Please be patient with this one. The first climax is well on its way to fruition.
….
DunBroch's great hall was alive with the movement of chests, food, clothing, and human beings. In the midst of this bedlam sat Fergus and the two present DunBroch clans, embroiled in an argument over what to do next. The Archadian Empire had moved in on MacGuffin, fed his fastest messenger a sort of poison that killed slowly. The man's foot had cleared DunBroch's first stone step to the gatehouse before he fell. In his hand was a note.
"If you are reading this, MacGuffin's messenger is indeed as fast as he foretold. We look forward to meeting you tonight, at the hour when the moon's light shines brightest. Parting with MacGuffin was such sweet sorrow."
"Written in blood," muttered Fergus, nostrils flared in rage. The grey stranger sitting beside him shook his head in silent condolence. It was long since atrocities of this magnitude had occurred in DunBroch. Certainly none had transpired within the seventeen years of Merida's life. The slyness of the act was most disturbing. Like a slithering newt the assailant had wailed upon MacGuffin. Yet it had been bold enough to taunt Fergus of its coming.
"They are toying with you," murmured the grey stranger. "Using your anger to control you."
"What of the scribble on the page's bottom?" remarked Eleanor, sweeping up beside Fergus and resting a firm hand on his shoulder. Until that point she had hovered at the table's side silent. But now reason compelled her. "The messenger's finger was bloodied. He howled as he ran across the bridge. Perhaps he was telling us something, words he only discovered at the last minute to be impossible. He could not shout loud enough, so he attempted to write."
"And then he died in the process," finished Fergus for her, nodding in agreement. The grey stranger glanced at Eleanor with narrowed eyes but did not say anything. Beside him Fergus pushed the note to the center of the table again.
"SFAK VO ROD SFAK."
"Illegible," muttered the grey stranger. Behind him Eleanor shut her eyes and exhaled before picking up the note herself, garnering several raised brows from the men surrounding her. In determination she held the page in front of her and pointed to the words.
"Let us try to understand, to avoid our doom!" she hissed, throwing the note down in anger. Her long forefinger pointed to the bright red smears at the bottom of the note again.
"SFAK is repeated, betraying its importance. The two syllables between qualify this strange word. Then, SFAK again."
"What are you insinuating, madam?" murmured the grey man, the 's' traveling from between his hidden teeth as a sharp hiss. Eleanor glanced towards him without expression. "The letter F is most like T. K is similar to X, but it is also similar to Y. V is most similar to M, but N is fathomable."
"And?" Replied Dingwall with a look of indignation. At the other side of the table Lord Macintosh poked his finger up his bulbous nose and hunted around for whatever was in there, while Dingwall readjusted his kilt. Fergus gave a tired look to Eleanor and waved his hand for her to continue, but glanced at the men as she spoke. Yet the grey stranger kept his attention centered on her, his mouth pulled taught and his brows furrowed while his eyes danced with the torch flames surrounding.
"Stay, no road, stay," murmured Eleanor. For a moment all eyes fell on her in surprise. Then Macintosh grabbed the paper to decipher for himself. Before long Dingwall tried snatching it as well, after which Fergus yelled for both to stop, attempting to take the paper while Eleanor warned all of the note's delicacy. Yet as the last word fell from her lips, the paper was ripped in three parts and the bloodied end of the note lost. The three clan-men glanced at the mess dumbfounded, while Eleanor's mouth fell open in shock. Then Fergus straightened and looked to the gray stranger, who glanced from him to Eleanor with narrowed eyes before shrugging. "It is a noble assumption," he murmured, pointing to the note pieces again. "But it is still just that. Assumption. Little of its basis lays in reality."
With sagging shoulders Eleanor and Fergus met eyes, Eleanor's glance pleading and Fergus' conflicted. Standing, he held his hands behind his back and pursed his lips. Then pointing to the grey stranger he nodded, and Eleanor swept the hem of her dress from the ground and disappeared up the stairs to the bedrooms, while the hall below returned to life. "We should reach the Inn by eleven and leave at midnight," explained the grey stranger to the DunBroch clans. "There I will part ways with you to see that the most dangerous part of the road has been navigated." As she listened Eleanor veered around the hallway corner to her daughter's room and knocked on the door. The scabbard, bow, and quiver of arrows gleamed at her from the bed as she opened the door, their leather skin shining with importance. Eleanor glanced at their sharp frames before returning her gaze to the girls at the room's center.
"We are going," she murmured in a tight voice, gulping. "Soon. Are you done packing?" Juri and Merida nodded with vigor. "Good," responded Eleanor. "I will check on Maudie and the boys."
Again Eleanor swept from the room with the hem of her dress clutched in her fists like a rim of fate, her majesty solemn. Juri looked on her as she left, but soon returned her attention to her clothing. Pushing the rest of her belongings into her chest, she stood and paced, tapping her feet. Soon Merida finished packing as well. But instead of pacing she sat on the bed and ran her fingers over the bow and arrows laid carefully within her quiver. Juri set her rapier in scabbard atop her chest. Then she sighed. Both girls shared glances.
"Are you ready to leave?" murmured Juri. Merida shrugged and Juri scowled. "I always get the strangest feeling before journeys," muttered the girl. "A refusal to look back. A tightness of the throat," then she turned. "Do you feel it too?" Though Merida shrugged she nodded. Then there was a clattering on the handle of the door and Maudie burst into the room with Hamish, Harris, and Hubert following close behind. In indignation Merida stood and stamped her foot for Maudie to remove the boys, but the woman tugged Merida by her arm in signal for her to come downstairs. Servants slid behind her to collect Merida and Juri's chests, taking Juri's rapier and Merida's bow and arrow. Before the woman holding the weapons left, though, Juri commanded her to stay at the threshold of the bedroom door. Then, strutting an inch from the woman's nose, she hissed, "store these safely." The woman nodded and flew from the room with trembling knees, while Merida looked on the display with a grin. When the maid was gone she laughed. But Juri was silent in response, and before long left Merida for the great hall. For a minute Merida glanced about her room and took in its great space and frame. Then she set her hands on the long oaken legs that held up her bed.
As she stood again Maudie's shrill shout echoed through the hall and forced her to trudge downstairs and through the halls, to the stables where the carriages were being drawn with horses. Six, all manned by soldiers, held still directly before the gatehouse, where the seventy stone steps to the DunBroch bridge lay in wait of their horses' hooves. Angus stood proud at the front of the line, attached by long leather cables to the carriages, and Merida kissed him on the nose as she noticed her bow and arrow being stored carefully in the back of the last carriage. Juri's rapier had been hidden somewhere else, deep within the bowels of the carriage trunks where the clothing chests lay.
Eleanor's voice sang from the foot of the carriage line as she directed where the last of the chests would be kept. It had been decided few servants were needed, and as a result only Maudie and nine others were accompanying the party. The collection of seamstresses, cooks, and scullery maids scuttled towards the last carriage while the maids in waiting sauntered towards the fourth. The fifth was purely for baggage. But the first through third carriages would hold the family. Juri's mother crept towards the second carriage and Maudie, arms heavy with Merida's three brothers, hurried to the third. Merida and Juri had been allowed in the second, and as they stepped inside a loud cry came from within the great hall. Its doors that looked on the cobble courtyard flew open, and there were revealed the line of clan men. Dingwall and Macintosh walked side by side with Fergus while the grey man stayed in their shadows. All four made for the first carriage. But as Eleanor veered for the steps of the first carriage as well, Dingwall thwarted her. In confusion Eleanor attempted to step past him. But again she was blocked. In anger she stamped her foot and pointed to her husband.
"Am I not countess? Have I not always ridden at the front of the line, astride my husband?" she bellowed. But the clan men shook their heads while the grey stranger leaned towards her without expression. "We must discuss the route madam," he whispered. "Please delegate the children," added his grey mouth in offering, grinning widely as his eyes flashed silver. Fergus was silent beside him. Lost for words Eleanor nodded, turning and drifting to the second carriage with back bent in shame as she mounted its steps and sat inside, across from her daughter. Ten minutes passed before the crack of a whip sounded and the carriage line began to move. Then the clop of hooves on stone gave way to grass. There was stone again as they crossed the DunBroch bridge which overlooked the loch. But the hooves on grass returned, a dull thumping which rung through the night like the thud of a thousand heartbeats woven into one.
As the party drove on the temperature dropped, until all within the carriage could see the billow of warm molecules that made up their breath.
"Such a strange chill wind has passed in the last two days," commented Juri's mother, but no one responded. Beside her Eleanor averted her head and glanced out the carriage window, watching with clenched jaw as the landscape surrounding flew past while Juri and Merida stared straight ahead, Merida lost, Juri indignant. Soon any speech stopped altogether. For three hours they drove, until the night was well upon them and the moon crept to its highest among the stars. The lights of a village glowed softly in the distance, and Merida hissed for Juri to look out the window with her. Both girls looked on as the lights magnified and separated until they surrounded everything. Then the carriage party was upon it. Streetlamps, the windows of homes and taverns all drifted past until the vehicles stopped in front of an old inn on the outskirts of town. The wind drew twice cold in this place, away from the village's market. The clan men agreed by the moon's position that it was near midnight. Then they commanded their troops to enter the inn.
Uneasiness ruled all as the party marched towards the inn's entrance. Strange sorts wandered this place, people of which Merida possessed limited memory or knowledge. Even the ground was different, softer and darker, with little tufts of orange and green moss entwining its crown between the short grasses. When Merida peered towards the Inn's title, painted in white across its entrance doors, she noted the sign for bogwood. This village had been built on one of the northern bogs, cold, damp, and old.
"Merida!" called Eleanor in a sharp tone, and Merida flew towards her, squeezing beside her as she traveled inside the inn. Juri and her mother stood ahead while the accompanying soldiers opened a round of tables for the party. Already a raucous celebration had taken hold of the inhabitance, and what seemed like hundreds fit within a short fifty by fifty foot space swayed back and forth to the sound of their own warbling voices. While the grey stranger directed the men towards a secluded table on the far side of the enclave the women were banished to fight for their own space, squeezing at the end of a long table filled with motley, drunken creatures save one old crone, who wove leather as she ate bits from her plate of meat, low grade rabbit. Merida watched in wonder as the ancient woman picked its bones until Eleanor slapped her hand to scold her. "Be polite," muttered her mother, but Merida rolled her eyes and set her elbows on the table, knocking them against the wood as she looked around the room. When her gaze settled on Fergus she furrowed her brows.
"Why aren't you with father?" asked the girl in befuddlement. In reply Eleanor pursed her lips and heaved herself from the table, mumbling as she swept towards the bar. Beside Merida the crone finished her rabbit and pulled a faded fuchsia sack from beneath her shawl and emptied it of its coins. Then she counted the gold pieces one by one, her long tongue quivering from side to side as her fingers placed each counted coin to her left. One of her black eyes moved with her fingers. But the other flew back and forth in mad circles, watching the inhabitants of the inn. When its goggling black center fixed on Merida's head of fire, it narrowed and creased with the smile creeping across the crone's face. And as she finished counting the coins the crone swept them inside her pouch and held the sack out for Merida to take.
"Mightn't you get me a pint?" she asked in a mangled croak, pointing to her right leg, the one nearest to Merida. It held a long wooden brace at its side, tied with leather. "Cannot walk very well." Merida looked at the crone for a long moment before extending her hand to collect the fuchsia pouch. With a chuckle the old maid reached her own arm forward in reply, the sack dangling from between her bony fingers like a pendulum. As the shadow of Merida's palm hovered over them, the leathered knobs quivered and shot forward, catching the young fingers in their own to examine them. Both of the crown's eyes bent over the hand. Then with a click of the tongue they relinquished. "You have a mark on you. I think it is Esther's, I would know the mark of Esther anywhere. Wood and claw."
"Do you still want that drink?" asked Merida in ill ease. The crone nodded and emptied five of the coins into Merida's palm. Then she winked and turned back to her plate while Merida wandered to the bar beside her mother. Eleanor rubbed her forehead in exhaustion as she leaned on one of the stools, sighing back sleep that clung to her limbs. But at the sound of the five falling coins the tired eyes flew open and centered on Merida in shock. "Where did you get those?" hissed Eleanor, and Merida indicated the old woman. "She wanted a drink. She cannot walk."
"I will buy it then," growled the countess, narrowing her eyes as they fell on the crone's bent frame. "You cannot risk spending a witch's money at this hour." Surprised, Merida slunk back to the crone and shoved the five coins in front of her with a smile. Then she turned and sat on the other side of the table near Juri. Eleanor returned with the pint later, setting it with care against the table before giving a slight bow, so that the drink's owner peered at her through wide eyes, one lazy and the other mad with energy. "Are you the girl's mother?" asked the old woman in a whisper. Eleanor nodded, shuffling in discomfort while the crone fidgeted in front of her. Then the opposing eyes centered in revelation.
"I've got it!" gasped the crone, snapping her fingers before pointing to Eleanor's round complexion. Then her expression grew dark and calculating, her features scrunched to the center of her face.
"Whence danger lurks in every corm, return ye to your strongest form," hissed the ancient one. Then she blew in Eleanor's face and tapped her chin. "At least I think that is it." Shrugging, the crone swilled back her pint and wiped the remnants on her sleeve. After, she patted Eleanor's shoulder. "Swiftness is your greatest need. Journey now and take well heed." Emptying the five coins into Eleanor's hand, she threw her bum leg over the side of the table bench. Once its brace had been used to hoist the woman to her feet she hobbled forward with a form favoring her left side. Soon she had disappeared from the inn altogether, neither seen nor remembered by any save Eleanor. The countess stared from the crone to the coins in puzzlement, before discomfort made her hot and dizzy. Sick with anxiety she rung her arms in the sleeves of her cote and lurched towards her husband, who sat in deep discussion with Dingwall. The grey stranger was missing.
"Where is Lord Kozmotis?" asked Eleanor in a shrill whisper, but Fergus chuckled. "He is gone, Eleanor. Gone to tell his superiors of our coming with Macintosh at his side."
"We must leave now, Fergus," hissed Eleanor with a tight throat. Her expression grew hard. "If you do not leave with me you will leave without me. I am taking the maidens. Take your men as you will."
"Eleanor!" gasped Fergus, trundling after his wife with Dingwall close behind. As Fergus stumbled forward Eleanor called for her maidens and her family, commanding them towards the carriage line. All listened and moved within the blink of an eye, save for the remaining clan men, who stood at the threshold of the inn entrance with dropped jaws. Both exchanged looks before Fergus took Dingwall by the shoulder in decision. "I will move now," murmured the count. "Stay and guard my path."
"I don't want the people who killed MacGuffin coming after me!" barked Dingwall, hoisting up his kilt and scratching around the inside in ill ease. "I get itchy just thinking about it."
"Be brave, Dingwall!" growled Fergus in return, gripping his friend hard. Then he pulled Dingwall into a long hug, leaving both men teary eyed and sniffy. A candlestick hung from Dingwall's nose and he wiped it away on the back of his arm, leaving a long line of green goo over his wrist. But both men nodded and parted ways, Fergus towards the carriages and Dingwall towards the bar. When Fergus stepped into the night air once more, the carriages were waiting for him. Eleanor sat within the first, straight as a rod with eyes pointed forward into eternity. In silence her husband took his seat beside her. Then, Eleanor commanded the carriages forward and the horses moved in agitation, their eyes darting back and forth in strange expectation.