by Aderyn Wood
The shorelines of the islands became more threatening. Walls of rock, slippery from the constant spray of the ocean, surrounded her. With no place to rest, Dale knew she had to reach Mull Island by nightfall.
In the afternoon Dale hungered for hot food and a fire, but the waves, double in size, reflected the slate-grey sky.
“We have to keep going,” she whispered to Cat, and she tacked into the wind again. Her hands, chafed from the ropes, barely managed to hold on.
As she sailed, she thought about the dreams she’d been having. Maybe she was lacking in some vitamin. She hadn’t had a varied diet since she’d left. Perhaps that explained the appearance of the sprite.
But the little sprite had looked real.
So many strange things had happened in the past week – the YouTube clip, the mystic at the book store, the sprite … and Gareth’s murder. Dale shivered and shook her head, determined not to cry again. And what of Pastor Richard? She squinted into the wind. He had wanted information from Gareth. The more she thought about it the more she convinced herself he sought her.
But I’m no one – nothing.
The grey sun sank below the horizon and the moon rose high in the sky, and still Dale sailed. Her lips were blue and quivered. Her short hair stuck slick and cold. Cat was a tight ball of fur.
The night calmed the winds as she headed west. The stars and the moon provided just enough light to guide her. Every now and then she peered at the inky black water. But when she looked for too long images of her mother would appear. Strange – she almost missed her. Almost.
Eventually the high cliffs of the islands gave way to low lying shorelines and beaches. A light flickered in the distance. Was it the warm light of someone’s kitchen? Dale’s eyes were sore from the salt of the sea water and the tears that had escaped whenever she remembered Gareth. They drooped and she had trouble keeping her lids open enough to focus on the shoreline that now rushed closer.
She had furled the jib long ago. The mainsail wasn’t tight, and bulged loosely in the night breeze. At some point she had turned the tiller and now Joy surfed the waves as Dale guided her into the shore.
The boat banked and Dale had just enough energy to get out to drag her up the rocky beach before laying down on a bed of dried seaweed. Her eyes flicked open one last time, allowing her to register the rosy glow of a dawn light in the east, before she closed them and fell into a deep sleep.
Dale woke, rolled over and closed her eyes again. She drew the bed sheets up around her chin and put an arm under the soft pillow.
Wait – where am I?
She bolted upright. She was in a room. It was small with just the bed, a closet and a little table. Sunlight streamed through the window. Cat, curled in a tight ball, slept at the foot of the bed. He didn’t stir.
“Where am I?” she muttered her thought.
She swung her legs out of bed and her feet touched the rough spun of the woolly rug. She stood and stretched, feeling every muscle in her back and neck ache with a dull pain. But the stretch felt good. She noticed the nightgown she wore. It was long and white, and looked like something old Joan would sleep in. But it was clean.
Dale looked out the window. A green rolling hill rose up to meet the horizon. The sky was now bright blue. Some sheep were munching close to the window.
I must have been picked up by some kind farmer. I hope they took care of Joy.
She decided she’d better meet the mystery good Samaritan and opened the bedroom door.
The smell of cooking onions and garlic filled the hallway and she walked toward it. Her stomach growled. Not surprising; she’d had nothing to eat for over twenty-four hours. What was the time anyway? Probably midday.
The aroma grew more tantalising and her mouth watered. She came to a kitchen and took in the sight. A large wooden table stood in the centre of the room. Above it hung a drying rack, heavy with bunched herbs. Cupboards and shelves lined the walls and held a mass of crockery, stored food and jars. There was an old wood fired oven and before it stood a tall figure with silver hair that fell to her waist. She had her back to Dale, busy stirring the meal that now simmered in a frying pan.
Ness?
“Sit down, lass. This is almost ready.” The old woman didn’t turn from the stove.
Dale creased her brow. “How did you …”
“Know you were there?” Ness turned and smiled. “Sit, you must be famished. There be lots you’ll want to know, no doubt. We can talk after you eat.”
Dale pulled out the nearest chair and sat down slowly. Ness put down a knife and fork. “Tea?”
“That would be nice.” Dale’s voice croaked. Her lips were rough and dry.
Ness gave her a cup of tea and Dale sipped. It tasted like heaven. Then Ness served a plate of the food from the frying pan and sat down opposite her.
“Eat up.” She sipped her own cup of tea.
The food looked like some kind of omelette with sprinklings of herbs on top. She gobbled a mouthful. Then another, and in half a minute the breakfast was gone.
“Would you like some more?” Ness asked. Her eyes sparkled like they had the first time Dale met her. The pendant on her chest shimmered too.
Dale shook her head. “Thank you, I was very hungry. How much do I owe you?”
Ness threw back her head and laughed, loud and free. Dale liked the sound of it. Her voice had a deep musical quality.
Ness looked back at Dale and smiled. “You owe me naught, child.” She shook her head. “I think we may owe you.”
Dale sipped on her tea and eyed the old woman. “What happened?”
“You know what happened. You arrived on the shores of the island just before dawn. We found you not long after that and brought you back here, with Cat of course. You were exhausted.” Ness shrugged. “I put you to bed, and now you’re here with a full belly, sipping tea.”
Dale took another sip and swallowed. She looked at Ness over the rim of her cup as she considered her next question.
“And, do you know about,” she hesitated, taking a deep breath. “Do you know about …”
“Gareth?” Ness finished the question, her voice gentle.
Dale nodded slowly.
“Aye, child.” Ness reached out her hand and Dale allowed her to take her own. The woman’s touch was warm and comforting. A calm energy pulsed from her.
“He’s gone. That was not meant to come to pass.” She shook her head. “And I am sorry for it. He was a dear friend, and he loved you.”
Tears welled. Dale wiped them away.
Ness tightened her hold. “Let them fall, lass. Cry them all out; it’s the only remedy for tears.”
Dale slept through the afternoon. She awoke to the sound of an axe thumping through wood. When she looked out the window, the sheep had disappeared and the dusk light made the grassy hill dark green.
She got out of bed. Cat was gone. She walked to the kitchen but it was empty. The dishes from her breakfast sat drying on the rack. She opened the door and walked outside.
“Meow.” Cat ran up to her and Dale picked him up.
“Hello, Cat.” Dale stroked him, and he purred as she took in the view before them.
They were on top of a hill that overlooked the shore and the sea below. She could see Joy, banked high on the shoreline. Dale breathed a sigh of relief. She thought about walking down to see any possible damage to the boat. But she stayed where she was and looked at the sea. It was a deep blue now, darkening in the fading light.
“We made it, Cat.”
She had a flash of a dream in which a golden sea with waves like mountains threatened. But she shook her head and banished it from her mind.
The thumping sound returned. Dale put Cat down and headed toward it.
Ness’s house was an old stone cottage. Garden beds full of roses, ivy and herbs surrounded it. Around the back sprawled an overgrown vegetable garden and a small wooden shed. A large man was busy cutting wood.
“Hello?” Dale said qu
ietly.
The man did not appear to hear so she stepped closer. He was very large and stood over six feet. He wore overalls that revealed strong muscular arms. She looked at his face. He seemed middle aged perhaps. Something about his looks told Dale he was a simple man.
“Hello?” She spoke louder.
He still didn’t turn. Maybe he was deaf. Dale decided to tap him on the shoulder, but this was a mistake. He jumped, dropped the axe and ran waving his arms in the air above his head, looking terrified.
At that point Ness appeared. She came from around the shed with a basket full of eggs in her arms.
“Oh dear,” she uttered when she saw the big man lolloping off.
“Take these, lass.” She gave the basket to Dale and made off after the man. Dale watched as Ness caught up to him and touched his shoulder. She looked the big man straight in the face and spoke to him. Then the two of them walked back together to where Dale stood.
“My apologies, Dale.” Ness held one arm around the back of the man. ”This is Brutus.” She grabbed the man’s head and turned his face so that their eyes met. She spoke slowly and clearly, articulating each word carefully. “Brutus, this is Dale. Remember you brought her up to the house this morning? She will be staying with us for a few days.”
Brutus turned his head and looked at Dale. His brows knitted together as he looked her over. Dale suddenly wondered whether he was going to hit her or something. She felt nervous and smiled to show that she was pleased to meet him.
“Hello,” she said.
Then, unexpectedly, the big man smiled and when he did Dale saw that he had one solitary tooth. He nodded and pointed to himself, “Brootus, Brootus.” Then he pointed to Dale. “Dal, Dal.”
Dale nodded and smiled.
Ness caught his attention again and spoke slowly, as though to a small child. “Now finish the wood and bring it inside, Brutus.”
Brutus nodded and walked off to pick up his axe.
Ness took the basket from Dale and guided her back into the cottage. “Brutus is simple and very deaf. He is easily frightened. He sees many spirits, you see. Trouble is, he doesn’t like them; they scare him. So you gave him a fright.”
“I see.” Dale shivered. Spirits?
Ness led her into the sitting room of the cottage. Night had descended and a storm could be heard in the distance. Dale made herself comfortable on an old sitting chair. Cat came in with Brutus and bounded onto her lap. She could feel the chill of the night air on his fur and was glad when Brutus lit a hearty fire.
The sitting room was cluttered with old looking relics, and it reminded Dale of an antique shop. It had shelves along one wall from the floor to the ceiling that overflowed with books. There were two sitting chairs and a table between them, with an old stained-glass lamp that produced a rosy glow.
Above the mantle hung a large painting of a dawn scene, with pastel blues of a calm ocean in the foreground and swirling mists in the centre. Within the mists familiar sights were just visible – the shape of a tree or a distinct shore line. But just as Dale detected a shape, the mist took them back. The painting seemed alive.
“The Borderlands.” Ness entered the room with a tray that held a pot of tea and two cups. A clap of thunder sounded, but Ness ignored it and nodded toward the painting as she set the tray down to pour the tea. The steam rose up and swirled in the warming air. There was a flash of light outside and the thunder that followed was louder now. The storm crept closer.
“Is that the name of the painting?” Dale asked, as she took the cup and sipped.
“It’s the name of the place,” Ness corrected. “Your destination.”
Dale almost choked on her tea. “My what?”
Ness nodded, and her blue eyes sparkled in the glow of the firelight. “Your destination, lass. That’s where you must go when you leave here.”
“I don’t understand.” Dale shook her head.
“No, but you will.”
“What happened to Gareth? I mean I know he was murdered, but why?”
Ness put her hand on Dale’s arm. Dale could feel the same comforting warmth from before. It reminded her of the sensation she felt when Rhys had touched her hand in the library.
“One at a time. All will be explained. Let’s begin with Gareth.”
Dale nodded.
Ness took a sip of tea and looked into the fireplace, a sad expression on her face. “He was indeed murdered.”
“Yes, by pastor Ri—”
Ness held up her hand. “Do not say his name, child. Do not even think it. He is powerful – more powerful than you know. He sought Gareth and you saw what he did. But now he seeks you. He searches for you day and night, physically and – otherwise. You have managed to evade him so far, with a little help. You must continue to hide and I will assist you. You must make it to the Borderlands.”
Dale frowned and shook her head. This was so weird. Like a dream. She had so many questions.
“How do you know what happened? How do you even know who he is?”
“I just know. And you know I do. Dale, you don’t need me to tell you there is more to this world than the physical. You know it. Just as you know that cat lays in your lap. You know there are other planes of existence. You see more than the average girl your age.”
Ness’s eyes seemed to focus on something around Dale.
“You’re watching my aura again. You did that when we met, didn’t you?”
Ness laughed. “See? Like I said. You know there is something more to the world.” She sipped her tea, and so did Dale as she considered what question to ask next.
“There’s been so many strange things happen to me, I just don’t understand. It’s like I’m living in a dream. Or one of those surreal paintings. The kids at school, that, that mystic at the book shop—”
“Mystic?” Ness interrupted her.
“Yes, an author. She was in the book cafe the day I ran away from school. She told me I didn’t belong. She called me a changeling.”
Ness’s eyes sparkled blue and intense. She raised her brows. “Some people have the gift, like you do, but we can’t reach all of them. They pick up little bits though.”
Dale put her cup down on the table and massaged her neck.
“You speak in riddles, Ness. Could you please just tell me straight? What things do I know? What did she mean by ‘changeling’? Why did the pastor murder Gareth and what are these Borderlands?”
A crack of thunder vibrated through the cottage and the sharp fall of rain followed. The lamp flickered and went out. Only the light of the fire filled the room.
Ness stood and placed another log on the flames. She turned to face Dale.
“Yes, you must know all of these things. All of them.” She knelt and took Dale’s two hands in her own and gazed into Dale’s eyes. Dale could see the inky blue of her iris and felt at once as though she floated in an ocean.
The waves were large and she drifted. The sun hung low in the sky and the ocean had changed to pure gold. The mountainous waves returned, and Dale was swimming. But the drag of the ocean proved too strong. She looked over her shoulder and saw the same huge wave from her dreams and in its centre, a golden eye.
Then the scene changed.
She was on the bank of the Clyde. Pastor Richard held a gun at Gareth. Dale tried to yell out, but her voice failed, she was frozen. She watched in horror as the gun fired and Gareth fell back into the river. The water turned red. A river of blood.
She looked back at the Pastor but he was no longer there. A large hawk flew in the night sky and screeched a painful cry. Its eyes, flecked with gold, scanned the world and she knew it sought her.
She felt a tug on her arms and looked down to see the sprite in the boat beside her. She was in Joy. The ocean was blue again. There were no waves. A mist, pale and blue lay ahead and she could just detect the images of familiar objects within it. Were they trees? Was that a shoreline?
The sprite pointed toward the mist and smiled. Dal
e steered the boat toward it. The mists surrounded them and the world went quiet. There was only the sound of her breathing.
Slowly, the trees came into view, along with the promised shoreline. The mists swirled and a jetty was revealed. On it sat a boy, or was it a man? He stood. He was tall and lithe. His blond hair hung in braids. He waved. Joy sailed closer and his features came into view. He had violet eyes the colour of a dusk sky. His skin, fair, white. His ears were pointed. An elf?
“Welcome,” he said, smiling. “Welcome to the Borderlands.”
12
A rosy glow filled the little bedroom. Dale moved her legs and felt a weight on her feet. She sat up and rubbed her eyes. Cat stretched.
“Morning, Cat.”
She looked out the window. The swirls of a few clouds in the sky were all that remained from the storm.
Is my life just one big dream, she wondered.
In the kitchen Ness made her a cup of tea, and she pulled out a chair.
“How are you feeling?” the old woman asked, her eyes glinting blue.
Dale nodded. “I feel better.”
“Good. I expect you’re hungry again. I’ll fix you breakfast.”
Dale rubbed her eyes. She tried to remember what had happened the night before. The images were still clear in her mind. The blood red of the Clyde. She shivered.
“Ness, I remember seeing these images, like a dream, but not a dream, I think. No, I feel like I know these Borderlands you speak of. Is it true? Or is it just my imagination?” She took a sip of tea.
Ness turned, her smile made her look as though she was proud of something.
“Dale, your imagination is very active, but you have to start believing in it. The images spoke a truth and yes the Borderlands do exist. You must go to them.”
Dale nodded. “I saw a young man. He had blond hair, and his ears, they were – he was like an elf.”
Ness smiled again. “They are waiting for you, child.”
After her breakfast Dale was eager to ask Ness more questions. She wanted to learn about the Borderlands. Also, why Gareth had been murdered and why she could see auras.
