Shadow Self-chapter twenty-eight

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 14, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Hack pushed his way through the legs of the elfin that assembled outside the castle. He was so busy with the next edition of his newspaper; he had not heard about the old woman’s arrival. It was when the streets emptied and he realised how quiet it had grown, that he stepped outside his house.

 There was no one about, so he went inside and got his notebook. Something was happening and he did not want to miss it. He ran as fast as his legs would allow. It was obvious from the crowd standing around the castle that something momentous had occurred.

   “What is happening?” He looked up at the nearest elf. “Why are you all here?”

   “We are waiting for news about the new sport.” everyone had grown tired of Hack’s interfering, and no one wanted to answer any of his questions.

   “What sport?” Hack flipped open his notebook.

   “The day of the flying dwarf.”

   “What, I do not understand,” Hack frowned.

   “It is like this,” the elf bent down so they were almost nose to nose. “If a dwarf asked too many stupid questions, then we pick him up and throw him from the castle battlements to see how far he can fly. Would you like to be the first?”

   “Fine,” Hack’s plump cheeks turned red. “I will find out what is going on one way or the other.”

   “You do that,” the elf turned away.

No one would tell him anything, so he went home. He was thinking how unfair it was and how freedom of the press meant nothing. The note pinned to his door stopped his grumbling.

   “What’s this now?” He pulled the paper free of the pin and opened it.

   Hack

   If you want to find out what is going on meet me by the crossover now. There is a lot being hidden from you, and I admire the way you seek out the truth. What I have learned will make everyone in The Hidden World realise what a wonderful reporter you are.

A friend

At last, Hack smiled, someone who appreciates my work. Then he felt the first prickles of fear running down his back. The crossover was the border between Claradon and the Ereban forest. No one ever went there. No, Hack shook his doubt away. He was a daring reporter and his job required that he should place himself in danger.

Perius, the leader of the Erebans, sat on his throne and looked at those assembled. The only light came from a few candles scattered around the huge hall. These were for the hags, who cannot see in the dark. The Ereban world is a place of infinite darkness. The great hall hung with spider webs, their silvery gossamer the only relief against the shadowy walls. Perius liked to watch the spiders are work, it appealed to his sense of the macabre, to watch their occupants decided the death of their prey. The spiders are cruel killers, paralysing each captive until the time is right and then sucking out the blood. He sneered, noting the dead husks in the webs.

   “What have you learned?” He turned his dark eyes on the hags.

   “We have seen much, sire,” Lora, the eldest of the hags answered. “Even now one draws close who will tell us more.”

The Ereban hags see things in the same way that Galten does, but to do so they must use blood. The most powerful blood is that of the innocent, and they harvest it by sneaking into the rooms of sleeping children and pricking their fingers. A pin prick is such a small wound. Should an elfin or dwarf child wake complaining of such, it was easily waved away as a splinter or scratch from a thorn by their parents.

   “We are closer now to learning the truth,” the hag said, hoping to appease him. “The elfin are powerful and hide their secrets well.”

   “They are not so powerful that they cannot be killed,” Perius sneered. “Already they tremble with fear because of one mortal, and he alone is doing more to aid my cause than any of you.”

   “But, sire,” the hag wrung her hands. “There is someone on the way that should tell us all we need to know. He is a dwarf, and he will be with us shortly.”

   “A dwarf,” Perius roared with laughter. “A dwarf, why not a fairy or a little bird?”

   “He is not like the other dwarfs,” the hag said. “He knows most of the elfin secrets.”

   “There is only one secret I care about,” Perius said. “And if I had the ability to walk the land during daylight hours, I would find the answer for myself. I am surrounded by fools,” he glared at each one in turn.

   “No, sire,” Lora begged. “We will soon have the answer for you. We will learn everything you wish to know about the children and even…” she paused for effect. “The reason there is a mortal woman in the castle at Bargamore as we speak.”

   “A mortal, here in the hidden world?”

   “Yes, sire, a mortal woman who was summoned to speak to the king.”

Perius smiled, drawing his lips over his shape teeth.

   “Then it is as I suspected. The elfin grow weaker; the power of their magic is fading.”

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-seven

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 13, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, strange worlds, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Biddy paused to catch her breath and looked up at the grey sky. The clouds were so low and swollen with rain they seemed within arm’s reach. It was many years since she had last attempted the climb to the castle, and she had forgotten how steep it was. She sat down on a large rock and looked up at the jutting towers of the dark silhouette above her head. The last time she entered the world of the Elfin she had been with her mother. Even then the reception they received was not a good one. Her mother left the elfin world a day before her eighteenth birthday. Biddy knew the aging process for the elfin slowed at their coming of age Still, her mother’s decision to leave did not altogether save her from the heartache to come. She aged much slower than her husband, and that was her curse for marrying a mortal. Her mother did die as the headstone proclaimed in her hundred and twelfth year. She might have lived longer if the death of her husband had not broken her heart. Being half elfin meant that Biddy, like her mother, would age much slower than her father. Today, she felt all her hundred and three years, as she sat mopping her brow.

 The entrance to the world below is on the north side of the castle. This area never gets much sun and since mortals love the light as much as the elfin, they tend to shy away from this shadowy place. Everything was done to discourage the curious. Gnarled, twisted trees line the steep hill; wild brambles grow between the trunks, ready to tear at the clothing of any intruder. At the summit, six huge stones, weathered by time, stand like rheumatic fingers, the hands raised to repel any intruders who dared approach. These silent sentinels are the last thing one encounters before reaching the ivy-covered entrance to the cave.

      Biddy was panting when she reached the summit, and she leaned against one of the huge rocks. In the distance, the ocean looked like a black line against the greyness of the day. The air was still, too still. Despite the great height of the hill, there was no whistling of wind, and no cawing from the crows in the walls of the castle. It seemed that nature itself was holding its breath in anticipation of what would happen when she pulled aside the curtain of ivy. Squaring her shoulders, she stepped into the cave. It was cold here, and she stood for a moment to let the cool air wash over her. The only sound came from the slow dripping of water. With shuffling feet, she descended deeper into the darkness. To steady herself, she kept one hand on the wall of the cave. The rocks were slimy, and she shivered in revulsion, as her fingers encountered the softness of moss. Her heart pounded against her ribs and her breathing echoed off the listening walls. She could not remember how long it took to reach the fairy world. She kept going, her process slow as the ground beneath her sloped further, until her feet went from under her. One moment she was feeling in front of her with the toe of her boot, the next she went sprawling down on to the dusty ground, as her foot encountered nothing but air. At this precise moment the alarm bells sounded, and a small light appeared in the darkness. Its glow was bright enough for her to see the sharp spear pointed at her face and the angry, glaring eyes of its owner.

   “Go back, mortal,” the dwarf said. “You have no right to be here.”

Biddy stood up and shook the dirt from her skirt.

   “I said, go back,” the dwarf jabbed the point of the spear at her. “You will not get much further mortal. Help is on the way.”

   “Don’t you remember me, Roak?” Biddy asked. “I am Petals daughter.”

Roak, the Guardian of the Cave, held the lamp higher and squinted up at her.

   “I came here with my mother many years ago to visit with my grandparents,” Biddy said, as the thundering began in the darkness.

She leaned against the wall of the cave as the knights appeared. A line of archers, their bows raised, ready to strike, surrounded her. Beyond them, dozens of dwarves toddled with shields held high and spears ready for battle. She read the question in the elfin eyes as they met, not with the army of mortals they had imagined, but an old woman, cowering against the rocks.

   “She says she is Petals daughter,” Roak said, to one of the elfin.

   “You have no business here,” one of the knights said. “Turn around mortal or feel the sting of my arrow.”

   “I have no intention of turning around,” Biddy said. “I am half elfin and I demand to see the king.”

   “You cannot make such demands,” he laughed. “You have no rights here.”

   “I demand in the memory of my mother,” Biddy knew the elfin law well.

Though her mother was exiled from her people, she still had to right to return once in every decade to visit her loved ones.

   “Send a message to the king. Tell him I am here to speak for those who are called the shadow self.”

The knight whispered something to the elf beside him that sent him running back into the darkness. They waited in silence, until the soldier returned and whispered the king’s answer.

   “It would seem that the king wishes to see you,” the knight said. “Follow us.”

Biddy followed, praying she would not lose her footing again.   It was a relief when the dot of light appeared. She had to shield her eyes as they moved into the brightness and beauty of the world beneath the earth. Up ahead the castle of Bargamore glowed against the earthen sky, and she bit her lip when she saw the number of steps she needed to climb. As though reading her mind, the knight called over his shoulder.

   “I will assist you in the climb, ancient one.

   “Really,” Biddy huffed. “You’re probably older than I am, so less of the ancient one, if you please.”

   “You may well be right,” he turned and smiled at her.

Biddy felt her cheeks flames as her stomach did somersaults, I am a silly old fool, she thought, but it had to be said, the elfin men were beautiful.

Shadow self-chapter twenty-six

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 12, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Biddy felt her hackles rising; something was wrong. The youngsters were not as talkative or as boisterous as usual, but she put their strange mood down to the greyness of the sky. Elfin, like mortals are creatures of light, and the overhanging clouds tend to put a damper on them. Still, Tabby had known them for years and she reacted in such a way to strangers.

   “Sit down,” Biddy said. “I have to feed the chickens. There is cake in the larder and there’s apple juice if you are thirsty. You know where it is,” she picked up a small basin full of rind and bits of stale bread.

The excuse of feeding the chickens was a ruse, so she could get her thoughts in order. As she scattered the food, she wondered what made the cat react in such a way.

   “I’m getting old,” she sighed. “There’s no other explanation. I am losing my powers. It worries me when the cat recognises before I do, that something is wrong.”

Biddy has the gift of second sight, as she was the offspring of an elfin mother and mortal father. Her eyes brighten. Of course, that is what’s wrong with the youngsters.

Corey and Juliet were sitting side by side whispering when she opened the cottage door. They jumped apart and sit up straight in their chairs as she approached.

   “Not hungry?” She looked down at the empty table.

   “We are a bit,” Corey said. “But we thought we’d wait for you.”

   “That was thoughtful,” Biddy eased her aching bones into a chair. “Be a good boy and fetch the cake for me.”

He looked in confusion at the three doors lining the room

   “Sit down,” Biddy said. “I’ll fetch it myself.”

They sat in silence, as she uncovered the fruit cake and poured the juice in to three glasses.

   “Go on, eat,” she said. “It won’t poison you.”

Breaking off a large piece of the cake, she popped it into her mouth. Corey picked up his slice and bit it.

   “It’s delicious,” he said as his teeth sank into sweet fruits and bits of nuts.

   “It is,” Juliet agreed.

   “Good,” Biddy drank from her goblet. “Now that we have established that, perhaps you’d care to tell me who you are?”

   “Yeah, sorry about that,” Corey blushed. “We didn’t mean to try and fool you. “It’s just that we’re here looking for answers and since you seemed to recognise us…” his voice trailed off. “Perhaps, if we told you our stories, you would understand,” he said. “Juliet and I met for the first time yesterday, but something drew us together. Will you listen to what we have to say?”

   “I’m listening,” Biddy said.

For the next hour they shared their stories about their life and the strange things they both had seen.

   “It was the one word that brought us together,” Corey said. “Culdoplin, I’ve heard that name whispered in my dreams and so has Juliet.”

Juliet told her about her shadow self, the girl who looked exactly like here.

   “I’ve never seen anyone who looked like me, but I saw the monster dog and the Thing,” Corey added.

   “What are you talking about child?” Biddy interrupted.

   Corey told her about the alley and the things he had seen.

   “A fairy dog sent to protect you,” Biddy nodded.

   “It looked more like a monster,” Corey said. “It scared me to death.”

   “They’re big, but harmless to the innocent. I could never keep a dog because of them. They see the fairy dogs running wild and take off after them never to return.”

   “So, you believe in the fairies?” Juliet asked.

   “I am part elfin, my mother married a mortal,” Biddy said. “The Thing you saw was an Ereban.”

   “What’s an Ereban?” Juliet asked.

   “Keep your voice down, child,” Biddy shushed her. “The skies are overcast and there’s no telling where they might be. Erebans are the worst part of ourselves, be we elf or mortal,” Biddy said. “They are born of our worst traits and thrive on fear and chaos. They roam the world by night. That is when they are their strongest. They creep through the cracks in our minds and spread their venom in nightmares.”

Juliet shivered and moved her chair closer to Corey.

   “Why would one of them come after me?” Corey asked.

   “It’s never been known before, but there is something stirring and it’s not just you who needs answers.” Biddy stood. “It’s time to go, there’s work to be done.”

   “But you haven’t told us anything,” Juliet said.

   “I’ll walk to castle with you,” Biddy said. “There is someone I must consult. Come back in the morning. I might have answers for you then.”

   “Will you come over to my tent when the others are asleep?” Juliet asked Corey when Biddy left them.

   “No problem,” he said. “I doubt if I will sleep tonight.”

It was not a night for being alone, when they knew the truth about the Things roaming the darkness.

Shadow Self- chapter twenty-five

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 11, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, prince, princess, queens, strange worlds, teenagers, thoughts, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The sky was beginning to cloud over as Corey and Juliet made their way across the fields. Their destination was the small wood that stood like a dark silhouette among the limestone rocks. The morning had been so promising, but the sky began to darken, and they felt the first drops of rain on their faces.

   “Run,” Corey took Juliet’s hand.

The wood was much bigger than imagined, and the trees huddled so close together, they gave shelter from the rain.

   “It’s pelting down,” Juliet wiped the drops from her face.

   “Yeah, but it’s dry in here,” Corey said.

   “Should we go in further?” Juliet looked into the darkness.

   “Why not,” Corey shrugged. “It’s only trees.”

They walked along a well-trod path that wound through the wood. It was not as threatening as Juliet thought, and nice to be there among the silence of the trees.

   “It must go on for miles,” she gasped.

   “I don’t think so,” Corey said.

   “I see something,” Juliet called. “Right up ahead, it’s getting brighter.”

The wind was whipping up, causing the trees to sway in some crazy dance.

   “There’s some sort of building over there,” Corey pointed to a gap between the trees.

   “Let’s make a run for it,” Juliet said. “We can ask for shelter there.”

It was the ruins of an old church. Hidden by yew trees and overgrown bushes, the only thing still standing was the steeple over the porch.

   “It could be worse,” Corey said. “At least we’ll be out of the rain.”

The rusted gate groaned as he opened it, the hinges frozen from misuse. The path was uneven and weeds, growing through the cracks, made it slippery and dangerous.

   “Don’t fall whatever you do,” Corey warned. “I’ll never be able to carry you all the way back.”

   “Are you saying I’m fat?” Juliet studied the ground and chose her footing with care.

They huddled in the porch until the rain eased off, before stepping out to have a look around. At the side of the church there was a small graveyard.

   “Someone takes care of this place,” Corey said.

The graves were ancient, the markers leant left and right; as though trying to see beyond the large, stone effigies of angels.

   “There are flowers on this grave,” Juliet looked down at a posy of wildflowers. “Someone must be tending it.”

Corey knelt and read the faded inscription.

   James Finn born 1884 died 1956

   Petal Finn   born 1884 died 1997

   Beloved wife of James

   Reunited in death.

   “That doesn’t make sense,” Corey frowned. “If I’m correct, James died when he was seventy-two, but Petal lived to be a hundred and thirteen. The engraver must have got his dates mixed up.”

   “Come to pay the folks a visit,” the voice startled them. “It’s nice to see you still remember.”

Every child has read about witches and seen them in books and films, but to come face to face with one is something very strange and frightening. The old woman had long, silver hair and bright, all-seeing eyes, peered from beneath a hat of black wool. She wore layers of petticoats beneath an ankle length skirt, black old-fashioned lace up boots and a fringed shawl.

   “What’s the matter, my pets,” She smiled. “Did old Biddy give you a fright? I’ve been hearing stories about you two,” she shook a long, bony finger at them. “Been spending too much time in the mortal world, haven’t we?”

   “I don’t know what you mean,” Corey said.

   “There now, there’s no need to look so worried. Old Biddy’s not judging you in the least. I saw it coming long ago, and that Pierce Hogan has always had it in for your kind.”.

   “Who does she think we are?” Juliet whispered.

   “I don’t know,” Corey said. “But let’s play along and find out.”

   “Come along and you can tell me all about your adventures in the mortal world.” She gestured at them to follow her.

   “Come on,” Corey grabbed Juliet’s arm.

   “We’ll go back and have something to eat.” The old woman said. “It’s going to take some time for me to get used to seeing you in those clothes.”

   “Remember Hansel and Gretel; the witch fattened them up with sweet things?” Juliet whispered.

   “Listen, if she has a cauldron big enough for both us, I’ll be out of there in seconds,” Corey said.

The cottage lay hunched in a hollow. A few fat-looking chickens pecked at the ground in a small wire enclosure. Juliet caught Corey’s arm and nodded towards a window, where two, bright eyes watched.

   “She knows you’re coming,” Biddy laughed.

 The black cat purred and zigzagged between their legs demanding attention. Juliet sighed with relief and reached down to pat the soft fur, but the cat eyed her suspiciously and backed away.

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-four

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 10, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey opened his eyes and looked up in confusion at the green, canvas roof above his head. It took him a moment to realise where he was, and the thundering noise around him nothing more than the snores of his companions. His first thought was of Juliet. The light was fading by the time they had put up the tents, and there was little time to speak, as they set up the encampment. Three of the boys insisted he share the tent with them, and it would have appeared churlish to refuse. There were two tents left over when they had finished pairing off, so Juliet and Miss Williams chose to sleep alone. The air was chill when he crawled out from the cloying interior of the tent.

   “Can I help?” He went over to the makeshift kitchen.

   “Great,” Miss Williams looked up from her frying. “Corey, isn’t it?”

   “That’s right,” he smiled.

   “If you could unpack the plates and mugs, that would be great,” she nodded at one of the rucksacks.

The dawn chorus began as they worked. Birds awoke and greeted the day the way they could, by offering their song to the heavens.  

   “Isn’t it wonderful?” Miss Williams whispered.

   “Yes,” Corey’s heart swelled; he was turning in to a girl, he thought, but it was hard to deny the beauty of the sound.

   “Oh, my aching bones,” Mr Thomas came crawling out from his small tent and stood stretching and arching his back. “I’m getting too old for this lark,” he laughed when he saw them watching them.

   “Nonsense, you’re still a young man,” Miss Williams said, and then blushed to the roots of her hair.

   “That was a bit lame,” she whispered to Corey, as Mr Thomas went ambling off. “You won’t mention it to the others, will you?”

    “No way,” he assured her.

   “I must seem rather desperate,” she wiped her eyes, pretending the smoke from the pans was blinding her.

   “It’s going to be ok,” Corey promised. “He’ll notice you soon.”

   “You think so?”

   “I promise, just don’t try so hard,” he said.

He went back to laying out the tin plates and mugs.

   “Are you ok?” Juliet came strolling over.

   “Yeah, you?” He smiled at her mane of tousled hair.

   “It took me forever to get to sleep,” she stretched and yawned. “I’m going to the stream to wash, coming?”

   “I wanted to talk to you last night, but I didn’t get the chance. I can’t stop thinking about our pendants.”

   “Same here,” Corey said. “Do you know how you got yours?”

   “My mother said it came from one of her friends, but she doesn’t remember who.”

   “I have no idea either,” Corey said. “My parents died long before I could ask them. I got it from their solicitor along with the deeds of the house and a few other things. I knew from the moment I saw it that it was something special.”

   “Yeah, I know what you mean,” Juliet agreed. “My mother gave it to me on my sixteenth birthday. She said I was old enough to take care of it then. I wonder if she sensed that it was important.”

   “Who knows,” Corey shrugged. “We should examine them when we get the chance. See if there are any similar markings.”

   “Good idea, we didn’t get a good look yesterday,” Juliet agreed.

   “Hey, you guys, wait up,” the rest of the camp was awake and following them armed with towels and tin basins.

   “It’s not going to be any time soon,” Corey muttered.

“I’ve been mulling it over,” Mr Thomas said over breakfast. “There are a number of things I need to do before we start digging. I must meet with a local councillor. He is the one who wants the castle knocked, so that should be pleasant! I also need you,” he looked at Steven, the oldest of the boys. “To explore the castle and surrounding ground to make sure it’s safe.”

   “No problem, sir,” Steven said.

   “You know what to look for,” Mr Thomas said. “Any sign of loose bricks etc.”

   “Got it,” Steven assured him.

   “The rest of you,” Mr Thomas looked around at the group. “Can have a day off to explore, but stay away from the castle until I say so, understood? Those of you, who feel up to it, can take a walk in to the village with me.”

   “We’ll have a nose around,” Juliet said “Corey and I have things to catch up on, family stuff. We’ll let you know if we find anything interesting, but don’t hold your breath.”

No one realised that despite the landscapes barren outlook, secrets were hidden under every rock, and mysteries waiting to be solved, but that would come later.

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-three

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 6, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The meadow at the edge of Claradon is a training ground. Amber and Sabba stopped to watch as the young cubs jumped and climbed their way across the assault course. Their red coats gleamed with health and they seemed to move with winged feet, as they soared over the jumps. It was a magical sight, but the couple knew what they saw was vital to the fox’s survival. In the centre of the course, Flora, the most senior of all skulk, barked orders at the young cubs, as she ran them through their paces. Like the Elfin, she knew too well how important this training was. She pushed her pupils to the limit until the pads of the feet hurt and their tongues hung from their panting mouths. The cubs complained of this harsh treatment to their parents, but to no avail. They, unlike their children, knew the value of her teachings and how one day it could save their life. Flora was not a cruel animal, but she vowed, when she was first offered the job by Mr and Mrs Furze, that she would never lose one of her troops to the hands of a mortal. Her love for those in her care spurred her on, and the dreadful memory that woke her howling from her sleep, as the hunting horn sounded, and she was reminded of the death of her parents.

   “They look well,” Amber said, when the old fox ambled over to where they stood.

   “They are coming along, Princess,” Flora nodded. “I think they are the best I have ever trained.”

Amber and Sabba knew little other that what they heard about the use of foxes in battle. In olden days they served as mounts for the dwarfs during times of unrest, and were as strong and swift as any war horse.

   “We must go,” Sabba said.

   “Stay safe,” the fox bowed her head and ran back to where her charges had taken advantage of her absence.

The glare from the waterfall at the edge of the sacred lake was blinding. Tiny beads of light skimmed across the surface of the water and glistened like diamonds. The teenagers sank down and watched the different life forms that lived and worked around the lake. The fairies were the most prominent, as they flew in swarms collecting water to feed the thirsty flowers growing in abundance around the three lands. In the summer months geese and swans flew in from the mortal world and made their nests by the lake, secure in the knowledge that their young would be safe.

   “Hello,” Amber called to a small figure at the other side of the lake.

He stopped what he was doing and began toddling over as fast as his little legs allowed.

   “Princess,” his cheeks glowed from his exertions. “What a treat. Yes, indeed, and the young lord too.”

   “How are you, Brag?” Sabba motioned him to sit beside them.

   “I am wonderful,” he plonked himself down on the grass. “Thank you for asking and there is no need to ask how either of you are,” he smiled at Amber. “Our princess grows more beautiful by the day and as for you, young lord. Well, you have to be the handsomest elf in all of Bargamore.”

   “You are a rogue, Brag,” Amber laughed.

   “That well may be, my princess,” he smiled. “But I am an honest rogue.”

Of all the dwarfs in Claradon, Brag was their favourite. He was kind, gentle and a great storyteller. He regaled them with tales of past battles and legends of long ago, and they never tired of his stories. Brags job was one of the most important in all the three lands. He was the Watcher of the Wells. Since the time of the sickness, it became important to check the drinking water for signs of infection. He took samples every morning from the numerous wells that dotted the land and from the Sacred Lake, to make sure there was nothing there that could cause infection.

   “I have heard strange stories about you two,” he looked from Amber to Sabba. They say you are going up into the mortal world every day.”

   “It is true, I am afraid,” Amber sighed.

   “You know the risk you are taking, princess?” Brag was astounded by her candid reply.

   “I know, but there are reasons for our actions.”

   “Reasons, eh?” The dwarf raised his bushy eyebrows. “Very well, I will take your word for it.”

   “I have stiff competition today,” Amber looked towards the lake, where an elfin woman was gathering wildflowers.

   “Hello, Dawn,” Brag called.

The woman came over and bowed to Amber and Sabba. Her hair was the same colour as the princess’s.  

   “I trust you are well, princess?” Dawn asked.

   “Very well,” Amber smiled up at her. “How are your children?”

   “They are my greatest joy,” despite her words there was sadness behind Dawn’s smile.

   “I am pleased for you,” Amber felt uncomfortable under the woman’s searching gaze.

Dawn bid them good day and they watched as she made her way through the grass, her green gown billowing in the slight breeze.

   “She always seems so sad,” Amber said, “I do not like the way she stares at me.”

   “Her sadness is nothing more than a terrible longing to be back with her own kind.” Brag said.

He spoke without thinking and left Amber and Sabba puzzled by his words. 

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-two

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 5, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, memories, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Sabba and the princess stood at the foot of the throne and listened as the king scolded them for their behaviour, and the risk they were putting their people in.

   “But, father,” Amber protested. “Working for Pierce Hogan means we know what is going on.”

   “And what happens if he suspects you?”

   “How will he suspect us?” Amber said. “He thinks we are students.”

   “I forbid it, are you listening to me?” He clenched his fists and brought them down hard on the arms of the throne. “We have enough to worry us without having to run around after you.”

   “My dear,” the queen touched his arm. “Let us hear what the children have to say first.”

   “There is nothing they could say that would change my mind,” the king said.

   “We have managed to put a stop to his plans for a while,” Sabba said.

   “How,” the king asked.

Sabba looked at Amber for help.

   “We rang the historical society and pretend to be concerned citizens. We said that we had found documents that showed the castles true history, and they promised to send someone to look in to it,” Sabba said.

 The king rose and stalked out of the room.

   “He is exhausted,” the queen said. “He will come round in time. Now, children,” she said Amber and Sabba stood. “Run along. I have business with Galten.”

   The queen joined Galten at the banqueting table and waited to hear his latest news.

   “It is not good, majesty,” he shook his head. “I never expected this to happen, and some powerful spell kept it from me until now.”

   “You are frightening me,” the queen turned pale.

   “I cannot help but be honest in what I am about to say,” He said. “The Erebans know about the changelings. They are intent on killing your true child and that of Lady Blackthorn’s.”

   “How can this be?” the queen’s voice shook with fright. “What would it gain them to do so?”

   “It would mean the end of your line in the true sense. I know the princess will marry and so will Sabba, but they are not of the true blood. Perius knows this, and he will use this knowledge to take over the land of Bargamore when you and the king had lived out your allotted time.”

   “What can we do?” the queen was close to tears.

There was never moment when she did not think of the child who lived in the mortal world. 

    “The king must be told,” Galten said. “We have to find a way of stopping them before they carry out this dreadful act.”

   “What about Amber and Sabba?”

   “They have no interest in them. They are no threat, and other than using them to show we have lied for all these years, they will leave them alone for now.”

   “That is something, I suppose,” the queen said. “What do we do now to help our children?”

   “The Erebans have already tried and failed to kill Lady Blackthorn’s son. The attack was halted by a fairy dog that Sabba sent to watch over him.”

   “My daughter?” The queen’s voice was hoarse with emotion. “What of her?”

   “So far they have been watching and waiting, biding their time, but she is safe for now.”

   “She is safe for now,” the queen whispered.

Amber and Sabba had to pass through the land of Claradon, the home of the dwarfs, to reach the sacred lake. Hack was busy working on the hand powered press, when his eye was drawn to a red flash outside the window.

   “The princess,” he muttered, wiping inky fingers on his tabard.

Picking up his notebook and pencil, he ran as fast as his little legs allowed to catch up with her.

   “Princess,” he gasped. “Have you any news for me?”

   “Go away, Hack,” Sabba put his arm around Amber’s shoulders and tried to lead her away.

   “But sire,” Hack asked. “Do you not think the people have to right to know what’s going on, like why you have been visiting the mortal world?”

   “It is for you to question what we do,” Amber glared down at him.

   “I understand that, Princess, but your people are curious,” he said. “Is it anything to do with the man who wishes to destroy the castle?”

   “If you print that it will cause panic. I am warning you,” he said. “Print one word and I will see to it personally that you are banished from this land forever.”

   “Whatever you say, sire,” Hack backed off.

   The holly bushes in Hacks garden were bare of fruit, but heavy with thick, green leaves.  

   “Dwarf,” a voice hissed.

Hack stopped and looked around him.

   “Over here,” the voice came from within the holly bushes.

He edged closer and saw two red eyes gleaming through the leaves. Thin, bony fingers, the nails like talons, parted the branches, and he was face to face with an Ereban Hag.

   “What were you writing in your notebook, little one?” she rasped.

   “Nothing, nothing at all,” Hack ran inside and slammed the front door.

He realised, for the first time, the seriousness of what he was involved in.

Shadow Self-chapter twenty-one

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 4, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Pierce Hogan scowled and turned his nose up in disgust at the state of the front door. Someone had the audacity to throw eggs at the building housing his party headquarters, and their chaos marred the windows, as well as making a mess on the paintwork. The webby, jellified mass of egg white came away on his fingers, as he placed his key in the lock.

The small staff he hired to help with the running of the campaign had not arrived yet, but that was nothing new. It was not easy to find anyone willing to work the hours he demanded, and at the small rate of pay he offered. It was jealousy, he told himself, as he went back into the office. People were jealous of his success and they could not bear to be reminded of his wealth. Most of them had never seen a designer suit before, never mind owned one, he sneered at the thought. He waited for over an hour until it became obvious that no one was going to turn up. The shimmering figures in the doorway startled him.

   “May I help you?” Black spots danced before his eyes.

   “We were hoping we could be of help to you.”

He waved the two figures into the shadowy interior

   “There, that’s much better,” he smiled, showing stained, tiny squirrel-like teeth.

The young boy and girl were unlike anyone he had seen before, and as different as fire and ice.

   “We thought you might have some work for us?” The girl tossed her mane of red hair over her shoulder.

   “Finished school, are you?” Pierce looked from one to the other.

   “Yes,” the boy answered this time. “We are looking for a job before we started college in the autumn.”

   “You not from around here, are you?” Pierce asked.

   “No, we are camping up here for the summer. We are both hoping to major in history and there are a few ancient sites that we would like to explore,” the boy said.

   “I can’t pay you much,” Pierce sensed an opportunity for cheap labour.

   “We do not need much,” the girl assured him. “We will be happy with whatever you offer.”

   “Very well,” he named an amount a third less than what he was willing to pay the locals.

   “That will be great,” they chorused.

   “Good,” Pierce clapped his hands, delighted at the bargain. “What are your names?”

   “I am Amber, and this is Sabba,” the girl smiled. “His ancestors were Russian,” she added, before the man could ask.

   “Well, that’s nice to know,” Pierce straightened his shoulders. “I’ll start by telling you a bit about myself and the object of my campaign. “Wait a moment; I just have to get something from my car.”

Once the door closed behind him Amber turned to Sabba.

   “What a horrible man,” she shivered.

   “I suppose we should have expected as much,” Sabba shrugged.

   “This way we can find out what he is up too.” Amber said.

   “Our parents will go mad,” Sabba bit his lip. “We are already in trouble.”

   “I do not care,” Amber’s eyes blazed in anger. “This man is trying to destroy our home. We cannot let that happen, no matter what our parents say.”

Sabba had experience of Amber’s fiery temper and decided to let the matter rest. There was not a sound within the room, other than the distressed buzzing of a fly caught up in one of the dusty, cobwebby windows.

   “Here we are,” Pierce came back, struggling with a large black and white poster.

He placed it against a computer on one of the desks and made sure it was steady, before standing back to admire his work. “I took the photo myself and had it blown up.”

He was proud of his work. Amber and Sabba walked over to where he stood, and both felt their blood grow cold.

   “That monstrosity is the reason I’m running for government,” he looked smug as he stared at their pale faces. Sure, they shared in his horror at what lay before them. You will not know the place, but it is called Culdoplin Castle. I want to have the place knocked down, raised to the ground if you will.”

   “Why?” Amber whispered, as she gazed at the silent sentinel that guarded her home.

.   “It had no historic significance,” Pierce said. “I doubt if I’ll have any trouble getting the order to knock it through the local council.”

Amber moved closer to Sabba and slipped her hand in to his. They had to find a way to stop this man from destroying their home and all they loved, but how?

Shadow Self-chapter twenty

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 3, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey unhooked the chain holding his pendant and pushed the silver phoenix across the table, until it was beside its mirror image. The silence was that dramatic stillness that comes from some monumental event that leaves the watcher stunned.  

   “What’s this, some family tradition?”

Juliet looked up wide-eyed at the speaker.

   “Sort of,” Juliet said, as she pushed Corey’s pendant back at him. “This is my cousin, Corey. Corey, Mr Thomas.”

They shook hands, and Mr Thomas sat down beside them.

   “Do you mind?” He gestured to where Corey’s pendant lay.

   “No, please,” he nodded, as the man turned it over in his fingers.

   “Wonderful,” Mr Thomas said. “The workmanship is astounding, as is the quality of the silver. They must be incredibly old, heirlooms I take it?”

They nodded, hoping he would not press them on it. A commotion from the doorway saved them from explaining further. Corey relaxed when he placed the chain back around his neck and felt the coolness of the silver on his skin.

The small tearoom was filling up as the rest of the group came spilling in. Loud calls of greeting rang out, and Juliet got air kisses from the girls. Introductions were made and Mr Thomas ordered drinks for everyone.

   “As I told you in the email” Mr Thomas said. “A local councillor wants to have the castle knocked to make way for a road. He believes it will be a boon to the tourist industry and he says the castle has no historical significance. It is up to us to prove him wrong. The government are anxious to preserve our heritage and if we can find evidence, then we can save the castle. I have no need to stress how important this dig is, and how honoured I am to be chosen to lead it.”

The group nodded, as he looked around the tables.

   “Now for the mundane bit. We have a number of tents available to us; some sleep two and others four, so we will have to divide into groups. Miss William,” he said. “Will do the cooking.”

They all turned and looked at the woman who blushed under their gaze. Miss Williams was the domestic science teacher in their school and was quite willing to give up her summer holidays to take part in the dig. Not that she had any interest in archaeology, her interest lay elsewhere. Everyone in the school knew that she was crazy about Mr Thomas, everyone except Mr Thomas that is.

   “How far is it to Culdoplin, sir?” One of the boys asked.

   It’s about an hour’s journey from here to Ballibrock and then a twenty-minute walk to the castle. There’s an old steam train outside the village that will take us to Ballibrock,” he consulted his watch. “We should get going.”

There was the usual clatter as they all got to their feet and picked up their belongings.  

   “Some local railway enthusiasts have revived an old length of track and salvaged a steam engine. It’s used to ferry tourists on sightseeing tours during the summer season” Mr Thomas kept up a running commentary as they walked. “We’re honoured to be travelling the way our ancestors did, be it only those have passed in the last hundred years or so.” 

. They gazed in wonder as the old engine and the four old carriages behind it.

   “All aboard,” the guard called, but there was no need for the order.

The group swarmed inside, each one hoping to get a window seat.

Goats grazed along the side of the track, rabbits and stoats stole through the undergrowth, and even tiny little field mice were seen foraging on the moss-covered rocks. There was a shout when someone saw a fox. It stood watching them from a large rock and showed no fear at the noise from the train. Juliet held up a hand and waved and the fox bowed its head before turning away.

   Like the last village, there were dozens of eyes watching their progress, as they lugged the tents and equipment through the streets. They were all struck by the silence of the place.

   “Not far now,” Mr Thomas consulted his map. “Just round the next bend and we should see the castle.”

The land was covered with huge, flat stones that looked like the lids of old tombs. It felt like walking through a graveyard, and the silence added to this sensation. The well-worn pathway was treacherous with jagged stones, and most of the group stumbled at one time or another.

   “We’re here,” the call came from the front of the group, and it spurred the slackers on.

 Culdoplin Castle stands on what looks like a small mountain in the centre of the land. According to Mr Thomas, the mountain effect was due to some volcanic eruption thousands of years ago. The light was beginning to fade so it was half in shadow, and there were black things flying above it. Crows, Corey thought, as it was too light for it to be bats. As they watched the sun begin to set Juliet sensed enchantment and peace wash over her. She looked at Corey from the corner of her eye and realised he felt it too. They were home at last, though neither one knew why they felt that way

Shadow Self- chapter nineteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 31, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, strange worlds, teenagers, twlight, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

The day had turned grey and overcast by the time Juliet stepped off the train. The air was heavy, like walking through syrup, and within minutes her skin was hot and clammy. There was no sign of a porter and the shutters were down on the ticket office. With over twenty minutes to spare, she decided to make her way out into the street and have a look around. She found a grocery store and decided to browse around to pass the time. It was an old-fashioned place with not much to see, so she bought a packet of gum. 

  The streets were wet and small puddles had formed on the footpath. There must have been a sun shower while she was inside. The clamminess had gone, and was replaced with a cool breeze that felt good on her skin.

The first thing that struck Corey, when he stepped down out of the train, was how fresh the air smelt. He was used of city life and the smell of exhaust fumes and greasy odours. Not even the air around his home smelled this sweet, as the breeze carried with it the scent of green mosses and the rawness of freshly washed earth. Once the platform cleared of its few stragglers, he looked around to find Juliet, the girl who described herself as someone with a head of fire. It was impossible to miss her. She was sitting on a bench at the other end of the platform reading something on her phone. Her description was understandable now, but it was nothing like he expected. He had never seen hair that colour. It was like a dark, rich wine that glowed in the sunlight.

   “Hey,” he said, when he reached her.

She was too intent on her phone message to notice him approach.

   “Hi,” she stuffed the phone in to the pocket of her jeans and stood up.

Corey extended a hand and then withdrew it. That was so lame, shaking hands like some formal grownup.

   “I’m Corey,” he felt himself blush under her gaze.

   “Juliet,” she smiled. “You don’t look much like a serial killer.”

   “What!” Corey laughed.

   “Never mind, I’ll tell you all about it later,” she picked up her knapsack and sleeping bag. “There’s a cafe outside the station. We can swap information there and get to know one another better.”

   “Great,” Corey walked beside her as she continued to chatter.

Over cold drinks and scones they told one another about their lives. Juliet’s eyes grew sad when she heard Corey’s story.

   “God, it must have been awful, the foster homes and stuff,” she said.

   “Some were not so bad,” he tried to shrug the memory off. “But some were a nightmare and speaking of such, I was wondering what your dreams are about.”

   “It’s crazy, ok,” Juliet said. “I dream of another me,” she played with some fallen crumbs. “I see myself in another place and time. At least, I think it is me, but I’m not sure.”

   “Mine are the same,” Corey gasped. “I keep dreaming about the castle and I hear its name in my head all the time.”

   “You think that’s weird,” Juliet said. “Listen to this.”

She told him about the night before and the shadow self she saw in the mirror.

   “Have you ever seen a giant sort of man thing?” Corey asked. “He’s about seven foot tall and dressed all in black.”

   “I thought I saw something once,” Juliet said. “It was in the garden of my aunt’s house, but it was only there for a fraction of a second. I put it down to imagination or a trick of the light.”

   “I’ve seen it up close and it’s no trick of the imagination,” Corey grew pale at the memory. “It’s the scariest thing I have ever seen, besides the monster dog, that it.”

   “A monster dog,” Juliet’s eyes grew wide.

   “It was huge, like a small cow and its eyes were red as fire,” Corey said.

   “Wow,” Juliet found it hard to take everything in.

She reached up to twiddle with her hair, something she did when she was stressed.

   “Ouch,” she gasped as a nail snagged on the chain around her neck.

   “Are you OK?” Corey asked.

   “Yes, I’ve broken a nail and it’s snagged on my chain,” she stood and leaned across the table. “Can you open the clasp for me?”

   “Sure,” Corey pulled aside a mass of thick, red hair and pulled back the little clasp that held the chain in place.

   “Thanks,” Juliet let the pendant fall in to her hand. “Damn, that’s always happening and just when I get my nails to the right length.”

Corey reached inside his shirt and pulled his chain free. The twin phoenix’s glittered in the watery sunlight.

   “Juliet,” he whispered. “Look.”