The three travellers hitched a ride down from Montserrat Abbey in the mail truck that called on the monastery every afternoon. Upon reaching the village of El Bruc at the foot of the mountain, they decided it would be prudent to procure a weapon of some description for the onward journey. In the end, the only thing they could find was a sheathed hunting knife from the little general store on the village square.
“If that’s the best we can do, so be it,” concluded Kit. “We’re wasting time.”
Attaching the knife to his belt, Kit led the other two back to the highway and started off along the verge, following the tarmac strip as it wound along the river until, after a mile or two, they came to the place were Kit had been found by the hunters. Happily, there were no gun-toting farmers around this time, so they crossed the little stone bridge and headed up the rising slope towards the cliffs. As they walked, Kit tried to set the scene.
“It is the Stone Age. More primitive than you’ve ever imagined. No buildings, no machines, no metal, glass, or plastic. Skins, not cloth.” He patted his clothes. “It is nature in the raw, and it is man against the elements. That said, it is the middle of winter. At least it was when I left—and that means there are loads of hungry animals around, so we’ll have to make contact with the clan pretty sharpish if we want to avoid getting eaten.”
“Maybe we should have brought more clothes—something warmer?” wondered Wilhelmina.
“Carrying all that extra stuff would only slow us down. Anyway, I think we’ll be okay,” he told her. “Once we’ve rejoined the clan, we can get some skins and furs and whatever else we need if it’s really cold. We don’t need to spend a whole lot of time faffing about. We get to the Bone House and make the jump to the Spirit Well.”
Brother Lazarus said something in German, which Mina translated for Kit. “He is worried that the primitives will be frightened by us—that they might attack us.”
Kit stopped walking and turned to his companions. “Look, I can’t guarantee anything, as I’ve already said. But they never showed a trace of violence in my presence. They accepted me straight away, which is fairly amazing when you think about it. And, even if they are a little skittish, they’ll remember me—I was adopted by the clan, and you’re with me. I don’t anticipate any problems, so everyone just relax and follow my lead, okay?” He looked at each of them in turn. “Okay.”
A few minutes’ hard slog up the hillside brought them to the mouth of a cave.
“This is the place,” Kit announced. He glanced at the sun, which had passed midday. “We may have to wait awhile for the portal to become active.”
They put down their packs, and Wilhelmina consulted her ley lamp. As expected, the blue indicator lights were dark. “Nothing,” she announced. “But it’s early yet. I’ll keep an eye on it. In the meantime, show us this cave of yours.”
Brother Lazarus opened his pack and handed around the flashlights. Kit switched his on and off to check it. “Ready?” asked Kit when they had shouldered their packs once more. “Here we go. Watch your step.”
Moving into the mouth of the cave, he switched on his torch and stepped into the interior. The air was still and tepid with the faintly musty smell of mildew and fungus. Among a heap of rocks near the entrance, Kit retrieved his furry shirt—hidden where he had left it a few days earlier.
“You were wearing that?” asked Wilhelmina with a laugh.
“I’ll have you know this is the height of fashion,” Kit replied. “I made it myself.”
“You’re lucky the hunters didn’t shoot you,” she said.
Kit rolled up the shirt and stuffed it into his pack. “This way,” he said, and led them into the yawning dark. They followed the tunnel deeper into the mountain, their lights playing on the rough surface of the walls. Brother Lazarus took a keen scientific interest in the tunnel shape and rock formation, pausing now and again to examine a particularly interesting feature.
They reached the place where the winding passageway straightened out. Here Kit stopped and flashed his torch along the path he identified as containing the ley line. He had not previously seen it in such clear light, and it appeared different than he remembered. In his mind he had pictured the cave ley as a corridor of straight lines and right angles. But, although the floor of the tunnel was straight and even enough, the walls bulged and wobbled along a length whose end was quickly lost in the darkness beyond.
“Is this the place?” asked Mina, adding her light to his.
“I think so,” replied Kit. “It seems about right.” He produced his ley lamp and held it out. Not so much as a flicker of light emanated from the device. “Does your lamp show anything?”
Wilhelmina brought hers out and waved it around. “Still nothing,” she said. “What do you want to do now?”
“Wait, I guess,” said Kit.
The priest, who had been examining a large crystalline seam in the wall, joined them. “We have to wait a bit,” she told him in German. “The ley isn’t active yet.”
“No?” he asked, gazing at the object in her hand.
Mina glanced down. A faint blue sheen was visible in the tiny openings. Before she could open her mouth to tell Kit, the fickle glint faded and died. She stared at the gizmo, willing it to wake up again. “Come on,” she whispered. “Glow.”
“What are you doing?” asked Kit.
“Shh!” she said. “Watch.”
Even as she spoke, the row of lights flickered to life. Kit dug out his ley lamp and held it up. The device remained dark.
“There is definitely something here,” said Mina. “Keep watching.”
The indigo gleam deepened, strengthening by the second. Kit’s ley lamp, however, remained dead, the carapace a cold lump of metal. Mina’s ley lamp grew brighter.
“How are you doing that?” Kit asked.
“I’m not doing anything,” she said. “It’s just that this new lamp is more powerful than the old one. Upgrades, my friend.”
The priest reached out and moved Kit’s hand until the two devices were side by side. Slowly, the lights in Kit’s ley lamp began to glow— a wavering gleam that gradually took hold and intensified until it matched the brightness of Mina’s device.
“Now, that’s interesting,” said Kit. He glanced at Mina’s face, her features bathed in the cool blue glow.
Brother Lazarus tapped his temple with a forefinger. “Sehr interessant.”
“He says yes, it’s very interesting,” Mina translated.
“I got that,” said Kit. “Thanks.” He flicked his flashlight down the passage. “Well? This is the place. Let’s go.”
Wilhelmina held out her hand to him. “And let’s try to stay together for once, shall we?”
“Good idea.” Kit took her hand, and Brother Lazarus put a hand on her pack and gave Kit a nod.
“Right,” said Kit. “Forward, march.”
He started off with slow, measured strides; when he judged the others were in step, he increased his pace slightly. After a few metres he felt a flutter in the air, a light exhalation of breeze on his skin as from an unseen vent. At the same time he felt the ley lamp in his hand grow warm, and the lights burned with a fierce intensity. He shoved the device into his pocket and readied himself for the jump.
It came a few paces later, and when it did it was so gentle as to be almost imperceptible. The cavern floor shifted under his feet, and the air shivered—as if someone had closed a door in another room. Suddenly he sensed he was standing in a much larger passageway. The jump was complete.
Kit slowed and then stopped to look around, shining his torch over the grey stone walls. The passage opened up a few metres ahead. He stepped through the opening and found himself in a large gallery, the extent of which his flashlight could not illuminate.
“Everyone okay?” he asked.
“Never better,” replied Mina. “You can let go of my hand now.”
“Molto bene,” came the reply. The priest, lapsing into Italian in his excitement, gazed around the room, shining his torch at a hanging cluster of pale stalactites dripping water like icicles from the roof. “Fantastico!”
“We go on,” said Kit. “There’s a side passage up along here somewhere that leads to another chamber. That’s where the paintings are.”
Kit led his little team into the gallery, staying close to the wall until they came to a gap where the tunnel branched off; the opening was smaller than he remembered. “I think this is the place,” he said. “It’s a tight squeeze, but it opens up a little farther on.”
“After you,” said Wilhelmina.
Kit shrugged through the breach and squeezed along the undulating corridor. As predicted, the channel grew wider by degrees until they could walk without touching either side. They came to a sort of anteroom where Kit paused. “I remember this place. This is where I heard the clinky-clink sound. I thought it was water, but it turned out to be the end of Baby’s chain.”
While Mina explained this to Brother Lazarus, Kit examined the walls with his torchlight. The beam swept the uneven surface of the stone, causing the dips and bulges to leap into sharp relief. “The markings are low down on the wall,” he told them, moving farther into the chamber.
Mina and Brother Lazarus likewise began searching, sweeping the walls with their flashlights. Brother Lazarus moved to the other side, shining his light a few feet off the floor. “Achtung! Sie sind hier!” he called, waving them over.
“He’s found them,” said Mina, hurrying to the place where the priest was kneeling.
Kit joined them and quickly confirmed that, sure enough, there they were—a cluster of enigmatic symbols, just as he had seen them on his first visit to the cave. “Am I right, or am I right?” he asked.
“Let’s check.” Removing her pack, Wilhelmina opened it and brought out a short cardboard tube from which she extracted a roll of paper, which she opened and held up against the nearest symbols. Several seemed to form an identical match, but most, while similar, were entirely different.
“Well,” he said after a moment, “what do you think?”
“I think you may have hit the jackpot here,” declared Wilhelmina. “It certainly seems to be the real thing. I wonder how they got there?”
“Arthur himself maybe? No way to tell.”
“Bene . . . bene .. .” sighed Brother Lazarus. He put down his pack and extracted a beautifully crafted Leica. With exaggerated care he removed the lens cap and dusted the lens with a soft cloth, then fitted a flash hood. He directed Mina to train her torch on the nearest symbols, took a light reading, set the aperture, then created a human tripod by turning the camera upside down and bracing the bottom against his forehead as he knelt. He refocused the lens and triggered the shutter. There was a silky click, and the flashbulb popped, illuminating the entire chamber with brilliant white light that seared their eyes, blinding them and causing large purple dots to obscure their field of vision. “Einen Moment,” he said. Then, fitting another flashbulb, he counted off three and snapped another picture.
Each section of the wall was duly photographed and the camera stowed before continuing on. The next chamber they visited was larger still, and it contained the animals Kit had seen. “I give you the Hall of Extinct Animals,” he announced, shining his torch onto a row of chubby horses. Below them was a grumpy-looking rhinoceros, and farther down a bison with forward-swept horns and a young one protected beneath its mother’s belly; a pair of delicate antelope leapt on the adjacent wall, together with a bear on hind legs, its claws extended.
“Oh wow!” cried Wilhelmina, rushing to the wall.
“Magnifico!” chimed Brother Lazarus with a clap of his hands. “Straordinario.”
“It is extraordinary,” agreed Kit. “They were working on this one when I was here.” He shined his torch on the woolly mammoth, the body of which was now fleshed out in greater detail than when he had last seen it.
Just then his light began to dim. “Uh oh,” he said, giving the flashlight a shake. “We’d better move along. We can always come back.”
Kit and Mina switched off their torches to preserve the batteries, and the three hurried on. Kit led them to the main passage and from there to the outer entrance of the cave, pausing briefly a few metres from the opening. “Here we are,” he said, blinking in the relative brightness of the daylight streaming in through the ragged gap. “Out there is nature in the rough. It is strictly no frills from here on,” he told them. “Is everybody still keen to meet the Flintstones?”
Wilhelmina translated for the priest, who nodded his head. “Sole purpose of visit,” Mina replied for both of them.
“Right, let’s do it.” Kit stepped to the outer opening and into the light. “Stay alert and be ready to run at all times.”
Kit went first, taking a good look around before climbing through the opening. Wilhelmina came next, followed by the priest, and all three stood on the sloping escarpment shielding their eyes from sunlight as they took in the scene before them: a verdant valley bounded by sheer cliffs of white limestone rising up on every side. The trees and shrubs were in full leaf, and the air was hazy, full of insects, and warm.
“It was winter,” he said, raising a hand to the faded greens and ripening golds of early autumn. “Just a couple days ago it was winter.”
“A couple of days for you,” Mina reminded him. “We obviously haven’t got the time frame calibrated for a proper match.” Seeing the disappointment on his face, she added brightly, “Still, with any luck we’re probably not too far off the mark.”
“I hope you’re right,” he said. “In any case, we’ll soon find out.” He started down to the valley floor, sliding on the loose scree. With a last look around for lurking predators, Kit started towards the slowflowing river that was now but an oozy trickle at summer’s end. They walked along, keeping close to the wall of the gorge, picking their way over the rocks, now in bright sunlight, now in shadow.
Occasionally Kit paused to get his bearings, recognising various landmarks and bends in the river. The sun was dropping behind the towering cliffs by the time they reached the place Kit identified as the winter camp of River City Clan. His heart beat a little faster at the sight, and he bounded up the narrow trail leading to the stony ledge where he had last seen En-Ul and the others.
The ledge was empty now, all signs of habitation—recent or otherwise—completely scoured away. All that was left were a few dried leaves and powdery white dust.
“They’re gone,” he said, his voice heavy.
Brother Lazarus took a look around, then turned and said, “Sie kommen im Winter hierher, richtig? Winter wenn sie hier kommen, korrigiert?”
“Yes,” Mina confirmed, “they only come here in winter—that is correct.” She turned to Kit. “That’s what you said, right?”
Kit nodded. “Then they might be back at the river camp.” He thought for a moment. “That’s miles from here, and I’m afraid we’re going to lose the light. Much as I’d like to make contact right now, that can wait. I think we should press on to the Bone House. First things first.”
“Whatever you say, captain,” replied Wilhelmina.
Returning to the valley floor, he led them along the river to a nearby trail that climbed up the cliffside and out of the gorge. “This is the way out,” he said. “The Bone House is up on high ground in the middle of the forest just beyond the canyon rim.”
Kit pushed a relentless pace up and out of the gorge and wasted no time making for the place where he had helped the young clansmen erect the shelter made from the skeletal remains of animals. He had no difficulty finding the place; the crevice where they had gathered the bones was still there, as was the wide circular clearing in the woods.
But the Bone House itself was gone, and in its place was an enormous yew tree with shaggy brown bark and short needles of deepest green. The tree’s trunk was gigantic—a half dozen people or more would have been required to link hands to reach around it.
“Well,” concluded Kit unhappily, “needless to say, this was not here before.” He shook his head. “Look at this thing.” He indicated the great spreading branches, dark in the gloaming wood. “It’s a thousand years old if it’s a day!”
Mina and Brother Lazarus gazed at the tree and at the blue patch of sky above. The light was fading fast.
“Dies ist der Ort, sind Sie sicher?” asked the priest.
“He’s asking if you’re sure this is the place,” translated Mina. She started pacing off the distance around the massive yew.
“Yes—I mean, I think so,” replied Kit. He gazed around the almost perfect circle of the clearing. “This is it. This is where the Bone House stood. But obviously we’re way off course. It looks like we’ll have to go back and start over.”
“Maybe not,” said Mina.
“What do you mean?”
“Check your ley lamp, Kit.”
He pulled the device from his pocket to see that it was shining with an intense blue light. “I knew it! The ley is here all right. That hasn’t changed.”
Mina completed her circuit of the tree and came to stand beside Kit, ley lamp in hand. They held the two gizmos together; the blue lights combined to bathe their faces in a radiant glow.
“Sehr gut,” murmured Brother Lazarus, taking his place beside them.
“A very good sign,” agreed Mina. “The ley is here and it is highly active.”
The electromagnetic force of the ley continued to build, intensifying to an extent they had never witnessed before. The indigo lights pulsed with an ever-increasing strength, and the ring of yellow lights on Wilhelmina’s ley lamp flashed and blinked with random bursts, as if tracing the violent surges of power swirling around them.
“Ow!” cried Mina, dropping her lamp and clutching her hand.
“What happened?” said Kit. “Wha—Yikes!” He dropped his device too. The heat had suddenly spiked to an unbearable level.
Mina held out her hand. The palm was red where the flesh was burned. “That’s never happened before.”
Even as she spoke, there was a faint sizzling sound. Threads of white smoke emanated from the little holes in the brass carapace of Mina’s ley lamp, followed by a soft pop like that of a cork withdrawn from a bottle. Instantly the lamp went dark.
A second later Kit’s lamp fizzled out too, and the air carried the distinct whiff of ozone.
“I guess that’s that,” said Kit.
Brother Lazarus took Mina’s hand and examined the burn.
“We know the ley is here—no doubt about that,” said Kit, taking in the yew’s massive trunk, hard as iron and big as a house growing right in the middle of the ley. “Now all we have to do is figure out what to do about this whacking great tree.”