Elliotte

Elliote

There were times when life just deserved a well placed sucker punch, Lucinda thought unhappily

as the entrance door shut decisively behind her, and was in turn slapped mercilessly by the strong heat wave.

She groaned out loud.

The sharp contrast between the crisp cool interior she had so annoyingly stormed out from and the fiery outside she now stood in hit her.

Hand placed over her eyes, Lucinda scurried off the hot stairs and down the walkway towards the

gate.

She needed a parasol.

She needed sunscreen.

She needed a roof over her head - fast; and she needed a job even faster.

Ignoring the irritating catcalls from nowhere she was interested in, she hurdles up and scurried past. She couldn't afford a taxi, so she made a beeline for the subway.

One sharp glance at her old faded wristwatch and she hissed, long and hard.

Palm Estate was on the other far end of the world, and she had just ninety five minutes to get to a place that generally may take at least - well, forever? -, and she groaned and boarded a train.

Father, I need this job. You know I do. So keep it for me, she prayed just as the train wheezed past.

The picture outside slowly becoming a rapid blur.

The year 2023

The announcement of her train stop blinked blue and she prepared herself to alight, casting a quick glance at her wristwatch.

Ten more minutes.

Her feet fell heavily and then rapidly on the cobbled road. Her heart in tandem.

Lucinda sent a short ferverent prayer up to heaven. God, she prayed, I need that job.

She needed to be there by 10:00. Lucinda pressed tremblingly the doorbell by 10:12. Her heart pounding thunderously behind her rib cage.

The door opened with a click and she hesitated before entering. "Hello" she called in uncertain tones. "Anyone home? Hello. My apologies for my tardiness. It's just -. I had thought -, I apologize. Hello. Anyone here? I know l'm late but if you could hear me out. Hello."

With each step she took into the house, she was enveloped with silence. Her heart beat the only sound she could hear; and no one in

sight. 

Still, she ventured further in, determined to prove herself and get this job. By the next six months, she would have settled down and cleared the clutters on her table. She really needed this job.

"Hello"

She was ascending the winding stairs now having checked the entire rooms on the ground floor.

Was there really no one here?

Then who had opened the door?

She was certain it had been locked.

Or was it?

Her hand suspended above the first doorknob but her eyes and sense hovered over the doorknob cloaked by shadows down the empty hallway. As if entranced, Lucinda felt her legs cover the distance between her and that door. Was it curiosity or ....?

Well she lacked the words for it as whispers suddenly infiltrated her mind. Their words unfathomable, their lull and pull undeniable.

Her hand hovered over the doorknob and then turned it. The door opened and she entered without really seeing its content.

A blinding white light filled the hallway and then vanished, and so did Lucinda. Slowly, the door closed with a click.

Chapter One

The year 1002

The prairie stretched forth in an endless spread of straw gold and basic nature. It was just another day in the lovely summer time.

The harvest was ongoing and she was having just so much fun prancing about the maize field with her skirts high in her claps and a beautiful grin.

Then all of a sudden the bright weather turned grey - dark swirls of intimidating grey – and the wind that had lent her swift wings ceased.

Her prancing stalled.

"Elliotte."

Instantly, she swirled around and met no one.

"Elliotte."

Again, no one.

"Elliotte.!"

"Who?"

The voice, like erratic whispers, were everywhere at once. This way, that way, here and there, all over. Calling her name in that hushed erratic whispers that reverberated throughout the frantic air.

"Elliotte! Elliotte! Elliotte!"

She picked her skirts and ran. Ran for all she knew and held dear. Ran for her dear life. Ran for fear. Ran for that was all she knew she could do at the moment. Run.

"Elliotte!"

With a violent jerk, she sprang to life and reality, to see Deidre's face floating above her.

Quickly, she hurried off tossing the beddings away from her, then blinked really hard.

"By St. Stephen's mutilated body" Deidre snapped. "It would take an apocalypse to rouse you, mi lady"

Elliotte rubbed her face with her hands and sighed deeply. "You still call me that"

Unperturbed, Deidre busied herself with clearing the bedchamber. "Dina dash yerself, mi lady," she said as she drew the drapes and began folding the beddings. "You are a lady by birth and it matters not that ya mama, God bless her gentle soul, was naught but a seed in this brook. You, mi lady, are still the only child of the Overlord.”

Elliotte scoffed, least interested in the analogy of her birthright and all. She left the bed and walked towards the wash basin.

"Now, mi lady" Deidre continued now she had squashed the lass' insecurity. It wouldn't do to allow her dwell on the hardships her birth had brought upon her. Lucinda, God rest her soul, would turn in her grave at that. "’Tis time for

the cooking and the gardening, mi lady. The brook must be run as yer papa is away."

Another scoff.

"The responsibility of it all now rests on yer dainty shoulders."

Another scoff, this time muffled.

"Now, make haste."

The large kitchen air bristled with the heat of the giant stoves now put to task with meal preparations. Everywhere was chaotic. There were mouths to feed and bellies to cater to after all.

Ernice called out from where she kneaded and a chorus of greeting reached her and she grinned.

"Dressed in servants' garb, are we, mi lady?"Ernice called out from where she kneaded and punched down the dough for bread.

Eliotte smiled as she picked an apple and accepted a the gift of a slice of roasted boar from Mr. Norman. 

Deidre rolled her eyes heavenwards.

"And off she goes," Mr. Norman announced fondly as she dashed out of the kitchen to

adds the gardens her mother had been in charge of.

Ernice shook her head amused. "You're fond of her.” She smiled at Deidre who seemed helpless at her unsuccessful tutelage.

"The young lady is a sight for sore eyes, a balm for aching hearts and a test to every man's will!"

"She has her mama's temper,” Ernice said in a far away tone as she kneaded bread dough.

"And her papa's bearing."

"Do you ever think he would accept her truly?"

Deidre queried, a ladle suspended in the air.

"Some day" Ernice said with grave conviction. "he would have reasons a plenty to bask in fatherly pride"

"You certain?" Ernice asked, doubtful herself.

She got a vigorous nod for an answer from the doorway of the heated oven.

"She was born with the fairy star after all," Mr. Norman said pointedly.

A series of hushes reached him.

He slapped his hand over his mouth with wide eyes and squeezed it then shut.

Chapter Two

"Elliotte!"

With a jerk and loud gasp, Elliotte sprang back to reality. Her chest heaving in heavy pants.

Instinctively, she clutched the bedding. Her unusually coloured eyes wide with fear – and uncertainty.

"What seems to be the matter?" Deidre rushed up to her and drew her into her arms. "By St. Martha's soul, ye are close to convulsing" She drew her closer.

"Cold" Elliotte whispered.

"What?"

"Cold."

A string of explosive curses escaped her lips as she drew her in and dragged the blanket around her trembling body.

"You poor soul" she whispered as she ran her hand over back. Cooing calming nonsense.

"’Tis the same with her mama, ya see," Deidre went on. "Poor soul suffered the spells until the very last day"

"’Tis a curse then?" Mr. Norman queried over the pit where he toasted a carcass of a deer.

Ernice shook her head before she could muster words.

"Nah," said Deidre. "Not a curse.!

"But then?"

"A blessing?"

Deidre heaved a heavy sigh as she readied her vegetables for lunch. "’Tis both a blessing and a curse."

"| see more a curse than a blessing, if ya ask me," Mr. Norman quipped as he returned his attention to the roasting meat.

It had all started that fateful night when the clouds had been enraged and expressed its rage in vibrant lightnings and thunderous roars. The wind had picked quite a staggering pace and had threatened to rip everything off the face of the earth. It had started that night when the light had become too bright and the expressions of rage so intense it had scared the bones off a righteous man.

Everything has grown so intense that not a brave man had braved the outside.

Lil Jacob had sworn he had seen the throne of Judgement right there in the middle of the chaotic dark sky.

And right there, in the midst of all the light and chaos, sprawled a strange lady.

Deidre shook her head to dislodge the disturbing memory.

"We haf ta keep her well outa danger, ya know."

"And who would keep me outa danger, miself?" Mr. Norman asked in askance.

"Even the great good Lord wouldn't bother with the likes of ya.”  Ernice threw over her shoulder and joined Deidre in a snicker.

The moment lasted but a brief moment.

"Do you think 'tis the prophecy manifesting?" Ernice asked suddenly.

"She's been plagued by nightmares such as these and many for as long as I've known her" said Deidre. "and I've known her for way too long,” Ernice nodded.

"Aye" Mr. Norman agreed. "Do ya think 'tis the prophecy responsible for the misery her life is wont to be?"

A heartbeat, that's how long the silence lasted.

"St. Andrew's soul, your tongue

 would be the very death of you, I say."

They switched to other topics unrelated to the matter at hand; and yet, like a persistent shadow the questions they had pushed far away into the backs of their minds remained unanswered and beckoning.

Like Dolores, the diviner would say, one foot in and one foot out. 

Chapter Three

A splash of water droplets washed over Ernice as she flung the under garment and hung it in the laundry line to dry. The sun high up in the bright clouds, ready to dry the fresh laundry.

"There's just so much to do" she muttered as she lifted the empty basket and readied for a return journey to the brook.

She began to cover the distance when she sensed first the dread, the panic and the fear.

She glanced up and hastened towards the approaching panicking lot.

"Is the overlord back already?"

She hastened to wards them and dropped the basket, hands akimbo. Waiting for the woman rushing forth towards her.

"For what just cause have you set yerself up in a fierce frenzy up fer na, Abigail?" The need to cease rousing unneeded panic has been drilled into all and sundry. So much was at stake to let loose under such temporary and mundane emotions.

If it were for no good, she thought,... 

Abigail had the good sense to compose herself and give a good response. But her words and her demonstrations trembled with sheer panic and barely constrained fear. ""Tis the curse," she said and Ernice fought the urge to tear her mouth. They knew not to speak such words around here. "The tree. The tree," she went on pointing behind her. ""Tis bleeding. Tis bleeding, I say." Her eyes widened and her parlor pale from fright. ""Tis the curse come again. 'Tis-"

Ernice grabbed the frightened woman and shook her till her head danced back and forth on  her neck. All the courage and all the compulsion she needed to pass on, lit her eyes up. "What is this ye are doing? We spoke about this. We agreed on this matter. No matter, the amount of fear we feel and no matter how many times that - that tree bleeds, we won't ever lose hope. We won't ever lose our composure. We’ll keep the faith.”She shook her once again.

"Did ye forget so soon?"

Abigail shook her head morosely.

"Good." Happy message was passed across, Ernice dropped her hands and looked around for her basket, then grabbed it. Slowly, shewalked away.

She wasn't past the fear and panic herself.

However, if the tree had began bleeding once again, then it could only mean..

Did it mean...?

Her steps ground to a sudden halt. "Oh nay."

The horse neighed loudly and it's muscles bunched beneath gleaming flesh as it moves in panic.

The stench of fresh blood filled the air, alongside that of death. Dark death.

There was nothing pure and Godly about the night and the horse knew that.

It's dark piercing eyes eyes the creature crouched before it, face half buried in what was now the corpse of another.

Too revolting to behold, the stallion struggled to look away, be away from the scene of horror and abnormality.

Blood dropped in crimson rivulets to the earth and spread it horrid tale

The whispers of a curse renewed filled the night air to a frenzy and the horse neighed louder.

Chapter Four

When all comes to worst, she was going to stuff her precious belongings into a valise and take to her heels. Not even a particle of dust to be left behind her.

Unloved by her own sire, as it was a crime to calm him by anything else, and gravely disfavoured by his people, Elliotte didn't feel the need to want to even open her bed chamber door and step out.

What for? So everyone could take a bite out of her and sneer at her struggle to belong and impress.

'Twas far too much load for her to bear, yet bear she must.

She cast her eyes upwards to heavens and offered a short fervent prayer for the fortitude to bear it all.

"Ernice!"

The buxom woman rose at the loud call, and slowly waved back at her even as she mentally berated Elliotte for dashing across the fields with her skirts raised high above her ankles.

"Mi lady, 'tis the serf's garb ya haf on."

Elliotte passed and quickly glanced down at herself. She was garbed in a raw linen mantle and hood. Her under-dress was of brown, and the braided cord about her middle didn't do a thing at all to define a shape.

"Whatever is wrong with my clothing, Ernice?" she said, holding the skirts out at the sides for good measure. ""Tis easy to move in, you see."

Ernice stifled a groan. "And yer studies?"

She got a shrug for an answer.

Ernice readied herself fora well placed rebuke.

Elliotte's gasp interrupted her. Her mismatched eyes wide. "’Tis the horn," she said in a high pitched voice. "The horn of Costswolds!"

Ernice watched with sunken heart as Elliotte dashed off in a blur of brown and honey to welcome the very man who loathes the very sight of her.

The sycamore tree bled once again, as it has been for the last forthright.

She couldn't shake off the sense of dread that enveloped her at the turn out of events. 

She needed to make a short trip, to the diviner.

There must be something to be said about this...

Chapter FIve

The journey has been a short one. Froth with anxiety and frantic hope.

And now that she was here, she needed to find out - everything there was to find out.

She watched and quietly waited as the Diviner tossed the cowries and studied them, a slight scowl etched on her face.

Ernice could barely sit tight. "Wh-what does it say? There must be something, some plan, anything to avert the grace ill that befell us. You can't just leave us be. Elliotte -"

The Diviner raised her marked hand and cut her mid tirade. "’Tis the same," the Diviner continued in grave tones. "The prophecy remains unchanged and the evil upon us grows in magnitude."

Fear emblazoned in her heart. "" don't think she's ready for this," Ernice saying. "She's just a child."

Empty eye sockets turned to stare at her, doubling the fear emblazoned within her. "Do you question the gods then?" she demanded. 

“Wuldna dream of it,” Ernice said, rushing to withdraw her utterance without meaning it or wanting to. She was pressed beyond measure.

"She is plagued by nightmares. She never has a good night sleep. She carries the burden of the world upon her shoulders and how old is she? Barely three and ten."

"She's ripe."

"She's a babe" Ernice argued.

"Would ya take this mantle upon yer then?"

Ernice paused for effect. Self analyzing. Then her shoulders fell. "Nay" she whispered. "But –“

"There are no buts, Ernice. The gods have spoken and chosen after careful articulation the Diviner said. "Or would you have no answer to yer ferverent prayer?"

"But the child -. The nightmares, the bleeding tree -. Yer must do somtin."

"He returns."

"And she would do all within her might to win his good graces" Ernice charged on. "And I know it would amount to naught. She knows. Yet she tries."

The Diviner looked away.

"You see her pain and torment.” Ernice wentll Airtel LTE

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know it would amount to naught. She knows.

Yet she tries."

The Diviner looked away.

"You see her pain and torment," Ernice went on. "A poultice. A herb. An incantation. Anything. Reduce the torment. Even I can't bear it and l'm not the target, what more of her." Hands clasped together, "Please, I plead, I urge - whatever yer want - grant her peace.!"

The Diviner turned back at the woman before her and stared without a word at her.

Under the cover of the night, just at that precise moment when the veil of separation of the living and the dead was slightly lifted, a creature emerged from the Costswold Brook and wandered.

As it did, life was extinguished from all it walked past. The eerie song of death on the swift wings of the cool night breeze filtrated the earth and reached its far ends.

The evil thrived.

Leaving behind a score of mutilated corpses for dawn to expose and hearts to pound ferociously with untamed fear. For that's what it thrived upon - fear.

Chapter six

"My lord liege" Laith called out cheerily as he made his way thrOugh the gathered crowd to embrace his master. ""Tis twice good to have you back, my lord"

"Laith" Eòghann, Lord of the Brook, said with a resounding oat on the huge man's back. "A sight for sore eyes, eh."

The men shared a small laugh.

"You look well,” Laith scoffed. "It's due to yer care, my liege."

Everyone wanted a slice of the newly returned Lord of the Brook, and gathered around him.

Some wanting to touch. Some wanting to hear his sturdy voice. Some just to set their lonesome eyes on him.

The great hall buzzed with warm welcome.

After all, the great Eòghann, Lord and liege of the Costowold Brook had returned after ten moons and then some.

"Papa!"

The buzz in the hall vanished like it hadn't been in the first place at the shrill ecstatic voice.

Even the air ceased its movements.

But Elliotte picked up her skirts and dashed forth. She had taken her time to hastily scrub her body till it was pink and adorn herself as only a lady should. There wasn't enough time to sport curls, so she sported a flowing cascade instead, complete with jewels. Gifts from around for her birth anniversaries.

None from her father.

The crowd paved a way for her.

In her eyes, one azure and one of the purest of gold, sparkled and glistened in a way a galaxy of stars would envy.

Somewhere in the crowd, many hearts were clutched in wait for what they hoped wouldn't be.

Ailish glanced frantically about but couldn't find Ernice. Where in all the blasted world was she?

Elliotte, wide grin still in place, came to a bouncing halt before the man she looked hard upon, and dropped into a deep curtesy.

"Papa" she said. "You came back." She grinned wolfishly. "t has been -"

"What is this?" Eòghann roared. "Have you been a-stealing, lass?"

The grin vanished from her face and her heart did a double take. "Papa," she whispered. "|never -. I would never take what is na mine!"

Wrong answer.

Eòghann's visage darkened like a storm deep in the night. "The jewels?"

Impulsively, her hands went to the jewels on her head. "Gifts from my birth anniversaries, papa. You know that, papa.!"

"Liege! Liege! Liege, I say!"

Elliotte blinked hard. "My liege."

His nostrils flared beneath his glare and he stormed past. Almost at the stairs, he half turned. "I wager what's so special about your birth that it has to be remembered. You are but a curse to all around you. A curse," he spat furiously. "A curse, I say." And with that, he stormed off.

Ailish rushed up to Elliotte.

She turned her tearstained face to her, and shook with suppressed sobs. "I'm ill fated,” she said.

"Hush," Ailish rebuked softly and drew her away. "Come now. Abigail made some fresh tarts. I reckon they would be to yer liking."

"I am but a curse. I shouldna been born."

Chapter Seven

Ernice began to enter the kitchen when she was pushed hastily back and glared down by Ailish who wasn't even up to her jawline.

"Where have you been?" She said in a harsh whisper, hands akimbo.

Ernice's brows furrowed lightly. "Why? What ye -" she began to say in normal

Conversational voice when she was

vehemently shushed.

A frantic glance behind over her shoulder and emerald eyes glinted menacingly. "He's back."

She whispered as if that alone would answer the questions.

Ernice exhaled deeply with a low hiss. "Tell me something new,” she said and began to turn away only to be stopped.

"She went to welcome him," Ailish said in grave tones. "Our Elliotte,” she began when she got Ernice's attention. "Dressed all up she did, our little Elliotte, and bounced down the stairs calling out papa."

Stricken, "Nay,"Ernice squeaked. "Ye jest."

"By the bleeding heart of Our Lady, 'tis na a thing fer me to jest with."

Ernice went pale.

"Emeralds and golds -"

"Why did ye na stop her?" Ernice cried and was shushed once again.

Emerald eyes turned sorrowful. "Ye were na there ta see it. The gleam in her eyes. The sprint to her gait. Oh, I haf na seen her so happy afore."

Ernice grabbed her arms. "And he" she began. "What say he?"

Silence.

Panic heightened and she shook her. "What say he?"

Aillish peered into her eyes and lost all the fire as she recalled the disheartening scene.

"Cursed!”

Confused, Ernice stared.

"Cursed he had called her," Ailish said and Ernice's hands lost their will and fell to her sides numbly. "And that's only putting it nicely:"

"And she?" she asked. "Did she -?"

Ailish nodded. "She believed him. Took his words for naught but the truth and there was no dissuading her. I tried.”

"Had gone to the Seer's."'

"Any news?" Aim isn't asked expectantly.

Ernice squeezed her eyes to ward off the pain.

"It comes. There's naught to be done."

"Nay" Ailish countered in disbelief. "She's but a child. A babe outta the woods. She canna do this. She canna bear this. "’Tis naught but -"

"Fate," said Ernice. "A quick savage twist of fate's terrible game!"

"It would be the death of her, I say."

"I wouldna permit it," Ernice vowed. "By St. Stephen's decapitated body, I avow to give mi life if need be."

Slowly, Aillish turned to the brooding Elliotte.

"And so do I."

Chapter Eight

The horse neighed and its tail wished forth and back in a chestnut blur.

The prairie engaged in an ancient dance to the tune of the evening breeze.

Her hair tugged at its ends and swept almost sensuously across her back as she stared out over the prairie spread out before her.

It's been four planting seasons since her father last returned; and so long also were the incessant disappearances of people around.

She had lost Ernice last night and had singlehandedly laid her to rest. Her fingers still raw from the digging.

Ernice.

She had been a rock and a mother to her all her life and to lose her so just - broke her so.

She had rode Hermia off with no destination until her heart ached less.

Ernice.

A single lane ran down her face and hastily she wiped it away.

The Seer.

Ernice had said something about that. She hadn't paid much of an ear to it believing that Ernice was going nowhere.

A sob broke from her.

" knew I would find ye here, mi lady."

She turned slowly to the face and the tears flowed fresh again, as the pain sparked anew.

"Mi lady," Ailish whispered.

Her lips moved soundlessly at first. "Ailish," she sobbed.

Blinking furiously, Ailish drew her into her arms.

"’Tis hard, I know, but ye must the Seer see, mi lady."

Elliotte stared on unseeingly.

"It's been four seasons," Ailish said. "Surely there must be something that can be done to undo this evil. Elliotte?"

Hands spread out in helplessness, Elliotte's words came out in a subdued tone. "Tell me what someone like me can do? |'m a curse. l'm not to be. I have no good to bring forth."

"Lies" Ailish countered. "All lies, I say." She squeezed the hand she held. "I know and we all know ye were never a bad nor were ye a curse to start with. Ye in stead are but a bundle of joy, ye ken? Let no one tell you otherwise, ye ken?" Elliotte sniffed.

No one would understand.

No one knew how she felt.

No one knew the extent of her nightmares.

The extent of her feverish craze afterwards.

Ernice....

Only she seemed to breach the gap.

And she's no more.

Anew, her heart bled and her tears flowed.

Chapter Nine

A sting rang sharp through his sense dullened by far too much mead, and he slapped hard on the mosquito; and then stumbled onward through the haze of alcohol and honey. “‘Twas no big deal fer her ta walk away, ya see."

Hiccup.

"And here me thinks misef far too unjust ya - urgh."

With grave effort he pushed himself up to his unsteady feet, and sniffed looking about.

"Eei! 'Tis nightfall. Gatta get misef home afore the cursed bloodsucker rouses from his slumber, aye."

He began forward, his gait unsteady as he meandered through the encroaching darkness.

The air around him ceased and his ear pecked up.

His heart pounded ferociously as his pulse raced.

A low curse left his trembling lips as his wobbly legs struggled to cover quickly the distance between him and his home.

The sound of leaves rustling reached him and he jumped.

"Bleaming ninny would scare two lives outta me, aye."

A twig snapped somewhere behind him and he knew fear for what it was.

At least until he turned around and looked deep into gleaming blood-red eyes and a set of teeth made for massacre.

A lump, the size of two worlds, formed in his throat and he failed to push it down with a loud swallow.

"Jesus, Mary and Holy Joseph." He crossed himself and trembled, half quaking with fear too emblazoned and ripe it was but a luggage far too devastating to bear.

He couldn't even find the voice to scream when the looming ominous cursed creature tore relentlessly at him.

In no time, there was naught but splashes of blood, torn clothes, discarded shoes and a bloodied cloak with a few large bones as he had been a burly sort where he had once stood drunk and scared.

Bv morning the sharp cries that followed the discovery of the gory sight began a new grotesque tune for the day.

Chapter Ten

The sound of heavy flesh slapping against a hard surface filled the large kitchen and rocked all actions to a halt. Eyes followed the trail of the sound and locked upon the creator.

"What ails ya now, Mr. Gimsby?" Deidre demanded a bit put off.

With an ugly snarl, Mr. Gimbsy launched into a self-possessed tirade on just how inhabitable Costswold has become.

A chorus of hushes snarled and nipped at him.

Wielding a blade, "I avow ya would mind that gleaming tongue of yer, Mr. Gimsby" Ailish warned. "Or by St. Stephen's decapitated body, I would take it out of yer dark cavern."

Mr. Gimsby looked like he had more to say but swallowed them.

“‘Tis but a world where one can na express one self,” Deidre said sadly.

"Me haf no qualms saying me mind," Ailish countered. ""Tis a life I must protect that cripples me. Ya all know this," she said taking them all in with her gleaming peridot eyes. "Ya all haf seen how life has been fer her." 

"Aye," agreed Mr. Norman. "Scurrying about seeking ways ta win some good graces that she didna haf a need and half fer."

"I wish she would cease," Deidre said.

"Me too,” Ailish said with a shake of the head.

"Me too." Recalling Ernice's words as she narrated her visit to the Diviner's.

A chorus of deep sighs heralded a cloud of silence.

Pots sizzled.

Soup boiled and rolled.

The slab suffered the fall of the butcher's blade as Mr. Gimsby hacked and worked at the deer that had been caught only this morn.

Suddenly Deidre raised her head from her kneading. ""Tis time" she said. "Ya must do it, Ailish"

"She is na ready" she said. "She's na keen fer it."

"At this rate, she would never be" said Deidre.

"She never had any say in the matter in the first place. If 'tis what needs to be done, then it needs to be done. Keen or nay!"

Mr. Gimsby's hairy head bobbed up and down in acquiesce.

"l agree" said Mr. Norman. "The earlier we started the earlier it all ends!"

Ailish stopped washing the beetroots she had rooted out from the garden this early morning, and turned to them. "But the dog keeps watch," she said speaking of Laith.

Mr. Gimsby let loose a long earsplitting roll of curses

"We can na wait any longer," Deidre continued.

"Ernice gave her life for this cause. 'Tis been moons; her death must not amount to naught, I say."

Ailish just stared, her mind calculating the possibilities and all.

"Aye" Mr. Norman said. "I reckon with what Deidre said. If it's to do, 'tis no use waiting. It has to be done."

Ailish waited. Heart in hand. Drawing what remains of strength and courage she could reach.

"Im ready to do what I need to" Deidre avowed.

"Oh Deidre," Ailish said amazed. "’Tis a toughone."

"There won't be a meaning to it otherwise.!"

Ailish sighed again.

"Get her ready. She turns four and ten in a few!"

Ailish glanced around and nodded at them.

A silent vow sealed their comradeship.

Aye, Ailish though, what had to be done had to be done.

And from behind the walls of the kitchen, a shadow moved with a low growl and blood-red eyes.

Chapter Eleven

The sage flats were waiting to bloom.

Eòghann thought he could almost hear them take that deep, long inhale that would burst into colour on the exhale.

Rather than a merry month, May plagued Costswolds with a series of wicked storms that thundered over the mountain and blew wild over the lake. But the days stretched longer with the light pulling farther and farther over lower ridges, while in her little valley the cottonwoods and willows began to haze with green.

Daffodils popped in cheerful yellow even when the wind and rain pelted them.

He didn't buy that.

Someone, or some people, far too ignorant for their own good, were scheming with such dogged perseverance to foil his plans; and he was not one for it.

"They move as I speak."

Laith.

Oh faithful Laith.

What was he to do without him?

"My liege!

"My liege."

On this monumental day, she had chosen to venture beyond the mountains and fast far from the woods, to seek a way to bring him down. Him.

"My liege!"

Such a small fry seeking so valiantly her own death. His leather gloves creaked under the viscous pressure of his fist by his side.

"My Lord liege!"

Slowly, very slowly, Eòghann turned

around and blinked. Fierce gray eyes staring right out of his good God-given-but-demon-possessed eye sockets. The skull buried deep in the dark fur of his coat, winked an eerie silvery one.

"We'll take the Fagh road through Basi," he said. "Through the mountains of Eve. We should be upon Gadamon in no time"

Laith began to speak even as he followed his master who had began to march down the hill. That pathway was only braved by no one who had life and wanted to spare it.

Eòghann threw a glance over his shoulder at him. He had life and wanted to spare it. 

Chapter Twelve

Bloodied hands reached for and gripped an edge of the slippery mountainside with a heave as she drew with great struggle her weary body up to the next spot.

For days unend, they have laboured and slaved over mountains and bled their fill over the grey unyielding sides.

Worst was that unforgiving temperament of nature. It would seem she had plans that didn't include the successful ascent of theirs up the mountain path. No one wanted to take

a glance down - a quick mental suicide that could very easily draw on the physical.

Ailish heaved and groaned, and heaved again. She cast a quick searching glance around and spotted the equally wearied bodies of her comrades in the mission. She searched further and her shoulders fell at the ragged and resigned struggling presence of her. Bloodied and dragging, hair a tragic mess

around her head and her feet and palms swollen and bloodied, her face spared just this much by the viscous elements.

She knew she didn't want to be here.  

No one wanted to be here.

Yet here they were as quite a number of lives have been sacrificed for the success questionable as though it may seem at the moment- of their mission.

A fellowship they had set out as but -

Mr. Norman heaved and heaved.

"For the love of St. Stephen's faith, put yer back to it!" Deidre yelled as much as she could over the thrumming sound of the elements.

Even Elliotte turned around to witness the wickedly hazardous predicament of Mr. Norman.

He heaved again.

Deidre tried to reach to him, but it wasn't to be for to reach out was to plummet down the way they had come up; and they had so far come. She tried to reach to him again, as did anyone who had such strength.

Trembling bloodied hand reached out to trap a foothold and missed.

Ailish's heart caved.

"Nay!"

He tried again and missed, his body 

swinging precariously mid-ascent.

"Nay!" Deidre railed. "Ye wouldna let go. Ye wouldna let go, ye hear mi? Ye wouldna! I'Il be darned to lose another. As one we came, as one we go." She exhaled. "Ye will strive, | tell ya. Ye will."

He glanced at her. His lips bloodied

from a battle between his head and the mountain. Of course his head had lost and his front teeth amongst some, had paid the price.

There in his empty grey eyes lay sorrow and anguish deeper than any heart could bear.

"Nah" she said beneath her breathe for even she had just so much energy.

Then he glanced up at Elliotte.

She was screaming before she realised it. Hauling curses at him, at the elements, at life and at his surrender.

And she wasn't alone.

They screamed.

They yelled.

They swore.

They cursed.

But even Deidre's outstretched bloodied hand couldn't reach the body fast plummeting l Airtel LTE

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mountain. Of course his head had lost and his

front teeth amongst some, had paid the price.

There in his empty grey eyes lay sorrow and

anguish deeper than any heart could bear.

"Nah," she said beneath her breathe for

even she had just so much energy.

Then he glanced up at Elliotte.

She was screaming before she realised

it. Hauling curses at him, at the elements, at

life and at his surrender.

And she wasn't alone.

They screamed.

They yelled.

They swNore.

They cursed.

But even Deidre's outstretched bloodied hand couldn't reach the body fast plummeting down the way it had laboured up.

The elements tore at their voices and snatched at their tears. Leaving them cold, devastated and alone.

Up ahead, lightning struck and let loose a string of boulders and rocks and they had to rein in their grief and plaster themselves against the mountainsides to save what was left of their measly lives.

 To be continued……