistic to her as he had. They had known each other since they were born, and she knew how he felt about aristocracy in any form. “Besides, I am not a lady,” she said, ”but The Lady’s servant.”

Adam laughed at her pun, for he too served The Lady, the Goddess which all the forest folk worshipped alongside the God of the Wildwood. “I thought perhaps being in such high and mighty company, that you might have learned to sing psalms,” he teased.

“I have learned to sing them, but perhaps, if I were louder, they might know that the words did not match what the rest of the congregation was singing,” she laughed outright, then.

Adam jumped the stream and landed so close to her, she thought he might knock her into the water. “Well good then, I’m glad you are not too proper to come and visit your old friends in the forest.” He smiled, then too, and took her pail to carry it to the cottage.

When they reached the cottage clearing, Meriah was just coming around the corner from the garden. Adam elbowed Bronwyn in the ribs,” Probably hawk-eyeing poor Maggie,” he snickered, ”Must make sure not a weed is left alive,” he mocked.

Bronwyn giggled,” I dare you to say that louder,” she said to him under her breath. He wouldn’t take such a dare, and she knew it, but it was fun to see him turn red.

“Ahh, Adam,” Meriah had spotted them, “I am glad you’ve come, my woodpile is getting rather sloppy looking, care to re-stack it for me ?”

Adam grinned good naturedly, he knew that if he came to the cottage today he would be set to working at some chore. No one came to the Forestwife’s cottage without doing one chore or another. She always paid them well, with either medicines or food, perhaps a bit of corncake. Her cooking was known throughout the forest and village as being some of the best anyone could be lucky enough to sample. Old Billy One-Eye often joked with her that she ought to be cooking for Kings and Queens. She would always snort and say that they would not appreciate such fine cooking, anyway, as they ate so much that their indigestion got in the way of tasting good food.

Adam went off to re-stack the pile and Bronwyn took the pail of water on into the kitchen. Meriah followed her in and, once they were settled, Meriah with tying herb bundles, and Bronwyn with shelling early peas, they had time to finally catch up on all that had happened over the long winter.

By the time they had run out of news to tell, Adam came in with his hair all wet. He had stopped to clean up at the stream and his face was still red from the exercise of stacking firewood. Adam was a fair one, with hair as blonde as a newborn babe, and fair skin to match. Bronwyn often teased him that she could always tell every emotion he felt by the color of his cheeks.

Maggie was not far behind Adam, and the four of them settled in to midday meal with little talking, for all of them were already worn from the work of the morning, and from hunger. Meriah’s stew was not something to be dismissed so easily by idle chatter, either, and they gave it its full due.

After their meal they were all refreshed, and Adam offered to take Bronwyn off into the woods to search for some early herbs which had sprung up in the clearings. Meriah was glad that Bron would have company, for the woods, lately, had a feel of something weird to them. Nothing she could put her finger on, but it was like the hairs standing on the back of her neck, she knew something was coming to their world, and it was nothing she wanted to deal with.

“I’m getting too old for this,” she muttered to herself as she went off to check on her nearest neighbor, whose baby was not gaining the weight he ought to.

Maggie watched them all go, then went back to her weeding with a sigh. Adam had not been far off when he had mocked earlier about no weed being left alive. It was unthinkable to leave a weed in Meriah’s garden patch.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 3 -

The beautiful gray mare which Rebecca was riding on was the finest she had ever seen. Since her uncle had been selling off property right and left to pay taxes, the only horses they had left were those which were meant for farm work, or too old to be of value. She knew that her parents had not died poverty stricken, but her uncle was such a poor business manager, that any inheritance she had had was long gone by now. She knew that Stephan’s parents would never allow her to become totally poverty ridden, but she hated telling them just how badly things had gotten. She loved her Uncle, even with all his faults, he really did not mean harm. He was the sort who took life a moment at a time, and just didn’t think on tomorrow.

‘Besides,’ she thought to herself, ‘if I marry soon, then I will be free of poverty, anyway.’ She knew whom she wanted to marry, the trick was getting him into the asking mood. She had had a crush on Edward since they were children. She always thought it the most amazing thing that he treated her like an equal, and not an underling, not even as a little tag along. ( which, to be honest, she usually had been, those first years she went to spend summers at Stephan’s. )

When her parents had been killed crossing the channel one year, it was Edward who held her hand all through their memorial service. It was Edward who took her off to the orchards, later, so she could cry without being seen by the others. It was more Edward’s kindness and charm, than his good looks ( which were few ), or his royalty ,that had won her heart.

“I’ll bet you can’t jump that fence yonder,” Stephan was saying to Edward. The two were always trying to out-do each other at any sport, ‘so competitive they are, silly boys,’ thought Rebecca.

“I’ll take your challenge, Stephan, and how much if I clear it ?”

“Hmmm,” said Stephan, “tell you what, if you clear it, without so much as a waiver, I’ll give you my new dagger.”

“The one with the dragon head hilt ?” said Edward, “You’re on.” He smiled wickedly and raced off to the fence line, Stephan following close behind.

They had quite forgotten about Rebecca, and she felt just a little put out about it.

‘I’ll teach them,’ she thought, ‘I may just have to get lost and see how long it takes them to find me.’ She smiled her own wicked smile and turned gently and casually to the right, and went into the forest edge.

‘Not deep enough,’ she thought, ‘I’d better go a bit farther, they could see me like a sixpence in the sunshine here.’

As she went further into the forest, the sounds of her two friends racing away grew more and more faint. Instead, it was replaced by bird song and rustlings of small animals in the underbrush. She went deeper and deeper, drawn in by the beauty of the forest.

Up ahead she saw a slight clearing and a grouping of wildflowers, so she went off to see them closer. When she got to them and had seen their beauty, she got down off her horse and smelled them, picking a few to put into her hair. At the edge of the clearing were more flowers, even more lovely than the ones she held. She dropped her horse’s reins and let it eat grass while she investigated the clearing more thoroughly. There was a stone pile at one side, and behind it she found a path. Seemingly compelled to do so, she wandered on to follow the path, to see where it led.

‘Probably a deer track,’ she thought. She wandered on, not paying as close attention as she ought, and soon found herself in another clearing. When she stopped to look around she realized she had actually gotten herself quite lost.

“Drat,” she said aloud, ”I only meant to trick them, now I have gone and done for myself.” She told herself to remain calm, and find the sun. She knew her tracking skills, from playing with Stephan and Edward all those years, so she figured she could get herself back to safety, without a problem. The problem was that there was no sun here in the forest, or at least not in this part of the forest.

“I didn’t think it had been that overcast when I came into the wood,” she said to herself. ‘It isn’t truly overcast, now, either,’ she thought, ‘more of a strange light, a light without sun or source.’

She began to worry that she may be here for a little longer than she had planned, so, being the practical girl she was ( well, usually ) she sought a place to sit comfortably until someone found her.

“Surely they will find the same path I did,” she said aloud. Her own voice sounded strange to her, though, in that great big forest, so she didn’t say anything after that. She was starting to feel a bit afraid, and hearing her own voice so small in that great grouping of trees made it worse.



Stephan and Edward had already discovered her missing, and had gone back to look for her. What they found was her horse, merrily munching grass, but no sign at all of Rebecca.

“Why on earth would she go off like that?” Stephan asked.

“Who knows,” said Edward, ”Perhaps she was angry with us for rushing off without her ?”

“No, ‘Becca isn’t like that,” Stephan said.

They followed the trail the horse had left in the tall grass on into the forest to the clearing where Rebecca had left her. From there, though, they did not find any trail at all, not so much as a path leading anywhere. All around the clearing was nothing but thick underbrush.

“How could she had gotten out of here?” Edward asked. “She must have doubled back on her trail and we didn’t see it.”

“It sure does feel weird in here.” Stephan said, worried more now, than he was before.

“Yes, it does have a bit of an otherworldly quality, doesn’t it.” Edward replied. “Even the light is different here.”

“Well, let’s go back over the trail, maybe she is already out in the meadow waiting, laughing at us wandering about the underbrush.”

They went back along their trail and looked high and low, but never found any trace of where she may have split off the main path into the clearing. Finally, they gave up looking alone, and raced back to the castle to get help.



Rebecca was getting very worried, now. She had not had anyone come for her, and the light was getting dimmer. She had already given thought to spending the night in these woods, and it did not make her feel any better knowing that it was a distinct possibility.

She could hear nothing, now. Even the birdsong had gone eerily quiet. No rustlings, no noise at all, save for her own breathing and heartbeat.

‘Why haven’t they found me yet,’ she thought, ‘I don’t think I went that far into the wood.’

The fact was, she had not gone that far, but the glamour of the forest at that moment prevented anyone from finding the correct trail to find her. By her own folly she had set herself right into a trap and she didn’t even know it.

There was one in the wood who knew just where she was, and he watched, and waited for her to become more desperate. So desperate that she would follow him anywhere, believing him to be her savior, when in reality, he was her doom.

He knew timing. He was very good at waiting for what he wanted, and knowing just when to strike to gain it. All of his life, all of his training made him a most formidable opponent.



Bron had gotten back to Sir Hector’s manor house just before sunset. She knew that Rebecca wouldn’t be back yet, but she wanted to freshen up a bit, so that she looked more appropriate for being a serving maid, and not a forest maid.

When she had had a bath, and done her hair into braids, so it would dry without snarls, she settled down with a book, and sat reading by the fire. She had lost track of time, and before she knew it, there was a knocking at the door.

‘I wonder who would be knocking this time of night, Rebecca wouldn’t knock, it’s her home,’ she thought to herself.

The knocking became a pounding, so Bron, finally realizing that no one else was going to answer it, went off to see who was at the door.

She opened the door to see a strange sight, it was Robert, one of the village folk who spent much time in the forest. Robert was sweet on Maggie, and spent every moment he could trying to be nearby, so she knew him well, actually.

“Rob, what on earth would bring you here this time of night ?” she asked.

Robert was nearly out of breath, and looked as if he had run a long way.
“Your mother,” he said between gasps for air,” she said to come quick.”

“My mother sent you ? Why would she send you for me, what has happened, is she ill, is it Maggie, Adam ? What ??” Bronwyn threw questions at him so quickly, that poor Robert had a hard time sorting them all out.

“She isn’t ill, and no one else is, that I know of, she just sent me, seemed rather important that you come now, she said. She told me to come back with you, so you didn’t have to come alone.”

“I know those trails like the back of my hand, why would I need an escort?” Bron asked.

“Don’t know,” answered Robert, “she just said not to let you come alone.”

“Come in, and I’ll grab my cloak, it’ll only take a moment.” Bronwyn rushed off to find her cloak and came back quickly and they were off into the night.

All the way there she kept trying to find out information from Robert, but he seemed to be ignorant of anything except that her mother sent him, told him to stay with her. That was all she could get out of him, so she soon gave up trying.

By the time they reached the forest clearing where her mother’s cottage lay, she expected to see the forest on fire, such was her imagination running wild. Everything seemed normal. There was no crowd, no fire, nothing out of the ordinary, just a light in the kitchen window of the cottage. It was not unusual for a light to be burning most of the night, though, at the Forestwife’s cottage, so even that was normal.

Bron and Robert went on into the cottage and found Meriah and Maggie sitting up at the table. Maggie was twisting her scarf, which she usually wore on her head, into knots in her hands.

Meriah looked up as they came in and motioned for them to sit down. She poured them a cup of tea, each, and bade them sit down, without telling anything of why she had summoned her daughter in such a strange manner, at such a strange hour.

Bron was dying to ask a million questions, but knew better than to rush her mother. The answers would come when Meriah had them straight for the telling.

“A long time ago,” Meriah began, ”before you were born, there lived a man in this wood. Now, this man was a wise sort, but a sneaky sort, also. He was always watching, always waiting for something. He seemed to forever to be waiting.” Meriah gazed into the fire as she spoke.

“This man was not of the forest folk, but lived here, no one knew why, he was just - there. Not a part of the forest, an alien creature, almost. Not that he didn’t know the forest, he was not alien in that way, just that he did not seem to fit anywhere, especially not in such a natural place as this. “

Meriah seemed rather distracted, almost as if she didn’t wish to tell what had to be told. She moved over closer to the fire, to warm herself, even though the cottage was not chilled.

“Now, this man,” she began again, ”he was the sort to take what he wanted, without a thought to giving back. He wanted it all, too,” she said with a sneer, “he nearly took it all before he left.”

“Mother…” Bronwyn said, but Meriah hushed her with a held out hand.

“I will get to it, daughter,” she replied. “I have felt a presence, lately, and it has not felt…comfortable. It has felt like my wyrd was playing out and I hadn’t ahold of the web. I only felt this one other time, this feeling of not having control of things. It made me wish to never lose control of a situation ever again, and I haven’t. Until today. I hadn’t even noticed, it came so quietly, so slowly, I said he was a sneaky one.”

Meriah seemed to almost be rambling, now, and Bronwyn was getting worried that she had had an attack of some sort, and this was the result.

Snapping her attention to her daughter, Meriah looked her right in the eye, “ I am not losing myself, Bronwyn, and don’t you think for a moment I’ve gone silly and senile.”

“I…” Bronwyn hated it when her mother read her mind, and she felt rather uncomfortable with the thoughts that had been read this time.

“I know, it sounds crazy, but it isn’t, girl, and it is important that you listen to all I have to say, and not speak until I am done.” Bronwyn folded her hands on the table in front of her and looked at her mother without saying another word.

“This man, he wants something, I don’t know what, and I don’t know why he has done what he did. I wasn’t paying close enough attention, and maybe that was his doing, too,” Meriah said in an angry tone. “I felt the weirdness and didn’t connect it to him, although you would think after last time that I would have…” Meriah seemed to trail off again.

She heaved a great sigh and finally looked back at Bronwyn, ”Your friend has not come home tonight, and will not. Robert brought the news to the forest that she is missing and most of the village is off looking for her.”
“She bade me not to tell, Bronwyn,” Robert said apologetically.

Bronwyn became rather frightened at this, and realized that no one had been home when she got there. She hadn’t seen a soul all night at the manor house and hadn’t even noticed it. Her heart began to really race now, and she didn’t know what part her mother played in this whole calamity.

“She has been taken, I know not where, or why, but he has her, and he has some plan or other for her.”

“Mother, who is ‘He’ ?”

“Blackthorne.” Her mother said it like bile spat out of her mouth. “His name is Blackthorne and he is not one of us, nor is he one of them, but a creature unto himself. He practices an art which is dark and unnatural and he uses it to gain whatever he wishes to gain and the devil take anyone who stands in his way. “

“But why would he want Rebecca, she doesn’t have any money, her inheritance is gone.”

“He must have other plans, he would know she has no money, would also know who her friends were, and who he might gain something off from.” Meriah walked back and forth, now, tapping her lower lip. It was an endearing habit she had when she was deep in thought, but just now, it grated on Bronwyn’s nerves to watch her.

“Mother,” Bron asked, “did you see this in your orb ?”

“That is another thing, daughter, my orb. You know the other half was lost before you were born, well, it wasn’t lost, it was stolen. He would have gotten both halves, but by then I was wise to him, and hid them in separate places. He only found the one, so only has half its power to work with, also. In that we are lucky.”

Bronwyn shook her head,” I just don’t understand, mother.”

“Child,” Meriah said, sitting down next to Bron, “I know it is difficult, I have hidden so much from you these years. I thought it best, to let you make your own life, not be led by what you thought you ought to be.”

Bronwyn was scowling at her mother, now, trying to make sense of what she was hearing.

“You, my child, are not wholly of us, either.” Meriah sat back to see what reaction this would bring. Bronwyn did not say a word, but the scowl left her face and she thought a moment before answering.

“I knew that, somehow, but not the why or how of it.”

Meriah knew then, that she could tell her daughter what she must without totally destroying her.
“You, my dear daughter, were conceived at Beltane, but not by any human father. Your father was Elven, and before you think badly of me, know that I loved him with all my heart. “ Bronwyn sat still for the first time tonight, listening with all her mind and all of her senses to be finally hearing who she was.

“I knew your father before that night, I had known him since I was a small child, and had grown to love his tales and his merriment whenever he came to visit. Elven folk do not age as we do, and he was seeming no more older or younger when I met him first as when I came to love him as a woman.“ Meriah paused in remembering, then smiled, “You have his eyes, you know. All the Elven folk have eyes of forest green, and souls which run so close to the wood and the earth that it pains them to be separated from it.

That is why I never told you to go with Rebecca to be in the village. I did not wish to force you into something which would tear apart your very soul. If you had that strong a bond to the forest, you could have stayed here forever, and I never would have chastised you for it.”

“Why did you tell me of it at all, Mother, why did you give me the chance to leave?”

“Because, dear child, without free will we are no more than those who are slaves to the church. I would never keep you here by force or by fear, or even by love, because love is what allowed me to tell you of a fate which would take you from me.”

“But, mother, I have been there for years, and no matter how I ponder it, I can see no fate which I could possibly fulfill there, except to be Rebecca’s friend and sister.”

“Sometimes that is enough, Bronwyn. However, in this case, I think that your fate is this moment, this terrible night and without you, then not only Rebecca, but all of us will be lost.”

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 4 -

Rebecca was tired from walking so far so quickly. Her companion, even though he said he was taking her to safety, seemed to be walking quite an irregular route to get there. She was beginning to think he hadn’t any more clue as to how to leave this forest than she did.

He had come upon her in the middle of the night, and while she hadn’t been sleeping soundly, she still was startled by his sudden appearance so close to her. Looking at his back as he led her through his maze of winding pathways, she thought about whom he might be. She had never seen him at all in the village, for she knew everyone there, even the peasants, for Bronwyn often took her shopping and she had met and gotten friendly with nearly all of them. This man she surely would have remembered seeing. He was tall, with a gray look to his skin, and deep set eyes, so deep it was difficult to see them at all, much less know what color they could be. His hair was long and greasy looking, tied back with a leather thong. He was thin as a rail and looked as if he could no more overpower a mouse than a frightened girl, but he had a presence about him that did make her wary of him, and just a little afraid.

“Are you sure this is the way back to the village ?” she asked him for the tenth time or so.

“Surely, my lady,” he replied blithely, “we shall be at our destination shortly.”

Rebecca was not sure they held the same destination in their minds, for she was sure she had not traveled this far on her journey into the clearing. He was dripping with courtesy, yet she had the feeling that he held nothing but disdain for her. She was so thoroughly lost by now, though, that she was at his mercy, and had no other choice but to follow him.

They were climbing a high hill, now, and the trees seemed to be thinning out a bit. She hoped that from the top she might get a glimpse of the countryside and see a direction to take to find her own way back to the village. However, once they reached the summit, all she saw was forest as far as the eye could see. They were standing in the shadow of a large, dark castle keep, and the chill was so heavy that she shivered, not entirely with cold, but with premonition.

“Sir,” she began, “I see no sign of the village, I think you have taken a wrong turning.”

He turned to her and smiled, “Oh, no, my lady,” he said with sarcasm, “ I never make a wrong turning. I pride myself on taking just the right steps in the just the right order to get to my destination.”

She made a move as if to run, then, frightened by his manner, but he grabbed her arm with such speed and strength that she could do nothing but scream from pain and fear. She was amazed that he had so much strength for such a wiry fellow.

“Your friends are nowhere near you to hear you scream,” he said, “ they will come, when I choose the let them come, and then I shall have what I want from them and from you. Until then, you will be my guest, and shall want for nothing, except perhaps your freedom.” He laughed then such a terrible laugh that it made Rebecca’s knees go weak, and she collapsed at his feet, while he stood there with his head raised to the sky laughing at his own dreadful joke.



The search party had found no trace of Rebecca. They had beaten the small brush and trees at the edge of the clearing to a flat matting while searching for some way she could have gotten out without going back along her trail.

The searchers were all tired and many of the villagers, while sympathizing with the plight of the lady, wished only to go home and forget about her and her problem. They had other things to think of, with spring here, they had planting, plowing and lambing and such to keep their minds on their own survival. One by one they wandered away, while supposedly out looking for her, to go back to their own fields and the sunshine of the meadows and their work. Soon all that were left were a few who knew her better, from her shopping excursions, or those who feared reprisal from the king, and those who were under the king’s employ.

Edward and Stephan had not slept in so long that they were nearly falling off their horses. Indeed, the forest grew so thick in places that their horses could not follow them. When they came upon a place such as that, they would tie the horses to a tree, because the horses were inclined to go home, also, and went in on foot.
They came out of one such thicket and into a clearing, and stopped dead at the sight before them.

Not twenty paces away stood a small boy staring at them and looking quite frightened by their sudden appearance. He was picking up fallen branches to take home to feed his family’s hearthfire, and had not expected two such strange looking fellows coming so far into the wood.

He made to run but Edward yelled “Stop” and the boy stood transfixed by the commanding sound of his voice. “He looks like a frightened deer,” Stephan whispered to Edward, “better make no quick moves, or surely he will be gone in an instant.”

“Boy,” Edward began, “have you seen a woman come through here ?”

The boy just stood, not speaking, with large eyes, too large nearly for the face that held them, it seemed.
“We mean you no harm, boy,” Stephan crouched down so as to be more on a level with the small child, “we are merely searching for our friend,” he said to him.

The boy seemed to relax slightly and looked to be thinking. Still saying nothing, he motioned for them to come with him, and took off into the wood. They followed him, amazed that he was on a deer track that they, in their fatigue, had not noticed at all. It wound through the thickets and skirted all the worst bramble patches. They came to another clearing, after a while, and were surprised to see before them a cottage, with smoke coming out of the chimney, and chickens in the yard.

“Who would live this far in the wood but a madman, or an outlaw?” Edward asked Stephan, under his breath.

“As long as they have water and food, I don’t care who it is, I am starving,” Stephan answered back.

The boy ran right up to the open doorway and knocked on the frame, then stood waiting for a reply. An elderly woman came out, wiping her hands on her apron, and then looking hard at the visitors in her cottage yard.
She then looked at the boy and said, “Colin, what have you brought to me this morning ? A pair of peacocks who have torn their tail feathers, from the looks of it.” Colin made motions with his hands, like fluttering birds. The woman seemed to understand him and smiled, touching him on the shoulder, still looking directly into his face, though.

“Go on into the kitchen, then, dear,” the woman said, “ Maggie will give you some corncake for your troubles.” Colin smiled, transforming his face into one of angelic beauty, then hurried inside, leaving Edward and Stephan perplexed and staring over this strange discourse between the two of them.

“Well,” said Meriah, “it’s about time you two made your way here. I thought I may have to send someone out looking for you.” The woman seemed to know why they were here, and had even been expecting them. This trip into the forest was getting stranger and more confusing to them by the minute.

“Woman,” Edward began, but Meriah cut him off with an angry look.

“My name is not ‘woman’,” she said, “you may call me Meriah, or Forestwife, or Ma’am, but please keep your disdainful epitaphs for those who are not saving your hides. If you want my help, you will learn some courtesy.” Meriah then turned her back on them and walked into the cottage without a backward glance.

Edward and Stephan just stood their staring at the doorway, not sure if they were expected to follow or not. Hunger overcame any confusion, as the smell of warm bread and stew wafted out of the doorway and into the yard, and Stephan took a step towards the door, Edward following closely behind. He stopped, though, at the entrance, and knocked on the frame as the boy had done, afraid of angering the woman, ( ‘Meriah,’ he corrected himself,) any further.

Meriah came to the door and stood looking at them, as if she were expecting some ritual words to allow their entrance, but they were ignorant of the ways of the forest folk, and so stood their perplexed.

“Um, Ma’am,” Stephan said then, “may we enter?” He felt as if he were a little boy, again, and the feeling did not make him too comfortable.

“You are welcome here, sirs,” Meriah replied, and stepped back to allow them to come into her home.

She had them sit at the table, where Colin was happily munching corncake and drinking tea from a wooden cup. He seemed rather engrossed in his meal, and paid no notice to their arrival. Stephan stared at him with a furrowed brow.

“It is not polite to stare,” Meriah said, placing a cup of tea in front of him. “Colin hears very little, and speaks nothing at all, but he is still worthy of your manners.”

Stephan quickly looked at the table, instead of the boy, and said “Ma’am, we are searching for our friend, a lady, she has gotten lost in the wood, and were wondering if she had passed this way.”

Meriah looked at him for a moment before asking, “Would you like some stew? You both look rather hungry and worn out.”

“Yes, I mean, Ma’am, Forestwife, whatever it is you are called, we really do need to find her, she has been gone all night, and is not the type of lady to…” Edward trailed off.

“Not the type of lady to be taking care of herself in such savage conditions ?” Meriah finished his thought for him, placing two plates of stew before he and Stephan.

“Exactly,” said Stephan, tasting the stew, then he took another bite, then another, and nearly forgot to ask more questions of her until he had cleaned his plate and sat back.

When he had finished, he looked up to see Meriah and Maggie, and indeed, even little Colin staring at he and Edward and smiling with some secret joke.

He felt ashamed of his manners, and began to apologize, “Forgive me, Ma’am, I…”

“You were hungry, and tired, and needed to forget yourselves a moment, don’t apologize,” Maggie took the plates from before them and Colin followed her out the door. Now all that was left in the cottage were Edward, Stephan and this strange woman who seemed to read their thoughts and seemed also to know exactly why they were there.

And for no reason at all, they both felt a sort of comfort come upon them, as if things may just be alright after all.

Meriah refilled their tea cups and sat with them at the table with her own cup before her.
“My daughter has gone to get some things she may need for the journey, when she returns, we will discuss our problem and just how best to deal with it.”

“I don’t understand, ‘Our Problem?” I thought it was Stephan’s and My problem, who is your daughter, and for that matter, who are you that it would be your problem ?”

Meriah looked at Edward with a bit of consternation, “I will forgive your rudeness, since you are under some distress, and are not exactly familiar with the ways of my folk.”

“Rudeness?” Edward asked, “Forgive me, lady, but if I am rude, then so are you. I detest secrets and hidden meanings, and all of your speech seems to be littered with them.”

Meriah laughed then, and slapped Edward on the shoulder, “You are a blunt one, I like that.”



Bronwyn was hurrying back to her mother’s cottage with her things, when she ran into Adam out wandering the woods.

“Adam,” she said, out of breath, “I’m glad I’ve met up with you.”

“Why is that ?” he asked.

“I was planning to ask for your help. I have to go searching for Rebecca, and I wanted you to come along.”

“Why would I bother with her ? If she is silly minded enough to get herself lost, then she deserves to spend a few nights in discomfort.” He answered her with a bit of a sneer.

“Adam, she is not lost, but taken by a very evil man, and I need to save her. I really could use your help.”

“Taken ? Ahhh,” Adam said sarcastically, “ The trials and travails of the rich and famous.”

“Fine,” Bron snorted back at him, “If you are just going to make fun, then I don’t want your help. You’d probably just muck things up anyway.” She stomped off towards Meriah’s cottage once again.

“Oh, by the Gods, Bron, I was kidding, I’ll help you.” Adam followed her quickened pace through the woods, trotting to keep up with her. “You sure are sensitive lately,” Adam pouted.

“She is my friend, Adam, as you are. I would search as diligently for you if you were in trouble.”

“She is Aristocracy !” Adam said it as if the very word were a fly on his food, “I’ll bet she wouldn’t put herself out this much for you.”

“She would, Adam, she is different.” They had reached Meriah’s cottage and were just going in the door when Bron noticed that her mother was not alone. She also noticed that Adam had not followed her this far, but stood back from the door so as not to be seen. He looked rather uncomfortable, and Bron hoped he would not leave altogether, now that she saw who was sitting with her mother.

“Bronwyn !” Stephan recognized her, although Edward still looked a bit perplexed as to whom she might be. Then he remembered Rebecca’s serving girl, and sat wondering why she would be here, although, this whole encounter being so strange, he was not totally surprised.

Then it dawned on Edward that Bron must be the daughter that this strange woman spoke of, and he grew suspicious. “What are you doing mixed up in this ?” he asked.

“Rebecca is my friend, what do you think I am doing mixed up in this, “ she answered back tartly. Her nerves were on edge enough without having to deal with Edward’s snide remarks. Besides, she knew that if he so much as became slightly obnoxious, Adam would thrash him, then leave for parts unknown, and she would be without either of them for help.

“Adam get in here now !” she shouted out the door.

“Sod that,” came the reply, “I wouldn’t want to be at the same hearth with such as those.”

Bronwyn growled in exasperation and walked out the door to grab Adam by his ear and drag him into the cottage.
“I have had it !” she yelled, “I need your help and you are just going to have to put up with some things you don’t like.” She turned on Edward, “And as for you,” she pointed in his face, ”you will learn some respect, sir, or bloody well find your own way out of the wood, and I will find Rebecca without you.”

Edward sat with his mouth hanging open. Obviously this one was as brash and outspoken as her mother, if not more so. He wondered what the state of the peasantry must be like in this part of his father’s kingdom.
Stephan seemed slightly amused by the whole discourse. He had had more contact with Bron, and had suspected long ago that she was not the shy, quiet girl she had made out to be. Adam was still trying to protest, but Bron turned a stare on him so harsh that he merely closed his mouth in mid-sentence and didn’t speak again for a long time.

“Now,” she said, “This is the way it will be.” She then proceeded to give them her plan which she had formulated while walking back to Sir Hector’s to gather her necessities.



They had decided to begin the next morning, so that Edward and Stephan could start out refreshed from a good night’s sleep. Also, they had to find clothing for them, since their own would only get them stared at, and would garner no help at all from the forest folk. Adam and Colin had gone to Maggie’s house, first, to get clothing for Edward, since he was rather larger than Adam or Stephan, and they asked her father for a set of old clothes. Adam happened to have an extra set of clothing which would fit Stephan, if not well, it would at least cover him sufficiently. He hated to have an aristocrat wear his clothing, and vowed to go without clothing before wearing them himself, ever again.

Adam’s hatred of the aristocracy stemmed from his being considered outlaw, and living in fear for his life whenever he went near the village. He hated being afraid of anything, or anyone, so his anger turned to disdain and ridicule for anything slightly aristocratic. He had been just another peasant, another forestman, until the king sent his guard one day, looking for new recruits for his many wars. Adam did not believe in the king’s wars, so would not fight. They shamed him by beating him, then left him for dead. It was due to the Forestwife’s good service that he was alive at all. He felt beholden to her and would protect Bron’s life with his own. It was also no small part of his vow to protect her that he was more than a little taken with Bron.

The next morning Adam arrived at the Forestwife’s cottage just as the sun was rising above the trees. Bron and Stephan were standing outside talking and re-checking their supplies to make sure they had all they would need.
“Good morning, Adam,” Stephan said pleasantly. Adam merely looked the other way and walked into the cottage. Stephan looked to Bron for some answer to this reaction, but she just shook her head and went back to checking supplies.

Adam walked in and went to the hearth to check Meriah’s supply of firewood. “Are you sure you do not need anything before we go ?” he asked her.

“No,” she replied, “I will be fine, it is you young folk I am worried for.” Meriah was not one much for affectionate gestures, but she looked as if she needed comforting, just now, so Adam turned to her and held her. She did not push him away immediately, but held onto him for a moment.

Then she pushed him back and wiped at her eyes and said, “Get on with you, now, you’ll be wasting the day flirting with an old woman.” Adam let her be and walked on out into the sunshine.

Once Edward and Stephan had changed clothing, they set off, with a last hug for Bron from Meriah, and words of warning to watch their trail. Meriah and Maggie watched them go, Meriah still wiping at her eyes now and then. To hide her emotions she sent Maggie off to search for more eggs which might have been missed in the henhouse.

Meriah went back into the cottage and stood staring at the room which seemed so much larger than it had. It seemed so empty after the bustle of so many young folk, and she sat at the table to drink her tea, which had gone cold. She grimaced at the terrible taste and drank no more, but sat there holding the cup until nigh on to midday meal, when Maggie finally felt it safe to venture back into the cottage.



Rebecca had been fed, and had been locked in a room with few furnishings. There was a bed against one wall, and a chair by a large window, which looked out over the forest. The window was all she had for light, since he had left her no candle, and she sat by it now, searching the forest for some sign of rescue coming to her. She had not lost hope, but she knew that in this desolate part of the forest, rescue would be much slower in arriving.
She had seen nothing of her strange host since he had shut her in this room. “Just as well,” she said to herself. She knew she would be powerless against any attack he might offer, so she was glad to be left alone. As she stared into the night she replayed the last couple of days in her mind. She cursed herself for her foolishness, and regretted playing the ‘poor abandoned lady’ and getting herself into this mess.

“It isn’t like me to be so ignorant,” she said to herself. She looked closer at the dark, then, thinking she saw the shadows move. “Just wishful thinking, more like,” she said. Finally, tired from her long ordeal, she went to the bed and lay upon it and was soon fast asleep.

The shadows in the wood did indeed move. Two figures stood watching the Keep, silent as owls, glamouring themselves to be seen as trees or bushes. When they knew that the lady would not return to the window, they slipped off down the hill into darker shadows. The two Elven men made quick time getting back to the lighter part of the forest.

Blackthorne had felt them watching, and had felt them go. He smiled to himself, knowing that they would lead the four travelers straight to his castle.

He sat by his hearth, but the ashes were cold, no fire burned. Instead, an unholy light seem to shine from his deep-set, black and soulless eyes. He smiled to himself picturing how his plan would work itself out.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 5 -

The rescue party had been traveling all morning, and were deep into the forest, now. Adam had been sullen since leaving Meriah’s cottage, his mood not brightening with the day at all. Stephan, however, seemed to be quite cheerful, considering their quest was a dark one, with danger to not only themselves, but to Rebecca. Edward merely seemed to be deep in thought, not talking much to anyone, not even Stephan. Bronwyn, though, seemed to be wandering a bit, in thought, and Adam gazed at her, wondering what it was that kept her mind elsewhere.

The truth was, Bron’s mind was elsewhere, trying to remember all her mother had told her the night before. She and Meriah had sat up most of the night, while Edward and Stephan slept. They discussed Blackthorne, and all of his dirty tricks which he might pull on them. Surprisingly, or maybe not too surprising after all, Meriah told Bron all she could about magick. She had spoken with her usual businesslike manner, expecting Bronwyn to take it all in and remember it perfectly. She explained how power is not a thing to be played with, and tried to explain the difference between the magick that Is, and the magick people Do. Meriah talked of how everything has a Name, and to know that Name is to have power over it, or to break it’s power over you.

Bronwyn understood, now, that everything is gray, there is no black and white. All the talk of Black Magick that the priests gave lectures on at Church were nothing but horse cookies. Blackthorne used his magick to an evil purpose, and Meriah, so she told her daughter, used hers for an honorable purpose. Even so, there was no “all light” or “all dark”, only shades of gray. She could not figure out, though, how anything to do with Blackthorne could be considered anything but black and menacing. She hadn’t a clue what they were going up against, nor whether they would receive any help at all, but she imagined that it would not be a fun journey.

Meriah had explained to her that there was no way to teach her all she needed to know in one night, and that she regretted not teaching her more in the past. She had been afraid to push anything on her daughter, and so, through good intentions, she had been keeping the information to herself on that matter. Bron had never really known, only suspected, that there was more to Meriah’s cures than good medicine. It almost seemed the most normal thing, however, to sit and hear her mother speak of magick and energy manipulation.

Bronwyn had hoped that by being half Elven blood, that she might have some genetic memory or inborn magick, but Meriah killed that idea right off. She said that all people are born with ability, some more than others, but whether it is used and developed determined how well someone did at any given task. It was true that Elven folk did seem to have more ability than others, but then, they were also raised from birth with the idea that magick was as natural as breathing, so it came easier to them. Bronwyn’s only bonus was that she was raised to be a child of the Forest, and so she knew intimately the magick that Is, even if she hadn’t a clue how to make the magick that people Do.

“If nothing else,” she thought to herself, “I know enough about herbs that if I could get close enough I could poison the buggar.” She smiled at that thought, picturing herself sneaking up to him with a potion like some old hag in a fairy tale.

She adjusted the pack on her back, which was rather heavy. It contained her harp, which she hadn’t played in a long time. She had stopped playing it because it was a magickal harp, and her emotions would play out of it into whomever might be listening, making them feel as she did. Lately she had been so homesick that she dared not play it at all, for fear of poor Rebecca falling into such a depression that she would never recover. She brought it along, though, because she figured any extra magick she might possess would be helpful, even if it were not her magick, but that which was put into the item by other hands.

The harp was a lovely thing, small, but not too small, and delicately carved with birds and flowers twining around it. It had a rich bell-like sound to it, not too tinny or too deep, but just perfect. Her mother had had the harp for years, before Bron had been born, she said. Bron had known that it had belonged to her father, but had not known why it held magick. He had put the magick there, when it was his own. When he was killed, Meriah held onto it for her daughter, in case she ever had the talent to play it.

Bron wished that her father were with her now, to help her on this quest. She wished she had had the chance to know him before he died, she wished so many things, and none of them could be made real, right now, so she tried to stop wishing.

She stopped in the path and looked around for a place to eat midday meal. The men all complained that they were not hungry and ought to keep at their pace, but she protested.

“It will do us no good to be worn from walking and hunger, if we should come across any trouble,” she told them. “I am not overly hungry, either, but we need to be practical.“

So they stopped to eat and refresh themselves by a stream which was a little way off the path. Adam sat far removed from the rest of the group, and Stephan, noticing his behavior, finally asked Bronwyn about it.

“Why does he seem so…reticent ?” he asked.

“Reticent,” Bronwyn laughed, “that is kind phrasing for it.”

“Well,” Stephan smiled, “I didn’t wish to seem too bothered by it,” he laughed, also.

“It is not something I feel I ought to speak too freely of, it is Adam’s business to tell of it, if he ever chooses to. Rest assured, it is nothing you personally did, though, Stephan.”

“That’s good,” Stephan said leaning closer and whispering to her, “I was afraid I had broken some forest code or something, and was due to be banished any time now.” He smiled more broadly and winked in a conspiratorial manner.

Bronwyn smiled back. She had always liked Stephan, for he was usually cheerful and witty. He had never treated her like the hired help, either, which put him a notch higher in her book. Edward, on the other hand, she could do with or without. He rarely came to Sir Hector’s home, most usually opting for a written note sent to summon Rebecca to his own home, or this ball, or that party. Bronwyn secretly thought he was a bit pompous, but she also figured it was due to his birth and circumstances. Rebecca and Stephan certainly thought highly of him, though, so he must have some redeeming qualities she just hadn’t seen.

“Are we quite ready to go yet ?” Edward was rising and brushing the dirt off his tattered clothing. Adam merely glared at Edward and got up himself, walking off without so much as asking anyone’s leave. They all followed Adam off into the forest, going ever deeper into the wood and ever closer to Blackthorne’s Keep.



Rebecca, for her part, was holding up rather well. She was frightened nearly out of her wits, but refused to allow that to show, and refused to give up hope of being found and rescued. She knew not whether anyone even knew that she had been taken, and not merely lost herself, but she figured that by now someone must suspect it.
She spent her days looking forlornly out of her one window, watching the forest as if a lifeline were coming out of it towards her, to pull her back home. “Too many days,” she said to herself.

It had been three days since she had arrived at this Keep, and she was beginning to lose her strongly held hope. Her days were all the same, rising and eating what had been left in her room ( she never saw it arrive or saw who left it ) and sitting and looking out the window. Then toward evening another meal would arrive, and she would eat and sit some more, then fall into bed exhausted from watching and straining to see some movement out in the forest. Her head ached, and her back was starting to feel the ill used contents of that old mattress, and she just wanted to go home, or wake up and find it was all a dream.

She heaved a sigh, and went back to looking at the forest, still waiting for a lifeline to pull her home.



The rescue party had gone quite a way into the forest that first day, and the next day they had gone as far as Adam knew the wood. He had traveled it more than anyone, but even he had not been past the point where they stopped for that second night’s camp. They had eaten and were settled down to their small fire when they heard a rustling in the bushes.

“Who goes there ?” Edward leaped to his feet. Adam and Bronwyn, being more accustomed to the sounds of the forest, stayed put, expecting it to be some animal or something, drawn by the smell of food. Stephan was only slightly less anxious at each sound than Edward was, but he stayed his ground, and didn’t leap up.

“It is probably some small creature, come to find out what has invaded its home.” Bronwyn said.

“Its home,” Edward said, disgustedly, “ it is welcome to its home. Why is this damnable journey taking so long ?”

“Well, if we knew where your lady was, she wouldn’t be lost, now would she ?” Adam asked sarcastically.

Edward put his hands on his hips, “I have had enough of your sullen manner, just what is your problem ?” he asked back.

“My problem ? Ha ! My problem is you, Your Highness,” Adam bowed low before Edward with a sweeping motion of his hand, as if he held a hat in it.

“And what have I ever done to you ?”

“You exist, that is enough,” Adam said, and he went to sit back down. Edward would not be put off so easily, though, and he walked over to stand over Adam.

“I exist, therefore I am worthy of your contempt ?”

“Yes, you have it about right,” Adam said, nodding.

“That is the most ignorant thing I have ever heard,” Edward said, walking away to sit back in his place. He never made it to sitting, though, because Adam leapt to his feet and jumped on his back, taking him down and pummeling him with his fists. Edward was no soft belly, though, so he gave back what he was given, and the fight rolled all over, into the fire, out of it again, and all around, ‘til they landed at Bronwyn’s feet. She got up and kicked at them with all her might, finally breaking them apart.

“You’re both ignorant,” she yelled at them. “Why don’t you just shout out our position, in case Blackthorne has spies running around. Let them know that we cannot even cooperate long enough to sleep in the same company two nights in a row, much less join forces to fight him.”

“He called me ignorant,” Adam growled.

“He was right, Adam. Why don’t you just tell them why you hate them so much and have it over with ? I am sick to death of your sullen manner, and of his,” she pointed at Edward, “whining and complaining ‘why we aren’t there yet’. You both sound like two year old babes !” she finished with a flip of her head and stormed off into the wood a way to cool off out of their sight.

After she left, the three men sat looking at each other, Edward and Adam both covered in ashes and dirt, and Stephan still sitting, back against the tree, looking slightly amused.

“I like that girl,” Stephan said, “has a good head on her shoulders.” He was laughing at them now.

“Oh, shut up!” they both said in unison.


Bronwyn walked until she could no longer hear their voices. She was so tired, and so frightened, and she felt as if she were running this whole rescue mission by herself. “I feel like I’m their darn wet-nurse or something,” She fumed to herself. She walked until she came to an old tree, a huge tree, a tree which looked as if it were older than anything she had ever seen in her whole life. Tall and twisted, its trunk was larger than her arms could go around twice. She bent her head back to look up to see how tall it might be. She immediately stepped back and fell onto her bottom and nearly screamed, for up in that tree, legs hanging down, swinging, like some child on a summer’s day, was a man.

She had lost her breath, from fright, and so could not scream if she wanted to, and she did want to, very badly. She cursed herself for walking so far out of the camp.

Before she knew it, the man was down beside her, putting a hand out to her, trying to help her up, but she just kept drawing back from him.

“I won’t eat you,” he said pleasantly, “I’ve been waiting for you.”

“Waiting for me why ?” Bron found her voice, finally.

“You’re looking for a lady,” he said.

“Yes,” she said slowly, trying to figure out if this was one of Blackthorne’s men, or some other.

“I’ve seen her,” he said matter of factly.

Bronwyn knew not whether he was on her side or not, but anything she could gain from him, she would.

“Where is she, then ?” she asked. “Is she well ?”

“She has not been harmed,” he said, “But is not a happy lady, no, she is not that.”

“Who are you ?” Bronwyn asked.

“I thought you’d never ask,” the man smiled, “I cannot tell you .”

Bronwyn was getting rather irritated with the man, and so she said without much courtesy, “And why can’t you tell me, if you were waiting for me to ask ?”

“Well, it is good manners to ask, and I expected it of you.”

“It is also good manners to tell me your name,” she began.

“Oh, no,” the man cut her off, “It is foolish to tell you my name, but you may call me Jack. I like the name Jack,” he said.

“Are you trying to confuse me ?” she asked him.

“No, would you like me to ?” he asked her pleasantly. “I can, if you wish, but I’d rather help you.”

“Why would you help me ?”

“Because you are Weland’s daughter,” the man smiled and leaped back up to sit on one of the lower branches.
Bronwyn was truly shocked, now, for he had spoken the name of her father, and no one, that she knew of, had known his name. That was Meriah’s secret.

“How do you know that ?” she asked him.

“Why, who doesn’t know Weland ? A fine one, yes he was, a very fine one.”

He leaped back down to the ground, and got very close to her face, so as to whisper in her ear, even though no one was around to hear him speak. “Weland,“ he looked around and over his shoulder, “is my third cousin.”
Bronwyn sat with her mouth open and merely stared at this strange man. “You speak as if he were alive. He is dead and gone, is he not ?”

“He is not in this world, my dear, but he is not gone. Nothing is ever truly gone, didn’t you know that ?”

“No, I didn’t know that,” she answered. She felt like a child in this man’s presence, and she was not happy with the feeling. “I mean, I know that we are reborn, is that what you mean ?”

“No, I mean we never leave, are not ‘gone’ as you term it. “

“But that is silly,” Bron said, “All things die, it is part of nature, part of the cycle, “

The man looked at her and smiled, “Yes, Nature has her laws, and we must follow them.” He finished with a larger smile, as if now that he explained it she would understand perfectly. Seeing that she didn’t understand, he turned serious and said finally, “No one is truly gone, as long as someone loves them and remembers them. They are a part of you, and me and all of us that they touch, and so they cannot truly die and be gone. The only way to make someone be ‘gone’ is to forget them.”

“But, that doesn’t help me,” Bronwyn said, “I need someone tangible who I can talk to and who can assist me.”

“Perhaps you’re just not listening properly, ” Jack said, looking at her like she was a slow witted child.

“I think that if my father were speaking to me, I’d notice it,” she said sarcastically.

“You would think,” he answered back, just as sarcastically. Bronwyn was still sitting where she had fallen, and Jack stood by her holding his hand out once more to help her to her feet.

“Alright,” she said, “assuming that my father can talk to me, how do I listen ?”

“That is the best question you have asked me so far, “ he said with a smile again turning up the corners of his mouth.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 6 -

The rescue party still could not believe how close they had been to the little village of the Elven folk without knowing it. It was not so much a village as a grouping of houses, smallish houses, at that. Since Elven folk spent most of their time outside, or working on this or that, they had not much use for a large home, so had little more than huts to call a house. Many of the huts were indistinguishable from the surrounding trees or rockhills, since most had vines or moss covering them for safety’s sake.

They had followed Jack here after he and Bron had gone back to camp to retrieve the men and bring them to a warm bed for the night. Along the way he told them a few things to make their stay in Wudheim (for that is what the village was called ) more hospitable. The Elven folk had different customs than humans, and so he felt they ought to have a lesson or two before offending his kin and causing upheaval in the village.

They had been greeted by the tribal elders, and led to a large structure which seemed to be a meeting hall. It was, indeed, the largest structure in the entire village. It had a long central fire pit and rows of benches, situated so that those of higher rank sat closer to the fire and center, and those of lower rank sat increasingly less close. The walls were hung with drinking horns and cups, and also with drying herbs which made the whole meeting house smell amazingly like Meriah’s cottage, and made Bron a bit homesick again. She was not so much homesick for the cottage since she was in the forest, and the forest, more than the house, seemed like home. She was homesick for her mother, and for the first time Bron was a bit unnerved by this. “I’m going to have to stop running back to Mama someday,” she told herself.

They were given drink and food, and bade to sit near the fire, each alternating their seating with an elder. Jack leaned over and whispered to Bron that it was high honor to be taken in so warmly, as his kin did not trust human folk much, of late. If Adam felt nervous, never having met much with Elven folk, then Edward and Stephan looked positively fearful. Bron, however, seemed to take it all in stride, as if she belonged here, and as if the folk’s customs were second nature to her. They had, all four of them, not had a chance to talk alone since Jack came to their camp, so she hadn’t any idea how the other three actually felt, or what they thought. The customs of the Elven folk seemed to be common sense, though, so she didn’t fear that any of them would make any major blunders in manners.

Even though they had eaten their meal back at camp, they gratefully accepted the fare offered by the folk of the village. Indeed, Edward seemed not to have been half filled by their small meal earlier, and did a great service to the cooking of the Elven women. Jack had warned them not to compliment the folk on anything, though, so he made sure not to comment on how fine it tasted. The folk believed that to compliment brought the envy of lesser beings, and might cause the talented one to be taken off to be of service to those who would use them for such purposes.

They had seen no children at all in the camp, and Bron mentioned this to Jack, in a whisper. He looked at her nervously and didn’t answer, except to motion for her not to comment on it again. Bron made a mental note to herself to find out why they were absent, if they stayed long enough for her to find out anything at all.

After their meal they were sent to sleep in warm beds, the men into two of the huts, and Bron was made welcome in another hut. ‘ Seen from the inside,’ she thought, ‘these huts are not as smallish as first impressions give.’ The huts were dug out of the ground, as well as being above ground, and round, with a central pole holding up all of the roof. In the center of each hut was a fire pit, and the smoke tendrils rose up around the central pole like a vine trailing out to the stars. There were beds dug out of the dirt walls, up until they became thatch or wood. On each sleeping space was a blanket and a layer of sweet herbs, for pleasant dreams. In the rafters of each hut were hung baskets and herbs, and just about every item each family owned. It made sense to Bron to keep it all hung, and leaving as much foot room as possible. She could see, then, how a larger family could inhabit one of the amazingly small looking huts with ease and comfort. What with the main cooking and eating done in the large central hall, they had all the room they needed, without making a large impact on the surrounding forest. Bron decided she liked the Elven village tremendously, and vowed to herself to come visit Jack often, once she was done with this quest. “If I survive this quest,” she amended to herself, as she drifted off to sleep.

Adam and Stephan were sent to sleep in the same hut, Edward being given his own hut, as he was a Prince among his people, and the Elven folk thought it right for him to have his own space. Each hut, though, had a young woman to tend the fire, so that it did not go out in the night. These young women sat near the doors, and did not say a word to the strangers they were set to watch over.


In the morning they all woke refreshed and feeling better than any of them had in ages. They were once again brought to the large hall and fed an enormous breakfast of fruits and delicate game birds. There was coddled cream and warm, yeasty smelling breads, and sweet nuts. The feasted on small boiled eggs, probably from those same game birds, and wild parsnips. Jack explained that the Elven folk always started the day with a feast, so that it might make their whole day after seem like a festival. Stephan smiled, and commented that it was the best idea he had heard in a long while. The folk seemed pleased with their visitors and after breakfast they gave them the grand tour of the village.

Adam learned that the families inhabiting the huts were grouped much like they sat in the long hall. The center of the village was home to the higher up in status, and the surrounding huts radiated out in a spiral, so that to get to the Chieftain, one had to make a long trip, and he would most likely be safe by the time anyone got to him. At the very center, though, was the long hall, and in that sacred place, everyone could feel safe and a part of something greater than themselves.

Bronwyn spent the morning learning of strange and new herbs from the village women. Some of the plants she knew at home, and merely never knew they were good for healing, but some were totally alien to her. There were many strange things in this part of the forest, almost as if it were a separate world, and not the one which she and Meriah inhabited at all.

She came back to the village with her basket of herb bundles to hear Edward complaining that they needed to get going to find Rebecca. Bron had nearly forgotten her friend in her new experiences, and felt a little guilty for wanting to stay in the village, rather than continue on. Jack was standing staring down Edward with an amused look on his face.

“And how do you propose to get to your lady without any magicks in you ?” he was asking Edward.

“I need no magick, I can fight any man, or anything I need to,” Edward was answering hotly.

Jack merely laughed, and indeed, many of the folk listening were hiding their mouths in their hands to be polite and not laugh outright at their guest.

“Then, my friend, you will soon see the end of yourself,” Jack said and turned to walk away.

Bron rushed in to lay a hand on Edward’s arm, to stop him from saying anything else that might anger their hosts.

“Edward,” she began, “perhaps we should stay a day or so and learn more of what our gracious hosts have to teach us, so that we may be better suited to win this battle,” she said giving him a meaningful glance, and a firm squeeze to his arm. Edward looked at her and decided that to argue his point further he would have to argue with Bron, also, and he didn’t see that accomplishing anything. He stormed away angrily to sulk.

Bron turned to Jack and took his arm, as she had Edward’s, only not so firmly. “Jack,” she said, “We have matters to discuss.”

Jack smiled and nodded, leading her away through the village spiral and out into the forest.

When they came to a private place, she turned once more to him and said, “You mentioned to me that I could speak with my father.”

“Yes,” said Jack, “I speak with him all the time.”

“How ?” was the one word she said, but she looked closely at Jack to see if he were laughing at her, the way he seemed to laugh at everything else in life.

“Sit, my dear cousin, and I will tell you.” Bron sat on a fallen tree and waited for Jack to begin.

“First,” said Jack, “you find that place within yourself that is your father. “

“I don’t understand,” began Bron.

“Yes, you do understand, be quiet and think, and feel…” Jacks voice trailed off as Bron went inside herself, as she so often had done in her healing practices.

She already knew about meditation, the “going within” to feel the illness, or find the broken bone. She had never considered it magick, before, as it was something she just did. Now she used the going within on herself, to find her father hiding inside of her. It was easier said than done, she thought, as she searched in vain to find some remnant of Weland within her. She knew better than to give up so easily, though. Often she would come upon a patient who had such a strong will, that it was nearly impossible to go within them, to find what ailed them. For these patients she often took nearly all night just to figure out what was wrong. It was like a labyrinth, she thought, but once you found the path, the way back in the next time was easier.

She traveled through her past, and saw and smelled and heard happenings long since gone, things she thought she had forgotten. Some made her smile, and some brought sadness and regret. She traveled back til she experienced the first time she ever found the harp, and touched its strings. She remembered how it had seemed a thing alive, as if it had its own heartbeat and its own personality. She stayed with this memory, touching it, feeling it again. She could feel the strings, warm, under her fingers, and she plucked a tune, without any musical knowledge, without any training or experience. The sound of the harp was rich and it hummed through her entire body, making her feel held close by a loved one. She wished to stay in this time and place forever, but all too soon, Jack touched her arm, and brought her to herself once again.

She was angry. She was sad, and fearful that she would never feel that again, and she cried at Jack, “Why did you do that ? Why did you take that away from me ?”

“You have not lost it, Bronwyn.” Jack said calmly and quietly. “It is that part of you which is your father, and you can never lose it. Try again, only this time, don’t think, just feel.”

Bron closed her eyes once more and tried to recapture the feel and emotion of that first touch of the harp. It came more easily this time, and she began to lose herself again, but Jack would not allow her to go so deep within herself this time. He spoke to her, keeping her mind partly in the Now.

“Now, listen to the tune, listen to the notes played,” and she did. She listened with all her heart and soul, and she heard her father’s voice for the first time in her life. It was telling her how much he loved her. How proud he was of his beautiful daughter, and how he wished she could hear him.

“I hear you, Father,” Bron’s voice broke with the flood of tears which stung her nose and from which she could neither escape, nor did she want to. She cried and cried til she was clean inside and felt such a great weight lifted off of her that she thought she might be floating on air.

Jack stood back without touching her again, letting her cry out her anguish of all the lost years, of missing her father for every moment she had wished him there. Knowing that it was her own self which had cut him off from her, through no fault of her own except through ignorance of that which was Him.

When she finished crying she opened her eyes and looked at Jack. She heaved a great sigh and said, “so, I can speak to him anytime ?”

“Of course, child, he is a part of you, and you are always yourself, aren’t you ?”

They sat in the clearing and talked of other magicks and other things which Bron should know to fight this battle. Nothing she learned that day, though, meant as much as the knowledge that she had her father within her. For the first time on this long journey, she felt she might actually be able to fight without running away. She might be able to win Rebecca back.



Adam and Stephan spent the morning helping the Elven folk in their work. Adam, even though he would not admit it aloud, admired Stephan throwing himself into the work, without complaint or balking. They had just finished clearing a windfall area, piled with debris from a recent severe storm. Stopping to drink from the bowl the Elven women brought, Stephan smiled and handed it to Adam, wiping his brow on his sleeve.

“Not a bad day’s work, eh ?” he asked.

“Not bad at all,” replied Adam, for the first time speaking to Stephan without sarcasm and irritation in his voice. Stephan walked off a way, taking the pleasant mood Adam was in as a sign, and not wanting to push his good graces too far. Adam drank his fill then handed the bowl back to the woman, with a nod and a smile, so she could take it back to the well.

Stephan had to admit that he was interested in the strange man. He was curious as to why he was so angry and why he felt the need to keep Edward and him at a distance. He knew better than to ask, though, and figured that if things went on as they seemed to be going, perhaps Adam would feel comfortable enough to tell him one day. Adam did not pursue the conversation and so Stephan let it drop.

Meanwhile, Edward had been sulking off by himself, trying to find a way to move his companions into the action he knew they must take. He stalked back into the village in time for evening meal and sat in brooding silence all during the dinner.

The feast was not as grand as the first night they spent there, but it was good food, and good company. Stephan chatted all night with the Elven folk who sat near him. Adam seemed very interested in their methods of living, and chatted with some of the elder folk on those matters. He was trying to find a way to help Meriah get the forest folk through the long winters in a more comfortable fashion, and therefore save more lives. The Elven folk seemed to have no problems surviving the harsh conditions of the cold forest in winter, so Adam figured they must have some secrets which would come in handy for his own kin and folk.

Once they had eaten their fill, Jack stood and spoke to the assembled kin.

“My kin and my friends,” he smiled at all in the hall. All heads turned to Jack as he stood before the assembled folk, and he waited ‘til the voices died down so as to be heard better by those who sat further away from the center of the hall.

“It is time for our guests to be going on their journey.” The room seemed to nod as one, all the folk seeming to have come to the same conclusion at once. Edward sat in stunned silence. He had imagined having an argument on his hands, yet now, it seemed he needed no voice at all to get them moving. Jack turned to Bron and held out a hand to her.

“My dear cousin here is ready to go on. She has learned from us, and we have learned from her and her friends.” Stephan sat straighter at this, wanting to ask what the Elven folk might have learned from them, but he kept his silence. “It has been a good day,” Jack sat down, and the assembled folk smiled and said that indeed it had been a good day, each nodding or speaking to his neighbor as if they were satisfied at a good trade or deal.

They each went off to their huts for a good night’s rest before beginning their journey once again. Bron settled into her bed, thinking perhaps she might go within to speak with her father, since she had privacy and time to, now. Instead, the dream which came to her was not of her father, but of Meriah.



Meriah lay in bed thinking of her daughter, not able to sleep. She had not dared to check her orb to see their progress, and knew that if anything bad had happened she would have had some feeling of it. Since she hadn’t, she figured she was better off not worrying about that which hadn’t happened yet. However, she just could not get her daughter out of her head, so she rose to put the kettle on to make some tea.

She made as little noise as possible, so as not to wake Maggie. Once she had her tea and sat at the table to drink it, she just could not resist any longer the feeling that she ought to speak with Bronwyn . She had not tried to speak across long distances in so very long, she did not know if she even had the skills to do it any longer, but she figured she could try.

She pulled out the chest which rested under her bed and drew out the cloth covered orb. It felt warm to her touch, and she felt the power stored within, as if it were a cat in a sack, wishing to be free. She unwrapped the orb and lay it on the cloth on her table. The orb seemed to glow with a life of its own. It was a dull throb, though, now, not as anxious feeling as it had while inside the cloth. It was as if it knew that she was about to use it, so had calmed a bit with that knowledge.

Meriah lay her hands on either side of the orb and closed her eyes. She pushed all thoughts of worry or mundane matters out of her mind and merely sat thinking of Bron and tried to picture her face before her. She opened her eyes and gazed into the orb, watching for any picture or any sign it might be working. What she saw when she looked deeply into the orb was Bron laying in a darkened hut, and talking to herself in her sleep.

Meriah was pleased. She knew that it would be easier to contact Bronwyn if her mind was not too active, and being asleep, Meriah may even get the chance to talk with her. She began with a slight push to her daughter to think of her. Just a little push, nothing too strong that might wake her up. She felt Bron begin to think of her, and so she spoke to her….

“Daughter, where are you and how is the journey going ?” She said to the orb.

“Mother ?” Bron seemed confused, but not too much so, since she imagined herself to be dreaming. “Things are going fine, if slow.” She answered.

“How is everyone getting along ?” her mother asked her.

Bronwyn seemed to be feeling this dream more strongly, so she went with the conversation as if it were any normal one.

“Adam and the rest are fine. We’ve met with some help, a man who calls himself Jack. We are at his village now, and it is wonderful, Mother. I wish I could stay longer. “

“I know Jack, he is a character, isn’t he ?” her mother seemed to be smiling at her, her face becoming more clear as the dream progressed. Meriah was pleased that Jack had chosen to help Bron and the others. She had doubts of them receiving help from that quarter, since the Elven folk had gone so sour on humanity in recent times.

“He taught me how to talk to father,” Bron said to the dream Meriah. Meriah was so surprised that she nearly lost her concentration at that bit of news.

“Talk to him ?” she asked Bron.

“Yes, it is a bit like I am speaking to you now, Mother, sort of like dreaming.” Meriah sat back, wistful and a bit jealous of a skill she had not figured out how to control yet. “You will have to teach me when you return, Bronwyn,” she said finally.

“Oh, yes, of course Mother, and do you know what ? Jack has told me other things which may help us. You do not have to worry as much anymore. I think we will be successful. “

“I will always worry, Bronwyn, you are my daughter. Success means different things to different people. To me it means that you will return to me. To the Gods it may mean merely putting the World back to rights, and no guarantees of anyone having what they particularly want out of the situation. “

“Mother,” Bron said, “I have so much to tell you, and I will return to you, I feel I will. “

“Let us hope that you are seeing true, then, daughter, and not wishful thinking as is often the case. Always remember what the Christians say, ‘you propose nothing in the sight of God’. Well, you propose nothing in the sight of our Gods, either, girl. The World will right itself no matter who gets in its way, and it will do it by whatever means necessary.” Bronwyn seemed to be fading a bit.

“You are waking, girl, and will not be able to speak to me longer this night,” Meriah said to her. “Just remember, I love you, and all of my energy is yours to tap into.”

Bronwyn woke to a darkened room, the fire nearly gone out. She rose to put more wood onto it to keep it going ‘til morning, which didn’t seem far away, from the sounds of the birds and the light in the sky. She went back to her bed, to wait for the full light of day and as she lay there she thought of her mother and said to the darkened room, “ I love you too, Mother.” Then she drifted back off to sleep for a few more hours.



The next morning the four rescuers left, along with Jack who knew the way to Blackthorne’s Keep. They had a few extra supplies, Bron had her bundles of herbs in a bag, and Stephan had a different set of clothing which fit him better than Adam‘s had. Jack walked beside Bron most of the morning, and talked to her nearly non stop. Edward walked by himself, seeming to be lost in some day dream, and Stephan fell into step just in front of Adam who brought up the rear guard. Jack had told them that it wasn’t much farther, but would be another night out in the forest before they were ready to go on to the castle.

Adam watched the forest for any sign of spies or guards, in case Blackthorne had help, and was not working alone. Stephan slowed his step to fall more in line with Adam and merely walked there, side by side with him for a mile or so. Adam didn’t seem to turn away and move further back, so Stephan took it as a sign that he ought to strike up a conversation.

He started and stopped at least a dozen times, wondering what to say to someone who obviously didn’t wish to be friendly, but he finally settled on the topic of weather.

“Nice morning, isn’t it ?” he asked, in an offhand manner.

“Yes,” Adam replied. He didn’t seem to be forthcoming with any more insight as to the beauty of the day, so Stephan thought of another tack he could try. He could actually come up with little, since he had always been the straightforward type, so he figured he may as well just speak his mind.

“So,” he began slowly, “Why do you despise me and Edward ?” He said it in such a casual manner that Adam just looked over at him and nearly laughed outright.

“You don’t believe in being subtle, do you ?” He asked.

“Seems a waste of time to be anything but forthright,” Stephan replied, and then Adam did laugh. In spite of himself he was beginning to like Stephan, even if he did seem to laugh at everyone and everything.

“Well, I have…issues, with aristocracy,” Adam said, “I see no real reason for them to exist, save to be a big pain in the backside to everyone of my kin and friends. “

“That’s it ?” Stephan asked, “you just don’t like that we exist ? Seems awfully simplistic of an answer, if you ask me.”

“Well, you asked,” Adam said.

“You know,” Stephan said thoughtfully, “I had thought more highly of you.”

Adam snorted, “ Highly of me ? Whatever would you think of me at all for ?”

“Well, you are helping on this mission, and you seem to be a fellow with common sense, not the petty sort at all, who would think it right to hate merely for existence. “

“I have no problem volunteering for missions which make sense,” Adam replied.

“You have been asked along on missions which didn’t ?”

“Not asked, Ordered,” Adam replied sarcastically, “and when I mentioned as much to the Esteemed Leader of such a group, they didn’t take too kindly to my having an opinion on the matter at all.”

Stephan just walked along in silence, trying to read between what Adam had said. He had heard that many of the foresters and village folk did not see the reason for the Kings wars, and a few had even rebelled against them. Stephan wondered if Adam were one of the rebels which he had heard of. In truth, Stephan himself could hardly find right or reason to some of the King’s crusades.

“They tried to force you to join them ?” he asked quietly.

Adam stopped and looked directly at Stephan. “I’ll not give you the details. Suffice it to say that I came out the worse for the encounter.”

“I do not wish to pry,” Stephan began.

“You are prying,” Adam spoke angrily once again, so Stephan let the matter drop for the moment. He continued to walk alongside Adam, however, and since Adam didn’t move away, he considered it to have been a successful chat.



Edward had not spoken to anyone all that morning. He walked along inside himself, it seemed, and Stephan watched him, with a wary eye. He had never seen his friend quite so disturbed. But then, being a Prince, one had few things to be disturbed about, he supposed. When they stopped to make camp for the night, he sat near Edward, to see if he could draw him out of himself enough to find out what was troubling him so.

“Edward,” he began, “what seems to keep you all tied up in yourself ?”

“This damnable journey,” Edward replied, “It is too… I don’t know, weird. And we seem to be no closer to gaining Rebecca back than we were when she disappeared. I am beginning to wonder if we are even going in the right direction. And who are these people who seem to be ordering us about as if we were commoners ?” he said in a disgusted tone. “They laugh at us, and tell us we do not know what we ought to be doing, it is maddening. I don’t like it at all. “

“Well, “ Stephan said, “ they do know the forest better than we, and Jack is Elven. You were in the village, it was like a world separate from ours. We travel in their world, now, they know better than we what can save Rebecca, I think. “

Edward glared at Stephan, “ You seem to be taking this as a lark, don’t you realize how serious this is ? You are wandering about, following some serving girl and seem to be loving every minute of it. If I didn’t know you better, Stephan, I’d think you were actually enjoying yourself. “

Stephan looked thoughtful at this. It was true, he was having a bit more fun than he ought to be. He just felt so at home in this forest, and he wished to see everything, experience it all.

“It isn’t that I am not concerned for Becca,” he said to Edward, “ but does everything have to be… I don’t know what I want to say…. “ he trailed off a bit, then said, “proper. I guess that’s the word that comes to mind. Why can’t we be more easy going, we’ve lost that, Edward, it has been going for some time now. You seem more and more like your father every day.” There, he had finally said it. He loved his foster brother with all his heart, but Edward had been quite involved in being proper lately, and Stephan felt he was more a courtier than a brother to him.

“And besides,” Stephan went on, “that serving girl you have so much disdain for has gotten us much further than we ever would have gone on our own. And Adam, he is helping in this, and the two of you cannot even say two polite words to each other. You used to be so easy to talk to Edward, what is happening ?”

“What is happening is that I am to be King one day, and if I cannot even handle a campaign to save your cousin without being thrown to the bottom of the pack, then what good will I be as a King ?”

“Ahhh, “ said Stephan, “Your ego is bruised. My friend…”

“My ego is fine, dammit,” Edward grew even more angry, “Don’t you even care that you are wandering around a forest, at the whim of a serving girl and an outlaw, and that you may never get home alive ?” Edward was yelling at this point and he stopped to realize that everyone had been looking at him.

Adam just shook his head, as if it were no more than he would expect out of one such as Edward. Jack, on the other hand, raised one eyebrow and was about to speak when they heard a crashing in the forest around them. They instantly became silent and crouched lower, so as to make themselves smaller targets for whatever was out there.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 7 -

Blackthorne sat in his darkened keep waiting for dawn to arrive. He could feel the five folk who were nearly to his castle, and he was pleased that they had made such good time. He was a bit disappointed that they had the help of that meddling Elf, but he was not so big a problem that he couldn’t be dealt with. Sitting by his cold fireplace, he tapped his fingers against each other, and imagined what he would do to the group once they arrived.

The human men would be easy to deal with, he thought, not a bit of magick or resistance there in any of them. They would be easy to control, and might even be made to help him in his cause. The girl would present a challenge, but not an unwelcome one.

“I love weak minds,” Blackthorne smiled to himself, “they make my purpose in life so much easier.” Edward was to be his pawn, if all went well. He planned to control Edward and Rebecca, and to do away with the others, for they were mere hindrances. He would put himself in the castle as Edward’s advisor, all the while running the country, since Edward would be a veritable half wit, and breed Rebecca with himself to produce the next Prince, who would be trained in his own fashion and to his own ends.

“If all goes well,” he grinned devilishly to himself, “I could live on forever.” He laughed aloud to himself in the cold hall.


Rebecca could hear the maniacal laughter echoing through the dank, dark halls of the Keep. She knew that Blackthorne must have some plan in mind for her, but hadn’t a clue as to what.

“Whatever it is, he must find it immensely amusing,” she said to herself.

She climbed out of bed to go to the chair by the window. The dawn had nearly arrived, and she listened to the bird song out in the deep green of the brightening forest. She had gotten into the habit of playing her flute for the birds, coaxing them to come and sit to listen on the window sill. They were her only companions in this desolate place, they and the insects which buzzed in and out, looking for dropped crumbs to feast on.

She drew out her flute now, and began to play a lively tune from memory. It was the first tune which Bron had taught her to play and it had a lilting quality to it that she felt might lift her spirits. The music made her think of bright summer days and flowers blowing in the breeze and the feel of the sun on her skin, which she missed terribly sitting in this dark room.

The music must have made the bees think of bright summer days and flowers, too, for she soon had a row of them dancing on the window sill. She turned her attention more to them, then, and played a tune to make them dance their silly infinity dances on the sill. One would fly off to be replaced by another, and they kept at this reel for the better part of the song.

Rebecca loved bees. They made her think of home and the hives that were kept out back in the orchards. Sir Hector, her uncle, loved the bees, too, and they were the one thing which he took pleasure in which did not involve drinking. Although, she half suspected his interest in them was still tied to his social activities, since it was their honey which made the fine mead that Sir Hector was so famous for. She chose to take his love of the little creatures at face value, though, and not put a dark purpose to his care of them.

She finished her tune and the bees all flew away in the bright morning to gather dew to drink before the heat of the day burned it off the leaves.

Rebecca wished for a bath, and clean clothes, and she wished for some rescue to come to her and save her from this endless loneliness. It was not knowing her fate which made her more unnerved than anything. She had not seen Blackthorne since she had come to this place. He came in the night, or someone did, to leave her food for morning. She heard him often, standing outside her door, or walking in the halls to some other part of the Keep. She heard his laughter in the night, which was when he seemed most active, and it gave her nightmares. She hated to sleep in this place, for all of her dreams were dark ones. She could not control them and they had her waking up screaming most every night.

Whether it was Blackthorne, or merely the energy of this place which was so dark she did not know, but she figured that the one relied on the other for being. She often thought that if Blackthorne did not leave his mark on everything in this part of the forest, that it might be a beautiful place. Then other times she would think that perhaps it was the place that had put the evil into Blackthorne.

She had heard of such places. The priests at mass had spoken of certain valleys and hills where the witches and demons met. To walk into one of these places was to be dam ned for all eternity, to be lost to the wild abandonment of lewd and evil behavior. The priest never actually said where these places were, or how one would identify them, however, so she could not tell whether this was one of them or not. Perhaps, like the priests said, the Devil is a beautiful angel, and so to deceive, his abode would seem beautiful, also. All the better to draw an unwitting maid into his office.

Rebecca supposed that she was just not worldly enough to know of such things, so she left those worries to the priests, who would no doubt steer her in the right direction to arrive in Paradise.

“But how do I find my way when the priests aren’t here to advise me ?” she wondered aloud. She wished, often, that she had not relied on others to do so much for her, and she wished that she had the skills to save herself from this evil place. “I ought to be more like Bronwyn,” she thought, “she would not still be sitting here without a clue as to how to escape.”

She had wondered, many times, about her friend and how she came to be her serving maid. Bron always seemed to be there, never really arriving or joining the household, she was just there one day and fit right in as if she belonged. Rebecca never knew where Bron had come from, or what her parentage was. “For all I know she is one of those witches the priests wage war against,” she laughed to herself, thinking it the silliest thing to imagine Bronwyn a witch. “ She is such a fine friend, and sister, that there is no possible way she could be one of those evil folk. “

She turned her attention to the plate which was laying on the floor by the door. “I suppose I may as well eat something. I’ll have to keep my energy up in case I get the chance to flee this place.” She set herself to eating the bland fare that was left for her, and ceased thinking of such deep matters as Witchcraft and Paradise.

Blackthorne moved silently away from the door to Rebecca’s room. He had stood listening to the tune she played, and seeing her thoughts as she worked out her ideas of good and evil. It amused him to find how much she relied on her priests for guidance, instead of relying on herself, as she ought.

“Relying on others got you into messes like this one, my dear, “ he spoke to no one in particular, “I’d have thought you would be over that by now.”

Blackthorne was still working out how he would deal with Bronwyn. He replayed all the ideas he had in his mind and inspected each one for flaws again and again. He just couldn’t decide which was better. To totally destroy her, like he had her father, or to make her his minion, doing his bidding and helping in his cause to live forever and wreak havoc on the world.

The poetic justice of making her his slave sounded more pleasing to him, but that would depend on how strong her will was. ‘Then again,’ he thought, ‘the process of slowly turning her to my ways might be more enjoyable than killing her.’

It would be easy enough to explain her presence at the castle, she was, after all, Rebecca’s maid and what else would she do but loyally follow her mistress to her next home. Her knowledge of magick, which he was sure Meriah had taught her, would also be a plus. She could retain that magickal knowledge and still be of service to him, only more so.

“I am lucky, “ he thought, “ that it is only Meriah’s knowledge she may have gained, if she learned any of it at all. If she’d had her father to teach her, I might be in deep trouble.”

It had nearly taken all of Blackthorne’s strength to defeat Weland. Of course, Weland had the love of his lady, and his protection of her, to make his will stronger. “It is amazing what a man will do for the woman he loves,” Blackthorne sneered to himself. Love was such a nasty emotion, Blackthorne thought, but he could not deny that it was powerful. “It is so much easier, though, to do things my way, without emotion or care for any other creature but myself. “

“Fear,” he smiled to himself, “is sometimes stronger than imagined love.” It was only true love which could hold any power over his brand of magick. “These silly folk always imagine themselves to be in love, and so few of them actually understand what it is. They all understand fear, though, and that is my great strength. I will use their internal fears, not only of me, but of themselves. Their fear of life and any little inadequacies and turn that against them.“

Blackthorne grinned once again, and walked on down to the depths of the Keep, to his personal chambers. He would need to rest up for the coming battle, and he wanted to be as strong as he could be. He settled into his space to draw power from it, energy stored from working and creating there, and drifted off to sleep, still imagining how fine it would be to destroy the silly folk who were right now coming into his web.




“Now you’ve done it,” Adam growled quietly at Edward, “nothing like letting everyone know where we are. “

“Shhh,” whispered Bron, “be quiet, save your arguing for later.”

They each had their personal weapons in their hands, now. Edward and Stephan held swords, Bron had her dagger, and Adam held his bow drawn and ready. Jack, on the other hand, simply crouched quietly with his eyes closed and his hands outstretched to the forest. He relaxed and rose to standing, to the amazement of all his companions.

“Fool !” whispered Edward in a louder voice than he actually ought to use, “get down, you’ll be killed.”

“Naw,” laughed Jack, “ it’s naught but a friend, come to tell us the way of the wood.”

“You cannot know that, Jack, please, get down,” Bron urged him.

“Come on in,” Jack said loudly, “we’ll not blood you.”

A smallish man detached himself from the surrounding wood and crept carefully into the clearing. “I’m not so sure about that,” he said, “perhaps your friends could convince me of it by putting down their weapons, Jack.” The rest of the party carefully lowered their weapons, still not convinced that this was a friend. Adam lowered his bow, but kept it drawn and ready to pull up and let fly at the slightest reason.

The man was bent, ageless, yet seemingly fitting into the very bark of the trees. He wore tattered clothing which had leaves stuck onto it, like patchwork, and bramble tears in the sleeves and leggings. He looked to be covered with the earth he stood upon, and, though he stood in the clearing with them, he seemed to blend right into the forest in the background.

“Everyone,” Jack made a sweeping motion with his hands, “ I’d like you to meet Dylan, he is watcher of this part of the wood.”

“Watcher ?” Bronwyn asked, looking curiously at the strange little man who seemed made of the very forest that surrounded him.

“Yes, a watcher is one who watches over a place. Dylan is one, there are others, but we travel in his wood, for now, so he is who we shall bargain with this night.”

“Bargain ?” said Edward, “You mean we have to pay the man off to be able to travel through here ?” he asked incredulously.

“Not necessarily pay,” answered Dylan, “Unless I find I truly despise you, then I may come to some fee for your safe passage,” he grinned at Jack as if in secret joke. Jack laughed again, and went to Dylan to slap him on the back. Dylan was laughing too, although it was more a moving of the shoulders than an actual sound. “So many travelers lately, Jack ,” he said, “ you’d think this was the road to Hell those priests always speak of, instead of merely the trail around the hill.”

Dylan and Jack went to sit by the fire. The rest of the group slowly relaxed to come and sit also, all except Adam, who stood with his bow drawn tight, still.

“By the gods, boy, put that thing away and sit down,” Jack said to him. Adam merely stood his ground.

“I’ve heard of watchers,” he said, “and what I’ve heard does not make me sit comfortably at a fire with one.”

“Adam,” Bronwyn said, “he is Jack’s friend, he will not harm us.” Adam sat then, a bit away from the fire, so as to see everyone, but still held his bow in his hands. Seeing his obvious distress at the newcomer, Stephan kept his hand near his sword hilt. He trusted Adam’s judgment in the woods enough to listen when he was upset by something.

“What exactly is a watcher that one should be wary of them, Adam,” Stephan asked then.

“A watcher is just that,” Jack interrupted whatever Adam was about to say. “Oh, some folk get a bit feared of them,” he said with a wave of his hand as if to dismiss the notion, ”but that is merely because they are not like other folk. Most folk fear what they do not know, much like they fear your mother, Bronwyn. ” He looked meaningfully at Bron, then, and she knew that Dylan was indeed a friend, even if he were a bit strange looking.

“So, what news of this part of the wood, Dylan ?” Jack asked, handing him a horn of mead.

“Well, as I said, many travelers, here and there, coming going, and music, the like of which I’ve not heard in a long while,” he smiled at Jack.

“Music ?” Bron asked.

“A flute,” answered Dylan, “ and tunes which make the birds fly low and the flowers dance.”

“Rebecca’s flute !” exclaimed Bronwyn. “She is still alive then !”

Edward leaned closer to Dylan, then to hear every word that he said.

“I would have to assume, Mistress, since it is definitely not of human making, then it must be a gift from the Good Folk. And none of them would give such fine gifts to humans save for one such as yourself, who is not disgusted by the very sight of them.”

Adam snorted at the thinly veiled insult. “You see,” he said, “always watch the watchers. They speak in double meanings and never come outright and give you the straight of it.”

“I have to admit,” said Dylan, turning to Adam “that it would be much easier not to be disgusted by your kind if you were more willing to trust a person.”

“Trust only gets you into trouble. We are here because some silly girl trusted the wrong person, are we not ?” Adam replied.

“Now wait a minute,” Edward began.

“Save the arguing for later, Please !” Bronwyn said in exasperation. “Adam, mind your manners !” she said over her shoulder, in Adam’s general direction. Adam mumbled something to himself which was nearly audible, and surely not flattering, but since he said it very quietly, everyone chose to ignore it.

“Ahhh, is this some new dissension, or has the One who holds the Keep got his spell over you all ?”

“What do you mean, Dylan ?” Jack asked.

“There is an inordinate amount of fighting going on lately,” Dylan answered, “by anyone who passes this way. It seems that all of their worst qualities are drawn out into the open and foisted upon their fellow travelers.” Dylan seemed amused at this bit of news which he gave them.

“Could that be why Edward and I fought just now ? Or why he seems to be so irritating to everyone lately ?” Stephan asked.

“That, or he is truly just an irritating man, and you are just now noticing it for being so long in his company,” the watcher was laughing, again.

Stephan smiled slightly at the barb to his friend, trying not to, and asked, “Then how do we fight this spell, or whatever it is. How do we keep from being drawn into it and torn so far apart that we cannot stand together, as we must ?”

Dylan looked more closely at Stephan then, “ You’re a quick one, aren’t you ?” he asked. “Well, the Holder of the Keep works on people’s fears, so to beat him, you’re going to have to face your fears, and get over them.”
“Easier said than done,” Jack said, shaking his head.

“Face our fears ?” Bron asked, “How do we do that ?”

“You must find your own way to do it,” Dylan said, as he rose to go. He turned to Edward, “Rest assured, young Prince, I will not be charging you for the information this night,” he laughed, “Your purse is safe. I would willingly give any information to anyone brave enough to fight that One, and anyone who might rid my wood of his presence.” Dylan looked around at the assembled folk at the fire, “The gods be with you all, and may the Dark Mother bless you if you are not successful.”

Dylan walked off into the forest without a backward glance. “What did he mean, the Dark Mother’s blessing on us ?” Stephan whispered to Adam after he had gone.

“The Dark Mother comes to all of us, soon or late. She can bless us with an easy death, or teach us a lesson with a hard death if she feels we have not learned our lessons well enough in life.” Adam watched the forest where the Watcher had disappeared. “I think, that if the Holder of the Keep is using our fears against us, then indeed, the Dark Mother is using him as Her pawn, perhaps.”

“You worship a goddess which would do such a horrible thing to you ?” Stephan asked in surprise.

“And what has your God done for you lately ?” Adam answered back. “Any great floods or genocide in the cards for you faithful worshippers ?”

Stephan laughed, “I’m hardly going to sit and argue religion with you.”

“Why not ?” Adam asked.

“Because I would probably lose,” Stephan finished with a smile. Adam smiled back and went on watching after the Watcher.

“You’d better get some sleep then,” he said to Stephan.

“And you ? You’re going to sit there guarding all night, I suppose ?”

“Yes,” Adam replied, making himself more comfortable on the stump he was using as a seat.

“Then perhaps two watching would be better for our chances of surviving this,” Stephan said as he sat down with his back to Adam to watch the other direction. Adam looked over his shoulder at the man who sat behind him. ‘I could have worse watching my back,’ he thought, and settled in for the long night ahead, as the others went to sleep by the fire.

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 8 -

Bronwyn was walking through a clearing in the forest, and it was a lovely day. It was autumn, when all the forest was busy with activity and the trees made the grandest show of their colors. Leaves were falling like the snows which would come later, and there was just the hint of a crisp feel to the breeze. She was wearing her shawl, which she wrapped tighter around her in the sunshine which fell in a strange slant. She could not tell what time of day it was, because the light seemed to be coming from everywhere, and from no where.

She came to a large tree, gnarled with age, nearly dead, yet still clinging to a bit of life at the tips of one of the farthest branches. Beneath this tree, on the other side, sitting so that the breeze was at his back sat a man. This man was beautiful. Perhaps the most beautiful man Bron had ever seen in her whole life. His hair was raven black, long and tied at the back so it fell down nearly to his waist, and his skin was perfect. His eyes, were much like her own, a deep forest green that shone nearly like emeralds or some other precious stone. He had long eye lashes framing them, and the eyes looked to her now and twinkled with happiness and amusement. He shifted the harp, which looked exactly like her own, to one side, and smiled up at her.

“Good day to you, daughter, it’s about time you got around to coming to visit,” Weland said with an amused tone.

Bronwyn was feeling her throat tighten with emotion. Here, before her, for the first time seeing his face, was her father.

“This is a dream, isn’t it ?” she asked.

“In a way. It is another time and place, a place where we can meet and talk,” he answered back. “Sit down, make yourself comfortable.” He patted the ground before him.

Bronwyn sat down across from her father, and merely stared at him, not saying any words. Weland laughed, “You can talk, you know,” he said, “I don’t bite and I won’t disappear in a poof of smoke or anything.”

Bron smiled, then, and asked, “Can I touch you ?”

“No, my dear, I’m afraid that is not possible. But then, people touch with more than their bodies, so perhaps, we will touch by the time our journey is over. “ Bronwyn seemed disappointed, she had wanted to hug her father, never having had the chance to do so before.

“There is much I need to speak of with you, Bronwyn.” He spoke her name like Jack did, with a slight lilt to it. “Blackthorne is not going to be an easy one to defeat. Your mother couldn’t do it. I died trying to defeat him, and all I could manage was to make him go away. To weaken him so that he could not cause trouble to the forest folk any longer.”

“How can I win against him if you couldn’t, father ? You had magickal skills, I have so very little. I never learned magick.” Bronwyn was getting worried, very worried.

“You can win, daughter, you must have faith in yourself,” He answered back.

“He is using people’s fears against them,” Bron said to Weland.

“Yes,” Weland answered, “that has always been his method of working. To find the darkest part of a person and make them face it, instead of facing him. That makes his job much easier. Sort of like making you defeat yourself before he has to fight at all. “

“So,” Bronwyn said slowly, working it out in her mind, “ I have to fight myself before I can defeat him ?”

“The first rule of magick, daughter, and a rule that will serve you throughout life, is to Know Yourself. You are better suited than your companions in this, because you have always been honest with yourself, for the most part, so you may have to be the one who stands against him, without help from them. They need to face themselves, and learn to forgive shortcomings, learn to make amends for what harm they cause others. They must realize that being human, or even being alive, they have faults, and those faults are things to control, they can never get rid of them, so must learn to get past them. “

“How do they do that ?”

“It is one of the hardest things for someone to do,” Weland answered, “because to get past them they must look at them. And many hide their faults and fears so deeply, that even they are not aware of them. Blackthorne knows how to make them come out of a person, to be exposed and made larger than they are. That is his magick.”

Bronwyn was curious as to what her father’s fears had been, that he was defeated by Blackthorne, but she didn’t wish to ask.

“Is there anything you can tell me, Father, anything at all to make my task easier ?” She asked instead.

Weland smiled, and thought a moment, “You, dear daughter, have a heart of gold. You love your friends without judgment, and you do not make distinctions between what is society and what is reality. Keep that in your heart. True love can defeat Blackthorne, for love is more powerful than fear. If you can discover what it is that makes true love different from other forms of love, then you have the secret to defeating him. Alas, Bronwyn, that is something no one can teach you, or tell you. It is the one thing each of us must learn for ourselves, for the Truth is always like that. It is a knowing that cannot be put into words, at least not with any accuracy. To put Truth into mere words makes it seem less, somehow.

I can, however, give you a spell, which will bind Blackthorne forever, once you have defeated him. It will bind your fate to his, though, Bronwyn, so it is up to you whether to use it or not.”

“Bind my fate to his how ?” She asked.

“Anytime you manipulate a thing, anything, that thing has your energy tied to it, and you are responsible for that thing. It is a part of your web of wyrd, a part of the weaving of your life, and cannot be cut away from it. It is like the stitches in a quilt, some are even, some are crooked, but all of them make the whole. It all holds together, and serves a purpose, whether it is pretty or not. The trick in life to make all your stitches as even and beautiful as you can, so that when your quilt of life is handed down, it can become a treasure and not something to be hidden away for its ugliness.”

“I think I understand,” she said, “so, just in case I need it, what is this spell you have for me ?”

Weland smiled, and began to teach Bronwyn what she must know to hold fast the bonds of Blackthorne’s magick.




Bronwyn awoke the next morning to see that everyone else had already risen. Adam and Stephan looked a bit worn out from guarding all night, and Bronwyn wished that they had slept, instead of staying awake. ‘They need their sleep, and all their energy to fight this battle,’ she thought to herself. She was more refreshed and well rested than she had felt in a long time. She did seem a bit lightheaded, though, and wondered if it were because she had spent part of the evening Elsewhere. Jack seemed to notice this, and seemed to know why, so he handed her a piece of bread with honey on it and told her to eat something.

“It helps to bring one back to earth,” he smiled as she took it from him.

The men all seemed to be packing to go, but Bronwyn wanted to speak with them before they continued their journey, so she bade them to sit a while, and listen. Amid much complaining that they were so close, and needed to get going, she finally convinced them to sit by the still warm ashes of the fire and listen to what she had to tell them.

“I will not keep you long,” she said to them, “ I merely wanted to tell you all how fine I think you are. You are all brave and giving people, and nothing that Blackthorne can do to you will change that. “ They all looked at her as if she had gone strange in the head.

Adam looked a bit exasperated, “You just wanted to tell us how great we are ?” he sneered at her.

“It is important to know your worth, Adam,” she said to him, “Blackthorne is going to make you feel terrible today. He will make you look at the worst in yourself, and I just wanted to let you know that I have seen the best and the worst of you, and it is fine enough for anyone. “

“Nearly anyone,” Edward mumbled under his breath. Bronwyn seemed to be the only one who heard him, though.

Not wanting to make him the center of attention she said to all of them, “I know that our worst fears will come to us today, and we are going to have to steel ourselves against that. If any of you feel that you cannot face yourselves, then perhaps you should stay behind.” They all merely stood their ground, fidgeting slightly with wanting to be on their way. Adam seemed to be fascinated with a pine cone which he found in the dirt at his feet.
They stood like that in silence for a moment, and then Edward said angrily, “Are we going or not?”

Adam snorted, “Perhaps the one who should stay behind is you, Prince.” Edward took a step towards Adam and looked as if he were ready to fight him again. “I mean,” said Adam, pushing Edward further, “that you seem to be the one with the worst personality, here, we wouldn’t wish for it to be made larger than it is, would we ?”

Edward drew back his fist as if to strike Adam, but Stephan stepped between them, “I don’t think that this is what Bronwyn had in mind when she began this little chat. I believe,” he said, looking to Bron, “that she meant for us to face ourselves now, and be honest about our fears before having them thrust in our faces unexpectedly.”

Bronwyn looked at Stephan with relief. She was grateful that he was here, and was level headed enough to hold Adam and Edward from fighting.

Stephan sat down on the log he had occupied the night before. “Personally,“ he said, “I think it is a good idea.”

Both Edward and Adam looked rather angry by now, but they were no longer going for each other’s throats. They stood there to listen to what was to be said, hoping it would all end soon and they could be on their way.

“I’ll start,” said Bronwyn. “I am afraid that I cannot win this fight, that I have spent too much time being a serving maid, and no time at all studying magick. I am afraid because Blackthorne has already defeated my mother, and killed my father, and I know that I have not the slightest bit of what they had in their power to fight him with.”

Stephan spoke next, “I am afraid that I will fail my friends.”

Adam looked at him, “That’s it ? That’s all that you are afraid of ?” he asked Stephan.

“Well, yes, what else is there to be afraid of ?” Stephan asked.

Adam laughed, “How about a long painful death? How about finding out that you really are a coward who is not worthy of the life the Gods gave you ? How about,“ he stood looking directly into Stephan’s face, “how about finding out that all that you believed to be true is nothing but faery tales and falsehoods?”

“It’s all the same thing,” Stephan answered calmly, “for if all that is true, then I truly have failed my friends, and my God, and myself.” Adam stood straight again, thinking. Stephan continued, “Bronwyn has already told you how fine she thinks you are, Adam. I tell you now that I admire you, also, and that you are no failure. Kings and their wars be dam~ned, you are true to yourself and your folk, and that is what matters.”

Jack had been silent all this time, but now he spoke quietly, “Yes, lad, you are true. And that is what counts in this life.” Adam looked around at all of the assembled folk and seemed to stand a bit taller, a bit more relaxed.
“Well,” he said to Stephan, “I cannot find fault with you either, getting to know you better. Except for always being so darn cheerful.” He laughed and Stephan smiled back at him.

They all turned to look at Edward, who was avoiding the entire conversation. “Anything to add Brother ?” Stephan asked him.

Edward looked at them all, and said, “I have no fears, and I have few faults. I am not worried about this battle and I will win, I know it.”

Adam laughed harshly, “Ahh yes, you are not human, are you, Prince? You will be a great King who will follow in his father’s footsteps by squashing the little folk, starving the poor, and destroying the countryside in your quest to gain more land and money.”

Edward took an angry step towards Adam then stopped. He looked quite troubled, “Is that what you think of me?” he paused, “Truly ?” he asked in a voice that said he was listening for the first time on this journey. Adam started to answer sarcastically again, but then he was taken aback by this change in the brash young Prince, and hesitated to speak, but not long.

“I think,” he began slowly, thinking of how to say what he wished to say, “that you could be better than you are, if only you would open your eyes and see the damage your father does.” He took a step towards Edward, but not a menacing step, so Stephan stood his ground, “I think, that you could be better than your father if you would just use the heart and the soul that the Gods have given you to make this land whole again.” Adam stood back and swept his arms wide, turning as if to show Edward the entire forest, “Look at where you are. Look at what is at stake if this land continues under your father’s rule. Look at Bronwyn and Meriah, and little Colin, and every one of the forest folk. They are the King’s subjects, too, yet they are left to starve and fend for themselves while he sits by his warm fire in the winter evenings planning his next war.” Adam walked over to stand directly next to Stephan, “Look to your brother, whose only fear is that he fail you.”

Edward did look sadly at Stephan then and gave a great sigh, “I have been an ass, haven’t I ?”

Stephan smiled and replied, “Well, a little more than usual, yes.”

Edward looked at Adam, then, and said, “I am sorry. I am sorry for all my father has done to you and your folk, and I am sorry that I wished to be like him. Do you want to know my fear ?” he asked. “My fear was that I would not reach my father’s expectations of me. I feared I would be a lesser King than he has been, in his eyes, and in the eyes of my subjects, once I come to rule. It appears that I have failed to ask my Father’s subjects just what they think makes a good King, eh?”

“Edward,” Adam said, using his name for the first time, and letting at least Bronwyn know that he had softened towards him, “all we want, all any of us want, is to be treated as if we matter. If you can do that, then you will be a great King.”

“I will try,” Edward said. Adam nodded and smiled.

Bronwyn was quite glad that she had made them all wait to go on. ‘Perhaps now,’ she thought, ‘we can be stronger.’ She had almost forgotten Jack, though, who had stood quietly by for most of the conversation. She remembered him, now though, and turned to him asking, “Jack, is there anything you are afraid of ?”

“I was afraid you’d ask me that question,” he smiled sadly, trying to make a joke. The look in his eyes made Bron want to weep, so filled with sadness and regret they were. She went to him and took his arm, “What is it, Jack ?”
“I‘m not sure that you would understand my fear, my dearest, nor would any of you.” He paused, not wishing to go on, but knowing if he didn’t they would not let him come along. “Allright then, “ he said, and took his time, walking around in a circle, looking at his feet as if for the words to be written on them.

“I fear time,” he said, finally.

“Time ? I don’t understand,” Bron said.

“See, I told you that you wouldn’t,” Jack laughed.

“But time moves so slowly for your folk, how can that be frightful ?” Stephan asked.

“It is not my time I fear, but your time, young lad. I fear the passing of the ages and all that we are, and all that my folk are, being lost or forgotten. I fear that one day we will be the stuff of faery tales and not be real any more.” He turned to Bronwyn, “You asked me once where the children were, back in the village.” Bron nodded. “There are none.” Jack said quietly.

“None ? None at all ?” Adam said amazed, “But there must be some child, some young person…”

“Not a one,” answered Jack, “and there will be none I’m afraid. Your folk have stopped believing already. Many feel we are legends and tales told to children to keep them safely out of the forest. Not real. And, as the world believes, so is reality. So many people can believe something so strongly as to make It real, and not the Truth being real at all anymore.“

“Do you mean to say,” asked Edward, “That if people stop believing in Elves, that they will not exist any longer ?”

“I mean to say, young Prince, that the World follows what the World expects to follow. Elven folk are not like Humans. No, our existence does not depend on everyone believing in us, but our living in your world does depend on it. Being that your folk all believe theirs to be the only reality out there, then in effect, to you and your kin, we will not exist. But we will go on. We will go back into Elsewhere and we will continue to exist. We have had no children born because we still live in this place, though. And as long as we do, and as long as the world ceases to believe, then we will die out, or leave this world to preserve ourselves. Either way, the result is the same, we are gone.”

“But you said that nothing can be gone, “ Bronwyn said sadly, not wanting to believe Jack’s words.

“I said, dear cousin, that as long as someone remembered and loved then nothing is truly gone. But what is to happen when all those who believe are dead, or they stop telling the tales to their children, because they fear their friends and kin will call them mad ?”

“Is there anything that can be done, Jack ?” Stephan asked.

“I don’t know,” Jack said sadly. “So, now you know my fear, and we are all cheerful and bright eyed,” he said jokingly, “let‘s continue this quest and finish what Bronwyn’s father started so long ago.”

 

[Mojo Chick'n]

CHAPTER 9

The morning was lovely. Shafts of sunlight sifted through the leaves above them. “Much as the sunlight sifts through the slit windows back at Sir Hector’s castle,” thought Bronwyn. It had seemed an eternity since they had begun this quest to save Rebecca. Ages since that morning when she had wanted nothing more than a day to spend with her mother in the forest. “Perhaps if I had made Rebecca stick to her promise to go hiking and herb hunting, then none of this would have come to pass,” she thought to herself. “Nonsense,” she told herself, “Blackthorne would have found a way to do what he wished, and we would still be here. I am probably just feeling guilty because of his influence over this place. Perhaps this is part of his magick.”

She looked at her companions, trying to see what their thoughts were, and to determine if they ran in such guilty circles, as hers did. She could not tell what any of them were thinking though, and so she tried her best to be optimistic as they climbed ever higher on Dylan’s road to the Keep at the top of the hill.

A chill passed over the company when they neared the top of the hill. Everyone’s steps seemed to slow, as if they all wanted nothing more than to be gone from this shadowed forest. The Keep came into view, and they all drew together and stood staring at its height.

“Well, this is it, I guess,” Stephan said. He walked on ahead, to lead them into what might come of this day.



Blackthorne sat waiting in the depth of his Keep. He had felt them enter, and now he rose to go to his brazier and bottles of potions. A smile played at the corners of his mouth, like a wicked slit in the folds of some dark moldering cloth. “Little do they know the fate I have in store for them,” he thought to himself. “Soon,” he said aloud, “very soon shall I have what I’ve waited for all these years.”

Rebecca sat looking out her window into the lightened morning. Was that her friends she saw there, on the path ? Or was it her imagination yet again, giving her visions of rescue ? She was so used to seeing what was not there, could not be there, that she did not trust her own eyes any longer. She leaned far out over the window ledge, just as the forms moved under the shadow of the Keep. She thought better of shouting, in case it were her friends, so as not to give them away. She dared to hope, then in the next moment dared not to hope. “Oh, if only this place did not hold such strange light and shadow,” she thought to herself. “Would that I could see true, and not these flitting things which lead me to despair when they turn out to be nothing more than wisps of fog.”

The rescuers moved on into the Keep. The front gates amazingly were not locked, nor guarded. This fact made Bronwyn even more uneasy, sure that anyone who felt no need for a guard must be pretty confidant of victory. “More confidant than I am,” she thought. The Keep stood before them, all shadowed at the top of the hill, where no shadows ought to be at this time of day. They moved as silently as they could, on in past the great carved doors and into the hall.

Blackthorne left his dungeon at last, to go off to meet his guests. He nearly danced along the corridors on up the stairs to greet them. As he came into the main hall, he heard a gasp, and smiled at those who stood before him.
“Well, well, guests have arrived,” he said slickly. “You must forgive my castle its unkempt manner, it has been a long time since I have had friends stay.”

“We’re no guests, Blackthorne,” Adam said.

“No?” Blackthorne smiled even more.

“Blackthorne,” Bron began, “we’ve come to take our friend home with us. If you would give her to us, we would be quite grateful. If you choose to fight, well, we are ready for that, too.”

“Oh are you ?” Blackthorne seemed to swoop down towards them, like some great bat. Now he stood towering over them his eyes aglow with the evil light that they held. “Like your father was ready for me Girl ?” he said in a low, menacing voice.

“My father beat you,” Bron began.

“Your father failed miserably !” Blackthorne yelled at her, “He was not nearly strong enough to beat me. His fears were too great. He was weak !”

Bronwyn was trying to stay calm in this discourse, but she grew more unsure of herself at each word Blackthorne spoke. Stephan moved, then, to stand just behind her and touch her arm. She turned to look at him and he smiled sweetly and said quietly in her ear, “The louder they yell, the more they are trying to convince themselves.” This made Bronwyn nearly giggle. The look on her face made Blackthorne even more angry than he was. Stephan’s well timed insight was enough to give her the confidence she needed to answer Blackthorne, though.

“My father did not fail, Blackthorne, you did. If my father failed, then what am I doing here ?”

Blackthorne’s face turned a terrible shade of red, more color than his cheeks had held in a long while. He threw his arms wide and raised his face to the ceiling shouting out strange words which none of them had ever heard before. None except Jack, who was whispering his own words into the air. The dead leaves that had collected in the hall began to blow around and rise into the air, whirling like a tornado whipping their hair into their eyes. Jack continued to chant his own litany even louder, now, to be heard above the wind that howled through the room.

Blackthorne snapped his head to Jack, then, and circled him like a weasel waiting for the right moment to jump. All of a sudden his hand shot out and grabbed Jack by the throat. He moved so quickly he took everyone by surprise. Adam and Edward and Stephan all at once leaped to drag him off of Jack, but Jack almost seemed to be trying to tell them to stay out of it. He was pushing them back as much as Blackthorne was.

Jack finally wrestled Blackthorne’s hand from his throat and said in a hoarse voice to his friends, “Go, find Rebecca, split up, run, now.” Then Blackthorne was back at him again. Bronwyn stood there, not knowing whether she should run to find Becca or stay here to help Jack. The men all left, each taking a corridor and trying to open doors.

Jack, after giving his orders, gave his full attention to Blackthorne. He hadn’t noticed that Bronwyn had stayed behind. Neither had Blackthorne, it seemed. Bronwyn stood there, not knowing what to do. She was not strong enough to fight Blackthorne, and everything was happening so quickly she did not have time to think what to do. She slowly backed to the wall, and stood watching the struggle go on.


Adam and Stephan seemed to have gone into connecting corridors, because they soon found themselves running towards each other. Stephan threw his hands out from his sides, “What now ?” he asked.

“This way,” Adam said, taking another corridor off to the left. They ran off down that hallway into the shadows, still searching.

Edward had not had much better luck. Every door he found seemed locked, or if they did open, it was to dusty, cob-webbed rooms which had not been entered for ages. He climbed up and up, on into the very heights of the Keep, all the while searching for some evidence that this hall or that corridor had been trod upon recently. The feeling that time was running out for Rebecca would not leave him, and his heart raced with fear for her safety.


While the men raced through the Keep, Jack and Blackthorne fought on in their never ending dance. Bronwyn still stood against the wall, watching, yet now she saw a light creeping into the hall they occupied. A strange light, like the light that fell in Elsewhere. Then it came to her, the words which Jack had been muttering had sounded familiar, yet she did not place them at the time. Now she remembered the song her father had been playing, the song her mother sang to her as a child, and she remembered the words, which her father had omitted in his version of it on his harp. It was an old rune song, a kenning. It spoke of the Elven folk, and their history, and their magick. She knew that Jack sang the song now to give himself strength, and to keep from his fear of being forgotten by time.

“Well, if I cannot help any other way,” Bron thought, “I can at least accompany Jack.” She put the bag off from her back, and drew out her father’s harp. It seemed to glow with a light of its own, here in this dark hall. She lovingly ran her hands over its deep polished wood, and began to play softly, then gaining in strength, remembering the notes of the song as she played. The light grew stronger in the hall, and seemed to shine out from the very walls. The wind died a bit, and kept getting calmer as she grew more confidant in her playing. Jack seemed to be gaining on Blackthorne, now, he was no longer being choked in that iron grip, and at times, he even had the upper hand.

“Yes, Bronwyn,” he said to her, “call them, girl, now, call them.”

Bron was at a loss at this request, and stopped playing. Immediately Blackthorne gained the upper hand again, so she began again to play.

She shouted to Jack over the playing and the fighting, ”What do you mean, Jack ? How can I help?”

Then, as she played, it was as if a whole host of Elven kin glided into the hall. Shimmering beings, seeming made of light and shadow. Her father lead them, coming toward her as fast as he could. Blackthorne seemed to be stricken, then. He let go of Jack and seemed to shrink back into the shadow, or what was left of shadow. For the entire hall was ablaze with light, now, as if it were noon inside the Keep. Blackthorne ran then, back towards the stairs to his dungeon. Jack stood gasping for air, trying to gain himself back again. Bronwyn did stop playing then, and stood staring at the assembled host of Elsewhere inhabitants.

She turned to her father and said, “Who are all these people ?”

Weland smiled at her, and spread his hands to the assembled crowd. “Daughter,” he said, “meet those who have been defeated at Blackthorne’s hands.”

“So many ?” she asked. “How could he have won against all of these ?”

“It was not so much his power, but our weaknesses,” one shadow figure said.

Adam and Stephan stumbled into the hall, then. They had been turned around so badly in the twisting hallways of the Keep, that they had returned to their beginning. They stopped, trying to catch their breath, and stared in amazement at the assembled Otherworldy host. Neither spoke, for they knew not what to say.

“Adam,” Bronwyn said, “I’d like you to meet my father.” She held her hand out to Weland, who smiled and bowed deeply.

“Uh, mmmm, How do you do sir?” Adam stumbled for words.

Weland laughed, and looked Adam up and down, and finally said, “Thank you, young man, for getting my daughter here safely.”

“Anytime, I mean, you’re welcome, sir,” Adam did not quite know how to talk to the man standing before him, or rather, shimmering before him. He was not solid, of that Adam was sure, but he couldn’t quite figure out what he was, so he thought being polite was the best course of action.

“Where’s Blackthorne ?” Stephan asked.

“That way,” Jack pointed towards the dark stairway behind them.

“Well, what are we waiting for, let’s go get him,” Adam said.

“What about Becca ?” Bron asked, “Didn’t either of you find her ?”

“No, we only found each other, let’s hope that Edward has better luck.” Stephan said grimly, “For now, I think if we can do Blackthorne in, then we can take our leisure in finding Rebecca.”

“Father,” Bronwyn turned to Weland, “how do we do this ? Can you all help ? What shall I do to defeat him ?”

Weland turned to his daughter and looked at her for a long time before answering. “Brute strength will not defeat Blackthorne, Bronwyn, only magick can undo that which he has done. My magick is not the type to work in this world, any longer, it must come from you.”

“But I don’t know any magick,” Bronwyn began to cry. She felt so hopeless, coming here and still being at a loss as to what to do. It all began to get to her all of a sudden, and she wished that her mother were here, and she wished she could just go home and forget about it all.

“Bronwyn !” Jack scowled at her, “You are letting Blackthorne work his magick on you. You are not a child, stop that crying this instant. “ Jacks shouting at her was enough to dry her tears. “He is working on you, and all of us, right this moment. Your father’s right, we cannot overpower him with force. We must overpower him with Will.”
Bronwyn took a deep breath, “Allright then,” she said angrily, “Tell me what to do.”



Edward climbed ever higher in the Keep. He was on a winding stairway leading to God only knew where. It did look promising, however, as the dust in this stairwell had been disturbed. “Unless I am running in circles and following my own tracks,” he muttered to himself. Suddenly he was at the top of the stairs, and before him was a long corridor. He stood there a moment listening for sounds, and trying to catch his breath.

He heard nothing. This hall was as silent as all the others had been. Then, faintly, he heard a shuffling which sounded like feet in one of the rooms. He slowly began to walk down the corridor listening at each door, trying to figure out which one held the sound. He was still gulping deep breaths of air, to fill his lungs, and so it was hard to tell where the sound was coming from.

Finally he stopped before one door, and listened with his ear pressed against it. Yes, he definitely heard feet moving in there. No words spoken, but movement. He gently tried to turn the knob, and found the door was locked.

“Well, what have I got to lose?” he asked himself, then he knocked. He held his sword in his hand, in case it was Blackthorne behind there, or another of his accomplices.

Rebecca thought it odd to hear knocking. She wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. She definitely did not wish for Blackthorne to be behind the door, so she went to it and listened. She nearly jumped out of her skin when the knocking sounded again, against her ear.

“Who… who is it ?” she asked in a frightened voice, trying to sound calm.

“Rebecca ?” Edward’s heart leaped with hope. Rebecca nearly fainted with shock. The tears began to flow so that she could not even see two feet in front of her.

“Edward !” she shouted, “You’ve come for me ! Open the door, hurry !” Edward began to slam his shoulder against the door, trying to make it open.

“Move back from the door,” he told her. He continued to throw his body against the door, trying to force it to move. The door was so thick and well built, though, that even with age and neglect it still held firm. The odd thing was, he could see no keyhole, no way to lock the door at all. He had no idea how to open it. He continued to slam against it, hoping it would finally give way.



Bronwyn walked with a purpose toward the darkened stairwell. She was angry. More angry than she had ever been in her life. Even though her father and Jack both had told her to work with her Will, not her anger, she just couldn’t help it. “How dare he work magick on me, kill my father, jeopardize my friend’s lives, he must be stopped, and I’m going to stop him now,” she thought to herself as she stomped on down the stairs. She no longer felt like crying, at least. Her anger had washed away any tears she might have had.

She was going in alone, and that made her a bit frightened, but she knew that no one else could do what had to be done. Blackthorne was tied to her father, as soon he would be tied to her, if she succeeded in her work. The difference would be that she would overcome where her father had been beaten. She admitted that to herself, now. Her father had been beaten by Blackthorne, no matter how she hated to admit it. She must be honest with herself in all things, Jack had said, or she would surely lose.


Adam and Stephan were sent back out to look for Edward and Rebecca. They decided to stick together, this time, and use more common sense, rather than just rushing off into blind corridors as they had before. As they walked, the checked for signs of passage by either Edward, or whomever it was who saw to Rebecca’s needs. They found tracks, and after determining that they were not their own tracks, they followed them. The tracks led into a stairwell that seemed to climb up into the higher reaches of the Keep.

They did not speak, instead, they listened for sounds of any struggle, or anything. The Keep was so eerie with silence that it made them both feel rather disturbed. They were nearing the top of the stairs when they heard the pounding. They both stopped dead in their tracks, unsure of what lay ahead. They slowly eased up the stairs until they stood just around the corner from whatever was making the dreadful noise.

Adam eased his head out to look around the corner and spotted Edward slamming himself into a door. He quickly rounded the corner and went to him, Stephan close behind.

“Edward, Edward !!” Stephan had to shout a couple of times before Edward finally heard him and stopped throwing himself at the door.

“Rebecca,” he said, out of breath, holding his shoulder. He pointed at the door, “In there.” Stephan put his face near to the door and shouted, “Rebecca ?”

“Stephan !” Rebecca shouted back, “can’t you get the door open, Please ?” Rebecca was starting to sound a bit hysterical.

“Just hold on, we’ll get you out,” Stephan answered her back. He began to look more closely at the door, trying to find a crack, or a hole someplace.

“Won’t do you any good,” Edward told him, “There isn’t even a keyhole.”

Adam had been standing back against the far wall, not saying anything, so now Stephan turned to him, “Any ideas ?”

“Well, “ Adam began slowly, “If there is no keyhole, then it cannot be locked, except from the inside. Now, assuming that your friend is not totally hysterical in there, she would unlock it herself. Just makes sense.”
Edward looked at him in disgust, “Tell us something new,” he said.

Adam smiled calmly at Edward and walked around the hallway, looking up and down. He finally came back to his place and looked Edward straight in the eye. “Magick,” he said. “It is locked by magick, not physical means, and therefore, unless Bron can beat Blackthorne, it will stay locked.”

Edward threw his arms out from his sides,” Great, just bloody great, so now what do we do ? Just stand here ?”

Rebecca came back to the door, listening, and upon hearing this she said, “Boys ?”

They all looked at the door, “What ?’ they said in near unison.

“Well, whenever Bron was doing healings, she had me stand aside and just concentrate on seeing whomever was sick to be well. If that helps at all…” she trailed off lamely.