The Weirdstone of Brisingamen

by Alan Garner

  Losing their pursuer was an easy task. It seemed that they were in an intricate system of caverns, connected by innumerable tunnels and shafts. These caverns were remarkable. The walls curved upwards to form roofs high as a cathedral, and the distance between the walls was often so great that, at the centre of a cave, the children could imagine themselves to be trudging along a sandy beach on a windless and starless night. The loose sand killed all noise of movement, and helped the silence to prey on their nerves: moreover, it made walking hot, laborious work, and the air was still not good; ten minutes under these conditions sapped their energy as much as an hour of normal tramping would have done.

  Tunnels entered and left the caves at all angles and levels. They turned, twisted, branched, forked, climbed, dropped, and frequently led nowhere. They would run into a cave at any point between roof and floor, and wind out on to dizzy ledges, which in turn dwindled to random footholds, or nothing at all. And the square-mouthed shafts were a continual hazard. Through some, the distant floors of lower galleries could be glimpsed, while others disappeared into unknowable depths. It was no place for panic. Every corner, every bend, every opening, had to be approached with the greatest caution, for fear of an unwanted meeting; and the caves were the worst of all. After crossing through half a dozen or so, and peering round at the holes which stared sightless from all quarters, Colin and Susan took to scuttling over the floor and diving into the first tunnel they saw, trusting blindly that that particular one would not be tenanted. In the tunnels they were close to wall and ceiling, lamps held their own with shadows; but in the caves the children felt truly lost, for their puny light only accentuated their insignificance, and the feeling of being exposed to unseen eyes grew ever stronger. Somewhere within this labyrinth someone was hunting them down, and Colin and Susan were never more aware of this than when they broke cover beneath a soaring dome of rock and ran through the nightmare sand.

  How far they travelled, and for how long before they had to rest, was impossible to judge: time and distance mean little underground. But at last they could go no further, and, chancing upon a tunnel with a partially blocked entrance, they wriggled inside and lay stretched on the floor. They were consumed by heat and thirst, and fumbled impatiently in Colin’s pack for the lemonade. For minutes afterwards the tunnel sounded with gulpings, and gaspings, and sighs of indulgence.

  “Better save some for later,” said Colin.

  “Oh, all right: but I could drink the sea dry!”

  The children relaxed their aching limbs and talked in whispers. But first they switched off the lamps; there was no point in adding to their troubles by hastening the moment when the batteries would be exhausted.

  “Listen,” said Colin, “the main thing right now is to find a way out of here without being caught. I don’t think there’s much doubt about where we are; it must be the copper mines. And if that’s so, then there are several ways out. But how do we find them?”

  They thought for some time in silence: there seemed to be no answer to this problem.

  “There must be some … wait a minute!” said Susan. “Yes! Look: if we’re in the mines the way out must be above us, mustn’t it? Nearly all the entrances are on top of the Edge.”

  “Yes …”

  “Well, if we follow only the tunnels that lead upwards, we’re bound to be moving in the right direction, aren’t we? I know it’s not much of an idea, but it’s better than wandering aimlessly until Grimnir and Selina Place find us.”

  “It’s not only those two I’m worried about,” said Colin. “Have you noticed how the sand is churned up everywhere? It’s too soft to give clear impressions, but it shows that these mines aren’t as empty as they look. And remember what Cadellin said about avoiding them at all costs because of the svarts.”

  Susan had not thought of that. But the added danger could not alter the situation, and although they talked for some time, they could think of no better plan. Still, it took courage to switch on their lamps and leave their safe retreat for the perils of the open tunnel.

  So they journeyed into despair. For no way led upwards for long. Sooner or later the floor would level and begin to drop, and after an hour of this heartbreak Colin and Susan had less than no idea of their whereabouts. Then, imperceptibly, they began to feel that they were gaining ground. They had wormed along the crest of a sand-bank that rested on the edge of a cliff, high under the roof of a boulder-strewn cave. Sand rolled continually from under them and slid into the emptiness below: the whole bank seemed to be on the move. At the end of the ridge was a tunnel mouth, and the rock beneath their feet, when finally they made contact with it, was almost as welcome as green fields and the open sky. This tunnel was different: it was longer than most, and less tortuous.

  “Colin, this time I think we’re on the right track!” said Susan, who was in the lead.

  “I think perhaps we are!”

  “Oh!”

  “What’s the matter? Is it a dead-end?”

  “No, but it’s …”

  Colin peered over his sister’s shoulder. “Oh.”

  The widest shaft they had yet come upon lay before them, and stretched across its gaping mouth was a narrow plank. This was wet, and partly rotten, and no more than three inches rested on the lip of the shaft at either end.

  “We’ll have to go back,” said Colin.

  “No: we must cross. The tunnel leads somewhere, or the plank wouldn’t be here.”

  And Susan stepped on to the plank.

  Colin watched his sister walk over the pit: he had never known her to be like this before. She had always been content to follow his lead, seldom inclined to take a risk, no matter how slight. Yet now, for the third time in one day, she was deliberately facing great danger, and with a composure that claimed his respect even while it nettled his pride.

  Susan was two-thirds of the way across when the plank tilted sideways an inch. Colin felt the sweat cold on his spine: but Susan merely paused to correct her balance, and then she was across.

  “There! It’s easy – a bit rocky near the middle, but it’s quite safe. Walk normally, and don’t look down.”

  “All right! I know how to do it as well as you!”

  Colin started out. It was not too bad: the plank was firm, and he was prepared for a slight movement just over halfway. But even so, when it came it caught him unawares. He felt the plank shift: he teetered sideways, his arms flailing. Two swift shambling steps, the plank seemed to swing away from him, the lamplight whirled in an arch, he saw that his next step would miss the plank, the shaft yawned beneath him, and he leapt for his life.

  “Are you hurt?”

  Colin pulled himself into a sitting position, and rubbed his head.

  “No. Thanks, Sue.”

  He felt sick. For a second, which had seemed an age, he had crouched on one foot, poised over the drop, with his other leg hanging straight down the shaft, unable to produce the momentum to roll forward. And Susan had reached out and grabbed him by the hair, and brought him pitching on to his face in the tunnel.

  “Do you mind if we have a rest?”

  “We may as well, before we go back over the plank.”

  “What?”

  “Look for yourself.”

  Colin shone his lamp along the tunnel and groaned. From where they were sitting, the floor plunged down, and, for as far as they could see, there was no change in its course.

  “Down, down, always down!” cried Susan bitterly. “Are we never going to see daylight again?”

  “Let’s carry on, now that we’re here,” said Colin. “You never know, this may be the way out.” He did not want to face the plank again, if it could possibly be avoided.

  The passage dropped at an alarming rate. The floor was of smooth, red clay and once, Susan, going too fast, lost control and slid for several yards before she could stop herself. They learnt the lesson and went cautiously from then on.

  Down, down, down, further than they had ever been before. And th
en the tunnel veered to the left, zigzagged violently, and came to an end on a ledge overlooking a great void. Colin lay on his stomach and peered over the edge.

  “Well, we tried.”

  Seven or eight feet below was a lake of chocolate-coloured water, capped with scuds of yellow foam. Some yards away a bar of sand showed above the surface, but beyond that there was nothing.

  “Oh, let’s go back to the plank!” said Colin.

  All the way up he was wondering how he could bring himself to cross the plank; and there it was before him, and Susan was saying, “Do you think you can manage?”

  “’Course I can!”

  Colin willed himself forward. His ears sang, his legs were rubber, his breath hissed through his teeth, his heart pounded, there was rock under him.

  “Nothing to it!”

  He shone the light on the plank for Susan to cross.

  “Yes, it is easier. It slopes up coming this way.” Susan was in the middle now. “I wonder how deep the shaft is.” She stopped.

  “No, Sue! Don’t look down, it’ll make you giddy! Come across: don’t stop!”

  “I’m all right! I want to see how far down it goes.”

  And she turned the beam of her lamp into the shaft.

  She saw the wet rock, ribbed and gleaming like a gigantic windpipe, fall away beneath her and vanish into darkness far below, and … Susan screamed. The lamp dropped from her hand and crashed from wall to wall into the shaft’s throat. It was a terrible depth. She swayed, and fell forward, clutching the plank so violently that it began to quiver and grate against its anchorage. Susan knelt, staring into the hole, and whimpering with fear.

  “Sue! Sue, get up! What’s the matter? Sue!”

  “Eyes! Eyes looking at me! Down there in the darkness!”

  The plank was trembling alarmingly now, and one corner was almost off the rock. Colin tried to steady it, but he was afraid to pull the plank, in case the other end should be jerked off its support.

  “Sue, crawl; don’t look down. Come on; it’s only a few feet.”

  “I can’t. I’ll fall.”

  “No you won’t. Here; look at me: don’t look at the shaft. Come on, Sue.”

  “I can’t. I’ll fall.”

  The plank shifted a good inch.

  “Sue; look up. Look up! That’s better; now, keep looking at me, and crawl.”

  Susan bit her lip, and started to edge her way towards Colin. Immediately the plank began to tremble more than ever.

  “I can’t do it. Honestly, I can’t!”

  “All right, Sue. Stay there: I’m coming!”

  And, without a moment’s hesitation, Colin walked out along the plank to join her.

  “There now; give me your hand. Do you think you can stand up?”

  He bent down, trying to look no further than his sister’s face.

  Susan grabbed at the hand, and flung her other arm round his knees: the plank rocked furiously. Colin fought for balance: Susan had completely lost hers. Slowly she pulled herself up, clutching her brother all the time, until she stood, trembling, with her arms on his shoulders.

  “Now walk. No, wait: I’ll tell you when. With me, now; one … two …”

  Colin moved backwards along the plank, feeling behind him painfully for every step.

  CHAPTER 11

  PRINCE OF THE HULDRAFOLK

  “Idon’t know what came over me,” said Susan. “I wasn’t afraid to begin with: something was pulling me on all the time.”

  The children had withdrawn a good distance from the shaft, and were sitting with their backs propped against the tunnel wall. They were both in need of a rest.

  “I was so certain that we were right that I could have cried when the tunnel dropped like that. And again, when you said we’d better go on, and we came to the ledge, I wanted to jump into the water!

  “That would have made a mess of things!”

  “I know; but it was such a strong urge. Crossing the plank was easy. I just knew it would be safe, and I wasn’t dizzy. But, when I saw those four pairs of eyes glowing in the shaft, something went wrong in my head. The plank wasn’t safe and wide; it was old, and rotten, and narrow, and the shaft was trying to swallow me, and those eyes were waiting.”

  “But how do you know they were eyes? It could have been the light glinting on broken glass, or that white fungus stuff.”

  “No it wasn’t! They blinked, and moved about. I’ve never been so frightened before; not even when Grimnir caught us. And when I dropped the lamp it was worse.

  “But I’m not frightened now; isn’t it strange? As soon as we were off the plank I felt altogether different. No, it wasn’t because we were safe: it’s as though there was a special kind of fear reaching out of the shaft and trying to make me fall. Do you think they were svarts down there?”

  “I don’t know; but whatever they were, I think we’d better move from here. Are you ready?”

  They retraced their steps, and presently came to a break in the wall, and a stairway, cut in the rock, leading down into a cave.

  “Shall we?”

  “Yes, anywhere’s better than covering old ground.”

  But soon they realised that it was not new country at all. They were walking at the foot of a cliff, and on top of this was heaped a shelving bed of sand that almost touched the roof.

  “I wish we’d known there was an easier way to that tunnel,” said Colin. “It’s bad enough down here without doing things the hard way.”

  They were becoming used to conditions underground, and the atmosphere of the place was no longer oppressive – while they were on the move. But the loss of the lamp slowed them considerably. They went hand in hand wherever possible, and Colin held the light, except when they were in a tunnel; then Susan would take the lead, while Colin was left to grope along behind in treacherous semi-darkness. Their rest-periods became more frequent, and Colin made a rule of switching off the light at such times. The battery was not new, and they had neither matches nor candles, and without light there would be no hope.

  The children tried to keep to uphill paths, but the switchback tunnels bemused them at every turn.

  “I’d like something to eat next time we stop,” said Susan.

  “All right; but we must go very carefully with the food and drink. We were fools to swig nearly all the lemonade like that, because I shouldn’t think any of the water down here is fit to drink.”

  “Ugh, no!”

  “The next small tunnel we find, we’ll rest and share the food out. We’ll have one sandwich each, but we mustn’t have any drink.”

  “Oh, Colin, I’m parched! My mouth feels as though it’s full of glue, and I’m so hot!”

  “Me too. But we must be strict with ourselves, otherwise we may never get out.”

  Colin was very worried about the light. It was strong, but sooner or later its white beam would turn yellow, flicker, and slowly die. He said nothing of this to his sister, but she was not blind to the danger.

  “Ah, here’s a likely place,” said Colin.

  They crawled inside and looked around. Yes, it was very suitable. The tunnel came to a dead end after a few yards, and the entrance was almost filled with sand. Quite a snug little den – until they realised that it was the very same tunnel in which they had first rested. All that distance, and to no purpose.

  “And I was beginning to think we were gaining height!” said Colin. “We’re like squirrels in a cage! Oh, I could throw something!”

  They unwrapped the food.

  “Here you are,” said Colin; “make the most of it.”

  “You know, perhaps we have climbed a bit,” said Susan. “For all we can tell, this tunnel may be near the surface.”

  “Huh,” said Colin out of the darkness. He knew she was only trying to cheer him up.

  Susan gave a little cough, and a gasp.

  “What’s the matter? Got a crumb in your throat? That’s what comes of being greedy! I suppose it means you’ll have to have a dr
ink now. Why can’t you be more careful?”

  Colin reached for the lamp and pressed the switch. He was alone.

  “Sue!!”

  He scrambled round in the tunnel: it was empty.

  “Sue!!”

  She had gone, pack and all.

  Colin squirmed through the entrance and flashed his lamp up and down: there was nothing to be seen. He ran unthinkingly. Tunnels, caverns, tunnels; an endless desolation of sand and rock.

  “Sue! Sue!!”

  And at once he was past running. The sand dragged his steps, he tripped and fell.

  “Sue!” No. That’s not the way. Keep quiet. Must think. Put the light out! Must find her. But suppose I find the way out? What then? No. Must find Sue. Rest a minute, though: just a minute.

  Slowly strength returned to his limbs. Colin humped himself on to his elbows and turned on the lamp.

  Svarts! Two of them. They were creeping over the sand, and were caught full in the beam of light.

  Colin sprang to his feet; but he was no longer in danger. To take him in the dark had been their plan; to leap, and grasp him with their sinewy hands, and bear him off in sport. But now they reeled back, their eyes blinded by the lamp. They croaked and hissed, blundering along the cave wall, with their arms before their faces, trying to find refuge from their pain. At length they stumbled upon a tunnel, and fought in haste to enter it. There was a last jostling of leathery backs, and they were gone.

  All this happened in half the time it takes to tell, and it was over before Colin could gather his wits; but more was still to come. For a muffled cry sounded along the tunnel, and next the scrabble of feet. A svart burst out of the opening, swerved away from the lamp, and fled across the cave. Hard on his heels was the other svart: he paused, uncertain in the light, looked over his shoulder, and started off after his companion. Something flashed white in the air. The svart shrieked and crashed on his face in the sand. A broad, two-handed sword had pierced him through and through. Colin’s jaw dropped; then, even as his brain struggled to accept the evidence of his eyes, the svart faded, and crumbled like a withered leaf, and all that was left was a haze of dust which settled gently to the floor. For a moment the sword stood reared on its point, then it fell to the ground with a thud.