The Long Staff (The Staff Wielder Series)

by Clare Wilson

  ‘If it is by the aviary,’ Lizzy mused, ‘we can hopefully hide where we did before.’

  ‘We shall see,’ the Laird replied. ‘For now, we must carry on as normal. Go through this evening as though nothing unusual is going on.’

  ‘I wish we could contact Mr Wilson,’ Lizzy said.

  ‘Unfortunately that isn’t practical given the timescales involved,’ the Laird said, frustrated at the prospect himself. ‘We shall need to go along, and then update Wilson with anything we hear tomorrow. ’

  * * *

  Back in their jail cell, the two boys were going over the plan they had formulated to try to overcome the Sheriff when he entered the room. They had dragged the bench over to the wall next to the door. It was against a wall so that when the door opened the person standing on the bench would be concealed.

  ‘So,’ Tom said, pacing up and down. ‘I’ll stand on the bench holding the metal bucket. When he opens the door, I’ll hit him over the head with it.’

  ‘Do you really think it’ll knock him out?’ Aneirin asked doubtfully.

  ‘Maybe not,’ Tom replied, feeling frustrated. ‘Although even if it doesn’t knock him out it should stun him, hopefully that’ll give you enough time to make a run for his office and grab the staff.’

  ‘Wouldn’t you be better to get the staff?’ Aneirin said, starting to feel nervous.

  ‘You’re faster than me,’ Tom said. ‘Anyway, don’t doubt yourself. I’m sure you could use the staff if you had to.’

  ‘I hope you’re right,’ Aneirin replied, his voice full of doubt.

  Suddenly they heard the lock turning in the door. Tom rushed to take his place on the bench and waited. His heart was pounding as he lifted the heavy metal bucket over his head and waited. It was only a bucket, but it felt like a tonne weight as he stood there, his arms beginning to shake.

  The Sheriff opened the door. He was holding a tray which had a jug on it, some mugs, a loaf of bread and some cheese.

  As the door closed over behind him, Tom took his chance and brought the bucket down over his head. It hit the man with a dull thud and he fell to the floor sending the tray flying.

  With the mugs bouncing loudly on the hard cell floor, Aneirin nodded to Tom and shot out of the door towards the Sheriff’s office.

  The blow had not knocked the man out, and he was now lying spread on the floor concussed, trying to figure out what had happened. Tom didn’t waste anytime and leapt from the bench towards the cell door.

  The Sheriff, however, was too quick for Tom and staggering to stand up, managed to grab Tom’s arm as he tried to get out of the door.

  The Sheriff had left his office door open. Aneirin rushed into the room and retrieved the staff. His heart beating fast, he turned round and headed back out of the office door just in time to see Tom appear in the door way. He then saw him being yanked back into the room.

  Aneirin froze as he saw that Tom was not free of the Sheriff. He was trying to think of anything he could do with the staff to help free the boy, but in his fear his mind had gone completely blank. Time suddenly seemed to stand still, all he could hear was his heart beating loudly in his chest.

  ‘Run!’ Tom shouted to him desperately.

  This snapped Aneirin from his daze and he sprinted towards the front door. He had no idea what he was doing, he couldn’t leave Tom behind. But he knew if he turned back they would both be caught.

  David was sitting behind the desk in a daze as Aneirin ran past him.

  Aneirin burst through the front door, looking left and right in the street and decided to head towards the Laird’s house. He then thought, you fool! Thinking better of his first choice, he decided it would be better to hide somewhere until the Sheriff had gone rather than to be seen running up the street. He turned left and then took the nearest side street he came to. He wouldn’t last two seconds against a grown man. Out of breath he crouched down and sat shaking, clutching Tom’s staff in his grasp. It took all of his control not to vomit on the street where he sat.

  Back in the cell, the Sheriff spun Tom round and hit him hard in the face. The man had not wanted to be in this position, but he couldn’t believe that the little wretches had attacked him. He had finally had enough. Even if he was making this child bear the brunt of the anger he really felt towards Naithara and the Provost, he didn’t care. He was not going to give the Provost the opportunity to gloat at his failure.

  Tom fell to the floor with the blow and hid his face in his hands. He was like a frightened animal, and the blow had stunned him so that he no longer thought of running.

  The Sheriff then quickly slammed the door on Tom and shouted to David, ‘Lock that blasted door!’

  The boy, who had been dozing until the sudden commotion, was still dazedly looking around the office. Nothing like this had ever happened before.

  ‘Move now!’ the Sheriff screamed at him.

  The Sheriff burst out into the street and looked around him. He cursed at the top of his voice, ‘Damn you, you little fiend! I’ll find you!’ He then turned right and ran up the street towards the edge of the village and the hills. He assumed the boy had tried to head back to where his family was likely to be.

  Aneirin was hidden behind a bin in an alley at the side of the local tavern. He heard the Sheriff’s footsteps running in the opposite direction and felt relieved. He slowly crept out of the alleyway and looked up the street in the direction the Sheriff had run. It was starting to grow dark, and he thought he had best head towards the Laird’s house and find Lizzy.

  Tom was lying on the cell floor feeling sick. Wiping the blood from his lip, he looked at his hand and couldn’t control himself any longer. He began to weep uncontrollably as his panic set in. He had no way to escape on his own, and had never wanted to be with his grandfather more. After everything he had achieved since arriving with Torean and his family, he suddenly felt like a frightened child again. He was alone and he was helpless. Unless Aneirin made it, he might also have lost his grandfather’s staff. He hadn’t felt fear like this since he had lost his father. He sat back against the bench and took a deep breath. He knew he needed to steady himself. Tom shook his head and looked up towards the only light now in the room, which was coming from the small window in the cell door. He definitely preferred adventures when he was safely enjoying them from the right side of the page.

  Chapter Sixteen

  The Condemned Man

  Lizzy and the Laird sat together in his study watching the clock. It was past eleven and the evening had dragged, waiting to find out what had happened during Naithara’s trip into the hills. Dinner had been a long affair. Despite the Laird’s valiant attempt to seem jovial and light hearted, Lizzy could still sense there was a great uneasiness in the room.

  As soon as they had finished eating their food, the Laird was desperate to leave his niece’s company, worried that he might say something to make her suspicious. ‘Well, my dear,’ he said smiling, across the table at her. ‘I hope you won’t think me rude if I pay you my leave? I am in the middle of reading through some rather fascinating papers on ancient fishing rights.’

  ‘Of course, uncle,’ Naithara replied, smiling demurely.

  ‘Hah,’ the Laird said jovially. ‘I see that you find the pleasures of an old man amusing. I must say that I can understand why a young lady would not be entertained by such subjects, eh Lizzy?’ He now winked over at Lizzy.

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ she said with a slight curtsey. She was worried that the Laird was trying a little too hard to seem nonchalant.

  Naithara rose from her chair. ‘Don’t worry, uncle. I don’t question the workings of your mind when I know that I could never match your intellect.’

  Lizzy thought that this too seemed a strange comment for Naithara to make. She usually acted as though she believed she needed to try to control the Laird’s behaviour because he was incapable. Perhaps she too was nervous this evening that the Laird would pass comment on the fact that she had been absent from
the house the previous evening.

  As such the three went about their business as best they could, eachcounting down the minutes.

  The Laird nodded and stood up, saying to Lizzy, ‘Well, my girl, I think it best we make a move. We have to be ahead of her when she leaves the house. Go to your room and fetch your travelling cloak, I will meet you in the scullery.

  Lizzy dashed from the room and hurried up the narrow staircase which led to her living quarters. Grabbing her cloak quickly, she rushed back down the stairs to meet the Laird.

  He was waiting for her in the scullery when she entered and motioned for her to be quiet. He then opened the back door and the two of them silently moved out into the garden. They chose a spot behind a large tree, hoping its shadow would render them invisible to anyone leaving the house, and waited patiently.

  Ten minutes after their arrival they heard the back door open for a second time and Lady Naithara ran out into the night. They allowed her to leave the immediate area before giving chase quietly across the grass. They moved with stealth being careful to make their journey in stages. They had to move between things like trees and bushes to ensure they were not left out in the open, should Naithara choose to look behind her.

  After a time they were relieved when they realised Naithara was in fact returning to the clearing by the aviary. This meant they knew where they could hide and still have a good vantage point to watch the group. When they arrived, they managed to quietly take up their previous position behind the boxes next to the aviary itself. The area was very quiet, all the birds were asleep and the Laird thought they would need to be careful at this point as any noise could result in them being found out.

  Naithara went around the clearing setting up the torches as she had before and then waited in the shadows for her guests to arrive.

  Slowly the men arrived one by one, cloaked as before. The scene made for a gruesome sight. They were like evil spectres gathered to carry out foul deeds. The group, now back to its full compliment after the return of the two who had gone on the fruitless mission to try to catch Adaira and her son, stood and whispered to one another in hushed tones, awaiting the arrival of the Sheriff and his prisoners.

  Before long the Sheriff appeared in the clearing dragging Tom along behind him. He was a sorry sight. The blow the Sheriff had dealt him had already come up as a large bruise and he had dried blood on his face and shirt.

  The group muttered to one another as they saw him approach.

  Naithara looked livid, ‘What is the meaning of this, Michael? Are you delivering our boys one at a time, or has something happened?’

  ‘Well,’ stuttered the Sheriff, who was terrified by what his punishment would be. ‘There was a minor incident earlier today.’

  The group was now no longer muttering, but was cursing at the Sheriff.

  Lizzy looked at the Laird, terrified. ‘Naithara said boys,’ she whispered. ‘That means they got Aneirin too. What have they done to him?’

  Lizzy felt an arm around her shoulder and looked up to smile at the Laird gratefully, when she realised it was not the Laird who was comforting her. She almost gasped aloud, but was stopped by a hand reaching round over her mouth.

  ‘I’m here. I told you that you couldn’t get rid of me that easily,’ Aneirin’s voice whispered in her ear.

  Lizzy wasn’t sure whether she felt completely terrified, or overjoyed that Aneirin seemed to have evaded their clutches.

  Meanwhile, Naithara was holding up her hands to quieten the group of men. ‘Michael,’ she said, looking at him with utter hatred. ‘Prey, tell us about this incident which befell you this afternoon. I assume by the looks of things that it involved beating our boy here to within an inch of his life?’

  The Sheriff was terrified. How could he explain to her that one of the boys had escaped? ‘They attacked me, my Lady. One of them got away, but I managed to keep this one.’ He gestured towards Tom who was down on his knees with his hands bound. The Sheriff’s sadly hopeful expression was almost pitiful.

  ‘I see,’ said Naithara gravely. ‘We shall summon my master and see what he has to say.’

  ‘Please,’ the Sheriff begged.

  ‘Silence!’ Naithara bellowed. ‘While you have kept one of the boys, it is not even Torean’s grandson. Who is this little wretch?’ she asked, looking at Tom as though he was a disgusting piece of excrement.

  ‘My Lady,’ continued the Sheriff, unsure of why he was still talking, ‘the boy says that he is Aneirin’s cousin.’

  ‘Cousin, eh,’ said Naithara. ‘Well hopefully such a distant relative will be enough to lure the old man from the hills.

  With that Naithara swept round and began the chant. The other men joined in and the winds began to rise. As before, the clearing was suddenly filled with the thick presence which came with Eiric.

  ‘What do you have for me?’ the deep, disembodied voice called.

  ‘My Lord,’ said Naithara grovelling. ‘We have a boy, a relative of Torean MacKay. We hope to use him as bait to lure the old man to us.’

  There was no response.

  ‘We also have his staff,’ Naithara said, hoping this would placate her master.

  ‘Show it to me,’ he boomed.

  ‘Of course,’ Naithara muttered.

  At once Lady Naithara’s face changed. Eiric had entered her body in order to use her eyes. Tom noticed that her face now appeared very long and angular, and her eyes looked like those of a wolf staring through the dark.

  He looked at Tom and muttered.

  Agony flowed through the boy’s body, leaving him writhing on the ground.

  ‘You have found a staff bearer, indeed, but you do not have his staff. Who is responsible for this?’

  Before the Sheriff could speak in his defence the Provost spat venomously, ‘The fault lies with this wretch!’ He was pointing at the Sheriff.

  A light flashed through the air from Naithara’s eyes, striking the Sheriff in the chest. Like a puppet with its strings suddenly cut, the Sheriff fell to the ground, dead.

  They were all afraid, all except the Provost. The men in the group were looking from one to the other now, terrified that they could be next to feel Eiric’s powerful wrath. The Provost was looking at the Sheriff’s broken body enraptured by the sight. He almost looked as though he envied the powers which Eiric could command.

  Lizzy hid her head in Aneirin’s breast, disgusted by what she saw. She could not control her fear. If this being had just killed the Sheriff without a second thought, what was he going to do to Tom?

  ‘Let me see the staff wielder,’ said the voice, which seemed extremely out of place coming from Naithara’s mouth.

  Tom was dragged forward, his face ashen white.

  The Provost pulled Tom’s hair to force his face upwards.

  ‘Where is the staff?’ the voice screamed, its piercing eyes drilling through Tom’s soul.

  Tom didn’t know the answer. He knew that Aneirin had the staff, but not where he had taken it when he had fled the Sheriff’s offices. He couldn’t have said so aloud, he was far too afraid. He didn’t know where to look. He couldn’t look at the ground without seeing the Sheriff’s blank eyes looking up at him.

  Her master was livid. ‘You have brought me this mute boy!’ As he spoke he exited Naithara’s body. She crumbled to the ground.

  Naithara began to beg, she was on all fours on the ground. ‘Master, the boy will draw the old man.’

  ‘That is not good enough! I gave you a simple task.’ The voice seemed to be swirling around the clearing now as it spoke.

  Naithara cowered. She knew that she dare not speak for fear this would make matters worse.

  The winds rose around them, it was extremely loud. Tom watched as the leaves began blowing up around the clearing into a whirlwind.

  As quickly as the winds had begun there was complete silence. It was the kind of silence which could almost seem deafening after such an incredible noise.

  ‘You have been fa
ithful,’ Eiric then said, in a voice much quieter than he had used before. ‘I will therefore grant you mercy.’

  ‘Thank you, my Lord!’ Naithara exclaimed, raising her hands towards the heavens.

  ‘You will have three more of your days to fix this. Call me here again when twelve o’clock chimes.’

  ‘Yes, my Lord,’ Naithara stuttered, looking at the ground.

  A wind rushed around the clearing once more and died away. Eiric was gone.

  The group stayed where they were standing. No one spoke for what seemed like a long time.

  The Minister approached Naithara and warily put a hand on her shoulder. ‘My Lady,’ he said hesitantly. ‘What should we do with, erm, with the Sheriff?’ He pointed to where the body was still lying on the ground.

  Naithara looked up, her face tear stained. ‘I don’t know,’ she said, sounding like a small child. ‘Do you have any ideas?’

  The Minister walked over to the body and looked at him for a long time. He walked back to Naithara. ‘There isn’t a mark on him,’ he said, trying not to show his disgust at the situation. ‘I will get one of the men to help me. I think we could take him back to his house, put him in his bed. I will go by in the morning to visit him, and find him dead in his bed.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Naithara.

  The Minister put out a hand and helped Naithara to her feet. ‘I think you should return home. You will need your rest if we are to start bright and early tomorrow morning to fix this.’

  She smiled at him. ‘Thank you.’ She rose to her feet and suddenly noticed Tom still standing near where the Sheriff was lying. ‘Ah,’ she said despondently. ‘I forgot about the boy. With the Sheriff gone, I’m not sure what to do with him.’

  The Provost overheard this and stepped forward. ‘I will take him, my Lady.’