‘Can you see the outline, Bea?’ Long Beard asked, pointing to a tree fifty paces away.
There it was, the shape of a squirrel drawn with white clay three feet from the ground. Apart from the line tracing the outside of the body, there were two marks inside it: one the size of a fist in the centre of its chest, and a single dot representing its eye.
Long Beard handed Kertigan an arrow from his own quiver. ‘In the heart, if you please.’
The milling spectators fell silent. Kertigan raised the bow into position, pulled the string back to touch his brown beard and, after a moment to steady his aim, released.
To the human eye, an arrow can barely be traced in flight, the time between leaving the bow and reaching the target too brief to measure in seconds. In the blink of an eye it has struck, or else missed if the aim was poor or the crosswind too strong. That is all the human eye sees; but for elves, the flight of an arrow is a special thing, with a time of its own, time for thoughts to unfold, for emotions of glee if the arrow flies true, for disappointment if it deviates. No words are ever spoken, for to each elf such an occasion is personal, but afterwards there is plenty to say.
‘Right in the heart. The best shot of the afternoon. Your girl won’t do better,’ cried Kertigan’s friends.
That last call sounded ominous, Bea thought. She felt their eyes heavily upon her as Long Beard took a second arrow and passed it to her. She touched the feathers lightly to be sure the fletching had been done properly. Without these feathers, an arrow would wobble and jerk through the air and fall to the ground uselessly, a long way from the target.
‘There’s room enough in the squirrel’s heart if the girl’s good enough,’ said one of Kertigan’s companions.
‘I don’t want her to hit the heart,’ said Long Beard. Turning to his granddaughter, he said, ‘Bea, aim for its eye.’
Around her, the others gasped. ‘Impossible,’ said one, speaking for them all.
Bea was tempted to agree. Yet the bow felt good in her hands, the arrow was expertly made and, while she didn’t care much for honours herself, she would love to see her grandfather’s cheeks shine with pride.
She straightened her left arm, fitted the arrow into place, its point towards the ground as Long Beard had taught her, then took the strain on her fingers as she pulled back the string. An elf-girl of her age would struggle to draw it back as far as she needed, but Bea’s half-human muscles gave her extra strength. Focusing on the target first, she brought the bow into position, sighted along the arrow, felt the wind, the rhythm of her own body, its heartbeat, and, in a moment chosen more by instinct than judgement, she let the arrow go.
Her eye followed as though the arrow was still within arm’s reach, marvelling at the tiny flexes and shudders coursing along it from tip to feathers and back again. This was the wonder of archery as far as Bea was concerned, for elf-women weren’t invited to hunt and she had never aimed at a living creature, not even the outline of one, until now.
Then it was over; the arrow had reached its destination and lodged stoutly in the tree. When Kertigan’s had done the same, his companions had sent up a cheer at his success. This time they were silent. Had she missed so badly — struck outside the white line or, worse, found a different tree altogether? She turned to her grandfather who hadn’t yet taken his eyes from the target. When he did, it was to fix her with a stare of wonder and the deepest satisfaction.
‘Dead in the middle,’ said a voice from beside him. It was Kertigan, who couldn’t tear his eyes away from the target even now. ‘The best shot I’ve ever seen.’
Bea offered the bow to Long Beard, who took it without truly being aware of the weight in his hand. The others came alive now, nodding their congratulations to Long Beard (though not to Bea, she noticed) and chortling at Kertigan’s expense.
‘Grandfather, I saw a strange animal in the forest. That’s why I …’
Long Beard turned aside to accept another pat on the back. It was bad enough that Kertigan’s friends ignored her part in this triumph, but now they were distracting him while she tried to explain.
‘Like squirrels,’ she said, reminded of the target. ‘I saw some Squirrel Men,’ and, although Long Beard was listening with only one ear, she launched into her description.
Suddenly, his head snapped round to face her more squarely. ‘Big eyes! Did you say big eyes?’
Bea nodded and started her description again from the beginning. Now the mention of patchy black fur and dangerous talons turned Long Beard’s face white.
‘Draw what they looked like for me,’ he said, falling quickly to his knees, which wasn’t far because, like all elves, he was only half the height of a man. He smoothed the dirt with a careful sweep of one hand while the other went to his belt. ‘Here, use the tip of my knife.’
Bea was no artist, but she did her best, tracing perfect circles for the eyes and stabbing the abdomen hurriedly to re-create the clumps of fur.
‘It’s them,’ Long Beard breathed, almost too softly for her to hear.
‘What are they, Grandfather?’ she pleaded, but he wasn’t listening.
Rising from his knees, he called to Kertigan. ‘Take as many of your friends as you need and find this little beast,’ he ordered, pointing to the rough image Bea had drawn. ‘There are two of them. Be quick, before they get too far. Bring them back here, trussed up, tied up, I don’t care how.’
The urgency and the edge of fear in Long Beard’s words choked off any questions Kertigan might have asked. As soon as the young captain was gone, Long Beard called for an older elf with a beard almost as long as his own.
‘Ebert, you must see this,’ he said when the elder arrived. ‘My granddaughter saw two of them in the forest less than an hour ago.’
Ebert’s eyes were weakened by age so he had to bend low over the picture, but that didn’t stop Bea from seeing those tired eyes spring wide in fear and his brow dip instantly into deep furrows.
‘Out there in the forest,’ said Ebert. ‘I never thought there would be another breach in our lifetime.’
‘Don’t say any more!’ Long Beard snapped, his eyes flicking hotly between Ebert and Bea, and after that she was sent away.
WORD SPREAD QUICKLY AND the entire village came out to see when the call went up: ‘They’re back and they’ve got something caged in a basket.’
Long Beard and Ebert stood over the captives who’d been set down in the middle of the village by Kertigan and his companions. Bea recognised the creatures instantly, even though they were partly obscured by the woven wicker basket. Their large eyes stared out at the growing audience with a look of intelligence she hadn’t noticed earlier. Bea thought for a moment they would speak, but all she heard were the same giggles they had made in the bracken, mingled with unpleasant grunts as they tumbled over one another in their eagerness to see about them.
‘You were right Bea, they are like squirrels — big squirrels playing silly games,’ cried Marigold, who had burrowed her way to the front of the onlookers.
‘Don’t go any closer,’ Kertigan called to her. ‘They’re not as harmless as they look,’ and he nodded towards an elf whose arm was swathed in a red-stained bandage. Bea felt the dull pain of her hand and knew she had got off lightly.
‘They’re not like any squirrels I’ve ever seen. What are they, Long Beard?’ asked Marigold’s mother, who had taken a firm hold of the little girl’s sleeve in case she disobeyed.
‘If they have a name I’ve never learned it, and I hope I never do. They’re going back where they came from this very day.’
Where was that, Bea wondered. Elster’s farmland perhaps? No, eyes like those weren’t suited to open spaces flooded with sunlight. They came from the mountains of Lenoth Crag more likely. Their dark fur and vicious talons seemed to match such a name. Bea’s entire body shuddered in silent memory of how she had nearly died at the entrance to that bleak land.
The answer, when it came, was none of these. Some may have guessed
it, but even they shuddered when Long Beard gave his reply.
‘They’re from Baden Dark.’
CHAPTER 4
Under the Mountain
THE NAME BADEN DARK wasn’t heard very often in the Hidden Village and when it was the words were usually spat out as a curse, or sometimes snapped by an exasperated mother when her little ones wouldn’t do as they were told. ‘If you don’t behave, I’ll send you down to Baden Dark,’ she’d say and immediately her children would stop their naughty games. Some would begin to sob and beg forgiveness in their mother’s arms.
When she’d first come to live with the elves, Bea had thought the name belonged to the imaginary world of made-up stories, but she soon discovered it was real enough. In those first months, the other young elves had helped her explore her new surroundings; the forest mostly, but also the passageways and caverns that honeycombed the great mountain. Some of the more daring took her to the mouth of a tunnel that branched downward even deeper into the gloom.
‘Never go down there,’ one of her companions warned in the gravest tones. ‘That’s the way to Baden Dark.’
None of them could explain to Bea what horrors lay in that forbidden place and she suspected that few had the faintest idea. It was the fear conjured up by such secrecy that worked its spell and not just over the children. When Marigold’s mother heard where the Squirrel Men had come from, she gasped and held her hand to her heart before hurrying away to find the rest of her children.
Bea stayed to listen as Kertigan said, ‘Is it so important that they go back there? Why not kill them instead and save ourselves the trouble?’
‘Because taking them back isn’t the reason we’re going. There’s been a breach and it must be sealed.’
A breach? Bea could see in the young elf’s eyes that he didn’t know what her grandfather was talking about any better than she did.
‘I’ve said too much already,’ said Long Beard with a dismissive sweep of his hand. ‘This is not your business, Kertigan. One day it might be, but for now there is only Ebert and me.’
‘But you’re both … old. What if it comes to a fight?’
‘Then we’ll fight!’ said Bea’s grandfather, his cheeks reddening with anger. ‘What are you suggesting — that we are too weak to defend ourselves? This grey beard has never got in the way of my sword,’ he said, with a hand on each.
The young captain backed down after this, and when Nerrinder brought the provisions Long Beard had called for, the two elders picked up the basket and stood ready to leave.
‘You would all do best to forget you’ve ever seen these two,’ said Long Beard.
Ebert shook his head. ‘That’s not enough. Make them swear.’
‘So many,’ Long Beard said. ‘They won’t all stay silent.’
‘Among ourselves it won’t matter, but if word left this mountain …’
‘You’re right,’ and, raising his voice so all could hear, Long Beard said, ‘You must promise, all of you, that you will never speak of these creatures or where we take them; not to our cousin elves who come to visit from far away, but especially not to a human being.’
He let his solemn gaze fall on them one by one.
‘I swear,’ they said in turn, Bea along with the rest.
When it was done, the two elders set off towards the mountain and the tunnel where no elf ventured willingly, carrying the basket between them. The Squirrel Men marked their departure with more chortles and Bea couldn’t help thinking how this seemed to be a sad comment about the ageing warriors. Despite the swords on their belts and the firm set of their faces, these two were past their best. Kertigan was right: they didn’t make much of a fighting force.
Soon after the elders’ departure, the sun disappeared behind the great mountain and the villagers settled to sleep. Or at least they tried. There was barely an elf in any of the lodges who wasn’t related in some way to Long Beard or Ebert. The firelight stayed glowing longest where Kertigan lived, along with the other young elves who hadn’t yet married. Towards dawn, Bea thought she saw a shadow slip away towards the mountain, but she was drifting fitfully in and out of sleep by then and unsure whether it was merely a dream.
‘How long do you think they’ll be gone?’ she asked Nerrinder the next day as they were cleaning the cooking pot together after the midday meal. Then the sombre silence was shattered like a bowl thrown hard against the rocks.
‘Quickly, bring bandages,’ Kertigan shouted into the uneasy afternoon air.
He stood at the far end of the village, fighting to support a body slumped under his arm.
‘Ebert!’ cried the first to reach them.
The elder was carried into the nearest lodge and laid on a bed.
‘Where did you find him, Kertigan?’
The story emerged. Bea had seen a figure in the early morning darkness after all.
‘I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t stop thinking about them,’ said Kertigan in a rush. ‘Some instinct had hold of me, don’t ask me to explain. I had to go into the mountain, follow the elders into Baden Dark. But each time I set off, I heard Long Beard’s orders in my ears. I couldn’t go against him and so I’d turn back again. I lingered like a coward all morning, unable to make up my mind. Then I heard a moan from the tunnel and found Ebert a hundred paces into the darkness, dripping blood from that head wound. Someone, something, attacked them.’
‘But where’s Long Beard? Wasn’t he in the tunnel too?’ a voice pleaded.
Kertigan’s silence was the only answer. Skilled nurses were called to the bedside and, while they worked, Ebert did his best to tell them what had happened.
‘We found the breach,’ he managed to explain between exhausted gasps. ‘I cannot tell you more, but that was the reason we went down to Baden Dark: to close it up so no creature could enter or leave. The two in our basket were happy enough to be where they belong. Once they’d gone off through the opening, mocking us with every sound, we set about closing the breach. Only magic can open a way into Baden Dark, but none is needed to close it. There are no hinges or handle and the whole thing is formed from rock, but to elves like us it seemed like a simple door. We were almost done when the attack came. Don’t ask me who it was, or what, because our torches were snuffed out before we could see.’
Ebert stopped here to catch his breath, but they could see in his eyes that this was not the only reason. What came next would shock them and bring great pain, and no one knew this better than Bea.
‘Long Beard! What happened to Long Beard?’ she demanded.
‘He may be alive, he may be dead. I can’t tell you. He fought even harder than I did and somehow he forced the attacker back through the breach. Then he called to me, “Seal the breach, Ebert, close it now.” I couldn’t see him in the darkness, but when he called again, desperate and pleading, I did as he commanded. Then, silence. The fighting was over; whatever attacked us was caught inside.’
‘And Long Beard? He was still alive when the fighting stopped?’
‘Yes, I’m sure of it, but …’
‘Tell us, Ebert. Where is Long Beard?’
‘I couldn’t see. When he shouted to close the breach, I did it. I didn’t realise.’
‘Didn’t realise what?’
‘That he was on the other side, beating back the unseen enemy so the strange door could fit into place. He’s there still. Long Beard is inside Baden Dark.’
Ebert fell back against his pillow, too exhausted to utter another word.
‘He must rest until morning or we’ll lose him,’ said a nurse.
FOR BEA, IT WAS another night without sleep. Was her grandfather still alive? She wouldn’t let herself imagine anything else.
At first light, she saw bodies moving near the entrance to the mountain caverns, so she joined them, hoping to give her mind something different to think about.
Kertigan and the young elves who’d captured the Squirrel Men were pacing back and forth and arguing.
‘What are you doin
g?’ Bea asked when she saw the glint of a sword’s blade.
‘This is none of your concern,’ said Kertigan.
‘You’re going to Baden Dark, aren’t you?’
‘Is that so surprising? Our longest beard, our leader, has been kidnapped. We can’t just leave him to his fate.’
‘When will you leave?’
‘As soon as Ebert can tell us more. If we’re going to bring Long Beard back, we have to know what we’re up against.’
But both Bea and Kertigan were to find they were up against more than an unknown enemy. When Ebert had recovered enough to speak, he refused to answer their questions.
‘You don’t understand the danger.’
‘We’re not afraid. If you’d let us come —’
‘I don’t doubt your courage, Kertigan,’ said Ebert, holding up his hand weakly. ‘This is a question of what is best for us all.’
‘But Long Beard might still be alive.’
‘And if he is, he wouldn’t want you to rescue him. I’ve thought about it ever since the breach slammed shut and I realised he was trapped in Baden Dark. He knew! He knew what he was telling me to do. Only an elf of his courage would choose such a fate. Dead or alive, he sacrificed himself so that the breach would be sealed. That is the oath he and I took. You have no way to open the breach, Kertigan. No elf does. But even if you managed to do so, you would risk betraying generations of elves who have gone before you. Long Beard is lost to us. I’m sorry, but there can be no rescue.’
The argument continued at Ebert’s bedside but despite the injuries that drained his strength, he would not give in. Bea saw the steel in his face and knew well before Kertigan that she had seen the last of her grandfather. She slipped away and threw herself down on her bed to cry. When Nerrinder came to comfort her she turned away, for there are some moments that no soothing voice can ease.
Bea lay like this until the first wave of tears had dried. She might even have slept a little, though there was no release from her grief in dreams. The sun had walked its way to the top of the tallest tree trunks when a fluttering above her head made her roll over to investigate.
The Book from Baden Dark Page 3
