by V M Jones
‘That standing stone was a bit like a door,’ said Kenta thoughtfully. ‘Tall and narrow …’
‘I’m sure we’re right.’ Jamie didn’t sound too happy about it. ‘There’s just one problem — two, actually. To get to the entry point — and the portal — we’ll have to find our way back through the shroud … without those weird snuffling things to guide us. Plus, as far as we know there’s only one route — and you can bet King Karazeel’s got a welcome committee just waiting for us to arrive.’
I thought of who — or what — the welcome committee might consist of — and suddenly realised how crazy we’d been to sit out in the open for so long. ‘Come on, guys,’ I said, glancing round uneasily. ‘I think we should move somewhere less exposed, before —’
And it was then I noticed Hannah had wandered off, Tiger Lily padding along behind her. She was close to the edge of the shroud — too close. I almost called out — and then thought better of it. I jumped to my feet. ‘Look where Hannah’s got to! I’ll run and stop her — follow me, and we’ll use the shroud as cover while we decide what to do.’
I jogged towards her, shrugging on my backpack. Luckily the shroud shaded gradually into darkness on the Shakesh side … but there was an anxious fluttering in my chest as I saw how close to the twilit fringe Hannah had drifted. I was a stone’s-throw away, drawing a breath to call to her softly, when it happened.
There was a flash of movement at Hannah’s feet — something small and swift, scurrying for the shelter of the swamp. Instantly, Tiger Lily was after it at a bounding run — straight as an arrow into the darkness. There was a squawk from Hannah — ‘Tiggie — no!’ — and she vanished into the shroud in hot pursuit, leaving me frozen in mid-stride with my mouth wide open in horrified disbelief.
Every instinct screamed at me to sprint in after her before she went too far. But logic told me it would be suicide — three of us lost instead of two. A balloon of panic bulged up through my throat, but I swallowed it down. Moved cautiously through the gathering gloom to the point where I could just see my hand in front of my face, then stopped. Cupped my hands round my mouth to channel the sound. ‘Hannah!’ I called softly. ‘Hannah — can you hear me? Come back!’ But even as the words left my mouth, I knew it was hopeless. They were gone.
And then a familiar voice came out of the darkness. ‘You’re a naughty cat,’ it said severely. ‘How many times have I told you not to hunt mouses?’
Relief flooded through me in a wonderful wave, like fizzy lemonade. ‘Hannah! Stay still! Don’t move a single step!’
‘Why not? I’m coming back now — I’ve got Tiger Lily. She’s caught a mouse.’
And Hannah materialised out of the shroud, a squirming Tiger Lily in her arms, complete with a mouthful of mouse. ‘It’s really dark in there, Adam! Lucky you called, or I wouldn’t have found you!’
I goggled at her. ‘Yeah, but …’ Something just didn’t add up … I needed a minute to figure it out — and get my heart-rate back to normal after the fright she’d given me.
But Jamie was on to it like a bloodhound. ‘Hannah — how did you find Tiger Lily in the shroud?’
‘What’s shroud? Oh — the black-night stuff. I saw her, of course.’ Hannah sounded surprised. ‘She’s pale, like a little light. It was easy.’
Jamie and I looked at each other. But it was Kenta who spoke, slowly and hesitantly, over the crunching sound of Tiger Lily devouring her mouse. ‘But the mouse … how did Tiger Lily see the mouse to catch it?’
‘Cats can see in the dark, Kenta,’ Hannah explained kindly. ‘Didn’t you know that?’
We huddled at the edge of the shroud, battling to believe it was true — that Tiger Lily could not only see in the shroud, but be seen. Hannah was the only one to take it all in her stride. Even when Jamie tried to explain to her that shroud wasn’t ordinary darkness, she came right back with, ‘Well, Tiger Lily’s not an ordinary cat. And anyway, cats seeing in the dark is a scientific fact — Q told me.’
Tiger Lily finished her dinner, washed it down with a drink of swamp water, and polished her whiskers. And then she decided it was time to head home.
She stood, gave a leisurely stretch, and padded purposefully away into the gloom. At the point where the grey deepened into blackness she paused, looked back over her shoulder, and gave a low, chirruping call. Hannah, who’d been sitting cross-legged while we talked in circles, hopped to her feet. ‘Come on!’ she said impatiently. ‘It’s time to go — Tiger Lily says so.’
I looked at the others, and they looked at me. Cats could see in the dark — even I knew that. And it looked as if the other part might be true too — Tiger Lily did stand out against the darkness with a pale, luminous brightness. Would she be able to find her way through the swamp? Time would tell.
I made up my mind with an almost audible click. Rummaged in my pack for the rope, hastily unravelling it and handing it down the line to the others. ‘Come on guys — we don’t have a choice! Hang on tight — Rich, grab Weevil. Gen, Hannah — up here with me. Ready, Jamie? And Meirion —’ I wound the very end of the rope round his hand, curling it into a fist and giving it a squeeze — ‘hold this tightly! Your life depends on it. We’re taking you out of here.’
I thought there’d be no reaction, but to my surprise he put his other hand over mine for a second. I’d have expected it to be brittle as a bunch of twigs and cold as ice, but it wasn’t. It felt strangely warm and firm, and made my skin tingle slightly as if a very faint electric current was passing between us. Startled, I looked up into his face … and for the first time it wore the shadow of a smile.
Tiger Lily had waited long enough. She moved away into the shroud like a pale beacon … and the rest of us straggled blindly after her.
As I walked, I found a song was playing through my mind — a song I’d never heard before, yet as familiar as my own heartbeat. It warmed me, comforted me … it was like a lullaby playing softly in my head … or in my heart. And then I realised it wasn’t coming from inside me — someone was singing, close by. The softest, warmest, gentlest voice I’d ever heard, a voice that rocked me like the waves on the sea. I’d heard that voice somewhere before, a long, long time ago … but where?
Suddenly Jamie’s voice interrupted my thoughts. ‘Hey, guys — anyone got any money?’
‘Money?’ Rich sounded as surprised as I felt.
‘Yeah — for the Captain Creamy van!’
‘Have you gone crazy, Jamie? There’s no Captain Creamy van. We’re about to run on for the big game, you blockhead — can’t you hear the crowd?’
Then Kenta’s voice came urgently out of the darkness: ‘I have to go! It’s the bell — the bell above the shop door! There’s a customer, and Father’s left me in charge!’ There was a tug on the rope.
Irritation flared through me. Why couldn’t they all shut up? The song was fading, growing fainter — the singer was moving away from me through the darkness, and once she was gone I’d never find her again. And then suddenly I knew who she was.
‘Mother!’ I heard myself cry, my voice as anguished as a little child’s in the darkness. ‘Mother — come back!’ I took a step towards where I knew she was waiting for me in the darkness, feeling the tug of the rope, hearing the squish of water under my boot …
Then Kenta spoke, a raw edge of panic in her voice. ‘We’re all going crazy! It’s not real. The sounds … the voices … it’s the swamp, trying to lure us off track. We have to do something!’
‘I’d give anything for a soft serve cone,’ said Jamie wistfully. ‘Please, guys — it’s just round the corner!’
‘You’re wrong, Kenta — it is real!’ The lullaby was fading, fading into the distance … ‘I’m going — I have to! If I don’t, I’ll never find her again!’
Suddenly my shin exploded with agony, as if I’d been kicked by a mule. ‘SCORED!’ yelled Rich triumphantly. ‘Right between the posts! Come on guys, back to our positions …’
But the pain had
brought me back to my senses. ‘Kenta’s right! That’s why they blocked our ears on the way to Shakesh — not to stop us overhearing what they were saying, but to stop us being driven crazy by the voices in the swamp! We have to do something — but what?’ Already the faint humming in my ears was growing in intensity, and I could make out snatches of the lullaby again, as if someone was trying to tune in a radio.
Hannah’s voice spoke up beside me, sounding very chirpy: ‘Just a minute, Q — I’m coming!’
I groped for her hand, holding it tight. ‘What you’re hearing, Hannah — it isn’t real. Don’t listen, OK?’
‘But it’s Q.’ For the first time, she sounded close to tears. ‘Please let me go to him, Adam — just for a quick cuddle?’
I had to do something — and fast. Already I was I battling to keep my thoughts on track, the background soundtrack of that haunting lullaby filling my mind, drowning out reason and common sense …
Then I was groping in my bag, fumbling with desperate fingers till I found it. I put it to my lips, praying it would work. The pure, clear song of the penny whistle floated out into the darkness, unfurling and weaving around us in an invisible shield, as if we were cradled in a cocoon of silken sound. We walked on, and as we walked, I played.
At some point, the real darkness of night must have caught up with the darkness of the shroud … though for us, following the pale beacon of Tiger Lily as she picked her way delicately through the swamp, there was no way of telling when.
On and on we walked through the darkness, the notes of music falling round us like silvery starlight, until at last I realised that the starlight was real, and we had emerged from the shroud into the soft embrace of a clear and cloudless night.
The Bridge of Sighs
Ahead of me I could make out the dark silhouette of the mountain range, the star-spangled sky above it. Suddenly I realised how tired I was — my fingers were stiff from playing, and my lips felt numb. But we were through the shroud — we’d made it! What’s more, we must have been climbing gradually without realising it — when I stumbled round to face the others, I saw that the ground fell away behind us, the shroud like a bank of fog in the distance.
My face split into a weary grin. Behind me, Hannah was swaying on her feet, eyes half closed. One by one, the others plodded to a halt, Jamie sinking down onto the ground with a groan. But there was something niggling at the back of my dazed mind. Something was wrong — badly wrong. With a shock like a bucketful of ice water in my face, I knew what it was. Meirion was gone.
We dragged ourselves a little further in search of a sheltered place to rest, our hearts like lead. A short distance ahead the ground rose steeply into a rocky bluff; we found a deep overhang at its foot, and huddled under it.
Hannah, Jamie and Gen were instantly asleep, not even bothering to unroll their sleeping bags. Kenta covered them gently, her hands trembling with exhaustion. Tiger Lily curled up in the crook of Hannah’s legs, too tired even to purr. Weevil was in high spirits, chittering cheerfully as he unfastened the pack containing the food with nimble fingers — he’d hitched a ride in Richard’s pack the whole way, and slept most of it, I suspected.
Kenta passed round some fruit, but only Weevil seemed hungry. ‘So,’ said Rich, echoing our thoughts, ‘what do we do about Meirion?’
There was a silence. ‘We can’t go back,’ I muttered. ‘He could be anywhere by now. He must have wandered off into the swamp — we’d never find him.’
‘That’s what’s worrying me most,’ whispered Kenta. ‘The thought that he’s out there somewhere, alone, afraid, and starving …’
‘Cheer up, Kenta,’ said Rich bracingly. ‘He’s a mage, remember — according to Jamie, that’s a kind of magician. He’s probably tougher than you think. Maybe he went off for a reason.’
Kenta shook her head wordlessly. But I remembered that brief touch, the flicker of energy that had passed between us — almost as if he was saying goodbye, or trying to tell me something — and suddenly my spirits lifted. ‘Rich’s right,’ I told her. ‘Meirion is a mage — and this is his world. He’s an adult, and we’re kids. I’m certain he’d never expect us to go back and look for him. Our job is to finish what we came here to do — take Hannah home safe to Quested Court and Q. And if we’re going to stand any chance at all of doing that, we must have some food and get some rest.’
I woke hours later, stiff from the long walk and sleeping on the hard ground. Around me the others were grumbling reluctantly awake, stretching and yawning. Rich had obviously been up for a while and prowling round outside; now he ducked in under the overhang, reaching for a roll and looking cheerful. ‘I’ve found a path,’ he told us through a mouthful of bread. ‘It’s a narrow track — could have been made by sheep or something, I guess — if there are sheep in Karazan. But it heads in what I reckon is the right direction: uphill —’ Kenta made a face — ‘and south. I think Jamie was right: Karazeel will concentrate on the main route through the shroud. He thinks it’s the only way we know — maybe he thinks it’s the only way. Same applies to the ford — what’s left of it.’
‘Yeah — let’s take the high road, and leave the low road to Karazeel’s heavies,’ I agreed. ‘And as far as getting over the river is concerned — well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.’
‘If there is one,’ muttered Jamie.
I looked over at Hannah, sitting silently with Tiger Lily on her lap. She was very pale, and I was suddenly reminded of how sick she’d been such a short time ago. I smiled at her. ‘Up you get, Hannah — we’re on our way. Put your furry friend in my backpack, and the pack on your back.’ Her eyes widened in surprise, and the others gawked at me. I grinned. ‘Then hop up on my shoulders — it’s piggyback time.’
The path climbed steadily up the steep, rocky mountainside. ‘At least we’re getting the uphill part over with,’ Jamie panted, and he was right — by what I guessed was mid-afternoon the ground had levelled out, and the going was easier. We were on a kind of contour path — the mountains rose steeply to our right, stretching away rank on rank to touch the clouds, and on the other side the land fell away to distant vistas of purplish plains and darker smudges of forest, with the occasional far-off flash of what I imagined must be the sea.
After a while the vegetation changed from scrubby grassland to the occasional tree and then to dense forest, and the view vanished. I was secretly relieved — I’d felt far too exposed out in the open. But the air in the forest was muggy and humid, and soon we were all sweating. The ground underfoot changed too — to a thick, dark loam that squished when we walked. Ferns covered the forest floor, and thick creepers like ropes dangled from the branches high above. Far down to the left I caught the occasional gleam of a stream running between the trees, and every now and then we came to a shallow trickle of water across the track, and had to pick our way carefully across.
Then Richard, striding along ahead of me with Hannah perched on his back, suddenly stopped. ‘What’s that? That … roaring sound?’
The moment he said the words, I realised I could hear it too — had been hearing it for a while. It was more a distant thunder than a roar — could it be thunder? Was there going to be a storm? Whatever it was, it seemed to be coming from up ahead. I shook my head, shrugging; one thing was for sure: walking towards it at the rate we were, we’d soon find out.
The roaring grew steadily louder, and soon there was no doubt what was making it. Water — huge volumes of it, falling fast and far. We trudged on; the ground was wetter by the minute, and there was a regular drip-drip-dripping of moisture from the leaves. The path was zigzagging back and forth now, up and down — one minute we’d be pulling ourselves up a steep rise, hanging onto handfuls of ferns; the next we were slithering down again, our feet slipping and sliding in squishy black mud.
Rich rounded a bend and stopped as abruptly as if he’d walked into a wall … and at the same time I felt a sudden breeze on my face and a mist of fine droplets on my s
kin. ‘What is it? What’s —’ And then I saw what he had seen, and my jaw dropped.
The ground fell away in front of us, the path we were on vanishing into nothingness. On the far side I could see a steep, forested slope — fifty metres away, at least — and just make out the path again, winding away into the trees. But between us and the path was a void — a roaring chasm filled with a floating mist of spray. And to our right, frothing, foaming, plunging down in a rampant cataract: a waterfall. It was as wide as the gorge itself: a thundering wall of water falling hundreds of metres to crash into an invisible pool far below.
We’d reached the River Ravven — and a dead end.
Rich met my eyes through the swirling spray, his face grim. We both knew what this meant: back-tracking two hours at least the way we’d come, and then a wet, slippery scramble down the mountain through dense rainforest, with no trace of a path. And then what?
Suddenly Gen spoke up beside me, sounding so like her old self that I almost toppled over into the chasm. ‘Look, Adam — over there.’
Leaning over at a crazy angle, half-hidden by fern fronds and moss, was a signboard like the one there’d been at the ford down river. I squinted at it through the swirling spray — and grinned. Rainbow Bridge.
‘Well, we’ve come the right way.’ Rich was battling to sound cheerful.
‘And Gen’s more like herself again.’ Kenta was right: Gen’s cheeks were pink and her eyes bright, but her gown was drenched and weighted down at the hem with mud, and she was shivering. ‘The sun’s come out,’ she said, hugging herself and trying to smile, ‘look at the rainbow!’
Sure enough, a rainbow had sprung out just above where we were standing, so close I felt I could almost reach out and touch it. The intensity of the afternoon sunlight slanting through the gully far above picked out the colours with picture-book brightness: a solid arc of red, orange, yellow, green, blue, and violet spanning the gorge from one side to the other. The girls gazed at it in wonder, but Rich gave it a single dismissive glance and moved on to more practical things. ‘So there’s the rainbow — but where’s the bridge?’