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The wind whispers again. “Look closer….”
At the base of the enormous cliff is a tunnel hung with blood-streaked rags.
“Follow…,” the wind urges.
“Did you hear that?” I ask to be sure.
Felicity nods. “It said to follow.”
“Follow it where?” Ann peers doubtfully into the dark tunnel.
No one charges ahead. No one will be the first to push aside the foul rags and step into that narrow crevasse.
“We’ve come this far,” Pippa says. “Would you stop now? Mae? Bessie?”
Mae pulls back. Bessie shifts from one foot to the other.
“Bit dark, innit?” Mae says.
“I think we should turn back,” Wendy whispers. “Mr. Darcy will be hungry.”
“Will you shut it about that bunny?” Bessie barks. She nods at me. “Was your idea, wuddn’t it? Findin’ this tree? You’re the one wot’s supposed to lead.”
The fetid wind blows the rags toward us. The tunnel is like a starless night. There’s no telling what could be waiting for us in there, and we’ve already experienced one hideous surprise. But Bessie’s right. I should go first.
“Right,” I say. “We go on. Stay close behind me. If I give the word, run back hard as you can.”
Wendy has found her way back to me and still clings to my sleeve. “Is it terrible dark, miss?”
It is funny that she should be afraid of the dark when she cannot see it, but I suppose that is the sort of fear one feels deep in the soul.
“Don’t worry, Wendy. I shall go first. Mercy will lead you in, won’t you?”
Mercy nods and takes Wendy’s hand. “Aye. Hold tight to me, luv.”
My heart hammers against my chest. I take a step inside. The tunnel is narrow. I can’t stand to my full height, and have to move stooped. “Watch your heads,” I call back. My hands feel their way. The walls are cold and wet, and for a moment, I fear I am in the mouth of some giant beast, and then I’m shivering all over and near to screaming.
“Gemma?” Fee’s voice. In the pitch-darkness I cannot tell where she is. She sounds miles away, and yet, I know she can’t be.
“Y-yes,” I manage to say. “Keep coming.”
I pray we’ll be through it quickly, but the tunnel seems to go on forever. I hear a faint murmur under the rock. It sounds like a snake hissing, all ss, though I swear I hear sacrifice and, once, save us. I can’t hear the footfalls of my friends anymore, and I’m in a panic, when at last a dim shaft of light falls. There is an opening in sight. Relief floods through me as I tumble through the slender gap, followed by my friends.
Pip wipes at the muck on her sleeves. “Horrid tunnel. I felt the hot breath of some foul thing on my neck.”
“That was me,” Ann confesses.
“Where are we?” Felicity asks.
We’ve come out on a windswept heath surrounded by a circle of stony peaks. A light snow falls. The flakes cling to our lashes and hair. Wendy turns her face up to it as if it’s a blessing.
“Oh, that’s nice,” she murmurs.
Dark, heavy clouds sit above the cliffs. Sharp veins of light pulse against them, and thunder sounds. Through the thin veil of snow, I see it: An ancient, weathered ash tree, as thick as ten men and as tall as a house, rises majestically from a small patch of green grass. Its many branches stretch out every which way. It is commanding; I cannot look away. And I know that this is the tree in my dreams. This is what Wilhelmina Wyatt wanted me to find.
“The Tree of All Souls,” I say in awe. “We’ve found it.”
The snow pelts my face, but I don’t care. The magic hums sweetly inside me as if called. The sound wraps itself around my every sinew; it pulses in my blood with a new refrain I cannot yet sing but long to.
