Mischief

Mischief

“Noooo…”

A loud cry echoed around the isolated village.  A group of women set down the clothes they had been washing, picked up their skirts and ran in the direction of the noise.

Orla also stopped washing and watched as birds circled above one of the huts in the village.

“They’re back,” she muttered to herself and plodded after the other women.

The women entered a small cottage on the edge of the clearing where the village was located.

“Sister Price,” a middle aged dumpling-shaped woman stated. “Whatever is the matter?”

Sister Price spread out her arms. “Oh Sister Jacobs. Tis the work of the devil to be sure. I tidied this house this very morning.”

Sister Jacobs’ eyes searched the tiny room. Rice, potatoes and parsnips lay neglected on the floor. A wooden table and its accompanying stools were turned upside down. Empty gourds were dotted around the room.

Sister Jacobs picked up one of the empty gourds and sniffed it. She gestured to the other women to do so. Once they had passed the gourd amongst themselves, Sister Jacobs shook her head and tutted.

“You tidied tis morning, you say?”

Sister Price looked at the abandoned gourd and shot a nasty look at Sister Jacobs. “Don’t believe me, do you?”

Sister Jacobs shifted her feet from side to side and looked down.

“I may have had a wee tipple last night but I know what I did this very morning!” Sister Price continued.

Sister Jacobs gestured to the other women to follow her. “We have washing to attend to.”  They left the hut nodding goodbye to Sister Price.

Orla picked up a broom that was lying in the corner of the room and swept the rice from the dirt floor, gathering it in a large pile by the front door. “Come, Sister Price. Let us clean up together.”


“They show no respect nowadays. I might like a wee drink of honey wine. I can remember my very own actions.” Sister Price muttered as she picked up the strewn vegetables.

Once a large pile of rice had formed, Orla swept it outside. In the open air, she heard angry voices drift across the clearing.

“It’s totally empty.”

“Are you sure?”

“Sure? Of course I’m bloody sure. It’s empty alright. All my winter supplies are gone.”
 
Orla crept away from Sister Price’s dwelling and stood behind a large Baobab tree. She saw the two men. “It’s Farmer Giles and Zeke, the village leader,” she murmured to herself.

She continued to listen to the conversation but took care to remain out of sight.

“It was Father Jones. That thieving toe rag. I’ll get him back. Don’t doubt my words.” Farmer Giles stated.

“Surely not. No one in this village steals.”

“He’s right,” Orla said under her breath. She looked to the far right corner of the village where Farmer Giles' food store was located. Three large ravens hovered above it. Why won’t they leave us alone? She thought.

Orla left the men to their conversation and reentered Sister Price’s cottage.

“Sister Price, I have to go. Do you mind if I take my leave of you?”

“You’re a good child. Be gone with you.”

Orla stepped back out into the fresh air and hurried back to her own cottage, a small, lonely structure on the edge of the village.

Once inside, she packed a straw mat, an animal skin, a knife, some bread and dried meat into a cowhide bag. She grabbed a gourd off a hook in her kitchen and filled it with water from a wooden bucket before swinging it from her neck. She then walked to her wooden bed, knelt under it and pulled out a chest. From it she withdrew a bow and several arrows. She placed them through the waist band of her skirt and then picked up a small gourd from the chest. She opened it and sniffed. A toxic smell filled the air. Orla shut the gourd firmly and delicately placed the gourd inside her bag. Finally, she wrapped a large cloak around herself ensuring the bow and arrows were fully concealed and left her hut.

She ambled towards a large baobab tree in the centre of the village. Chaos had broken out in village. Goats, sheep and large rams wandered in between the cottages. Father Jones was running after the animals and waving his hands wildly in the air.

Father Jones chased after a baby goat and when he caught it, he scooped it up under his arms. He clenched his free fist in the air. “I’ll get you, Farmer Giles! Mark my words.”

Orla nodded at him and continued walking to the central Baobab where Zeke stood. She studied the ravens soaring above the escaped animals.

Orla sat under the tree and nodded towards Zeke. He rang a large metal bell and villagers began to emerge hesitantly out of their houses. A crowd of thirty villagers grew around the baobab. Zeke shouted out at Father Jones. “Please come and join us.”

Father Jones walked over with a goat tucked over both his arms. He stared at Farmer Giles who was sat under the tree. Father Giles glared back.

“I have called you all here as strange occurings have been happening,” Zeke started. “First, Farmer Giles' supplies have been raided and now Father Jones' animals have been released from their pens.”

A murmur echoed through the crowd.

“You all know Weirwold is a peaceful village.”

Sister Jacobs shouted, “Hear hear”

“And no one here would harm another villager. Am I right, Farmer Giles? … Father Jones?”

Father Jones burst out, “I never touched his food. I don’t want anything that man has touched.”

“And I didn’t go near his animals.” Farmer Giles retorted.

“That is what I already know. I believe Big Creek is to blame.”

“Do you think they messed up my house too?” Sister Jacobs interjected.

“I think that was the honey wine, dear!” Sister Jones cried out. A ripple of laughter spread through the group.

Zeke ogled the crowd and the noise dimmed. “I shall lead a party to Big Creek. We will negotiate with them.”

“And if that fails …?”

“We will face that if and when it happens. Who will come with me?”

Four young men and a muscled woman raised their hands. Orla copied them.

“Orla,” Zeke murmured, “This will be a dangerous mission. Are you sure that you are up for it?”

“Yes.”

“But …we need to move quickly to Big Creek”

“That is why you must take me. I am the only one who knows the quickest route there. I won’t slow you down.”

The crowd nodded their heads and murmured. They looked directly at Zeke.

“Let her come. She is a good child. Her gentle nature might help in the talks.” Sister Jacobs added.

Zeke nodded at Orla and the other volunteers. “You have 5 minutes. Gather what you need. We may be gone a few days.”

Orla remained under the tree. Zeke eyed her carefully. “Hurry.”

“I’m ready.”

“How did you know … never mind.”  Zeke walked off.

A few minutes later the volunteers assembled at the edge of the forest. The rest of the villagers stood aside from them respectfully. A silence descended on the group. A few middle aged women held handkerchiefs to their eyes as they waved to their sons.

The volunteers trudged out of the village in the dying light of the afternoon. Matt, the youngest of the volunteers lead a heavily laden mule after the group. They plodded along well-trodden paths into the dense forest. The wind whipped through the trees and their branches moved like arms stroking the walkers as they passed by.

Orla looked around and listened. It was silent. Too silent. Red, orange and yellow filled the sky as the sun slipped out of the sight.

“We will settle here for the night.” Zeke commanded.

The volunteers hurriedly set up camp and built a fire.  Dinner was cooked and shared amongst the group. After eating, Orla moved away from the main party, pulled out her straw mat and her animal skin. She curled up under a tree.

She awoke abruptly to boisterous voices.

Matt was pacing through their camp yelling. “Who has stolen my food, my knife, all my possessions, my mule?”

Silence.

“Answer me now.”

“Go to sleep,” a voice answered.

Orla blinked open her eyes and focused on the scene. She glanced upwards and saw huge ravens were circling above them.

We’re not safe anywhere, she thought.

Orla hauled herself to her feet and began to search their camp. Matt smiled at her. But she wasn’t helping him. His possessions were long gone. On the path into their campsite, Orla saw a strange two-pronged footprint. A little further along she saw some bright, moist dung. It was only thirty minutes old. She scoped it up, sniffed and looked left. They had gone that way. She watched as the birds flew in the direction of the tracks. They squawked at Orla, “Come with us.”

“Are you all going to sleep when we have been robbed?” Matt cried frustrated.

Zeke stirred and pulled himself up from the floor.

“Matt. No one here would steal your possessions. Someone else must have.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. But I plan to find out. The sun will be up in a couple of hours. Let’s push on. It may not be safe to linger here much longer.”

“Um … Zeke. My leg is hurting and I don’t want to hinder your progress. I will make my way back home.” Orla said.

“You can’t go alone. It isn’t safe.”

“I can look after myself. We are only a few hours from the village. I’ll be back in no time.”

“I am not leaving anyone here. You are coming with us and that is final. Your leg will just have to manage.”

“But you are going in the wrong direction,” Orla murmured incoherently.

Carrying lit branches from the dying embers of the fire, the party moved away from their camp and deeper into the dense forest. The paths became less trodden and more overgrown. They battled their way along.

After a little while, the sun peeked out and filled the forest with a mysterious glow. Mist lingered over the ferns and bracken on the forest floor. Silence engulfed the volunteers as they traipsed on.

In the distance a noise began to resonate, growing louder and louder as the moments passed.

“Quick! Take cover.” Zeke ushered the group in the overgrowth.

A pounding of hooves grew stronger and stronger.

“Zeke? Matt? Where are you?”

The group stepped out from beside a bush

“Sister Jacobs?” Zeke responded as he studied the oversized lady on the horse.

“Tis I. I came in a hurry. Tis Farmer Giles. He was stabbed!”

Her words echoed through the group.

“Stabbed? …how does he fare?”

“He will live. But he vows to murder Father Jones. Says it was him.”

“Surely Father Jones wouldn’t do such a thing?”

“His barn was burnt. He blames Father Giles.”

Orla stepped away from the group. I can’t listen to anymore of this. I must stop it now. They will only get stronger and stronger the more chaos they cause, she thought.

She fought away through the undergrowth away from the main group. She willed them not to follow her. She pulled out her small knife and cut some of the branches away to make her progress easier. After a while she reached an adjacent path and fled along it. She searched the sky for clues. Where were the birds? There was nothing.

She continued on pausing every ten minutes to look for signs in the sky and on the path. After she had been going an hour she sat down on a log. An unpleasant smell filled her nostrils. Dung. She looked around her and saw a heap of fresh droppings. She scouted around and saw a footprint. She bent down to examine it when she heard a twig snapped.

“What do you think you are doing?” a voice boomed out.

“Zeke? … I.”

Zeke gaped and then bent down to examine the footprint.

“What is that …?”

Orla shrugged.

“Don’t lie to me. I know you have seen this before.”

“They are called Osps. They have been causing all the trouble. Not Big Creek.”

“Why didn’t you say?’”

“Osps thrive on attention. The more interest they receive or the biggest reactions their doings provoke, the stronger they become. I shouldn't even be telling you now”

All of a sudden a rock hit Zeke on the forehead.

“What was that?”

“Osps. They heard me.”

Rocks began to fly at them from all directions. Orla and Zeke ducked and dived to avoid the onslaught. Orla pulled out the small gourd from her bag and let a few drops fall precariously to the floor.

The rocks stopped and fell mid-flight to the floor.

“What did you do? What is that?”

“Do you remember the chaos of 2089?”

“The old myth?”

“It was no myth. My father was killed in the fighting that occurred then. Everyone blamed each other. Suspicion and mistrust swept through the village. The creatures created an atmosphere of fear. They caused the chaos and carnage. When my father died, he told me about the creatures. I was only a saw child then but I promised him I would take over his work. Become a hunter of them. I thought they had forgotten us until now.”

“What can we do?”

“You … nothing. It is my fight. I will track them down and force them back.”

“Back where?”

“The potion. When I sprinkle it over them, they shrink and appear to die. They don’t die though. They lay dominant, waiting for another opportunity to cause chaos. They feed of anger. Mistrust. Jealousy. ”

“What made them come this time?”

“I can’t be sure. But I have seen how the villagers treat Sister Jacobs. That might be why.”

“This is why peace and harmony is so important in our village.”

“It almost seems that it is indoctrinated in our culture. But we need it. Without it, we would be overrun by the creatures.”

A large groan could be heard in the distance and heavy footsteps vibrated through the earth.

“They’re coming. Hide, Zeke.”

Zeke stood firm by Oral’s side. Ignoring him, she pulled out her bow and arrows. She fired an arrow into the distance. Something emitted a low moan and then a roar. Black ravens circled ahead.

“Orla! Orla!” a raven squawked. “They are behind you.”

Orla swung around and fired an arrow. It hit enormous beast that stood just metres from them. Orla opened the gourd and sprinkled a few drops over the creature. It bubbled and sank into the group. Zeke watched openmouthed.

“Over there!” Zeke pointed to the right.

Orla loaded her bow and shot an arrow in the direction of Zeke's outstretched arm. It hit the creature straight in the heart. It collapsed and Orla walked up to the beast, clutching the gourd. As she approached him another monster jumped out of nowhere and swung its heavy fist at Orla. The gourd flew out of her hand and Orla lay motionless on the ground.

“Orla!” Zeke cried and fled to retrieve the gourd. A creature chased him to it but Zeke dived onto the gourd and shook it into the creature’s face. It disappeared before his eyes but before he could catch his breath another creature was upon him. He swiped at Zeke's legs and knocked him to the ground.  The gourd rolled and lay next to Orla. At that very Wearily Orla opened her eyes and saw the creature looming above Zeke ready for the kill.

“No!”

Orla grabbed the gourd and threw it open in the direction of the creature. It flew through the air spilling its contents. Its last drops hit the creature who disintegrated leaving no trace behind..

Silence filled in their empty spaces.

“You saved me,” Zeke coughed.

Orla smiled. “You saved me too.”

“You saved our village.”

Orla shrugged. “I had a job to do.”  She offered her hand to Zeke and pulled him up from the floor.

She punched Zeke playfully on the arm. “I told you I wouldn’t slow you down!”

He smiled and kept hold of her hand.


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