Nick was not given time to answer. For from
beyond the shimmering barrier now came a sound he had heard
before—the compelling, head-hurting summons that had drawn his
former captors. He clapped his hands to his ears, but the sound was
in his head.
Only this time it was not so severe. Nick gritted his teeth,
braced himself against obeying the summons. In the faint light he
could see Hadlett doubled up against the rocks, his hands also to
his ears, his white head bowed.
Fight it! Nick marshalled his will to do that. He did not know
in whose hand was that weapon, but it was evil. Then he was aware
of someone pushing past him. He threw out his arm, tried to deter
that other, reeled back from a blow.
He watched Crocker head to the barrier. Behind him scrambled the
others; Jean very close to the pilot; Lady Diana, her face twisted,
her hands to her tortured ears; finally Stroud lurching along, his
gait that of a drunken man, or one so weak only intense purpose
kept him going.
The four came to the barrier before Nick could move from where
Crocker had shoved him, passed through, to be hidden from sight.
Hadlett wavered forward, but this time Nick was prepared. He sprang
to tackle the Vicar, bearing the old man with him down toward the
cave entrance.
Linda, Mrs. Clapp—he must stop them if he could. He pushed and
pulled Hadlett into the cave. The torment in his head continued but
he could master that—he had to. This time he was not tied to keep
him safe.
By the light within Nick saw a scene of confusion. Mrs. Clapp
lay on the floor, struggling to rise. Linda knelt beside her, not
striving to aid her but with both hands on the woman’s
shoulders, holding her down, while Mrs. Clapp writhed and flung her
arms about.
Before them crouched the two animals. Lung snarled in anger, the
cat growled and lashed his tail. Both of them faced the women as if
at any moment they would join the struggle.
Linda’s face was twisted with pain, her mouth ugly as she
moaned and cried out. Mrs. Clapp uttered meaningless sounds.
“Help!” Linda gasped as Nick came, pushing the
staggering Vicar.
He gave Hadlett a last vigorous shove, this time taking no care,
only heading the older man toward the interior of the cave. Then he
ran to Linda.
“She—mustn’t—go—”
“No!” he agreed. But his help was not needed, for
Mrs. Clapp with a last cry, went limp and still.
“No!” Now the protest came from Linda. She lifted
the woman’s head, held it against her, cradled in her arm,
touched her face gently. “Nick she can’t be
dead!”
“I don’t think so. Watch her.” He returned to
Hadlett.
The Vicar had slumped to the floor, sat there with his legs
outstretched, his head sunk on his chest, his arms hanging limp so
his hands lay palm up on either side of his body. He was breathing
in heavy gasps, but that was the only sign of life.
The clamor without was retreating. Nick could think more
clearly, relax a little. The cat and the Peke were still alert, but
had ceased their active objection. It was as if they were to be
given a breathing space.
“She’s—she’s alive, Nick!” Linda glanced
up from her charge. “But the others—they went
out—where?”
“I don’t know.”
“That was—was more of the Dark Ones’
attack?”
Nick had no answer to that either. “I don’t know. It
was what took the drifters who captured me. But I never saw what
caused it—only them going.”
“As they did here.” Linda settled Mrs. Clapp’s
head more easily against her arm. “I wanted to go, Nick. But
Lung tripped me, jumped at me. And Jeremiah pulled at Mrs.
Clapp’s skirt, tangled her up so she fell. They—both of
them—helped me think straight, know that I mustn’t go—she
must not. But how did you and Mr. Hadlett get away,
Nick?”
For the third time Nick had to admit ignorance. He only knew
that, painful and compelling as that sound had been, he had been
able to withstand it, not only that but somehow prevent Hadlett
from being drawn also. He flinched away from imagining what might
have happened to the others. For this moment it was enough to know
that in so much they had beaten the enemy.
“Maybe because I heard it before and could not
answer,” he speculated. “It may lose impact the second
time around. And Hadlett was with me. He did not move out at once,
which gave me a chance to—”
“To save me, Nicholas.” The Vicar slowly raised his
head. His gaunt face was so haggard that he might have been
mortally ill. As he spoke a twitch started beneath his left eye, a
flutter of skin and muscle that drew his face into an unsightly
grimace for a second. “To save me from the Devil’s own
work, Nicholas.” He straightened and winced as if his body
protested. “We must not allow the others to be taken by
that—that thing! They are possessed—”
“Jeremiah!” Mrs. Clapp opened her eyes, looked up
into Linda’s face, her expression dazed. “Jeremiah—he
jumped at me! My own old boy—he’s gone mad!”
“No.” Linda soothed her. “He wanted to save
you, and he did.”
The cat padded closer. Now he set both forepaws on Mrs.
Clapp’s breast, leaned down to touch her nose with the tip of
his own. His tongue came out and he gave her face a small,
fastidious lick.
“Jeremiah.” Mrs. Clapp lifted one hand, laid it on
the cat’s head. “Why—”
“To save you,” Linda repeated. “Just as Lung
saved me, and Nick did Mr. Hadlett.”
“But—” Mrs. Clapp struggled to sit up and Linda
aided her. The old woman looked about. “Where’re the
others? Lady Diana—she was right here—and Jean—and
Barry—”
“They have gone.” It was Hadlett who answered.
“And we have to do what we can to aid them, as soon as
possible.”
He struggled to his feet as if he would go running with the same
unheeding recklessness as had taken the others. Nick moved between
him and the entrance to the cave.
“We can’t, not until we know what we’re
facing. It might be throwing away any chance we do have to just go
blindly out in the dark.”
For a moment, he thought the Vicar would give him a hot
argument, even try to push past him. Then Hadlett’s shoulders
slumped and he answered dully:
“You are right, of course, Nicholas. But we must do
something.”
“I intend to.” That was wrenched out of Nick. Again
he was being forced to a decision he did not want to make, take a
course he knew was dangerous. The sound had died away, his head was
free of the pain. Did that mean that the menace had withdrawn with
the prey it had so easily snared, or only that it had subsided to
prepare for another and perhaps stronger assault? There was no use
looking for trouble in the future, he had enough facing him
now.
“Not alone.” The force and vigor that had always
been in Hadlett’s tone was returning. “We must go
together—”
“All of us,” Linda broke in, “all
together.”
Nick was about to protest, and then he understood that perhaps
she was wiser than he. To leave two women here alone, for he knew
he could not argue the Vicar into staying, would be utter folly.
When the barrier failed the Dark forces would overrun the cave.
Linda and Mrs. Clapp would have no chance at all. And what he had
seen of the besiegers made Nick certain that they must not face
what had walked, loped, slithered out there.
Of course it was the height of stupidity to go out at all. But
if he did not, he was sure Hadlett would set off by himself, or
with the women. Nick must be as practical as this unpractical
situation allowed.
So he suggested that they make up packs, the heaviest to be for
him and Linda, though both Mrs. Clapp and the Vicar insisted they
shoulder their share. And the Vicar did offer experienced
advice.
“Is there any other way out—besides the one I found
earlier?” Nick asked.
“Along the stream, sir—” Mrs. Clapp looked to the
Vicar.
Hadlett seemed doubtful. “That is a rough passage,
Maude.”
“Rough it may be,” she answered stoutly, “but
if it takes us out where those things ain’t watchin’,
won’t that be for the best?”
“I suppose—” But he did not sound convinced.
“Along what stream, sir?” Nick pursued the
matter.
“An underground one. We never explored it far. But there
is a place, Sam assured me, where one can scramble out. I believe
some distance from this—” He gestured at the entrance.
“All the better.” Nick was a little heartened. He
would have suggested the back entrance he had found but he was sure
that neither the Vicar nor Mrs. Clapp could make it.
If they only had in truth the machine gun of the illusion, or
weapons from their own world. He had the knife, and now he found in
his saddlebags the camp knife he had almost forgotten. Since
Hadlett had one of the daggers, he gave this to Linda. Iron—little
enough for defense. They might as well, thought Nick savagely, go
barehanded.
Mrs. Clapp looked about her. She had quietly stacked the wooden
bowls, folded up some crudely woven mats. It was plain she believed
it would be long before anyone returned here.
“A rough wild place it is, but it’s been good to
us.”
“Yes, Maude,” Hadlett answered gently.
“Sometimes—sometimes I dream about walkin’ up the
walk—seein’ the roses an’ those lilies Mrs. Lansdowne
at the lodge gave me the settin’ of. There’s m’
own old door an’ Jeremiah’s sittin’ on the step
watchin’ for me. I dream like that, sir. It’s as real
as real for a while—”
“I know, Maude. I wonder if that bomb did hit St.
Michael’s. Five hundred and near fifty years—a long time for
a church to stand. It still stands for me.”
“We got it all to remember, sir. That nobody can take
away. An’ you can close your eyes sometimes, when
you’re restin’ like, an’ see it as plain as
plain. Maybe if we went back—Sometimes I think to m’self,
sir, that I see it better’n it really was. You can do that,
you know. Like lookin’ back down the years to when one was a
little maid—everything was brighter an’ better then. The
years were longer like, not all squeezed together like they seem to
be now. An’ there was a lot packed into every one o’
’em. Well, a clackin’ tongue ain’t goin’ to
get me, nor anyone else, goin’. But for all its roughness,
this has been a good place. Come on, Jeremiah!”
Her speech ended on a brisk note. Linda moved closer to
Nick.
“She makes me want to cry. Oh, Nick, I don’t want to
remember, not now. It does something to me, I get to feeling wild,
as if I could just run about screaming, ‘Let me out!’
Don’t you ever feel like that?”
“It depends,” he answered as he shouldered his pack,
“on what you have to go back to. Anyway there’s no use
looking too far ahead now. We had better concentrate on getting out
of here.”
“Nick,” she interrupted him, “what can we
do to help them? Can we even find them?”
“I doubt it. But those two”—he nodded to the Vicar
helping Mrs. Clapp over the rough footing in a side alcove of the
cave—“won’t give up trying. And we can’t leave
them to do it alone.”
Linda caught her lip between her teeth, frowned. “No, I
can see that. Will they ever admit it’s hopeless? What do you
think happened to the others, Nick?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” was the best answer
he could give her. He was trying to control imagination which was
only too ready to present him with horrors.
The way Hadlett guided them into was rough, and soon they had to
go single file. Lung and Jeremiah had the best of it as they padded
along with far greater ease than the two-footed humans and soon
outpaced them. Linda called anxiously now and then, and was always
answered by a single bark from the Peke.
After a very short time they hit a downward incline, dropping
them well below the surface of the larger cave. Twice they had to
stoop, proceeding at a back-aching angle. Nick’s flashlight
in Hadlett’s hand lit up the worst of the obstructions.
Now they could hear the gurgle of water. And a last scramble
brought them into a wider tunnel, one that water over the centuries
must have carved for itself, though the present stream running
along it was much smaller than the space through which it
passed.
“This way.” Hadlett turned left. Nick was pleased at
that. Unless he was completely misled, any opening in this
direction to the surface would be well away from the upper
entrance. He wondered if the barrier there still held.
With that gone, would the enemy make a frontal attack? With no
resistance they could enter the cave. At that thought, Nick turned
uneasily to glance over his shoulder, tried to listen. But the
sounds of the stream and their own journey effectively cloaked what
might be behind. He wished that the Peke and Jeremiah had remained
in closer contact. The animals had a far better range of hearing
and could sound the alarm if it was needed.
Nick wanted to hurry, but he knew with Mrs. Clapp’s stiff
and painful legs and the Vicar’s age, they could push on at
no better speed than this. He drew his knife, always straining to
hear any sound except that of the water and their going.
“Here—” Hadlett flashed the light to the left. There
was a break in the wall of the tunnel. Then the light showed the
surface of the water. They must splash through that to reach the
cleft. Nick wondered how deep it was. He saw Jeremiah sitting on
the other side. But Lung whimpered and ran to Linda, begging to be
taken up. So the Peke thought the flood too deep or had some
objection to splashing on. The cat must have jumped it. Nick took
warning from Lung.
“Don’t try to wade!” He crowded up beside the
Vicar. “Give me the flashlight.”
“You noticed Lung, yes.” Hadlett passed over the
light.
Nick squatted on his heels. The rest had flattened against the
wall of the tunnel. He turned the light directly on the water.
There were no signs of a swift current, and it looked shallow, but
he was not a trained woodsman to know. The stream might be a trap
the animals knew by instinct. Yet it was too wide for their
jumping—they did not have Jeremiah’s talents. It would be
wade—
“Nick!” Linda dropped beside him. Now she swung her
arm across his chest to point upstream.
The troubling of the current was plainly visible. And that was
not caused by some rock nearly breaking the surface, for it moved
toward them. Nick handed her the light.
“Hold that!” He was ready with his knife. For the
sight made him believe he faced the alien.
The disturbance in the water ceased, but Nick breathed faster.
That thing, whatever it might be, was not gone. Rather it had taken
to what cover the water afforded.
“Nick!” Linda’s cry scaled up to near a
scream, but her quick reflexes saved them. The hand and arm
flashing from beneath the water did not achieve its purpose. Webbed
fingers grasped in vain. Linda now had the flashlight well out of
reach.
The American stabbed down into the water with the knife. There
was a flurry there. Then the head and shoulders of the being that
had tried to rob them of light arose. This was no human. In the
first place the creature could not be much larger than Jeremiah.
Secondly it was covered with fur as might be an otter or seal.
It had great round eyes, a whiskered muzzle, a wild tangle of
coarser hair like a mane reaching to its shoulders. The mouth
opened, showing yellow fang-teeth. Then it snapped shut while it
hissed much as might Jeremiah in a rage.
Nick advanced the blade he held. The water thing sputtered, made
mewling sounds, but it retreated. This was one of the natives of
Avalon he was sure. But it did not seem as one with the Dark
forces. That it was hostile to his kind was plain, but it was not
strongly evil.
“Wait, lad.” Mrs. Clapp came forward. “Iron
will keep that off, but there is another way
also.”
Nick glanced up in surprise as she fumbled in her bag and drew
out a small length of branch. Solemnly, as if performing some
ritual in the Vicar’s vanished St. Michael’s, she
recited:
“Nixie, pixie—
The water is draining,
Your fine home awastin’.
Conies now th’ cattle a-stampin’,
a-trampin’.
Naught will remain.
By th’ elder, by th’ ash,
Begone—thrice!”
She struck the surface of the water three times with her
branch.
The thing stopped in mid-hiss, watching her warily. But as she
said “thrice,” it gave an eerie cry and submerged. They
could see it moving at lightning speed upstream. Lung ran along at
the edge of the water barking furiously, while Linda called
him.
Mrs. Clapp laughed. “There now, I never thought to say
that in a lifetime. M’ old Aunt Meg, she was a proper
one—more’n my auntie she was really, ’cause she was
sister to m’ great-granny. But she lived a long time. A
hundred ’n’ more she was before she took to her bed the
last time. She had the healin’ an’ the Second Sight.
Folks used to go to her for wart charmin’ an’ the like,
’fore it got so the young folks laughed at such.
“Aunt Meg, she could see the Gentry—that was what we
called ’em in our bit o’ country in those days—though
she never talked much of that. Offered me a bite of yellow cake
stuff once when I was little. Said it was Gentry-baked. My Mum
struck it out o’ m’ hand an’ beat it right into
the dust when I fetched it home. She said it was silly, but she
knew right enough about dealin’ with the Gentry.
“That there was a nixie. Auntie, she said they were
mischief makers. Live in bogs, some of them do, an’ lead
people astray. She learned me that spell an’ told me about
usin’ elder. There’s nothin’ like elder an’
ash to stand up to them of the Gentry as is for mischief. Yes, she
learned me that when I was goin’ for the milk up to
Barstows’ farm an’ had to pass over a bit of bog there
if I took the quick way home. I was old enough to keep m’ tongue inside m’ teeth, an’ Mum never knew.
Never saw a nixie, though, not there. But I always kept careful
watch like Auntie said to.”
“Will it be back?” Linda had caught Lung and was
holding him.
“Not if we do it right.” Mrs. Clapp appeared to have
complete confidence in her method of routing the water thing.
“First we see just how deep this is here.” She used the
elder branch for a measure. “’Bout knee-high, I would
say.
“Now,” she continued with authority,
“we’d best take off our shoes, an’ pull up
m’ skirt an’ your pants. We can take a wettin’
better than our clothes can, dry off sooner, too.”
“A very wise precaution.” Hadlett was already
pulling off his moccasins, rolling up his trousers.
“An’ this”—Mrs. Clapp held out the
branch—“I’m goin’ to stick in so.” She
pushed it down into the water and it stood there upright.
“That there elder is goin’ to be a cover for
us.”
Splash across they did, though Nick kept watch for any telltale
line in the water that would mark the return of the nixie. He was
the last across and Mrs. Clapp yelled to him:
“Bring the wand with you, lad. Don’t know when
I’ll get m’ hand on another good bit of elder.
Don’t seem to grow too plentiful hereabouts.”
He pulled the branch free, dragging it behind him through the
water as an added precaution against an attack, to hand it back to
its owner. Mrs. Clapp flipped it to shake off the droplets along it
and stowed it briskly away as if her past performance was as
ordinary as eating or sleeping.
Now they climbed at a sharper angle than they had descended. It
was difficult for Mrs. Clapp. At times all three of them boosted or
pulled. She breathed heavily but she never complained. Sometimes
she even made some cheery remark on their aid or her own
clumsiness.
“Just ahead now. I had better turn this off.”
Hadlett pushed off the flash button. There was instant and
smothering darkness, and Nick began a protest, but the Vicar was
continuing:
“Wait until our eyes adjust. It is night out there but
there should be some light—moon—”
“Let me lead now.” Nick did not want to do that, but
he certainly was not going to stand behind two women and an older
man. Something brushed past him and he nearly cried out. Then he
knew it was Jeremiah.
Nick bumped into a solid surface with considerable force and
realized there was a turn in the passage. Feeling his way with one
hand, the knife in the other, he made the turn and indeed did see a
pale spot ahead. “Wait,” he whispered, “until I
make sure.” “Well enough,” Hadlett agreed.
Nick took it very slowly. There was too much chance of tripping,
or making some noise. If those who had besieged the other entrance
to the cave had an outpost here they could be waiting.
That short advance was one of the hardest things Nick had ever
forced himself to do. But at last he felt the cool night air, saw
moonlight. He crouched and listened, wishing with all his might he
knew what were the natural sounds one should expect to hear—and
those that would mean trouble.
Then Nick sighted Jeremiah. The cat was in the open, his gray
fur hardly distinguishable. And from him Nick gained one of those
thought messages. There was no one threatening nearby—they had
gotten free of the Dark Ones—for now.
Nick crept back to the turn and whispered the good news. The
waiting three followed him. A moment or so and they were out of the
slit into the night, standing under the stars, seeing the silver of
the moon.
“Which way do we go now?” Linda wanted to know. She
carried Lung, and Nick thought she did not trust the Peke not to
run into some waiting danger.
“Ahead I would say.” Hadlett held Nick’s
compass. “We should go east for a space before we turn south.
Thus perhaps we can outflank those by the cave.”
“If they are still there,” Nick commented.
Having three prisoners, would they be waiting for the rest? He
thought it more in keeping that they would only leave a token force
and be on their way with their captives. If they were captives
still and not—
He refused to accept what his imagination supplied. Not yet, not
until they had proof, would he believe the others dead. They might
lose time by following the Vicar’s suggestion, but it was a
sensible one. And the more they could avoid the ghastly crew he had
seen the better.
Rita—had she returned to the safety of the city? She had made it
clear she would not come to their aid again. But that was only
just. They had refused what she had to offer. And what had they
gained in return—the loss of half their company.
“Nicholas.” He turned toward that half-seen form
that was Hadlett, now hand-linked to Mrs. Clapp, who had admitted
her night sight was poor. “What is it?”
“We are no longer alone.” That was the chilling
information Nick had feared ever since they had emerged from the
cave’s back door.
Nick was not given time to answer. For from
beyond the shimmering barrier now came a sound he had heard
before—the compelling, head-hurting summons that had drawn his
former captors. He clapped his hands to his ears, but the sound was
in his head.
Only this time it was not so severe. Nick gritted his teeth,
braced himself against obeying the summons. In the faint light he
could see Hadlett doubled up against the rocks, his hands also to
his ears, his white head bowed.
Fight it! Nick marshalled his will to do that. He did not know
in whose hand was that weapon, but it was evil. Then he was aware
of someone pushing past him. He threw out his arm, tried to deter
that other, reeled back from a blow.
He watched Crocker head to the barrier. Behind him scrambled the
others; Jean very close to the pilot; Lady Diana, her face twisted,
her hands to her tortured ears; finally Stroud lurching along, his
gait that of a drunken man, or one so weak only intense purpose
kept him going.
The four came to the barrier before Nick could move from where
Crocker had shoved him, passed through, to be hidden from sight.
Hadlett wavered forward, but this time Nick was prepared. He sprang
to tackle the Vicar, bearing the old man with him down toward the
cave entrance.
Linda, Mrs. Clapp—he must stop them if he could. He pushed and
pulled Hadlett into the cave. The torment in his head continued but
he could master that—he had to. This time he was not tied to keep
him safe.
By the light within Nick saw a scene of confusion. Mrs. Clapp
lay on the floor, struggling to rise. Linda knelt beside her, not
striving to aid her but with both hands on the woman’s
shoulders, holding her down, while Mrs. Clapp writhed and flung her
arms about.
Before them crouched the two animals. Lung snarled in anger, the
cat growled and lashed his tail. Both of them faced the women as if
at any moment they would join the struggle.
Linda’s face was twisted with pain, her mouth ugly as she
moaned and cried out. Mrs. Clapp uttered meaningless sounds.
“Help!” Linda gasped as Nick came, pushing the
staggering Vicar.
He gave Hadlett a last vigorous shove, this time taking no care,
only heading the older man toward the interior of the cave. Then he
ran to Linda.
“She—mustn’t—go—”
“No!” he agreed. But his help was not needed, for
Mrs. Clapp with a last cry, went limp and still.
“No!” Now the protest came from Linda. She lifted
the woman’s head, held it against her, cradled in her arm,
touched her face gently. “Nick she can’t be
dead!”
“I don’t think so. Watch her.” He returned to
Hadlett.
The Vicar had slumped to the floor, sat there with his legs
outstretched, his head sunk on his chest, his arms hanging limp so
his hands lay palm up on either side of his body. He was breathing
in heavy gasps, but that was the only sign of life.
The clamor without was retreating. Nick could think more
clearly, relax a little. The cat and the Peke were still alert, but
had ceased their active objection. It was as if they were to be
given a breathing space.
“She’s—she’s alive, Nick!” Linda glanced
up from her charge. “But the others—they went
out—where?”
“I don’t know.”
“That was—was more of the Dark Ones’
attack?”
Nick had no answer to that either. “I don’t know. It
was what took the drifters who captured me. But I never saw what
caused it—only them going.”
“As they did here.” Linda settled Mrs. Clapp’s
head more easily against her arm. “I wanted to go, Nick. But
Lung tripped me, jumped at me. And Jeremiah pulled at Mrs.
Clapp’s skirt, tangled her up so she fell. They—both of
them—helped me think straight, know that I mustn’t go—she
must not. But how did you and Mr. Hadlett get away,
Nick?”
For the third time Nick had to admit ignorance. He only knew
that, painful and compelling as that sound had been, he had been
able to withstand it, not only that but somehow prevent Hadlett
from being drawn also. He flinched away from imagining what might
have happened to the others. For this moment it was enough to know
that in so much they had beaten the enemy.
“Maybe because I heard it before and could not
answer,” he speculated. “It may lose impact the second
time around. And Hadlett was with me. He did not move out at once,
which gave me a chance to—”
“To save me, Nicholas.” The Vicar slowly raised his
head. His gaunt face was so haggard that he might have been
mortally ill. As he spoke a twitch started beneath his left eye, a
flutter of skin and muscle that drew his face into an unsightly
grimace for a second. “To save me from the Devil’s own
work, Nicholas.” He straightened and winced as if his body
protested. “We must not allow the others to be taken by
that—that thing! They are possessed—”
“Jeremiah!” Mrs. Clapp opened her eyes, looked up
into Linda’s face, her expression dazed. “Jeremiah—he
jumped at me! My own old boy—he’s gone mad!”
“No.” Linda soothed her. “He wanted to save
you, and he did.”
The cat padded closer. Now he set both forepaws on Mrs.
Clapp’s breast, leaned down to touch her nose with the tip of
his own. His tongue came out and he gave her face a small,
fastidious lick.
“Jeremiah.” Mrs. Clapp lifted one hand, laid it on
the cat’s head. “Why—”
“To save you,” Linda repeated. “Just as Lung
saved me, and Nick did Mr. Hadlett.”
“But—” Mrs. Clapp struggled to sit up and Linda
aided her. The old woman looked about. “Where’re the
others? Lady Diana—she was right here—and Jean—and
Barry—”
“They have gone.” It was Hadlett who answered.
“And we have to do what we can to aid them, as soon as
possible.”
He struggled to his feet as if he would go running with the same
unheeding recklessness as had taken the others. Nick moved between
him and the entrance to the cave.
“We can’t, not until we know what we’re
facing. It might be throwing away any chance we do have to just go
blindly out in the dark.”
For a moment, he thought the Vicar would give him a hot
argument, even try to push past him. Then Hadlett’s shoulders
slumped and he answered dully:
“You are right, of course, Nicholas. But we must do
something.”
“I intend to.” That was wrenched out of Nick. Again
he was being forced to a decision he did not want to make, take a
course he knew was dangerous. The sound had died away, his head was
free of the pain. Did that mean that the menace had withdrawn with
the prey it had so easily snared, or only that it had subsided to
prepare for another and perhaps stronger assault? There was no use
looking for trouble in the future, he had enough facing him
now.
“Not alone.” The force and vigor that had always
been in Hadlett’s tone was returning. “We must go
together—”
“All of us,” Linda broke in, “all
together.”
Nick was about to protest, and then he understood that perhaps
she was wiser than he. To leave two women here alone, for he knew
he could not argue the Vicar into staying, would be utter folly.
When the barrier failed the Dark forces would overrun the cave.
Linda and Mrs. Clapp would have no chance at all. And what he had
seen of the besiegers made Nick certain that they must not face
what had walked, loped, slithered out there.
Of course it was the height of stupidity to go out at all. But
if he did not, he was sure Hadlett would set off by himself, or
with the women. Nick must be as practical as this unpractical
situation allowed.
So he suggested that they make up packs, the heaviest to be for
him and Linda, though both Mrs. Clapp and the Vicar insisted they
shoulder their share. And the Vicar did offer experienced
advice.
“Is there any other way out—besides the one I found
earlier?” Nick asked.
“Along the stream, sir—” Mrs. Clapp looked to the
Vicar.
Hadlett seemed doubtful. “That is a rough passage,
Maude.”
“Rough it may be,” she answered stoutly, “but
if it takes us out where those things ain’t watchin’,
won’t that be for the best?”
“I suppose—” But he did not sound convinced.
“Along what stream, sir?” Nick pursued the
matter.
“An underground one. We never explored it far. But there
is a place, Sam assured me, where one can scramble out. I believe
some distance from this—” He gestured at the entrance.
“All the better.” Nick was a little heartened. He
would have suggested the back entrance he had found but he was sure
that neither the Vicar nor Mrs. Clapp could make it.
If they only had in truth the machine gun of the illusion, or
weapons from their own world. He had the knife, and now he found in
his saddlebags the camp knife he had almost forgotten. Since
Hadlett had one of the daggers, he gave this to Linda. Iron—little
enough for defense. They might as well, thought Nick savagely, go
barehanded.
Mrs. Clapp looked about her. She had quietly stacked the wooden
bowls, folded up some crudely woven mats. It was plain she believed
it would be long before anyone returned here.
“A rough wild place it is, but it’s been good to
us.”
“Yes, Maude,” Hadlett answered gently.
“Sometimes—sometimes I dream about walkin’ up the
walk—seein’ the roses an’ those lilies Mrs. Lansdowne
at the lodge gave me the settin’ of. There’s m’
own old door an’ Jeremiah’s sittin’ on the step
watchin’ for me. I dream like that, sir. It’s as real
as real for a while—”
“I know, Maude. I wonder if that bomb did hit St.
Michael’s. Five hundred and near fifty years—a long time for
a church to stand. It still stands for me.”
“We got it all to remember, sir. That nobody can take
away. An’ you can close your eyes sometimes, when
you’re restin’ like, an’ see it as plain as
plain. Maybe if we went back—Sometimes I think to m’self,
sir, that I see it better’n it really was. You can do that,
you know. Like lookin’ back down the years to when one was a
little maid—everything was brighter an’ better then. The
years were longer like, not all squeezed together like they seem to
be now. An’ there was a lot packed into every one o’
’em. Well, a clackin’ tongue ain’t goin’ to
get me, nor anyone else, goin’. But for all its roughness,
this has been a good place. Come on, Jeremiah!”
Her speech ended on a brisk note. Linda moved closer to
Nick.
“She makes me want to cry. Oh, Nick, I don’t want to
remember, not now. It does something to me, I get to feeling wild,
as if I could just run about screaming, ‘Let me out!’
Don’t you ever feel like that?”
“It depends,” he answered as he shouldered his pack,
“on what you have to go back to. Anyway there’s no use
looking too far ahead now. We had better concentrate on getting out
of here.”
“Nick,” she interrupted him, “what can we
do to help them? Can we even find them?”
“I doubt it. But those two”—he nodded to the Vicar
helping Mrs. Clapp over the rough footing in a side alcove of the
cave—“won’t give up trying. And we can’t leave
them to do it alone.”
Linda caught her lip between her teeth, frowned. “No, I
can see that. Will they ever admit it’s hopeless? What do you
think happened to the others, Nick?”
“Your guess is as good as mine,” was the best answer
he could give her. He was trying to control imagination which was
only too ready to present him with horrors.
The way Hadlett guided them into was rough, and soon they had to
go single file. Lung and Jeremiah had the best of it as they padded
along with far greater ease than the two-footed humans and soon
outpaced them. Linda called anxiously now and then, and was always
answered by a single bark from the Peke.
After a very short time they hit a downward incline, dropping
them well below the surface of the larger cave. Twice they had to
stoop, proceeding at a back-aching angle. Nick’s flashlight
in Hadlett’s hand lit up the worst of the obstructions.
Now they could hear the gurgle of water. And a last scramble
brought them into a wider tunnel, one that water over the centuries
must have carved for itself, though the present stream running
along it was much smaller than the space through which it
passed.
“This way.” Hadlett turned left. Nick was pleased at
that. Unless he was completely misled, any opening in this
direction to the surface would be well away from the upper
entrance. He wondered if the barrier there still held.
With that gone, would the enemy make a frontal attack? With no
resistance they could enter the cave. At that thought, Nick turned
uneasily to glance over his shoulder, tried to listen. But the
sounds of the stream and their own journey effectively cloaked what
might be behind. He wished that the Peke and Jeremiah had remained
in closer contact. The animals had a far better range of hearing
and could sound the alarm if it was needed.
Nick wanted to hurry, but he knew with Mrs. Clapp’s stiff
and painful legs and the Vicar’s age, they could push on at
no better speed than this. He drew his knife, always straining to
hear any sound except that of the water and their going.
“Here—” Hadlett flashed the light to the left. There
was a break in the wall of the tunnel. Then the light showed the
surface of the water. They must splash through that to reach the
cleft. Nick wondered how deep it was. He saw Jeremiah sitting on
the other side. But Lung whimpered and ran to Linda, begging to be
taken up. So the Peke thought the flood too deep or had some
objection to splashing on. The cat must have jumped it. Nick took
warning from Lung.
“Don’t try to wade!” He crowded up beside the
Vicar. “Give me the flashlight.”
“You noticed Lung, yes.” Hadlett passed over the
light.
Nick squatted on his heels. The rest had flattened against the
wall of the tunnel. He turned the light directly on the water.
There were no signs of a swift current, and it looked shallow, but
he was not a trained woodsman to know. The stream might be a trap
the animals knew by instinct. Yet it was too wide for their
jumping—they did not have Jeremiah’s talents. It would be
wade—
“Nick!” Linda dropped beside him. Now she swung her
arm across his chest to point upstream.
The troubling of the current was plainly visible. And that was
not caused by some rock nearly breaking the surface, for it moved
toward them. Nick handed her the light.
“Hold that!” He was ready with his knife. For the
sight made him believe he faced the alien.
The disturbance in the water ceased, but Nick breathed faster.
That thing, whatever it might be, was not gone. Rather it had taken
to what cover the water afforded.
“Nick!” Linda’s cry scaled up to near a
scream, but her quick reflexes saved them. The hand and arm
flashing from beneath the water did not achieve its purpose. Webbed
fingers grasped in vain. Linda now had the flashlight well out of
reach.
The American stabbed down into the water with the knife. There
was a flurry there. Then the head and shoulders of the being that
had tried to rob them of light arose. This was no human. In the
first place the creature could not be much larger than Jeremiah.
Secondly it was covered with fur as might be an otter or seal.
It had great round eyes, a whiskered muzzle, a wild tangle of
coarser hair like a mane reaching to its shoulders. The mouth
opened, showing yellow fang-teeth. Then it snapped shut while it
hissed much as might Jeremiah in a rage.
Nick advanced the blade he held. The water thing sputtered, made
mewling sounds, but it retreated. This was one of the natives of
Avalon he was sure. But it did not seem as one with the Dark
forces. That it was hostile to his kind was plain, but it was not
strongly evil.
“Wait, lad.” Mrs. Clapp came forward. “Iron
will keep that off, but there is another way
also.”
Nick glanced up in surprise as she fumbled in her bag and drew
out a small length of branch. Solemnly, as if performing some
ritual in the Vicar’s vanished St. Michael’s, she
recited:
“Nixie, pixie—
The water is draining,
Your fine home awastin’.
Conies now th’ cattle a-stampin’,
a-trampin’.
Naught will remain.
By th’ elder, by th’ ash,
Begone—thrice!”
She struck the surface of the water three times with her
branch.
The thing stopped in mid-hiss, watching her warily. But as she
said “thrice,” it gave an eerie cry and submerged. They
could see it moving at lightning speed upstream. Lung ran along at
the edge of the water barking furiously, while Linda called
him.
Mrs. Clapp laughed. “There now, I never thought to say
that in a lifetime. M’ old Aunt Meg, she was a proper
one—more’n my auntie she was really, ’cause she was
sister to m’ great-granny. But she lived a long time. A
hundred ’n’ more she was before she took to her bed the
last time. She had the healin’ an’ the Second Sight.
Folks used to go to her for wart charmin’ an’ the like,
’fore it got so the young folks laughed at such.
“Aunt Meg, she could see the Gentry—that was what we
called ’em in our bit o’ country in those days—though
she never talked much of that. Offered me a bite of yellow cake
stuff once when I was little. Said it was Gentry-baked. My Mum
struck it out o’ m’ hand an’ beat it right into
the dust when I fetched it home. She said it was silly, but she
knew right enough about dealin’ with the Gentry.
“That there was a nixie. Auntie, she said they were
mischief makers. Live in bogs, some of them do, an’ lead
people astray. She learned me that spell an’ told me about
usin’ elder. There’s nothin’ like elder an’
ash to stand up to them of the Gentry as is for mischief. Yes, she
learned me that when I was goin’ for the milk up to
Barstows’ farm an’ had to pass over a bit of bog there
if I took the quick way home. I was old enough to keep m’ tongue inside m’ teeth, an’ Mum never knew.
Never saw a nixie, though, not there. But I always kept careful
watch like Auntie said to.”
“Will it be back?” Linda had caught Lung and was
holding him.
“Not if we do it right.” Mrs. Clapp appeared to have
complete confidence in her method of routing the water thing.
“First we see just how deep this is here.” She used the
elder branch for a measure. “’Bout knee-high, I would
say.
“Now,” she continued with authority,
“we’d best take off our shoes, an’ pull up
m’ skirt an’ your pants. We can take a wettin’
better than our clothes can, dry off sooner, too.”
“A very wise precaution.” Hadlett was already
pulling off his moccasins, rolling up his trousers.
“An’ this”—Mrs. Clapp held out the
branch—“I’m goin’ to stick in so.” She
pushed it down into the water and it stood there upright.
“That there elder is goin’ to be a cover for
us.”
Splash across they did, though Nick kept watch for any telltale
line in the water that would mark the return of the nixie. He was
the last across and Mrs. Clapp yelled to him:
“Bring the wand with you, lad. Don’t know when
I’ll get m’ hand on another good bit of elder.
Don’t seem to grow too plentiful hereabouts.”
He pulled the branch free, dragging it behind him through the
water as an added precaution against an attack, to hand it back to
its owner. Mrs. Clapp flipped it to shake off the droplets along it
and stowed it briskly away as if her past performance was as
ordinary as eating or sleeping.
Now they climbed at a sharper angle than they had descended. It
was difficult for Mrs. Clapp. At times all three of them boosted or
pulled. She breathed heavily but she never complained. Sometimes
she even made some cheery remark on their aid or her own
clumsiness.
“Just ahead now. I had better turn this off.”
Hadlett pushed off the flash button. There was instant and
smothering darkness, and Nick began a protest, but the Vicar was
continuing:
“Wait until our eyes adjust. It is night out there but
there should be some light—moon—”
“Let me lead now.” Nick did not want to do that, but
he certainly was not going to stand behind two women and an older
man. Something brushed past him and he nearly cried out. Then he
knew it was Jeremiah.
Nick bumped into a solid surface with considerable force and
realized there was a turn in the passage. Feeling his way with one
hand, the knife in the other, he made the turn and indeed did see a
pale spot ahead. “Wait,” he whispered, “until I
make sure.” “Well enough,” Hadlett agreed.
Nick took it very slowly. There was too much chance of tripping,
or making some noise. If those who had besieged the other entrance
to the cave had an outpost here they could be waiting.
That short advance was one of the hardest things Nick had ever
forced himself to do. But at last he felt the cool night air, saw
moonlight. He crouched and listened, wishing with all his might he
knew what were the natural sounds one should expect to hear—and
those that would mean trouble.
Then Nick sighted Jeremiah. The cat was in the open, his gray
fur hardly distinguishable. And from him Nick gained one of those
thought messages. There was no one threatening nearby—they had
gotten free of the Dark Ones—for now.
Nick crept back to the turn and whispered the good news. The
waiting three followed him. A moment or so and they were out of the
slit into the night, standing under the stars, seeing the silver of
the moon.
“Which way do we go now?” Linda wanted to know. She
carried Lung, and Nick thought she did not trust the Peke not to
run into some waiting danger.
“Ahead I would say.” Hadlett held Nick’s
compass. “We should go east for a space before we turn south.
Thus perhaps we can outflank those by the cave.”
“If they are still there,” Nick commented.
Having three prisoners, would they be waiting for the rest? He
thought it more in keeping that they would only leave a token force
and be on their way with their captives. If they were captives
still and not—
He refused to accept what his imagination supplied. Not yet, not
until they had proof, would he believe the others dead. They might
lose time by following the Vicar’s suggestion, but it was a
sensible one. And the more they could avoid the ghastly crew he had
seen the better.
Rita—had she returned to the safety of the city? She had made it
clear she would not come to their aid again. But that was only
just. They had refused what she had to offer. And what had they
gained in return—the loss of half their company.
“Nicholas.” He turned toward that half-seen form
that was Hadlett, now hand-linked to Mrs. Clapp, who had admitted
her night sight was poor. “What is it?”
“We are no longer alone.” That was the chilling
information Nick had feared ever since they had emerged from the
cave’s back door.