After what seemed like hours, Crowther emerged from the trees on to a shimmering path. Relief flooded through him. In the timeless Forest of the Night, he had begun to think he might be wandering in the green world for ever, lulled into a dream state by its peculiar haunting qualities. He had even lost consciousness for a while, he was sure, and was worried that he might have put on the mask. Was it controlling him so easily now?
Many things moved through the trees just out of sight, but they didn't scare him, and he had come to accept that he was no longer afraid of death; more and more it felt like a way out. There had been no sign of the Gehennis, but at one point curiously he had heard horses and baying hounds, a hunt pursuing its prey. However, on occasion he had glimpsed the drifting purple light that signified the Lament-Brood and that did frighten him: to become part of that zombie army, to think and feel inside, perhaps, but to be controlled by another intelligence was his greatest nightmare.
Resting on his staff to catch his breath, he was surprised to feel his weariness easing the longer he stood on the path. As he scraped his fingers along its surface, they tingled and an easy feeling of wellbeing rose through him. The Blue Fire really was the fuel that drove everything, just as everyone had been taught at the college in Glastonbury. Might he actually have found peace if he'd stayed there and devoted himself to studying? The search for knowledge had always been the thing that had made him feel complete in the old days. Without finding an answer, he set off along the path. It wasn't long before he spotted a small dark figure sitting cross-legged. It was Mahalia, unmoving, head bowed so that her black hair covered her face like a hood. She didn't even stir when he came within three feet of her. 'You got out, then,' he said. 'Looks like it.' She didn't look up at him. 'Have you seen any of the others?' She began to shake her head, then caught herself. 'What is it?' This time she did look up and Crowther was shocked by the devastation he saw in her face. 'Carlton's dead,' she said bluntly. 'Dead? The boy?' 'I… I saw the body.' She motioned further along the path. Every fibre of her being was directed towards suppressing her emotions. 'His throat's been cut. He's lying across the path…' Crowther tried to make sense of what he was hearing. 'Across the path? That can't be. The dangerous things that live in this forest shouldn't be able to touch us on here.' 'Well, he is dead,' she said sharply. 'No mistaking that.' 'Show me,' Crowther said with irritated disbelief. Realisation of what he was asking came a second later and tenderness crept into his voice. 'I am sorry. That was very… thoughtless of me. I know how close you two were.' He rested one comforting hand on her head, but she felt as rigid as stone beneath his fingers and he withdrew it quickly. 'I'll check.' He hurried along the path and found the boy's body round a bend, as she had described. The cut had been made skilfully. This was no attack by wild beast or some haunted forest thing.
For a moment he was honestly overwhelmed with emotion. He had seen a lot of brutally upsetting things in recent times, but he couldn't understand how anyone could kill a young boy.
He shed a few tears before another thought struck. Caitlin had been convinced that the boy was vitally important to the great scheme that was being played out around them. What did his death mean for that?
After taking a moment to recover, he picked up Carlton and carried him a few feet into the forest. The loam was soft and he managed to clear enough of it to make a shallow grave in which he laid the body. It wasn't enough, but it would have to do. He scooped up handfuls of the loam to cover it, and then picked up as many fallen branches as he could to rest along the surface, so that in the end it resembled a wooden tomb. He forced one of the branches into the ground at the head as a marker.
Then he returned to Mahalia and brought her back to show her his work. 'I think we should say a few words,' he said.
'No point. He's gone.'
Crowther winced. 'Even if you don't believe in anything spiritual, the ritual would be good, to help you adjust to his passing.'
'I don't need to adjust. I can see he's gone. Come on, let's get out of this creepy forest.' She set off along the path before he had time to reply.
Her state troubled Crowther immensely. He had seen how angry and upset she had been when anyone had tried, however innocentiy, to come between her and Carlton. The boy appeared to mean more to her than life itself. And now she was acting as if she didn't care at all. 'Look at this, Matt.' Jack motioned to an area off to the right of the path. The trees seeped an oily black ichor and all the leaves were shrivelled and mottled with black spots. It had affected at least twenty trees that Jack could see and was spreading to the ground vegetation.
Matt examined it from the path, then moved closer. 'It's the same thing that was on that flower you found earlier.'
'I wouldn't get too near to it,' Jack warned.
'Wait.' Matt held out an arm, his attention gripped by something on the ground among the affected trees. Cautiously, he motioned for Jack to join him.
Jack had to blink a few times until he was sure of what he was seeing. Where the forest floor should have been, there was what he could only describe as a rip, as if he were looking at a painting and the canvas had been torn to reveal what lay behind it. In the centre of the rip was a deep black emptiness, like space, with the same endless quality. It made him feel queasy staring into it, for there was no sense that it was a hole in the ground. He felt that he could fall through it and into… nothing. 'What is it?' he asked in a hushed, uneasy voice.
'I don't know.' Matt stared at it for a moment and then guided Jack back to the path.
'You know what it looked like?' Jack said as they continued on their way. 'It looked like whatever was attacking the trees had eaten that hole away, too… but a hole right through everything.' He thought for a moment, and then grew uneasy. 'What could do that?'
'I have no idea. You know more about this place than I do. As far as I can tell, anything can happen here. It's like a dream… or a nightmare. No point getting concerned about it.' He clapped a hand across Jack's shoulders. 'If we're going to start worrying, we've got more important things to worry about.'
'I hope the others got out.'
'You hope Mahalia got out.'
Jack blushed.
'I've seen the way you've been with her.'
'She's nice. I like her.'
Matt shrugged. 'Personally I think you've got a tiger by the tail, but it's your life. Just be careful.' He shook his head with mock-weariness. 'What is wrong with me? I sound like a dad.'
Jack laughed. 'I never knew my father. You'll do for the moment.'
'Don't you go putting that on me. I've got quite enough on my plate without getting all paternal too.' He stretched aching shoulder muscles and adjusted the bow and quiver. 'I feel like we've been walking for weeks.'
'Perhaps we have. You can never quite tell here. I still think we should have waited-'
'We talked about this.' Matt stood in front of him and put his hands on the boy's shoulders. 'We all got turned around in the dark. It was blind luck that I ran into you. The others, if they did get out, could be way ahead of us. The best thing we can do is get to that place Triathus mentioned and wait for the others there.'
They set back off on their way, but it wasn't long before the boy was talking again. 'You know, I like this.'
'What? Getting lost in a forest with no provisions and no idea if you're going to get slaughtered when you go round the next bend?'
'No. Being with you… with people. I've never known humans all my life. Just the Golden Ones.' Anger rose but was quickly suppressed. 'Can you understand what it's like? Not to be with any of your own kind, just to hear stories about them, or sometimes see them across the barrier between the worlds, but never talk to them. Never be with them.'
'Yeah, and look at what your first experience of it was — us lot. Of all the people in all the world you ended up palling around with a bunch of psychos, liars and losers.' 'No, that's not true!' Jack said. 'I can see a lot more than you think — because I've been apart.' Matt eyed him curiously. 'I can tell what people are really like,' Jack continued. 'Everyone puts up barriers, and some people put up thicker walls than others. Take Professor Crowther. He can act very unpleasantly to everyone, but he's scared… of everything. He pretends he can cope, but he really can't cope at all.'
'So, you're a part-time psychoanalyst, too.' Matt laughed.
'And Mahalia, she's scared, too, but trying to appear strong. In fact, everybody's scared, but nobody wants to
