A shout. The oars were raised, dripping, from the swirling water. The barge glided in under its own momentum and grated up the shingle, coming to a shuddering halt. The man sitting in the bows of the barge stood up, unrolled a manuscript, and announced to the empty beach:
"Her Majesty The Queen."
The door of the Beacon Tower was flung open, and Darach and the Keeper emerged, followed by the children. They all bowed as the Queen stepped from the barge, trailing her long robes in the water. The man in the bows, seeing this unfortunate circumstance, and yet not wishing to get his feet wet saving the robes, leaned over the side of the barge and took hold of them. Unfortunately, at this very moment, the Queen, oblivious of his efforts to preserve the splendour of her attire, carried on up the beach, dragging the gallant gentleman over the side and into the water.
The oarsmen, who had been watching this comic mime with spreading smiles, broke into laughter, which was immediately suppressed when the Queen turned her eyes on him.
"Benedick?" she said slowly, addressing the unfortunate gentleman in the water. "What do you think you're doing?"
"I – well –I – you – dropped your – er –"
"Well don't," the Queen said.
"No, ma'am."
"And do get up. We really haven't any time for acrobatics."
"I apologise, ma'am."
He struggled out of the water, muddied from head to foot, the ostrich feather in his hat looking like a wilted flower.
"You look wet," the Queen said.
The gentleman sneezed.
"Go in and change."
"Yes, ma'am."
He waddled up the beach.
"Benedick?"
"Yes ma'am?"
"Dismiss the men first."
"Of course, ma'am. Er – right men – er – dismiss."
The oarsmen lowered the oars and placed them in the bottom of the barge, while Benedick hurried up the beach, wringing out his cloak, and trying his best not to look undignified. He encountered the children at the tower-door, coughed, bowed, turned crimson with embarrassment, and hurriedly squelched up the stairs.
Darach was speaking with the Queen.
"We weren't expecting you, your Majesty."
"What you mean is you were praying I wouldn't come."
"Oh, your Majesty –"
"I know I'm a cantankerous old lady, there's no need to ply me with compliments. Are these the children?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Approach," she commanded. They did so.
"Hello," said Graham.
"Bow," hissed Darach through clenched teeth.
"What?"
"Bow."
"Oh."
Graham and Colin bowed very low, and Gwen curtsied. The Queen regarded them with eyes as clear and blue as a young girl's. Her high cheekbones, wide, slightly pinched mouth and long, pale neck gave her a look of great nobility. Everything about her person spoke of Queenship; her features, her voice, her graceful bearing, and the way her long-fingered, many-ringed hands fluttered here and there like careless birds.
"I don't know what we can be thinking of –" she said, a look of deep concern altering her face completely, "believing they can help us."
"They can, ma'am," replied Darach.
"Well, well, we shall see. It's really very much a question of what alternative we have, isn't it? Never let it be said that I didn't examine all the possibilities. I should prefer open warfare of course. I have never found intrigue very palatable. I may very well get a chill coming here."
"Your majesty does a great honour -" began Darach.
"Oh, away with you, you old flatterer, you're sick of the sight of me already!" She smiled at Darach. It was the kind of smile you give to an old friend. Darach smiled a little too.
"We couldn't risk the palace, ma'am."
"All the same you might have chosen a slightly less obscure rendezvous. It may appeal to your sense of drama, but really -"
"I'm sorry, ma'am"
"You're not sorry in the slightest."
"If you say not, ma'am. Shall we go in?"
"That's the first sensible thing you've said. My feet are like blocks of ice."
They went into the tower and up the steps, the Queen's wet train flapping behind her and sounding rather like a wet frog following her up the stairs.
Benedick was seated in front of the fire, shivering.
"Benedick!" said the Queen as she swept through the door.
The poor man leapt to his feet.
"Ma'am."
"Arrange for the men to feed and so on."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He exited.
"Close the door, will you?" she said.
Colin did so.
"Now, what about him?" She pointed to the Keeper.
"He's trustworthy," said Darach.
"Very well, sit down, will you? I could do with a glass of wine." The Keeper poured out a cup of wine.
"How much have you told them, Darach?" she said.
"Very little."
"Well, where shall I begin? I want you to listen carefully to what I have to tell you, my dears. You see, at this moment, this land and the one which you once lived in, are in great peril."
"From the cloud?" said Gwen.
"Yes, my dear. From the cloud. A time ago now, in a country that lay, but lies no longer, to the East of here, over the mountains, there ruled a lord by the name of Elz-raal-hiam. It has been said of this gentleman, though I never knew him personally, that there never ruled a man with a colder heart. What he desired was dominion over as many lands as he could get his hands on, including this. He waged war on all his borders, and gradually his empire spread. But it wasn't enough apparently, for he turned to summonings and magic to mount further wealth and power. It is an old story. Many men have done so, and been consumed in their madness."
"Like Dr. Faustus," put in Colin. "A man in a play we did at school. He did that."
"As I said, it is a common story. Well, at length Elz-raal-hiam over- stepped the bounds of his magic. In his towers he called things that have no form, but only names and natures, into the breathing world. He attempted more and more dangerous summonings, until the stone upon which his Fathers built their kingdom split. You see, magic cannot be flung around willy-nilly. One has to preserve the balance. Elz-raal-hiam ignored that basic rule and the earth revolted. A large pit appeared in the ground, and the Fathers disappeared into it, with Elz-raal-hiam in it. What happened in the depths of that pit, no one can say, but there issued out of it a great darkness, like a cloud."
"The maggot-cloud," said Colin breathlessly.
"It billowed into the air and blocked out the sun, it was so thick and poisoning."
"Like the film of Surtsey coming out of the sea," said Graham. "Remember, Col, we saw it at your house?"
"I remember," said Gwen.
"What is Surtsey?" Asked the Queen.
"It's an island," explained Graham, "that suddenly appeared out of the sea. The smoke and ashes covered the sun."
"It was terrifying," Gwen said.
"So it was on the day the cloud issued from the pit. That, however, was not a birth-day – as your island was born – but, we have been warned, the day that the end of the world began. At first the darkness spread only very slowly. But now it grows faster each day, and we can doubt no longer. The time will come when it will cover the world."
"What happened to the people?" asked Gwen.
"As it falls upon the land, all that walks or crawls or flies returns to the slime from which the world was made, when the Darkness was everywhere."
"How do you know?"
"Men have been to the very edge of the darkness, and looked into it with seeing-glasses."
"What's to be done then?" asked Graham. "You have just predicted the end of the world."
"You have heard the story before, you said. Then you also know that such evils may be averted."
"Is there some way?"
"You are the way."
"Us?" they all chorused.
"The candle fell to you, though not by intention: Wake-Robin was pursued."
"By the horsemen."
"Yes."
"Who are they?"
"Elz-raal-hiam's guard. They fell into the pit when the Fathers fell, but emerged again. The darkness rules them, and they will kill you if they ever find you. They pursued Wake-Robin across the bridge into your world."
"They were after the candle," Graham said grimly. "They came back every night to search for it. But I don't see why."
"The candle was made by the joint powers of a number of wizards, both here and in your world. Oh yes, there are a few wizards there too. It is a dispeller of darkness, a bringer of life, and we were going to consult the stars as to who should wield it. But fate chose you, apparently. It may be that you are here because you alone can make good the evil done. But I won't deceive you. It may be that it was an accident the candle came to you, and you are not fitted to wield the light. Still, we must take that risk, if you will."
"It wasn't an accident," said Gwen. "I know it wasn't. We're meant to be here."
"Good. Always be sure. It will make the task easier in the doing, sweeter in the fulfilling."
"The task?" repeated Colin. "What task?"
"The shadowed lands are known as Desolation," the Queen replied, "If you will trust to whatever brought you here, cross into Desolation, and bring the light to the Darkest Places; then we may be safe. You alone may make this journey unharmed by the Cloud's evil. But the dangers are many and great, I couldn't blame you if you refused."