Eternal

by Gillian Shields

  “Are you okay? Who’s there?” I called.

  A girl was sitting on an upturned bucket and sobbing. It was Sophie. She saw me and gasped, “Oh . . . thank God . . . it’s you.”

  “What’s the matter?”

  “Oh, Sarah . . . it’s . . . it’s Helen.”

  “What are you talking about? What’s happened to her?”

  “She—she’s had an accident,” Sophie stammered. Then she covered her face and wailed hopelessly. “And I think she’s going to die.”

  Chapter Nineteen

  MARIA MELVILLE’S WYLDCLIFFE JOURNAL

  APRIL 11, 1919

  I truly thought I was going to die. The echoing cavern, with its twisted stalactites and eerie lake, would be the last place I would ever see. I thought it would be my tomb.

  Miss Scarsdale says I must make myself remember. I must tell the truth, and then I shall be free. I trust her, so here is the end of my story, though I am trembling as I write. Oh, why can’t I conquer this fear? I wanted to be like the Roma, strong and free, but why am I so weak?

  Miss S. says I must not blame myself. “You have touched mysteries,” she said, “and the fire of such secrets can scorch and wound. Healing will come, when you remember and face all that you have seen.” And so I plod on with my task, wishing that I could see Zak, wishing that I could go home.

  The cavern was not merely an empty cave. It was the beginning of an underground kingdom, where a crack lies between this world and other mysterious realms. This is the home of the Kinsfolk. They are earth creatures, who are bound to dwell in darkness until the end of time. All this Fairfax told me later. He is truly a great magician, yet he is somehow dreadful and frightening too, as though his heart has died.

  But I knew nothing of this then. That night, deep in the hidden places of the earth, all I knew was what I saw and heard.

  As Josef called out for Zak’s father to be released, the Kinsfolk began to crawl into the light of the men’s torches. Their shapes were grotesque, with heavy shoulders and deformed heads. They had iron collars round their necks and chains trailing from their wrists, and their bodies were squat and misshapen, like crudely carved figures.

  “Never . . . ,” they breathed, and although I wasn’t sure how they spoke, I understood what they said. “Never. He has fallen from the sky world. We will take him. It is our blood right.”

  The Kinsfolk began to beat their drums. The sound was terrifying, yet it made me want to move and run and dance. I seemed to be transported into a kind of trance. I saw the windswept moors spreading out under the sky, and sturdy ponies carrying short, strong men across the land. The men were naked apart from animal skins around their waists, and they called to one another with guttural cries as they thundered past. I saw mountains and high rocks, and a waterfall pouring over a gorge. I saw trees growing, unfurling fresh green leaves on their branches. It seemed that the whole world of earth and sky and water was pulsing with new life, and that the drums were beating in my heart, and that I was at the center of the wild world.

  And then I was back in the cavern, and I realized that the creatures had left off their drumming and had surrounded me. Their stringy arms and gnarled hands reached out to touch me. I stumbled back away from them and fell down. The cap tumbled off my head, and my hair hung loose and my disguise was at an end.

  “What’s this?” snarled Josef. “A girl?”

  “I’m sorry,” I cried. “I wanted to help.”

  Then the creatures of the earth said, “Take the man. Give us the girl in his place.”

  Everyone stared at me. The earth men spoke in harsh voices to one another and pressed around me, touching my clothes and hair and stamping excitedly on the ground. I understood what they were saying. “She has come at last! A queen for the Kinsfolk! She must stay in the earth instead of the man. Let him go!”

  The silted mud by the side of the lake bubbled and stirred, and then a heavy shape was thrown to the surface. It was Zak’s father, choking for breath like a gasping fish, white-faced under his layers of mud, but alive. His Brothers caught hold of him and embraced him, and he staggered to his feet.

  “We will take the girl,” the creatures hissed again.

  “No!” shouted Zak, but Fairfax called for silence with a swift, sharp command.

  “The girl shall stay, as your queen,” he declared. “Take her.”

  I struggled in terror as the creatures took hold of me with their scaly hands. Their eyes never blinked or left my face, and before I knew what they were doing, they had torn my clothes so that they hung from me like leaves from a willow tree. One of them pushed a bronze circlet on my head. I wanted to scream but seemed to have no breath or will. I heard Zak shouting, “Maria, Maria, come back! Don’t touch her!” The men muttered anxiously, but Fairfax watched in silence. Then one of the Kinsfolk stepped forward.

  He was carrying a stone knife. He pressed it lightly against my cheek, and the blood began to flow. The drums started again, until the noise was a tormenting frenzy in my body and blood and soul.

  “Down into Death!” the creatures screamed, and one of them got ready to plunge the stone knife into my heart. “No, no!” Zak shouted, but another voice rose above the confusion.

  “AS I WILL IT!” Fairfax roared. The stone knife shattered into bits. The cavern began to shake and rumble. Heavy rocks began to fall from the roof. One fell on my leg, and I cried in pain. Fairfax snatched hold of me and Zak and pulled us to him, flinging his cloak over us. I heard him chanting strange, ugly prayers and curses and then—I don’t know how—the whole cave seemed to fall around me and there was a wind like a hurricane and I thought the end had come.

  It seemed only a moment later that we were flung out onto the hillside, under the standing stones. Fairfax, Zak, his father, and the Brothers were all there. I was bruised and bleeding, and everyone crowded around me in concern. The furious screams and howls and drums of the Kinsfolk still seemed to echo around us, but above all that I heard someone call my name. At first I thought it was my mother. But it was a girl calling, “Maria—Maria—speak to me.” I don’t know who she was, but her voice haunts me now.

  There. I have told my tale. As Josef said, we had walked through the darkest night and seen evil spirits. Fairfax told us briefly about the Kinsfolk, forgotten cave dwellers left over from a time when the world was younger. He said he had bound them in a sleep that would last many winters, and that they would not trouble me again. I didn’t truly understand all that he said, I only felt glad that I was free and that Zak’s father was safe. Zak hugged me for joy, and then we hardly knew whether to laugh or cry, but clung to each other. The men sang in praise of Fairfax. They called him “Brother” and carried him on their shoulders. I was grateful to Fairfax too, of course, so grateful, but he troubles me. He is not like other men. He is like a black flame in the night. How did he know about such things as the Kinsfolk? How did he get us out of there? What strange paths has he traveled?

  I think I must have fainted out there on the moors after our escape, as I don’t remember going back to school. When I woke up in the infirmary, the nurse scolded me for riding out alone. She said that I had been thrown from Cracker and that my ankle was broken, and thank heavens that young Gypsy fellow had found me out in the lane and brought me home, and maybe they weren’t such bad people after all.

  No one at school knows the truth, only Miss Scarsdale. I had to tell her, even if she thought I was delirious. She took my story seriously, though, and made me write it in this book. Now I can let go of it, she says, like a bad dream. One day, she says, someone will read this and be glad of it.

  There. I have almost done. I am ready to let this go into the past. It is over. I do not have to be afraid anymore.

  One thing remains. I have kept the bronze circlet. It is beautiful and not like anything I have ever seen before. How could such strange and frightening creatures have offered me something so lovely? There are things in these tangled events that I do not understand
.

  I arrived at Wyldcliffe as a girl, a child. I see now that I had been indulged and petted all my life and thought that I could pick and choose my pleasures as I fancied. I thought I could be friends with Zak and defy Miss Featherstone and pay no price for my rebellion. Now I see that life is not so simple. I am no longer a child. Whatever choices I make will bear consequences. I must learn to choose wisely.

  My choice is this. As soon as I am well I will look for Zak. There is a bond between us that I cannot forget. If his family has already moved on, I will wait until they return to the valley next spring. I can put up with this school if it will bring us together again. And I will study and learn, and take something worthwhile from here into the great world. I do not need Daphne and Winifred’s friendship or approval to do that. I will not let Wyldcliffe defeat me.

  But this is not part of my tale. I have reached the end of my story. When I am well again I will hide this where it will not be found until the right time has come. There is a time for all things.

  If one day you are reading this, whoever you are, I hope that you will have the courage to accept these mysteries. I hope that you will not have to enter the underground world. I hope that you believe me.

  These things happened in the spring of 1919. My name is Maria Adamina Melville, and every word is true, I swear.

  Chapter Twenty

  I didn’t want to believe Sophie. It couldn’t be true. “What’s happened?” I demanded. “Where’s Helen?”

  “They’ve taken her to the infirmary, but I saw her, I found her, it was so awful.” Sophie began to cry again.

  “Where did you find her? What do you mean?”

  “She was lying on the front steps of the school, all twisted and—and—I think she’d fallen from one of the windows or something. Oh, Sarah, her face was so white and horrible!”

  “I must go and see her. Where’s Miss Scratton?”

  “I don’t know. I think she went over to St. Martin’s, didn’t she? Miss Hetherington is with Helen. She told me to look for you and tell you to go over to the infirmary.”

  I didn’t bother to ask any more questions. Hurriedly I put Starlight in his stall and made sure that he was all right, then raced into the school with Sophie trailing behind me. I flew up the marble stairs to the sickroom and burst in without knocking. Evie was perched on the edge of a chair next to Helen’s bed, looking scared, and Miss Hetherington was talking to the nurse.

  “Thank you so much, Sophie,” Miss Hetherington said when she saw us. “You’ve been very helpful. You’ve had a shock, though, so go down to the common room with Nurse. She’ll give you a hot drink and sit with you for a while. You’ll soon feel better.”

  “But what about Helen?” Sophie asked fretfully. “Isn’t she dreadfully ill?”

  “She’s had a nasty accident, but the doctor says that fortunately she hasn’t broken anything. Don’t worry, Sophie, she’ll recover. It’s not as bad as we first thought.”

  Sophie looked doubtful but allowed herself to be led away by the nurse. I went closer to Helen’s bed. She was lying with her eyes closed and her fair hair smoothed neatly onto her pillow. Her arms lay thin and bare on top of the covers, like a child’s. She had a bruise on her cheek and a bandage on one hand. The weird mark on her arm was clearly visible, an inky pattern against her white skin. Miss Hetherington sighed. “Silly child, getting a tattoo in the holidays. And now this.”

  She looked at us kindly but questioningly. “I wanted to talk to both of you. It appears that Helen accidentally fell from the landing window in the dormitory corridor down to the steps below and knocked herself out. She’s incredibly lucky to be alive. Heaven only knows how she managed to do it, leaning out too far, I suppose.” She paused. “Unless, of course, it wasn’t an accident. I’m aware that you three were constantly in one another’s company last term. Do you know of any reason why Helen might have done this on purpose? Was it some kind of cry for help?”

  A memory of Helen deliberately stepping off the steep gables of the Abbey roof in the dead of night flashed back to me. She had been testing her powers of using the air to “dance on the wind,” but another uneasy thought struck me. Helen had hinted before of wanting to end her life, when she had lived in the orphanage. Surely she hadn’t been thinking anything like that again? Had she been so terrified by the mark on her arm that she was looking for a way of escape? Why hadn’t I made her talk to me about it? So much for trying to look after my friends. With a sinking heart I felt that I had done nothing but let them both down since the term had begun.

  “I found this in her pocket,” added Miss Hetherington. “I don’t know whether it means anything to you.” She handed us a bit of paper covered with Helen’s intricate handwriting.

  I hover in the star-filled sky, flying free,

  Skybird, high above the earth.

  You cut my wings, and I fall

  Like swift black rain.

  Skybird, skybird,

  Full of secrets,

  Full of sorrows.

  I am falling so fast

  Falling out of my body

  Into the deep blue arc of night.

  The stars are ready to welcome me.

  Let me fall—let me be free—let me go—

  “It’s one of her poems,” I said. “She writes stuff like this sometimes. But that doesn’t mean—”

  “I wondered—isn’t this a plea for freedom?” The art mistress had a strange, guarded look on her face. “It made me think that maybe Helen had meant to hurt herself.”

  “I can’t believe that,” said Evie shakily. “She has her father now, she has us; it must have been an accident.”

  “I’m sure you’re right,” Miss Hetherington replied. “We can only be thankful that the result was not worse.”

  “Has—has she woken up at all?” I asked.

  “She regained consciousness earlier, when the doctor was here.”

  “And did she say anything?”

  “She talked a lot of nonsense, just rambling,” Miss Hetherington said dismissively.

  “But what about?” I persisted. If Miss Hetherington was connected with the coven, she wouldn’t tell me, and if she was simply a teacher, as I hoped and believed, she wouldn’t mind my questions. Either way, I had to ask. “What did Helen say?”

  At that moment the nurse returned and came over to Helen’s bed and she answered my question. “Oh, poor Helen,” she said. “She talked about the wind . . . and dancing, and something about, I don’t know, a priestess. It really didn’t make any sense, did it, Miss Hetherington?”

  “A priestess?” I repeated.

  “Yes, that was it,” the nurse replied. “But Helen’s always been, well, rather oversensitive, hasn’t she?”

  “Anyway,” the art mistress said briskly, “I’m glad we’ve had this chat. The doctor said it was all right for Helen to sleep now.”

  Miss Hetherington sent us away, saying that we could come back in the morning.

  As soon as we were out in the corridor, Evie said in a stricken voice, “It wasn’t an accident, was it? It was her, Mrs. Hartle! She’s broken through our protective spell, hasn’t she?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know. Perhaps Helen falling really was just an accident—”

  “Don’t! That’s the kind of stuff I wanted to believe, but it’s no use, is it? The coven won’t let us go as easily as that. You were right all along, Sarah. That mark on Helen’s arm—I knew it was a sign of danger, I just didn’t want to face it. And Helen’s poem—she must be so unhappy. Oh God, I’m so sorry, I’ve been so selfish.”

  “I’ve been just as bad—I’m the one who’s sorry.”

  “No, you were trying to make us face things and be prepared for what was out there, but I refused to listen. I should have—oh, I should have done it all differently.” She bit her lip and muttered, “I wanted to be happy after everything had been so awful, and I thought I could just make myself happy by ignoring what was going on. But it doesn�
�t work like that, does it?”

  “I think perhaps happiness comes when you’re not looking for it,” I replied. “We can’t force it.” I had Cal to thank for teaching me that. “But I don’t blame you, Evie. I think I understand.”

  “Do you really?” Evie looked up at me, hesitating. “Sarah—can you forgive me? Are we still sisters?”

  “Now and always,” I said, hugging her.

  “For eternity.” She laughed, then quickly grew serious. “What do we do now?”

  “We need to find Miss Scratton—but let’s talk to Sophie first. I got the feeling she wasn’t telling Miss Hetherington everything.”

  We found Sophie, hunched miserably over a cup of hot chocolate in the corner of one of the new common rooms that Miss Scratton had organized. A few younger girls were sitting around a table on the other side of the room arguing over some kind of board game while pop music played on the radio. The common room had been provided with books and magazines, but it remained a gloomy place, with heavy red flock wallpaper and a black marble fireplace. Sophie looked grateful as we went to sit beside her.

  “I hope you’re feeling better, Sophie.” I felt sorry for her. She was weak and self-pitying, but she didn’t deserve to be so frightened and unhappy. “And thanks for raising the alarm about Helen.”

  “It was terrifying, seeing her there like that. She was staring up, so still and cold . . .” Tears trickled out of Sophie’s baby blue eyes. “I’ve had such a dreadful weekend, what with last night as well.”

  “Why, what happened last night?”

  “Oh, it all started as a stupid joke. It was Velvet’s idea. I know she wants to get expelled, but I don’t, my parents would go mad.” Sophie lowered her voice. “I thought Velvet was nice at first, but she’s not. I think she’s a bit crazy. I don’t want to have anything to do with her anymore, but now Celeste and India won’t speak to me because I hung out with Velvet, and I’m so, so miserable . . . last night was so horrible.” She began to cry again.