by Alan Skinner
‘On the other hand, Touch, maybe someday, after we’re famous, people might point to that tree and say, “That’s the tree Cres planted when she went on the adventure to get the rock of blue fire.”’
‘Touch and Cres, if you don’t mind. And this isn’t an adventure. This is an expedition. We’re doing this for the good of all Myrmidots,’ said Touch solemnly. ‘And to be famous.’
They were so busy talking they nearly missed the small track leading east. It was too narrow to ride two abreast, but at least it was smooth and clear enough for their bikes and wagons.
Cres rode behind Touch. She hadn’t realised how quiet the countryside could be. She was used to the noise of the factories and the hum of machines. Most of all, she was used to talking. Riding in silence behind Touch made her feel lonely. Once or twice she tried to talk but his responses were lost in the open air around them and she finally gave up.
Late in the afternoon, the track emerged on to the road from the Crossroads to Bourne Bridge. They turned north. Neither of them was too sure how far they were from the bridge. The track, of course, wasn’t on the map, and, as is the case with paths planned only by the whim of people travelling them, it had meandered eastward rather than heading there in a straight line. They reckoned that it hadn’t taken them too far south, though, and that they should reach the bridge by nightfall.
They were right, but only by a whisker. The sun had almost disappeared behind the western horizon when they saw Bourne Bridge. Even in the grey twilight, they were astonished at its size. The approach to the bridge was through a steep cutting in the hill which plunged the road into darkness. The bridge itself, however, was lit by the yellow and red of the sun’s last rays. Vast, silent and shining, it loomed like the gateway into some fantastical realm, as if guarding the dark and forbidding fortress of the High Mountains beyond.
The two friends stood in silence astride their bikes until the last ray of light vanished and the bridge became a great dark bulk in front of them.
‘I guess we’ll camp here tonight,’ said Touch. His voice was subdued, as though he feared the bridge was listening.
‘I guess so,’ Cres answered. ‘It’s starting to get chilly. We should get a fire lit.’
It was a simple camp that night, nothing more than a fire and a portable stove. Though the autumn night was chilly, the sky was clear and they slept in the open with the stars keeping watch overhead. The uncertain darkness of Bourne Bridge made their thoughts heavy and they talked little. After one silence too many, they crept into their sleeping bags and closed their eyes, glad of the twinkling sentries above them.
≈
While Touch and Cres settled into their sleeping bags on the hard ground, Crimson snuggled into her soft bed. She was tired but happy. The last two days working on the harvest had refreshed her mind and restored her spirits. The unsettling wordless calling and the memory of that threatening dream had faded. For the second night in a row, Crimson fell asleep with a feeling she’d nearly forgotten. She felt safe.
≈
The next morning the two young apprentices crawled from their sleeping bags and blinked away the dull thoughts of the night. Small balls of cloud drifted in the sky like lazy swans in a blue pond. They looked up the road at Bourne Bridge. No longer did it seem forbidding. The light of the morning sun, full of its early energy, made the bridge shine. From the massive stone arches and thick supporting cables came an aura of benign power. It restored their good spirits and both were anxious to be on their way.
After a quick breakfast, they mounted their bikes and, side by side, set off for the High Mountains. Just at the point where the hard, earthen road gave way to the flagstones of the bridge, Touch turned to Cres.
‘Race you across!’ he cried and, without waiting for a response, he pedalled as hard as he could. The bike hit the small ridge between road and bridge and the wagon lifted into the air and then returned to the ground with a satisfying bump. Touch grinned. He could feel the fresh breeze on his face, he could hear the hum and thump of the wagon on the stones and he could feel Cres pulling up alongside him. He glanced over. Cres was leaning low over her handlebars, her face bright and her hair streaming behind her. She drew level and at once both of them knew that they wanted to reach the other side together. Touch whooped with delight and Cres’s laughter echoed off the great walls of Bourne Bridge.
They needed their good spirits to take them through the next hour of the day. Within a hundred metres of the bridge, the road stopped. Their map showed the way the adventurers had gone a few months before but it didn’t indicate that there was no track to follow. They had simply chosen the easiest way over rock and scrub, the river on one side and the mountains on the other. With the bikes, it was much harder. Touch and Cres were forced to dismount and push. It was tiring work but not tiring enough to dent their good spirits.
They reached the point on the map where they had to turn north away from the river. Large rocks and trees presented a formidable barrier as the land began to rise upwards into the High Mountains. Touch stared at the terrain around them, his forehead creased in thought.
‘It can’t be far. We should be able to see the entrance of the tunnel from here. But I can’t see any sign that anyone has gone this way. We might have over shot it. Maybe we should go back,’ he said.
Cres rested her bike against a tree and looked over Touch’s shoulder. ‘If you think so,’ she said, peering at the map. ‘Where do you think we are then?’
‘Well, I’m pretty sure were here, in the right plac. We passed all these landmarks and this should be near the entrance.
‘If you think we should be in the right place, then let’s assume we are. It’s very rocky here. It would be hard to leave much of a trail. I trust you,’ Cres said.
Touch looked at his friend for a moment, then smiled. ‘Good enough for me, Cres. Let’s have a look up this way, then.’
It took some time to get both bikes past the barrier of rocks and trees. Twice they had to leave one bike, push and carry the other together, and then go back for the first bike. Yet, beyond the rocks and trees, the ground levelled slightly and they came upon a small clearing. At the rear of the clearing, the mountain rose steeply, a wall of sheer stone. And in the face of the cliff was a yawning black hole.
The moment they saw the entrance, the realisation of what they were about to attempt hit them. What had been a plan became a task. What had been a hope became a possibility. It took several seconds to sink in and neither needed to speak of it.
‘Why don’t we have a bite to eat and then go in? I’d rather eat in the sun than in the dark,’ Cres suggested.
‘Good idea. I’m hungry, anyway,’ Touch agreed. ‘The others said it took them nearly a day to walk through the tunnel. We should do it in half that time, even if it is slow-going in places.’
‘Copper didn’t exaggerate,’ said Cres. ‘Big, isn’t it?’
And so it was.
Yet, although the tunnel was high, it wasn’t wide enough to allow them to ride side by side, so after lunch, they once again travelled with Touch in front. The tunnel inclined gently into the mountain. The floor was bumpy but level, and the ovals of light cast by the electric lanterns on their bikes allowed them to make steady progress at first. But then the tunnel began to narrow until the handlebars of their bikes almost scraped the walls.
Touch slowed. The lanterns were now illuminating the ceiling, whereas earlier there had been only a dark space above them. His concern increased when he felt the roof of the tunnel touch his hair. He bent over the handlebars, considering the position they were in. If it became too low or narrow for the bikes, it would be a long and tiring retreat backwards, as there wasn’t enough room either side to dismount.
Touch’s sense of unease was heightened by an odd feeling. The deeper they rode into the tunnel, the more it tugged at him. The feeling was like a presence, a being that rode behind him and held him tightly around the chest. It plucked at his attention and pr
evented him from concentrating.
Behind him, Cres was experiencing the same sensation. She forced herself to focus on Touch’s back. The tightness of the tunnel was more obvious from her vantage point. She could see how close the walls and ceiling were to Touch. As the light of his lantern faded into the gloom ahead, she couldn’t fight the thought that they were being sucked into the mountain, drawn into its dark heart. ‘It’s not a tunnel,’ she thought. ‘It’s a funnel.’
Still they pressed on. After several minutes, Touch realised that the tunnel had stopped shrinking. Despite the pain in his shoulders from hunching over the handlebars, he took heart that the tunnel was no longer closing in on them and pedalled harder.
The bike jolted and Touch was lifted off the seat. He expected to feel his head hit the ceiling and was surprised when back on to the bike seat unharmed. The ceiling and walls had disappeared from the pool of light cast by his lantern. He heard Cres’s bike rattle and then brake behind him.
‘I expected . . .’ she said. She didn’t need to finish.
‘So did I,’ said Touch. He took a torch from his pack and got off his bike, shining the light around.
They were standing in a tunnel as wide and as high as the one they had first entered – and it ran both left and right. Puzzled, Touch shone the torch back the way they had come. In the wall of the tunnel was an opening to a much smaller passage from which they had just emerged. The floor of the smaller passage was a couple of centimetres higher than the one they were now in.
Touch thought for a moment. ‘You know, Cres, I think somewhere we left the main tunnel and ended up in that one. It’s like a branch or a siding, like we have in Forge to allow one tram to get past another.’
‘Whatever, Touch. I’m just glad we’re out. I was getting really worried,’ admitted Cres.
‘Worried? Nah, I knew we’d be OK,’ Touch said with as much swagger as he could muster.
‘Touch,’ said Cres hesitantly, ‘have you . . . felt anything while we’ve been in here? Something around you and in you at the same time?’
‘Do you feel it, too?’ Touch replied. ‘Like something tugging at you and poking your stomach from the inside?’
‘Yeah . . . It was getting pretty intense back there,’ Cres said.
‘It was probably just because of the tunnel. You know, anxiety.’
Cres was dubious. ‘But it started before the tunnel got smaller. And I still feel it.’
‘Yeah. So do I,’ Touch admitted quietly. Then his voice brightened. ‘Come on, let’s keep going. It can’t be that far now.’
On they went, on and on, through the long, dark tunnel. And with every push of the pedal, they rode on with something they could neither see nor explain inside them.
Chapter 4
Unexpected Help
While Touch and Cres were racing across Bourne Bridge, Crimson was crossing one of the seven small bridges that arched across the Meddle in the centre of Home. From all directions came other Muddles, who joined her for the walk to the coffee trees. Some joked, some chatted and some yawned, but all knew exactly where they were headed and all were happy to be going there. Crimson listened to the sound of the Muddles and laughed.
≈
‘Left or right?’ Touch asked. He shone his torch down the passage to the left and then down the passage to the right. They looked exactly the same. ‘Well?’ he said when Cres didn’t answer.
She thought for a moment. ‘Why don’t we check the map?’ she suggested.
‘Yes, good idea. Didn’t think of that,’ said Touch. ‘Here. Hold the torch.’
Touch took the map from his pocket and studied it under the light.
‘We go right. Here.’ Touch pointed on the map. ‘To the left is something called “Amelia’s Cave” and to the right, a bit further on, it says, “Cave of Blue Fire”.’
‘Amelia,’ mused Cres. ‘Wasn’t that the woman who set the fires? I don’t think I want to go to her cave.’ She shuddered. ‘Actually, didn’t Amelia die in the cave where the blue fire rock is? Ugh. It’s a bit creepy now that I think about it, going to the place where she died.’
‘Well, yeah, a bit creepy – but only a bit,’ said Touch, hoping he sounded braver than he felt.
‘You don’t suppose that the strange feeling we’ve had could be, you know . . . a ghost?’ Cres asked.
‘No, of course not. That’s ridiculous!’ Touch declared, then added, ‘But I wish you hadn’t mentioned it.’
‘OK, to the right, then. But don’t get too far ahead of me, Touch.’
The tunnel to right was similar to the one they had just travelled with one important difference. It began to feel hotter. They cycled slowly and cautiously, but both Touch and Cres could feel the perspiration on their faces and under their jackets.
It was faint at first, little more than a shapeless flicker of light. Touch blinked and it was gone. He cycled on a few more metres, and stopped, sure that he had seen something again. He peered past the light from the lantern, but all that lay beyond the yellow pool was darkness. He flicked the switch and turned off the lantern on his bike, calling to Cres, to do the same. An instant later, her light went out.
For the first time since entering the mountain they were in total darkness. The black enveloped them completely. At the far end of the tunnel, though, Touch saw that the darkness was broken by a faint, blue mist of light, a glow so slight and delicate that he was half afraid to talk in case he frightened it away.
He kept his voice low and as natural as possible, but he could feel the excitement rising inside him. ‘See it, Cres? There! The light!’
‘Do you think that’s it, Touch? Do you think we’re there?’
Touch was sure. The light wasn’t going to go away. It was there, waiting for them. ‘I’m sure! Come on, Cres!’ he yelled.
They were at the source sooner than they expected. The faint blue mist grew into a pool of watery blue light that spilled from an opening in the left wall of the tunnel. They could feel the heat radiating from within. Just short of the opening they stopped and looked at each other. Cres’s heartbeat quickened and she was sure Touch must be able to hear it.
‘OK?’ asked Touch. Cres nodded and followed him through the entrance.
They found themselves in an enormous cave. The light was more dense than it had looked from the tunnel, a deeper blue, but it was an unwelcoming, eerie light that came from the blue fire burning in the middle of the cavern.
The prize they had been seeking rested in the centre of the cavern: a huge stone that burned the very ground around it. Small flames encircled the stone like a narrow moat. For hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, it had burned here, stripping away the dirt and ordinary rock around it, leaving more and more of the stone exposed. The rock of blue fire was freeing itself from its prison in the Land.
Touch and Cres stared, transfixed by the sight. They were so astonished that at first they didn’t even feel the heat that issued from the burning stone. They gradually became aware that the stone radiated more than heat.
‘Cres, do you feel something? I mean, besides the heat?’
‘Yeah. It’s . . . unfriendly. As if it just doesn’t like us,’ Cres replied. ‘I’m glad we brought the masks and leather gloves.’
Touch nodded, not taking his eyes from the fiery rock. He took his watch from his pocket. ‘It’ll be dark outside now. It took longer to get here than I thought. We should eat, check the tools and get some sleep. We’ll start on the rock in the morning,’ he suggested.
That night, they kept close to the wall, as far away from the heat as possible. The wagon with the tools was unloaded: picks, a shovel, a long crowbar with a spike at one end, leather aprons, extra overalls, thick leather gloves, long-handled cast-iron tongs and welding masks.
There was little talk while they ate. Their ride through the tunnel had been harder than they’d realised and their muscles were sore and their bodies tired. It was much too warm in the cave to get into their sleepin
g bags, so they spread them out and slept on top of them. Very soon, their eyes closed and they fell into a deep but troubled slumber. Dreams of endless black tunnels and angry sprites of blue fire tormented them, even in the refuge of sleep.
≈
Calamity turned in three small circles on her little bed, making sure she found the softest spot. Satisfied, she dropped into a curled ball, her head resting on her forelegs. She raised her eyes and watched Crimson get into her own bed, fluff her pillow and pull the blanket up to her chin.
‘Good night,’ Calamity barked softly.
Crimson turned out the light. ‘Good night, Calamity,’ she said and quickly fell into a deep, dreamless sleep.
≈
Touch and Cres woke early. Cres opened her eyes. Her vision was filled with a blurred blue mist. Her morning eyes cleared and the burning stone came into focus. Despite the heat, she shivered.
‘Kinda spooky first thing in the morning, isn’t it?’ she heard Touch say. ‘Well, at least I think it’s morning. Hard to tell in here.’
‘You could check your watch,’ said Cres.
‘I did. It isn’t the same. Just cos your watch says six hours before noon doesn’t make it morning.’ Touch smiled at her. ‘The sun makes it morning.’
‘How long do you think it will take us to get some of the stone?’ Cres asked.
‘Dunno, really,’ said Touch. ‘Not long, I hope. If we can break some off and leave within a couple of hours, we could be back in Forge by morning, if we ride straight through the night.’
‘That’d be good. Don’t fancy spending another night here. Gave me spooky dreams.’
‘Yeah, me too. Let’s get to it, then.’
