Chapter 3
2160 Words
3
Erik guided me through the madhouse that was the Old Den and through an external door at the rear that led outside to a bright, sunny sky and no wind. The rear view of the island was much like the two rocky sides, but the ground was flat and stretched out of sight. The lack of view was helped by the many trees that stood in front of us. They covered the island like a thick blanket of tree trunks. All view of the lake was blocked by their large branches, and the only way I could tell we were surrounded by water was a cool, wet breeze that blew through the trunks.
A small, winding dirt path wound through the trees and disappeared into that mess of branches, roots and bushes. Erik led me down this winding path where we were forced to walk one behind the other.
I frowned at the blue sky and shook my fist at it. “Of course it would be beautiful the day I’m not trying to escape. . .” I muttered.
“When you leave these islands it will hopefully be less of an escape and more of a farewell,” Erik commented.
I shrugged. “That’s being pretty optimistic for you, isn’t it? I mean, we have no idea how to break this bond between us and judging by how old this tradition is-” I paused and furrowed my brow. “How old is this tradition?”
“The same age as the fog, several centuries,” he told me.
I raised an eyebrow. “So are you going to tell me that the witches are involved with this whole Choosing thing, too?”
“Unfortunately, yes.”
“You werewolves sure do like to get yourselves into a lot of messes with a lot of other supernatural monstrous creatures,” I commented.
“The world is a smaller and more strange place than you can ever imagine,” he told me.
“I’m starting to learn that, and the hard way,” I pointed out.
“Today will not be so hard. My mother was correct when she said visiting the islands wasn’t difficult, and a fresh view may bring some ideas to us,” he reminded me.
I gestured to the never ending forest in front of us. “So what is this guard place we’re going to, anyway?” I asked him.
“The Barracks are where the guards call home. The building is nearly as old as the Old Den. It was built shortly after the Old Den to house the protectors of the islands before the fog was created,” he explained. Erik led me down the stone path to the large wood door that sat in the center of the building.
“So how come they weren’t put out of a job when the fog came?” I wondered.
He pursed his lips. “Though the fog kept outside trouble from entering, it couldn’t keep inside trouble from growing.”
I raised an eyebrow. “What kind of inside trouble?”
“Those such as the betrayal of Blackwood’s father, and the disquiet among the less lineaged population,” he told me.
“So this place isn’t quite the paradise that your mom made it out to be?” I guessed.
“It has its beauty, but even the garden of Eden had its snake,” he countered.
“You sound like your mom, always having a nifty quote for everything,” I teased him.
“It’s a trait she taught me well,” he told me.
I noticed an opening ahead of us, And the trees parted to reveal a large swath of cut forest that created a field of dirt and rocks. The perimeter of the field was surrounded by trees that grew down the hillside and all the way to the edge of the water where lay their falling brethren in the rock-strewn waters. The distance from one end of the field to the other was about hundred yards, and created a U-shape.
At the far end sat a squat building made from rough brick. The windows weren’t as elegant as those of the Den. These were simple rectangles with foggy pieces of glass in the. The windows looked out on weeds and brush with a small, winding path made of buried stones. The trees surrounded the three-story building on three sides and only the front was open.
“That’s it?” I asked him.
“Yes.”
“And I thought prisons looked depressing,” I quipped.
“It was built to be that way. A guard’s life is not one filled with much beauty,” he commented.
Erik guided us through the dirt and rocks and we reached the front door. On the wood was a large, metal Marley knocker, the kind with the face and the bar sticking out of its mouth. Erik grabbed the bar in his hand and rapped the metal against the door. The clanking sound echoed behind the door, and in a few moments the entrance was opened.
I was not pleased to see Gethin’s ugly face. He looked between us and sneered.
“What’s wanted?” he questioned us.
“An interview with your captain,” Erik demanded.
Gethin grudgingly stepped aside and allowed us entrance. I followed Erik into the building. The bottom floor had three long hallways. One to our left, one to our right, and one that led ahead to the rear of the building. The halls were wide, and the floor was paved with cobblestones. The walls were made of stone, but whitewashed to a smooth shine. The place was Spartan, but clean.
“Wait here while I go get him,” Gethin ordered us. He shambled down the hallway that led to the rear of the building.
I jerked my head at our retreating welcome party. “That guy’s a guard?” I whispered.
“Yes. Being a guard is a hereditary position. His family has been on the island since the beginning,” Erik told me.
“But that guy is a lot different from Teagan,” I pointed out. “What happened there?”
“Teagan’s family has been in a position of responsibility for many years. They know how to act like leaders,” he explained.
“Your dad’s a hereditary lord, the Council members are all rich people, Teagan’s family has always been a guard leader family. Is there anything in this society that isn’t hereditary?” I asked him.
He shook his head. “Very little.”
“Meaning what?”
“Meaning if you were born on one of the smaller islands there’s a good chance you would remain on the small island for your entire life,” he commented.
“And everybody’s fine with that?”
He pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, and that would be why the guards still remain.”
Our wonderful discussion was interrupted by the return of Gethin. He gestured to us to follow him, and he led us down the hall. At the end of the passage was a door out onto a narrow winding stone path like that in front of the building. It was surrounded on both sides by a high wall of green bushes. Gethin stopped us in front of an ornate wood door to our left. He rapped on the door with his knuckles.
“They’re here,” he called.
“Bring them in,” a voice called from the other side.
Gethin scowled and grabbed the doorknob. He swung open the door and jerked his head towards the opening. “Go on,” he grumbled.
Erik followed me inside and Gethin slammed the door behind us. I jumped and knocked into Erik. He held steady, so I latched onto his back and looked around him to the room in which we stood. It was a large room cluttered with oddities from all over the world. The lion and Leopard heads on the wall above a fireplace, and the floor was covered with skins from bears and rugs from the Orient. Other walls were covered with thick, hanging tapestries that depicted scenes of the hunt.
The rest of the room was filled with mismatched furniture. There were Ottoman chairs, Renaissance tables, and wood bookshelves that were filled with books as ancient as those in the library. Seated in the chairs was captain of the guards, Teagan. He stood and strode across the room to shake Erik’s hand.
“What brings you here, Erik?” he asked my mate.
Erik nodded at me, and I sheepishly grinned and waved my fingers at Teagan. “As the future lady she wishes to see the islands and all the peoples on them. Starting on this island made as much sense as anything.”
Teagan’s eyes flickered to me. “What is your name”
“Sophie,” I told him
He raised an eyebrow. “I believe my mate has talked about you.”
My eyebrows shot up. “Really? Who is she?”
“Her name is Lillian.”
My eyes widened. “Where is she?”
He turned his attention to a door and behind a tower of books on a table near the bookshelves. “Our primary living quarters are through there.”
I hurried past them, and through the wood door. The space beyond the entrance was a simple sitting room. There was a cushioned bench and chairs seated in a U-shape in front of tall, wide windows that looked out on the trees. On the bench, half-turned to me, was Lillian. She wore a shimmering white dress with thin straps over her shoulders. Her hair was pulled back by a single white and silver ribbon, and the bottom of her hair was curled and lay against the front of one shoulder. Her head was drooped and her hands were in her lap. Eyes were half lidded and her lips were turned down with loneliness.
At my entrance, she looked up. Her face brightened with a smile and she jumped to her feet. I raced over to her and wrapped her in a strong bear hug.
“Sophie! Sophie! What are you doing here? When did you get here?” she asked me.
I pulled her at arms length and took a good look at her. She was a little thinner than I remembered and pale but otherwise healthy. “I heard one of us was here so I convinced my-um my mate to bring me here.”
Her eyes widened. “You mean Erik Greenwood? He’s here?”
I frowned. “You know him?”
She shook her head. “Not personally, but Alan speaks of him often.”
“‘Alan?’” I repeated.
“Alan Teagan. He’s my mate,” she explained.
I pulled her back down onto the bench and looked the rest of her over. On the upper part of her bare left arm was a small design of a yellow rose. I nodded at the design. “Is that your mark?” I asked her.
She reached up and touched her shoulder, and nodded. “It is.”
“Was it as painful as mine?”
“Yes. . .”
I grasped both her arms and looked her in the eyes. “Now be honest with me, Lillian. How has this Alan guy been treating you?”
Lillian blushed and looked away from me. “Very well. He’s-well, he’s very gentle and kind.”
I raised an eyebrow. “How well is well?” I persisted.
She fidgeted in her seat. “Well, there have been these strange cravings, and he does have to leave me pretty often to do his duties, but I’m always glad when he returns.”
I wrinkled my nose. “Lillian, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were fond of him,” I accused her.
She stared hard at the floor. “I. . .I don’t know what I think of him, but he has been very kind to me.” Her eyes lit up and she pulled me to my feet. “Maybe you should see the wedding present he gave me! That would help you learn how kind he’s been to me,” she insisted.
Lillian grabbed my hand and dragged me to an exterior door that led us outside into the space behind the large bushes at the rear of the building. Rather than the bunch grass and weeds I expected there was a garden much like the one in the Old Den, but smaller. There was a fountain in the middle and beyond the fountain was the thick forest trees that provided a natural barrier to prying eyes. Flowerbeds ringed a stone path that wound its way around the bubbling fountain.
Lillian led me to a stone bench that faced the fountain and sat us down on its hard seat. She gazed around the quiet, serene area with a like smile on her face. “What do you think of it?” she asked me.
“I think it’s a nice garden, but where’s the wedding present?” I returned.
She nodded at the garden around us. “This is it. This is the wedding present he gave to me. This garden.”
I followed her gaze around lush, green foliage and nodded my head. “This isn’t such bad place.”
Her wide smile glowed in the early morning sun. “I think it’s wonderful.”
I looked into her face and saw a serenity that I never expected to find from one of the scared women who came with me to the island. Her joy left me with the feeling that I was missing out on something, something that could bring me the same amount of happiness that I saw in her face.
“Lillian, I-” I paused and looked around. “Did you hear something?”
Lillian shook her head. “No. What did it sound like?”
I shrugged, my eyes continued to look over our surroundings. “I don’t know. Kind of like something cracking under weight.” I stood and my eyes felt the many trees around us. “Maybe like-”
I didn’t get to finish my sentence because someone punctuated my words with an arrow.
- Writer
