In Fallen Woods

by R N Merle

  By the side of the cottage was a carefully tended kitchen garden. All kinds of herbs grew in neat, weeded rows, and not all were the edible kind, Darklin noted curiously. She furtively looked around her to see if anyone was nearby. When she was sure it was safe, she slunk over to a blackberry bush, stuffed a handful of blackberries into her mouth, and put some in her pocket for later. She was darting back to the woods, when she saw a figure ahead, watching.

  Darklin gasped in shock. A white haired woman stood before her in a dark green cloak, embroidered with pink flowers. This was Mrs Day’s cottage, Darklin realised slowly. She didn’t know how she had ended up there, she must have circled back on herself some time yesterday. She thought wearily of how long it would take to walk somewhere new again.

  Mrs Day looked surprised to see her. ‘Hello Darklin.’ Her voice was soft and friendly, but Darklin just stared.

  ‘Can I help you, my dear?’

  Darklin had the same sensation that Mrs Day could see straight through her, reading her thoughts, and the secrets of her heart in clearly written lines, as she did so.

  ‘Are you lost?’

  Darklin’s head nodded a fraction in affirmation. Mrs Day walked quickly over to her. Her eyes examined Darklin’s face, and she frowned.

  ‘Come in for some tea, dear. You look like you could do with some.’

  Mrs Day put her arm around Darklin’s shoulders. She felt warm and smelled of honeysuckle, and Darklin couldn’t find the will to do anything but follow her into the cottage.

  Mrs Day took Darklin’s damp cloak from her, and guided Darklin to a large rocking chair, padded with a host of fat, embroidered cushions, next to the fireplace. Darklin sank into their softness, feeling that the warmth of the fire, and the cushions were all the luxury she could ever desire.

  A thrush with a damaged wing, hopped across the stone floor, passing beside her chair. In a broad willow basket, a large grey dog followed it with sad brown eyes. Darklin thought she was imagining things, when she saw a tiny fawn tucked up alongside the dog. The fawn regarded Darklin, its shining eyes enormous with alarm. Darklin thought back to the fawn she had thrown a stone at, with a pang of self-disgust.

  ‘Here, nibble on this while I make something for us to eat. Greylady it is not for you.’ Mrs Day said to the dog as it raised its head, and looked expectantly at the plate. She handed Darklin some bread, heavily spread with butter and strawberry preserve. Darklin bolted it down, and within moments was fast asleep.

  She woke at sunset, not knowing where she was, and it took a while to remember. A thick blanket had been draped over her. She could see her boots had been taken off, and were drying by the fire. Her feet were covered with something heavy, yet soft and warm. She looked down to see the grey dog outstretched on the rug, with its body resting on her feet.

  ‘You have troubling dreams, my dear.’

  Darklin looked up at Mrs Day, who was approaching her with a stoneware mug. She could not remember her dream.

  ‘Here, this will help restore you.’

  ‘What’s in it?’ Darklin asked. She could not help being reminded of how Gressyl handed her the sleeping tonic.

  ‘Some fennel and rosemary and vervain. Nothing that will do you harm, but you know that already. You know the herbs just as well as I do, I should say.’

  Darklin took the mug. Mrs Day drew a seat near the fire, opposite her. Darklin took a sip of the tea.

  ‘You know what I am?’ Darklin asked.

  ‘Bess told me some of it. But I’ve known there was a witch about these parts for years. The number of times I have tried to set things right. But people are scared of the old ways, they don’t think they are Christian. That Parson tells them it is sinful to believe in such things. He’s got them terrified of using the very things that would put a stop to her. I’ve even been accused of being the witch myself. Only folks know me, know that I can help them. I’ve healed so many of them and their children, that they let me be. One or two of them would like to see me swing, though. The names I have been called! Sometimes makes me wonder why I bother.’

  ‘Why do you?’

  ‘Because I can help them. I can ease a bit of the suffering.’

  ‘But why would you want to, if they hate you?’

  ‘Well, just because a tree has a few rotten apples, doesn’t mean the rest aren’t worth saving.’

  Darklin finished her tea, and was surprised to feel a surge of energy pulsing through her limbs, warming her extremities.

  ‘It’s a good tea. It works well, I mean.’

  ‘Glad to hear it. My remedies work better on some than others. But its nothing like the power I sense you have.’ Mrs Day looked Darklin straight in the eye. ‘Did the witch ever tell you how dangerous it is?’

  Darklin noted the scorn in Mrs Day’s voice as she said the word ‘witch’.

  ‘You mean to others?’ Darklin replied.

  ‘No, dearie. To your soul.’

  Darklin shook her head slowly. Her heart quickened. ‘What will it do?’ she asked timidly.

  ‘That kind of magic, using it for harm, it eats away at your soul. You become like stone inside, and when it has no negative emotion left to feed on, no hate, no envy, no sorrow; it drains the very life out of your body until there is nothing.’

  Darklin thought of Gressyl sitting, unmoving in her chair, seeming to shrivel before Darklin’s eyes. She shivered, knowing what Mrs Day said was true.

  ‘How do you know that?’ Darklin asked, disconcerted by Mrs Day’s uncanny knowledge.

  ‘What I know, my Mother taught me, as hers had before her. Good Mother Buckley, her name was, God bless her soul. We’ve never used the dark magic in our family, but I know a bit about it.’

  ‘Will it do that to me?’ Darklin asked in a shaky voice.

  Mrs Day sighed. ‘I don’t know, my love. How long have you been using it?’

  ‘I received the power in February, just before the snow melted.’

  ‘And have you used it often?’

  ‘A few times, mostly for practice.’ Darklin replied, her eyes wide and grave.

  ‘Well,’ said Mrs Day, pausing a moment to think. ‘I cannot honestly say.’

  ‘But it might have…taken hold of my soul?’ Darklin threw herself back in her chair, feeling sick with fear. If the dark magic had latched on to her, she could not go back to Shadow’s End. She would not put her friends in danger. Cold perspiration beaded on her brow as Darklin waited for Mrs Day’s lips to move.

  Mrs Day exhaled, and frowned as she thought. ‘There is one way I can think of, that might tell us. But don’t get your hopes up too much, for nothing is for certain.’ Mrs Day rose from her chair.

  ‘Follow me, my dear. Out of the way Greylady.’ Greylady rose from Darklin’s feet, and went to her basket. Darklin instantly missed the heat from the dog’s body, she suddenly felt very cold.

  Darklin stood up unsteadily, slipped on her boots, and followed Mrs Day up an uneven staircase, treading carefully in the dim glow of the candle, held by Mrs Day. The stairway opened out into a bedroom, where Darklin saw a neatly made bed with polished wooden posts. At the foot of the bed was a large carved chest, lying on top of a many coloured, circular rug. There was a dressing table, upon which rested a brush and comb. On the wall above the table was a purple curtain, that Darklin assumed covered a window.

  She followed Mrs Day to the dressing table. The sound of their boots, and the squeak of the floorboards echoed in the eaves. Darklin stood to one side, as Mrs Day cautiously drew back the purple curtain, to reveal a looking glass. Darklin wondered why it had been hidden behind the fabric, but as Mrs Day lit two candles on the dresser, Darklin understood why.

  Around the oval of glass, the mirror was framed with ornately carved wood, depicting a creature that seemed to be half human and half owl. It’s head and wings made up the top and sides of the frame, and a pair of hands, that had talons instead of fingernails, were carved around the bottom, as if they were holding the mirror
up. Its eyes, positioned either side of the crest of the oval, were hollowed deep into the wood, and had such a powerful glare that Darklin could not look away.

  The eyes seemed almost alive with expression, all at once full of wisdom and understanding, accusation and scorn. They seemed to know everything good and evil about the world. It had seen all; there was nothing that could surprise it.

  Darklin felt hands closing around her shoulders, as Mrs Day turned her away from the glass. ‘If you want to see an image of your future, you look into this mirror. My mother used to say, the owl-man reads the journey of your soul. If you choose to use it, when you look at your reflection, you will see someone standing behind you. You might see your own image, or that of someone who is important in your future life. Take a good look, but now listen, listen, listen,’ Mrs Day tightened her grip on Darklin’s shoulders, and looked far into her eyes. ‘Whatever happens, whatever the mirror shows you, you must never look behind you. Do you understand? Promise me you will not look behind, if it gets too much close your eyes, and I will guide you away. Promise?’

  ‘I promise not to look behind me.’ Darklin said, her voice hoarse with fear.

  ‘Are you sure this is what you want to do?

  Darklin hesitated. ‘Have you ever looked into it?’

  ‘Yes, I did once, when I was about your age.’

  ‘What did you see?’

  ‘I saw the face of the man I was to marry. But remember, whatever you see is only a glimpse, it does not tell the whole story. Things may not play out as they appear, do you understand?’

  ‘I understand. But it might tell me what I am to become?’

  ‘It might.’ said Mrs Day.

  ‘Then I will try it.’

  Darklin stood in front of the mirror with her eyes tightly shut. She took a deep, steadying breath, and blinked them open. At first, she saw only her pale reflection; a pair of frightened eyes circled by dark shadows staring back at her. Darklin studied the glass, carefully avoiding looking into the eyes of the owl-man. Very slowly, the glass began to turn cloudy around its edges. Behind Darklin, the room’s reflection became veiled in smoke, though Darklin’s image remained clear. The smoke twisted and turned, until it formed into a sinuous, shadowy shape, incessantly moving, resembling nothing.

  Darklin blinked, in the instant her eyes had closed, the shape had become black as midnight. It contorted until the jagged image of a woman appeared. Where its eyes were supposed to be, Darklin saw only white, empty ovals, curving upwards in sinister lines. The woman’s black hair was long and wild…

  ‘No,’ Darklin breathed, letting out a sound between a whimper and a cry. Whoever this woman was, even if it was a vision of her own future self, Darklin wanted nothing to do with her.

  Just as Darklin was about to step away, the shape of the woman deformed and divided in two. One of the shapes formed back into the shape of the woman. The other changed colour. The black faded to grey, and took on a gold tinge. Briefly, the indistinct figure of a person appeared and receded. Darklin was mesmerised, she was so desperate to see the gold figure and where it had gone, that she inched her head to the left to look behind her. Immediately, Mrs Day snatched her away from the mirror’s gaze.

  ‘You were about to turn, weren’t you?’ Mrs Day chided. Mrs Day drew the curtain back over the mirror, and blew out the candles on the dressing table. She took Darklin’s hand and led her back downstairs. When they entered the room, Greylady looked up from licking the fawn’s ears, and crossed the floor, pressing herself against Darklin, as Mrs Day guided her back to the rocking chair.

  Darklin collapsed into the chair, and the grey dog sat close beside her. Darklin leaned over and wrapped her arms around its neck, sinking her fingers in her fur. She rested her head a moment on the dog’s shoulder, then gradually sat up.

  ‘Tell me what you saw,’ said Mrs Day, ‘it might not be as bad as you think.’

  Darklin swallowed hard. ‘I saw the figure of a woman, the colour of darkness.’ Darklin’s face crumpled. ‘I don’t want to be her,’ she sobbed. ‘I could not bear to look at her, she was… evil.’

  Mrs Day reached over and took Darklin’s hand. Darklin looked at her face, and though sympathy and concern were clearly visible in her expression, Mrs Day did not say anything.

  ‘Then at the last, there was another figure, the colour of gold, that is what I turned to see.’ Darklin said, hoping that it might make a difference.

  ‘You saw two figures?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Mrs Day let out a sigh of relief. ‘Your fate must not yet be decided. Two fates lie before you, the mirror does not know which is to be. The choice lies in your hands, Darklin.’

  Darklin looked up from behind trembling fingers. ‘But you don’t understand, I swore an oath, Her dark magic is inside me. How can I ever be free of it?’ implored Darklin. Her future swayed, like a tree in a gale, as she waited for Mrs Day’s answer.

  ‘I don’t know how to undo what you have promised. But I do know whatever dark magic you have inside you, hasn’t taken hold yet, or you wouldn’t be sitting here with me, and Greylady would certainly not be looking at you so fondly as she is. You must keep the dark magic from touching your soul, you must not let its power grow inside you. Remember, it is nourished by all your worst thoughts and feelings, if you are fearful, or miserable, or think unkindly.’ Mrs Day held up her hand to stop Darklin’s interruption. ‘Which, I know, all of us do, dearie, at some time.’

  ‘What am I to do? Spend my days as an empty grinning idiot? Close my eyes to everything that is wrong, and pretend that nothing hurts me?’ cried Darklin, horrified.

  ‘No, no, that is impossible.’ Mrs Day waited for Darklin to calm and spoke again. ‘But there are times when the darkness claims you, shuts out all good and hopeful feelings. Is that right?’

  Darklin nodded.

  ‘You are not alone, my love. There was a time in my own life when a darkness took hold of my own heart, and I had a terrible fight to be rid of it.’

  ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘I had been four months married, to the most wonderful boy you could ever dream of. Handsome, he was, blue eyed and bonny, and a heart full of laughter. We were truly happy, my Jack and I. Then one day, as he was thatching a roof, he fell off, and died. There was nothing I could do for him. From then on, there was blackness everywhere I looked. Half of me had been ripped away. I hid myself in this cottage, hating the world, hating the Lord for taking him away. For three years, I spoke to no one, and my heart was as good as dead. Then one morning, a young wife ran crying up to the cottage, sobbing and begging me to come help her sick daughter. I think if I had turned her away, it would have been the end of me. But somehow I heard her voice, and knew I must help her, to stop another heart being broken like mine.’

  ‘I never hear of love that doesn’t break and destroy.’ Darklin murmured. ‘I think we might all be better off without it.’

  ‘Not a chance. He was the light and joy of my life.’

  ‘But if he was not so dear to you, he would not have been so dear to lose.’

  ‘But the short time I did have with him is far more precious than a hundred years of peace of mind. Do you think it would be better, to spend your life, never letting another soul get near you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m not sure.’ Darklin answered.

  ‘But where does it end? Must you never allow a good thing to come into your life because you are afraid it might hurt you, or be taken away? My love, where there is brightness, there must also be a shadow. That is the rule of light, and of life. You cannot avoid pain and sorrow by hiding away in the dark.’

  ‘Then how will I get free of Her?’

  ‘Balance the dark in you with light. Find what you can love and cherish.’

  ‘But what if it doesn’t love you in return? What if what you love is also what gives you pain?’

  ‘What is giving you pain, my dear?’

  Darklin couldn’t bring herself to te
ll Mrs Day that she loved John, but he was repulsed by her. She told another truth.

  ‘When I’m with the Somerbornes I am happy, but at times I wonder why I am there at all. I am not one of their family, it is not where I belong, and it pains me to think it.’

  ‘I happened to stop in at Shadows End yesterday. What a state they were in! John had gone off searching for you, and Bess didn’t know whether she was coming or going, the children were all upset. You have become necessary to their lives, my dear.’

  ‘Necessary is not loved.’ Darklin cursed herself for letting the words slip out.

  ‘Do you think they do not love you?’

  Darklin shrugged.

  ‘And there I was thinking what a clever young woman you were! Why, Bess loves you like a sister, and John loves you, I am sure.’

  Darklin closed her eyes and shook her head dismissively.

  ‘You are too quick in thinking the worst. Give it time, my dear, sometimes we have to suffer a bit before we get what it is we want. Hope will keep you from the darkness. Hope that something will change, or better yet, do something to change it yourself. Will you try that, Darklin?’

  Darklin found it hard to think that all her concerns could be so easily tucked away under a blanket covering of hope, but she would try anything to stop becoming like Gressyl. She nodded.

  ‘Enough chatter for now,’ said Mrs Day, rising from her chair. ‘I’ve made us a nice lot of dinner, and you must be half starved.’

  Darklin ate until she couldn’t manage another bite. The moon was high in the sky, when Mrs Day guided Darklin back to the part of the woods that she was familiar with. Before they parted, Mrs Day laid her hand on Darklin’s arm. ‘Don’t be afraid of your heart, my love, it is just as good as anyone else’s, and better than most, I should say. Will you come for another visit? I could use your help in my herb garden.’