The Traveller's Stone

by S J Howland

  ‘I hardly think so,’ said Ledger, in a sceptical tone and Flint snorted in agreement, but Xander did not wait to hear any more. With a sudden prickling feeling behind his eyes, he lurched to his feet and hurried away into the woodland surrounding the Lodge. It was bad enough to carry a sinking weight of responsibility, but for it to be expressed out loud in Wooten’s accusing voice was unbearable.

  When he was out of sight of the clearing Xander stopped and leant back against a tree, angrily shoving at the exposed root with his shoe. ‘He doesn’t belong here.’ The words he had over-heard wouldn’t stop revolving around in his head; he’d been so stupid to think there was a place here for him, that he was wanted. Probably the Stantons were just waiting for Flint to take him back home, and they would all be relieved when he was gone. The Travellers certainly wanted him out of Haven, and the hobs would never forgive him. Xander felt a hot lump rise in his throat and his breath caught in something near to a sob.

  ‘Mate, are you okay?’ Ollie’s voice rang out from nearby and Xander brushed a quick hand across his eyes.

  ‘Fine,’ he replied flatly. There was a moment’s silence.

  ‘It’s not true, what he said, you know.’ Len’s voice was clear and sure, and for a moment Xander hated her for her certainty. ‘He’s trying to blame you because they have no idea how to handle things.’

  ‘How could you possibly know that?’ Xander snapped at her, as he swung around angrily. It felt good to shout at someone. ‘Maybe it is my fault, have you thought of that? Maybe they’re completely right and I shouldn’t be here. It’s not exactly been a raging success so far, has it?’

  Len’s eyes narrowed, and she opened her mouth to respond, but Ollie got in first. ‘Look, things have been a bit rough, but there is something behind all this and we’re close to figuring it out. Think of everything that’s happened so far – it has to mean something.’

  ‘Come on, we’re just kidding ourselves,’ snarled Xander, and Ollie looked taken aback by his vehemence. ‘We’ve been running around achieving – what exactly? Nothing! I don’t belong here, and I should leave. I’m only causing problems.’

  ‘Well, wallowing in your own private pity party will definitely improve matters,’ retorted Len. ‘You’re not the only person in the world who has problems, so drop the ‘poor me’ act.’

  ‘Len –’ warned Ollie, but Len rushed on.

  ‘No, he needs to hear it. He’s been moping around for days now and it’s enough.’

  Xander glared at her, his anger like a physical thing inside him, clawing to get out. ‘Well, you’re right about one thing,’ he said furiously. ‘It is enough.’

  He wanted more than anything to be away from everyone and a sudden, stray thought came to him, an idea of where to find some peace so he could think. Before he could lose his nerve, he lifted his wrist and his orb flared. He just had time to see the surprise on Ollie’s and Len’s faces as he vanished.

  Chapter Eleven

  Even before opening his eyes again, he felt the change; the sudden absence of distant voices and the scent of bonfire smoke. This had been his first jump without a guide, and he looked over the grass to the dilapidated frontage of Mistleberry Lodge with a small sigh of relief that he had made it there. Sunset light still lingered faintly in the little clearing, illuminating the great wooden door to the Lodge, and Xander remembered, with a lurch of bitterness, when Ari had first brought him here. He had been so naive and so ready to believe in the wonders of this world, but it had just let him down and rejected him.

  With another small sniff, Xander walked over towards the Lodge, his feet scuffing the short turf. He would stay here a while and think, he decided. Lodges were supposed to be a place of refuge – for Travellers, came the unwelcome thought, which he was not. He shook his head. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t like he belonged anywhere in Haven, and nobody would miss him.

  He put his hand on the cold metal latch of the door and pushed. It didn’t move. He shoved angrily at it but it remained immobile, as if it had never been meant to be opened. After a moment’s thought, Xander channeled his desire to open the door through his orb, which flickered fitfully and then went out. The door remained shut. Even the Lodge was rejecting him now, he thought miserably. There was a sense of deep emptiness about the place, and suddenly Xander remembered an overheard conversation about the Tavishes being withdrawn from Mistleberry because they wouldn’t stop complaining – about strange and unnerving noises around the place. A cold chill ran down Xander’s spine and he spun around, turning his back to the solid wooden door.

  It was utterly silent as his gaze darted about the clearing, but it no longer felt peaceful. The sun had set and pale twilight blurred the edges of the trees into looming shapes, menacing in their stillness. Something was very wrong here, he thought, his palms pressing back against the wood and his heart thumping painfully. It took several panicked breaths before he realised that they were wisping out before him in the rapidly chilling air.

  ‘This is not happening,’ he groaned, but the faint sound of rising static, crackling across the clearing, was unmistakable.

  Desperately he lifted his hand before him and his orb lit, but the glow was muted and kept flickering out. On the far side of the clearing, Xander could see the ominous sight of shades moving, flowing and merging all around the tree line, fully manifested and surrounding the Lodge so he could not get beyond the ward to jump away again.

  He panicked, looking for a way out and some remembered words, scornfully thrown at him, came back and echoed in his head, ‘Ward and run, you idiot.’ He attempted to throw up the kind of solid ward that Ari had showed to him, which he had achieved so easily when the threat of shades seemed far away. To his despair, all he could produce now was a faint, amorphous glow, which dissipated with each fearful breath.

  The shades were in the open now, looming high and ringing him slowly and deliberately, as if they knew there was nothing he could do. The sudden thought of Alvin Tavish, scarred and broken, flashed across his mind and he gave a terrified moan. As he leaned on trembling legs against the door behind him, it felt like the museum all over again, except this time he knew, only too well, his fate if the shades overcame him. All that had happened since then had only bought him a few more weeks and some strange experiences, none of which would help him now. Knowing it was pointless, he slammed both fists backwards against the door.

  ‘Help,’ he shouted, his voice cracking and breaking. ‘Please, someone, help.’

  The sound of his fists was muffled and the door remained closed. No-one was coming. The shades were so close now that his face was numbing, and he had a strange fancy that there were almost intelligible sounds in the crackling hiss. He cringed, sliding down the door onto the ground and throwing his arms up over his face. This was it then. He closed his eyes and waited for the end.

  Unexpectedly, there was a sudden lessening of the cold, and then a flare of blazing light shone through Xander’s tightly closed eyelids, penetrating the shield of his arms. The hiss of the shades rose to a sudden shriek. Terrified, his breath coming fast and hardly daring to look, Xander squinted into the glare and his mouth dropped open. Surrounding him, with their hands raised defiantly to the looming shades, stood a circle of brownies, their little forms glowing with brilliant light. They did not waver as the shades swayed and hissed in displeasure, their expressions set with utter determination as they drove back the darkness.

  One of the little figures turned and held out a shining hand to Xander.

  ‘Will come?’ he asked, his voice tiny but firm. It was Brolly.

  Xander felt the words rush out before even having to think.

  ‘Yes,’ he gasped. ‘Yes, please.’

  The screech of the shades was pure rage as the small, strong fingers closed around Xander’s hand and Mistleberry Lodge vanished in a blink.

  *

  The relief of finding himself far away from shades and imminent death hit Xander like a punch in the gut. He
remained doubled-up in a crouch, his arms wrapped around himself and his face between his knees while he breathed in and out slowly, and tried not to burst into tears. After a moment, when he felt like he had recovered some control, he lifted his head. The little circle of brownies still surrounded him, no longer glowing but all of them regarding him solemnly. With a sudden recollection of Ollie’s warnings, he averted his gaze.

  ‘Thank you,’ he told the stone floor, shakily. A little hand reached over and tapped him on the knee, and he looked up, startled.

  Brolly was smiling, his black eyes twinkling.

  ‘You very welcome, Xander King,’ he said. ‘You come now, meet our people.’

  Xander clambered to his feet, looking around himself for the first time. He was standing in a little stone chamber, the roof curving above his head and lit with glowstones set into alcoves. Surrounding him on all sides were simple pictures painted directly onto the walls, like cave paintings, depicting humans, giants, hobs, brownies and many other strange creatures Xander had seen in Haven. They were done in bright, vivid colours which almost seemed to move in the glimmering light of the glowstones. Xander followed the little procession of brownies as they led him out of the room and through a short passage, grey and undecorated. Xander had to duck his head, his shoulders hunched, as the ceiling began to slope downwards and he wondered whether he would end up crawling, brownie-height, into wherever they were taking him. A moment later, they stepped out of the passage through an archway and Xander straightened up to look around.

  A huge, wide space opened out before him, many times his height and rising to a vaulted ceiling in a soft, misty blue. The curving wall ahead of him was a tapestry of little wooden staircases as high as he could see, painted in many colours, with twisting banisters and balustrades, and punctuated everywhere with tiny doors, some of which were standing open giving a glimpse of the rooms beyond. To his left was a blank wall, partially shrouded by a long curtain made of some pale gauzy material, billowing gently. From behind the veil swelled a soft chorus, rising and fading and occasionally falling silent, only to begin again, with a faint but insistent pulse weaving through it as a constant undertone. The sound blended into the general bustle, as brownies moved about everywhere, climbing the staircases, darting in and out of doors and sitting in groups across the open space in the middle of the vast chamber, busying themselves with various occupations from carpentry to painting. A few of them glanced over at Xander with smiles, but did not react otherwise to his presence.

  There was a sudden stir in the chamber as two elderly brownies appeared and steadily descended the many staircases, one with her hand resting on the arm of the other. Her hair was pure white and twisted up in an intricate knot on her head, she had a little snub nose and skin like old parchment, but her dark eyes were wide and clear. She wore the same dark leggings he had seen on every other brownie but her tunic was longer, belted with a silvery chain and covered with embroidery, the rich colours of flowers and vines swirling all over it. The silver haired brownie on whose arm she leant wore a shorter tunic in a glowing green which perfectly matched her vines, and his pale, pointed ears drooped slightly, giving him a quizzical look. With respectful nods, the other brownies stepped aside as the pair passed by until, finally, they stood together before Xander, gazing up at him with serene smiles. Xander felt a strange urge to bow but a sudden scurrying of brownies, all dropping small cushions on the floor to make a colourful heap, distracted him.

  ‘Please, sit,’ said the female, as she sank cross-legged onto the cushions with an ease belying her apparent age.

  Gratefully, Xander sank down in front of her, his legs still rather wobbly. Another brownie appeared at his elbow, offering a small, handle-less cup of sweet-smelling tea. With a murmur of thanks, Xander cupped it in his shaking hands and then took a sip, feeling a burst of warmth running through him as he swallowed.

  ‘I apologise for our lack of facilities for you,’ continued the female, in her soft voice. There was only the hint of an accent to tell Xander that this was not her own language. ‘You are the first human who has ever been in our home.’

  Xander’s eyes widened in surprise and he realised that what he had taken to be a cup without a handle was actually a brownie-sized cooking bowl.

  ‘You are most welcome here, Xander,’ said the male brownie. His voice was a little deeper than his companion but he had the same ageless eyes and parchment skin. He smiled and his little face lit up with warmth. ‘We are the Tan and the Tani of our people – you would perhaps say, Speakers.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Xander. His voice cracked a little and he cleared his throat, flushing. ‘For rescuing me, I mean. You saved my life.’

  The Tani smiled at him enigmatically.

  ‘You asked for help,’ she reminded him.

  ‘But I thought that you – that brownies – didn’t speak to humans,’ blurted Xander. ‘I was told that you weren’t visible to us. Not that I’m not grateful that you did,’ he added hurriedly, in case he sounded unappreciative.

  To cover his awkwardness, he took another drink from his bowl and felt the warmth sooth him again, running right down into his fingers and toes. The soft sound from behind the veil rose in a wistful harmony and then dropped into a whisper, a constant backdrop to the general murmuring of voices in the chamber. As Xander glanced over, he saw a brownie appear from behind the shimmering drape and trot up some stairs, while another immediately rose from a group of weavers and ducked out of sight through the veil. He looked back to see the Tan watching him with a smile.

  ‘That is not exactly the case, Xander,’ he said, ‘but it is not strange that you should have been told so.’ He glanced over at the Tani who nodded, her wide eyes fixed on Xander’s face, and then he continued quietly. ‘What you refer to, we call the Penance and its history is what you hear being sung, from the first light of the sun in the east to the last glimmer on the western horizon. Upon adulthood, we take our place behind the veil in our turn, our voices never ceasing and the words engraved on our hearts from our earliest memory.’

  He paused and the Tani took up the thread.

  ‘We atone, Xander,’ she said. ‘Our terrible failure must never be forgotten, lest we repeat it. When our time of testing came it found us lacking, pride was our downfall and we nearly destroyed the world with it. We atone so we will never again risk such destruction with our arrogance and conceit.’

  Xander frowned, trying to view the two tiny figures before him, and the other brownies trotting cheerfully up and down the many staircases, in the light of these ominous statements. He smothered a little smile. It was impossible, comical even, to believe that they could possibly have had the ability to do as much damage as they claimed.

  The Tan rose to his feet and held out a hand to Xander.

  ‘Come and see for yourself,’ he said. ‘It is the best way for you to understand us.’

  Clambering to his feet again, Xander followed the brownies across the chamber towards the gently swaying curtain. The voices from behind it were a soft murmur now, like running water. The Tan held a corner of the veil for Xander, who ducked low and followed him through. He saw a large, dim cavern, with a ceiling shrouded in darkness. Rugs were layered on the floor in bright, jewel-like colours and sitting in groups on them were many brownies, all singing. An enormous bronze lamp hung suspended from a thick chain, the length of which disappeared up into the shadows above. It was covered with a slowly revolving casing, allowing a single shaft of light to spill out in a narrow, circulating beam. The room was warm and dusky, and incense drifted through the air.

  At a signal from the Tani, Xander sank down to the floor next to the cross-legged Tan who had joined in with the singing, his eyes closed. He felt the Tani settle by his other side and lay a gentle hand on his arm.

  ‘We sing in our ancient language,’ she murmured. ‘I will translate for you, if you wish.’

  Xander nodded speechlessly. His eyes had been drawn to the wall, which was b
eing illuminated by the shaft of light from the hanging lantern. Painted upon it were more of the vivid pictures and as the beam passed over they seemed to leap out of the darkness, glowing with life and movement, before fading back into the shadows as the light travelled onwards.

  A brownie’s face shone out, startlingly unfamiliar in its twisted scorn, lips curled back and expression full of pride and hatred; and then a snake, lurid in poison green, leaning into the brownie’s ear, bright red tongue flickering, flickering in the shifting light. The next image showed darkness spreading across the land, the unmistakable shapes of shades looming up over the bright figures of humans, giants and hobgoblins, and Xander could barely repress a shiver. A boy on a flying horse, glimmering pale against the storm clouds and surrounded by huge birds with golden, glittering eyes, jumped out next and then a huge stone platform enclosed by pillars, with a mirrored wall reflecting the starry sky, lightning striking into its heart. Next came an image of towering waves, foam-tipped, devouring the shores and it seemed to Xander that faces appeared and disappeared amidst the foam and water. A night sky appeared again, riven with lightning, until the light moved to reveal the clenching fingers of an enormous hand reaching out to seize the land below.

  As the images appeared and faded, Xander’s stomach twisted with fear at what he was seeing without comprehending. The sense of terror and menace was overwhelming and he fought the sudden urge to huddle down, and close his eyes. The soft voices of the brownies, rising and falling in their endless song, with a pulse like a heartbeat underscoring it, seemed to hold him up but also pin him in place; he was helpless to do anything but watch and listen, as the Tani spoke quietly into his ear and the Tan sang on, his voice blending with the rest.