The Book from Baden Dark

by James Moloney

  ‘You said the elves were brought here,’ Kertigan insisted.

  ‘Yes, the ancient wizard knew his wasn’t the only magic in the world and he wanted other protections. The best of all would be that no one ever knew what lay beneath the mountain and no one ever came near enough to find out. That’s why he drew the elves into his service. We were spread all through the Mortal Kingdoms in those days, already known for our shy habits and keeping to ourselves. We were ideal for the great wizard’s purpose so he brought our forebears here all those years ago. Only a small number are told this story: elves who have shown strong character, guardians to keep a great secret. The wizard didn’t pass on everything about Baden Dark’s dangers or what resides there or why others must be kept away, so I can’t tell you any more. I don’t know and I don’t want to know. I seek only to fulfil my pledge and see that Baden Dark lies undisturbed.

  ‘Now that pledge must be passed on. Ebert and I had already picked you out to succeed us, Kertigan; but, Bea, you are a guardian of this story now as well, the first female to be trusted.’

  Marcel watched as the two younger elves shared a bewildered glance, before a nod from each of them settled the matter.

  ‘It’s a great honour, Long Beard,’ said Kertigan, ‘and we accept it willingly. How often are the secrets of Baden Dark threatened?’

  ‘Rarely, and that’s a fortunate thing. There have been guardians who’ve done nothing more than pass on the trust to a new generation. In my time, there has been only one breach before this one, many years ago. On that occasion, too, it was the escape of an ugly furred creature that alerted us. But when Ebert and I brought the creature into these tunnels, we found the breach already closed; a sad thing for the unfortunate beast, since we couldn’t let an escapee from Baden Dark live among us. The risk was too great that he would wander into the human world and bring them to the mountain, exploring.’

  ‘What did you do with him?’

  Long Beard winced and offered Kertigan a helpless shrug. ‘His death was quick and painless. His bones are most likely still near the barrier where we left his body.’

  ‘But if the barrier was closed, how could you be sure there’d even been a breach?’ asked Marcel.

  ‘Oh, there were signs. Tracks in the dust and cobwebs recently swept aside, although we never did find out who it was.’

  Across the circle from Long Beard sat one who knew the intruder’s name. Marcel was about to say it, then stopped himself. Long Beard would want to destroy the emerald green book immediately and he wasn’t ready to surrender it just yet, not when he’d barely read more than a few words. There was more to his quick decision though; more than he could explain to himself for the moment. Long Beard’s story had prompted deeper concerns within him and Lord Alwyn’s strange cipher may well be the key to learning more.

  WHEN LONG BEARD’S REMARKABLE story was over, each of them moved away separately, without a word, to contemplate what it meant. One by one they began to fall asleep in the dim light of Marcel’s stone, which he kept just bright enough so they would not be overwhelmed by the darkness.

  Marcel had another reason for keeping the light alive. As soon as he dared, he opened the book to the first page, which he’d glanced at only briefly when Suskin first laid it before him. Cautiously, he brought all of his magic to bear on that page. Within moments, the letters began to loosen from the places they had occupied for decades and find new partners. This was how it had been in his room in Noam, but on that occasion he hadn’t been particularly interested in what they said.

  This is the story of my journey into a strange land where night and day have no meaning …

  He recognised the first line. Reading more methodically now, he continued with the rest of that first sentence:

  … and where the life that beings know in the Mortal Kingdoms has no place.

  Those last words made sense to him now in a way they could never have done if he’d deciphered them in Noam. He went on.

  As I write these words, they disappear into the paper, which is how it should be since the magic used to make this book knows they are true and wishes to keep them hidden. Later, when I am finished with the truth, I will use a quill to write a false account of my journey which will stay on the page’s surface for ordinary folk to read, should this book fall into unsuspecting hands.

  And wasn’t that exactly what had happened? Suskin had taken his unfortunate interest in the book, and if Marcel hadn’t interfered he would have read only a made-up story about places that didn’t exist. He might even have enjoyed it, rather as people enjoyed fantastical tales told by the poets, but nobody believed for one moment they could actually be true.

  These were Marcel’s first thoughts, tinged with regret that he had been so nonchalant with his magic and let the dominie see what lay beneath the story. The breach into Baden Dark would not have happened if he’d been more careful. But a second and far more unsettling idea came to him as he re-read these lines. The truthful account of the old sorcerer’s adventure disappeared into the fibres of the page; it was the made-up story that stayed visible. He knew of another book that had worked its magic in this way.

  ‘The Book of Lies,’ he whispered, and when he read the next line his dread doubled.

  The means of making this artful paper came into my hands during the journey and, in return for such magic, I am to write this account of it and leave the book where others will discover it.

  So much was revealed by so few words. For some time now Marcel had wondered how Lord Alwyn could have created his masterpiece when even great sages like Rhys Tironel shook their heads and admitted openly that they could not reproduce the magic. Here was the answer. Alwyn hadn’t created the magic on his own either; he’d discovered the secret in Baden Dark, one of so many that dark and lifeless world seemed to hide.

  Alwyn made two books then: one to record his journey and the other to serve the people of Elster by separating truth from lies. Both came from Baden Dark.

  Marcel pressed his own magic into use again and read:

  For a sorcerer whose powers are greater than mine, the ink will reform to reveal the things I saw, so if your eyes can read these words, then they are for you.

  This was as startling as anything he’d come across in the lines above. Some details he already knew: that his powers were greater than his predecessor’s and that the ink changed at the command of his will to reveal the truth. It was the rest that took his breath away: If your eyes can read these words … Yes, it was no mean feat but he could manage it. The rest was clear enough and, lying on his side with the book shielded from his companions as they slept, he felt as though this book was for him alone.

  No, it couldn’t be, he thought. All this was written years before I was born. Of course, he assured himself, trying to remain calm, this book was meant for any sorcerer with enough magic in his bones, and there must be many spread across the Mortal Kingdoms and over many years. Yet he couldn’t quite shake the conviction that his eyes were the special pair this book sought.

  He read the rest of that first page and the three that followed, getting a clearer picture as he went.

  All my life the distant mountain had brooded above Elster’s high country and not a single soul had ever visited its slopes. Strange and terrible stories were told by those who’d tried, of goblins and trolls whose rumbling cries echoed through the forests. I smelled trickery and decided to employ my own tricks to find out what truly lay in and around that mountain.

  Alwyn had been at the height of his powers then, adventurous and as inquisitive as Long Beard knew wizards to be, and so he had asked leave of Queen Madeleine and gone exploring. These early passages told only of the preparations he’d made and his arrival in the high country; Marcel wanted to know more of what he’d encountered in Baden Dark but he found it exhausting to reach so deeply into the fibres of just these few pages and read what was magically encoded there. His body was already tired after so much climbing and the constant fear in
side Baden Dark, and now that weariness seemed to fill his head as well.

  His concentration waned and he found himself distracted by memories of the Book of Lies. He knew how it had been created now and, more importantly, where it had come from; not fully formed perhaps, but the materials it was made from and the magic that made it work. This magic had come from outside the Mortal Kingdoms, for Baden Dark might sit beneath the great mountain of the elves and the way to its caverns might be through tunnels underground, but the place itself existed in a different world, a world where ghosts roamed free and dragons dwelled.

  The dragon Suskin had spoken of — could it be Mortregis, after all? Marcel had destroyed it once before, outside the walls of Elster, but if Lord Garda was right, he had not destroyed it forever. A thought came to him, so stunning his tired body sat upright as though he’d been jabbed with a dagger. Was Baden Dark where Mortregis regenerated itself each time it was driven from the Mortal Kingdoms? Why was it there and what else did it do? What other influence did it have on the Mortal Kingdoms that sat above it, unaware of what lay buried beneath their soil?

  Could anything good come from that strange place? He looked down at the book in his lap, a sister creation to the Book of Lies, which had worked great wonders at first, only to give way to the deception on its pages until its every act fostered evil. It had been made with a gift from Baden Dark, and the magic that gave it its greatest strength had come from the same source.

  Long Beard had said that nothing should remain in one world that belonged to the other, and he’d killed an unfortunate Squirrel Man to be sure that it didn’t. This book was the same. Now that he knew where it truly came from, it must go back there; and since he was the only one who could open a breach to carry it through, he was the one to take it. The decision was made then. He would go back into Baden Dark.

  Yet even as he lay down to wait till the others were deeply asleep and wouldn’t hear him go, he knew he wouldn’t simply throw the green book into the breach and walk away.

  ‘Evil beneath our feet,’ he murmured. ‘In the very soil we walk on.’

  CHAPTER 18

  Return to Baden Dark

  WHEN MARCEL WENT TO sleep, so did the magic that allowed his companions to move about the rocky ledge without fear of falling off. Not that Bea cared much. She didn’t expect to have any need of the light until they were ready to resume the long climb. Yet when movement close by woke her some time later, the inky black was fringed by light from below, as though the massive rocks beneath the ledge had been dusted with the faintest starlight. In that eerie glow she could make out the silhouette of a body crouching near the edge.

  ‘Marcel?’ she whispered as she went closer.

  The figure turned, responding with a low hiss for her to keep her voice down. When she arrived at his side, she found it wasn’t Marcel, but Fergus.

  ‘What are you looking at?’

  He leaned over the edge of the rock shelf again and invited her to do the same. There was the source of the light — one point shedding its pale yellow onto the walls around it as it moved; a light that faded to almost nothing when the single source moved out of sight.

  ‘Is something following us?’ Bea didn’t want to think where it must have come from.

  ‘No, not following. The light is getting weaker; it’s moving downwards, away from us.’

  ‘Marcel!’ said Bea.

  ‘Has to be. Who else can make a light like that?’

  As quickly as Bea guessed who it was, she knew the rest. ‘He’s going back to Baden Dark.’

  ‘Yes, and any minute now he’s going to be so far below us there’ll be no light at all.’

  ‘I’ll wake my grandfather. Kertigan still has torches he hasn’t used. They’ll want to go after him.’

  ‘No, wait, Bea,’ said Fergus, taking a firm hold on her sleeve. ‘That might make things worse. There must be a reason Marcel is going back to Baden Dark, but no matter what it is, Long Beard will be against it.’

  He was right. She stopped trying to tug free, giving Fergus a silent signal to continue.

  ‘We can’t afford to argue among ourselves when we’re still deep in the bowels of this mountain. Your grandfather is weak from lack of food and if he goes down to Baden Dark again, chasing Marcel, he might never make it out at all. As for Suskin, there’s no telling what that fool will do if he gets frightened all over again.’

  Fergus hesitated and Bea saw his head droop forward, as though he had more to say but didn’t want to say it.

  ‘What?’ she urged him. ‘Tell me.’

  He blew a long breath out through his nose in a soundless sigh. ‘There’s Marcel too. The mood he’s been in lately, he’s … as unpredictable as Suskin. You haven’t really seen what he can do, Bea, the sorcerer that he’s become. His powers make Lord Alwyn look like a street-corner charlatan. If Long Beard refused to give way, I can’t be sure what he’d do.’

  ‘I don’t believe you,’ said Bea, aghast. ‘Not Marcel. He wouldn’t use his magic against people he cares about.’

  ‘I hope you’re right, really I do.’

  ‘So you’re going to let him go, alone?’

  ‘I don’t want to. Nicola told me to watch his back, and that’s what I’ve been doing, but I can’t climb down after him now when there’s so little light. I’ll fall and break my neck.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to make sure he doesn’t get too far ahead,’ said Bea and, as she spoke, she reached out and took a grip on his hand.

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Fergus, suddenly finding himself tugged towards the first step down.

  ‘We’re going after Marcel.’

  ‘But we can’t see.’

  ‘You can’t see, but gloomy light like this is just right for an elf.’

  CONFIDENCE WAS ALL VERY well, but even the most skilled of elves cannot see when there is no light at all, so they couldn’t afford to let Marcel get too far ahead. That meant moving quickly in those first few minutes, when the light had waned almost to nothing. Bea took the lead, as she had to, for poor Fergus didn’t dare take a single step without her. That demanded a courage Bea wasn’t sure she’d have if their places were reversed. She was terrified enough as it was, even though she could see the rocks she planted her feet on. Fergus could do no more than leap blindly into the blackness and hope there was a rock waiting to take his weight. Bea guided him with whispered instruction and, when this wasn’t enough, by placing his hands and feet where they needed to be or simply holding his hand.

  ‘Don’t let go,’ he hissed when she tried to drop her hand away. It was the only sign that his nerves were overloaded with the terror of falling.

  She kept a tight hold, which meant their hands stayed joined for minutes on end. She found a strange warmth in this and realised she’d never shared the touch of another’s skin for as long as this in her whole life. Even when their grip was broken so one or the other could take a steadying hold on a rock, they quickly found one another again. Yes, a strange feeling and one that made Bea a little uncomfortable, even if she couldn’t say why.

  This was how they climbed down, getting faster as their arms and legs became used to the routine. They were gaining on Marcel too, which meant the light became stronger, and before long they’d reached the fissures where climbing gave way to walking.

  ‘Don’t get any closer,’ Fergus whispered into Bea’s ear. ‘We’re not sure yet what he’s up to.’

  Marcel wasn’t wasting any time, Bea saw, when she looked ahead to find him standing before the wall of rock marked with the milky white veins of quartz. He already had his hands placed firmly on the rough surface, eager to work his magic. This was when they emerged from the narrow fissure, making no effort now to stay out of sight. Bea could have crept right up to him, close enough to touch him, if she’d been alone, but while they were still twenty paces away Fergus’s footsteps alerted Marcel.

  He spun round with his hand raised in preparation for magic. Once he would have pulled
a sword from his belt, but, as he had explained to Kertigan earlier, he had better ways to defend himself than with steel.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded, seeing only Fergus at first, since Bea’s instincts had kept her away from his light.

  ‘I’ve come to ask you the same question,’ said Fergus calmly.

  Bea came out of the shadow to announce her presence and Marcel was even more surprised to see her.

  ‘Two of you,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have followed me. You’ll have to go back.’

  ‘We will, with you,’ said Fergus.

  Marcel looked ready to argue but at the last moment swallowed his words. ‘You want to know why I’ve come back here? This is why,’ he told them, holding up his pack, which was weighed down by something large and angular.

  ‘Suskin’s book,’ said Bea, as he pulled it free to show them more clearly.

  ‘It’s not Suskin’s, it’s Lord Alwyn’s.’

  Bea knew only one book of Lord Alwyn’s and, before she could stop herself, she’d let out a gasp of fear. She looked to Fergus who had been hurt more than anyone by the Book of Lies, but if he felt the same fear he was better at hiding it.

  ‘What are you going to do with it?’ he asked.

  ‘Leave it where it belongs. While you two were sleeping, I started to decode its secrets. Do you remember what Long Beard said — that nothing from one world should be left behind in the other? Well, this book comes from in there,’ he said firmly, nodding at the mass of granite beside him.

  ‘How can it come from Baden Dark if it’s Lord Alwyn’s?’ Bea asked.