Alven wasn’t always a city.
Centuries before, it was one of the few remaining Saxon’s settlements in
Britain. Comprising of over twenty houses, the town was surrounded by a
circular wall. It was built from eight foot-high logs. Its purpose was
defensive. The ‘Harrying of the North’ wasn’t a distant memory for the
inhabitants. It had been less than three years since this part of Britain had
been laid to waste. The people living here were still afraid that the new
king’s troops would burn this place to the ground. Steps were immediately taken
to allay that fear.
The town was named after the man
who’d built it, along with every house. The physically demanding task had,
however, led to a serious decline in his health. He’d died under a month ago.
His passing had left his two children – nineteen year-old Vorlyn and seventeen
year-old Leola – parentless. There was no mother. She was one of those killed
when William the Conqueror’s men last rode this way.
Leola was, at this moment, in
danger of following her parents to the grave. An unknown illness was ravaging
her body. Sweat running down from her forehead made her face glisten in the
candlelight. Leola’s brown hair was matted and slimy – her blue eyes were
bloodshot. Wiping away the perspiration was Nora – the oldest living woman in
this community. Every few minutes or so, she dunked a cloth in a wooden bowl
full of water. She then wrung out the excess fluid until it was just cold and
damp. Suddenly, Leola rolled to the left and was sick on the ground.
Nora examined the orange-coloured
vomit. She shook her head sadly. Hearing his sister puking, Vorlyn entered.
“You shouldn’t be in my house”
said Nora sternly.
“Will she recover?”
“You must prepare for her
passing, Vorlyn – it will be a miracle if she sees another morning”
“So, death is what awaits her”
Nora nodded.
“You would do well to prepare the
pyre for your sister”
“That will not be necessary” said
a voice coming from the doorway. Vorlyn turned. Not recognising the face of the
man stood there, he drew the sword he’d inherited from his father.
“Who are you?” enquired Alven’s
son.
“Garalde of Canroth”
Hearing a Saxon name used,
Leola’s brother slid his weapon back into its sheath.
“Canroth is many a mile from here
– why stray so far there?”
Nora’s question was loaded with
suspicion. She only trusted those from her own community.
“News reached me of this poor
maiden’s condition – I am here to save her from it!”
“How can you achieve this?” asked
Vorlyn. “The remedies Nora has given Leola have not delivered her from death.
“If nothing more can be done by
this old woman’s hand, then what harm can there be in putting her fate in mine.”
Vorlyn turned to Nora and said “I
shall give him leave to try”
“He is not known to us” Nora
replied defiantly.
“I am the chief of this town – it
is for me to decide what needs to be done!”
Nora gave Vorlyn a sour look as
she agreed to capitulate.
“I must be alone with her”
insisted Garalde.
“We will give you the solitude
you need” Vorlyn assured him.
He deliberately fixed an
authoritative gaze upon Nora as he agreed to this one condition. Vorlyn took
hold of her left arm to ensure she wouldn’t challenge his decision as the two
of them left. When they’d gone, Garalde put a bag made from cow’s skin on a
wooden table. From it, he took various herbs and potions. Behind him, he heard
Leola vomit again. Using the water in the wooden bowl, he wiped it away from
the corners of her mouth. When her forehead was a little cooler, Leola looked
into Garalde’s eyes for the first time.
“Father” she said feebly.
Her disease had taken Leola to
the point where even uttering words was tiring. That one had sapped her of some
of her energy. She looked exhausted. Leola’s exclamation was due to her fixing
on a memory of Alven.
“I can see why your brother wants
you to live”
Garalde leaned in closer to her
face and added, “I will see to it that you will live as you have never done so
before!”
A few minutes later, he walked
from Norma’s house. Vorlyn, who’d been pacing, turned and strode towards him.
“Well – has my hope been
realised?”
“Death will not claim her!”
Leola’s brother turned to face
Alven’s townsfolk. They had all come out of their homes when news of this
stranger’s promise spread.
“She will live!”
There was cheering from the men
and tears of joy from the women. The jubilant atmosphere only lasted for a day.
When dusk next fell, Alven’s
inhabitants were running in various directions. Those men old enough to wield
swords and spears were out in force. 3 expectant mothers screamed and wailed
aloud as 2 elderly men carried out the bodies of Nora and Vorlyn. They were
promptly laid on the ground next to one another.
“There she is” yelled Nora’s
nephew, pointing at Leola. Her chin was smeared with blood. It had been his
aunt’s and her brother’s that she had taken. A fiery surge of vengeance gave
him the courage to draw his sword. His moment of bravery did him no good.
Before he could even lunge his weapon at her, Leola’s altered teeth, resembling
those of a predatory animal, bore down on the left side of his neck. She only
got as far as consuming three pints of blood. Six of Alven’s warriors charged
towards her. In her bid to get away, she uprooted three of the logs that formed
part of the circular wall. It was as easy an effort as pulling up blades of
grass. As she ran, Leola saw the scenery on either side of her fly by at an
ever-increasing pace. It only became stationary again when she stopped running.
She surveyed the view all around her.
Leola was glancing at this view
again, but from the window of a train carriage. The year was now 2015. The
inspector on board it started calling out “tickets” to the passengers. As she
fumbled in her left jacket pocket for her wallet, a small object fell to the
floor. The ticket collector picked it up and handed it back to her. It was a
wooden talisman. Shaped like the diamond on a playing card, it had a Saxon
symbol etched into its centre.
“I think I saw this in a school
history book when I was a lad” he commented.
“I got it from a museum gift
shop” she said quickly. Leola then took out her wallet and handed him the train
ticket with the letters RTN on it.
“How long before we reach Alven?”
“Just after 7:30pm, I reckon”
It was starting to get dark
outside. Waiting until he’d moved on from her double-seat, Leola got up,
reached into her handbag and took out what appeared to be a pencil case. She
left the blue leather bag on the seat next to hers as she headed to the toilet
nearest to where she was seated. After locking the door, Leola then unzipped
the pencil case. Within it, she removed a tiny glass bottle. It was filled near
to the brim with human blood. She unfastened the top and gulped its contents
down in one go. Outside the door, the individual passengers and railway staff
members acted as they normally would during these journeys. None of them were
aware that there was a genuine vampire on this train with them.
Platform 5a of Alven’s train
station was crammed with commuters coming home late from work. Leola was nestled
in amongst of them as they headed to where the return tickets were collected.
Like lightning, she dodged out of this crowd. She took out a student travel
card from her wallet. It had a photo of her, taken three years ago, and the
name Skye Linton underneath. The face in it hadn’t aged as much as a day since
the 11th century. Every two hundred years of her immortal existence,
she wished to reclaim the ability to grow old. For her, it was still one of the
defining factors of being human. Leola tossed the student travel card into the
nearest bin she could find. There was no way she could maintain the illusion
she was a college student. She’d held onto that persona for over fifteen years.
Each individual she’d become had a maximum shelf life of twenty to thirty years.
It was time for her to adopt a new identity.
In the sizeable concourse, she
saw a dispenser for disposable cameras. Putting two pound coins in the slot,
she placed her right hand under where they usually fell through. She put it in
her left coat pocket and continued walking to the entrance. Passing through the
automatic doors, she came out opposite Lyndale Road.
Straight across from where she
was standing were three cafes, a second-hand record shop and a miniature branch
of Sterling’s – Alvenshire’s home-grown supermarket chain. The reason this view
had extra significance for her was down to it being in the same spot Nora’s
house had been, nine hundred years ago. She fantasised about this old lady
being immortal like her. Leola then tried to envisage what Nora would make of
the way Alven had expanded to the size it was now. That speculation almost led
to a car careering into her. That was the type of accident that would’ve
exposed what she is. Luckily, it braked several inches from her. The vehicle’s
driver used the F-word and called her a dozy cow in the space of a minute. She
gave no response and stepped onto the pavement. At least nine cars had driven
by when she briefly glanced behind her. The chance to change her mind over
heading this way had gone.
Just one of the trio of cafes was
still open – Tanaho’s. It regularly closed its doors at midnight, so Leola
opted to spend at few hours there.
It had the interior of an
American diner from the Fifties. Leola, when she used the name Mary Ann
Williams, had eaten, and danced, in one of those for real. She didn’t think it
recreated that period accurately enough.
Leola delved into this memory. It
instantly became an immersive experience. Around her, male and female American
youths gradually appeared. Through her eyes, a young man wearing a black
leather jacket and slicked-back hair was seen to be walking over to her. He had
a tiny scar on the upper part of his right cheek. It wasn’t bleeding. He combed
his hair a couple more times before talking to her.
“You look like a cool chick! Why
don’t we ditch these cats and go out to the alley?”
She was about to give him an
answer when two high school jocks got between her and the greaser. They both
had sweatshirts on with the first letter of their high school’s name sewn into
it. The guy trying to get fresh with her was joined by his pal. He too was a
greaser. Both sets of young men were exchanging mean and aggressive glances.
Fearing a brawl might occur, the owner of this diner came from behind the
counter. He was determined to stop it before it started. Getting the message,
they backed away from one another. He then told the greasers to leave. They
did, along with two girls who’d been sticking close to them. One of the jocks
clicked his fingers at a coloured employee.
“Where’s my soda, boy?” he said
in a masculine tone.
The diner’s owner turned to face
Leola. Her memory suddenly got weird, when his mouth opened and a female voice
came out.
“Can I get you something to
drink?”
What was even stranger was that
the woman talking was British. Leola blinked twice and found a waitress with
black hair staring at her. She repeated the question.
“Just a small Americano, please”
As Skye Linton, she gave that
reply whenever she wasn’t exactly sure what she wanted to order. That became
the standard phrase for that situation. Whilst the waitress headed to the rear
of the counter, she spied someone entering that she knew very well.
“Good evening, Councillor
Trennell”
“Good evening, Lisa – a
Cappuccino, please”
“Coming right up”
Their accents were a mixture of
Welsh and Yorkshire, with a bit of Norwegian English mixed in. All three
dialects had helped create the Alvenshire lingo.
Once she was on the staff side of
the counter, Lisa bent over to straighten a couple of the trays.
“Pissing hell, Kevin – don’t you
ever stack them properly” she muttered loudly.
Leola soon realised that
Councillor Trennell was staring at her as she was taking off her coat and placing
it over the back of one the chairs. She made a sporadic mental note of her
complexion and her hair colour, which was between brown and black.
“Shouldn’t you be at home – it’s
a school night”
“Is it?”
“It’s no good feigning ignorance
– seventeen year-olds are well aware when it’s a school night”
“I could be eighteen, nineteen,
or over twenty-three”
“You’re seventeen”
“Why so sure?”
“Because you sit like a seventeen
year-old – my daughter Rosie sits the very same way, and she’s about your age”
“I don’t have any parents –
haven’t had for a long time”
“Are you a care home kid then?”
Not wanting to be seen to hiding
anything, Leola said “Yeah, for as long as I can remember”
“So you were never fostered or
adopted?”
“I never was, no”
“That must mean you’re a halfway
house girl!”
“I guess so”
“Which one are you from?”
“Sudfield Hall in Canroth”
“You ran away, didn’t you?”
“Guilty as charged”
“Less of the smart arse comments
– why did you do a runner”
“I didn’t got on with the
manageress”
“Didn’t you try to?”
“Every day”
“Canroth’s a good thirty-odd
miles from here – that’s a long way for a teenager to travel just to get away
from the woman in charge. Were there any other reasons?”
“Just the one I gave you”
“Were you being interfered with?”
“No, the staff and other
residents let me be”
It was plain to Councillor
Trennell that her question had been misinterpreted. She chose directness when
asking it a second time.
“Did any member of staff or
resident sexually abuse you?”
“No, nothing like that happened
there.”
“What about the care homes you
lived at?”
“What’s the point of asking
questions like that?”
“All kids homes and halfway
houses in Alvenshire are council property. That’s what entitles me to ask those
sorts of questions.”
“No, I wasn’t molested or raped
at any of them”
“So, it’s just you not getting
along with Sudfield Hall’s manager that made you run away.”
“It’s just that, yeah”
“Right, here’s what’s going to
happen – I’m going to contact the manageress of that halfway house tomorrow and
get her side of the story”
“I don’t think she’ll be in
tomorrow.”
“I’m sure someone will be. You
can stay at my house tonight.”
“There might not be any room”
“There is. My eldest daughter,
Charlotte is at Herdenham University, so you can have her room, but only until
this business is sorted. As soon as I’ve got the full tale and sorted the
matter out, you’ll be going back to Sudfield Hall.”
On the journey to Councillor
Trennell’s house, Leola asked her what her first name is.
“Pippa...what’s your name?”
Rather than come up with a new
one, she answered “Skye Linton”.
Three left turns and two right
turns later, Pippa’s car was outside her house. It was situated on Falkirk
Drive, a residential area where property prices were on the expensive side.
Pippa could afford a place like this because of her and her husband’s
professions. The man she was married to – Doug – was the manager of Sterling’s
principal branch. He’d opened the front door as his wife emerged from the car.
“Wait in the house” she said to
Leola.
As she walked towards the front
door, Pippa took out her I-Phone and used the camera function to take a photo
of her, in full view of Doug.
“What are you doing? Who is that
girl?”
Councillor Trennell replied to
those questions in reverse order.
“A temporary house guest; I’m
taking a photo to show her.”
“I’m not following you, Pips –
who do you mean by her?”
“I’ll explain everything once
you’ve made me a cuppa. Where’s Rosie?”
“She’s in her bedroom with her
BFF Katy”
“Just Katy – where’s Alicia?”
“Jennifer said she’s got too much
homework to do tonight”
“Good, I’ll tell you about her
first – then I’ll fill her in on the situation afterwards”
True to her word, Pippa was
discussing the matter over the cups of tea Doug had made, a few minutes later.
“And you found her in Tanaho’s”
“Yes”
“I know who runs Sudfield Hall –
Diane Farnham. She’s great with all the teenagers living there – I can’t
imagine her any of them not getting on with her.”
“How can you be so sure of that?”
“We’ve been friends since junior
school – if anyone knows how good a person she is, it’s me. Where’s Skye now?”
“She says she wanted to use the
bathroom”
The woman Doug had spoken so
highly of was the person Leola was on the phone to.
“Diane – it’s Skye. Either
tomorrow, or in the next two days, someone called Pippa Trennell is going to
get in touch with you. Whatever she says I’ve told her, you’re to back me up.
You know what’s at stake! No matter what, keep her away from the top floor of
Sudfield! Should she dig any deeper about why I left there, repeat to her what
I’m about to say to you!”