Alan Garner - The Weirdstone of Brisingamen and The Moon of Gomrath

“Do you think this is it?” said Colin.

“Ugh, yes! There couldn’t be two like this, and it’s a black lake all right! I wonder what’s happened.”

“Oh, let’s go,” said Colin, “this place gives me the willies. We’ve done what we set out to do; now let’s enjoy the rest of the day.

After a cup of coffee in Wilmslow to dispel the Lindow gloom, the children pedalled back towards Alderley. They had no plans, but the sun was warm, and there were a good six hours of daylight left to them.

They were crossing the station bridge at Alderley when they saw it. A light breeze, blowing from the north-east, trailed the village smoke slowly along the sky, but halfway up the nearer slope of the Edge a ball of mist hung as though moored to the trees. And out of the mist rose the chimneys and gaunt gables of St Mary’s Clyffe, the home of Selina Place.

The room was long, with a high ceiling, painted black. Round the walls and about the windows were draped black velvet tapestries. The bare wooden floor was stained a deep red. There was a table on which lay a rod, forked at the end, and a silver plate containing a mound of red powder. On one side of the table was a reading-stand, which supported an old vellum book of great size, and on the other stood a brazier of glowing coals. There was no other furniture of any kind.

Grimnir looked on with much bad grace as Shape-shifter moved through the ritual of preparation. He did not like witch-magic: it relied too much on clumsy nature spirits and the slow brewing of hate. He preferred the lightning stroke of fear and the dark powers of the mind.

But certainly this crude magic had weight. It piled force on force, like a mounting wave, and overwhelmed its prey with the slow violence of an avalanche. If only it were a quick magic! There could be very little time left now before Nastrond acted on his rising suspicions, and then … Grimnir’s heart quailed at the thought. Oh, let him but bend this stone’s power to his will, and Nastrond should see a true Spirit of Darkness arise; one to whom Ragnarok, and all it contained, would be no more than a ditch of noisome creatures to be bestridden and ignored. But how to master the stone? It had parried all his rapier thrusts, and, at one moment, had come near to destroying him. The sole chance now lay in this morthwoman’s witchcraft, and she must be watched; it would not do for the stone to become her slave. She trusted him no more than could be expected, but the problem of how to rid himself of her when she had played out her part in his schemes was not of immediate importance. The shadow of Nastrond was growing large in his mind, and in swift success alone could he hope to endure.

With black sand, which she poured from a leather bottle, Shape-shifter traced an intricately patterned circle on the floor. Often she would halt, make a sign in the air with her hand, mutter to herself, curtsy, and resume her pouring. She was dressed in a black robe, tied round with scarlet cord, and on her feet were pointed shoes.

So intent on her work was the Morrigan, and so wrapped in his thoughts was Grimnir, that neither of them saw the two pairs of eyes that inched round the side of the window.

The circle was complete. Shape-shifter went to the table and picked up the rod.

“It is not the hour proper for summoning the aid we need,” she said, “but if what you have heard contains even a grain of the truth, then we see that we must act at once, though we could have wished for a more discreet approach on your part.” She indicated the grey cloud that pressed against the glass, now empty of watching eyes. “You may well attract unwanted attention.”

At that moment, as if in answer to her fears, a distant clamour arise on the far side of the house. It was the eerie baying of hounds.

“Ah, you see! They are restless: there is something on the wind. Perhaps it would be wise to let them seek it out; they will soon let us know if it is aught beyond their powers – as well it may be! For if we do not have Ragnarok and Fundindelve upon our heads before the day is out, it will be no thanks to you.”

She stumped round the corner of the house to the outbuilding from which the noise came. Selina Place was uneasy, and out of temper. For all his art, what a fool Grimnir could be! And what risks he took! Who, in their senses, would come so obviously on such an errand? Like his magic, he was no match for the weirdstone of Brisingamen. She smiled; yes, it would take the old sorcery to tame that one, and he knew it, for all his fussing in Llyn-dhu. “All right, all right! We’re coming! Don’t tear the door down!”

Behind her, two shadows moved out of the mist, slid along the wall, and through the open door.

“Which way now?” whispered Susan.

They were standing in a cramped hall, and there was a choice of three doors leading from it. One of these was ajar, and seemed to be a cloakroom.

“In here, then we’ll see which door she goes through.”

Nor did they delay, for the masculine tread of Selina Place came to them out of the mist.

“Now let us do what we can in haste,” she said as she rejoined Grimnir. “There may be nothing threatening, but we shall not feel safe until we are master of the stone. Give it to us now.”

Grimnir unfastened a pouch at his waist, and from it drew Susan’s bracelet. Firefrost hung there, its bright depths hidden beneath a milky veil.

The Morrigan took the bracelet and placed it in the middle of the circle on the floor. She pulled the curtains over the windows and doors, and went to stand by the brazier, whose faint glow could hardly push back the darkness. She took a handful of powder from the silver plate and, sprinkling it over the coals, cried in a loud voice:

“ Demoriel, Carnefiel, Caspiel, Amenadiee !!”

A flame hissed upwards, filling the room with ruby light. Shape-shifter opened the book and began to read.

“ Vos omnes it ministri odey et destructiones et seratores discorde …”

“What’s she up to?” said Susan.

“I don’t know, but it’s giving me gooseflesh.”

“ … eo quod est noce vos coniurase ideo vos conniro et deprecur …”

“Colin, I …”

“Sh! Keep still!”

“… et odid fiat mier alve …”

Shadows began to gather about the folds of velvet tapestry in the furthest corners of the room.

For thirty minutes Colin and Susan were forced to stand in their awkward hiding-place, and it took less than half that time for the last trace of enthusiasm to evaporate. They were where they were as the result of an impulse, an inner urge that had driven them on without thought of danger. But now there was time to think, and inaction is never an aid to courage. They would probably have crept away and tried to find Cadellin, had not a dreadful sound of snuffling, which passed frequently beneath the cloakroom window, made them most unwilling to open the outer door.

And all the while Shape-shifter’s chant droned on, rising at intervals to harsh cries of command.

“Come Haborym! Come Haborym! Come Haborym!”

Then it was that the children began to feel the dry heat that was soon to become all but intolerable. It bore down upon them until the blood thumped in their ears, and the room spun sickeningly about their heads.

“Come Orobas! Come Orobas! Come Orobas!”

Was it possible? For the space of three seconds the children heard the clatter of hoofs upon bare boards, and a wild neighing rang high in the roof.

“Come Nambroth! Come Nambroth! Come Nambroth!”

A wind gripped the house by the eaves, and tried to pluck it from its sandstone roots. Something rushed by on booming wings. The lost voices of the air called to each other in the empty rooms, and the mist clung fast and did not stir.

“ Coniuro et confirmo super vos potentes in nomi fortis, metuendissimi, infandi …”

Just at the moment when Susan thought she must faint, the stifling heat diminished enough to allow them to breathe in comfort; the wind died, and a heavy silence settled on the house.

After minutes of brooding quiet a door opened, and the voice of Selina Place came to the children from outside the cloakroom. She was very much out of breath.

“And … we say the stone … will … be safe. Nothing … can reach it … from … outside. Come away … this is a dangerous … brew. Should it boil over … and we … near, that … would be the end … of us. Hurry. The force is growing … it is not safe to watch.”

Mistrustfully, and with many a backward glance, Grimnir joined her, and they went together through the doorway on the opposite side of the hall, and their footsteps died away.

“Well, how do we get out of this mess?” said Colin. “It looks as though we’re stuck here until she calls these animals off, and if she’s going to do any more of the stuff we’ve been listening to, I don’t think I want to wait that long.”

“Colin, we can’t go yet! My Tear’s in that room, and we’ll never have another chance!”

The air was much cooler now, and no sounds, strange or otherwise, could be heard. And Susan felt that insistent tugging at her inmost heart that had brushed aside all promises and prudence when she stared at the mist from the bridge by the station.

“But Sue, didn’t you hear old Place say that it wasn’t safe to be in there? And if she’s afraid to stay it must be dangerous.”

“I don’t care: I’ve got to try. Are you coming? Because if not, I’m going by myself.”

“Oh … all right! But we’ll wish we’d stayed in here.”

They stepped out of the cloakroom and cautiously opened the left-hand door.

The dull light prevented them from seeing much at first, but they could make out the table and the reading-desk, and the black pillar in the centre of the floor.

“All clear!” whispered Susan.

They tiptoed into the room, closed the door, and stood quite still while their eyes grew accustomed to the light: and then they saw.

The pillar was alive. It climbed from out the circle that Selina Place had so laboriously made, a column of oily smoke; and in the smoke strange shapes moved. Their forms were indistinct, but the children could see enough to wish themselves elsewhere.

Even as they watched the climax came. Faster and faster the pillar whirled, and thicker and thicker the dense fumes grew, and the floor began to tremble, and the children’s heads were of a sudden full of mournful voices that reached them out of a great and terrible distance. Flecks of shadow, buzzing like flies, danced out of the tapestries and were sucked into the reeking spiral. And then, without warning, the base of the column turned blue. The buzzing rose to a demented whine – and stopped. The whole swirling mass shuddered as though a brake had been savagely applied, lost momentum, died, and drooped like the ruin of a mighty tree. Silver lightnings ran upwards through the smoke: the column wavered, broke, and collapsed into the ball of fire that rose to engulf it. A voice whimpered close by the children and passed through the doorway behind them. The blue light waned, and in its place lay Firefrost, surrounded by the scattered remnants of Shape-shifter’s magic circle.

Colin and Susan stood transfixed. Then slowly, as if afraid that the stone would vanish if she breathed or took her eyes off it, Susan moved forward and picked it up.

In the silence she unclasped the bracelet and fastened it about her wrist. She could not believe what she was doing. This moment had haunted her dreams for so many months, and there had been so many bitter awakenings.