The Four at Shadowdale

The wind blew across the fields, singing between the headstones and mausoleums that dotted the hillside of the Shadowdale Cemetery.  Leaves, disturbed by a gust of wind, managed a small cyclone before settling down against the old manor.  Inside the large house the wind could be heard, whistling in the night.  The manor was uninhabited but well cared for by a family who lived down the lane about a mile.  Dust was nowhere to be seen in the mansion, each door opened without a sound, there were no creaks in the flooring nor on any of the many stairways that were a major part of the house.  No, the family had done well despite the fact that many said they should live there.  The family, as many saw it, were ordinary and well to do folk aside from being the richest of Shadowdale and the most talked about.  No one knew the history of Shadowdale, nor did many care.  No history books could be found with mention of Shadowdale’s past, nothing older than forty-five years could be found here although many had lived there much longer than that.  1

The surrounding areas were fields and forest dotted here and there with waterfalls, hills, and small coves.  In the center of Shadowdale lay the Winter Manor, mere feet from the cemetery that bore no dates of birth or death.  The Winter Manor was said to be the oldest building in Shadowdale and that the Winter couple that took care of it the oldest residents in the area.  No one knew the reason why the Winters did not reside in their famous house, though many had guesses, mostly having to do with the location of the house being so close to the burial grounds.  These guesses were wrong, as were all that tried to fathom the reason.  The Winters were a couple with no children or pets who lived in a cottage and had little dealing with the outside world, much to the disgust of many who wished to know about the Manor.  2

Soon, soon the time would come for reviving the town…..3

The stranger wore all black and carried a small briefcase and cane.  The residents of Shadowdale rarely received visitors if any had ever arrived before, and welcomed the newcomer.  In the town inn, The Fourth Season, the stranger retired to a room and talk died down as the sun set.  At noon the next day yet another traveler appeared, garbed in the likeness of his predecessor and also carrying a cane and small briefcase.  He too was lodged in the inn.  The two strangers met that evening in the dining room of the inn and ate dinner before retiring to a dark corner of the smoking room to talk.  The door of the inn opened to reveal two more black garbed travelers who were greeted by the keeper.  Not a word was spoken as they signed in and were shown respectively to their rooms.  Minutes later the two men returned to the first floor and walked into the dining room, ate, and made their way to the smoking room where they joined the other strangers with familiarity.  Around nine o’clock all four retired to their rooms and were not seen for nearly two days until the four were seen making their way out of the town toward the Winter Manor.  No one tried to stop them as they walked an unseen path across a light golden field to reach the road that the Manor was on.  They continued until they were upon the manor patio and waited.  4

A small group of townspeople had followed at a distance to see what would happen.  They were disappointed when the men did nothing but stand patiently as if waiting for something.  One by one the watchers lost interest and left, wondering who they were and why they were there.5

Several minutes passed before anything notable happened.  The door of the Winter Manor opened slowly and the four filed in, the door closed behind them silently but no one was there see.  Inside, the men walked down a dark hall and into a large room devoid of furniture or any furniture of any kind.  The floor was polished mahogany inlayed with silver leaf designs and small glyphs.  The walls were almost an exact duplicate of the floor and ceiling, exceptions made for the six doors that lined the left and right-side walls.  The quartet walked to a small blank section of the wall and stared intently at the space between the two doors closest to where they had entered the room.  6

Suddenly the section of the wall disappeared, revealing a small set of stairs leading up.  The men entered the passage and the last one quietly shut the door, eliminating all light from the small staircase.  A light bulb over head came on with a dull but blinding shine.  They made there way up and up until they came into another room bare except for a window overlooking the cemetery, a black table, and four chairs one on each side of the table.  Each took a seat and placed his briefcase on the table in front of him and in unison all four cases came open with an audible ‘click’.  Each withdrew a small green glass bottle and an extraordinarily clear champagne flute.  The liquid each poured into their own glasses was of different color, brown, red, clear, and a light blue.  Rain began to fall gently outside, causing a thrumming in the small room.  The men each took a sip of their glass and passed them clockwise.  This was repeated until the flutes were with their rightful owners.  7

A small keening began to emanate from the room.  At first the sound was like that of a small insect but then swelled in crescendo until the pitch caused the flutes that stood in front of its owner burst into small fragments.  A flash of lightning revealed a small leather bound book of about five inches wide and eight long in the center of the table darkened by age and wear.  The apparent leader reached forward and grasped the book.  Turning the pages gently, he found his place and read a small passage:8

“We, whom no one know, give our lives for the nexus called Shadowdale.  Earth, wind, fire, and water.  Each element for each landmark upon this once barren land.  To the Winters we pledge this oath of sacrifice for each mortal to remain.  To the end of time we pledge”9

Blue light emanated from the book and all four of the men disappeared without a sound.  The rain continued for four days until suddenly letting up.  Mists formed and covered Shadowdale.  When the fog had lifted, no one remembered the visitors.  No one except the secluded Winters.10

And that is their secret.  They are the keepers of Shadowdale, and have been since its creation, and will continue to be until the end of time.  Until the next time Shadowdale needs to be revived, no one will visit the dale, no books will be written of its history, or of the Winters.  No dates will be seen upon tombstones, no calendars marked with important dates.11

And so it is, in this place where time is circumspect, four come and are not remembered and time is but a dream…12