by Rebecca King
Estelle glanced around warily, wondering if he, or she, was alone or if there were more about to appear.
Are they looking for me? The relief that swept through her at the thought that they might be was almost overwhelming. She opened her mouth to speak, but snapped it closed again without uttering a word. She knew instinctively that the deathly silence around her was a warning. Whoever this person was, they were not looking for her – or anybody else for that matter. They weren’t calling out her name, as they would have done if they were trying to find her. Instead, very much like the old woman earlier, this person didn’t make a sound either.
What are they doing here then? Who are they? Why were they dressed like that?
Her initial relief at seeing another person vanished in an instant. Estelle found no comfort in the knowledge that someone else was in the woods with her, not now that she had seen them and what they were wearing. In fact, they looked sinister and not in the least inclined to be friendly either.
Whoever they are, I have no intention of waiting around to meet with them, she thought desperately. Not if they are anything like that old woman. She had been frightening enough in the daylight.
She shivered and began to walk again. It was only when she stumbled over something she couldn’t see on the forest floor that she realised the hooded figure had been moving through the woods, in the thick fog made denser by the darkness of the night, with nothing to light their way. They hadn’t been carrying a lantern but had still managed to glide through the woods without making a sound.
They must be used to the area and used a path. A path. A huge wave of relief swept through her and she studied her surroundings once more. There has to be a path around here somewhere.
As quietly as she could, Estelle began to search for it while going in the direction the cloaked figure had just appeared from.
There has to be a path around somewhere, there just has to be.
The thought of staying in the woods was just so prohibitive that Estelle couldn’t even bring herself to contemplate finding somewhere to sit to wait until morning. She had to forge a path in one direction and keep going until she broke free of the woods and could find her way home. If she was quiet, she could hopefully avoid happening across anybody else, especially someone dressed in a cloak, who glided through the woods in complete silence.
With a shiver, she gathered her shawl around her shoulders, tightened her fingers on her basket, and began to move forward. She hadn’t gone far when the faint sound of a footstep behind her broke into her thoughts. With her back to a tree, she paused and waited, and only just managed to stifle her gasp when a light suddenly materialised out of the fog a few feet away to her left. Her eyes widened as she watched it move silently past her and disappear into the gloom. She had no idea which was worse, the thought that several people were moving silently through the woods, or watching a lantern being carried through the air by an unseen hand.
“It can’t be a ghost,” she mouthed, too afraid to voice the words. “Please, don’t let it be a ghost.”
Aware that she wouldn’t reach safety standing talking to herself, she began to move forward again. Suddenly, the distinctive sound of hushed whispering filtered through the dank fog. She paused to listen carefully, but the words were unintelligible. Motionless, she listened hard. Whoever it was sounded like they were moving about because they slowly grew louder and snippets of their conversation filtered through the night toward her.
“Is everyone coming tonight?” a man whispered, his voice hushed and furtive.
“Yes. I have made it clear they are expected for this very special occasion,” someone else replied, their voice silken. There was a hint of calculation in it that Estelle didn’t like.
“Good. That makes twelve of us all told. That should be enough. Hopefully, we can summon the Great Master. We are about due,” the man replied. Estelle couldn’t see them but suspected that the man was nodding.
“Let’s wait for the others and then we can begin.”
Estelle’s panic rose as she glanced worriedly around her. She had a mental image of the woods around her becoming alive with solitary figures gliding around with lanterns. It was truly terrifying. Whoever this ‘Great Master’ was, she had no intention of meeting him.
I don’t want to know what they could have to do at those ruins, or the old woman’s house for that matter. Was this why she was warning me away from the woods? Maybe she didn’t want me to bear witness to what they are doing. Another, quite sinister voice, taunted: Maybe she didn’t want you to be one of their victims.
Whatever the reason for the old woman’s words of caution, Estelle now knew she had to do whatever it took to get free of the wretched place once and for all. She waited until the lantern was about to disappear and stepped onto the narrow path the newest arrival had just walked only walked in the opposite direction. Without a candle to light her way her progress was slow but she didn’t stop or dare to look back.
“Wait! Who’s there?” A man’s voice shouted suddenly from behind her.
When that commanding voice broke the silence, it lashed at her furiously and left her in little doubt as to the owner’s fury. Her gasp was loud even to her own ears. She looked behind her and cried out loud when she saw several hooded figures charging toward her. Unable to stop to think, Estelle spun on her heel and raced through the trees. Without a lantern, it was too dark to see any path. She had no choice but to forge a way forward and hope it took her where she needed to go.
Her lungs began to burn. It was difficult to tell if the swirling of the world around her was because of her head, or the fog, leaves, and branches, but she daren’t stop.
She didn’t stop. Not even when she finally burst out of the trees and found herself on a narrow strip of winding road she recognised immediately. The swiftness of her flight, though, meant that she didn’t have time to slow down or stop when she stumbled out into the middle of the road, far too late to jump out of the way when she heard the loud rumbling of carriage wheels behind her. She whirled around, her eyes wide with horror. Her scream locked in her throat when her stunned gaze met the wild eyes of two horses charging at breakneck speed toward her.
She never felt the heavy thud when they ploughed into her and knocked her high into the air. There was no sensation of falling when she was propelled downward in a tangle of arms and legs. Nor did she feel any pain when she was slammed into the hard ground with such brutal force that she was rendered unconscious once more.
“Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God,” Myles cursed when the horses reared up in violent protest at having something beneath their hooves that shouldn’t be there.
With all of his might, he hauled back on the reins.
“I have hit her. I have hit her,” he chanted as he threw himself off the curricle and began to search for the woman on the floor somewhere.
“I hope to God I haven’t killed her,” he muttered as he ducked low and looked under the wheels of his carriage. He checked the verge on either side of the road but couldn’t see any sign of her there either. His concern grew as he studied the blanketing fog. Stunned, he began to widen his search and walked back down the road. He didn’t have to go too far before she emerged out of the gloom; a small bundle of clothing lying supine in the middle of the road, her arms and legs twisted at unnatural angles.
“Good God,” he whispered in horror. He hurried toward her and dropped to his knees. Before he could decide what to do, a whinny from his horses made him look up. The fog was so thick that he could barely see his curricle in the darkness. He knew from the way the horses were dancing about that they would be easy to spook now if anything else scared them. He, and the woman at his side, would then be left stranded in the middle of nowhere.
“I won’t be a minute,” he whispered to her even though he suspected she couldn’t hear him. Talking to her made him feel calmer right now. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t answer.
He quickly retraced his steps and put the brake
on to stop the horses dragging his curricle anywhere easily. Aware of each passing second he lost, Myles took a moment to soothe his horses until they had calmed down enough for him to be confident they wouldn’t bolt. He then snatched a blanket off the back, and ran back down the road.
“Hello?” he called as he knelt beside her. It was too dark to see her features clearly, but he had a gut-wrenching jolt that shocked him to his very core when he leant over her and caught a brief glimpse of fine features he recognised instantly.
“Oh, no,” he murmured. “Not you. Oh, no, no, no, no.”
He closed his eyes on a silent prayer that it wasn’t her but knew deep down inside that it was. The memory of the last time he had seen her, so vibrant and full of life, shimmered before him like an elusive wisp, teasing him of the life he had put in danger. It was horrifying. As if to deny it, his gaze fell to her supine form but he knew that he had just run over Estelle.
“Estelle?” he whispered. “Can you hear me?”
He studied her limbs for cuts, or bones twisted at unnatural angles, or any blood seeping out onto the road. It was difficult to decide whether not seeing anything untoward was a good sign or not.
“Estelle?” He shook her shoulder as gently as he could, his concern growing the more time that passed without any kind of response. He touched the back of her cheek and winced. His worry increased tenfold. She was so cold he knew she was in danger of being ill from it if he didn’t do something quickly. “Estelle?” He cried in a voice that was full of the urgency that pummelled him.
What was she doing in the Whispering Woods? What on earth is she doing out on a night like this?
All sorts of unanswered questions flew through his mind as he unfolded the blanket and draped it over her.
“I have to move you,” he whispered, unsure if she could hear him. “I am sorry.”
Seconds later, with her wrapped in the blanket, Myles strode toward his curricle. Still holding her, he climbed awkwardly aboard and settled her on his lap. With her clamped firmly against his chest, he gathered the reins up. He was about to move away when something else in the road captured his attention. He froze and stared at it.
Was that a light? No, there are several lights.
He scowled into the darkness and waited. Sure enough, several lights slowly became visible through the swirling mist and trees. To his consternation, there was no noise and, as far as he could see, nobody holding the lights either.
“What in the Devil’s name is that?” he murmured. He glanced down at Estelle. “Was that what scared you?”
He knew it was. He contemplated what to do now. The village was not too far away. He could take her there, to the doctor’s house if he could find him. But Myles knew that his house was closer. Estelle needed to lie down, especially if she had broken something, and preferably away from people like that who lurked in fog in the middle of the night.
Decision made, he threw one last curious look at the lights and flicked the horses on. If he was honest, he was shaken by what he had just witnessed, almost as much as he had been watching Estelle disappear beneath the curricle’s wheels.
By the time they reached the end of the road, a strange feeling of unease had settled over him. He had a distinct impression that something was wrong, and someone was watching him. His scowl was deep as he studied the verge on either side of them. He then glanced over his shoulder, and pulled back on the reins without even realising he had done so as he looked at one of the most unnerving sights he had ever witnessed.
There, in the centre of the road where he had hit Estelle, stood five hooded figures, all carrying lanterns, as silent and merciless as death, lined up in a row staring at him. Myles instinctively tightened his hold on the woman in his arms. It was a protective movement because he knew that those people were the reason she had run out of the trees like she had.
Had they been chasing her? If so, why? Did she have any connection with those ghoul-like creatures?
He suspected they were people rather than ghosts but had no idea why on earth someone would willingly dress like that and skulk around outside on a foggy night.
Because she was unconscious, Myles knew he had to wait until she was awake and had been attended to by the doctor to ask her. It irked him that he had to leave the trespassers unchallenged, especially given they were on his father’s land, but Estelle’s needs were considerably more important than his father’s need to protect his land. Suddenly, the reason why he was in the area in the first place hit him, and re-emphasised his need to get home quickly.
His father was, hopefully, still waiting for him to arrive. Myles prayed that this slight delay hadn’t prevented him from seeing Barnabas in his final hours. But, if he was too late then he would have to find a way to accept it, somehow. He had, after all, been delayed circumstances beyond his control.
“They are for now,” Myles grunted as he glared at the figures as he left them behind. “But they won’t be for long.”
Quickly closing all thoughts out of what kind of punishment the trespassers deserved, Myles’ tightened his grip on Estelle and grimly raced toward home.
Without anybody to talk to, though, Myles found his thoughts turned back to the figures in the road. He knew that it would be folly to stop now, even if he hadn’t got more important matters waiting for him at home. If he challenged the trespassers, he would be outnumbered at five to one, assuming that there were no more of them lurking in the woods somewhere. It was better to go home, see his father, and make sure Estelle was safe and recovering. Then he could return and flush the trespassers out.
He was curious to know why they were on his father’s land in the middle of such awful weather in the first place, and knew he wouldn’t rest easy until he found out who they were, and had put a stop to their shenanigans.
At the fork at the end of the road, Myles slowed down. He looked back one last time only to curse loudly as he watched the same line of people slow to a halt and stop several feet away. They had been following him silently, still in a line, on foot.
“You are trespassing,” he snapped loudly enough for them to hear. It was grossly unnerving to talk to several hooded figures, all carrying lanterns, all totally silent, but his voice didn’t betray any of his deep concern. It was as full of aristocratic demand as he could make it.
“I will have you arrested for trespassing on private property. I suggest you fools go home and stop playing games with innocent villagers.” Myles wished he could see their faces, but had no doubt they were locals. He didn’t know how he knew, he just did.
Strangely, none of the figures tried to approach or answered him. Myles suspected it was because they knew he would recognise their voices. Instead, they all continued to stand in a line and silently stare at him. It was on the tip of his tongue to ask them what they wanted, but he knew. He glanced down at the woman in his arms. It was her they were after.
“Just as soon as this damned fog clears, I will be coming back with help and will put a stop to this nonsense once and for all. You will be found, and you will face jail for this. For God sakes, go home,” he snapped.
Deep inside, in spite of his bravery, something was warning him to get home, to safety. He tried to dismiss the nagging memories of the rumours and folklore about the woods he had grown up with. He had considered it all to be stuff and nonsense, but now he knew better. If he had suspected, even for a second, that the rumours of the Whispering Woods being home to a band of ghostly figures haunting people out of the area to protect the ruins of the priory were true, Myles would have come to investigate earlier. But he had never believed a word of the here say, nor considered that the locals’ warnings were modern. He had confined them to a part of the local history that didn’t affect him. But this did affect him, very much.
“I think you have a few things to tell me,” he murmured gently, his voice betraying a hint of steel. The sight of the ghostly figures made his decision about what to do with her considerably easier.
&nbs
p; Throwing the people, and he knew they were people not ghosts, one last dismissive glare, Myles flicked the horses on again, harder this time, and didn’t attempt to slow them down again, not even when they lurched into a fast trot. Even the horses seemed unnerved by the strange atmosphere in the area, and were eager to get home. Myles also suspected that they knew where they were, and so didn’t bother to guide them as they raced toward sanctuary.
It didn’t occur to him to take the other fork in the road that would take him to the village when they reached it. As far as he was concerned now, Estelle wasn’t safe being left even with the doctor in the village. The safest place he knew of was right beside him. Given that she wasn’t awake enough to protest, he hurried home, but could only pray that she wasn’t too badly injured, or would suffer as a result of the lack of proper medical care.
“I will keep you safe, I promise,” he whispered, although had no idea why he was talking to her because she couldn’t hear him. So far, she had yet to even twitch.
As he was about to turn off the road altogether, he looked back at the road, expecting to see the hooded figures where he had left them. To his consternation, there was no sign of them. Everything was surrounded by fog, of course, but even so, the lights had vanished.
“Now, that’s unusual,” he murmured, wondering where they had gone, and how they had managed to see without the lights in the fog.
Hopefully, whoever they were had gone home. Somehow, though, he doubted it. Anybody who had ventured out on a night like this wouldn’t just wander off home again after being told to do so by someone who was passing through, even though he owned they land they stood on.
Warning himself there was nothing he could do about them now, Myles turned toward home and didn’t bother to look back again.
CHAPTER FOUR
Estelle slowly became aware of the sensation of moving only she knew that she wasn’t walking. Everything was decidedly strange. She felt as though she was floating and couldn’t bring herself back down to earth. She tried to frown but her head ached in violent protest. So much so that she began to feel sick. At some point in the far off distance she could hear someone talking to her but couldn’t understand what was being said. The words seemed to be carried on waves, and ebbed and flowed as rhythmically as the sea.
