A Change In The Weather

Chapter 12: A midnight encounter

22 December, 2007 – 12:01 am

Tobias lay in bed, propped up with a pillow, holding the bed sheet up to his nose in an attempt to quell the feeling of rising terror. The table lamp beside him was still on, but it did little to calm his fears, instead it bathed the room with a feeble orange glow that just made the room seem even spookier.

He reached to turn the light off, fumbling for the switch, not daring to take his eyes off the chair in front of the window at the foot of the bed. He lay there for a few more moments in the pitch black waiting for his vision to grow accustomed to the dark.

Moonlight shone through the little window, illuminating the chair. Perhaps what had happened before had been a dream after all, he thought, and he finally allowed himself to close his eyes with relief.

As he lay there, the same cold air started to blow around the bed that last night he thought was a draught. It was noticeable enough this time though to make him open his eyes and lift his head to look back in the direction of the chair.

And then right in front of his eyes, from out of nowhere, the delicate figure of a girl in a dirty torn bridal dress slowly materialised. As it did so, the sound of tiny pitiful sniffles filled the room. By now his eyes were wide-open with fear and his heart pounded a deafening beat as it tried to burst its way out of his chest.

The girl stood up slowly and walked over to the window, turning to stare at Tobias momentarily before casually passing right through the closed door.

Tobias opened his mouth to scream but it was no use, he was far too scared. He’d reached that level where mere fear had given way to terror, which in turn had given way to some higher emotion.

And then much to his own surprise, he found himself getting out of bed - but not before confirming that he’d left his camera in the camper - and opening the door. He followed in the direction of the girl, dressed only in his pyjamas and slippers.

The girl floated slowly down the corridor, down the stairs with its threadbare carpet and out through the cold kitchen with its greasy stink. Tobias tiptoed after her making the floorboards creak with every step, eventually ending up in the still-warm and smoky lounge bar. The final embers of the fire were still glowing lazily in the hearth.

Tobias watched as the girl disappeared behind the bar and sank slowly into the floor.

He hurried over as quick as he could, but when he’d got there – much to his dismay - he’d found that she’d vanished completely. There was a trapdoor by his feet, so he knelt down, grappled with the handle and slung the door open. A gust of cold fusty air bellowed up from below and he tried to fight back a choke as he squinted into the inky depths.

He could see the top of the girl’s head sinking into the blackness of the cellar below.

Tobias stamped around the bar in a fluster not knowing what to do. Then he grabbed a tumbler from the bar top, filled it with whisky from a nearby optic and downed it in one.

Trying to choke back another cough whilst the drink seared his throat, he started his descent down the ladder with eyes shut tightly, muttering to himself about how bad an idea this really was. In the dark distance he could just make out little echoes of sobs coming from the gloom.

Eventually he finally stood at the bottom engulfed in blackness, fumbling blindly for the light switch as the sobs and sniffles got louder by the second.

‘Please god, let there be a light switch!’ he whimpered to himself, half in terror.

Finally, there was a click, and the light blinded him briefly.

Rows upon rows of steel and wooden barrels were set aside against one wall, with a multitude of hoses and pipes attached to them. The hoses snaked serpentine-like along the corridor twisting and turning over each other like snakes. There was an old wooden chest against one of the walls, securely padlocked with heavy chains. Was this the chest with that famous dragon-slaying axe in it?

But he had no time to find out, because unnervingly, at the end of the room, the little girl in the dress stood looking straight at him with her back against the far wall. His heart skipped a beat.

Fighting for words, he finally took a deep breath and was able to speak.

‘Rosemary?’

The name echoed hollowly around the cellar walls.

He waited for a reply, but instead she impossibly backed away through the far wall of the cellar, seamlessly absorbed into the stonework. He ran over quickly, desperately feeling along the wall with his hands trying to find a way through. The cellar was obviously old and there were fixtures there that hadn’t seen the light of day for well over five hundred years. Huge iron nails and hooks were embedded into timber beams and he desperately tried pulling them all, but to no avail.

‘Come on! There must be something! Anything!’ he cried in frustration.

But nothing worked. Maybe there wasn’t a tunnel down here after all, he thought. Or maybe there was, and it had been bricked up in the last century or something.

He slunk down dejectedly against the wall, his head in his hands.

Down by his feet was a foot grate in the floor, which he kicked in temper hurting his toes. He cried out loud and held his foot, remembering that he was only wearing slippers.

Suddenly there was a deep groan of rusted iron and grinding stone as part of the wall slowly swung open behind him, revealing a narrow passageway. Cold air rushed in, filling the cellar with the smell of damp earth.

He wasted no time and quickly stumbled through, searching for the girl. He could just make her out in the distance, lit by the moonlight at the end of the tunnel.

‘Wait!’ he shouted, running after her, chasing his echoing words down the passageway…

* * * * *

At the end of the tunnel Tobias stopped to get his bearings.

Much to his relief it seemed that he’d emerged in Bracken Wood. He’d proved that the tunnel existed, that much was certain, and he felt a sense of achievement. From across the road he could just make out his campervan exactly where he’d left it, parked by the Bearded Dragon.

He cautiously walked out and turned around to look back at the tunnel mouth. It was hidden between the roots of an old dead tree, the entrance perfectly disguised with overgrown ferns and weeds. The lack of access indicated that it probably hadn’t been used for centuries. It occurred to him that it probably hadn’t been used since Rosemary was alive.

It was gone midnight and from high above in the canopy the hoot of an owl unnerved him and he looked upwards. The moonlight shining through the trees delighted in shadow play and Tobias’ imagination started to work overtime, pushing his adrenaline levels way above normal.

The girl moved through the wood away from the pub. Tobias followed shivering, cursing his paisley pyjamas and tartan slippers. And then nothing! He’d only taken his eyes off her for a second! Where had she disappeared to?

The wood was menacing at night, oozing an atmosphere of malevolence. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was being watched, and had to keep turning around every few seconds as tiny seeds of fear were sown in his mind.

There was a sound up ahead, faint and indistinct, like conversation. It was very distant, and very quiet, but it was conversation nevertheless. The muted words carried themselves on the night breeze towards him. He’d been walking in the wood for a good few minutes now, and the girl had disappeared into thin air leaving him all alone. He felt vulnerable and scared, not to mention cold and dirty. Nevertheless he felt himself drawn towards the source of the conversation.

Positioning himself behind an old oak tree, near the edge of the wood, he could just make out two figures. One was wearing a hood or something similar, and the other looked like a small child, but he couldn’t be sure.

‘Are you sure this is the one he wants?’ the larger one asked.

‘Yes, of-course it is,’ the smaller one replied, curtly.

The larger figure wagged a finger.

‘I’m warning you: If you rip us off…’

‘You’re warning me?’, the little one replied with a snort.

‘Don’t play games with us little man.’

‘Don’t threaten me,’ he hissed.

‘You’ll find yourself dead if you ever insult me again.’ he added.

Tobias almost sniggered at the thought of a child giving a tongue-lashing to an adult. Then he thought about it again. No child would be out at this hour. And certainly no child would have a croaky voice like that unless they smoked eighty cigarettes a day.

Fascinated, he listened again, cupping a hand to his ear.

The smaller figure untied a small bag that gave off a lot of light and handed it to the taller figure. It seemed that something was in there fluttering about. For a few brief seconds, the interior of the bag illuminated the hooded man’s grinning face.

Tobias sat back behind the tree quickly, heart pounding. The hooded figure had three long scars down his face, just like the undertaker at the funeral yesterday! Could it be the same man?

Tobias, turned back to look at the figures again. This time the hooded man handed the other a small bag with a cord-tie top, which the smaller man greedily snatched making the bag rattle.

‘Finally our business is done. Until the next time, you big heap of dung!’ he proclaimed.

As the little figure turned, showing its jet-black face, pointed ears, yellow eyes and gleaming razor-sharp teeth, Tobias inadvertently let out a shriek that he instantly regretted.

He clapped his hands over his mouth, as an afterthought.

Surprised at the sound, the hooded man dropped the bag he’d been given, which hit the ground and fell open, setting loose a single bright point of light which fluttered about before dancing off into the dark like a firefly.

The small figure looked about suspiciously, sniffing and making grunting noises whilst the hooded man made his escape, silently vanishing into the thick mist at the edge of Bracken Wood.

‘Where are you?’, the small figure snarled, its yellow eyes narrowing to slits. ‘I can smell you human.’

The little goblin moved closer to him, drawing a short sword, which glinted in the moonlight dangerously keen. ‘Do you have any idea what I’m going to do to you when I find you?’

There was a pause.

‘No?’

Tobias listened with a sense of morbid curiosity.

‘To begin with I’m going to slit your throat and let you bleed to death.’ he hissed finally.

Tobias didn’t need any further prompting and he turned to flee in terror, breaking branches and snapping twigs as he ran clumsily onwards.

‘You’ll not get far from Toadflax the Goblin King!’ the little man cackled, racing after him, waving his sword manically in the air above him.

He snarled. ‘Didn’t anyone tell you that eavesdropping was rude?’

But Tobias wasn’t listening; he was running in a blind panic, towards the lights of the Bearded Dragon that lay directly ahead. They looked enticingly near, and he so desperately wanted to be back in the safety of the pub.

Tobias ran as fast as his frightened legs would carry him. His eyes frantically searched for the tunnel entrance.

Eventually he found it and darted into the husk of the dead tree and waited there, gulping down big lungfuls of air. His legs were weak and burning and his heart beat like an over-wound clock inside his chest.

With a sigh of relief he turned to follow the tunnel to the pub, but much to his surprise he found no tunnel there. It was then that it occurred to him that he’d somehow hidden in the wrong tree, and now he was trapped like a rat. Tobias watched in silent terror from the undergrowth as the goblin stopped dead in his tracks.

Finally the goblin jumped up and down and stamped about like he was having a temper tantrum.

* * * * *

Woodruff, king of the faeries, flew on through the night, flitting, fluttering and dancing between the boughs of trees, his faerie light blazing like a miniature sun, and looking for all the world like a small lightning bolt bouncing off branches and trunks.

He’d escaped!

But his joy was tempered by a heavy feeling of sadness. Weighing heavily on his mind was the man who’d been so central in his escape and who was now being chased through the wood himself. Who could help?

He was determined to find someone.

Anyone.

* * * * *

Eliza, Hillary and Wendle were in the middle of the little stone bridge that crossed the only stream that divided Bracken Wood. They were on their way back to the windmill after their meeting with Torfang and it was gone midnight when they spotted a brilliant pinpoint of light zipping through the forest ahead.

‘What do you think it is?’ Eliza whispered out of the corner of her mouth.

‘No idea. Will-o-the-wisp?’ Hillary suggested, squinting into the wood.

‘No. It’s flying too fast for that…’

They stood and stared as the ball of light shot over the bridge towards them and then it stopped quite suddenly, hovering in front of them.

Hillary squinted trying to focus. ‘Woodruff? What brings you out at this time of night?’ he said, bowing slightly. Wendle whined and wagged his tail.

The little faerie looked steadfast. ‘Hillary, Eliza come quickly! No time to explain. Follow me! There’s a human in need of help! Toadflax is abroad.’

Woodruff unsheathed his needle-sword and fluttered off in the direction he’d just come.

Hillary, Eliza and Wendle followed close behind.

* * * * *

Toadflax sniffed the air, annoyed that a human had seemingly outsmarted him. A lowly human being! And a man at that! His temper knew no bounds, and inside he was a seething volcano of rage. On top of it all, he had a terrible headache and knew the only remedy would be to teach this human a lesson, preferably by slicing him up there and then into little pieces, the tinier the better. Where were his cousins when he needed them? On second thoughts, it was probably better they weren’t here to witness his humiliation.

So where was this loathsome human? He’d looked everywhere, and was getting very, very frustrated.

And then finally through the undergrowth of the dead tree he spotted a human face staring at him, frozen wide-eyed in terror.

Toadflax allowed himself a small chuckle, and started slowly walking over to him, his sword making little whooshing noises as he swiped it backwards and forwards through the air menacingly.

Tobias closed his eyes, desperately wishing he were still in his bed and somehow this was just a rather bad dream. When he opened them, he was confronted by a grinning goblin face that filled his field of vision.

It smiled slowly, revealing a gleaming set of wickedly sharp teeth.

‘Hello dearie!’ muttered Toadflax, as he grabbed Tobias by the hair and dragged him terrified and wailing into the open.

* * * * *

Toadflax held the wickedly curved sword above his head as it glinted in the moonlight, ready to strike at the sobbing figure on the ground.

‘Toadflax!’

The voice was deep and sonorous and seemed to echo around the moonlit glade.

‘Who is that?’ screamed the Goblin, looking around startled.

‘Let the human go.’ continued the voice.

Toadflax spat.

‘Never! I hunted him. It’s mine! Fair and square!’ he sneered, desperately looking around in an effort to find the origin of the voice. But it was no use - the voice was seemingly coming from all directions.

‘If you don’t, you’ll never use a sword again. Mark my words.’

Toadflax hesitated, considering the threat for a moment, then smiled as he brought the sword crashing down quickly in an arc upon Tobias.

‘Say goodbye to your head!’ he screamed.

There was a terrific metallic clanging noise as the sword disappeared off into the air behind the stupefied goblin at an astonishing rate, embedding itself in the trunk of a Sycamore tree.

He looked down aghast.

Impossible! The human was still alive, still snivelling on the path pathetically. Toadflax clutched his hand, which throbbed with numbness and hurt badly. He tried to move it, but it was useless. It felt broken.

‘Who are you?’ he spat in pain, dribbling.

‘The one who lives in the windmill.’

He knew about the old man who lived by the wood.

He’d heard tales of the wizard and his magic and he didn’t like it one bit.

‘So unfair! So unfair!’ he cried, nursing his hand.

There was a noise from behind him and he turned around growling and spitting.

Wendle trotted out from the bushes and stopped on the path.

It wasn’t the usual likeable Wendle though - the dog that followed Hillary around, the sort of daft dog that wagged its tail and acted like a lunatic - no, something about him was different. Something fundamental had happened – as if, deep down, he’d changed. His ears were pinned back, and through bared teeth he was growling like a rabies-infested dog.

He looked as hard as nails and he meant business.

‘Now Toadflax, if you’d be so kind as to leave this place. Thank you.’

Toadflax could tell that a new strategy was called for. Although it was a new feeling, as far as he was concerned he was cornered, and he wasted no more time thinking about it.

He turned quickly and fled into the shadows of the wood.

Wendle wasted no time and raced after the goblin, following hot on the trail of his odious scent.

Hillary hurried over to the figure on the floor.

‘Ah, and who do we have here then?’ he said.

Eliza knelt down beside Tobias whilst trying to prise his trembling hands away from his face.

‘There, there. The nasty creature’s gone now. No need to be so afraid.’ she said, nodding in the direction of the deep wood. ‘Old Wendle’s chased him off.’

Tobias blinked and tried to take in the scene.

There floating directly above him was something that looked like a small man with wings who was lit by a bright light that seemed to come from within. Besides him, illuminated by the light were the smiling faces of an old woman and an old man with a long white beard.

‘Thank the Lord,’ whispered Tobias eventually with breathless relief. ‘I’ve been saved… by pensioners.’

‘Good, good. Glad to see you’re still in one piece.’ said Hillary absently patting Tobias on the shoulder.

He looked around. ‘Now, where’s Wendle got to I wonder?’

Tobias looked at the tiny floating man. ‘What the hell is that?’ he said, pointing at the faerie.

Hillary turned back. ‘Ah, that my friend is Woodruff, King of the Faeries.’

The faerie gave a little bow in the air. ‘And you, my friend, saved him from Toadflax the goblin king. He told me to tell you he’s forever in your debt. But I’ll tell you all about that later.’

‘Faeries? Of-course. How silly of me.’ giggled Tobias nervously.

There was a noise and everyone looked as Wendle crashed through the undergrowth and back onto the path. He carried a small black pouch in his mouth, which he dropped at Hillary’s feet.

Wagging a tail, he looked up and spoke.

‘Chased the little bugger as far as the bridge and then he disappeared down into a badger set. I wished I’d given him a bite to remember me by. Although before he disappeared, he dropped this bag.’ he said.

Tobias stared open mouthed at the dog.

Wendle, suddenly aware of Tobias, slowly turned his head slowly and shut his eyes.

‘What?’ he asked eventually, lifting his head slightly.

Tobias continued to stare.

‘Didn’t anyone tell you that staring is rude?’

Tobias stared some more.

‘I suppose you haven’t seen a talking dog before then?’ asked Wendle.

Tobias shook his head.

‘But there’s no such thing as a…’ said Tobias weakly in disbelief.

‘As a talking dog?’ the dog said, finishing Tobias’ sentence.

Tobias thought he could make out a smile form on the dog’s lips - if that was at all possible. It was either that, or a sneer. He wasn’t sure which.

‘You mean just like there’s no such thing as faeries and goblins hmm?’

Hillary chuckled and emptied the black velvet pouch into his hand and looked at the contents. They glinted and gleamed in the moonlight as he turned them over and over.

‘Oh my,’ he said.

‘What?’ asked Eliza craning her head to get a better view of the contents.

‘It’s a bag of teeth.’ said Hillary, staring at the little ivory nuggets in his hand. ‘Human teeth too if I’m not mistaken. What would a goblin be doing with a bag of human teeth? There’s only one use for teeth, and my guess is that unless our Mr Toadflax has been impersonating the Tooth Fairy – which I very much doubt - it would seem he’s been out and about in the daytime.’

Stroking his beard Hillary put the pouch and its contents into his pocket.

‘What do you mean?’ asked Tobias groaning. ‘Please forgive me, but with all this excitement, you seem to have me at a disadvantage. Are you telling me that that creature… was a goblin?’ he raised an eyebrow and then screwed his eyes up. His head throbbed in pain.

Wendle tutted quietly to himself and rolled his eyes. ‘Hallelujah!’ he said.

‘Why, what else did you think it was?’ Hillary asked.

Tobias opened his mouth as if to say something, and then thought better of it.

Hillary elaborated.

‘A goblin doesn’t like sunlight you see. Absolutely hates it. Sunlight will kill him. Turn him to stone most probably, either that or a blazing fireball or sometimes both. Very rarely they’ve even been known to explode. Hundreds of years ago, for whatever reason, it was discovered that human teeth could be ground down and used to make a magical powder that when sprinkled over the subject prevented the sunlight from doing them any damage. The problem here is that in the first instance they need to be enchanted. And judging by the feeling of these, I would say that these have been already. Only a sorcerer would know how to do this. As Torfang suggested it would seem there is a mastermind at work…’

‘Er, who is Torfang?’ asked Tobias. ‘Actually, don’t bother to answer that.’ he quickly added. ‘He’s probably another talking dog, or a faerie or a dragon or something…’ he said derisively.

Hillary snorted and tried to stop himself from smiling.

Although still utterly confused and disorientated, Tobias sat there deep in thought frowning. Eventually he looked up as if remembering something. ‘There was someone else there too – a man. He was the one who gave that bag of teeth to him. He wore a hood. Quite creepy too.’

Hillary’s eyes suddenly brightened. ‘A hood you say?’

Tobias nodded.

‘Yes, a black hood with black robes.’

‘Well, well.’ Hillary said. ‘A picture seems to be emerging. I’ll bet a pound to a pinch of salt that this hooded man is the very same that entered my windmill to steal my books.’ said Hillary stroking his beard.

Tobias continued. ‘When he opened the bag I got a good look at him. The thing is that I’ve seen him before. I was at St. Mary’s Church today and he was there as the undertaker. At least he was dressed like one. I know because he had three scars running down his face…’

‘He tried to intimidate me, so I gave him a lesson when I raked his face with my talons.’ pointed out Eliza.

Hillary suddenly jumped up and clapped his hands together, forcing Tobias to hold his throbbing head.

‘Aha! Now we’re getting somewhere! So the undertaker from the village is our hooded man. He entered my house and tried to steal some of my books, and he tried to intimidate Eliza. Very interesting…’ he stroked his beard and pondered, staring blankly into the distance. ‘Most interesting indeed… we must find out more about our little undertaker friend from the village. At least we know where he gets his supply of teeth from now…’

Hillary turned to Tobias.

‘And you, my friend, can help me if you wish…’

* * * * *

It was early morning and Tobias clambered into bed with a heavy sigh.

He was scared, dirty, tired and cold, and his trusty tartan slippers were missing to boot. He didn’t care that there might be a girl’s ghost living there, it seemed to be the least of his worries now.

He fell forward and crashed out completely on the mattress.

When he awoke, his first thoughts were, rather strangely, about the location of his prized slippers.

Never let it be said that Tobias Bainbridge didn’t have a sense of perspective.

Posted in A Change In The Weather |