Dusty Red ~ Part 8

Congratulations to all of you who commented on last week's post! You all did very well. It's ok, I'll think up the options this time. Now you know how I feel every week! I had a bit of trouble deciding what option to choose, but I've settled with Sarah's idea: Skilf glanced around then said, "My evil uncle, Lord Cameron... He doesn't like me very much."

The name is a little out of place but it's better than nothing. It's a Scottish name I think, I also have a feeling it means 'crooked nose'. Maybe he has a big nose...No offence to Sarah. Far be it from me to disparage your idea, it's more a case of discussing.

It's a rather busy day today, as we are going on holidays tomorrow morning and it was my oldest sister's 18th birthday yesterday...Happy Birthday Clare. (Now you're positively ancient!)

But I have an announcement! Since we are on holidays for a week I'm afraid we'll miss next week's instalment....I know, it's very sad. Also I probably won't be able to publish your comments until we get back, so you'll have to bear with me until then. Today's post slightly more confusing and odd than usual for the reason that everyone is running around like headless chooks trying to get everything ready. So, sorry for that also, but I'll do my best.
Just in case you've forgotten I'll put the last few lines from part 7 at the beginning of the story...

“Sent them?” Flicks asked, “But aren’t they wild?”

Skilf shook her head, “These are no normal wolves.”

Kendal shifted, making the thatch creak ominously. “I hope the roof doesn’t collapse,” Skilf said meaningfully.

Kendal scowled at her. “Who sent them?” he asked shortly.

Skilf glanced around then said, "My evil uncle, Lord Cameron... He doesn't like me very much.”

“Sounds like something in a book,” Flicks muttered.

Skilf took a deep breath, “Perhaps I should explain.”

“Yes, and you should start with why in the world you came up here in the middle of the night,” Kendal said.

Skilf nodded. “It’s hard to know how to begin,” she ran her fingers through her hair. 

“Just start at why you came up here,” Kendal repeated.

“Well,” Skilf began, “I live with my uncle, because both my parents have gone missing. They just completely disappeared into nothing. My uncle has never liked me but he had no choice but to take me in, as everyone expected it of him. 

To cut a long story short, I came here to get away from him. I’ve been here before, and I knew that my uncle was too superstitious to follow me here, I figured without the wolves,” Skilf sighed, “I forgot about them.”

“But why did you want to run away from this Lord Cameron?” Flicks asked.

Skilf glanced at her. “The fact that I happened to steal something from him might have something to do with it,” she said, sarcasm lacing her voice.

“Ye stole somethin’ ye say? Why?” Old Ron said, his voice curious.

“Because he was trying to give it to our greatest enemy,” Skilf said, her voice low but insistent, “The Maniruns.”

“And who, may I ask, are they?” Kendal said acidly.

“They’re the people from the country below Rocos,” Skilf returned, “And there’s no need to be so high and mighty. I doubt you’ll find a country more full of evil people.”

Flicks laid a hand on Skilf’s arm, “But why did you do it?”

Skilf calmed herself with a deep breath. “Because no one else could do anything. I had to stop Lord Cameron’s plan. Besides, he wants to use me.”

Flicks felt the cold night air wrap itself around her arms, seeping into her very bones. “They want to use you?” she asked softly, her voice shaking.

“Aye,” Skilf said. “To them I’m a thing they can use at their will,” her eyes hardened, “But I will not be what they want. They cannot force me.”

“But what do they want?” Kendal roared in frustration.

Skilf stared at Kendal. “They want the magic,” she paused darkly, then she continued, “They want someone who can use magic.”

Old Ron’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed silently, Flicks groaned and buried her head in her hands. Surprisingly Kendal made no comment.

Eventually Flicks broke the silence, “What kind of magic?”

“Not good, or bad,” Skilf answered, “It is whatever the user makes it. Some say it is a gift, yet to others it is a curse.”

Flicks swallowed, “So…you’re magic?”

“In a manner of speaking, aye,” Skilf nodded, “There are many different kinds of magic. And many different ways to receive it, some are born with it, some find the magic stones, but others get it in a different way.”

“And what way is that?” Kendal asked.

Skilf locked her eyes with his, “The other way is when you are immersed in magic from somewhere else and when you get out of it, if you actually manage to, some of the magic still remains inside you. That is why it is considered dangerous to tamper with magic, and rightly so. It is not wise to entrust magic in the wrong hands.”

Kendal looked away, effecting carelessness, but Flicks had noticed the look and felt a tingling up and down her spine. What was wrong?

“Well can’t you be usein' magic to get rid o' the wolves?” Old Ron asked.

Skilf turned her gaze on him, “Sadly no. My magic comes from the Magic Rune Stones I stole.”

Flicks raised her eyebrows questioningly, “And?”

“And I buried them a while back,” Skilf rejoined, tossing her head.

“You what?” Kendal asked incredulously.

“I buried them,” Skilf repeated, “No doubt Uncle Cameron is furious and wants to kill me for stealing them from his house. But at the time I couldn’t think of any other way to stop his plan.”

“So,” Flicks said slowly, “To summarise, you took the magic rocks from your uncle to stop his plan of double crossing with the enemy.” Flicks looked at Skilf, “Right?”

“Basically,” she said, “Anything else you need to know?”

Old Ron spoke up, “Where ha' the wolves a disappeared to?”

Skilf sat up swiftly, causing the roof to groan ominously. She crawled to the edge of the thatch and peered over.

“Anything?” Flicks asked.

Skilf wriggled back from the edge again, “No, they’re gone.”

“But why, and where to?” Flicks murmured thoughtfully.

Skilf shook her head, “They’ve gone to fetch my uncle. Now that they know where we are, it won’t take too much to catch us.” She glanced at the faces around her, “It’s time to make ourselves scarce.”

“Good,” Kendal grumbled, “I’m sick of lying here.” He shuffled over to the side of the roof and jumped down.

“Careful!” Skilf warned, “There might be wolves left guarding.”

“You can come down now, there’s nothing here.”

Flicks shrugged and crawled to the edge, dropping to the ground below. The mist had cleared somewhat, and the shapes of densely wooded mountains loomed around them, giving a sinister feel to the place.

“Where to now?” Old Ron questioned, when they were all on the ground.

“I say, we visit an old friend of mine,” Skilf said, shrugging. “She’ll probably have some idea of what we could do." 

Kendal shrugged, “Lead on.”

Skilf raised her eyebrows and then began north towards the trees, calling over her shoulder as she went, “Try not to leave too many tracks.”

Kendal grunted and he and Old Ron picked their way after her. Flicks frowned, there was an idea just out of reach in her mind, an explanation of Kendal’s strange behaviour. But it proved elusive, and she shrugged, pushing the thought aside and hurried to catch up to her companions.

After tramping through the forest for some time Flicks noticed a house up ahead.

“Here we are,” Skilf said. She raised her hand to knock on the door but jerked back in surprise as…

~

Now everyone can sigh in relief, options pre-thought-of for you to choose. What luxury! All you have to do is pick a number and comment below!

1. A piercing shriek echoed around the trees, coming from behind them.

2. The door jerked open with a loud bang and a cloud of blue smoke swirled from the interior.

3. A shadowy figure leapt out of the darkness and slammed into Flicks, pushing her to the ground in a whirlwind of damp leaves and twigs.

~

I hope you enjoyed instalment eight, and don't forget to comment. I'll be back in a week.

Fare Thee Well!

~ Jane, Misty Maiden