Page 54 of Tattered Huntress
It occurred to me that his English language skills, although perhaps rather formal, reflected modern speech. ‘You leave this cave often,’ I guessed.
‘I am not a mole. I do not wish to spend eternity underground.’
There was no way that he wandered around topside in that body. He had to be some kind of shapeshifter, although I was willing to bet that this was his true form. ‘You’re truly immortal?’
He gave me a surprisingly wry grin. ‘Not if the right warrior appears. One day I shall leave this Earth for good.’ He sniffed. ‘Of course, that warrior is not you, not today at least. The blade’s name is Gladius Acutissimus Gloriae et Sanguinis. Respect her and she will respect you.’
That was quite a mouthful. Gladys for short, I decided. ‘Thank you.’
‘She will help you to be better.’ The Fachan pointed to the right. ‘Now come, I shall show you how to leave this place. I do not wish to see your pathetic presence again. Do not return unless your skills improve and you are worthy of a challenge.’
He had no worries on that score. I was never coming back here. ‘I won’t,’ I promised.
There would be no more caves for Daisy Carter. I’d had enough of them to last a lifetime.
Chapter
Twenty
The Fachan was as good as his word, which was just as well because without his help I’d never have found my way out. First he led me up a long sloping tunnel, then through another steeper one before we ended up in a veritable maze of them that swung to the left, to the right and eventually to a rickety ladder that led to a narrow platform.
Once there, I realised we were standing in front of yet another rune. To my uneducated eye, it looked similar to the ancient one that Boonder and I had found just before the ground had literally collapsed from under my feet.
The Fachan traced its shape reverently, using whatever innate power he possessed to unlock its core – and what appeared to be the side of a damned mountain.
The light outside was strong enough to hurt my eyes but the pull of a fresh breeze and the open air were enough to persuade me out of the cave’s depths. I hurtled out, stretching my arms wide and tilting my head up to the sky with joy-filled relief.
It was a stupid thing to do because the movement made my head spin and I was assailed with a dizziness that buckled my knees. My skin was clammy, there was an unpleasant oilychurning in the depths of my stomach and my hands were shaking. Caves, I decided, did not suit me at all.
When I finally regained some control of my treacherous body and turned to bid farewell to the Fachan, there was no sign of him. There was no sign of the cave, either; it had been smoothed over and refilled with rock. If it weren’t for Gladys, which was wrapped in my damp towel and stuffed in my bag, I might have imagined the entire thing.
Despite the Fachan’s absence, I raised my voice in case he could still hear me. ‘Thank you!’ I called. ‘I won’t forget you. And I won’t disappoint you. I will become a warrior.’
Maybe. If nothing else, I’d learn how to wield Gladys properly; I could do that much.
I thought I heard a muffled response from beyond the rock face, though it might have simply been the murmur of the wind. Whatever. I curtsied anyway, almost losing myself to another nauseating surge of vertigo, then carefully turned around. If my bearings were correct, I was around the corner from the Smoo Cave entrance so I’d be back at the campsite in minutes. Now I simply had to pray that everyone else had made it back safely too.
I heaved my aching body up the slope. I wasn’t in bad nick considering all I’d been through, although there were a lot of scrapes, bruises and minor cuts, and my trousers and T-shirt were grubby and ripped. I probably looked more like a walking scarecrow than an elf. My scalp was still throbbing from where the Fachan had grabbed my hair but I dared not check if there was a bald spot. It was quite possible that I was now sporting a tonsure like a medieval monk. I giggled at the thought and a bubble of hysteria choked my chest. Leaving the cave in one piece appeared to be making me delirious.
I started to hum and the notes coalesced until they became a familiar tune. I added the words, grinning trippily all thewhile. ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes, she’ll be coming round the mountain when she comes…’
I twisted around the final corner and raised my voice when I saw the campsite. ‘She’ll be coming round the mountain!’
Nobody rushed to greet me and I pouted, unimpressed at the lack of a welcome. Where was everyone? ‘Hellooooo?’ I yelled. Still nothing.
My bottom lip jutted out. I’d expected all the tents from the previous night to still be in place but very few remained. My tent was there, and so was Boonder’s one-man bivouac. The Primes’ collection of expensive tents was also in place – but the others had gone.
‘How very rude,’ I said loudly. ‘Rude!’
I tiptoed to my tent, unzipped it and thrust my head inside. ‘Boo!’
Nobody was there. I sniffed, shrugged, spun around – and lost my balance. I fell backwards and landed heavily on the ground, my arms and legs akimbo. I cackled, ‘I’m an upturned cockroach! Look at me!’
Nobody was looking. Eventually I rolled over and staggered unsteadily to my feet. Hmm. I suddenly seemed to have four feet instead of two – perhaps Iwasbecoming a cockroach. Perhaps the Fachan had cursed me for not doing battle with him.
I held up my hands. Oh: I had four of those, too. My eyes widened. I hadeightlimbs. Not a cockroach, then.
‘I’m a spider,’ I whispered. Brilliant; that made sense, given how much spider’s silk I’d taken over the years. I nodded wisely. Yes, it made perfect sense.
