Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE

"So any idea who this Ealdan person is?" I wondered as I lugged out my luggage to the box carriage. Ferox pawed at the ground and whinnied as Tully brought along another trunk. The other horse beside him nervously stamped its feet.

Ben paused beside the trunk rack and frowned at the impatient steed. "Another outburst like that and I'm trading you in for one of the gentler ones." Ferox stamped the cobblestones once but quieted afterward.

I dropped my luggage beside Ben and leaned to one side to catch his eye. "You ever hear about someone named Ealdan around your mom's old home?"

He hefted my luggage onto the rack behind the cab. "No, though the name is rather unusual. Directly translated, it means ‘ancient one.' Hardly a name someone would give their child."

"Maybe the parents had high hopes," I quipped.

Tully set the trunk on its short end and his face was slightly reddened by the exertion. Ben smiled at his old retainer as he grasped one end. "You've been lifting too many pillows and not enough plates, old friend."

Tully's normally stoic expression showed a slight hint of a scowl as he took up the other end of the trunk. I backed up and watched the pair heave the trunk into the rack. It was filled with two trunks, my extra luggage bag, and a small one brought out by Tully.

Ben clapped a hand on his old friend's shoulder and grinned at him. "It appears you're finally joining us on one of our adventures. Let us hope you bring us good tidings with your presence."

Tully lifted an eyebrow and nodded at Ben, who laughed in turn.

"Yes, I suppose we're already ill-fated enough with my presence," Ben agreed as he opened the door and turned to me where he offered me a hand. "And your little ring there will guarantee this vacation is unforgettable."

I snorted as I accepted his hand. "If we get a vacation."

Ben helped me into the cab and followed after me while Tully climbed aboard the box. Ferox didn't need a cracking of the reins but took off before Ben had even shut the door behind himself. The carriage flew out of the courtyard and took a sharp turn that lifted two wheels off the ground before we crashed back down to earth. I fell in a heap into Ben's arms and found him grinning up at me.

"A little help here," I grumbled as I tried to sit up.

"I'm comfortable."

"And about to receive a jab in the ribs with my sharp elbow."

Ben's humor hadn't faded a bit as he righted me on the seat beside him. "An eventful beginning to what may turn out to be a pleasant visit."

"Did you send a crow to your great-aunt?" I asked him as we rolled down the streets of the capital traveling ever northward.

He shook his head. "No, she rather despises them. When I was younger I watched her destroy one with a broom before any of its message could be uttered from its beak."

I lifted an eyebrow. "You can do that with crows?"

"It was an old magic broom, one she was fond of using to sweep the front hall." He leaned back and a gentle smile graced his lips as his eyes took on a fanciful glint. "Some parts of Rookwood are more museum than home. An item in the hall may be of the plainest appearance but hold great power to levitate itself to the ceiling."

"Is that useful?" I wondered.

He chuckled. "Only for my great-great uncle. He used it to trick people into believing their beloved ones were communicating with them."

"So ghosts aren't what makes it levitate?"

His eyes twinkled as he looked down at me. "I didn't say that, merely that it wasn't their dearly departed that was making it levitate."

My face drooped and my eyes widened. "So you're telling me we're going to a haunted house?"

"Not so much haunted as inhabited by some rather lively spirits," Ben told me.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "What's the difference?"

"They're not malevolent, just mischievous."

"I don't think that'll give me much comfort at two in the morning when they're waking me up with chains in the hall."

He leaned toward me and lowered his voice to a whisper. "I could guarantee you're still awake at that hour."

I snorted and playfully punched his arm. "I don't work after midnight."

"What about play?"

"You'll find me pretty terrifying in the morning."

"We could skip those. My aunt herself isn't an early riser."

A wry smile curled onto my lips. "Let me guess, she's a night owl?"

"Down to her choice of pet."

"She has a pet owl?" I asked him.

"Yes, and he's rather temperamental. The creature is older than even her and has a quaint ability to worm his way into every conversation within earshot."

I lifted an eyebrow. "A talking owl?"

Ben nodded. "The trick is to get him to shut up."

"Is there anything else you need to tell me before I have a heart attack because the wardrobe started talking to me?"

A more serious expression appeared on his face as he leaned back and folded his arms over his chest. "Yes. Don't go into the Werewald without me."

I cocked my head to one side as my mind tried to recall that word. "What's the Werewald exactly?"

"The ancient forest that surrounds Rookwood Manor," he explained to me as he pursed his lips. "Its age is unknown, along with some of its dangers. There's more than just werewolves in there, and more than one person has ventured in there never to return."

A little color drained from my face. "Werewolves? Please tell me they're nice and cuddly."

He shook his head. "I wish that I could, but they're rather vicious. They're as sentient as you or I, but there's a bestiality in their lineage that makes them rather quick to anger and their claws guarantee that whatever has angered them will be swiftly-"

"Sliced and diced," I finished for him as I slumped in my seat. A deep sigh escaped me. "So is there anything else I need to know? Any scenic spots where the trees will try to murder me? Or maybe a perfectly safe meadow that's full of killer bees? A poodle with a nasty overbite?"

"Poodle?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing. At least I hope not, but seriously, should I be terrified of a patch of moss?"

His eyes twinkled again. "Nothing that mundane, I assure you. The Werewald, aside from the werewolves, is merely rather large. The kings of Ortusia in past times have attempted to tame the wilderness, but the vines and trees have always grown over too quickly to be worth the effort."

"It doesn't happen to be having a growth spurt any time soon, does it?" I asked him.

"None that I'm aware of, but I'd be mindful of what I stepped on. The woods are liable to swallow you into its dark shadows, and that's when people never return."

I set a hand on top of his and gave it a pat. "You think of the most lovely spots for us to see."

He grinned. "I try."

I leaned forward and peered out the window. Ferox's quick speed, notwithstanding the slower horse beside him, had rolled us to the far reaches of the city, leaving a path of terror and destruction in our wake. Well, mostly terror. We soon reached the northern boundaries and the path opened to a rugged dirt road that led toward the dark green patch known as the Werewald.

The countryside was dotted with farms and stately mansions. Animals chewed their cud and watched as we flew past. Farmers paused in their fields to admire Ferox's quick speed.

The day also flew by, and by the time we neared the dark green woods half the sun had dipped below the horizon. The road had narrowed and rutted so that we swayed from side to side in the deep tracks. Trees covered the sides of the road and their heavy branches loomed over us. The air was heavy with mystery and age, so much so that I wrapped my arms around myself as much to keep the chill off as to protect my important bits from an unknown danger.

Ben wrapped his arm around me and drew me close against his side. "We're almost there."

Hope filled my heart when I noticed a crossroads ahead. The road turned leftward and continued straight. We took the leftward path, but there was no sign of the manor house.

I watched the other route for as long as it was visible. "Where does that lead to?"

"Scima."

"Gesundheit."

"Pardon?"

I shook my head. "It's nothing, but what exactly is ‘Scima?'"

"It's the only town in the Werewald," Ben explained as we bounced along the road, though I noticed the ruts were not as deep nor the path as wide as before we turned off. "Some two thousand brave souls inhabit the area, trading in lumber and other goods caught in the wilds." He stretched his neck and a smile slipped onto his lips. "But we're just about there."

We rounded a corner and a side road appeared on our left. A stately, albeit rusted, gate clung to a stone wall that disappeared on either side into the overgrown brush. The carriage rolled up to the gate, and I leaned out to get my first glimpse of Rookwood Manor.

I almost wish I hadn't.