The Ghost in the Woods - Chapter 1
Chapter 1
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The Ghost in the Woods
It wasn’t an entirely special day, the day that
fate chose Rafe as an heir. It was warm and sunny as so often it was in the
Grey Valley. Carriage wheels had stirred the dust and fields were brimming with
daffodils and daisies, so that a mild haze lingered there. So normal was that
day in fact, that the deer in the fields hadn’t sensed a thing. Only the soft, eerie lullaby
from a solo flute carried any significance at all. It settled in the tiny
strands of pollen looming in the air and then travelled in the gentle breeze
farther than even ears could hear it. Carried through the grass at the edge of
a wood where a great tree sheltered it from the wind. It was here that so many
insignificant pieces stitched themselves together. There beneath the grass lay
dormant ears, waiting to hear it, listening for any sign that the Grey Valley
was in terrible peril once more.
Rafe lived in a tree. It had long been hollowed out with windows cut at the top
and a chimney breast poking right out of one of the old branches. A door with a
red painted handle sat wonkily on its hinges. But it was a house nevertheless.
And also a tree. In its prime, the giant Oak would have been larger than
any of the other trees in the wood, but the cutting out of its innards had
somewhat delayed its growth. How it ever grew leaves was beyond comprehension,
but leaves it grew indeed. In fact, Rafe was forever sweeping them out of the
chimney in the autumn months. He had an awful lot in common with it too. He was
tall for his age with a decent stature, steady on his feet and solid. Water and
nutrition held a good deal more value than gold. But just like the tree, Rafe
was a long way from his parents.
Living inside a tree had not always been a way of life. He and his little
brother, Sam, had no parents still living, no guardian, no older siblings. Just
themselves and a cat called Butch. Though the cat really didn’t belong
to anyone. They had lived there for precisely twelve months and they had
managed just fine on their own. Rafe earned a few coins scrapping with men far
older than he in the local tavern and Sam sold a fair amount of the mushrooms
growing in the meadow beyond their tree house. They had no real use for money
other than for buying clothes as most of their food grew from the ground or got
caught up in the traps that they set, and Rafe wasn’t half bad with a bow and
arrow either. On the rare occasion that their feet required new shoes, Miller
had been very generous. He was the only human being on the planet who knew
where to find them. It had been that way since the day twelve months previously
when they first met him.
This was the same day that fate chose Rafe as an heir.
Twelve
months ago
The summer
sun had faded and the winds blew colder. Rafe and Sam were driving a horse and
cart. The horse was an old one and slow at best. They could hardly push it
faster for they heard the creak of its knees and the grumble in its neigh in
protest. The cart was heavy with caskets of ale and as sons of a tavern master,
Rafe and Sam had been handed the responsibility of delivering six kegs to the
palace. A task neither of them had ever done before and not one they were keen
to undertake, though at the time they were not aware of the reason for these
feelings of impending trouble.
The town crier had woken them both from sleep that very morning.
“Hear, hear!” he had bellowed like a foghorn. “Our great Queen has fallen. Long
live the King!”
None of the usual rumour-mongerers knew how she had died. But orders of ale had
been sent for immediately, and Rafe’s father was not one to delay the palace.
Payment for six kegs of beer would see them comfortably through the winter
months comfortably. But the journey had so far been quite unbearable. The rain
lashing down frequently struck their unsheltered heads and the carriage paths
were starting to turn into a morass.
“Of all the days, Rafe. Can you believe it? Why couldn’t she have died
tomorrow?” Sam cried over the noise of the pouring rain.
“This is England, Sam! It will be raining tomorrow as well!”
Rafe looked up at the grey clouds and thought of how the Prince and the
Princess must be feeling, knowing from his own experience of such grief how it
felt to lose a mother. And then of course, there was fear of war. The Queen’s
death would be like a sword through the King’s heart. His Kingdom would be weak
without her and some of the bordering lands had been waiting for such a
weakness for a long time. Invasion was imminent. He would gladly join the Kings
army and defend his lands, but he was barely sixteen and the only fighting he
knew belonged in a tavern.
Black flags were wafting in the breeze, carried along with a solemn tune that
played through the wind. It did little to settle Rafe’s thoughts. Something big
was coming their way and Rafe got the feeling that it was going to change
everything. But since there was not a thing he could do to stop it, he bit his
bottom lip and swallowed his disappointment. There was no point feeling
defeated before the worst had even come.
Tall trees shaded a crescent moon and a cool breeze chilled Rafe and Sam to the
bone. It was before dawn, quiet and still, with mournful music from the royal
palace coming to their ears, and though it reached them, the palace walls were
a long way off.
“It’s no good!” Rafe yelled, throwing the reins away from his hands. “We’re
stuck!”
The wheels of the cart had dragged through so much clinging mud that digging
themselves out would be the only option.
“We could try and wait for a traveller’s coach?” Sam suggested.
“Even so, I doubt they would have room for six kegs of ale!” Rafe pulled his
jumper tighter around his shoulders and stood straight. “We can’t be that far.
I can see the black flags.”
“Yes, but there’s a river in the way! We’ll never cross it with the kegs.”
“I don’t mean with the kegs! We can reach the palace and then ask for some
help. I’m sure they’re just as keen for their delivery as we are to get rid of
it!”
“They’ll dock the inconvenience from our pay.”
Rafe shrugged. “Maybe, but what choice do we have?”
“This journey was a disaster!” Sam complained. “Father will never trust us to
make a delivery again!”
Rafe looked over to his younger brother and smiled. “Father will understand the
hazards of English weather better than anyone. He’s made the journey plenty of
times before us don’t forget. Come on. Let’s give the horse some shelter, at
least.”
Sam nodded and sighed as they both unclipped the reins from the old mare. She
shook her mane and covered them both with dirt. Sam took the lead and guided
her towards a tree.
“Where are you going?” Rafe asked.
Sam pointed to the tree as though it were obvious.
“No. It has to be somewhere a little less conspicuous. I don’t want anyone
stealing her!”
Sam looked over at the old horse and almost laughed. “Who’d want to steal her?”
“Come on,” Rafe insisted taking the reins from Sam. The rain grew louder and a
few thunder claps followed their footsteps. Eventually, when they were at least
out of sight of the carriage path, Rafe tied the reins to a tree. Drops of rain
water fell between the leaves but they were drier than before.
“We’ll cut through the trees and over that bridge. Be there in no time, come
on,” said Rafe, patting the horse’s mane as he turned to leave.
He had always been good at finding his way but unfortunately, this time, he was
destined for another path.
Hours passed by and still there was little sign of any bridge. Fern infested
woods were all that greeted them and every path they took led them nowhere.
They were engulfed in darkness and completely lost.
Rafe kicked the crumbling brick of an old wall in his frustration. “I doubt
that anyone has ever had such bad luck!” he shouted, though the pouring rain
dulled most of his sound. “Really, Sam. You couldn’t make it up. First the
weather is against us and now nature herself!” He was referring to the nettles
stinging his ankles, blocking most of the paths they were trying to reach, as
well as the river which had burst its banks and made it impossible to cross. “We
may as well head back to the horse. It seems that someone does not want us
reaching the palace at all.”
Sam nodded miserably. “Which way?” he asked.
Rafe looked about himself uncertainly. Every fern and every nettle beneath
every pine tree looked identical to the next. Having followed an untrodden
path, there was no way of finding his way back. Rafe was about to give up and Sam
knew exactly what his brother was thinking.
“Well we can’t very well stay here!”
Ever the optimist, Rafe rolled his eyes. “Come on, Sam. It has been an
adventure. We’re discovering parts of the Grey Valley we never knew existed.”
“I don’t think anyone knows these parts exist!” Sam pointed out. He sat back
against the bark of the old tree and scraped the mud off his legs. “I don’t
much fancy sleeping here.”
“We may not have a choice,” Rafe admitted, though in truth, the darkness was
already beginning to fill his imagination with fear. He had heard many a woeful
tale of haunted woods before now. “We could try to follow the lights and
make it to the village. I can just about see it over those hills.”
“And then do what? We have no money for an inn!”
Rafe sighed. “Just trying to weigh up our options.”
In their imaginations tall trees had already started to shape themselves into
frightening figures in the dark. Shadows loomed high above them. Thick leaves
blocked out the moonlight. Eyes of nocturnal hunters stirred from sleep. Twigs
snapped as scavengers scurried and bushes rustled in the moonlit woods. Tales of ghosts came to his mind. The
screech of an owl turned Rafe’s
thoughts to his father sitting alone, worriedly waiting for their return.
After a long and eerie silence, church bells
chimed.
“Do you hear that?” Rafe asked. “Church bells. The village must be closer than
it looks!”
“Which village?”
“How would I know...?” Rafe faltered. Before he could finish, a tree branch
lifted in front of him and suddenly a face appeared through the foliage.
“Pardon me, young sir, but are you lost?”
Rafe nodded his head in shock. The man was tall, white haired and full of
cheerfulness, but he was dressed in full battle armour, from a chainmail vest
strapped to his chest, to thick metal shin plates on his legs. All of it very
out of place in the middle of a wood when no battle was upon them. He assumed
it had something to do with the death of the Queen.
“Well
don’t be afraid, I can help you,” the man
assured them. Sam’s shoulders sank but
the stranger smiled and a huge bundle of wrinkles formed on his cheekbones.
“Follow me.” The strange man turned on his heel and began a brisk walk.
Rafe looked up at Sam in bemusement. “I guess we’re going this way!” he said
and they both hurried after the stranger.
They had to jog to keep up, but Sam kept slipping in the mud. His shoes were
far too worn and there was little grip on the sole. Still, Rafe could hardly
wait for him. The stranger who was helping them was fast for his age and
clearly in a hurry to get out of the rain.
“Come on Sam!” Rafe called, grabbing him up by the shoulders, but it was no
good. Sam’s shoe had come off in the mud and he would have to dig it out before
putting it back on.
“Wait! Sir, please wait!”
The man in chainmail stopped up ahead and tapped his feet impatiently. “Quickly,”
he said as Rafe grabbed Sam’s shoe out of the mud and forced it back onto his
foot.
“We thought we may have found a path to the nearest village,” Rafe called to
the stranger who by now was almost out of earshot.
“Village?” the stranger asked, stopping dead in front of him. Rafe skidded to
avoid a collision. “Why would you want to go there? You’ll never find what you’re looking for in a village!”
Out of breath, Rafe gave himself a moment to dwell on the stranger’s question. “We’re trying to find shelter for the night! Then in
the morning, we’ll be on our way home.” He had thought that this was obvious.
Surely the man was leading them somewhere dry at least.
The stranger smiled deeply. Something about the word home had warmed his
features. “Come,” he said kindly. “You’ll find everything you need this way.” He ran on again, faster. Rafe
rolled his eyes, frustrated that rest was not yet granted him. There was no
time to wait for Sam to catch up, the stranger was almost out of sight and Rafe
was hopeful he might lead them to a cottage close by.
“Sir!” Rafe called. “Please, wait!” A spine of chainmail darted ahead of him
and the stranger vanished. Rafe searched every possible branching of the paths
but he was gone. “HELLO!” he yelled but only silence answered him. Suddenly the
rain stopped. The woods became still.
“I can’t run anymore, Rafe,” Sam cried,
finally catching up. “My shoe has completely disintegrated! I’m hopping!”
“It’s okay Sam,” Rafe tried, knowing that
all was not in the least part okay. It was getting cold and the lights of the
village now lay even further away. Their kind stranger had vanished into thin
air like some cruel joke. “We’ll be able to see where we’re going when
the sun comes up,” Rafe told him, ready to curl up under a tree and sleep there
if he had to.
“You mean, stay here until morning?” Sam asked.
Rafe nodded. They didn’t
have much choice. “Unless that strange man comes back for us.”
“What strange man?” Sam panted, looking at him strangely. Rafe gulped. “I did
wonder if you were talking to me or not. I just figured that perhaps you were
playing a game.” His voice faded as he realised the terror of their
predicament. Rafe had been following an invisible man. Truly, the tales of ghosts in the woods were to be feared! Shadows of trees appeared almost human and their imaginations
were starting to get carried away. Not just ghosts in the woods, now their minds contemplated whether monsters weren't also a truth ready to be discovered.
“Come on,” Rafe urged, pulling Sam towards a large, heavy rooted tree. He
slumped beneath its thick leaves, and it eased his unsettled mind. But Sam didn’t join him. He was shifting uneasily,
looking at Rafe with confusion on his brow.
“What is it?” Rafe asked, feeling the urge to look behind him, despite knowing
that his back was against a tree.
“Don’t you feel it? Rumbling underneath?”
Rafe did feel it. Ever so slightly, the ground was moving. It felt like the
vibrations caused by a thousand feet trampling their way to the surface. And
then, without further warning, the ground beneath the tree opened up and Rafe
fell into the pit that appeared.
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