The Wailing Stones by Feath MacKirin "Hold on tighter, Emmie." Mother's raspy voice could just be heard over the skitter of the gold-dry winter leaves. Emmie tightened her hold around her mother's neck, breaking one of the scabs there. "Don't let go, my robin!" "Won't!" "Get you to Poppy's, must get you to Poppy's. He'll watch you." Mother's breath came in great bellowing puffs, the smoke of her breath bathed Emmie's pinched and dirty face in warmth. Emmie nodded and patted her mother soothingly with her finger tips, her touch soft as grey mist. Mother tripped, going down hard and scraping her knees on the pitted frozen trail, adding another rip to her once elagant gown. She threw a desperate look over Emmie's head and stumbled back onto her feet. The filthy satin of her skirts stuck to the blood on her knees and her legs burned with fire. She hitched the lightweight child higher onto her hip and continued, limping now. "Poppy's. . .Poppy's. . . almost there, now." She had been saying that since the moon had risen, and Emmie no longer believed her. Sucking her thumb, Emmie watched the cold blue moon jiggle and jolt just in front of Mother's bleeding forehead. It was following them, too. "Stowy?" Emmie removed her thumb to ask, but the bitter cold had her replacing it quickly for the warmth. A dog howled behind them and Mother froze for an instant, before redoubling her efforts through the dark oaks. "Story. Yes, a story." Mother coughed and spat, leaving a small black spot on a patch of snow. She thought she could hear the thud of men's boots carried on the groaning breeze, and she whimpered. She closed her eyes to pray, but all she could think of was getting to her father's manor. Safe, Emmie would be safe there, as she had been as a child. Snug in bed on muggy summer nights, watching out the window as the crescent moon rose over the moss covered Stones. "A story. . ." "Across the way from Poppy's, on the other hill, there are Standing Stones." Another dog barked, closer this time and Mother started to trot, her breath coming in gasps. Emmie held on tighter, and pulled her head off Mother's jerking shoulder. "They say that many years ago . . . so long ago men have forgotten when . . . a Queen gave birth to a boy child. The King declared he was not his son and ripped the Heir's Ring from the child's hand. He divorced the Queen, but because of the boy's blood through her, allowed the boy to train as a knight." Mother ran a small distance without speaking, puffing like a smith's bellows. "But then this knight betrayed his king, tried to kill him and take the realm, the foulest thing any knight -- son or no son -- could do. The stones were put up to hold his black soul, and the King's mighty magician sealed the knight's still living body into the stone circle, and cursed him for all eternity. "Until the resurrection, shall you abide here alone, to reflect on your evil deed"." Coughing heavily, Mother stopped. She set Emmie down and hands on her chubby knees, she tried to draw breath. She _could_ hear men's indistinct voices now, they were so close. Fumbling in her haste, she pulled her string bag purse from her waist and shoved it into Emmie's hands. "I can't carry you anymore, my robin. You need to fly on your own." Her voice dropped to a strangled whisper so as to control her coughing long enough to talk. "Follow the road. Don't leave the road! And when it splits, as it will just down there, take the left side. Do you remember your left hand, Emmie?" Mother's voice was hard and pebbly, fractured with fear. Emmie nodded slowly, looking up at her mother's desperate face. She could never remember her rights and lefts, but wanted to give her mother no trouble. "To the left is Poppy's house. Fly as fast as your feet will carry you. Go quickly!" "Mummy? You come, too?" Mother bent down and hugged the child close. "I'll be right behind you. But you don't stop, not for anything, no matter what you hear. Run -- run until you get to Poppy's. He'll take care of you, and love you like I do. Just run to the left! Do you understand?" Emmie held her mother tightly around the neck, afraid to let go. "Love you, mummy." The panicky throb of her mother's heart sent fear charging through the child's thin body. "Fly my robin! Fly!" Ruthlessly Mother pulled Emmie's arms away from her neck; turning the child in the right direction, she swatted her blanket clad behind. "Go! Don't look back, don't come back!" Emmie started crying, not in pain, but in fear. Turning, she did as her mother commanded and started to run down the rutted forest lane. She was rested, and her feet were warm in their leather ankle boots. Her brown blanket, tied with a large knot under her chin, completely covered her ripped woolen nightgown; it raked the ground behind her, soaking up moisture. With each nimble leap, the blanket slapped icy fingers against her bare calves, spurring her on. She did not look behind her, knowing her mother would soon be joining her and she quickly passed the next bend in the road. The dogs were very close now. Mother turned back, returning the way they had come, distancing herself even more from the fleeing child. She had run only a small amount of time -- had they been so close? -- when the dogs and men met up with her. "There's our thief!" The Marshal snarled, letting the dogs loose from their ropes. Fangs dripping saliva, eyes red with hunger, the dogs attacked their prey. Mother shrieked. Emmie heard the dogs vicious barking and her mother's scream, and wondered what had happened. She stopped and turned, looking back, but could see nothing. She took a hesitant step then remembered her mother's words. Gulping, she turned and continued her journey, running full out now, the squeak of the snow under her boot loud in her ears. The blanket twisted between her legs, tripping her. She pulled the blanket up, gathering the folds into her arms. Unhampered, she ran the faster, her nimble legs flashing in the moon light. She could hear men's rough laughter behind her, but her mother's voice was silent. She opened her mouth to breathe, long paths of steam trailing behind her. Everything was a blur to her, tears leaving twisted clean streaks across her freckled cheeks. She saw the road breaking in half, one side going one way, one side going the other. Which way was left? She couldn't remember. As she ran, she held her hands in front of her, trying to remember which she ate with. It didn't help; she could see herself eating with both. Which way was left? The dogs were howling again and Emmie's imagination had them just at her heels. She licked salt from her numb lips, and sucked in the icy air through an open mouth. Fear propelling her forward; she ran as fast as she ever had, her leather boots slipping in the deepening snow. She rubbed the tears to clear her hollowed, shadow smudged eyes; her heart beating so loudly that it seemed the world receded, and there was nothing left but her heart beat and the dogs that followed. Fear clawed at her, just as she feared the dogs would. Terror took her speech and all she could do was whine, the long undulating whine of an animal hurt and looking for a hole. She ran harder, her long slim fingers clutching Mother's dark green purse to her belly. The dogs were right behind her, she could hear the beat of their feet on the hard cold earth. Her whine became a scream like a church bells claxon. She stumbled then realized she was on a hill. Bending over she used one hand to help her up the slope, tugging at the dead yellow grass, not noticing the frozen blades cutting into her palm. Blindly, she ran into something solid. "In!" She beat her hands on the wall, screaming as loud as she could. "In!" The dogs were right behind her, snarling and growling. She turned her head to look, her pale blue eyes wide in terror, her auburn hair clinging to the sweat and tears on her dimpled chin. She felt the teeth grabbing her blanket, nipping her skin. "IN!" The wall disappeared and she fell forward. She felt the dog release her and heard the other dogs slapping up against the wall with a heavy thuds. Sobbing, Emmie laid her head on her arms as she tried to catch her breath. Turning over onto her back, she gasped when she realized she could still see the dogs, ripping her blanket to shreds, pacing back and forth only feet from her. She crab crawled back, away from them, but they didn't try to get her. She could see the blood on their muzzles and knew that they had killed her mother. "Mummy!" she wailed, "Mummy!" She realized she still held her mothers purse and held it tight against her chest. "Forever blessed! My prayers have been answered!" "Poppy?" Emmie turned watery blue eyes up at the man who spoke. Scrambling to her feet, she rushed to him and grasped him around his iron armored knees. The man squatted and ran a cold hand over her face. "Nay, child. My name is Percy -- Sir Percival William D'Martin, Knight of the Realm. At your service!" The Knight looked over the child's head at the busy dogs. He picked the child up and turned away, to the other side of the middle stone. "What is your name, child?" He sat down, resting his back against the tall, wind ravaged stone and sitting the child on his lap. He looked into eyes the same blue as his. "Emmie -- Emmaline. I'm a Pwincess." "Ah! A good strong name, Your Royal Highness, worthy of you. I saw you fly as swift as an arrow!" Emmie smiled. She stroked the knight's long tawny beard and the gold lion on his breast plate. "Poppy?" "I do not know 'Poppy', but perhaps that is his place?" A long bony finger pointed across the road at a small manor house. Emmie wiggled freed and ran toward the house. Percy lifted a hand to stop her then hesitated. When Emmie hit against the invisible wall, Percy bit his lip to stop his own cry of pain. Emmie beat against the wall. "Poppy! Poppy!" She made a fist, and beat harder. "Out!" "I fear that will not work, Emmie. You cannot get out now. You will be here forever, as I am." He knelt down and pulled her hair away from her chin and tucked it back behind her ear. "At least you won't be alone. And now, I won't be either, an answer to a prayer of great loneliness." Emmie turned at the sound of men's coarse voices. "Did the whelp have the bag?" One man's booted toe rooted through the bloody blanket and half stripped bones. "Don't see anything." "Damn. What did the woman do with it? The King isn't going to be pleased, not pleased at all." The men gathered the dogs and pulled them away. They had already dined once, and were easily persuaded. Emmie's eyes grew big. Understanding shattered her like a mule's kick. She started to wail. The men backed up from the Standing Stones. "What is that?" They tripped over themselves getting away. "Cursed. We've been touched by the Black Knight!" They ran as fast as they could, the howling dogs leading the way. Emmie wailed louder. "Well done!" Percy laughed as he came up to her, putting a calming hand on her shoulder. "What was this about a bag?" Emmie held out the bag, and Percy opened it. He pulled out a small object. "A ring. A small, child sized ring." He turned it in the moonlight, looking at the design. "Bless me! It's _my_ ring." He looked up into the sky. "Is my despair not enough, that you must tease me even now with my cursed and ruinous destiny? Now you must place the Heir's ring in my hand?" He hunkered down, facing the child. "Where did you get it?" "Mummy gave it to me." "Um." He looked at his fingers, then at the child's. He sighed and taking her small hand, placed the child's ring on her thumb. "Yours now; paid for in full, I would say." "Mummy?" "Dead probably, child. I'm sorry." Emmie started to wail again, long drawn out cries of misery. "Here now! You're not going to cry throughout eternity are you? God wouldn't be that cruel to me, would he?" Emmie's wail pierced the night.