by June Wilson
Hel sighed in apparent satisfaction and waved the first figure towards her. Orla could see the outline of a young man, perhaps not much older than she was. The tattered clothing that hung from his limbs was enough to tell her he’d been a farmer in life and that he was Hilderinc, not human. When he lifted his head, she saw a deep gash from temple to jaw.
“How came you here?” Hel commanded.
“An accident. I fell upon the scythe.”
“Fool! You will be no loss to those who mourn you. What is your wish now?”
“My wish?” What remained of the young man’s eyes flicked to Orla; flicked back again. She felt his pain and confusion.
Hel leant towards him, her eyes glittering. “Do you wish to return to life, and all its delights – or to travel on to the unknown, where your soul will be lost amongst millions of others?”
She’s tricking you. Orla flung the thought at him, trying to focus on what was left of the young man’s mind. It’s she who wants your soul - she’ll enslave you and you’ll never leave this terrible place. Go to the Valley and join the others, for there you will find peace.
The young man hesitated. He was staring at the skulls around Hel’s neck and then his eyes travelled lower down, to where the fur covered her nakedness.
“Life,” he stammered. “I choose life.”
Hel gave a cry of triumph. “Take him!” she commanded. Hooded figures moved from the shadows and the air thickened with the smell of decay. As the young man struggled uselessly in their grip, Orla felt the sting of tears. She hadn’t been strong enough to reach him, despite the gift of the Fae. And Hel was already smiling at the second in line.
“Ah! A child. How wonderful.” Hel ran her tongue over her lips. “How old were you girl?”
The human girl was tiny – undernourished, with her ribs visible beneath the skin. Her dress hung in tatters from bony shoulders. “Five – no, six,” she said, casting her eyes down.
“And what brought you here, sweet thing?”
“I got sick. Mummy cried a lot. There was no food.”
“Ah. I see.” Hel softened her voice. “And what would you like now? Would you like to see mummy again?”
No! Orla hurled the command at the girl. She was too young and innocent to be taken in. She would not allow it. She saw the girl’s eyes widen, then, twisting her dress in her hands, she shook her head.
“What? You refuse me?” Hel stood and towered over the child. But Orla had fastened onto her soul - a gentle thing and pure as light.
“I do,” the girl whispered.
“Then go – and lose yourself in eternity,” Hel boomed. Instantly, the girl was lifted off her feet and her form dissolved into golden light. The light seemed to sing, a joyous sound that banished the darkness - then it was gone.
“You dare to defy me, priestess?” Hel turned to Orla, her voice full of malice.
“You say they have a choice. I saw no choice,” she said defiantly.
“Interference has a price.” Hel bent her face close to hers. “A high one. Are you prepared to pay it?”
Freya, give me strength, Orla pleaded silently. “I’m not afraid of you,” she said, holding her ground.
“Then you are more stupid than I took you for. Soon the pain will be more than you can bear. We’ll see where your bravery is then.”
Without further explanation, Hel called for the next supplicant, then for the one after that and the one after that. Just when the line seemed to have diminished, it was full again, so that hours passed and Orla lost count of how many souls were judged. Further intervention proved useless, despite her attempts to draw on the earth power. Something intangible had fallen between her and the dead, a dark veil that smothered her silent pleas as soon as they left her head. If this was Hel’s doing, she had underestimated the Goddess’s power.
“Our task is almost finished,” Hel said eventually, fingering the skulls around her neck. “But what is it the humans say? Leave the best till last? Let’s see if that’s true.”
The words were spoken lightly but Orla felt the weight of them. She had an overwhelming sense of dread as the last, lonely figure left the ship and walked slowly towards them, a massive sword trailing on the ground behind her. She wore the remnants of a fur-trimmed cloak and her hair hung in rats’ tails about her face. The woman – for woman it was – had green eyes above hollowed out cheeks and the light in them was almost gone.
“Lady Eleanor!”
Orla’s scream echoed round the cavern, whilst Hel looked on and laughed.
*
Ellie approached Isolde’s cave cautiously. It was well hidden and known only to a few, yet it had been breached by enemies in the past and this wasn’t the time to take any risks. She tethered her horse some distance away, covering the last half-mile on foot.
It was well past dawn now and the sun was warm on her face. Birds sang and a few feet away a stag nosed in the long grass. If only it could always be like this, Ellie thought, with no threat from Gods or men. Then chided herself for being foolish, for she had lived long enough to know such threats would never cease.
“You’re late,” Isolde said as she slipped through the hollow oak that served as entrance to her domain. “I was expecting you yesterday.”
The old woman was busy at her table, sorting through various herbs and medicinal plants. She barely looked up, but Ellie could tell she was pleased to see her.
“I had a few adventures on the way,” she said lightly. She took a place at the table and watched Isolde write out labels in her meticulous hand. She was more tired than she realized and was thankful for the silence.
“I saw everything,” Isolde said eventually. “You know what Orla’s done, don’t you?”
Ellie nodded and dropped her eyes. She couldn’t ignore the fact that she felt guilty about leaving Orla the way she had. But she’d had little choice.
“I’m not talking about her bargain with Hel,” Isolde snapped. “That was necessary – we can’t have Stanor lose a daughter as well as a wife. It’s her bargain with the Fae I’m worried about. Slippery creatures, as you well know.”
“I know less of them than you,” Ellie said carefully. “Their power is beyond my reach. Perhaps even beyond Freya’s. I don’t know what happened when they took Orla and that’s the truth. She certainly didn’t confide in me.”
“Humph – not much help are you?” Isolde shook her head. “Orla’s learnt much but she’s an innocent. If they’ve tricked her, I’ll have to go see the Queene myself. Why I should be surprised I don’t know.”
Ellie suppressed a smile. She knew Isolde would like nothing more than to try her hand against someone as powerful as the Queene of the Fae.
“So what do you have to tell me?” Isolde went on. “I can’t imagine you’ve come out here just to pass the time of day.”
“Orla gave Daisy a message for you. She said you’d know what it means. I must admit it’s got me puzzled and I’ve had plenty of time to think about it.”
“Well, out with it then!”
“Tell Isolde to look in the grave. Those were the words exactly – nothing more. Whose grave – do you know?”
Isolde opened her mouth to reply and at the same moment dropped the jar she was labeling. It smashed to pieces on the floor.
“May the Aetheling curse me!” she shouted. At first Ellie thought she was angry about the jar, but then Isolde put her head in her hands and howled. “I was weak before and now look what’s happened! We must go see Elok at once.”
“Isolde what are you talking about? What does Elok have to do with any of this?”
“We need to talk to him about The Maid’s Lament. Elok told us it wasn’t a coincidence and he was right. Freya only knows he can be an annoying man, but he’s no fool.”
The Maid’s Lament? Isolde was worried about the poem Gawain had unearthed in the library a few weeks ago? The same one Regil had mentioned? Surely that had nothing to do with Orla’s message.
“S
o – let me get this right. You’re saying the legend of the Maid holds all the answers? I don’t see how.”
Isolde sighed dramatically. “You know Eleanor, for a child of the Gods you can be very obtuse. I was trying to protect you, you know, but it’s too late now. Helaine is the Maid in the poem. It seems her power is growing. Which means, of course, one of the Gods is helping her.”
Ellie felt herself go cold as all the pieces clicked into place. It was a long time since she’d been in the schoolroom, but the Maid’s Lament told of a young woman who was seduced by a God. When the God’s child was stolen from her she vowed to take vengeance for all eternity. So if Helaine was the maid … then the God must be Jonas. That was why Isolde had sworn Orla to secrecy. She’d wanted to keep their liaison not just from her, but from Stanor and his daughters too.
“And what about the grave?” she said, pulling herself together. “What does Orla mean you to do?”
“I don’t know,” Isolde said grimly. “I was weak when Helaine died. I’d been treating her for her maladies for years, but I knew her life would be a short one. When she died, Stanor was so grief-stricken he couldn’t bear to undertake the normal rituals. So they buried her by the edge of the lake.”
“So? Burials aren’t uncommon, even for the most noble families.” A funeral pyre was the expected ceremony for one of noble birth, but exceptions were often made.
“There you go again!” Isolde snapped. “Brain gone to jelly has it? Helaine’s mother was a Seer. Helaine was a Seer herself, but didn’t know it. Then she met him and who knows what happened to her. Something did. Burning was a safer way. I knew it then and I know it now. Those rituals exist for a reason.”
“So what do you want to do? Burn the body now?” She couldn’t imagine what good that would do.
Isolde shook her head. “It’s too late for that. No – I think Orla’s seen something else in the grave. And there are ways of seeing that, without going to Glassmere.”
“The Pool you mean?”
“Yes of course the Pool.”
“Are you sure?” Ellie said. Despite her denials to the contrary, Isolde still wasn’t fully recovered. “It’s less than a week since your last scrying. The one you tried to keep from me,” she added drily.
“Nonsense! I’m as fit as a fiddle. Anyway, you’re here now and you can help me. You’ve got the Sight - it’s about time you honed it.”
Ellie knew she wouldn’t be able to convince the old woman otherwise so she followed her to the back of the cave, feeling a flicker of apprehension. She had never looked into the Pool before and knew of its dangers. Seers of old had been driven mad by the visions seen therein and scrying had killed more than one sage in recent history. Still, this wasn’t the time to lose her nerve. And at least she had Isolde to guide her.
“Ready?” Isolde asked quietly.
Ellie nodded and focused her gaze. The Pool was commonplace enough - a shallow stretch of water contained within a circle of limestone rocks. She saw nothing at first, only rocks worn smooth over time and a thread of bubbles across the surface. Then the water darkened and broiled and mist rose and swirled around their heads. Ellie felt the breath catch in her throat and her heart beat quicken. Isolde tightened the grip on her hand as a picture began to form: Glassmere in all its beauty, the shore fringed with trees and waving skalte grass. The moon was high in the sky, illuminating a grave by the water’s edge. Irises were planted behind the headstone and roses and daisies to either side. Ellie had never seen Helaine’s grave before, but now she understood why the twins visited so often. It was one of the most peaceful places she had ever seen.
Look closer, came Isolde’s voice inside her head. The old woman’s eyes were closed and pain was etched into every line on her face. She was clearly taking more of the strain than she should. Ellie knew she had to find more strength to share the burden. She was a child of the Gods and her power was great - perhaps even greater than that of Isolde, last of the Vanir.
Ellie looked into the grave and saw the coffin. It was stout oak, carved with the Glassmere crest. She steeled herself and looked into the silk-lined interior. She had seen dead bodies on the battlefield and deformed creatures in Niflheim, but what she had never seen was this: a corpse so perfectly preserved it looked as if it could wake at any moment. Helaine was beautiful and barely past the first flush of youth. Her golden hair was braided, her pale skin was blemish-free and her eyes…Ellie gasped. Helaine’s eyes were of the brightest blue and they were wide open.
Suddenly she felt all the breath being squeezed from her body. She turned to Isolde and tried to say her name, but darkness had already clouded her vision. Tom she thought, wishing she could have seen him one last time, I’m so sorry.
ENGLAND – 1856
Chapter 21
Alice had almost reached the front door of the cottage when it was ripped off its hinges and the ticket collector, Murdo, lurched towards her. His shirt collar and jacket were streaked with blood.
“Ah! Little Hilderinc, I see. Good – I was hoping for dessert,” he said, a nasty smile on his face.
Alice stumbled backwards. Why hadn’t Jess warned them? Had she run off or, worse, had he hurt her too?
“No you don’t.” Toby leapt between them and punched Murdo on the jaw. There was a squelching sound and the man’s face disintegrated, replaced by a slug-like head. It was eyeless, but antennae waved angrily in their direction.
“Oh Toby, you shouldn’t have done that,” an anguished voice said.
Alice looked up to see Jess standing in the doorway. Her dress was streaked with blood. “I’m sorry Alice - I tried to distract him, but he’s a pig. And now he’s angry.”
As she spoke, the rest of the ticket collector disappeared completely and Alice got her first close look at a Nifl demon. She’d heard about the tiger-like versions from Toby, but what had been the man Murdo was nothing like that. It was huge, at least ten feet in length and its ugly head was pressed against the ceiling, silvery spittle drooling from a mouth edged with sharp teeth. It had at least twelve legs, if you could even call them that, which were already heaving its mountainous body along the floor.
“Goodness me,” Martha said, emerging from the back room. “The demon I presume? I never thought…”
“Move it!” Toby shouted, pushing Martha towards the back door. “Come on Alice – we need to get out of here.”
Alice had no argument with that, but Jess was berating the demon, beating her ghost-like fists against his slimy skin.
“You’re not supposed to go round eating people! Don’t think I won’t tell Madame Varia, because I will. Then she’ll send you back to where you came from, you ugly snail!”
“Come on Jess!” Alice shouted. Maybe the demon couldn’t hurt her, but she still wasn’t going leave her behind. Even as she spoke, it snapped its sharp teeth perilously close to Jess’s head.
“He’s so in trouble,” Jess muttered as they emerged into a back garden. “Madame Varia will kill him.”
Alice hoped that was true, as the demon wasn’t showing any signs of desisting. It was forcing its massive bulk through the back door, making a terrible squelching sound. And whilst she longed to use the Doom Stone and destroy it herself, she held back. Toby and Martha had already disappeared into the woods and she couldn’t afford to waste any time. After a few minutes hard running she caught up with them, Jess hard on her heels.
“Where now?” Alice asked. “We need to find Madame Varia. Any ideas Jess?”
Jess had been rubbing at the bloodstains on her dress, but gave the fruitless task and shrugged. “Not really. I’m supposed to keep an eye on Murdo – like that worked – and do whatever Helaine asks me. I’m not that keen on Madame Varia, to be honest. She gives me the creeps. Anyway, she’s a Guardian,” Jess pointed rather rudely at Martha, “So how come she doesn’t know?”
“She’s the cat’s mother,” Martha said. “My name’s Martha, if you don’t mind. And as it happens, I think I know wh
ere they might be.”
“Where?” Toby said, looking over his shoulder. “I think we should keep going. I don’t know how fast those things move, but I’d rather not find out.”
“The abbey,” Martha said. “There’s a shortcut through these woods. If this Madame Varia really is one of us, she’ll have links to the place.”
Without further discussion, Martha led the way. The woods felt dark and menacing and every snap of a twig, every movement in the undergrowth, sent Alice’s heart racing. She was relieved when they emerged into open fields and took a moment to catch her breath. The ruined building lay in stark outline against the night sky. She realized there was something about it she hadn’t noticed before: a kind of aura, not unlike the atmosphere in the temple at Skellstor. She was about to ask Toby if he had sensed it too, when Jess gripped her arm.
“She’s coming!” she said, wide-eyed.
“Who? Madame Varia?” Toby peered into the gloom.
“No, silly - Helaine! I’m sure she’ll help us. She’s not a bad person, honest.” Then without waiting for an answer, she set off at a run for the abbey.
Alice couldn’t see anyone but followed her anyway, trying to ignore her misgivings. Even though Helaine had rescued Jess from the Vale, Alice didn’t think she could be trusted. She could have other Nifl demons with her, for all they knew.
But when they reached the nave, it was clear the abbey was completely empty. Alice waited nervously whilst Toby and Martha searched the grounds.
“Are you sure she’s here Jess?” she asked.
“Of course,” Jess said a little smugly. “I guess it’s easier for me – I’m used to her. Look over there.” She pointed at the altar and Alice saw it had started to glow. The air thickened as the glow became a blinding light, forcing them to shade their eyes. When Alice looked again she saw a woman gliding towards them. She had a pale face surrounded by a mass of golden hair. Alice thought she was beautiful, in the way paintings of angels were beautiful, and equally unreal.
