Stumbling with weariness, Quinn followed the small, bobbing light. The passageway branched again and again, sometimes winding through rock, sometimes leading down steep, crude steps, sometimes opening up into caverns where old chests were piled in heaps against the walls.
Left, left, right, she repeated endlessly in her mind. Left, left, right. But other words broke her concentration. Griffin … unicorn … dragon … sea-serpent … sleeping heroes … an impossible quest … She wondered if they would pass through the cavern where the sleeping heroes were lying. How long had they been there, asleep? Would their hair and beards have grown tremendously long? Would they be spun with cobwebs, or shrouded with dust? Perhaps their clothes would be moth-eaten, or nibbled to pieces by mice. In her imagination, Quinn saw them, grey and stern and forbidding. She imagined trying to wake them, imagined their anger. Then she stumbled and almost fell.
Take care, little maid. The dark is deep and the way is long, and once thou art lost, the way will be gone.
The voice that spoke to her was low and weary, the voice of an old, old man. Quinn started with surprise, and looked around her.
There was no old man to be seen.
Quinn realised with a sudden chill that she had been walking in a daze, hardly aware of her surroundings.
The bobbing light had paused at a junction. ‘Which way?’ Tom asked. His eyes were very blue in his dirty face.
Had they gone left last time, or right? Quinn couldn’t remember. She thought of all the times her mind had wandered in her weariness. Had she missed a turn-off? Had they gone the wrong way?
‘It’s left this time,’ Sebastian said.
‘I think it’s left too,’ Elanor said. ‘I am sure we only turned left once since we last turned right.’
‘No, it’s right,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve been keeping track.’
‘Then why did you ask Quinn?’ Sebastian demanded.
‘I just wanted to be sure,’ Tom answered.
Elanor looked from one to another. Her forehead was drawn down into an anxious knot.
Once thou art lost, the way will be gone, the old, tired voice said again.
‘I don’t know the way,’ Quinn said, hearing the panic in her own voice. ‘I’m sorry.’
Tom drew his dagger, and used it to scrape four narrow marks on the wall.
‘So we know we’ve been here,’ he explained. ‘We’ll explore one way and then the other, till we find a sign we’ve gone astray.’
Then, after a lot more argument, they turned left. The passageway wound on a long way, but then led into a small cave with a stone shelf where an ancient blanket lay rotting. Chained to the walls were some manacles.
‘No bones,’ Tom said, poking the old blanket with his dagger. ‘That’s good.’
Quinn couldn’t bear the thought of some prisoner being left down here in the darkness. She backed away from the room. ‘Come on, we have to find the right way again.’
‘Are we lost?’ Elanor asked.
‘Just a little detour,’ Sebastian reassured her.
‘I told you we should have turned right,’ Tom said.
They all walked on in silence.
‘I’m thirsty,’ Elanor said.
Tom passed her the waterskin. One gulp and it was all gone. Quinn was thirsty too. She hoped they would find more water soon.
‘I’m so tired,’ Elanor said after a while. ‘Can we stop a while?’
‘The lantern’s guttering,’ Tom answered. ‘It’ll soon go out.’
Everyone’s steps quickened.
At last the passageway opened out into a vast cavern, hung with what looked like thousands of icicles. When Quinn touched one, she realised it was not made of ice, but rather some kind of damp, pale stone. Below, more stone icicles grew up out of the slippery stone floor. In some places the two met, forming weirdly shaped columns and arches, coloured in all shades of white, cream, yellow and blue. Fergus whined, his tail tucked out of sight. Tom lifted his lantern high, but there was only yawning darkness above them. Water tinkled somewhere.
‘This must be the Great Cave,’ Quinn cried. Her voice echoed strangely. ‘Now all we need to do is follow the water.’ Fergus leapt forward, and led them to a narrow stream. He bent his shaggy head and lapped thirstily. All four children bent and scooped up water in their hands. They were too thirsty to worry about how clean the water was. It was icy and tasted a little metallic but they gulped it down eagerly, and Tom refilled the waterskin.
Then they hurried on, keeping close together in the bitterly cold darkness, following the stream. Quinn’s bare feet felt frozen, and she was grateful for the warmth of the white shawl about her shoulders.
The stream wound along the floor of the cavern, carving its way through the soft, slippery stone. Elanor shrieked as she slipped sideways and splashed into the stream. Sebastian tried to yank her out and fell hard on his backside. Quinn only saved herself by grabbing at one of the stone icicles. When Tom tried to pull Sebastian up, his feet slipped out from under him and down he went again. Sebastian got up, rubbing himself and looking furious.
‘You did that on purpose,’ he said to Tom.
‘I didn’t, I swear,’ Tom replied, trying not to laugh.
Sebastian pushed him and Tom stumbled back into the stream.
‘Now my boots are wet! Thanks a lot.’ He squelched out of the stream and would have shoved Sebastian back if Quinn had not said, ‘Stop it, you two. If you break a leg you’ll be stuck down here.’
The thought of being trapped in the cold and dark sobered them all, and they hurried as fast as they could along the stream, as the light in the lantern sank lower and lower.
The stream slowly grew deeper and wider, running swiftly over the rocks in small cascades. They followed it, scrambling and slipping, until it widened out into a blue-green lake that filled the far end of the cavern. The stone icicles framed it like delicate lace.
Bobbing up and down in the water was a small, brown boat, tied to a stone column. Round, golden eyes had been painted on either side of the prow, which was carved to look like an owl’s beak.
‘What on earth is a boat doing here, on a lake so deep underground?’ Tom cried.
‘It’s odd,’ Elanor said. ‘I don’t like it.’
‘Perhaps the boat is for us, to help us escape,’ Quinn said. She lifted up her white skirts and stepped into the water. ‘Ow! This water’s freezing.’ She waded towards the boat and grasped the rope, pulling the vessel towards her.
‘I don’t think you should do that,’ Sebastian said.
Quinn leant over and pulled out a thick brown rug. ‘There are cushions and blankets inside,’ she said, sniffing the rug. ‘It doesn’t smell damp at all.’
‘We could rest in there for a while,’ Tom said. ‘Much better than sitting on the damp, cold rocks.’ He sat on a rock and took off his wet boots.
‘I don’t know,’ Sebastian said. ‘Maybe it’s a trap.’
‘A trap set by who?’ Tom jeered as he splashed towards the boat, holding the dying lantern high, his boots in his other hand. He put one hand on the side, holding it steady, then leapt in. ‘Mmmm, warm. Come on, Lady Elanor. Aren’t you cold and tired?’
‘Indeed, I am,’ she agreed, still hesitating.
Quinn had already clambered aboard, and was sighing in relief as she sank down on one of the cushioned seats. ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘There’s no need to fear. Can’t you see this boat must belong to Arwen?’
Elanor and Sebastian hesitated.
‘Besides,’ Quinn said, holding high the knapsack, ‘we have all the food.’