The Weirdstone of Brisingamen (6 page)

“Oh, I just wondered.”

The rhododendrons came to an end at the border of a mere, about half a mile long and a quarter wide.

“This is it,” said Gowther, sitting down on a fallen trunk which stretched out over the water. “It's a trifle marshy, but we're not easy to reach here, as theer's some as might term this poaching. Now if you'll open yon basket and pass the tin with the bait in it, we can settle down and makes ourselves comfortable.”

After going out as far as he could along the tree to cast his rod, Gowther sat with his back against the roots and lit his pipe. Colin and Susan lay full length on the wrinkled bark and gazed into the mere.

Within two hours they had three perch between them, so they gathered in their tackle and headed for home, arriving well before dusk.

The following morning in Alderley village Susan went with Bess to the shops while Colin stayed to help Gowther with the vegetables. They all met again for a meal at noon, and afterwards climbed into the cart and went with Gowther on his round.

It was a hot day, and by four o'clock Colin and Susan were very thirsty, so Bess said that they ought to drop off for an ice-cream and a lemonade.

“We've to go down Moss Lane,” she said, “and we shanner be above half an hour; you stay and cool down a bit.”

The children were soon in the village café, with their drinks before them. Susan was toying with her bracelet, and idly trying to catch the light so that she could see the blue heart of her Tear.

“It's always difficult to find,” she said. “I never know when it's going to come right … ah … wait a minute … yes … got it! You know, it reminds me of the light in Fundin …”

She looked at Colin. He was staring at her, open mouthed. They both dropped their eyes to Susan's wrist where the Tear gleamed so innocently.

“But it
couldn't
be!” whispered Colin. “Could it?”

“I don't … know. But how?”

But how?

“No, of course not!” said Colin. “The wizard would have recognised it as soon as he saw it, wouldn't he?”

Susan flopped back in her chair, releasing her pent-up breath in a long sigh. But a second later she was bolt upright, inarticulate with excitement.

“He couldn't have seen it! I – I was wearing my mackintosh! Oh,
Colin …
!!”

Though just as shaken as his sister, Colin was not content to sit and gape. Obviously they had to find out, and quickly, whether Susan was wearing Firefrost, or just a piece of
crystal. If it should be Firefrost, and had been recognised by the wrong people, their brush with the svarts would at last make sense. How the stone came to be on Susan's wrist was another matter.

“We must find Cadellin at once,” he said. “Because if this is Firefrost, the sooner he has it the better it will be for us all.”

At that moment the cart drew up outside, and Gowther called that it was time to be going home.

The children tried hard to conceal their agitation, yet the leisurely pace Prince seemed to adopt on the “front” hill, as it was called locally, had them almost bursting with impatience.

“Bess,” said Susan, “are you sure you can't remember anything else about the Bridestone? I want to find out as much as I can about it.”

“Nay, lass, I've told you all as I know. My mother had it from her mother, and she always said it had been passed down like that for I dunner know how mony years. And I believe theer was some story about how it should never be shown to onybody outside the family for fear of bringing seven years' bad luck, but my mother didner go in much for superstition and that sort of claptrap.”

“Have you always lived in Alderley?”

“Bless you, yes! I was born and bred in th'Hough” (she pronounced it “thuff”), “but my mother was a Goostrey
woman, and I believe before that her family had connections Mobberley way.”

“Oh?”

Colin and Susan could hardly contain themselves.

“Gowther,” said Colin, “before we come home, Sue and I want to go to Stormy Point; which is the nearest way?”

“What! Before you've had your teas?” exclaimed Bess.

“Yes, I'm afraid so. You see, it's something very important and secret, and we
must
go.”

“You're not up to owt daft down the mines, are you?” said Gowther.

“Oh no,” said Colin; “but, please, we must go. We'll be back early, and it doesn't matter about tea.”

“Er well, it'll be your stomachs as'll be empty! But think on, we dunner want to come looking for you at midneet.

“Your best way'll be to get off at the gamekeeper's lodge, and follow the main path till it forks by the owd quarry: then take the left hond path, and it'll bring you straight to Stormy Point.”

They reached the top of the Edge, and after about quarter of a mile Gowther halted Prince before a cottage built of red sandstone and tucked in the fringe of the wood. Along the side of the cottage, at right angles to the road, a track disappeared among the trees in what Gowther said was the direction of Stormy Point.

The children jumped from the cart, and ran off along the track, while Gowther and Bess continued on their way, dwelling sentimentally on what it was to be young.

“Don't you think we'd better go by the path Cadellin told us to use? He said it was the only safe one, remember.”

“We haven't time to go all that way round,” said Colin; “we must show him your Tear as soon as we can. And anyway, Gowther says this is the path to Stormy Point, and it's broad daylight, so I don't see that we can come to any harm.”

“Well, how are we going to find Cadellin when we're there?”

“We'll go straight to the iron gates and call him: being a wizard he's bound to hear … I hope. Still, we must try!”

They pressed deeper and deeper into the wood, and came to a level stretch of ground where the bracken thinned and gave place to rich turf, dappled with sunlight. And here, in the midst of so much beauty, they learnt too late that wizards' words are seldom idle, and traps well sprung hold hard their prey.

Out of the ground on all sides swirled tongues of thick white mist, which merged into a rolling fog about the children's knees; it paused, gathered itself, and leapt upwards, blotting out the sun and the world of life and light.

It was too much for Susan. Her nerve failed her. All that mattered was to escape from this chill cloud and what it must
contain. She ran blindly, stumbled a score of paces, then tripped, and fell full length upon the grass.

She was not hurt, but the jolt brought her to her senses; the jolt – and something else.

In falling, she had thrown her arms out to protect herself, and as her head cleared she realised that there was no earth beneath her fingers, only emptiness. She lay there, not daring to move.

“Sue, where are you?” It was Colin's voice, calling softly. “Are you all right?”

“I'm here. Be careful. I think I'm on the edge of a cliff, but I can't see.”

“Keep still, then; I'll feel my way to you.”

He crawled in the direction of Susan's voice, but even in that short distance he partly lost his bearing, and it was several minutes before he found his sister, and having done so, he wriggled cautiously alongside her.

The turf ended under his nose, and all beyond was a sea of grey. Colin felt around for a pebble and dropped it over the edge. Three seconds passed before he heard it land.

“Good job you tripped, Sue! It's a long way down. This must be the old quarry. Now keep quiet a minute, and listen.”

They strained their ears to catch the slightest sound, but there was nothing to be heard. They might have been the only living creatures on earth.

“We must go back to the path, Sue. And we've got to make as little noise as possible, because whatever it is that made this fog will be listening for us. If we don't find the path we may easily walk round in circles until nightfall, even supposing we're left alone as long as that.

“Let's get away from this quarry, for a start: there's no point in asking for trouble.”

They stood up, and holding each other's hand, walked slowly back towards the path.

As the minutes went by, Susan grew more and more uneasy.

“Colin,” she said at last, “I hadn't run more than a dozen steps, I'm sure, when I tripped, and we've been walking for a good five minutes. Do you think we're going the right way?”

“No, I don't. And I don't know which is the right way, so we'll have to hope for the best. We'll try to walk in a straight line, and perhaps we'll leave this fog behind.”

But they did not. Either the mist had spread out over a wide area, or, as the children began to suspect, it was moving with them. They made very slow progress; every few paces they would stop and listen, but there was only the silence of the mist, and that was as unnerving as the sound of something moving would have been. Also, it was impossible to see for more than a couple of yards in any direction, and they were frightened of falling into a
hidden shaft, or even the quarry, for they had lost all sense of direction by now.

The path seemed to have vanished; but, in fact, they had crossed it some minutes earlier without knowing. As they approached, the mist had gathered thickly about their feet, hiding the ground until the path was behind them.

After a quarter of an hour Colin and Susan were shivering uncontrollably as the dampness ate into their bones. Every so often the trunk of a pine tree would loom out of the mist, so that it seemed as though they were walking through a pillared hall that had no beginning, and no end.

“We must be moving in circles, Colin. Let's change direction instead of trying to keep in a straight line.”

“We couldn't be more lost than we are at present, so we may as well try it.”

They could not believe their luck. Within half a minute they came upon an oak, and beyond that another. The fog was as dense as ever, but they knew that they were breaking fresh ground, and that was encouraging.

“Oh, I wish Cadellin would come,” said Susan.

“That's an idea! Let's shout for help: he may hear us.”

“But we'll give our position away.”

“I don't think that matters any more. Let's try, anyway.”

“All right.”

“One, two, three. Ca-dell-in! Help! Ca-dell-in!!”

It was like shouting in a padded cell. Their voices, flat and dead, soaked into the grey blanket.

“That can't have carried far,” said Colin disgustedly. “Try again. One, two, three. Help! Ca-dell-in! Help!!!”

“It's no use,” said Susan; “he'll never hear us. We'll have to find our own way out.”

“And we'll do that if we keep going at our own pace,” said Colin. “If whatever caused this had intended to attack us it would have done so by now, wouldn't it? No, it wants to frighten us into rushing over a precipice or something like that. As long as we carry on slowly we'll be safe enough.”

He was wrong, but they had no other plan.

For the next few minutes the children made their way in silence, Susan concentrating on the ground immediately in front, Colin alert for any sight or sound of danger.

All at once Susan halted.

“Hallo, what's this?”

At their feet lay two rough-hewn boulders and beyond them, on either side, could be seen the faint outline of others of a like size.

“What can they be? They look as though they've been put there deliberately, don't they?”

“Never mind,” said Colin; “we mustn't waste time in standing around.”

And they passed between the stones, only to stop short a
couple of paces later, with despair in their hearts, cold as the east wind.

Susan's question was answered. They were in the middle of a ring of stones, and the surrounding low, dim shapes rose on the limit of vision as though marking the boundary of the world.

Facing the children were two stones, far bigger than the rest, and on one of the stones sat a figure, and the sight of it would have daunted a brave man.

For three fatal seconds the children stared, unable to think or move. And as they faltered, the jaws of the trap closed about them; for, like a myriad snakes, the grass within the circle, alive with the magic of the place, writhed about their feet, shackling them in a net of blade and root, tight as a vice.

As if in some dark dream, Colin and Susan strained to tear themselves free, but they were held like wasps in honey.

Slowly the figure rose from its seat and came towards them. Of human shape it was, though like no mortal man, for it stood near eight feet high, and was covered from head to foot in a loose habit, dank and green, and ill concealing the terrible thinness and spider strength of the body beneath. A deep cowl hid the face, skin mittens were on the wasted hands, and the air was laden with the reek of foul waters.

The creature stopped in front of Susan and held out a hand; not a word was spoken.

“No!” gasped Susan. “You shan't have it!” And she put her arm behind her back.

“Leave her alone!” yelled Colin. “If you touch her Cadellin will
kill
you!”

The shrouded head turned slowly towards him, and he gazed into the cavern of the hood; courage melted from him, and his knees were water.

Then, suddenly, the figure stretched out its arms and seized both the children by the shoulder.

They had no chance to struggle or to defend themselves. With a speed that choked the cry of anguish in their throats, an icy numbness swept down from the grip of those hands into their bodies, and the children stood paralysed, unable to move a finger.

In a moment the bracelet was unfastened from Susan's wrist, and the grim shape turned on its heel and strode into the mist. And the mist gathered round it and formed a swirling cloud that moved swiftly away among the trees, and was lost to sight.

The sun shone upon the stone circle, and upon the figures standing motionless in the centre. The warm rays poured life and feeling into those wooden bodies, and they began to move. First an arm stirred jerkily, doll-like, then a head turned, a leg moved, and slowly the numbness drained from their limbs, the grass released its hold, and the children
crumpled forward on to their hands and knees, shivering and gasping, the blood in their heads pounding like triphammers.