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Tom hurtled after them, trying not to fall and break his neck, and saw Woodsmoke and the woman disappear into a hole in the ground he was sure hadn’t been there before. Looking around the clearing he saw no sign of Beansprout, so he threw himself into the hole after them.
For several seconds, he slid and coughed as dust rose in waves around him, then he stopped with a thump, and found himself in a tunnel. Woodsmoke was looking at him in exasperation.
“You should not have followed me!”
“I’m coming with you if Beansprout is down here. She’s my cousin, and I’m not leaving without her.” All thoughts of his grandfather were temporarily forgotten.
Before Woodsmoke could answer, the woman shouted, “Come on!”
Woodsmoke pulled Tom to his feet. “Stay close.” He looked above Tom’s head, murmuring something under his breath that Tom couldn’t understand, and the entrance above disappeared, as did the faint shaft of light. Tom experienced a moment of panic as he realised he was trapped, but before he could say anything, Woodsmoke set off after the woman.
Tom followed. The tunnel was narrow and dark, lit by occasional burning torches attached to the wall, their flames giving off acrid smoke that made Tom’s eyes smart. The roof was low and the walls rough, with tree roots spearing in from all directions.
Woodsmoke moved ahead with ease, gliding through the gaps. They reached an archway made of smooth, close-fitting stone, across the top of which words were carved in a strange language.
Woodsmoke shouted, “Brenna, wait!”
The woman called back, her voice flattened by the earth above them. “Hurry up!”
Beyond the arch, the tunnel walls were made of the same smooth grey stone, and the path sloped downwards, deeper into the earth.
Tom couldn’t understand how the woman had got ahead of them so quickly, but as they rounded a corner, he saw her standing in the middle of a high-domed space. Brenna had the whitest skin he’d ever seen, but her hair, falling long and straight to the base of her back, was so black that it had glints of blue in it. In contrast to her skin, her eyes were dark, the whites barely visible. Like Woodsmoke, she carried a sword at her belt. She looked completely at home in this space. It seemed to fold around her.
The floor was laid with intricately carved stones forming patterns of diamonds, circles, and interlocking squares, while the walls were decorated with patterns of leaves and animals—fierce-looking winged creatures with hooves and fangs. Tom thought he could hear murmurings and rustlings.
Around the edge of the semi-circular cavern were four arched entranceways. Beyond each was a black void; it was as if the floor just dropped away. Beansprout was nowhere in sight.
“Where is she? Did you see where she went?” Woodsmoke asked, his tone urgent.
Brenna replied calmly. “She went into the Realm of Water.”
Woodsmoke turned to Tom. “You must wait here. It’s too dangerous for you to come with us.”
Tom looked around at this strange place so far beneath the earth, and knew he must go, too. They didn’t know Beansprout—they would need his help to find her. And besides, what if something came out of those arches? What if Woodsmoke and Brenna never came back? He would die down here, entombed.
“No,” he said. “I’m coming. You can bring us both back.” In those seconds, Tom felt the weight of the backpack on his shoulders and tasted the decay in the air around him, and knew he was being watched by all those hundreds of eyes in the carvings as they waited with him in the long-abandoned tunnel.
Woodsmoke swore under his breath and glanced at Brenna. She nodded, and Woodsmoke muttered, “Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” He extended one hand to Tom and the other to Brenna. She turned and quickly pulled them into one of the archways.
For several seconds Tom felt completely weightless, and couldn’t tell if he was falling, flying, or simply suspended in the dark, a speck in an ocean of blackness. He heard a murmur of sound, like waves lapping a beach, and a whispered “Welcome,” then felt a wrenching pull in the centre of his body. All at once there was light and ground beneath his feet. He felt himself cry out as air was forced from his body, and his hands instinctively reached out to protect himself as he pitched forward onto a mixture of hard grey rock and moss.
Taking a deep breath, he pushed back onto his haunches and looked around. They were on a broad stone path in the centre of a large, horseshoe-shaped curve of rock and water. Granite cliffs stretched high into the air, and waterfalls streamed down from the misty heights into an enormous lake in front of them, frothing and churning where they hit the water. The cliffs were pitted with caves and crevasses, and ferns grew everywhere, anchored to the rock with clinging roots. A broad stone bridge crossed to the far side of the lake, and beyond that a deep gorge disappeared into the distance.
The air was hot and very humid. Despite the fact that the sun was sinking in a cloudless, pale blue sky, the oppressive heat lay across them like a blanket, and sweat was already beading on Tom’s brow.
Woodsmoke and Brenna seemed nervous, and Woodsmoke whispered, “It brought us here? To the Eye? Of all the places...”
Brenna’s pallor was almost luminous in this light, which made her eyes appear even darker. She quickly checked their surroundings and seemed to come to a decision. “There’s no turning back now, and at least it’s not night yet. We must be quick—and quiet!”
Tom wanted to ask where they were, and what the Eye was, and who had whispered in his head so quietly it was as if he’d imagined it, but Brenna’s words stilled his tongue.
They hurried to cross the bridge. It wasn’t until he was halfway across it that Tom thought to look below him, into the clear green water, and he stopped, astonished. Beneath the surface was a huge castle with turrets, courtyards, and towers. It was completely intact, not a ruin that had been swallowed by the lake. Far below he saw lights flashing in the darkness on the floor of the lake, and wondered who lived there.
He ran to catch up to Woodsmoke, pulling at his arm. “There’s a castle in the lake!”
Woodsmoke hissed, “Shush!”
Chastised, Tom continued in silence. The bridge ended with a low parapet, and they gazed over its edge. Water from the lake thundered to the base of the gorge to form a fast-flowing river. He saw a figure down there, much further along, on the right.
“Look—out there. Is that Beansprout? Why is she down there?” Tom asked, bewildered.
“The doorways open onto different spaces, depending on the time you enter,” Brenna told him. “The closer you are in time when you cross, the closer in distance you will be. That’s why we had to come here quickly.”
“We have to get down there. She must be terrified!”
Brenna looked at Woodsmoke. “I’ll go first, I can wait with her. We’ll walk back this way.” Then, in front of Tom’s eyes, she turned into a big black bird and plunged over the edge, heading towards Beansprout.
Astonished, Tom said, “What is this place? Where am I?”
“You’re in the Eye, which is the centre of The Realm of Water. It can be dangerous, so we need to leave. Stay quiet.”
Woodsmoke led the way to the right, down a wide stone ramp that dropped to the floor of the gorge. The cliffs on either side were so high that Tom felt the size of an ant. It seemed to take forever to cross a small distance, as if they were crawling. It didn’t help that he kept slowing down to look around him. On the opposite side of the gorge was an identical ramp; the gorge was in symmetry. He wondered who had designed it all. It was peaceful and beautiful.
“We haven’t got all day, Tom. Hurry up.” Woodsmoke’s strides were long and fluid, and Tom almost had to jog to keep up with him.
“Is this where you live?”
“No, I live in the Realm of Earth, which is where your granddad is.” Woodsmoke kept his voice low, and Tom struggled to hear him.
“Is that close? Are we going there next?”
“No. You are going home next. And keep close to the cliff side. We’ll be less visible there.”
Tom decided to ignore the ‘going home’ warning and asked, “Why is it sometimes dangerous here?”
“The water spirits who live here are not always friendly, and there are other things lurking in the rocks and the water that are even more frightening. It is not good that it’s so late in the day.” He looked thoughtfully at Tom and asked, “Why did your cousin go into a tunnel she doesn’t know, and then enter an archway that is black and appears to lead nowhere? Is she stupid?”
It was a good question. Tom wasn’t sure how to answer, but he thought he should defend Beansprout, because he was actually pleased to be here.
“She’s quite inquisitive,” was all he could think of.
“Really?”
Tom thought he detected sarcasm. “I suppose she thought she was helping. She probably thought our grandfather was living in the tunnel beneath the folly.”
“Really?” Woodsmoke said again.
“Well, I would have thought so if I’d seen the tunnel. I probably would have done the same thing. Anyway, it’s your fault. You left the tunnel open.”
Woodsmoke’s eyes narrowed as he stared at Tom. “Actually, Brenna did.”
Tom realised he’d better not be cheeky, or Woodsmoke might leave him here.
It was nearly dark when they reached the others. Brenna and Beansprout were waiting inside a small cleft in the rock face.
“Tom!” Beansprout said nervously. “Sorry to have caused so much trouble.” She looked as if she was going to hug him, but thought better of it.
“Are you okay?” he asked, relieved to see she looked in one piece.
“I am now.” She smiled at Brenna. “I was a bit panic-stricken at first, but Brenna calmed me down.”
“Well, this is Woodsmoke, and he’s annoyed! Woodsmoke, my cousin, Beansprout.”
Woodsmoke nodded briefly, but didn’t waste time with pleasantries, instead turning to Brenna. “We need to get out of here. I think we should go higher, find a cave, and get out of sight.”
“I’ve already found one.” Brenna pointed to a small black hole in the rock wall, a short distance above the path. “It’s small, but there are no other caves leading off it. It’s the best we can do for now.”
Woodsmoke sighed. “All right. Lead the way.”
