The Wind of Southmore (16 page)

“
Quick!” Alice cried, and dragged Arlen forward. She could see
the tear in the roof flashing across the stone like lightning, and
the girls could barely keep ahead of it. Arlen’s feet were heavy,
but at least she was moving now, and they had to keep going, had
to, or else they’d be buried, trapped forever in the rubble of sand
and water and shadow. All around them the snuffling intensified
until Arlen felt that they were at her heels, hot noses shooting up
her legs like flames, and something inside her snapped as she burst
into speed to escape them. Behind them the earth was collapsing,
and the sea and sand rushed through in a deafening pour and Arlen
could feel the hot breath on her neck. Before them the tunnel
stretched on, longer and darker, until they came to –

“
A wall!” Alice cried, in disgust and fear. “What do we do
now?

There
were no pictures on this one. Just a tall, blank stone, mocking
them with its blindness.

Arlen
stared frantically. She knew if she turned, it would be there. The
ring, the fire, glowing, beckoning. They had to find a way
out.

She
stared so hard and long that her vision began to blur, and she
could almost see the red stone flickering before her like a mirror,
and something behind it – a white hand, withdrawing a small golden
charm from a cloak.

“
But there’s no keyhole,” she almost wept.

Then the
face, so like hers, smiled and nodded and put her finger to her
lips, pointing with her other hand to the red glow.

“
What?” Arlen whispered.

But it
was true, for behind the ruby reflection lay a small hole. “The
charm,” she whispered urgently.

“
What?”

“
The charm. Give it to me.”

“
OK, OK,” Alice reluctantly opened her hand and dropped the
charm, warm and sticky, into her sister’s palm. Without a word,
Arlen inserted it quickly, jiggling it desperately as she fought
with the stiffened magic.

“
Quick
,” Alice aided her hands, and
between them it turned. The wall quivered and trembled like a
waterfall, and the girls passed through it into the arms of the
cave and collapsed onto the ground, unable to speak for some
time.

“
You’re bleeding,” Alice said suddenly, concerned.

“
I know.” Arlen was shaken, but her head felt clear and free in
the cool darkness, and she rubbed her heel, staining her hand with
blood. “He grabbed for me just as we went through.” She examined
the wound carefully, a long scratch trailing from mid calf to heel,
and bubbling with her bright blood. The cold water was stinging,
and she bit her lip fiercely as she bathed the tear, his whisper
still hissing in her ear.
Morwenna
.

“
That lock. I don’t understand it.” Alice was shaking her head.
“It wasn’t there a minute ago. And then behind the ruby.
That
ruby. What did it do,
burn a hole in the wall?”

“
I don’t know,” Arlen admitted. “But it was the way. She showed
me.” She wrinkled her forehead. “Don’t forget, it was
his
ruby first. The
alchemist’s, I mean. And this was his passageway, or his
daughters’. It must have served some other purpose
originally.”

“
Like burning keyholes in walls,” Alice said logically, the
words ringing strangely in her ears. “They don’t put this sort of
thing in the tourist guides.”

“
Huh?”

“
Nothing. I just wish we could find out the whole
story.”

They
remained in silence for a few minutes, the waterfall trilling its
music as the rainbow beams streamed through the chinks in the stone
above them, bathing the room in a soft, green light.

“‘
Green fingers’,” Alice quoted softly. “Like in the poem. There
are green fingers around the wall.”

“
Green fingers,” Arlen repeated, watching the water crimson
with her blood. The wound was deep, and her leg was starting to
numb. The water below was cold and icy, and the submerged ferns
waved balletic fronds in the sluggish flow. “Green
fingers.”

And then
she saw it. A small brown parcel, hugged closely within the
clinging embrace of the sea plants, an anemone jealously standing
guard as it greedily watched the small, coloured fish darting
around it.

“
What are you doing?” Alice asked, as Arlen lowered herself
into the water, waiting carefully for the anemone to snatch a small
pink fish and concentrate on tearing it open before stretching her
hand into the bed of plants.

“‘
Encas’d in glass’,” she sang, as she climbed out of the pool,
her leg stinging red with diluted blood. “This is where she hid it.
It’s here.”

She laid
the small parcel on a rock by the fall and both girls knelt over
it, hearts beating quickly.

“
It’s so silly,” Arlen said, with a low laugh. “I feel quite
nervous.”

“
Just
open
it!”
Alice cried, unable to bear the suspense any longer.

The
parcel was wrapped in a waxy sort of covering, and was shining with
algae and moss. Arlen peeled it off gently, wincing a little at the
slime. Within it was a small brown bag, still soft and tender, an
ancient skin, like the book. The waxy covering had done its job
well.

Arlen
looked at Alice, and motioned for her to hold out her hands. The
gems tumbled out, smooth and cool, and with them a shining coil of
gold – the twin to Arlen’s charm.

“
It was waiting,” Alice whispered. “Guarding them.” She passed
the dark pearl to Arlen, keeping the milky jewel in her own
palm.

As if in
answer, Arlen’s charm began to glow, and a tingling thrill shot
through both girls like an electric current. The gems resting
snugly in their hands began to emit a soft, translucent light, as
if communicating, and it seemed suddenly that both girls could see
through the outer shells into some other swirling, shimmering
current of life, a glimpse of another energy, and then the light
faded, the pearls once again opaque and enigmatic.

“
They’re magic,” Alice said softly, and the small, smooth orbs
warmed their hands again, as if in response. It was a crackling,
tugging pull, like a magnetic attraction.

“
They’re drawn to each other,” Arlen said. “Can you feel
it?”

“
Yes,” replied Alice. “But now what?”

But it
didn’t seem to matter as the charms sparkled and shone, and they
sat, mesmerised, by the single thread of light which connected the
two halves. They could see faces and swirling cloaks, and could
hear the faint trill of faraway music which seemed to dance in
crystal notes across the rainbow light of the cave.

“
Hey!”

The world
was gone, snapped back suddenly into the dimmed orbs which sat,
still and silent once again, in their palms.

Arlen
gazed around her, bewildered. The voice had come from the small
tunnel leading onto the beach, and she felt little surprise and
much frustration when the head of Robbie MacKenzie peered in once
again. “What are you doing here?” Her tone was accusing, and she
tried to quash the guilt that rose to her cheeks like
flames.

“
Robbie!” Alice’s voice held a relieved surprise. “How are
you?”

“
Well, I – ” Robbie stopped and grinned, wanly. “Recovered, I
guess. I – I just wanted to see how you two were doing,” he
finished, a little sheepishly, a lone ray of light falling from the
pearly roof to play in his thick, dark hair.

“
We’re fine,” Arlen said shortly, and Alice glared at her.
“We’re – ” and then, “How did you know we were here?”

“
I don’t know,” he half shrugged, as if knowing how ridiculous
it sounded. “I just knew.”

Arlen was
smarting with anger and fear. How had he not been seen by the
dancers? Had he shown them the way in? She swayed suddenly, sick
with terror and, as if in answer, the walls shook with a loud
cracking and tearing noise from behind. All three turned quickly as
the sky opened above them and they were drowned in a heavy shower
of gravel and dust, which filled the room in an opaque
cloud.

“
What’s – what’s going on?” Alice coughed, hardly able to
breathe.

“
I don’t know,” Arlen shouted above the noise. An iron fist
seemed to clutch at her heart as her cave, her room, her secret
place, began to tear apart before her. The walls were vibrating as
if they would collapse at any second, crystal lights shooting
through the dust like a giant glitterball, the ceiling above
already an open and gaping wound as the sand streamed in and the
cold sea mist engulfed them.

“
I don’t know either,” Robbie shouted back, “but I do know that
we’d better get out of here in a hurry. This thing is going
down.”

He moved
back towards the tunnel, which was miraculously still open, with
Alice following. He saw her safely through and turned to wait for
Arlen, whom he could no longer see in the dense cloud of
dust.

It reminded him a little of a ride he’d been on at a theme
park, although he could see that there was much less chance of
coming through this one safely. The ceiling was crumbling now, and
the frozen icicles of stalagtites fell and crashed around him like
daggers. But this was no ride. He shook, as his foot was nearly
speared by one of the descending blades. “Arlen?” he shouted
loudly. The noise was nearly deafening. “
Arlen
!” He had almost fallen into the
lake, fighting its own unnatural storm, and he experienced a
sickening moment when all turned green and hazy, his stomach
turning over when he realised that she might be in
there.

“
Arlen? Robbie? Where are you?” He could hear Alice’s terrified
voice echoing from somewhere.

“
Stay there. Don’t come in!” he shouted, knowing that it would
be useless. “I’ll find her!” He turned sharply and almost fell over
Arlen, who was seated silently on her rock seat by the water’s
edge. Falling rubble grazed her, and her hair was white with flying
dust, and still she sat as though entranced. “Arlen!
Arlen
!” He was almost
furious with her now for scaring him like that. Still she said
nothing, and he reached down and shook her fiercely until her head
rang and she snapped to suddenly and answered him with a stinging
blow to the face. He would never forget the way she looked at him
then, her eyes smeared with tears, with loss. She had almost felt
that she could die there, amongst its falling magic. Her cave. She
hadn’t wanted to move. She couldn’t –

“
Arlen, what are you doing?” Alice’s voice rang with anguish.
“Come
on
.
Get out
!”

Arlen
started. Her eyes grew black, and she turned and made her way
unsteadily to where Alice stood, Robbie silently following. Her
hair was matted against her face with blood and dust, and Alice
pressed her hand and drew her through the tunnel and into the open
air. Robbie squeezed himself out behind her, his tall body just
clear of the small entrance when there was a roar and a rush and
the tunnel collapsed behind him. “Come on. Quick,” he said, and the
trio made their way, half sliding in the pool of sea slime, towards
the maze of paths as the earth rumbled behind them, disappearing
beneath their footprints.

It was a
miracle that none of them were killed. But they headed away from
the dancing ground and the castle, further along the beach, where
they stood firmly on the ground and watched the falling rubble from
a distance. The alchemist’s cave was no more. There would be no
entrance to it now, from either side, and even if there were, there
would now be no cave to find. Arlen drew a sharp breath, but her
eyes were dry and stinging, and she would not cry any
more.

It looked
just as though there had been a landslide. The sea splashed and
swallowed beneath the bare cliffside, and there was a strange,
surreal beauty as the rocks shook their last and gradually
subsided, with a silent sigh, beneath the still mantle of
night.

They
stood quietly, and the darkness closed its heavy folds around them.
The silence was so powerful they could almost hear it. Even the
water, which had been so racked a few moments before, was now still
and winking like smooth glass, waiting, patiently. Arlen had often
wondered what she should see below her, if she ever did dare to
walk across it, as it had so often invited.

But the
evening’s destruction had not yet finished and, as they stood and
regarded each other in silence, the darkness above them split with
a resounding crack, and their faces were illuminated for an instant
by the explosive ray of a thunderbolt. Alice jumped, shaking. She
had never liked thunder. From between the jagged fronds of cloud
the rain poured like bullets, stinging sharp and cold against their
faces, penetrating and soaking them in a few seconds.

“
Maybe I’d better see you home,” Robbie said then, shouting to
be heard over the downpour.

“
We’re not scared of a storm,” Arlen yelled back, standing
firm, as proud and tall as her small frame would allow. She, too,
was trembling, but hers was from a longing and excitement that
thunderstorms always seemed to bring out in her. She felt the rain
streaming on her face and her body tingling with cold and her soul
shimmering inside her. The wind sang in a passion as if in
response, whipping the wet strands of hair around her face, its
lost songs clamouring in her ear.