7

Hide and Seek

"Ishbel!" Candle whispered.

"What?" asked her sister, irritably, sitting up in her bed. "What is it Candle? What's wrong?"

"Shhh!" said Candle, frantically, looking over her shoulder. She slipped into the room and shut the door softly. "I have to tell you something, it's important that you listen."

"Get on with it then, I'm tired!" Ishbel looked at her little sister more closely, "Ancestors! Candle you look awful."

"Bel, it's about Rasmus-" Her throat closed up and she choked. She bent over at the unexpected pain, the blood rushing to her head. Ishbel swung her legs out of bed in alarm.

"Are you alright? What about Rasmus? Honestly, Candle, you need to calm down."

Candle took a deep breath and tried again. This time she had a coughing fit that only subsided when she stopped trying to speak. A nasty suspicion lodged in her mind. What had Rasmus done to her? He had put some sort of geis on her, she knew it! So that she wouldn't be able to speak ill of him. She tried again, trying to force the words out but the pain gripped her. She grabbed a piece of paper, but her hand cramped, and she groaned in pain.

"Candle!" Ishbel said, growing alarmed. "What in the Night Nation is wrong with you?"

The door banged open. Rasmus stood framed in the doorway, his eyes hard. Candle backed away, clutching her throat.

"Rasmus!" Ishbel cried, "Something's wrong with Candle! I think she might be having some sort of fit..."

"Don't worry," he said, striding forward, "I'll sort her-"

Candle ran, ducking past Rasmus and haring down the passage. She barrelled down the twisting flight of stairs so fast she nearly fell, caught herself and dashed through the door into the garden.

Without stopping to think she flew along the side of the manse, consumed by the need to get away and hide. She burst through a flower bed, startling a bunch of laundry ladies and ducked deep into the thicket of fire roses. They closed around her in a shadowy embrace and she stood still, trying to modulate her breathing with big gulping breaths. If she ran blindly and without thought, Rasmus would catch her. As if her thought had summoned him he appeared, strolling casually around the corner of the manse. He looked deceptively calm and suave - if you didn't look at his eyes.

"Have you seen my sister?" he called to the servants. "No, not Ishbel, the crazy one." They pointed to the thicket. Rasmus thanked them and strode casually towards her hiding spot.

Candle backed carefully through the undergrowth, taking care not to step on a dry twig. The branches of the fire rose didn't provide much in the way of cover. And no one, she realised, swallowing, would stop him. And she wouldn't be able to protest, she wouldn't be able to scream. He wouldn't kill her in front of the servants. She wasn't sure if he would kill her...but she knew now that he had already put at least one spell on her. Whatever his intentions, she didn't want to wait around to see what they were. One excruciating step at a time, she backed away. All her years of sneaking around the grounds had made her an expert at stealth.

"Candle!" called Rasmus, angrily, scratching himself on a protruding branch. He was close but hadn't spotted her yet. She made it to the boundary wall before he did. He yelled and she was up and over it in seconds. She was faster than Rasmus but she had only precious seconds to plan her escape. It was early morning, directly after the first bell. Where could she go, at this time of day, when the village was bustling with people? Rasmus might be slightly less likely to haul her through the village by her hair in front of witnesses but she couldn't rely on anyone to help her. Everyone thought she was mad. Maybe she was mad. But she wasn't ready to gamble her life on that fact that what she had seen that night was a hallucination.

Swiftly she crossed the lane, vaulting the low dry stone wall of their immediate neighbours and bolted through their deserted garden. She hopped lightly over the next wall, which was the boundary wall of the village. She hunkered down against it, shaking, staring out at the mountains ahead. So much open space in front of her. She imagined Rasmus standing in the lane, trying to figure out which way she had gone and clenched her fists. She had to resist the urge to flee mindlessly. Stealth required patience, giving into the adrenaline throbbing through her body would surely get her caught.

She counted to one hundred in her head, slowly and carefully, ears straining. She briefly contemplated heading off up the mountain slope that stretched invitingly before her. But the vegetation offered little in the way of cover, and she would be exposed for at least half a mile. She might be able to lose Rasmus on the mountainside but she might not. She was faster than him but he would easily win in a test of stamina. She couldn't hear any movement on the other side of the wall she began crawling quietly around the perimeter wall. Once she had gone some distance she jumped back over the wall, darting between the buildings. In front of her lay the village square with the holy well in the centre. The well was ancient and had been there since the first Ancestors had split the Day and Night Nations. The village of Hanternos had grown up around the well, rather than the other way around. The structure itself was unassuming - weathered bricks piled around it in a conical pattern with a more recently constructed slate and timber roof. The spring on the eastern boundary provided most of the villages drinking water, the holy well was used for devotional purposes only.

Candle squeezed her eyes shut, trying not to think of the awful thing she was about to do. But this was no time for second-guessing herself. Making sure no one was in sight she ran to the well and flung her legs over the side. She searched for the grooves in the brickwork that served as a maintenance ladder and down she went. Down, unhesitatingly down, down until the light from the sky was just a small orb far above.

No one, not even Rasmus would ever look for her in the well. It would not occur to anyone that she would dare. The holiness of the well coupled with a natural dislike of water...they wouldn't even consider the possibility. Of course - she might drown, and no one would ever find. She looked at the water below, black and unforgiving. How deep did it go? Maybe she really was mad. Maybe this was how she was going to die. But her arms were beginning to ache, the iron ladder offered scant purchase. She took a deep breath and eased herself into the ice-cold water. It rippled around her like quicksilver, enveloping her. The sensation was at once terrifying and startling. Her feet kicked at nothing. She panicked and sucked in a mouthful of cool liquid as the water closed over her head. She pulled herself up by the rail and hugged it close, gasping. She needed to try and keep quiet. She prayed to the Ancestors for forgiveness for desecrating a holy well with her dirty body. If they weren't already angry with her they would be now. But she found she didn't care that much anymore. The Ancestors had abandoned her long ago. And she was safe here, no spell could touch her, submerged in the water. Safe. Rasmus would not find her. He would expect her to run to the moongate. That was the obvious place to go. When she did not go there he might search the village... but he would never look here. She was safe.

Now she was still it was incredibly quiet. Sounds from the village were muffled and almost nonexistent. The whole world was a close dark tunnel of old stone. After a few minutes, her eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a soft light coming from lower down the well walls. It was difficult to see properly, the water played tricks with her light and her eyes. A handspan down under the water glowing runes were carved into the well wall. It was nothing she could read, no language or rune system she was familiar with. If it was magic how could it exist underwater? She reached down a hand and lightly brushed the glowing markings. The well filled with tiny blue and green spirits, tiny glimmering lights zipping this way and that, as curious to see her as she was to see them. She smiled at them, wondering if they were a hallucination brought on by the stress. Whatever they were they were beautiful. And if they were real...she ought to be grateful she was not sharing the tiny space with anything more disturbing. Some of the malevolent spirits she had seen during the twilight still haunted her dreams.

Time passed slowly. Candle waited patiently while her limbs grew heavy and cold, and her skin started to pucker. Hiding in here had seemed such a good idea, she had given no thought to how long she would have to stay. She began to worry that she would not have the energy to climb out. Trying not to give in to panic, she watched the little darting water spirits until she was drowsy, forcing herself to relax.

Slowly the light visible through the top of the well changed in quality and the evening bell rang out and Candle waited anxiously. She was fairly sure that the holy water would be protection from any twilight spirits. But it was an untested hypothesis....half an hour later, unscathed but exhausted Candle began to climb the iron ladder. Her fingers were cold and clumsy, and it took her a long time to reach the top.

Just below the rim, she paused, listening. She couldn't hear anything but was too tired to wait long. She was worried she might topple back into the well and hit her head on the side. So she pulled herself out and lay on the ground for a few minutes panting. Shortly she had the presence of mind to pull herself over a wall and sat with her back to it, massaging life back into her chilled limbs. Being back on solid ground was a relief. But now what? She was still in Hanternos and her brother would still be watching for her. At least the night would provide her with some cover. She had to get away, either up the mountain or through the moongate. She had some ideas of going to visit her mother's relatives in Gelliweg but Rasmus would almost definitely be guarding the gate. The mountain it was.

She wondered what Rasmus had told their parents...Probably that she had gone mad and run off! Ishbel's story would only lend validity to his claim. She bared her teeth in a silent growl. It was time for her to leave Hanternos.

Silently she padded her way through the dark village, flitting from shadow to shadow on light feet.

The wind was rising which hid the noise of her passing. She stopped by the ironsmith's forge and stole two pieces that she hoped she could use as weapons should the need arise. Then she retraced her steps to her parents garden, heart thudding in her ears and located her stash of stolen belongings. Within minutes she was away, over the boundary wall for the last time and striding through the dark fell. She elected to wade through the stream (for how could she fear such a small amount of water after her adventure in the well?) rather than cross the iron bridge and then she was striding through the fell under the welcome cover of night.

Shouldering her pack she strode up a little-used path into the dark night of the mountains with the roar of the wind in her ears, and wild exultation in her heart.