Wraith(16)

‘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 error 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 fa?ade, making it easier for my shadow to slip upwards undetected, even if another guard wandered past.