The Stones of Ravenglass (8 page)

Sila judged that it would take half the night to walk around the bay, whereas, if they ran across the sand, they would reach the headland on the other side before the sun went down.

‘If you’re right, Karli,’ she said, ‘and the camel likes sand, then he would have crossed here, and at this very moment might be resting on the other side.’

‘Let’s go!’ Karli ran on to the sand while Sila followed at a slower pace. She had a sudden moment of uncertainty; the cliffs were so very far away. Banishing her doubts, she ran on to the beach.

They were halfway across when they heard the roar. At first they couldn’t make out what it was, and then Sila realised that it was the roar of water. The tide was coming in, faster than she could ever have imagined. In a few seconds, it was lapping at their feet. Sila grabbed Karli’s hand and turned towards the shore. ‘Run!’ she cried.

Karli didn’t move. ‘I can’t,’ he screamed. His feet were sinking into the sand. It was swallowing him.

Sila put her hands beneath his arms and pulled with all her might. With a dreadful sucking sound, Karli tugged one foot free, and then the other. They staggered towards the distant shore, while the tide rushed after them. Soon it was gurgling round their knees.

‘Faster, Karli!’ Sila begged. ‘Faster.’ She looked at the shore and her eyes widened in horror. The sea had got there first. Waves, higher than her head, were rising, rolling and roaring. The water had played a cruel trick. It had surrounded them, and now her own feet were sinking into the deadly sand.

Tumi had told them stories of drowned fishermen. Soon she would know what it was like to drown. Hugging Karli tight, she closed her eyes.

‘We’re going to drown, Sila, aren’t we?’ Karli sobbed. ‘I wish Tumi had taught us to swim.’

Chapter Eight

A howling wind now accompanied the waves that rushed to the shore. The clamour of air and water battered Sila’s mind. She couldn’t feel her feet; she was numb with cold. Karli was shivering violently and she realised that she, too, was shaking uncontrollably.

‘P-p-perhaps we sh-sh-shall fr-fr-freeze to death,’ Karli’s teeth chattered in his head, but he had stopped crying.

It was almost dark.

Sila thought she heard a voice in the wind. She looked up and saw a great bird hovering above them. Its wings were a dusky red against the night sky.

‘Girl,’ called the voice. ‘Lift up your arms.’

So this is what happens when you die
, thought Sila.
A giant bird carries you into the heavens
.

‘Girl! Do as I say!’ The bird came nearer. It flew around them. And now Sila could see that it had a human face; a dark face with a hint of gold in its black hair.

‘You came!’ Karli’s voice shook with cold, yet he didn’t sound surprised to see the strange boy, treading air.

‘You won’t drown, I promise you!’ A smile lit the dark face, and the boy landed in the water before them. Sila was surprised by the loud splash he made. She hadn’t expected him to make sounds like other mortals.

‘I c-can’t move. The s-sand is sw-swallowing me.’ She forced the words through her chattering teeth.

The boy pulled off his cloak and swung it round Sila’s shoulders. Its folds enveloped Karli, still clinging to her waist.

‘My name is Timoken,’ said the boy, fastening the cloak with a silver pin.

‘I’m Sila.’ A glow like the sun’s warmth was spreading through her body. She could feel her feet again, and pulled each one with all the strength she had left. Her toes wriggled. Her ankles came free. ‘I’m almost out,’ she cried, her shivers subsiding. She tugged again, and felt one foot slip out of the sand’s grip, and then the other. ‘Yes!’ she sang.

‘Good,’ said Timoken. ‘Now, put your arms round my waist, and believe that you can fly.’

‘I can fly?’ Sila found that she believed what she said, because she had to; there was no other way to survive.

‘And I can fly, too!’ The water was up to Karli’s chest, but he gazed at Timoken with an eager smile.

‘Hold Sila as tight as you can, and believe,’ said Timoken. ‘Now we’ll fly!’

The current was beginning to drag them backwards. It was all Sila could do to stand upright. She clung to Timoken’s waist and he swung his arms up and out into the air.

The two children weighed almost nothing compared with Gabar. Timoken lifted them into the sky with ease, and then sailed into the moaning wind. Below them, the rising water swelled and splashed, and Sila and Karli could feel the wind from the waves, brushing their bare feet. The red cloak billowed round them like a sail.

All light had left the sky when Timoken landed on the headland. Sila released her grip and fell to the ground with Karli still clinging to her.

‘You’re safe now,’ Timoken tapped Karli’s shoulder.

Karli let go of Sila and sat up. ‘You saved us, sir,’ he said.

Timoken grinned. ‘Not sir. Call me Timoken. And it was my camel that saved you. He saw you and came to tell me.’

‘My name is Karli, and once I lived in a house, and I had a family.’ He turned to Sila. ‘And she did too.’

‘Then we are all in the same boat,’ said Timoken, smiling. He put more brushwood on the fire, and in its sudden blaze he saw the girl’s face. She might have been ninety years old, with her hollow cheeks and the dark rings beneath her eyes, and yet she had a lively, inquisitive expression.

‘The first time we saw you, you were talking to your camel,’ Sila said, almost accusingly.

‘Yes,’ Timoken nodded. ‘I often do.’

‘I see. And you can fly, and so can he.’ She pointed at Gabar. ‘What else can you do? And where are you from?’

‘Africa,’ Timoken yawned, ‘and I get tired, just like you do. I propose to give you some food, and then go to sleep. Are you agreeable?’

‘I’m very hungry,’ said Karli. Sila smiled.

They shared some berries and dried meat, and drank from the water bag that Timoken had filled at the stream. Karli’s eyes were already closing when Timoken lay beside him, and pulled the moon cloak over the three of them.

‘Why is it so warm?’ Sila asked sleepily. ‘Your cloak?’

‘Because you need it to be,’ Timoken replied.

Sila thought about this and fell asleep knowing that she wouldn’t get a better answer, just yet.

They slept deeply, all three exhausted by the day’s events. Before Timoken opened his eyes the next morning, he was aware of the figure beside him. He sat up. The sun was rising and the grasses on the headland danced with light. The wizard stood looking down at him.

‘Eri!’ Timoken said joyfully.

The wizard didn’t return his greeting. He stared down at the boy, his black eyebrows drawn together in a scowl. Ignoring the children beside Timoken, Eri grunted, ‘You lied to me, boy.’

‘I don’t lie!’ Timoken sprang to his feet.

‘Then you didn’t tell me the truth.’

‘When?’ Timoken asked wildly.

‘When you told me the story of your life.’ Eri’s voice dropped a register and he ground his teeth as though he were chewing on bones.

‘There’s nothing of importance that I haven’t told you, unless it’s a brief thing, a meal I took, a place I saw, a coin I multiplied. I don’t know. My life has been so
long
.’

Sila and Karli had woken up. They sat huddled together beneath the cloak, staring at the wizard in dismay. Even the camel got to his feet, spitting and snorting with anxiety.

‘Ahhh!’ groaned Eri. He thumped the ground with a staff he had recently acquired; a slim branch that he had stripped of its bark. It tapered at the top into a spike.

‘Eri, what have you learned?’ begged Timoken. ‘It must be something . . .
dreadful
.’

The wizard strode away from him, turned and marched back. ‘You didn’t tell me about the ring.’ He prodded Timoken’s chest with the tip of his staff.

‘My sister’s ring?’ Timoken was mystified. ‘I did. I did tell you.’

‘You did not speak of its character, and that it’s in
there
.’ Eri jabbed the moon cloak with his staff. The two children leapt out, dropping the cloak and scuttling behind the camel.

Timoken looked at the cloak. He picked it up and clasped it to him. ‘My cloak was made by the last forest-jinni. I can see him in my sister’s ring. And I know that a part of his spirit lives in this cloak. It is a good thing, Eri. It has saved lives.’

‘Ach!’ Again Eri thumped the earth with his staff. ‘It attracts danger. You must get rid of it.’ Reaching into a sack that hung from his belt, the wizard pulled out a dead hare and flung it at the boy’s feet. ‘Cook my breakfast and I’ll tell you why.’

Timoken looked vacantly at the hare. Held close to his heart, the moon cloak calmed his racing pulse. He was angry with Eri, and afraid of him.

While Timoken stood motionless, Sila crept from behind the camel and picked up the hare. ‘I’ll skin it,’ she said, looking fearlessly at the wizard.

Eri scowled. ‘Who are you?’

‘I’m Sila.’ She glanced back at Karli, two paces behind her. ‘And that’s Karli.’

‘Rebels’ children,’ said the wizard.

‘Innswood was our home,’ Sila agreed. ‘Then we were forest-people, and now we belong to Timoken, because he saved our lives.’ She hesitated then added daringly, ‘With his cloak.’

‘Skin the hare, child,’ Eri said, a little more kindly. ‘You look starved. Boy,’ he pointed at Karli, ‘build up the fire.

Timoken watched Karli busying about under the trees; he watched Sila take a small flint from her wet bag and begin to skin the hare. He felt dizzy with apprehension. His sword, his shield and his knife had all been left behind at the castle, but he still had his cloak. The best of all his possessions. He would never let it go.

‘Come and share our breakfast,’ the wizard said gruffly. ‘I won’t take the cloak from you, but you must know the truth of it.’

Karli’s fire burned brightly, and the smell of cooked meat filled the small copse of trees. Cautiously, Timoken approached and took a place between the children. Eri stared at him from the other side of the fire. Timoken looked away from the wizard’s compelling gaze. There was wickedness in Eri. There had to be, for him to say such things about the moon cloak.

They chewed in silence for a while, and when the wizard spoke again his voice took on the sound of the crackling fire and the soft pattering of leafless twigs.

‘My dreams are not always comforting,’ Eri began. ‘Sometimes they make no sense. They are a half-and-half sort of thing.’

‘So that’s why you went away,’ Timoken muttered. ‘To dream.’

‘I have to be alone,’ said Eri, frowning at the interruption. ‘You asked me to tell you about your sister, and your friends, and also about a certain . . . girl.’

Timoken nodded. He felt Sila’s eyes on him, and he blushed.

‘And so I dreamed,’ went on the wizard. ‘I saw a grave of stones, and Britons, like me, praying beside it. False prayers, for the grave was empty. I saw painted shields: an eagle, a wolf and a bear. And I saw your sister, hand in hand with a tiny child. And I wondered if it was mine.’

‘Yours?’ Timoken exclaimed. ‘But . . .’

‘You think I didn’t have a wife, boy?’ growled Eri. ‘You think I didn’t have a son who had a wife? You think I didn’t have a grandchild? I had all these, but someone came to my dwelling and took them. They were found, later, all dead. But the grandchild was gone.’

The silence that followed this pronouncement was so profound, even Gabar dropped his head in concern.

After a moment, Timoken said, ‘I am so sorry, Eri. I didn’t guess.’

‘No,’ Eri mumbled. ‘It’s not your fault.’

They began to eat again, a little uncomfortably, before Timoken asked awkwardly, ‘Did you dream of
her
, Eri? Of Berenice?’

‘I did,’ said Eri. ‘I saw her in the Widows’ Tower. She was sewing with other ladies, all in a circle. There is a tap at the window. No one hears but her. And when she looks, there is a hare at the window, very high, as if it has flown there.’ Eri shrugged and looked at Timoken. ‘So now you have it. And good luck if you can make sense of it.’

‘Thank you.’ Timoken tried not to frown, and he tried to keep the image of Berenice and the hare clear in his head, but Eri was still talking, and dragging Timoken’s thoughts away from the girl and the hare.

‘You told me that your cloak was made of a spider’s web, that much is true,’ said Eri, ‘but when I dreamed of your cloak, I saw a sheet of silver, sparkling with a thousand colours. I saw a being, small with dark wings, splashing the web with water from a pool. It was fed by tears that spilled from the eyes of creatures that knelt beside it. Beautiful creatures; their eyes were large and golden, their ears soft and pointed, their tails ringed in blues and purples. I knew we should never see their like again.’

Timoken heard a quiet sniff and glanced at Sila. She rubbed her eyes and smiled at him.

‘And then I saw the winged being run across the forest floor,’ Eri went on. ‘It held the web like a banner floating behind it, brushing the dewy petals of flowers that would never bloom again. While it ran, the winged being sang a spell, and that was the worst of it, Timoken.’

Timoken shrank under the fierce grey eyes. ‘Why?’ he whispered.

‘It had a slight, sweet voice,’ said Eri. ‘Very beguiling. It said that a newborn child wrapped in the web would live forever, would be a marvellous magician and,’ – the wizard stared at Timoken – ‘
and
would have only one foot in the real world. The other would remain in the realm of enchantments. What have you to say about that, Timoken, eh? You were that newborn child.’

Timoken clutched the web even tighter. ‘What’s so wrong?’ he said.

‘Aaah!’ Eri stamped his foot. ‘It means they’ll be after you, and us. They’ll follow their noses, sniff out the web – and you. Because you’re still a part of their world.’

‘Who?’ asked Sila.

‘Beings from the realm of enchantment, girl,’ the wizard answered gruffly.

‘Surely some are friendly,’ Sila said boldly.

Eri spat on the grass. ‘Silly girl. It’s the greedy ones we have to fear. The demons. They’ll want that cloak, and they’ll kill to get it. They’re here already. Did you know that?’ The wizard scowled. ‘I heard them, felt them, down in the forest. I had to make this wand to protect myself.’