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down to you. Here, catch!"
The golden sphere came hurtling over the ledge. Taran caught it in mid-air.
"Now then," Eilonwy called, "what's down there? Is it just a pit of some kind?"
Taran raised the ball above his head. "Why, it's not a hole at all!" he cried. "It's a kind of chamber.
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There's a tunnel here, too." He took a few paces. "I can't see where it ends. It's big..."
Stones rattled behind him; an instant later, Eilonwy dropped to the ground. Taran stared at her in
disbelief.
"You fool!" he shouted. "You addlepated . . . What have you done? Now both of us are trapped! And
you talk about sense! You haven't..."
Eilonwy smiled at him and waited until he ran out of breath. "Now," she said, "if you've quite finished, let
me explain something very simple to you. If there's a tunnel, it has to go some place. And wherever it
goes, there's a very good chance it will be better than where we are now."
"I didn't mean to call you names," Taran said, "but," he added sorrowfully, "there was no reason for you
to put yourself in danger."
"There you go again," Eilonwy said. "I promised to help you escape and that's what I'm doing. I
understand about tunnels and I shouldn't be surprised if this one followed the same direction as the one
above. It doesn't have half as many galleries coming off it. And besides, it's a lot more comfortable."
Eilonwy took the glowing sphere from Taran's hand and stepped forward into the new passageway. Still
doubtful, Taran followed.
Chapter 8
The Barrow
AS EILONWY HAD SAID, the passageway was more comfortable, for they could walk side by side
without crouching and scuttling like rabbits in a warren. Unlike those of the upper galleries, the walls were
lined with huge, flat stones; the ceiling was formed of even larger stones, whose weight was supported by
upright slabs set at intervals along the square corridor. The air, too, smelled slightly better; musty, as if it
had lain unstirred for ages, but without the choking closeness of the tunnels.
None of this comforted Taran greatly. Eilonwy herself admitted she had never explored the passage; her
blithe confidence did not convince him she had the slightest notion of where she was going. Nevertheless,
the girl hurried along, her sandals tapping and echoing, the golden light of the bauble casting its rays
through shadows that hung like cobwebs.
They passed a few side galleries which Eilonwy ignored. "We'll go straight to the end of this one," she
announced. "There's bound to be something there."
Taran had begun wishing himself back in the chamber. "We shouldn't have come this far," he said, with a
frown. "We should have stayed and found some way to climb out; now you don't even know how long it
will be before this passage stops. We might go on tramping for days."
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Something else troubled him. After all their progress, it seemed the passageway should now follow an
upward direction.
"The tunnel's supposed to bring us out about ground, "Taran said. "But we haven't stopped going down.
We aren't coming out at all; we're only going deeper and deeper."
Eilonwy paid no attention to his remarks.
But she was soon obliged to. Within another few paces, the corridor stopped abruptly, sealed by a wall
of boulders.
"That is what I feared," cried Taran, dismayed. "We have gone to the end of your tunnel, that you knew
so much about, and this is what we find. Now we can only go back; we're lost all our time and we're no
better off than when we started." He turned away while the girl stood looking curiously at the barrier.
"I can't understand," said Eilonwy, "why anyone would go to the trouble of building a tunnel and not have
it go any place. It must have been a terrible amount of work for whoever it was to dig it all and set in the
rocks. Why do you suppose...?"
"I don't know! And I wish you'd stop wondering about things that can't make any difference to us. I'm
going back," Taran said. "I don't know how I'm going to climb onto that shelf, but I can certainly do it a
lot more easily than digging through a wall."
"Well," said Eilonwy, "it is very strange and all. I'm sure I don't know where we are."
"I knew we'd end up being lost. I could have told you that."
"I didn't say I was lost," the girl protested. "I only said I didn't know where I was. There's a big
difference. When you're lost, you really don't know where you are. When you just don't happen to know
where you are at the moment, that's something else. I know I'm underneath Spiral Castle, and that's quite
good for a start."
"You're splitting hairs," Taran said. "Lost is lost. You're worse than Dallben."
"Who is Dallben?"
"Dallben is my--- oh, never mind!" His face grim, Taran began retracing his steps.
Eilonwy hurried to join him. "We could have a look into one of the side passageways," she called.
Taran disregarded the suggestion. Nevertheless, approaching the next branching gallery, he slowed his
steps and peered briefly into the gloom.
"Go ahead," Eilonwy urged. "Let's try this one. It seems as good as any."
"Hush!" Taran bent his head and listened intently. From a distance came a faint whispering and rustling.
"There's something..."
"Well, by all means let's find out what," said Eilonwy, prodding Taran in the back. "Go ahead, will you?"
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Taran took a few cautious steps. The passage here was lower and seemed to slope still further down.
With Eilonwy beside him, he continued gingerly, setting each foot carefully, remembering the sudden,
sickening fall that had brought him there in the first place. The whispering became a high keening, a wail
of torment. It was as though voices had been spun out like threads, twisted taut, ready to snap. An icy
current wove through the air, carrying along with it hollow sighs and a swell of dull mutterings. There
were other sounds, too; raspings and shriekings, like sword points dragged over stones. Taran felt his
hands tremble; he hesitated a moment and gestured for Eilonwy to stay behind him.
"Give me the light," he whispered, "and wait for me here."
"Do you think it's ghosts?" Eilonwy asked. "I don't have any beans to spit at them, and that's about the
only thing that will really do for a ghost. But you know I don't think it's ghosts at all. I've never heard one,
though I suppose they could sound like that if they wanted to, but I don't see why they should bother.
No, I think it's wind making all those noises."
"Wind? How could there be... Wait," Taran said. "You may be right, at that. There might be an
opening." Closing his ears to the horrifying sounds and preferring to think of them as draughts of air rather
than spectral voices, Taran quickened his pace. Eilonwy, paying no attention to his order to wait, strode
along with him.
They soon arrived at the end of the passage. Once more, fallen stones blocked their way, but this time
there was a narrow, jagged gap. From it, the wailing grew louder, and Taran felt a cold ribbon of air on
his face. He thrust the light into the opening, but even the golden rays could not pierce the curtain of
shadows. Taran slid cautiously past the barrier; Eilonwy followed.
They entered a low-ceilinged chamber, and as they did, the light flickered under the weight of the
darkness. At first, Taran could make out only indistinct shapes, touched with a feeble green glow. The
voices screamed in trembling rage. Despite the chill wind, Taran's forehead was clammy. He raised the
light and took another step forward. The shapes grew clearer. Now he distinguished outlines of shields [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]