Return of the Darkness Read online

  After explaining his situation to the blacksmith, the man nodded his understanding. “Just take care not be seen lad, then come back here for these,” he said once more pointing to the sword and knife, “And I’ll see if I can muster you up a few supplies for your travels.”

  “Thank you, Terrence,” he said, feeling his heart pounding like never before.

  Finley felt a mixture of fear and anger. The decision whether he should stay or leave Whitebridge was apparently being made for him, yet for his only family to sell him into the military left a bitter taste. Deciding to leave his bow and quiver with the blacksmith, allowing him to move a little more freely, he darted across the street before ducking down behind the bridge. The murky brown waters slowly flowed just a few yards from his feet, as he looked over to where his uncle was still talking to a man sat atop a large chestnut coloured horse.

  Just a few yards further on were two more men on horseback, while another sat upon a waggon. Already seated in that waggon were three lads, one of whom he knew lived in the village. After darting between two buildings, Finley thought to sneak around the back of the property was indeed his best bet. Head for the back door, dash in, pick up the necklace he kept hidden in his room, and back out again the same way, or at least that was the plan.

  After slipping unseen around the back of the building, he quietly opened the back door and peered inside. His aunt was nowhere to be seen, but his two younger cousins, both immediately turned to look his direction. After placing a finger up to his lips, indicating for them to be silent, he headed through the main room to his own. Once inside, he immediately went for the loose floorboard, lifting it from its place to reveal the small box hidden underneath.

  Rather than just take the box, he decided to open it, removing the necklace from within. Realising he had no time to waste he quickly placed it over his head and tucked it under his shirt and tunic, feeling the cold metal on his bare skin. While he was there he decided to grab a few other items, his cloak which was hung up on the back of his door and a few pennies in his coin purse, which had managed to hide from his uncle and aunt, which he tied to his belt. Realising there was in fact little else of worth in his life, he headed back out of the door and into the main room of the house.

  Finley froze as stood right before him was his uncle. “There you are. I’ve got someone who wants to speak to you,” the man said with a grin on his face. He knew just exactly who that man being referred to was, and so long as he had strength in his body, there was no way he was going to oblige. “I just need to pop out the back,” Finley said sardonically, before darting past his uncle and running out of the back door to the house.

  He heard the man shouting at him to get back, but Finley had no intention of doing so. However, the ruckus did draw the attention of the men who were sitting waiting rather impatiently in the village. “That’s your boy there!” He heard his uncle shouting. Finley did not turn to look back as he heard the commotion behind him. The sound of horse’s hooves thumping on the hard ground followed, and he knew he needed to be quick; as nimble as he was, there was no way he was outrunning a horse.

  He sprinted over the white bridge and headed for the blacksmiths, but realised collecting the items Terrence had put aside for him would only slow him down. Having to think quickly on his feet, he veered slightly right, all the time hearing the thundering of hooves getting louder. Expecting to be caught and knocked to the ground at any moment he dived forward into the thick undergrowth that grew at the edge of the forest, before stumbling back to his feet and seeking sanctuary amongst the trees.

  Knowing he would be safe from the horses at least, Finley did not stop running as he weaved between the tree trunks. Only when he felt his legs could give no more did he stop, and with his lungs struggling for breath he looked back. He sighed with relief as there was nobody behind him, and decided to rest awhile to assess his options.

  Having caught his breath, he sat and leant back, thinking it best to leave it until last light before heading back into Whitebridge. Once there, he could pick up his things from the blacksmiths, before heading away; although quite where that should be he had no idea. While waiting for the hours to pass, he pulled the necklace out from under his shirt, deciding to give it a closer inspection.

  Despite having had the item a few months, he had never actually looked at it that closely. The chain appeared to be a white metal, perhaps silver he thought, while the disc-like pendant was a little strange for any regular piece of jewellery. On one of the sides he could make out a what looked like a wolf and a bear, both stood up on their back legs, in front of what he assumed was a tree. On the flip side, there was a series of strange markings with a few words written around the edges, although they were very small and written in a language he did not understand.

  Finley had often wondered who is mother was, or had been; he wasn’t even sure she was alive. As to the reasons for her leaving when he had been just a few days of age, his father had always maintained that she had her reasons for doing so. He thought the necklace was a strange keepsake for her to leave him. Apparently, his father should have given it to him earlier when he had first reached his teenage years but had forgotten all about it, and only recalled having it just before he passed away.

  After twirling the necklace around in his fingers several times, he replaced it back inside his shirt, before getting back to his feet. Feeling a little thirsty from his earlier exertion, he started making his way back in the direction of the village, although at a much slower pace. Although he wanted to wait until it was almost dark, he thought perhaps he could sneak a peek through the trees, just to see if the recruiters were still about.

  Taking steady steps, he tried to remain hidden behind the cover of the tree trunks as he neared the forest edge. He could still hear the sound of Terrence the blacksmith hammering and spotted one of his more senior neighbours making his way over the bridge, but there was no sign of any men on horseback. Crouching down slightly, he remained hidden from sight, keeping a watchful eye on proceedings, and satisfied those who were after him were no longer there, made his way tentatively forward.

  However, Finley had barely taken two steps when he heard a sound behind him and felt a vice-like grip upon his arm. “There you are. You little sod! I knew you’d come back… causing me all sorts of trouble,” came the very unwelcome sound of his uncle’s voice. Finley tried to pull free, but it was quickly clear the man was far too strong for him to do so. “You are coming home. Where I shall keep you under lock and key until morning. Then when the recruiter passes back this way in the morning, you will go as planned.”

  Despite his efforts at trying to break free, Finley felt himself being dragged and manhandled back away from the forest and towards the track. “Get off me!” He shouted, “I am not going back. I’m not even yours to sell,” he added.

  “You are mine now,” came the rather smug sounding reply.

  Struggling as best he could, they got as far as the bridge when Finley, still cursing, heard a thumping sound and feeling the grip upon him loosen. He looked back, somewhat confused as to the sudden change in circumstances, only to see the large frame of the blacksmith standing over him. “Come on lad, let’s get you out of here before he comes to,” he said offering down a large hand for assistance. “Thanks!” Finley replied, taking the offer.

  While his uncle lay unconscious on the ground, both he and Terrence headed back to the smithy. Finley thought the blacksmith would get in trouble for aiding him, but the man didn’t seem too bothered, “I doubt he’ll remember who hit him,” came the reply. Although Finley would have liked to ask the reasons why the man beside him was helping, he knew there was little time to stand around and chat. Without further delay, he collected his bow and quiver of arrows, before gratefully strapping the short-sword and knife to his belt. “Here are a few bits and pieces to help you on your way,” Terrence added handing him a rucksack. “And here, take this. I know it’s not much, but it should get you to where you ne
ed to go,” he said offering over a small purse of coins.

  Finley tried rejecting the coins, stipulating the man had already done far too much in helping as it was. However, the blacksmith was having none of it and insisted the coins were taken. Realising he was not going to take ‘no’ for an answer, Finley took them and thanked the man once more. “And where is it I need to go Terrence?” He asked, thinking of the words that had been spoken. “Head for Felham. Go to the inn called ‘The Wolf’ and seek out a man called Ramon. Show him that necklace of your mothers, and he should be able to point you in the right direction.”

  Finley looked at the man, “Felham, The Wolf, find Ramon,” he reiterated checking he had got the message correct. Terrence nodded and smiled while he placed one of his large hands on Finley’s shoulder, “Expect your life to take a very different direction from the one you knew. Good luck my friend,” he added, suggesting Finley should be making his way.

  After thanking the blacksmith one more time, and checking he had everything he needed, he set off at a slow jog. Heading along the track that led south-west, away from Whitebridge, he glanced back one more time to see Terrence giving him a wave, which he duly returned. Feeling a mixture of nervousness and excitement, the village he had called home for as long as he could remember, soon vanished from sight.

  Although Finley knew the route, it was not one he had travelled often. To get to Felham, he would first pass through other villages along his journey, the first of which was Upper Lea Cross, somewhere he hoped to reach before darkness fell. As to his sleeping arrangements for the night, he had not yet decided. He probably had enough coin for a few nights stay in an inn, but that, he thought would just waste what money he had. He would need to buy food at some point, so made the decision that when he got to Upper Lea Cross, he would set up a camp just a little further on, and make use of the supplies Terrance had so very kindly given to him.

  Chapter 3.

  As the last of the sunlight slowly disappeared from the sky, and darkness took hold, Finley was glad to see the village of Upper Lea Cross up ahead. Although he would not be stopping here, he was satisfied that enough distance had been put between himself and his uncle. Clearly, the thought of being family had meant nothing, but trying to gain a little coin by selling him for military service was low indeed. As he ventured into the village, a little larger than Whitebridge, he was uncertain as to which emotion felt strongest, disappointment, relief or anger at the betrayal.

  Despite a few villagers walking on the narrow track, no one gave him any heed, aside from a few quick glances as he passed them by. The village stores were already closed, but he could hear quite a din coming from the inn on the opposite side of the street. The noise was quickly followed by the rather pungent aroma of ale and smoke, drifting from the half-open door, making him quite glad he was not going in.

  The journey through Upper Lea Cross was short and uneventful, as the track veered around a corner, leaving the village behind and out of sight. With the darkness making it difficult for him to see where he was treading, Finley decided to exit the track a little and set up a small camp. After finding a small clearing just a hundred yards off the leave between the trees, he managed to scrape and fumble around for enough twigs and sticks to build a small fire, only to realise he had not picked up his flint to light it.

  After slumping down on his backside, feeling somewhat disappointed he had neglected to pick up such an obvious thing, he remembered the pack still on his back. Once he had unhooked his arms from the straps, he opened the top wondering what Terrence had actually put inside. After blindly feeling around, he smiled as he found exactly what he was looking for. “Flint and Tinder,” he said to himself pulling out the small metal case from within the bag.

  After a few strikes of the flint, and no short amount of blowing, the flames finally took hold. As they did, he added a few more sticks and realised he would need a lot more if the fire was not to burn out. At least he now had a little bit of light by which to see and was able to collect the extra firewood he would need. After laying his cloak down on the ground, he settled down upon it before deciding on which of the items of food that Terrence had packed for him, he should eat.

  Deciding on a bread roll and a little cheese, he leant back against the trunk of a nearby tree. As the flames of his campfire grew, he felt the warmth given off and ate while watching the sparks and cinders drift upwards into the night sky. He thought back on the rather peculiar and somewhat unpleasant events of the day, feeling rather weary from them. Suitably fed, he settled down, resting his head and closing his eyes.

  Sleep soon took hold, and it was not long before Finley once more found himself in his dream world. As was the norm, he was standing in an area of woodland with an eerie mist that hung just above the ground. Just a hundred paces off in the strange half-light was the dark shape that had plagued his sleeping hours of late. However, something was different this time. No longer did the darkness pursue him, although it appeared to be trying. For some reason, Finley found himself just standing and staring, as the darkness was unable to get close to him. Though he did not need to run, his dream was not without strange occurrences. While the darkness still followed, it did so at a distance, moving as he did, but never getting any closer, as if something or someone was stopping it from doing so. The trees still appeared to be watching, as he could see their eyes flickering open, and although it looked unnerving he did not feel threatened by it; they were just trees after all.

  As he slowly strolled the dream world, he turned to check the dark shape still following behind him. He froze as the first of the voices sounded out, once more calling his name. He turned several times as he tried to locate the source, but the voices seemed to be coming from various directions. Although somehow knowing he was just dreaming he tried shouting back ‘Who’s there? What do you want with me?’ Despite his pleas, the voices just continued calling his name, repeating it over and over.

  Finley awoke, surprised by the fact that the night had seemingly passed him by. Although not yet light, it was clear that dawn was fast approaching. As he sat up, he was surprised to see the fire he had lit, still burning brightly. He looked up startled, now sat the other side of the flickering flames was an old man. After rubbing his eyes and pinching himself just to make sure he was not still dreaming, he wondered how long the man had been sitting watching him sleeping.

  “Ah, you’re awake. Pleasant dreams I hope?” His elderly guest said. Aside from a loud yawn, Finley remained quiet, his sleepy mind trying to assess what was going on. “Come on, you should probably be on your way. Get an early start,” the man added, confusing Finley even further.

  “Do I know you?” He eventually replied, taking his water canteen from his pack and taking a drink. “I doubt you know me,” the man said grinning.

  Although it was clear his unexpected guest was no immediate threat, Finley could not work out the reasons for him actually being there. “Why are you here? I mean, why are you sitting beside my fire watching me sleep?”

  The man just chuckled, as if he found something that was said funny. Finley sighed, thinking of another way to get answers, “My name is Finley. What is your name?” he said emphasising each word loudly as he spoke.

  “No need to speak like that. I’m not deaf,” the man replied tartly. “Oh, it’s Galdrac.”

  “Okay… Galdrac. Now we know each other, perhaps you can tell me what you are doing here?”

  “Oh me… I’m looking for someone. Why are you here?” The old man replied, throwing the question back to him.

  “Me? I’m on my way to Felham,” Finley replied without even thinking whether he should be telling a complete stranger of his plans.

  “Well Finley, you should be on your way. Come on gather your things and head off,” Galdrac uttered running his fingers through his wiry grey beard. Finlay was not going anywhere, at least not until he had eaten. After rummaging in his pack for food, he realised there was considerably less inside than there
had been. “Have you been eating my food?” He asked, picking an apple and taking a bite.

  “An old man has to eat,” came the reply. “Surely you would not see someone go hungry, would you?” While he felt annoyed by the man being there, and more so that he had helped himself to the little food he had, he thought it was not worth getting worked up about, and let the matter drop.

  While sitting there eating his apple, Finley looked up to see the man just glaring, making him feel a little uncomfortable. As if detecting the annoyance, the man known as Galdrac got to his feet, picking up a rather worn, gnarled looking stave which he used to support himself. Without even asking him to do so, the old man kicked up some soil over the fire, before repeating the process, and stamping out what remained. “Looks like I’ll be off then,” Finley uttered under his breath, as he picked up his things.

  After firstly making sure the man had put the fire out properly, Finley double-checked he had everything before bidding the elderly gent farewell, “Hope you find who you are looking for,” he said almost pitying whoever that was. Although he would have liked to have eaten a little more, he knew what food was left would have to be rationed carefully. While he had a little coin to spend, that also needed to be done so with care. With a spring in his step, and feeling pleasantly refreshed after his night’s rest, he headed back to the main track to continue his onward journey. Providing he kept a good pace and didn’t encounter any unforeseen problems, he should reach Felham before nightfall.