by Power, Max
Copyright © 2014 by Max Power
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Other books by Max Power
Larry Flynn
Bad Blood
Little Big Boy
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Darkly Wood
By
Max Power
Max Power Number 1
Acknowledgements
This book would never have been published without the help of many people both friends and family. A very special thank you has to go to the wonderful Ciara Power for her brilliant cover design, her tireless work in helping to create the promotional imagery and video links and more importantly her infectious enthusiasm and love.
I also want to dedicate this book to the one person I know I can lean on, count on and depend on always. Her love support and patience have helped me complete this book and I couldn’t have done it without her.
For Joanna
Darkly Wood
Cover design illustrations and Graphics by Ciara Power
DARKLY WOOD
Darkly Wood was not a place for children. It was, if the truth be told not a place for grown-ups either. Nor indeed could Darkly Wood be considered, if considered with the right understanding, a fit place for any living creature with a soul that could be touched by the secrets that it held. Souls are delicate things and Darkly Wood was far from delicate. That place was cruel and harsh. It was a place as old as memory and for as long as those that could remember did remember, there were tales of woe attached to its wild tangle of trees, deep thickets of briars and its uneven floor carpeted with ancient mosses and ferns. Most knew instinctively, that something about that place was wrong.
Ironically perhaps, it was not named for the fear that it evoked or for the stories of the horrible things that had happened there. There were many such tales that had been passed on from generation to generation. The very name suggested imaginings of dark deeds or terrible events. Although such an association might well have been accurate, the place owed its name to a far less sinister origin.
Darkly Wood acquired its title in fact, from one rather important local dynasty. The name ‘Darkly’ was a name that came from the family who many generations earlier, had owned everything that could be seen for miles in all directions. They were the local gentry, respected landlords and for the most part, kindly in disposition almost universally throughout their generations. It was unclear when the wood became possessed with their familial name and no one knew for sure what ancient names the place might have had before they arrived. The earliest known name for the wood came from its location near Cranby. In olden times people referred to it simply as Cranby Wood, but time and events changed how it came to be named.
Cranby, the little village at the edge of the wood was once a small market town where long before this modern age, locals traded under the watchful eye of the family to whom most owed their living and lodging. Of all of their sons from all of their generations, Lord Terrence Darkly was the one most closely associated with the wood. He was a man of title passed from father to son, and he wore sorrow on his face like most folk wore clothes on their body. It was not something that would draw your attention, but it was always there if you looked closely enough. You could examine the very fibre of his sadness, the texture and the depth of his pain, all one had to do was look.
In more recent times, few remembered any of the Lord’s Darkly except for local historians, story tellers or scholars perhaps and fewer still knew the full history of Darkly Wood. The exception of course, was Terrence. His story was one of the local’s favourite for a variety of reasons. There were stranger stories and more frightening stories, but for some reason, the melancholy Lord Terrence Darkly’s tale was always the most popular. It was the story recounted by all when visitors needed to be impressed. For Lord Terrence Darkly truly had reason to be sad. But that is another story and I will come to that.
As time passed and traditions changed, like the rest of the world many local people began to lose faith in stories and notions of evil. Some still believed in the power of the Wood and dared not set foot in the place, but many still ventured there, seemingly unimpeded along the gentle paths that ran by its edge. There were dog walkers, adventurous ten year old tree climbers, joggers, strollers and even courting couples who would walk hand in hand along the edge of the leafy wood, ignorant of what lay just out of sight. They were blissfully unaware of the danger that skulked and swirled in the occasional rustle of leaves just off to their left, or maybe barely out of reach and right behind them.
In distant times, few dared battle their way through the seemingly impenetrable brush, that seemed to thicken and grow more wildly the further in one travelled to reach its centre. Darkly Wood did not easily share its secrets. It was best to accept the nature of that lonely fortress. Why go looking for trouble when trouble was already out to get you. There was definitely something about the place that suggested ‘best not go in too far’.
The wood’s edge was a haven for berry pickers and nut collectors. Rabbits could be snared along the southernmost length with ease. It was a forest of plenty that could tease and excite, but local folk knew better than to be enticed to its black heart. There was no reason to tempt fate in such a way.
But faith and fate are not just words that sound alike. It was the faith of generations that allowed them to understand the nature of evil. Through their faith, whatever forms that took, there was an awareness that bad things do happen to good people and that if you let your guard down, the thing that lurked just out of sight in the night, would surely come to get you. Such people kept their curiosity in check and steered clear of Darkly Wood.
The people, who carried their faith close to them every day, knew of fate. They understood that good must be done to have it returned and they knew too, that wrong-doers would learn the meaning of faith and fate through the great medium they referred to as ‘comeuppance.’ Darkly Wood seemed however, to operate on other principles entirely. ‘Comeuppance’ was hardly motive or explanation enough, for all the innocents that were lost there.
For some reason, or at least this is what you would be told if you could somehow manage to get someone to tell you, it was not those deserving of bad luck or individuals with a black stain on their heart that went into Darkly Wood to fall foul of misfortune. Far too often, it was the innocents that were lost to that place and who could account for that? The stories were you to believe them, were frightening. They would bring the hairs to attention at the back of your neck, especially at night when told by an expert in the light of a fire. But they did often seem to be very much just that, stories. There could be no doubting the strangeness of the place and there were certainly mysterious events associated with Darkly Wood, but the events themselves were thin on the ground, scattered over the years, the decades, the centuries.
Put together, held up close in a group, the tales would be abundant. Spread out over the eons of time, they seemed random, coincidental, and inconsequential even. They were a mix of fact and fiction, truth and exaggeration. Who knew, what was what and how many of the tales were made up or fanciful exaggeration. Who knew, how many more stories might have been forgotten through the passing of time.
Those that had been lost to the wood were seldom spoken about. When their names were uttered it was in remembrance services, or quietly in private and the nature of their loss was certainly not something to dwell upon. For the most part, the things that were spoken about, the things that happened in th
at place were given little credence. It was not that no one believed it was just that the truth was too hard a road to take.
Older folk knew better of course and would chasten their grandchildren not to go wandering alone near the wood and certainly never go into the wood beyond the safety of the tree line. Oh they knew something alright. As children, their children listened enthralled by the tales, frightened to go asleep after hearing them. But children grow up and as they grow and have children of their own, as local folk move away from an area and new folk move in, the stories and their impact become diluted and vague and lose their power.
Every now and then, once perhaps twice in a generation, something bad would happen up in Darkly Wood. But with the way of the modern world, bad things happened all the time. Bad things happened everywhere. Why should Darkly Wood be so special? Sadly many believed that times had changed too much and with the changing times, came a change in people. The change that came in people brought a change in their natural instincts. The old fears were gone.
Once upon a time, people had time to sit and to listen to stories. A long time ago now it seems, but once they heard stories about places like Darkly Wood and they understood the meaning behind the words. It was certainly true, for better or worse that people had changed. Attitudes had changed. The world had changed. What didn’t change, what never changed, what would always be as it always had been, was that place high above the meadow, looking down on the village of Cranby. Up there in that place, were the secrets that sat and watched and waited for just the right moment. In the shadow of the trees, the secrets could be patient before revealing themselves, even skipping generations, deep within the bowels of Darkly Wood.
CHAPTER ONE – LORD TERRENCE DARKLY
One dead body lying in the mud looks pretty much like the next, at least to some extent. Fortunately, few people encounter a corpse left to the elements and fewer become accustomed to such sights. Coroners and forensic scientists come to mind, and some soldiers might I suppose, or at least those soldiers that have felt the heat of battle. But even they could hardly be said to have become accustomed to such a thing, except in some small way perhaps, to allow them keep their courage intact and carry on with their fighting. Sometimes such muted emotions are necessary. Even so, the appearance of one corpse lying out in the open after the woodland creatures have been at it, although never pleasant, cannot differ greatly from another in similar circumstances.
There would be surprise of course, with the shock of realising that the thing you almost tripped over was once a living breathing human being, not unlike yourself. Certainly there would be the fear that lies in wait, always ready for some dreadful calamity to happen as if waiting to say, ‘you see I told you so.. I knew something awful would happen some day!’ For some the fear must be overwhelming, to see our innermost nightmare face to face. The screams that such a fright can evoke must be quite astounding. Perhaps some are even stunned to silence, beyond the release of a scream. We have all seen the movie interpretation, but no doubt the real thing has to be experienced to be understood.
Yet still, no matter who discovers this type of horror and regardless of the individual upon whom the horror might be visited, one such discovery cannot be too dissimilar to another. Unless that is, the body you find is someone that you know. Unless the decomposing partially eaten carcass is, although unrecognisable by their features alone, still wearing the ring that you gave to her not three weeks ago. Or worse still, she is still wearing the same dress that your fiancéé was wearing when you waved her off to visit her parents, excited by her new though yet unannounced engagement.
One can only imagine the terrible thoughts that swirled through young Terrence Darkly’s head when he came across his Honey, lying in that place, in that leafy hollow just off the track so familiar to him, in the wood.
Honey Meade was her name and a sweeter name could not more appropriately have matched a sweeter girl. No one knows what Terrence did or said when he found her. All that is known for certain is that Terrence Darkly stayed with his love in the wood through the night, for he did not return home until morning. Still not in possession of the title Lord, as his father clung to that for a few more years, Terrence was nonetheless always referred to as Lord Darkly whenever the story was recounted. Perhaps it was out of respect. Perhaps it was laziness or just plain ignorance. Few really cared about the man, neither as a man, nor for his feelings when they told his tale. Story telling is all about the story and the reaction people can get from telling a good one. Sometimes facts just get in the way.
When he came out of the wood walking towards Cranby, Terrence Darkly was carrying his bride-to- be, lifeless in his arms and the face he wore was no longer his. He was forever changed. Like all who fall in love, Terrence believed that theirs was a love stronger than any love that had come before. A romantic at heart, in his imaginings, Terrence simply knew that Honey would be by his side throughout his life. She would bear his children and they would grow old together. But that was all gone in the moment that he discovered her pale, cold body. How cruel fate could be, that it conspired for him to find her. Although he never spoke of that day and that dark, dark night, although he kept secret the time he had spent alone with her, with his dead love cradled in his arms to keep her cold, still body warm, it did not stop others from speculating. No one knew what had really happened. Only the bones of the story could be pieced together, but as always happens, from those bones, the story was drawn, gaps were filled with logic or imagination until it was complete.
Honey’s parents lived over twenty miles away, which at the time was a great distance. The roads were poor and not safe to travel alone or after dark. Honey had planned to take the coach that came through Cranby every Wednesday afternoon. It was best suited for her purpose, as it would bring her directly to her family home. She could have taken the Darkly’s carriage, but it was safer to travel the roads under the protection of a company coach as there were rumours of highwaymen abroad who would kill you soon as they would look at you.
She had chosen to stay with Terrence on the Darkly estate for the summer so she could spend more time with the man she loved. Everything was quite proper and she was chaperoned at all times, except when she would go for long, quiet, contemplative walks in the nearby Wood. She adored nature and loved the wood, despite the horrid tales that local folklore was filled with. To her, it was all stuff and nonsense. How could such a beautiful place be anything other than just that, beautiful? Honey was a girl of strong faith, so the Wood was God’s creation, a thing of great beauty. Besides, she had walked its paths many times and had never once felt a hint of anything dark or foreboding. There was no malice in that place to her. Perhaps it was more that there was no malice in Honey and she got the two confused.
On the day of her departure, Honey should have taken an escort to Cranby but it was such a short walk along the edge of the Wood that she insisted on walking alone. The full route around its edge was a long one, but Darkly Manor was on the North west side of the Wood and it was a relatively short stroll to cut across the top field and skirt the Wood’s western edge. It would be after all, the last chance to stretch her legs ahead of a torrid twenty mile coach ride. Terrence was away on that day and neither of his parents would have been inclined to make the journey with her anyway. They were not as sprightly as they once had been. Honey could have taken one of the servants for company, but in the end opted to walk alone. She had no need for baggage as she was travelling back home and everything she needed would be there. Honey could literally travel with the clothes on her back.
So, Honey kissed Lord and Lady Darkly a fond farewell, each kiss delicately placed on the cheek and strolled out towards Darkly Wood for the last time. They watched from the conservatory, unaware of the tragedy that was about to unfold and remarked on her sweetness. The Lord was quite taken by his son’s choice of fiancéé. Their engagement was still a secret, as Terrence had yet to formally ask for her father’s permission. It was something he sh
ould have done first, but he was bursting with love and could not wait, so he had asked and Honey had accepted. He planned to visit them with Honey on his return. Honey was going to test the water with her parents in advance. That was the chief purpose of her trip. But in the Darkly household, it was very much an open secret.
So although his father was not supposed to know of the engagement, he did and he could not be happier. Honey was a very pretty girl with a wonderful nature. He was always pleased to see her. Terrence’s mother was similarly smitten. She wanted her precious son to be happy and never believed he would find a girl that she would approve of. Honey had proved her wrong. She was a delight. They watched her leave that day, across the top field she floated and then as if swallowed by the wood, she was gone.
That she did not write was unsurprising, for although more than capable of penning a letter of Love, Terrence was to be away himself tending to business matters for most of the same time, so it would serve no purpose. Besides, they both knew that their absence from each other would be unbearable and that such a burden, would only sweeten their reunion. How wrong could they have been?
Honey never made it to Cranby to take the coach. No one there could have been expected to notice her movements or lack thereof and her arrival back home was not one waited for in anticipation, as it was a surprise that she had planned for her parents. She didn’t want them to know about the engagement just yet. So instead she wanted them to think that in one of her usual inspired moments of impulse, she had decided to spring a visit upon them unannounced. They would be so pleased and it would give her a chance to prepare them for the news of her engagement. With her planned visit a secret and no one expecting her arrival, quite simple, no one noticed that she was missing. Honey walked into the forest with a smile on her face and her disappearance went unnoticed, at least that is until the day her love discovered her, lying still and cold amongst the mud and the leaves of Darkly Wood.
