“It was to his mother; it is to me. My father has taken millions of lives already, just by destroying electricity. Well that little boy is one life I took back. And I will save the next life and the life after that if needs be. You can judge people how the bloody hell you like, but while you’re out ‘balancing’, I’ll be doing my own judging.” Her face felt hot now, the anger rising and not caring as she witnessed Diagus’s face grow red; casting the pearl in his eye into stark contrast. He wanted to say more but Otholo chose that moment to stumble out of the woods.
He appeared drunk, swaggering towards them and humming a merry little tune. The Shadojak gave her a glare to let her know this wasn’t finished, then went to help the bard onto his horse.
Once Otholo was settled in his saddle, Diagus led them off down the lane at a steady trot, while Elora held back to ride with the bard.
“What happened to you, back in there?” she asked, nodding towards the woods. “I thought you were going to kill me.”
Otholo smiled at her apologetically and took a deep pull on the cognac. “I would have torn you and the boy apart before finding something else to destroy.” He stared ahead, not meeting her eyes as he continued. “When I left Thea and crossed the Shadowlands, I paid a heavy price. I was tricked into a bargain with an evil spirit, a demon. That beast is inside me now - always and forever. He possesses my body when he can, usually when I’m not expecting it, taking control of me when I least expect it. Or if I feel threatened.”
“Like just now?” she asked.
He nodded. “Pops right out and starts destroying. The demon loves violence. Only thing that seems to keep him at bay is alcohol.” He took another swallow from the bottle then held it in the crook of his arm as if it his child. “So, I drink a spirit, to trap a spirit.”
Elora watched as he left her side, trotting up to Diagus and ending the conversation. At least now she knew the reason why he drank so much.
Chapter 15
Kiss of a Ghost
The morning was dark and overcast, greeting the group as Diagus led them through a green landscape of tall hills and deep valleys. A range of mountains stood grey against the lighter greys of clouds in the far distance. Elora thought they might have travelled as far west as Wales in the last few days, the Shadojak had kept them in the countryside, avoiding towns and villages and so she couldn’t be sure where they were. But now that the few roads they crossed had sign posts written in Welsh as well as English, she knew they were in Wales.
They followed a narrow trail, no wider than a deer track that weaved around trees, skirting a shallow brook that led them deeper into a forest. It wasn’t long before they were swallowed by the thick green foliage, blocking out the hills around them. She trusted that Diagus knew where he was leading them, even though the track kept breaking and he needed to scout ahead to locate it again. Otholo made more than one comment of the fact, they had passed the same spot several times and that they were going around in circles. Elora agreed with him, a feeling of déjà-vu, sure that she had spotted the same pointy rock that jutted from the bubbling water at least three times. She was about to suggest to the Shadojak that he was lost when a man stepped from behind a thick elm, startling the horses.
“That’s far enough,” he said firmly, stepping in front of Diagus and setting the shaft of a huge war hammer into the dirt, rested his meaty hands upon the heavy head.
The hammer was tall enough for the large man to rest his chin upon his hands, a brown beard, braided into three tails, hanging over the top. Similar braids were woven into his shoulder length hair, framing his round face. He wore grey fur skin trousers and boots and a leather vest tied together with cord - a pot belly poking out beneath it.
“Why didn’t you stop us the first pass we made?” Diagus asked.
The large man shrugged his shoulder. “To tell you the truth, Shadojak; I was snoozing. Gets me all kinds of tired, sat around waiting. Didn’t figure the fairy glamour would work so well on you and besides, your Shaigun told me you would be here days ago and alone. I let you pass a second time to be sure. The third time was for fun.” He let out a laugh, brown eyes sparkling with mischief. “But it’s good to see you, Diagus.”
“Aye, you too Ragna. The boy’s here then?”
“Came a few days ago, riding in on a fancy carriage would you believe. Him, two old men and a wood troll.”
“That would be Norgie and Gurple. Who’s the other?”
Another shrug of the shoulders. “Says he’s a Minuan, Nathanial.”
Elora almost jumped from the saddle. “Nathanial. He’s here?”
“And who might you be, pretty one?” asked Ragna, absently curling a braid on his beard around a chubby finger.
“I’m his niece, Elora,” she answered, watching his eyes widen and a grin form on his face, large teeth shining through the beard.
“So you’re the one they’ve all been maudlin over. Gonna put a thunder clap over them when you turn up. They think you’ve gone back to dust,” he chuckled as he swung the hammer over the back of his neck, one arm draping over the shaft, the other over the steel head as if it was a milk-maid’s yoke. “Come on then, follow me.”
They were led along a track wide enough for the horses to ride side by side, so Elora wondered how they had missed it before, but overheard Ragna explaining to Diagus that the fairy glamour was working stronger since the Earth’s magic had disappeared. Maybe it was similar to the darkness that shrouded Norgie’s house in London. That would explain why they had been walking around in circles.
The track ran alongside a ruined castle; its stone walls mainly lay in piles of broken masonry. A few of the moss-covered walls and the odd staircase covered in creeping vines remained, giving the overall impression of a huge building, long ago reclaimed by the forest.
“That’s Rams Keep?” asked Otholo, not appearing impressed.
“Aye, what’s left of it. Most of its below ground now. A castle originally, predates anything that anyone knows about. The keep was built on those ruins, then rebuilt again to make it stronger; walls built upon walls and tunnels created amongst floors and more hidden vaults and ways hidden and forgotten than I’d care to know. A lot of the keep below the ground is still there; passageways, cells and dungeons carved out of the caves and caverns. There’s even a tunnel that comes out at a gorge in the next valley.”
Elora watched Otholo’s face grow a shade paler. Ragna must have noticed it too.
“Don’t worry yourself none though, you’ll be sleeping at the inn,” he said.
Sunlight broke through the clouds and shone on a break in the trees as they rounded a bend, opening onto a small cornfield above which Elora could see a thatched roof, smoke rising from a chimney.
The horses were forced to travel in single file down a narrow path that wound through the tall corn before a clearing opened revealing a large grey stone building beneath the thatch.
They crossed a courtyard, passing a stone well at its centre, the horses kicking up dust from the dry ground as they passed.
“Jaygen?” Ragna bellowed, then turned to them, smiling. “Welcome to Rams Keep Inn.”
A boy of maybe fourteen or fifteen, ambled over from the side of the inn, rubbing his sandy coloured hair and regarding them curiously.
“Jaygen, stable the horses, they’ll be staying with us for a while,” said Ragna to the boy. “Make sure they get a good brush down; they’ve been on the road for a few days.”
“Aye, Da,” replied the boy.
Elora climbed down from her mount and handed Jaygen the reins. “You might want to be careful with this one, she’s quite mean,” she said, giving the boy a smile and causing him to blush. He glanced away, gently stroking Daisy’s nose.
“Don’t worry yourself Elora, my boy’s got a way with the horses,” said Ragna.
The oak door of the inn suddenly swung open and Gurple came charging out, his little legs pumping hard as he crossed the courtyard whilst shouting ‘Erora’. He slammed into her legs and wrapped his furry arms around her.
