Falling into the Woods

Falling into the Woods​

Two days...had it been two days since this really weird nightmare had begun? Falls shook her head, hoping that the scene before her would change. But it hadn't every time she looked out the warped glass window, or stepped out the door, the scenery was the same. It looked like a normal meadow, a cute little stream flowed through it, a welcoming forest was beyond that, and her home, her temporary home (she hoped) viewed them all, keeping watch as if it had nothing better than to keep her prisoner.

Falls still could not believe that she was lost. She'd walked the woods as a young child, and yes it was true she'd not ventured this deep into them since her father's death, still she wasn't a kid; she was an adult. She'd been in scouts, she knew how to tie knots, start fires, and read a compass, granted she didn't have a compass, but she knew how to read one. There was no explanation for her to be lost. It simply wasn't fathomable. Yet she was and as her cellphone would not get her any help she had given up on trying to call someone, opting instead to wear out it's battery by playing Sudoku.

A loud growl gave her pause and she stared at her stomach. “Hush,” she muttered, then cursed when it answered her back with another rumble. “Fine,” she hissed, pulled on her sneakers and walked over the threshold of the small cottage she'd come to call home. Falls stepped off the rickety porch, made her way to the back of the home and into the small, over-grown garden. As she pulled carrot-like vegetables from the forgotten earth she mentally apologized for her thievery. She'd discovered the garden shortly after discovering the cottage and now that she was entering day two, she was thankful for both.

Falls took her stolen goods and walked down to the stream where she rinsed away the dirt. “Maybe today will be the day,” she whispered, as the wind picked up and lifted her long red hair from her shoulders.

She munched on the sweet vegetable as she made her way back to the cottage. Once inside she gathered her belongings, stuffed more of the tender vegetables into her purse, zipped it up and headed out the door. Today she would walk toward the East. She'd go six hours out and then turn around and make her way back, if she found nothing or no one to help her.

Yesterday she'd gone back into the woods, walked for what seemed like hours, covering what she thought were many miles, but when she saw the cottage hope was dashed and she was forced to spend another night behind their borrowed walls.

“My lord….?”
Collett knocked, and tentatively stuck his head around the door of Lord William de Reynaux’s private chamber.
“Come in” he answered, a note of irritation in his voice.
Collett opened the door a little and slipped inside. A quiet, unassuming man, Collett was Lord William’s seneschal and a far more important man than his plain appearance and un-aristocratic bearing would indicate. He was in his early 40s, with thinning light brown hair and a permanently worried expression.
“Several matters for you today, my lord”

William’s council room was almost at the top of the highest tower in the castle. He liked it because it was safe and secure, because he would seldom be disturbed, and because he knew it annoyed the hell out of some of the merchants on his council to have to climb all those stairs to meet with him. But he also loved the views. Taking up almost all of the tower, there were spectacular views on three sides.

To the south was the rolling ocean, where on a clear day the viewer could see the merchantmen and galleons bringing goods and provisions from the mainland, and carrying Lischuin’s valuable herbs and spices to the markets. To the east was the city, and beyond that, the port. Lischuin City had grown haphazardly at first, expanding piecemeal without any overall plan. His father had imposed some kind of order, and rebuilt the walls to allow further expansion. But parts of the city were still unsanitary, a fire risk, or in need of rebuilding or repair. Several quarters were poorly designed, or not designed at all, and had become mazes and rat runs where the City Watch was reluctant to enter after dark. But there was no denying that the Merchant’s quarter, with its large manor houses, and lush parkland, was a fine sight. To the north, the farms and farmland where landowners large and small grew all manner of spices, medicinal herbs, and other rare and wondrous plants. To the west….. a brick wall. Just as there was no window on the west wall, so no-one really knew what was out there. Explorers returned disorientated, if they returned at all. Plains gave way to thin woodland, and then…. no-one knew. Perhaps the edge of the world, perhaps a secret land protected by enchantments, perhaps… perhaps nothing but a strange landscape that navigators found confusing. Three windows, but four directions to watch.

A large oak table dominated the room, something of a mystery as it would never have fitted up the stairs. Around it were arranged twelve chairs for Lord William and his councillors. One was pulled away from where William had been sitting, papers strewn across the table in front. Three walls were lined with shelves of books, papers, maps, and records. The fourth was lined with paintings. Lord William, his father, his father’s father. A large stylised map of the known world, and another of the Isle of Lischuin. A series of charcoal sketches of the city and of the port as they used to be, many years ago.

William himself stood staring out over the city.
“Well?” he asked.
“The good news is that the bitterberry harvest is good this year, and that our agents are reporting high prices on the mainland. If we-“
“Good news, then” remarked William, “It makes me nervous when there’s good news first, Collet. It makes me wonder what’s coming next.”
“Ah… yes. Well, there we have it, I am sorry to say. I have checked and re-checked the figures, and we cannot carry out the city improvements, the wall improvements, and the harbour work that the council wanted. Not without increasing taxes.”
“So, we increase taxes. Those bastards can afford it.”
“Ah, well, no, you see. I have been given to understand that increased taxes will not be acceptable without clear benefits to commerce, my Lord.”
“Clear benefits to commerce? What the blazes do they think the harbour work is for? The fishing fleet? To keep people in employment? For my personal yacht? For the damn mermaids?! They’re an ungrateful, greedy, spiteful, vicious, grasping malevolent pack of jackals. Maybe I will have one executed to make an example!”
Collett was silent as William vented, accustomed to his master’s moods, waiting for his anger to reach its peak before speaking again.
“Who rules, Collett, them or me? Who’s Lord? What’s the point of having a Lord if I cannot act as I see fit? If I can to be dictated to about taxes! If I cannot have the funds to carry out vital work, what’s the point?”
“To keep the jackals from tearing each other, and everyone and everything else, to pieces, my Lord” said Collett, soothingly.
“Fine. Here’s what we do. Look at the plans for the city improvements again, and look at the roads. Find some roads to improve, or widen, or replace, or rebuild, or something. Turn it from city improvement into roadworks – do just enough to make it look like something else, and then go back. They want their harbour, I want the walls and the city. We offer them the harbour and the road improvements in return for the money we need for those projects, and for the walls. Everybody is happy and can pretend they’ve won.”
“Very good, my lord. I will find out if such a compromise would be acceptable.”
“Anything else?”
“One more thing, my lord, other than the documents for your signature. Captain Mortimer reports that there have been a number of troublemakers predicting disaster and destruction. Fanatics and crazies for the most part, but he thought you should know. Do you want them arrested?”
“No, not unless they break another law. Don’t dignify it with a response.”
“With the anniversary coming up, my Lord…..”
“We make it clear that we don’t fear it. Nothing will happen. These people are either charlatans or madmen, and they will be seen as such. If we arrest them, we make it worse. But tell Mortimer to keep an eye on it, and keep me informed.
“Very good, my lord.”
Collett carefully placed another pile of papers down on the table, grimacing apologetically before bowing and taking his leave.
William sighed, sat down, and turned back to the papers.

Elizabeth Hartley was standing on the large porch that spread out in front of her stone manor in Lischuin, looking out at the long and winding, tree-lined lane that lead to the wall of her property and the large and extravagant gate that loomed there.

When Anthony, her ‘beloved’ 83 year old husband whom her parents saw fit to chain her to with a wedding ring at the age of 18 died last year of an ‘unfortunate’ heart attack after three years of marriage, Elizabeth instantly became the master of her own destiny. Her parents schemed her matrimonial union with Anthony for the soul purpose of getting their greedy little paws on his land. However, when the last will and testament of Anthony Michael Hartley was read out loud, he had left lock, stock and barrel to Elizabeth, much to the dismay of her parents who instantly felt that they were ‘robbed’ of what was rightfully theirs.

Elizabeth still smiled at Anthony’s final moments. At least he died a happy man, she thought, his final orgasm … and final heartbeat … playing across her mind in unison.

Her parents could not have done her a greater favour. She instantly wrote them out of her life and one of the first changes she made to Hartley Manor was the erection of an eight foot stone wall to separate her property from her parents. She even went as far as placing a sign on the front gate that reads: “Friends welcome, Family by appointment,” and of course … she never had time for family, except her three brothers who were always welcome.

Anthony had left Elizabeth with a great deal of wealth, an independent woman and free to do as she pleases with her own property and means of making a living. The lands around Hartley Manor were used for farming with one side dedicated to an interesting and varied selection of herbs and medicinal plants, the other half dedicated to a vineyard that produced a pristine range of wines called ‘Hartley Gold’.

Elizabeth had been fighting long and hard with the Lord of the lands, the illustrious and ever so boring William de Reynaux who acted as if he was 50, belying his tender age of 26. Elizabeth didn’t see eye to eye with the infuriating man and as a result of her defiance virtually turned Hartley Manor into a fortress in terms of defence, as she did not trust him to keep her safe out here on her own. She had an extremely loyal and large compliment of staff that helped her keep Hartley Manor running as smooth as clockwork, and if anything the Manor was in better shape now than it was when she originally received it from Anthony.

Elizabeth was on her way to William’s Castle to visit his dear and sweet sister Lady Athalia, who was virtually locked away in the place by her tyrant of a brother … or so the rumours say. Elizabeth was determined to not let the poor soul lose contact with the outside world, and she enjoyed drinking tea with Athalia and telling her about everything that was going on, even though she hardly spoke a word. She didn’t seem to mind Elizabeth’s company … or constant ramblings as William referred to it.

Elizabeth walked to the stables and mounted Thor, her favourite black stallion – a beast of an animal that could devour the ground beneath him at a breakneck pace. She rode down to the gate which was opened by Elizabeth’s guards with a respectful salute, her personal guard, Patrick furiously trying to keep up with her.

Elizabeth arrived at the castle a few minutes later, dismounted and walked up to the main entrance door, the castle guards furiously trying to stop her. She slammed the double doors open and stood in the doorway for a few moments until she had everyone’s attention. “Hello Sweeties!” she crooned, everyone’s expressions ranging from curious laughter to downright contempt at the pitch black outfit, long riding coat (which was traditionally only wore by men … hmpf) and a sword.

“Where is Lady Athalia this fine morning,” she enquired, looking around expectantly.

Cassandra "Cassie" Ravencrest

Cassie made her way through the falling down establishment she had bought. It was the first and only thing to ever have been hers. At the young age of sixteen she had found herself homeless and lost in Lischuin. Her father having left her in the cold of her home world hoping that his child would just disappear.

That she did. She became lost in a world similar and yet so different from her own. Things were simpler here. No one knew her either and she could become whomever she wished. She could change her life, and so she did. She was taken under wing by Miss Kathleen, a local courtesan. Soon enough the dark beauty, Cassie, overcame her innocence and fear and became the most sought after woman.

In her late teens she had a roll in the bed with a playwright. Somehow he talked her into appearing in a few of his shows. She left the little tavern and headed for the bright lights. Little did Cassie know or even imagine how much more popular she'd be. It was only the beginning, once men learned of her "other" talents, she was in high demand.

Soon though that life became too much when she had been threatened by a noble man. In a drunken stupor he had told her secrets. Very important and useful secrets should she want to use them against him. She had exchanged her silence for a large some of money. Cassie had been lucky that it fell to her favor.

It was at that very moment she knew the use of such things. Deciding to leave the life of the lights she purchased the tavern of her teacher. She had been running it now for a few years and knew most everything about everyone. They all had a story, some secret that they tried to keep locked away. Too much wine though, and the men sang like birds.

Also woman like her had ways of getting men to ramble on endless about things of pride, of their various accomplishments. They thought telling some lowly bar wench would in no way come back to harm them. Cassie even now laughed at that. Somehow the men never suspected. They never thought to think of the woman they had loosened their lips for just as much as they had loosened their pants.

Cassie used her knowledge with Lord William. For her useful information she was granted lenience. There were never any problems with her tavern. She was allowed to deal with her business as she saw fit. There was also a tension between the two of them. Sometimes sexual flirting, but other times it was tense. It was as though Lord William wished her were dealing with a man, that somehow she made him uncomfortable.

She let out a sigh as she straightened some chairs, trying to make the place look better. She knew it would need some repairs and such. Cassie had the money she would only need the approval of the council and Lord William.

That shouldn't be too hard, she thought to herself. He always needs some bit of new information that I have.

William signed his name with a flourish at the bottom of the final order of the day, resisting the urge to add a sarcastic commentary of his own to Collett’s carefully drafted order about customs duties on different types of imported wool. A vital matter, and no doubt deserving of his full attention. He stamped his wax seal onto the parchment with more force than was strictly necessary. He gently placed it on top of the pile, checking first that the previous seal was dry, and deposited the whole pile into a small strongbox, which he locked with the key from around his neck. Collett would see to them later.

He was bored, restless, and fed up. He wanted something to do, something or someone to take his frustrations out on – some exercise. A nice long ride should do the trick, or some sword practice. He glanced out of the window – possibly rain. Swordplay it is, then. He locked the door behind him, but just as he was about to make his way back down the long spiral staircase, he heard footsteps further down.
“Who’s there?” he asked, praying that it wasn’t Collett with another pile of parchment.
“Just me, my lord” replied a deep, familiar voice. “Five minutes?”
“Is it important?”
“Not for me to say, my Lord” came the reply, deferential, but gruff.
“Yes, Maitchin, it is for you to say.”
“Then I say it could be. Important enough for this climb, any road.”
“Fine. Come on up”

William unlocked the door to his council room again and held the door open for Maitchin. Maitchin was a tall, broadshouldered, heavyset fellow in his mid 30s, with a brawler’s physique slowly but surely surrendering to the twin assaults of age and soft living. His clothing marked him out as a servant of some rank - the casual observer might speculate that perhaps he was the head of some aspect of the household. Security, perhaps, or the armoury. In fact, though only a handful knew, Maitchin was Lord William’s chief spymaster.

“Two things” he said, coming straight to business. “Firstly, I’ve heard from our friend Raven-Chest via the usual intermediary. She wants to meet you.”
“What does that jumped up whore want this time?” he asked, ignoring the weak pun he’d already heard from him several times before.
“She’ll only talk to you, my lord. Same rules as usual, I’m afraid.”
“Can’t you take her in hand, so to speak?”
“I’d love to, my lord, but the intermediary says those are her terms.”
“And that strumpet dictates terms to me because……?”
“Because she’s useful. Just humour her, as always. It won’t be forever. Speaking of humouring people…..”
“Yes?”
“Brings me onto the second thing. Elizabeth Hartley.”
“What’s her ladyship done this time?”
“Well…. she came to see Lady Athalia again today. Nothing wrong with that, I know, but she’s taking increasing liberties”
“How do you mean?”
“Well, she turned up today riding that ridiculous oversized horse…. riding like a man, dressed like a man, and carrying a sword. She ignored the guards and just walked in as if she owns the place, making as big a scene as possible – making a total spectacle of herself. She’s getting worse and worse – I don’t know how much longer you can ignore it.”
Lord William grunted in annoyance.
“In my father’s day he’d have had her married off to someone who could keep her under control” he growled. “But ignore it for now. Let her make a fool of herself, but let’s not encourage her. If she wants to dress indecently, she’ll only attract scandal to herself. She’s only trying to provoke a reaction.”
“There is the question of her friendship with your sister, my lord”
“You still have someone listening in, I take it?”
“Subtly, as ordered, my lord.”
William sighed.
“Here’s the thing. She doesn’t go out, but I know she likes company from time to time. To deny her that, or start telling her who she may and who she may not see, would be…. I don’t know… harmful. In any case, she’s mute, not stupid, and she knows her own mind and can make her own decisions about who she wants to see. I know some people visit her out of pity, or duty, or because they seek my approval. But I don’t think ‘pity’ or ‘duty’ figure prominently in Elizabeth’s nature, and she’s certainly not after my approval. Maybe she does it to annoy me, or maybe she likes her. Hartley talks enough for three or four, never mind two, and as long as she’s not upsetting Athalia or causing too much trouble, I don’t want to intervene.”
“Very good, my lord.”
“But one more grand entrance, and I shall give serious thought to having her arrested next time she gives me an excuse.”
“And Ravenchest?”
“Tell the intermediary to arrange a time this afternoon or tomorrow afternoon. Usual arrangements to sneak her into the castle.”

Tears would have streamed down Falls cheeks had she had enough energy to produce them. Her self-appointed time limit on walking through the woods had been running out when she found a clearing; that clearing had opened up to a spectacular view, one falls would have appreciated had she been in a better state of mind. What she saw in the distance looked to her as a small country town, surrounded by various fields thickening with crops, as well as worn and rough roads leading into and out of the area. She wasn't sure how long it would take her to reach the edge of it, but she didn't care. With renewed energy she felt herself begin to run in hopes that she would find someone to take her home.

As she closed the distance between herself and salvation her thoughts returned to what had forced her to flee her family and friends. Bradley, her mother's boyfriend had attacked her. She'd known it was coming; he'd been trying to fondle, molest, and force her into a compromising position since he'd met her. The evening of her birthday had brought matters to a head and she was forced to fight her attacker, as well as lose the last shreds of love she held for her mother.

What would they say when she showed back up demanding her personal belongings, as well as access to her joint savings account her mother had opened for her back when she was just a small girl...back when her father Simon was alive. Those memories though were better left alone; she did not need to weep over a man that had disappeared from her life and had left her with a mother who turned her love for life into nothing more than a hunger for pills and drug pushers.

Falls stopped suddenly, her sides aching from the hurried pace she'd been holding. Where had the energy come from? She didn't know nor wish to speculate on it; she was however very happy to have reached a small farm house, this one so much different than the one she'd been living in for the past few days. Her fingers shook as she pushed them through her hair, trying her best to tidy the mass that had fallen free from the braid she'd tied earlier.

To her dismay however the farm was deserted, but the signs of life showed that perhaps the family would be back later. Falls however did not wish to wait, so opted to once again “borrow” a few raw vegetables from a lush garden and take off once more toward what she hoped would be a way home.

As she walked the air around her grew slightly cooler, the wind picked up and the aroma of rain came over her. “Great, that's just flippin' great,” she muttered. Her gaze took in the growing clouds causing her to shake her head in disbelief. “Rain? Rain? That's all I need.”

Falls quickened her step, vowing that as soon as she found someone she was going to offer them her soul for any good luck they could toss her way.