I'd like to give you the chance to escape from reality and into the world of elementals and shape shifters. I've chosen this chapter because it is set on Halloween night - appropriate I thought!
A group of little witches, ghosts and vampires
walked down the street on the cold crisp evening. The moon, its face clear and
welcoming was already shining brightly as the stars began to appear in the
black expanse of sky. Janalya turned her face away from the delights of the
night glistening above her and noticed the children for the first time. The
sight of them made her laugh out loud, sending a cloud of warm air into the
darkness; dragon breath, she always called it. She smiled as parents hustled their
children towards home, their trick or treat bags bulging with sweets and their
outfits beginning to look dishevelled. Their masks dangled from the adults’
hands as the youngsters scrubbed at their eyes. The children’s protests that
they weren’t tired were ignored and the streets were relinquished to the
teenagers. They were noisy, and the air was filled with their laughter as they
jostled each other down the road. Janalya studied their costumes. They were more
elaborate than the children’s and the teenager’s faces were covered in paint or
gory masks. Janalya shook her head at
them; it was one thing for kids to play dress up, but surely at their age the
teenagers should know better? Then she realised that there was no reason for
them to think differently. She smiled wryly; the truth about magic and the
people who could use it was rarely told and had been kept secret for hundreds
of years. A true witch definitely wouldn’t wear a tall pointed hat and stripy
tights, and as for needing a broomstick to be able to fly; well that was just
laughable.
The glowing eyes of the carved pumpkin
lanterns seemed to watch Janalya as she retreated from her position on the top
of the hill. She pulled her cloak more tightly around her slender body, raised
the hood once more to conceal her blonde hair and walked in the shadows - back
towards the woods. She’d long heard the rumour that on Halloween the boundary
between the human world and the spirit world became thin, allowing spirits to
pass through, but she wasn’t about to hang around to act as a welcoming
committee; she had more important matters to see to.
Janalya reached the cover of the trees
and paused, her head turning as she listened for any giveaway sounds of
movement. She was confident that nobody had followed her but she wanted to be
sure. The silence was broken by the call of an owl, but she couldn’t hear
anything else, so she reached in her bag for her torch. Her feet made no sound
as she advanced stealthily through the wood, her eyes continually assessing
everything shown up by her light. The scent of damp earth and pine needles
filled her nose; then she stopped suddenly as the aroma became tinged with
smoke. Janalya clicked her torch off quickly and was instantly cloaked in
darkness. She gave her eyes chance to adjust. Years of wandering around at
night had sharpened her vision but not enough to see further than the area
immediately around her; unfortunately, the Shatara had much better night
vision. She stared into the darkness, listening intently, all her senses heightened
ready to take action. A breeze picked up and carried with it a stronger smell
of smoke. Janalya cautiously headed in that direction, placing each foot with
measured care, her ears straining to hear any sound. Stray branches threatened
to latch onto the wool of her cloak. She brushed them aside, eager to discover
the source of the smoky smell. Her heart began to beat faster as she caught a
glimpse of orange between the trees. She moved closer, unconsciously stooped
lower and stopped behind a large tree. Keeping as hidden as possible, she
peered around the gnarly trunk.
In a small clearing, a coven of witches stood
talking, a fire casting dancing shadows across their features. Janalya relaxed
for a moment, resting her head against the tree. She had found them. She had
known that they would be in the woods somewhere tonight. Janalya studied them;
although the witches were all different ages, they were all dressed similarly
in long sleeved blue dresses. No fancy pointed sleeves were evident, as worn by
the teenagers in their costumes. The figures in front of her wore black boots
and - as she had predicted - no pointy hats or stripy tights. All the women had
long hair but looked ordinary; no grotesque features or warts, and certainly
there was no cauldron in the clearing- those ideas had probably become popular
from Shakespeare rather than reality.
Janalya moved from behind the tree as
the first of the witches took off into the air. It was a sight she had watched
before. It never ceased to amaze her, the way they just kicked off from the
ground and rose upwards. The remaining witches doused the fire and joined the
others, vanishing into the dark night sky. Janalya was pleased to see them go.
She had been relieved to discover their meeting place because now she need not
fear bumping into them again later in the night. She was not scared of witches;
it was just easier and quicker not to get entangled with them.
As Janalya stood enjoying the silence of
the woods, she was unable to stop the yawn that made her jaw crack. She’d been
travelling since first light; so safe in the knowledge that the witches had
departed, she decided to stop for the night. Switching on her torch again she
moved away from the clearing. The beam highlighted each section of undergrowth
until she found what she was searching for; a large tree trunk with a hole,
partially hidden by a bush. Over the years, she had become adept at squeezing
into small spaces, either in trees or rocks, fit only for children, but that
was when she needed to hide. When she wanted to sleep, she liked it to be big
enough for her to be comfortable. As she shone her torch inside, she saw that
it was surprisingly roomy and the floor was carpeted with fresh dry needles.
Janalya ducked into the hole and lay down, pulling her cloak tightly round her
body but not before she had withdrawn the dagger from her boot. The confines of
the trunk would restrict her movements, so she must be prepared and have access
to her weapon.
*
With a bolt of fear and a loud gasp,
Janalya woke up. The dream that had caused her such stress vanished the moment
her eyes opened, although it took a few seconds for them to focus enough for
her to figure out where she was. When she realised she was curled up in the
hollow of the tree trunk, the hammering of her heart lessened. Janalya
unclenched her fingers from the smooth handle of her dagger and wriggled them
to ease their stiffness. All Janalya could smell was the damp forest floor and
chilled, clean air. She put the dagger away in the strap in her boot and eased
out of her overnight accommodation; avoiding the jagged peeling bark that had
been invisible in the depth of night, until she was upright. She stretched,
flexing each tight muscle, working her way around her whole body until she
restored her suppleness. She breathed in the brisk morning air and looked
around; it was peaceful.
She glanced up and saw that the sky was
lighter than she’d expected. The overhanging canopy of the trees made it darker
so it was later than she’d thought. There was a mist hovering above the ground
that moved and swirled into the air like tendrils of a climbing plant. The
sharp frost overnight had coated all the leaves and branches in white ice
crystals. Janalya had moved off the pathway looking for somewhere to sleep the
previous night, now she saw one small track winding its way through the trees.
This must have been what she had been following. She shivered. It was cold, and
a thick white cloud of dragon breath escaped as she breathed out. Cupping her
hands in front of her face, she blew forcefully into them. The warm air
caressed her fingers, and with practised circular movements of her hands, she
managed to mould the heat into a ball and keep it there. She briefly clutched
the mini heat source to her chest, and then uncurling her hands, she pushed the
warm air downwards so it travelled the length of her body, bringing warmth with
it until it dissipated against the ground.
Having to use her powers to warm herself
reminded Janalya that she was going to have to make a decision. It was only
going to get colder; if there was no sign of either danger or hope, she was
going to have to settle down for the winter. Taking the woven bag off of her
shoulder; somehow she’d slept with it in place, and making sure her cloak was
underneath her, she sank gracefully to the floor, crossing her legs and
extending her arms out in front of her.
Today there was just a cold bite that
confirmed that winter was on its way, seeming to suggest that Janalya was right
to seek shelter. She spent a few more minutes in quiet reflection then got to
her feet, her cloak unfurling around her. She gathered up her bag. Grasping her
cloak loosely at the edges, Janalya set off along the track, in the opposite
direction to where she had walked yesterday, smiling whenever the sunlight
penetrated the overhanging branches. Even in late autumn, the sun was strong
enough to make itself felt, warming Janalya and causing patches of brightness
to skip across the ground.
The last of the mist evaporated as the
day warmed up. Janalya weaved her way through the trees, listening to the birds
chatter as she went and grinning at the antics of the squirrels as they
scurried across in front of her, leaping onto the tree trunks. Camouflaged
against the bark they gripped on, and then hung there like statues, the tiniest
flick of their tails the only thing to give them away. She moved quickly and
quietly, except when walking through the driest of leaves; these made a
satisfying crunch as she stepped on them, causing her to smile again. The trees
that had discarded those leaves now stood bare, their branches twisting and
stretching into arm-like features.
Janalya stumbled over a fallen branch
and was startled to see familiar landmarks, like the huge pine tree and the old
well, long since derelict and unused. The cottage stood on its own amongst the
trees, the stonework reminded her of her childhood home. Studying it intently,
various emotions fought for attention as she found herself standing outside it
once more. Even though there were a few dwellings at her disposal, this was the
only one that she thought of as home. Over the last few years, she’d always
tried to spend the winter here; it made her feel as if she belonged somewhere.
The stones were weathered with age and the roof had some moss on it, but apart
from the fact that the windows were extremely dirty, they and everything else
looked to be intact. She retrieved the large iron key from under a stone by the
thick wooden door. Janalya had to jiggle it about in the lock before she heard
the click she was waiting for. She pushed hard against the door in order to get
it to move; then it creaked and groaned until the opening was big enough to
slip through.
A musty smell greeted Janalya as she
crossed the threshold, but she also felt a sense of welcoming, a lightness in
her chest as if the cottage had embraced her. Her grey eyes darted around,
although it was too dingy to be able to see properly. She rummaged for the
torch and indistinct shapes, which turned out to be furniture, loomed out of
the darkness as the light touched them. Janalya shone her torch at the walls;
there were still some candles in their holders. She searched in her bag for her
lighter. The familiar etching of the
full moon with flowers cutting off one edge, like clouds flitting across its
surface, never failed to comfort her. She spent a moment tracing it with her
finger before she flicked the wheel. The candle flames flickered and dimmed at
first but soon stood upright and began to give out some useful light. The cottage
was cold with a damp feel to it and needed to be heated. Janalya knew that she
would need to sweep the chimney before she risked lighting a fire. Sweeping it
would take a long time, so she closed her eyes and summoned a blast of air to
push any soot or debris out of the way. She repeated this with the flue on the
kitchen range. Satisfied the fires could be safely lit, she found dry logs in
the store out the back and set and lit the fire in the main room and the
kitchen range, pleased that she would soon have hot water, as well as a warm
place to stay. The fire also gave off a lot of light and Janalya saw that the
cottage had been invaded whilst she’d been away - by spiders. They’d been very
active. There were large dusty cobwebs in every corner and stretching between
the walls; the sight of them made her shiver. She was fortunate she hadn’t
walked into any yet. She disliked cobwebs - the way they clung on with their
sticky threads. The only good cobwebs were outside in bushes, glistening in the
rain: not wrapping around her. She shivered again and went to find a broom.
The cottage was soon clean and tidy. The
sturdy wooden chairs, well worn and polished smooth with age, the overstuffed
sofa, all seemed to be beckoning her to sit on them. The fire blazed and
crackled, adding its own welcoming greeting. She looked round satisfied. She’d
found enough food to get her a meal later and breakfast in the morning.
Tomorrow she would have to go into the village to get some provisions and spend
some time chopping wood for the fires. Janalya ran herself a bath, putting all
her clothes in a tub to soak; another job for tomorrow. She stepped into the
hot water, relishing the feel as she sank down. She submerged herself and lay
for a second - cut off from her senses. With a splash her head broke the
surface and after wiping her face with her hand she laid there quietly, the one
candle she had lit casting a pale orange glow around the rustic bathroom.
All scrubbed and cleansed, Janalya
donned another dress. It felt good to be able to wear dresses again, instead of
her usual garb of combat trousers, which were undoubtedly easier to move in.
After all these years, she still felt uncomfortable looking at herself in
trousers. She couldn’t imagine what her mother would say if she saw how she
normally dressed. She could picture the disapproving look on her face, and it
made her smile, which helped to lighten the moment. The loss of her parents
still made her sad.
She ate her meal in front of the roaring
fire and relaxed, for the first time in who knew how long - probably since the
last time she’d been here. Because this was the one place that Katsuo or the
Shatara had never found out about. The yellow flames reminded her of Katsuo’s
eyes, and she shut her own to banish the thought. It still caused her pain that
she had walked away from him.
She swung her head round at a tapping sound
against the window. She was about to get up to investigate when she saw a moth
hitting the pane of glass. Janalya fell back against the cushion and listened
to the wind. It began to whistle through the gap in kitchen window frame making
her smile.
This excerpt is from my YA novel Janalya.
Available now on kindle for only 99p/99c until November 2015. To purchase your copy go to Amazon.Co.UK or Amazon.com
This book has been awarded Readers' Favourite Five stars - I hope you enjoy it too, and I 'd love to hear from you.
Marie
www.mariegodley.moonfruit.com
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