Pagewalker (13 page)

“Is she ok?” I asked,

“Yea just misses a woman’s touch by the look
of it” She replied, giving a pitying grin. I smiled at the sleeping
dog, glad that despite all the craziness that is going on, she is
here with me. I noticed that Shaw was still staring forward. “Are
you ok Shaw?” I asked.

“Yes, I am just remembering how the Luchorpán
sat silent and emotionless for a long time after the story teller
had finished. Their faces drained of emotion. One by one, smiles
began to appear on their faces. Never before had they experienced
the tales of men. Especially not a tale so educational and
exciting. They usually ended a story with a sting as they called
it. A joke to help them dis-engage from the land of imagination.
This time however they were left there. Minds wondering,
imaginations full and the awareness of a night ahead filled with
many dreams. The whisky was partly to blame, but also the lashing
of the storytellers silver tongue. The smiles turned to claps and
cheers. The story teller sat back down. The luchorpán crowded him
pouring more whisky and requesting more tales. The night passed and
many more tales were shared by the luchorpán and the storyteller.
Deep into the night they continued until they were joined by the
calls of morning birds and the sun greeted them with faint rays.
Bringing fresh light to relive the glowing embers of the fire in
front of them. It was like this night. Singing songs from your
homeland. It’s just brought me back there. That evening. There is
something about you Christopher. Some connection I have with you.
Like singing a song back to the musician or reciting a poem to the
author. Some connection you have with this land. I keep hearing a
voice in my head, the voice commands me to tell you to search for
the Luchorpáns.

It reminds me that time in the woods, years
ago after hours passed, morning to noon and into the late afternoon
before we awoke. Rubbing my eyes I noticed the silence of the camp.
As I made my way to the clearing we had spent the evening in, we
noticed the luchorpán had gone. There was no trace of camp-fire. No
large opening where everyone had gathered.

There lay no barrels of whiskey that had been
rolled out and emptied the night before. No remains of food or any
embers or ash. No trace. The king and his men did not stop but we
simply readied the horses. We made no mention of the luchorpán.
Only commenting on the wonderful sleep we had. Falling into slumber
as soon as we had escaped the rains. When questioned by others, we
simply laughed and blamed the wine I usually kept in my satchel.
They thought I was going mad or exhausted from the heat or the race
from rains the day before, when I mentioned the evening of
storytelling and luchorpán villagers sharing whiskey.

Dismissed by all, I reluctantly readied the
bag and rolled up my mat. The party had set off and I collected the
last of his things, and saddled his horse. When all was packed away
I noticed a bulge under the ground sheet. When I reached under and
pulled out the object I was struck with shock, disbelief but most
importantly I recognised the object as a sign. A gift even. In my
hand I held a small cup, engraved with intricate swirls and designs
of vines and runes. It was too small to be a cup used by the king
in his feasts or even by the dwarves. This cup would only fit the
hands of something much smaller. A cup used to drink whiskey by a
most secretive race. A handle too small for any man but the perfect
size to be held by a luchorpán. I convinced myself all these years
that the Luchorpán were only a myth, something people spoke about
to sell trinkets, but something about you makes me believe again.
You carry hope and magic with you. To a world you say you know
little of, but it feels as though the world knows you so very
well!”

Shaw sat back and ran his fingers through his
beard. He lifted the flat cap from his head and sat it on the
table. He drank the dregs from his cup and stood up. “I feel I must
retire, catch a few hours’ sleep before opening in the morning, I
suggest you do the same. Please choose from any of the available
rooms, stay on my invitation. I would leave at first light if I
were you. The roads towards Renir will be safer then, thieves are
not awake in the morning. Please remember what I said. You need to
seek out the Luchorpán. I’m sure they hold the answer of how to
find you wife.”

“Yes, thank you Shaw, I will” I replied
humbly.

Shaw made his way over to the bar, he walked
around the oak slab and under the wooden flap. Before he entered
his chambers at the back of the tavern he turned and looked me
straight in the eyes. A sharp, direct, pointed glare. His eyes
burned into mine.

“I meant it Christopher when I said that
Renir is a dangerous place, betrayal and something darker resides
there. Be on your guard. I hope to see you, Sarah and Tessa return
here soon enough. Good luck.”

At that he turned and closed the door slowly
behind him. Leaving me in silence. Only my thoughts spoke. In truth
they shouted and screamed. My head was deafened while no noise
entered my ears. Only a voice. It wasn’t just a thought but a very
clear voice. No accent, nothing about it was similar, apart from
the words themselves. “She is safe, for now.” The same words that
old crazy crackpot Oisin spoke the day before. I know I heard it,
but what was even stranger is that Tessa heard it too. Her ears
were pointing up, her eyes darting all around, but her body was
perfectly still. She heard it too.

Again it came to us.

“She is ok, for now.” We looked at each
other. A feeling of reassurance once again came over us. A feeling
of hopefulness, excitement, adrenalin and drive. But two little
words were like weeds tightening on the strongest tree, strangling
the life from the once mighty oak. Two simple words…

“...for now”

The morning came as quickly as I blinked my eyes.
There was no restful sleep that night. It was the kind of sleep you
have when you are so exhausted that even the thought of undressing
before you get into bed was too much to fathom. I fell onto the bed
face first. Stinking of sweat and ale. Guilt was my most foul odour
however. The shame I felt on myself for getting drunk and listening
to tales, Instead of searching for Sarah. I knew that I needed to
build the trust of the people before they helped me but it all just
felt to wrong at the same time. It was the feeling of being alone
in the bed. The alcohol infused tears and sweat bringing my mood
down to a desperate whimper. The moment I closed my eyes, for what
felt like a blink, it was morning. The sun shown into the room
through the cracked shutters. Wind was picking up and the chorus of
exterior wooden shutters was like a war cry. The wind blew them
open and slammed them between the window frames and the wall
outside. Dust and dried wafer-like hay blew around the room. Dead
leaves picked up in the corners and against the cabinet and the
chest near the bed. The breeze was gentle and cool on my face as I
was sleeping away from the window. Tessa must have noticed my
stirring because only moments later she had climbed over me from
the bottom of the bed, buried her head under my arm and crawled
until her face was next to mine. She proceeded to lick my nose,
ears and chin. No matter what way I turned my face to get away she
kept licking. Relentlessly and unforgiving in her slobber of love.
This was her way of saying, get up. Its time for a walk. In that
moment I was jealous. To not have cares or worries, all she knew
was, we were in a place with more open land than she had ever seen.
A place abundant with sticks and twigs for her to fetch, ponds and
rivers for her to swim, muck and muddy bogs for her to roll in and
an endless amount of new smells. For a dog, Northland seemed like
heaven. I noticed then that I had not noticed any Dogs since I had
arrived. In all fairness my mind was pretty much focused on one
thing the whole time I had been here.

On that thought, I could not justify wasting
any more time in bed.

I had a mission and I needed to Find Sarah.
It would have been at least two days she has been here on her own.
I know she could take care of herself, as I had said before, she is
the strongest person I know. She would find a way to get by in any
situation. She did not need rescuing. It is more than likely that
she is faring better than I am in this new world.

I rose to my feet, extended and stretched
myself, inhaling deeply. I felt great, considering all the free
alcohol and revelling I partook in the evening before. Then I
exhaled and the weight of everything hit me like a train. The
hangover had arrived and he had brought his good friends aches and
pains with him for good measure. Everything hurt. There was nothing
else for it though, the most important thing had spoken, My
stomach. It gargled and blurted so loudly Tessa’s ears perked. I
preyed to the God of morning food that Northland had ulster frys. I
mean, I dreamt this whole place up in the first place. If I were
God then surly I would have ulster frys. I gathered my things and
opened my door with a stiff tug. The wooden frame creaked as I
yanked the door open by the cast iron latch and handle. The wood
must have expanded and contracted with the heat last night and the
breeze this morning. Once I had pulled the door open the smell
wafting from downstairs, made its way beautifully up my nostrils,
tickled my tonsils and caressed my taste buds. My mouth watered
instantly and uncontrollably, like a cartoon I felt my jaw would
hit the floor and my tongue roll out in front of me like a red
carpet. The Universal smell of hospitality was in the air. That
scent that made the biggest problems seem ok. The smell of smoked
Irish bacon. Maybe I am being bias while I recollect this story for
you but please believe me when I say this was the best smelling
bacon I had, and have since, ever encountered. After descending the
stairs I saw Shaw and Bonnie both cleaning glasses, tankards and
tables again. The wind had blown the shutters downstairs open and
all sorts of debris and foliage had blown through windows into the
bar. No damage but I hate doing the same job twice. Nothing worse
than sweeping the floor in the morning, coming home and it needs
done again. I hate that. Unfortunately there are no vacuums in
Northland. It is a much simpler place, just brushes and brooms.

“Ah, so the dead have risen then eh?” Shaw
shouted without looking up at me. Tessa was already down the stairs
and begging by the bar, she had smelt the food too.

“Yea, just about.” I replied rubbing my eyes.
The sleep dust was thick, more like sleep stones.

“I took the liberty of preparing a breakfast
for you. I have been cleaning for a while now and feared you had
left already, so apologies if it is a bit cold.”

“I’m sure it will be great! I would east
grass at this point. I am starving Shaw.” I made my way over to the
bar and pulled up a stool. What my eyes saw next almost moved me to
tears. Ok, maybe a few drops came from my eyes, but that was just
from the sleep dust, I swear.

In front of me Shaw set a large wooden plate.
On it was the finest breakfast I have ever seen. 4 large, thick
rashers of smoked bacon, the fat just starting to crisp and brown.
Two thick pork and leek sausages sat on top of two perfectly fried
eggs. There were two slices of `fadge,' or potato bread as some
call it. A Soda bread farl was cut in half with black pudding on
top of each half. Some fried mushrooms sat on the side of the
plate. They had been fried and grilled in the fat from the sausages
and bacon so they tasted amazing. I must have been very hungry
because I didn’t cut the fat off the bacon or leave some mushrooms.
Beside my plate there was a small ramekin with a brown thick sauce
in it. I knew it couldn’t have been HP but it was a fruity brown
sauce and tasted just as good. Sharp, fruity and tangy. In true
Northland fashion I washed down the breakfast with some thick brown
heavy brewed tea. Just a little drop of fresh milk. Today was
shaping up pretty well but I knew I had a long trek with lots miles
to cover in a short amount of time. I finished the plate and pushed
it aside after draining my mug of tea. I patted my belly and looked
down at Tessa who had cleared her plate of the scraps and a few
sausages too. My t-shirt was stinking. The Soundgarden logo itself
was hidden behind a layer or dirt, my jeans were ridged from the
caked on mud and my hoodie looked like a gillie suit with straw and
grass coming from every newly cut hole on it. I felt like a
homeless scarecrow. And most likely smelt like one too.

She must have seen me inspecting myself,
flaking dirt off from my clothes because Bonnie approached me with
an arm full of folded garments. “Here, take these. I can wash those
for you, you can collect them next time you are passing.”