CHAPTER THREE
Once
the thunderous roaring noise had ceased and the dust settled, Peter Wright
risked opening his eyes where he huddled against the shuddering wall of the
cave. In spite of shaking violently, the wall held, and even the terrified boy
knew when to count his blessings. Forcing himself to stand up, he called out,
“Mick, are you there? Can you hear me? Beth!”
He called several times without really expecting a
response which was just as well since none came. “Is anyone there?” he cried
one last time in mounting despair. Again, only a thick, uncaring silence
rewarded his pleas for some reassurance if not practical help. Even so, the
sound of his own voice had a calming effect. Finally, Pete shut up and
contemplated his fate with a shade more self-confidence than he had felt since
the avalanche.
Any such self-confidence, however, proved to be
short-lived. Fighting back tears, Pete took stock of his surroundings. An
intermittent phosphorous glow afforded some light and he was able to discern
that at least the way remained clear directly ahead while there was no heading
back the way he had come since much of the tunnel entrance had collapsed in on
itself. For a while, he resisted the
urge to call out yet again. Hesitantly, he proceeded to make his way cautiously
further into the tunnel. He had not gone far when the apparition appeared, an
almost featureless ghost-like ‘thing’.
“Aar-g-h!” The frightened boy let
rip with a piercing scream.
Pete turned and ran no small distance the way he had
come before collapsing, panting, on the tunnel floor. For a thirteen-year-old,
he had reasoning powers of which any adult would be proud. It did not take long, therefore, to convince
himself that ghosts were nothing more than a figment of the imagination. The
ghastly apparition had almost certainly been as a result of the shock at being
separated from the others in such scary circumstances. A sense of déjà vu
settled upon him that he found increasingly comforting rather than
disconcerting. Hadn’t much the same thing
happened on his first visit to Mamelon, and had he not survived to tell the
tale? Suddenly, he remembered the gluck’s shrill cry just before the avalanche
struck. Maybe I’ll find Heron if he
doesn’t find me first…
Clinging to the hope of finding his friend, much as a
drowning man might cling to a straw, Pete turned and proceeded resolutely back
along the tunnel. He had not gone far when the apparition returned. “Aar-g-h!”
the boy screamed again, but this time stood his ground. “You’re not real. Go
away. You’re not real. You’re a…hallucination.” He yelled at the apparition
which, in turn, flickered as if cringing, and promptly vanished.
Instead of feeling deservedly well pleased with
himself, Pete was left feeling almost guilty. Bloody hell, I frightened the poor thing. Bloody hell, how can you
frighten a ghost? He had taken only a few steps forward when the same weird
phenomenon reappeared just ahead. Pete
stood stock still and chose his words carefully. “I don’t mean you ant harm,
honestly. How about you? Can you say the same?” Bloody hell, I can’t believe I’m talking to a ghost.
The apparition hovered awhile, and then approached
until boy and it were close enough to take each other’s measure. Pete did not
know what to make of the experience at all. The ‘thing’ barely had a human
shape. The mere fact that he could make out slits for eyes, nose and mouth in
what just about passed for a head suggested some human input if only
historically. Bathed in a queer yellow glow and flickering like a light bulb about
to go out altogether, it struck Pete as a somewhat pitiful creature. Creature, did I say? Is it alive then? I suppose it must be, sort
of… Amazed by how easily he had established an affinity with the apparition
he asked, “Who or what are you?”
hastily adding, “I’m Pete.” I must be
going mad.
The apparition said nothing but turned and turned
again several times until Pete caught on. “You want me to follow you, is that
it?” There was no reply, but sensing the ‘thing’ meant just that, Pete nodded.
“Okay, you lead and I’ll follow.” What
have I got to lose?
They made good progress along through a maze of
winding tunnels. To break what was a companionable silence, but silence all the
same, Pete would chat to his guide now and then. “Do you have a name? I should
call you something? I can’t keep thinking of you as ‘Thing’ or ‘Ghost’ and
something tells me neither is appropriate anyway.” Inspiration came almost
effortlessly. “I know. I’ll call you Chloe. I had a hamster once called Chloe.
She was a funny little thing too…” Not once did it occur to him that his
strange companion might be male.
Chloe may not have had much to say for herself, but
Pete quickly grasped that she was capable of evoking certain feelings. He
sensed that she warmed to his chatter. Sometimes, she would be wary and pause.
Pete, too, would then pause and cock an ear as if knowing he was expected to
listen out for something…or someone. “We’re not alone down here, are we
Chloe? It isn’t only the mountain that
doesn’t want us here, is it?” Chloe made no reply, of course, but Pete had a
keen sense of her approving of as well as agreeing with him. As if I’ve done anything but escape with my
life by the skin of my teeth. Oh, well, that has to count for something, I
suppose.
“I say, Chloe, any chance of getting something to eat?
I’m starving!” Chloe stopped, waited for him to catch up, and then pointed to
the cave wall with something that passed for a hand even though it had no
fingers. Pete stared at the wall, puzzled. It was a while before he spotted
tumours of some mossy substance he had not noticed before. “Are you suggesting I eat that?” Chloe oozed affirmation while Pete could only
wrinkle up his nose in disgust. “I don’t think so!” All at once, he experienced
a sharp pain in his head. It quickly passed, but Pete sensed it had come from
Chloe. Bloody hell, she’s having a go at
me because I won’t do as she says. Another similar burst of pain seemed to
confirm his suspicions. “Okay, okay, I’ll give it a go.” Gingerly, he plucked a
small piece of moss, closed his eyes, popped it in his mouth and proceeded to
chew on it. The expression on his face soon registered surprise and delight.
“Why, it’s delicious!”
Chloe flickered as if to say, I told you so.
The mossy substance tasted like liquorice and was also
moist enough on the tongue to quench thirst. Consequently, it was almost with a
spring in his step that Pete followed his guide further into the bowels of the
mountain. They had not gone far this
time, though, when Chloe signalled extreme caution. At the same time, Pete
heard voices. While sensing Chloe’s reluctance to continue, he could not
restrain himself but ran past her and round the next bend to find himself among
old acquaintances.
“Greetings, young Motherworlder, we meet again,” The
druid, Ygor, rose and walked a few paces outside the circle of companions in
which he sat to welcome Pete. Pete, overjoyed at being in human company again,
forgot his manners and ran to druid, flinging his arms around the elderly
figure that, in turn, seemed taken aback, but quietly pleased.
“You will join our humble supper?” asked Ygor.
“You bet,” Pete enthused, and was soon tucking in to
meat and vinre that was a vast improvement on moss, liquorice tasting or not.
“What kind of meat is this? It’s delicious.”
“Foss,” one of the druids replied, only to receive a
sharp glance from Ygor.
Pete shrugged. “Well, it’s great!” While he ate, the
druids talked among themselves, in a language Pete did not understand. He did not mind one bit, was just glad to be
back among friends. He wanted to ask about Mick and Beth but a sixth sense
warned him this was not the right time.
“You did well to find us,” Ygor broke into his
thoughts, “The mountain’s ways are treacherous and confusing even to those of
us who are familiar with them.”
Pete gave a guilty start. He had forgotten all about
Chloe. Again, though, a sixth sense warned him against confiding in the druid.
At the same time, he sensed Chloe was nearby. “I was born lucky,” Pete
responded with a cheery laugh that brought no hint of a smile to the druid’s
face.
“I see,” said Ygor gravely. “But you look tired, my
young friend, and must be exhausted. Lie
back and rest awhile. “
Pete had the notion that this was more of an order
than a suggestion. Even so, it was true. He was dead tired. Indeed, his eyes
closed and he was asleep almost as soon as his head hit the pillow one of the
druids had provided. He was unaware that Ygor covered him with a blanket so did
not see the druid’s grim expression.
In the strangest dream, Pete found himself flying over
mountain peaks, clinging for dear life to the neck of a gluck. Oblivious of the incredible views below, the
dream Pete could only struggle to fight off cold, hunger, and a terrible
despair. Finally, they descended. A lush, green expanse loomed into view while
still some distance below. Suddenly, he lost his grip on the gluck’s neck, slid
off its back and went spiralling downward at break-neck speed. A time would
come when he would have good cause to remember the same screams of terror that woke
him. For now, though, the dream withheld its worst, tumbling him instead into a
state of semi-consciousness where he
found himself mutely thanking Ri for glucks and instantly feeling all the
better for it.
Gradually, Pete became aware of voices. Although some
distance away and muffled, he recognized Ygor’s distinctive way of speaking. At
the same time, a sixth sense warned him against opening his eyes and letting
the others know he was awake. Consequently, he lay quite still, straining to
catch at least some of what was being said.
“The time is not right,” Ygor was saying, “The boy may
yet prove useful to us.”
“And if not?” another voice demanded.
“Then we will kill him, of course.”
“But he is only a child,” someone else protested.
“ Our purpose lies too heavy upon body and spirit for
any among us to balk at whatever needs to be done,” Ygor retorted without
hesitation, ”The red haired boy is expendable, I agree. Yet, we must also ask
ourselves if it is only chance that has brought him to Mamelon with his
companions. I for one find that hard to believe. Now, if he, too, has a purpose
here, I suspect it would serve us better to discover its nature before
dispensing with its carrier. His part in events may be small, but that does not
render it insignificant. Let him believe
he is among friends and we shall see what we shall see…
The voices drifted away.
Pete swallowed hard and tried to think clearly above a
humming noise in his head that was vaguely familiar but too high-pitched to
identify. Had it been this that had woken him in the first place? Chloe! She was warning me. Oh, Chloe, Chloe,
where are you? He continued to lie still for some time, sweating profusely,
before daring to open his eyes. On one side, he could make out the silhouettes
of druids sitting in a circle. On the other, he could just make out the bend in
the tunnel from which he had impetuously run into a trap. Would Chloe be there
waiting to help him after the way he had abandoned her without as much as a
second thought? I don’t deserve it.
By
now, the humming in his head was softer, lower, and less intense. He recognized
a few bars of a lullaby that reminded him of his life in Tunbridge Wells and
brought a lump to his throat. Why on earth should he think of it now, and here
of all places? A flash of inspiration, and homesickness quickly made way for
more positive thoughts. It was Chloe’s way of reassuring him that she was
nearby, he was certain of it. Cautiously, he rose and kicked off his boots to
tuck them under his arm before edging towards the bend, and then breaking into
a run.
Once round the bend, he paused and looked wildly
around. There was no sign of Chloe. Pete
began to panic, and ran on, convinced the druids would soon be in hot pursuit.
He stumbled and fell, grazing his hands on the rock floor as he frantically
tried to save himself. Chloe where are
you? In vain, he tried to stifle a flood of tears and buried his face in
his hands. “Pete Wright you are such an
idiot!” he sobbed aloud. “What am I doing here anyway? I must be mad. I should
never, ever, have come back here! Mick, Beth, where are you?”
Suddenly, he was aware of hands exerting gentle but
sure pressure on each shoulder. In an instant, terror had his every muscle
gripped in a steely vice that continued to tighten. .
“Hush, now. Walls have ears and spoken words will
often echo in places we would rather they did not.”
Heron! Pete
wriggled free in an instant and flung himself at his friend with what would
have been a gleeful whoop if it had not been smothered by a bear hug. “Druids,”
he gasped, “they talked about killing me. I thought they were friends, and all
the time…”
“Druids are friends to no one but druids,” Heron
commented dryly.
“It is good to see you again, young Motherworlder, but
we must hasten I think before the druids realize you are gone.” It was a sweeter but no less kind if anxious
voice that broke into the chaos Pete’s of consciousness.
Irina! Pete swung round and it was the elf girl’s turn to hug
him before all three were hurrying on their way again. Just ahead of them,
Chloe was all of a flicker. Pete glanced at the others, but neither gave any
sign that they could see the apparition.
Chloe is my
secret. Finding Heron and Irina
again had so relaxed Pete that he put the druid threat out of his mind and was
even starting to feel quite smug as they reached a fork in the tunnel until,
like the others, he became aware of echoes of some terrible event happening not
so far away . Bloodcurdling yells intermingled with heart rending cries stopped
all three in their tracks.
. Pete bent down to scratch an itch on his leg. It was
no itch, however, but a snake. More terrified of snakes than any echoes, he let
rip with an ear-splitting scream. Irina, though, did not hear. She had clapped
both hands to her ears in a desperate attempt to shut out the awful sounds and
try, in vain, to pretend she had imagined them. Heron, though, instantly swung
round, reaching for the blade inside his tunic as he did so, ready to do battle
with whatever it might be that presented the more immediate threat.
For its part, the snake remained quite still, wrapped
around Pete’s leg just below the knee...
