Legends from the Warlock's Chair - Book Three - Helven

Chapter Three - Death Among The Trees

GEORGE PULLED THE PHONE FROM HIS POCKET and muttered a silent curse. The screen showed no Wi-Fi. Not that he had expected any, it was patchy at the best of times with the hills and the unusual anomalies caused by, what he called, the faerie factor. Areas in the woodland where time and the internet ceased to work as they should. But the clock still ticked on, and thanks to his sister, he guessed the stopover at the cottage had cost them around half an hour. Dad would be back home before they even reached the area he wanted to search. That would mean having to explain why he had disobeyed the order to stay at home.

Still, it was too late to turn back now. He might as well get on with it and face the consequences later. Just ahead the faint trail emerged from the trees onto the sun-blasted hillside. After weeks without rain, the grasses and brackens that grew there had turned from their usual lush greens to brittle browns. He hoped it would rain soon and brighten things up again. He had heard Dad saying about the dangers of the hillside catching fire if this weather kept up.

'We haven't got much time now,' George moaned, stepping from the tree line. He glanced along the edge of the woodland where it curved around the smaller of the three hills that made up the Warlock' Chair.

'And I suppose that's my fault?' Jessica questioned.

'Well, if you hadn't insisted on going to see Ceridwen, we would have been there by now,' George continued to grumble.

He pointed further along the hillside. 'This way. If they were playing up here, it would be above the village. Keep your eyes open for anything strange.'

They crossed the gully where the little stream flowed, on its way down to join the Coblyn. Even with the lack of rain it still contained plenty of water, George thought. He gazed upwards imagining the opening hidden among the rocky outcrop. An opening that led to a seemingly endless system of caves deep below the surface.

'Don't you think they won't have looked up here already?' Jessica asked after a while.

George nodded. 'Maybe, maybe not, but if they did, they didn't have a Stryker.'

At the sound of his name, the big dog's ears pricked.

'Go on then boy, seek,' George called out.

Stryker bound off across the hillside. A mix of long zigzagging runs with his nose close to the ground and standing stock still, staring off into the distance. George smiled at its antics; he doubted the dog even knew what it was looking for.

They reach a point where they had an almost unrestricted view of the village spread out below. George could see more people had turned up since he had been there earlier. A lot more vehicles were parked bumper to bumper in the roadway—he even thought he could see Dad's car—and groups of people appeared to be getting instructions. Further along in the ruins of the old church, several people, including a police officer seemed to be examining something.

He was just about to remark to Jessica about it when a low growl interrupted his thoughts. He turned to see Stryker staring towards a stand of oak and beech trees that were separated from the main woodlands by a strip of heathland.

'Jess,' he whispered, nodding towards Stryker. 'He's sensed something.'

George walked steadily up to the dog and stroked it gently on the flanks. He could feel it trembling beneath his touch. 'What is it boy?' he asked quietly.

Stryker started forward, then stopped, seemingly reluctant to move on. He continued to growl threateningly. Something was wrong. What was in the grove of trees that was upsetting the dog? Was it the missing boys? Had something happened to them?