Shadow of the Witch

Thomas Trelawney gazed thoughtfully at the altar in his ancient church. It was covered by a richly embroidered altar cloth, beautifully created more than three centuries ago. Beneath it stood a carved oak chest which predated its covering by more than a thousand years. Inside the chest, hidden from curious eyes, were priceless relics so ancient that no one could remember where they came from or how they came to Oakridge. But here they were and Thomas had decided it was time they graced the altar once again. They had been hidden from sight for too long, their time had come. The chest itself was quite shallow but it rested on a deep, carved base. By using a different sequence of key turns in the lock, the chest could be disconnected from its base. Thomas knew all the secret combinations of the lock. The disconnect sequence caused the chest to swing forwards, revealing a steep flight of stairs leading down to a labyrinth of tunnels below. They had been put to good use by smugglers centuries before but they had also been used many times by the Vampires and Witches. They would be needed again before the year was out, especially the tunnel known only to the immortals. The little church had no name, it was simply known as The Church. No one had ever questioned why, they were content to call it The Church. They were of ancient stock, the residents of Oakridge. They saw what visitors to the village rarely noticed, a ring of prehistoric standing stones that completely encircled the church. This was not a neat and tidy churchyard. Here, nature ran rampant, vigorous shoots clinging to gravestone and standing stone alike, concealing all beneath a canopy of green. The villagers also knew that in the crypt, directly beneath the centre of the rectangular church building, stood another ancient treasure, as old as time itself. The crypt was kept securely locked at all times, only the Vampires and their Willoughby Witch consorts entered its sacred space, only the witches knew how to open it. Soon it would be time for the crypt to reveal its secrets but first, Thomas had to make ready his church. Carefully he removed the heavy cloth from the altar, folded it and carried it into the little vestry. There it would stay for now. He wanted the satin smooth golden oak of the chest to be bathed in the sunlight that filtered through the clear glass of the round arched windows. Leaving the vestry, he went next to the pulpit, climbed the short flight of steps and reached over to twist a brass flower bud concealed in the carved foliage of the decoration. There was a faint click as a panel inside the pulpit slid open to reveal a hidden compartment. Within the compartment lay a heavy, gleaming brass key. He took the key to the altar chest, inserted it into the lock and turned it, slowly, one quarter turn to the right. He waited until he heard the lock mechanism click into place, then made another quarter turn to the right, then another right turn, click, click and finally, a half turn back to the left. He lifted the heavy lid and peered anxiously inside, feeling the same sense of relief he always felt when he saw they were safe, these sacred treasure from another age. He knew it was foolish to worry about them. These ancient relics held powerful energies, they were more than capable of taking care of themselves. But still he protected them as though his life depended on it. Thomas lifted them out of the chest, one by one, and placed them carefully on a side table. The large silver bowl, delicately engraved and decorated with emeralds and sapphires, together with its serving ladle, the silver chest holding thirteen matching goblets and, finally, the great pure gold grail cup itself. Richly engraved by other than human hand and adorned with priceless rubies and sapphires, this was not the holy grail of myth and legend, this was a grail cup of a different kind. This grail belonged to the Goddess and she alone had the power to drink from it. Satisfied that all was well with his treasures, Thomas replaced them in the chest, locked it and returned the key to its hiding place. He stood for a moment, surveying his church and remembering happier times, days when his life had been filled with love and laughter, when his wife Rebecca and their son Joshua had filled his heart with joy. But they had disappeared one wild and stormy night. Though the witches and vampires had searched far and wide and used every means available to find them, neither Rebecca nor Joshua had ever been seen again. It was as though they had vanished from the face of the earth and the loss of his wife and son had left Thomas with a hollow life. At the heart of his world was an emptiness where Rebecca and Joshua should be, a deep sorrow from which there was no relief. The sole comfort in his life was his devotion to the Goddess. He noticed how the sunlight played on the brilliance of the white walls recessed in their stone arches, the whiteness giving added beauty to the rose tinted hue of the age old stone. It was time to ask the witches to decorate the church in ways only they knew how, time to awaken the circle of stones that protected the church, time to prepare for the return of the Goddess.