by Gee, Maurice
‘Come on, Cling,’ Jimmy yelled, ‘it’s you I want, not yer office boys.’
Cling shook his whip in the air. He raised his foot and seemed as if he would jump on to the bridge. But again he stopped. He snarled back at his men and pulled the Bloodcat aside. They ran by him, their red eyes shining with hatred, and jumped one by one on to the bridge, and poured across.
‘Jimmy,’ Susan screamed.
‘Yeah, OK,’ Jimmy said, ‘’ere we go.’
The first man was only a pace from him when the axe came down. It sliced clean as a knife through the centimetre of timber, and from the other side of the bridge came a sound like the crack of a stock-whip. The beams broke, the bridge fell.
It went nose first, and seemed to ride down the smoking water like a raft. The Halfmen turned about it like a cluster of black flies. Down, down they went, falling into Wildwood, disappearing into the mist of water over the treetops.
Jimmy and Odo Cling faced each other across the Mountain’s Grief. Jimmy laughed. ‘I reckon that’s one up ter me, Cling. Now why don’t yer come across? Don’t yer know how ter fly?’
Cling crouched. His iron and leather glittered in the sun. For a moment it seemed he would jump. Hatred radiated from him. It made Susan shrink back against Breeze. Then Cling reached down to the Bloodcat and snapped the leash from its collar. The Cat came to its feet and stood there, trembling. It leaned out over the gap.
‘Kill!’ Cling shrieked. ‘Kill!’ The sound came sharp as knives through the roaring water.
‘Run,’ Brand cried, ‘He has released the Cat.’
‘It can’t jump over that,’ Nick said. The gap was fifteen metres at least.
‘A Cat can jump anything. Run. Take Susan. Run.’
The Cat turned. It raced back along the path. It glowed like lava pouring from a mountain. Then it spun about, striking sparks with its claws on the stone. It started to run, it came up to the gap with the speed and beautiful ease of a charging tiger. Its eyes blinded them. It was like looking into a furnace. On all that run, they never shifted from Susan, cowering against Breeze, a dozen steps behind Brand and Jimmy Jaspers.
Jimmy gave a yell. He sent Brand staggering back with a shove. ‘Gimme some room.’ He raised his axe above his head.
The Cat reached Odo Cling. It came to the gap. It launched itself on a gigantic leap and came like fire through the smoking air. Its mouth was stretched back in a snarl and its claws curved out like knives.
The length of that leap took Jimmy by surprise. The Cat went over him, a metre above his head, coming down in an arc that would end at Susan’s throat. Even so, Jimmy had time to move. He stepped one pace back and swung his axe in a fierce upward cut. He had meant to take the Cat on its neck but the blow came down behind its shoulders. It was enough. The axe sank deeply in between the ribs. Then it was ripped away from Jimmy’s hands. It clanged on the cliff and leaped out over the forest. And the Bloodcat? Jimmy had not struck it a mortal blow, but the force of it pushed the animal off course – pushed it out over empty air.
Susan felt blood spatter her face. She saw the snarling mask of the Cat flash by her eyes, saw the fire-red body twist, and a hind paw lash at her, and felt the point of a claw nick her on the throat. Then the Cat was gone. It vanished over the edge of the path and out of their sight as if it had become invisible. All that was left was a wailing cry, fading like a siren.
No one moved. Then Jimmy Jaspers pushed himself away from the cliff-face where he had tumbled. He went to the edge of the fall and faced Odo Cling. He took his clasp knife from his pocket and opened the blade.
‘I still got me knife, Cling. Come on over. I’ll even tie one ’and behind me back.’
9
Throat of the Underworld
They came down from the Lizard Path late in the afternoon. Instead of keeping south to the Sink Holes, Brand led them into Wildwood. At dusk they came to a Woodland village. It was hidden in a valley shaded by giant trees. The Woodlanders welcomed them. Breeze dressed the cut on Susan’s throat. Then they sat about the fire, talking quietly of their flight from the Halfmen. Jimmy Jaspers was morose. He complained about his lost meat, and seemed to be mourning his axe.
‘Jimmy, you were great,’ Nick said. ‘I’ve never seen anything so brave.’
‘It was Cling I wanted, an’ ’e got away.’
‘Where will he go?’ Susan asked Brand.
‘He has men at Sheercliff. He will go there.’
‘I reckon I could catch ’im if I started now. I’d make ’im squeal.’
‘No,’ Brand said, ‘Wildwood is too big. You would never find him. Jimmy, do not sulk. We will make songs about your fight. No one has ever slain a Bloodcat before.’
‘Lost me axe,’Jimmy said. ‘Best axe I ever ‘ad.’
The Woodlanders brought them food. They slept warm in leafy beds. Next morning they rested, and set out for the Sink Holes in the early afternoon.
‘There’s no hurry,’ Brand said. ‘The Stonefolk will not come out in the sunlight.’
They walked through open forest for several hours and came to a place of tangled underbrush and weathered boulders. ‘Now we are heading into limestone country,’ Brand said. ‘The streams run underground. Do not stray from my path, there are sink holes everywhere.’
They saw the holes plunging into the earth, moss-grown, with cobwebs at their mouths. They came on them suddenly, and Brand slowed his pace, leading them carefully by the gaping pits. Here and there were ponds surrounded with reeds. Weed grew smoothly over them, making them look like putting greens on golf courses. They looked solid enough to picnic on.
‘Do not go close. Hungry things live there.’
The land began to slope down. ‘Now we are coming to it,’ Brand said. ‘The mighty Hole. Some call it Stonegut Deep. But Woodlanders call it the Throat of the Underworld. Freeman Wells came here and summoned the Stonefolk.’
‘What do they look like?’ Nick asked.
‘I do not know. No Woodlander has ever seen them. No one has seen them.’
‘Except Freeman Wells,’ Nick said.
‘Even he did not see.’
They followed a dry creek bed and came to a place where fallen boulders choked it. Beyond was a basin of cliffs, smooth as glass. Nick could not see any way to go forward. Brand stopped.
‘We will wait here till dark.’
‘What’s over those boulders?’ Nick asked.
‘The Throat of the Underworld.’
‘I’m going to see.’
‘Be careful. The sight alone could make you fall.’
Nick scrambled up the boulders. He stood on top and looked across at the encircling cliffs. They went down, but he could not see how far. He took another few steps, vaulted easily to a lower boulder – and the hole opened up. He almost fell to his knees in fright. Its mouth was wide as the crater at Morninghall. Battleships could have been dropped in it. It was like the hungry gulping throat of the world. He felt it sucking him in, he was being sucked down into darkness, and he swayed and lurched a step towards the hole.
Brand jumped down beside him. He gripped his arm. ‘Easy, Nick.’
‘It’s – it’s impossible.’
‘It is the Throat. As natural as a mountain or a river.’
‘But it just – it just goes down.’
‘Yes.’
‘How far? I’m going to throw a stone in.’
‘No. The Stonefolk would be angry.’
‘How deep is it?’
‘Freeman Wells said if you fell your heart would beat a hundred times before you struck the bottom.’
‘Does Susan have to go down there?’
‘Yes, Nick.’
‘She can’t. It’s impossible.’
‘The Stonefolk will guide her.’
Nick heard a noise and looked round. Susan was standing a little above him. She stared white-faced into the hole.
‘I can’t see any path,’ she whispered.
‘There is no
path. The walls are smooth.’
‘Then how do they take me down?’
‘I don’t know. But they guided Freeman Wells. The dark is coming, Susan. Let us see if we can speak with them. Stand at my side.’
She came down and took her place, leaning slightly against him. Brand put his arm around her. ‘Don’t be afraid. We have a saying: “Stoneman is the stone.” They never fall. They will look after you.’ He took her a step closer to the hole. He did not raise his voice but deepened it. ‘Hail, Stonefolk of the Underworld. I am Brand of Wildwood. I break the ancient silence in the cause of Freeman Wells. I have a child with me. Her name is Susan Ferris. She wears the Mark of Freeman Wells, and she would have the Half left in your care.’ His voice bounced off the cliffs and made a hollow rattle as it echoed in the Throat. Then there was silence. It went on and on.
‘Maybe they’re not at home,’ Nick said.
Brand smiled. ‘They heard. Quiet now, their answer comes.’
From deep down a gentle breathing sounded. It grew and grew, amplifying to the noise of a wind. Yet the air was still. No movement showed in the leaves of small trees growing here and there from cracks in the stone. Then in that gale of sound they heard a single drawn-out word take shape. It breathed its message, faded, and was gone. ‘Stay-ay-ay.’ After that dark sound the silence seemed to glitter.
‘Is that all?’ Nick said softly.
‘Yes. They know we’re here. Now we must wait. They will not come till dark, and even then not till the moon is down. Light of any kind gives them pain.’ He turned Susan round. ‘Let us go back to Breeze. She will have food for us.’
They climbed back over the boulders. Jimmy had lit a fire in the creek-bed and Breeze had a meal cooking. They ate in the gathering darkness. Susan sat close to the fire. She imagined a dreadful cold coming from the hole. Yet she knew she would go down. She had the strength of the Birdfolk. She had the feather, hanging now on Woodlander thread from her throat. And in her belt she had the good Half. It was nothing without the bad. She must have that too.
‘Moonset in three hours,’ Breeze said. ‘Sleep a while, Susan. We will wake you.’
‘Yes. All right.’ She wrapped herself in her blanket and lay down with her back to the fire. She felt the Throat of the Underworld drawing her. She understood her fear, but could not understand her strange eagerness. The fire died down. She dozed a while, dreaming of sunlight and waterfalls, and woke with Breeze’s hand on her shoulder.
‘The moon is down, Susan. We must go.’
She unwrapped herself from her blanket but remained warm in her Woodlander cloak. Nick was sleeping. She did not wake him. Jimmy Jaspers looked up grumpily from the embers. ‘See if yer can bring me somethin’ ter eat.’
‘Goodbye, Jimmy.’
She climbed the boulders between Brand and Breeze.
‘Won’t there be too much starlight?’
‘Yes. They won’t like it. But they’ll come.’
‘There are clouds coming,’ Breeze said. ‘It will be stone-black soon.’
They waited above the Throat, standing close together. Clouds came up and moved across the sky. The stars went out one by one. The only sound they heard was their own breathing. Then, at last, the Throat began to breathe. It was soft, an exhalation almost unheard, like the breathing of a sleeping child.
‘Someone comes,’ Breeze whispered.
The sound grew louder, moving about them like a shifting of air. With it came the faintest sound of stickiness; a gripping and release.
‘They climb the walls.’
Susan shivered as the sounds came closer. Then she sensed something in front of her and strained her eyes to see. Nothing showed in the blackness. A wet touch came on her wrist. She almost screamed. But she held her arm still, and a second touch came on her and traced the outline of her birthmark.
‘Yes,’ breathed a voice at her side. It snuffled a moment in a staid excitement. ‘Yes, it is the Mark. We must take you to the one who guards the Half.’
‘Who,’ Susan whispered, ‘who are you?’
‘I am Seeker,’ the voice said wetly.
‘And I,’ snuffled another, ‘I am Finder. We will take you down the Throat.’
‘How?’
‘You will not fall.’
‘We have brought you wraps made of stone-worm silk. These were worn by Freeman Wells. None has worn them since.’
Something soft was pushed into her hands.
Breeze said, ‘Marna told me of stone-worms. Their silk is spun from stone and seeks the stone.’ She felt the silky things in Susan’s hands. ‘They are gloves and stockings. Pull them on your hands and feet.’ She helped Susan separate the wraps. There were four, shaped like tubes and light as cheesecloth. Susan slipped her hand in one as far as her elbow. It was loose at first, but slowly it closed on her as if it were alive, and squeezed like rubber round her fingers and arm.
‘It will not come off,’ snuffled Seeker or Finder. ‘Not till you command it.’
She put on the other wrap.
‘Now your feet. Take your shoes off,’ Breeze said.
She sat down and slipped her sneakers and socks off. Breeze gave her the wraps and she drew them on. They were exactly like stockings. They came over her knees. Slowly they tightened and held her firm. She stood up. ‘Breeze, I can’t move my feet.’
‘That is why you will not fall,’ Brand said. ‘Touch the boulder with your hands.’
She did, and was locked there, like a fly on fly-paper.
‘Stone-silk calls to stone, and stone calls silk,’ said Seeker Finder.
‘But how will I move?’
‘Command the silk. Tell it to let go.’
‘Let go,’ Susan cried.
‘Think it, child. In your mind,’ Breeze said.
‘And only one wrap at a time, not all four,’ Brand said. ‘Otherwise you will fall.’
‘She will not fall,’ the Stonemen said, ‘not with Stonefolk guarding her.’
‘Tell it to let go, Susan.’
So she thought of her right hand, and whispered in her mind: Let go, and her hand came free. Let go, she told her left.
‘This is easy.’ She walked about the boulder, commanding her feet. She laughed. ‘This is easy.’ But then one of the Stonemen said, ‘You are at the edge. Now we will go,’ and she felt herself begin to shake and she cried out, ‘No, not yet. Breeze, I don’t want to go.’
‘You will not fall. They will watch,’ Breeze said.
‘Stoneman is the stone,’ Brand said softly.
‘Stoneman is the stone,’ said Seeker/Finder. ‘Come, we must be gone.’
She felt their damp hands settle on her skin. But one at least had a friendly touch. ‘We will not let you fall.’ They made her kneel and push her feet out over the Throat. Her hands were locked on the stone, but slowly, as the Stonemen held her, she inched them back until they were on the edge. Her body was in space, supported by Finder and Seeker. Then her feet found stone and locked in place. She was on the wall of the Throat. She felt as if she were floating there, in a well full to its brim with thick black water. Somewhere just above her Brand and Breeze moved about – on horizontal rock, in another dimension.
‘Brand, Breeze.’
‘Yes, Susan. Goodbye. You will come back soon.’
‘Wait here, Please.’
‘No,’ one of the Stonemen said. ‘We will not bring her up the wall. Wait at the place where the River Stoneblood leaves the stone.’
Then they started down. They moved Susan between them like a sack of old clothes. Their hands and feet made faint plopping sounds. She felt them scuttling about her as briskly as mice on a floor. The likeness brought her comfort. It even made her smile, and soon she said, ‘I think I can do it now,’ and she began to fix and shift her hands of her own accord. The attraction between stone-silk and stone was so strong that her palms darted the last few inches and smacked on the wall of the Throat, locking her in place from fingertips to elbow. Her legs
were the same. She found it easier to point her toes and let her instep, shins and knees fasten on the stone. So they travelled down. Only now and then the knowledge of where she was made her gasp with a sudden terror and try to curl her fingers into the rock. Then the Stonemen held her and they waited still as lizards on the face until she was ready to go on.
What had Brand said? The Throat was a hundred heartbeats deep? She heard her own heart beating. It seemed they had spent hours on the wall. Now and then one of the Stonemen breathed a word, telling her of some lump or hollow in the rock. One of them made a soft asthmatic whistle as he spoke. Although she was only guessing, she called him Seeker. He became her favourite. Finder was more bossy. Once when she released a hand too soon he dug her sharply in the ribs. She gave a little scream, but it was mostly from fright. The sound bounced like a ball round the Throat, and fell away, booming faintly. She felt almost sick with discouragement. There was still a long way to go.
But it was done at last. In that woolly blackness – and the air was warmer than outside the Throat – she heard a flattening of sound. It took a wooden quality, as though it had no depth.
‘Are we near the bottom?’
‘Almost there,’ Seeker breathed.
She stumbled as she came off the wall. She had grown so used to making certain movements that walking normally was something she could not manage.
‘You come from a clumsy race,’ Finder said sourly.
‘I can’t see.’
‘Follow us.’
‘How do your eyes work in the dark?’
‘We have no eyes. We have no need of them.’
‘There are other ways of seeing,’ Seeker said.
For the first time since starting she looked up. Perhaps the clouds had moved. Perhaps she would see the stars. That would make her feel better. But there was nothing.
