Five: A Maor Novel (Maor series) (6 page)

‘Darling!’ she exclaims, a huge smile
breaking over her face and I know it’s my mother on the other end of the line.
Figures.

‘Yes,’ Nan says, ‘all safe and sound…she’s
right here…certainly…’

She holds the receiver out to me. I
look at it, then at Nan and say:

‘Can we please finish our
conversation?’

Nan frowns at me.

‘Your mother wants to talk to you,
Shaylee.’

‘She can wait.’

‘Shaylee Greene!’ Nan says. Her
expression is shocked. She hasn’t seen me since age seven and I guess I was
much sweeter and obedient then, but I’m too fed up to care.

‘I’m sorry, Nan,’ I say, but my tone
is surly and non-repentant. ‘I’ve been waiting for days and I want some
answers!’

‘I told you, Shaylee,’ she says,
patient but firm, ‘You will get them tonight. Right now, I want you to talk to
your mother.’

She holds the receiver out to me again
and I glare at it, and then back at her. She’s wearing the same expression my
dad did when he told me I would be coming to Aylburton and I know I won’t be
getting any answers now. The thought just makes me angry. Damn my mother! Why
is she always interfering?

‘I don’t want to speak to her,’ I say.
I turn and stomp out of the kitchen.

When I reach my bedroom, I kick the
door shut and fall onto the window seat, scowling. I mutter a few curses, and
then do what I always do when I’m angry and need to vent; I whip my cell phone
from my jeans pocket and dial my best friend.

‘It’s about time,’ she says after the
second ring. ‘So I guess you arrived safely then?’

‘Yeah,’ I mumble crossly.

‘Whoa, what’s up?’ she says,
immediately picking up on my mood.

‘They still won’t tell me a thing!’

‘But, I thought -’

‘Yeah, well, so did I but now Nan says
I have to wait for tonight.’

‘But why?’

‘How should I know? It’s probably my
mother who told her not to say anything.’

‘Shaylee…’

‘No, seriously. She just knows exactly
when to call and how to piss me off -’

‘Whoa there, tiger,’ Jenne says,
‘you’re not making any sense.’

‘How can I when I don’t have a clue
about what’s happening?’ I’m nearly shouting by the end of my sentence, I’m so
irritated. There is a short silence on the other end of the line, then she
starts saying something but I don’t hear what it is because there is a knock on
my bedroom door.

‘Hang on a sec,’ I say to Jenne,
cutting her off mid-sentence.

‘Yes, Nan?’ I say through the closed
door.

‘Can I come in?’ she asks. I sigh,
shake my head and close my eyes. I’m really not in the mood for a lecture.

‘Sorry but I’m on the phone right now,’
I say and brace myself, expecting a tirade. There is a pause, and Nan just
says:

‘Alright dear, but be downstairs at
seven, Jake is coming to fetch us for Circle.’

What on earth is
Circle
, I think but I just say: ‘Okay,’ and wait for the sound of
footsteps before I lift the phone to my ear again.

‘Sorry Jen, where were we?’

 
‘
We
were getting nowhere and
you
were
working yourself up into a tiz,’ she says. ‘You’ve got to calm down, Shaylee.
There’s nothing you can do until tonight so just relax and take it in stride.’

‘God I miss you,’ I say. She is my
voice of reason and I don’t know what I’m going to do without her. Only Jenne
knows how to snap me out of my self-pity charades.

‘Talk about a topic change,’ she
laughs, and then quiets into a more serious tone. ‘So what’s happening
tonight?’

‘Haven’t a clue,’ I say, ‘but Nan said
something about
Circle
.’

There is a strange pause, and Jenne
says in a funny voice:

‘Circle? What’s that?’

‘How should I know?’

Another pause.

‘What time are you leaving?’

‘Seven.’

‘Will you call me after?’

‘Sure,’ I say, ‘if we’re not back too
late, otherwise tomorrow?’

‘Perfect, cheers,’ Jenne says.

‘Bye, my friend,’ I say, and hang up
the call.

I drop my phone onto the bed and check
the time on my wrist-watch: six thirty.

‘Better get ready,’ I say to myself,
but instead of following my own instructions, I move to the bedside table, pick
up my trusted
Five
notebook and flip
to the last page. I write the word: ‘Circle,’ and follow it with three question
marks.
 
 
 

Chapter 8

Shock

Tastes like: The first bite
of lemon.

Smells like: Ammonia.

Sounds like: A gasp.

Feels like: Icy fingers on sleep-warmed
skin.

Looks like: The tiny jerk
of muscles when startled.

At precisely seven pm, Jake pulls into
the driveway to collect us for
Circle
.
Nan radiates disapproval as she gets into the front passenger seat beside him
and I slide into the back of the Mercedes. She hasn’t said anything to me about
my mother’s phone call yet but her feelings are clear. I think I’ve shocked her.
Maybe she still expected me to be the same little girl I was when we left
Aylburton. I’m not.

Jake glances between us, and draws Nan
into a conversation about someone named Kent. I listen for a while as they
discuss this person, who seems to have gotten into trouble at school for playing
some kind of a prank, but since I don’t know him, I lose interest quickly and
block out their words as I stare out the window at the magnificent scenery.

Everything looks so
green
. It’s a different green from what
I’m used to, much more verdant than the olive shades of home. The sky is
brilliant against the jewel-toned tree-line; birds soar above us and flit
between the tree-tops and the brilliant colors of spring blooms catch my eye,
blurring into rainbows as we speed by.

The bluebells must be resplendent now;
I can’t wait to take my first walk amongst them. I can almost feel their
velvet-silk between my toes and it fills me with the warmth of home…Home…I
shake my head and bury the memories back where they belong – deep in the past.
I may once have lived here, but it is not my
home
and never will be again.
  
  
 

Nan suddenly lets loose a chortle and
my attention snaps back to the conversation in the front of the car. I wonder
what Jake has said to make my grandmother laugh and marvel at how, somehow, in
the space of seconds, he has changed Nan’s mood from censure to mirth.

Jake winks at me in the rearview
mirror and I stare back in surprise. It’s just a wink, but it feels like so
much more; a promise of support, a pledge of allegiance from an unexpected
corner. I don’t have time to think about it though because the car rolls to a
stop outside a quaint little Church with stained glass windows.

We get out of the sleek Mercedes and I
follow Nan and Jake, across the neat lawn and around a carefully tended
flowerbed of yellow daffodils. We walk straight past the picturesque chapel to
a second, newer building behind it and as we near the open door, I hear the
quiet murmur of voices.

 
When we step through the entryway, the
conversation stops. It takes my eyes a moment to adjust from the sunshine to
the dimly lit interior, and then I see that we’re in a large hall. In the
centre of the room, a handful of metal folding tables are arranged in a
make-shift horse-shoe pattern. There are a handful of people there, maybe
fifteen, standing behind their chairs, watching me. I duck my head
self-consciously and follow Nan and Jake to the three remaining chairs at the
curve of the horse shoe.
 

‘Ta failte romhat,’ Nan says when she
is standing behind her seat at the head of the group.

‘Mo Bann Ri,’ the assembly replies in
unison.

Nan takes her seat and the rest of us
follow. She turns and says something to the woman beside her.

 
Everyone’s attention seems to be on Nan so I
take a quick glance around the group. They look to be a random bunch, varied in
age and gender but I am struck by the sudden realization that, for once, I am
not the shortest person in the room. Everyone here looks to be about my height
– and each one possesses the same fragility that has been my bane in life.
 

‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, interrupting my
perusal of the party and drawing everyone’s attention back to me. ‘What I am
going to tell you will be unbelievable but I ask you to keep an open mind and
to trust me - to trust
us
.’ She gestures
around the room. ‘It is time you knew the truth: of who you are and of your
destiny.’

Nan takes a deep breath and squares
her shoulders in a regal posture.

‘We are not as we seem. No one in this
hall is human… and neither are you.’

She pauses, waiting for a reaction but
I just stare at her. I’ve heard wrong, I’m sure. She didn’t just say what I
think she did –
did she
?

‘Sorry, what was that?’ I ask,
glancing around the room at the others.

Nan smiles, as though she knows what
I’m thinking.

‘We’re not human,’ she repeats.

I give a nervous giggle and look
around the horse-shoe again but nobody else is laughing.

‘Not human?’ I ask, ‘you’re saying we
are…what? Aliens?’

‘No, dear, that’s silly,’ Nan says
with a laugh and somewhere to her right there is a snicker. I start to relax
but she continues: ‘
Our kind
was here
long before the human race. This is
our
planet and we are the original custodians.’

‘Our kind? Custodians?’ I whisper,
feeling my shoulders tense up again, ‘What are you talking about, Nan?’

‘Custodian is one of the words we use
to describe ourselves,’ Nan says. ‘But there are many others too, by which we are
called: ‘
caomhnoir
’, ‘
daoine maithe’
, ‘
coimeadai
’, and of course, the name we prefer, ‘
Maor
’ which means ‘steward’.’ Nan
gestures toward the door. ‘The humans have another name for us: ‘
Sidhe
’.’

I glance in the direction of her
gesture, to the world outside where the sun shines brightly and everything is
as it should be, then I turn back to Nan, eyebrows raised in an unspoken
question and she replies:

 
‘It means
fairy
.’

The hall is silent, strangely void of
the laughter I am expecting.

Fairy
.

A hundred images race through my mind.
Are these people insane?
What they are talking about exists only in the imaginations of children and
story-tellers. Have all the fairytales done something to Nan’s brain? Is there
something wrong with
my
brain that’s
causing me to hallucinate? Is this some kind of cult they are trying to drag me
into? My eyes dart toward the door again and I consider making a run for it.

‘Shaylee,’ Nan says, in a placatory
tone, ‘I know it sounds like something from a fairytale and you have pictures
of one-inch, winged creatures with wands in your mind. That may be the image
humanity has created of us through folklore but I assure you, reality is far
less romantic. Please, just listen to what I have to say.’

 
Something in her voice gives me pause. I relax
slightly on the edge of my chair and Nan nods, and continues:

‘The
Maor
have existed since the beginning of time. We are the keepers
of the earth, stewards of Mother Nature. There are many
Maor
Glen’s around the world, each Glen is responsible for the forest,
desert, mountain or river valley in which they live and work. The
Maor
you see in this room are the
keepers of the Forest of Dean.

‘We do not have wings, magic fairy
dust or wands. We do, however, possess talents. Each talent is different from
one to the next, some have one and a rare few have multiple. These talents
enable us to protect the fauna and flora of our forest; to ensure its continued
existence and our own survival, which are co-dependent. ’

I lean back in my chair, my expression
a combination of confusion and skepticism. Nan scans my face and turns to the
young woman seated on her right.’

‘Sarah?’ The woman stands, tosses her
strawberry curls back over her shoulder and gives me a disdainful look. She
narrows her green eyes into slits and raises her hands, palm up toward the window.
I frown at her, and follow her gaze.

Outside, I see only the two birch
trees closest to the window, their broad leaves glinting in the bright
sunlight. The leaves begin to move, rustling in restless protest against the
shadows enveloping them. In the space of a few seconds, the sky above turns an ominous
dark-grey and the sun disappears. There is a clap of thunder and it begins to
rain, a moderate shower that gently sways the boughs of the trees outside.

‘It’s not possible,’ I whisper,
picturing the brilliant blue sky that I’d admired just moments ago. There had
not been a single cloud in sight, let alone a storm but my mind refuses to
consider the possibility that Sarah could influence the weather. Only God can
make it rain.

Sarah glances at me, purses her lips
and returns her concentration to the window. She raises her hand, like a
conductor increasing the tempo of the orchestra. There is a loud clap of
thunder, a flash of lightening and a torrent of rain falls from the sky. The
branches of the trees outside whip in the howling wind and bolts of lightning
dart in zigzags across the angry sky.
 
 
 
 
 

‘That’s enough, Sarah,’ Nan says after
a moment, a hint of censure in her voice.

Sarah looks at Nan with a contrite
expression, curls her fingers in and just like that, it stops raining. The
clouds dissolve into blue sky, the sun comes out of hiding and the only
evidence of the storm that has passed is the sparkle of sunlight reflecting off
the water-logged leaves.
  
 

My mind begins to race. How did she do
that? What if it’s true? What does this mean for me? The rush of thoughts makes
my head spin and I lift one hand to my temple, then I drop it and stare at my
wrist. The tiny scar there looks the same as always, but it has begun to tingle
strangely.
 
 

 
‘Speed, healing, flight,’ Nan says, drawing my
attention away from the scar, ‘manipulating the elements of water, wind, earth
and fire - these are just some of the many talents we possess. Each
Maor
has a talent that is manifested between
the ages of eighteen and twenty five. Each talent must be practiced and
developed and could take years to master.’

Nan’s eyes take on a glassy sheen as
she stares out the window across the room.

‘Our ancestor’s talents were more
powerful than ours, far more intense and numerous. Over the centuries though,
our kind have inter-bred with humans. It was to be expected, with us living
amongst them in secrecy. Human blood has mixed with
Maor
blood and with each generation, our talents have diluted with
our genes.’

She looks sad, but brightens a little
as her eyes come to rest on me.

‘Some of our ancestral monarchs realized
the effect that inter-breeding was having on our kind, and in turn, on our
planet. They managed to keep the blood lines relatively pure in recent
centuries through the blood promise ritual.’
 

Nan’s eyes flicker to the opposite end
of the horse-shoe but before I can follow her line of sight, she looks back at
me and explains:

‘The blood promise is a sacred ritual
whereby two children are bound together as a promise by their parents that they
will one day marry and procreate.’

‘Sorry,’ I interrupt, ‘do you mean an
arranged marriage
?’

Nan frowns at the obvious abhorrence
in my tone.

‘There’s more to it than that. The
dilution of our genes has weakened our talents and is having disastrous
consequences on our planet. Without us, the earth will die. It is the
responsibility of our monarchs to ensure our survival. This brings us to you,
Shaylee.’

Nan stands, takes both my hands in
hers and tugs me up beside her.

‘For centuries, our kind has been
waiting for you.
You
are the
fulfillment of the prophecy.
You
are
the chosen monarch!’