Tides of Impossibility by K.J. Russell

Author:K.J. Russell
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: SkipJack Publishing
Published: 2015-04-23T22:08:18+00:00

* * *

The tide was out. A narrow strip of rocks connected the remains of Moryn Castle to the mainland. Squarely in front of it, a huge mound of logs stood silent guard. A steep, rocky footpath passed beside the inn and descended to the very spot.

Earlier, the sun had warmed the countryside; but as the orb dipped toward the horizon, the earth cooled. One could barely see the keep for the mist and the darkening sky.

David stood by the window where he and Patience had sat. Eleanor weighed heavily on his mind--a sense of responsibility, unsubstantiated by facts. No one had suggested foul play. Yet, Priest’s House had burned right after he told Patience about the existence of the journal.

His imagination was playing tricks. Even if the journal was valuable enough to kill for, why should he connect it to Patience? Surely, the idea was ludicrous. But so was his presence in Penmorven.

Soon, people filled the inn. Some told ghost stories to wide-eyed listeners, but most talked about the death at Priest’s House, the rapid spread of the fire, and the enormous extent of the damage. But, the more the drinks were passed around, the more the talk shifted to bawdy jokes and laughter. David found comfort in the racy songs and the clink of the ale mugs. Someone had brought a fiddle, and a group was singing loudly and off key. Suddenly, a man jumped on a chair and shouted, "It’s time to light the fires!"

The villagers milled through the door, still in a state of noisy revelry. A few had tabs to settle with the innkeeper. In one corner of the room, a man extended his arms against the wall. Between them, Beth smiled invitingly.

David started to follow the crowd; but Patience appeared at the top of the stairs, transfixing him. She wore boots and a long, black cape that brushed the stairs behind her. Each step revealed a flash of red beneath the cape. Raven tresses cascaded down her back.

He waited.

Flashlights in hand, David and Patience traversed the steep path past cottages draped with garlands of St. John’s Wort and marigold to the shore. All along the rocky beaches and on the cliff above, bonfires danced. Some of the braver youth had built fires at the bases of the castles. The flames cast eerie, flickering light upon the stone skeletons.

The largest bonfire burned in front of the peninsula. Villagers were tossing a myriad of items into the flames "to break the witches’ power": herbs, a new cut oaken sickle, a broomstick. Wire frames packed with rags and other paraffin-soaked combustibles were attached to long wire ropes. Young people lit these "fireballs" and, in no small feat of dexterity, swung them in blazing arcs around their heads.

Patience marched past the bonfire onto the peninsula. David followed--confused. "I thought you came for the bonfires."

"I did, but there’s something I must fetch."

David felt cold beyond the chill of the misty air.

They walked until Patience stopped and pointed toward a cluster of rocks rising out of the sea.

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