Outcast (The Darkeningstone Series Book 2)

by Mikey Campling

  But he’d had his chance to do just that, only moments earlier, and instead he’d handed me over to his men. I looked away from the wounded man, raised my eyes to the sky. Don’t give up, I told myself. Stay sharp. Something was going to happen, perhaps very soon, and whatever it was, I had to be ready for it.

  ***

  Hafoc squatted on his haunches and checked his arrows for the second time. He ran each one carefully through his fingers, making sure that each was perfectly straight. He examined the bindings that held the flint heads tight, then turned each one around and smoothed the fletching; the black feathers that would make his arrows fly true. Finally, he placed each arrow back into his quiver. They were good arrows. But would they be good enough against the Wandrian?

  He looked around the men. Each of them was occupied in a similar way, carefully checking their knives still held an edge and their bowstrings were still tight. All except Tostig. Their leader stood, leaning his back against a tree trunk, watching his men prepare for battle. He saw Hafoc looking at him and held his gaze for a while.

  Hafoc steeled himself. Here it comes. He’ll tell me I’m too young for this, too inexperienced, too clumsy. He’ll tell me to stay behind, give me some stupid job to do.

  Tostig narrowed his eyes. “Your arrows are good, Hafoc,” he said. “You will kill many Wandrian today.”

  Hafoc swallowed. He heard the pride in Tostig’s voice and his worry that he’d be left behind suddenly seemed childish. He took a breath and puffed his chest out. “I’ll do my best,” he said.

  The other men were all looking at him now.

  “You’re a good shot, Hafoc,” Flyta said. “Aim for the middle of the chest.” He tapped his own chest with his finger. “Right here. That will bring any man to his knees—even the Wandrian.”

  Hafoc nodded. Sceort coughed and Hafoc turned to him.

  “You were not stealthy when we left the tribe,” Sceort said. “But now, you have learned.” He looked Hafoc in the eye, and for the first time, Hafoc saw a glimmer of respect from the older man. “Like your namesake, the hawk, you will fall upon your prey before he knows you are there.”

  Hafoc bit his lip and looked from man to man. Each one met his look with a brother’s pride. He was their equal. Finally, he was one of them. He took a breath. He would fight alongside his brothers today and he would die before he let their enemies harm any one of them.

  He opened his mouth to speak, though he hadn’t the words to explain what their praise meant to him. He felt his face flush. Don’t say something stupid. Don’t make yourself look like fool. But thankfully, he didn’t have the chance.

  Tostig pushed himself away from the tree. He stretched his arms out wide and took a deep breath. “It’s time,” he said. He picked up his bow, adjusted the strap that held his quiver to his back.

  Hafoc, Sceort and Flyta did the same. They stood in silence, waiting for Tostig’s orders.

  “We go back to the edge of the forest,” Tostig said. “There, we’ll split up. Hafoc, you will stay by my side. Sceort, you will go with Flyta.” He paused and the men nodded to show they understood. “As soon as the sun has set, we’ll climb the hill, spreading out to approach our enemies from two directions.” He looked around his men. “They will think they’re attacked by many men.” He allowed himself a grim smile. “The Wandrian shall know what it is to fear an enemy who creeps unseen through the night.”

  The men smiled at each other, a glint in their eyes. I won’t let you down, Hafoc thought, and knew the same promise was in each man’s mind.

  Tostig turned, and without a word he walked away, toward the forest’s edge. Without a heartbeat’s hesitation, Hafoc followed. He heard Flyta and Sceort following behind. The men moved quickly through the forest, a sense of deadly purpose in every silent footstep. For a moment, Hafoc thought of Nelda. It would’ve been good to have her at his side, but he hadn’t seen her since he’d left the forest’s edge. Perhaps she’s still there, waiting for our return. He pushed the thought away. Nelda was used to hunting alongside the men, but this was different, and the last time she’d met the Wandrian, she’d been afraid. If she was with them now, she might growl and give them away. No. It was better this way. The men had each other, and that was all they needed.

  Hafoc watched Tostig and followed him carefully. Soon, the light filtering through the trees changed, and Hafoc knew the sun was setting. Ahead, the shadows beneath the trees deepened, but still, Hafoc could tell the forest was thinning. They were almost at its edge. In a moment, they would split up and begin their long, silent climb up the hill. Then, whatever happened, he would be ready.

  I sat on the ground and watched the sun sink gently toward the horizon. A little way from me, the men had built a fire, and they sat in a circle around the flames, their rough yells and harsh laughter corrupting the cool evening air. I rubbed at my wrists as best as I could. The rope had rubbed the skin raw a long time ago, and every time I moved the rope bit deeper into my flesh. I pulled gently at the rope, trying to get enough slack to let me change position, but they hadn’t even allowed me that luxury. They’d cut the rope very short and tied it to a rough wooden stake. I’d watched as they’d driven the stake deep into the ground. They’d pounded at it, using rocks as hammers, until hardly any wood was left above ground. They’d been just as thorough with the knots. I’d tried to escape once; now they’d made sure I was at their mercy.

  I closed my eyes and tried to blank out the sound of their voices, tried very hard not to think about the reasons why they should be so excited. How the hell did I end up like this? I sniffed. I just wanted to be home, just wanted to see my family again. My family. A swirl of memories rushed into my mind: unwrapping a Christmas present when I was a kid and finding the metal detector I’d wanted for ages; Dad fixing up a flat-packed wardrobe and getting it so wrong he laughed out loud; Mum singing along, almost in tune, to a cheesy old pop song on the radio. The scenes ran together like a badly cut homemade movie, and I couldn’t slow them down, couldn’t hold onto them long enough to make sense of them. “It’s too much,” I whispered. Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes and I blinked them away.

  I sighed. Maybe it would be better if I faced the truth. I was never going to see my family again. Even if the old man helped me, even if I got away, I’d still be trapped in this harsh world, and on my own, how long would I survive?

  I stared into the distance, lost in my miserable thoughts.

  “What’s too much?”

  I looked around with a start. The old man stood by my side, away from the fire and hidden in the deep shadow cast by the black stone. How had he come so close without me hearing him? How long had he been standing there?

  I sniffed and shook my head. “Are you… are you going to let me go?”

  The old man hesitated, and then he moved closer and squatted down, close by my side; too close. I could smell the meat on his breath, the rancid sweat on his skin. I fought the urge to lean away. If he was going to help me, I needed to hear what he had to say.

  He licked his lips. “I’ll try and help you. But first, I want to talk to you.”

  I stared at him in disbelief.

  “My name is Morven,” he said. “And I need to talk to you. Now, before it’s too late.”

  I swallowed hard. “All right. I’ll listen. But you have to be quick. I think your friends have other ideas.”

  Morven nodded. For a moment, he moved his lips soundlessly as though he was having trouble finding the right words. “Sorry. I haven’t spoken English for a long time.”

  “You’re English? This is still England then? I thought…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.

  “Yes. I’m English, but I don’t think this is England.”

  “You don’t know?”

  He shook his head. “When I first came here, more than thirty years ago, I walked. I walked for days, months. I don’t know how long. There are mountains to the North. I saw them in the distance. Huge, snow-topped mountains.
A whole range of them. Too many to be England or Scotland.” Morven paused for breath, as though talking had tired him.

  “So where are we?”

  “It doesn’t matter,” he said. “The thing is, when are we?”

  “What?”

  Morven worked his jaw again. “What year was it when you came here?”

  “This year of course,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

  “Ha. It was 2014 when I left, at least I think it was, and I’ve been here for thirty years at least.”

  “No, that doesn’t make sense,” I protested. “You’d have to…” And finally, it dawned on me. I stared at the old man.

  The man tilted his head, studying my face. “You see it now? The stone has taken us back in time.”

  “But, that’s impossible.”

  “Is it? Look at these people.” He pointed toward the campfire. “They’re simple people. They use stone weapons. They’re little more than savages.”

  “But you’re one of them, aren’t you?”

  Morven exhaled noisily and thought back to those early days, that first winter when he’d almost frozen to death; his relief when the tribe had found him, given him food, shelter, warmth. It was only later he’d learned what they were, learned to take his place, and fought to keep it. “I am now, I suppose,” he said. “I am now.”

  I shook my head. “You can’t go back in time. I don’t believe it.”

  Morven stared at the boy. “Listen to me,” he said. “I know it’s hard to understand. But you haven’t seen a house made from brick, or even stone, have you? There are no roads, no railways, no fences, no power lines. You haven’t heard a plane overhead or seen so much as an electric light in the darkness. You haven’t, have you?”

  I returned his stare. “No,” I murmured. “None of those things.”

  “We are thousands of years in the past. We’re back in a time when the earth is green and the only thing that matters is that we survive to see another day.”

  I looked out across the countryside. In the fading light of the setting sun, I could see mile upon mile of forest, an endless sea of deep green. There were no car headlights racing across the landscape. There was no orange glow from the streetlights of distant towns. What if the old man was right? What if I really had gone back in time? There was so much conviction in his voice; he clearly believed it himself. I looked him in the eye. “You sound like you prefer it here.”

  Morven looked down at the ground. “When I left home, things were bad.” He paused, lost in thought. “This was my chance to start again.”

  I couldn’t believe my ears. “And this is what you do? You kidnap people and torture them? You commit cold-blooded murder?”

  Morven looked over to the men at the fireside. “It isn’t always like this. We have a village, with women and children, but, every so often, the men go off on these war parties. They take a prisoner, offer him to the stone.”

  A chill ran over my skin. “You mean, like a sacrifice?”

  Morven nodded gravely. “It’s what they believe they have to do. And I know these people. They’re very aggressive. If they didn’t do this, they’d fight among themselves. They’d wipe each other out in a week.”

  “Christ,” I whispered.

  “No. He hasn’t been born yet.”

  My mind reeled. In some ways the old man was making sense, but time travel? Surely that was just ridiculous, insane. I glanced over toward the men around the fire. Whatever the explanation, these strange men would sacrifice me, kill me without a second thought. I had to get away and fast. “So, you’ll let me go? Untie me?”

  The old man looked me in the eye. “I could,” he said. He hesitated. “Or, I could try something. I could try to send you back.”

  Chapter 35

  2018

  “COME ON,” Andrew grunted. “It’s almost there.”

  Cally’s only reply was a quiet groan.

  Andrew checked the hinges. So close. They’d almost done it. But something was catching somewhere, some imperfection in the metal, and no matter how hard he strained against it, the gate refused to budge. He closed his eyes. Every muscle burned. His biceps felt like they were being ripped apart. If I give up now, I won’t have the strength to try again. He took a quick breath, and as he exhaled, he poured every last ounce of his strength into forcing the gate upward.

  And it worked. The gate moved the crucial last millimetres and with a dull screech, it was free from its hinges. But now, its full weight was on their hands and there was nothing to stop it toppling over. If it fell, even if it fell away from them into the tunnel, the bottom would swing up and hit them in the legs.

  Andrew staggered and tried to control it, but they were both holding the gate in the middle, and there was no way he could change his grip to stabilise the top. “Steady,” he hissed. “Put it down.”

  Together, they lowered the gate until it came to rest on the floor. Andrew blew out his cheeks and moved one hand upward to steady the top of the gate.

  “We’ve done it,” Cally said. “I can’t believe we’ve done it.”

  Andrew flashed her a smile. “We’ve just got to drag it to one side.” He gave the gate an experimental shove. Now, only the chain was holding it in place, and he could use that as a pivot to slide the gate across the ground. “You can let go now. I think I can manage it on my own.”

  “OK, fine,” Cally said, and she took a deep breath.

  Andrew put his back into it, and the gate grated and juddered across the gritty floor until it was leaning back against the tunnel wall. Carefully, Andrew released it. It didn’t move. He rubbed his hands together, satisfied, and looked at Cally. “Do you want to lead the way?”

  Cally bit her bottom lip. “Do you think anybody heard us?”

  “Maybe, but they’d never guess what we were doing.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Cally murmured.

  “Still, we’d better not hang around. Someone might come to investigate.”

  Cally nodded. “OK, but, do you mind going first?” She glanced down the tunnel. “It looks very, erm, spidery.”

  So, she does have a weakness, Andrew thought. He smiled to himself. She was only human after all, and he liked that. He liked it very much. “Sure. No problem.” He squared his shoulders, and stepped into the narrow tunnel. Like the passageways they were leaving behind, the floor was covered in grit, but here, the ceilings were much higher, and his footsteps echoed in the darkness.

  As he walked farther into the unlit tunnel, Cally followed, and their bodies blocked out most of the light from the tunnels behind them. Andrew put his hand on the tunnel wall to guide his way. Even so, he cracked his toe against one of the blocks of stone littering the floor. He winced and stifled a couple of harsh words. He’d have to be more careful. But as he picked his way forward, a soft white light suddenly bathed the tunnel walls, and it was coming from behind him. He whirled around, half expecting to see a furious tour guide bearing down on them, but the light came from Cally. She held up her hand to show him. “It’s my phone,” she said. “It’s quite bright isn’t it?”

  Andrew exhaled noisily. “You could’ve warned me.”

  “Sorry. I only just thought of it.” She paused. “You didn’t bring yours with you?”

  “No. I changed my mind. I thought it might get damp or something.” Andrew ran his hand over his jacket. Another source of light would’ve been very handy. Maybe he should’ve kept his phone and just taken the SIM card out. But that wouldn’t have been enough to stop Crawford from tracking him, and anyway, there was nothing he could do about it now. “Could you shine it on the ground?” he asked. “There are rocks all over the place.”

  “Sure,” Cally said. “Be careful.”

  “OK, but I think that ship has sailed.” He turned back to face the dark tunnel ahead, and as they walked forward, the pale, bobbing light from Cally’s phone sent fleeting shadows skittering silently into the deeper gloom that pressed in on every side.

&nb
sp; Andrew looked nervously from side to side, but Cally walked forward, admiring the walls. “Just look at the craftsmanship,” she murmured. “Think of the men toiling away down here.” She stopped to inspect a stone block on the floor. “Feathering,” she whispered. “I knew it.”

  “Come on,” Andrew said, “We need to keep moving, and I need your light.”

  “Sure,” Cally said. She held her phone steady and joined him, then they moved forward together. “It’s amazing,” she murmured. “How many years have passed since someone last walked along this path?”

  “I don’t know,” Andrew said. “I really don’t know.”

  The man who knew the answer to Cally’s question was even now walking along the main tunnel.

  Crawford tilted his head and paused to listen. There. Voices; one voice louder than the rest. It could only be the tour guide, and she was bringing her party closer. Of course, Crawford was prepared for this eventuality. He knew the tour ended where it began, at the entrance to the tunnels, so it was almost inevitable that he’d run into the tour group. It wasn’t a problem. As far as all the staff were concerned, he had the authority to be there. Still, it was a damned nuisance to meet them so soon. At this point, the tunnel was too narrow for two people to pass each other, and he didn’t have the time to turn around, exit the tunnel, and wait for the tour to finish. Instead, he put his plan into action, increasing his pace. In a matter of moments, he saw the group of tourists ahead. He strode confidently toward them.

  Helen had just stopped to answer a question from one of the children, and she’d turned to face her group, so she didn’t see Crawford bearing down on her. “That’s a good question,” she said. “There were probably lots of rats in the passages. They came to feed off the tallow—a kind of animal fat—that was used to seal the joints in the pipe.” She smiled as a few of the tourists shuddered at the thought of rats scuttling through the tunnels. “But don’t worry, we don’t see them down here now.”