he says. “I promise you that.”
Faro was right. When the time comes, we can no more resist the force that is pulling us towards that Assembly chamber than we could stop the blood flowing through our veins. The Call isn’t just one note blown on a conch: it’s a summons. Ingo wants us, needs us, and demands that we come now.
It’s a clear, still night, thick with stars. The moon will rise soon after nine o’clock, Conor says. It’s coming up to high tide. The salt tide of Ingo rises in me, growing stronger every minute.
We turn out the lights and lock the cottage door. A gull mews like a cat out of the darkness above our heads. Another answers, and then I think I hear wings. Conor stares up, trying to see what the gulls are doing. “Are they still there?”
“I think one flew off.”
“Do you think they’ve guessed where we’re going?”
“I don’t know.”
We are both whispering. Now that my eyes are getting used to the dark I can see the pale shapes of the gulls standing on the roof, silhouetted against the moonlit sky. There are six of them.
They make no more sound. Their silence seems more sinister than a flurry of angry squawking.
“Come on,” says Conor.
We cross the garden, open the gate and set off down the track. Our feet crunch more loudly on the hard surface than they ever do by day. I glance back. I can still see our home by starlight, although the moon hasn’t risen yet. The gulls are there, watching and waiting. They can wait there as long as they like, I think, but they’ll never be able to enter. The rowan will keep our home safe. I can just see the rowan tree’s shape against our door. No evil can cross a threshold which the rowan guards.
Lights glow through curtains from the scattered cottages where our neighbours live. In the morning they’ll see that no lights are on in our cottage. They’ll think we’ve left early to catch the train up to Plymouth. Granny Carne has told our neighbour Mary Thomas about Mum’s cousin, and the news will be around the village by now.
Down the track, down the path. The dew has already fallen and it’s cold. The air smells of autumn, of mushrooms, bracken and the sea. We don’t talk. The power that is taking us into Ingo now is too strong for words.
We’re almost at the place where the little hidden path curves away off this one, to the lip of the cliff where we’ll scramble down to our cove. Faro will be waiting—
Conor stops dead. I almost fall on top of him. “What’s wrong?”
“Listen.”
I listen, expecting to hear the sound of the sea or maybe the Call again, or maybe my own name carried on the wind from the sea, as I heard it once before:
Ssssapphiiire… Ssssapphiiire…
But there’s nothing.
“Conor, come on, we’ve got to hurry.”
“No. Listen, Saph. I’m sure I heard something.”
The night breeze lifts my hair. Prickles of fear run up my neck. Ervys can’t leave Ingo. But what if the gulls attack now, out of the night sky? They will be able to see better than us. There are hundreds of gulls roosting in the cliffs.
“Listen.”
This time I hear it too. A muffled groan. It could be an animal but I’m immediately sure that it’s not. It’s a human sound.
“Is anyone there? Are you hurt?” calls Conor. His voice is much too loud.
“Conor, don’t!”
“Answer if you can!” calls Conor, ignoring me. Again, a faint moan carries towards us. “It’s close. I’m going to shine the torch.”
We weren’t going to shine the torch until we needed it for climbing down to the cove in case its light gave us away. Conor flicks on the beam of light and passes it slowly and thoroughly over the dense mass of brambles, bracken and furze. The sound comes again.
“It’s down here!” Conor pushes forward, down the little hidden path that goes to the cove. I’m close behind. “Stop, Saph! Here! There’s someone here.”
He shines the torch down. A figure huddles on the path. There’s something else – two long pieces of metal reflecting in the torchlight. Conor kneels down. “It’s Gloria Fortune,” he says over his shoulder. “Hold the torch, Saph.”
I take the torch. “Don’t move her if she’s injured, Con.”
“I’m not stupid.”
I recognise Gloria Fortune now. The metal things are her crutches. She must have slipped and fallen.
“She’s soaking wet,” says Conor.
“Oh my God.” She has done it. Somehow she has crawled down over the lip of the cliff, down the rocks to the sand. She has got to the sea.
“Don’t shine the torch in my eyes,” says Gloria. Her voice is faint but steady.
“Are you all right? What happened?” asks Conor.
“I’m not hurt. Just – tired. Had to lie down a minute.”
“You were groaning. Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
“Cold, that’s all. Got to get home – Richard’ll be back soon. He’ll think s-s-something’s – happened to me.”
“Something has happened to you,” says Conor grimly.
“I should never have gone down there,” mutters Gloria.
“Can you get up if Saph and I help you? Your crutches are here. We’ll get you back home, it’s not far.”
“But, Conor!” I burst out. I can’t go back again. We’re more than halfway to Ingo. The pull has become so strong my whole body is possessed by it.
“We’ve got to, Saph.”
Gloria is moving. Slowly, painfully, she rolls over and struggles up on to her knees. She waits, gathering strength.
“Maybe we should get Richard. If you’ve damaged your leg any more you’ll need a stretcher,” says Con.
“No!” says Gloria. “He mustn’t see me like this. Help me up.” One on each side, we support Gloria under her arms and help her up. Her clothes are soaked with water. She smells of the sea.
“What happened?” asks Conor.
“I thought – thought someone was calling me. Into the water. Don’t know how I got down there…found the way somehow. I think I was on the rocks…A wave came over me and then I was afraid.” Her voice drops to a whisper. I lean close. “There was something in the water that hated me,” I hear her say.
I feel both horror and relief. Gloria hasn’t been to Ingo. Her Mer blood must be strong enough to take her to the gateway, but not to allow her to enter Ingo alone. There was no Faro there to guide her. What if she had gone into the water and found Mortarow there – or Ervys?
I thought Granny Carne was protecting Gloria and keeping her safe on the Earth. It must be the Call that is making Ingo so powerful tonight. No one would have seen Gloria go. No one would have missed her, until Richard came home. Gloria might have been found days later, washed up miles down the coast. No one would ever guess what really happened. They’d say it was a terrible accident.
“You must never do that again,” I say protectively. I can help Conor take her back to her cottage. It will only delay us for a few minutes, and what does time mean tonight anyway? Soon