None of us slept for long, occasionally I or Jenna stumbled back in the dark to check if anything had happened to our pieces of crystal. Nothing had happened.
‘Not you,’ Jenna said, when Demelza tried to do the same.
The Sound of the Moor
-13-
In the morning we took the crystal pieces to the darkest place in the cave.
‘Maybe,’ I said, looking at them.
‘Maybe not,’ Jenna peered again.
We talked ourselves into believing there was a faint glow from our pieces of stone. We stared at them for so long it could just have been our imagination. Out in the daylight there was probably nothing to see.
‘We have to go up there again,’ Jenna pointed a weary arm up towards the moor and the Hanging Stones. ‘I suppose it might work.’
HG was muttering to himself. Was he going crazy? Were we making his world too strange, too weird, for him? He still followed as we set off.
There were no cap tipping walkers on the moor at such an early hour and the darkening sky was unlikely to persuade them ever to set out. The moor was set for another downpour, blown by the usual gale. We were soaked, exhausted and hungry by the time we reached the stones.
Getting there had taken most of the day. Stopping and searching for shelter each time the rain and wind grew too strong to see where we were going. The food was gone but there was enough water, a lot of water everywhere.
As we neared the hill, my thoughts grew more miserable: surely nothing would happen; would we stay forever out here on the moor; could there be any hope?
Standing in front of the strange stones Demelza stamped her feet as water ran down her face. ‘Now what are you going to do?’
Jenna ignored her and took out the crystal pieces. She held them in her hands like an offering. ‘We are here to help,’ she called out against the wind. Nothing. Jenna tried again. Nothing. She kicked out at the Hanging Stones. Nothing. Her head dropped as she cried, ‘Help us.’ Still nothing happened.
The rain fell harder, streams of water ran down the hill, clouds of mist drove into our faces, whipped by a wind almost too strong for us to stand in without holding tight to the rocks. It felt as though the moor was against us, everything was against us.
HG stood in a silent trance, not speaking, his clothes soaked, he closed his eyes.
‘Hit them, hit them, just hit them,’ Demelza shouted.
Jenna turned the two pieces in her hand. Not quite stone, nor crystal, showing no light inside. She shook her head. We remembered the terrible sound when Miss Tregarthur had smashed the iron bar against her crystal, too awful to hear again, although I knew we would have to do it in the end.
Demelza did it for us. Lurching forward, she snatched the pieces from Jenna and smashed them together. Nothing happened. Absolutely nothing, just more rain and wind. No sign, no light, no howl of pain.
Only one other group of rocks on this hill provided any shelter and we huddled under them. It might be pointless to stay here, but also pointless to leave. I placed the pieces of crystal on top of the stones. Even in this gloomy morning they sparkled, but sparkled only with the sun’s weak light. There was no trace of green or red or any other colour.
Soon any sparkle faded because this daylight was moor-dark, towering storm clouds blotted out the sun, wind whistling across the moorland. The streaming mist cleared briefly to give glimpses of bleak tors in this empty wilderness. Dark hills almost telling me what was coming.
I shivered. We should not be here. I tried to cry out, no words came. I had felt this before, something gathering force, gathering strength.
From far away a thunderous noise rolled towards us, sweeping over the moor and from the earth below came the crushing and grinding of rock against rock. The ground heaved, groaning as the hillside started to tear itself apart, boulders toppling and tumbling into huge cracks that opened around us.
The earthquake had come for us again.
This time there was nowhere to run except to the Hanging Stones, the only rocks that didn’t move. Jenna and I pulled HG to his feet, together we staggered over to cling to the balanced rocks. Demelza made it on her own.
The noise pounded in my head, louder and louder. Through the earthquake a new sound broke through, almost human, as though a voice spoke from the very ground, a voice from this earthquake, a voice of the moor. One word echoed out and that was ‘DEATH.’
Jenna held out our pieces of crystal. ‘STOP,’ she yelled. ‘STOP,’ she screamed at the stones. ‘We are on your side, here to help, to get the rest of the crystal, to bring back Miss Tregarthur and finish this.’
Jenna’s voice faded on the wind. We had failed. More cracks ran across the ground. Huge chasms opened up, chasms of molten rock, jets of flame spurting into the air. Hanging Stone Hill had become a place of burning hell. We held on, but my grip started to fail and soon we would fall to our end in the fire below.
‘HALT,’ a new voice tore into the air. ‘By the stones, by the earth, by the water I call upon you to stop, to return to peace.’
I turned. Above us an ancient man stood shouting out his commands. His robe shone out even in the gloom; reds and purples and greens, so many colours. I could feel the force in his words, fighting the moor, fighting the earthquake, fighting the lifeform of time that wanted to bury us.
Again and again, the man shouted. With each of his shouts the raging storm paused, but it was only to start again seconds later with even more force. Still the man shouted. In his bony hand he held an iron staff. It seemed to take all his strength but he lifted it and crashed the staff against the hillside. ‘I tell you to stop in the name of time. You will stop.’
Even though his voice quietened to a gasp, his power won through. The hillside had been broken, split by enormous fissures, but with each crash of his staff the land started to heal, to come together again. The moment passed, the danger passed, the battle was over. The gale slowed, the rain turned to drizzle, the clouds scattered. The moor became the moor again.
The man steadied himself, leant heavily on his staff. There was something familiar about him, more familiar than I liked. A man with the same wild hair of someone we had met – Miss Tregarthur.
‘Alvin Carter,’ the old man called to me.
I didn’t move, I still held on to these granite rocks. Instantly I was taken back to the crowd chasing us in the time of the Black Death. A crowd driven mad by a priest who wanted to see us burn. This man looked like that priest, his robe had faded to white, the colours disappearing.
I was ready to run.
‘Stay,’ cried the man as though he knew exactly what I was going to do. ‘I will let you go across time, to follow Alice. To stop her. To bring her back and return the crystal.’
That might sound better than burning but I wasn’t sure this man really had a better offer.
‘We want to go home,’ Jenna moved from the stones towards him.
The man raised his staff, threatening. ‘And you will.’
‘You mean we might get home providing we do what you tell us.’ Jenna stood right in front of him. ‘You’re one of them aren’t you, one of the Tregarthur lot, why can’t you sort her out?’
The man stepped back. His face showed no emotion but I could see he was really ancient, his face cracked and lined, his body thin and wasted. I saw what Jenna had seen, features like those of Miss Tregarthur. Family. He might be one of the Tregarthurs but he was in no state to do anything. The battle with the moor had almost killed him.
‘It is for you to do.’ The man waved his arm in my direction. ‘This has started with you and must end with you.’
‘How?’ Jenna pointed to the Hanging Stones. ‘There is no tunnel. Can you control it?’
‘I cannot control her, she has so much fury now she sees no hope.’ He paused and I wondered why he called the time tunnel ‘her’, but he went on. ‘I ask, that is all I can do. You know Alice has something she needs, you have a part of it in your hand.’
/> He looked towards Jenna holding our pieces of the crystal. ‘I will ask her to take you where you must go. This is your last chance.’
Jenna had questions and fear on her face. The moor was so quiet, but the threat of death in the earthquake made it hard to focus on his words. Or was that it? He had a force I did not understand. I wanted to agree, not to argue. Hadn’t we planned to go after her anyway? We were so many years away from anything like home, we had nowhere else to go.
He had said this was our last chance.
‘No choice,’ I said to Jenna before turning to the old man. ‘Show us what to do.’
HG still stuck to the rock, his eyes closed again, not responding to the man or his words. Perhaps he believed we’d arrived somewhere in his future already. If this was his view of the future, it had been a terrible vision. Would he ever recover?
Demelza stood with her mouth open and moved a little closer to HG, taking his hand. I guess she was trying to work out what might be best for her – just for her.
‘First you also have something I need,’ the man said to me. ‘Around your arm you have a belt of gold.’
How did he know so much about us? Would he explain? There was an urgency about him. The moor still gave occasional tremors, the clouds had not gone far, as though this pause might not last for long. It wasn’t going to be a time for explanations.
‘You must give me the belt.’ He held out his hand. ‘You must. It must go back in history. Back in time.’
I drew away, confused. ‘It’s the only thing we can use for money if we go after her.’
The man took a purse from beneath his robe. ‘You can use this and if you need more you will find Masterson will help.’
‘Masterson?’ How did he know of Masterson? ‘He won’t help.’ I didn’t want to meet up with that man again, he’d probably shoot me next time.
‘Masterson will help,’ the man gasped. ‘Masterson has to help. You must go to him.’
That could explain a lot. Miss Tregarthur had found Masterson. He had to be part of this awful story. A part we did not understand.
‘If you know everything,’ Jenna said, obviously getting angry. ‘Why do you need us? Are you any better than Miss Tregarthur?’
‘Maybe I’m not,’ he said. ‘But I’m giving you the only option you have, unless you’re going to stay here. Bring her to me and then you can go home. Now GIVE ME THE BELT.’
‘Why can’t we go home now?’ Jenna was used to people shouting at her and she just pointed at the Hanging Stones. ‘Tell it – her – to send us home right now.’
Would he agree? Could we escape and leave all this behind? Almost as soon as the words left her mouth I knew it wouldn’t happen. There was a stronger judder in the land, another crack opened, the sky turned a little darker.
‘Calm,’ the man raised his staff again and shouted. ‘They will go. They will find her, they will bring your crystal home.’
He was adding to the mystery. Was all this his invention? What gave him power over the time tunnel? He had made it clear that we no other option, do what he said or the earthquake would finish us.
‘The belt, quick, hurry,’ he said, twisting his head at the sound of another crack from the ground.
The gold belt had always been a problem. Given to me by the King of England in the time of the Black Death. Too valuable for us to change for money without making people believe we were thieves. Unwinding the belt from my arm, I handed it to him and took his purse.
The man weighed the belt in his hand before shouting once more: ‘Go on, on, on,’ and he waved us forward. ‘And take this too.’ He threw a small leather bag to me. ‘Food.’
A faint trace of smoke rose from around the stones – the time tunnel was opening. We started to walk forward. The man was still shouting for us to hurry, his voice becoming hoarse and faint. Demelza held HG’s hand and pulled him forward.
‘Not him,’ the man found the strength to scream.
Then I remembered. We had never been able to take anyone from their own time into the tunnel. When Lisa had wanted to take the baby Neanderthal Zog, he went berserk.
‘He cannot go,’ the man snatched HG’s hand from Demelza. HG sagged to the ground, quivering.
‘Take Demelza,’ Jenna shouted to the man. ‘Take her. We don’t want her. Take her.’
‘She is part of this. I cannot take her, you must go,’ the man croaked. ‘Go now.’
We moved forward as though under his control. Was this urgency real or was it just to send us away without having to tell us any more? It was too late to find out. A mist started to flow out from the Hanging Stones, all sorts of colours. Soon it covered us and we could no longer see the old man or HG.
The swirling motion of the time tunnel took us, a funnel of twisting air. Flashing images tumbled past me, things we had seen, others we hadn’t. Before I could focus on what I saw, everything stopped. The mist cleared.
We had arrived, back on the moor which seemed unharmed, no earthquake cracks, no falling boulders, the hillside unchanged. Again a wet drizzle in the air, but no old man and no HG, just us three. Maybe some of the huge stones had moved a little, maybe that was my imagination.
Jenna looked at Demelza. ‘We should have left her.’
I tried to put my arms around Jenna but she shied away. Demelza rolled her eyes and I hoped Jenna didn’t see that, or see the look Demelza gave me. There were more reasons to get rid of Demelza than being stuck in a time travelling nightmare.
We walked down from the hill, dazed since leaving the tunnel. As we walked we shared bread and cheese from the bag the old man had given us. Good enough to eat, but how much I would have given for something to eat from our own time. Would we ever get home? What could have happened while we were away? There were still so many problems to face. This was no time to think about home, we hurried to get off the moor, a familiar route. Back to the village.
The village and the inn had changed. An electric light shone in one of the windows. It might be a familiar place and a little more modern, but it was still in our past. We didn’t stop, there was enough dark daylight to push on. Did we know where we were going? Maybe not, but we knew who we were going after.
New Clothes, New Plans
-14-
‘Do we go to the first Masterson house we went to?’ I said, as we walked down from the village.
‘Do we go to him at all?’ Jenna was picking her way between muddy puddles.
‘That white robed man said we had to go to Masterson,’ Demelza seemed to feel she had a more important role in whatever we were doing.
‘Shouldn’t have kept you with us at all,’ Jenna glared at her. ‘Maybe you could go away and find another bear to play with.’
‘He said you had to take me, said I was part of this, you have to take me, he said so,’ Demelza whined.
‘Didn’t say we had to be nice to you,’ Jenna said, giving her a shove.
Demelza tripped and fell into a ditch full of nettles at the side of the road. Jenna looked at me, to see whether I’d help her up. A challenge. I didn’t help, didn’t dare help.
‘Back to London.’ Jenna walked off, leaving Demelza to scramble up and follow.
We didn’t stop in the small town and made straight for the station.
1903, I saw the year on a poster.
With the money from the purse, we travelled more comfortably but it was still much the same as before – smoky trains and horse drawn carriages.
We had to stay in Exeter at the same inn, which now had toilets and sanitation, everything was a little cleaner although piles of horse dung still littered the streets. The next train we took to London was faster, people talking and saying how good modern travel had become. The train steamed across the countryside quite as fast as anything I’d been on back home.
People were moving all over the country and at first we didn’t stand out. Nobody seemed interested in us, a few questions, a few thieves but we weren’t an easy looking group so we were
mostly left alone. Electricity was the new thing, not completely new but taking time to be installed across the country, there were still a lot of gas lights.
London was different, more cars, with more breakdowns and more arguments with the men on horses and even more noise. Here our working clothes did make us stand out, especially since we weren’t working and weren’t really sure what we were doing.
Demelza persuaded us to dress more for the time: ‘Can’t do anything with people staring at us.’
She pushed me into a man’s shop, a very brown shop – brown window frames, brown door, brown counters. Just the clothes were black or grey or tweedy black and grey.
I ended up in heavy trousers and the same sort of clothes that most of the men had been wearing in the city when we had been in London before. That included a hat. A man in the shop said I had to wear one that looked like a pork pie on my head, no chance. I went for one more like a gangster. We had an argument about ties as well. He almost spat at my open shirt, but it stayed that way.
The girls could have had more fun. Jenna went for a long skirt, white shirt top with a flowered scarf and shoes she could actually walk in. Demelza spent ages and money. I really did not want to tell her, but the money spent was worth it.
Jenna huffed, Demelza preened and whirled. With Demelza’s tastes, the money we had wouldn’t last long, we would have to go to Masterson anyway.
‘I’ve got you a hat,’ Demelza whipped out a bonnet topped with feathers. ‘Everyone’s wearing them.’ She plonked it on Jenna’s head, her own hat was even larger.
We had arrived this time in early summer, warmer weather, hotter in the town. It made me feel that the girls were better dressed for this. I was sweating in heavy tweed and wondering about deodorant.
This time we went for a smarter hotel, not actually very smart, just more expensive. We had two rooms. Jenna and Demelza in one, me in the other. Room sharing with Jenna was definitely out. There was even a notice which said the management refused to take couples, unless married. There were a lot of notices. Even one that said you had to pay a fine if you wet the bed. No dogs.
Tregarthur's Crystal: Book 4 (The Tregarthur's Series) Page 12
