The Master of Prophecy (The Sawyl Gwilym Chronicles Book 2)

by Benjamin Ford

  Even in daylight, the woods were foreboding; even semi-naked branches that allowed plenty of light down to the forest floor did little to alleviate the oppressive feelings of doom that beat down upon her with more ferocity that the bright autumnal sun.

  Thankfully, the rain had finally abated, but it had turned the fallen leaves into a slimy quagmire underfoot, and several times Louise lost her footing, only to find a handy tree to grab hold of at every opportunity.

  Since first stepping into the woods, Louise had fought against an unnatural instinct to panic and retreat as hastily as possible. She was not one to be easily spooked, but the forest was known as Dead Man’s Wood for a reason, and she could almost feel the spirits of poor lost souls, tormented in the agonies of death, warning her on some subconscious level against continuing. Against all her better instincts, Louise ignored common sense and continued onwards, casting constant fearful glances in all directions.

  Someone was watching her.

  She could feel eyes boring into her from more than one direction.

  From up on the slopes of Serpent’s Crest, she felt certain she had seen movement, but from this distance, she could make out nothing as she tried to look without making her observation obvious.

  To her left, she thought she caught sight of something moving swiftly through the trees, too close for comfort.

  To the right, something disturbed a pair of owls, which took flight in the opposite direction, towards Serpent’s Crest – whatever had spooked the usually nocturnal birds positively freaked Louise, and nearly lost her the steely resolve she so prided herself in.

  From behind, a twig snapped as if trodden on. She felt the hairs on the nape of her neck stand up and an icy chill crept up her spine, tingling remorselessly as she fought the urge to scream. She froze in her tracks, hardly daring to breathe, acutely aware that there was someone standing behind her. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes as her unease grew. She did not know whether to turn and face whoever was behind her, or whether she should take flight.

  Clenching her fists tight, digging her nails into the palms of her hands, Louise slowly turned.

  She was half-relieved to discover she was alone, but was unnerved at the same time.

  The sensation of being watched was as strong as ever.

  Thrusting her hands into the pockets of her parka, silently telling herself to get a grip, she turned once more in the direction of Wicca Hill, and took a deep steadying breath before slowly continuing.

  She was glad when, after what seemed an inordinately long time, she finally reached the lower slopes of the hill and was able to get away from the boggy ground.

  The feeling that she was being followed did not change as she slowly started climbing the hill, but every time she turned sharply there was no one there, although, from the corner of her eye, she kept imagining she could see movement.

  In the end, she convinced herself that was all it was: her imagination. Whose imagination would not run riot in such a creepy place, especially given its local history?

  She had always felt it a bit odd that nobody claimed to have located the lair of the legendary Warlock of Wicca Hill, but now she was deep within the woods, she could understand why nobody ventured in there. It was still as much as she could do to keep from turning and fleeing.

  However, now she had made it this far, nothing short of seeing the ghost of Sawyl Gwilym himself was going to drive her away.

  A blast of icy wind nearly blew her off her feet, and she steadied herself against one of the trees, pulling up the collar of her parka as she regained her footing and set off again.

  The further up the slopes of the hill she climbed, the stronger the wind seemed to blow, whipping her blonde curls into a frenzy. She fought a losing struggle to put up the hood of her parka, ultimately allowing the wind to rip her hair at its roots.

  A sudden updraft of wind rooted her to the spot, forming a vortex around her. It was as if the wind came from the very ground itself.

  It was almost, Louise surmised as she battled valiantly onwards, as though some demonic spirit tried hard to prevent her from reaching the hidden cave, which she could now vaguely make out up ahead.

  That thought, more than the wind she fought against, brought Louise to a halt.

  Was Sawyl Gwilym himself perhaps trying to prevent her from discovering any secrets he might have left behind within his lair?

  ‘You don’t frighten me, you evil bastard!’ she shrieked above the roar of the wind as it whistled in her ears. ‘Show yourself, if you dare!’

  The wind dropped almost immediately, and in an instant, a warm comforting feeling, like the embrace of an old friend, replaced Louise’s apprehension. She felt oddly calm as she sensed someone else other than herself shifting within her subconscious. She had a peculiar feeling that brought back vague memories of another time and place.

  Although she could not clearly recall events that had occurred so long ago at Ravenscreag Hall when she had been possessed by the demanding spirit of the ancient Seer, Thaumaturgia Anathemas, Louise instinctively knew the peculiar sensation she was currently experiencing to be the precursor to being invaded by the spirit of another. Though she had no particular desire to undergo such a violation again, she sensed the spirit was benign, wishing no more than to impart some information that might be of vital importance.

  Since the Seer had been the spirit who invaded her body before, it seemed logical to suppose it might be her once more. She closed her eyes. ‘Is that you, Thaumaturgia?’ she whispered softly, trying to relax.

  She opened her eyes sharply as a brief wave of dizziness washed over her, accompanied by a stabbing pain just above her eyes.

  No, Louise McFadyen, I am not that Seer. My name is Elen.

  The young woman’s voice that filled her mind was oddly reassuring to Louise.

  ‘Elen, as in the mythical wood nymph after whom the village Elendale derives its name?’

  Indeed, I see you have knowledge of local myths. I am the guardian of these woods.

  ‘What do you want of me, Elen?’

  I have come to warn you.

  ‘Yes, I know, Sawyl Gwilym is coming back! Peter Neville has already told us that much.’

  Indeed. I have been a part of these woods for countless years and know all that has happened… and more besides. I have come to warn you not to continue up to his lair.

  ‘Do you know how Sawyl was able to survive execution and return to this world?’

  I am unable to answer that question.

  ‘Unable or unwilling?’

  I cannot interfere. It is against our laws.

  ‘Whose laws?’ asked Louise with a frown. ‘All I want is a simple answer to a simple question!’

  Should I answer your question about Sawyl Gwilym, then there shall be no peace for you and your kin. I shall tell you but one thing. No matter how hard it might be for you to accept, everything happens for a reason. Events have been set in motion that can lead to only one outcome. You must allow these events to unfold one by one, and in the end, all will become clear to you.

  ‘More riddles, Elen?’ sighed Louise, trying not to lose her temper. ‘You’re as bad as Peter Bloody Neville.’

  You will seek us out once more soon enough. Just remember what I have said, Louise McFadyen. Everything happens for a reason. Events are preordained and must play out for destiny to fulfil its prophecy.

  ‘More prophecies?’ gasped Louise. ‘And what will happen if the prophecies fail to come true?’

  Then he shall win, and it will be the end of your civilisation.

  ‘By he, I assume you mean Sawyl Gwilym?’

  There was no response. Louise blinked, and she felt that the presence of the Wood Nymph had vanished, leaving her with more questions than she had answers to.

  *

  Matthew arrived back home to be greeted by the warm smell of freshly laundered clothing and the lingering odour of furniture polish, and he knew instinctively that Joyce had been in
to do all the chores he hated.

  He closed the front door and threw his keys on the radiator shelf, frowning as he noticed another set of keys. The leather key-fob, embossed with the letter T, indicated that Theo had returned from Alicante.

  Matthew sighed despondently. The last thing he wanted after the day he had endured was another blazing row, and in his frame of mind, tired from his long journey, an argument with Theo was all he could envisage.

  Does that mean the arguments are all my fault?

  The thought flashed through his exhausted mind even as he unbuttoned his jacket and hung it on the rack opposite the radiator.

  He shook his head. If he had instigated all the arguments, the reasons were valid. Theo had many redeeming qualities, though, and he wondered whether perhaps it would be worth the effort of trying to keep his mouth shut long enough to hear what Theo had to say for himself. Sometimes, Theo could be the most insufferable young man imaginable, whilst at other times he was loving and affectionate. He was a man possessed of permanent contradictions, and Matthew suddenly found himself curious as to which personality traits would be on display now.

  ‘Theo, is that you?’ he called, putting as much cheerful cadence into his voice as he could muster. Oddly, it required little effort.

  Matthew made his way down the hallway, peering into the candle-lit lounge, where he noticed a log fire blazing away in the fireplace, further warming the room with a welcoming glow. He smiled. Theo must really want a reconciliation: he never lit the fire, partly because he had always claimed he did not know how, but mostly, Matthew knew, because he simply could not be bothered.

  Theo, it seemed, was determined to make an effort, and Matthew could not help wondering what had precipitated such an uncharacteristic change. Was it guilt, perhaps? What had Theo done after he had been left in Alicante to necessitate forgiveness?

  Don’t start jumping to conclusions, Matthew thought idly. It was possible that being abandoned in Spain had given Theo pause for thought, allowing him the opportunity to ponder what could be done to salvage their volatile relationship.

  Matthew was prepared to share the responsibility for the ups and downs of their relationship, providing Theo did the same. What was the point in one of them making sacrifice and compromise, to save what was left of their love, if the other was unprepared to do the same?

  It certainly seemed that Theo had made a start.

  Matthew turned away from the fire- and candle-illuminated lounge, and found himself face to face with Theo, who stood still and silent in the doorway that led to the kitchen. He held out a single red rose in one hand and a champagne flute in the other, a vague hint of a smile twitching the corners of his lips.

  ‘Well, I must say, this is most unexpected, Theo,’ Matthew said, stepping forward to take the peace offerings. ‘The lounge looks most romantic.’

  Theo’s smile stretched to full-width, and its genuine nature brought vibrant life to his eyes, which sparkled with delight. ‘I can’t take full credit,’ he sighed. ‘Mum helped me with the fire.’

  Matthew grinned as he sipped the champagne. ‘Guess I should have sensed Joyce’s hand in things, though somehow I get the impression the idea was all yours.’

  Theo nodded. He longed to take Matthew in his arms and kiss away their woes, but he knew that course of action would be premature. They had to talk and work their way through their problems before initiating any physical contact.

  Sex would solve nothing.

  ‘I tried phoning your mobile earlier, because I felt we needed to talk, but it was switched off. I hoped you’d be home sometime today, so I thought I’d make your favourite meal and wait for you.’

  ‘My God, I can’t remember the last time you cooked!’ gasped Matthew incredulously, almost spilling his champagne.

  Theo chuckled. ‘I know. I was clearly out of practice… so I’ve ordered out for a Chinese instead. What I cooked was only fit for the bin.’

  Matthew threw back his head and roared with laughter. ‘Well, it was a lovely gesture, which I fully appreciate. Chinese will be fine, so long as a good chat is still on the cards.’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ Theo sighed. ‘Mum said you’d gone to Elendale, to that house… Four Oaks?’

  Matthew’s smile vanished. ‘I’d rather not talk about that place,’ he muttered. Turning away from Theo, he headed into the lounge, where he slumped onto the sofa. He placed the glass on the coffee table in the centre of the room and laid the rose beside it as Theo trailed behind him, standing uncertainly in the doorway.

  ‘Did something happen at the house?’ Theo asked, a little hesitantly. When Matthew said he did not wish to speak about something then mentioning the subject matter would invoke anger, but something in Matthew’s demeanour unsettled Theo, and he had to know what had happened.

  Matthew glanced up at him, and Theo was shocked to see genuine fear in his eyes.

  ‘That house gives me the willies,’ Matthew mumbled. ‘Something bad happened there, a long time ago, though I don’t know what, and I don’t know when. And I don’t want to know, either.’ He shivered uneasily. ‘There was… an aura about the place. I didn’t like the way it made me feel. It was almost… almost as though I’d been there before.’

  ‘Matt, aren’t you even a little curious to know why a complete stranger left you the house you tried to buy a year ago?’

  Matthew nodded. ‘Yes, of course I am, but something really bad happened at Four Oaks, and something bad will happen there again. I can tell.’

  ‘How can you tell?’

  Matthew shrugged. ‘Intuition? Instinct? I don’t know, but curiosity killed the cat, and I don’t intent to be that cat!’

  ‘That’ll never happen, Matt. You don’t like pussy.’

  In spite of his unease, Matthew could not help laughing at Theo’s crudeness. ‘Oh Theo, you always could make me laugh!’

  ‘I know,’ Theo smiled. ‘That’s one of the reasons we’re so good together.’

  Matthew fixed Theo with an unflinching stare. ‘And what about all the bad stuff? What about all the fights and the arguments?’

  Theo matched Matthew’s uncompromising gaze with one of his own. ‘I could say all relationships have their ups and downs, and that arguments are bound to happen when two people of opposing natures live together and spend so much time in each other’s company. In our case, however, I think it’s only fair to say it’s all been my fault… every step of the way.’

  Matthew patted the empty space beside him on the sofa, and Theo sat, a little hesitantly. ‘I must admit, I like this new thoughtful you, Theo, but I can’t help wondering what your motive is, and that can’t be a good sign.’

  They sat so close that they could feel the heat radiating from each other, could feel the longing that stirred with each heartbeat, but curiously neither felt any compunction to act upon those feelings. Matthew touched Theo’s hand tenderly, not breaking eye contact. ‘You know how much I love you, Theo.’

  Theo nodded. ‘Much more than I deserve. Listen, I know you’re going to suggest we end our relationship for good this time, and though part of me wants to do everything possible to stop that happening, another part of me knows it’s the only way for us to save our friendship.’

  ‘I’m really sorry, Theo, but you’re right. I don’t want things to end, but I’m so afraid that if we continue like this then we’re going to end up hating each other, and I couldn’t bear that to happen.’

  ‘Neither could I. Do you think there’s any chance at all of salvaging what we have together?’

  Matthew took a deep breath. ‘Tell you what, give me six months. Give me that long with us just being friends again, and we’ll see. I need to get my head together and gather my thoughts. I need to get away from you, from Pompey… from everyone. I need to take stock of my life and decide what’s best for me.’

  Theo smiled and patted Matthew’s hand. ‘Don’t worry, I do understand. It’s taken nearly destroying our friendship to make me realise ho
w much I actually love you. I’ve been such an idiot! Carson’s definitely history. He tried to use me out in Alicante, and it opened my eyes to what type of person he really is. I never want to hear from him again, much less set eyes on him, and I told him that out there.’

  ‘And do you think he’ll be able to abide by your request?’ asked Matthew sagely.

  Theo shrugged. ‘Probably not. But I will. I’ll do whatever it takes… I don’t want to lose you. I’ll give you all the space you need.’

  ‘And if I decide I don’t want our relationship to continue?’

  Theo sighed sadly. ‘Then I shall have to just accept the fact that I destroyed our love, and hopefully learn from the experience. If it comes to that, though, I really hope our friendship doesn’t also come to an end.’

  Matthew leaned across and kissed Theo. ‘Perhaps there is hope for you yet then.’

  The doorbell interrupted their conversation, and when Theo returned from answering it, he carried several containers from the local Chinese takeaway. ‘Dinner is served,’ he muttered with a smile.

  They ate the meal in muted contemplation, sharing the remainder of the champagne, each lost in the silence of their own thoughts.

  Matthew still could not shake the feeling that Theo was hiding something, though he could not imagine what it might be. One thing he was quietly sure of was that Theo had been honest about his desire for their relationship to continue, and that he had indeed ended the dalliance with Carson.

  Theo was uncertain how Matthew would proceed. He could hardly blame him if he decided to terminate the relationship permanently. He had done all he could to convince Matthew of his sincerity. He could not shake the feeling that what had happened to Matthew at Four Oaks involved him too in some way, but it was equally clear Matthew did not intend to talk about it – for the moment at least.

  ‘So, do you want me to move my stuff out?’ Theo said after the lengthy stilted silence when they finished eating.

  Matthew shook his head. ‘No need for that. I’m leaving in the morning. You can stay here whilst I’m gone. This house is as much yours as it is mine. It’s your home.’