Trouble on Candlepin- Chapter 4
May. 21st, 2022 02:55 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kimurhoChapter 1: Borderscry
Chapter 2: Reports
Chapter 3: Christmas Dance
CHAPTER 4 - Folklore
Yule, 21 December
The Broom Closet
Bowling Green, Buck County
It was the evening of the longest night of the year and I was looking forward to a quiet Solstice celebration, my second alone. The shop was full of Christmas shoppers, looking for unusual gifts for the hard-to-buy-for.
One of the really nice things about the here and now is that we don't have to hide. Witchcraft is a religion in this section of Mortalrie, protected like any other. I called my little place "The Broom Closet" ... with permission ... after the ubiquitous supply store in the Borderlands. Unlike the real store, my stock consisted of the pretty and delicate charms and sigils. Jewelry, decorations, candles, incense. Very few potions or herbs.
I was assisting a customer when it happened.
It had been overcast all day, a gray day; cold and dank in the way that the dark month often is. I was holding up a pretty silver necklace to show off the crystal pendant when all of the thaumameters began spinning. At the same time, I heard a startled yowl from the front window and looked over in time to see ... to actually see ... the ShadowCat shoot straight up out of the basket in the display window. For a moment, it hovered in mid-air, wings outspread. Then, as it began flying toward me, it faded away and the thaumameters slowed to a stop.
"Wha ... What was that?" my customer asked, astonished. All around, I heard variations of the question.
I smiled, hiding my unease, and gave a small laugh. "Oh ... well, I'm afraid that The Broom Closet is haunted. Things happen sometimes." Although I didn't raise my voice, I spoke loudly enough for those nearby to hear.
The response surprised me. The woman suddenly had less interest in the appearance of the piece she was buying than in its protective qualities, and she wasn't the only one. By the time I closed up shop, twenty minutes later, I was sold out of travel charms, child-protection wards, and anti-incubi jewelry and I had orders for more of each. Carol Adams, my shop-clerk, was fingering her own traveler's bracelet when I turned from the door. She looked up, troubled, to meet my eyes.
"Something happened, didn't it?" she said softly. "When the .. the meters all started turning and your ghost cat turned into a small dragon."
I winced. The Dragon had warned me not to hire a mortal, but there hadn't been any apprentices available; we were stretched so thin here in Mortalrie. There weren't many of us who could handle the loss of magic, not to mention the preponderance of iron and steel that disrupted the ley flows.
I should have realized that Carol was sensitive and would see more than most.
When I didn't answer immediately, she spoke again, "Is that why you're here? Because ... because of Candlepin?"
That question caught my attention. "What about Candlepin?" I countered.
She backed up, shaking her head. "I ... We don't talk about Candlepin. It's ... We don't go there. Never. Not even hunters go on Candlepin."
Somehow, I had managed to miss that about the locals in the past two years. "But I've seen hunters on the mountain," I said, puzzled. "And you came with me to collect herbs and supplies this past fall."
Then something clicked into place in my mind. I nodded at the charmed bracelet on her wrist.
"You bought that when I invited you to come with me. Why didn't you tell me you were afraid? You didn't have to come. I could have managed alone."
Carol shook her head. "I wanted to go with you. I'm learning so much from you, more than I would from Mad Meg."
I knew that name. "The homeless lady?"
"She's not exactly homeless," Carol said reluctantly. "But she doesn't like staying indoors."
"Carol, do you have to go right home?" I asked. "I think I need to know what you know. What do you say to a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits?"
"How about hot chocolate and some cookies?" she countered. I laughed and agreed. We finished closing down the store and soon Carol was seated at the table in the kitchen of my first floor apartment while I prepared the drinks and got out the biscuits.
When I sat across her, refreshments on the table, I started.
"What can you tell me about Candlepin?"
Carol's face took on a stubborn cast. "I already have a question on the table," she said with dignity. "Something happened back then, when the thaumameters spun and the ghost cat appeared as a flying ... dragon thing. You know what it was. I want to know too."
I took a deep breath and let it out, nodding slightly. She had the right of it.
"Yes, something did happen. The thaumameters measured a sudden but brief current of magic. It was strong enough for my ShadowCat to manifest ... briefly. That was what you saw."
"Where did it come from?"
I shrugged. "I have to analyze the data and do some work to find out exactly, but I suspect ... from your mountain. Candlepin."
Carol bristled with indignation. "Not MY mountain. I'm no Buckminster."
I cocked my head, curious. "What is a Buckminster?"
The young woman looked away, wincing slightly.
"We don't talk about it," she said, almost whispering. "Not about Candlepin. Not about the Buckminster. He ... He haunts the mountain. Sometimes he comes down and walks among us; seducing the girls, stealing the children. Sometimes he rides with a pack of dogs, hunting anyone out at night ... and they're never seen again. The Caleb is supposed to protect us, keep him shut up on Candlepin, but his dad was a townie and ... "
The things I was hearing were beyond my expectations. Carol was working herself into a state.
"Carol, listen to me. Nothing can hear you or get to you when you are in this building. You are safe here. I promise you that." She met my eyes, briefly, and looked away again.
"I know that," she whispered. "I lied. I am part Buckminster. Enough to ... to know some things. To feel some things. I knew you were ... what you are ... when I met you. I knew the ghost cat came with you." She looked up, meeting my eyes straight on, looking indignant. "I did NOT know she was a FLYING cat!"
It was almost an accusation. I grinned and after a moment she grinned back. "You're not going to tell me?"
I shook my head. "You still owe me some answers. Who or what was 'the Buckminster' and what does it mean to be a Buckminster?"
Carol sighed, growing sober.
"Buck County was settled by a couple of men ... brothers ... named Buckminster. In fact, it used to be Buckminster County, but we changed it a long time ago. The older brother ... I can't remember his name ... he made some sort of deal with the Devil. Sold him his brother, is what I heard. For that, he got a wife and children and a home on Candlepin Mountain. He ... Buckminster, that is ... persuaded some other settlers to follow him here. He got rich, built a house here in town but he kept most of his family on the mountain."
"Then ... a long long time after, when he was an old old man, his brother came back and he didn't look a day older than he had when he disappeared. When they asked him where he'd been, the brother said that he had been dancing one night with a bunch of people on the mountain. Buckminster showed up then, said he had to take his brother home, but before he could, his brother grabbed an apple from the table and bit into it. Right before their eyes, he aged into an old man, then a corpse and then a skeleton that crumbled into dust. At the same time, Old Buckminster grew younger until he looked the same age he'd been when he first went up the mountain."
"Before anyone could say anything, the Devil showed up, grabbed Old Buckminster and took him off to Hell in a blast of fire that swept through the house and burned it down to the ground, killing everyone inside."
"Ever since then, they say that Old Buckminster walks when there's a storm on Candlepin." She took a breath and said, in a sing-song voice, "When there's a storm up on Candlepin, All good Buckminsters stay within."
I walked Carol home in the deepening gloom. On the way back to the shop, I spotted the homeless lady, Mad Meg, some distance ahead of me, pushing a shopping trolley. Only then did I recall that Carol had mentioned her. It wasn't worth chasing after the woman, though, and from what I'd seen, I'd probably give her a heart attack if I did. Instead, I made my way home and spent the long night casting divinations and scrying. I didn't learn anything more than I already knew. A door had opened on the Border, probably on that mountain, and it had closed again.
And worst was yet to come.
Chapter 5: History
Chapter 2: Reports
Chapter 3: Christmas Dance
CHAPTER 4 - Folklore
Yule, 21 December
The Broom Closet
Bowling Green, Buck County
It was the evening of the longest night of the year and I was looking forward to a quiet Solstice celebration, my second alone. The shop was full of Christmas shoppers, looking for unusual gifts for the hard-to-buy-for.
One of the really nice things about the here and now is that we don't have to hide. Witchcraft is a religion in this section of Mortalrie, protected like any other. I called my little place "The Broom Closet" ... with permission ... after the ubiquitous supply store in the Borderlands. Unlike the real store, my stock consisted of the pretty and delicate charms and sigils. Jewelry, decorations, candles, incense. Very few potions or herbs.
I was assisting a customer when it happened.
It had been overcast all day, a gray day; cold and dank in the way that the dark month often is. I was holding up a pretty silver necklace to show off the crystal pendant when all of the thaumameters began spinning. At the same time, I heard a startled yowl from the front window and looked over in time to see ... to actually see ... the ShadowCat shoot straight up out of the basket in the display window. For a moment, it hovered in mid-air, wings outspread. Then, as it began flying toward me, it faded away and the thaumameters slowed to a stop.
"Wha ... What was that?" my customer asked, astonished. All around, I heard variations of the question.
I smiled, hiding my unease, and gave a small laugh. "Oh ... well, I'm afraid that The Broom Closet is haunted. Things happen sometimes." Although I didn't raise my voice, I spoke loudly enough for those nearby to hear.
The response surprised me. The woman suddenly had less interest in the appearance of the piece she was buying than in its protective qualities, and she wasn't the only one. By the time I closed up shop, twenty minutes later, I was sold out of travel charms, child-protection wards, and anti-incubi jewelry and I had orders for more of each. Carol Adams, my shop-clerk, was fingering her own traveler's bracelet when I turned from the door. She looked up, troubled, to meet my eyes.
"Something happened, didn't it?" she said softly. "When the .. the meters all started turning and your ghost cat turned into a small dragon."
I winced. The Dragon had warned me not to hire a mortal, but there hadn't been any apprentices available; we were stretched so thin here in Mortalrie. There weren't many of us who could handle the loss of magic, not to mention the preponderance of iron and steel that disrupted the ley flows.
I should have realized that Carol was sensitive and would see more than most.
When I didn't answer immediately, she spoke again, "Is that why you're here? Because ... because of Candlepin?"
That question caught my attention. "What about Candlepin?" I countered.
She backed up, shaking her head. "I ... We don't talk about Candlepin. It's ... We don't go there. Never. Not even hunters go on Candlepin."
Somehow, I had managed to miss that about the locals in the past two years. "But I've seen hunters on the mountain," I said, puzzled. "And you came with me to collect herbs and supplies this past fall."
Then something clicked into place in my mind. I nodded at the charmed bracelet on her wrist.
"You bought that when I invited you to come with me. Why didn't you tell me you were afraid? You didn't have to come. I could have managed alone."
Carol shook her head. "I wanted to go with you. I'm learning so much from you, more than I would from Mad Meg."
I knew that name. "The homeless lady?"
"She's not exactly homeless," Carol said reluctantly. "But she doesn't like staying indoors."
"Carol, do you have to go right home?" I asked. "I think I need to know what you know. What do you say to a cup of tea and some chocolate biscuits?"
"How about hot chocolate and some cookies?" she countered. I laughed and agreed. We finished closing down the store and soon Carol was seated at the table in the kitchen of my first floor apartment while I prepared the drinks and got out the biscuits.
When I sat across her, refreshments on the table, I started.
"What can you tell me about Candlepin?"
Carol's face took on a stubborn cast. "I already have a question on the table," she said with dignity. "Something happened back then, when the thaumameters spun and the ghost cat appeared as a flying ... dragon thing. You know what it was. I want to know too."
I took a deep breath and let it out, nodding slightly. She had the right of it.
"Yes, something did happen. The thaumameters measured a sudden but brief current of magic. It was strong enough for my ShadowCat to manifest ... briefly. That was what you saw."
"Where did it come from?"
I shrugged. "I have to analyze the data and do some work to find out exactly, but I suspect ... from your mountain. Candlepin."
Carol bristled with indignation. "Not MY mountain. I'm no Buckminster."
I cocked my head, curious. "What is a Buckminster?"
The young woman looked away, wincing slightly.
"We don't talk about it," she said, almost whispering. "Not about Candlepin. Not about the Buckminster. He ... He haunts the mountain. Sometimes he comes down and walks among us; seducing the girls, stealing the children. Sometimes he rides with a pack of dogs, hunting anyone out at night ... and they're never seen again. The Caleb is supposed to protect us, keep him shut up on Candlepin, but his dad was a townie and ... "
The things I was hearing were beyond my expectations. Carol was working herself into a state.
"Carol, listen to me. Nothing can hear you or get to you when you are in this building. You are safe here. I promise you that." She met my eyes, briefly, and looked away again.
"I know that," she whispered. "I lied. I am part Buckminster. Enough to ... to know some things. To feel some things. I knew you were ... what you are ... when I met you. I knew the ghost cat came with you." She looked up, meeting my eyes straight on, looking indignant. "I did NOT know she was a FLYING cat!"
It was almost an accusation. I grinned and after a moment she grinned back. "You're not going to tell me?"
I shook my head. "You still owe me some answers. Who or what was 'the Buckminster' and what does it mean to be a Buckminster?"
Carol sighed, growing sober.
"Buck County was settled by a couple of men ... brothers ... named Buckminster. In fact, it used to be Buckminster County, but we changed it a long time ago. The older brother ... I can't remember his name ... he made some sort of deal with the Devil. Sold him his brother, is what I heard. For that, he got a wife and children and a home on Candlepin Mountain. He ... Buckminster, that is ... persuaded some other settlers to follow him here. He got rich, built a house here in town but he kept most of his family on the mountain."
"Then ... a long long time after, when he was an old old man, his brother came back and he didn't look a day older than he had when he disappeared. When they asked him where he'd been, the brother said that he had been dancing one night with a bunch of people on the mountain. Buckminster showed up then, said he had to take his brother home, but before he could, his brother grabbed an apple from the table and bit into it. Right before their eyes, he aged into an old man, then a corpse and then a skeleton that crumbled into dust. At the same time, Old Buckminster grew younger until he looked the same age he'd been when he first went up the mountain."
"Before anyone could say anything, the Devil showed up, grabbed Old Buckminster and took him off to Hell in a blast of fire that swept through the house and burned it down to the ground, killing everyone inside."
"Ever since then, they say that Old Buckminster walks when there's a storm on Candlepin." She took a breath and said, in a sing-song voice, "When there's a storm up on Candlepin, All good Buckminsters stay within."
I walked Carol home in the deepening gloom. On the way back to the shop, I spotted the homeless lady, Mad Meg, some distance ahead of me, pushing a shopping trolley. Only then did I recall that Carol had mentioned her. It wasn't worth chasing after the woman, though, and from what I'd seen, I'd probably give her a heart attack if I did. Instead, I made my way home and spent the long night casting divinations and scrying. I didn't learn anything more than I already knew. A door had opened on the Border, probably on that mountain, and it had closed again.
And worst was yet to come.
Chapter 5: History
