Hi, my dear readers,
And once again I have to apologize for the longer pause. But at the moment everything seems to crisscrossing and somehow my dear beta-reader and I have to fight for every free minute, *sigh*. But at least here comes the next chapter. There are some funny but also emotional scenes I'm sure you're going to like.
Have fun and thank you for the reviews and mails,
Yours Lywhn / Starflight
Chapter 78 – Mother Ludlam's Redemption
The cold wind swept around the three returning heroes and the dragonling, now snuggling in the strong arms of the tribal elder. Cudrim sensed the serenity, the skill of someone who could see more than reached the eye, and knew he was safe with this human. The other humans were tense, nervous, and not because of the weather. Shoving his snout out from under the cover, the dragon looked around, and then Cudrim sensed it: The presence of his own kind! Dragons were somewhere near! He could feel them!
Following instinct, he freed his front paws from the furs and clambered onto the man's shoulder. All stopped talking to look at him. The little green being who had come here with him zipped before him, waving his thin arms.
"Staying in the blanket you should," he squeaked, and Cudrim growled in reply. He understood the words, but could not yet form them. Something was calling for him now: His kin! He stretched his neck, raised his head and answered – a high, loud wail that pierced the muting snow.
Great Big Little Panther flinched as the dragonling cried out next to his ear. He sat the nestling down, wrapping the cover around the little creature. Then he stepped back as did Chief Rain-in-the-Face and the warriors. Only Dark Owl remained, alongside the man who had become one of the merfolk. The man's legs were nearly gone now, about to transform into a tail fluke as snow fell around him – water beginning to complete the transformation. Carefully the young seer placed the dragon egg fragments onto the ground and crouched down beside him to lay a hand on the former human's shoulder. The owl – his animal spirit – flew to the branch of the next tree; watching what would soon happen.
Suddenly, the clouded skies darkened, only the warriors' torches giving light. The air filled with the sound of the rushing of large, leathery wings. Cudrim screeched again and this time his call was answered. A loud roar cut through the air, then changed into deep bell-like sounds. The huge shape of Ayden landed on the battlement, followed by his mate Anala – just as it had happened after Peter, Wendy and the egg had been kidnapped. But this time there was no barely contained rage in the two dragons, only joy.
Cudrim scrambled out of the blanket and stood on hind legs, stretching his nec toward his parents. He knew those voices and he knew their familiar presence. He squeaked again, incomprehensible to the humans, but it only meant 'Mama.'
Anala spread her wings, sweeping Ayden aside, as she dropped from the battlements; he followed her. The humans quickly backed away. The Russell creature was pulled out of the way, and watched the reunion with curious black eyes.
Anala sniffed the dragonling who made sounds like human giggles, then her tongue darted out and licked him all over his face. Cudrim whined happily. Then large claws was carefully wrapped around him; shielding him from the cold. Cudrim saw the other dragon and instantly knew his father. Ayden also bent down and licked his son, then turned his attention to the humans. Anala placed Cudrim between her front legs against her chest, gently blowing hot air over him to warm him. The dragon leader fixed the Indian seer. "So, the one-handed man kept his word. My son was returned," his voice deep like a bronze bell.
"A big fight the captain and Peter fought to free him," Kailen reported, now hovering near the large scaled head of the dragon leader. "Badly wounded Peter was, but saved he was by your son's tears and the magic of a white witch."
Ayden frowned and he looked around. "Where is the boy – and that impertinent man?" He blinked. "And where is the golden fairy?"
At this point all Indians drew nearer, only Dark Owl remained with the merman. Panther exchanged a look with Aurora, who hadn't told them much when she arrived in their rooms in the Black Castle, summoning them to the portal.
Kailen sighed. "With the captain Peter stays for now – healing and resting he must take. With them Tinker Bell remained."
"And when will he return?" Ayden shook his large, scaled head, dropping snow that had settled there. "This weather is difficult."
The pixie took a deep breath before he replied: "Only returning Peter will when the captain, the Wendy-lady and the other men can come with him." There were murmurs from the Indians; the chief stared in surprise first at Panther and then Kailen. The latter cleared his throat. "Like father and son they did become and learning what it means to be cared for the boy did. Thinking the captain dead Peter did first and he mourned greatly. Now, re-united, separate ways they choose not to go again."
Panther frowned thoughtfully. "Two sides of one pendant they always were – without realizing it," he said quietly. "And Little White Eagle yearned for lost parents, even though denying it. When sometimes he slept in my tepee, I heard him talking in dreams, often calling for his mother. Now united they belong together: Iron-Hand, Brave Feather and Little White Eagle." He looked to the clouds. "But without a Pan this island is doomed." Aurora chimed gently and gestured a few times. The seer nodded slowly. "Yes, we must speak with your chieftain. But it is late now and all are tired. Tomorrow is another day."
Ayden huffed, turned his attention to his mate and his son, grunted something in his own language and reached for his son, who climbed into his father's right front paw. Without another word, Ayden spread his vast leathery wings and took the air. Anala glanced after him, before she addressed the young seer and the unusual tiny couple. "Thank you for bringing our son home," she said.
Dark Owl handed her the sack. "These is the pieces of the egg from your son's hatching. Do you wish to keep them?"
Anala gave him the dragon version of a smile. "For such a young human you're very considerate. Thank you. But we have no need for the shell of our hatched young ones."
Nodding, Dark Owl closed the bag again. "Then I will keep them as memorials to my meeting with you."
The dragoness made a movement like a nod, then her glance went to the merman. "He was changed," she stated simply.
"Yes. One of the hunters he once was, now he became a merman and hears his mate's calling, so I was told," Dark Owl replied.
Anala nodded slowly. "He is not the same being who stole the babe. Take him to the sea. The seafolk may decide if they will welcome him." With those words the broad expanse of her wings appeared, and she followed her mate – up to the valley at the foot of the Mount-of-No-Return-No-More.
Silence settled quickly in the clearing, the lights of the torches flickering again in the twilight. The chief looked down at the merman, then at Dark Owl, who dropped the bag and pressed both palms over his heart while he bowed. The chief stood tall. "Dark Owl saved the dragonling and therefore Neverland from the dragons' fury. And he brought home the green brother and the fairy of the summer flowers." He gazed upon the merman. If he held any hostility against the former hunter, one couldn't tell. Perhaps he saw him as he was now: A completely new being. "And Dark Owl took the care of a changed merman. Very much he has to tell us. But first we've to bring the merman to the shores." For a moment he pressed his lips into a thin line. "But most of the water is frozen. Maybe in the belly of what Iron-Hand called the Black Castle the sea remains, and the merman can dive from there to his kin." He waved at two warriors, who moved to the merman and lifted the stretcher up, while Panther again wrapped his blanket around himself. It was beastly cold.
The chief addressed Kailen and Aurora. "Come with us by the fire, have something warm to drink and to eat." He glanced at the young seer. "And then Dark Owl can weave his tale of what happened in the world where our ancestors once dwelt." He watched an owl swoop past him and land on Dark Owl's shoulder. "And perhaps how he met his animal spirit," he added with the hint of a smile.
* PP *PP *
The men and John stood on the shore of River Wey. To their right were the two ruins of the monks' dormitories, at their back the rest of the church wall, the hospital and the wall with the hidden portal to Neverland against the night sky. They watched the tiny bluish lights on the other side of the riverbank dancing around a sitting figure. As Daniel lifted the lamp and directed the light at the shape, they all recognized Dalton Ashford. He was sitting there, clothes disheveled and dirty, an inane grin on his blood-smeared face, shoulders shaking with his giggles.
"Gone balmy," Smee murmured. "Kailen's right."
George Darling shook his head. "And this all because one of these pixies screamed?"
Hook took a deep breath for the umpteenth time this evening. "It breaks your mind," he explained quietly, then he tensed. A few tiny shadows darted over the river and neared them. Looking at Mother Ludlam, whose shimmering figure stood like a semi-transparent statue not far away, he watched her stretching out a hand and offering her palm. One little figure whom James recognized as Cadan, the pixie-general, sat down on the specter's hand. Well, perhaps not sitting, because the little prankster continued to hover – after all the apparition had no substance. The ghost spoke quietly with the pixie, using an old tongue they did not recognize. Cadan gestured angrily, but he listened carefully and finally threw his little hands up, reluctantly nodding. Mother Ludlam laughed quietly, bent and pressed a quick peck on the green forehead, making Cadan giggle, then he grimaced and flew to the men and John.
Aware of the thin skins of the little people, James saluted; the other men and John following his example. "General Cadan," he greeted.
Obviously pleased by this display of respect, the pixie addressed Hook; recognizing him as leader of the men present. "The dorcha bhiorach you desire to return with you, the Wise Mother told me. Many of our kind died in Neverland because of him, as did other Good Neighbors. Not happy about this request I am."
"I'm aware of the fierce grudge you and your folk hold against the viscount," Hook replied carefully. "As I told Mother Ludlam, I don't much care what happens to him, not after all the evil he did against myself, against Wendy and my crew. But if he disappears now - or just dies - his family will hold us responsible for his death, which will complicate things even more. Additionally, we need him alive to prove that Lunette, his dark witch, is guilty, as well."
Cadan blinked. "What is your meaning?"
James sighed inwardly. "You must realize that humans don't believe in the Good People anymore – none of them. They think people who still believe in you are crazy – and the viscount came to believe in you from the stories the witch told him. Knowing this, in connection with the potions she brewed, the judges will think that he lost his mind bit by bit because of this background and the potions until everything came to a head this evening. Lunette will be found guilty for the viscount's state of mind and her own, for she lost hers, too." He tapped his temple. "But he wasn't the only wrongdoer. The men he hired are as guilty as he, for they followed a madman's orders blindly, with no scruples, for the money he would pay them. They could have walked out when they realized that he is crazy, but they didn't. This can only be proven when the authorities see Ashford's condition. I'm sure the hunters will be imprisoned a long time."
"And the dorcha bhiorach – or the tewal gwragh [dark witch]?" Cadan wanted to know.
"He and Lunette will most certainly be confined in an asylum, as we call it today," George Darling added. Finding himself the focus of those almond-shaped, slate-colored eyes, he continued: "People who have lost their minds are confined there to prevent them harming themselves or others, sedated and separated from the rest of the world until their deaths." He lowered his gaze. "This sounds brutal to me. Sometimes people who are born with an ill mind are confined there. But in Ashford's case it would be a punishment. I'm sure that he and Lunette will have clear moments and then they'll find themselves locked away in such a place. That's worse than a prison."
Cadan pondered this information, eyes narrowed. "Understanding now I do. So grudgingly… release him I will. Speaking with Laird Kenan I will, but agreeing he certainly will."
"Thank you, you are a prince among pixies," James said slowly; an idea forming. "General, would you grant me a boon?" The pixie waited, listening, and he continued: "Could your warriors guide some of us to Ashford's location? The rest of us are returning Mother Ludlam's cauldron to her cave," he added.
Cadan's eyes widened. "Giving it back you will?" he asked incredulously.
"Aye," Hook nodded, glancing toward the ghost. "She says it will release her, once this troublesome pot is returned or restored."
The pixie stared at him openmouthed in disbelief. Then his eyes grew warm. "Rarely mankind will for a mistake make amends – or gives up power, stolen or not. By giving the cauldron back… the Wise Mother you will redeem."
"Which is why I return the cauldron. Mother Ludlam served others as she lived, and even now – in her afterlife – she supports those in need. She saved my son. It's time for her to go home to our Father." He nodded toward the riverbank. "But we have little time. Authorities are on their way and the ladies need us. We will drive to the cave."
Cadan nodded and pointed northeast. "Not far from the bow that leads to the old abbey, a foot path off the wider path branches where coaches can drive." He glanced at George. "Follow this foot path south, await you there will my pixies and I."
"Thank you, General, very obliging of you," the banker replied; slowly coming to terms with the courtesy needed when dealing with Little People.
James said: "Laird Kenan and Seer Mawgan are waiting with the cauldron. Come with us, you can hear everything from them," he suggested.
Cadan saluted with his fist against the spoon-breastplate he was wearing as armor. "This I will do."
"Right," James sighed. "Quickly now. Our ladies need us."
* PP * PP *
When they left Waverley Abbey to return to the Adler and the lorry, two vehicles were driving up Charles Hill: A smaller one carrying two men, the other a lorry with eight men, all wearing dark blue uniforms and yawning. One of the men in the smaller motorcar wore a a bowler, thick cloak, scarf and gloves, but still quite chilled – as was his mood. The frown on his face told everything.
The road ran along a higher wall now and his driver slowed. "Sir, a lorry," he reported. Behind them their own lorry slowed down, too, and stopped. The man turned. "Sergeant Morris, take two men and examine that vehicle," he called over his shoulder. Three uniformed men hurried to the parked lorry. A moment later Sergeant Morris (in a longer uniform coat with double row of buttons and white armband) returned. "Sir, the lorry appears unoccupied," he reported, adjusting his helmet.
"Earl Ashford reported lots of noise, voices and even gunshots, that his son had kidnapped a rival and, it seems, the man's friends came to his aid, possibly with this vehicle; who knows what has happened in the interim?" He waved at the sergeant. "Proceed with caution. We don't know yet what we're facing."
They entered the estate through the gates and drove to the manor. The men had their revolvers ready – the pistols recently permitted by Parliament. They were accustomed to burglars, bank robbers, drunkards and others with no respect for the law, but what they saw now made them pause.
On the wide stairs leading to the manor's entrance stood four men who appeared to have stepped from a Punch and Judy playhouse. In the light of the windows the policemen recognized breeches beneath a smoking jacket, wide trousers beneath a summer frock coat, bowlers too small or too large, and one man with his long trousers tucked into high boots popular two centuries ago. But they were also holding sawtooth cutlasses, swords and flintlock rifles.
Since this strange assembly did not seem ready to attack, the officers hesitated.
* PP *
Nibs and Billy Jukes hurried down the hall that led to the Green Salon. The gunner wore one of Alister's hats; also – like the others – he had used a few clothes from the hunters' rooms (and from the servants' wardrobes) to make themselves more 'presentable,' as Hook had ordered. The result was a ridiculous blend of old pirate garb and modern hunting clothes. But, at least, the crew members didn't look like fairytale pirates anymore – well, at first glance. If you took a second look, you might throw up your hands in disbelief and amusement. Jukes found his garments most uncomfortable, which his expression plainly showed, despite the tattoos. And Nibs had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing at the man. He vividly remembered his discomfort when the Darlings took him to purchase his school garb.
Jukes gave a quick warning knock, then opened the door. "Ladies, lads? Dere be two coaches comin' up th' drive wit' men in uniform," Billy reported.
"Police," Nibs reported, smirking at Jukes.
All the women looked up from their discussion. Slightly, still with them, looked unnerved, wishing he had gone with the younger boys now sleeping upstairs. Tinker Bell lingered on the back of the sofa, while Nissa sat on the carpet near the fireplace.
"Well, we were expecting them," a weary Wendy sighed. She had remained with Peter but then joined the discussion about the official version of what happened. Bumblyn was keeping watch over the sleeping boy. Everyone knew that the policemen would be the 'help' Vicky's uncle had decided to send.
Vicky asked them, "Everything ready?"
"Aye. Th' broke glass in Miss Wendy's guestroom be no outside on th' grass where th' viscount met Moth'r Eart'." Billy had to smirk at his own joke.
"So it will look as if the window was smashed from the inside," Nibs added.
Vicky nodded. They couldn't report that Peter had come from outside to Wendy's aid. Several of them had swept up the shards and added them to those Ashford had taken with him during his fall. A few splinters were left behind to complete the illusion.
"And you are all well versed in what reportedly took place here?"
Billy Jukes nodded. "Aye, Miss. Dey all know wha' ter tell."
"I woke up the rest of 'em upstairs and drummed our story into their heads," Nibs added.
"Not literally 'drummed', I hope," Wendy murmured.
"Of a surety, dear sister," the former strategist grinned. "Curly and Michael wouldn't stand for worse."
"Yes," Mrs. Darling said quietly. "Then I hope that the police will accept our story."
The women exchanged glances. They had agreed that they should stay as close as possible to the truth. Details, like Neverland, magic creatures, witch's potions and Peter's and Hook's origins had to be kept close to the vest. And, thanks to Wendy's excellent talent for stories, they tweaked their tale. All sounded plausible. But they also included details of the deeds for which the viscount would have to pay. Such as Dalton attempting to force himself on Wendy. Her torn clothes would provide the evidence. (Unwilling to part with the Elven-made shirt for "evidence," she had one of the men tear one of her regular blouses.) Her skirt as well as her ankle boots showed traces of her trek through the underground tunnel. Everything could be provided as proof. Her leggings and the damaged Elven doublet were packed in the case her parents brought to the manor four days before, thinking their daughter was safe. The clothes and suitcase she had abandoned when she fled now became quite useful.
These, Wendy's and Peter's bruises, the boy's injured arm, the smashed window, the demolished witch's kitchen in the cellar with cauldron and pots, potions that stank and the blood in the lower levels would substantiate their story. And the corresponding statements from those involved assured the arrest of the hunters and Dalton, and the madhouse for Lunette. (Victoria couldn't know that the madhouse was the only place her cousin was destined for as well.)
Wendy rose and opened a window; Tinker Bell darted into the night. The fairy would intercept Hook and the others, providing details they needed, and – thank the angels – Hook and Smee understood her fairy language and would tell the others. Nissa hurried to the cupboard where a 'door' was hidden. Like most rooms as well as Dalton's study, the Brownie had connected the Green Salon to the many secret passages over the many years.
Victoria sighed again, mind whirling. They had hoped that the others would be back before the police arrived, but that was a story untold. The men would certainly be an hour or more on the road. As Wendy closed the window, Vicky straightened and rose.
"Well, it's showtime!"
* PP *
Alan Herbs, officer in charge with Hook and Smee absent, watched the two vehicles approach. Billy Jukes and Nibs returned inside only moments before to announce that the 'help' had arrived. The men in the larger one wore uniforms; no mystery here. They all looked the same: deep blue, high-collared tunics, trousers, high rounded uniform helmets and marks of rank at the collars. Two men wore white stripes on the left sleeve another wore street clothes beside one in uniform.
"Hm, dey be 'ere," he mumbled while he pushed back the funny round bowler he wore. The tie around his neck was badly done and the shirt he had found in one of the servant's rooms had a high, stiff collar, but at least the long trousers were nice in this cold weather. Too long, actually, so he tucked them into his high boots. The blazer he wore was obviously too small.
"'Elp?" Robert Mullins echoed, loosening his own tie, its deep green clashing with the blue jacket he had discovered. Still in his sailor's breeches and shoes, he presented a picture best described as 'unforgettable.' "Dey look like a buncha gurls," he grumbled.
"Huh, some help th' viscount's fath'r sends," Cookson sighed. He had simply put a longer summer jacket over his own clothes, but he'd put away his hat with the many crucifixes and had replaced it with a bowler, too. Over his bandana. Another curious combination of styles. "Th' capt'n was right. Tha' reeks o' trouble."
Fogarty growled in agreement. He also wore long trousers which reached to his ankles, still wearing his wide shirt and waistcoat, but he had covered most of his clothes with a raincoat. His buckled shoes, the wide-brimmed hat on his long grey hair and the weapon sash completed the ambiguities.
The 'horseless coaches' had reached the other vehicles and stopped. The man in civilian clothes climbed out, as did his companions. Warily they approached the steps. "Good evening," the man in the regular clothes said carefully. "We were called from your master because of some… differences of opinion that got out of hand?" He sounded as unsure as he looked.
Herbs stepped forward. "Evenin', sir. Th' 'differences' y' mentioned be 'ranged." Behind him, Cookson, Mullins and Fogarty nodded.
The man cleared his throat. "I'm Inspector Walter Jones, from Surrey Constabulary in Guildford." He indicated his companion; one of the officers. "This is Station-Sergeant Jasper Cooper. The earl called us and reported that his niece alerted him to a hostage situation and kidnapping here, done by the earl's son?" The question-mark was not only in his voice but also plain to see on his face.
"As I said, Th' problems be resolved," Herb replied calmly.
The inspector's gaze took in the four men (who reminded him of children who were trying on their father's clothes over their play clothes.) But one thing was not laughable: The weapons looked real. "Could you clarify that, Mr…?"
"Th' name's Alan Herbs, 'elmsman of th' Jolly Roger – and I be in charge as long as th' capt'n ain't 'ere."
"'Jolly Roger'?" Jones asked, inviting more information.
"Sir, that's the name of the old sailing-ship that arrived Monday in London," one of the constables added. "There was a long article in 'The Times' on Tuesday about it."
"Th' ol' sailin'ship is a galleon – an' a fine one," Mullins corrected him proudly.
"I saw that as well," the inspector said slowly. "And you are from this ship?"
"Aye!" replied the four of them.
Jones cleared his throat while he gestured with his hand. "And… you all were… uh… changing for your next show and you had to leave the ship in haste?"
The four men looked down at themselves. It was Mullins who leapt into the story as he shrugged: "Aye. We got th' message tha' blue-blooded landlubber kidnapped our capt'n and so we dropped everythin' ter come ter th' capt'n's aid."
That moment, a young man, dressed much like the other four, pushed through his comrades. A pretty young redheaded woman with fine clothes followed him and saw the newcomers. She smiled in obvious relief. "The police. I'm so glad you're here." While the policemen all touched their helmets politely, the inspector lifted his bowler.
"Good evening, Miss. I'm Inspector Walter Jones."
"Victoria Ashford," the young lady replied. "It was my uncle who alerted you."
"Milady," Jones acknowledged her rank and bowed. "Your uncle, Earl Ashford, spoke of a hostage taking and a kidnapping," he continued, replacing his bowler. "Your uncle also mentioned that you accused his son of being responsible for everything?"
Victoria stood tall and raised her chin. "Dalton, my cousin, caused this situation. He kidnapped my friend's betrothed, Captain Andrews-"
"The kidnapping you spoke of," Jones glanced at Mullins, who growled an aye, while the others bared (what was left of) their teeth. The inspector found these 'sailors' quite odd. If he didn't know better, he might even have believed that they were truly from the Golden Age of Pirates. His attention returned to the young lady who was still quite pale. It was clear that she had been through a lot over the last hour or so.
"Dalton wanted to force my friend, Wendy Darling, to marry him instead," Victoria continued quietly. "When we arrived at the manor to speak with him, and demanded that he let Captain Andrews go, he lost his mind. He even let his hired men shoot at my friend's father, a highly regarded officer from the Bank of England. It came to a scuffle and then Dalton took my friend hostage." She nodded at the men behind her. "Fortunately, we had decided to let a few members of the captain's crew accompany us. They prevented the worst."
Jones stared at her. "These are serious charges," he said, slightly shocked. If this was true, then…
The young lady sighed. "By my heart, this is only the short vision. My cousin not only tried to force himself on my friend, he also tried to kill Captain Andrew's son – a young boy!" Murmurs came from the other officers. A child threatened? An attempted rape? The men grew angry.
"And where is this Viscount Ashford now?" Jones asked calmly.
"He's on the run, Inspector. You see, our Captain Andrews, a few of his men, Mr. Darling and a dear gentleman friend of mine are trying to find him. He was… not in his right mind when he fled." Vicky stood aside to invite them to enter the manor, still unsure of her role as lady of the manor. "But please come in. It's cold and wet outside. I'll tell you everything over a cup of hot tea."
Turning to the other policemen, she said, "Officers, there are – there are some rascals my – the viscount hired who have been doing his dirty work for him. Please take them with you. And also our former housekeeper who – I fear – is responsible for my cousin's dreadful state of mind. They all need to be brought to justice." She waved them indoors. "Please come inside. This might take some time." She entered the manor again. Billy Jukes, like a personal bodyguard, remained a step behind her. "Olivia?" Vicky addressed the maid in the entrance hall. "Tea for the inspector and his officers, please."
"Milady?" Jones called after her; a tad overwhelmed by what he'd just heard. "My men will inspect the grounds."
Victoria gave him a quick smile and nodded, looking relieved. "Of course, Inspector. All traces must be found and analyzed. I'm sure my uncle will require a detailed report as soon as he returns." While the policemen spread throughout the estate, Jones and a Sergeant Cooper followed her.
Entering the Green Salon, the ladies looked up at their arrival. Nibs and Slightly stood. Jones immediately saw the discolored jaw, cheek and throat of the lovely young woman, introduced to him as Victoria Ashford's friend, Wendy Darling; her large, dove-blue eyes, heart-shaped face, full red lips, thick walnut-brown hair… he couldn't stop the thought that the captain was a "damn lucky bastard to have won the heart of such a sweet young woman." He mentally shook his head remembering this young woman had been through hell. Over the next quarter hour and more he learned what Miss Darling had faced in this house…
* PP * PP *
The "lucky bastard" was that moment standing by the large lattice gate across the entrance to the cave – an entrance that had been reinforced with ironstones a few decades ago, now forming an arch. The gate was made of a patterned wrought iron with a separate door within. In the light of the torch and the lantern Hook and Kempton carried, they saw a tiny stream that ran through the middle of the entrance from the cave. Over the years it had gouged a ditch into the soil, and now the water clattered musically over the stones.
James said aloud, "The cave has changed – at least the entrance. I remember a simple wooden fence here. Inside were cups hanging on chains to dip and drink the healing waters." He squinted into the black hole. "Sir Wilhelm Temple bought the estate near here and the property extended to the cave." A rueful smile appeared on the captain's face. "He loved gardening and writing. As a young boy I met him a few times and his excitement for horticulture woke my interest." He chuckled. "I owe him for my knowledge of flowers – and literature." As he caught Hutchings' and Kempton's surprised faces. "Well, shouldn't a pirate have a hobby?"
The two men and Akeele chuckled. Akeele was carrying the cauldron by the handle in one hand and the tripod with the other. The crew always wondered how their hard and even cruel captain came to love flowers.
"To keep the rest of the well safe, men locked the entrance they did," a voice squeaked beside him. Kenan, Mawgan and Cadan had left the cauldron with two pixie warriors. A little discussion happened as the men, John and Cadan had returned to the parked vehicles, and the pixie-general had to convince his laird and the seer, finally agreeing to 'rescue' the viscount as it was the wish of the Wise Mother. They hung near the four men to make certain of the cauldron's return and Mother Ludlam's release.
Hook raised the lantern, its feeble illumination barely reaching past the gate, showing no trace of the ghost. Placing the lantern on the ground, he took key ring and tried them one by one in the lock of the smaller door. Akeele set tripod and cauldron down, looking about warily. "It be too bloody quiet 'ere," he murmured.
"We're not in the tropics where the night never really sleeps," James replied, trying the next key.
"So, this be th' water from th' 'healin' well' Brynna used fer the Ashfords?" Hutchings asked, eyeing the rivulet. He had asked to join Hook, to pay Mother Ludlam respect. He was also quite curious how this 'redemption' was to manifest.
Hook nodded; remembering the stories he had heard as child about Waverley Abbey, when it was still occupied. "The monks once used it to supply the abbey with water when the River Wey shrank during hot summers." he related, and the key in his hand turned with a loud click. Hook grinned. "Open Sesame!" he murmured, using the phrase from 1001 Nights he had read as a child. With a push, the smaller door swung open noiselessly. James touched the hinges, and found them oiled. "Lunette kept it ready to use, making certain that no one heard her." Picking up the lantern, the pixies flew into the cave. "Akeele, join me."
"Aye, Capt'n." Akeele picked up the cauldron and the tripod and followed Hook and the scholar. Daniel came last. Looking around, Hook gestured to a flat area, and the large pirate set the tripod there with the cauldron on it.
James looked around. "Mother Ludlam?"
Daniel touched his arm and pointed ahead. There, deep in the cave, the white figure swept closer – hands folded, eyes wide in an expression of awe. Then they heard an other-worldly sigh as the ghost paused beside the cauldron. "It is here," Mother Ludlam whispered. "After so long, it has finally returned." She glanced up at Hook with grateful eyes. "I thank thee, Milord."
Hook bowed. "My pleasure," he replied.
The ghost turned to the others. "I thank thee all. Thou hast ended an old wrong and prevented further destruction." She moved lightly to Akeele. "I thank thee for bearing the weight. May thy way be blessed and thy heart full." She lifted a hand and stroked his forehead. Akeele, usually a loud, strong man, gulped but kept still. He wouldn't flinch because a ghost's hand touched him. As if she had read his mind, she smiled almost mischievously at him, then she turned to Daniel.
"Master of the written word, I thank thee, too. Thou didst fight with courage beside men, women and children strangers to you. Strong and warm thou art – worthy to win the fair lady's heart." She lowered her voice and added, almost conspiratorially: "Be not faint of heart. Thy faith can move mountains." She smiled, then turned to Hutchings.
The professor took off the beany he was wearing and bowed. Something close to amusement mirrored in her eyes as she looked at him. "Child of the Red Dragon, thou didst leave the crooked path, walk over dangerous ground to the straight one. The pride and the strength of the Red Dragon has filled thee, enabling thee to make the right decision. Cling to this strength, never forget the dragon's breath that touched thy heart – and when the time has come, follow the one Holy Spirit. He will lead thee to the realm that is thy true home." She cupped his cheek with a nearly transparent hand. "My thanks for thy faith that drove away the Horned King and freed my dark sister, even though her mind be lost now. Fare well, child of the Red Dragon, may all thy wishes all come true."
"Ma'am, 'twas a great honor t' meet thee," Archibald said quietly. "Might thou finally find y'r peace in our Father's arms."
A rueful expression reached her face. "Magic I did use when still alive – but only to aid others. Mayhap the Lord will see me likewise and forgive me for seeking power a human should not use," she whispered.
"I will pray for thee," Hutchings said softly; eyes sad. He knew that no one would see her on this earth ever again. "I'm sure our Lord Who is only love will forgive thee if thou 'ast repented. 'Is Son took all 'r blame. Understandin' an' forgiveness are wrapped up in 'Is love, an' I'm sure 'E will welcome thee into 'Is care."
They nodded a farewell, then Mother Ludlam moved to Hook. For a long moment, they looked at one another, then the specter sighed. "I marvel how love can heal the soul. The betrayal of the wrongful landlord whose family killed and expelled thy family is still a healing wound. The loss of thy hand and the darkness, filled with hate, has lost its power over thee. Love has opened thine heart again. Love thou didst find even for the boy. A few echoes of these dark times are still in thee, but in time these shadows shall retreat. Hold on to this love and let it bloom in thy heart and soul." She placed a hand on his shoulder. "Farewell, Marquess Shalford, and live the life that thou hast earned many times and again." That impish grin appeared again. "And do not grouse when the Little People appear too cocky. It is in their nature – and to claim their loyalty is a rare and wonderful privilege."
James felt an unfamiliar sadness as he realized that this was the final good-bye. Few people had ever truly seen a ghost, and even fewer had the chance to speak with one – especially a legendary one. Since meeting Mother Ludlam, he had come to respect her greatly. He bowed. "Madam, it was my honor to serve you. Your story was told to me when I was a child, and I never thought to meet you." He took a deep breath. "You watched over my home, you aided us and, above all, you saved my child's life. I will always be in your debt. I approve of Professor Hutchings' words: May you find the peace you seek." He hesitated. "Is there anything we can do for you? Is there a grave we can care for?"
She smiled sadly. "My remains long ago rejoined our sister Earth. But my friends, the Little People, will remember me forever, as will those I once helped and pass the stories to their grand and great-grandchildren." She lowered her head. "Fair winds and following seas, Captain." Then she stepped back and turned to the pixies. "The time has come to say goodbye." Then she used the forgotten language, and the pixies answered. Kenan and Cadan bowed deeply, so did the two pixie warriors, tears in their eyes. Smiling at them, the ghost moved to the cauldron; Mawgan with her.
"Lady, what about your cauldron?" Hook asked.
The apparition looked back. "It will be safe when returned to the church of Farnham."
James nodded slowly. "And you?"
"I hopefully go to Heaven. Farewell – and watch out for the boy. There were Pans before him, but he is special."
Hook sighed; glad that the boy didn't hear her remark. It would have inflated his ego even more.
Curious, the four men and the pixies watched how the apparition knelt beside the cauldron and lifted her hands. Again words from the ancient language were spoken and a silver glistening formed at her fingertips and sparks were released, falling into the cauldron. Mawgan stood on the pot's edge and began to whisper, too; his white robe shimmering in the light spreading over the cauldron and enveloping it. A low thrumming was felt by the humans, and filled the four men and the pixies.
Mother Ludlam lay her head back, eyes closed, concentration on her face. The light grew and wrapped itself around her – bright enough so the others had to to shield their eyes. The thrumming grew louder, holding a melancholy melody. With dazzled eyes James looked through his fingers and saw light and ghost melting slowly together until there was only brilliance. New sparks were born from the light and drifted away, at first only a few, then they increased until they built a whole swarm of little lights. Like a bevy of fairies or will-o-the-wisps they began to move towards the entrance and flew through the bars.
"She has found 'er salvation," Hutchings whispered and turned to leave the cave; Hook, Kempton, Akeele and pixies followed him. The sparks – many thousands of them – floated midair and lightened the footpath and the trees around them. Then they rose up; their glow providing a temporary daylight. Awestruck and deeply touched, the men watched the sparks slowly ascend to the waning moon and the now cloudless sky where they entwined with the twinkling stars. For a moment a warm, large glimmer brightened the firmament above the woods and shone down on the men on the path, then the light and the sparks were gone and the world was bathed once again in the darkness of the night.
"She be 'ome to our Father," Hutchings murmured.
"Aye," James whispered, still looking at the star-filled sky. "Rest in peace, Mother Ludlam. We will remember you!"
TBC
Yes, Mother Ludlam is released and I hope you liked the way she ascended to heaven. The cauldron's power is destroyed, the pixies had their revenge AND knew her Wise Mother to be freed from worldly burdens, Ashford was found (and still had to be picked-up) and now the next trouble has arrived, namely the police. Of course, Wendy's incredible talent of storytelling (and therefore altering a story) comes in handy, yet the inspector and the policemen will face a lot of surprises. And it already started as they met the crew-members of the Jolly Roger. Just imagine, how the pirates look at the moment. I'm sure a few of you had to grin.
In the next chapter George and the others have a nice trip through Surrey's nightly wilderness to get Ashford, the ladies give the inspector and his assistant a super fish-story and a few more surprises are just around the next corner.
I hope, you liked the new chapter and I would be very happy to get some feedback, like always. Just remember, feedback is an author's lunch.
Have a nice weekend,
Love
Yours Lywhn / Starflight