other. Finny and Benvy couldn’t believe Sean was even entertaining it for a second.
‘We need to talk, alone,’ said Sean.
‘Of course,’ replied Lann, and the brothers moved into the shadows, leaving the friends by the flickering light of the fire. When the uncles seemed out of earshot, Benvy spoke: ‘You can’t believe this rubbish!’
‘We need to go home and call the cops,’ Finny added.
‘What just happened, happened,’ Sean replied. ‘There is no denying that. We saw what we saw. I doubt very much that drugs blow rain in your face and then make it stop in mid-air.’
The other two couldn’t deny that the experience had felt as real as anything. But they couldn’t bring themselves to believe.
‘You only believe them because of those stupid books you read. Life isn’t one of your dumb fantasy books!’ Benvy said, a little hurtfully.
‘Benv’, easy,’ Finny interjected.
‘Yeah, well … I believe there is more to life than we think, Benvy,’ Sean retorted, ‘And I think Ayla’s uncles just proved that.’
Long into the cold night they argued, conferred, pleaded and debated. Then the uncles led them through the woods towards home.
Chapter 6
A Bright Light in the Deep Earth
A yla measured the time by counting endlessly. She had decided that trying to think of anything else was a waste of time. Dwelling on home only tortured her, and thinking on her predicament was even worse. The discomfort, the heat, the lack of air was all torturous, but worse now was the smell. She had to scratch holes in corners to go to the toilet and as she couldn’t make them deep with only her bare hands, they had filled the cell with a pungent stink matched only by the goblins’ food.
So she counted, putting Mississippi between every number for accuracy. She did it out loud, in a sort of chant that seemed to calm her. She also made up tunes and sang the numbers in rambling melodies. Worst was when she lost count. It shouldn’t have mattered, butwhen it happened she screamed in frustration and sobbed, beginning all over again from zero.
The goblins had come every couple of hours, to throw in another bowl of wretched slop or a jug of gritty, stagnant water and to taunt her with ever more vicious barbs. When they ran out of inventive slurs, they jostled and pushed her, hissing in her face and scampering in and out of the opening to the tiny cell like excited rats. They seemed so full of hate for her, so eager to hurt and scare, restraining themselves only at the last second like rabid dogs on a leash and seething with resentment that they couldn’t finish the job. Evidently, they had orders not to hurt her too badly. One goblin had screeched:
‘Oh to hurt you, little piglet. Oh to strike your face, bang your head, leave you for dead! But we can’t. Such a shame! The king’s orders! Only for now though, piglet. Your time will come soon!’
Knowing that they couldn’t really touch her didn’t make these episodes any less frightening. They were so energetic in their contempt for her, bounding in and out of the cell like ricocheting bullets and hollering abuse. After each visit, it took an age to stop shaking. Then, when she was still again, she would commence the long and endless count to sixty.
After hours of this, the time-keeping became automatic. Despite her determination to concentrate on the numbers, her mind would wander involuntarily, and more often thannot stumble into visions of the creatures. The two globes of their eyes hung aglow in the air wherever she looked, like sunspots, until there was no escaping them. They haunted her as she huddled in the corner of her cell with her head bowed between her legs, as if by curling up into a ball and not looking up she might somehow escape the nightmares.
The gruel was still utterly vile. There was no getting used to it, but occasionally and with a vast effort, Ayla had to eat it or starve. The food stung as it went down. It smells like old diesel, she
‘We need to talk, alone,’ said Sean.
‘Of course,’ replied Lann, and the brothers moved into the shadows, leaving the friends by the flickering light of the fire. When the uncles seemed out of earshot, Benvy spoke: ‘You can’t believe this rubbish!’
‘We need to go home and call the cops,’ Finny added.
‘What just happened, happened,’ Sean replied. ‘There is no denying that. We saw what we saw. I doubt very much that drugs blow rain in your face and then make it stop in mid-air.’
The other two couldn’t deny that the experience had felt as real as anything. But they couldn’t bring themselves to believe.
‘You only believe them because of those stupid books you read. Life isn’t one of your dumb fantasy books!’ Benvy said, a little hurtfully.
‘Benv’, easy,’ Finny interjected.
‘Yeah, well … I believe there is more to life than we think, Benvy,’ Sean retorted, ‘And I think Ayla’s uncles just proved that.’
Long into the cold night they argued, conferred, pleaded and debated. Then the uncles led them through the woods towards home.
Chapter 6
A Bright Light in the Deep Earth
A yla measured the time by counting endlessly. She had decided that trying to think of anything else was a waste of time. Dwelling on home only tortured her, and thinking on her predicament was even worse. The discomfort, the heat, the lack of air was all torturous, but worse now was the smell. She had to scratch holes in corners to go to the toilet and as she couldn’t make them deep with only her bare hands, they had filled the cell with a pungent stink matched only by the goblins’ food.
So she counted, putting Mississippi between every number for accuracy. She did it out loud, in a sort of chant that seemed to calm her. She also made up tunes and sang the numbers in rambling melodies. Worst was when she lost count. It shouldn’t have mattered, butwhen it happened she screamed in frustration and sobbed, beginning all over again from zero.
The goblins had come every couple of hours, to throw in another bowl of wretched slop or a jug of gritty, stagnant water and to taunt her with ever more vicious barbs. When they ran out of inventive slurs, they jostled and pushed her, hissing in her face and scampering in and out of the opening to the tiny cell like excited rats. They seemed so full of hate for her, so eager to hurt and scare, restraining themselves only at the last second like rabid dogs on a leash and seething with resentment that they couldn’t finish the job. Evidently, they had orders not to hurt her too badly. One goblin had screeched:
‘Oh to hurt you, little piglet. Oh to strike your face, bang your head, leave you for dead! But we can’t. Such a shame! The king’s orders! Only for now though, piglet. Your time will come soon!’
Knowing that they couldn’t really touch her didn’t make these episodes any less frightening. They were so energetic in their contempt for her, bounding in and out of the cell like ricocheting bullets and hollering abuse. After each visit, it took an age to stop shaking. Then, when she was still again, she would commence the long and endless count to sixty.
After hours of this, the time-keeping became automatic. Despite her determination to concentrate on the numbers, her mind would wander involuntarily, and more often thannot stumble into visions of the creatures. The two globes of their eyes hung aglow in the air wherever she looked, like sunspots, until there was no escaping them. They haunted her as she huddled in the corner of her cell with her head bowed between her legs, as if by curling up into a ball and not looking up she might somehow escape the nightmares.
The gruel was still utterly vile. There was no getting used to it, but occasionally and with a vast effort, Ayla had to eat it or starve. The food stung as it went down. It smells like old diesel, she
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