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Maiocht: Chapter 1

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Maíocht PART 1: Myrddin Wyllt - An Pasáta Caite

Chapter 1


“Tá mo voghrá.”

“Ná leso dhéscomh!”

I had feared that this would happen. Fear; what is fear but the inexplicable notion that worse things are yet to come? No, perhaps I hadn’t feared this. Honestly, my heart said that this would have a much more successful outcome. Maybe if I had, we wouldn’t be in this mess. Looking back, I wonder what I could have done differently.

*   *   *

“Moooooooom,” I whined as I attempted to rip my iPod away from my older sister. “Make Caitlin give me my iPod back!”

Our mother shot my sister one of her ‘don’t make me come back there’ looks, and she reluctantly shoved the music player into my chest.

‘You’re such a little whiner,’ she mouthed.

My only response was the tip of my tongue protruding from my mouth.

“You would think,” my father commented. “That at fourteen and seventeen, you two would be a little more mature. Do you think you could at least try to behave?  You’re going to be sleeping in the same room for the next two months.”

We both nodded our heads.

“Good, because I don’t want to have you two at each other’s throats this entire vacation,” he chuckled.
Looking at the two of us, no one would ever believe that Caitlin and I were sisters. Her straight blonde locks and perfect complexion contrasted so drastically with my fiery curls and freckled cheeks that I couldn’t blame them. In fact their assumption would be half right. My parents adopted me when I was only one month old. That’s why we were on this little excursion.

Evanton, my birthplace, is a small town of just over a thousand residents that lies in the Scottish Highlands. It’s a far cry from the three hundred and fifty thousand I’m used to back in Bakersfield. My eyes drifted over to Caitlin, who was now staring out the window of our rented Vauxhall Zafira. Much like the minivans in America, it was a decent vehicle for driving the twenty-six miles from where our plane landed in Inverness to our destination.

Strangely enough, it wasn’t even my idea to visit the place where my ancestors lived. My parents came home a week ago and surprised me with the plane tickets. Of course the thought of seeing my homeland had tugged at the back of my mind, but I never acted on it. Now, my excitement was building as we cruised closer and closer.

“Lizzie, look out your window.”

My heart did a summersault. I could see the silhouette of Fyrish Monument on top of the hill. We were so close now! In mere minutes we would be entering the small town. This was really happening. I was actually going to see the place where I was born. Most adopted children only dream about that kind of thing, but I was going to do it.

“Big deal,” my sister scoffed. She didn’t even take the time to turn her head away from the window. For some reason unbeknownst to me, she’s been a real thorn in my side this whole trip. It’s not just this or the iPod thing. She’s been bugging me ever since our parents told us about the trip. At first I thought it was her usual big sister tormenting, but it escalated once we found out about the vacation. The thought of confronting her about it had passed through my brain a few times, but once I would finally muster up the courage to do it, she’d knock my confidence back down with a hard jab to my ego. That night, though, I would have to get her to explain herself. No way was I going to let her ruin the greatest time of my life so far.

We had reached the outskirts of town. House after house passed by in a blur. The farther we made it into the depths of Evanton, the more townspeople we began to see. Who were they?  What did they sound like? How did they act? Questions bounced around my mind like a flock of butterflies. What did they see with their sideways glances? To think, had my mother kept me, I could have been one of these villagers going about my business, laughing at a strange redheaded girl pressing her face against the window of some random van.

“Honey I think we need to take a left at this next intersection,” my mother contemplated, as she stared at the map on her phone.

It was amazing how little I knew of this town, this place where I originated from. Why hadn’t I done any research before now? It was strange. Before now, I hadn’t really given my origins any real thought. It’s not like I wasn’t curious. There was never a need for me to want to worry about it. Everything I ever wanted was already at my fingertips. Now the idea of learning about this world that I could’ve been a part of was right there seeping into every thought.

“Oh look at that! There’s a farmers market.” Dad had inadvertently taken a detour to a side street that was nowhere near the address we were going to stay at.

My father was all about getting fresh produce. The thought of getting some fruit or vegetable native to this area must have been too tantalizing to resist. He pulled over and parked along the curb.

He was already half way out of the car when mom frowned. “Do we really have time for this?”

“We’re here for the entire summer. I don’t think a couple hours at a market are going to set us back. Plus it’ll be good to have some organic food for the house!”

He had a point. We all tumbled out of the car and made our way towards the crowded market. There were so many people! I tried my best to hide my excitement. Without much control, I found myself studying their every word and movement.

“Guid Mornin’!”

“Ho ye!”

“In the name of the wee man!”

There were so many strange words! Their accents fell upon my ears and instantly made me giddy. I hadn’t a clue who any of these people were, but I already loved them. Their very essence screamed joyfulness and heartiness.

The smell of vanilla led me to a small stand surrounded by broad shouldered men telling stories of trips to the highlands. I stood there merely listening to their tales of the hunts they’d participated in. Their laughs alone fascinated me. It started deep in their stomachs and reverberated all the way through their bodies until it bellowed out of their mouths. Had we been in doors they would’ve probably shaken the walls with their richness.

“Aye! Seems we have a visitor.”

A strong hand found my shoulder and pulled me into the middle of the group.

“No need to sulk around lass, we knew ye was there the whole time,” he grinned. He had orange hair like mine, with a full beard to match. He seemed to be the leader of the group, since he had been telling most of the stories.

The man running the stand chuckled, “Calm yerself Abraham, yer gonna scare the poor thing ter death.”

He was smaller and had blonde hair. His stand was the source of the vanilla I had smelled. There was a plate full of what looked like light brown fudge. I must’ve been eyeing them for a while, because he grabbed a piece and held it out to me.

I hesitated and he laughed, “It’s delicious, trust me.”

I gingerly picked it up and placed it on my tongue. It instantly crumbled like sugar and I was consumed in a sweet vanilla bliss.

“Look at those eyes laight up!” Abraham guffawed. “Ah think she likes yer butter tablet Liam. Ah’m personally fond of the whiskey flavored ones mahself.”

His eyes twinkled, as he popped one into his mouth. “So whar ye from lass?”

“Well,” I thought for a moment about what I wanted to say. “It’s kind of a long story.”

“We got the whole day,” The brunette with the big belly grinned. “Plus we’re getting a wee bit tired of Abraham telling us the same old mahlarcky all the time!”

The others laughed boisterously and slapped him on the back.

“Alright Jacob, Ah got yer point. Now would ye lahke to shut yerself up long enough to here this lass’s story?”

They quieted down and he winked at me to get me started.

I took a deep breath and began. “I was actually born right here in Evanton fourteen years ago. My mom was too young to take care of me though, so she gave me up for adoption. When I was a month old my parents came here and adopted me. Since then I’ve lived in Bakersfield, California. It wasn’t until about a month ago that my parents came to me with plane tickets to Scotland. Now I’m just trying to figure out what my birthplace is like.”

“What do ye think so far,” Liam asked with one eyebrow cocked.

A wide smile broke out onto my face. “I already love it. Even though I’ve never been here before, I feel at home!”

Abraham leaned against the stand and stared off into another time and place.  “Mah paw used to tell me, back when I was a wee lad, that ye can leave yer home. But yer home tends to stick with yah, waitin’ to be awakened.”

“Really?”

There was a hint of secrecy in his smile, as he pointed behind me and said, “Ah think ye should take a look in that shop over thar. Ye may just find the answers yer looking fahr.”

I turned and looked in the direction he was pointing. Across the street was a dusty little store, whose sign was so worn, I couldn’t even read it. How was I supposed to find any answers in a place like that? For some reason, my feet started towards the door. Curiosity had won out. I wasn’t going to know unless I checked it out, right?

I pushed open the heavy door and called out, “Hello? Is there anyone in here?”

Instantly the smell of musty old books filled my nostrils. There wasn’t another smell like it in the world, and only those who have actually smelled it could understand the sensation it gives them. So I was in an old bookstore, easy enough.

Once my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could see the aisles upon aisles of books. The place was much larger on the inside than it looked on the outside. I made my way through the neatly stacked rows of books. Some names I recognized, while others were completely alien to me. The one thing they all had in common was that they were obviously either earlier twentieth century or older. Whoever owned this place must not have felt the need to keep up with the times.

“It’s rude to intrude on a person’s home uninvited,” a female voice whispered into my ear.

My throat went dry, as I spun around to face her. I tripped and nearly knocked over the shelf of books. Luckily the woman grabbed my arm in the nick of time.

“It’s even worse when you try to destroy their inventory,” she scowled. Her brown hair was in a long braid that fell to the small of her back. The lines around her grey eyes showed years of both laughter and pain.

“I’m s-sorry,” I stammered. “The man across the road told me to come in here.”

“What man?”

“He said his name was Abraham.”

“Abraham?” she questioned, as she cocked an eyebrow.

I nodded my head. She released my arm and looked me up and down with a scrutinizing eye.

“He wouldn’t send just anybody in here. He knows that I’m busy. I don’t have time for-“

“Please!” I interrupted. “He told me I could find out about my past here.”

I must have looked pretty pathetic by that point. Her eyes softened and she smiled. “Alright lass, no need to make a fuss. Follow me.”

She turned around and started towards the back of the store. I followed behind closely, not wanting to cause any more of a disturbance. Once we had reached the farthest depths of the room, she motioned for me to sit down at a small round table.

“Let me put on some tea, are you thirsty miss...”

“Oh, my name’s Elizabeth, and actually yes, a little bit.”

She whirled about the room and began to busy herself with making tea.

“What’s your name?”

“You may call me Fíona.”

A mix of smells wafted past my nose. My father would have said floral with a hint of sweetness. She set out two cups and as she poured the steaming brew, I questioned, “What flavor of tea is this?”

“Heather with a touch of barberry. It’s an old family recipe.”

She sat down and settled into her chair.

“Now let’s see why Abraham directed you into my shop, shall we? Tell me Elizabeth; what do you already know about your history.”

“That’s just it,” I sighed. “I don’t know a single thing. I was adopted a month after I was born and taken to the U.S. That’s where I’ve lived my entire life. Now my parents bring me here and suddenly, seeing this place and these people, I feel something. I can’t explain it. It just feels right, like maybe I was meant to live here. You know what I mean?”

If she had any kind of revelation, it didn’t show. Her finger steadily traced the lip of her cup, like she was contemplating something. What I wouldn’t give to be a mind reader at the exact moment. I was about to choke on the silence, when she finally said, “Let me go look for something that might help us.”

She hurried off, and I was left alone. Where on earth did all that come from? It seemed to just tumble out of my mouth, without any prompting from my brain. A few hours into this vacation and I was already going crazy. This was going to be a long summer.

I wasn’t exactly the type of person to sit still for any extended period of time, so I made my way towards the back row of books. They seemed to be the oldest and dustiest. My hands trailed along the spines of manuscripts that had to be at least a hundred years old, if not older. For some strange reason I stopped at a smaller book that had a faded emerald green binding. Gingerly, I pulled it off the shelf and blew off the cover. It read “Maíocht: A History of Sorcery in Caledonia”. Where in the world was Caledonia? I thumbed through the pages as I carried the book back to the table. Fíona was already sitting there tapping her foot impatiently.

“You aren’t very learned in the art of etiquette, are you?”

“Sorry, I have a hard time sitting still. Where is Caledonia?”

She waved the question away and sighed, “It’s a mythical country.”

“Not according to this book,” I stated.

I held it up for her to see. Her eyes widened and she snatched it out of my hands.

“You can read this!?” She gasped.

“Well, yeah. It’s all in English.”

She opened to a random page and pushed it into my face. “Read this!”

I staggered back a little and read, “Uh, Myrddin Wyllt was considered a madman, and resided in the Caledonian Forrest.”

What was going on? Why was Fíona looking at me like I’d just slit someone’s throat. Her eyes went back to the book, and she began to pace around. Inaudible ramblings slipped out of her mouth, as she traced her finger along what I had just read.

She turned back to me and demanded, “Tell me the truth, right now. Do you know anything about your past?”

“I swear I don’t!”

She calmed down and sighed, “I need to think about this.”

My eyes drifted back to the book, which was now under her hand. What was so special about that book? Of course I could read it, it was completely in English, was it not? My thoughts were shattered, with the ringing of the bell on the door to the shop.

“Lizzie! Are you in here?”

Oh, no! It was my mother. Fíona was faster than me, and pressed the book into my chest.

“I’m only going to say this once, so listen well,” she whispered. “I don’t care how you do it, just come back here tonight. There are certain things you need to know that I can’t tell you now.”

“About my ancestors?”

“Yes,” she hissed back. “I can tell you everything you need to know. Just be here when the sun goes down.”

She then steered me back to the entrance, where my mom was waiting with her arms folded.

“Would this happen to be your child?” She smiled warmly. “I found her wandering the store. She was enjoying herself so much with the books, that I didn’t have the heart to interrupt her.”

I nodded my head as confirmation of her statement.

“Well it’s time to go now,” she said, as she grabbed my arm.

My shoulders sunk in defeat. How was I ever going to get back here tonight? Not even the stealthiest fox could get past my mother’s keen eyes and ears. As we were heading out the door, I realized that I still had the book.

“Here’s your book.” I held it out for Fíona, but she shook her head.

“You keep it. I think you’ll find some interesting stories in it.”

Then she winked at me. What was with these Scots and winking? We made our way back through the street to where my father and sister were waiting.

“What did you get Lizzie?” he asked, as he peered curiously at my book.

“The bookstore owner gave it to me!” I held it for everyone to see.

“What’s the point of getting a book that you can’t even read?” My sister asked with a raised eyebrow.

“What are you talking about?” I frowned. “I can read it just fine!”

“Honey I’m glad you’re really getting into the spirit of things,” our mother smiled. “Maybe someday you’ll learn how to read that book, but for now we really need to get to the house.”

We all piled into the van and headed out. What were they talking about? I looked down at the book and contemplated about why everyone was acting so weird. The book was in English. How else could I read it? They were obviously fooling around with me. They had to be. As if my sister being a jerk the entire ride here wasn’t bad enough, now they were all at it. Well, who needs them? I’d figure this out on my own. No matter what, I had to sneak out and get back to Fíona’s shop.
Woo!!! Finally got Chapter one done. :D

This is my first all original novel. I'm so excited to get into this story. Thanks to NanoWrimo I've actually got my butt moving. I try to do around 1,000 words every day or at least 500. It's not too hard to find time to get that much typing in.

If your curious about the language I'm using some of the time, don't Google translate. It won't work. ;) Mainly because I totally made up the words. They do have meaning, but I left them unexplained for a reason. :D You'll just have to keep following the book to find out!

Maíocht story and characters (c) :iconleonardosbabygirl:
© 2012 - 2024 kristybaby2011
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