Clive Barker's First Tales

  He reeled and swam in black air, suffocating. Abruptly the darkness died, and he emerged from his dream sweating and kicking on his bed. He lay still for a moment, trying to piece together the visions. But he could only part-remember what he had seen within the wall of darkness. There was glass, shattering, slowly. There was a cold wind biting at him, a sound like wings. There was a distant rumbling, and, in the darkness, a blacker black that was like a pit in the earth. That was all, except for a single word muttered like a growing thunder in the blackness: Desolation.

  The Candle Is Lit

  When Graham told Gwen and Colin about the candle and the horsemen he was greeted with the reaction he had rather expected he would receive: laughter. It was, after all, a difficult story to swallow. They were walking up the hill out of Woolton Village, passed St. Peter's Church. It was the middle of February but it was still quite chilly, and the sun was glinting palely on the frost-rimmed windows and roofs. Everything had a clear-cut edge to it. It was hardly a day to believe in Graham's misty fears.

  Colin and Gwen were brother and sister, and Graham's best friends. Colin, who was nearly seventeen, was the elder of the two boys by two years. He automatically dismissed everything that Graham had described as nonsense, which is what he usually did.

  "You're having us on, aren't you?" he said. "I mean, you can't be serious. Horses, all right – but little men at the bottom of the garden. Oh, come off it!"

  "It's true," insisted Graham. "Why do you always make everything anybody else says sound so daft?"

  There was a silence. Graham didn't lose his temper very often.

  "Are you joking, Graham?" asked Gwen, after a pause to let him calm down. "Don't mess about."

  "I'm not messing about. It's true. How many times have I got to tell you - it's true. I've got the candle to prove it."

  "Anybody can buy a candle," said Colin.

  "With gold on it?"

  "What?"

  "Ah, now you're beginning to believe me, aren't you?"

  "Have you really got a candle with gold on it?"

  "I don't see why I should show you. You don't believe me anyway."

  "Oh don't be such a baby, Graham," snapped Colin.

  "No. Why should I show you? All you ever do is make nasty remarks."

  "Let's go and sit in the churchyard," suggested Gwen. "I'm fed up with walking."

  There were benches in the churchyard so that people could sit and look over the houses to the woods. They sat down and there was another long silence. All three were thinking their different thoughts. Inside the church the organist started practicing the hymns for the following Sunday.

  "Have you got the candle with you?" said Colin at last.

  "Yes."

  "Let's see it."

  "No."

  "Please."

  Graham unzipped his anorak and took the candle from the inside pocket. He handed it to Colin. The older boy examined it carefully.

  "That's real gold," he said after a moment.

  "I know," said Graham with a grin.

  "Are you sure, Colin?" asked Gwen.

  "Of course I'm sure. It's real gold. And the wax, it isn't ordinary.

  Look, it's got all sorts of shapes and swirls in it. There are colors inside. And it smells funny."

  Gwen sniffed it.

  "It's a kind of perfume. Like incense."

  "Maybe it's been stolen. From a church," suggested Colin.

  Now it was Graham's turn to laugh.

  "What sort of church would have a candle with three eyes on?"

  Colin shrugged.

  "Let's light it," said Gwen.

  "What for?" her brother asked.

  "What do you mean - what for?"

  "Well I mean what's the use in lighting it. It'll only burn down."

  "Then I won't have a candle," said Graham.

  "Yes, but there's no use in you having it unless you do something with it, is there?"

  "I suppose -"

  "– And candles are for lighting, aren't they?"

  "But I don't want to light it," Graham replied, with a note of finality in his voice. "It's my candle, at least I picked it up, and I don't want to light it."

  "What are you going to do with it then?" asked Colin.

  "Keep it. Keep it until the man comes back for it."

  "Suppose he doesn't come back?"

  "He will," said Graham.

  "Suppose your phantom horsemen got him," suggested Colin.

  Graham fell silent.

  "I mean, if he wanted it that badly–" Colin continued, "–and if the horsemen didn't get him – surely he would have come back for it by now?"

  "Anyway," Gwen went on, "what's the use of having the stupid thing if you don't light it?"

  Graham was unconvinced. "It isn't even dark," he said.

  "Well, we'll wait until tonight then," Gwen replied.

  "We can't light it in one of our homes, in case someone smells it. They'll find out."

  "Find out what?" said Colin.

  "That we lit it."

  "Oh big deal," said Colin sarcastically. "Let's be children about it then, if you must. We can light it in the woods."

  Graham sighed. He didn't want to spoil his candle. Perhaps it wasn't even his to spoil. But Colin was older than him, and he didn't want to be laughed at. Besides, they could blow it out very quickly, and maybe the wax wouldn't run at all, and his candle would stay as perfect as ever.

  "All right," he said, after a long debate with himself. "We'll light it."

  That evening, just as it was beginning to get dark, they reconvened on the edge of Woolton Woods. It was rather a depressing place. The trees all had initials carved on them, and the bark had been pried off with penknives. The men from the Corporation pruned them every year, just to make sure they did not get out of control, but the higher branches, out of reach of the electric saw, formed a thick and elaborate mesh which made the place gloomy and rather damp. The autumn leaves had long turned to soggy mush, smelling of decay, and the rusty remains of discarded bicycles stuck up out of the water-filled hollows, like drowned things.

  There was very little wind that evening, and they soon found a place behind a rhododendron bush in which there was not even a breeze. Graham had a half-full box of matches. They stuck the candle in the earth, so that it would not fall over.

  "Suppose it explodes or something?" said Gwen.

  "Don't be ridiculous," her brother replied. "It's only a candle."

  "No," said Graham. "It isn't. There's something special about this candle."

  "Something's going to happen," said Gwen quietly.

  "Get on with it Graham," said Colin.

  Graham struck a match and touched it to the wick. They held their breaths. The wick blackened and caught. The flame guttered for a moment and flickered in the wind, which had, at that very instant, sprung up from somewhere. The rhododendron bushes sighed. The branches of the tree shook. The wind grew. The flame, feeding upon it, flared unnaturally, and the colors in the candle twisted the woods blue and green and red.

  "Put it out," said Gwen in a hoarse and frightened whisper. "Please put it out, Graham."

  "Yes," agreed Colin uneasily. "I think perhaps you'd better."

  "No," answered Graham strangely. "We must not."

  The trees roared. The steep forest sang a great chord, remembering its birth. The children felt sleepy. The sky boiled purple and red through the tall black trees. Something took hold of them, threw them into the air, and let them fall. The flame burned in their minds. Then they were asleep.

  Darach

  Who can say where dreams begin? As the three figures slept in the grass, the woods changed around them. The bleak greys and muddy browns of the old trees disappeared, and from the burning candle came new colors, new life. Roots spread out and down into the rich earth, branches grew and wove together, buds swelled and burst on every twig, leaves opened to the sun. In a few moments there was a forest where there had only been a handful of sa
d trees, and there was a singing summer afternoon where there had been only a gloomy winter's evening.

  The sun, darting through the branches to gild dandelion seeds on the breeze, threw strange and shifting patterns onto the children's sleeping faces; ever-moving patterns that brushed across their lidded eyes. Then a voice drifted between the trees – an old, rather cracked voice. This is the song it was singing:

  Where shall I find thee, yellow primrose? Nodding in the breeze?

  In the woods or in the hedgerows, Sleeping 'neath the trees?

  And where art though, enchanter's nightshade?

  Where the ivy clings?

  In some dark, ensnared wood-glade, Ruled by eleven kings?

  Where shall I find thee, woodbine-sweet, Where foxgloves proudly grow?

  Or dost thou lie 'neath taloned feet, Where wandering breezes blow?

  Where shall I spy thee, summer flowers? Beside a rushing stream?

  Wilt thou pass away the hours, Lost, as if in dream?

  Between the sprawling roots of the trees came an old man, wearing a tattered and faded patchwork gown, tied at the waist with a dirty piece of string. He looked like an eccentric tramp, and as he wandered along singing, he surveyed the forest through grubby spectacles. Eventually, he came across Graham, Gwen and Colin.

  He picked up the candle that still burned in the grass and blew it out.

  Then, clearing his throat, he spoke several long, blossoming words. The trio woke and looked around. Where Woolton Woods had been there was a thick and thriving forest, and it was summer.

  "Blissful slumbers, eh?" said the old man.

  The children all looked round at once. "Who are you?"

  "Darach."

  "Who?"

  "I had to wake you."

  "How long have we been asleep?" said Gwen.

  "I couldn't really say."

  "Is this Woolton Woods?" asked Colin.

  "A good question!" the old man replied. "But I'm afraid I can't help you. It is – and then again –"

  "– It isn't," said Colin.

  "That's about it."

  There was a pause.

  "I don't understand," said Gwen after a moment.

  "The candle brought you here."

  "The candle," said Graham suddenly. "Where is it?"

  "I have it," said the old man. "It's mine."

  "But there was a little man. With rings in his ears."

  "Wake-Robin," said Darach. The man from Graham's front yard dropped from a branch to land beside the old man. "May I introduce my good friend and tireless colleague, Michelmas Wake-Robin. You, I presume," he pointed at Graham, "are the candle-finder?"

  "Yes. And these are my friends, Colin –"

  "Good afternoon."

  "And Gwen."

  "Charmed, I'm sure. Well, now the introductions are done with, we can be off."

  "Where to?"

  "Questions, questions. Why do they breed such inquisitive children these days? Education has severe drawbacks."

  "I think we'd better go home now," said Colin to the others, and added in a low voice, "I think he's a bit doolally."

  "Home?" Darach said. "No. I think you'd better come with me."

  They followed Darach and the man-creature to the edge of the forest, and looked out across a counterpane of fields and hills melting into the mist-blue distance.

  "Where's Woolton gone," cried Graham disbelievingly.

  "It has never been here."

  "Is this a dream?" Gwen said slowly.

  "How should I know?" snapped Darach. "I am Darach the Wise, and I have a job to do, responsibilities to the Queen and the realm. Shall I know if I am living a dream or dreaming a life? No time for fruitless speculation. Well, are you coming or aren't you?"

  They followed, and came at last to a tiny, peat-roofed cottage in the deepest part of the forest, its grey walls covered with a choking mass of creepers. Inside, it was dark and smelt of damp earth. While Wake-Robin lit a fire, Darach did his best to make room for the children to sit down, removing a pile of books from one of the two chairs and dumping them on the other. The walls were lined with cages, out of which peered bright- eyed creatures.

  "You'll have to stay here for a while, until we can get you to somewhere safer. The roads are watched of course, and there are men about who have dark ideas. We have to be wary. Mulled wine all right? Some bread, perhaps, and a little cheese. A local wine naturally. Sit down on the hearth. Wake-Robin'll get some bracken for you to sleep on." He paused for a moment. "I'm writing a book you know. Well, we've been waiting for you. A bit reticent about lighting the candle, eh?"

  "We didn't know – that is –"

  "Never mind. It wasn't intended for you."

  "Who was it meant for?"

  "We were going to select somebody by astrology. Looks like fate did the selecting for us. Just hope she was right."

  "What's it about? The book," asked Gwen.

  "What's any book about? The same old things. Being born, falling in love, and dying of course. What else is there?"

  Evening came. The sun poured from the sky like liquid gold. The wine had gone to the children's heads and once they lay down on the bracken they were asleep. Darach sat by the fire, and having attempted and failed to come to an amicable agreement with his last chapter, gave up and sat gazing into the embers for the rest of the night, thinking.

  The Maggot Cloud

  They woke in gloom. It felt like morning, but there was no sun, just an unnatural murk, a suggestion of light which came from nowhere in particular, but by which the children could just see one another. Though they called Darach, they got no answer and decided he must have gone out.

  "We'd better stay here until he gets back," said Graham.

  "Why?" said Colin. "I'm sure it's morning. There's a sort of light outside.

  They stumbled to the door. The eerie gloom was outside too. What a difference from the summery beauty of the day before. Now the trees seemed unreal in the murk. There were no birds singing, but from time to time they heard blind scurryings and frightened encounters in the undergrowth. The forest-animals, like them, had woken instinctively at dawn, only to find there was no dawn.

  "Which way is East?" Colin asked.

  "That way," Graham pointed through the trees.

  "Are you sure?"

  "No. But that's where this queer light is coming from."

  Graham was right. The grey illumination was filtering through the trees in the direction in which he had pointed.

  "Come on then," said Colin. "Let's go and see."

  The path would have been difficult enough to follow in the day, but in the gloom it was virtually impossible even though their eyes were gradually becoming more used to it. They stumbled over logs, and wandered away from each other, while all the time the forest-animals made strange noises in the darkness.

  "I think we're going round in circles," said Gwen, after a few minutes. "No, we can't be, we've kept the light ahead of us all the time," said Colin. "Look! The trees are thinning out in a few yards. We're coming to the edge of the forest, we must be."

  Whatever they had been expecting to see when they got to the other side, the sight that met their eyes was even more awesome.

  Before them was spread the landscape of fields, forested hills, rivers, roads and so on, stretching to a distant horizon. And then, at the edge of the visible world, beyond the mountains, where the sun should have been rising, there towered in the sky a cloud so vast and dense that the sun could not penetrate it. The cloud had not totally arrested the sunlight, however, for spreading out and over the sky around the edge of the cloud was a muted, greyish light, which was the source of the gloom.

  "I've never seen a cloud like that before," said Graham.

  "I don't think it's an ordinary cloud," said Colin. "No normal cloud is that thick."

  They watched the cloud in silence for a few minutes, but it didn't move, although there was a wind blowing. Slowly, however, the light in the sky around
increased, as the sun rose higher behind it.

  It was then that Gwen noticed Darach, standing with Wake-Robin crouched beside him, watching the grim spectacle like themselves.

  "Darach," she called.

  The old man twitched and looked round. "What? Oh it's you." He was clearly displeased.

  "What's going on?" asked Graham, "Is it morning?"

  "Yes."

  "Well why's it still dark then?"

  "We are in shadow," the old man replied, and even in gloom they could see the troubled look that crossed his face. Suddenly he had become like a man broken with grief. "Our land is in shadow."

  "Look!" cried Gwen, "It's the sun! It's the sun!"

  The sun emerged from the edge of the cloud, and it was so bright that they all had to look away. It rose from out of the darkness slowly and majestically, taking its own self-measured time, not hurrying for those who lived in the shadow of the cloud. And then, as a King might throw gold and silver coins to his people as he passed them by, so the sun gave the gifts of life and color for another day - browns and greens and yellows, and blue-grey, mist-hung forests, and shining rivers.

  "We take it for granted, don't we?" said Gwen, half to herself.

  "Suppose we do," said Graham.

  "Look at the cloud now," said Colin. "It seems to be alive."

  "Like it was full of maggots," suggested Graham.

  "What a revolting thing to say," said Gwen. "Well that's what it looks like."

  The description was extremely accurate, for even as they watched, the innards of the clouds seemed to boil and seethe and thrust themselves further over the world. The cloud was getting bigger.

  "I want to go home," said Gwen quietly. Colin put his arm round her, something which he seldom did. This time he sensed and shared his sister's fears. The cloud was repulsive, like a spreading disease.