REALM'S END (BOOK OF FEY 1)

by Jules Hancock

  James struggled against the men. Their grip stayed tight upon him though and he could move naught. They dragged him across the dirt roadway, moving him closer to the council house. James suddenly realized that once he was in the cellar the magistrate would pay him little attention. “Wait, I wish to speak with the magistrate,” he yelled.

  The men just keep dragging him backwards over the street’s rough cobbled-stones. “Neighbors please, take pity upon one of your own. We’ve all borne Mrs. MacDermot’s wraith, over the years. You know she is driven by vengeance,” James cried out.

  “Aye,” said the old crofter Dardin. “That we have lad, but none of us have been accused of witch craft and after what I saw in the yard out there,” he said, motioning with his head back over his shoulder, “I would have to say, she may be right this time. Save your breath for your trial,” he said, and he reached up, bludgeoning James with his ash walking stick, knocking him out cold.

  ***

  It was nearly dark when James finally awoke; he had a dull headache and a big thirst. Gingerly he pulled himself into an upright position and felt along his skull until he came to the raised bump where Dardin had hit him. His fingers eased over the egg sized bump, no broken skin that was all to the good. Optimistically James continued taking stock of his body, nothing felt broken, which was a happy surprise. He knew from experience that the men who took responsibility to carry a man to the cellar, often used the opportunity to right any perceived personal transgressions, between themselves and the unlucky victim. He happily realized the villagers felt he was a fair man in his dealings with others. Other than the circle of iron at his ankle, attaching him to a thick chain bolted to the stone floor, he was in fair shape.

  James surveyed his prison, from where he sat on the floor. The walls were thick cut limestone, the room itself was empty except for kegs of beer, and barrels of potatoes, and a pile of broken jumble that lay in the farthest corner, all of which he could see his chain would not allow him to reach. There was an open shallow gutter in the center of the room, which clearly he was meant to use to relieve himself. A small pile of straw stood nearby waiting, meant for his bed, and next to that a water pail. James could see the only light came from one of the tightly shuttered windows; set deep and high overhead in the limestone wall. It was clearly much too small for any man to fit through.

  Using his free leg James pulled the water bucket close, till it was within arm’s reach. Wrapping his fingers around the rough wooden lip he pulled it to him and was surprised to see clean clear water in the bucket. He had expected fouled water at best. Clearly someone was not convinced that he was in fact a witch. Carefully he tipped his head back and drank freely of the cool water, letting it first wash away the rotten taste in his mouth and then fill his empty gut with something. Having slacked his thirst he sat the wooden pail back on the bricked floor. Seeing how much water he had already drank, he realized if he did have to ration the water, it would go hard on him, but he felt so much better for the drink, he decided to forgo worrying about rationing just yet.

  James heard the squeak of hinges and looked towards the great wooden door. There was a great clanking on the far side of the door and he quickly hung his head and feigned sleep as the door swung inward. Through his squinting eyes he could make out a swatch of light from a lantern making its way into the semi-dark room.

  “I don’t believe that he is a witch, my lord. My wife is a sick and twisted woman. I beg of you sir not to hold this man, for I feel we are accusing him wrongly,” MacDermot said.

  “Yes but what of the stories your wife told of the strange lad flying, how could a woman make up such a thing, unless she had seen it? Women are feeble minded at best, where would she have gotten such a tale, if it was not true?”

  James could see MacDermot anxiously shuffling his boot covered feet.

  “Lord I can’t say much about a woman’s intelligence, I’m not a learned man or where the woman would have come by such tales but I stand here begging for my neighbor’s life. My wife is bitter and hateful and as much as it shames me to say it, I would not have my neighbor lose his life just to watch her come up in her own eyes by his falling down.”

  James heard the magistrate sniff the air in acknowledgement of the man’s suffering such a wife and sighed. “I understand what you say, but the church would argue that you have been bamboozled by the witch, and that your wife is the one who can see clearly. I wish I had options here; however there is little room for me to behave differently, without jeopardizing my own freedom. In my experience once witchcraft is murmured within any village, someone must pay the ultimate price. My only hope now is to avoid hysteria. Come, as you can see the man is asleep; let him rest for tomorrow will be a hard day at best for the poor fellow.”

  James saw the boots turn and retreat and heard the heavy lock click into place. Opening his eyes he stared across the darkening room. He felt his hope fall away. Slumping against the rough stone wall in defeat, he pressed his back hard against the jagged stone, tearing at his flesh. There was no escape, the door was bolted and the floor was stone, so digging out wasn’t an option. Escaping from an accusation of witch craft meant dying on the gallows, to prove one’s innocence. His family would be lucky to survive at all and even if they did they would be run off their land and made paupers. Women were usually left with only one recourse. James scrubbed at his face with his rough weather-beaten hands; he couldn’t bear the image of his beautiful wife and daughter selling themselves to buy the spoiled crusts of bread.

  There had to be a way out! He would even bare the shame of fleeing Scotland if he could find a way to keep his family from harm! If only he could warn Meredith, he felt sure her sisters could get her and the children away to safety.

  The cellar grew steadily darker; as night came on. Finally James could not see even the faintest outline of the water bucket, which stood so near. He closed his eyes and tried to slow his breathing. His mind wandered over the years of his life; his first wife and the great love they had shared, how he had brought her and settled here in the highlands far from her own people. He conjured up an image of her face and her beauty caught even now in his throat. He remembered the day she had died, he had promised to care for their daughter and go on and find a new love. At the time, even thinking on the promise he’d made her to go on, brought the taste of bile into his mouth. It was funny how he couldn’t even remember his life before her. James shook his head hard, his hair whipping about his face. Why couldn’t he remember anything before Anna? It didn’t seem natural now that he thought about it.

  Night wore on and the stone walls began to release the last of the day’s heat. The cellar grew cold. James felt himself shiver and crawled slowly over to the pile of straw. He tried burrowing into the thin pile, and finally took to pulling it over himself as best he could. He knew the cold would dull his mind tomorrow and though he felt there was no chance to win in court he would try his best. The clean straw didn’t do much to stave off the cold but even so James felt himself sliding away into a fitful sleep.

  Understanding

  Meanwhile Meredith woke with a start, hadn’t she heard the shutters banging? During the night she had woken and went to the child’s cradle and brought the babe in to sleep within her arms. The baby needed constant feeding, and even as exhausted as Meredith was, she like any mother would find the energy to feed her child. Carefully now, she rose up leaving the sleeping child on the pallet, she had conjured up. Tiptoeing she made her way around the sleeping forms, that were her sisters. She crossed the room and reached up to unlatch the shutter and saw that her arm had transformed into a dark wing again instead of her hand. Meredith shifted easily back into her human form, her brows creased as she considered this new dilemma, but this unnatural shifting of her human shape would have to wait. Unlatching the shutters, she pushed them open. The day was bright and the sun streamed in. She looked through the open window, but she could see no problem. Perhaps a bird had flown into the shutter, she turned
her gaze downward and was surprised to find the grass under the window pressed flat and on a stump stood a pie tin tied up in a towel. The towel design was familiar to her. All the women embroidered their own patterns on their towels making them easy to reclaim at community gatherings. Meredith let her mind wonder for a moment, why would Coira MacDermot have been snooping at their window? Something must have spooked her, for she had departed abruptly, leaving the pie behind.

  Hurriedly pulling the shutters closed behind her she latched them shut as she turned towards her siblings. “Sisters wake up this instance,” Meredith said. Magically she lit a candle and the fireplace at the same time.

  Hectain and Reval were slow to rouse. Reval sat up rubbing her eyes, “What’s wrong sister?”

  “Trouble is coming. We’ve been spied upon.”

  Hectain looked down at her feathered body and opening her beak she brought about the change, that shifted her back to human form. “What do you mean spied upon, sister?”

  “A noise woke me, when I looked out the window I saw the grass is smashed down and a pie has been left sitting on a stump. It is covered with the neighbor’s tea towel.”

  Reval shifted herself to human and stood surveying the room. “Wow that was quite a party last night wasn’t it? We all spontaneously shifted to crow, now that is some powerful magic sisters!”

  The sisters all stopped to look down at Gwenth, who slept on though they were speaking quite loudly.

  Meredith stepped to the bed and laid her hand on Gwenth’s forehead, it was cool to the touch and she seemed to be sleeping naturally. Gently she pulled back the cloth bandaging her badly torn side. There was no open wound at all. Just a small raised pucker was all that remained. Meredith gasped.

  “What is it sister? Is the girl worse?”

  “No, there is hardly a sign of the injury at all. It is completely healed over with barely a mark left behind. Come see for yourselves.”

  Reval and Hectain made their way around the bed to Meredith’s side and stared at the puckered welt. The small mark was the only indication that there had ever been an injury.

  “Well I think that explains what was going on last night, a near perfect healing. Imagine if it had been only our own magic, the girl would be alive but maimed, still. Strong stuff we hooked into last night,” Hectain said, as she moved away to tidy up the room. “I can’t imagine she would have even lived if she hadn’t had the feathered cape protecting her.”

  “True sister. I’m glad I took the time to put it on her before she left.”

  Reval smiled in agreement and then snapping her fingers she suddenly stood before the sisters smartly turned out in new leather britches, an open collared pearl white blouse lay crisp and clean over her amble bosom. A bright red cape of luxurious soft wool covered the entire outfit. The cape fell neatly; stopping at the top of her black calfskin boots. Reval while still heavyset, seemed very regal in her new wardrobe.

  Meredith and Hectain gasped when they saw the transformation.

  “Sister you can’t wear pants! Only men of this species can wear pants,” Meredith reminded.

  “Lucky then I’m not of this species,” Reval laughed. “Sisters we all saw the power of the old magic last night. It used us to carry out its wishes. It took our poor worn down version of magic and used it to create a healing we could never have done, even banded together as we were. That says to me, that real, true magic, is still loose in the world and we need to go after it. Perhaps it’s not only this girl that is supposed to be on this adventure, maybe it’s for us too, and we have been too blind to see it. Maybe that’s the case, and if it is, I for one, want to be comfortable. I’ve been experimenting, and let me tell you both, pants are comfortable sisters! I’ve just about had enough of this bullying race of people! I will be wearing pants, of that much you two can be assured.”

  Hectain and Meredith looked at one another as they listened to Reval speak. Had the magic that was loosed last night hurt their sister? Magic was a notoriously dangerous tool, and it had over the eons destroyed many a witch, sometimes even tearing them from their ability to reign in their fears.

  “Sister, do you feel alright? Come and sit down by the fire and let me get you some tea,” Meredith said, as she picked up the baby and pulled her shift aside to allow it to nurse.

  “Yes, sister, why don’t you sit down? I will straighten up the room, and you can rest before we eat,” Hectain said, as she worriedly looked at her sister.

  Reval twitched her finger and the room was tidied, and hot food was laid out on a table set before the fire. “I know you’re both afraid I’ve lost my senses, afraid that the magic is out of control, or at the very least I am, so don’t bother denying it,” she said, as she walked over to where her sister’s stood and looked them both squarely in the eye.

  Meredith was the first to look away. Moving over to the fire she filled a plate with scrambled eggs and roasted sausages and sat down to eat while the baby nursed.

  “Sister,” Meredith laughed lightly. “We don’t think any such thing; we are just worried. We were all over taxed by last night’s work.”

  Reval came before the fire and taking up a plate she too filled it with a large portion, she turned to look back at Hectain before sitting herself on a stool that only appeared as she began to lower herself down. “Is it true Hectain, what Meredith says?”

  Hectain swallowed hard, her mind raced ahead. Where was Reval going with this conversation? Had she been subverted by the old magic or had it found a weakness in her sibling? Hectain who usually oozed confidence felt her hands shaking as she picked up the last plate. The tallest of the three sisters, she bent over reaching for the spoon when suddenly she saw a glint in the spoon’s polished surface. Hectain turned to look over her shoulder and as she did she saw out of the corner of her eye a gleam in the corner of the room. Hectain set the plate down on the table, and walked over to the corner of the room. Looking up she could just make out a tiny glimmer. Hectain tried to conjure the thing from its nook amongst the rafters, but she found it would not budge. “Sisters come and see this.”

  Reval and Meredith leapt up and crossed the room. Meredith stopped long enough to lay the sleeping child on the bed, next to Gwenth, before she hurriedly crossed the room to where Reval already stood next to Hectain.

  “What do you make of that?” Hectain asked.

  “I’ve no idea. Meredith do you know what it is?”

  “No, I can think only perhaps it’s something James has stored within the rafters for safe keeping.”

  Reval snapped her fingers and rose slowly up, stopping only when she came even with the shiny thing. The rafters were too dark. She pointed her right index finger toward the thing and speaking a magic word, a light began to brighten at the tip of her finger. “It looks like a bauble of some kind.” Reval cautiously reached out, for her intuition was clearly suggesting care be taken. “Whatever it is, it’s quite dirty. There must be an inch of dust on it,” she said, looking down at her sisters.

  “Does it feel dangerous,” Hectain asked?

  “Dangerous isn’t quite the word I would use, but it does feel magical, very magical in fact. It’s kind of curious really.”

  Meredith watched, as Reval moved slowly closer to the small object. “What do you mean curious?”

  “I mean,” said Reval, “It is magical and I sense it wants me to go away, but it’s not striking out at me at all.”

  “Sister, before you go further in your examination, perhaps you should come back down.”

  Reval looked down at the two sisters and considered the idea for a moment. “Yes perhaps I will. I think haste would not benefit us here sisters,” she said, allowing herself to drift gently to the floor.

  Hectain let her gaze go from the rafters to her sister’s face. “Can you say it’s safe?”

  Reval walked back across to the fire and took up her plate. “No, I can’t say it’s safe, but I can’t say its harmful either. It seemed familiar somehow, as if the
flavor of its magic is familiar to me,” she said as she sat down and resumed eating.

  Meredith stooped and gathered the sleeping child into her arms, and looked down upon the Gwenth’s face. “I wonder why she isn’t waking? Doesn’t that concern either of you,” she asked, turning towards the reclining sisters? “I mean shouldn’t she have woken by now?”

  “Meredith, the girl’s fine, let’s focus on finding out what this magic is up there,” Reval said, pointing her knife towards the rafters.

  Hectain chewed the bite of lamb as she considered all that had transpired since last night. “Did anyone else see a great rift in the boy’s world,” she asked?

  “Yes I did.”

  “Hmm, so did I.” Reval chewed thoughtfully.

  “I thought so,” Hectain said.

  “What are you getting at sister,” Meredith asked, as she crossed the room?

  Hectain took another bite and chewed slowly. “I think perhaps we have located the magical thing which has kept us forgetting to look for it all these long months. I think it is the same thing that kept the building from being damaged too badly when the girl originally crossed the sea of time, and I think it may be the source of the old magic,” she said.

  Meredith squirmed a little bit at that. “Oh my, we’ve forgotten all about the boy.” She turned and rushed from the room.

  Saving James

  Briok woke early. He scrabbled quietly across the floor on his knees and blew across the still warm embers quietly stoking up the fire. Then he cut himself a piece of the cold lamb pie and stood eating it by the fire, warming himself. His neck was stiff and sore from falling asleep against the wall last night. He mulled over the events of yesterday again and again, and yet none of it seemed to make much sense to him. He remembered the fear as Gwenth fought the bear and how great his need was that he broke through the geas placed upon him, which hid his wings. Now in his stocking feet, he made his way across the room and stood with his ear pressed hard against the sleeping room door. He listened intently, but there was only silence. He wanted to push the door open and find out how Gwenth was. It made him nervous that no one was awake at this late hour. They all should’ve been about their chores by now.