Silvermoon. A Tale of a Young Werewolf. A YA Novel. 12-18 (13 page)

“But you hardly know him.”

“When I look at him a voice screams out in my mind,
‘Liar, liar, liar’
.”

“Is it because he dyes his hair?”

Her eyes unfocussed, they seemed to look through him, past him as she sat there, then her brow creased. A sudden gust buffeted the tent and she looked at him. “Sorry, you said
-
.
”

He found himself asking her, “Do goblins really exist or are they just wicked humans?”

“Of course they do, so do dwarves and pixies, but the dwarves live underground in the northern wastes and only come out to hunt, and the pixies, tiny gentle creatures that live in the woods, have almost vanished from sight because of the cold weather.”

It was as if somebody was prompting him as he asked, “Tell me about goblins and trolls, and the myths surrounding them.”

She warmed to the subject and he listened to her lilting voice, only half listening to what she was saying, “People of old called them vampires because they drank blood, but not human blood, only from herbivores. Only the females do that, and they stink something
awful.” She shook her head and smiled, “They remind me of mosquitoes.” The smile vanished and she said, “But there is nothing mythical about them, Jason. These creatures, in their natural state, are pale and anaemic in appearance. Their irises are almost white. They are changelings like the werewolves. They are indistinguishable from ordinary humans, except they age quicker. The females eat raw or dried meat and when they can they drink animal’s blood like the vampire bats, not killing their hosts, but living off them. Human blood is highly distasteful to them. The male goblins abhor red meat and consume mostly fish or poultry. They both fear water, for they cannot swim, they will try and breathe underwater and they drown. They are stupid, greedy creatures. They have no idea how to fight a battle; they just rush on, regardless of casualties swinging their clubs throwing their javelins. The only thing they are good at is remembering trails they travelled years ago.”

“And the trolls?”

“Ancient creatures, very low intelligence, they breed slowly, they live up to fifty years and they burn up if the sun’s rays touches them,
it’s
quite a bonfire I’ve been told.”

He gazed at her face, “Fascinating, so if we come across any goblins we throw them into the nearest river and pray for sunlight if we meet a troll in the daytime.”

He waited for the smile that never came. “You will find a troll hard to kill, Jason. My mother and I pierced one with eight arrows. My father had used three on the same one just before it downed him. It knocked him senseless with one swipe and broke his arm. We finished him off with two in his throat, but not before he ran some eight hundred meters and collapsed on the frozen river near the ford. We left him there for the crows and the forest animals, and we will burn his bones when they have finished.”

“Your life is fraught with danger,” he said.

She sat there. In his eyes she appeared frail and delicate, her eyes soft and warm, and he found it hard to imagine her killing something in the fashion she mentioned.

Sadness changed her features as she spoke, “I’m an elf…” Her voice trailed off, like a tiny bell at the last ‘ting’. Then she continued, “…who has fallen in love with a human, and he has turned out to be a werewolf.”

He sat there and stared at her.
She thought I was human!
And he knew to whom his heart belonged, to the angel seated before him, an angel whose blood he dared not touch for fear of contamination. His heart ached, damn them
,
and their prophesy. He just wanted to lead a normal life with the only woman he had ever wanted, a woman who just happened to be an elf.

Her brow creased, dismissing the sadness and she said, “You said John dyed his hair. Tell me, did you ever go swimming with him?”

“No, his parents drowned in a boating accident, he was rescued…” He slowed down as she
quickly
reached behind him and unzipped the opening. The wind had died down without their knowledge. She fumbled with her pack and pulled out a canvas case. He watched as she extracted her bow, it was in pieces, but she slotted them together in no time, she started on the arrows and he joined in and they were finished in minutes. Her face was an ice-cold mask as he asked, “What is the matter, what are you doing?”

“I fear for Ingrid, I fear for Yvette.”

He searched her face for some clue as she remained silent, filling her quiver. She managed to string her bow in the confines of the tent, and then she said, “John is your friend, is he not?”

He shrugged, “I would have said, the other way round, he has nobody else, he’s like a shadow.”

“Is he left-handed?”

“Yes.”

“Is he good at memorising things?”

“Almost as good as myself, but he can’t play chess, his mind isn’t
-.”

She cut him off, “He may know you are a werewolf, as he is a goblin.” He searched her features and saw the truth in her words. She continued, “It’s an old trick of theirs, get close to the enemy, appear human, watch them, deceive them and kill them.” She paused then added, “I don’t understand his motives, why is he still with you, after all this time, as if he’s waiting for something.”

He almost shouted, “The rune stone!”

Her eyes widened, “Exactly, this must be where he intended to leave us. We must be near an old goblin trail, he’s heading for home, and he will warn them.”

They both turned in the direction of a sound, a sound only they, a werewolf and an elf could hear. He left the tent first, the snow now fell lightly and he called out. “Yvette, Yvette, over here.”

Jennifer ran past him over the snow, complete with face-mask and goggles, he struggled with his mask as his legs sank deep. He heard her voice in the distance. “It’s Yvette, she has Ingrid with her.”

He pulled down his goggles and ploughed on and saw Yvette with Ingrid slung over her shoulder. As he reached them he gawped at Yvette, tiny Yvette. She wasn’t even out of breath, she saw his look, smiled and said, “I know this might seem an inappropriate time, Jason, but I have a confession to make. I am a werewolf too, and you, Jason, are my brother, we are twins. Your name is Silvermoon and I am Swiftfoot.”

Her words rang in his ears.
I have a sister?
But of course, how could I have been so naïve, she’s like me in many ways.

And he hardly heard Jennifer say, “She’s alive, only just though. We have to bring her to safety.”

He stared at her; she seemed unconcerned about Yvette’s statement.
He turned her to him and he shouted above the howling wind,
“You knew about Yvette, about her being a werewolf and my sister too?”

She shook her head and said as she looked from Yvette and back to Jason, “Not about her being your sister. I was convinced she was a werewolf after she ran off in search of Ingrid. I guessed it earlier when you told me she burned candle wax, as that’s how they disguise their scent.”

Yvette said forcibly
moved between them and said
, “Listen to me, Jason, you too, Jennifer. I saw a light in the distance and I could smell humans, probably a sheep farmer. I only came back to tell you for we have to get Ingrid out of the cold.” Then she turned and walked off the way she came, with Ingrid hanging over her shoulder.

Jason came out of his shock and called out, “Yvette, wait, I’ll get our things.”

“Follow me when you’re ready, Brother,” she called out.

Jennifer ran past him once more
over the snow
. By the time he reached his tent, it
was gone, already packed away. She
shouldered her backpack, picked up her bow and quiver, and said, “Come on slow-coach,” and ran off, again
over the snow, ignoring now the path they had made
.

He picked up his pack and ran along their trail and then onto Yvette’s. It had ceased to snow and as he caught up with them Yvette pointed and shouted, “There it is.”

But she needn’t have bothered, he could smell them, but the smell was inviting, his mouth watered, mutton stew, with turnips and onions and potatoes. They headed towards the yellow light as it beckoned them. It guided them to a stone-built farmhouse with a sturdy wooden barn. Jason knocked on the wooden door. It opened several seconds later and an elderly woman faced them and she gasped as she saw Ingrid’s body. “Come inside, come in, don’t just stand there.”

The heat hit them as they entered, coupled with the smell of food. “Over here, lay your friend on the couch, loosen the clothing, and take off the shoes.” They did as she bid and as she saw Ingrid’s face she said, “Oh it’s a girl, the poor thing, what happened?”

Jason said, “We don’t know, we became separated during the blizzard and she wandered off. We found her not twenty minutes ago.”

She bent over Ingrid and examined her, she explained, “I used to be a nurse at the local doctors. Too old now though. Now let me see.” She gasped once again, “The poor thing has been strangled,” She looked at them, “Who would do such a thing?”

Jennifer said, “There was someone else with us, he has disappeared, it may have been him.”

“Don’t you worry; I’ll take care of her.” She eyed them and said, “You must be hungry-.”

She stopped as the door opened and a man came through the doorway, he had a sheepdog with him, the animal bared its teeth, it snarled and its hackles rose. The man said as he closed the door, “He doesn’t do that in the presence of humans,” he looked at the three; he frowned as he saw Jennifer’s bow, then he saw Ingrid, “What happened?”

Jennifer came forward, she reached out to the dog with her hand and the creature ceased its growling and licked her hand. The man frowned and addressed Jennifer, “You’re no werewolf
then
.”

“Thomas!” Said the woman, “They are our guests, and this young lady is injured, werewolf or not.”

Jason asked her, “How d’you know -.” He broke off as he realized the woman was not
fully
human.

The man jerked his head in the direction of the door. “It’s hard not to notice what your neighbours are when they don’t get any older and their scent becomes all too familiar.”

The woman said, “We get on well with them, they keep to themselves.” Then she smiled widely, “You must be hungry,” then she frowned and stared at Yvette’s contorted visage, “Whatever’s the matter child?”

Yvette turned to the door and said quietly, “They are out there.”

Jason asked, “Who?”

“Goblins,” she hissed.

The man moved towards the door, but Yvette stopped him and said, “It is we who must go and find them, as they know of us.”

Jennifer said to the woman, “Please take care of her, we will be back, just bar the door after us.”

She turned to Jason and
who
watched as Yvette drew a long, wicked-lookin
g knife out of her back pack and
said, “Let’s go.

“Wait!” The woman thrust a small sack into Jason’s hands, “Take it, it’s bread, meat and cheese.”

Jason took it and said, “Thank you,” and followed the others out the door.

Chapter eleven.

Goblins.

John, a goblin named Jorgul, now transformed into an ugly muscular brute, cursed the weather. He cursed the human female, Ingrid. He cursed her werewolf companions, though he suspected the newcomer was an elf. He hated to admit it
,
but he feared the elves. If he was right they would find him any second now, he looked behind him to where Ingrid’s body lay, half expecting a form to emerge, one carrying a bow, aiming it straight at his back. He hadn’t spotted a bow as Jennifer packed food into her rucksack, but elves were devious, they could dismantle a bow and its deadly projectiles and hide them quite easily.