Trespass: A Tale of Mystery and Suspense Across Time (The Darkeningstone Book 1) (17 page)

1939

WARMTH. BURLIC
FELT IT SOAKING
INTO HIS BACK
. The unmistakable heat of a summer’s day.
But my face
, he thought,
my face is so cold—why?
He was lying face down, lying on something hard and ice cold. He tried to open his eyes, but it was too bright. He groaned. Every bone ached, every muscle burned.
I must’ve fallen
, he thought,
fallen a long way…and landed on a rock…a flat rock
. His memory stirred. Yes, that was it: the dark stone and Waeccan and the ledge and…Burlic opened his eyes, gulped a breath.
And falling
, he thought,
falling into the darkness, falling into the emptiness, pulled by the Shades, dragged into their world
.

But if this was the Shade World…why was it so bright? Burlic squinted into the light, but his eyes were streaming and everything was blurred. He grunted, used his arms to push himself up. As he strained to raise his body from the stone, sharp tingling pains raked across his skin. He flexed his stiff back and grimaced as the bones crackled and crunched. He knelt and rubbed his eyes. The stone was cold and hard against his knees. He looked down. This stone looked like Waeccan’s dark stone. It was the same size and shape, and it was just as flat, just as unnatural. But this stone was grimed with dirt. Waeccan’s stone was clean, sparkling. Burlic ran a hand over the dusty surface. Could this really be the same stone, or had someone moved him here while he slept?

Burlic shaded his eyes with his hand and tried to make sense of his surroundings. It looked like Waeccan’s ledge, but something was wrong, something had changed. Or did it just look different in the bright sunlight? Burlic shook his head. If this was the same ledge, then where was Waeccan? Burlic stretched his arms wide and flexed his fingers to put some life back into them.
Just you wait, Waeccan
, he thought.
Just you wait until I get hold of you
. And that’s when he heard it.

A low, murmuring whimpering. And very near. Burlic sprang up into a crouching position, balancing on the balls of his feet and his fingertips. He flexed his legs, ready to leap forward, ready to fight. He faced toward the sound, the threat. He narrowed his eyes against the sunlight, bared his teeth. Yes, it was near—very near. Burlic’s skin crawled. The wavering, babbling drone grew louder. It was like the wailing of a frightened child, but deeper, stronger. There, a movement—a huddled shape in the shade of a tree. Even in this glaring sunlight Burlic knew it was a man, cowering in the shadows. Silently, Burlic drew his knife. He tensed his muscles, pulled his body back, tested the grip of his feet on the stone. He was ready.

“Show yourself,” he growled.

The shadowed figure flinched. His strange wailing faltered into hoarse gasps.

“Now!” Burlic bellowed.

And at that moment, the hiding man made a stupid mistake. He jumped to his feet and tried to run, tried to get past Burlic. Burlic roared and leapt, arms stretched out toward the intruder. The stranger shrieked and stumbled. He fell flat on the ground and huddled himself into a ball, raised his arms to protect his face.

But the attack never came. The stranger opened his eyes. Above him, Burlic hung in mid-air as though suspended, his body stretched out, his feet still on the dark stone, his mouth open in a silent roar.

Burlic could not breathe, could not swallow. He could not even blink. He could only stare, unfocused, at the strange figure that lay below him. The stranger trembled, his mouth hung open, his eyes rolled madly. Whoever it was, he was equally helpless, overwhelmed with blind terror.

Then it began once more. At first, Burlic felt it in his feet—an agony of coldness where they were still in contact with the stone. It leached the heat from him, grabbed him, mauled him, shuddered through his legs, his hips, his waist. It rippled across his back, along his arms. It circled his throat, his head. The ice grip engulfed him, smothered him and then, silently, swiftly, it took him.

And there was nothing to show that Burlic had ever been there. And the only witness would wait some time before he told anyone what he had seen. And then he would only tell one person. He would write a letter, explaining everything, to the workmate who’d helped him down from the ledge.

3,500 BC

WAECCAN STARED
AT THE DARKENINGSTONE
, stared at the place where Burlic had been. And he waited. He stood still, his arms at his side. The sacred striker lay on the ground where he’d dropped it. His lips moved soundlessly.
Come back
, he thought.
Come back
.

What was that? Waeccan cocked his head, listened. A faint crackling sound came from the Darkeningstone. It grew louder. He took a step forward. At that moment Burlic appeared in front of him, stretched out in mid-air, leaping toward him. Waeccan staggered back, crying out, his hands clutching at his chest. He watched in horror as Burlic crashed to the ground. “Burlic!” he shouted. But the young man lay as still as a corpse, his eyes closed.

* * *

Waeccan squatted by the fire and added a handful of nettle leaves to the clay pot of water. He set the pot next to the fire then used a forked stick to lift a hot stone from the embers. Carefully, he dropped the stone into the pot. It would take a while to warm and stew. Perhaps, by the time it was ready, Burlic would be awake and ready to drink it. Waeccan pushed himself to his feet and shuffled over to the Darkeningstone. There, on the ground, to the side of the Darkeningstone, Burlic lay where he had fallen. Waeccan had managed to roll him onto his back, but shifting the young man’s dead weight had been awkward. Now, he reached out to touch Burlic’s forehead. The skin was cold as stone. That wasn’t good. He needed to move Burlic beside the fire but he knew he couldn’t manage it on his own. He gripped Burlic’s shoulder and gave him a gentle shake.

“Come on, Burlic,” he grumbled, “wake up and move yourself.”

There was no response. Waeccan sighed then looked to the sky and fretted. It was a clear night, and already the cold air was pinching his cheeks. He returned to his place by the fire and poked another stick into the dwindling flames. His meagre supply of firewood would not last the night. Should he go and forage for more, leaving Burlic on his own? But what if Burlic should wake up while he was gone? Waeccan shuddered and placed a hand over his eyes, but it was no use. Still, he relived the dreadful moment when Burlic had toppled forward onto the Darkeningstone and disappeared. He couldn’t bear it. His chest tightened and ached. He wrapped his arms around himself, felt his body shudder with every breath.

“You poor fool,” he muttered. “You poor, poor fool.”

“You are the foolish one, Waeccan.” His father’s scornful voice cut into his thoughts. “I warned you not to defy me.”

Waeccan hung his head. “Yes, Father,” he said.

“There will be consequences,” Cleofan warned.

Waeccan looked up. “Consequences?” he asked. “What consequences?”

“I don’t know,” Cleofan snapped. “Even I cannot say what damage you’ve done.”

Waeccan stared into the fire and said nothing.

“You’ll be punished, Waeccan,” his father said.

“Yes,” Waeccan said. “I know. I am prepared.”

“Maybe,” Cleofan sneered. “But are you prepared for what will happen to him?”

Waeccan was shocked. “To Burlic?” he asked. “What will happen to Burlic? He will wake up, won’t he?”

But there was no reply. His father’s spirit had deserted him once again. Waeccan rubbed his eyes. “Oh no,” he muttered. “Oh no, no, no. That cannot be.” But what could he do? Once, he would’ve known how to act. Once, he had understood the Darkeningstone. He had lived by its rules. But then he had broken those rules and begged for some small sign from the Shades. Yes, his need had been great, but that did not excuse what he had done. And now, it was too late. Too late for him, too late for Burlic. Waeccan looked to where the young man lay. He stared at the Darkeningstone and whispered a question to the unhearing rock. “What have I done?” he said. “Tell me. What have I done?”

2010

“SO WHEN
DID YOU FIND THIS?
I thought no one ever came in here.” Matt grinned and threw himself into the MG’s driving seat. “Ow,” he said and rubbed his thigh. “I shouldn’t have done that—I think a spring just got me.”

“Erm,” I said. I stood by the passenger door and picked at a flake of rust on the roof. “Well, the other day, I just sort of…”

“Hey look,” Matt said. “I wonder what this does.”

“Matt,” I said. “I don’t think we should muck about with it.”

“Yeah?” Matt turned to look at me. “Do you think the owner might be a little bit cross if we damage his pride and joy?”

“Very funny,” I said. “Come on, I’m bored.”

But Matt was scrabbling around at the side of the seat. “This is chrome,” he said. “I wonder if it’ll come off.”

I turned away. I thought,
Maybe if I just walk away he’ll follow
.

A loud metallic crack stopped me in my tracks. I spun back around.

“Shit,” Matt hissed. “Damned thing broke—nearly took my thumb off.” He was holding his left thumb with his right hand, and he wasn’t grinning any more.

I bent down to look through the car window. “Are you OK?” I said.

Matt winced as he released his thumb and peered at it cautiously. “It’s bleeding,” he said. “But I think it’ll be alri –”

That was all he had time to say. With a crunch that shook the whole car, the seat back collapsed, and Matt went with it, almost lying flat on his back.

For a moment, neither of us spoke. Then Matt started to laugh. “Hey,” he said. “It does work after all.”

I shook my head and smiled. “Your face,” I said. “You should’ve seen it.”

“I bet,” Matt said. “Shame you didn’t get a video of that.”

“Yeah, you could’ve gone viral.”

“For sure,” Matt said. “Hang on. What’s this?”

“What’s what?” I said. But Matt didn’t answer. He reached up to the car roof and started tugging at the lining. “What’re you doing?” I said.

“There’s something in here.” He said. “Someone’s cut a slit, hidden something underneath.”

Suddenly I was nervous. “Leave it,” I said. “Just leave it alone.”

“I can almost reach it,” Matt said. “If I just…” I heard the fabric rip. I stormed around to the driver’s side and leaned down, put my face close to his.

“Matt,” I said. “Leave it.” He ignored me. “Matt,” I said and punched him on the arm.

Immediately he stopped what he was doing and sat up, glaring at me. “What’s the matter with you now?”

I took a step back. “I’m fed up of hanging around waiting for you while you fiddle about with this heap of junk,” I said. “Let’s go.”

Matt looked at me for a second, trying to figure out the reason for my outburst. Then he made his mind up. “Nah. You’re all right,” he said. “We haven’t done what we came in for yet.”

“We’ve found my phone,” I said.

Matt swung his legs out the car and stood up. “No,” he said. “Ciggies—remember? I’m not leaving till we’ve had one.” He bent down and picked up an old bottle, waggled it at me. “Unless, this is your bottle?” he said. “You didn’t by any chance
lose
your bottle did you?”

“Oh stop it,” I said. “You’re too funny for me. You must’ve been reading that joke book again—the one with the nice big letters.”

“No,” Matt said. “I didn’t understand the pictures.”

I snorted. “Yeah,” I said. “I get Dennis but Gnasher—what’s that all about?”

Matt grinned. “I’ve G-no idea,” he said, and we both laughed. Matt tossed the bottle into the undergrowth and reached into his jacket pocket.

“Excuse me,” he said, affecting a posh accent and producing the packet of cigarettes. “Is this a no-smoking quarry?” He opened the packet, made a show of choosing which one to take.

“OK,” I said. “But let’s get out of here. Why don’t we go down by the river?”

Matt shook his head, spread his arms wide. “What, and miss all this natural beauty?” He took out a cigarette. “Besides, someone might see us down there—my brother for instance, or one of his mates.” He lifted the cigarette toward his lips.

Yes
, I thought,
maybe someone would see us by the river, but I know exactly who might see us now
. I had to do something, say something. “Wait,” I said. “I know a better place, much better.” There was no alternative. If I couldn’t get him out of the quarry, I’d have to take him deeper into it, find a place we couldn’t be seen. “Up on a ledge,” I said. I pointed up toward the rock face. “No one would ever see us up there. And it’s good. Cool.”

“Really?” Matt said, looking up to where I’d pointed. “Where? I can’t see it. How do you get up to it?”

“That’s the beauty of it,” I said. “You can’t see it from down here. And it’s easy to get to. There’s steps cut into the rock.”

“Yeah? Steps in the rock—very Tolkien,” Matt drawled. He was trying to sound bored, but I could see a definite spark of interest in his eyes. I was one of the few people who knew his secret obsession with
The Lord of the Rings
. And I don’t just mean the films; he’d actually read all the books back to back—several times.

“Yeah,” I said. “And there’s something up there. Something weird. A sort of…” Well, what was it exactly? How could I describe it without feeling ridiculous?

Matt studied my face, searching for signs that I was making the whole thing up. “A sort of what?” he said. His tone of voice said it all. If I was making fun of him he wasn’t going to be pleased.

“I dunno, I’ll have to show you,” I said. “Maybe you can figure it out.”

Matt looked down at the cigarette in his hand, then slowly he put it back in the packet and replaced them in his pocket. I’d won. He shot me a half grin. “All right,” he said. “But it’d better be worth it.”

“Oh yeah, it is. Come on. You’ll like it—trust me.” I hoped that I sounded sincere.

It didn’t take me long to find the steps. “See,” I said.

Matt nodded. “Come on,” I said. And I started scrambling up the steps as fast I could.

“Hang on,” Matt moaned. But I didn’t slow down. All the way, I could hear Matt panting and swearing under his breath. He was determined not be outdone. By the time I reached the ledge I was totally out of breath. I turned and offered my hand to help Matt up over the edge. He just shook his head and heaved himself up. His face was a distinct shade of scarlet. “I’m all right,” he said. He took a deep breath and blew his cheeks out. “No problem.”

“Sure,” I said, smiling. “I’m just gonna get my breath back—over there.” I nodded toward the back of the ledge, where I knew we’d be out of sight.

“Yeah, OK,” Matt said. “If you need to.” We moved well away from the edge and squatted down.

“So, what do you think of it?” I said.

Matt nodded. “Yeah,” he said between breaths, “I’m liking it. But tell me,” he turned his head and spat into the grass, “why did we have to practically
run
up the steps?”

I laughed. I was lightheaded, buzzing from the overenthusiastic climb. But there was something else: we were hidden, we were safe. At last.

I sat there, and I beamed. I looked to the trees above, watched the mosaic of leaves as it shifted in a gentle breeze. I sucked in the cooling, fresh air. I listened to the symphony of birdsong. Perfect.

I know moments like that don’t last forever. But what I didn’t know, and could never have guessed as I sat there smiling with my best friend, was how horribly this moment was going to end.