The Tunnel Behind the Waterfall

by William Corlett

  ‘Where are you going?’ Alice called.

  ‘Just thinking,’ Mary answered, going round behind the stone and disappearing from Alice’s view.

  ‘Mary?’ Alice called.

  For a moment there was no reply. Alice felt her heart beating faster and making her gasp for breath.

  ‘Will,’ she whispered.

  William turned quickly and looked in the direction of the stone.

  ‘Mary!’ he called.

  ‘What?’ she asked, coming into view from behind the holly bush.

  ‘Oh, cupcakes!’ Alice exclaimed. ‘I thought you’d disappeared as well.’

  ‘Well, she had for a minute, hadn’t she?’ William said, thoughtfully.

  ‘No – she’d just gone out of sight. That’s different,’ Alice protested.

  ‘I’m sure it’s got something to do with this line thing,’ Mary said, walking slowly round the standing stone, staring at it solemnly. Then, reaching out, she put the palm of her hand flat against the rough surface.

  ‘Yes! It has a lot to do with the line,’ Stephen Tyler said, appearing round the side of the stone, making Mary jump with surprise.

  ‘Oh!’ she gasped, ‘you startled me.’

  He was leaning heavily on his silver stick and his other arm was still in the sling. He was more bent than usual and looked tired and old.

  ‘Sssh!’ he whispered, gesturing to her to be silent. Then he surveyed the lake, solemnly, as though he was watching something that the children couldn’t see.

  The children remained quiet, scanning the lake in the hope of seeing whatever it was that was so fascinating the Magician.

  ‘Interesting!’ he said at last. And then he continued in a more animated voice, ‘I’m sorry about that. I was in the middle of watching my assistant, when I became aware of your presence. It’s all the fault of old age,’ and, as he spoke, he sounded irritated. ‘I can’t keep my mind on things like I used to. It is of extreme importance to the alchemical arts to have a still, silent, mind. Mine pops about and brays like a young donkey.’ He shook his head, as though clearing his thoughts. ‘So, so. Here we all are. What have you been up to?’

  ‘Were you playing Ducks and Drakes?’ William asked.

  ‘Ducks and Drakes?’ Stephen Tyler said, in a puzzled voice.

  ‘You know, skimming a stone across the surface of the water,’ William told him.

  ‘Not I, no. But my assistant. He has too much free time.’

  ‘He’s here?’ William gasped. ‘Morden is here?’ He looked round, searching along the side of the lake.

  ‘No, no, no! Here – but in his own time,’ the Magician said, patiently. ‘In my time!’ Then he smiled. ‘Poor William,’ he said, gently, ‘how you do suffer in your head! It is just a question of time again. Once you understand that – it will all seem perfectly simple, I promise you! And you really are making great strides forward. I am very pleased with you all.’

  The old man nodded thoughtfully. He looked at each of the children in turn, peering at them almost as though he were seeing them for the first time. Then he nodded thoughtfully again.

  ‘Fascinating!’ he said. ‘I should go. I didn’t intend to come. My concentration!’ He shook his head, sadly. ‘There is much to do. Keep working! You won’t have me for ever, you know . . .’

  ‘Please,’ William cut in, ‘where does the water go?’

  Tyler looked at him sharply.

  ‘Go?’

  ‘From the lake,’ William explained.

  ‘I’ll tell you about water, William,’ the old man said, forgetting at once that he had intended to leave and turning instead towards them. ‘Water is the nearest man can get to understanding the eternal principle.’ Then he nodded, emphatically, as though he had just imparted a gem of knowledge.

  William frowned, Mary looked at her feet and Alice sighed.

  ‘There! What d’you think of that, then?’ the Magician asked, delightedly.

  ‘I haven’t a clue what it means,’ Alice said, without hesitation.

  ‘William?’ the old man asked.

  ‘I don’t know what it means, either,’ William had to admit.

  ‘What d’you know about water?’ the Magician asked him. ‘Where does it come from?’

  ‘From rain,’ Alice announced.

  ‘Where does the rain come from?’

  ‘From evaporated water being drawn up into the upper atmosphere,’ William replied.

  ‘Good! Where does the water come from?’

  ‘From rain,’ Alice said again and then she frowned, puzzled by the answer she had just given. ‘But – where does the rain first come from?’

  ‘Precisely,’ the Magician said, after a moment, and he nodded. ‘The time has come for you to understand about water. Wait there . . .’ and, as he walked quickly away from them, leaning heavily on his stick, he disappeared once more from their view.

  ‘Now what?’ William murmured, searching the space that the old man had just vacated.

  ‘Oh,’ Alice sighed. ‘I hope we’re not going to have another lecture . . .’ and, as she said the words, a rowing boat slid into view on the margin of the lake. It was being pulled by the Magician.

  ‘You ask me where does the water go? I must show you Blackwater Sluice.’

  Alice looked doubtful. ‘Blackwater Sluice,’ she called. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘An exciting ride, Alice. Isn’t that what you wanted?’ the Magician answered her, and Alice felt her cheeks burning as she blushed. The old man had obviously been reading her thoughts again. It was a habit of his that she particularly distrusted. She considered it unfair – like cheating at cards.

  ‘Oh, do you indeed?’ Stephen Tyler said, looking at her severely.

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ Alice said, in an innocent voice.

  ‘Your thoughts are very noisy, Minimus. They deafen me sometimes. So, come along. Get in all of you,’ he said, steadying the boat. ‘One of you will have to row. This confounded arm is preventing me doing half the things I enjoy.’

  7

  Lutra

  ‘I TAKE IT you do know how to row?’ he said as they jostled for seats and the boat bobbed and wobbled on the surface of the water. ‘William, you and Mary take an oar each and, Alice, you come and sit beside me. But – carefully!’ he cried, as they all moved at once and the boat tipped so much to one side that they almost capsized.

  ‘Water,’ the Magician told them, ‘is a tricky element. It must be treated with respect.’ Then he settled into the seat at the back of the boat and motioned to Alice to sit beside him. ‘Ah!’ he sighed, ‘this is very pleasant. Row on!’ and, trailing his good hand in the water, he closed his eyes and soon was snoring quietly.

  Alice started to giggle. She also closed her eyes and snored loudly. The Magician immediately opened one eye, glared at her through it, and then scooped some water from the surface of the lake and splashed it into her face.

  ‘Hey!’ she shrieked. ‘That was freezing!’

  ‘Don’t snore then!’ the old man said and he closed his eyes again.

  William and Mary sat side by side on the centre bench, facing Alice and the Magician. Then, each taking an oar, they dipped them in the water and pulled together. The boat slid silently away from the shore.

  ‘But where are we going?’ Mary asked.

  ‘It’s not a very big lake,’ the Magician said, still with his eyes closed. ‘You can’t get lost.’

  ‘Where did this boat come from?’ William asked. ‘It looks too modern to be from your time.’

  ‘Don’t ask unimportant questions. I found it,’ the old man replied.

  ‘But – where? That’s all I’m asking,’ William insisted. ‘You disappeared and came back and . . . oh,’ he shook his head, tense with frustration. ‘It’s all so confusing . . .’

  When William next looked up, as he pulled backwards on his oar, he saw that the Magician’s eyes were open and that they were staring piercingly at him.

 
‘Well . . .’ William protested at the old man’s accusing stare. ‘I can’t help it. I’ve got the sort of mind that likes to work things out . . .’

  ‘Poor William,’ Stephen Tyler murmured. ‘What happens when you meet the incomprehensible? What then? When you are faced by something beyond your understanding? We are mere mortals, William. Would you want to be God?’

  ‘And anyway, it’s all such a waste of time,’ Mary suddenly said. ‘That’s what you always do, William. You get bogged down in little details and forget the really important things.’

  The Magician swivelled his eyes so that he was now staring at Mary.

  ‘And what do you do, Mary?’ he enquired, quietly.

  ‘Do?’ she asked, nervously. She didn’t like the attention that, with her words, she had called upon herself.

  ‘You have, very precisely, summed up your brother’s chief characteristic. What I wonder do you think yours might be?’

  Mary blushed and remained silent.

  ‘Falling in love!’ Alice said in a bored voice. ‘She’s always doing it.’

  ‘And you disapprove?’ the Magician demanded, turning suddenly to look at her.

  Alice shrugged.

  ‘It’s boring!’ she said.

  ‘All I meant,’ Mary said, quickly changing the subject, ‘is that we’ve discovered all sorts of things that we’ve got to tell you and William goes and asks you an unimportant question about where the water goes . . .’

  ‘But sometimes,’ the Magician told her, ‘the seemingly unimportant turns out to be crucial.’ And, reaching over the back of the seat, he took hold of the small tiller and guided the boat out towards the centre of the lake.

  William and Mary continued to dip the oars and the boat slipped across the water, cutting the perfect reflection of the surrounding scenery so that it seemed as if they were sailing across a pale, watery sky. Dimly, through the gloom below, fish moved languorously and the sunlight dappled the surface of the lake, flashing and sparkling.

  The Magician stared down at the water as it slowly flowed past, his hand creating a tiny ripple that swirled and eddied and then was lost across the smooth, silky surface. He sighed and when he next spoke his voice was gentle and far away, as if he was remembering distant thoughts.

  ‘The water, here at Goldenwater, has always been a mystery to people,’ he said. ‘As William has so correctly observed, there is no apparent outlet for it. Not from the surface, at least. Many years ago – before my time; before the time of the monks; before even the time of the Roman invaders – a mighty race of people lived here who understood the world of nature and were able to harness her powers to their own ends. Rather as the people in your time are harnessing nature – but with one vital difference. In your time, people harness and destroy; they take and don’t give back. They believe that all things are for their personal use. The people I am talking about lived in harmony with their world. They took nothing, expected nothing and harmed nothing. They learned many miraculous skills, long since forgotten. They moved mountains and yet left the mountains where they had always been. The Standing Stone is witness to their power. It came many hundreds of miles, brought here by unknown means and was placed precisely at the centre of the energy field that has sustained this valley and the surrounding countryside since the great age of ice first shaped these hills and vales and fashioned our known world.’

  ‘What’s an energy field?’ William asked.

  The Magician sighed. ‘You ask such difficult questions,’ he said, gazing thoughtfully across the water. ‘Can I, perhaps, pursue that at a later date?’

  William shrugged.

  ‘All right,’ he said. ‘But just tell me about these people then. Where did they go? What happened to them?’

  ‘They were conquered by the weak and by the cunning. They lost to the greedy and to the mean. They did not understand what it meant to fight for their existence. They welcomed all beings as part of the natural world. They had no word in their language to cover hate, because they had never experienced that emotion.’

  Again Stephen Tyler sighed.

  ‘Move slowly now,’ he said, raising a hand. ‘We are almost at the centre.’

  William and Mary dipped their oars gently once more and then, as the boat slid forward, they rested them on the sides of the craft where they dripped sparkling drops of water on to the floor near Alice and Stephen Tyler’s feet.

  As the boat came in line with the standing stone at one end of the lake and the waterfall at the other, the Magician swung the tiller, slowing the movement so that, at last, it came to rest, bobbing from side to side, crossing the imaginary line at an acute angle.

  ‘Watch,’ he said and, rummaging in the folds of his coat, he produced a smooth nugget of gold, hanging on a fine golden chain.

  ‘What is it?’ Alice asked him, her eyes shining as she gazed at it.

  ‘My pendulum,’ the old man replied. As he spoke, he lifted the chain, holding it tightly between his thumb and index finger, the piece of gold suspended motionless below. ‘With my pendulum I measure the earth’s energy. Here, at the centre of Goldenwater it is extremely strong. See!’ The piece of gold started to turn slowly in a circle although Stephen Tyler made no movement and there wasn’t a breath of wind. At first it made only a slow circle but then, as the motion gathered strength, the gold moved faster and faster, pulling at the thin golden chain until it was flying at an angle of forty-five degrees from the old man’s hand.

  ‘What does it mean?’ Mary asked, watching in amazement. ‘Why is it doing that?’

  ‘We are on the middle way,’ Stephen Tyler replied and gathering the pendulum back into his hand, he returned it to his pocket. ‘When you asked where the water went, William,’ he continued, ‘you touched on the great mystery. That was the question that must first have drawn our forefathers to this place. That is where the power comes from. Beneath us here – deep, deep down; fathoms below – there is an opening in the hard rock of the wall of this flooded basin. The water flows through it into unimaginable caverns. It is known to the locals hereabout as Blackwater Sluice. Few men have been there, though many have tried and failed. The opening is very narrow. Only a child could squeeze through it. And the depth is so great that breathing apparatus would be required just to reach the place.’

  ‘How do you know so much about it?’ William asked in a hushed voice. ‘You speak about it as though you’ve been there.’

  The Magician looked at him for a long moment and then he smiled.

  ‘Lutra!’ he called. It was a soft, gentle sound. ‘Come to me, my Lutra.’ And, raising his hand, he pointed across the surface of the lake. The children all turned to look in that direction.

  ‘Lutra!’ he called again. It was the sound that the wind makes as it whispers through trees; the sound of the song of a whale. ‘Lutra!’ It was sad and happy, soft and strong. It was a sound full of love.

  ‘Look!’ Alice cried and she also pointed in the same direction as the Magician.

  Now they could all see, coming towards them across the thin, colourless, moving expanse of water a V-shaped point of ripples, travelling fast, like an arrow, pointing straight at them.

  ‘Come, my Lutra!’ Stephen Tyler said, speaking almost brusquely and leaning towards the water as if guiding the ripples towards him. ‘You are well met!’ he cried and, at that moment, a head popped up out of the water. The face was sleek and shining, the eyes twinkling, the nose a bright black button with a set of fine grey whiskers sticking out below it.

  ‘What is it?’ Alice said.

  ‘This is Lutra!’ Stephen Tyler exclaimed. ‘My Lutra.’

  ‘But . . . what is it?’ Alice insisted. She had never seen a creature quite like it before.

  ‘Have you never met an otter?’ Stephen asked her, amazed at her ignorance.

  Alice pulled a face and shrugged. ‘Don’t think so,’ she said. ‘Have I, Will?’

  William shook his head and Mary, who was sitting on the side of the
boat nearest to the creature, leant forward and held out her hand to it.

  ‘Lutra, my dear,’ the Magician said, softly. ‘I want to show my friends Blackwater Sluice.’

  The otter turned his twinkling eyes and darted a look at the Magician. ‘Spare them nothing,’ the old man continued. ‘They are my good and constant friends. They must understand everything . . .’

  As he finished speaking the otter turned and, with a plop, it disappeared from view down below the surface, right beside the boat.

  ‘Oh, don’t go!’ Alice called, leaning over the edge of the boat, searching the dark below her. Then, almost before she had time to snatch a breath, the ice-cold of Goldenwater enveloped her and she felt herself being dragged, gasping, down into its twilight depths.

  8

  Blackwater Sluice

  EVERYTHING HAPPENED SO fast that Alice was never quite sure what had actually taken place. One moment, it seemed, she was leaning over the side of the rowing boat, looking down into the deep water at the disappearing shadow of the otter and the next . . . She was in the water herself and it was incredibly cold as it slipped round her body, pulling her down below the surface.

  The light began to fade and then, like a submarine preparing to dive, Alice’s body reacted to some unheard command. All sound disappeared as she closed her ears. She flicked with her thick tail and felt even colder, darker water enveloping her. At the same moment she closed her nostrils and eyes. Like a craft battened down for a storm, she sped through the water, going down and down until, at last, she could feel the tug of a current.

  Her lungs were at bursting point. The immense pressure of the water that surrounded her squeezed her body. She wanted to open her eyes, but the lids seemed to be sealed. She couldn’t move them. Nor was there any way that she could turn and aim for the surface of the water. As if drawn by a magnet, her course led her deeper and deeper, to the very bottom of Goldenwater.

  The current that she had felt was growing stronger and, with it, she careered towards the rocky wall of the submerged valley that formed the bowl in which the lake was held.

  Reaching out with webbed claws she felt the rock beneath her and, like a blind person, she probed across the rough surface, the pull of the current dragging her closer and closer to the. narrow outlet through which the water was surging.