21 - Scriostóir

 

 

Godric stopped just inside the door of Cerdic’s cabin, which was deep in the woods a hundred miles north of the city. A feeling of nostalgia flooded him as he looked at the large room that took up half of the first floor. It was in so many ways reminiscent of his own home from thirteen centuries ago. Not a direct copy of course, but the feel was there. He could almost envision the times when he and his sister had played games of hide and seek. He would slip behind tapestries much like the ones he was looking at now, certain she couldn’t find him. She, being three years his elder, would pretend to look for him everywhere but where he was until he started giggling because he had thought he’d fooled her.

 

All that ended when she had become betrothed to Cerdic’s youngest brother. From that moment on she had spent all her time until the day of her wedding learning how to be the perfect wife. The day of her marriage had been the last time Godric had seen her alive. She became one of the victims of Cerdic’s murderous attempt to take over his father’s small kingdom. He had succeeded, only to be killed in battle a few months afterwards.

 

Nine years later, Godric was dead as well. It was centuries before he discovered that, just as he had, Cerdic had become a Scriostóir, as well—and centuries more before he was able to find him. Now he had only a few more days to complete his mission and destroy the one creature that he truly hated, heart and soul.

 

Godric jumped when he felt a hand on his shoulder. “You were off in space somewhere,” Manny said, laughing. “I know this place is impressive, and you haven’t seen the half of it. Come on, I’ll show you around.” He paused, looking at Cerdic. “That’s if it’s all right with you, Mr. Wyndham.”

 

“Please do. I’ll unpack and start lunch.” When the boys looked at him in surprise, he chuckled. “This is a small vacation for all of us. I intend to do my share of the work.”

 

With a grin, Manny slung his arm around Godric’s shoulders and took him into the next room, a well-furnished den with all the entertainment features boys their age could desire. From there, he led Godric through the rest of the house. Finally he suggested that they take a look at the grounds, since there was still time before lunch.

 

As they walked down the long, sloping back lawn to the edge of the woods, Godric was already plotting how he could get rid of Manny so that he would be free to slay Cerdic, or, he admitted honestly to himself, perhaps be slain by the Scriostóir.

 

“Come, look at this,” Manny said, breaking Godric’s train of thought.

 

Ahead of them a few hundred yards into the trees, Godric saw a swift-running stream. “Good for fishing?” he asked as he followed Manny down to it.

 

“Very good,” Manny said, “and very private too. We can’t be seen from the cabin unless he goes onto his balcony.”

 

Godric looked at him in surprise. “Why would you care about that?”

 

“Because we have to talk, somewhere where he can’t hear us.”