A Gathering of Twine Read online

  Tuther said nothing, still considering the options. “Let’s move on,” he muttered eventually.

  “Ah... Mr Tuther?” Tate said. “Could I just have a few more minutes with this wall? There is something else...”

  The torchlight swung back towards Tate, glaring straight into his eyes.

  “What is it, Mr Tate?”

  “Well... just here. Could you just point that... yes just here.” The torchlight illuminated a section of the sandstone wall, not far from the base.

  “Do you see that?”

  “No,” Price said.

  “See what?” King now.

  There was a tense sigh from Tuther. “Yes.”

  Tate was running his fingers along an extended stretch of the wall. The torch light followed him. Twenty foot. Then thirty.

  “That’s far enough Mr Tate,” came the voice of Tuther. “Come back please.”

  “Do you see it?” Tate was panting a little.

  “Not really,” said King. “What is it?”

  “I’m not really sure. It looks like a fossil... of a giant worm. But I’ve never heard of anything like this. See here – this patch of perfect vertical lines. That’s clitellum – it’s like an egg sack. It’s at least two foot high. I mean, I’ve heard of some marine worms four inches high, but this... I mean it could be at least five hundred foot long.”

  “So?” asked Price

  “So?” Tate responded. “So? Mr Price this cavern or vault or whatever it is must be construed as possibly the most incredible treasure trove. Set aside that the world has never seen inscriptions like this before, but for creatures like this to have existed would have required oxygen levels on the planet to be higher than we have ever imagined.”

  “Mr Tate?” King said, stepping forward. “That... clitellum? The egg sack… How many does a worm have? Usually, I mean.”

  “One I think. Invertebrate biology isn’t really my area.”

  “Well there is another one just above it... no, just to the right.”

  The torch light slowly made its way to where King was pointing.

  “And there is another one. And there. And....”

  As their eyes grew accustomed to the dark, and they knew what to look for, they began to pick out tens, then hundreds of the fossilised sacks, across the length and breadth of the cavern. The men were silent for some time, craning their neck to find more and more and more, eventually losing count.

  “This is all very well,” said Tuther eventually, “but we need to get on.”

  The four set off again. Tate still ran his hand along the wall, feeling all the inscriptions as he walked on. There must be thousands of lines, he thought. Maybe tens of thousands. A million even. All written over the fossils.

  And they’ll lavish all the awards you can imagine on you... if you make it out the voice said, rising unbidden within him. The feeling of dread was stealing over him, its grip getting tighter and tighter and tighter in the darkness. George – are you sure about this? Now it was panicky. You really need to get out of here.

  But knew he could not. There were the inscriptions and he was not going to hand that glory to anyone else. If he turned back he knew what the others would think. Tate bailed on another fight. He knew that was what his doctors thought when he was brought back from the Selvistan.

  Another rich kid malingering his way out of the war.

  It did not matter whether it was true or not. It was what they thought that mattered and Tate knew they did not think much of him.

  He could feel that the wall under his hand was no longer straight. It was beginning to curve, and... The scuttling came again. High above them this time. Tuther swung the torch straight up.

  Nothing.

  The ceiling of their cave stared back them unblinking. No one said anything. They did not need to. They had all heard it. The air grew warmer, carrying a sickly sweet smell and still more ammonia. For a moment King thought he was going to be sick. His stomach had been in knots since Tate’s little episode in the tunnel and now that he knew, really knew, that there was more of them down here... well Tuther was here to kill them. And that would mean using their guns. But what did those things have? Teeth and claws most likely. And a lot of them too.

  What if Tate was wrong? King thought. What if the creatures were responsible for the inscriptions? What if this was some Communists experiment or game? There were always stories circulating about the latest round of weapons the Russians were developing. Rifles that could fire hooks and rip your skeleton right out before you could even scream. Nets that were laced with acid and would melt the skin from your bones. What if these things had those weapons? What if they had turned on their Soviet masters? What if...

  Tuther stopped abruptly, and King went straight into him. Tuther half turned and, in the semi-gloom of the torchlight, King could see the look on his face. Watch it, Boy.

  The cavern curved sharply and, in the dark, Tate could see a lilac glow ahead, but could not make out the source. Tuther switched the torch off, handed it to Price and muttered, “Stay here.”

  The three of them watched in the murk of the cavern as Tuther got onto his stomach, and crawled across the floor to the opposite wall, his shotgun slung across his back.

  From his vantage point, Tuther could see the remainder of the cavern. For what seemed an age, he sat on his haunches, taking in the sight in front of him. A sudden movement above distracted him, and he looked up.

  Price saw Tuther flinch and instantly turned the torch on, the powerful beam cutting into the darkness.

  Nothing.

  Tuther pointed further over and Price swept the torch beam across the arc of the cavern ceiling.

  Still nothing.

  Both men knew that for certain now that something was tracking them. Or some things. Tuther guessed that the boy probably knew too. As for Tate, who could say? Surely he must realise that whatever element of surprise that they had was slipping from them.

  Tate watched the torch beam sweep above him and was not surprised that it picked nothing out. He badly wanted to join Tuther on the other side, but Price had kept him in check. King had an unsettling sense that there was much more to this than any of them realised. They had tracked a single creature into a lair that was older than they could imagine and very possibly housed hundreds if not thousands of those things waited in the darkness for them.

  King suddenly felt like a fly in a web that had just realised that the darkness falling before it was not a shadow but a clutter of...

  Spiders!

  Price had said that the scuttling sounded like crabs, but it was actually more like spiders. King and some of the other cadets had gone to Edinburgh the year before on the pretence of climbing Arthurs Seat but had gone to the Playhouse Cinema instead. The film they had seen was “Mesa of Lost Women”, and there had been the expectation of at least seeing some thigh. They had been sorely disappointed, but the giant spiders in that film sounded very much like the scuttling they had heard here. King did not know much about spiders, or even if they could live underground, but he did not want to find out any more than he already knew.

  Tuther’s eyes followed the torch beam back to Price’s side of the cavern.

  It looked all clear, but now Tuther could see that the strange inscriptions on the walls extended all the way to the ceiling, seemingly meeting in the middle. It was impossible to tell where one side ended and the other began. Tuther stood up and walked to the centre of the floor. “Come on,” he said nodding to Price and the others.

  The three of them stood up and gingerly made their way to Tuther. Their eyes had adjusted just enough to the sickly half light that they did not need the torch.

  Tate stopped, looking at the source of the glow, his mouth open. “What is that?” It was more of a hoarse whisper, and he was not sure he had been heard.

  “A nest,” Tuther replied. “Or maybe a queen. I’m not sure. I do know that it does not belong here.”

  A hundred or so yards in front o
f them a giant oblong sac hung suspended from the cave roof by a weave of thin sinews. The light was brighter towards the centre, shading from purple at the outer edges to a pale lilac in the middle. As the four men approached the sac, the smell of ammonia became almost overpowering.

  “It’s like a cocoon,” said Tate. The ground immediately around it was covered with detritus, and Tate thought it looked like the sac had been shedding its skin in layers as if it were an onion.

  “Err... sir?” King said.

  Price did not reply but turned to face his young ward. His gun was in his hand and King realised that his own finger has been steadily tightening on the trigger of his own revolver. His mouth was dry and his heart was galloping. He flicked the safety back on.

  “Sir, over there,” King continued, nodding towards the back of the cave. Price followed his line of sight. The rear wall around the sac was lined with holes, similar in size to the one that had brought them down into this pit. Price counted a dozen of them.

  Tuther nodded his approval to Price, who backed towards the wall, never taking his eyes off the glowing sac. Kneeling down, Price looked through the hole. Then, crab-walking to the next, he repeated the action, and again and again and again, until he had completed the semi-circle around the back of the sac.

  “What have we got?” Tuther whispered.

  “Twelve tunnels. Similar width to what we came down, but shorter. Maybe three foot. Each one goes into another cave. As far as I could see, each chamber has a couple of hundred of these,” he nodded to the sac, “but their light is yellowish.”

  “A couple of hundred?” King whispered, too loudly.

  Price looked to him. “At least.” He looked back to Tuther. “How many more of these have you got?” he continued, showing the grenade.

  Tuther looked back to the sack. “Four,” he said eventually.

  That’s not going to be enough. Price thought. We’d need at least two of these to take this chamber out. Maybe one to each of the others, but that’s assuming that they don’t have separate exit tunnels or whatever it is we came down.

  Tate took a step forward, pointing towards the suspended egg-sac. Later on, Tuther and King would agree that he was glassy-eyed and slack-jawed.

  “Riah?” Tate said, and turned around to face the others, meeting Tuther’s fist. As he fell back, hitting the floor, he fancied that he saw shapes moving on the ceiling, and then a black tide washed over him and all was darkness.

  *

  [Maiden Castle Stele 23-25]

  It was there in the Land of Demnoni that Greine met Celus of the Coraniad.

  “This land welcomes those who would watch over it,” said Celus. “You may dwell within if you can defeat the Giant Ysbadden who had slain the family Custennin.”

  “So mote it be,” replied Greine, “For [text incomplete]” and gathered himself to the domain of the Giant Ysbadden.

  On his journey, Greine met three beggar women. “See!” they cried, “We are harried by these two oxen and this boar.”

  Greine chased the three animals away, and the women cast off their rags to reveal themselves as the Sisters Brigid – experts in fighting and warfare. So was Greine rewarded for showing generosity in aiding the women, and mercy in not killing the animals. The Sisters taught Greine the Way of The Willow, and Greine approached the Giant Ysbadden prepared well.

  With his new fighting skills, Greine was victorious over Ysbadden and returned to Celus with the eyes of the giant as proof of his victory. In gratitude, Celus taught Greine the skill of being able to hear any sound the wind carried and took him to the Peak of Wynedesora.

  Greine beheld the vastness before him and lamented. “Woe, for such is the expanse of all I behold. How may I serve my Goddess and marry so many lands to their skies?”

  “Harken,” said Danu unto her servants. “For time is time as time is. Those that believe in me time after time shall rest silent in heart.”

  So it was that Greine and Celus were blessed by the Goddess Danu. Their skin knew no thinning, their limbs no weakening, and their eyes no dimming.

  *

  Tate awoke to a throbbing jaw. He was sitting on the floor of the humid cave, his back to the wall, and was now some distance from the sac. His wrist and ankles were bound with his own shoe laces, and he could no longer feel the weight of the revolver on the inside of his jacket.

  He looked up, and into the barrel of Tuther’s shotgun. Price and King were on the far side of the sac working around the other tunnel entrances.

  “Easy way? Or hard way?” Tuther asked, cocking the hammer on his shotgun noisily.

  Tate was wide-eyed with terror. “What in the blazes?” He tried to move his feet to scramble away from this madman, but they were securely tied.

  Tuther sighed and swung the butt of the shotgun round sharply, connecting with Tate’s ribs. Tate tried to cry out, but Tuther jammed the barrel deep into his mouth. He started to gag and tried again to cry out. He could just make out the shape of Price, and looked at him imploringly.

  Price turned his back and carried on with what he was doing.

  “There is more of the hard way Mr Tate. Plenty more. Now, I’ll be honest with you, I’m not going to let you live. But tell me what I want to know, and I’ll make it quick. Play with me, and I’ll feed you to your Mother over there. Understand?”

  Tuther slowly withdrew the barrel from Tate’s mouth. “Now, when does she hatch?”

  Tate looked up at Tuther bewildered.

  “When does the Riah spawn come?” Tuther tried again.

  “Riah?” Then seeing that Tuther was about to swing the butt into him again, “That’s what’s written on the wall... behind that... thing.” Tate was already curling up, trying to make himself as small as possible.

  Tuther stopped, narrowing his eyes at Tate.

  “It was behind that cocoon,” Tate continued, seeing he had Tuther off guard. “It was the same script as some of the writing on the wall. I swear to you, and I don’t know what Riah is.”

  Tuther paused. Then, still pointing the shotgun at Tate, he stepped back. Whispering to Price, he handed the shotgun over and made his way around the back of the sac. A few moments later he came back, and silently took the weapon back from Price who returned to his work with King.

  Tuther approached Tate. “That could say anything.” There was uncertainty in his voice.

  “Why would I lie?” Tate was almost pleading.

  “Yes, Mr Tate. Why would you lie?”

  The question hung in the hot fetid air, but Tate made no attempt to answer.

  “Those other tunnels. They have writing over them too. Can you read those?” Tuther said eventually.

  “I... I...”

  “Let’s find out.” Tuther took Tate by the scruff of the neck and lifted him easily to his feet. Tate was surprised at the strength of the wiry man and made no effort to resist.

  Tate shuffled forward, acutely aware of the barrel being pressed into the base of his spine. At the first hole, he examined the script.

  “Kara?” he said. “Or maybe Quara?”

  Tuther said nothing but indicated him to move on to the next one.

  “I don’t know this one. It is in a different script.”

  Tuther did not move but just stood looking at Tate, barely blinking.

  Tate moved of his own accord to the next tunnel. “I can’t read this one either.” Without looking behind him to where Tuther was, he shuffled on to the next tunnel. “Or this one.” He moved again. “No, not this one either.”

  Again and again and again this repeated until they stood at the final tunnel entrance. Price and King had moved back around to the front of the sac.

  “This... it’s not the same script as the first one. This is much more modern. It’s like a form of Proto-Fenya. But I think I can... it’s like Gee-on...”

  Tuther kicked him sharply in the small of his back, sending Tate sprawling to the floor.

  Tuther’s whisper was fierce. “Wha
t do you know of Jion? Do you know where he is?” He took a step towards Tate, raising his gun.

  “I... I... don’t...” Tate held his bound hands up to his face and began to curl up, sensing the impending kill shot.

  Price approached. “The last one is the only empty chamber,” he said quietly to Tuther.

  Tuther looked at Price, and then back to Tate.

  He approached the prone man, gun held high so that the butt was braced against his shoulder, the barrel coming up against Tate’s face.

  “Mr Tate. Mr Tate, look at me... there you go. Now, Mr Tate, I’m going to ask you about this cavern, and you’re going to tell me you know nothing. But Mr Tate, I have a very good nose for liars. And I don’t like them. It’s liars that helped sink the Selvistan and kill my friend Jim. So, Mr Tate, you need to convince me, really convince me, that you don’t know anything.”

  “I... I... I swear I only read what was on the walls. I have no idea who these characters are, or what it means. I swear by the Holy Mary I know...”

  Tuther frowned and then seemed to consider the prone man before him. “Mr Tate, you can read the inscriptions on the walls?”

  Tate nodded his head furiously. “Yes… yes. Well. Some of them…”

  Tuther knelt next to Tate and looked the man in the eye. When it came, his voice was low. “Do they say anything about The Third Twine?”

  Tate looked back at his tormentor, baffled. “The what?”

  “Do they say how The Twine are gathered?” Tuther said, his insistence becoming increasingly fervent.

  “I… I… don’t…” Tate stuttered in fear and confusion.

  For a moment, Tuther was silent. “Nevermind,” he said eventually. Lowering his gun, he pulled a knife from his back pocket and deftly cut the bindings on Tate’s ankles, and then those on his wrists.

  Tate scrambled, still on the floor, until his back hit the wall. Breathing heavily, he looked at Tuther who was nonchalantly putting his knife away.

  Tuther came close to Tate. “Mr Tate, let me be very clear. This is a nest. Something unnatural is growing here, and I mean to put an end to that. That wall is sandstone. A good blast will bring it down, maybe the other chambers too.” Nodding towards Price and King, he continued, “We’ve pooled all of our gunpowder, plus my few explosives. I’ve got enough of a fuse to give us a few minutes to get out of here...”