Dark Embers

by R. L. Giddings

  He indicated for Edwin to continue rowing, which he did.

  We rowed around for several more minutes with Macrory giving vague instructions as he leaned over the side. Eventually, I’d had enough.

  “What is it you’re looking for? Some kind of doorway, or what?”

  “Things are either there or they’re not there,” Macrory insisted.

  He sat, staring at the surface of the lake as Edwin began rowing in circles.

  “Okay! That’ll do.”

  Edwin dipped the oars into the water and kept them there. I exchanged glances with Millie. She furrowed her brow. No one said anything.

  A bat pirouetted overhead. Water lapped against the side of the boat.

  And still we sat.

  “This is not going to be easy,” Macrory said.

  I turned my head to left and right.

  Nothing.

  “Ideally, the surface should be totally flat. Like a millpond. Too much of a breeze tonight.”

  “So what should we do?”

  I couldn’t help but admire Edwin’s seriousness. Macrory was clearly talking bollocks and I think Edwin knew that, but, at the same time, Macrory was all we had. If I’d been in Edwin’s place, I couldn’t have done it. Couldn’t have kept a straight face.

  “Well, we could have a go, I suppose,” Macrory said pompously, searching for his staff on the bottom of the boat. “Won’t be easy though.”

  Finally, I cracked.

  “What? What won’t be easy?”

  “Why, stepping through the portal of course.”

  He extended his arm as if indicating a self-evident truth.

  “The entrance is through there.”

  I looked again.

  “You’re pointing at the water.”

  “No, I am not,” Macrory was struggling to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “I am pointing at the moon.”

  “You are pointing at the reflection of the moon.”

  “Which marks the entrance to the Faerie Kingdom.”

  I looked to the others. “You’re serious?”

  “The moon marks the spot. The moon always marks the spot, except of course on those rare occasions when X marks the spot. Though that is hardly ever the case.”

  “Okay!” Edwin was trying to inject some enthusiasm into his voice. “What do we do now?”

  But Macrory wasn’t listening. Using his staff to steady himself, he’d climbed to his feet. He adjusted the back pack he was wearing looking for all the world like he was waiting for a bus. As the boat rocked form side to side, Edwin levered his oars out of the water in an attempt to balance everything out.

  “It’s best to wait for an unbroken reflection,” Macrory said.

  Then he pinched his nose and leapt into the water.

  “Oh my God! What is he doing?”

  My natural response was to lean over so that I could grab him when he re-surfaced. Only he didn’t re-surface.

  Millie said, “Shouldn’t someone go in after him?”

  “No!” cautioned Edwin. “Or, rather, yes. I think that’s what he wants.”

  I strained to see if there was anything lurking beneath the surface, but it was hopeless.

  “What if he drowns?”

  Edwin levered the oars around so that the paddles rested inside the boat, dripping onto my seat.

  “He was very clear. “The moon marks the spot.””

  “You genuinely think that this is the entrance to Fairy Land? I mean, really?”

  Edwin slowly got to his feet, anxious to maintain his balance. “Only one way to find out.”

  He leapt two-footed, landing precisely on the moon’s reflection. Millie didn’t wait for me. She simply threw herself over the side.

  Which left me sitting alone in the middle of the lake, the little boat pitching from side to side. I stood up, feeling like a total hypocrite, and then I went after them.

  Cha

  “There she is. Over there. Try and grab her.”

  I was dis-orientated, not least by the bright sun-light. I was in the middle of a fast flowing river being carried along at a decent pace. I wiped water off my face and tried to turn around.

  “Bronte! Grab this!”

  There was a slapping noise behind me and, when I threw out my hand, my fingers closed on a handful of dense, soggy material. Then I was being swept along, the material seemingly being pulled from my grasp.

  I experienced a surge of panic and quickly grabbed the length of fabric with both hands and saw Edwin nearly lose his footing as he struggled to hold on. Hugging the material tight to my chest, I kicked towards the shore and was relieved when I felt the reassuring response of rocks underfoot. The current still had a hold of me though and I had to rely on Edwin’s strength to get me closer to the bank. I hobbled into the shallows and then, when I felt safe enough, simply collapsed.

  Edwin stood over me, blocking out the sun. “You okay?”

  “Just. I thought I was a gonner for a second.”

  I sat forward, taking deep breaths. It was only then that I realised I was still holding onto Edwin’s sodden jacket.

  “Thanks.” I wanted to say more but I was incapable. It was the second time he’d saved me in less than twenty four hours.

  Millie splashed through the shallows and then came over to perch on an outcrop of soil.

  “Well, that was different.”

  “Macrory?”

  “Over by the tree.”

  He made a forlorn figure, seeming to blend in with his surroundings. It was a rugged landscape with trees bordering the swirling river at every turn and, in the far distance, a line of slate grey mountains.

  Millie had lost a shoe in the river which wasn’t the end of the world but was going to make walking across rocky terrain a real challenge. I offered to give her one of mine but she refused. Edwin had an old leather wallet and I left them trying to fashion it into some kind of sandal. I went over and sat down next to Macrory.

  “You alright?” I said. “You look a bit upset.”

  “I can’t help it. Look at the place.”

  I humoured him by looking around. He was right, though. There was something odd about our surroundings over and above the rank smell of the vegetation. It had a strange, lifeless quality I couldn’t quite discern. Wherever I looked amongst the trees, I thought I imagined countless twisted faces which would appear briefly before disappearing. Macrory sought out a protruding tree root, grabbed it with both hands and pulled. It came part way out of the ground, before snapping off. But it wasn’t a clean sound, more a listless thunk.

  “Look at it,” he said. “The whole place is like this.”

  He crushed the root in his hand and then rubbed it between his palms. When he’d finished, there were only dry splinters of wood remaining. It smelled of dark decay.

  “Dying. The whole place. It’s as though everything has died and no one has noticed.

  That’s what was different. That’s what was missing.

  Colour.

  When I looked again it was obvious. The landscape had lost its vigor. I was looking at a monochrome palette of greys and blacks. Even the foliage was affected. Everywhere you looked, the canopy of leaves had turned an ashen grey. If this was autumn in England we’d be looking at a broad palette of warm yellows and russet reds. Not here.

  Macrory got to his feet.

  “We’d best be underway.”

  “You sure? You don’t look so good.”

  He puffed out his cheeks. He was just going to have to get on with it. “We haven’t got long and, unless I miss my guess, they’ll be sending riders to intercept us.”

  “But they can’t know that we’re here.”

  Macrory was distracted by something he saw down-stream. “Oh, they know alright. It’s just a question of how quickly they find us.”

  Then he walked along the bank a ways and pointed.

  “Heay! Has anyone lost a shoe?”

  *

  “Thanks for this, Edwin,�
�� I said, taking a handful of noodles. “Really clever of you to come prepared like this.”

  We were sitting on a narrow plateau, overlooking a densely wooded valley. It looked dark and vaguely threatening.

  Macrory harrumphed. “It’s only noodles and a bit of carrot.”

  “But at least we’ve got something to eat, that’s all.”

  Millie said, “I thought we had two rucksacks. What happened to the other one?”

  Edwin didn’t respond. He was busy doling out the noodles but he must have heard.

  “The strap must have broken,” Macrory said sullenly. “Came off in the river.”

  “Oh, so you lost it?”

  “Lost it? Course I didn’t lose it. Like I said: strap must have broken.”

  Macrory finished eating and then said rather grandly, “You forget. I’m not like you lot. This is my home.”

  “Yes. But you still have to eat.”

  “I don’t need all this!” he indicated my noodles. “I can always forage.”

  “Really?”

  “Of course. Did you see those mushrooms back there?”

  I furrowed my brow. “If they didn’t kill you nothing would. Seriously though, Edwin. Thanks for the food.”

  Millie said, “He used to be in the Venture Scouts. And he’s got his Duke of Edinburgh award.”

  Edwin said, “That was years ago. And besides, all I did was pack a few containers with stuff. It’s been a hectic week for all of us.”

  “And, it’s not over yet,” I said. I turned to Macrory. “How much further have we got to go?”

  “To the capital? Difficult to say. Ten miles maybe but it’s going to be quite taxing. No roads out here you know.”

  Millie said, “I had no idea it would be so dense. I mean, look down there. There could be anything lurking in those trees.”

  “We’re in the Fall of Dendhreich. This is where the Winter Queen recruits the bulk of her followers. The woods are alive with fairy folk.”

  “Then why haven’t we seen anyone,” I asked.

  “Because they don’t want you to. We’ll be safe so long as we don’t go blundering into one of their barrowhalls. So, we’d best all hope that I can still remember the way.”

  Millie lifted her head. “What could we expect if we were attacked? Are there likely to be many magic-users out here?”

  “One or two. Each community will have their own mage but they won’t be looking for a fight. And neither should you be. The very worst thing you could do right now would be to employ magic yourselves.”

  “But what if we’re attacked?”

  Macrory waved her objections to one side. “Trust me on this. No amount of provocation could possibly justify the shitstorm you’d be unleashing employing Earth Magic in the Kingdom.”

  “Shitstorm?” I repeated.

  He nodded. “Shitstorm.”

  *

  It was approaching dusk and a fine mist hung in the air. Down on the forest floor we walked in a ragged line. The oakwoods melded overhead so that we seemed to be walking under a grey canopy. We had been traveling solidly for most of the day, and hadn’t spoken for several hours when we heard the sound of a dog howling off in the distance. After that, we concentrated solely on the task of putting one foot in front of the other.

  I was reaching back to get my water bottle when a figure stepped out of the woodland and started heading towards us.

  Macrory, in the lead, raised a hand for us to stop.

  We were halfway up a short rise. The ground was soggy underfoot and gave off a sort of wet reek. Grey leaves coated the forest floor in mushy piles. I imagined we were in the drain-off area of a stream higher up.

  Millie moved to stand at my back.

  “Who do you think he is? Friend or foe?”

  It was difficult to tell because his long hair crowded out his features. He wore a coarse woollen shirt under a leather jerkin and baggy three quarter length trousers. His calves and forearms were thick with muscle. At his back, he sported a powerful looking hunting bow, his arrows hanging from a pouch at his waist.

  I thought about making a joke about Robin Hood but the words died on my lips when I saw what was standing over to our right.

  An enormous, shaggy dog squatted at the edge of the clearing, its long front legs tense and ready to spring. I’d never seen a dog like it: the upper body was thick around like a bear while the legs were strong yet willowy.

  The man approached and spoke in a guttural tongue which Macrory seemed to understand, though he said nothing in return. Although I couldn’t hear what was being said, I could see from the tension in their bodies that neither of them was disposed to dropping their guard.

  Millie plucked at my sleeve and I looked across to my right. The mist was growing thicker now and I was aware of a shape, just out of sight, moving around to cut off our flank. I couldn’t be sure because of the way the land shifted away from us whether it was an animal or a man but that didn’t seem to matter. Both seemed to pose a viable threat out here in the woods.

  I caught Edwin’s gaze and indicated as to where he should look into the trees but, when I glanced across, there was nothing there. Only the thickening mist.

  The light was draining from the sky and in the ensuing gloom I was starting to doubt myself. I adjusted the knife, pushing it further down into my jeans, making it easier to draw if it should come to it. Macrory might have forbidden us from wielding magic but I’d need something if that dog decided to attack.

  The animal seemed to grow in stature as the light in the forest dimmed and I fancied that it was looking directly at me, waiting for a single command to bring it to life.

  The tone of the conversation had changed now. The stranger’s voice was louder, angrier. Whatever assurances he had been expecting from Macrory had clearly not been forthcoming. I stepped over to my right, taking myself off the line of attack that the dog had been bracing for. With the incline working to its advantage, the animal would have been upon me in three or four strides. I took a couple of big, careful steps up to my right until I had raised myself up almost level with the dog. The ground had given way there revealing a jumble of tree roots. If the animal was given the command it would struggle to find solid enough footing from which to launch an attack

  Or so I hoped.

  The two men had stopped talking and stood at a prickly impasse. The mist was thicker than ever and, everywhere I looked, shapes loomed and swam, one moment threatening to materialise into a group of threatening figures, the next fading into nothing.

  “Edwin!” Macrory gestured for him to approach.

  As Edwin came alongside, Macrory’s hands reached for his back-pack. Without taking his eyes off the stranger, Macrory slowly unzipped the pack. He searched inside for a moment before producing a sealed packet of beef jerky. He tore it open and threw some of the contents in the hound’s direction.

  The man shot the animal a warning look as it made to snaffle the treat. The dog dropped back on its haunches only its eyes revealing its dilemma.

  Macrory offered the rest of the pack to the long haired man who snatched it away. He tore off a couple of strips and pressed them to his mouth, his jaw working mechanically.

  Once he’d finished eating he motioned to the dog which lurched forward, swallowing the jerky in a single gulp.

  He held his hand toward Macrory and motioned for more. Edwin took off the back pack and searched through it, coming out with a second packet. Macrory opened it and offered it to the stranger who, this time, pushed it down the back of his trousers.

  The man took two steps backwards and pointed to the top of the incline. He gave Macrory a series of directions before leaving the clearing and disappearing into the mist. After about a minute, there came a high, piercing whistle and the dog bounded after him.

  Millie and I moved over to stand beside Macrory.

  “Uugh! That smell!” Millie complained.

  “That’s pixie folk for you. They’re not great fans of bathing.�
��

  I said, “What was all that about?”

  “He came to warn us, at least that’s what he claims. Seems there’s a big hunting party searching the valley.”

  “Do you trust him?”

  “As much as I trust any pixie. But he might be onto something yet. If the queen is onto us then she might send a hunting party just to be on the safe side. We’ll have to wait and see.”

  Millie said, “He was very keen to take our food.”

  Macrory looked up and regarded the canopy. It would soon be dark.

  “Which is what’s worrying me the most. That was a hunting dog which makes him a hunter, yet he still can’t find enough food to feed the pair of them. Looks like things are worse than I thought.”

  Macrory had us re-trace our steps back maybe a quarter of a mile and we made camp there, gathering up piles of leaves to act as improvised mattresses. I buttoned up my jacket and lay down next to Millie, anticipating a fitful night but within seconds, I was fast asleep.

  *

  We were woken the next morning by the sound of a horn off in the distance.

  I was cold and stiff from sleeping rough and it took me a while to come to my feet. Edwin and Macrory were already up and about. Macrory was squatting next to the rucksack reviewing the food situation and Edwin was returning from having re-filled our bottles. I helped Millie stand and then helped brush the leaves off her clothes. She looked pale and dishevelled. Edwin came over and handed her a bottle of water. While she drank, we watched Macrory cramming food containers back into the bag.

  “What’s the plan then?” Edwin asked. “Are we going to double back: try and avoid them, or what?”

  Macrory marched over to us, adjusting the rucksack on his back. “No need for that. We’ll be fine.”

  He walked off and we followed him. Ten minutes later we passed the spot where we’d met the hunter and his dog the previous day. We walked up and over the brow of the hill and then stopped, marvelling at the forest laid out below us.

  “I’ve never seen anything like it,” I said. “It’s so dense it’s creepy.”

  “This is what England would have looked like at one time,” Edwin said. “Prime oak woodland, undisturbed and unspoiled. That’s not just oak trees down there either, you’ve got elder, hawthorn, ash.”