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Shadow Self

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on October 31, 2020
Posted in: books, castles, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Gothic, hags, hidden worlds, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, prince, princess, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

Something hid among the trees. This was evident as two red eyes watched when they stepped out of the cottage. Tabby arched her back and started to spit

    “It is Flora, you silly old thing,” Amber said.

“Then why would Tabby react in such a way,” Biddy mused. “She’s known that old fox since she was a kitten. I’ve seen them playing together.”

Biddy picked up the cat and ushered them indoors. She knew it was not Flora, but some Ereban hag who had the power of shape shifting. Had it been listening outside the door?

   “What is it, Biddy?” Amber asked.

   “Nothing, my pets,” she gave a weak smile. “You must get home before it gets dark. I will walk as far as the castle with you. I’ll rest easy knowing that you’re safely home.”

   “Safe?” Sabba held the door open to let them out. “How can it be safer with the Erebans there?”

   “Tell your father there’s no longer any doubt. Perius has sent out his spies and he must make ready for battle,” Biddy kissed Amber on the forehead. “Have courage, my child.”

   “Goodbye, Biddy,” Sabba kissed her wrinkled cheek. “We will see you soon.”

.

   “I have been thinking about our shadow self’s,” Amber said as they entered the cave. “What if they are evil and in league with the Erebans?”

   “I doubt if they are,” Sabba said. “It is something to do with the old magic. You know how Larkeon is always going on about how magic is waxing and waning,” he copied the old dwarf’s voice and made Amber laugh. “Well, maybe it’s coming back, and they are part of it, and here to aid us.”

   “Or maybe, the magic is dying, and they are here to take advantage of this?”

   “We will go to our fathers and ask them about it. We are no longer children who can be fobbed off with some story, and it is time we learned the truth,” Sabba said.

It seemed colder than usual as they descended deeper into their subterranean world. It’s always cool inside the cave, but tonight the air had a bitter sting to it. Amber shivered and tried to ignore the icy water running through her veins.

   “Your father is very angry,” Roak’s scarred face peered at them out of the darkness.

Legend said that his mother was frightened by an Ereban while out picking moon berries one night, and the fright showed in the face of her child. Therefore, Roak prefers to remain in the darkness.

   “I will go to him right away,” Amber promised.

Flora was exhausted. Her day was at an end and her young pupils were back with their parents. It was a pleasant surprise to see the princess and young lord again.

   “Did you go hunting in the mortal world today?” Amber asked the fox.

   “Me!” Flora asked. “I most certainly did not. You know how much I detest going above ground.”

   “I thought as much,” Amber sighed.

   “Why do you ask?” Flora narrowed her eyes and looked from one to the other.

   “Biddy thought it was an Ereban hag who had shape shifted. Whatever it was, it was listening outside the cottage and heard every word we said.”

Flora smiled. What possible secret could two young people have that would interest the Erebans? Then she noticed the fear in the eyes of the princess and young lord. There was something strange afoot and she needed to find out what.

   “Have you spoken to Larkeon about this?” Flora asked.

   “No, not yet” Amber said.

   “Then do so, at once,” the swishing of the fox’s tail was the only show of the turmoil in her mind.

“Come in, come in,” Larkeon bade them to follow him into his study. “What can I do for you my young ones?”

For the next few minutes Larkeon listened in silence as the princess told him the story about the shadow selves and what Biddy said about the Ereban Nightflyers.  When she finished, Larkeon stood and urged them to do the same.

   “Go home and speak to your parents,” he ushered them towards the door.

As the door slammed behind them, Amber and Sabba wondered why everyone was behaving in such a strange manner when they mention the shadow selves.

Shadow Self-chapter thirty

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on August 19, 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, prince, princess, queens, revenge, scary, teenagers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Biddy was breathless from the climb and in no mood for the stares from the brightly coloured elfin women.

   “Are you unwell,” the captain asked, as they paused outside a silver panelled door.

   “No, I am quite all right,” Biddy assured him. “Just a bit winded from the climb.

Biddy looked straight ahead as he led her towards the king and queen. She had heard of Queen Heather’s beauty in her mother’s stories, but to see her in the flesh was something else. Her red waist-length hair glowed like fire and put the room’s beautiful surroundings to shame. Her skin was pale with a touch of rose in each cheek, but her eyes were the most startling thing of all. Bright green, they sparkled with life, but there was something else too, a haunted look that marred the light within. It was the queen who spoke first.

   “Get our guest a chair,” she ordered one of the guards.

Biddy nodded her thanks, as she sat down on a soft cushion.

   “A drink, perhaps?” The queen suggested.

   “Thank you, your majesty.” Biddy accepted.

A small table was placed beside her chair and she was handed a silver goblet filled with wine as red as the queen’s hair. She sipped, expecting a sour taste. To her surprise the drink was sweet and warm with a hint of berries.

   “It has been quite a journey for you,” the queen smiled.

   “It has indeed, your majesty,” Biddy tried to ignore the king’s frown, and concentrated on his wife. “I wouldn’t have come here if I didn’t think it urgent.”

   “Tell us what is so urgent that you should dare cross the boundary into our world?” The king’s eyes were hard when he spoke.

   “I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t think it necessary, and the boundary is of your choosing.”

   “It was not an easy choice,” the king’s eyes flashed. “We did not abandon the upper world lightly. Your mother had filled your head with stories that do not mirror the truth.”

   “My mother taught me facts,” Biddy said. “She told me that you chose to go in to hiding.”

   “Chose,” the king’s laughed. “We had little choice. Let me explain to you, old woman. In ancient times fairies, elves and dwarfs lived in harmony with mortals. Their worlds remained separate, but they respected one another’s boundaries. It is your so-called modern world that sent us in to hiding. We became creatures of mirth to you mortals, to be trapped for the price of a pot of gold. We are creatures of light and air. Can you imagine what it is like for us to spend our life below ground? We belong in the forest, beside streams and in silent hollows, but modern man will not allow that. He tears down the trees and sends not only the fairy folk, but the animals in to hiding.”

   “My dear,” the queen interrupted. “Our guest came here for a reason.”

Biddy spent the next few minutes telling them about Juliet and Corey. Lady Blackthorn drew closer to where she sat when she mentioned her son.

   “Is he well?” She asked.

   “Corey?” Biddy smiled. “He’s a fine boy and the image of your young lord.”

   “The girl, Juliet?” The queen got up from her throne and walked down to join her friend.

   “She is beautiful, majesty,” Biddy assured her. “She is like you in many ways.”

The queen and Lady Blackthorn hugged one another.

   “So, you have guessed?” Galten asked.

   “At first, their looks fooled me,” Biddy said. “Then I realised my mistake. My mother told me about the sickness that weakened the elfin.”

   “We had no choice,” the queen’s eyes shone with tears. “It was a sacrifice that we had to make.”

   “I understand that, majesty,” Biddy said. “It was a very brave thing to do.”

   “Well, now that you know our secret,” the king said. “What is it you want from us; gold to buy your silence?”

   “I want nothing from you,” Biddy stood up. “I came here to warn you, that’s all.”

   “Warn us,” the queen put a restraining hand on Biddy’s arm. “Please sit down. My husband forgets his manners. You speak of a warning,” the queen knelt down beside her. “Are the children in danger?”

   “Grave danger, majesty,” Biddy said.

She told them Corey’s story about the Ereban, and the fairy dog that came to his rescue.

   “I knew they were plotting something,” the king said. “They will spread their venom about the changelings, and make it appear that we have been fooling our people for all these years.”

   “But the people will not believe them. We can explain why we had to do it,” the queen said.

   “The Erebans are powerful, majesty,” Galten said. “They can steal into the minds of those who would believe, and plant seeds that would flourish into poison thoughts.”

   “We have known enemies in the past,” the king said. “We can deal with them.”

   “That may be, majesty,” Galten agreed. “But never before have they been armed with such tools. If the elfin believe them, the Erebans could take over the hidden world.”

   “We cannot allow that to happen,” the king said. “We must strike before they do.”

   “The only way to do this is to tell your people what was done to save their race,” Galten said. “But first you must tell your children, both changeling and elfin and hope they understand.”

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 eighteen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 30, 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, hags, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, queens, revenge, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Juliet’s journey was not as comfortable as Corey’s, and every seat on the train was taken. They were mostly old people, about her parents’ age and from what she gathered, they were on some pilgrimage or something. They would be getting off a few stations before her and for that she was thankful. She was squashed in on all sides as she had chosen a window seat. Two large ladies sat opposite her, and an even larger one beside her. From the outset they decided to be her friend, the last thing she needed. Her mind filled with the image of her family waving her off, and the circles, that looked darker than ever beneath her mother’s eyes.

   “Are you travelling on your own?” The women sitting opposite asked.

   “Yes, I am,” Juliet smiled, and put her headphones in to her ears, but she had to take them out again as the woman’s mouth continued to move.

   “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear what you said,” she apologised.

   “I asked if you are going to the prayer meeting.”

   “No, I’m going to Brittlestown,” Juliet held the earphones up, hoping the woman would take the hint, but no such luck.

   “Have you family there?” The woman beside her eased her considerable bulk round in her seat.

   “No, I’m going on an archaeological dig with some of my school friends.”

   “Archaeology, isn’t that something to do with digging up old ruins and things?” The woman asked.

   “Yes, that’s right,” Juliet said, through gritted teeth.

   “That wouldn’t suit me,” the woman huffed and turned away. “All that dirt and worms, ugh,” her fake shiver made the seat shake.

After that they lost interest in her for a while, and she could listen to her music and think about what lay ahead. She had not dared tell her parents about Corey, and she hoped it would turn out to be a huge mistake. The enormity of what she had done did not hit home until she was on the train, and she seriously hoped he did not turn out to be some murderer or worse. Though she was not sure what was worse than murder. Her computer was standing between her legs on the floor, but she did not want to put it on the table in case the ancient ones started asking questions again. Corey told her he was leaving his computer at home. Other than an email from Rick, she would use hers to contact home and play games to pass the time. She closed her eyes and tried to nod off, but it was useless as the woman beside kept jostling her every time she moved.  A soft touch on her hand signalled her attention was demanded.

   “Have you brought anything to eat?” The woman opposite her asked.

   “Yes, I have some sandwiches in my knapsack, but I’m not hungry.”

   “Nonsense,” the woman smiled. “I’ve never known a young person who wasn’t hungry.”

   “There’s bound to be something here you like,” the women spread napkins out on the tabletop and unload an assortment of sandwiches and scones on to them.

Think, Juliet urged her brain. The look of the food was making her feel ill.

   “I can’t eat any of that I’m afraid, I’m coeliac, I can’t eat gluten.”

Brilliant, thank you brain.

   “That’s terrible,” the three women looked at her in horror. “So, you can’t eat bread or cakes?” The woman beside her asked.

   “I can, but only special, gluten-free cakes,” Juliet shrugged.

   “Well, isn’t that terrible,” she tutted. “I can’t imagine not being able to eat a proper sandwich or cake.”

She tried to drown them out and concentrated on the sound of the wheels. Her father topped up her phone credit and warned her not to waste it gossiping with her friends, but as soon as she got off the train, she would call home. Her mother said to let them know that she had arrived safely, and this would be the perfect excuse to sound her out again about her health.

   There was a flurry of activity from the woman as the train slowed. Juliet swore the seat lifted a good two feet when the woman beside her got up.

   “Have a nice time,” one of the women said, as they started to shuffle down the aisle.

   “You too,” Juliet’s smile was genuine; she was so relieved to see them go.

The train was almost empty now and the air around her seemed lighter. Once they left the station the landscape changed dramatically and like Corey, she pressed closer to the window to drink in the amazing view. True, it was bleak, and some might find it forbidding, but it called to her. There was timelessness about the land that made her heart swell and brought tears to her eyes. From somewhere out there among the rocks and gnarled trees, a voice called to her and for the first time in her life, Juliet felt like she could spread her wings and answer its call.

Shadow Self-chapter seventeen

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 29, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, Gothic novel, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, queens, scary, strange worlds, teenagers, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, writers, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Bargamore

Present Day

Queen Heather stood on the balcony overlooking the main square and stared into the distance. At any other time, she would have enjoyed the view over the land of Bargamore, but not today. Her eyes saw none of the breath-taking beauty of the skyline and the domes, spires and turrets of the houses were mere shadows, as tears clouded her vision. It would soon be her daughter’s eighteenth birthday. This is a significant time to both human and elfin, as it marks the transition from childhood to adulthood, but more so for the elfin. When anyone living within the land beneath the earth reaches the age of eighteen the aging process slows down, and they continue to live for hundreds of years. It was not just the milestone year that troubled the queen, but the change she saw in her daughter as the time drew near. She was running wild in the company of Lady Blackthorn’s son, Sabba. She put it down to the impetuousness of youth, but there were other signs that all was not well with the children. They had become secretive, whispering, and plotting together for hours on end.

Amber’s door was locked each time her mother tried to enter, and she saw furtiveness in her smallest actions. The king watched his wife’s restless pacing. Haunted by her suffering and that of Lady Blackthorn, he had vowed no other women would share such pain. If the elfin race were to die out, then so be it. The wise women cast spells and brewed potions until a cure was found for the sickness, but it came too late for his wife and her friend. He walked out to the balcony and put his arms around her.

   “We will find out the truth,” he said.

He sent word to his daughter and Sabba summoning them to the throne room, but they had disappeared. After a tense meeting with, Larkeon, the dwarf chosen to tutor the children, they felt afraid and confused. The children were missing for the second time that week, he told them, and they had become secretive.

   “They are very young,” the queen tried to excuse their behaviour.

   “They are of royal blood and with that come certain obligations,” the king roared. “It is up to them to set standards for others.”

   “But they are not of royal blood,” the queen’s words hung in the air.

Larkeon, who was one of the few who knew that the children were changelings, did his best to ease the tension.

   “They may not be elfin in the true sense, but they developed our powers,” he said. “I have been studying them, majesties and I saw what they can do. The princess is the most powerful of all.”

   “How can this be and what sort of powers?” The queen asked.

   “Like all mortals and have adjusted to their surroundings. They have a sort of telepathy between one another and with…” his voice trailed off.

   “With what?” The veins bulged on the king’s forehead.

   “Beings the princess calls their shadow self,” the dwarf gulped. “Mortals from the world above. Two beings she says are their mirror image. It had gone further than telepathy, I fear. The princess has mastered the art of astral projections and has been in contact with them. They feel the need for this now because they have learned of our troubles.”

   “How can that be?” The queen asked.

   “There are rumours,” Larkeon said. “Someone has been whispering in their ears.”

There was no need to ask who, as the king called for his guards and issued a summons. They returned in minutes and dumped a body at his feet. Hack, a dwarf, who believed that he was the greatest newspaper reported ever, looked up at the king.

   “What have you been saying to the princess,” the king spoke through gritted teeth. “Do not lie to me.”

   “Just what I heard,” Hack said. “About the castle, and the mortal who wishes to destroy it.”

   “You hear things because you spy on us and lurk in corners like some vile rodent,” the king fumed.

   “No, majesty,” the dwarf begged. “I would never spy on you. It came from one of the Ereban hags.”

   “You have been consorting with the Erebans?” The king could not believe his ears.

   “Only to learn the news, majesty.”

   “Get out of my sight,” the king roared at Hack.

There was no denying what the dwarf said was true. A local man from the mortal world was running a campaign to knock Culdoplin Castle, and for those within the hidden world, this could mean death.

Shadow Self-chapter nine

Posted by Gemma Mawdsley Blog on July 17, 2020
Posted in: birdsong, hope faith God whispers heaven, books, changelings, Dwarfs, Eerie Places, elves, enemies, Fairies, Fantasy, fiction, folklore, gloom, Goblins, Gothic, hidden worlds, Ireland's past, Irish folklore, kings, legend, magic, monsters, passion, queens, revenge, strange worlds, teenegers, wise women, Witchcraft, Witches, wizards, wonder, writing, young adults. Tagged: , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Leave a comment

Corey watched as the others explored the garden. He thought life on the streets had made him hard, as he had witnessed some terrible things over the years and believed himself immune to feelings. Why then did he feel so sad? He cleared his throat, hoping this small act would dispel the lump that formed there. The grass shimmered, as his eyes filled with tears. The screech of the garden gate became a welcome distraction, and he hurried back to the front of the house. The sight of a police car parked outside on the road would once have instilled fear in him, but now it meant nothing. A lone officer stood waiting.

   “This is private property,” he said to Corey. “What are you doing here?”

   “I’m Corey Dawson,” he held out his hand.

   “Paul Regan,” the officer shook it. “I’m the community police officer and I got a call to say that there was somebody snooping round the place.”

   “I inherited the house from my parents,” Corey explained. “I have just turned eighteen and decided to come home.”

He did not want the officer to know that he was underage, and it was just a little lie.

   “Who are they?” The man nodded at the others, who had come to see what was happening.

   “My grandfather, Tom, my aunt Annie and my cousins,” Corey introduced them.

The others held their breath. It was obvious they seemed a ragged group and no one would believe that, but Corey held the man’s stare.

   “Well, let me be the first to welcome you to the neighbourhood,” the officer smiled. “I’ll let everyone know you’re back, and good luck to you all.”

   “How do you do that?” Tom whispered, as they watched the officer climb back into the car.

   “Do what?”

   “Get people to believe everything you say.”

   “I’ve no idea, I’ve always been able to do it,” Corey said, as he pulled out the old tin box.

The key to the front door nestled next to the sepia-coloured will, and his hand shook, as he picked it up and placed it in the lock. It felt stiff from disuse, and he had to jiggle it a few times before it opened. Hundreds of envelopes, circulars and old newspapers blocked their way, and they pushed hard to get the opening wide enough to slip inside. The hall smelt musty, and there was another overriding odour, the stench of ammonia. Cats got inside and left their trademark by peeing all over the place.  Corey’s legs felt like lead as he made his way upstairs to his old room. His fingers gripped the white, round knob of the door handle, and for a moment, he remembered a time when his hand was much smaller and the doorknob as big as a football. The door creaked open and a small rush of trapped air sighed all around him. The room was exactly how he remembered it, with its Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles posters and matching bedspread. The curtains were closed, and he walked to the window and pulled them back. Inches of dust fell, causing him to sneeze. He sat down on the bed. They were all there, still waiting; his childhood heroes and he wondered why he had not taken them with him to the home. Perhaps, he sensed with that secret, instinctive knowing of a child, that they were better left behind. He picked up the action figures one by one. Leonardo, he pressed the cold, plastic head above his upper lip, hoping to find some scent of himself trapped there, but there was nothing. He did the same with the others Raphael, Donatello, Michelangelo, and Splinter, the rat, and the mentor of the turtles. The villains were there also, and he scowled at the fierce faces of his two favourites, Bebop and Rocksteady. He started collecting the figures long after they had gone out of fashion, and he remembered how his parents took great pains in tracking down each one of them.

           He had to get out. He closed the door behind him and walked to the next room. His parents’ room, like his own, lay suspended in time. His mother’s makeup littered the top of the dressing table and a nightdress lay carefully folded on her pillow. He opened the wardrobe door. His father’s suits hung in a neat row and jostled with his mother’s dresses for space. The smell of damp was overpowering, and patches of mould clung to the fabric. He went over to the dressing table. He was grateful for the solidness of the small stool, as he sat down. It felt sturdy and safe in a day that was fast becoming surreal. Cobwebs coated the mirror in front of him and dust settled on each carefully woven thread, making his image hazy. He picked up a glass bottle and pulled out the stopper. His mother’s scent rose in the air. It smelt of Christmas, autumn fires and warm summer days. He was home, he was finally home. Corey put his head down and sobbed.