by T J Green
Every few metres Tom glanced behind him, but Arthur kept up. The passageway led to an underground river running alongside the path. The floor was slick beneath them, glinting in the flickering light, and the roar of water became louder as they began to climb upwards. Then, abruptly, they reached a steep crumbling rock face. To their right, a waterfall tumbled over the rocks, spray filling the air around them.
Tom peered upwards into the darkness, and wondered how high they would have to climb. He gripped the torch tightly. If he dropped it they would be in total blackness. With his other hand he sought hand-holds as he clambered up the treacherous path. Arthur slipped and muttered behind him.
Tom had the horrible feeling the entire journey back to the surface was going to be this difficult. He wanted the stairs back. If the cavern roof cracked it would flood, as would the path they were on. He did not want to drown. Don’t think of anything, he thought, but climbing and keep climbing. Hand over hand, upwards and upwards. His limbs burned and his fingers were sore and bruised. His chest ached with every breath he took. Beyond his laboured breathing and the roar of the waterfall, he heard and felt a deeper rumble. Was that the roof collapsing?
Just when he thought he couldn’t climb any longer, the path started to level out and the roof came into view not far above his head. He collapsed onto the ground, gasping for breath, closely followed by Arthur who lay next to him, chest heaving.
Tom wondered why Arthur couldn’t understand him; this would make life tricky. And then it struck him – Vivian had said to use the branch. He pulled it out of his pocket and, nudging Arthur with his foot, handed it to him. Arthur sat up, looking puzzled. “Why are you giving me this?”
“Yes! I can understand you! It worked.”
Arthur looked shocked and then smiled. “What an interesting trick!” He turned the bough over and over in his hands, as if it would reveal its secrets, then handed it back to Tom, looking at him intently. “To whom do I owe my life?”
“My name is Tom, and I was sent by Vivian to wake you. I didn’t really plan on it, you know.” And because he was still feeling annoyed, he added, “It wasn’t my choice. I had to do it. And I’m not very happy about it.”
“Well, Tom, my reluctant rescuer, I am Arthur, and I’m not sure I’m very happy about it either.”
“I do know who I’m rescuing!”
Arthur laughed and gazed beyond Tom. “Well, Tom, I can see a boat, so let us use that, because I don’t think I can walk much further. I find I am weak, but hope I will regain my strength soon.”
Tom saw Arthur was right. They were on the edge of water – not a river, something bigger. He could feel a change in the air and in the sounds around them. The far side was hidden in blackness, but there was a small boat pulled up onto the shore. On his right the water churned and raced before pouring over the edge.
They pushed the boat into the water and clambered in, bobbing unevenly as they sat on narrow benches. Tom propped the torch in the prow as they looked for ways to move the boat, but within seconds the boat started to move on its own.
Arthur murmured, “The Lady of the Lake is always resourceful.”
Tom just grunted in reply. There were other things he’d have said about her.
“And where are we, Tom? Other than underground.”
“Well, we’re not in England any more. We are in The Other, The Land of the Fey, or something of the sort.”
Arthur nodded slowly. “Ah! Merlin’s deal. I didn’t really believe that. I should have known better.”
The boat moved silently across the inky blackness of the lake, the roof low and uneven over their heads. They had come such a long way that Tom guessed they were travelling back to the lakeshore, not the Isle of Avalon. He glanced up, unsettled that there was water above them and below, with the possibility of more water arriving. If the cavern flooded, the water level would start to rise, and there wasn’t much room for that.
Arthur lay down, eyes closed, his head on the edge of the boat, his feet under the bench. Tom guessed he was in his thirties. His hair was long and dark, and he had a short beard. His sword lay sheathed at his side, and the hilt’s strange engravings flashed in the light. Had he only been this old when he’d died? Or had he been put into a magical sleep? Or had faerie magic made him younger?
Tom looked again at his birthmark, comparing it with the sword next to Arthur. Was it his imagination or did his birthmark look sharper than before, like the real Excalibur? Were there shapes coiling in the centre? Shaking his head as if to free himself from a trance, he covered his arm and shivered.
Without warning they plunged into mist. Mist underground? Faerie magic again. Tom was exhausted. He lay down in the bottom of the boat and gazed at the roof passing overhead, trusting that Vivian would protect them.
14 Waiting and Watching
The group at the lakeside slept later than usual, but it was still earlier than Beansprout would ever rise at home. The first thing she did after waking was feel her arm, where the spear had punctured it. It was healing quickly now, and it had begun to itch. It would leave a scar. She smiled; she had a battle wound.
As she rolled on to her back she saw the blue sky above her, pale like a duck egg. She sat up, clutching the blanket around her shoulders, and faced the wall of mist stretched across the lake. Her grandfather and Fahey were still dozing, but someone had added wood to the fire and it blazed brightly. A kettle hung above it, steam seeping from its spout.
She smiled with contentment. She could get used to this. It felt so freeing to be lying on the lakeshore beside a fire. She felt she could do anything, go anywhere. Anything she needed she had with her.
Before they’d gone to sleep last night, Fahey had insisted on telling one of his tales – to help them relax, he’d said. He told a tale about an ancient king who outwitted a forest goblin. It was very funny, particularly as he paced around the fire acting out the parts. Beansprout presumed he was trying to make them feel brave, and it sort of worked.
She grabbed her dirty cup from beside her and walked over to the lake to swill it, before refilling it with sweet herb tea. Sitting down again she looked around for Brenna and Woodsmoke. She presumed Brenna was flying, but where was Woodsmoke? She swivelled to look back over the moor. Grasses and heathers rippled all the way to the horizon, a blackish-green line where the wood began. To the north was the old forest – Aeriken Forest. She rolled it around her tongue, and tried to imagine what mysteries it contained. Woodsmoke had told her it was the home and hunting grounds of the Aerikeen, and that some of the Realm of the Earth’s stranger creatures lived there.
She looked for signs that Prince Finnlugh was approaching, but saw only unbroken grass and scrub. A figure bobbed over to the left. Woodsmoke, emerging from one of the hollows.
“I think we should move,” he said as he sat down next to her. “The hollow over there is broad and deep, sheltered from the wind, and more importantly will give us cover from unwelcome attention.”
“Do you really think we’re in danger?”
“I don’t know, but I’d rather we at least try and hide.”
“Wouldn’t we be better heading back to the Tor? At least we’d be high, and able to defend ourselves.”
“It would take too long. And what if Tom arrives back here and finds himself alone, without help?”
“He’d better not be on his own!”
“Even if he’s with the King, we can’t leave him here.”
“No, I know. It was just a suggestion. What if they surround us – around the hollow?”
“They’re more likely to head for the shore, then we can retreat back across the moor.”
“Without Tom?”
“He might be here by then. Stop being awkward.”
“Sorry.” She looked sheepish. “Just trying to help. OK, let’s pack up and hide in the hollow.”
“If you two have finished bickering, I would like to agree,” said Jack, stirring from his blankets. “Let’s head f
or the hollow. I feel a bit exposed here.”
Brenna returned at midday. She had ranged over the moor and woods, but not over the thick canopy of Aeriken.
“The Prince and his company are nearly halfway across the moor,” she said.
Beansprout gasped. “But they move so quickly. It took us days to travel that far.”
“They have a far greater magic than we ever will,” said Woodsmoke, “and their horses are swifter and more powerful. They’re bred from an ancient line of magical beasts.”
“It is said that one of the royal line came with his followers to the lakeshore, millennia ago, to raise a new house,” said Fahey. “He wanted to solve the mystery of the lake and reach the Isle of Avalon. But not even he was strong enough to do that.” He sighed regretfully.
“Why, what happened to him?”
“He disappeared and was never seen again. His cries echoed through the halls day and night, and many perished trying to find him. They abandoned the place in the end. No one could stand it there.”
“Where was it?”
He nodded downwards. “Somewhere beneath our feet!”
Beansprout looked uncomfortably at the ground below them.
“I’m going to remain out there, as a bird,” said Brenna, “perched on the standing stones. I can keep watch for them – and for Tom.” She flitted out of the hollow.
“I’ve changed my mind” grumbled Fahey. “I don’t like hiding here, it makes me feel like a coward. And I can’t see what’s going on.”
Woodsmoke gave him a long impatient look, filled with distaste. “We are not hiding like cowards, we are trying to protect ourselves from attack, old man. Are you going to produce a sword from under that cloak?”
“That’s unfair and you know it.”
“Apart from your skill with words, have you anything that could protect us?”
“I might know a few charms that could make us invisible, a protection from unwanted eyes.” He looked sly, as if he was doing things he shouldn’t.
“Good, do it.”
The light was falling and long shadows were stretching over the ground when Brenna returned. They sat at the base of the hollow, a bright fire burning merrily, eating a supper of stewed rabbit that filled the air with a rich warm smell.
Beansprout was relieved they had moved camp. It was so much warmer out of the moorland wind, and it felt safer somehow.
Woodsmoke sighed. “I don’t think Tom will appear tonight. I had hoped we’d be out of here before Finnlugh arrived, but now …”
Beansprout adjusted the blanket across her shoulders and, turning to Fahey, said, “Maybe to pass the time you should tell us another tale.”
“I have many. Any particular one?”
“Yes. I would like to know more about Arthur.”
“There are many such tales. Arthur’s knights, Arthur’s battles, Arthur and Merlin …”
“I’d just like to know a little bit about him.”
“Then I shall keep it simple. Centuries ago, Britain was in turmoil. There were many kings, fighting for power and land, and then outsiders came who fought them all. One king, Uther, was more powerful than most, and he had a very clever man as his advisor. He was called Merlin.
“There were rumours that Merlin was a wizard. They said he could control the elements – earth, water, air and fire; that he could turn night to day, control animals and cross to the Otherworld. At that time the paths between both worlds were easier to walk, if you knew where to look. Many fey and humans passed to and fro, and Merlin crossed many times.
“Uther had a son, called Arthur. He was born in Tintagel, Uther’s castle by the sea. Merlin spent much time with him, teaching him many things. The things he couldn’t teach, he made sure Arthur learnt from other skilled men.
“Uther’s son grew strong, and yet he was a gentle man, keen to talk with his enemies rather than fight. But when he did fight, everyone marvelled at his strong hands and quick feet. Warriors admired his skill and pledged him allegiance.
“When Uther died, Arthur became king, but the time was fraught with danger. In spite of the invading outsiders the kings still fought each other ferociously. Merlin wanted to give Arthur a weapon with magical powers to protect him in battle, and which would unite the people. He crossed through the mists to the Otherworld to bargain for such a weapon.
“His friend Vivian had magical powers, and great influence amongst the fey. She was wise and gentle and lived upon the Isle of Avalon that straddled both worlds. She spoke to the Forger of Light, who agreed to make a sword – Excalibur. But in exchange for this magical weapon, Arthur had to come to the Otherworld when his life was all but over, to rest until he was needed. Merlin felt he had little choice and agreed to the bargain, though he never forgave Vivian for it.
“So Merlin performed one of his greatest feats of magic. In order to prove the sword’s powers, and Arthur’s power to rule over all, he set the sword in a great stone, telling the kings that whoever could withdraw the sword would be the one and only true King of Britain. Many tried and many failed, all except Arthur. He withdrew the sword from the stone as if he were pulling it from butter. And he held it aloft, and the sun struck it and dazzled those watching, and they fell at his feet acknowledging he was the one true King.
“These warriors became his knights, and to promote fairness and equality Arthur had them sit at a round table, and the land of Britain united to fight and repel the newcomers. His court was at Camelot and it dazzled beneath the sun and moon like a shining jewel. Arthur ruled for years and years. His knights fought, quested, feasted and held tournaments; his people loved him and the land was at peace.
“But in the land of light, some still sought the shadows.
“Arthur had an older half-sister, called Morgan le Fay. She resented the time that Merlin gave to Arthur, and she begrudged Arthur’s success. Morgan was half-fey and half-human, and a powerful sorceress. Merlin didn’t trust her. She conspired against Arthur, seeking to destroy him. Using her magic arts, she lured Arthur’s nephew, Mordred, with promises of power and wealth. She filled his head with lies and trained him to kill Arthur. She was patient, waiting and watching until Arthur was distracted. And finally the time came.
“Arthur was betrayed by his wife, Guinevere. She was beautiful but weak, and desired Sir Lancelot, one of Arthur’s greatest knights. And Lancelot desired her. When Arthur found out, Guinevere was banished and Lancelot fled the kingdom, swiftly pursued by Arthur who chased Lancelot far and wide, full of anger and vengeance.
“Morgan seized her chance. By the time Arthur returned, Mordred had taken the land. They fought in the great Battle of Camlann, and Arthur was mortally wounded. As required by the bargain, Arthur’s body was carried to the lakeshore from whence he could be taken to Avalon. Excalibur was thrown into the lake as a signal to Vivian, and she emerged from the mists with her eight sister priestesses to escort Arthur to the Other.
“And Britain fell into darkness.”
That night, Beansprout dreamt of Vivian and the large bronze boat with the dragon-headed prow coming to take Arthur to Avalon, in the same way as Vivian had taken Tom to wake the King.
15 Strange Alliances
Tom sensed that the lake had narrowed – something in the air seemed to have changed. He daydreamed as the unreality of his situation nagged at his brain, lying on his back and gazing up at the thick tendrils of mist obscuring his view.
Again he had the feeling of not moving, of being suspended in time and place, caught forever in a pocket of air between two lakes.
Arthur was motionless beside him. Tom couldn’t understand how a man who had slept for hundreds of years could want to sleep again. Feeling charitable, he put it down to physical exhaustion. It had been an abrupt awakening. Finding yourself on the floor of an underground cavern after being asleep, in ice, for hundreds of years, would be very odd. He wondered if Arthur could remember dying? He would ask him when he woke up.
He wanted to sit up
and look around, but the mist continued to hide the low roof and he didn’t want to hit his head, so he remained lying down. He was bored, and felt as if he had been in the dark forever.
Tom lost track of time. He heard a strange distant shout and thought his ears were playing tricks, but then he heard it again, coming closer. His skin prickled with goosebumps and he froze. Something was coming towards them. Again, a moan and a splash. He rolled onto his stomach and peered over the edge of the boat, dreading that he might see something there, but all was darkness except for the small sphere of torchlight on mist and water. He hurriedly lay down again and the sound stopped. He wanted to see the sky again and feel a warm breeze. When he got out of here, it was time to go home.
Eventually a soft grey light banished the darkness and the mist disappeared, revealing a high, vaulted natural roof. Tom sat up and peered into the gloom. They were again on a river, but to their right was a large, seemingly unending cavern, like an underground cathedral. Huge columns reached up to a carved stone roof.
Tom nudged Arthur. “Wake up, look at this.”
Arthur barely stirred, but Tom kept prodding him with his foot, unable to take his eyes from the cavern. He wanted to get out of the boat. They must be near the lakeshore now.
As if the boat had read his thoughts, it steered to the riverbank and stopped.
Arthur sat up, bleary-eyed. He looked as amazed as Tom. “Where are we?”
“I’ve no idea, but I think we might find a way out.”
They clambered out onto shallow stone steps and entered the silent halls that glowed with pale light. Their footsteps echoed as they walked past soaring columns, stairways that crumbled halfway up walls, and doorways that stood empty and dark. There was no obvious source of the light, except perhaps from the stone itself.
Arthur carried his sword in readiness, although there were no signs of life. Tom carried the torch – just in case darkness fell once more. He thought this was possibly the weirdest place he’d been so far. It was creepy because it was so obviously deserted. But someone had lived here, someone had built this. Who?
