Trespass: A Tale of Mystery and Suspense Across Time (The Darkeningstone Book 1) (24 page)

3,500 BC

TELLAN STOPPED
WALKING
and looked back toward the village. “Come on, Burlic,” he called. “Catch up.”

Burlic did not respond, did not walk faster. Tellan checked the height of the sun, then watched as Burlic trudged toward him.
We could have been there by now
, he thought.

“Maybe we should go back,” Burlic said as he caught up with Tellan.

Tellan studied him carefully. “Tired?” he said.

Burlic shrugged. “It was a cold night,” he said. “The baby—you know how it is.”

“Oh yes,” Tellan said. “The cold nights are hard on the little ones—and on the old ones too.”

Burlic returned Tellan’s look but said nothing.

“Did Waeccan have a fire when you left? Did he have food?” Tellan said.

“He had a fire. I don’t know how much food he had.”

“And he was…” Tellan hesitated. “He was well?”

“No,” Burlic said. “He’s not well. What did you expect? He’s old—and he’s not right in his head.”

“Well then, the sooner we get there the better,” Tellan said. He turned to go, but Burlic put a hand on his arm.

“Tellan,” he said. “I think…I think we might be too late.”

Tellan pulled back from Burlic. “Too late? Burlic, what have you done?”

“No,” Burlic said. “I don’t mean that. I haven’t done anything. It’s just…”

“What?” Tellan said. “What happened?”

Burlic shook his head. “I can’t explain it,” he said. “He said a lot of things—about the Shades. I didn’t understand it.”

“But Burlic, that’s just the way Waeccan talks,” Tellan said. “He’s always been a bit –”

“No,” Burlic interrupted. “This was different. He was ranting and raving. It was like…like a man at the end of his time.”

He’s afraid
, Tellan thought.
He’s making excuses. But what is he afraid of?

“If Waeccan is alive, we must help him,” he said. “If he’s reached the end of his time, then we have a different job to do.”

Burlic pursed his lips.
This is all wrong
, he thought.
But how can I explain it? How can I tell him that Waeccan begged me to stay with him and I ran away?

“Anyway,” Tellan said. “You told Scymrian that you would go. And I think you were right—you should go. And I’ll come with you.”

Burlic nodded. What was the point in arguing? “Come on then,” he said. “Enough talking.”

For the rest of the journey, the two men walked in silence. As they neared the pit, Tellan watched Burlic carefully, but Burlic did not hesitate. He wouldn’t show his fears in front of the younger man.

They picked their way carefully across the pit, watching the shadows, listening. At the bottom of the stairway, they paused.

“Should we call out?” Tellan said.

“No,” Burlic muttered. “We’ll go quietly. Just in case.”

In case of what?
Tellan thought. “All right,” he said. “I’ll go first.”

“No,” Burlic said. “Follow me.” He checked the pouch of food was closed with its drawstring and the flask of water was stoppered. He hung them over his shoulder. He was prepared. He looked up to the ledge, listened. There was no sound that might be Waeccan, no smoke from a fire, no sign of life. He began to climb.

As soon as he reached the ledge, it was obvious Waeccan was dead. Burlic crossed the ledge and stood over the crumpled body. The old man’s skin was grey, the eyes open but not staring, not seeing. Now it was all so clear to Burlic. Waeccan had, after all, been nothing but a frail old man.

Tellan stood at Burlic’s side. “It was as you said, Burlic,” he said. “He was at the end of his time.” He put a hand on Burlic’s shoulder. “At least you tried,” he said.

Burlic sighed. It was over. He put the food pouch and the flask of water on the ground. Now, they had a duty to perform. He bent down and picked up some stones, placed them next to the body. Tellan understood. They must cover the body. Once the Shade has gone, the flesh and bones must return to the earth. He copied Burlic. It would not take long. And in a way, it was good. Waeccan would rest here in the pit, covered with the stones he’d worked on for the whole of his life.

2010

THE SEATS
IN THE POLICE CAR
WERE WORN
, stained. Matt and I sat in the back. We didn’t look at each other, we didn’t talk. The driver kept quiet, but there was no such luck with the other policeman.

“You messed up there, lads,” he said. “We’ve definitely got you for trespass—might be some public disorder thrown in too.”

I sneaked a sideways glance at Matt. He looked away, sniffed loudly and put a hand up to wipe his eyes.
I don’t blame you
, I thought.
I feel like crying myself
. The policeman turned in his seat to look at me. “The first thing is to have a word with your parents,” he said.

I hung my head. The policeman said more, but I didn’t hear it. The rest of the short journey was a blur.

They dropped Matt off first. As soon as the police car pulled up outside Matt’s house, his mother appeared at the door. It was as if she’d been waiting for us. She’d always been the fussy type. Matt often joked about her worries: preservatives and pesticides, phone masts and Wi-Fi, vaccines and diseases, violence and drugs. And now, here was a police car outside and two grim-faced policemen getting out and walking toward her. She looked as if her whole world had just collapsed.

The policemen said something to her, and she looked at the car. The driver opened the car door for Matt to get out and closed it after him. His mum ran down the drive to meet him, hugged him tight, kissed the top of his head. Matt’s shoulders shook.

She didn’t let go of him as the policemen talked to her. Their faces were serious. At one point she looked over at the car. Could she see me through the tinted glass? Hopefully not. After a few minutes, she took Matt inside, her arm around his shoulders. Matt didn’t look back.

It didn’t take long to get to my house, but there were never going to be any dramatic scenes there. There was no one in. The policemen gave each other a look.

“What do you expect?” the driver said.

The other policeman snorted. He looked to me. “Have you got a door key, lad?” he said.

I rummaged in my pockets. Thankfully I’d remembered to pick it up from where Robbo had scattered my things onto the ground. I showed them my key. They watched as I opened the door and went in. The driver stepped inside and looked around. “Hello?” he called. “Anyone home?”

When there was no answer, he stepped back out and said something into his radio. The other policeman checked his watch and looked back to the police car.
Just go
, I thought. And then I remembered something. “What about my tools?” I said.

The policemen stared at me.

“They’re my dad’s,” I said. “Can I have them back?”

They looked at each other. The driver shook his head, but the other one said, “We’ll have to—we haven’t got much choice.” He went back to the car, retrieved the hammer and chisel and handed them to me. “I’ll be checking about these with your dad,” he said. “When we get hold of him.”

The driver glared at me. “We’ll be talking to you again soon enough,” he said. “Don’t let me hear about you getting into any more trouble.” Then they turned and walked away.

I dragged myself upstairs.
At least
I can clean myself up before Mum or Dad arrive
, I thought. Who would be home first, Mum or Dad? Either way I’d have to go through the whole thing with each of them separately. I washed my face and hands in the bathroom then gingerly, I peeled off my top and slid my jeans gently down my legs. The bruises were starting to show. I checked my face in the mirror. Luckily there wasn’t much of a mark—just a small scab above my eyebrow where Robbo had punched me. One of the policemen had said it was only a scratch and asked if Robbo was wearing a ring. I hadn’t known. Anyway, it didn’t look as if I was going to have a black eye, but maybe that would come later.

I went through to my room, dropped my dirty clothes onto the floor and found a clean sweatshirt and jeans. In fresh clothes I felt a bit better, but my whole body was starting to ache. I lay down, gently, on my bed, closed my eyes and waited.

* * *

Dad came home first. He knocked on the door, then opened it slowly and came in. “Hey,” he said gently. “Are you all right?”

I sat up and shook my head. “Not really, Dad,” I said. I bit my lip.

He sat on the edge of my bed. “Come here,” he said. He put his arms out to offer a hug. I leaned against him and he wrapped his arms around me. I only stopped crying when he held me too tightly. “Ow,” I moaned. “I’m all bruised.”

“It’s all right now,” he said. “You’re home and safe, that’s the main thing. We’ll—that is, Mum will look after you.” He let go of me and sat back a little. “Now then,” he said. “Can you tell me what happened?”

I skimmed over the details, leaving out as much as I could. Dad didn’t say anything, he just listened.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “I should’ve listened to you.”

“Yes, well, never mind that,” he said. “You know, when I was your age, I got into one or two scrapes myself.” He smiled, and I tried to smile back.

The front door slammed, and we heard Mum charging up the stairs. Dad stood up and intercepted her as she burst through the door. “He’s all right,” he said firmly. “Nothing to worry about.”

Mum pushed past him. “Oh my god,” she said. “Your eye—what’s happened to your eye?”

She sat on the bed and held my hand. I put my other hand up to cover the scab. “It’s all right, Mum,” I said. “It doesn’t hurt. I’m all right, I’m just…”

Dad stood at her side. “He needs to rest,” he said. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

She looked at me in horror. “Do you feel dizzy? Do you feel like you’re going to be sick?” she said.

“No,” I said. “I just ache.” I tried a smile. “Can I have cup of tea though—and some biscuits?”

“Of course you can,” Dad said. “I’ll go and put the kettle on—that’s if you don’t mind, love?”

Mum blushed. “Don’t be silly,” she said. “You make the tea; I’ll be down in a minute.”

“All right,” he said. “But don’t wear him out with a load of questions. I’ll tell you all about it—downstairs.”

Mum and I listened to him bumbling down the stairs, muttering to himself as he always did. Mum smiled sadly to herself.
He called her
‘
love
,’ I thought.

A minute later he was calling back up. “I can’t find the biscuits.”

Mum sighed. “I’d better go and sort him out. Will you be OK for a minute?”

“Yeah,” I said. “Fine.”

After a few minutes, Mum brought me a cup of tea and a couple of chocolate biscuits on a plate. She said there’d be some food ready before too long.

“Thanks,” I said. The tea was too hot, so I sat and ate the biscuits. I hadn’t heard Dad leave, so I guessed he was still down there, telling Mum what I’d said.
Still
, I thought,
at least there’s no shouting
.

I was sipping the tea when Dad popped his head around my door. “I’m just off,” he said. “Don’t worry, we’ll get all this sorted out—I’m going to go down to the police station and talk to them in person. I’ll see you soon. All right?”

“Yeah,” I said.

Then he was gone. I wanted him to stay. I was left with the image of him peering through the small gap in the doorway, looking as though someone was trying to close the door on him, shut him out.

I lay back and put the mug down, let the tea go cold. I was exhausted. My back ached, my joints felt like they were seizing up. I closed my eyes, but then the memories came, disjointed and confusing, repeating over and over like a trailer for a bad movie on a continuous loop. But I was too tired to open my eyes, too tired to think of anything else. I let the memories wash over me, and I slept.

3,500 BC

“IS THAT
ENOUGH?”
Tellan said.

Burlic walked around the mound of stones they’d used to cover Waeccan’s body. “Yes,” he said. “It’s done.” It had taken them longer than he’d expected, but they’d done a fine job.

“Good,” Tellan said. “I’m thirsty. And hungry.”

Burlic squatted down and picked up the flask of water. “Here,” he said, offering it to Tellan. Tellan crouched beside him, took the flask and drank. Burlic opened the deerskin patch of food. He took out a small piece of dried meat for himself then passed the pouch to Tellan.

As he chewed, Burlic looked across the ledge to the dark, brooding slab of stone that had meant so much to Waeccan. That damned stone—how much trouble it had caused. What had Waeccan told him about it? None of it made sense.

“You’re looking at the stone,” Tellan said.

Burlic glared at Tellan. “What of it?”

“You’ve been watching it the whole time,” he said. “You’ve been trying not to turn your back on it. Why is that?”

Burlic looked back to the stone. “Waeccan said…no…he
believed
the stone has a kind of power.”

Tellan handed the flask back to Burlic. “And what about you—do you believe it?”

Burlic hesitated, thought,
Shall I tell him? Shall I tell him what I saw?
He looked Tellan in the eye. “I am certain of it,” he said.

Tellan shifted uncomfortably. “What sort of power?”

“I don’t know,” Burlic said. “But Waeccan said I could share that power. He said I’d been chosen.”

Tellan stared at him in disbelief. Why had Burlic not told him this earlier? What else had he kept to himself? He swallowed, managed to say, “Chosen?”

“By the Shades,” Burlic said. He stood and walked toward the black stone, stared down into its dark depths. “I fell,” he whispered, remembering. “And I saw…I saw…”

Tellan stood, but he did not go to Burlic’s side. What was happening? What should he do?

Burlic watched as sunlight flickered across the stone, like stars in a clear winter sky. “Maybe I was wrong,” he muttered. “Maybe if I stay here, like Waeccan said, I can discover its secrets. Maybe I can use its power.”

“Burlic?” Tellan said.

But Burlic did not reply. He was lost in the lights that glittered within the stone—so many colours, so bright, so vivid.

“Stay here?” Tellan said. He stepped forward and grabbed Burlic by the shoulders, spun him around. “No,” he said. “You’re not going to stay here.”

Burlic pushed him away. “You can’t stop me,” he growled.

“Maybe not,” Tellan said. “But what about Scymrian, what about Cyrman? You can’t think they would live here. Will you live out your days without them? Do you want to end up like Waeccan?” He pointed to where they’d covered Waeccan’s body, and Burlic looked at the lonely mound of stones.

“No,” Burlic said. “No, I…”

“Come on, Burlic,” Tellan said. “We’ve done what we needed to do. Let’s go back to the village. Let’s go home.”

Burlic looked at the ground, took a deep breath.
No good has ever come from that stone
, he thought.
And no good has ever come to those who’ve tried to use it
. And then suddenly Burlic understood. He saw the dark stone for what it was. He looked at Tellan.

“It’s a trap,” he said. “Men look into it, and it draws them in—like bait. And then, it shows them things to keep them here. It possesses them, makes fools of them. It won’t let them leave.”

Tellan stared at Burlic. He thought of Waeccan’s miserable existence and knew he was right. “Poor Waeccan,” he said.

And it almost trapped me
, Burlic thought. He shuddered. “What shall we do?” he said. “Shall we tell everyone—warn them to keep away?”

“No,” he said. “If they know, they’ll come here to see for themselves. We mustn’t tell anyone.”

Burlic nodded thoughtfully. “This ledge is hidden,” he said. “And it’s hard to find the way up.”

Tellan shook his head. “Someone will find it,” he said. “Without Waeccan, there’s no one to keep people away.”

Burlic ran a hand over his face. “We buried Waeccan,” he said. “Maybe we should bury the stone too.”

Tellan scanned the ledge. There were plenty of loose stones, including a good number of larger ones they could lift together. The sun was already past its highest point, but they would have enough daylight. And they had a little food and water. “All right,” he said. “We’ll do as you say. But Burlic—don’t stay near the stone for too long.”

“No,” Burlic said. “We’ll keep an eye on each other. We’ll work quickly.”

“Yes,” Tellan said. “As quickly as we can.”

Burlic picked up a small, flat stone from the ground and tossed it onto the black stone’s surface. He held his breath as the small stone slid a little, came to rest. He waited a moment. Nothing.

He bent and used both hands to lift a larger stone, dropped it onto the slab. It crashed onto the face of the black stone, but no cracks appeared to spoil its perfect smoothness. Was this right—to hide something so perfect, so wonderful? He looked away. It was calling to him, trying to stop him. “Come on,” he said. “Let’s hurry.”

The two men worked as they had never worked before. Stone after stone. They struggled, groaned, gritted their teeth and flung the stones, piled them onto the second burial mound they’d made that day. Their hands bled, but they did not stop until they’d covered every part of it.

The last of the daylight was fading as they trudged doggedly back to the village. Burlic was too tired to talk, but at last his heart was untroubled. They had done the right thing. And tonight he would sleep well, with no dreams to disturb him.

Beside him Tellan also walked in silence, but for a different reason. Inside his tunic, he felt the rub of a piece of deerskin, felt the weight of what it contained. He’d found it beside Waeccan’s body, while Burlic was fetching stones. Unrolling the deerskin, he’d gasped at the strange beauty of the mysterious objects within. He’d hardly dared to touch them, but he couldn’t help his curiosity. And then he’d heard Burlic returning, and he knew what he had to do. Burlic would never allow him to keep these wonderful things. In a moment, he’d rolled up the deerskin and stuffed it into his tunic. It had chafed his skin for the rest of the day, but that didn’t matter. It would be worth it when he had the chance to study his find later.

Burlic stopped and sniffed the cooling air. “Do you smell that, Tellan?” he said. “Smoke from the village fires. We’re almost home.” He smiled. All his worries were over.