nose. He howled a stream of four-letter words and blood splattered on to his lips, but it earned him some respite. Ahead, he saw Mahalia veer into the trees. She'd seen something — probably a short cut, for the path was curling round upon itself. Against his better judgment, Crowther followed. Through the trees, there was blue sky; the forest's edge. Mahalia suddenly came up sharp, wobbling back and forth and trying to balance herself with flailing arms.
'Wait-!' she cried.
Crowther couldn't stop. He ploughed into the back of her, propelling her forward, over the edge of a cliff. He yelled out in shock, catching a branch to stop himself following her and then lashing out with his other arm. He was too late. With a scream, she went plummeting down.
Crowther could hear rushing water, glimpse the white of the rapids far, far below to his right, where the view over the lip was clear.
Panic exploded in him. He'd killed her! Ignoring the rapidly approaching Whisperers, he dropped to his knees and peered over the lip. Ten feet below, a thin ledge wound its way along the cliff face. There was no sign of Mahalia. A cry caught his attention, and away to his right he saw Matt and Jack edging their way as quickly as possible along the path towards him.
Dazed, Crowther lowered himself over the lip. He took one last glance at the purple mist drifting dreamily amongst the trees, and then he let go, not really caring if he overbalanced and was smashed on the rocks far below.
Jack yelled at him. He read the words on the boy's lips before the sound came to him: 'She's still alive!'
Perplexed, he leaned over the edge to find Mahalia clinging to a crevice not far below the edge of the path, her face bloody from a gash on her forehead. Overcome with a sweeping joy, Crowther tried to get to her, but Jack and Matt barged him to one side so that this time he almost did overbalance. Jack and Matt knelt down, reaching for Mahalia's hands, but the path was so narrow that they could barely gain any purchase.
Mahalia's arms trembled with the strain, and her face had the desperate fear of someone who knew their life was numbered in minutes. Then her wild, white eyes rolled to the right and the fear became more avid.
Crowther glanced back along the path to see one of the Gehennis, its horrific form twisted, the purple mist running through it like capillaries of smoke.
Aware of the approaching danger, Matt and Jack worked frantically, but still couldn't get leverage. Crowther stood up, braced his back against the rock and gripped both their belts. There was a brief moment of anxiety, and then they gave their trust to him, pushing themselves out over the edge and allowing him to take their weight, in the certain knowledge that if he faltered they would all go.
Crowther knew it, too, but he was determined in a way he had never been before to live up to what was expected of him. Matt and Jack lunged down to grab Mahalia's arms.
Behind the Gehennis, more of the Lament-Brood followed. The whispering even began to drown out the thunder of the water.
'I'm not listening!' Crowther roared.
With a heave, Mahalia came up. For a second they all feared they were going over, but Crowther held firm until Mahalia was on the path.
'No time to rest!' Crowther yelled. 'Move!'
Jack helped Mahalia along, though she looked fit to fall again, and Matt followed. The vividness of the experience gave Crowther a moment of startling clarity as he realised that he didn't want to die after all.
The Lament-Brood pressed hard at their backs as they edged along the precipitous ledge. Finally, the Court of the Dreaming Song came into view. They clambered up a flight of stone steps to a large flagged courtyard suspended over the gorge. An arched oak door twenty feet high led into the interior of the court. But as they hurried towards it, Matt held out his arms to stop them. 'This is a defensible position. We have to destroy the path to stop them getting in here.' 'How can we do that?' Crowther snapped. Nervously, he glanced back to see a column of Lament-Brood barely two minutes away from the steps. 'Come on,' Crowther said. 'Inside.' 'No.' Matt grabbed Jack's shoulders. 'You've got to use that thing inside you. Like you did on the boat.' Dismay seeped into Jack's face. 'I can't!' Matt shook him hard. 'You have to.' 'Leave him alone.' Mahalia tried to pull Matt's hands free, but she was still weak from the shock. 'I can't control it,' Jack pleaded. 'I'm afraid… I could set off the whole Wish-Hex! I could destroy everything!' Matt thrust Jack in the direction of the path. 'Just do it. You controlled it before-' 'That was by chance!' '-you can do it again.' Jack hovered, looked to Mahalia for support, and then with shoulders sagging, he ran to the top of the flight of stone steps. 'What if he does take us out?' Crowther yelled above the roar of the water. 'He won't,' Matt said. 'They wouldn't have put the bomb in him if it could be randomly detonated. They're not stupid — they must have some kind of military mind to do a thing like that. There has to be a fail-safe.' 'You could have told him that!' Mahalia said. 'I want him upset and angry so he'll blow that path to kingdom come.' Jack looked small and forlorn against the stone rail that ran around the edge of the courtyard. He bowed his head, then pivoted at the waist. When he rose up, a sheet of silvery light ballooned out from him. All the sound was sucked out of the vicinity until, with a pop, the bubble of light burst. Matt, Crowther and Mahalia were knocked flat on their backs by a wall of pressure. A sonic boom made their ears ache and when they looked up Jack was clutching on to the rail for support. Beyond him a cloud of dust rose up from where the path had been, and mingling with it were the last few strands of purple mist.
Matt nodded with satisfaction. 'That did the trick.'
'There is another way of looking at it,' Crowther said. 'Let's hope we get a warm welcome, because there's no going back.' 'Somebody's having fun.' Matt nudged Crowther as they examined the large, impressive doors. Jack and Mahalia sat on the rail overlooking the gorge. They were locked in a deep embrace. There was more desperation than passion in their kiss, the recognition of kindred loneliness and a hunger to fill that void.
'Good for them,' Crowther said. 'At least someone is finding something worthwhile out of this whole miserable experience.'
'I don't know what to do about Caitlin,' Matt said.
'Yes, perhaps you should have thought of that before you blew up her one route into this place.'
'You know I had no choice.'
'Then she'll have to find another route… or not. There's nothing we can do about it.'
Crowther could see that Matt was obviously trying to distract himself from his anxiety by focusing on the matter at hand, but his fellow traveller was deeply affected.
Matt scanned the door for some way of opening it. 'I can't understand why no one has been out to us. Surely they must know we're here.'
'Triathus certainly implied they'd be eager to help us.' Crowther leaned on his staff. His back ached from the tingling insistence of the mask; its influence was growing more intense, so that sometimes it felt as though fiery fingers were digging into his spine.
'There seem to be two different forms of architecture,' Matt said, pointing to the monolithic blocks and the delicate, surrealistic detail that overlaid them.
'That's because it's the work of two different races.' Jack stood behind them, his arm around Mahalia's shoulders. 'The Golden Ones like to pretend they're the only people who ever ruled here, but there were others.' He walked over and patted one of the huge stone blocks. 'This comes from the Age of Warriors. The Drakusa were a hard, violent race — at least, that's what I heard. Not much is known about those who came before. Though before isn't really the right word in this place… you know, time doesn't have any real meaning. I suppose they still do exist, somewhere. The Golden Ones just aren't interested in finding out any more about them.'
'Did they influence humanity?' Crowther asked.
'I don't know… I suppose. It's said they had the power to shape rock, to pull up whole structures from the earth itself and mould it with the power of their minds. When I was in the Court of the Final Word, I made friends — although that isn't really the right word — with Math, the Keeper of Records. I think more than anything he was just keeping an eye on me once they'd done their work. But it gave me the chance to get into the library. They've got so many secrets hidden away in that place.'
'Sounds like you might be even more valuable to us,' Matt noted.
'More valuable than just a weapon?' Jack's tone suggested the hurt he felt at Matt forcing him to act against the Lament-Brood.
'Can we just get inside?' Mahalia snapped. 'After nearly dying I could do with a sit down. And don't for a minute think I've forgotten who almost sent me flying to my death.' She fixed an eye on Crowther, who studiously
