Danny and the Demons

Chapter 3 - Demons and Ghosts

Danny did not dedicate much energy to stifling his yawn as Kyra scowled at him, he shrugged apologetically at her but his boredom this evening was becoming increasingly difficult to hide.

He had agreed to accompany Kyra to their city's castle for a guided ghost tour at night, to learn about the history of the city, the castle and hopefully to see some ghostly apparitions. The tour guide was childishly excited about this, talking in great depth about the gruesome stories as they slowly walked through the castle. Their torches chasing shadows from the darkest corners and sending them dancing across the ancient stone walls, Danny would admit this setting – the old castle, at night, filled with the confident story-telling of their host did add to the atmosphere. Even he could feel the chill running down his spine at the drama of the stories,the darkness and stillness of the cold castle. Not that he believed  the stories, he was here for Kyra – she really believed in all of this stuff, ghosts and such like. She was desperately hoping to see a ghost tonight – as if a long-dead knight or wronged lady would simply stroll across the great hall and wave a greeting to the living.

It was all a little too convenient for Danny's liking, he sometimes watched the ghost-hunting shows for a laugh, the over-confidence of the hosts who were reduced to gibbering wrecks as one of their mates banged on a wall next door and they started shouting about ghosts. He rolled his eyes at the thought. The tour guide had gathered them in a room on the west side of the castle to tell them about the main road that crossed the river from the south, ran along the west wall of the castle and northwards. It was the main road between London and Scotland, well travelled by gentry, merchants, pilgrims – and most importantly for this story –the armies of both England and Scotland as they fought for control of the city.

The tour guide relished in his tales of bloodshed, hundreds of years of unrest in the borders, skirmishes and all-out battles in the city. He told of the English armies rushing into the front door of a church and clashing with the Scottish forces who had entered through the back door, the fighting that had caused the border between the two countries to relocate so often through history.

He dropped his voice to barely above a whisper as he told the gathered group tales of armies marching alongside the castle, on the other side of these walls. He reached to the side to touch the stone and paused for dramatic effect. Danny had positioned himself on the outer edge of the group so as not to appear too keen, he was more interested in the architecture of the castle than the old ghost stories. He found himself looking around, admiring the pillar he was near, not paying attention to the words of the tour guide as they faded into silence and were replaced by the low eerie beat of many marching feet. Kyra's eyes were wide with excitement or fear, Danny couldn't tell. The tour guide smiled around at the assembled group and spoke softly over the regular marching beat, he told them how the echoes of the long-dead soldiers echoed around the castle every day.

They were cursed for eternity to walk this road, whether they were English or Scottish soldiers on the way to attack or defend their land, it was unclear. But they marched, every day for hundreds of years, past the castle still – the majority of these men would have died on battlefields,possibly a hundred miles from home. They were run through with swords, pierced with arrows, impaled on pikes, trampled by horses. They were knocked down and left to bleed out on the grass as their comrades and enemies fought over and around them, fighting an ancient battle, for the pride of their respective nations, for heritage and land rights.