by Robin Jarvis
"Grendel!" bawled Tarr furiously. "Listen to me, if the guardian does exist and this fiend takes it, it'll not be just the tribe who are doomed!"
But Esau had spoken his last word and, casting a malevolent glance at Nelda signalling her to follow, he hobbled away.
The aufwader girl took a wretched step after him, but she faltered and turned back towards the curtain of mist.
"Grandfather," she called, "did you really see Ben?"
"Aye, lass," came the reply, "but greatly troubled he was."
"This guardian is important, isn't it?"
When Tarr answered, his voice was filled with dread and horror. "Oh Nelda!" he cried. "Tha should be here, on this side of the abyss. We might not see each other again. Ah can feel the fate of the world pressing down, an' we're caught like crabs in a pot. It's all endin', the dark is closin' round and soon theer'll be nowt but night."
She stood graven like stone as his sobs came floating through the steam to her and at last Nelda knew what must be done. The lives of everyone she held dear were in her hands—only she could save them. At that moment, standing on the brink of the terrifying gulf, the girl came to a horrendous decision.
"Goodbye, Grandfather," she said, but her voice was thin and weak and he did not hear her.
Abruptly, a deep rumbling moan issued from the chasm—"The souls of the dead are stirring," murmured Nelda as unbearable shrieks echoed out of the mist in fearful blasts.
Upon the other side, Tarr strained his eyes trying to peer through the fog, his patience was finally rewarded as the clouds dispersed for a moment. But the sight which he beheld made him tremble more than ever.
"Nelda!" he shouted. "What is it?"
His granddaughter looked awful; her face was ghastly, like one who has heard the pronouncement of some terrible, condemning sentence. Her grey eyes were as two embers that smouldered with horror and she turned away, without seeming to see him and walked after Esau with leaden steps.
Tarr called out to her, it was as if she was going to her death. But Nelda made no sign that she had heard him and vanished into the caverns beyond, back to the chamber of the Triad and was lost as the mist surged in once again.
With the shrill, banshee wails gibbering insanely about him, Tarr whispered, "No, Nelda—dunna go to him." And a great tear rolled down his craggy face.
Nelda moved as though she were in a dream. She was aware of all that was going on around her, but it was as if she were viewing it from some far distance. Her feet led her to the hallowed cavern where the waterfalls splashed around the gurgling springs. But all was dim and vague, a realm of shadow shapes and hazy glimmerings. Were they voices she could hear amid the babbling water? Why were they urging her to turn back? Slowly she drew aside the tapestry curtain and made her way into the Triad chamber.
The light from the lamp above the central throne flickered sharply over her small form. The rock crystal about the silver boat shone like the moon on the waves but the radiance was cold, colder than the dark deeps—where the moonkelp bloomed.
Nelda raised her eyes to it and found herself wondering who had created the cunning lamp. Could Irl's hands have wielded the hammer which formed the silver timbers and could he have hewn the crystal from the cliff? Was it more than a natural flame which shone there? The idea grew large in her mind and she strode quickly to her husband's chamber to confirm it.
Esau was hunched over the pool, his bow-legs tucked under his trailing, forked beard. Staring down, he gazed intently into the Darkmirror, searching for answers to appease his gnawing doubts.
The still water remained black and calm and he knotted his brows, projecting his will out into the liquid seeking for a sign.
"Show me," he grunted, his eyes bulging from their wrinkled sockets, "yield up thy secrets." His temples throbbed under the strain of his concentration and he did not see his bride enter the chamber. "Hah!" he snarled. "The darkness clears—there! I see it!"
Below him, the pool pulsed with a dismal glow and strands of gloom twisted and whirled in its depths. Esau clasped his gnarled claws as faint images swam into view; some were there only for an instant, hardly long enough for him to discern what they were, whilst others lingered and he gabbled excitedly as he recognised them.
There was Tarr trudging back through the tunnels, to his death, Esau hoped—then the vision changed and another scene enfolded before his eyes. At the main entrance to the aufwader caves many of the tribe were collecting boat hooks and fishing nets and seemed to be in great distress, then he saw others guarding the lesser ways, a flash of scales leaped through the dark and for a moment the pool was blank.
Esau's lips parted and his gums squeezed together impatiently. "More," he jabbered, "I must see more!"
In the inky pool, an image of the cliff top formed, and there, standing tall and arrogant amid the gravestones was Nathaniel Crozier. At once he looked up, his eyes glaring from the surface of the water. It was as though he could see the ancient aufwader, for he raised his hand and pointed threateningly—then he dissolved. Now the Darkmirror showed the ocean bed, where sinister shapes lurked in the flowing weed and coral reefs. Ruined pillars and crumbling statues rested against mountains of broken stone and emerald fish darted to and fro between barnacled masonry. Then a silvery-blue light shone up to Esau's shrivelled face as the outline of three gigantic thrones drew near. Next, he found himself looking on the open sea, where an island of black rock rose from the waves and the mists wove densely about it. The pool sank into blackness once more.
Esau let out a rattling breath, tired and weary from his mental exertions. Then, his tongue licked his withered lips and he stared longingly at the still, black water. Lowering his head, like an animal at a pond, he crouched further down and lapped the surface, making a disgusting sucking noise.
"What are you doing?" asked Nelda, repulsed by his base display.
Startled, her husband flew backwards, his mouth dripping with oily liquid. He stared at her in alarm, then rage took him. "Spying on me?" he squawked lumbering to his feet. "I'll teach thee, bride of mine!"
But Nelda pretended to be sorry for surprising him. "Forgive me," she apologised, "I did not mean to creep up on you—I thought you heard me come in!"
So humble and complete was her contrition that Esau's temper cooled, yet he glanced at the Darkmirror shamefully. "'Twas merely a fancy of mine—nothing more," he hurriedly explained, "I did think I saw a fish swimming there and wished to make certain, that is all."
Nelda said that she understood; if Esau was mad enough to drink stagnant water that was up to him. She looked at the elder uncertainly, then prepared herself for the task that lay ahead.
"Husband," she began, "my grandfather's words have frightened me. Are we all to die? Is a great evil really to be awoken by the actions of one human? What will become of us?"
Esau chortled and wiped the slime from his lips. "Save thy sorrow," he told her.
"But I cannot," she wept and the tears which brimmed in her eyes were genuine.
The elder crept forward, reaching out a deformed claw to her cheek. "Poor, sweet wife," he muttered, "thou art indeed afraid. Have no fear—Whitby is safe, I promise you that."
Nelda stared at him, "How can you be sure?"
Esau sniggered and tapped his brow with a twig-like finger. "Trust in my wisdom," he cackled. "For nigh on four hundred years I have led the Triad, learned in all lore am I—none save the Three beneath the waves know more. I am master of the rhymes that charm the tides and raise the winds, versed in the mournful speech of sea birds, of the tales carried from forgotten lands in the morning of the world. Have faith in me, my wife—Esau Grendel knows and sees all. When I tell thee no hurt shall befall Whitby, believe it. I am certain because the last protector is safe—no harm will come if it remains where it resides."
"Then you lied to my grandfather!" she cried. "The guardian does exist!"
His sharp eyes danced over her and his toothless grin widened unpleasantly. "That is
correct, my sweet," he murmured.
"Tell me where it is!" Nelda begged. "Please."
But Esau would not be persuaded, he gave her a covetous glance then turned his back and ambled over to the bed.
Nelda ran after him. "If I guess," she said, "would you tell me if I was right?"
The elder hauled himself on to the bunk and watched her from beneath hooded lids. "I might," he muttered.
"Then the lamp!" Nelda declared. "The one above your throne—Irl made it didn't he?"
Esau chuckled wickedly, and fingered his beard, enjoying the sight of her pleading for his help. "Indeed," he mumbled, "it was Irl's hands that wrought the silver boat and mined the gleaming crystal."
Nelda made to run from the chamber. She had to take the guardian away from danger, the Mallykin would soon be here to seize it and deliver it to its master.
As she hurried to the entrance, Esau's cracked voice called out, "But that is not the device Irl made to keep Morgawrus at bay!"
The girl froze. "Morgawrus?" she repeated.
Her husband rolled on to the bed and nuzzled his head into the blankets. "The dreaded one," he softly chanted. "That which spreads disease and anguish, that which the Deep Ones overthrew in the beginnings of time and who sleeps beneath us even now—whose slumbering groans rise up from the deep chasm under the bridge of stone."
"The Gibbering Road," said Nelda. "Then it is not the souls of the dead who cry out?"
Esau shook his head and sprawled his shrunken body over the bunk. "No, my love," he told her, "the shrieks are but proof of the weakening enchantment. For many years now I have heard the moans grow stronger as the terror begins to stir. But have no fear, the spells will hold whilst Irl's guardian remains in place."
Nelda edged towards him. "Where is it?" she asked again.
Her husband only laughed back at her. "Now thou art in my power!" he declared. "Hearken to thyself, where is thy pride now?" He giggled insanely and his face twisted with bitterness and longing. "Did I not see thy scorn and sense the loathing thou felt for me?" he cried. "The strength of thy hatred was mighty. To what distant corner has it slinked, to leave thee begging for my wisdom now?"
"But the tribe!" she exclaimed. "Do you want everyone to perish?"
Esau thumped the bed with his fists. "Sacrifices must be made!" he squealed. "Our noble friends do buy us time with their lives. The Mallykin will never venture to this deep realm and who knows—perhaps it will be slain?" He scrutinised her closely, then asked, "What sacrifice wouldst thou make, my bride?"
"I would do anything to save the tribe," she sobbed, giving up any hope of finding the guardian in time.
Her husband gave a low, guttural chortle. "Then I have decided to tell thee," he said, rubbing his hands together as a cunning glint shone in his eyes. "On one condition..." he added slyly.
***
At the East Gate, three aufwaders hammered fishing nets into position, resting only when the entrance was completely covered.
"That's reet," Prawny told them, "now guard it wi' yer lives—at the first sound of owt moving inside, give a shout and stand on guard."
He dashed along the passage and found Old Parry and Baccy the crone peering suspiciously into a narrow crevice. In their hands they held long knitting needles and a rusting harpoon that had belonged to Parry's late husband.
When they heard him coming, they whisked round and raised their weapons. "Scupper it!" trilled Baccy, slashing the air with her needles. "Cut the brute's head off—rip his legs out!"
"Crikes!" shouted Prawny, springing backwards to avoid their fierce onslaught.
Old Parry uncovered a lantern and grumbled to herself, disappointed to find that it was only him.
"Well done," he praised them, "if this critter's got any sense it'll keep away from both of 'ee."
"I tell you it won't dare show its ears," chuntered Parry, "if it's got any that is. Tarr's finally gone feeble in the head; he were allus barmy but now he's real cracked. We're all wastin' our time."
Baccy jabbed the air with her knitting needles, anxious to stab something. "Spike and stick," she crooned. "By gow, I'll plunge 'em in and wiggle 'em round. Gut the animal—make a broth from its gizzards and patties from its brains, hee, hee!"
"Foolishness," remarked Old Parry tersely. "We'll be stood about fer days—theer's nowt gonna happen, except maybe she'll get one of her addled notions and try to stab me instead. I've a mind to get meself off home and put my feet up."
Leaving them to it, one complaining, the other poised for action, Prawny hurried further down the tunnel to check on the rest of the defences. He thought of those two terrible old sea wives awaiting the enemy and grimaced—they had nearly frightened him out of his skin. When the creature itself finally appeared he hoped he would meet it more courageously.
"Steel yerself, Nusk," he said, keeping a firm hold of the cudgel in his hand. "You don't want to be found lacking when the time comes."
He thought sadly of his poor wife. She had been dead for many years now, but he could still picture her in his mind when he was lonely or needed to feel close to her. Valdi could always be relied on to cheer him up, or tactfully dispense sound advice. Prawny wished she was there now, to goad him on, and tell him how brave he would be against the unknown enemy.
"Don't let me bring shame on my line," he implored. "You've faith in yer old spouse, ain'tcha Valdi?" But she, like so many others, had fallen prey to the curse of the Deep Ones and had vanished from this world long ago. Only the echoing dark heard him and Prawny felt his courage dwindle like a sputtering candle, trickling down his spine and oozing out of his boots.
Ducking beneath a low archway, he stepped on to a narrow path that steadily climbed. This led to the high pass, which opened out on to the abbey plain. It was the only entrance he hadn't yet visited to oversee the defences, but knew that four of the tribe had gone to make sure the gate was closed.
The way was nearly pitch black. In this section of the caves the lamps were few and far between and, as he passed one, his shadow would fly before him, blotting everything out in a nightmarishly distorted shape.
"Keep yer wits," he sternly reminded himself, "ain't nowt but a shadow. Are yer afraid of that, yer big daisy?" As if in answer his pace increased until he was fairly jogging along—to reach the high pass before the imagined fears that lurked in the darkness reached out and grabbed him.
At a fork in the passage, he stopped and listened—something was wrong. Holding his breath, Prawny glanced round the rough rocky walls, puzzling over the strange noise.
A muffled scraping was coming from above his head. As yet it was faint and indistinct, but with every beating second it grew nearer.
"Rabbits?" he mumbled curiously. "Sometimes their warrens do burrow deep." With a wry smile he remembered the year that the upper chambers had been overrun with them. "Mebbe Baccy'll get her broth after all," he chuckled.
But the sounds were too frantic and harsh to be the work of rabbits. Something with immense strength and unswerving intent was digging and tearing its way through the ground.
Prawny stared up at the dark ceiling. It was very low at this point in the tunnel and, standing on tiptoe he pressed his ear against the earthen roof.
The sounds were much clearer now, he could hear the creature's breath wheezing and gasping as it ripped up the soil and dived further down.
The aufwader stepped away, his heart thumping violently in his chest. This was it! They had been wrong to assume the enemy would enter by one of the main gates—it was making its own way in!
With a dull clatter of dry clay and small stones, a fistful of soil showered down upon his head.
"Bless us!" Prawny choked, gripping the cudgel in his hand and dredging up whatever valour he had left.
"Well, it'll not get by me!" he said, hoping his voice sounded confident and brave.
A further cascade of earth poured over the path and the aufwader uttered a curse in fear. Suddenly, a large clod of soil was kic
ked from above and a mouth-shaped hole gaped down at him from the ceiling.
Prawny trembled. "No," he breathed in horror.
Out of the darkness came a squat, misshapen head and a pair of luminous eyes gazed balefully at him.
"Parry were right," warbled Prawny in a terrified voice, "it don't have no ears." Pressing himself against the wall, he whimpered, "Get you gone! You'll not come down here—I... I won't let 'ee!"
Silently, the foul creature began to squirm from the hole. Keeping its grim stare fixed steadily upon him, the fish demon crawled out—its gills twitching expectantly.
"No you don't!" Prawny shouted, swinging his cudgel round in his panic.
Hissing in dismay, the fish demon snaked back into the ceiling, clawing hastily at the loose earth which rained down in a frenzied stream.
"That's right!" roared Prawny, greatly encouraged by the creature's apparent cowardice. "There's plenty more where that came from. Come back and I'll give 'ee such a clout, yer'll be flung into next year!"
But only silence flowed from the hole—the creature had escaped.
Prawny chuckled to himself, relieved that he had not brought disgrace to the Nusk name. Raising his cudgel, he warily prodded at the opening with it.
At once the scaly claws flashed out, seized the weapon from his grasp and hurled it far from reach.
"Help!" Prawny screamed. "It's here! Help me..."
Before he could run, the ferocious talons bit into his shoulders and, yelling for his life, the aufwader was dragged off his feet.
"Aaaiiiyeee!" he shrieked, kicking his legs furiously and thrashing wildly with his arms. "Heeeeelp!" Up into the dark hole the Mallykin hauled him—up to where his screams ended abruptly and all his struggles were over.
On to the tunnel floor, the fiend dropped. Flicking its ugly head from side to side, it sought the subterranean air currents and searched the scents that drifted upon them. The delightful fragrance of fear filled the caves—that was good, its prey would be the tenderer for it. Emitting a horrible screech, it gave a lurching hop, then bounded down the passage—Prawny Nusk's blood still dripping from its jaws.