Chapter 6

Gifts

A miserable dream of wandering through endless caves slipped away from Weskar. Half-awake, he pulled the blankets up and rolled over. But his pillow felt strange, and try as he might, he couldn’t get comfortable. An odd smell wrinkled his nose, and returning wakefulness revealed a bed much rougher than his own. Coarse sacking served for crude sheets, and the tang of dried moss seeped from the lumpy mattress. He was not at home.

So the flight from New Hope city had not been a dream. He tried to recall details of the previous day. The azure waters of the Blue Pool were clear in his memory, but subsequent events became hazy. He recalled the mouldy aroma of a giant fungus, darkness, and being lost. He remembered falling, and being alone.

A nearby snore brought Weskar fully awake. Relief flooded through him when he saw Sam's untidy bulk on another rough mattress. Beyond the Saint, Alenna stirred and mumbled under her blankets. A flash of memory came to Weskar – himself, alone and injured in the dark, abandoned by the others. Could that have happened? Or was it a dream?

They were not back in the city, for this room was chiselled out of bare rock. But their beds rested on a dry floor and the air felt warm – a welcome contrast from the damp of the caves. Wood smoke came to Weskar’s nose, and the tang of Kibble made his empty belly grumble. But he smelled something else – the musky aroma of something alive. Still here? Weskar sampled the air again. No, he detected the residual smell of a creature normally in residence, but currently out. But for how long?

He leaned over and prodded Sam. The Saint mumbled and opened his eyes. A look of abject terror distorted his face for a brief moment before he blinked and focussed on Weskar. “Thank Dog!” he cried, and Weskar heard the relief in his hoarse voice. Before Weskar knew what was happening, the Saint leaned across the intervening gap and touched his tongue to Weskar’s head. Then, unbelievably, there were tears in those big eyes. But Sam turned his face aside and brushed them away.

“What is it, Sam?” asked Weskar, trying to make sense of everything. Sam sniffed and cleared his throat.

“I thought...” he began, and there was a shake in his voice. Then he changed his mind. “It was nothing. Just a bad dream.”

The Shepherd wished that his friend would say more, but there was no chance to ask.

“PREFECT!” The shout reverberated from the rock walls, and it took the dogs a moment to connect the voice with Alenna. They turned, half expecting to see the city leader striding in through the open doorway. But the room was quiet again, and they realised that Alenna was still fast asleep. The dream left her as they watched, and she sneezed and sat up.

The Ridgeback’s paws clawed the air in an expansive stretch as she yawned, then her head turned towards them.

“Boys!” Her tone remained deliberately casual as she gave her coat a little shake. “Where are we?”

“Pass!” Sam had regained his composure. “I only just woke up.”

“Ditto.” Weskar regarded Alenna quizzically. “What was that about the Prefect?”

“What?” Alenna seemed genuinely confused.

“You must have been dreaming about the Prefect. You yelled his name.”

“I assure you, I was not.”

“We heard you!” smirked Sam, but he earned only an imperious stare in reply.

Weskar’s ears pricked up, and he raised his paw to silence the others as a faint sound drifted through the cave. It resolved into a guttural voice, and before long they could all make out the words of a very odd chant.

On we go,

Too far to know,

Yo, Ho, Navvies.

Bend yer back,

Haul that sack,

Yo, Ho, Navvies.

Eyes to the wall,

Or it’s far y’ll fall,

Yo, Ho, Navvies.

Up to the den,

We’re home again,

Yo, Ho, Navvies!

The nonsense lyrics continued as the voice grew louder. The canines scrambled to their feet, unsure of just what, or whom, they were about to encounter. A curtain of rough cloth covered the low doorway, so they could see nothing. They stood still as the chant stopped and heavy footfalls approached.

A brown paw swept the curtain to one side, and a round face looked in. An unusually large snout and close-set eyes were framed by a wide circle of thick brown fur, while his small round ears were set well back on his head. He was definitely not a canine, and his wild and unfamiliar smell confirmed it. A coarse ruff ringed his neck and spread out over his massive shoulders.

Fur even shaggier than Sam’s covered a hide two sizes too big, and he wore nothing except a simple cloth looped around his waist. His massive paws looked strong enough to tear Weskar limb from limb, but his eyes twinkled with merriment, and his overall appearance was more comical than threatening.

“Ho! I see my merry guests have awakened!” His gravelly voice hinted at ancient secrets buried in the darkest caverns. “And after many long snoozings, snorings, tossings and turnings, not to mention mumblings and rantings on meanings unfathomable! I hope your waking in my humble boudoir finds you well!”

Weskar could only gape, but fortunately Alenna had a quicker wit.

“We are very well, thank you kindly!” She gave a little bow of her head. “But we don’t know where we are, or who you are, I am sorry to say!”

“So many questions! Hmm hmm,” muttered the bear, although in fact Alenna hadn’t asked any. “All in good time, so they say. Come this way, if you are all waked up, and we’ll try to get along. There’s no need to panic! I don’t think I’m dangerous.” He stood and stared at the wall for a moment, trying to recall whether he was.

Weskar found himself stifling an unseemly chuckle, for the stranger was quite disarming despite his size. “Don’t worry. We’re not prone to panic without cause!”

“Ah, so you say.” The creature bent closer, and Weskar’s nose filled with his warm earthy smell. It was strong, but not overly unpleasant, with a touch of spice. The tang of sulphur suggested that he also liked to bathe in the hot spring of the Blue Pool. He straightened after contemplating the small Shepherd for a moment. “Are you quite sure you aren’t going to panic? I recall being worried that you might.”

“Er, not yet....”

A loud grumbling noise from Sam’s stomach interrupted the conversation. “Yo! Ho! Well then! Let us tarry no more on such foolish thoughts of youthful love lost!” The bear beckoned them through the low arch into a cosy parlour. An ancient but serviceable sedan and two armchairs faced a flickering fire in a deep hearth. A blackened kettle hung on an iron hook above the embers, and tendrils of steam rose from the spout.

Their shaggy host waved them towards the chairs, while he ducked through a side door into a little kitchen. He soon emerged with four battered metal mugs, a tin of strong black tea leaves and a jar of sugar. All these he placed on a wooden sideboard, and before long they were all nursing steaming cups of sweet black tea.

Several spoonfuls of sugar failed to cover the bitterness of the strong liquid, but it restored Weskar’s mind to full alertness. “So...” he said after clearing his throat. “Where are we and how did we get here, if I may ask?”

The bear blew on his tea and studied Weskar through the steam. “You may, I suppose,” he answered, eventually. “I shall have to think about that, in case you do.” Then he frowned. “Oh, I see. You did. You must excuse me. No doubt I will spend many years here talking to myself, and then you’ll visit unexpectedly, and I’ll be quite out of practice at talking.”

He's right about that, thought Weskar.

“Hmm, hmm, yes, where did you come from? In my day, many a long year ago, that used to be a more interesting question. These days, I hear it is all a bothersome and complex process involving machines.” His eyes had become dreamy again, but then he came back to the present. “But if you mean recently, that is an easy one.

“Branley Bear was out walking – as he does – when he spied three adventurous young canines, barely more than pups they were, wandering in the dark and lonely tracts of the caves. ‘Well, well, yo, ho, what have we here?’ says Branley Bear to himself, for it has been ever so long since any of your kin have braved the dark beyond your cosy city!”

He slurped from his tea before he continued. “Branley Bear made himself scarce, for he didn’t want to startle those canines three. But he watched from afar, without being seen, just curious where they would go!”

“I saw you!” Weskar remembered a figure flitting into the darkness at the edge of the torch light.

“No you didn’t.” A petulant edge tainted the bear’s curt reply. Then he coughed unconvincingly. “That is to say, Branley Bear is very good at moving unseen in the caves. I’m sure they didn’t see or hear a thing!”

Weskar elected not to argue the point, and the bear continued.

“Yo, Ho, how far will they go? Not so far, as it turns out. Didn’t your mothers teach you not to touch the funny mushrooms? Ha!” And he chuckled at his private joke for a while before he seemed to remember his guests.

“So Branley Bear finds three sleepy canines, snoring under the dreamy boughs of the mushroom-tree. ‘Can’t leave ’em there,’ he thinks to himself. ‘They need warming up and cheering up, and besides, someone might trip over them!’ So he has to carry each of them back here. And some of them weren’t so light!” The brown eyes squinted in Sam’s direction, then the bear shook himself and looked about the room. “At least, that’s the story I heard about town. But let me give you some advice: watch out for that Branley Bear – he’s a shifty one!”

The canines looked at each other. It seemed plain that their odd host was ‘Branley Bear’, for all that he might talk about himself in the third person.

“Well,” said Weskar, deciding to play along, “if you see this Branley Bear, would you be so kind as to thank him heartily from all of us? I’m Weskar.”

The others introduced themselves, and Branley shook their paws. Then he patted his stomach.

“Yo, Ho, Well then. Dinner time, I think.”

They watched as he opened a wooden chest at the back of his kitchen, and the smell of Kibble seeped through the room. He scooped the crunchy morsels into four bowls from a large sack.

Sam licked his lips as the enticing aroma reached his nose. “Where did you get Kibble from?”

“Ahhh, ho ho, that is a secret!” The bear touched a finger to the side of his snout and winked. Then his eyes glazed over. “They have no way of knowing about the secret passage to the Kibble vat. Hmm, hmm, and even if they did, they wouldn’t tell their Prefect! Still, best not tell them – for now.”

Branley snapped himself out of his not-so-private monologue as he distributed the bowls, and they were soon busy munching. Branley’s Kibble tasted of old sacking, but they swallowed it eagerly.

Sam brushed the last crumbs out of his fur. “Tell us about yourself. You’re not canine – yet you eat Kibble and speak our language!”

The bear squinted into his bowl, then licked out the last crumbs. Finally, he dropped the bowl with a clang and looked around the room.

“You canines are all so young,” he said, “and you come and go so fast. Not me. I remember.” Branley stared into the distance for a moment before he continued.

“Keep an eye on those canines for me, Branley Bear! That’s what he said. I gave you a very long tail-o-mer, so you can make sure they....” The ursine’s gruff voice trailed off. “... s_omething_.”

“Who said this?” Alenna's tail fanned the air as she leaned forward in her excitement.

The bear just eased back his chair and stared at the ceiling. “Ah. Hmm. Him, it was. If he had a name, I don’t remember it.”

Sam helped to wash and stack the food bowls, and then they sat down with fresh mugs of tea. For all his eccentricity, Branley proved to be an entertaining host. The canines gleaned that the bear was truly ancient, and that he had lived by pilfering from the Kibble vat for as long as the city had existed.

“Other canines have passed this way...” he said thoughtfully, which piqued the interest of his guests. “A long time ago. But after that, they stopped visiting the Blue Pool, and things got pretty quiet around these parts. I had to talk to myself a lot.”

“Do you know where they were going?” Alenna’s tone was intense.

“They were seeking the Outside.”

Weskar recalled his disturbing dream. The thought of wandering lost in the caves until they starved terrified him, but still he felt the drive to keep searching, even though he didn’t know what he searched for. They had seen no hint of any outside world so far.

“Does the Outside exist?” he asked.

“Hmmm? Outside?” The bear looked puzzled. “That’s just a myth, isn’t it? A place with no roof overhead, just blue sky. Where the sun shines warm on your fur, and you romp under the trees and roll in the long grass....” Branley sat with a wistful expression on his face as he described the Outside.

The bear's words did little to reassure Weskar's qualms. “Have you ever searched for it?”

The ursine face darkened. “No – I can’t....” Then he collected himself. “That is to say, hmm, hmm, no, I have to watch you lot! I can’t go larking off on adventures!”

Alenna put her mug down with a decisive clunk. “Well, we know the Outsiders did come this way. That’s something!”

Other than that information, they learned little more from Branley. However, after a couple of hours of chatting and several cups of tea, they were all ready for a little exercise to stretch their legs, and Branley insisted on showing them his ‘work’.

A tidy square portal led from the bear's cosy den to an underground chasm where a cold stream foamed down from a high crevice. By flickering lantern light, they crossed the water and scrambled up a steep boulder-strewn path. The short walk eased the stiffness in Weskar's muscles, and they soon arrived at a high rock face. They were near to the roof of a broad cavern, and a vista of tiny blue glow worm lights marked the ceiling and far walls. Sam bent to inspect a wooden crate, and found a selection of hammers and chisels, their design ancient and their edges worn.

Branley held the lantern high, revealing a ledge strewn with sharp rock fragments and dust. Weskar's gaze travelled up, and what he saw made him catch his breath. Two figures gazed serenely from a detailed and expansive mural which had been chiselled into the cliff.

They were canine, and although the features were distorted – the noses and ears too large, the eyes too small – the resemblance to Sam and Weskar was startling. There could be little doubt that a Saint Bernard and a German Shepherd had provided inspiration for the mural.

Yet it could not be them, for the bear had plainly been chipping away at the stone for decades, if not centuries. The scale was immense, and Weskar puzzled as to how he could have reached the upper parts – until he noticed a pile of scaffolding and ladders at the far end of the ledge. The exquisite detail of the work impressed Weskar as much as the scale. Branley Bear was clearly a master craftsman.

“Well!” said Sam, staring up from the middle of the ledge. “That is most impressive! But who is it? They almost look like us!”

The bear squinted at the Saint for a while. “Hmm, mmmm, yes, I hadn't noticed! Branley has been carving this so long, he can't remember who they were, but they were important. They were there with Him, at the beginning.”

The figures in the mural served only to deepen the mystery, and Branley couldn't – or wouldn't – tell them anything more. All they could gather was that he regarded the work with the utmost importance, and he was in no hurry to complete it. Weskar caught a sad, wistful look in the bear’s eyes as he regarded his carving, as if he’d created a memorial.

Back at the bear's den, they ate more of Branley’s Kibble while they discussed their plans. Alenna summarised their situation.

“We've made some progress, and thanks to the good bear here we know that other Canines certainly passed this way. That gives me hope.”

Weskar nodded his agreement. Fear gripped his heart at the thought of returning to the caverns, but he knew they had to go on.

“Mmmm, hmmm, yes indeed.” The bear scratched his ear for a while. “You must go on, for your quest is vital!”

“Our sincerest thanks for your help!” said Sam, to which the bear held up his paws.

“It was nothing,” he grumbled. “Branley Bear must watch and help the Canines, and you know he becomes very testy if we don't do what he wants!” Here the bear looked furtively from side to side. Then he lightened. “In any case, I have plenty of Kibble, so I can send you on your merry way with victuals. I have some other little gifts, as well.”

The three canines watched quizzically while Branley rummaged in a cupboard. He soon returned with three unusual objects.

To Weskar, he handed a pendant on a chain. Grime and tarnish hid the once-shiny metal of the curious tear-drop shape. Weskar held it in his paw while he scrutinised it. Despite the scratched and dirty surface, something about it intrigued him.

To Sam, the bear handed a small brush. Round in shape, its mock pearl handle was designed to fit neatly into a canine paw, and stiff plastic bristles stuck out from its flat surface to tease errant fur back into alignment. Weskar thought it would be more appropriate for a young female, and he stifled a giggle as Sam dutifully tested it. Was the bear making a subtle joke? It was fairly obvious that the big dog paid little attention to the state of his fur at the best of times, and Weskar wondered whether he actually owned any kind of brushing implement. Perhaps it wasn't such an inappropriate present after all!

Alenna's gift was perhaps the most inscrutable. Branley placed a rusted metal cube on her outstretched paw. She squinted at it, searching for some indicator of what it was and finding none. Her look suggested carefully hidden disdain, but even she was loathe to offend their host. Instead she bowed graciously.

“Thank you kindly, sir,” she intoned.

“No no,” the bear replied. “Don't thank me yet, ho ho. But keep those safe – I have a feeling they will come in useful!”

Then Branley led them out of his lodgings and down a well-trodden path beside the tumbling underground stream. A short walk brought them to a junction, where a dismal side-passage climbed away from the stream. Here Branley stopped.

“Well, my merry friends, your quest leads you on. Just follow this path, and it will lead you safely past the big old mushrooms and on your way. I wish I could show you, but....”

His voice trailed off, and he stared into space for a while. Then he shook his shaggy head and flicked one fuzzy ear.

“What? Hmm? You lot still here? Best get going!”

He offered a paw to Sam, which the big dog shook solemnly. He also shook Alenna's more delicate paw, but then he surprised Weskar with a tight embrace. The wild smell of the old bear's fur filled the smaller dog's nose.

“Take care, little Weskar. You must find the key.” The words were whispered in his ear, too soft for the others to hear. But before he could ask what they meant, Branley released him and stepped back.

Then, packs firmly on their backs and torches in hand, they turned and climbed the new tunnel until the rushing of the stream faded and the dank walls swallowed them.

The three canines set out with determination in their hearts, and at first they made good progress. The passage twisted and turned, sometimes rising to form lofty chambers, and at other times closing in to a narrow defile.

As they journeyed on, the glow worms became sparser and the walls of the caverns grew ever more dreary and slimy with silt. Weskar's spirits sank again, and he dreamed of relaxing in his cosy apartment with a hot cup of fresh coffee in his paw.

Matters only grew worse when the cave opened out into a warren of twisting side tunnels which split and rejoined each other and then ended abruptly. They tried one, and then another, but each time they arrived at a dead end or back where they started.

A cold fear gripped Weskar's heart. Hadn't he been here before? Lost and alone in the dark? Seeking reassurance, he reached out a paw to touch Sam's strong shoulder. But the big dog started at his touch and drew away, and Weskar caught a haunted look in his eyes.

“Come on,” snapped Alenna. Weskar shook his head and tried to get a grip on himself. What was happening to them?

Somehow they made it back to the start of the maze once again, guided mostly by Weskar's nose. Alenna frowned as she turned to enter another tunnel.

“Wait!” panted Weskar. “This is hopeless. We are just going to get lost. We'll never get out.”

Alenna's look could have curdled milk. “Why don't you give up, then? Go back to the city. I can do this without you!”

Weskar's mouth dropped open at this goad, but even so the idea tempted him. What were their chances of getting anywhere out here? It wasn't far back to Branley's den and the Blue Pool, and after that, an easy walk to the city. He could be home in time for dinner, a hot shower and then a wonderful sleep in his own bed.

He turned to stare at the tunnel through which they had entered. He took an uncertain step in that direction. But then the accountancy office came to his mind. Endless days of meaningless figures written carefully on the pages of dusty books, just to be filed away. The closed walls of the city, where they lived their small, quiet, safe, completely predictable lives.

Weskar's life-long restlessness returned with a vengeance. He was destined to be out here, meant to search for something more. Whether it was 'Outside', or enlightenment, or mere adventure, he didn't know. But he had to go on. There was no turning back – and besides, the Prefect wasn't going to welcome him back with open arms now that he had aided and abetted rebels.

Alenna made a derisive 'Hurumph' sound and started towards the labyrinth once more.

The scene was like something out of his dismal, mushroom-induced dream. The drab walls, the cold, the emotions of his companions. It was all too familiar – only this time he was definitely awake. Perhaps there was a hint of mushroom emanations in the air, enhancing their negative emotions. Well, he wasn't going to let a fungus get the better of him twice!

“Wait!” he said again, this time with more commitment, as he made a conscious effort to think clearly.

“Stay or go, it's your choice! I'm going this way!”

“Just a minute – we are wandering aimlessly. We should think about this.”

Weskar harboured a secret rebellious streak, and now it prompted him as he reached out and caught Alenna's paw with his own. He took Sam's with his other arm, and this time the Saint didn't flinch.

The Ridgeback bitch paused and looked at him with a raised eyebrow, but at least she didn't pull away, and he saw the dark mood lift from her features.

“For a start,” he began, speaking with a new confidence he didn't know he had, “We need to work together”.

Alenna's paw felt warm and soft in his. For a moment, he thought he saw her expression soften, but then her habitual aloofness returned. However, the touch of his companions felt good, so he pressed on.

“There was an arrow to guide us at the Blue Pool. Perhaps there's one here. We should slow down and look more carefully!”

This roused Sam from the apathy which had beset him, and Weskar saw his tail get higher and his ears move forward. “Weskar is right, of course! I'll take this side, you two work around that side!”

Even Alenna had to acquiesce to the sense in Weskar's suggestion. It didn't take long to find the marking once they started looking for it. Chiselled into a slab of rock, it pointed to a small and unpromising opening which they had not bothered to try. Weskar's nose detected a faint but putrid smell seeping from the adjacent tunnel. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

“Fungus! I bet that passage leads back to the Blue Pool. Look – if we had come from that direction, the arrow would have been right in front of our noses!”

The ancient markings proved to be accurate, and the new tunnel soon took them out of the maze and into a broader passage which sloped gently down. Weskar felt a renewed hope. There was no going back, and maybe, just maybe, the Outside awaited them ahead.

They stopped for a rest and a bite of Kibble, for the morning was well advanced. As they sat on a ledge, Weskar took Branley's gift from his pack. The small pendant wasn't much to look at as he held it up – although at one time it would have made a graceful ornament. The bear had suggested that his gifts were important and useful, but Weskar couldn't see how.

Sam's keen technical eyes had spotted something that Weskar had not, however. A fine seam circled the middle of the pendant.

“Mind if I have a look?” the big dog asked, extending a paw. He peered at it, then held one end while he rotated the other. The metal sprang apart, and the little pendant extended to reveal a recess with two tiny buttons.

Sam pressed one of the buttons. The pendant emitted a tiny s_put_ sound, then fell silent.

“Curious!” A frown of concentration creased the Saint's forehead. “I think this thing would work with some fresh power!”

He gave the pendant casing another little twist, and the end loosened and unscrewed. “Ah yes!” he muttered, and Weskar knew better than to interrupt as Sam dug into his pack and pulled out the spare torch. Before the other two knew what he was doing, he had popped the power cell apart and prised out two wires. Weskar watched in fascination as the big dog fed them into the end of the pendant where its tiny battery resided.

Sam held the wires against the battery of the pendant for a minute or so. “That should do it!” he said, screwing the two halves back together.

He pressed the button again, and they all jumped when a voice – tiny but surprisingly clear – echoed through the cavern.

...is Recording Four. It's very dark in the caves, but the glow worms are nice. I have to keep walking. They might still follow me. I hope not. I must....

The voice was that of a young pup.

“It's a voice recorder!” Sam turned it over in his paw reverently. “Who knows how long it's been sitting down here, but it's still got something in its memory.”

Sam showed Weskar the buttons. “Push that one to play. Normally you would pull it out another step to record, although it's stuck. You can turn it left or right to switch between recordings.”

Fascinated, Weskar tried the button.

...have to be smart, that's what Mr Rawlings said. I have to think, and be brave, and keep moving. I'm getting hungry though. If I can....

“Hmm, I think the memory files must be corrupted.” Sam looked disappointed, but Weskar didn't really mind. Who are you, he wondered, and what became of you?

But it was time to continue their own journey, and Weskar snapped the two halves of the little recorder back together and screwed them closed, noting the clever design of the seal which had kept dampness and corrosion at bay while the pendant lay in the cave. Sam's deft paws reassembled the torch battery, and they donned their packs once more.

They trudged on for another hour, scrambling and slithering over dank rocks and squeezing through narrow passages. Weskar's enthusiasm for the adventure wavered again, but Alenna's determination and Sam's stoicism kept him moving.

Waiting for Alenna to scout out the best way over pile of boulders, he idly pulled out the audio pendant and thumbed the little playback button.

...very cold. Ew. I really don't want to go in there, but there's no other way.

Watery sounds echoed in the background.

Yep, it's cold, and slimy. And... what was that? I....

Urgency in the voice caught Weskar's attention. He pressed the button again, willing the memory to divulge a sequential episode.

The tiny voice spoke in a fearful whisper.

It's coming... It's coming... I can hear it... Oh Dogs....

A stifled gasp. A sob of fear.

Loud splashing.

Silence.

Weskar swallowed, and closed the pendant. The others were waiting for him to follow. I hope that's not the last recording.

There was no way to tell.