Trespass: A Tale of Mystery and Suspense Across Time (The Darkeningstone Book 1) (9 page)

2010

WHAT’S HAPPENED
TO HER?
I thought.
Why did she scream?
I charged down the slope, back toward the ledge, toward Cally. I crashed through the undergrowth, stumbling, flailing my arms. Should I call her name? No. What if someone else was there? What if someone was threatening her? If they heard me shouting they might react, do something drastic. So what should I do? What
could
I do?

Suddenly the ground dropped away beneath me, and before I could slow down I was half jumping, half falling onto the ledge. And I couldn’t stop. I was going too fast, hurtling toward the edge and the long drop below. My momentum pushed me forward. In a heartbeat it would be too late. I dug my heels in, felt the thin soil slide beneath my feet, felt my shoes skid and slip. It was no use.

Some instinct made me throw my weight backward, and I landed hard, flat on my back. It wasn’t graceful, and my shoulder burned when it hit the ground, but it did the job. I lay on the ground, my legs sticking out beyond the edge, my feet dangling in the terrible void.

But I was alive. I rolled over and pushed myself up, still breathing hard. Where was she? There was no sign of her. I staggered to the top of the steps, peered over the edge. She wasn’t climbing down. And if she’d been on the quarry floor, I should’ve been able to see her. I ran my hands through my hair. Where could she have gone? And why did she scream like that? Had her friends reappeared and startled her as some sort of joke? I wouldn’t have been surprised. They sounded like a bunch of idiots. But how could they have got out of sight so quickly?

“Cally?” I called. And again, louder. “Cally?”

There was no answer. I’d left her standing near the stone, so I walked over to it, hoping for a clue. I scanned the ground. Was there any sign of a struggle? That’s what they always looked for in cop shows, but what did that look like? Perhaps that only worked on TV. There was nothing to see.

“I should call someone,” I muttered. But who? The police? What would I say: I saw a girl and then I went away and heard a scream and now she’s gone? Would they take that seriously? And I’d have some explaining to do of my own. I swallowed hard. None of that mattered. Cally’s safety was more important. I had to try.

I patted my pocket, feeling for my phone. Nothing there. I tried my other pocket, the back pockets—nothing. “Oh crap!” I said. I’d lost it. I rushed over to where I’d just landed on my back, but it wasn’t there. I looked back up at the slope. I’d probably lost it up there somewhere when I’d come blundering down. “I’ll never find it up there,” I said. As a last hope, I crossed the ledge slowly, searching the ground for a tell-tale glint among the grass.

It was no use. I reached the stone platform and sat down on it. I put my face in my hands. “What the hell am I going to do now?” I said. I felt like weeping. I screwed my eyes shut tight. And that was when it began.

3,500 BC

TELLAN RISKED
A SIDEWAYS LOOK
at Burlic as they slipped through the lengthening shadows. He took in the crazed glint in Burlic’s eyes, the fierce curl of his lip.
I don’t like this
, he thought.
I don’t know if I can stop him, change his mind
.

They were close to Waeccan now, a stone’s throw from where the old man was squatting by his hut, mumbling to himself. Burlic pointed to the trunk of a fallen tree, and together the two men crept toward it and crouched down. Slowly they raised their heads—just enough to see what the old man was up to.

As they watched, Waeccan raised his voice and called for his long-dead father. Burlic and Tellan exchanged a meaningful look, then turned quickly back to Waeccan as the old man cried out in pain and despair. Waeccan clutched at his chest and moaned, then simply sat with his head in his hands and rocked back and forth. Burlic tapped Tellan on the shoulder, then pointed to himself and indicated a patch of thorn bushes near to Waeccan’s hut. He wanted to get closer. Tellan shook his head vigorously, but Burlic repeated his gesture—he was going to move closer. He shifted his position, ready to make a dash for it. Tellan grabbed Burlic’s arm. Burlic turned on him, pushed his arm away. The sudden movement startled a bird in the trees behind them—its loud scolding made both men duck for cover. They glared at each other.

Tellan was the first to look away. He needed to check that Waeccan had not been alerted. Slowly he raised his head to peer over the tree trunk. But Waeccan was not there. For a heartbeat, Tellan panicked, but then he saw the old man walking away—toward the rock face. For an old man he was moving rapidly, his back already disappearing into the gloom.

Burlic had seen him too. He jumped to his feet. “Quickly,” he whispered, “or we’ll lose him.”

But Tellan laid a hand on his arm—gently this time. “It’s all right, Burlic,” he said. “I know where he’s going.”

Burlic hesitated. Tellan sounded very sure of himself. “All right,” he said. “But I won’t wait for long—it will soon be dark.”

They waited, both men casting fleeting looks into the deepening shadows. It wasn’t long before Tellan muttered, “Let’s go.” He led the way toward the rock face. As they approached they could make out Waeccan high above them and climbing steadily. Tellan enjoyed the look of bewildered surprise on Burlic’s face. In moments Waeccan had climbed out of sight.
He really does have a secret hiding place
, Burlic thought.
Tellan was speaking the truth
. He looked at Tellan. Perhaps he could trust him after all.

The two men strode quickly to the rock face and pressed themselves against it. Waeccan could only see them now if he leaned out over the edge and looked directly down.

“Look,” Tellan whispered. He parted the undergrowth and showed Burlic the steps. Burlic ran his hands over a step, felt for the one above it.

He grunted. “It isn’t natural,” he said.

“No,” Tellan said. “But I can climb it. You stay here and keep watch, and I’ll go and see what Waeccan’s doing.”

Tellan stepped forward, but Burlic placed a hand on his chest. “No, you won’t,” he said. “Our plan was that
I
should be the one to climb up.”

“But that was when Waeccan wasn’t up there.”

“Enough,” Burlic snapped. “All day long you’ve made me wait. It’s always been too near, too open, too dangerous. You might be afraid of Waeccan, but I am not.”

Tellan was taken aback. “But Burlic –”

“No,” Burlic interrupted. “I’ve waited long enough. I will climb to Waeccan’s hiding place, I will see his wickedness with my own eyes and I will stop him once and for all.” He gave Tellan a shove in the chest that sent him sprawling backward. “And
you
will stay here.”
Just try to stand up
, he thought,
and see how far you get
.

But Tellan stayed down.
It’s all gone wrong
, he thought.
What do I do? What do I say?

Burlic smiled.
I’ve beaten him now
, he thought.
I can see it in his eyes
. He turned to the steps and began to climb.

For a moment Tellan watched, then he hung his head and sighed. It was too late.

3,500 BC

WAECCAN OFTEN
SAW
wondrous things while kneeling at the Darkeningstone. Every day in the chill, damp predawn air, he ignored the pain in his knees and his back and concentrated fiercely on the bright lines of colour trapped within the deep, black stone. Each day he went into a trance, forgot the pit, forgot his father, forgot his loneliness and his pain. He was frail from too many years with not enough food and too much hard work. He couldn’t keep his body steady for long. And as he wavered gently to and fro, it seemed that the lights danced and spun, twirling into dizzying patterns, shifting into shapes: people, animals, strange creatures. Sometimes, his tired eyelids drifted down, and then…and then the visions were glorious. There was no one to watch, no one to shake him awake. This was his daily routine, his life.

But now his routine was turned upside down. Now, it wasn’t dawn but dusk as Waeccan climbed the stairway. Now, instead of knowing peace, his mind burned with unanswered questions. “The Shades will show me what to do,” he muttered. “My father will send me a sign.” The words gave him strength, drove him onwards, upwards. He must reach the top. “Not much farther,” he said.

The blood rushed, hissed in his ears, mingled with his father’s voice: “Don’t stop now,” it whispered. “If you stop, you’ll give up. Don’t fail me. Don’t stop now.”

Waeccan dare not pause to catch his breath. He climbed on, forcing himself upwards, ignoring the pain in his legs, his back. But there was a price, each step steeper than the last, each breath a battle. Sweat ran from his wrinkled brow, but he didn’t have time to wipe it away. His legs ached as though they’d been torn apart. He’d worked hard all day, and then, as he’d waited by his hut, he’d been so anxious he hadn’t had anything to eat or drink. Waeccan shook his head. The ground shifted, swayed beneath his feet. He fought for balance, took another step. He couldn’t see properly, the world blurred, lost its colour. Stumbling, he climbed onto the next step. His chest tightened. He gasped, fought for breath—he must not stop.

Only two more steps to go. His arms tingled. His chest burned. He clenched his teeth, pushed himself upwards. Only one step remained. He gasped, panted. It didn’t help. The breath was being crushed from his body. He moaned.

“The Shades have caught you,” his father hissed. “They are afraid of what you’re going to do. But keep climbing. You’re almost there.”

“Let me get to the Darkeningstone,” Waeccan gasped, “and you can take me. I don’t care. I will stay with you forever. But now
I will pass.
” And with that final spark of grim determination, he hauled himself onto the ledge.

His legs buckled and he sat down heavily. His head hung forward on his chest, his breath rasping. If he’d been able to, he would’ve wailed in despair. Why? Why had he not rested? Why had he been so stupid? He braced himself to stand, but his legs shook and crumpled beneath him. His feet slipped, and he fell, slumped sideways onto the ground.

He couldn’t move. Pain surged through his body and fogged his mind.
This is it
, he thought bitterly,
I’m going to die here—so near to the Darkeningstone, but not close enough
. “Father,” he wheezed, “I…have…failed.” And a single tear rolled down his wrinkled cheek.

2010

A FLASH
OF LIGHT floods over me—intense, painfully white—and is gone. The after-image, red and green, fades away. The darkness is complete. I’m cold. Ice water trickles over my skin, pours over my head, runs into my eyes, my nose, my mouth. Something grabs at me, pulls me down, holds me under. Pain twists deep inside me, fear squirms in my gut.

No. Please.

And then I see him. The old man stares down at me, looks me in the eye. I’ve never seen anyone so sad. He raises his hands toward me. I can’t look away, can’t move. I can’t even open my mouth to let out the scream that’s threatening to burst my lungs. My head swims, my stomach turns. I taste acid at the back of my throat. I can’t swallow, can’t spit. If I throw up, I’ll choke, and I’ll die. This can’t be happening, can’t be real. Everything blurs, shifts. I can’t see. I’m…I think I’m blacking out. But I can hear something. I know that sound, it’s…it’s…

My phone ringing. I opened my eyes, sat up and pushed myself off the stone in one instinctive movement. “Oh my god,” I said. “Oh my god.” I was shaking. I turned, scanned the whole of the ledge, stared back at the stone platform. No one there—no strange old man, no one. I put my face in my hands, rubbed my temples, my eyes. My head buzzed, and my eyes ached. I spat on the ground to get the taste of vomit out of my mouth. I tried to take a deep breath, but my chest was too tight, too shaky.

“What?” I gasped. “What the hell’s wrong with me?”
I’m tired
, I thought,
stressed out, hungry, dehydrated
. I shook my head. No. It was real. I shuddered. It was real, and I’d seen it. I’d seen the old man so clearly I could have sat down and drawn a picture of his wrinkled face, his tatty beard. But the worst thing was the way he’d looked at me, stared at me, sad, needy, almost…hungry. Where the hell had he come from? And where did he go?

I looked around, checking every shadow, every hiding place.
I don’t care what’s going on
, I thought.
I’ve just got to get out of here
. My hand went to my pocket for my phone. “Aw, no,” I muttered. “I’ve lost the bloody thing.” But I’d heard it. And it was loud, close.
If it’s near maybe I can find it
, I thought.
And then I can go home
. I wiped my hand over my face. Yeah—home sounded good. I’d go back the way I came, and I’d get over that fence somehow. And if I couldn’t, I’d knock the damned thing down.

So where had the ringing come from? I chewed my lip, looked up to the slope above me. I didn’t know. The sound had echoed, reverberated around the quarry. I walked to the edge of the ledge and peered over. And that’s when I heard it: “Message, message, message,” louder and louder, rising to a scream, “message!” I smiled. Of course, I hadn’t answered so it had gone to voicemail, and here was my amusing message tone—the one my mum hated so much.

It was definitely coming from below the ledge, and that was great. I’d had my phone in the car because I’d taken a photo. I’d dropped it when I’d heard Cally, but I’d picked it up and…That was it. I’d been distracted, and I hadn’t put it in my pocket properly. It would be somewhere between the bottom of the steps and the car. “That was easy,” I said. “Makes a nice change.”

I took one last look at the black stone platform and lowered myself over the edge and onto the steps. I was going home.