Whatever reason the goblins had for preserving for Stirling Castle, it stood over all of us as a permanent backdrop to our lives. Those walls, turrets and towers saw everything. Sometimes I was almost jealous.
My shadow self had ventured inside, especially during the early days of the siege when we were all sure it would be finished by Easter but the Filits were too damned cautious. They had a nasty habit of regularly scanning the castle and its environs for beasties – wraiths included. On two occasions I’d almost been caught.
A while back the Filits put a bound shadow on display at Mercat Cross after its owner had attempted to assassinate one of the cannier goblin lords. It took a full day for the wraith to writhe and silently scream its way to death; at that point I promised that I wouldn’t step inside that dratted castle ever again.
I finished the dregs of my dandelion coffee. Promises, much like rules, were made to be broken. I knew that I could still walk away if I wanted to; women like Ange and kids like Becky were two a penny. Very few people would miss Ange. The only way I could guarantee my own safety would be to tell Becky that I’d tried my best but I couldn’t find her mother. She’d be sad for a while but she’d get over it. Eventually.
Standing up, I went into my small bathroom and turned on the tap. A few drips of water splashed miserably into the sink while the pipes clanked and complained. I sighed. If the water would didn’t come on again soon, I’d have to make another trip to the river. I was fast running out of supplies. Still, I thought, as I cupped water in my hands from an old jerry can and splashed it over my face, if I died saving Ange Horrocks I wouldn’t have to worry about rations or water or anything like that ever again. What a cheery thought.
Even if I hadn’t had Becky’s pleading, tear-stained face at the forefront of my mind, I’d have felt compelled to do my best for Ange. When we let the Filits arrest whoever they wanted for whatever made-up reason they wanted, we’d have given up. In that scenario the only alternative left to us was to lie down and die. I gave a wry smile. My life wasn’t worth much these days anyway. The sad truth was that no one’s life in Stirling was.
The only way I could leave the castle alive and with my shadow intact would be to avoid the areas where large groups of people congregated. The hallways and corridors of the buildings on the outer fringes would be safer, although the Dark Elf would probably be staying in the King’s Old Building in the Inner Close. In the days before the siege, important guests and visitors were given rooms there. As long as I didn’t venture too deeply inside the Inner Close, I had a chance of lurking in the shadows and finding out the information that Marrock needed.
I patted my face dry and gazed into the bathroom mirror. I looked gaunt and sickly, my freckles standing out in sharp relief against my skin. My short hair and green eyes didn’t help. I looked less like a living, breathing woman than an androgynous robot whose maker had run out of materials to finish the job properly.
I tightened my lips. Given that I might well not be coming back, I should probably break into my own emergency supplies. At least a decent-ish meal might set me up for what was to come.
***
I didn’t feel exactly nourished when I detached my shadow and set out from home but my energy levels had been buoyed by the instant noodles and dry crackers. I’d even allowed myself a couple of squares of chocolate that I’d kept hidden for months. The black market hadn’t provided proper chocolate at any price for ages, although word was that the goblins were swimming in it. I left myself just enough to savour when I got back – if this little venture wasn’t my swansong.
I used the growing dusk to mask my shape, but even so I took a slight detour and went via Mercat Cross again, double-checking that the line of nooses remained empty. I was surprised at the relief I felt when I saw that Ange’s body wasn’t swinging in the gentle breeze.
My plan was to nip back down the same street where Kanji and the other clubs lay but suddenly a suited and booted group of goblins came marching down from that direction. While my physical body drew in a sharp breath, my shadow body darted into the furthest corner to hide.
The goblins moved towards the hanging ropes in a tight group. They weren’t dragging any unfortunate prisoners with them. I watched them, feeling sick to my stomach. The only reason I could think of that they’d tamper with their execution site was to prepare for a large-scale hanging. The largest number who had ever swung at one time was twelve, which was why there were now twelve empty nooses waiting to be filled. The goblins had left them there as a stark reminder. You could avoid viewing the executions – attendance wasn’t mandatory – but the bodies stayed up for at least a week. That way no one missed seeing what would happen if you did something that displeased the goblins.
I hunkered down and wrapped my arms round myself. If any of the goblins glanced in this direction, they wouldn’t see me. The other shadows and the darkening night sky kept me well concealed. Remaining motionless, I watched while the goblins separated, one by one, before climbing onto the scaffold. When they started undoing the knots and releasing the nooses, I almost staggered. Each rope spiralled down, landing with a heavy thump onto the cobbles below. What the bejesus were they up to this time?
The goblins clambered down, huffing and puffing as if it were a great effort, then coiled up each rope to make it easy to carry. One of them, whose shoulder pips signalled that he was a higher rank, stepped back and eyed the scaffold with a critical expression. ‘Auction block,’ he grunted. ‘That’s what it can be used for now. Taking all of the rest of this down will take too long.’
Something inside me eased; they were dismantling the gallows, not extending them. The sudden benevolence seemed too good to be true but I was still delighted. For a brief moment, anyway.
‘Auction block for what?’ one of the other goblins asked.
The leader pursed his lips. ‘This season’s strawberries.’
The group guffawed. Even tiny wild strawberries were impossible to find these days. I glared at them from my hiding place. They couldn’t see me and it didn’t make me feel any better but all the same I silently killed them with my eyes. Then I slid away.
Whatever they were up to, it wasn’t anything for me to worry about right now. Still, their strange antics altered my plan and instead of using the main thoroughfare, with its useful darkness, I sneaked towards the smaller streets. It was a longer route but my destination was the same: all roads led to the castle sooner or later. At least on the back streets I wouldn’t inadvertently bump into any more goblin gangs. That was the theory.
I’d slunk about five hundred metres when a movement ahead caught my eye. A man appeared, someone with a delicate build and a flat cap. It didn’t take a genius to know that he was up to no good. He darted from one side of the street to the other, his head twisting this way and that as if he were expecting someone to come after him. A moment later someone did.
‘You wanker!’ A tiny person sprang out from the same doorway and barrelled towards him. I squinted. It was definitely a kid and even at this distance it was clear that he was shorter and younger than Becky. I grimaced. No one should let their children out on these streets at night, no matter what the reason.
The man picked up speed but he was obviously unused to running and I could see the kid gaining on him. A moment later the man’s foot slipped and he went flying, landing on his back with a yell. He scrambled up, trying to get to his feet, but the kid was already on him, raising one foot and smashing it down into the man’s groin. I winced while the man screamed, the sound echoing round the streets. Half the damn city would have heard it.
‘Give it back!’ The kid bent down, struggling to pull back whatever had been taken. Despite the man’s obvious pain, he didn’t appear willing to let it go.
Making a snap decision, I moved forward. Neither the kid nor the man noticed me – they were far too intent on their own struggle. A metal canister skittered free and rolled down the street. I snatched it up with one hand just as the k
id glanced towards me then I sprang towards him and yanked him by the scruff of his neck, hauling him back into the shadows.
He writhed and kicked against me, trying to shout out, but I clamped my free hand round his mouth to muffle the sound. I managed it in the nick of time; seconds later, four goblins appeared at the bottom of the street.
I felt the kid convulse – him and me both. It wasn’t as if he’d given me much choice in the matter, however, and at least this was my wraith form touching him rather than my physical body. It made things a little easier for me.
Surrounded by tightly packed terraced houses, there was nowhere to hide him. I spun round, facing him away from me and using my own shadow to mask his body. Then the goblins were on us.
‘Who are you?’ one demanded, grabbing the man and yanking him upwards. ‘What are you doing?’
Whatever was going on between him and the boy, neither of them wanted the goblins involved. The man cowered and tried to duck away, making a vain attempt to shield his face. ‘Nothing,’ he whined. ‘I’m not doing anything. I’ve not taken anything and I’m doing nothing wrong.’
I grimaced. Every word was laced with a lie. There were numerous avenues he could have taken to avoid the goblins’ interest but this wasn’t one of them. I couldn’t do anything for him now; instead I squeezed the boy tighter, praying he had the good sense to keep quiet.
Another goblin rummaged in the man’s jacket, pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. ‘Eric Quiddle,’ he read aloud. ‘I think you’ve been a naughty boy, Eric.’
‘I’ve not! I’ve not done anything!’
The goblin released him. ‘Well, then, we’ve obviously made a terrible mistake. I’m so sorry, sir. Enjoy your evening.’
Damn it. I knew what was coming next.
‘Wh … what?’ the hapless Mr Quiddle stammered.
The goblin gave him a little shove. ‘Off you go.’
Quiddle remained where he was for a second and then turned, trying to run away as fast as his legs would carry him. He didn’t get very far. Another goblin reached into his pocket and threw a heavy-looking shuriken towards the back of his head. The goblin clearly knew what he was about; the weapon was angled so that the dull blades skimmed Quiddle’s skull and didn’t break the skin but the force of the throw sent him slamming down onto the hard concrete .
‘Running away from the strong arm of the law, are we, Mr Quiddle?’ The nearest goblin turned to the others. ‘What is that?’
The shuriken-throwing bastard tapped his mouth thoughtfully. ‘Seizure of assets. Ten days in jail.’ He glanced down. ‘Let’s hope he’s got some assets worth seizing.’ He hauled Quiddle up and dragged him away. Quiddle’s feet scuffed against the cobbles.
I sighed. There was little doubt that Eric Quiddle was no angel but he didn’t deserve the goblins’ attention. No one did.
I stayed where I was, with the boy’s body fully covered by my shadow, until I was certain that the goblins weren’t coming back. Only when the street was still again did I release him. He leapt backwards, wide blue eyes staring at me with fear. He might be a kid but he knew what I was.
‘Are you going to kill me?’
I shook my head slowly, making sure I was out of the shadows of the nearby buildings so that he could see me. Then I tossed him the canister. I didn’t know what was inside and, to be honest, I didn’t really want to know. The boy unscrewed it anyway and held it out to me.
‘Here,’ he said sullenly. ‘Take it.’
Three small tomatoes lay inside. My mouth watered. I shook my head again and placed my finger to my lips, hoping the boy got the message. I had no idea where he’d managed to find tomatoes but I wouldn’t tell anyone about them if he wouldn’t tell anyone about me. Understand me? I’m not your enemy.
He stayed where he was, the canister outstretched in his small grubby hands. He was obviously too frightened to leave and expected me to do to him what the goblins had done to Quiddle. I got the message and slid to the side, moving past him and away.
When I passed the open doorway to his house I saw another small figure, a young girl who couldn’t have been more than three or four who was sucking on her thumb and staring in my direction. My insides tightened. They probably didn’t have parents. This was what it meant to live in this city these days where babes were forced to look after themselves and a few tiny tomatoes were precious currency.
I sighed and ploughed ahead. To pause would only terrify the boy further. I was a wraith after all; I was the stuff of even the goblins’ nightmares.
I did my best to shove both children out of my mind. Their situation wasn’t unique and right now I couldn’t help them. I had to push ahead and stick with my mission. Maybe once this was over, when I looked like a normal human being instead of a creature of darkness, I could do something to ease their suffering.
I picked up speed and returned to my original course; high up on its steep hill, the castle was still waiting.
Without seeing another living soul, I twisted one way then another through the Stirling streets before scaling the long, tree-covered slope to reach the crag at the foot of the castle walls. I’d traversed these virtually perpendicular woods several times and discovered the odd cave and clump of edible plants But on the few previous occasions I’d visited the castle I’d entered as a shadow through the main gates, which were situated on the only one of the four sides that was accessible to living bodies. I used to slide in behind others who were entering so that my shadow merged with theirs and didn’t get picked up by the flickering flames that illuminated the grand entrance.
This time, however, I had to be more sensible because remaining as unobtrusive as possible was vital. It would take considerable energy to scale both the crag and the outer wall – not to mention what lay beyond. Even shadows could only do so much. Fortunately, I had a good idea where it would be best to aim for.
I flitted in and out of the trees until I got to where I wanted to be then I rubbed my palms together. These outer walls were only just the beginning but like all adventures, both good and bad, I had to start somewhere.
I took my time skimming up the crag until the rocky tree-covered cliff face merged into the man-made wall. I was heading for the point where, generations ago, a particularly foolish house puck had strapped on a pair of makeshift wings and attempted to fly. Legend had it that he was the first person to attempt such a feat, which always seemed unlikely to me; he was probably just the first one daft enough to boast about it. A pile of dung lying at the bottom had broken his fall and he’d escaped with little more than a broken bone or two. His actions spoke of the stupidity of the beings who lived in castles. Large stone buildings weren’t invulnerable despite their impressive stature – and neither were their occupants. If only the goblins, both Gneiss and Filit, would realise that then we’d all be better off.
When I reached the parapet, I slowed even further. Even though this was the far side of the castle, and the old, overgrown Queen Anne gardens in front of me hid my shade form from the more well-lit parade ground to the north, I still needed to take care. All I needed was one curious set of eyes gazing from a window above and my shadow could be spotted. I raised my head carefully, glancing around. A heartbeat later I was forced to duck down again as the crunch of heavy goblin boots on gravel drifted towards me.
My shadow isn’t necessarily two-dimensional or three-dimensional. I exist outside the boundaries of normal understanding. In essence, when I am standing, my wraith shape is three-dimensional; this is necessary for interacting by touch with my environment. If I want to kill someone, as others of my kind are wont to do, or to help small boys hide from goblins as I prefer to do, then that is the form I have to take. When I am against a solid structure like a castle wall, I can be two-dimensional. In theory I can remain flat against the high edge of a wall or a tree or a cliff for as long as I wish. In practice, however, my energy is quickly sapped by the concentration and effort such a feat requires. People often make the err
or of thinking that wraiths are indefatigable but it’s not true.
The last thing I wanted was to waste precious vitality by hanging around. All the same I waited, counting until a full minute had passed after the sound of the footsteps had dissipated. Only then did I raise my head once more, breaching the gap between the outer wall and the untidy hedgerow beyond.
A corporeal form would have found it tiresome to navigate through the garden but I sprang through, bouncing from tree to bush to indefinable green growth. It had been left untended for so long that trailing bindweed had sprung up everywhere, wrapping itself around everything and crawling up the edge of the wall beyond. As I had to traverse that wall, the bindweed was a blessing; it provided an uneven façade, making it easier for my shadow to slip upwards undetected, even if another guard wandered past.
While back in my flat the muscles of my physical body tightened and my breath quickened, my shadow bounded upwards, springing along the bindweed as if wholly entangled and yet still entirely fluid. Stirling Castle isn’t a single entity but a collection of buildings of all shapes and sizes, so I could dart from dark walls to their even darker corners. There were many windows dotted around, light wastefully shining forth from each one, but they were easy to avoid. With night finally in full swing and the moon half-covered by cloud, my journey became easier as I continued. I might have been sweating back at home but my shadow was making short work of the castle’s defences. At least until I reached the Inner Close and the King’s Old Building loomed in front of me.
I took a moment to compose myself. The hardest part in physical terms was now behind me but the hardest part in real terms was ahead. By pausing, I allowed both of my forms to recoup some strength and energy. If I were eating more healthily and more regularly this would have been less of a problem. I’d have cursed about it if it would have done me any good but even little Becky knew that whining never served anyone. Put up, shut up or be strung up. Simple as.