More of Aelwys and Mother... part... what, 6?

This is up to page 11 in the Word document... from just a bit before I left off last time...

“I'm taking you to a safehouse,” said the man as they walked ever more swiftly, “We set up several in the past few weeks to make easier the journey to Ceadlund. These things cannot reach us there.”

“Cannot reach us, those things!” Came another nasty voice from beneath the drop of the cliff to their right, “Cannot reach us in the safehouse!”

“We will have to leave the path to get there,” the man warned, “But we musn't stray too far; we are being hunted.”

“Can those things hurt us?” Aelwys asked, her voice quivering.

“Yes,” the man said simply. There were no more questions. Aelwys wished she could close her eyes and run until she were safe, but she knew that she could not. She would have to endure this.

“We aren't far,” the Wygar said, “But we are being closed in on. We can no longer risk walking without a light. We must signal those at the safehouse.”

His left hand darted again into his pouch and produced a curious item which proved to be a small candle lantern as he took the velvet cloth from it. He also produced one of the small rods Aelwys had seen Mother use, and with it he lit the candle, which burned with surprising warmth and brightness. The moonlight was now fragile and became darkness compared to the bright lantern that now blazed as it hung from the chain in the Wygar's hand. As they walked, he swung the lantern back and forth, the lantern slowly gaining speed and breadth in its swinging, until it made a full turn, when the man caught it by the top and held it still. Aelwys was amazed that it did not go out.

Aelwys continued to keep a wary eye for moving shadows, but it was too hard to tell from the writhing shadows the lantern cast on their surroundings. Her heart pounded at every flicker of the flame that caused the shadows to leap, and every now and again she thought she could catch snatches of words from further behind them.

“Help... please... safehouse... cannot reach us...”

In the distance ahead, out of the dimness that now engulfed them, there appeared a light. It, too, began to swing back and forth, and made the same full circle.

“Friends are waiting for us,” said the man, “Let us not keep them waiting for long.”

“Not keep them waiting...”

They walked with all the haste they could muster without breaking into a run, Aelwys' heart throbbing so loudly in her ears that she could hardly make out the snatches of voices behind and around them, the light before them growing brighter and larger as they drew near.

Something cold brushed Aelwys' hand, winning a shriek from her. She spun around to find the empty landscape watching her, nothing discernible in the murkiness. She could have sworn it felt like a hand trying to grab her own. She turned back around and quickly caught up with Mother and the Wygar, walking as closely to Mother as she could get. After what must have been only a few minutes but what felt like hours, the light from the further lantern and the Wygar's merged into one circle. The lantern hung unattended from a groove in a rough wooden shaft thrust into the ground, before what appeared to be the remains of a ship.

“Take the lantern,” said the Wygar man to Mother, “and the shaft with it.” Mother did so, and they approached the mossy hull, near a spot where there was a large hole in the barnacle-encrusted boards. The man rapped on the wood in an odd pattern, and after a moment, a strange sort of door opened from within the hole, and a Wygar woman appeared, beckoning them to follow her back inside. In they went, Aelwys first and the Wygar man last, until they all found themselves inside a large, warm room.

It was very oddly-shaped, with six or seven corners, but comfortably furnished and well-lit. A fire blazed beneath a small cauldron, in a crude-looking fireplace that haphazardly occupied one of the smaller sections of the wall. There were beds stacked atop one another up to the roof, three or four high, such that the room could sleep twelve or more people, and two couches flanked an old table in the center of the room. In several of the beds lay people, most of them Wygars, marked by their kinky blond hair and the thick woolen cloaks they wrapped themselves in. Two small children slept on a blanket in front of the fire, a bit of forgotten bread clutched in the nearest child's hand. The scent of spices and apples emanated from the cauldron, tantalizing Aelwys' nose.

This was the safehouse. She let out a sigh to express the relief that washed over her, followed by a wave of exhaustion that lured her to the nearest couch, upon which she collapsed, without any regard whatsoever to manners or etiquette, in an unceremonious heap, and fell fast asleep.

She did not know how long she had slept, but when she awoke, the room was considerably darker than before. The fire in the fireplace had been extinguished, and there were only candles alight within, the waxy smoke escaping through gaps between the planks that made up the ceiling. Pale light shone through these gaps, suggesting daylight without. She saw that the door through which they had come was open, and that it was made of sturdy planks and fitted with several thick deadbolts, quite different from the frail, decayed-looking construction of the ceiling and the some of the walls. It looked to have been built with haste, but careful to offer protection to those within. Few of those who had been asleep the night before were inside, except for the Wygar man who had taken them to this place, and Mother, who slept on the couch opposite Aelwys. The man was sharpening his sword with a smooth stone, when he noted that she had awoken. His broad features wrinkled into a smile, the warmth of which was somewhat driven away by his darkened face paint about his eyes.

“Good morning,” he said genially.

“Good morning, sir,” she replied, now somewhat abashed by her lack of composure the night before, “Though I beg your pardon. We didn't even ask your name last night.”

“Edyl Causyth, at your service,” he said with a slight bow of his head, “and I can hardly blame you for not asking. The hidebehinds aren't the worst things that roams in the night, but they are the most common, and they spook even the soldier-priests and magistrates with their companies of armed men.”

“Hidebehinds?” asked Aelwys, “Is that what was hunting us?”

“It's what we call them,” said Edyl, “No one has ever seen one. Not straight on, as you see me, at any rate. Nasty things, that try to lure travelers off the road and into the shadows, where they attack in packs.”

“So the Sovereign's men weren't telling lies,” she remarked, “Demons really do haunt the night.” Edyl gave a small laugh, and shook his head.

“They tell enough truth to suit their purposes,” he said, “But they bring as much trouble with them as protection. Yes, the further away you stray from the beaches and the ocean, the more dangerous the wilderness can be. The most we encounter here are simple hidebehinds – if a fellow isn't careful, he could join those foul things for supper – although the true danger lies beyond the mountains to the south and to the east.”

“Why do you call them hidebehinds?” she couldn't help but ask him.

“Did you notice how whenever you think you see one in the corner of your eye, there's never anything there when you turn your head?” The hair on the back of her neck stood on end as she recalled this.

“Yes,” she said with a shudder.

“Dreadfully afraid of being seen for some reason,” Edyl said, “And it'd be my guess that one by one, they're weak and cowardly. They are hungry, though, and so they hunt in packs, and use cunning to separate parties and draw them away. I don't know how much of our speech they understand, and I don't care to find out. Just don't pay any heed to any voice you hear coaxing you to help or accept help or anything of the sort. You remember this, now, Aelwys, and don't ever leave the path or your company.” Aelwys looked at him queerly.

“How do you know my name?” She asked. He hadn't asked her, and so she hadn't told him.

“Your Mother told me,” he said simply, “And that her name is Aesydora. She's a strong woman; she'll get you both to Llynceth, and no doubts. Once again, never leave your company or the path while you're still on land. Those things won't so much as touch you unless you do something foolish like that.” It felt like the pit of Aelwys' stomach sink like a pit of quick-sand.

“But one of them did touch me,” she said, holding up her hand, “Just there, along the edge of my hand.” Edyl was silent, staring at her hand as though it were some nasty thing from underneath a stone. After a moment, he said,

“They must be getting hungrier.” He sat silent for another moment, then continued, “I couldn't say how much longer we can keep this safehouse open. My wife and I watch it and patrol the outlying paths for lost travelers like yourselves. Many of the Wygar clans are on the move. We have called a Dire Counsel in Ceadlund, across the northern sea. Never before have we congregated together on another shore, but between the Sovereign and the hauntings that grow worse each month, it must be so. To prepare for this, we have set up several safehouses of this sort along the trail, each a day's journey away from the last, until Llynceth and her neighbouring villages. The last of us are supposed to set sail in three weeks' time.”

“But aren't you afraid that the Sovereign's men will notice so many Wygars?”

“Thus far, they seem glad to be rid of us. Trouble arises when they feel we are bringing away those who are not of our clan, people like yourself and your mother. You see, there is a rumor that there is a new Oracle near Ceadlund.”

“A new Oracle?” said Aelwys, incredulously, “Impossible! The Oracle has dwelt in the great Imperial city for millenia! He was the one who taught us to beware of the demons in the night, and how to ward them away from our houses, was he not?”

“Indeed,” Edyl replied calmly, “That is true. I don't know much about it at all, I admit, but word in the taverns and in the seaports is abuzz with talk of this other Oracle. Some curious folk notice our flight to Ceadlund and hear about this pretender to the Holy Throne, and feel something big is about to happen. Some folk fear the Sovereign, and begin to lose faith in the Oracle that works so closely with his Highness.”

“Why, that's blasphemy!” cried Aelwys, cheeks burning. She had never heard such talk back in Hammon, and she was ashamed to hear it here.

“That's exactly why the soldier-priests aren't keen to let anyone who isn't Wygar by birth to leave for Ceadlund,” said Edyl.

“Surely they can't think that Mother and I—”

“They do, Aelwys,” came Mother's voice from the bed. She was now sitting up, looking regal as ever, and listening intently to their conversation, “They do.”