by Gee, Maurice
‘Come,’ Seeker wheezed. ‘I will lead. Finder will follow. Do not try to see. Close your eyes and walk. We will tell you when to stop.’
‘Shall I take these gloves and things off?’
‘No. There is climbing to do.’
They started off. Seeker kept up a faint humming noise, guiding her. It was hard walking in the stone-silk stockings, they fixed her to the floor and would not let her go until she signalled them. And when her hands brushed against the walls she found herself stuck there. Several times she was jerked off balance. She folded her arms tightly on her chest and kept them there. But soon she found why the gloves and shoes were necessary. Finder pushed her up against a wall and told her to climb. She went up and along, and for a few moments, unbelievably, out. She felt herself hanging from a ceiling and heard water rushing beneath her. Then she had to turn her body slowly round and come down feet first on the other side of what she supposed had been an underground river.
They walked again. Seeker wheezed and snuffled like a hedgehog. Finder dug her in the ribs with his horny finger. Many times she heard water. It dripped and roared and hissed. She heard it making a throaty boom deep in a gorge, and felt its spray on her face from a waterfall. The feet of her guides made sticky rubber sounds. She wished she could see them, and imagined them pink and hairless, naked as new-born possums, or like kewpie dolls, with heads like balloons.
‘Where are we?’
‘In Stoneworld. Under the place you call Wildwood.’
‘Is it morning yet?’
‘There is no morning in Stoneworld.’
They went on. The passages seemed to grow narrower. Her head grazed a ceiling and she gave a cry. She could not tell whether the moisture in her hair was water or blood.
‘Stupid human,’ Finder said.
But Seeker made a noise of sympathy. ‘I am sorry child. You are taller than us. We should have thought.’
‘Is it far?’
‘Watcher’s cell is under the River Stoneblood.’
‘I’m hungry.’
‘Our food would poison you. Freeman Wells tried it and was ill.’
‘When will we come out?’
‘In the time you call afternoon.’
‘Watcher waits,’ Finder said. ‘Let us talk less and travel more.’
They padded on again. There was more climbing, more booming of water, and an echoing cavern that sounded, Susan thought, a mile across. Now and then other Stonefolk passed her. She felt their damp fingers on her skin. Then came the gentle sound of water moving without hurry. There was a lapping, and soft slapping, and sounds of Stonefolk laughing.
‘The River Stoneblood,’ Seeker said. The children play.’
Susan felt small bodies moving about her knees. She smiled. She had not thought of the Stonefolk as having children.
They followed the River Stoneblood for a long while. It flowed along silkily, lapping idly – strange for a river with such a fierce name. Along its side was a road thronged with Stonefolk. Susan guessed they had come in from their passages and halls to see her pass – if see was the word. She felt like a queen on a royal tour. But after a while the river began to flow more swiftly, she could tell from its hissing sound, and the Stonefolk were left behind. She and Finder and Seeker kept on through lonely caverns.
At last Seeker said, ‘Climb.’ She felt her way up a sloping wall, slick with running water. ‘Now down.’ She went down another wall, dry this time. It plunged deep and seemed to turn under the river, into a honeycomb of passages. There were broken echoes and sudden reverberations. Seeker stopped. He put back his hand and held Susan still.
‘Watcher. Old One. Your pain is done. Your task is over. We bring a human female, with the Mark of Freeman Wells burned on her skin.’
There was a shuffling in the dark – a slow sound, like the noise of a sick old animal turning in a bed of straw. Feet came tiredly towards them.
‘A human female,’ said a voice, dusty as old books. ‘She is a child. Are you sure? Let me see the Mark.’
Susan put out her arm. She began to roll the stone-silk glove down her forearm, but Seeker said, ‘No. He can see through that.’ She felt Watcher’s touch. It was light and prickly as a crawling insect yet had the dampness of worms. She tried not to shiver.
‘Yes, yes,’ quavered the voice, ‘it is the Mark. The true Mark. I had thought you would never come.’ His hands wandered over her face. ‘And you have the good Half already. I can feel it in you. May Stonegod grant you have strength for the bad.’
‘I have strength,’ Susan said, in a trembling voice.
‘Ah child, you release me. I have watched the Half while time grew old. Well, so it seems to me. I know that I am ancient, and ready to die now my task is done. You bring me a gift greater than you know. Give me your hand now. Take the glove off. I will place your fingers on the Half.’
She peeled off the glove. Someone took it from her – Seeker, she guessed. Watcher took her hand. But she said, ‘Wait.’ She took the other glove off and fumbled the good Half from her pouch. She held it tightly in her hand. ‘Now.’
‘Ah yes, the good Half. That is wise. It will give you strength.’
And she felt strength flowing through her. It travelled rich and warm through her body, along her limbs. It throbbed behind her eyes, in the blackness of her head.
Watcher took her hand again. He guided her through the dark. She felt as if she were drowning in black oil, but she kept on.
‘Here, child.’ He pushed her hand gently, firmly, down. She felt the Half with her fingertips. It lay waist high, on a flat stone table. She traced its outline – that curved teardrop now so familiar to her. Watcher’s hand withdrew. She picked up the Half.
At once she felt that tearing apart of herself, that breaking up she had felt in the cave on Mount Morningstar. But this was worse. She felt herself spinning as if in that whirlpool between the worlds, and parts of her, brain, tongue, heart, bowels, went whirling away, each crying on its own in a dreadful agony. She felt Watcher holding her, and Seeker holding her. It was no help. She heard herself scream. She heard herself. And that was the good Half’s doing. The good Half was holding her together, the good Half was showing her herself. She screamed again. She screamed as a message to Susan Ferris. Watcher’s chamber echoed with her screams. And slowly, slowly, with infinite pain, she came back together, all her whirling parts swam into place and fitted in, and she was whole. She sank sobbing down upon the floor.
Watcher’s old voice whispered sadly about her. ‘That was great pain you endured. You are brave. Freeman Wells chose wisely. It is done now. Put the Half away. The evil in it sprang to life and tried to destroy you, as it has tried to destroy me. But it can do no harm now. You have drawn it into balance.’
‘I felt – I felt –’ Susan sobbed.
‘I know what you felt. Put it away.’ His damp old hands patted her soothingly. She slipped the Halves into her belt and buckled the pouches. Seeker helped her to her feet.
‘We must go now. We must get you back to food and light.’ The word made him tremble. ‘Watcher, Old One, rest. Finder and I will return and take you to the deepest dark of all. Stone must thank you for your agony.’
The old Stoneman made a strange sound – perhaps a laugh. ‘Ah, ah, speeches. Ceremonies. No thank you, young Stoneman. Not for me. I require no thanks. I will wait here for the final news. This child still has her task before her. We will not celebrate till that is done. It would not be seemly.’
‘Thank you,’ Susan said. ‘Thank you for guarding the Half.’
‘Mine was the easy part.’
Seeker took her hand and slipped the stone-gloves on her. He turned her about. She moved like a zombie and could not tell in which direction Watcher stood.
‘Goodbye,’ she said.
‘Goodbye, human child. Carry all the strength of Stone with you.’ She heard again a tired dusty turning as he sank upon the floor. ‘I will sleep, though it is a selfish thing to do.’
Seeker led her out of the chamber, setting up his soft humming again. Finder prodded her up the wall. They came down to the river. Susan heard it slithering like a snake. She felt the Halves in her belt, dragging her down. She felt as if she were stumbling under huge weights.
‘Wake up,’ Finder said bad-temperedly.
‘I can’t go any faster.’
‘Do not bully her,’ Seeker said, ‘or by Great Stone I’ll stamp upon your toes. Come Susan, we must keep moving. Your friends are waiting in the light. It is not far.’
They hurried on beside the river. Hours seemed to pass. Susan kept her eyes tightly closed. Her head was filled with sparkling stars and thoughts of food and drink. The echoes from the walls smacked like hands. They crossed the river several times. Once they climbed high along a wall that seemed to overhang it, and then went through narrow clefts with water rumbling far below. Stone kept snatching at her arms. When they came down she was so tired Seeker let her rest a while. But the way was easier after that. It followed the river. Images kept turning through her head, feathers, water sparkling in glass jugs, human faces. They floated sideways, upside down. She wondered if she were sleeping as she walked.
At last Seeker said, ‘We are nearly there.’
Finder stopped. ‘I can go no further. This filthy light is stuck all over me.’
‘Light?’ Susan said stupidly. She turned her eyes all round. The dark was as thick as ever.
‘We have come far enough,’ Finder said.
‘Go back,’ Seeker said. ‘I shall take her to the entrance.’
‘You will stink of it when you come back.’
‘Then I shall stink. Go. Leave us alone.’
Susan heard Finder padding away.
‘Do not blame him,’ Seeker said. ‘We fear the light above all other things.’
‘I can’t see any light.’
‘It is here. I can take you only a little way. Then I must go back too.’
She heard him set off. There seemed to be a desperation in his humming now. In a moment she heard him give a grunt of pain.
‘Is it hurting you?’
‘Yes. Yes. It hurts. I must stop soon.’ He kept on a little way. And she began to feel a lessening of the darkness. The faintest tinge of grey came into it. Seeker gave a wheezy cry. ‘I can go no further. It burns me to the marrow of my bones.’
‘I think I can see it now.’
‘Yes. It is your afternoon out there. Susan, I must turn back or die. Follow the light. You will come out soon.’
‘I – I think I can see you.’ But it was only a shapeless stain on the grey. She could make out no features.
‘I am nothing to see. You would find me ugly. Goodbye, Susan.’ The patch of darkness started to move away.
‘Wait. The gloves. The stone-silk.’
‘They are yours. Our gift. You may find use for them. Goodbye.’ His voice breathed damply in the cavern and shrank away to whispers. Then there was nothing but the soft rush of the river.
‘Goodbye,’ Susan said. She sank on her knees and rested a while. Then she began to move towards the light. It swelled and burned her eyes. She narrowed them and hurried on. The grey river ran at her side. A light painful as acid sprayed from its surface. She turned her head away, and felt her way forward along the walls. But soon even stone hurt her to look at. She had to close her eyes. She wondered if she would ever be able to bear the light again.
Slowly she went towards the afternoon. Light glared redly through her closed eyelids. She took her hands off the walls and covered her face and stumbled on. She did not know if she was walking towards the outside world or the river.
‘Nick!’ she began to cry. ‘Brand! Breeze!’
Soon she heard them calling, and heard their feet running on the stone.
10
Wings
Nick and Susan sat on a grassy hillside above the Woodland village called Shady Home. It was Brand’s and Breeze’s village. Dale and Verna lived there too. Susan had travelled in a dream through Wildwood, two days from the portals of the River Stoneblood to Shady Home. On the first day Breeze kept bandages on her eyes. To make better speed Brand and Jimmy Jaspers carried her on a rough stretcher. She was able to see better the second day. She insisted on walking, but it was not till evening that she began to come properly into the world of light. It was Verna hugging her, and Woodland children playing in the trees, and the smoke of cooking fires, and the sight of coloured clothing hung out to dry, fluttering like flags in the trees, that made her understand at last that she was back in a world where things were normal and light and colour were good.
She slept that night in Breeze’s house, high in the branches of a giant tree. The wind rocked her to sleep. In the morning she woke and saw the sun, and sighed, and slept again.
‘It was a sickness I do not understand,’ Breeze said to Nick. ‘But she is better now.’
Nick rested on the grass. He was not sure. Her cheeks were pale and her eyes burned brightly. He was sure her arms and legs had not been so thin. And she handled the two Halves obsessively, but locked them in her fists when he asked to see. He had only glimpsed the bad Half – deep red, almost black, with a spot of golden-white submerged in it. It had made him shiver unaccountably.
The morning sun burned down on their heads. At the foot of the hill Woodland children splashed in the glass-clear water of the stream.
‘Come and have a swim,’ Nick said.
‘No.’ She clicked the Halves in her hands like beads. ‘Nick, I’ve got to go soon. I can’t wait here.’
‘I know.’
‘The Halves were sleeping. When they woke they woke something up in me. I’ve got to go to the Motherstone. It’s calling me.’
‘We’ll go. Brand has got his scouts out. They’ll find a way.’
‘I can’t wait long.’
Brand and Jimmy crossed the stream and walked up the hill to them. They sat down on the grass.
‘The scouts are back,’ Brand said. ‘The news is bad. Cling and his men are patrolling the top of Sheercliff. He has guards blocking all the pathways down. We cannot go that way.’
Susan had put the Halves in their pouches. She had taken the Birdfolk feather from her throat and was turning it in her fingers. ‘Can’t we slip by them?’
‘I could grab that Cling and chuck ‘im orf the cliff,’ Jimmy said. ‘They wouldn’ ‘ave no leader then.’
‘No, there are too many. And we can’t slip by. The paths are narrow. We have to find another way.’
‘I can go by myself,’ Susan said.
‘No.’
‘I can,’ she said. ‘I can climb. I’ve got the stone-silk gloves.’
‘They’d swat yer like a fly,’ Jimmy said.
‘They watch every place,’ Brand said. ‘Woodlanders used to climb Sheercliff for sport, and Cling knows that. He has men at every place you could go.’
‘And you can’t go alone,’ Nick said. ‘That’s that. So think of something else.’
‘Like parachutes,’ Jimmy said.
‘Ha,’ Nick laughed. Then he stopped. He looked at the feather in Susan’s hands. ‘I’ve got it,’ he said. ‘We can fly.’
‘The sun’s gorn to ‘is ‘ead,’ Jimmy said.
‘No, wait a minute. We can make hang-gliders. I was thinking about it at Morninghall. I know all about hang-gliders. I’ve got a book at home. Dad said I could build one when I was older.’
‘What are hang-gliders?’ Brand asked.
‘Like – like wings. They catch the air. You glide like a bird. They’re fixed on frames. You don’t have to flap.’
‘Like a giant kite?’ Brand said. ‘There is a tale one of our ancestors, Deven was his name, launched himself from Sheercliff on a kite. He was never seen again.’
‘No bloddy wonder,’ Jimmy said.
‘It’ll work, Jimmy. Come on, Brand. Let’s go down. I’ll need the lightest wood you’ve got. And strong. And a lot of that cloth you weave. Come on, S
usan. You too, Jimmy. You can help.’
It took Nick two days to build his prototype. Brand went into the forest and came back with a dozen rods of bamboo-like wood, light and tough as aluminium. Breeze and Verna gave lengths of pale blue cloth that Nick declared was better than dacron. Jimmy whittled with his knife and grumbled away. He bound the joints in the rods with cord. They were strong as welding. Late in the afternoon Nick stood on the hillside over the stream, with his wings spread like a butterfly. Susan had painted yellow suns on them. The whole population of the village had gathered to watch. Nick chose the place where the hill was steepest. He grinned at Susan confidently, but she noticed his hands trembled on the control bar.
‘Wish me luck.’ He ran down the slope and launched him-self. And flew. Susan could hardly believe it. He flew down the hill and over the stream and circled in front of Shady Home, and landed neat as a seagull on the green. The Woodlanders clapped and cheered. Jimmy Jaspers gave a whoop. Susan raced down the hill and hugged him. His face was red with excitement. But he said, ‘Not good enough. That was just a glide. Now I’ve got to learn how to use the air currents and really fly.’
He practised until dusk. The blue glider vaulted over the stream. Once Nick flew down towards Sheercliff and Brand was worried Halfmen would see him. But he turned back. The breeze was lumpy over the forest. He barely had height to make it to Shady Home. One of his wings clipped a tree on the edge of the green and he spun crazily and landed in the stream. ‘It’ll be all right from Sheercliff. The wind will come up smooth over the smoke.’
Brand called the crafts-people of Shady Home to a meeting. ‘We will work through the night. I will send out men to cut rods. Choose your strongest silk. By morning we will have gliders made for Susan and Breeze and me. And a large one for Jimmy Jaspers.’
‘’Old on,’ Jimmy said. ‘Yer didn’ ask me. I’m not flyin’ nowhere. I likes ter keep me feet on the ground.’
‘Come on Jimmy, it’s easy,’ Nick said. ‘You’ll be good at it.’
‘If I was meant ter fly I’d ’ave feathers like them Birdfolk. An’ I’d probably lay eggs. No, yer can keep yer wings. An’ I wish yer luck. Me, I’m goin’ out after Odo Cling.’
