by Gregg Holt
A shadowy transparent image drifted along the valley below. Dressed in battle armour with a large rectangular shield, it moved towards the next hill. The apparition wore a white cloak flowing behind, the sword sat in its belt and his long blonde hair was contained by a tight metal band with a symbol on his forehead. Suddenly he stopped in his tracks and stared menacingly at Graham. After this glance he turned away and walked into the hillside, slowly disappearing below the surface.
After a few seconds Graham gasped, instinct returned and he ran frantically back to the farmhouse. “What’s up Spud, you look like you’ve seen a ghost,” Jim said, looking over in Kathleen’s direction with a meaningful look. She dropped her head; the secret burial grounds were going to be rediscovered through her nephew and this caused her distress.
It was heading towards the end of Graham’s holiday and despite him prompting his Uncle on several occasions there was nothing further said about swallow holes or secret passages. He didn’t discuss the warrior apparition or secret passageway with any of the family. Although he found it difficult, he did manage to keep his promise. They left Ireland heading back to England the next day and all he could think about was the secret passageway and Jim’s parting comment. “Remember, you made me a promise.” It wasn’t long before the bumps in the road started to fade and Graham fell soundly asleep.
Six months later, just after Christmas, Graham’s Mother and Father informed him they were going to Ireland again for their summer holidays. He was ecstatic, in an instance he started to remember about the secret passageway and warnings about staying away from the dangerous stream. The experience had faded and the mysteries of Knocknakil had been forgotten until now! It all came flooding back and he kept thinking about his Uncle Jim and finding out more about the farm and its hidden secrets.
One dark winter’s night in February, Graham had gone to bed as normal but for some reason he could not settle. He felt restless, something was not quite right but he didn’t know why. Graham heard his parents go to bed and pretended to be asleep when they came in to check on him. Sleep still eluded him and he climbed out of bed to gaze out the window. It was dark in the rear garden and there was a slight breeze which was moving the branches on the large Sycamore tree. He started to imagine shapes within the branches as they swayed from side to side. Suddenly a vivid image startled him; Graham saw a cloaked figure move by the tree. He instantly jumped back into bed deep under the covers, certain a mysterious apparition was on the prowl. Eventually he convinced himself that the darkness was playing tricks and fell asleep. Within minutes, Graham was dreaming about a screaming noise outside in the back garden, after a few seconds he woke startled, he wasn’t imagining. This noise was haunting, with very high penetrating pitches in waves like a siren. Never in his entire life had he heard anything so inexplicable.
Graham tried to build the confidence to look out the window. He placed his foot on the floor when the unearthly screech broke the silence again. Graham gasped and threw himself back into his bed. Now wide awake, it happened again, about three more times. Each time his heart pounded and he lifted the covers right under his chin. Graham was waiting in anticipation for it to start again but it was the phone that rang next, which made him jump. A deep sense of anxiety grew, not quite knowing what to expect next. His Mum ran out of bed and answered the phone. She did not come back upstairs and after a few minutes he decided to go and check what was happening. Slowly he crept downstairs and couldn’t hear much at first. But just as he passed the creaking stair he heard his Mum was crying. “What's up Mum?” he said, sensitively entering the room.
“Oh Graham,” and she started to cry even more. She beckoned him over and she gave him a big reassuring cuddle. “It’s Uncle Jim Reilly; he passed away peacefully in his sleep last night.”
Graham was stunned and fell backwards onto the floor; he burst into tears, saying “No, no this can’t be right!”
Chapter 2
Boggot Hole Clough
Against the dark sky, a flash of a cloak swished in the wind as an ominous image landed next to the back door. The dark countryside lit for a few seconds as a door briefly opened and slammed shut. The new arrival entered the forlorn dilapidated cottage situated deep in a large steep valley. A low mist draped the steep sides of the rock-strewn valley, making it almost impenetrable. There were no traces of civilisation to be found in this remote mountain range somewhere on the West Coast of Ireland. The cottage was in a bad state of repair; the windows were boarded up and the roof had collapsed some time in the past. The only living beings that passed over the summit of the valley were the occasional sheep who gazed longingly at the luscious untouched grass below. The suppressive atmosphere and fear for their own safety prevented them from progressing further despite the temptation of fresh pasture. A farmer occasionally passed by but was oblivious of the existence of this long-forgotten structure and didn’t so much as look in the valley.
The interior was sparse, with broken rocks littering the ground. In the corner of the cottage were stairs leading deep into the ground. The glow from a fire dancing around could be seen emanating from the bottom of the stairs. The image slowly glided down the stairs towards the flickering light. It wore an old monk’s cloak and no face could be seen inside the dark hood.
The silence was broken as a deep serrated voice spoke quietly. “Sucillian, my faithful servant, I need your help.”
The hooded being nodded his head in acknowledgement.
In the room a large fire crackled and burned violently, throwing haunting shapes around the damp walls covered in green slime. On a spit above the fire the skin of a pig bubbled and squealed as it slowly cooked.
Sucillian looked beyond the fire where the voice had come from deep into the corner of the room where the light failed to penetrate. He could see the occasional glint of dark eyes when the fire shot burning shrapnel in that direction.
“The time is fast approaching when we will learn the location of the long-lost secrets buried away somewhere deep in Mayo. The two young children will soon learn where the secret entrance is. Keep following them Sucillian, don’t harm them until they have delivered us our secret!” He grinned slightly, revealing his razor-sharp teeth for a brief second.
His dark eyes were flickering in the fire light; there was no blinking just a rigid stare. They were cold and sinister, staring right through Sucillian which would have unhinged the strongest of men.
The hooded being was undeterred and nodded slightly, accepting the orders.
“There is something else.” The ground started to shake, with parts of the remaining roof collapsing in a hail of dust. Above the valley a deep dark cloud gathered pace, building up just above the ground. The black cloud rolled quickly along the ground as if a great storm was building. Flashes of lightening were cracking out in all directions, sending loud rumblings echoing and shaking the valley floor. Rocks started tumbling downwards, crashing through the long ferns and heather. The cloud proceeded hastily towards the cottage, spreading wider and higher, developing into a vicious weather front. The door on the cottage violently flew open as a hurricane-strength wind whistled through the enclosed space, shaking the entire foundations of the cottage. Sucillian was almost knocked off his feet as his cloak slapped and flapped under the pressure. Small shrubs and dust spiralled around the room, having been uprooted by the strength of the wind. The thick cloud surrounded the cottage, being drawn in through the small doorway. Within seconds, the engrossing weather front had completely forced its way inside, leaving the valley to recover from the severe battering from the flash storm.
The door slammed closed and immediately calm returned; the fire could be seen and heard again. Sucillian turned as the sound of heavy footsteps entered the room. Large figures passed by him towards the dark eyes in the corner of the cottage.
Towering above this hooded fiend stood several large scary-looking men. They were covered in large animal furs which stretched around the torso, each with a broach holdin
g it in place just below the chin. Chain mail draped down their bodies, reaching their thighs. In their left hands were large round shields with sharp steel points in the centre aiming outwards to inflict the maximum damage on any enemies. On their heads were helmets of various designs: a couple had two horns pointing out of either side; others had nose plates and one had eye protectors, signifying these men were Viking warriors. They had belts around their waist with exaggerated buckles, which held long swords and short razor-sharp daggers.
The voice from the corner of the room broke the silence whilst still remaining hidden in the shadows.
“Sucillian, these men are notorious; they are brave vindictive soldiers who fought with me for centuries. They, like me, want the hidden burial grounds and will stop at nothing to find them, anybody who gets in their way…” ‘Crash’ – a large sword landed in the middle of the room, shaking violently.
One of the Vikings stood forward and retracted the sword into his belt. He spoke with the hidden being still remaining in the shadows. They spoke in an ancient dialect, undecipherable to anybody unfortunate enough to hear their conversation.
“Gregorian, go take your men and wait in the decaying forest until my ambassador summons you!” said the rough voice, with his eyes hauntingly penetrating out of the darkness.
Suddenly, the Vikings turned in synchrony and moved up the steps towards the door. The wind increased and the door burst open with hurricane strength as the dark cloud rushed into the room. The soldiers were swallowed by the mist which quickly digested them and withdrew back through the valley and up the steep slopes. Just past the valley, it quickly dropped towards the ocean. Low mist reduced visibility, any outsider would just see the fog. The dark blur joined the low-lying mist over the crashing waves. Just protruding through the obscure air, a wooden carved shape revealed itself. It was the face of a monster at the bow of this primeval vessel used by Vikings centuries ago. The mist evaporated out to sea and with it the crew and sinister boat had gone, leaving no indication of what had just happened.
From the other side of the valley a dark figure approached. His movement was much more deliberate and controlled, slowly bounding down the sheer slopes. He had several battle scars etched into his face. A long knee-length dark coat flapped behind as he moved swiftly towards the cottage. A tall man, with hair as dark as coal which was knotted and shoulder length, pushed open the cottage door. There were heavy footsteps as he approached the stairs and proceeded down into the darkness. Passing by Sucillian, he towered above him. Not even noticing he was there, he entered the murky shadows of the strange beasts’ realm.
“Ahh, my ambassador Iroquois, the time has come to repay your debt,” said the serrated voice from the gloom.
“It’s about time, do you know how long I have waited to be free of your shackles,” replied the visitor, his voice deep and treacherous.
“Honour your word, find me the burial grounds and you are a free man. There is a young boy who has recently arrived in the county; I feel he holds the key to the location. Sucillian here knows where you can find the boy and will accompany you.” A finger from the gloomy shadows pointed at Sucillian and the visitor turned towards the hooded being. Sucillian nodded in acknowledgement of his instructions.
“What about the boy?”
“I want the Burial Grounds, the boy is of no significance. Do what you have to!”
The dark-haired visitor looked at Sucillian and let out an excited untrustworthy laugh which echoed around the cottage and the surrounding valley. Sheep in the surrounding fields dispersed quickly, sensing danger was near.
“In the decaying forest await some of my soldiers; they will follow your every order. Don’t let me down!” he ordered, still remaining unseen in the gloom.
Iroquois did not reply, he looked at Sucillian and groaned disgruntled at having to accept orders. He moved towards the fire where the pig was slowly cooking. Grabbing one of its legs, he ripped it away from the body and instantly bit into it.
Turning round, he looked at Sucillian with flesh hanging from mouth. He stared for a few seconds and then returned and tucked into his feast.
Chapter 3
Knocknakil
Graham was devastated by the shocking news that had arrived from Ireland. This only worsened when he realised that his Mother was going over for the funeral without him. Graham tried frantically to advocate a place for himself but his parents insisted his schooling was more important. His Father had work commitments and couldn’t travel; but also insisted it was not the best place for a young lad. Graham detested his Dad for this decision but only managed two days of not talking to him.
Deep down, Graham struggled to accept there was not going to be any more secret conversations or walks with Jim around Knocknakil. This left him feeling cheated and resentful towards his Uncle for not finishing what he started.
Fortunately, this faded over the next few days to be replaced by happier memories although he still felt some disappointment that his mysterious adventures were over.
Graham’s holiday was quickly approaching but he showed no excitement or desire to returning to Mayo Abbey. His parents were worried as usually he was climbing the walls with excitement counting down the hours. His Mother had an idea and disappeared for a couple of hours before returning.
“Graham I have a surprise for you,” his Mum said, grinning broadly.
“What is it Mum?” he replied, not even bothering to lift his head.
“Lorna is coming with us to Ireland.”
Graham jumped up off the chair, cracking his head on the shelf above. At that point he didn’t know if to laugh or cry; this was great news coupled with a searing pain. Luckily the pain didn’t stay too long and the excitement came flooding back like a large emotional wave the size of a tsunami. Realising he was not being cool showing emotion, Graham changed his tune, “Well if she has to I suppose it’s OK”.
Lorna was one of Graham’s best friends since they were knee-high to a grasshopper, as Uncle Jim used to say. Although it wasn’t cool to hang around with a girl, she was more like a boy than some of his other friends and they always had great adventures together. Graham recalled the time they went fishing at a pond in some local fields. They set off down a country lane past some really expensive houses. It was at one of these houses that a large guard dog lived, always positioned close inside a large front gate waiting to ambush any unsuspecting visitors. Every time they went past it barked and snarled at them trying to break out through the gate, which fortunately was very high with little chance of the dog escaping. It was an Alsatian which was practically all black with some brown patches along its stomach. It was an extremely angry animal, intent on escape to inflict damage on anybody unfortunate enough to cross its path. This day they went past and as usual the dog was snarling and frothing at the mouth, doing his utmost to escape. Lorna decided to have some fun and started showing the dog her bum saying “I bet you would like to chew on this wouldn’t you”. This made the dog even more furious and it barked fiercely as it made several attempts to jump over the gate at them. They made a few jokes and decided to carry on to the pond. It wasn’t a particularly successful day’s fishing and after a couple of hours they decided to head home.
Passing by the houses again they were deep in conversation when their thoughts instantly switched, with the sound of a dog barking in the distance. They both looked across the road towards the notorious house with the irate Alsatian. To their horror, they realised the gate had been left open and instantly recognised that there was no barrier between them and the dog they had been tormenting earlier that day. Immediately, the dog noticed the familiar tormentors and with great speed set off toward them to pursue his prey. They both froze, glued to the spot; not that running would have helped as this animal was running at the speed of sound. As it started to get within a matter of feet, they could see its brilliant white teeth, especially the fangs. Their hearts started to beat faster and they braced themselves for the sharp pain o
f the razor sharp fangs penetrating their soft skin.
The rabid beast started across the road and sprang through the air launching his calculated final attack.
Simultaneously, a car appeared from nowhere at great speed and braked heavily, making a terrifically large screech followed by an enormous yelp, leaving the air with a strong smell of burning rubber!
It hit the dog and sent it sprawling right across the road. It took a few seconds to take all this in. Lorna pulled at Graham shouting “Quickly let’s go!” and they ran off as fast as their legs could carry them. It took them several months before they built up the courage to go past the house again but they never saw the dog as they passed.
Just at that point there was a knock on the door, it was Lorna. She came running in and Graham noticed she was just as excited about their holiday together as he was. Lorna had never been to Ireland and Graham quickly started to tell her stories about Mayo Abbey and the mysterious farm of Knocknakil. Lorna listened intently, which made a change, she was hanging off Graham’s every word. The two enthusiastically exchanged thoughts and ideas to create the perfect framework for a fantastic holiday. Lorna was the same age as him, thirteen; her skin was slightly darker with long dark hair, which was shoulder length. Even though she was the same age she had started to develop curves and bumps which Graham found a little uncomfortable, particularly as the clothes she had started to wear were quite tight. She was pretty, with brown eyes and a slim figure and he was always surprised about her appetite for adventures. Every time she smiled, the cutest dimples appeared in her cheeks which deep down Graham found were her most characteristic quality. They were good friends and didn’t argue too much, although Graham did find her to be stubborn, a little like himself. She was very single-minded and adventurous; fortunately they shared the same tastes and inquisitive nature. The rest of the night was spent sparring ideas and discussing what adventures they had planned. These were centred on Knocknakil and helping around the farm. Graham mentioned the dangers passed onto to him by his late Uncle about the stream and Lorna’s face lit up “This I must see,” she replied eagerly. Lastly, Graham mentioned the ghostly figures walking through hillsides which left Lorna looking at Graham a little sceptically.
