Ross Lawhead (12 page)

The knights paused and crouched down; Daniel and Freya drew in close to them. “We must take to the water now,” Swiðgar told them. “Be careful—the river is cold and dark and the bed will be slippery. A short distance along the river there is a rock shelf that divides the waters. It creates an underground stream that feeds many wells of the city. If we dive underneath that opening, and swim on ahead, there will be air on the other side. We will be able to climb into the city through the Western Well. Do you understand?”

“Yes,” said Daniel.

“I think so,” answered Freya. “But how will you do it in your armour?”

“The river and its underground passage are shallow enough for Ecgbryt and me to stand at any point, though you two may have to swim. Now, I shall go first. Ecgbryt, you will come last.”

“Stay,
broðor
. Is it known what awaits us in the city?”

“No, but I do not believe it has fallen. I wist we would have known if that had come to pass.”

“That is much trust without reason.”

“An aye to that. Although I do not think the yfelgóp would be entrenched in such a fashion if they had climbed the walls. Judging from their clustered encampments, so close to the wall, this seems a siege.”

“But what of the beacon?” Ecgbryt asked. “If all was well, we would be seeing by its light right now.”

“I know not,” said Swiðgar, a note of anxiety settling into his voice. “We are bound to investigate the city and discover its fate. It is to be hoped that things are not as dark within as without, but to find that we must take the river and enter through the Western Well.”

“Then be it so,” Ecgbryt returned. “I trust your advice.”

3

The water was very cold, but quite shallow, coming up only to Daniel's and Freya's knees. The rocks were large and smooth, slowing them down with staggering slips, softened splashes, and swallowed grunts.

The stream wove gently in large curves, some of which took them much closer to the yfelgóp encampments than Daniel or Freya would have liked. Most often they heard sounds of squabbling and snatches of arguments, but around one fire the ugly creatures were engaged in chanting a song that the knights later told them was a rune rhyme—a series of blunt, coarse verses describing the yfelgópes' alphabet and system of numbering. They beat the dirt with dull thuds and recited the words in a ragged chorus:

“Fýr is First, it burns, it thirsts;
it feasts on flesh and fallen foes.

“Urth is dirt, the Second house
we dig the dead, decayed to dust.

“Thorn is Third, it cuts, it carves;
a cold and cruel crown for kings.

“Ald is age it wastes, it wanes;
want walks Forth; when time wreaks wreck.

“Rech is smoke, the smog that smothers
the Fifth sense, smell. It chokes, it chars.

“Claw is Sixth, it snicks, it snatches;
when sharp, it shivs, and dull, it catches.”

The verses went on, chilling Daniel's and Freya's hearts just as the icy water chilled their feet. After a time, Daniel's legs started to go numb. It was an unpleasant feeling. The water deepened until he was wading in it up to his waist. As he struggled to keep up, Daniel could make out the shape of Swiðgar striding confidently ahead of him. Then, startlingly, the knight bobbed swiftly downwards, the water now up to the large knight's torso.

Daniel braced himself for what was to come. He made his way cautiously to where Swiðgar had sunk farther in and put a twitching foot forward.

He suddenly felt himself sinking. Gasping as the water enveloped him, he sank farther and farther down. Panicking, he thrashed his arms. If mere exertion and prayer could have saved him from going farther under then he would have stopped right there, but he didn't. With a terrified
glub
, his head slipped under the surface of the water.

He strained his head upwards as his hands tore away at the ice water. After an age, dry warmth finally bathed his face and he sucked in a huge gasp of air.

“Quietly, quietly,” cautioned Ecgbryt, his mouth pressed close to Daniel's ear. “Place your feet on the ground.” Daniel stretched his legs underneath him as the knight lowered him back into the water. “I—I can't feel the bottom.” His voice was an urgent whimper. “It's too deep.”

“It is not. Be calm. Put your legs down straight. Unbend your back.”

Daniel found this hard since the chill had started making him shiver uncontrollably. His feet kicked in vain for a time and then struck against something. He pointed his toes and found that solid ground was, in fact, beneath him. He put his feet down and found that the water only just covered his shoulders. “I—I—I can't . . . ,” he stammered.

“Worry not,” said the even voice of Ecgbryt. “I am here beside you.”

Daniel gulped and started to move forward again. Swiðgar stood ahead a little distance, stopped, apparently waiting. Freya was swimming quietly and confidently a short distance off to his right.

It was slow, hard work for Daniel, who was finding trying to stay afloat in his clothes almost impossible. He paddled along as best as he could, but moved faster with his toes fumbling along the rocky bed.

Swiðgar, up ahead, motioned to them. He pointed to the spot where he was standing and ducked under the water. He didn't come up.

Daniel approached the area where Swiðgar had disappeared, Ecgbryt behind him. Freya was paddling around the area. She went down once and bobbed back up again, took a very deep breath, went back down, and didn't come up again.

Daniel could feel with his feet where the ground fell sharply away. He stopped, paralysed, trying to find enough breath and courage to move forward.

“It is well,” said a voice behind him. “Swim as you can and push yourself along the rocks. It's not far.”

Daniel swallowed and took a deep breath. He bobbed up and down in the water and then plunged his head under. He tried to pull himself forward and felt a strong hand on his back giving him a push that sent him surging forward faster than he liked.

He put his hands out in front of him and felt them scrape hard on the floor of the underwater stream. The pain made his face clench. He wanted to let out a scream but didn't dare open his mouth. Suddenly, there wasn't enough air in his lungs. He made a mistake—this was wrong. He didn't have enough air. Should he go back, or was he already there? He tilted his body upwards, thinking or hoping he must be there, but banged his head against a rocky ceiling instead. He saw red and white lights before his closed eyes. Throwing his hands outwards, he tried to push, claw, or scrape himself along. He gained a little momentum but not a lot. He kicked his feet, but they felt heavy and slow in his waterfilled shoes. His lungs burned.
This must be what dying is like
, he thought.

He felt a large hand grab his back and he was once again lifted out of the water. His breath exploded outwards. He sucked air deep into his lungs, marveling at its taste and warmth. He had survived.

“It is done, lad.” It was Swiðgar this time. “You made it. Stand.”

Daniel put his legs down. The water was shallower here but moved much faster. He stood coughing and sputtering in the absolute darkness. “Freya?” he said when he found his breath.

“Yes,” came a reply in what, to him, seemed a very calm and collected voice, though shivering slightly with cold. “I'm here. Are you okay?”

“I think so,” he said, grinning. “I wish I had tried harder in swimming class.”

Ecgbryt surfaced behind them, his metal armour jangling as he struggled for a footing on the wet rocks. “It gets the blood flowing,” he said, laughing, “does a good dip like that.”

“I'll say,” Daniel said.

“Let us press onwards,” Swiðgar said. “Freya, hold on to my shoulder; Daniel, take Ecgbryt's. We will lead you.”

With Daniel and Freya shivering uncontrollably, the four moved through the near-total darkness. Time had become abstract since entering the tunnels, and now didn't seem to touch them at all.

They had just begun to think they would wander around in the dark forever when a quivering outline could be made out on the surface of the water up ahead. “It is here,” said Swiðgar. He stepped beneath a dim halo of light that fell from the well's shaft above them. A soft luminescence cascaded down his face and shoulders, throwing his high-browed features into sharp relief. It was the first clear image that Daniel and Freya had seen for some time, and it stung their eyes.

“There are rungs for climbing set into the stone,” he explained.

“I will lift you up as high as I may, then follow behind. A warm fire and dry dress will be waiting for you, think on that. Daniel, you come first this time.”

Swiðgar knelt, allowing Daniel to put one foot on his squared upper leg. Reaching up, he found he could touch the bottom rung.

Swiðgar made a cradle out of his hands and Daniel, putting his other foot inside it, found himself launched up into the round, rocky hole. With a cry of surprise, he threw his arms out, bracing himself along the sides of the well to keep from falling back down.

Just above his right hand was a rung and he grabbed it. Below that was another, which he managed to get his foot on. “Alright,” he called down.

“Start climbing,” came the reply. “I'm sending up Freya behind you.”

With water cascading off of his drenched clothes, Daniel started to haul himself up, relishing the idea of putting those dark and extremely wet caverns and creatures behind him and wondering what was ahead.

He kept his head up and eyes fixed on the little circle of light still far above him. He started climbing faster, even though his arms and legs were very tired and unbelievably heavy.

Eventually he came to the end of the rungs. He paused before putting his head through the opening. Then, placing his hands on the rim of the well, he pushed himself forward and tumbled up and out of the darkness. He slid off and onto a stone-paved floor, exhausted. He lifted his head, looked around slowly, and gaped at what he saw.

4

A huge tree towered above Daniel, stretching up into the darkness. It was unlike any tree that he'd ever seen before; it was carved out of a pale, almost golden stone and set tight against two trees exactly like it—and more after each of those, and on and on into the distance. Their branches interlaced with each other in the most elaborate and bewildering patterns. The leaves were painted green and traced with something metallic that glimmered like gold. Long garlands of ivy were chiseled into the trunks of the trees—all of them twirling around in the same direction. Daniel became completely lost in the design of the branches, which he now saw contained small sculptures of birds, animals, and insects. He walked slowly up to the tree, clothes still dripping, and reached out his hand to touch a leaf, half expecting it to be soft and thin. It was rigid and cold. “Wow,” he said in awe.

He turned around to help Freya and took a moment to examine the well—the Western Well. It was carved out of the same stone as the wall but in a much different style. Swirling shapes rose up from the ground in a short pillar of water and continued seamlessly into a large iron frame, which rose above the well's rim and supported a pulley mechanism.

There was a wet slopping noise from inside the well, and Freya appeared from the darkness. He helped her up with an effort and she toppled onto the stone pavement behind him. He couldn't stop himself from grinning as she did a double take at the wall of stone trees.

“Can you believe this?” he asked her in amazement. “An underground city! I wasn't sure I believed it but it's here! Look at this wall, it just goes on and on! And these . . . just
look
!”

Buildings rose up on the other side of them, about ten storeys high, carved out of the stone, with strips of intricate tracery around the doors, windows, and roof. In the spaces between, Daniel and Freya could glimpse more buildings—some grander, some smaller, but all of them displaying a wealth of fascinating details. More of the silver lanterns could be seen being used as streetlamps and houselights.

A hand tugged Daniel's elbow. Freya gripped his arm and pointed a shaky finger.

Approaching them was a scowling man holding a long, glistening sword. There was a scraping sound behind them and they turned to find themselves surrounded by three more men drawing similar weapons. All four faces were pale and almost deathly grey. Features like eyebrows, noses, and chins all blended into the pallid skin, making the faces look oddly similar.

“What should we do?” Freya whispered.

“Just wait and see what they say. Don't worry, I won't let them hurt you.”

One of the men opened his mouth to speak, when the grunting and muttering of Ecgbryt was heard behind them. He climbed out of the well and shook the water from his wet clothing. Swiðgar came close after. The two knights glared at the circle of guards around Daniel and Freya.

“We are Ecgbryt and Swiðgar of Oxenaforde with two lifiendes.

We seek Ealdstan the Wise. Is there one who will take us to the Langtorr?”