The Weirdstone of Brisingamen a-1

by Alan Garner

Miching Mallecho

  The next day was cool and showery. The children slept late, and it was turned nine o’clock when they came down for breakfast.

  I thought it best to let you have a lie in this morning, said Bess. “You looked dead-beat last neet: ay, and you’re a bit pale now. Happen you’d do better to take things easy today, and not go gallivanting over the Edge.”

  “Oh, I think we’ve seen enough of the Edge for a day or two,” said Susan. “It was rather tiring.”

  Breakfast was hardly over when a lorry arrived from Alderley station with the children’s bicycles and trunks, and Colin and Susan immediately set about the task of unpacking their belongings.

  “What do you make of last night? asked Susan when they were alone. It doesn’t seem possible, does it?”

  “That’s what I was wondering in bed: but we can’t both have imagined it. The wizard is in a mess, isn’t he? I shouldn’t like to live by myself all the time and be on guard against things like those svarts.”

  “He said things worse than svarts, remember! I shouldn’t have thought anything could be worse than those clammy hands and bulging eyes, and their flat feet splashing in the mud. If it’s so, thenI’m gladI’m not a wizard!”

  They did not discuss their pursuit and rescue. It was too recent for them to think about it without trembling and feeling sick. So they talked mainly about the wizard and his story, and it was late afternoon before they had finished unpacking and had found a place for everything. Colin and Susan went down to tea. Gowther was already at the table, talking to Bess.

  “And a couple of rum things happened after dinner, too. First. I go into the barn for some sacks, and, bless me, if the place inner full of owls! I counted nigh on two dozen snoozing among the rafters—big uns, too. They mun be thinking we’re sneyed out with mice, or summat.!”ve never seen owt like it.

  “And then again, about an hour later, a feller comes up to me in Front Baguley, and he asks if!”ve a job for him. I didner like his looks at all. He was a midget, with long black hair and a beard, and skin like owd leather. He didner talk as if he came from round here, either—he was more Romany than owt else, to my way of thinking, and his clothes looked as though they’d been borrowed and slept in.

  “Well, when I tell him I dunner need a mon, he looks fair put out, and he starts to tell me his hard luck story, and asks me to give him a break, but I give him his marching orders instead. He dunner argue: he just turns on his heels and stalks off, saying as I might regret treating him like this before long. He seemed in a fair owd paddy All the same, I think Scamp had best have the run of the hen-pen for a neet or two, just in case.”

  The wizard had told Colin and Susan to keep their windows closed, no matter how hot and stuffy their bedrooms might become, so the colder weather was not unwelcome, and they slept soundly enough that night.

  Not so Gowther. The furious barking of Scamp woke him at three o’clock. It was the tone used for strangers, high-pitched and continuous, not the gruff outbursts that answered other dogs, birds, or the wind. Gowther scrambled into his clothes, seized his shot-gun and lantern, which he had put ready to hand, and made for the door. “I knew it! I knew it The little blighter’s after my chickens.!”ll give him chickens!”

  “Watch thy step, lad,” said Bess. “You’re bigger than he is, and that’s all the more of thee for him to hit.”

  “I’ll be all reet; but he wunner,” said Gowther, and he clumped down the stairs and out into the farm-yard.

  Thick clouds hid the moon, there was little wind. The only sounds were the frantic clamour of the dog and the bumping of frightened, sleep-ridden hens.

  Gowther shone his light into the pen. The wire netting was undamaged, and the gate locked. In the centre of the lamp’s beam stood Scamp. His hackles were up, in fact every hair along his spine seemed to be on end: his ears lay flat against his skull, and his eyes blazed yellow in the light. He was barking and snarling, almost screaming at times, and tearing the earth with stiff jerky movements of his legs. Gowther unfastened the gate.

  “Wheer is he, boy? Go fetch him!”

  Scamp came haltingly out of the pen, his lips curled hideously. Gowther was puzzled: he had expected him to come out like a rocket.

  “Come on, lad He’ll be gone else!”

  The dog ran backwards and forwards nervously, still barking, then he set off towards the field gate in a snarling glide, keeping his belly close to the ground, and disappeared into the darkness. A second later the snarl rose to a yelp, and he shot back into the light to stand at Gowther’s feet in a further welter of noise. He was trembling all over. His fury had been obvious all along, but now Gowther realized that, more than anything else, the dog was terrified.

  “What’s up, lad? What’s frit thee, eh?” said Gowther gently as he knelt to calm the shivering animal. Then he stood up and went over towards the gate, his gun cocked, and shone the light into the field.

  There was nothing wrong as far as he could see, but Scamp, though calmer, still foamed at his heels. Nothing wrong, yet there was something… wait!… he sniffed… was there?… yes! A cold, clammy air drifted against Gowther’s face, and with it a smell so strange, so unwholesome, and unexpected that a knot of instinctive fear tightened in his stomach. It was the smell of stagnant water and damp decay. It filled his nostrils and choked his lungs, and, for a moment, Gowther imagined that he was being sucked down into the depths of a black swamp, old and wicked in time. He swung round, gasping, wide-eyed, the hairs of his neck prickling erect. But on the instant the stench passed and was gone he breathed pure night air once more.

  “By gow. lad, theer’s summat rum afoot toneet! That was from nowt local, choose how the wind blows. Come on, let’s be having a scrat round.”

  He went first to the stable, where he found Prince stamping nervously and covered with sweat.

  “Wey, lad,” said Gowther softly, and he ran his hands over the horse’s quivering flanks. “Theer’s no need to fret, Hush while I give thee a rub.”

  Prince gradually quietened down as Gowther rubbed him with a piece of dry sacking, and Scamp, too, was in a happier frame of mind. He carried his head high, and his din was reduced to a growl, threatening rather than nervous—as though trying to prove that he had never felt anything but aggressive rage all night.

  Ay, thought Gowther, and yon’s a dog as fears neither mon nor beast most days: I dunner like it one bit!

  In the shippons he found the cows restless, but not as excited as Prince had been, for all their rolling eyes and snuffing nostrils.

  “Well, theers nowt here, Scamp: lets take a look at the barn.”

  They went into the outhouses, and nowhere was there any hint of disturbance, nor did anything appear to have been tampered with.

  “Ay. well everwheer seems reet enough now, onyroad,” said Gowther, “so we’ll have a quick peek round the house and mash a pot of tea, and then it’ll be time to start milking. Eh dear, theer’s no rest for the wicked!”

  The sky was showing the first pale light of day as he crossed the farmyard: soon another morning would be here to drive away the fears of the night. Already Gowther was feeling a little ashamed of his moment of fear, and he was thankful that there had been no one else there to witness it. “Eh, it’s funny how your imagination plays…” He stopped dead in his tracks, while Scamp pressed, whining, close to his legs.

  Out of the blackness, far above Gowther’s head, had come a single shriek, too harsh for human voice, yet more than animal.

  For the second time that night Gowther’s blood froze. Then, taking a deep breath, he strode quickly and purposefully towards the house, looking neither to the right nor to the left, neither up nor down, with Scamp not an inch from his heels. In one movement he lifted the latch, stepped across the threshold, closed the door, and shot the bolt home. Slowly he turned and looked down at Scamp.

  “I dunner know about thee, lad, butI’m going to have a strong cup of tea.”

  He lit the paraffin la
mp and put the kettle on the stove, and while he waited for the water to boil he went from room to room to see that nothing was amiss here at least. All was quiet; though when he looked into Susan’s room a sleepy voice asked what the time was and why Scamp had been making such a noise. Gowther said that a fox had been after the hens, or so he thought, but Scamp had frightened him off. He told a similar story to Bess.

  “…and he started barking at his own shadder, he was that excited.”

  “Ay? Then what is it as has made thee sweat like a cheese?” said Bess suspiciously.

  “Well,” said Gowther, confused. I reckon its a bit early in the day to be running round, at my age. ButI’m not past mashing a pot of tea—er—I’ll bring you one: kettle’s boiling!”

  Gowther sought the kitchen. It was never easy to keep anything from Bess, she knew him too well. But what could he say? That he, a countryman, had been frightened by a smell and a night bird? He almost blushed to think of it.

  By the time he had made the tea, washed, and finished dressing, it was light outside and near milking time. The sun was breaking through the cloud. Gowther felt much better now.

  He was half-way across the yard when he noticed the long, black feathers that lay scattered upon the cobblestones.

  CHAPTER 6

  A Ring of Stones

  Thursday at Highmost Redmanhey was always busy, for on top of the normal round of work Gowther had to make ready for the following day, when he would drive down to Moberley village to do the weekly shopping, and also to call on certain old friends and acquaintances whom he supplied with vegetables and eggs. So much of Thursday was taken up with selecting and cleaning the produce for Fridays marketing.

  When all was done, Colin and Susan rode with Gowther to the wheelwright in the near-by township of Mottram St Andrew to have a new spoke fitted to the cart. This occupied them until teatime, and afterwards Gowther asked the children if they would like to go with him down to Nether Alderley to see whether they could find their next meal in Radnor mere.

  They set off across the fields, and shortly came to a wood. Here the undergrowth was denser than on most of the Edge, and contained quite a lot of bramble. High rhododendron bushes grew wild everywhere. The wood seemed full of birds. They sang in the trees, rustled in the thicket, and swam in the many quiet pools.

  “I’ve just realized something,” said Colin “I felt the Edge was unusual, and now I know why. It’s the…”

  “Birds,” said Gowther. “Theer is none. Not worth speaking of, onyroad. Flies, yes; but birds, no. It’s always been like that, to my knowledge, and I Conner think why it should be. You’d think, with all them trees and such-like, you’d have as mony as you find here, but, considering the size of the place theer’s hardly a throstle to be found from Squirrel’s Jump to Daniel Hill. Times been when!”ve wandered round theer half the day, and seen nobbut a pair of jays, and that was in Clockhouse wood. No, it’s very strange, when you come to weigh it up.”

  Their way took them through a jungle of rhododendron. The ground was boggy and choked with dead wood, and they had to duck under low branches and climb over fallen trees: but, somehow, Gowther managed to carry his rod and line through it all without a snag, and he even seemed to know where he was going.

  Susan thought how unpleasant it would be to have to move quickly through such country.

  “Gowther,” she said, “are there any mines near here?”

  “No, none at all, we’re almost on the plain now, and the mines are over the other side of the hill, behind us. Why do you ask?”

  “Oh, I just wondered.”

  The rhododendrons came to an end at the border of a mere, about half a mile long and a quarter wide.

  “This is it,” said Gowther, sitting down on a fallen trunk which stretched out over the water. “It’s a trifle marshy, but we’re not easy to reach here, as theer’s some as might term this poaching. Now if you’ll open yon basket and pass the tin with the bait in it, we can settle down and make ourselves comfortable.”

  After going out as far as he could along the tree to cast his rod. Gowther sat with his back against the roots and lit his pipe. Colin and Susan lay full length on the wrinkled bark and gazed into the mere.

  Within two hours they had three perch between them. so they gathered in their tackle and headed for home, arriving well before dusk.

  The following morning in Alderley village Susan went with Bess to the shops while Colin stayed to help Gowther with the vegetables. They all met again for a meal at noon, and afterwards climbed into the cart and went with Gowther on his round.

  It was a hot day, and by four o’clock Colin and Susan were very thirsty, so Bess said that they ought to drop off for an ice-cream and a lemonade.

  “We’ve to go down Moss Lane,” she said, “and we shanner be above half an hour; you stay and cool down a bit.”

  The children were soon in the village café, with their drinks before them. Susan was toying with her bracelet, and idly trying to catch the light so that she could see the blue heart of her Tear.

  “It’s always difficult to find,” she said. “never know when it’s going to come right… ah… wait a minute… yes… got it! You know, it reminds me of the light in Fundin…”

  She looked at Colin. He was staring at her, open mouthed. They both dropped their eyes to Susan’s wrist where her Tear gleamed so innocently.

  “But it couldn’t be,” whispered Colin. “Could it?”

  “I don’t… know. But how?”

  “But how?”

  “No, of course not,” said Colin. “The wizard would have recognized it as soon as he saw it, wouldn’t he?”

  Susan flopped back in her chair, releasing her pent-up breath in a long sigh. But a second later she was bolt upright, inarticulate with excitement.

  “He couldn’t have seen it! I—I was wearing my mackintosh! Oh, Colin… ! !”

  Though just as shaken as his sister, Colin was not content to sit and gape, Obviously they had to find out, and quickly, whether Susan was wearing Firefrost, or just a piece of crystal. If it should be Firefrost, and had been recognized by the wrong people, their brush with the svarts would at last make sense. How the stone came to be on Susan’s wrist was another matter.

  “We must find Cadellin at once,” he said. “Because if this is Firefrost, the sooner he has it the better it will be for us all.”

  At that moment the cart drew up outside, and Gowther called that it was time to be going home.

  The children tried hard to conceal their agitation, yet the leisurely pace Prince seemed to adopt on the “front” hill, as it was called locally, had them almost bursting with impatience.

  “Bess,” said Susan, “are you sure you can’t remember anything else about the Bridestone? I want to find out as much as I can about it.”

  “Nay, lass,!”ve told you all as I know. My mother had it from her mother, and she always said as it had been passed down like that for I dunner know how mony years. And I believe theer was some story about how it should never be shown to onybody outside the family for fear of bringing seven years bad luck, but my mother didner go in much for superstition and that sort of claptrap.”

  “Have you always lived in Alderley?”

  “Bless you, yes I was born and bred in th’Hough” (she pronounced it “thuff”), “but my mother was a Goostrey woman, and believe before that her family had connexions Mobberley way.”

  “Oh?”

  Colin and Susan could hardly contain themselves.

  “Gowther,” said Colin, “before we come home, Sue and I want to go to Stormy Point; which is the nearest way?”

  “What Before you’ve had your teas?” exclaimed Bess.

  “Yes,I’m afraid so. You see, it’s something very important and secret, and we must go.”

  “You’re not up to owt daft down the mines, are you?” said Gowther.

  “Oh no,” said Colin; “but, please, we must go. We’ll be back early, and it doesn’t matter about tea
.”

  “Eh well, it’ll be your stomachs as’ll be empty! But think on, we dunner want to come looking for you at midneet.

  “Your best way’ll be to get off at the gamekeeper’s lodge, and follow the main path till it forks by the owd quarry: then take the left hond path, and it’ll bring you straight to Stormy Point.”

  They reached the top of the Edge, and after about quarter of a mile Gowther halted Prince before a cottage built of red sandstone and tucked in the fringe of the wood, Along the side of the cottage, at right angles to the road, a track disappeared among the trees in what Gowther said was the direction of Stormy Point.

  The children jumped from the cart, and ran off along the track, while Gowther and Bess continued on their way, dwelling sentimentally on what it was to be young.

  “Don’t you think we’d better go by the path Cadellin told us to use? He said it was the only safe one, remember.”

  “We haven’t time to go all that way round,” said Colin; “we must show him your Tear as soon as we can. And anyway, Gowther says this is the path to Stormy Point, and it’s broad daylight, so I don’t see that we can come to any harm.”

  “Well, how are we going to find Caddllin when we’re there?”

  We’ll go straight to the iron gates and call him: being a wizard he’s bound to hear… I hope. Still, we must try!”

  They pressed deeper and deeper into the wood, and came to a level stretch of ground where the bracken thinned and gave place to rich turf, dappled with sunlight. And here, in the midst of so much beauty, they learnt too late that wizards’ words are seldom idle, and traps well sprung hold hard their prey.

  Out of the ground on all sides swirled tongues of thick white mist, which merged into a rolling fog about the children’s knees: it paused, gathered itself, and leapt upwards, blotting out the sun and the world of life and light.

  It was too much for Susan. Her nerve failed her. All that mattered was to escape from this chill cloud and what it must contain. She ran blindly, stumbled a score of paces, then tripped, and fell full length upon the grass.