Into the Between

By Timothy Swiney

Journey to the Ancient Scottish Highlands as "Tales from the Faerieverse: Into the Between" weaves a tale of deception, discovery, and redemption. Drustan, a would-be hero, embarks on a perilous quest to confront the malevolent witch Mora and seek retribution. Amidst mischievous fairies and mystical creatures, he forms an unlikely alliance with

• Language: English
• Publisher: Skinny Brown Dog Media
• Release date: Sep 18, 2023
• ISBN: 9781957506630

Timothy Swiney

Born amid the mystique of the Appalachian Mountains in Southwestern Virginia, Timothy Swiney's childhood was painted with rugged exploration and vivid imagination. Enthralled by tales of valor and enchantment, he carried these dreams into adulthood.His lineage rooted in Scottish and Irish ancestry, he cultivated a passion for old-world myths. As a dedicated father, he whisked his family to Uruguay to nurture their adventurous spirits. Amid a fulfilling medical career, the spark of storytelling persisted until he embraced it fully.With four books and seven award-winning screenplays, Timothy's creative odyssey thrives. "Tales from the Faerieverse" weaves ancient folklore into a tapestry of wonder. Based in Atlanta yet often drawn to the Virginia mountains, he continues to channel inspiration into his evocative prose.

Book preview

CHAPTER 1

Encounter with the Underfolk

H ush, boy! Sibby commanded, her voice sharp as a blade as she stood rooted to the earth, a beacon of vigilance in the heart of the dirt road.

Her son, Drustan, obeyed, his hand slipping to the hilt of the sword at his side. He scanned the land, his gaze sweeping over the rolling hills and distant forests, searching for any sign of danger that might have caught his mother’s keen eye.

And then, he saw it - a flicker of movement, a shadow in the trees. Drustan’s hand closed around the hilt and he silently unsheathed his sword, preparing for battle.

What is it, Mother? he asked, his voice low and steady.

’Tis a witch at hand, Sibby whispered, her eyes locked on some unseen target.

Drustan’s turned his attention back to the plump little woman to find she was now bent over looking at something in the middle of the dirt path they were traveling. He sighed heavily as he stood upright and sheathed his sword. He watched her in amusement, realizing she was only vexed by some meaningless oddity she had found. He had no doubt this peculiarity would be interpreted as a bad omen or some obscure message from the gods.

He walked toward her to get a closer look at the offending object that had captured her attention. Mother, ‘tis only a tree branch.

Only a tree branch? Open thine eyes, boy! She scolded. Look about! ‘Tis a willow branch? She waved her arms all about pointing at the surrounding fields leading up to the forest. Dost thou see a willow tree?

Drustan glanced about again at the tall grass on both sides of the road that stretched to the edge of the forest.

Nay. ‘Tis none in my sight, she answered before he could reply. So, from whence did it come?

Drustan shrugged. Maybe the wind blew it here. Or more likely it fell from a farmer’s wagon on the way to the village.

It was only a stick and held no interest for him. He could easily have brushed it aside and not given it a second thought. However, he was intrigued as to how his mother concluded from a discarded stick that there was a witch nearby. Over time, he had become accustomed to Sibby’s unusual and insightful observations on the mysteries of the world. And there were good reasons she was widely known among the villagers as one of the cunning folk, possessing arcane knowledge of spells and potions.

Despite the frequent visits from town folk seeking Sibby’s skills at foretelling the future, removing curses, and performing healings, Drustan didn’t put much faith in the mystic arts or magic. Neither did he believe the dire signs and warnings she pronounced every time she encountered something even slightly out of the ordinary. He did, however, appreciate his mother’s ability to profit from the superstitious villagers, and her ability to turn a good tale. So, despite his disbelief Drustan was curious as to what story she was about to spin connecting a discarded twig to the presence of evil witches.

A witch you say? Drustan nudged her. He smiled slightly in anticipation of her explanation.

Dost thou not remember anything I have taught thee over all these years? She stood up to face him. He was more than a foot taller so she cocked her head upward to glare into his eyes.

It must’ve slipped my mind, he shrugged with a slight grin.

The willow branch, boy! You must remember these things! She stamped her foot with frustration. I might as well speak to the wind as to try and teach you about the world! She pointed at the branch laying at her feet. The willow branch is too big to have been carried by the wind, and see the out-shoots and have been trimmed away.

Then must be a walking stick someone discarded along their journey through.

Perhaps so. Perhaps some poor crippled soul used it to walk. Suddenly, a mischievous grin appeared on her face as she continued, Or maybe, just maybe, the gods had a hand in it. Perhaps they healed the pitiful wretch right here on this very spot! And he was so overjoyed that he dropped the staff where he stood and danced a jig all the way to Edinberg!

Drustan stared back at her, not sure if she was spinning another of her fantastic tales that she truly believed, or if she was simply teasing him.

After a moment, she answered his uncertainty. ‘Tis a witch, boy! She snapped impatiently. I know well the signs, and a willow branch is one of them.

He anxiously awaited her story like a wide-eyed child anticipating a bedtime tale. Of course, he wasn’t about to believe a word she said but he did love to listen. As much as he loved to hear her tales, he also loved to tease her about them.

Young witches … those who have not yet learnt to use the dark magic … those foul fledglings sit upon a willow branch to take flight.

Drustan tried to hold back but he couldn’t help but laugh.

Sibby pulled her shoulders back, thrust her hands on her chubby hips and glared at him.

I’m sorry, Drustan immediately said after seeing her disapproving expression. He did not mean to offend her, but the thought of a crinkled old crone sitting on such a thin stick and flying through the air was amusing. The mental image of such a thing was just too odd for him to accept with a straight face.

You think I speak in jest? Did I labor for two days and nights to birth such a child to ridicule his old mother?

No! No. I’m sorry, Drustan insisted. I don’t mean to disrespect your wisdom. I just don’t get it. A witch riding a stick? Really?

’Tis as I have spoken.

Drustan truly wanted to hear the details of his mother’s tale, if only for the entertainment value, so he continued to prod her. Why a willow branch? Surely that could not hold the weight of a small child. Why could she not just turn into a sparrow or a crow?

’Tis not the branch that makes the witch to fly, nor does it suffer her weight. The willow wand helps her focus her powers so she can take flight. The younger ones will ride upon a willow staff or a bristle broom if one is at hand. As the witch’s power grows, then she can shape shift and take flight as a bird or run as a beast in the field. Only the oldest and most powerful witches can fly in their true form.

Drustan picked up the limb and studied it for a moment. He saw nothing unusual or ominous about it. It was of good length for use as a staff for walking. The bark had been peeled away and the buds and small branches had be shaved off so that it was straight and smooth. But it was rather thin, not likely to bear much weight.

So, if this does belong to a witch, what would she be doing here? He asked only to indulge her. Though he did not believe her tale, he knew she believed every word she had spoken. So, rather than risk offending her any further he allowed her to continue spinning her tale.

Mischief making, no doubt. Who knows the evil intentions of a witch, save the witch herself. Sibby replied, then she gave a dismissive wave of her hand and began walking down the dirt road once again. Let us tarry no longer. We must make haste and be vigilant, lest we be caught unaware.

Then let us be on our way. I have already spent too much of this day picking flowers with you, he laughed, knowing well that the sack Sibby carried over her shoulder held medicinal herbs they had foraged from the fields and among the trees.

I know you have other chores, she intertwined her arm with Drustan’s as they walked. But I do enjoy our time together. I am grateful to have your company.

As do I, Drustan patted her fondly on her hand. Besides, who would protect you from the witches and goblins if I weren’t with you.

And such a fierce protector to watch over me.

They continued to stroll casually down the dirt road heading to their home. After a while, Sibby disrupted the silence.

Tell me, my son. I come to believe you doubt thy mother’s wisdom in these things. Perhaps you just humor me with thy conversation.

Drustan had no doubt of his mother’s wisdom, it was her magical abilities that gave him pause. He had witnessed with his own eyes his mother’s uncanny ability to anticipate future events and her skills in the use of herbs and potions to heal many ailments. There was also the steady stream of visitors who would travel great distances to seek Sibby’s wisdom and to purchase an elixir for love or fertility. So Drustan did not question her ancient wisdom in the mystical arts. What he did question, however, was how much of her talent was due to secret mystical knowledge verses her ability to spin a good tale. When it came to her magical abilities, Drustan attributed her powers to showmanship and artistic flare rather than to magic and witchcraft.

No! Not at all! Drustan protested. I take your words as the voice of the ancients.

Then why do you disregard my instructions and warnings? I speak to thee of important things to protect against the evils of this world, and you brush them aside giving my words no more regard than old wives’ tales. You hear me speak, but you do not heed nor listen.

Forgive me mother, it’s just — He paused and struggled for the right words to avoid offending her. The fact is, he saw his mother’s warnings as little more than tales to entertain children or puffery to sale her elixirs and charms. But to tell her such would be a terrible insult since clearly Sibby believed herself to be a mage of sorts.

It’s just what? That you don’t believe?

Uh, well. I wouldn’t say I don’t believe you. Drustan struggled. It’s just I have never seen a witch, nor any of the magical creatures you speak of. ‘Tis sometimes hard to believe such fantastic beings are real.

Have you seen thy mother’s love?

Huh?

’Tis a simple enough question. Have you ever seen love?

Aye. Certainly, I have.

Truly? And how does it appear? Is love the color of the heather in bloom? Does it possess a delightful fragrance akin to wildflowers and the dew of the morning? Does it taste like the nectar of honey and the cream of the cows? Or is it as gentle as the finest fleece?

You know what I mean.

What of fear? Or hate? Or happiness? Sibby pressed. Hast thou seen those as well? Of course not! So how do you know they are real?

That’s not a fair comparison! Drustan insisted. You can’t see love or hate, but you can see their effects.

Exactly, my son. You may not be able to see the witch, but a wise man can recognize her works.

There’s no arguing with you, Drustan sighed.

Sibby laughed. Not about such things.

Still. I believe in the things I can touch and grasp with my hands.

You believe only in things you can punch with thy fists and pierce with an arrow, she scoffed. I understand the prideful ways of men. You are no different from your father when he was your age. But he has seen the workings of evil and now knows the dark forces lurking around us. There are many things in this world that cannot be seen with unbelieving eyes, and many enemies that cannot be felled by a blade. It would be wise for you to heed your mother’s words and learn how to defend yourself against all who would cause you harm.

Herbs and roots and spells and portions. ‘Tis a woman’s domain, and not fit for a man.

Sibby stopped and grabbed him roughly by the earlobe and pulled it hard. Drustan yelped as she pulled him down to where they were at eye level.

Listen to me, foolish boy! Protecting thy family is not just a woman’s work. ‘Tis thy job to protect your family. Your younger brothers and sisters look up to thee to keep them from harm’s way. And the gods willing, someday you will have a wife and children of your own. You need to know how to protect them! Not just from the wolves in the fields, but also from the devils in the night.

Aye, I get it! Drustan groaned. Now will you let go!

Sibby released her hold and immediately continued walking along the road. Drustan rubbed his ear and hurried to catch up with her.

When will you stop treating me like a bairn? I’m a grown man!

You’re a grown man when I say you are. Count thyself lucky I didn’t take that staff to your hind quarters. You’re still not too old to put o’er my knee.

She gave a belly laugh at the thought of it all. Drustan towered over her and was as strong as the plow horse. The days when she could turn him over her knee had ended long ago by the time he was ten years of age.

I have no doubts about that. Drustan acknowledged.

What are you doing with that thing? Sibby noticed that Drustan was still carrying the willow branch and dragging it through the dirt as he walked.

Nothing. It’s a good stick.

Well get rid of it. ‘Tis bad luck.

Drustan shrugged and hoisted the branch onto his shoulder, gripping it like a spear. With a mighty throw, he launched it over the field and toward the trees. The willow branch soared high into the air, sailing beyond the pasture and through the canopy of the first line of trees, disappearing into the depths of the dark forest.

Behold! exclaimed Drustan. Did you see how far it flew?

Sibby was impressed by her son’s natural prowess and athleticism. Drustan was a strong man, gifted with both sword and bow, so it came as no surprise that he was also skilled with the spear. But instead of indulging his self-adulation, she merely rolled her eyes.

Are ye not awestruck? Drustan bellowed, raising his fists to the sky in triumph. Fear me, ye witches and dark gods! Hast thou ever beheld such a great warrior? He let out a loud laugh, reveling in his own glory.

Sibby opened her mouth, preparing to caution him about being so bold but before she could utter a word an unearthly howl arose from the forest. The sound was so unnatural and horrific it made both her and Drustan freeze in their tracks. A flock of birds arose from the trees and flew away in fright, scattering in all directions to escape whatever had made such a horrid cry.

What was that? Drustan’s eyes widened as he turned to see his mother’s face drained of color and her mouth agape.

Sibby gathered herself and grabbed her son by the arm and pulled him down with her into a squat. Get down!

What was that? A wild boar?

’Tis no boar. I have never heard such a wail, she whispered. I suspect tis something not of this world.

Again, the terrible sound filled the air. It sounded like a combination of a roar and a scream, as if the creature that made it was in both agony and rage. It was the sound one could image a demon might make.

Drustan looked all about, trying to discover from where the cries came so as to get a glimpse of what creature could produce such a noise. He rose slightly, still crouching enough to use the tall grass as cover. He peered into the woods.

There! Sibby pointed into the trees just a short distance beyond where Drustan had thrown the willow branch. ’There in the shadows.

I don’t see anything. Drustan stood taller and squinted his eyes as he searched the area where his mother was pointing. Then he saw it. A dark figure moving within the brush. What is that?

He stood completely upright and crept to the edge of the road and into the grass. When he reached the grass, the thing suddenly began to thrash about as it let out another tremendous roar. Instinctively, Drustan dropped back down returning to the cover of the grass. He looked back at Sibby, sitting on her knees in the middle of the road. Her hand clutched to her heart and her face pale with fear.

Do you recognize what this thing is?

Hush boy, she whispered. Do not draw its eye?

Getting no answers from his mother, Drustan turned his attention back to the creature and stained to get a closer look. It flailed about again and this time he could see its large black wings flapping about. For a moment, he thought it must be nothing more than a large black bird of some type, but as it continued to flail about, he could see the creature was too large to be a bird. At least it was no bird he had ever seen. Its wings were massive with a dark body. Though he could not make out the physical details, he could see it was the size of a grown man. This was neither a bird nor man, but something else entirely. Something unnatural.

Always curious and rarely showing any fear, and as his mother would say — seldom showing good judgment — he began to creep through the brush and towards the creature. He had to get a closer look.

What are you doing? Sibby whispered. Get back here!

I want to see it.

No, boy! She urged. But he was already half-way to the edge of woods. Fool-hearted ox! He’ll get himself killed. She grumbled and reluctantly crawled after him.

Once Drustan reached the edge of the woods, he crouched down behind a tree to conceal himself and waited silently. Once he was confident that the creature was unaware of his presence, he continued to venture deeper into the woods. He eased his sword from its sheath and darted from tree to tree, moving himself closer to where the creature lurked.

When he was as close as he dared go, he paused behind a tree and slowly peered around the trunk. He finally saw the thing clearly. It was something he had never seen before and the strangeness of it made the hair on his arms stand up. It had a large black leathery body the size of a man was large black wings. It was face down on the ground and turned away from him so he could not completely see the creature, but he did see that its lower body was pinned beneath a fallen tree. It was trapped and desperately struggling to break free.

Cautiously Drustan emerged from behind the tree to get a better view. It was a strange and repugnant sight, something more appropriately seen in a nightmare than in the light of day, though the darkness of the forest seemed a suitable place to encounter such a monster. It had large black wings like a giant bat and long spindly arms with finger-like talons. It had the shape of a man, two arms and two legs, and was covered with black leathery skin that hung loosely as if it were barely clinging to the bones. Sparse strands of long white hair covered its head and the gruesome face had sunken cheeks and long jagged teeth protruding from a drawn mouth. To Drustan, this creature looked like a winged corpse that was rotting to the bones. Perhaps it was a man, or the remnants of one, that had been cursed and transformed by some dark magic.

Upon seeing Drustan the creature struggled wildly against the log trying to dislodge itself, but it was still unable to break free. The creature shrieked that same horrible cry then collapsed back to the dirt, its chest heaving up and down in exhaustion. It raised its head and hissed and snapped at Drustan warning him away, but it was clearly unable to continue the struggle.

What manner of beast is this? Drustan asked aloud as he heard his mother approach.

Upon seeing the thing, Sibby gasped and grabbed at a tree to steady herself. What have you done? We should not have ventured to look upon that thing!

There’s nothing to fear. ‘Tis pinned underneath the tree, Drustan assured her.

Then I have raised a fool, for ye should be terrified!

Do you know what it is?

Sibby eased closer, but only slightly. Looking the hideous thing up and down, she had never encountered one in the flesh but she knew the creature from legends and stories she heard from elders. ’Tis a Host. One of the darkest and most dreadful of all the Fae.

This thing is a faerie?

Aye, the most evil form of Fae. ‘Tis one of the Underfolk. They will tear the flesh from a man’s bones, then devour his very soul. Sibby scanned the trees above and all about. We must leave this place now.

We can’t just leave. It’s trapped. We need to help it.

Help it! Are you mad? Would be better to help the devil himself than one of the Underfolk.

I can’t leave it to suffer like this. It is a living thing despite its outward appearance.

No, ‘tis not! It’s not a living thing. It is the unsanctified dead, a cursed soul. The soul of someone who in life was so cruel and evil that they were damned by the gods to this existence.

I don’t believe that, mother. Look at it. It’s in pain and terrified. Don’t let its appearance condemn it. Drustan looked at the creature and felt pity for it. Despite the strange appearance, the creature had an almost human quality in the way its eyes followed him. The thing had one green eye and one blue, and it gazed at Drustan with a human quality and understanding.

No! We must leave this place! She protested. You don’t know these things. Where there is one of the Underfolk, there are all. They move as a swarm and feed like locusts on the souls of the hopeless and dying.

Well, we’re neither dying nor hopeless. And I will not turn away and leave this thing to suffer. Drustan began to study the fallen tree, looking for a means to free the creature from underneath it.

You don’t understand these things, Sibby warned. The Underfolk hide in the shadows waiting for nightfall and once the sun has set, they will take to the sky as a great horde. Their wings flapping like the sound of thunder as they attack in a whirlwind of claws and teeth; devouring all who draw their attention.

Uh huh, Drustan murmured in disinterest as he walked around the log and continued to study the situation.

I warn you, son. Do not tempt fate. Do not let thy name rest on the lips of the dark Fae.

There’s just this one, I see no horde. And you said they seek the dying and those in despair. We are neither. Besides, if the thing should move against us, I have my sword. I will cut it down.

No! Do not raise thy sword against the Underfolk. ‘Tis said, he who kills a Host is cursed to take its place among the horde.

Is that so? He asked off-handedly, barely paying attention to her dire warning. Anything else I should know?

’Tis wise to avoid these creatures at all costs. Once you draw the attention of the Underfolk, you are marked. They will seek you out, watching from the shadows for when you are vulnerable. They will hunt you until you draw your last breath.

He hesitated a moment to consider Sibby’s urgings. She could be right; perhaps this thing was not something worthy of compassion. It was a dreadful creature and difficult to look upon, but did that mean it was evil and undeserving of human kindness?

Drustan did not doubt that this Host, as his mother called it, was not of this world. It was unnatural. For a moment he considered following his mother’s advice and walking away, but then he looked at the one green and one blue eye that followed him. Those eyes were pleading with him, and the creature was terrified and desperate. He could not leave it in such a cruel way; it was not in his nature to ignore the suffering of any animal, even one such as this beast.

Mother, return to the road and remain at a safe distance. I will set this creature free and then we will be on our way.

Drustan! I beg you! Let the thing be! No good will come of this!

I can’t just leave it to suffer. Drustan handed her his sword. Take my sword and go back to the road. I’ll be along shortly.

I’m not leaving my firstborn child to face that thing alone!

All will be well, mother. Like any trapped animal, once this creature is loose, it will flee into the safety of the woods.

’Tis foolishness, Sibby grumbled and took a step back. She raised the sword in front of her. Do what you must, but I will remain here should this creature turn on you.

Might want to take a few steps back, just in case.

Sibby backed away slightly, all the while keeping the sword high in the air ready to strike if needed.

Drustan walked to the broken end of the fallen tree and squatted down over it. He wrapped his arms tightly around the trunk, took several deep breaths and blew out heavily after each. He took one last deep breath and as he blew out, he pushed up with his legs harnessing all his strength. The veins on his forearms bulged and the seams of his leather pants strained to contain his thick muscular legs.

Arghh, he groaned loudly as every muscle in his body fought against the weight of the heavy tree. Little by little, the tree began to lift off the ground, and off the creature that was pinned under it. Abruptly the beast bolted from underneath the log, startling Drustan so that he lost his grip and the tree fell back to the forest floor with a dull thud.

Rather that escape into the forest as Drustan had expected, the thing instead lunged at him knocking Drustan backward to the ground and the creature was quickly upon him, perched on Drustan’s chest. It looked down at him with its piercing blue and green eyes, cocking its head from side to side in curiosity. It didn’t seem to be threatening but was instead struggling to understand why this human had set it free. The thing made clicking sounds from deep within its throat as if it was speaking.

Drustan resisted the urge to fight and instead he remained motionless. The creature was only curious so he knew it would be best not to alarm or provoke it. It brought its face close to his and began to sniff. Its breath cold against Drustan’s face like a cold winter draft and it smelled like burning flesh.

Get away from him! Sibby rushed toward them brandishing the sword in front of her.

The Host turned to Sibby and hissed to warn her away.

Stay back! Drustan raised his hand to stay her approach. It’s only curious. Nor more so than you and I.

Sibby waved the sword in the air but dared not get close enough to the creature to strike at it. Shoo! Get away! She waved the sword again.

Don’t make it mad! Let it satisfy its curiosity, Drustan stated calmly in a soft, non-threatening tone.

That’s right, he spoke softly to the creature. We’re all friends here. Nothing to be afraid of.

The creature again leaned down and sniffed Drustan’s neck and hair the way a curious dog would. Drustan turned his head and winced from the stench of its foul breath. It raised up and gave him another long look and made some clicking noises. Then suddenly, it spread its massive wings and in a rush of wind flew off into the forest.

Sibby threw the sword to the ground and rushed to help her son to his feet. Are you alright?

I’m fine. It did not harm me. It was just curious.

She spun him around to check for any injury and slapping her hand against his back and shoulders to shake the dirt from his clothing. Such foolishness! You could have been killed!

Yet I wasn’t. All is well, mother. We helped that poor creature. Besides, now you have another precautionary tale to frighten your grandchildren on some dark winter’s night.

Jest if you like, but mark my words, nothing good will come of this. That thing knows you now. It has your scent. The Underfolk do not forget; they will be drawn to you now.

Perchance someday I will need its help, and it will repay my act of kindness.

Sibby grabbed him by the arm. No. Do not even suggest such a thing!

She looked around the woods to make sure no one was near, then lowered her voice as if to reveal a secret. They say that one can call upon the Underfolk. Calling their name in the dark of night — their true name — aye, they will come. But they will not bring compassion. They will bring death and torment to whoever dares summon them.

Drustan retrieved his sword from where his mother had dropped it, placed it in the sheath and slung it over his shoulder. "Let us