The Rise of the Sea Ghosts (from The Gelid Times Trilogy)

Chapter 20

The River Teme: To the West 

Forest hugged her arms around the front of her coat, grateful for the heated cherry pits wrapped in cotton that the Children of the Mountain gave her. She followed them to the back of the cave, standing so close that she was almost on top of the figure in front of her. She thought there would be a solid wall at the back of the cave, but there wasn't. It was just darkness, endless darkness. The Children of the Mountain refused to light a candle until they were deep inside the mountain, for if they, even for a moment, lit a flame, the men below would catch sight and know their exact location in the face of the mountain.

With her eyes blinded by the darkness, Forest's sense of smell heightened; she followed behind the sweet lavender and jasmine trail of the Children of the Mountain through the cave tunnel. The six small figures walked in a single file – three in front of her and three behind. Occasionally, their murmurings grew louder and rose and fell in a sing-song fashion that seemed to envelop Forest in a protective aura.

The ground of the cave tunnel was rough underfoot, the sides narrow and occasionally the ceiling of the cave so low that Forest's hair scraped along the top. The pathway wound deep into the mountain and Forest could feel the occasional shift of direction from left to right. Time did not exist in the heart of the mountain. It was neither day nor night and no knowledge of the stars or nor sun would have ever been known.

Forest listened intently.

But the only thing she could hear was the Children of the Mountain shuffling along in front and behind her.

After what seemed like an eternity, the ground under foot began to ebb downwards ever so gradually, the rough path became smoother and the cave tunnel itself grew larger. Every so often, Forest felt a waft of fresh air. Cold, harsh fresh air that mixed with the sweet scent of lavender and jasmine and carried a sense of hope and escape for Forest.

The pathway grew steeper, and Forest had difficulty stopping her feet from sliding into the figure in front of her. Every so often, the grip under foot gave way, and she slid on the loose dirt and stones losing her footing and bumping into the child.

"Ugh..." Forest groaned.

"Shhh..." The Children of the Mountain whispered in unison.

They all paused and concertinaed together. The leader held up their hand indicating they should remain still and quiet. Forest strained to hear what they heard. But she heard nothing. She listened for voices. She listened for horses. She listened for guns shots. But she only heard their collective rough breathing circulating in the cave tunnel and felt the rise and fall of their chests in unison as they steadied their inhalations and exhalations. Waiting. Listening.

"Let's proceed slowly," the leader said quietly and lowered their hand. "Link together."

Forest felt a hand rest lightly on her shoulder. Likewise, she placed her hand on the shoulder in front of her and together, in the pitch black, the seven marched downwards towards the exit on the other side of the mountain. The air grew more glacial and the pathway more dangerous for the moisture that the mountain retained had seeped into this part and dripped out of tiny cracks and forming ickles - spiky icicles that hung down in random patterns from the cave tunnel roof.

"We are nearly there," the Children of the Mountain said in unison when the ickles appeared. "We will light one small candle to guide us through the ickles – Forest – be ever so careful, for if you accidently knock one of the ickles – it has been known to plunge right through the heart of a human."

"Great..." Forest replied under her breath. "As if there is not enough to worry about, I now need to navigate through the mortal danger of the ickles."

"Shhh..." the Children of the Mountain said simultaneously.

The leader removed a small candle from their pocket and a small flame appeared. Forest could not see how the candle was lit, but when the flame glowed the ickles were revealed in all their deadly glory. Forest had never seen anything so majestic, yet so dangerous. The ickles were different sizes, from the size of Forest's hand, to the size of her whole height. Ducking and weaving in and around the ickles, Forest followed the Children of the Mountain as they descended through the cave tunnels. Occasionally, Forest could hear a crack and a creak and then an almighty shattering as if a million crystals were broken on a tile floor. It was an ickle coming away from the cave roof. Forest swallowed hard, took a deep breath and held the shoulder of the Child of the Mountain more firmly as they guided her though the maze of ickles.

Eventually, the ground levelled out and the ickles decreased in number until there were none and far in the distance, Forest could see a small light in the mountain where she realised that the sun had started to rise.

Transversing the inner heart of the mountain felt safe, despite the dark and the ickles. The light ahead was dangerous, exposed and unprotected. Had the men on horseback managed to get around the mountain? Had they overcome the Children of the Mountain? Would they be walking into their deaths?

Forest tried to supress the growing anxiety that festered in her stomach. But it was difficult, and she suddenly felt like throwing up.

"We are nearly there – not long now. Steady on Forest," the Children of the Mountain said.

Forest stood up taller. She had come this far. There was no turning back.

"Trust your instincts Forest," she whispered to herself.

The exit to the cave grew larger and the light brighter. The candle was blown out and their pace quickened and before she knew it, Forest was looking out of the ledge of the cave. It was a short drop that could be easily managed. But that was not the most relevant, nor the most remarkable thing about reaching the cave exit.

What was relevant and remarkable was not that the men on horseback were waiting for her, nor had they slaughtered the Children of the Mountain. What was most relevant and remarkable was that there were not fifty, nor a hundred, but rather tens of thousands upon tens of thousands of the Children of the Mountain waiting for them. When they appeared at the mouth of the cave, an immense cheer rose from the clearing below and all Forest could see was waving arms and cheering voices. Flags on poles flapped in the freezing air and the Children of the Mountain broke out into spontaneous song.

There was an army. Just as promised. And she, Forest, seemed to be their leader now.