Knock at the door,
Pull the bell,
Lift the latch,
Walk in all's well
-Grimm's Fairy Tales
The snow continued to fall softly, erasing the crisp tracks left upon the ground on which they walked.
As for the walk itself, it had lengthened beyond what Elanore had expected. She had earlier failed to realize the building that she had seen from the gate at the road was not all that close. From there it had appeared to be a small building, but as she continued down the path it became apparent it was quite large.
The young lady took small steps to the Count's large ones, trying valiantly to keep close to the man. She had not been brought up to follow strange men here or there but brushed aside her concerns. She had been told that surviving the winter in the north might mean learning to adapt to new customs and rules.
They went deeper down the path through the line of trees and bushes. Her curiosity about this place and the man who lived there only grew with her rescuer’s continued silence. In all the stories she had heard of Winchester she had never heard of this estate or its Count. Unfortunately, the walk thus far did little to reveal much about either.
When the path abruptly widened, she found herself standing in a courtyard of statues. Dozens of nearly identical stone lions sat in the midst of a barren, frozen garden staring back at the path. They were smaller copies of the stone guardian on the bridge.
The Count stopped next to the last lion in their path. For a moment, he placed a gentle hand on it before brushing off the snow that had collected on top of its head. When finished, he resumed his walk towards the closest house.
As she passed this lion, she also paused to look at it carefully. She studied it, trying to understand why it did not look like the others. It was, in fact, posed in such a manner that it appeared more lively than the others in the garden. Even then that did not explain the odd feeling it gave her. She concluded there was something remarkable about the way the sculptor had rendered the eyes before she hurried onwards.
The Count had eased his pace, allowing her to catch up to him. When she reached him he did not turn around while breaking his silence. "It is safer here."
She noted the slight shift in his demeanor, the relaxing of his shoulders. She glanced about, seeing more of what surrounded her. She could not contain her sense of wonder at the lions behind them or the immense stature of the building she had seen from the road, now in front of her.
Elanore lifted her boots, shifting them back and forth as she stamped down the snow beneath her feet. Her thoughts still dwelled upon the lion statues. "The stone lion on the bridge-- you have others like it here."
"Indeed," he gave a hint of a smile, "One might say that they are its brothers."
The young woman took a moment to openly glance back at the lions that lined the path upon which they had walked. The way the lions were aligned left a peculiar impression upon her. She began to count them as the man started to move again.
He stopped at the foot of a large door over which stood a wooden frame engraved with numerous images.
Elanore joined him, unable to contain herself as she openly marveled at the sight of such intricate and detailed handiwork. “It’s beautiful,” she said with both delight and reverence.
He, too, gazed at the carvings with something like pleasure. "It is a door wrought by the hands of the elves." He pushed it open for her. "They call it a door of magic, made of hazel wood."
'Hazel - like the trees in fairy tales,' Elanore thought to herself. As her eyes skimmed the carved images, she wondered if the images, in fact, been inspired from some of those tales.
Her eyes reluctantly left the door as she continued underneath that doorframe and into a large entryway. The young woman had only a moment's opportunity to appreciate the vaulted chamber’s rich, dark interior before an ancient man stepped forward from the shadows.
He was impeccably attired and as elegant as the lord whom he served. His gloved fingers swept the cloak from the Count's shoulders and placed them in the hands of another elderly servant who had magically appeared from one of the many various-sized doors surrounding the entryway.
Seven servants in all gathered and formed a half-circle around her and the Count. Their efficiency startled her. But she took comfort in the kindly expression of the old man as he looked her way. In contrast to the sullen and unfriendly expression worn by her apparent rescuer, he seemed almost jovial.
Indeed, the elderly man was in near good humor as he broadly smiled at his lord. "Sir, have you brought home a young lady from your walk?"
Elanore felt her face warm slightly as a quiet wave of bemusement rippled through the servants.
However, the familiarity of the question did not shock the Count. Instead, it seemed to rouse him from his otherwise silent state. He frowned at his manservant. "I happened upon her while walking the grounds, Hastings. She was the source of some noises I heard near the gate. It would seem there are shadows on the road that have chased Miss Redley on her way to town.”
Elanore nodded slightly, affirming his statement.
The elder servant blinked at her, while the other servants looked at her with undisguised interest. "Miss. It is not wise to be walking on the open roads on these early winter evenings."
The girl looked about, realizing that several of the more wizened servants were shaking their heads. She bowed her head in apology. "I was told in the last town that I could make it to Winchester before dinner if I hurried. I miscalculated. The roads were icier than they had indicated and I found myself caught outside after the sun had set."
"Good gracious," she heard one of the ladies mumbling. "Did they not tell you there was a coach you could have hired?"
Elanore was not certain who had asked the question but continued. "I was told that that they would not send it until the snow had stopped. They were wanting to wait a few more days. My grandmother is not well and I asked if it was walkable--"
"The Crossroads townsfolk are ignorant about the area and the dangers therein," the Count interrupted with a frown. "We'll have to make our warnings much clearer and warn them against letting travelers walk this way. Now--" he diverted the attention of the staff to other things. "Tend to this young lady, Hastings."
"Sir?"
"With the circumstances being rather unusual, it would be best to accommodate her until it is light. The roads will be much safer for travelers then."
Hastings bowed. "Yes, sir."
"I'll take my leave then. Good evening, Miss Redley." The Count abruptly turned on his heel and disappeared down one of the various hallways.
Elanore could not hide her astonishment at the suddenness of her host's departure or the immediate scattering of the servants back through the many doors into the entryway. "Did I do something to offend them all?" she wondered aloud.
Hastings coughed, reminding her that she had not quite been left alone. "The master does not like his staff to loiter or to indulge their curiosity. They know to leave you be. As for the master, he does seems rather unsettled, Miss."
"I do not mean to impose," Elanore spoke gently. "And I regret that I have disturbed him."
"Ah. It's not that, young miss." Hastings took a moment to dust the snow from her cloak before taking it in hand. "It's the bit about the shadows. Haven't ever heard of them coming this close to these parts. Most of us have never seen them."
"Neither have I." Elanore found herself warming to the older gentleman. Although he was a bit blunt and exceptionally curious for a butler, compared to his master, he was congenial. "I wasn't even sure if it was one when I saw it, nor did I know exactly what to do."
The man chuckled. "Rarely does one know what to do when faced with something strange. And there is no logic to those things, I'm afraid. "
She frowned at the ease in which he accepted the situation. "Is it true they eat up anything?"
Hastings pondered her question for a moment. "I'm afraid I do not know anything more than what the stories say. You'll have to ask the master. He knows far more than any of us. Now--" he cleared his throat, "--we must pay attention to other matters." He began fussing with her cloak. "Please follow, my dear. We will get your things dried and a meal sent to your room."
Elanore quietly followed him down a maze of hallways, past kitchens and storerooms. She could not tell exactly where they were going. They entered a building that Hastings explained housed most of the servants during the winter.
The butler shifted uncomfortably as they neared the service staircase. "I apologize that we are not able to put you up in more elegant quarters, but we close rooms that do not get enough heat. This building is the newest and easiest to heat in winter. It will be most comfortable for you here."
Elanore was not used to finery or knowledgeable regarding the social conventions of the Northlands, so she did not mind the breach of protocol that so worried the elderly manservant. As he opened one of the doors at the top of the staircase, she stepped into a modest but warm room and looked about, pleased.
Hastings followed her inside in order to tend to the fire. Again he seemed intent on apologizing. "As for the master, please forgive him. He has a tendency to seem impolite, but he has much on his mind. Your experience on the road likely troubles him, Miss."
She spoke good-naturedly to the older manservant, wishing to assure him that she was not offended or ungrateful for what she had been offered. “You are all too kind. It is I who has imposed upon you all in such sudden and unexpected fashion."
The older man smiled cautiously as he assisted her with removing her scarlet cloak. "If there is something strange about our manners, please do not think less of our master. We do not receive many people, I'm afraid.” He paused for a moment. “And our lord is a solitary person, unused to more cheerful society."
Elanore smiled slightly. "I will try not to judge him harshly. But I will also not try his patience."
Hastings bowed in acknowledgement. "One last thing, Miss Redley. And it will also seem rather impolite to mention this--"
"Do go ahead, sir."
"In general, the staff does not wander at night. The master tends to prefer his solitude and all that. Miss Redley if you would—"
The young lady inclined her head. "I will not trouble you all and keep to my room."
The butler seemed greatly relieved to find the woman so agreeable. "I shall have one of the ladies bring you a warm meal here. She will be nearby if you need any further assistance."
Elanore nodded, wondering exactly why he was so concerned that she might leave her quarters. She did not ask for more information. Instead, she bowed graciously as he put her cloak away and retired from the room.
When he left, Elanore went to the window and stared out into the snowy darkness.
* * *
The evening would not pass all that easily for Miss Redley. Although the household servants may have been perturbed by the idea of strange creatures floating about on the road, nonetheless they had gone to sleep. Elanore kept watch by the window, keeping her eyes fixed upon the gate. She did so until she was overcome by exhaustion and fell asleep in a chair by that window.
She had not needed to keep vigil. The master of the house himself had decided to spend the night in a watchtower for that very same purpose. With the aid of a glass tube, he stared out beyond the gate and back to the bridge.
The Count had been certain the shadows he had observed blotting out parts of the bridge should not, and would not be able to pass the bridge. They were familiar to him and to the elves who had taught his ancestors what they knew of this land. Together, they had discovered several measures that could undo these creatures.
But he had to acknowledge the extraordinary behavior of the creature while he trained his telescope on the distant lion statue. And he worried. He knew there were limitations to the statue's power as a guardian. While it was made of elven magic of some sort, it could not destroy other things of magic so easily. At best it might confuse or slow the strange shadows and spirits that might pass out of the deep woods.
He moved the tube slightly to the left of the lion and noted the dark pools at the base of the statue. For a long time the pools sat quietly, before coalescing and then lengthening its form in order to grow in height. He was filled with dread as it towered over the lion for a few long moments, before it reluctantly collapsed.
Its dark tendrils crept around the statue, determined to move past it. However it encountered an invisible barrier which it could not cross. He held his breath, waiting to see whether the line held. If so, he would not have to rely on the other wards he had placed upon his front gate. He would not have to concern himself over the extent of the power that remained among the one hundred lions in the garden that emulated the properties of the stone guardian on the bridge.
To his relief the shadow suddenly shrank upon itself. It settled back into a strange pool next to the base of the statue, rippling as if it were preparing for yet another try.
He muttered a curse under his breath and wondered if this unusually aggressive behavior was because of the girl, Elanore Redley. From the instant he spotted her picking apples out from the snow, she had made him uneasy. He would have turned her out on the road had she not mentioned the shadows.
Even when she told him of them, he had not believed her. He refused to believe that these dark things that preferred darkness were here out of their domain. Nor did he want to hear they hunted. He had always believed them largely passive, relying on food that came to them when mistaking them for pools of water to drink.
There was more to this irritation towards her, of course. He, who usually had an acute awareness of travelers on the road, had not known or seen her coming along this way. Somehow, she had evaded his notice while on the road. That ability set her apart from most normal persons. Perhaps whatever it was that made her different also had been noticed by that strange creature outside.
But he wrestled with such an idea, considering her encounter with the creature might be coincidence. Save for an occasional driver with supplies heading back and forth between Crossroads and Winchester or a rare adventurer, people did not take this road during this time of year. For a thing far from its usual habitat, she could have been viewed simply as another potential morsel.
As for what to do about her now, he did not know. So much depended on exactly who she was and the trouble she could cause him. Hastings was of the mindset that she was a spy for the Eastlanders or the pirates. He had pointed out that no ordinary family would permit a young and pretty creature to wander about alone. But the Count was confident that the girl was not a pirate. They would not wander where there was no treasure and nothing to gain.
In truth, what bothered him most was not who she might be but that she had broken his well-cultivated pattern of isolation. For many years, the Count had been the sort that kept to himself, sparing himself any unnecessary interaction with the outside world. Most certainly, he did not meddle with the local lords and ladies or with the affairs of the towns that bordered his lands. He was a man who had few direct visitors. If someone was to come to the house, they dealt with only one or two of the servants.
He forgot his worry over Miss Redley when the shadow again rose up, this time widening in length as it attempted to encircle the guardian. Count Wolfram trained his glass tube on the spectacle and noted the thing's inability to keep a hold on the statue. And yet it persisted in trying. Its repeated effort would have been admirable had he not known and feared the shadow creature's destructive capability.
Maximilian did not understand its continued attempts to struggle with the lion. Moreover, he was troubled by the idea that even after it had apparently devoured a pack of wild dogs that were following Elanore Redley, it was not satisfied enough to dissipate or wander away. Instead, it stubbornly remained. Whatever its motives, he had no solution to resolve the situation. Only elves might have some clue of what to do, and they would be trouble to find.
The Count pondered if there could be a cause to this situation. How and why the shadow came to be here could signify changes to the area he had failed to notice. Or it could be caused by the presence of a person. Out there were others like him – different from humans. Some were allies. Some were not. He pondered whether someone could have directed that thing here.
He dropped his telescope for a moment, giving his shoulders and back a rest. His back was sensitive at these times, thanks to the last encounter he had with one of his "kind." She was, at that time, very powerful. Had she been interested in killing him, he would not be here at this very moment. But if the presence of the Unthing was the result of deliberate actions, this kind of plot would not be her style.
When the telescope was again raised to his eye, the shadow had retreated back into a shapeless puddle at the base of the statue. But now the sky outside had begun to lighten --revealing dawn was imminent.
As if it sensed the coming light, the inert shadow raised up its tendrils as if to try one more time to assault the lion that barred it from its goal. The sun crested over the horizon, freezing the strange thing. The monster that had failed to breach the bridge began to flake away like black dust. Its dissipation was an ironic and quiet end to the creature that had apparently taken many lives the previous evening.
And yet with that ending, Wolfram did not feel relieved. Instead he was left with a stinging awareness of the folly behind his self-isolation. Long ago, he had withdrawn from the world thinking it would keep him quietly away from all things unexplainable and unsafe. And yet, the unexplainable and unsafe had found him once again.
He realized that things in his life now needed to change, but this time no one was here to tell him how.
* * *
The early morning light woke Elanore. She rubbed her eyes before pushing herself off the chair that she had fallen asleep in and pressing her nose against the glass window to look outside.
When she realized the creature had disappeared from the bridge, the quietness of her surroundings took on a potentially sinister meaning. She turned her attention back to the door, wondering if the thing had captured the sleeping inhabitants in this house.
Her fears were alleviated when she began hearing steps outside her door and the sound of activity from the floor below. It was a maidservant who came to her door shortly thereafter with the news that it was safe to make the journey to town.
Elanore, in much lighter spirits, allowed herself to be hurried downstairs where the servants set before her some breakfast. As she watched them scurry about, she sensed they were somewhat anxious to have her depart.
If this observation saddened her, she did not show it. Instead she went graciously and quickly about finishing her meal. She, too, was eager to be on her way. After all, her grandmother was waiting.
She had just put on her cloak when Hastings suddenly appeared at the table and asked for her to follow him. "The master wishes to speak to you," he explained.
She had not expected to see the Count again; their encounter the previous evening had given her a strong impression that he was the type who would have better things to do this morning than deal with a trespasser on his property. However, Elanore gathered her things and dutifully followed Hastings through a labyrinthine maze of hallways. He moved so quickly that she could not keep track of the path they took, but she was certain she was being led downstairs.
Hastings stopped for a moment to pick up and light a small glass lamp. The young lady in the red riding hood looked about, confused as they continued slightly upwards. She could feel air flowing at them from somewhere -- air that was chilly and damp.
Hastings stopped before a non-descript wooden panel and placed his fingers somewhere upon it. The panel clicked and suddenly swung inwards.
Elanore suddenly realized the precarious position she had placed herself in by allowing herself to be led so far away from the house. She took a deep breath before stepping through this newly created door. The panel shut behind her, and she froze, tightly clutching the basket in her hands as she stood and looked about a dimly lit chamber.
To her surprise, the room was warm and fragrant, carrying a faint smell of spice and tobacco. Her eyes caught the weak light from a lamp and a fireplace.
She took one step forward into what she presumed was a study or a parlor of some sort. She was relieved it was that and not a dungeon. With her fingers slightly outstretched, she inched cautiously around a large table scattered with scrolls and various compasses.
"Sir?" She called out softly. Not once, but twice. "Are you here?"
With no audible response to direct her, she moved timidly towards the fireplace. Her progress was slow thanks to the mess of books and oddities scattered all over. But once there, she stood in front of the fireplace, warming herself and enjoying its soft light.
It was odd how at ease she felt here in contrast to the rest of the house. Whereas most of the rooms she had seen had a severe look to them, this room's cluttered nature seemed to lend it an air of friendliness that was lacking elsewhere in the home. Her opinion of the Count began to thaw slightly.
She spent several moments looking at the paintings that surrounded the fireplace. Her eyes passed over a painting of a feast with three roasted pigs, past several paintings of those she assumed were family, until they rested on a portrait that was partially covered by a dark cloth. She wondered whose face might have been painted there.
A polite cough from somewhere within the room interrupted her thoughts. "My grandfather had poor taste in paintings, I'm afraid. He was obsessed with pigs and insisted on adding that ghastly image to a wall of otherwise distinguished subjects."
The sudden comment startled Elanore who could only gasp out some triviality. "They are intelligent creatures, I've been told." She looked around for the Count. Finally, she found him reclining in an ornate and old-fashioned chaise hidden behind the table she had passed earlier. Elanore realized she had been standing there the entire time in the Count's sight.
"That's what he said as well," the Count answered as he sat up, his eyes glittering with some untold amusement. "But they were apparently not intelligent enough to avoid becoming dinner."
She was puzzled by the comment but did not ask exactly what he meant. She was far more disconcerted by the expression on his face. "My apologies for disturbing you here in your personal quarters. Hastings sent me here before I was to take my leave. Your servants have said the road is safe."
"Safe to a point." The Count shut his book in a perfunctory manner. "The sunlight took care of that thing from last night. That said, you already have had one particularly odd experience. I would not rely on daylight to ensure that the strange events will not continue."
Elanore politely averted her eyes to avoid looking directly back at him. "I am now aware of the risks in this area. But I do not want to impose on your hospitality any further and it is important that I must leave."
"Your grandmother, was it?" He discarded the book in his hands before coming to stand beside her. "She lives in Winchester, I take it."
"Yes, sir." She grasped her basket more tightly with one hand, and closed her cloak with the other. "She was married to the mayor there, but after he passed away, she lives alone. She has no one to look after her and her health is ailing, so I've been sent to care for her by my mother and father."
The Count picked up a metal poker. With it he adjusted a log in the fireplace before he spoke again. His voice was a little less chilly as he addressed the young woman. "I had heard of the Mayor taking ill. I had no idea that she had family to the South."
Elanore turned her gaze back to the fire, her voice soft as she dwelled upon her grandmother’s situation. "We would ask her to come south if it were any other time of year, but it's much too cold to move her. Moreover, she is too responsible to leave until a new Mayor can be sent to Winchester from the capitol regions."
"No traveler will come this way from the East until spring," the Count spoke authoritatively.
"No, they will not," Elanore acknowledged. "This region is not important to them."
"It has never been important to them," he responded bluntly. "There is no wealth to obtain, few crops to harvest, no fishing and little trade."
"That is what grandmother said as well." Elanore turned her head to look at him. "It seems you think alike. Perhaps you are acquainted with my grandmother?"
He tapped his gloved fingers together and shook his head. "Not personally. Even so––" he shifted the topic. "I'm familiar with the home that she resides in. With these conditions, you are still almost an hour's walk from your grandmother's home."
"I should be able to walk that distance easily if the shadows are gone."
The Count raised an eyebrow. "While the shadows seemed to have dispelled in the morning light, there are still wild animals about now. I'll have a carriage convey you to town, at least. Beyond that point to your grandmother's home, no animals or other things should interfere with your journey. "
He was alluding again to the Unthing. Elanore could not help but be curious. "Did you see what happened to it? I had tried to stay awake to see what it would do and what would become of it--"
Something akin to amusement flickered across the man's face. "But you fell asleep."
She nodded, embarrassed. "I had overestimated my power to stay awake. Thankfully nothing happened."
"Indeed," he looked back at the fire. "But yes, the creature faded away into nothingness when the sunlight found it. It is certainly gone, and it is certainly safe for you to continue forward now."
"Without your assistance, that would not be possible. I am grateful for it, as I'm sure my grandmother will be once I am able to tell her--"
"Ah," he grimaced slightly. "If you would, Miss Redley -- please do not mention this help to her at all. Northlanders are notoriously proud and concerned about appearances as well as favors given by strangers like myself. It would be better to say nothing of this."
Elanore was taken aback by the request. But she saw the slight frown on the man's face and had the sense not to push the matter further. "Then I shall mention nothing of having met you to my Grandmother."
A long silence followed, ending finally when the Count cleared his throat. "I think it's best to send Hastings with you. He has some business in town. It would be easy to give the appearance that he saw you upon the road and wished to provide a ride."
She nodded, accepting this suggestion. At that moment, Hastings magically reappeared at Elanore's side. "My apologies, sir, for being delayed. The driver was sleeping."
Elanore wondered at the older gentleman's ability to appear from nowhere at the most convenient of times. It was apparent that the audience was over, but in spite of Hastings' apparent readiness to leave, she belabored over the matter of how to appropriately thank the Count.
It pained her to think that his services would go generally unacknowledged by her grandmother. He might not permit himself credit but she thought he might accept a gift instead. However, she had nothing to freely give other than the apples she was carrying in her basket. It was an embarrassingly humble offering, but she turned to him and pressed a few in his hands. "If there is anything I may do to return the favor, please let me know."
He looked down at the apples, somewhat startled by the gesture. She withdrew her fingers quickly from his hand, wondering if she had violated yet another unspoken protocol.
"There is something I'd like to ask." He shifted the apples within his hands.
"Yes, sir?"
He furrowed his brow thoughtfully and turned his gaze upon the mantelpiece. "Tell me, how are things faring in the Southlands where you come from? These apples are out of season are they not?"
It was a strange question, but she gave it honest consideration. "In most years, they may be, but it has been a very warm and long spring and summer thus far. Overall, it has been a good year for harvesting. Our yield has been significantly better than most years. Many families are migrating to the south, looking to share in some of that plenty."
"Where one suffers, the other prospers," the Count said to the air.
Elanore blinked, wondering what was meant by his comment.
"My apologies, I was simply recalling something of an old wives' tale." He turned his attention away from the wall above the fireplace and bowed politely. "I shall not detain you any longer to satisfy my own curiosity. A good day and good health to your grandmother, Miss Redley"
Elanore bowed in return and allowed Hastings to guide her out.
They left the Count alone in his study, frowning at the apples.