The taunting voices around them became garbled and confused. Soon they ceased altogether, and when she heard a grunt from Marcel, followed by rapid, relieved breaths, she dared peek from beneath her eyelids. The light was dying to a more soothing intensity, made all the easier by the silence throughout the cavern.
The ghosts were gone.
‘Light, that was all it took to drive them away,’ Kertigan exclaimed, as though he couldn’t believe it.
‘Maybe,’ said Marcel, who had slumped to the ground. ‘I hope I don’t have to drive them off with the same spell too often. It takes a lot out of me.’
‘Why do you say maybe?’ Kertigan wanted to know.
Marcel really was exhausted and needed a moment to gather himself before he replied. Fergus jumped in with his own answer instead. ‘Because they weren’t really here to hurt us. Marcel’s magic might have been a convenient reason for them to leave us alone.’
‘I don’t understand. Of course they wanted to hurt us,’ said Kertigan.
‘Then why didn’t they?’ said Marcel, looking up at them both. ‘Your weapons went straight through them. We were helpless, but I haven’t got a scratch on me. What about you?’
They all shook their heads. Bea watched Kertigan’s face cloud with confusion then just as quickly come alive with an idea.
‘They were just trying to scare us off.’
‘That’s what I’m thinking,’ said Marcel as he picked himself up slowly, smacking the dust from the bottom of his pants. He steadied himself, concentrating with eyes closed until a mellow light settled around them.
‘Can you see well enough? Good. I can keep the glow like this without much trouble. Doesn’t seem much point hiding now.’
For the first time they could look around at this strange world. Not that there was much to see, just a cavernous expanse that stretched beyond the reach of Marcel’s magical light and faded into darkness. Bea couldn’t even see a roof overhead, though it was surely there, holding up the mountain above.
‘Where are we?’ she said. ‘The ghosts forced us away from the breach.’
‘We’re not entirely lost. Our tracks show the way.’ Kertigan nodded down at the dust, as fine as sifted flour, where the imprints of their shoes showed the frenzy of battle. ‘We came in that way,’ he said.
Bea took a few steps in the direction he pointed before she realised they weren’t going to follow. They’d come to find Long Beard, and he certainly wasn’t where they had already been.
But what was that in the dirt twenty paces away? Their footprints skirted close to it, but in the near darkness and the confusion of fighting, none of them had noticed. Bea retraced her path until she was close enough to see what it was.
‘Have any of you lost a shoe?’ she called over her shoulder.
A moment passed while they tried to make sense of her question. Then, she supposed, they would need to check their feet. By the time their replies reached her —‘No,’ from Fergus; ‘Not me,’ from Kertigan, and Marcel calling, ‘I’ve got both of mine,’ — Bea had reached the abandoned boot. No, it couldn’t be one of theirs because a thin film of dust had settled on the dark leather, meaning it had been there for many days, even weeks. Only when she picked it up did she realise.
‘Here, quickly,’ she called, turning towards them with the boot held reverently in both hands. ‘This is Grandfather’s boot!’
They hurried to her side, each taking a turn at inspecting it, turning it over, asking her if she was sure. The best thing was the flush of hope that Bea could feel on her cheeks. After Marcel’s blunt warning before they’d stepped through the breach, she’d expected to find only Long Beard’s bones.
Kertigan walked away, staring hard at the ground. He stopped, started again, walked another ten paces. ‘We’ve made a mess with our feet,’ he commented.
This brought the attention of the others. ‘What are you thinking?’ Fergus said, striding towards him.
‘Tracks in the dust. If we could follow our own back the way we’ve come, we can follow Long Beard’s tracks.’
Bea understood immediately but, looking down at her own feet, saw the difficulty. ‘How will we know which are ours and which ones were made by Grandfather?’
‘Easy. We’re all wearing both shoes.’
He was right. They spread out, using the light that Marcel continued to command from the rocks around the cavern, until Fergus cried, ‘Here, he went off in this direction.’
He waited for them to join him, and only then did Bea see why he looked a little reluctant to start off in pursuit. Beside the distinctive trail of small footprints left by someone missing his left shoe, they could clearly see another pattern of steps.
‘A human, most likely,’ said Kertigan.
Fergus let out a wry sniff. ‘Unless one of you elves has very big feet.’
They followed the paired tracks, losing them each time the route crossed patches of solid rock, only to pick them up again when they fanned out and searched for where the tracks appeared again in the undisturbed sand. And it was undisturbed, as far as they could see.
‘Does that mean nothing else lives in Baden Dark?’ Bea asked.
‘Not in this part anyway,’ said Kertigan, which was an answer she liked. She didn’t care quite so much for Fergus’s reply.
‘Unless what lives here prefers to fly.’
Bea shuddered and checked the black void above them. Nothing to see; or not yet.
When Marcel didn’t offer an opinion, she touched his elbow gently. ‘What are you thinking about?’
He stopped and looked down at her seriously. The distant sorcerer was back in his face, she noticed.
‘Oh, these other footprints,’ he said. ‘Is this someone who lives in Baden Dark always, or an intruder like us? And if he’s an intruder, how did he get in?’
The answer would lie at the end of these tracks and so they set off again behind the others, all four of them heads down like hunting dogs on the scent. Then, without warning, the tracks turned sharply to the right. Looking up in the light Marcel still drew from the rocks, they could make out the opening to a cave. Both sets of footprints led towards it until, a few paces before the darkness swallowed up their view, they were lost among the tramping back and forth of many, many boots.
‘A troop of them, whoever they are,’ said Fergus, drawing his sword.
Bea had her bow in hand and found her fingers fitting an arrow to the string with quick and efficient movements. She had the feathers to her cheek before Kertigan had even moved.
However, this was more because he had stooped to look closely at the jumble of tracks. ‘I’m not so sure there’s a whole band of others,’ he said cautiously. ‘Lots of boot prints, yes, but they’re all the same boots, going in and out of the cave.’
Leaning over his shoulder, they saw he was right.
‘No sign of a shoeless foot though,’ he added. ‘If Long Beard went in there, he hasn’t come out yet. Time for a torch, I think.’
A wave of Marcel’s arm brought it alight and, with Kertigan leading, they crept tentatively into the cave.
THERE WERE NO GRAND spaces above them now, and again they had to squeeze awkwardly through a number of crevices before the way widened. Progress was slow, particularly as they expected to find something unwelcome at every step: an enemy lying in wait; or, worse, an elf’s lifeless body.
Then the cave simply ended.
‘Nothing. There’s no one here,’ said Kertigan, lowering the torch. Whatever relief they might have felt was no match for their disappointment.
‘But someone has been here,’ said Fergus, examining the evidence in the dust. ‘See the flattened area near the wall. A body lay down there to sleep. And this mound, it’s been built up on purpose to form a kind of seat.’
‘What are those bones?’ Bea asked.
Kertigan saw where she was looking and, going closer with the torch, snatched up a handful of thin, elongated bones with sheets of black skin in between
. ‘Bats, or parts of them anyway.’
They could explore this dead end as much as they wanted but it didn’t offer them much help. Bea left the others to their task and backed along the way they had come, as far as the light extended. This took her to where the rocks on either side came so close together. Walking towards it from this direction, she saw now what they hadn’t seen before — how the rock on one side formed a shelf that ended a little way above the ground. She sank down onto all fours and, despite the fine grit that quickly covered her dress, she peered under the shelf.
Something moved.
It was ahead of her in the dark and not too far. How she didn’t scream, or even give out a peep of surprise, she didn’t know. Actually she was quite pleased with herself that she hadn’t, but there was more important business to think about.
‘Bring me the torch,’ she ordered, though, without thinking, she had kept her voice low.
Kertigan was with her in moments, the torch in his hand. Taking his cue from her, he whispered, ‘What have you found?’
‘I don’t know, but there’s something hiding under there. It must have heard us coming and now it’s trying to stay out of sight.’
‘One of those Squirrel Men,’ Kertigan suggested. ‘There doesn’t seem much space.’
He joined her in the dust and cautiously began investigating the rock ledge and the space beneath it. ‘I was right about the narrow space. I don’t know if I can fit.’
‘I can,’ said Bea, and, before he could object, she snatched the torch from him, flattened herself against the ground and wriggled forward. Her legs were still sticking out into the cave when she saw a figure ahead of her. It was turned away from the light, to shield its eyes most likely, but it wasn’t cowering. In fact, the tension in the compact body, the way the legs were carefully positioned, the fists clenched … the figure was about to spring at her in desperate defence.
Yet Bea stopped the attack with a single word. ‘Grandfather!’
The tension went out of the huddled body, an eye braved the light, then ducked away again when it was too much.
‘It’s Long Beard, we’ve found him,’ Bea shouted back to the others without any attempt to keep her voice down. ‘And he’s still alive.’
‘Oh, barely, my little one, barely,’ said a deep and familiar voice.
Bea pushed the torch aside, trying to reduce its harsh glare, and her grandfather turned to reveal that impressive grey beard and eyes that struggled to shine with the lively good humour Bea was so used to.
‘Do you have anything to eat?’ he asked hopefully.
‘Kertigan does.’
‘Kertigan. That young rascal is here too?’
‘Yes, and some old friends. Come out of this hole and we’ll feed you.’
A worrying thought occurred to Bea. Her grandfather was the roundest being she had ever known, with the possible exception of Old Belch, the stableman at Mrs Timmins’ foundling home.
‘I can hardly fit through this space myself,’ she said. ‘How will you get out?’
‘The same way I got in,’ he informed her. ‘I’m not as fat as I was,’ he added, patting his much-reduced stomach.
He was quite right about that. Moments later he had followed Bea through the narrow gap beneath the rock ledge, with only a single tug by Kertigan to help him through the tightest squeeze. Free at last, he hugged Bea with all the strength his wasted muscles could manage. Then, suddenly, his whole body went as rigid as a statue.
Bea pushed herself away and found him glaring at Marcel and Fergus. ‘Humans. You’ve brought humans into Baden Dark!’
‘You know them, Grandfather. They’re bigger now but it’s Marcel and Fergus.’
The deep frown eased from Long Beard’s brow, but didn’t vanish entirely. If he had more to say, it would have to wait, because for those first minutes after he emerged into the tiny cave, his mouth was too full to let any words out as he ate every morsel passed to him from Kertigan’s pack and guzzled noisily at the bladder of water.
‘The fiend who brought me here is slowly starving me to death,’ he explained finally. ‘All he’s given me is a little water and some kind of raw meat. Disgusting it was, and very little of it.’
‘Bats,’ said Kertigan, holding up the torch so the elder could see the remains.
Long Beard stopped chewing, stared at the bones, which he was seeing for the first time, and looked as though he would throw up everything he’d just wolfed down. Then he seemed to decide he was too hungry for such indulgence and forced his stomach to settle.
‘You called him a fiend. Was it a demon, or some kind of ghost?’ Fergus asked.
‘I wish I could tell you. He attacked Ebert and me at the breach. Snuffed out our torch before we even knew he was there. Not much of a fighter really, but without light it was impossible to get a swing at him. I forced him back into Baden Dark.’
‘And ordered Ebert to close the breach,’ said Bea, who’d heard the story with the rest of the bewildered elves. ‘It was a brave thing to sacrifice yourself like that.’
Long Beard waved away her praise with a shrug. ‘Better than to risk more escapes. He was none too pleased about that, I can tell you. I thought he would kill me when the breach was sealed, because he had a knife at my throat by then. Nothing I could do but let him push me on into the darkness. He brought me here and I’ve been stranded ever since, pitch black all around me and, even if I could see, no chance to escape from Baden Dark. And, of course, I needed what poor nourishment he brought me just to stay alive.’
He took another huge bite from the loaf he was swiftly devouring and sighed with pleasure as it slid down his throat. The colour was returning to his cheeks and with it the spark in his eyes.
Fergus must have seen this too because he was the one who asked, ‘Are you ready to leave, Long Beard?’
‘Leave?’
‘Yes, why would we stay in Baden Dark any longer? We came to find you, dead or alive. You look somewhere between the two, so let’s go.’
‘No, this captor of mine, whatever he is —’
‘A human, most likely. We saw his tracks,’ Fergus explained.
He was doing the talking, along with Kertigan. When Bea looked towards Marcel, she found him listening as intently as the others yet distracted somehow, as though each answer from her grandfather was taking him deeper into a world the others couldn’t see.
‘Human,’ Long Beard repeated with a snort. ‘Then all the more reason for me to stay. I have a pledge to honour: to protect Baden Dark.’
‘Protect it!’ said Kertigan. ‘That’s a strange word. Keep others out, maybe, but why would you want to protect a place like this?’
Long Beard glanced away, as uncomfortable under questioning as Ebert had been. ‘My pledge is to see that no breach is made and nothing escapes. That’s what I mean. This human doesn’t belong here, I’m sure of it. He’s found a way in somehow, and not by accident either. He has some scheme in mind — to rob Baden Dark of what it hides, most likely.’
‘What does it hide?’ Kertigan pressed him.
‘Enough! No more questions because you’ll get no answers.’
‘You say this man brings you food and water?’ said Fergus, following a safer, more practical line of questions.
‘Every day or two,’ Long Beard confirmed.
‘How long since he was here last?’
‘Too long. I’m surprised you didn’t hear my stomach rumbling before you found me. More than a day anyway, perhaps two.’
‘Then we won’t have long to wait,’ said Fergus with a teasing lilt in his voice. ‘Let’s give Long Beard’s friend a surprise.’
‘I’ll have to put this torch out so we don’t warn him,’ said Kertigan. ‘May as well get comfortable before I do,’ and he began to search for the best spot. ‘You’ve made a seat for yourself, I see, Long Beard. Looks like a proper throne,’ he added mischievously.
The elves disliked all talk of kings and the pomp that went w
ith it. Long Beard knew he was being teased but, taking it all in good spirit, he bowed to Kertigan with exaggerated grace then lowered his weight so heavily onto the mound it began to lose shape.
‘What’s that sticking out from the dirt?’ asked Kertigan.
Long Beard glanced briefly beneath his thighs at the distorted pile of earth. ‘A slab of rock,’ he replied. ‘Helps to stop my seat from collapsing. I found it in the dust as I was fumbling around in the dark, exploring the cave with my hands.’
Bea’s eyes were drawn to the odd shape sticking out of the dirt. ‘It’s a funny-shaped rock, Grandfather. Looks more like the corner of a book.’
‘A book!’ laughed Fergus. ‘How can a book be the same as a piece of rock?’
Long Beard was on his feet again by this time, staring down at the protrusion but with nothing to say.
‘Hey, Bea’s right, it does look like the corner of a …’ Fergus scrambled forward on his hands and knees, pushed the dirt away from the top of the mound and pulled a large flat shape from it. ‘It is a book!’ he crowed.
All eyes turned to Long Beard now. Well, almost all eyes.
‘I don’t believe it. You thought this book was a slab of rock?’ said Fergus.
‘It was dark.’
‘But the weight alone should have told you.’
‘It seemed rather light for a rock, I’ll grant you that,’ Long Beard responded weakly.
Fergus was ready to fall about laughing at such a stunning mistake, but Long Beard was an elder, the leader of his kind and not used to being mocked. Above the grey beard, his cheeks were turning crimson.
‘The fact is, well … I know what books are, of course. Heard about them all my life … but I’ve never actually seen one.’
Fergus quickly snatched the mirth from his face. ‘I’m sorry, Long Beard. I was making fun of you when I didn’t understand,’ he said solemnly. ‘To humans, books are so common.’
‘Yes, well, for elves it’s different. So this is what a book’s like, is it?’ he said, regaining his dignity.
The one pair of eyes that hadn’t focused on Long Beard through all of this belonged to Marcel. Without anyone noticing, he had taken the book from Fergus’s hands and wiped away more of the dust until he could make out part of the cover. Bea saw this when they all turned to examine the book themselves.
The Book from Baden Dark Page 12
