

## Plain of the Fourteen Pillars

By

### T K Foster

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2013 by T K Foster

Cover by Paul Beeley at www.createimaginations.co.uk

License Statement

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each reader. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, as well as businesses and or organizations is purely coincidental or for literary effect.

This story is for Nicholas, James and Mackenzie, the three most important people in my life.

### CHAPTER ONE

A hole.

Billy dropped himself through the tangled base of a line of thicket to get to that hole, while all around him a barrage of bullets and missiles whistled a crazy, chaotic tune.

He landed softly amongst deep leaf litter. It was a good place to hunker down.

_Hunker in the bunker,_ he thought, and a snicker crossed his lips.

While the war continued above, Billy considered his next move. For the moment he was locked down, unable to move from the hole which was now his sanctuary. Dutifully he reached for the box at his side, but hesitated. There was a momentary pause in the din outside, a short silence, a name called from a distance which he could not make out.

Billy felt a pain in his shoulder and immediately thought he'd been shot. He hesitantly expected to see blood gushing down his arm, instead realised that the leather strap from the box was digging into him and bruising the muscle it was wrapped around. He grimaced, then shifted his position among the leaves and relaxed the strap's bite on his shoulder. The box was made entirely of leather, and it was crafted well. The gas mask it once contained had been old and grey, and the powdery mould that coated its cracked structure had spored a noxious smell; so Billy had tossed it away. He kept the box though; placed it at his side and hung by the strap over his shoulder it now housed his most prized possession.

The din continued above, the silence was broken.

Billy unclipped the lid on the box and reached inside.

He growled....

Then he grunted....

He was _the man_ , and as such professed the ultimate skill to put an end to this horrendous battle; a battle fought with courage and honour, where _the man_ would come out on top, having obliterated his adversaries, and all for the sake of Queen and Country.

With a renewed outpouring of energy brought about by the near fatal wound to his upper arm Billy pulled from the box his iron, a weapon of renown, a pistol made from perfect British craftsmanship.

He leapt to his feet and fired into the surrounds, discharging the gun until its chamber was empty and spent. In a single hand motion he disengaged the wasted clip, reached into the box for a second one and engaged it ready for another round of bloodletting. But all was silent.

Too silent.

Surely the enemy had not retreated so quickly. _The cowards._ Billy still had a monster of fight left in him. His trigger finger was poised, ready to take his mark at the slightest of movement beyond the bunker.

But it did not come. At least, not for some time anyway.

While he waited, cautioning himself, eyes like a kestrel, ears pricked and muscles tensed, Billy failed to notice the chill breeze which now disturbed the air surrounding him. The trees bristled at its presence, _whooshing_ and swaying with its gentle embrace. Leaf litter at his feet began to rise and fall with the movement of the wind. A random leaf blew away from the gully every few seconds.

In fact, Billy failed to realise just how cold his environment had suddenly become overall; that is before he felt the goose bumps rising on his arms against the material of his shirt sleeves.

He shivered, but not for one moment did he relax his study of the surrounding territory.

To his wonder, though befitting to the sudden drop in temperature, a mist began to roll in over the ground. Billy watched as tiny particles of water danced past his face. He felt the sudden flash of cold as those same particles swirled back at him in the breeze and splashed against his bare skin.

Billy poked out his tongue and tasted the mist. It didn't taste like anything, but it was refreshing. He felt his ears freeze and lifted a hand to touch one. It was icy and numb, and he imagined how red it must be.

By now he was sure the enemy would have retreated, or passed by. Maybe he had killed them all.

A Job well done soldier.

But wait....

A movement in the undergrowth....

A sniper!

Billy heard a cry in the distance, a familiar voice, " _Billy....come in now, its supper time"_.

What was that.... the enemy had managed to break through the front lines? Good grief! They needed him back at base now, they needed him to take command of the situation and lead them to victory.

Now only one thing stood in his way, he must eliminate the sniper or lose face.

Quickly he seized the moment and stumbled from the gully with a terrifying roar, his iron pointed at the undergrowth and at the sniper hiding within its thick tangle. The clamour startled the sniper and Billy took chase when the cleverly disguised intruder emerged from the bushes and bounded down a long stretch of cleared ground.

In the ensuing moments the swirling fog appeared to gather intensity, chilling him to the bone, drenching his jacket and saturating his hair.

Yet Billy was not deterred. He was a soldier, and a darn good one at that.

He raised his arm and took aim at the sniper; with its long ears and fluffy white tail it blended into the surroundings perfectly. But Billy was no fool, a wolf in sheep's clothing the sniper was.... a chameleon.

Billy pulled the trigger and discharged a small plastic missile from his pellet gun, it travelled fast and smacked into the rabbit's furry bottom. The rabbit jumped... jerked.... made a strange sound, its movements became laboured, and then it vanished into the fog.

Billy leapt into the air with absolute delight and revelry. Jubilation empowered him. He danced while he ran; he waved his gun in the air and shook his fist at the defeated enemy. And though he was cold and wet he didn't care, he was the hero of the day; and when the hero of the day finally reached the very same spot his foe had fallen, he too vanished into the fog.

### CHAPTER TWO

The thing is...

What Billy failed to see during his war games in the woods that bordered his home on that early spring evening in the south of Yorkshire, was that before him as he ran the fog had become particularly concentrated in the very spot where the rabbit disappeared; Billy thought the furry creature had simply got up the gumption and legged it like a cheetah, but he misinterpreted the outcome, the rabbit had in fact vanished.

Entrapped in the swirling thick mist they had both become. White... Calm... Clean... like cotton wadding. Then darkness... just for a moment, but frightening.

Where was he..?

The bullet wound to his shoulder ached, so he swapped the leather strap from that side to the other and removed the pressure from his bruise. With the gun still in his hand Billy leant against the ground and sat upright. He returned his iron to the box and viewed the five spare clips; four were full, thank goodness for that. He had started off with seven all together, but then lost one during the Battle of the Four Dogs six months earlier when he'd first become a soldier, or better still, a military agent. British Intelligence leant on him heavily to get the jobs done that no one else was qualified to do. He was a hero.

At the time he had been on a reconnaissance assignment in the main centre of town when four stray terriers cornered him in a shadowy lane way. With their tails wagging and their tongues lolling, Billy saw through their ploy and quickly took evasive action. He drew his brand new orange pellet gun, his iron, and fired a spray of pellets into the hides of his murderous attackers. Each one yelped in turn and then circled round to lick its wound; but Billy had emptied the clip, he had discharged every bullet from his iron. That's when he knew he was in trouble.

The terriers leered at Billy with disgust and growled their hatred. They threatened to attack, and in that same moment Billy accidently released the clip from its housing in the gun. It fell to the ground and bounced once, the plastic chamber giving out a sharp _crack_ when it made contact with the hard cobblestoned lane way.

Then Billy ran.

He was a hero.

So even heroes feel pain, maybe more pain than anyone else, and that he did. Not only was his shoulder sore, but most of his right side was tender also; like that dull pain one gets after having collided with a plate glass door which just so happens to be devoid of any adhesive lines illustrating that there is a plate glass door in ones path. Normally one would bounce off the door; Billy wondered where he may have bounced to.

His thoughts returned to the faint swirl of mist now deteriorating before him in the warm, penetrating sunlight. Billy closed the lid on his box and gingerly stood up. The effort brought a single tear to his left eye that he quickly wiped away; there was no disgrace in a soldier crying, but this was neither the time nor the place.

What made him aware that he had landed somewhere in a different place and a different story was the roughly cut cobblestones he had fallen onto, there was no such place in the woods by his home, only green grass and trees.

Here the sun draped him in warmth, heating and drying his damp jacket and his drenched hair, defrosting his ears and bathing his goose bumps; it radiated through to his bones and made him glad, glad to be there, glad to be in it. Billy licked at the air and tasted it. It tasted sweet and hot, like golden syrup warmed through with porridge; like a toasted marshmallow, it delighted his senses.

From his vantage point atop the platform he had landed on, he could see nothing else. Surrounding him were fourteen similarly hewn stones, all stood roughly at a height of ten feet. The platform itself appeared to be round, or oval, and at its very edge was sky.... just sky.

A few paces behind him, and something he had failed to notice prior to surveying his position, a small white rabbit sat on its haunches with its back to Billy. The animal was licking its front paws and preening its ears, like rabbits do. When it turned around at Billy's sudden yelp of surprise it appeared to stare at him fiercely, as fierce as a rabbit could possibly achieve which in essence is far from frightening, and then with a mean shake of its ears the rabbit hopped away, across the cobblestones, past the pillars and over the edge; but as it was doing so Billy was almost certain he had heard the creature call him a _prat_ before its departure.

The thought quickly shrugged off, Billy lifted the leather strap from his shoulder and removed the box from his side, placing it at his feet. He unzipped his jacket, pulled himself free from its hold and tied the arms around his waist; then he returned the box to its rightful place at his side again.

He felt little pain now; the sun had healed him, all except for the bruising to his shoulder which caused him a faint twang of discomfort, though it was not bad enough to bother him anymore.

So where did the rabbit disappear to this time?

Billy walked to the edge of the platform and gazed at the sloping green field beyond. The grass was lush, but bare, all except for the tiny white speck of a rabbit bounding along to, it seemed, nowhere. All around there was nothing beyond the grass other than the horizon, which appeared odd because it was a continual down slope.

Where did the field go?

He tested his imagination, used his limited knowledge of geography, geology, physics, art and perspective, his fourteen years of life had not particularly given him much to work with, but there was one thing he was certain of, he still had no clue as to where he was.

As the sun beamed down on him, and the silence grew heavy, Billy suddenly realised he was not alone. From behind one of the stones to his right emerged a shadow, a sinewy, tall shadow with long fingers and large horns protruding from its head.

Billy was struck with fear, his body tensed, the thought to reach for his iron not even a reality. He swallowed hard as a rush of bile erupted into his throat; it made him feel sick. No longer could he taste the sweetness in the air, only a lingering bitterness as the shadow grew longer.

A feeling of dread encompassed him. Sweat coursed down his body and plastered the shirt to his back.

In a glance the shadow became flesh, the monster emerged and roared.

Billy screamed....

### CHAPTER THREE

Billy was immediately aware of the red hot flash of embarrassment shining across his face directly following that scream. Similarly the girl who emerged from behind the stone was just as surprised, and her roar had in fact been just a startled squeal.

The two strangers stared at each other for a short while, neither knowing what should happen next.

This girl that stood before him and several paces away was roughly six feet tall, skinny with long legs, and a pretty, lightly freckled face. She had red hair which jutted out at the sides in two pig tails and she wore green shorts and a white t-shirt with an emblem of some weird looking, big eared, furry animal on the front. Her skin was pale, but blemish free and white like milk.

The really strange thing about her though was her feet. The right one appeared to be larger than the left and protruding above the top of her ankle sock was a line of dark hair.

Billy cringed. He thought it quite gross.

"What is your name?" the girl spoke in a high pitched voice, certainly breaking the silence.

Billy's mouth was solid, unmoving, restrained. No sound came from him.

"Yoo-hoo.... short boy.... what is your name?"

He managed an almost inaudible reply. "Billy", he said.

"Hello Billy", she shrieked and skipped awkwardly forward, almost sideways, to stand before him. She outstretched her right arm, almost cartoon like in its length, and grabbed his hand to shake it. "My name is Cetra. My first name is Et, but that just sounds like a noise someone makes when they are not surprised by something, or they do not care about something, you know, like _et,_ with a shrug of their shoulders," she shrugged her shoulders. "So I like to be called Cetra, it sounds much better, and stronger. My parents would always laugh when they told new friends about us, they would say 'We have several children, Jib, Job, Bo, Bin, Lonny, Can, Et Cetra, you get the idea', and then they would all laugh, but I never did get the joke."

Billy was reeling, he wasn't quite sure if he had got anything out of the girl's monumental discourse, except maybe her name.... "Cetra?" he replied, unsure.

"Nice to meet you Billy," she said simply, then waited.

She was staring down at him, her wide smile gleaming with perfect white teeth and the light spray of freckles across her face gave her otherwise milky features a lovely splash of colour. This girl before him verily glowed. She was vibrant, she was energetic, she was marvellous. She was wonderful....

One moment though, where had she come from? Billy had to know.

"Where did you come from?" he asked.

"From over there," Cetra said plainly and pointed towards the tall rock she had emerged from behind. "Remember, Billy, you screamed like a girl when you saw me."

Billy's face shone red again. "No, I mean, there's nothing around us. How did you get here?"

Cetra's finger remained pointed at the rock. "The door," she said.

"Behind the pillar?"

"Affirmative, Billy. You are a smart one".

Billy couldn't tell if she was mocking him or complimenting him.

"Come, have a look," Cetra squeaked as she grabbed his hand and skipped him towards the rock.

At the back of the pillar there was a small rectangular knob of stone about four feet above ground level. The stone pillar itself was sheer and there appeared to be no gaps, nor creases, to indicate the outline of a door. Billy was bewildered.

"See, Billy, there is the handle."

"Where is the spout?" Billy joked.

The expression on Cetra's face remained the same.

"Do you want to go through the door?" she asked with a great deal of excitement and anticipation regarding his answer.

Billy shrugged, "Ok".

Cetra clapped her hands and grinned, that being, her grin was strangely larger now than her normal grin. She seemed to be very animated in her appearance, like every expression was exaggerated. When she reached out for Billy's hand her arm was suddenly longer and bigger; or that's how it seemed anyway.

Cetra pushed on the handle and said to Billy in a low, maitre d' style voice, "Enter please sir".

Now Billy was confused, because nothing happened. No door opened, no light flashed; there was no _whooshing_ sound like in all the science fiction movies he'd seen. Nothing... just an eerie silence and an odd girl standing beside him.

Not sure what he should do, or even say for that matter, Billy ignored his instincts, grimaced at the girl, and walked into the door.

### CHAPTER FOUR

Cetra laughed.

Then she laughed some more.

She laughed so much she was doubled over. She laughed so much she intermittently snorted. She laughed so hard she had tears dripping down her cheeks. She slapped her knee, she skipped in a circle, she kicked the air....

"You are funny Billy," she screeched, "You make me laugh".

Billy felt the blood on his lip from where his face had impacted with the stone pillar and wiped it off with his finger. He could see the humour in the moment, envisioned himself on the other end, laughing hysterically just as Cetra was now.... at him. Yet Billy chose not to laugh, being the butt of the joke certainly had its problems, for one, it was undignified and darn right embarrassing, and two, it gosh-darn hurt.

"I knew you would fall for that one," Cetra rattled, her voice crackling with the delight of it all.

"You know, Billy," she continued, a little more serious now, "the door opens outward. I pushed on the handle, Billy. I have to pull the door open, not push it open".

_Of course you do_ , Billy thought.

With that she pulled on the handle this time to open the door. "See, Billy. Easy".

Billy looked on indifferently. Again Cetra had done nothing, the pillar remained sheer, unbroken.... solid. Did she really think he was that dumb? Expecting him to fall for the same trick twice?

"Do you really expect me to fall for the same trick twice?" he said with a look of disgust on his face.

Cetra winked at him. "You are standing at the wrong angle," she said, grabbing hold of both his shoulders and moving him to stand directly in front of the open door.

"Whoa!" was his reaction, "That's unbelievable".

Indeed, there was suddenly a doorway, and beyond that a flight of stairs leading down into darkness.

"So where does it go?" Billy asked.

Cetra looked puzzled. "Down there," she said, pointing her exaggerated arm, hand and finger into the black opening.

"So where and what is down there?"

"That is the way out."

"Out of what exactly?"

"Here."

"Here.... what?"

"This place."

"What's this place?"

Cetra placed a skinny finger to the corner of her mouth and looked into the sky. "This is the place I come sometimes to pray."

"Pray to what?"

"To my God," she said incredulously with the hint of a _duh!_ "Silly Billy."

Cetra leapt past the stone and skipped to the centre of the cobblestones. She spun around with arms outstretched and raised them high above her head, all the while continuing to skip and jump. Now she gazed up into the sky and let out a high pitched squeal followed by a sweet, timid giggle. She was beaming, she was glowing; she was altogether lovely. As _odd_ as this girl appeared in every sense of the word, Billy wanted to be her friend.

The girl skipped back to the doorway and grabbed Billy's hand. "Do you want to go now?"

Billy shrugged, "Ok"

Although the stairs had appeared to descend into darkness from the other side of the doorway, now, several steps down, Billy's senses were suddenly flooded with bright white light. The stairs led down to a circular room, a room which was an exact replica of the cobblestones and pillars above, with a ceiling that could not be seen for the glare.

Cetra caught the look of amazement in Billy's eyes. She smiled and said, "Up there is a big magical mirror, what you saw at the top of the stairs is not real, it is just a reflection of what is down here."

"Really?" Billy gaped.

"No. I am just fooling with you."

"Huh?"

She giggled.

At the far end of the cobble floor, between two of the fourteen identical pillars, was an archway; this also led into darkness. This time the darkness opened up to show a very real and visible wooden door. Although the ornate carvings in the wood panels were obscured in the dim light, Billy was still able to discern just how remarkable they must have been from the different contrasts of shapes and shadows upon the door's surface.

Cetra raised her eyebrows and grinned. She opened the door into the hall they were standing in and stepped through.

Hesitantly Billy followed.

### CHAPTER FIVE

Birds twittered and a warm, comforting breeze blew in this never before seen landscape. The whole impression was one of visual perfection. Grass and leaves were perfectly green, tree trunks were perfectly straight, the sky was perfectly blue, puffy white clouds were perfectly white and puffy, and the surrounding air was the perfect temperature.

Unfortunately for Billy though, the confronting confession from Cetra was that none of it was real. Apparently this sacred dominion held the ability to capture the thoughts and desires of all who entered it, allowing them to see what was on their hearts, and then in turn, where possible, perfecting it. In the case of Billy's thoughts and desires, they were in the woods outside his home in the south of Yorkshire, running to his mother's call for supper.

Billy suddenly remembered he needed to get home.

"I must be getting home, Cetra."

"Where is home, Billy?" she asked, a concerned look on her face.

He paused to think.

"Yorkshire.... England.... Earth...." and his answer trailed off into nothing.

Cetra looked as though she was processing his words. "No. I have never heard of any of them."

Billy wondered where the _heck_ he had landed, whose story had he unwittingly become a part of. Maybe he was in a dream, though it all seemed too real for that, in a manner of speaking, considering that he was actually in an unreal place.

Billy was suddenly confused even more so than before...

They stood together in silence for some time, gazing out at their own individual ideas of perfection. Billy took inventory of himself; he was definitely here, his jacket was still tied around his waist, his boots were still on his feet and he could still see his khaki cargo pants and dark brown shirt. Most importantly his leather box was still hanging at his side, the strap remaining cast over his shoulder.

Cetra took hold of Billy's hand again and awkwardly side stepped along the stone verandah towards the stairs which led down to the wonderfully lush green grass. There she suggested they sit for a while.

Billy watched the girl's lower lip drop, her mouth looked sad all of a sudden, although her eyes continued to sparkle.

"I will not be able to answer the questions you might want to ask, Billy," she explained solemnly, "And I do not know where you have come from, but I do know where you need to go."

Suddenly she was happy again. She slapped her knee excitedly, the crack coming off louder than anticipated. "I can help you Billy. I am glad. I do know somebody who is very smart, so that is who I will take you to."

Billy smiled to himself, he was terribly satisfied with the very idea that Cetra would stay with him longer. "So where do we go from here?" he asked expectantly.

"We sleep. I am tired," was her reply.

It was not quite the answer he expected to hear. Yes, he certainly was a little worn out, but he wanted to crack on, wanted to start a new chapter in the story he had fallen into. Tally-ho and off we go. Jump into the journey. He opened his mouth to protest but Cetra quickly slapped a hand over it to silence him.

It was a few moments before she removed it.

Billy looked around for a distraction and found himself staring at her feet. Upon closer scrutiny he discovered that she was wearing two left shoes, the right side being at least two sizes larger than the other. It was somewhat bizarre.

"What's with the shoes?" he asked, interrupting her in mid yawn.

"What do you mean, Billy?" She said after quickly composing herself.

"I mean," he started, "you are wearing odd sized shoes."

Cetra stretched her legs out over the stairs to display her feet, she flexed them in the air, side to side, forward and back.

"That is because I have odd sized feet," she claimed.

Billy wasn't sure if he was up to hearing the answer to his next question.

"Ok, but you are wearing two... left shoes."

Cetra giggled. "That is because I have two left feet, silly."

And that was it, the answer he feared most. Why hadn't he simply left well alone? How does one respond to such a claim?

"Why do you have hair on that one?" he managed to ask while leaning across to point at the line of hair above her sock.

"That one is not my foot."

"Huh?"

"That one is a boy's foot. I lost my one."

As incredulous as that sounded, Billy found himself listening intently to her story. Apparently, when Cetra was much younger she had fallen into an accident with about six others of her kind. Upon their collision a mess of feet and hands had flown every which way and dispersed randomly about them across the dirt. Racing against time to avoid the embarrassment of being discovered in their unusual predicament, they each scrambled around on the ground in an endeavour to retrieve their own appendages. Time had quickly run out for them though, and to this day Cetra was still unsure as to how many of them may have ended up with the wrong hands and feet.

"I have detachable hands and feet," she mouthed slowly at his silence.

Billy stared blankly... _What?_

"What?"

"My hands and feet, Billy, they come off."

"What?"

"Do you want to see?"

"NO!" was his instant response.

The twittering of birds penetrated their silence and the sound of a breeze rustling through the trees calmed him. A few moments and he would speak again.

"So what's the point in having.... detachable.... things?"

Cetra looked puzzled, "I do not know, I have never really thought about it."

"I mean," Billy continued, "feet... ok, but hands...? You couldn't exactly take the second hand off once the first one had been done, could you?"

She grinned, thinking for a moment. "You know Billy, you are right."

"And what are you supposed to do if both your hands _have_ come off? How are you supposed to put them back on then, huh?"

Cetra giggled and pushed Billy at the shoulder, knocking him over onto his side.

"You know," she said, "the same day I lost my foot I tried to retrace my steps, but I was unable to do so because it was not my foot."

Both laughed and fell backwards onto the warm stone verandah. Billy bathed in the glow of the day, rejoiced in its warmth and peace. He still wanted to go home and he was certainly hungry, but this was ok too. As Cetra would say, he was _here_ , so what else could he do?

When their bodies began to relax and drowsiness swept over them, Billy asked one more thing before they drifted off to sleep.

"What perfect thing do you see here, Cetra?"

"A beach," she said, "and in the distance a big pier with a fun park on it."

### CHAPTER SIX

If night had fallen Billy didn't see it, and for how long they had slept Billy didn't know. Either way, he was so refreshed that when he awoke he jumped up and ran down the steps to see if the grass was real enough to roll around on.

In his flight he disturbed Cetra and she too sat up. Seeing Billy sprawled over the sand a few feet from the base of the steps, she called out to him.

"Do you remember that it is not real?"

"It feels real," he yelled back.

"You are rolling around in sand."

"I am rolling around in beautiful soft green grass."

If it wasn't real, who knew what he may have been rolling around in? He decided to believe it was grass.

"We should go now Billy."

He got to his feet and ran back up the steps to Cetra.

"I'm hungry," he declared.

"I am hungry too. That is why we should go now."

"Ok. Which way is out?"

She closed her eyes and spun round on her girl toes, lifting her arm as she did so. When she landed again her finger was pointing at the ornate wooden door they had entered by.

Billy grunted. Was nothing in this place simple? He grabbed Cetra's hand and led the way.

Cetra squealed with delight at the scene which unfolded before them when Billy pushed the door open. Beyond their position was a marketplace, all abuzz with the sights and sounds prevalent to that of a marketplace. They saw mongering of all shapes and sizes. From the top there were posts, ropes, rooves and ramparts fully adorned with coloured banners, all of which displayed at random various and odd symbols pertaining to, it appeared, the large and wild variety of produce on offer. Below these fluttering decorations were the stall ceilings; most were draped with materials of sorts, others were painted with clever designs; the least were left bare and wooden, some polished and some rustic. Things hung everywhere, many of these were familiar to Billy, and many were not familiar; yet nothing could interest him more than the smells of food. Such smells as those he immediately darted for the moment he stepped through the doorway came to him from everywhere, smells of fresh fruit, herbs and vegetables; the meaty aromas of warm, recently butchered beast and game; and some pulpy gross thing that closely resembled a big fat lizard hanging from a hook. There were the smells of frying, roasting, broiling and barbecuing, most tantalizing to the senses, few sickening to his nose. The first thing he tasted was a large, sickly sweet pastry- looking thing that reminded him of baklava; by its texture though it could have been made from sand. Perhaps it was.

It was a good thing that Cetra was open to Billy's appetite. She moved along with him, taking care of business, recommending this and that, and advising against others, suggesting they might see him spurting nasty fluids from every opening in his body for several days.

As he wandered through the market with Cetra holding his hand as they went, Billy glanced about at the odd shapes and sizes of everybody around him. Some were like Cetra in appearance, animated and exaggerated. There were also a lot that looked human, but they had what Billy might describe as deformities on their faces, heads, shoulders, arms or.... well.... everywhere.

There were also those that simply looked as though someone had let a child loose with a couple of mix 'n' match books to create as many funny combinations of people and animals as they could possibly imagine.

Billy considered the idea that he may have simply fallen into one big masquerade party, but the big, ugly skinned lizard hanging in the shop front told him otherwise.

In the mean time he felt a bump on his side and a gruff, childlike voice say to him, "Hey mister, what's in the box?"

Billy stopped and looked down. Two feet below his eye level was a creature with a face not unlike that of a pig, only a little flatter maybe. Its eyes were very close and strangely of different sizes, and a slight dribble of clear mucus oozed from its left nostril. It was chubby like a toddler and with arms hanging down its hands stuck out at the sides grasping air. If there were pockets in its pants it would not have been able to put its hands in them because of its chubbiness.

Billy considered the question. He was taken by surprise but figured it would be harmless to humour the kid. Given this _was_ a kid.

"What's your name?"

"Briar. Now can I see what's in the box?"

Billy grinned. The kid was rudely persistent, which Billy was ok with; he knew what it was like to be an inquisitive kid, excited at the prospect of seeing something new and mysterious.

Briar clasped his hands together and gaped intently as Billy lifted the lid on the box. When he saw what was inside he stood in awe. "Cooooool," he drooled, "It's an orange thingy. I like orange thingies. Can I have one of those?" His stubby finger pointed at a clip of pellets.

"I can't give you any of this," Billy told him, "It's really dangerous. It could blow your hand off if you weren't careful."

"Really?" Briar said horrified.

"If I were you Briar, I'd forget I ever saw it. Ok lad."

"Ok mister."

Then the creature waddled off.

Funny, chubby, young pig-faced Briar.

Meanwhile Cetra was smiling at him. She was always smiling at him. Billy bet she had even smiled through the ordeal of losing all her hands and feet. She smiles when she walks that funny sideways walk, which is most of the time. She smiles when she skips, when she hops and runs, which is again most of the time. She smiles when she eats. She smiles when she burps. Cetra just smiles. If she had a sign name for the deaf it would be a "C" followed by a big, cheesy grin.

During his thoughts she had led him to a particular stall at which she told him, "I did want to bring you here to meet someone."

The stall was full of odd things, brick-a-brac to some, treasures no doubt to others. Behind the stall was a young, dark haired fellow, though older than Billy, he looked refreshingly.... human.

"This is Barret." Cetra introduced them; they shook hands and greeted one another.

"Irish?" Billy guessed.

Barret nodded. "North England?" he then ventured his own guess at Billy's roots.

It had all suddenly become very exciting for the two strangers.

Unfortunately there was a clamour a short way across the marketplace and Billy felt himself dragged by the collar over the stall and pushed through a back door, which was only half his height, into a dark alley. He quickly realised that both Barret and Cetra were with him and attempted to protest, but felt a warm hand clasp gently over his mouth.

"Humps," Barret said.

Even now Billy could see Cetra smiling in the shadows. She removed her hand from his mouth and _shushed_ him with a long, slender finger against her lips.

"We should get out of here," Barret continued, speaking directly to Cetra.

Cetra agreed. She grabbed Billy's hand and guided him along the alleyway which ran between adjacent stalls. Dappled light blurred his vision. Barret led the way.

Outside in the marketplace three large Humps were bullying their way through the stalls, pushing and shoving, grunting and groaning, doing all the things that Humps ultimately do best.

Now, Humps are curious creatures. They are tall most of the time, bulky, and regarded as pretty darn stupid. Billy may have considered them an odd mixture between an ogre and a troll, given he'd seen them at all, which he hadn't been given the opportunity. They do not wear clothes, which could prove embarrassing and gross to the onlooker if seen bending over, crouching or sitting down on a stool. No one is particularly afraid of a Hump; they are simply and barbarically annoying, a nuisance to the public, and a scourge upon the land. They live in caves and eat anything, from a grain of sand to an entire house.

There was once a tall tale told of a particularly large Hump who had been so angry that he went about making four of his comrades angry too. They grunted their way through a mountain, eating rocks as they went, and when they broke out of the other side they came across a house in their path. They demolished the house and ate every piece of it; they even ate the owner of the house who had, at the time, still been inside playing a rather nice game of checkers with himself. How much of the story had been exaggerated over time was unknown, but the moral still remained the same.... don't mess with a Hump.

As for the three who decided that this day would be a good day for rampaging through a marketplace, they had a simple mission.... but nobody cared about that. There had never been, throughout all of known history, any venture of anyone being even remotely interested in what a Hump has to say or do. Hence the reason why these shameless creatures have never acquired the ability to communicate outside of their own collective.... nobody cared.

Also, not because each one of their individual names was unimportant, uninteresting, or just unintended to be known, but if anyone could understand what they were, no one would be bothered to remember them anyway, simply because they just didn't care.

For the sake of clarity though, there were three Humps, from biggest to smallest, as the Biggest Hump is generally ranked first, they shall be known as Hump1, Hump2 and Hump3.

### CHAPTER SEVEN

There was a.... _thing_.... in front of Billy, sort of cylindrical in shape, long and thin, with what appeared to be bristles of some sort bound together at one end. It stood against the wall in the gloom, bristles up. Billy wondered what it was.

"What's this?" he asked.

"A broom," Cetra answered softly.

"Oh! Oh yes, I can see that now. So you call them brooms too. We have them...."

"Yes a broom," Barret whispered harshly. He had been peering outside through a crack in the wall, but had since come forward. "And that's a pitch fork," he pointed, "and that's a shovel, and this is a fist. We Irish have a saying, _shut up or I'll punch you in the face._ "

Billy shut up.

It was a good while before the calamity caused by the three Humps had desisted and been replaced once again by the hum of a busy marketplace. Stalls were quickly fixed, goods were picked up, and anything broken was either thrown away or marked down. Business continued as usual.

Although Billy never got to see the markets again, he could still smell its delicious aromas lingering about his nose, tempting him to return. Even in his head he could hear the pulpy skinned lizard whispering into his ear, _"try me, boy, I'm sweet and tasty"._

What Billy had failed to notice was that his new friend, the angry Irishman, had disappeared, only to return shortly after and carrying a large bag clanking with what Billy guessed must have been the entire inventory of his stall. Barret confirmed this assumption with a grin. He dropped the bag in a corner and sat down on an empty crate.

Where they were was a storage shed, one of many owned by Barret, who went about from town to town selling, for want of a better word, old-wares. They were trinkets he would acquire from a man named Brock, a man who was as mysterious as the many things he collected; then Barret would sell them at market and make himself a tidy profit. He was always assured that every product was unique and could not be bought anywhere else, this made Barret's a relatively prosperous business venture.

"So,' Barret said, "welcome to Bradley."

"No, it's Billy"

"No, I mean, you're in Bradley. You're on Bradley.... One or the other."

Billy was confused and therefore hesitated a moment before speaking again.

"This town is called Bradley?" he asked.

"No. This place, the whole thing, where you are, wherever you go, it's all Bradley."

"That doesn't make sense."

"I know...."

"Bradley's a person's name."

"I know...."

Billy glanced over at Cetra who was dusting off an old chair she'd found. She sat down.

"Cetra," he said, "Is this Bradley?"

"No silly, I already introduced you. That is Barret."

"No.... I mean, Barret tells me we're in Bradley."

"We are? I did not know that. I never did take much notice of the names of the places I go to. I just know where I am going and I go there."

Billy shook his head and turned his attention back to Barret.

Barret knew only too well the confusion Billy felt; thus he stepped forward to tell his own story.

1831 days prior, which equates to just over five years - though the very concept of years did not exist on Bradley - Barret had stepped unwittingly into a closet in the spare room of his grandparents new home one cold, wintery summer's day. He had landed here, on a hard cobble floor with many roughly hewn stones surrounding him.

"That's where I landed," Billy interrupted, "But there were fourteen stones and they were all really smooth and straight."

"Well...." Barret continued.

It had taken him some time to figure his way out of there. His landing place had been inside, with no visible doors to exit by, but he had found a way out by means of feeling for cracks in the surrounding wall. Funny enough, when he found his way through he stepped directly out of a closet and into someone else's home. Best part of the confusion hit him when, from an adjoining room, two oddly shaped creatures found him there and chased him out a nearby window.

"You know," Barret said, "I broke into that house one day to go back to the closet, but it was gone, and the house was empty.'

Billy and Barret talked for some time, comparing their stories. Barret was simply glad to be with someone he could finally relate to. Those who occupied Bradley were mostly simple minded folk; he had found it quite easy to incorporate himself into their lifestyle. Then Brock gave him a lucky break. He built a home, developed a business that saw him travelling a lot, and generally learned to be happy and make the most of his predicament.

"You know, Barret," said Billy, "Cetra knows how to get into that place with the stones."

"You do?" Barret jumped to attention and stared directly at her.

"Sometimes I do," Cetra smiled, "but otherwise I do not. I feel it when I am near it."

"What do you mean?"

"It is not in the same place all the time."

"So it moves, like a space ship or something?" Barret questioned.

"What is a space ship?"

"Never mind. Why haven't you ever spoken to me about this before?"

"Barret, you have never asked."

She was right, he never had.

"Do you feel it now?" Barret hoped.

"No," came her curt reply.

There was a short silence.

"So," Billy broke in, "you'd be about eighteen then? You must have been my age when you got here?"

"I was seventeen when I stepped into that closet, now I'm twenty two."

"You still look seventeen then."

"Do I? I hadn't really thought about it."

This time there was a long silence. After a while Billy became restless.

"Well," he said, "I need more answers than you two can obviously give me."

"Hello, Billy boy, been there done that. You're speaking to the veteran of _how the hell do I get out of this place?_ "

"If there's a way into this place there's got to be a way out."

"I gave up on that quest years ago Billy. Now this is my home. You may as well get used to the idea."

Billy was visibly angry, "That's not good enough...."

At that precise moment in time, just as Billy was getting ready to scream his frustration, they all turned toward a faint _bump_ which came from just outside the window flap. Barret moved slowly and quietly nearer the window and paused for a moment to listen. Then in one swift movement of his arm he reached out and pulled back in through the window opening a funny, chubby, young pig-faced creature called Briar.

### CHAPTER EIGHT

There was a whirlwind of smoke and a fire ablaze, a cracking laughter which haunted the haze, three dark figures shadowed in cloaks with whips slithering through the air above and piercing eyes ready to smite. Terror enveloped the atmosphere, ready to deliver pain and wailing, ready to draw blood and to drive those who would be insane even further over the edge....

"Oh get over yourself pig-boy," came the voice, "Who do you think you are, the Ninja King?"

Well, at least that's how the view from his imagination looked. In fact, the three figures that stood before him were no more menacing than a crushed topey....

A crushed topey is a three and a half legged insect with its innards protruding from cracks in its segmented body. Normally it would have five segments, which with only three and a half legs to lug itself around on made it a curious little critter to come upon in ones travels. In fact, the first ever specimen of this insect was discovered stumbling around the top of a beetroot cider barrel. Assuming it had got to the cider and inadvertently become intoxicated, it was aptly registered on file as a Topey. It was only later discovered that its three and a half legs were so badly evolved that they were incapable of holding the five segmented body parts aloft. Hence the inaccurately named Topey has since become a bit of a joke. Like, someone could be said to _eat like a topey,_ or even _drink like a topey;_ to be as _dead as a topey,_ or else be as _healthy as a topey._ Certainly the joke wasn't perfect, in fact it made little sense at all, but it was theirs.... and it was a part of Bradley.

"Will you stop thrashing," came the voice again.

Barret held Briar tightly by the collar. Briar being a fat little thing with plenty of strength still found it quite impossible to fight against being lifted and held off the ground.

Cetra couldn't help but laugh at the flailing creature. Though, in the ensuing moments thereafter, Briar did stop beating around. Barret dropped him to the ground yet still held his collar firmly, and Cetra did stop laughing, but continued to smile. In that time Billy, who knew Barret had everything under control, still grabbed for the broom in his defence.

"What do you think you're doing pig-face?" Barret spoke harshly, a fleering look on his face.

"I'm not doing nothing," Briar snapped in that gruff, childlike voice. He shrugged his shoulders in an attempt to break loose from Barret's grip, but failed.

"What's _he_ going to do?" Briar said eyeballing Billy, "Sweep me to death?"

Billy figured his actions were warranted and made to challenge the remark, but when his mouth opened he hadn't a clue what to say; so Billy stood there gaping instead. To compose himself quickly and relieve any onset of embarrassment, he turned the broom in his hands like a giant baton, caught the bristle end on the ground with his foot and stiffly leant upon the handle. "Hey Briar," he said casually, "What's up?"

"So, pig-face's name is Briar," Barret said scornfully.

"You should know who I am, _stupid_. You see me every time you're in town."

"Call me _stupid_ again...."

" _Stupid!"_

"..... and I'll rip your snout off!"

" _Stupid!"_

Barret grabbed Briar's nose in a hostile attempt to make good the threat. During the effort his finger managed to become inserted into one of the big, soggy nostrils; it was indeed an unsavoury gesture to say the least. Briar snorted at the intrusion and sent a spray of snot over his offender.

"That's gross!" Barret shrieked, reeling backwards after releasing his grip on both the collar and the nose. "You're disgusting."

" _You're disgusting_ ," Briar yelled back and stood his ground, "Who sticks their finger up someone else's nose? You're as stupid as a topey, _stupid."_

During this quick succession of events taking place before them both, Cetra and Billy watched for a moment, then looked to each other, glanced back, and again looked at each other. When the last barrage of _stupids_ had fired from Briar's mouth they finally gestured to one another that it would be a good idea to intervene at some point.

"I'm gonna kill you," Barret snarled and readied himself to pounce.

This, they decided, was that point.

They moved themselves invasively between the two, hoping to deter their attack upon one another with the gesture. Yelling at them may have also been a defining factor in their separation.

While the two were now apart Cetra introduced herself, "Hello Briar, my name is Cetra."

The pig-faced boy looked into Cetra's big eyes and instantly turned to mush. Not literally, but as it were, like when a boy meets a girl and his brain turns to goo and for what comes out of his mouth he may as well be blabbing _blah blah blah._

"That's a nice name," he managed as he sat down on a wooden crate next to her.

"Thank you Briar, but how are you? How is your nose?"

"Sore," he said solemnly, "I feel violated."

From the other side of the room Barret listened with pricked ears and gritted teeth. "You'll feel more than violated when I get my hands on you again pig-boy," he grated, his view of Briar blocked by Billy's big head.

"Barret, come on," Billy pleaded, "Stop this. Let's just find out how much he heard."

There was a cloth nearby which Barret grabbed to wipe the snot off his arm. "Gross little snoop," he muttered, and then to Billy, "Ok, you're right."

Billy felt the victory and smiled. He then made the short trip across the room and spoke bluntly at Briar.

"Why were you eaves-dropping?" Billy asked him

Briar looked confused. His eyes darted around the room, from Cetra to Barret, to Cetra again and then back to Billy. He said nothing.

Billy felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to Barret who leant into him and whispered in his ear, "He doesn't know what eaves-dropping is."

"Oh," Billy whispered back.

Barret jumped in, easy going, calm and collected.

"What did you hear us talking about?"

"Something about wanting answers," came the quick reply, "Something about wanting to get home."

"What else?"

"That's it, Honest."

There was a short silence.

" _Why_ were you listening?" Billy finally asked.

Briar was suddenly nervous.

"I just was. I heard talking and I came over to listen. I'm a kid, what do you expect from me?" He waved his arms at them. "But," he said, now shifting a little further forward on the crate, "maybe I can help you."

"How can _you_ help us?" Barret scoffed.

"How? Yes," he said, glancing from side to side. He leant even further forward again and beckoned for them to come within a whisper. "I can take you to an old sage."

### CHAPTER NINE

The conversation that took place thereafter went something like this:

"A sage...."

"An old sage...."

"What is a sage?"

"Maybe he could answer my questions."

"Maybe he could answer both our questions, I've been here longer."

"What is a sage?"

"What.... you're making it a competition between the two of us now?"

"What is a sage?"

"Well I have. So why haven't I heard about this sage before?"

"What is a sage?"

"He's very secretive. Even _I've_ only known about the old sage for a short time."

" _What is a sage? What is a sage? What is a sage?"_

More importantly though, day had turned to night and they could now leave the shed under a cloak of darkness.

"Oh, when did it get dark?" Billy asked.

Barret thought for a moment, "About twenty four hands ago," he answered.

"Huh?"

Time measurement on Bradley was fundamentally simple. As a unit the single greatest measurement possible was a day; making up a day was the large quantity of 8640 hands, give or take a few depending on whether it was accurately calculated by a hand or inaccurately subject to the unreliability of a hoof. A hand then was made up of five clicks, or _snaps_ as some would like to call them; where a task may have taken only a short time to achieve it was considered a _snap._

Night time on the other hand was not measured by time as nothing of any significance ever seemed to occur during darkness. Also, as questioned by Billy, the transition between day and night and night and day was an approximate minimum of five hands, which often left many individuals wondering, _where did the day go?_

Within the dark interior of the shed they could barely see each other, registering shadows cast by the dull moon light streaming through cracks in the wall was the best they could do.

Barret found Cetra and whispered into her ear his desire that she grab pig-boy's hand and not let go. He then directed them all to follow him out the door, through the shadows, up the street, round the corner, and up the hill to the edge of town where they would find a _friend_ he felt might help them.

It all sounded fairly easy. In fact, it was, except for the few unnerving moments when the same three Humps, who by this time had positioned themselves up a side street, huddled around a fire blazing within the confines of a steel box, appeared to prick their ears and suddenly lumber their thick bodies toward the shadows.

Our party of four, led by Barret, was quick to dash through a number of darkened stalls and take silent refuge until the danger had passed them by. Having the Humps behind them they could move forward toward their destination with no threat whatsoever of the three creatures catching up to them.

The strange thing about Humps, besides all the other things that were strange about them, was their odd sense of responsibility. Apart from the fact that they did not particularly like or enjoy being in the company of anyone aside from themselves, except in the instance where they could terrorise, maim, or cause general despair, they felt a strange compulsion to adopt a roll of guardian and peacekeeper within the towns. No one had as yet guessed what they were being guarded from because the only thing they really needed protecting from was the Humps themselves.

So Billy, Cetra and Briar, driven forward by Barret's intent, continued their hidden journey through the darkened streets of town; round the corner and up the hill, making little noise but for the crunching of dirt beneath their feet. Shadows were cast across the road as they passed by lit windows, and one or two whispers of " _Hey you, get out of here"_ were consequently thrown their way.

It wasn't a steep hill they were climbing, but Briar still managed to lose his breath. He slipped once, and then a second time, before Barret got fed up and abruptly decided that the quickest method of getting to the top would be to throw pig-boy over his back and carry him the rest of the way.

In the same moment that it took for the two to get comfortable with their piggyback position, Cetra caught the grin on Briar's face in the dull light. He noticed her watching him and winked.

They continued up the hill. It wasn't really that much farther, and the thought of simply dragging Briar the rest of the way by the foot and hearing his protests as dirt and stones ground their way up his back certainly had appealed to Barret, but he determined that it would not be his best course of action.

At the top the road flattened out and curved both to the left and to the right. The left road moved on a short distance only before it plummeted into absolute darkness; the right continued on much farther and was made visible by the many illuminated homes casting their light through similarly square shaped windows.

The four of them trudged ahead, not keeping to the shadows any longer because there weren't enough to keep to anyway, and very soon, without incident, they had come to the end.

They halted outside a house that was no different to any other in the gloom. The only distinguishing feature appeared to be a roughly crafted placard on the door which had been carved with the words _Ballders Merchant_.

Around them there were only the faint noises of internal activity; the clanging of a pot, the jostle of a chair, the rattle of a window closing, whispers from curious folk peering through cracks in the door, and a dripping sound to their left.

Barret released Briar to the ground and looked at his companions.

"Ballders," he said softly with an expectant look about him.

"Same to you," Billy quipped while maintaining a straight face.

They went round to the side door instead because that's where Barret suddenly decided to lead them. From this new vantage point they now realised that their uphill climb had brought them to a high point on the outskirts of town. Slanting downwards were rooves and shadows, dark and illuminated windows, rising chimneys, roads and courts; and almost in the very centre was the marketplace which was a large area enclosed by a fort like wall with many arched openings. In the gloom of the night it could have been mistaken for the ruins of a castle.

Two windows were on this side of the house and there was a small covered verandah with a door the same width.

Barret pulled five times consecutively on a thin string attached to the wall at the right of the door, an action which produced the faint jingle of a bell from somewhere within the house.

It was only a few moments before the door opened and a tall, hooded man beckoned them in hurriedly. Closing the door first he then lead them through to the rear of the house and into what must have been a general reception room; it was rectangular in shape and rather large but cluttered. At the back corner was another much smaller room jutting beyond the rear wall which appeared to be a very rustic-styled kitchen, with pots and pans, utensils and herbs all hanging from various hooks around the wall. From an unseen corner of that room came a noise of simmering and a dull flickering reflection of low flames on the opposite wall. The smell which hung in the air and teased them was exotic to Billy, though just ordinary stew to the others.

"Are ye hungry?" the hooded man asked in a deep, raspy voice.

"Yes thank you," Cetra squealed, her answer corresponding with the other three groaning stomachs close by.

Ballders reached out a hairy hand and motioned them toward the thick wooden table at the kitchen end of the room.

The room itself was filled with so many things, bric-a-brac the major contribution; from a small leather thimble on a nearby bench to a large, decorative wooden door frame leaning against the wall. Layered at an angle over the top corner of the frame was just one of a large collection of tapestries, altogether a myriad of colours and patterns throughout the room. A variety of intricately woven rugs were cast over dark stained floor boards, some worn thin from excessive tread-wear, others richly decorated and thick piled as though still new. The furniture was all wooden, but the cushions which lounged over every piece were plump and inviting to a weary body.

"Have they seen him yet?" came the raspy voice from above the simmering pot of stew. He ladled the hot food into five bowls, one for him and four for his guests.

"No," Barret answered gladly, "I managed to get him away in time, but it was a close call."

"Hmm...." Ballders put large spoons in every bowl and served his guests one at a time. He placed his own on the table last and went into the kitchen once more.

"Are these Humps after me?" Billy piped up suddenly.

"Yes.... and no, Billy," Barret said, looking in Ballders' direction for some support.

Ballders came back to the table with two small wooden boxes containing pepper and salt and offered them to everyone.

"Yes _or_ no?" Billy corrected, wanting either as an answer not both. By now he was leaning forward across the table and staring expectantly at everybody.

The tall man called Ballders took the end seat and cast his hood back to reveal his face. When he spoke it was with confidence and authority.

"When ye came through me door I knew ye were like Barret. Barret is not from here and neither are ye." He held up a hand to steady Billy who was about to speak, then continued. "Humps don't like anything out of place. They have never seen ye so they will want to terrorise ye to make sure ye not a threat."

"I don't plan on being here long enough to be terrorised by them."

Ballders raised bushy eyebrows and flashed dazzling white teeth through a salesman smile. Apart from this odd fellow having thick set, broad shoulders, an almost flat face with barely a nose and no nostrils, big floppy earlobes, long straight hair pulled back into a ponytail, and hairy knuckles, he also had the most vivid green eyes Billy had ever seen. They were friendly eyes, and together mixed with that toothy grin went hand in hand with the merchant business.

"This stew is very nice," Cetra announced in the midst of it all.

"Yeah," Briar agreed, "heaps better than the _swill_ my mum normally gives me.

There was a flash of smiles around the table.

"It does smell really good," Billy said calmly. He hadn't yet tasted the stew but he was certainly looking forward to it.

"Indeed, everything I cook smells wonderful."

Billy glanced up from his bowl at the man with no nostrils. His thoughts were quizzical. "How does he smell?" he whispered the question to Barret on his right.

Barret leaned in to Billy and whispered back, "Terrible."

There were soft chuckles between the two and a quick " _Boom boom_ " from the other end of the table where Ballders had overheard the joke.

"Ye know, me young fellows, big ears can hear whispers, big ears can hear a pin drop, and big floppy earlobes can be used as weapons." He stared intensely at Billy for a moment, pausing in the stillness, and then suddenly roared with laughter.

It was a laughter which gave relief to all round the table, and once the effect had died down they continued to eat.

"Don't worry, Billy," Ballders spoke up, "just keep running away from them. Eventually they'll get used to yer smell and not bother with ye anymore."

"So, did you have any trouble with them?" Billy directed the question at Barret.

Before Barret was given any opportunity to answer though, Ballders had already started to chortle in that raspy chortle he chortles so well; thus closing the window on Barret and opening his own to respond to the question on his good friend's behalf.

"The first time Barret bumped into a Hump or four was in our very own market square down the hill there." He pointed a hairy finger in one direction and then another, then he shrugged. "They cornered him, stripped him down to his underwear, and pointed and laughed at him, then they went away seemingly satisfied. They've not bothered ye since, have they fella."

Barret shone red. Given half a chance he was pretty certain he could have come up with a better and far more favourable adaptation of the story.

"And that's the very same colour he went that day too," Ballders boomed and pointed at Barret's face. "Although I can't know why, it's not as if anyone took any notice of ye."

They all laughed.... and they all continued to eat.

After some chit chat about how the four of them had come to be in his house so late that night, Ballders finally looked upon the little pig-boy to his left and grimaced.

"So," he said, "ye have so far failed to tell me where young riff raff here fits into the picture."

The other three looked at each other across the table before Billy answered.

"He says he knows about an old sage he can take us to."

All eyes went to Ballders who simply held a blank expression upon his face.

"What we were hoping for," Barret jumped in and said, "my good friend, was a loan of four of your best burros."

"Four of me best?" Ballders laughed. "Four of me best go to town officials, or business magnates, high standing merchants, or women having babies, a favoured lady perhaps or me own child." He paused. "Not to any two bit trader for a fugitive, a wee stranger in town, assemble yer own woman and pudgy piglet.... No, ye can have four of me worst and that's me best."

"For ye," he rasped, poking Briar in the arm with a finger almost as long as Briar's arm itself, "ye can have me very youngest rascal burro called Baby, the little hybrid beast he is." He poked Briar in the arm again and laughed, "Just like ye. The perfect match ye'll be. The rest of ye can have his brothers. Don't care too if I lose them ones."

"And what makes you think we'll lose them?" Barret asked.

Ballders' laugh boomed across the table, "Because anyone who puts trust in wee piggy Briar here," he slapped Briar on the shoulder and sent him reeling forward in his seat, "is destined for trouble, and ye of all should know that Barret. Ye've seen his play in the markets. Nasty little beggar he is."

By now Billy was fed up. He was fed up with the insults, he was fed up with the oversized spoon he had to push through his lips to get anything to eat, and he was simply fed up with the big crotchety hooligan that sat at the opposing end of the table.

As Ballders continued to laugh and the others remained silent, including Briar who had come across as someone ready to wage a war of words against anyone, Billy's anger burst. He pushed himself from the table and stood up, a little less menacing maybe than he had hoped for considering his stature hadn't changed that much in comparison, and defended Briar confidently.

"And out of everyone I have met so far," he challenged, "Briar is the only one who has given me any chance of getting answers."

"Answers to what?" Ballders retaliated, "The same things which have plagued young Barret here for all his days? The same things he has spent half his days looking for someone who might give _him_ answers? So why hasn't this _sage_ been mentioned before? Why hasn't anyone else told Barret about him? Why is it that pig-boy here is the only one who appears to know anything about him? Huh?"

Ballders' voice was louder than Billy's, and convincing in its argument, but Billy had one remaining weapon – hope. So far his only hope was with Briar, and that became the defining point to the rest of the conversation.

"Ye will have yer burros as promised," Ballders now said gladly, "and ye will ride out before the new day begins. I shall give ye previsions and a meal before ye leave."

So with that said the dinner conversation came to a close. Ballders tidied his guest's empty bowls, collected their spoons and removed them to the kitchen. He then left the room to re-enter shortly after with an armful of blankets which he casually tossed over the back of a chair.

"There is ample room in here for ye all to sleep," he announced. "Pick a piece of furniture, given ye can find them under all the cushions."

Billy took two blankets and passed one to Cetra who smiled and winked at him. Barret followed suit, taking the other two blankets, and passed one to Briar, who also smiled and winked. This, of course, had the desired effect as Briar was quickly flogged across the head with a rumpled blanket.

By now Ballders had adjourned to his own quarters, having said his " _good night and don't let the topeys bite"_. Lights were dashed and darkness came between them. They each settled down amongst the cushions and welcomed sleep.

### CHAPTER TEN

Below the merchant's house, where in the small unmeasured moments of the dark morning was heard by no one the faint click of a door and the hardly delicate footsteps on loose dirt, a quiet town stood.

It wasn't a cold night, but still a regiment of chimneys exhaled pillars of smoke as the final embers began to die down in the fire places beneath them, casting an orange glow out through windows and onto the streets.

On one side street three Humps remained standing around a metal box radiating flame and heat. Each held a long metal fork into the fire and their conversation went something like this:

"Dajawinkmarsosarjisdum?"

"Ardarntnoolwhappitutnwilavealuke."

Which loosely translated would sound something like:

"Do you think my sausage is done?"

"I don't know. Whip it out and we'll have a look."

To which ensued a trio of laughter that if witnessed by an outsider may have been mistaken for an angry altercation.

Afterwards, their lumps no longer heaving with the effort of laughter, they took to their barbecued meat portions, biting into them with simple, disgusting pleasure and spurting fat from between their thin lips. Grease dribbled from the corners of their mouths and ran down their chins, to which each one in turn pulled from a fold in their body a cloth that was quickly used to wipe themselves clean. Humps were not commonly regarded as the best mannered of creatures on the plain, but they were amongst the cleanest.

From the lower end of the street there came a sound of short, quick footsteps on loose stones. Humps 1, 2 and 3 finished dabbing their chins and hurriedly returned the handkerchiefs to the folds in their skin.

They welcomed the shadow which approached them and spoke to it in length.

### CHAPTER ELEVEN

It was not yet light out when Ballders set a hearty breakfast on the table for them all. Provisions had already been made and the four burros packed and ready to go.

Cetra was the first to bounce out from beneath her soft throw as the three of them were roused by the clink and clamour of pots and utensils.

"Good morning," she announced in the semi-lit room, "I hope everybody did sleep well."

The question was met with a groan, a moan, a sucking back of drool, and a sneeze. If it weren't for the light directly shining from the kitchen recess into Billy's eyes the sneeze may not have eventuated, but it certainly did help to wake him up all the quicker; that accompanied with the delicious smells of breakfast of course.

From another part of the room where it still remained quite dark, Barret sat upright with the blanket wrapped around his shoulders and wiped his chin with the back of his hand. He grimaced at the touch of cold drool and quickly rubbed it away with the corner of the blanket, thankful of the darkness that hid the slippery string draped between his lips and his fingers.

"Where is Briar?" came Cetra's voice again into the awakening room.

"Making nonsense I suspect," Ballders announced with a bellow and a good morning smile to-boot.

At the opposite end of the room, closest to the way they had originally entered, the seat which Briar had chose to go to sleep on was empty; barring a pile of cushions and a single blanket.

"That'd be right. The little pig-faced brat," Barret cursed, "The mongrel makes plans and then bales. Why I ought...."

"I'm sure he's around," Billy cut in calmly, but glared at the tall figure in the shadows.

Barret rubbed his eyes with closed fists and winced slightly at having pressed too hard. He used his fingers as a comb and ran them through his hair, which oddly enough remained sticking up anyway. He was hungry and couldn't have cared less how the others might react to his blatant distaste toward Briar. Briar was untrustworthy, plain and simple; and he was cheeky, and who knows what he was up to taking off in the middle of the night.

Billy on the other hand was willing to give Briar the benefit of the doubt; mind you, what choice did he have? He wanted to see where the adventure was going to take him next. Not that he in any way really trusted the pig-faced kid either, but Briar had become the key player in this new direction to the journey.

Cetra's opinion of Briar was simple, she liked him; but then, Cetra _did like everyone._

It was about that time when Briar quietly appeared in the doorway, his pudgy silhouette catching everyone's eyes as it hesitated before entering the room.

"Good morning me young fella, and welcome back," Ballders said with his large voice, crushing the silence, "Would ye like a spot of breakfast?"

"Breakfast, yum," came the reply, a slurp of saliva evident in his words.

Barret stepped forward and grabbed Briar's fat little arm as he made toward the table.

"Where have you been?" he growled, leaning down to just above the level of Briar's face.

Briar caught the disdain but was hardly affected by it. He lifted his pokey hand to Barret's head and patted down his hair. "You look like a scarecrow," he said calmly.

Barrett smacked away the hand, "I'll give _you_ scarecrow...." he grated, his fist quickly held before Briar's face.

"For goodness sake," Billy reacted from the other side of the room, "would you two just shut up for once."

Barret let go of Briar's arm and pushed him away. In doing so Briar lost his footing, slipped on a rug and fell on his bottom. This of course was funny, but Barret was the only one who laughed.

"So where _have_ you been?" Billy reiterated the question.

"No," Briar said defiantly, standing up again and dusting off his backside. He pointed at the tall Irishman who had assaulted him. "I want _him_ to ask."

"I _did_ ask," Barret hissed.

"But you didn't ask nicely."

"What? You're kidding me?"

"You want to know where I was. You ask me nicely."

"Just do it!" Billy said, calling the game Briar was playing.

As the head of his own household, which generally equated to only the one head for most of the time, Ballders perceived the current situation as getting slightly out of hand, so after a moment of thought he quickly stepped in with a new course of action.

"Shut up the lot of ye," he boomed and then slammed the wooden bowl he was holding down onto the table, causing its silky yellow contents to spill out over his hand.

The immediate reaction from everyone was one of surprise, and then Ballders' steely gaze appeared to provoke some fear in them all. This was a great effect. Now having gained their full attention Ballders unsympathetically demanded from Briar his previous whereabouts.

"I...." Briar began, then immediately looked at his feet, "I had to let my mother know where I am...."

"Rubbish!" Ballders scoffed from behind his hand. "That's good enough for me, and I accept yer explanation on behalf of everyone else in me house. Now let's eat."

Having commanded their full attention and taken complete control of the events at hand, Ballders was quite happy with the ensuing prospects of finishing breakfast and getting rid of these four creatures from his home.

### CHAPTER TWELVE

The burros were no different to any Billy had ever seen before, that being none. In fact, he had no idea what a burro even was. For all he knew it could have been a twelve legged arachnid with a broken wing saddled up and ready to ride. The creatures that were stabled before him though were simply donkeys with a difference.

Ballders had guided the party of four down the path from his house to the stables, where at the opposite side of the fenced off paddock there was a narrow gate which opened out into the wilderness.

"It is here that we part ways me good fellows," he said with a hint of sadness in his voice.

"Indeed, we thank you greatly for your hospitality," Billy answered quite eloquently with a smile.

Ballders scowled. "I was talking to me burros actually."

"Oh," Billy said and looked away. "Do they talk back?" he quipped.

"Aye, they do for sure, but they won't be talking to any of ye lot."

"Why's that?"

"Because I've advised them not to."

Ballders shook his head and started back up the path toward his house. It was still dark by the time the four of them and their burros had reached the gate, and by the time they had all exited Ballders' property in a single file the first light of day was glowing on the horizon.

So.... Onward they trekked.

Briar led the way atop Baby, who just for a laugh, alongside his brothers, had thrown the chubby pig-boy first in the stable and then again just outside the doors. He knew he had a journey to take and he liked to take long walks, so he figured he would hold back on any more throwing until the opportune moment when they were all far enough away that there was no threat of being replaced by one of the more courteous animals in the event that piggy might take to squealing.

Following up behind Briar were Cetra and Billy bouncing along atop of two burros to which no names had yet been spoken of. Although such was the case, for the sake of the burros' part, they were known as Tap and Shovel. Tap being the bearer of Billy and Shovel barely bearing the lighter weight of Cetra.

The fourth burro which carried the Irish weight of Barret was oddly named Stern; possibly given to him because of his personal tendency to remain at the rear of the party.

As the day progressed the terrain hardly altered. By the time night came again they had set up camp.

"Travelled a whole boring day and nothing to show 'cept a sore saddle," Barret complained.

They sat around a blazing fire which Billy had built for them all and ate the leftovers of last night's stew so graciously prepared for them by their odd friend Ballders.

"Did I say it was just around the corner?" Briar answered sarcastically.

"I did enjoy my day very much," Cetra spoke to disperse the prospective argument. "It was very relaxing, and my burro was very comfortable. He even whispered his name to me. But I cannot tell you what it is because I promised I would not. He does think he might get in trouble from his brothers because they were told not to talk to us. But I have never had trouble getting anyone to talk to me." Cetra finished with a spoonful of stew. She was very happy to be in such wonderful company.

The three boys continued to stare in silence, and then they all took a spoonful of stew at the same time.

"This is a good fire Billy," Briar complemented, reaching his stubby hand out to warm it.

"Back home I was a boy scout," Billy said.

"Back home everyone was a boy scout," Barret said.

"So what is a boy scout? Thank you boys," Cetra asked with a giggle.

For the next seven hundred and twenty hands or thereabouts, the conversation centred round Billy's stories of everything from knot tying to abseiling, from orienteering to camping, from archery to canoeing; all the things that were typically exciting about scouting were touched upon. Badges, friendships, ghost stories, bonfires, pigeons....

"Pigeons?" questioned Barret.

"Our troop had its own pigeons," Billy answered, "we used to race them."

"What is a pigeon that you can race it?" asked Cetra.

"It's a bird."

By now Briar was on the edge of his seat.... or dirt, either way he was evidently excited over the stories of boy-scoutdom. "If you told a bird to race here," he shrieked and snorted, "it'd tell _you_ where to go."

Barret agreed with a nod and an _uh-huh,_ which was a real surprise considering the lack of common ground between himself and the pig-boy. "Animals here think they have a right to voice their opinions just because they can talk," he said, "and just because they _can_ talk they think that we have an obligation to actually listen to them."

"But," Billy started, "half the people I've seen here look like animals. I mean, partly like animals. Like Briar."

"I do not," Briar protested.

"Yes you do," Barret said, casting aside that common ground.

Briar pounced to his feet, which was rather a humorous sight, and stared up at Barret who was still seated. "No I don't," he yelled," Make me you topey stupid."

"Make you what? You look like a pig."

"Oh." Briar fell silent for a moment and sat back on the ground. "I thought you meant an _animal_ animal."

The three of them, Barret, Billy and Cetra, eyeballed one another and grinned. They allowed the moment to pass and Barret made a wise choice to let the opportunity for argument go, which was much to the approval of Billy and Cetra.

As the previous conversation got underway once again, Billy was able to say little before Barret jumped in with his own sarcastic rendition and memories of helping grannies across the road, washing cars and selling biscuits, mowing other people's lawns and raking up other people's leaves. He fed their senses with the things he had hated the most about being a boy scout, but which he'd been forced to endure by his father who had been a scout leader.

This in turn led the other three to turn away and fall asleep.

### CHAPTER THIRTEEN

The next morning a big yellow sun glared down from a light blue sky upon four campers who continued to sleep circled around the smouldering remains of a fire.

From the eye level of a small, very inquisitive and very hungry desert mouse, the scene appeared very quiet and very safe. Although the blanket covered lumps did make some rather odd noises, as well as heave up and down with their breathing, the mouse scurried in amongst them with barely a glance backwards. The dirt beneath his feet was pebbly and slightly damp from the little morning dew which had gathered just before sun up, giving him the perfect opportunity to lick several rocks and get enough moisture to constitute an essential drink, before latching his claws into one of the blanketed lumps and climbing to higher ground. Up there he could survey his surroundings. Just a short distance away there were four burros talking quietly amongst themselves; one raised its nose in his direction, but he paid it no mind. What did appeal to his senses was the plate of sloppy leftover food sitting beside the smouldering camp fire.

The little desert mouse sniffed the air and preened his whiskers before taking a wild dive back to the ground. He ran but tripped on a sharp stone, cutting his foot. Blood seeped out quickly and he bent down on his haunches to lick the wound for a short moment before making the short dash once more toward the plate of food. Almost there he slipped atop the very pebble he had intended to pull himself up upon and flew across the rim of the plate where he landed with his front feet and nose embedded in a congealed pool of reddish brown gravy.

"Yuck!" he gasped, before licking his lips and tasting it.

"Yuck!" he repeated immediately afterwards.

Toward the middle of the plate was a large chunk of carrot, but he would have to wade his way through the gravy to get to it; so he did. He got to his feet and tip toed as best he could through the murky reddish brown pool toward the bright orange vegetable.

The carrot was soft on his teeth.

He smiled.

Cetra, who had in fact awoken at the same time a small mouse had been glancing around from atop of Barret's covered hip, was still giggling beneath her blanket from the first time the furry animal had taken a tumble in the dirt. She tried not to disturb the mouse but Cetra's wide eyes had the astonishing ability to capture the attention of even the smallest of creatures.

"Hey!" said the mouse, pulling his nose from the hole he'd chewed into the side of the soft orange vegetable. He looked at her and sniffed the air.

"Hey yourself," she said back and pulled the blanket away from her face.

The mouse buried his nose again in the hole and took another mouthful. He continued to eat, having decided that the big eyed girl was not a threat.

"How is your breakfast little mouse?" Cetra asked.

"Lovely...." he said, spitting orange flecks across the plate.

Appearing slightly embarrassed he raised his front paw to steady the girl from speaking again until he had eaten his fill.

"Oh, of course," she said, "I am very sorry, I did interrupt you. Please continue."

That said, and several hands later, the mouse, having indeed had his fill, waddled toward a large rock and struggled to its rounded peak.

"Good morning," he said with a contented smile and a rub of his now expanded belly.

"Good morning little mouse. My name is Cetra."

The animal stood on his back legs and raised a paw to the girl.

"I am Rod," he responded, "Rod Dent, happy to meet you."

Cetra reached out and took the extended paw between her thumb and finger, shook it once and let go. She pushed the blanket aside and sat up crossing her legs.

"I am very happy to meet you too, Rod," she said, "Are you thirsty?"

"A little, a drop of water would be nice."

She reached for her canteen and poured some water into her cupped palm.

"You may have to climb onto my hand, Rod," she said calmly, "are you alright with that?"

Rod bravely, though awkwardly, leapt onto Cetra's long fingers and began to drink.

Thus a bond was created.

It was discovered that Rod was alone on this wide plain. Sure he had friends, but no real family. He was a nomad, a wanderer, he scurried around and around. Cetra invited him to come along with them, if just for a while.

"You can ride on my shoulder," she said, "because I do not have a pocket."

Rod was grateful for the invitation.

"Thank you my dear, that would be splendid," he said and proceeded to carefully run up Cetra's outstretched arm and perch himself up on her shoulder.

A short time after that the other three woke up and grumbled about the brightness of the sun shining in their eyes, burning them, and making Billy sneeze. They ate breakfast, a large grain cake of sorts, noticed the mouse on Cetra's shoulder and commented on it, then gathered the packs together for their continued journey.

As before, Briar rode up front. He was a bit disgruntled and slightly embarrassed at having been thrown by Baby once more into the dust, and he had a right mind to smack the burro in the head if he'd been able to reach at all without having to jump. Jumping was not a strong point for Briar; his small rounded body was simply incapable of facilitating the action.

Up next rode Barret. He was still chuckling at the image of Briar flying to the ground.

Billy and Cetra rode side by side at the rear.

"You do realise he's having a lend of you?" Billy said.

Cetra turned and smiled at him questioningly.

"The mouse...! Rod Dent...? Come on."

"What do you mean Billy?"

Rod, who had latched onto the back of Cetra's shirt to come across from one shoulder to the other, now looked directly at Billy.

"First name Rodney, family name Dent, what is so hard to understand about that, young man?"

"Rod Dent.... Rodent...! Don't you see? Don't you get it?"

Billy stared at their bewildered faces.

"Ugh," he sounded in disgust and trotted ahead and away from their ignorance.

It wasn't too long into the day, an approximate 2220 hands for that matter that they came to the bank of a sandy flat. Across the flat and far into the distance they could see a rise, or a cliff face, and to each side a sea of continuous sand fed into the horizon. There was no sign of life, except for a lone vaulthawk circling high above their heads; which was just a big, ugly scavenger bird, but it had beautiful wings and perfect gliding prowess.

Obviously Baby was the first to stop, being at the front and all. Stern, having approached from behind and become so involved in the mood of their slow and droll trek through the wilderness, continued on only to plunge his nose into the rump of his little brother, which sent Baby stumbling forward and beyond the threshold of sand. To Baby's horror his front hooves penetrated the gritty surface and dug in deep; which in effect also sent Briar flying forward and over the burro's head to land face first in the sand.

This simple though clumsy event received a chorus of laughter and a cheer from Cetra who announced excitedly, "You are funny, Briar."

Briar on the other hand got to his feet, spat sand and waded his way back to hard ground. He did not utter a word, though the entire episode did serve to highlight the following rather important information:

"Soft sand," Barret said matter-of-factly.

"Why does it matter?" asked Cetra.

"The burros will sink into the sand as they walk," Barret answered.

There was a sudden shuffling of hooves and an awkward glance between the four brothers.

"Where exactly are you taking us, Briar?" Billy asked.

Briar wiped the last of the grit from his mouth before responding. "Up there," he said and pointed toward the cliff beyond the sandy flat.

"Ok then, let's get going." Barret was now impatient and prompted the burro beneath him to move forward. The suggestion to walk across the sand though was not at all in Stern's best interest; he refused to move, as did his brothers.

"Not going across that," the burro said sternly, "there's evil afoot in there."

Barret glared down at the burro's head which had turned to look at him. "This is no time to be disobeying your master and start speaking now," he said.

"Do you see Ballders around anywhere?" Stern retorted.

"You're just a burro," Barret spoke commandingly. "You've all been entrusted to us, so you'll do what we say."

"Get lost you big topey," Baby yelled back hard and jumped up and down several times while he snorted.

In the sudden din that followed tempers flared and male voices dominated. Briar and Barret were able to find that once already lost common ground again and toss their differences aside, Baby and Stern found themselves defending the very essence of their burroness, and Billy and Tap remained unheard in their gentle attempt to promote peace.

Apart from all this carry-on, Shovel stood quietly to one side and allowed Cetra to brush the hair between his ears with her fingers. He was quite oblivious to all else, his eyes were closed and his lips curled; so when Cetra gently prompted him with a nudge of her knees to move forward and onto the sand he simply, and almost hypnotically, obeyed.

It wasn't before they were a good few lengths in that the commotion behind them suddenly stopped and a familiar older brother's voice broke the moment's silence.

"What do you think you're doing?" Stern shouted, his voice cracked with the pain of his brother's betrayal.

"Don't do it bro," Baby added, "You'll die out there."

Yet Shovel continued on, each step sinking into the sand further than he would have preferred, but all the while never bothering to turn back to his brothers.

"You are very brave Shovel," Cetra spoke softly to her burro, her fingers stroking the backs of his ears now.

"Yes indeed," Rod complimented, "you have done this company a great service."

"Nooo...." Shovel shook his head lazily, "I'm just tired of being bossed around by them all the time. They think they're so smart, but I can make up my own mind. Who are the scaredy ones now?"

"Good call, young man," Rod praised commandingly. He stood tall and clenched his paw at the sandy path which lay ahead. "Soldier on."

### CHAPTER FOURTEEN

A fl is just one of many particularly odd creatures indigenous to the plains of Bradley. Being of the insect variety it is roughly the size of a topey's bottom two segments and pretty much the same colour as well. It has a single concaved wing attached behind a pair of bulbous black eyes; which incidentally make up approximately three quarters of its entire body. The wing is so shaped as to capture any present air currents, thus propelling it randomly within the grips of the wind. If the wind were to die down at all the fl, being filled with a gas lighter than air, would remain suspended. This of course is not without its flaws, being that its wing is not particularly designed for flying but more so for sailing. If the fl were in a position where the flapping of its single wing was its only means of propulsion, it would quickly tire from the effort, lose the will to live, and die. Also, if it were unfortunate enough to come into contact with the ground at any time its two, oddly shaped and stumpy legs are so incapable of doing anything that might help its very survival that again, it would simply lose the will to live and die. In turn, with all this _losing the will to live and dying_ going on, the mortality rate of the fl is indeed very low; so it appears to be a positive attribute for the insect that its entire reproductive cycle takes place over a single day. In fact, shortly after conception the larvae themselves are able to conceive even within the host's abdomen before birth, which gives rise to babies popping out babies.

In this particular instance, and on this particular day, occurring at a rather small outcrop of stone and shrubbery atop one of Bradley's higher plains, a tiny band of five young fl had recklessly become entangled within the vortex of an uncompromising cross wind and suddenly found themselves hurtling toward a bright blue sky over an horizon that seemed awfully close.

Each fl had been taught the fundamentals of a concept known as evasive action, but with only one wing, a pathetic pair of useless legs, and no actual ability to steer themselves, such knowledge seemed quite trivial. On the other hand, the very idea of gliding dangerously into the unknown was so exciting that when they finally curled over the edge of the cliff to plummet with the downward rush of air, their tiny screams proved to be the product of thrills rather than fear.

In the ensuing moments our tiny team of five experienced a quick succession of the many and varied rock formations that could be found in the side of a cliff; but far more extraordinary was the whole sensation of having their eyeballs feel as though they were about to pop out through their backsides.

As they continued to dive they each felt a sense of freedom, a contented sense of having conquered the mountain and defeated the Hump. Indeed, they felt invincible; so as they approached the bottom of the cliff they cheered a tiny cheer and were safely scooped forward by the curved ledge banking the sandy plain. From there they sped quickly, up and over the dunes, a moment of blue sky and then a moment of yellow sand, rising and falling, propelled by the rapids of wind.

How striking the terrain was, how wonderful the experience as they rode the dune toward the sky, lifting their eyes toward the sun and smiling with gladness in their hearts. Only at the very top did their excitement wain, for after the striking glare from the sun had blinded them for just the briefest of moments, so then suddenly there was only darkness.

### CHAPTER FIFTEEN

Briar closed his eyes and yawned at the sky.

It just so happened that, quite by coincidence, a tiny swarm of insects, having been blown up by the wind, came to a sudden and surprising halt at the back of Briar's throat. His immediate reaction was to gag and cough, then convulsively lurch forward in his saddle, the reflex helping to hock the gritty mass back up and onto his tongue.

It tasted good.

"Hmm," Briar hummed to himself and swallowed back again, satisfied with the final product.

When his (less than) trusty ride, Baby, had rounded the top of this last dune, Briar recalled something of the past. It was about the time that Baby had thrown him to the ground last and the ensuing moments thereafter. There had been a nasty fight break out, a war of words, a beating of breasts. Briar considered how a burro would look trying to beat its own breast and laughed. Then there was the mutiny, the lower dog breaking through superior ranks and seizing control, the dog's very silence demanding respect, leaving no room but for his comrades to forfeit their pleas and follow. He led them boldly into the unknown, where no burro had gone before; no one questioned his leadership for he had shown strength where all others had not.

Briar was pleased.

At the front of the party Shovel questioned Cetra.

"Do you think I was wrong? Do you think I should have listened to them? I mean, they are my brothers, and they're smarter than me."

"I think, Shovel, that sometimes the smartest one in the room is he who does not say anything at all."

"And," Rod added, "you are testing yourself when you follow your own instincts."

"I guess," Shovel said dully, "But we aren't in a room and I don't really know what either of you are talking about; but I guess so."

"Anyway, Shovel," Cetra continued, "we are almost there and it has not been so bad. Maybe a little hard on your feet, or soft, but we are all safe."

Both Shovel and Rod nodded their heads in agreement.

It was about that same time that a swift _whooshing_ sound immediately followed by an odd _gurgle_ presented itself from behind, as if someone had pulled the plug on this enormous ocean of sand. Cetra stopped and turned when she heard Billy's familiar scream.

Billy was in the air, almost suspended for the briefest of moments. Beneath him the sand swirled and dipped, almost whirlpool like, and hot air wiggled upwards. Present was a smell around them that could only be described as that of bad breath.

The _gurgle_ sounded again, then a _crunch_ , and from that a short ripple of sand erupted from the underground, splashing as far as Briar and nearly knocking him off his burro.

Billy came to land inside the depression that was left behind, and for a moment all was still. He checked for bits missing to find all was intact; his pants, his boots, shirt and jacket, the box with his trusty iron inside, and all his limbs were still securely attached. He looked up from his hole to see that his friends were now looking down upon him.

"Stop playing around Billy," Barret called out from atop Stern. "Hey, where'd you put your burro?"

From beneath Billy's bottom there erupted a loud, gritty _burp_ which affected the sand around him in such a way as to make it shake and dance upwards into the air for a duration of no less than one and a half hands. Being in the midst of such a vile tremor Billy suddenly felt dirty and wanted so desperately to bathe the rancid smell from his body. Also, having felt the moment had gone on for far too long now, he stood up and decided to say something, more out of shock than fear.

"What was that?"

The question wasn't really put out there to retrieve an answer, in fact, the less known about such a creature that can dwell under the sand and emerge to just beneath the surface for a quick snack of burro meat the better.

"What I'd like to know is," Barret said, "why did it spit Billy out? I mean, I'm glad it did, but why?"

"It could probably smell him," Briar said, "You people stink."

Though through these recent events the ones who had lost their brother suddenly felt very pressed to move on toward the base of the cliff where they could retreat to the safety of a rocky ledge. So without any prompting this time they turned and did just that, but without a word, they travelled in silent remorse.

"Hey, wait for me," Billy shouted from behind and started to run as best he could in the soft sand to catch up.

Cetra stayed her burro with a pat on the ear and a kind word. She glanced backwards over her shoulder and over Rod's head to see Billy stumbling. "You will ride with us, Billy," she called out.

"Yes, come on lad, jump on now. Quick," Rod added.

With several laboured strides across the sand dune Billy reached out to rest his hand on Shovel's backside and quickly catch a breath. He shifted his box from one side to the other so that it was out of the way when he hoisted himself onto the burro's back just behind Cetra. That very action having been achieved with a grunt and the slightly intrusive addition of a spine in a most awkward position, they continued forward, moving up and down with the line of sand dunes, ever attempting to catch up to the others.

Before long they were indeed stepping up from sand onto the hard stone at the base of the cliff.

"So what now, pig-face?" Barret said.

Briar pointed a stubby finger into the air.

Barret grimaced.

Billy said, "That's all good and well, Briar, but how?"

Briar dropped himself from the back of his ride and landed on the stone in a squatting position, which really wasn't that much different to when he was standing. From there he launched himself erect, slipped, stumbled, and found himself once again sprawled over the sand.

"Do we all have to do that to get up the cliff?" Cetra quipped.

Briar didn't see the funny side, which was contrary to everybody else. "Ha ha, you funny pack of topey dung drops," he spat while moving quickly back to the ledge and dusting himself off.

After the final gasp of laughter had echoed and died across the vast sandy plain, Briar answered Billy's question. "There's steps in the cliff just up there," he said and pointed his stubby finger again.

The three remaining burros stirred uneasily.

"Well what are we waiting for?" Barret said impatiently and easily jumped off Stern in one fluid movement. "Let's go."

Billy was also quick off the mark, gladly hopping down from the tongue and groove hold of Shovel's back bone and grabbing onto Cetra's hand while she too took to the ground.

"So what do _we_ do?" Stern said, his voice considerably more high pitched than anticipated.

Barret turned to Briar who turned to Barret and shrugged.

"There's a town closer up there than coming back down again," Briar spoke quietly.

Stern had already wagered that he would have more chance of being swallowed up by some weird thing in the desert than being capable of climbing a staircase in the side of a cliff; and having determined this so earnestly, figured only too well the dastardly fate which was about to befall him and his brothers.

"Go home," Barret said after clearing his throat.

"You what?" Baby shrieked and nipped the air. "I'm not going back across that."

Stern reflected on his thoughts for a moment, and having calmed his demeanour in advance, was already prepared to reassure his two younger brothers.

"We'll walk this ledge until we get out of the sand," he said.

"But that's heaps long. Look," Baby protested, gesturing his nose along the line of the cliff face.

"Only as far as our eyes can see, and you're shorter than us so you can't see as far."

"Smart-ass."

Now....

Not only does a burro possess the ability to find its way home from any point on the plain, it is also capable of sustaining itself during longer treks by feeding on the ear cartilage of its companions. In fact, a burro's travel history can be relatively measured by the line of scar tissue on its ear, for shortly after an ear has been chewed off it begins to grow back again, so an entire earflap can actually return, quite magically, overnight.

This rather embarrassing survival option, stumbled upon accidentally very many days previous when a prominent historical burret – or female burro – happened to find herself engaged in a disagreeable position with her mate and in anger subsequently chewed his ear off, led to the simple but survival orientated saying, _never travel alone._ For when you take all of this into account it would be difficult to see how a burro could possibly be capable of eating its own ears.

"Typical," Baby yelled back as the three of them turned into their long journey home. "Used and abused, treated like animals and dumped like topey turds...."

In fact, Baby could be heard mumbling his disgust well into the distance, until eventually, and gratefully, it ceased.

On the other hand, Shovel departed with a hop in his hoof, for the farewell grace he received from Cetra and Rod was thick and rich, dipped in honey and topped off with a warm candied radish. Oh Shovel and his happy thoughts.

Shortly after all this and that, the five companions took it in turn to step up and over the threshold of a naturally cut staircase zigzagging its way up to the top of the cliff face. Assuredly Briar did appear to know where he was going, which by all accounts had been doubtful at times.

The stairs were easily ascended, being wide underfoot, flat and only slightly raised one above the other. Each landing opened up a new zig in the zag with each line gradually overhanging the previous in keeping with the sheerness of the cliff face; it robbed them of the visual perspective their climb had taken and showed them nothing of what was to come.

None but one was tempted to brave the edge, most opting for the view from the wall. Beyond their safe surrounding structure of stone was nothing but air, an untouchable void feared by all, except for Rod who, in only one instance asked to be let down so he could quickly run to the edge where he gasped in astonishment and then quickly retreated back to the safety of Cetra's shoulder.

As they continued on now weary from the climb, a fluttering shadow appeared across the sun. It moved slowly and changed shape regularly, tossing and turning in the air and doubling back upon itself, but all the while still maintaining its course toward the cliff.

"What sort of birds are they?" Billy asked.

"Black birds," Barret answered.

"They look red to me," Billy corrected.

Barret looked again and shrugged.

Indeed, the noisy flock of black birds, which were red in colour and only distinguishable to their name by the small dot of black feathers hidden under their right wing, was headed directly for them and was now actually almost upon them already.

"Press yourselves against the wall," Briar yelled over the noise.

"Let's throw pig-boy over to them as a sacrifice," Barret screamed, "They could pick him up and carry him away."

"Hide under my shirt," Cetra squealed at Rod.

The noise grew to an almost deafening roar, but just as it looked like the birds were about to smash their heads into the cliff face the entire gathering quickly arced upwards like a stream of wind moving in accordance with the terrain; and for an odd moment, as their wings ceased to flap and they glided effortlessly into their ascent, it was almost silent.

Although the moment was only a small fraction of time, it certainly was a memorable one; to Billy it was a vision and sensation that would remain with him forever.

When the final stragglers approached clumsily in a bid to catch up to the flock, Billy stepped forward and pointed at them, but before he could utter the words he meant to speak, Briar screamed at him.

"Don't point."

"Why?"

"You'll punch a hole in the air and the birds will fly in and get lost."

"Huh?"

In fact, at the precise moment that Billy did point his finger, the same bird he had intended to comment on just happened to fly by much closer than anticipated; it flapped its wings casually, gave a sudden startled look, and fell into nothing, the _nothing_ being the very hole that Billy had inadvertently created by pointing his finger in the air. There was an old saying on Bradley, which was often misused, misinterpreted, or just missed entirely altogether, _if you don't like a bird, point at it and tell it to get lost._ The whole phenomenon was simply strange, and one which went on record as never having been figured out as yet.

Pressing on, they each realised that there was little of the stairs left above them, for they could now actually make out the top of the cliff. So without incident or any more conversation, they zigzagged upwards, step by step, breath by breath, counting it all joy these final moments before conquering the mountain.

When they had trodden the top step and surveyed the flat ground before them they rested, if only for a moment, before Briar stepped forward, stretched out his arms toward a shrub and proclaimed, "Here we are. There's your old sage."

### CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Silence.

Around this silence a light breeze blew quietly, it rustled the bushes that obscured what appeared to be the only opening through the rocks which created an enclosure atop the cliff face. It was a wide space, scattered with many boulders and shrubs, but it was one particular shrub that had caught their full attention.

The plant which grew before them between two rocks was indeed a sage, with its square, woody stems opening out to a mass of velvety grey-green leaves and a mixture of pink and white flowers sprouting above the lot. It was apparently more than 18250 days old, or so Briar reckoned, which in comparison to other shrubs of its type did indeed make it seem quite old.

"You better be joking," Barret said angrily and smacked Briar across the head with his forehand.

Briar lurched forward on his feet, then turned awkwardly and launched himself at Barret who easily caught him by the shoulders and forced him backwards again.

"You rotten little snake," Barret yelled, "What'd you expect we'd think, the bush would burst into flames and start talking to us?"

"No. It was just a joke."

"Stupid joke. Long way to come for just a stupid joke."

"But I thought it would be funny."

"Up yours pig boy, joke's on you now. Roll your sleeves up."

Barret rolled his sleeves up like the Irish lout wannabe he wanted to be and made a dash for Briar who had, in hindsight, already started to run away.

In the background Billy stood quietly staring at the sage bush. He felt robbed, and so was torn between the ideas of watching Barret tear Briar apart, or stopping Barret from tearing Briar apart. In the end it was the latter that won the day.

"Would you two just give it a rest," he said loudly but without emotion. "Who's really losing out here, huh? Me. That's right. So stop your slapping and get over yourselves."

"Yay Billy, you tell them," Cetra cheered in support.

Barret and Briar stopped in their tracks and sluggishly rejoined the group, their heads held low so as to avoid looking at each other.

"Where do we go from here?" Billy now asked expectantly.

"Yeah, pig-face, what were your plans after this?"

Briar shrugged.

"You idiot," Barret chided.

"Why do we not just go to the next town?" Cetra suggested.

"Good idea," Billy agreed.

"What about you Cetra, can you feel the place?"

"What place, Barret?"

"The place with the pillars?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes."

"What's the place he's talking about?" Rod whispered into her ear.

"A happy place. You would probably find a lot of cheese there."

Thus they were all in agreement; they would make their way to the next town and from there on, who knew?

"We should rest first," Briar suggested.

"Lazy...."

"Great idea," Billy said, quickly intercepting Barret's foul tongue. "I'm pretty worn out after that climb."

Cetra moved a bit closer to the edge of the cliff and sat on a rock facing out; she and Rod could be heard chatting softly in the background. The three boys verily dropped where they stood, Billy and Briar leant against a rock each while Barret laid flat on his back with his hands tucked behind his head.

"I think I'm a bit hungry," Barret mumbled, wincing at the brightness of the sun.

"Should've cut the ears off the burros before they left," Briar said.

"That's gross."

"Have you ever had them?"

"No, and I don't intend on trying neither."

"They're nice crisped over a fire."

Barret gagged, "You're disgusting."

Billy sat back with his eyes closed and listened without interest. He was tired and fed up and simply wanted to go home, but he was now even one step quite further away from that very idea. When he opened his eyes again his two companions were quiet; Barret appeared to have fallen asleep and Briar was staring in the direction of the opening near the bushes.

To Billy's left was the old sage bush, still moving slightly with the breeze.

In a bid to get Briar's attention, Billy waved a hand at the sage and posed the question, "So what's it do?"

Briar turned quickly and with a dribble of saliva in the corner of his mouth said, "It makes a mean Burtle Stew."

"Oh, do I really want to know?"

"Fermented beetroot and turtle," Briar continued excitedly and licked his lips, "Yum."

### CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Four weary travellers and a desert mouse named Rod lay asleep in the dirt at the top of a cliff. Within the spacious confines of their rocky enclosure with its one opening, aside from the stairs, nary a sound could be heard beyond the quiet gurgle snoring that resinated from Briar's body. Toward the edge of the cliff Rod lay comfortably nestled under Cetra's chin, his breathing was relaxed and his little paws twitched in the warmth of the sun.

Barret hadn't moved, still with his hands behind his head he lay flat on his back, though his face held a strange smirk, as though his thoughts were somehow sadistic in nature.

Billy, who had fallen asleep against the rock he'd leant on, woke with a start.

Above him was a big ugly shadow. On his cheek was a spattering of saliva. Wrapped around him and being pulled at fiercely was his box.

At once Billy shouted to the others and tried to crawl away, but the strap held him there and pulled him back. It lifted him up and bashed him against the rock; the pain was bad but it was nothing compared to the fear.

Hump1 continued to hold the box steady, pinning Billy down with a great deal of force, while at the same time yelling at his two comrades and waving his free hand around in the air.

Billy realised quickly that his screams for help were useless, for Barret was in a wrestle hold with Hump2 and Briar seemed to have disappeared somewhere under Hump3. Cetra on the other hand, who was no longer smiling, was simply held back by the fact that any help she could offer would have been no help at all, given the circumstances and the size of their assailants.

During the struggle Billy grabbed for the strap in an attempt to relax its edge from cutting into his chest, and for a moment his breath caught. Given the sudden and horrible sensation of being unable to breathe while his lungs were being crushed, Billy managed to harness enough strength to push himself off the rock and snap the buckle that connected the strap to the box, sending his injured body hurtling forward onto the dirt. By the same token, Hump1 stumbled backwards with the snap but was able to manoeuvre his bulk well enough to stay aloft.

Next, and just like a big kid with a new toy, Hump1 reached into the box and pulled out the bright orange pellet gun with a big clumsy hand. He then held it up to the sky and laughed.

Billy couldn't tell if the creature was mocking it or worshipping it.

"Wiefhusworponorginwroolduoilefbralee," Hump1 grunted loudly.

In his defence, and taking into consideration the fact that no one could understand him, he actually meant to say, "With this weapon I can rule the whole of Bradley," which is quite preposterous really to think that a creature who had remained unchallenged for as long as anyone could remember should find it necessary to have a weapon he could use to rule the plain with.

Billy got to his feet but remained where he was. Apart from the single embarrassing moment when Hump1 appeared to accidentally drop the gun and bend over awkwardly to pick it up again, at the same time releasing some uninvited flatulence, the situation seemed grim.

Barret, who hadn't yet tired of struggling in the arms of Hump2, continued a barrage of protest against his assailant that was definitely Irish born and bred, though of little significance or effect in the immediate situation.

Briar on the other hand had not been seen nor heard since the Humps' arrival, and as such remained that way; the assumption being that his imprisonment beneath Hump3 was impervious to escape.

By now Cetra and Rod had moved to Billy's side and doubled the defence. She grabbed Billy's hand and squeezed it hard. She felt Rod's claws gripping into her shoulder through the material of her shirt. Billy turned to them both and spoke no words, but his gaze was steely, and foolishness was behind it.

With no regard for his own safety Billy leapt forward in a last brave bid to fell his enemy and recapture the mountain, to bring order back to their journey, and to secure the safety and withhold the honour of his companions.

Hump1 barely flinched as the attack commenced, he met Billy head on, aimed the gun at him, and fired.

### CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Billy was reluctant to voice his shock when the small plastic pellet connected with his stomach. The initial sting was fierce enough to make him wince, though he remained otherwise composed. Immediately his thoughts drifted to the many animals that had fallen prey to this weapon; the dogs with their sharp teeth, the cats with their dagger like claws, and the rabbits.... who could forget the rabbits with their big.... floppy ears? His behaviour in those instances had been so violent, so cruel, rendering him no better than the Hump that now stood before him. Compassion suddenly tore through his heart and drew several tears from his right eye; he felt faint, though he was able to remain standing, and in his dizziness he made a silent promise never to shoot defenceless animals again.

The Hump stared at him and grunted in disgust.

Having failed to produce the desired response from his open display of violence toward Billy, Hump1 disappointedly threw the gun down onto the rocks and smashed it into twenty seven pieces, give or take a screw or two. He then considered an alternate course of action, but rendered it pointless on account of its being too boring; so instead he opted more for the instinctual approach.

In a moderately slow succession of events Hump1 reached out for Billy with both hands and picked him up. Instantly disturbed by his new predicament, and suddenly filled with loathe and disgust, Billy kicked and screamed as he was cradled like a rugby ball in the crook of his enemy's arm. Hump1, concerned not with Billy's objections, grunted once again, shrugged his shoulders, then turned and ran away.

### CHAPTER NINETEEN

"How was I...?"

Briar faltered when Barret glared directly at him.

"....supposed to know they'd be here?"

Briar stood up, as short as he was, beside his own imprint in the dirt where he had woken up a little earlier beneath the full weight of a Hump's bottom. At the time little light had filtered through but for a crack, enough though to allow the muffled sounds of Barret's slander to penetrate through the gap. Within his tight cavern Briar had wanted to cry out and voice his disapproval, but to open his mouth would have surely meant tasting the coarse hairs that pressed against his cheek. He had only been trapped there for a relatively short time though before the Hump had stood up and run off, taking with him the other one who had been wrestling with Barret."

"Because they knew we'd be here, didn't they pig-face?" Barret yelled fiercely.

Cetra was poised ready at the opening by the bushes, anticipating their immediate pursuit.

"Come on lads," Rod yelled from atop Cetra's shoulder, "let's get after them."

Barret huffed angrily, "No need to rush, it's not like we can ambush them. And anyway, pig-head knows where they're taking him."

"Serious I don't," Briar pleaded, the guilt welling up inside of him now.

"You think we're stupid..." Barret screamed.

"They just wanted the thing in the box."

"Huh? The stupid plastic pistol?" Barret yelled incredulously, "And how did they even know about that? I didn't even know about it."

Briar's own admission captured even himself by surprise; he had actually felt a developing friendship with Billy, felt a growing fondness toward that someone who, for once in his deceptive little life, had outwardly shown some faith and trust in him. He tried to remember the deal he had struck up with the Humps, tried to recall what was in it for him. Briar was bad, but that had never bothered him before now. Pleasure in his life had always been at the expense of cheating others; but this time he felt like he had cheated himself by letting Billy down. So what was in it for him...? Ultimately.... nothing.

Apart from that, this kidnapping business.... what was all that about? It was the thing in the box they wanted, that was the deal, and Briar had delivered.

"I made a mistake, ok," Briar yelled back at the tall Irishman, "You can kill me later, but we have to go _now,_ 'cause I don't know where they're taking him."

Barret slammed his fist into his hand and snarled, "Why do you care all of a sudden, pig-boy? How 'bout I smash you now and be done with it."

Through the bushy opening to their rocky enclosure, Cetra witnessed the growing gap between Billy and herself with a great deal of frustration. Had she the time to actually concern herself with the breast beating of her fellow companions she may have done so, instead she gave heed to the wise little voice in her ear which told her to go and be done with them.

"You are right, Rod," Cetra agreed, and without even a glance back toward Barret and Briar, she and Rod left the rocks and began their chase.

### CHAPTER TWENTY

Consider this....

You are pressed against the naked body of a rather large Hump, cradled under his moist, gaping armpit, and flapping loosely in your face is the oily end of a pink handkerchief protruding from a fold in his thick, sweaty skin.

How do you feel...?

Billy, who had certainly been in some sticky predicaments before, came to the sudden and rather unsavoury conclusion that the only thing remotely comparable to this particular situation was that of a piglet suckling its mother; or so he imagined.

The small band of Humps had traversed the plain with their human cargo for about 1440 hands, which for Billy felt like around two hours. He had neglected to notice, or even take any interest in for that matter, the terrain as it bounced by uninterrupted; and although these creatures were not the fastest he had ever encountered, they certainly exhibited the greatest stamina. For they had padded along unabated, barefooted, and to the beat of _A Grunt for Every Step Taken_ , a marching song arguably believed to be originally entitled _My Feet Don't Hurt But They Sure Are Numb from All This Marching._

Having ceased his useless struggles for freedom from the arm of Hump1 many hands ago, Billy now reserved his energy for what was to come. So what _was_ to come? Who knew, but he imagined himself as a spit-roast dinner for one. As absurd as that may have sounded, the very idea felt compounded when they all came to an abrupt halt in a clearing amongst the trees where one of the smaller Humps reaped out a large root ball of what appeared to be potatoes from the ground, while at the same time loudly proclaiming the salivary sound of _"Shweises"_ , before setting off again to where ever they had set off to in the first place.

It was a strong breeze which pushed them toward that place, a breeze that blew up from behind to dry the sweat from the big Hump's body, a breeze that held the distinct scent of a forest in bloom; it was cool and it was fresh, but it was not comforting.

Billy's bottom lip dropped and quivered, and the same feeling of repulsion he had felt so many times before during these last moments of his life returned once again; it made him feel sick to the stomach. Indeed, with all the jostling around and dried sweat and smells, Billy's gut churned, it twisted and turned, it jumped up and down and then spun around, and suddenly, after it had done all that, it blew its acid content back toward the opening it had entered by where it convulsively exited in a liquid rush.

Yes.... Billy threw up!

Certainly not his finest moment, or his worst for that matter, and who would ever know but for the three Humps who simply dismissed the deluge with a grunt and a hop to avoid the splatter.

Unfortunately for Billy the taste would linger for some time yet, for still many hands were to pass before they would reach their destination. From the forest they emerged, once carried by the wind and now propelled by nothing but the march, they pushed through golden savannah and meadows of blue, across plains of grass with scattered trees, and a corn field, with corn oddly shaped like ears, before finally, and unnervingly, descending into darkness.

Billy was aware of little but the shadows and the laboured breathing of his captors, and every so often he glimpsed pale light from around a bend he did not turn toward. This blackness he had suddenly entered managed to deepen the fear that was already within him, it somehow felt more violent, more menacing and unknown; Billy's threshold of dread had been surpassed, fear had become fear within itself; so at the end of his descent, when the Humps stopped all of a sudden and dropped him, that fear manifested....

And Billy fainted.

### CHAPTER TWENTY ONE

They ran.

Firstly they ran to catch up with Cetra and Rod.

"Come on pig boy, keep up. When all this is done with I still have to kill you."

Secondly they ran to stay on the trail of the Humps.

"Superb of you lads to join us," Rod encouraged them with his nose in the air and his claws pinned to Cetra's T-shirt.

"I can't see them," Barret puffed, "how far ahead are they?"

"Past those bushes," Rod answered.

Barret glanced about at the bushes and rocks which surrounded them on every angle, "Which ones?" he asked.

"Does it really matter?"

"Of course it matters, how do you even know where you're going?"

Without breaking her odd sideways stride, Cetra pointed at the big, heavy footprints in the dirt trailing off before them.

"See lad, the girl has everything under control."

So they continued to run for many hands, slowing their pace every so often to allow Briar to catch up, and following in the footsteps of three heavy footed Humps.

"Oh look," said Rod, "a forest."

In the forest they rested a short while, ate some berries, and sipped the sap from a _Sipasap_ tree.

Cetra spoke to Briar, and she was not smiling.

"Why did you do that Briar? Billy did trust you."

Well if that wasn't enough to make Briar feel ever guiltier than before.

"The Humps pay me to steal for them," he whispered so as not to draw any attention from Barret.

"You what, boy?" Rod popped out from behind Cetra's neck and yelled, "That's a nasty way of surviving."

"Shush...." Briar begged, gesturing toward Barret, "You'll set him off again."

"And well he has the right," Rod continued in the same voice, "You betrayed your comrades, and delivered your friend into the hands of the enemy."

"But...." Briar stammered.

"I think that deep down you are a better person than that," Cetra said.

"Pig more like it," Rod judged, "Once a pig, always a pig."

"But...."

"I do not want to be too harsh on him, Rod. Maybe he had a reason?"

Cetra looked at Briar with those big eyes of hers and waited for him to respond.

"I...." he started, "I didn't know they'd take Billy."

"But why, Briar, why?" Cetra pleaded.

"Because that's what he does," Barret snarled, catching everyone by surprise as he approached from the side. "He's a common thief, selfish pig; only he went too far this time and got caught up in the middle."

Briar looked at the ground so as to avoid Barret's contemptuous gaze.

"I was lucky when I got to know you all, that's when I knew I'd made a mistake, but it was too late by then, the Humps were expecting me to deliver."

"You sneaky beggar," Barret seared with hot realisation, "You can talk to them, can't you?"

Briar's lip dropped, "Yes," he muttered softly.

"Well...." Barret clasped his hands together, "It's a good thing I haven't killed you yet, you're still of some use to us."

"Yes Briar," Cetra spoke directly, "You can tell the Humps to give Billy back to us."

Briar's face turned upwards with an opened mouth look of exasperation, "You can't just go up to a Hump and tell him to give something back, he'd kill you."

Barret clucked his tongue and winked, "Save me the trouble," he said gladly.

"Well lad," Rod piped up again, "seeing as you have an acquaintance with these creatures, it seems only fair that, having landed us all in this mess, you best think up a plan to get us all out of it."

The other two agreed with an evident mixture of sarcasm and doubt.

Briar stared at each of their faces in turn.

"I don't know," he said finally, "I only steal _for_ them, not _from_ them."

"Like we're giving you a choice?" Barret said.

During the next few moments of silence a cool breeze whistled softly through the tree branches and beckoned for them to continue their flight through the forest.

Barret shuffled his feet and said, "Think quick pig-face, we need to catch up to them before it gets dark."

So with their energy reserves newly replenished they ran, and they kept running until before long they came to the edge of the forest.

"Oh look," said Rod, "golden savannah."

The grass was tall here, and Briar ran below its waving surface, directed only by the sight of Barret's boots ahead of him. Soon though it changed into something far more colourful and stood at a height which was far more acceptable to Briar's line of vision.

"Oh look," said Rod, "a field of blue flowers."

Now some folk have been known to cry when the blue flowers wave at them; it has been said by those same folk that when the blue flowers sing they sing a song that will drain your eye of all its tears until eventually you are emotionally spent and laying in a foetal position on the ground beneath their bright blue canopy.

But as it were, and on this particular day, no such phenomenon would be taking place; at least not concerning our four much focused travellers. On the other hand, and only a short distance ahead of them, a rather runtish Hump had indeed, it seemed, fallen prey to the lure of the flowers, and as such was curled up amongst their intoxicating blueness.

Cetra was the first to see the lump, walk over to it, and softly prod it with her foot.

"Good grief," Rod gasped, "is it dead?"

Briar followed. He stood as close as he could and kicked it as hard as his little foot and short leg would facilitate.

"He was asleep," Briar said, "now he's not."

The Hump grunted like Humps do and got to its feet slowly and awkwardly.

Barret glared at them from a short distance away. "Will you lot stop playing with the miniature Hump and get a move on," he said.

Miniature indeed! It stood barely a foot taller than Briar, who by any standard was only a kneecap in height; so menacing it wasn't, formidable definitely not, it appeared more like an ugly, oversized stuffed toy kept at the bottom of a child's bed.

"Bwiaw," it yelled and then rubbed its eyes hard with two plump hands.

For a moment there was silence, and then Briar switched on, "Grarrt?" he yelled back.

"Howawyou?" it said this time.

In the background Barret groaned with frustration and shook his head in disbelief. He also stuck his tongue out and went " _ugh"_ before turning away.

"Topey stumped at seeing you again," Briar answered back.

The two eyed one another for a short moment and growled; then without warning, being both surprising and disgusting at the same time, they belly flopped each other, creating a sound not dissimilar to that made when a wet towel is dropped from a height of three feet into a bucket of beetroot jelly and is then subsequently sucked to the bottom.

After that they both laughed and touched their knees.

"You were asleep," Briar said."

Grarrt put his hands behind his back and rubbed his foot over the ground. "Bwoofwowersgetmeevwytime." he said.

Briar turned to his companions and invited them all to meet Grarrt. Both Cetra and Rod were earnest and welcoming, they extended handshakes and exchanged pleasantries. Barret on the other hand stood aloof and greeted him with a nod and a wary "Hey."

"Grarrt can talk like us," Briar announced with pride, he had been the one to teach him.

"Could've fooled me," Barret scoffed quietly and then coughed into his hand.

"I did not know they could speak normal." said Cetra.

"They all speak normal," Briar explained, "They just do it really badly. But Grarrt here's smarter."

"Is he smart enough to help us?" Barret said impatiently, "because if he isn't.... it's time to go. So let's hoof it."

"Hewpwithwhat?" Grarrt asked.

In short, Briar spoke of their journey and its unforseen predicament.

"HowibwHumps," Grarrt protested, "Iwiwhewp."

The three travellers looked to Briar for translation.

"He wants to help," he said.

"Good then, let's go."

It wasn't suddenly in Barret's nature to trust a Hump, nor be allied with one for any given cause, and Briar's self presumed freedom to flirt his knowledge of their quest since his act of betrayal was certainly unsettling; nonetheless, the prospect of rescuing Billy without either of them seemed doubtful. Barret would just have to see how this next part of the journey played out.

"Oh look," said Rod, "a plain of grass with scattered trees."

They continued to run in a straight line, still following the deep footprints in the earth. Beneath their own feet, and maybe because their burdens were far less than the weight of a Hump's, the grass appeared to spring back, propelling them forward with a greater velocity than experienced before. A comforting thought really, for all around them the trees were said to come alive when darkness falls, and the night would be upon them very soon.

"Oh look," Rod said, "a corn field."

Grarrt led the way through the tall stalks and came to a stop only when they had gone as far as the opposite side where they remained hidden just within the field's fringe.

The little Hump pointed a stubby finger and then sat on the ground.

Beyond their camouflage was a hill. It was a big hill, not so much in height but in width. Around its perimeter was dotted with many large stone outcrops, all similar in distance apart and all giving the same impression that together they held up the entire hill. In these outcrops there were holes, some small, some bigger, and others that, from a distance, appeared to be caves; they were all dark and particularly quiet.

"ThatisTheHump," Grarrt said.

The Hump....

Original or not, it was just one of many underground strongholds constructed and inhabited by the Humps, each of which was known as The Hump, but not to be mistaken with every other stronghold also known as The Hump. That is to say that, as confusing as Humps have always been to those who refuse to understand them, including even the waving blue flowers of the field, if one were to arrange a rendezvous with a fellow Hump at The Hump, both would, in no uncertain terms, indeed meet up at The Hump.... Or something to that affect.

"Wewiwaittiwitdawk," Grarrt now suggested.

"He said it's better if we wait until it's dark," Briar translated.

They all joined Grarrt on the ground and waited. Darkness began to grow as they stared out at the hill with its shadowy holes and greying stones.

Barret turned from his gaze and laughed. He laughed at the ear shaped corn all around them. He snapped two off and held them to either side of his head. "Hey look," he said, "ears of corn."

### CHAPTER TWENTY TWO

Hump1 entered with a glowing hand.

Moments earlier Billy had opened his eyes to darkness. Beneath his sprawled body was a gritty, awful smelling, yet unusually warm cobblestone floor, and all around him the air felt thick and heavy to breathe.

Through the Hump's chubby fingers Billy could see a mass of something green and phosphorescent. It was thrown upwards to hit a ceiling of stone where it stuck with a _whack,_ before the Hump retreated again and closed a solid looking wooden door.

The new light offered Billy's eyes no discomfort, it glowed dull and green, but it filled the room well enough that he could see. He was in a small square shaped cell, its every surface made of stone, and its air was dusty.

Not long had he imprinted these stark new surroundings to memory, when Hump1 re-entered once again, this time with a small wooden bowl of something that looked somewhat unrefreshingly furry and utterly disgusting. On second glance, after the bowl was placed at Billy's feet and the Hump had grunted and left him alone for the third time, did Billy see that the contents of the bowl was in fact not furry, but did indeed remain utterly disgusting.

Billy _was_ hungry.

But was he hungry enough to eat _that?_

Yeah..?

He picked up the bowl and lifted it to his nose. There was no smell. He dipped a little finger into it. It was cold. He put his little finger in his mouth and it tasted like a muddy puddle.

Allowing himself no time to reconsider, he drank the cold, muddy broth directly from the bowl, chunks and all....

Chunks?

They stuck in his throat and made him gag, but he persevered and finished every last drop. He even licked his lips after hurling the empty bowl across the room in utter disgust.

That was that.

Many hands then passed. He heard gruff voices outside the cell door, and those same voices grow fainter as they moved away. There was silence. _Bangs_ and _clatters_ occasionally echoed and a low _hum_ permeated the walls every eight hands precisely.

Billy had never known claustrophobia, even the shallow hares' burrow he had managed to sink himself into at the tender age of four now seemed larger than life and much less oppressive. To his dismay he felt scared and alone, probably for the first time since....? He had been taught by his father to stand up to adversity - _be strong son, and noble in all circumstances –_ and the less tolerant – _suck it up –_ was another phrase coined. Both of which had served him quite well, but hadn't really prepared him for that inconceivable time in his life when he might find himself abducted by a band of Humps and cast into a confined stone cell all for the sake of an orange coloured plastic pellet gun. He used to cherish that gun; it hardly seemed significant now in the wake of these last few days.

Billy's ears pricked at the clamour of the heavy wooden door as it was unlocked and swung open again. Enter Humps 1, 2 and 3, barging their way in with a unified grunt and a slap of their bloated bellies. Their combined bulk filled the room which shadowed much of the phosphorescent green glow emanating from the thing on the ceiling; and their concentrated odour was highly objectionable.

Without warning they grabbed him and held him, their thick hands were around his wrists and pressed hard against his back. He felt awkward, suspended, he was no longer on the floor but lifted up, levelled with three gaping navels which moved in and pressed against him, constricting his struggles. Verbal protests were wasted and lost, spit was casually wiped away with an oily handkerchief, and if Billy could have craned his neck well enough to bite them he would have.

Before long he was held firm, chastised by the Humps' gruff laughter, and when they stopped laughing their eyes looked to one another with a peculiar understanding.

For Billy the pause was frightening.

Then, to his horror, they began to pull his clothes off.

### CHAPTER TWENTY THREE

Grarrt had always considered Briar a good friend, so even though they had not seen each other for many days his offer to help was indeed sincere, and it was that same sincerity which would prove him to be a most valuable ally.

The five companions moved quietly from the shadows of the corn stalks to the shadows of the hill, all the while blending in with as many other shadows as they could find along the way.

Somewhere in the darkness an animal _bleated._

Grarrt led a trail to a particular outcrop where what had looked like a cave from a distance was in fact a cave up close, taking the shape of a simple doorway; beyond its stone threshold the air was black, but warm, and it was awfully quiet.

"It's awfully quiet isn't it?" Rod whispered.

Cetra nodded.

"Thisisthebackentwencetothecews," Grarrt drawled before plunging into the blackness.

Barret turned and shrugged his shoulders.

Briar made to translate but was cut short by Cetra's excitement.

"I think I know," she said, "This is the back entrance to the cells, yes?"

"Yes," Briar affirmed quietly.

"Tally-ho lass," Rod cheered softly and patted her shoulder.

In they dived, engulfed in ebon, trailing behind Grarrt who led the way. They trod lightly along a declining corridor, each step bringing them closer to pale light emanating beyond shadowed corners and distant doorways. No Humps were encountered, but they ducked and weaved all the same, because Grarrt was excited, and he did so with enthusiasm.

Surprisingly, Billy was easy to find.

"Hewiwbeondispwayinthemainhaw," Grarrt had abstrusely, yet very accurately informed them all while somewhere deep inside the semi-lit labyrinth.

He motioned for them to stop and crouch down behind a half-wall. The corridor they had come along finished there and branched off both ways, circling around a large cavern opened up by many doorways and more half-walls. This corridor was not directly lit up, but the cavern was; and they remained together in the shadow of the wall.

"Thisisthemainhaw," Grarrt whispered.

"This is the main hall," Briar whispered.

Opposite them, across the hall and silhouetted like shadow puppets inside the windowed gap of a half-wall, were two Humps; guards according to Briar's translation of Grarrt's drawl. To their left and about three quarters around the cavern's interior wall near to the guards' position was a dais.

Billy sat on that dais, cross legged and against the wall, with his chin resting in his hands and his elbows supported on his knees. Both his feet were shackled and chained to one of several metal rings embedded in the stone, and he wore nothing more than red underpants, a pair of white socks, and a defeated look upon his face.

Cetra giggled softly behind her hand.

"Poor Billy," she whispered.

"Poor Billy's right," Barret affirmed, "Poor Billy's chained to a wall. How are we supposed to get him out of that?"

From behind Briar came a quiet sucking noise, the result of which was a key, produced from between two overlapping folds of skin on Grarrt's side.

Barret grimaced at the key offered in his direction before gingerly accepting it between his thumb and forefinger.

"What are you, a guard too?" he said.

"No," Grarrt answered.

"So you just happen to have the key for those very chains, huh?"

"Yes."

"Why?" Barret cocked his head to the side, "Sounds fishy to me."

"Itsmine...." Grarrt answered slowly as if confused. He looked at Briar who in turn looked at Barret.

Truth be told, Humps being the simple creatures they are, where as _they_ were in charge and unchallenged and no one need question that else they desire the humiliation of being stripped to their bare essentials and then some, the incredibly elaborate idea of multiple locking systems in conjunction with the even more absurd notion of a separate key for every lock was just too darn confusing and utterly pointless. Upon the assumption that all Humps were true and honest with one another, one lock one key was sufficient.

"What do we do about the guards then?" Barret continued.

"Iwiwdistwactthem," Grarrt said.

Ok, they were deep inside the belly of a Hump stronghold – lost in there really – and being led by a dwarf Hump with a lisp, intent on freeing the imprisoned boy sitting almost starkers and chained to a stone platform. Success was questionable.

All the same, there was urgency to the matter, excitement in the face of danger, anger toward the humiliation of their young friend, but a delicious and hearty welcome to the challenge that had been set before them. Fear was absent, and yet, failure seemed imminent.

Grarrt moved away and blended in amongst the shadows to their right.

They waited....

....and waited.... and for a fleeting moment they felt as though they had been abandoned.

But then the small shadow appeared in the opposite doorway next to where the guards stood, and it demanded their attention.

Barret took his cue. He circled round to the left, Briar in tow, with Cetra and rod holding the rear. They trod lightly and cautiously through the shadows, glancing in the direction of the guards who appeared to have suddenly gone out of view.

Billy was close.

Billy yawned and rubbed his eyes. He rattled his chains. He stared at nothing and popped his lips.

Barret approached on Billy's right hand side, pausing at the doorway next to the dais. He held the others back with a raised arm and assessed the floor. The guards had gone. Where? Who knew? Now was the time.

They entered the hall and Billy spotted them immediately, his excitement quietly evident. He got to his feet slowly as they gathered round him. Without a word Barret took the greasy key and unlocked the shackles from Billy's ankles, taking great care to hold them against _clanging_ onto the stone floor.

Easy.

Too easy...?

Cetra smiled at Billy and slowly averted her gaze.

"We should find his clothes," she whispered.

Billy blushed.

"Stuff the clothes," Barret whispered back roughly, "Let's just get out of here."

"Yes indeed young comrades," Rod said excitedly, and believing he finally had something of significance to contribute he added, "I can remember from which way we came."

"I believe you," Barret said and lifting a hand to welcome the mouse to the front of the line. For who would question a mouse when it came to seeking direction inside a darkened labyrinth.

Rod perched himself atop Cetra's right shoulder, favoured for its leading position to which compensation was made toward the awkwardness of her two left feet, and directed his valiant party thus:

Back around the curve of the hall, right at the gloomy corridor they had entered from, past the doorways and shadowed corners emanating pale light, toward a long incline from which they were certain they could see the night sky through a far away opening, their path to freedom, where stars shone and bleating animals bleated.

It was all too easy still.

It was all too good to be true.

So when all of a sudden, just like an eclipse, whence the night sky was blotted from their vision and a tremendous thumping was heard from the path ahead, initial surprise was quickly replaced by a previous anticipation of dreadful events as a mass of shadowed Humps approached and engulfed them in a sea of sweaty black Humpness. There was no time given to hesitation and no time given to thought, they were simply snatched up and whisked down the corridor, back toward the cells where they were all dumped onto a gritty stone floor and locked away.

A few hands later, and after all the metaphorical dust had settled, Barret stood up and shook himself off.

"So that worked!" he said with a large helping of sarcasm.

### CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR

Grarrt....

By now Grarrt had had his fill of the intoxicating beetroot cider. Of course it was by no means comparative to the several steins each chugged down by the two guards who, after a magnificent time of drinking and laughing and laughing and drinking, could be seen sprawled out like a pair of giant slugs beside two upturned stools on opposite sides of a red stained barrel; where by chance, if anyone were to stick the boot in at all, those two lumps would be hard pressed even acknowledging an assault that may be taking place against them.

So Grarrt left his binge drinking companions in search of positive results arising from his earlier actions; needless to say what he did find was not quite what he had anticipated.

Through the semi-lit maze he wandered, contemplating what was to become of the rest of his night. Would he simply find somewhere to fall down and go to sleep, or should he just go back to the star lit fields outside? Maybe he might rejoin the guards and hoof into them a bit for the sake of hoofing into them.

When he reached the great hall for the second time that night it blatantly become clear that none of the above would come to fruition; instead he realised a task had been set for him and that task had yet to be completed.

Upon the dais yet again, shackled and stripped, chained and humiliated, sat three familiar characters all looking destitute. Billy, the one Grarrt had not met so far, seemed the most comfortable and at ease, like he'd been there before.... Briar and Barret on the other hand fidgeted and appeared troubled; yet still noble they fought against their incarceration.... Well, somewhat less noble than simply superfluous.

Firstly though, he needed to find the girl with the funny walk. There was no point in alerting the boys to his presence, they weren't going anywhere; and that Barret fellow would most probably argue the point to free them all now, but that was not going to happen because Grarrt needed his key, which was more than likely in Barret's clothes, which would be in a cell, and chances are that would be where Cetra was too.

Hmm.... a damsel in distress, ready to be indebted to _him_ for rescuing her from the clutches of the horrible Humps. Oh how he hoped she was in distress. He was an alright sort, wasn't he? Well, so he thought anyway. In the bachelors' arena filled mostly with big, fat, ugly, sweaty Humps, Grarrt considered himself quite the catch, even quite the ladies Hump; just one of the reasons why he kept to himself and avoided too much interaction with his own kind, they were beneath him, and he was better, and kinder and funnier....

....And he'd better get on....

Again there were two more guards watching over the hall that he would have to deal with when he came back. No problem, he had a plan. Smart boy.

Cetra was in one of only four cells at the end of a dark corridor which descended to the lowest, or deepest pointed in the stronghold. It was the only cell emitting any light from underneath the door, and there were no guards around because, well, the door was locked....

Grarrt knocked on the heavy wood.

"Cetwa?"

There was a rustle and a shuffle and a sound of something sliding on the gritty stone floor. Then he heard her voice, soft and questioning, "Is that you Grarrt?"

"Yes," he affirmed, "Awevwebodiescwothesinthew?"

"Everybody's clothes are in here, Grarrt."

"Good," he said, "findthekey."

"Alright."

Grarrt waited. From within the cell he could hear Cetra shuffling around, heard the _ting_ possibly of a belt buckle hitting the stone floor, heard the dull _thud_ maybe of a boot being dropped, and heard Cetra profane in her own simple way following a strange _whack_.

"I have it," she quietly squealed with excitement.

Grarrt liked Cetra, she was cute.

"IsWodstiwithyou?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Present young fellow," Rod piped up from behind the thick wooden barrier.

"Good. Doyouthinkyoucanfitundewthedoow?"

"Will jolly well try."

Two hands later Grarrt saw the shadow of Rod's twitching nose poke out from underneath the door.

"Traversed a crack in the stones; quite thick that door isn't it?" Rod said light hearted before greeting the small Hump in the dark. "Hello Grarrt."

"HeyWod. Nowgobackandgetthekey."

"Right you are then."

Rod turned and disappeared back through the crack, with his little bottom wriggling as he pushed himself beneath the door again. A moment later he returned with the key as directed.

"Good job, key delivered as instructed," he said.

Grarrt took it, unlocked the door, and retrieved it again to place within the folds of his belly. When the door swung open and the corridor was instantly illuminated he saw Cetra within the glow. Her immediate reaction to Grarrt was a joyous one, she squealed again and jumped into the air, melting his heart, but then after a moment's reflection he figured she probably had that effect on all the boys. Damsel in distress...? Certainly not. This young thing was level headed; a little ditsy perhaps, but prudent all the same.

"Yippee," she whispered and clapped her hands softly, "My knight in shining armour."

_Hmm,_ Grarrt thought.

"Wetsgetthewcwothesandgo," he insisted, "Fowowme."

Cetra took Rod from the floor and placed him back onto her shoulder; then she gathered all the clothes and boots together and carried them as a bundle in her arms.

They followed behind Grarrt as instructed; close enough to see his presence in the gloom of the corridors. To Cetra there was no familiarity, just dark tunnels made of earth and stone, all interconnecting like a Bartfool's Interconnecting Jigsaw Sculpture. Just as the infamous toy maker, Art Bartfool, had blended a multitude of stolen wooden straws together into random forms, so too it seemed the Humps had been able to create a labyrinth of tunnels in the same manner.

_Poor Art...._ Cetra thought all of a sudden.

Poor Art had, over his eccentric final days, developed a rather questionable penchant for the burros' ear. Spending his nights skulking around barns where the easy pickings were asleep in their stalls. He had developed a bad habit of hitting his targets more than once though, thus his final hit was once too often, and Art Bartfool became a legend. It was known as _The night Art Bartfool got his ears chewed off by a barn full of burros;_ but they hadn't stopped at his ears....

So this time Grarrt didn't run... there was no need to run. Where he needed to go was a storeroom; a very particular storeroom in fact, where all the herbs and spices were kept.... and the fruit. _Yum yum._

"So young Grarrt," Rod said in their travels, "am I to assume that the fellows have all come to the same humiliating end already once suffered by Billy?"

Without turning around Grarrt answered the question positively.

"How unfortunate," Rod reflected close to Cetra's ear.

"Do you have a plan Grarrt?" Cetra asked.

Again he answered positively.

"Not big on the details, huh?" Rod whispered for Cetra only.

"Shush," she shushed.

They carried on in silence for a time, alone in the shadowy corridors. Once they came across a guard stationed at the entrance to a galley; he was thick and smelly and snored like a topey under pressure, although nobody could say whether a topey actually snored or not, or whether it made anything but a _cracking_ sound under pressure.

Anyway, the guard failed to wake up; even when Rod lost his grip on Cetra's shirt as she followed Grarrt through the doorway. Where he landed on the guard's stomach was positively icky, in fact, for a brief moment he was comically suspended head-down-bum-up with his nose embedded in a sickly white fatty deposit deep inside the Hump's belly button. When he pulled himself free, very quickly indeed, he winced, gagged, and then threw up.

Cetra grinned. Initially she feared the Hump might wake up, but that didn't happen. After Rod had preened his face and pleaded with her to take him away, Cetra picked him up and placed him back onto her shoulder; then they continued after Grarrt.

At the far end of the galley, past wooden benches with pots and pans, there was another door. Grarrt had already opened it and entered the room beyond.

It was a storeroom, and unlike the rest of the stronghold, it was very cool inside. Around the stone and wooden shelves were wooden boxes; pushed against the walls on the cold stone floor were wooden crates. The room was lit up by a single hand sized mass of phosphorescent moss stuck to the ceiling just inside the door arch.

Grarrt took in a deep breath through his nose and quietly giggled when the intoxicating mixture of smells flooded his senses.

Ah the smells....

Smells of herb and smells of spice, smells of fruit and all things nice. It was a delectable, irresistible, unforgettable feast of aroma, instantly seducing them and causing them to feel giddy with delight.

Grarrt spied a bushel of rapples on top of a crate and grabbed for them, he moved them to a bench near the door and left them there. On the farthest away and darkest wall there were many smaller boxes, all roughly the same size and all smelling wonderful. Grarrt knew what he was looking for, it took him several sniffs, four to get the spices he needed, and a few more just because....

From the same shelf the spices were on he grabbed a mortar and pestle; it was heavy and chiselled from a single block of stone.

The first spice he put into the mortar was shaped like a nut, it was small and round and when it was smashed from above by the blunt end of the stone pestle it shattered and became an overwhelmingly sweet smelling powder.

Nearby, Cetra almost swooned. She sought out a stool she'd seen beside a wooden crate and sat herself down; so euphoric was she felling, so utterly abandoned were her senses, so much so that she could taste the spice in the air around her.

The second smash was incredible, it released a scent not unlike that made when raspberries were candied with the sugars of Llasa – Llasa being a well hidden town suspended in the upper canopy of the Llasa Forest hidden away somewhere in the East. Most considered the town a fable, but Cetra knew better. It was said that the sugars were distilled and crystallised from the newest buds formed at the very apex of the Llasa trees, and this Cetra knew to be true.... because she had been there....

When Grarrt had finished grinding the four spices together he set the mortar aside on the bench and grabbed a large wooden bucket from underneath and placed it next to the bushel of rapples. Again from the darker side of the room he produced several gourds, all of which were hollowed, dried and now filled with beetroot cider; these he emptied into the bucket. Next to go in were the spices. He took hold of the mortar with both hands and stuck his nose into it one last time; he sniffed hard, drew up powder and sneezed, then he dumped the mixture into the bucket. It _fizzed_ for just a moment before Grarrt grabbed a nearby wooden ladle and casually stirred the broth together.

Again the smell was.... well.... _hmmm_.

Indeed, Cetra was speechless, and Rod.... Rod was almost asleep, with a toothy grin on his face and a little pink tongue lolling lazily from the side of his mouth.

Next Grarrt ladled the rapples into the bucket one by one; they bobbed in the liquid and floated on top, a lovely coating of cool cider broth now shimmering on their smooth red skins. He left them there to soak for several hands whilst he went in search of a bowl and a basket.

"Howawyoutwodoing?" he casually asked his guests as his glance passed in their direction.

"We are good, Grarrt," Cetra answered, taking another deep sniff of the air and closing her eyes. "But what is it that you are doing?"

Grarrt found a bowl and basket easily; one fitted into the other so that it could be used as a colander.

"Thiswiwputtheguawdstosweepinnotime."

"Oh?" she said.

There was a look in Cetra's eyes that told Grarrt she might be hungry, and to this he picked out a dry rapple and tossed it her way. She caught it well and ate it, then asked for another. The second one she shared with Rod.

One by one Grarrt now ladled the rapples from the bucket into the basket. When he was done with that he lifted the basket from the bowl, poured the excess liquid back into the bucket and transferred the rapples from the basket to the bowl. Job done.

Before they left the storeroom Grarrt took a leather satchel from a hook on the wall and filled it with fruit, crusty bread and smoked meat; to this he also added a couple of fresh herb bundles which would help to preserve the food a little longer. He gave the satchel to Cetra who threw it over her shoulder and again picked up all the clothes ready to go.

Ready to go....

So now with bowl in hands, Grarrt led the way back to the main hall, hopefully for the last time that night.

### CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE

Billy, Barret and Briar.

They were shackled at the ankles and chained to a wall.

What a nasty predicament.

"Hey pig-boy, remind me to kill you when we eventually get out of here." Barret gestured at Briar and rattled the chains in defiance."

"Topey head," Briar retorted half-heartedly. "Don't you ever get tired of threatening the same old boring thing all the time?"

"Not when it involves _killing you_ ," Barret said without giving any real thought to the question.

Billy sat on the stone dais and wondered what was next. He wondered if this Grarrt fellow had abandoned them all, wondered if what Barret had said was true that Grarrt had simply lured them here to be caught and humiliated, because that's what Humps do. This gave Billy cause to doubt the possible goodness that could be found in all people, or Humps, or weird half human half animal creature things, or rocks....

Indeed, if it was simply the inherent nature of a Hump to be awful, who was he to be questioning the natural order of things?

Although he had hoped, and possibly still did, that the Grarrt he hadn't met yet still had some good in him, good enough to come to their aid. How else but for that hope would he get out of this mess?

Billy prompted his companions toward another topic.

"So Barret, aside from killing Briar, what's really on your mind?"

Barret fidgeted and stumbled over the question in his head for a short while before answering, choosing whether to be truly honest or typically abrupt.

"I'm at a loss, Billy, What comes next? What are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to get out of here? I should've known we couldn't trust Grarrt, for goodness sake, he's a Hump, and you just can't trust Humps. You want to know how I really feel, Billy? I'm damn scared, that's what I am, _damn scared_ ," is what he would have said if he had chosen honesty, but as usual his abrupt nature forced a completely different response.

"You want to know what I think? If it wasn't for pig-face here we wouldn't be in this mess."

Briar ignored the attack. He felt guilty enough as it was, because Barret was right.

"How do you mean?" Billy asked.

Barret huffed, tapped his foot and puffed, folded his arms and then spoke. "This is all Briar's doing. Yep, sold you out for the sake of that pallet gun of yours."

Billy looked at Briar questioningly.

"That's why he took us up the cliff," Barret continued sharply, "Took us up to a place we had no chance of getting away. Sorted it all out with the Humps in town, that's why he was spying on us in the shed."

Billy remained silent.

"And that's probably where he got to when we were at Ballders. Telling your mother where you were my foot, you probably don't even have a mother."

Briar, who now chose to avoid Billy's betrayed stare, glanced down at his own shackled feet. He wore different coloured socks, one blue, and the other green. Why did he wear odd socks? Because he was slovenly.

"Is that right," Billy finally said to Briar, "Are we chained to this wall because of you?"

Briar didn't speak.

"So what went wrong Briar, why are you chained up too?"

Briar lifted his gaze slowly away from his socks. "I came to rescue you with the others," he said softly.

"And what a roaring success that's been," Barret boomed and echoed throughout the cavern. "How do we know this isn't still part of your plan?"

"Do I _look_ like I want to be hanging around here half naked and chained to a wall?" Briar spat back.

"Come on fellas, that's enough," Billy intervened softly.

"You've gotta believe me Billy, it wasn't meant to happen this way. They only wanted the orange thing, that's all."

Billy tapped his chin. "And how did they even know about the orange thing?" he asked.

In the moments that followed Barret surprisingly remained silent and Briar turned away in shame.

"I told them that day at the markets," he said, "It was something new so they wanted it. But that was before I even knew you. Now I just feel ashamed of it all."

Billy thought for a moment, tapped his chin again and sighed. "Good," he said finally, "you should be ashamed. But I can forget about it, what's done is done. I guess you were just doing what you were told to do, and I guess the fact that you're chained to the wall with us shows that you're on our side now."

Barret stared in disbelief; he grimaced but held his tongue

Billy continued.

"When we get out of here we'll remember all of this as a fond adventure and be grateful it happened because of the strength and courage it gave us."

" _Piffle,_ " Barret grunted, "Strength and courage _my foot_. Quit with the motivational rubbish and see it for what it is – Briar's a sneak thief and because of him we're now toys for the Humps to play with."

"Maybe so, but he's in the same boat as us now."

"Serves him right," Barret snapped, "Judas betraying Judas."

It was at that same moment they all turned to stare at the shadowed arches in the far wall. Beyond that wall they heard a cracking _thud_ followed by a dull _rumble._ As predictable a question in just such a situation could ever possibly be, one of them still had to ask it....

"What was that?"

### CHAPTER TWENTY SIX

Silly Grarrt....

He had left Cetra and Rod hiding in the shadows, a spot where they could see everything that took place in the Great Hall, from their three shackled companions to the guards standing off to the side.

Now, having been so excited with his best laid plans, he was gathering his sticky rapples up off the floor and placing them back into a slightly cracked wooden bowl, the new crack having been sustained when it fell from Grarrt's hands.

From their shadowy corner Cetra and Rod watched on in silence. They watched as Grarrt picked up the last of the rapples from the floor and continued along the corridor. They glanced across the cavern as their three friends continued to stare in the same direction they had stared when their conversation was interrupted by Grarrt's clumsiness. They spied Grarrt's approach upon the two guards and the little effort he needed to capture their attention. They watched on in disgust as the rapples were handed over and quickly consumed; and they held their breath as moments later the two guards fell sideways, crossing each other one to the left and one to the right, hitting the floor with a bounce.

Task completed.

Grarrt lumbered back toward them down the corridor and led them directly through the centre of the Great Hall. They assessed its large stones before coming to a halt at the dais on the opposite wall, and quietly greeted their party of three with a whispered _hi-de-ho_.

Billy smiled.

Barret said, "Took your time."

Briar gestured something funny with his hand and Grarrt reciprocated with a giggle and a slap of his greasy forehead.

Grarrt climbed onto the platform and unlocked their shackles. As the chains fell away they all rubbed their ankles for a few moments before Billy eyed Cetra and shyly gestured for his clothes.

She giggled.

Cetra threw the bundle up onto the dais and turned to scan the arched doorways around the hall, so far they remained clear of anything conscious. According to Grarrt the two Hump lumps would remain unmoving for the rest of the night.... _sleep tight_. That was unless another Hump happened along, in which case the two Humps would most probably be kicked to one side so as to make room for any more passersby. Courteous folk.

"It is a good thing...." Cetra began, and then turned back to face them all, "It is a good thing that these are your clothes and not your hands and feet."

Billy, Barret and Briar continued to dress but looked on half interested.

"I mean, Briar would look very funny with Barret's big feet."

The inquisitive silence was short.

"If I had Barret's feet," Briar said, "I'd go sail boating across the sea on them."

"And if I had Briar's hands," Barret jumped in, "I'd be stealing everything I put them on."

Meanwhile....

Grarrt awkwardly stepped down from the dais and curtly interrupted their pointless banter with a peculiar rumble in his throat, and then he said "Wehadbettewgetoutofhew."

So once again, poised ready and fully clothed, and with a satchel of food to sustain them, they made softly and quietly for the outside world.

Back around the curve of the hall, right at the gloomy corridor they had entered by, past the doorways and shadowed corners emanating pale light, toward a long incline from which they were certain they could see the night sky through a far away opening, their path to freedom, where stars shone and bleating animals still bleated.

Again it all seemed too easy.

Again it was all too good to be true.

And then....

### CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN

Humps 1, 2 and 3 sat in a semi-lit guards' corner on small round stools which awkwardly supported the circumference of their bare bottoms; indeed it simply appeared as though they were each squatting over three and a half sticks.

On the table between them was three steins filled with beetroot cider, a bag of flat pebbles used to play a game called _Lump Yo Hump,_ and a single chalk stone ready for keeping score on the closest wall to their right.

They hadn't started their game yet; in fact they had only just sat down, having recently procured their ration if cider allowed for guards on guard, and brought it along to their post.

The game, _Lump Yo Hump_ , began with its roots squarely planted in the local tavern of a small woods town called Monopotomia, or better and more commonly referred to as _Ralph in the Wood_.

Invented by one Old Merry-Jock, the resident drunk, it was thought to be a simple skills experiment developed for the common folk all eager to place a level of competency upon their reflexes after having imbibed copious amounts of intoxicating cider. Originally known then as, _Hey let's play that drunken game to see how bad our reflexes really are (hiccup),_ and still played to this day by many of the inebriated common folk all over the plain; but was now, according to Hump law, a game given to the title of _Lump Yo Hump_. So all of a sudden, what had begun as a pleasant, though raucous competition between the staggering patrons of a single tavern tucked quietly away within the buttresses of the Woods of Bethsemane, had now, through its adaptation by the Hump militia (for want of a nasty description), turned into a game of offensive connotations. The idea was that at the end of a round the winner would cry a resounding cry of _lump yo Hump,_ and then stick his thumb up at his opponent. This in turn gave rise to the catch phrase, _don't call me a Hump you topey turd,_ which was then generally followed by a punch to the shoulder or a more aggressive head-butt. All well for a Hump that has no problem being called a Hump, but not so well for the drunk common folk who were consistently and forcibly removed for brawling in their local taverns.

So why play the game at all?

Indeed, why stagger and fall, why slur your words, why see things that aren't, and why try to push a flat stone to the edge of a table just to see if you can flip it into the air and catch it? Because when one is drunk one will usually resort to doing all manner of stupid things.

On the contrary, what proved to be mildly difficult for the drunken common folk seemed an extremely challenging exercise for the thick fingered and clumsy handed Humps that held dominion over the plain of Bradley.

Moving on.... let the games begin.

As Hump1 was the biggest and ranked first in their troop, his singular motion was to start the ball rolling, or stone sliding in this instance. Not surprisingly, he met with no opposition to his ruling, nor was it generally important who started the game anyway because in most cases results were embarrassingly bad to say the least, which meant that going first was not necessarily considered an advantage.

He sought a stone from the bag, fingered them for a time to find a good fit, and then emerged with one that was likely no different from the rest.

Humps 2 and 3 grunted, because that's what Humps do.

The stone was slapped onto the table and stared at for several clicks, not a sound was made. Hump1 readied his arched fingers, preparing them for impact, flexing them once for practice, working to perfect his flick.

He flicked.

The stone slid smoothly and effortlessly across the table's surface – fluid – and came to rest just short of its wooden edge.

A good play indeed.

Hump1 grinned.... or grimaced.... who knew?

Again he poised ready his fingers, his upper bulk leaning across the table to reach the delicate push he needed to set the stone up for the catch.

He flicked a second time.

Once more the stone travelled, but only a short distance, before coming to rest precariously on the edge of the table, half on and half off, just as the rules implied.

It was a wonderful play, very un-Hump-like.

Hump1's response was cool; he blew on his fingertips and rubbed them along his breast. He was so good.

He leant forward over the table again and hooked a finger beneath the overhanging stone. His eyes remained fixed and unblinking.

Humps 2 and 3 held their breath.

Hump1 played the shot.

The pebble flew into the air, spinning as it went, travelling in a high arc back toward the centre of the table. Hump1 bounced his bulk away, but with the same fluid motion as the stone, moving at the same pace, retracting toward his stool with the same arc and bringing his pudgy hands in line with the descent of the flying rock. When the stone miraculously plopped into the middle of his cupped hands, Hump1 was sitting comfortably upon his stool again.

" _Grunt."_

From beyond their corner and past their hall, they heard a sound of scuffling on the cobble floor.

Hump1 got to his feet and walked to the edge of the corridor where he would be able to see what had caused the noise. From his vantage, though obscured by the lack of light available, he was able to discern the backs of three skinny figures and two shorter, round ones, all shuffling their way toward the exit ahead of them.

Just for a moment Hump1 contemplated the chase, but quickly realised he had already tired of his captives. They had served their purpose as entertainment for the day, now it was time to get back to his game. First score from the first round, it had never been done by a Hump before.

He turned around with another grunt and went back to his corner.

### CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT

The six companions stepped out into the night and breathed deeply the fresh air.

During their time spent inside The Hump it had become chill and damp outside, and just how late it was into the night they did not know; though one thing was certain, the moon was fairly bright and they really needed to get moving.

"We really need to get a move on," Barret affirmed, "How do we get out of here?"

Grarrt stepped up and gave direction.

They should go back the same way they came, but along the eastern edge of the field of blue flowers was a stream. Travel up the stream for about a day and they would come to a town.

"What's the name of the town?" Barret asked.

"Idontknow."

"At least we can get our bearings once we get there. I know most of the towns around here, that's if we haven't gone too far from the area I'm familiar with."

"Then we can figure out what to do next," Billy said quietly excited, "after we've had a good feed, warmed up, and gotten a proper sleep."

The others nodded their approval and hummed at the prospects.

"Are you not coming with us, Grarrt?" Cetra asked, a little sad with his implied departure.

Grarrt could have gone with them, but he simply didn't care for the idea. Anyway, he was looking forward to joining his colleagues in the guards' corner and playing a bit of _Lump Yo Hump._

"No," he said, "Ihavetostayhew."

It was a sad moment, Grarrt had been such a help to them, and he'd really proved to be a good ally. Even Barret was grateful for the little Hump's presence and therefore managed to muster up a new found respect for the creature.

When the moment passed, and they had said their goodbyes, Grarrt disappeared back into the hole and our company of heroes disappeared back into the corn stalks.

Ah.... corn stalks in the moonlight....

"I feel nice here," Cetra whispered with a delightful squeak to her voice.

"You're nice everywhere," Barret said and immediately caught the stares from both Billy and Briar.

Cetra just giggled.

Rod, who had been quiet for some time now simply soaking up the atmosphere of his adventure, scratched at Cetra's neck and asked very politely if he could have a stint at travelling with Billy for a while. Cetra obliged happily and without question, much to Rod's disappointment.

"Hello Rod," Billy greeted him, "Are you enjoying yourself?"

"Very much so young man," the little desert mouse said while he scratched around to get a good hold on Billy's jacket, "But say, what's his game?"

"Huh?" Billy said.

"Barret.... What's his game with Cetra?"

Billy turned to look at the mouse on his shoulder, "What are you talking about?"

"Barret...!" Rod fumed quietly, "Speaking all nice like that to Cetra. What's he up to?"

"A bit out of character you think?"

"Indeed."

"A bit jealous there you think?"

Rod blushed, or at least Billy figured he did.

"I don't think he meant anything by it," Billy said.

They both sighed and together turned their heads to look behind them.

Barret and Cetra were walking together, chatting. He was holding two ears of corn to his head, obviously reprising an old joke, and making her laugh. Billy and Rod hoped it was a polite laugh rather than genuine amusement.

Briar walked up ahead, his guilt returning now he had time to ponder on it. Though Billy had told him not to worry about it, he still couldn't seem to release his conscience from the burden he'd placed upon it. This made him feel indebted to Billy, but in the whole scheme of things would such a commitment really be all that beneficial to Billy?

"Hey," Briar said as he turned to meet Billy and Rod behind him. He caught sight of Barret with Cetra and grimaced.

"What's Barret think he's doing?" he huffed.

"Muscling in," Rod scowled.

"You know what I want more than anything once we get to town?" Billy interrupted them in an effort to change the subject.

"What?'

"A bath."

"I've been cleaning myself for the past seventy two hands," Rod said and then licked his left haunch.

"Yuk!" Billy gagged with disgust,

"Baths are overrated," Briar contributed, "All they do is make you wet."

"And clean...!"

"Clean shmean, big whoop. What's so great about being clean?"

"Yuk again."

"A man should smell like a man," Briar continued, "hard working and sweaty."

"But you smell like a pig," Rod said.

"Your point being...?"

By this time they had reached the edge of the corn stalks and once again found themselves entering the grassy field with scattered trees.

"Look," Rod said, "the grassy field with scattered trees again."

They stopped and huddled together, staring into the shadowy landscape before them.

"It is said that the trees come alive when darkness falls," Briar began, "and that all who enter in the night will never again see the day."

"Shut up Briar," Barret snapped.

"Hey, you called me Briar. Why are you so nice all of a sudden?"

Barret screwed up his face and closed his eyes tightly for a few moments before mumbling something in Irish.

"Do we dare enter?" Briar continued.

"What choice do we have?" Billy said softly.

"Can we camp here and wait until daylight?" Cetra asked.

"I think we need to get as far away from here as possible," Barret reasoned, "Once the Humps find out we've gone they're sure to come looking for us."

A chill wind blew up from the field and a spiral of dead leaves danced in front of them before disappearing over their heads and into the corn stalks.

Billy shivered. "Should we walk or run?'

Rod stood tall on Billy's shoulder and voiced his thoughts, "If we run lads, we might alert the trees to our presence more than if we were to simply stroll through them. By running we would be showing fear and that may work to our disadvantage."

"So we walk then," Billy agreed.

"By walking we show that we have no fear of them and they will leave us alone," Rod finished.

"Wish we had an axe," Barret whispered, "then they'd have reason to fear _us._ "

If fear was in them, funny enough, no one would have guessed it by watching them as they began to move toward the trees. Amongst wavering shadows and dappled light the long grass appeared grey and smooth.

Rod fidgeted for a moment on Billy's shoulder and then asked to be excused.

"Sorry?" Billy said.

"May I go back to Cetra please?" Rod repeated softly.

"Oh, alright."

Billy shuffled across to Cetra's side and touched his shoulder to her arm so that Rod could make his own way back. Cetra welcomed the little mouse with a sweet grin and tapped his nose gently with her finger.

"Cheeky," she whispered.

She caught Billy's eye before he was able to move away and bumped him back, grabbing his hand when he appeared to lose his balance. They both giggled softly, and although Cetra was oblivious to it, Billy was well aware of the three sets of eyes now staring him down.

Oddly enough, as our companions continued to move deeper into the grassy plain, the trees which at first appeared scattered now seemed to be closing in around them, giving the sense that they were walking into a forest.

"I know its dark," Briar said as he turned around to face them all, "and, I mean, we could be lost, but this really doesn't look right."

Indeed, they all shuffled their feet and looked around. Cetra squeezed Billy's hand tighter and pulled him close. Barret stood taller than his companions and so felt more vulnerable. Rod lay forward on Cetra's shoulder and tapped his left paw to his chin; he was deep in thought.

"So does anyone remember this forest being here?" Billy asked.

Of course the answer was _no._

Beyond this supposedly grassy plain with scattered trees was the field of blue flowers and at the eastern edge of that was a stream, this is where they needed to go, so where was there any mention of a forest in between?

"Have the trees moved?' Cetra asked and then shivered.

Above their heads a wind suddenly blew up hard against the tops of the trees, pushing branches awkwardly and contorting their wood until it creaked and groaned. The noise was like rapids, like a torrent of water smashing over rocks; its roar was uncomforting and almost deafening. Bark shattered and fell to the ground, leaves broke away and shot up to the sky, and our five travellers remained huddled together beneath it all, fearful yet still bold; until at once, and without warning, it stopped.

"I have a theory," Rod said in the immediate silence. He was still lying with his paw to his chin.

"And what would that be?' Barret asked.

Rod pushed himself up and then sat back down on his haunches, leaving his front paws free to move around.

"What if," he began, "somehow, darkness gives the illusion that this entire area is out of perspective. What if, what we are actually seeing is perspective in reverse?"

"Huh?"

_Oh yes, this was getting their attention_.

"Yes lads," he continued, "imagine, instead of seeing everything in the distance come to a single point on the horizon, we are in fact seeing everything in _front_ of us clumped together at that same single point, stopping us from being able to see into the distance which is now all separated, because we are, by illusion, at the horizon."

"Huh?"

How could he explain it better?

"We are seeing here, around us now, what a grassy plain with scattered trees would look like in the distance, that is, all the trees coming together to join at a single point, but in reality, they are not that close at all, they are, in fact, still separated. Like we saw during the day."

"The mouse is making less sense than a topey," Briar said then.

"Go young fellow, touch a tree," Rod dared.

"And what will that prove?"

"The illusion predicts that it is not really there."

Barret laughed, "You know how ridiculous that sounds?"

"Go on," Rod said confidently, "see for yourself."

Barret nodded at Briar who then walked across to the nearest tree and firmly planted his hand upon its wood. He smirked.

"Alright," Rod said now, "touch the one next to it."

Again Briar reached over and slapped his hand on the neighbouring tree, tapping it with his knuckles to emphasise the realness of it.

Rod was indifferent to the results, and he conceded defeat gracefully and quietly; after all, it was only a theory.

"My theory," Barret said, deciding it was now his turn "is that these trees really are closing in on us, so we had better get a move on."

"Yeah," was Briar's contribution, "let's get the topey out of here."

Unanimously they decided that the trees were alive and trying to get them, so they continued forward, walking at a relative pace, watching as with every step the trees appeared to be gathering in around them and blocking their path, forcing them to the left, and then to the right, confusing their direction. Branches began to reach down and scratch at their clothes, leaves clumped together to obscure their vision; and all the while the trees continued to groan like a ravenous burro managing somehow to gnaw on its own ear.

Moonlight was obscured and darkness closed in on them as the trees became so dense as to force them into single file, with Briar leading the way and Barret holding the rear. In that failing light Billy sought out Briar's jacket to grab onto and with his other hand still firmly planted in Cetra's he suggested that she too must seek out Barret. When they were all five joined together they pressed on in complete darkness, their eyes almost useless, relying only on Briar's searching hands.

It was a while before they saw any hint of light again, and by this time they were actually having to squeeze their way through the trees. They were now tired and they were scratched and some of their clothes had been torn. That faint light ahead of them was a welcome sight; it gathered them up quickly and pulled them forward, lighting their path once more and releasing them from their fear. When they had finally approached the last of the trees and squeezed through to be free of the forest, a resounding groan of disappointment echoed out into the night, and a field of sleepy blue flowers peacefully engulfed their battered bodies.

### CHAPTER TWENTY NINE

Day broke.

Briar loved the smell of dried, salted pork.

"You're a cannibal," Barret chided in disgust.

"Reckon this could've been my cousin," Briar poked fun with a grin as he licked the strip of meat held between his pudgy hands.

"Gross!"

"It's ok," Briar laughed, "didn't like him anyway. Don't mind him now though."

Sometime during the night before they had lain exhausted amongst the blue flowers of the field, beyond that they had no recollection. Now, as they ate some breakfast and sat beside the bubbling stream on the east edge, the blue flowers of the field all appeared to be staring at them and smiling.

It was a happier time now than had been experienced over the past few days; the morning had brought with it both a bright, warm sun, and the fresh smells of a beautiful landscape. Whatever wounds they had sustained the night before were now healed and their bodies felt entirely rejuvenated, athletic almost.

"I feel like I could run a mile," Billy claimed vigorously as he stood and stretched his arms above his head.

In the distance, beyond the field of blue flowers, Billy looked across at the nemesis they had encountered the night before.

"Hey, look at this," he said, waving for his companions to stand with him.

United they stood and gasped at what they saw.

"A grassy plain with scattered trees," Rod said.

Indeed, a grassy plain with scattered trees! Unfortunately for Briar he was too short to see.

"Incredible," Barret gaped.

"The trees really did come alive," Cetra added.

"Ok," Briar jumped in from below, "I got all scratched up in there last night, and so did you, right?"

They all agreed.

"So why aren't we all scratched up still?"

From somewhere nearby they heard a giggle, it was only a soft giggle, it may have just been a breeze; there hadn't been a breeze until now.... maybe.

In that breeze the blue flowers of the field began to wave, they were all open to the sun and still appeared to be smiling as they moved hypnotically from side to side.

"The flowers are pretty," Cetra remarked, and a single tear began to form in her big eye.

While they were standing there, with the breeze gently whipping their hair and ruffling their clothes, a murmuring began about them, it was like a sweet whispered song floating up from the field to drip warm honeyed sounds into their hungry ears.

"It is so beautiful," Cetra cried softly.

She was swaying ever so slightly from side to side, tears now drenched her cheeks and sobs came in short successive waves.

Even the air was sweet to smell.

Briar took a deep breath and then smiled. He looked up to observe Cetra as her body heaved with another sob and then sank delicately to the ground. He watched on as both Billy and Barret also succumbed to weeping while they continued to stare over the field. It was then that he took a step back, suddenly understanding the predicament that was about to engulf them all, quickly realising that if the blue flowers' song got a hold of them it wouldn't let go until they were all curled up on the ground in the foetal position and spent till exhaustion. Yes, it was all up to Briar, and he had to get them out of there fast.

He ran forward and kicked Barret's ankle hard, the aim was to rouse the Irishman from the hypnotic effects of the flowers, and that it did, along with the added bonus of making him very angry.

"Get Cetra," Briar yelled commandingly, "We have to get her away from the flowers."

Barret felt his vision blurred by tears, he was light headed but well aware of the heavy blow he had sustained to his leg. When he had finished glaring at Briar who was yelling something at him, he looked down at Cetra lying on the ground and immediately leapt for her and scooped her up in his arms. It was a rare moment, when instinct was telling him that Briar might be right this time.

In the ensuing moments, Rod, who seemed to have been overlooked, took the opportunity to adopt a new host for the time being. He leapt from Cetra's shoulder where he had been holding on for grim death, took to Barret's sleeve, then climbed his arm and sought sanctuary within the collar of Barret's jacket.

While all that was going on, Briar was shaking Billy with a rather tremendous amount of force. When Billy finally regained a sense of logic he was able to discern that Briar was screaming something at him and hanging onto the hem of his jacket.

"Let's go," Briar was yelling, "We need to hurry."

Billy jumped to attention, wiped tears away from his eyes, and wondered where he had just been. He grabbed the leather satchel from the ground and fell into ranks; Briar led the way out, Barret held onto Cetra in his arms, and Billy followed at the rear.

Their journey upstream had begun.

### CHAPTER THIRTY

Cetra was wrung-out.

She woke up spent.

The journey upstream had been uneventful so far; the trek was easy going, they had plenty of water, and Cetra was hardly a weight to be a burden on Barret.

"Hello Barret. You are carrying me," she said, reflecting on her situation.

"Yes I am," Barret responded proudly.

Barret remained only a few steps behind Billy and Briar who were now walking side by side. To their right was the stream, its flowing water sparkled in the sunlight as it cascaded over pebbles and through reeds.

"I am very thirsty, Barret," Cetra said quietly.

"I suppose you are."

Barret took the short detour to the bank of the stream and let Cetra down gently. She was a little wobbly to begin with but soon had her footing well enough to kneel on the ground and cup some water up to her mouth.

"I will be alright to walk now. Thank you Barret," she said.

Just up ahead, Billy and Briar were walking along and trying to skip stones across to the other side of the stream.

"This is harder than it looks," Briar admitted. He'd managed to get none across as yet, what with the reeds and the rocks and a short, stubby arm to throw with, success was implausible.

Billy figured the trick was probably to bounce the stone off the top of a rock somewhere in the middle and hope that it might continue to the other side.

"Check this out," he said confidently.

Held between his thumb and forefinger, and resting atop his middle finger, was a flat, almost perfectly rounded stone; to Billy it felt evenly weighted and proportioned, or so he imagined if he'd really known anything about that sort of thing. It was the perfect skipping stone.

"Hey, that looks like a good skipper," Briar cheered, pointing at the stone in Billy's hand.

"I know, that's exactly what I thought."

Billy put his left foot forward and spun his body round to reach his right arm back; he cradled the stone loosely but firm enough to maintain control. He took aim, closing one eye to do so, but realised that was a fruitless exercise and opened it again, then counted to three in his head. When he had counted to three three times he threw the stone.

The perfect stone.

It was aerodynamic. It was fluid. It sliced through the air like a topey on an arrow head and channelled all its energy toward striking the large rock in the middle of the stream.

Billy and Briar stood gaping and silent.

If the stone hit the top of the desired rock in the middle of the stream it would bounce forward continuing on its original trajectory and reach the opposite bank.

On the other hand....

The stone did hit its desired target, which was a mean feat in itself, but it struck at water level, and with a loud _crack_ puncturing the air it then ricocheted back in the direction it had come from.

Now, not only were their mouths agape, but also their eyes suddenly as the stone hurtled back toward them at full velocity.

Thinking quickly enough, they jumped sideways and away from one another as the rock flew between them and landed with a _thud_ against the trunk of a nearby tree and then fell to the ground below.

Billy and Briar looked at each other and burst out laughing.

"Cool," Briar said.

"Cool," Billy agreed.

It was at that point they all decided it would be a good time to tuck into some food. The sun was high in the sky and they had travelled far and wide.

Rod was let down on a large stone by the bank of the stream, he welcomed the rock's warmth and praised the big chunk of bread that was placed before him.

"Thank you my young adventurer," he said to Billy.

Billy first passed the leather satchel to Cetra, who took out her portion and then passed it onto Briar. With a slight of hand Briar took out a little more than his share and then passed it over to Barret who scowled his acknowledgement and received the satchel with a challenging snatch. After Barret it found its way back to Billy who helped himself to a rapple, a chunk of dried meat, and a wedge of bread.

_Yum_.

When he had finished the meat and bread, Billy bit into the rapple and held it in his mouth while he took off his boots and his socks and rolled up his khaki cargo pants to knee height. The stream was inviting him to wet his toes.

"No Billy, don't do it," Briar shouted from behind.

Billy stopped abruptly and took a step back.

"The stones will grab you and drag you under," Briar continued with a grin.

"They will not, pig-boy," Barret said disdainfully.

Briar bit into his rapple and turned again to Billy. He shrugged his shoulders and winked.

"You're the smelliest thing in existence, Briar," Barret quipped, "you should get in there and give yourself a good tub."

"Ha ha," Briar answered cleverly.

"I will go in with you Billy," Cetra said as she got to her feet and took off her shoes and socks.

When her feet were bare, Briar gawked, "What's up with your foot?" he said, having never noticed the hair line above her sock before now.

Cetra glanced down and giggled, "It is not mine," she said and then quickly joined Billy at the edge of the stream, leaving Briar bewildered.

The water was cold, but soothing to a tread worn foot. Billy waded in until it was just below his knees. Cetra followed and kicked water up at him.

"Hey," he said and quickly turned around with his arms outstretched to the side, "So much for keeping my clothes dry."

Billy grinned before lifting his right foot and repeatedly kicking water back up at the girl, she squealed with delight and danced around, she reached down and scooped up water with her hands to splash it over Billy again and again, until the two had all but vanished inside a deluge of coloured liquid.

"Check the rainbow they've made," Briar yelled and pointed from the sidelines. He immediately stripped to his underpants and waded into the stream. It was a bit deeper than he had anticipated, and when he began to splash around he looked very much like an ugly baby paddling excitedly in a wading pool.

"What about you, Rod?" Barret said.

"Water and mice don't mix, my boy," Rod said and then began to lick himself clean instead.

Barret too rolled his pants up and took off his shoes and socks before taking the plunge; he figured when his clothes got wet it would be the alternative to washing them.

So they splashed and frolicked, pushed each other around, jumped on one another and yelled and laughed a lot; and all the while Rod sat atop his rock and bathed his little body.

"Kids!" he said, then clucked his tongue and shook his head.

The day rolled on and they soon pushed forward again.

They were soaking wet, but they were happy.

A wind blew down unexpectedly from the north; it dried their clothes quickly but pressed against their skin harshly.

Barret removed his jacket and placed it over Cetra's shoulders. "This wind is unforgiving," he said.

Indeed, it was the prelude to an impending storm. From yonder horizon a pattern of dark clouds approached them speedily; it shouted its rein with thunder and brandished spears of lightening.

"Wow," Briar gaped, "guess we're going to get caught in that."

A faint light flickered on the horizon. Cetra imagined it was simply a reflection of the lightening, but on second glance it remained there, and became brighter still.

As the growing darkness prematurely put an end to their day, a sombre mood took a hold of their hearts. They had travelled a great distance, and enjoyed the journey, but they were tired, and it was starting to rain on them.

"That light," Cetra pointed, "it is a town."

They all stopped for a brief moment and stared.

"Yes," Barret agreed with a big smile.

"Just in time I guess," Billy said thankfully, "Let's go."

"Yay," Cetra cheered and clapped her hands.

### CHAPTER THIRTY ONE

There was a certain familiarity to the scene Billy thought.

Four (five) companions happen upon town one dark and stormy night. The grizzled old guard stands at the gate and looks them up and down.

"Who are ye, comin' into town at this late hand?" sez 'e, "What business ye be havin' 'ere?"

"We are simple travellers in search of lodging for the night," sez the first companion, "Our business is ours alone."

The guard grunts and rubs his hand across the stubble on his forehead, sez 'e, "Strange 'appenin's been afoot 'ere lately."

"We just wants a warm meal and a bed for the night is all," the first companion reaffirms.

Again the guard grunts before he points a stained finger toward the centre of town.

"Ye'll find what ye be needin' at the Caterin' Burro," 'e sez, "ask for Bland, 'e's the owner, 'e'll look after ye."

So through the mud to the Cantering Burro they sloshed. Indeed, the mud was so muddy that at one juncture, where the road was narrow and sloped into a shallow gully for effectively good drainage, except during rainy periods, poor wee Briar unwittingly managed to sink down so far as to his knees, which to anyone over three feet tall wasn't very deep at all, and lose his left boot to the sloppy, slushy, sucking road. Of course, once free and terribly sodden, he dived right back in there with his hands and was able to retrieve the lost boot only after several attempts at fighting suction and gravity. By the finish, _happy as a pig in mud_ just didn't ring true.

"Will you stop playing around Briar and get a move on," Barret's voice called from somewhere in the thick of the rain.

None of them had heard of the Cantering Burro, not because they abstained from frequenting the local taverns at all, but the town itself didn't appear familiar; even to Barret who made a living from peddling his trinkets in many of them.

Point of interest – Barret was what those on the plain would describe as an _old_ , or _odd-wares merchant_ , dealing mostly in strange and often one-off items; anything from and in-between the simple carrion flute, a noisy instrument made from the hollowed out bones of dead things, to the far less accessible red candle he had once sold to a grey bearded chap who subsequently was never heard from nor seen again. Many things were made from metal and one could assume would be handy in the kitchen, other things were stone and ornamental. Jewellery fetched the highest prices though, and everything was unique to his business; a point he had once raised with his supplier and received a confusing and stupid answer to.

They were a duet of father and son, Brock and Barry; they looked altogether human through Barret's eyes, and refreshingly familiar in a landscape inhabited by the oddest of odd creatures. They came and they went, they supplied and then vanished. They were elusive. Rumour had it they were fugitives; or so according to his good friend Ballders the burro man, they were thieves, and very good ones at that.

As for the Cantering Burro, it was close now, situated on a corner of the muddy streets, wooden in structure with a slanting and slightly crooked roof over a dry verandah. From its windows emanated a warm and welcoming glow, and the heady aroma of beetroot cider in the air bit at their nostrils.

"How splendid," Rod said. His small nose twitched from beneath the collar of Barret's jacket on Cetra's shoulder where he had taken refuge much earlier that day at the onset of rain.

The step up to the verandah was short and solid, a welcome _thud_ as opposed to a sloppy _slush_. Positioned at irregular intervals around its perimeter were mud laden strips of metal embedded into the wood itself. Assuming these were for scraping the mud from their boots they proceeded to scrape the mud from their boots upon them before entering into the warmth of the tavern.

This very warmth immediately engulfed them in an atmosphere of cider, chatter, laughter and cider; it gave them all a rugged sense of kinship to one another, of having made the day's journey and ended it, weary and torn, hungry and parched, wanting for little more than a warm meal, a refreshing drink, a hot bath, maybe a good massage, a comfortable pillow to lay their heads, and their own company.

The very tall and stocky man at the bar looked down upon them and grinned, "Welcome young lads and lass," he boomed over the din, "My word, ye all look beat."

"Indeed, kind sir," Briar squealed from below and sort of jumped awkwardly on the spot to get a better look.

The man craned over the bar and spoke loudly again, "Whose wee yelp is that?"

"I'm Briar, and I'm no wee yelp."

"Of course yer not," the man ventured, "I can see that now. My apologies to ye young feisty fellow. Now, what can I do for ye all on this here cold and damp night?"

"Would you be Bland?" Barret asked and fidgeted his weight from one leg to the other.

"Actually young fellow," the man said with a grin, "I consider myself quite on the interesting side." He extended a big hairless hand to be shaken, "The name's Brand. Ye must have met up with Bollard at the gate; drunken old coot he is. Bet he told ye there was _strange 'appenin's afoot 'ere_ too."

Barret nodded.

"Ugh, he's full of rubbish, always standing out there rain or shine, trying to put the scare into anyone and everyone."

Brand was a big man. Re-establishing the fact that Brand was a big man and quite capable of being his own bouncer, he placed his two big hands on the top of the bar and said in a low, guttural voice, "What'll it be, young friends?"

"Good sir," Barret announced in his _self-appointed-spokesman-for-the-party_ voice, "we are after a hearty meal and lodging for the night."

"And a bath would be lovely too," Billy said, raising his hand as if needing permission to speak.

Brand grinned again and spread his arms open wide, "Ye are cold and wet, and slightly soiled at that. Welcome to my establishment. Welcome to the Cantering Burro. Me and the missus will well look after ye."

They were served piping hot duckenbroth from a large pot hanging above the red embers inside an imposing stone fireplace; it had been simmering since before sunset. Two round loaves of crusty brown bread accompanied it with a wooden bowl filled with chunks of goats' milk butter to spread. It was all very delicious. Four steins of beetroot cider were placed before them and Briar was the first to grab for one. He drank it down fast, and then slammed the container hard onto the table and belched.

Rod emerged completely from his collar hideaway and descended Cetra's arm to the rough surface of the table where he smiled at her and licked his teeth.

"Oh, Rod, I am very sorry," she said, "You must be hungry too."

She ladled the broth out in her spoon and placed it on the table like a little bowl, then ripped off a palm sized chunk of bread to go with it. Rod was delighted.

"Should I be drinking this?" Billy asked, cringing at the stein filled with beetroot cider and considering whether his mum and dad would approve or not.

Barret clucked his tongue and broadened his Irish accent, "An leanbh beag," he said and then laughed, "Try it, it's full of iron."

With a slow hand Billy reached for the potent red beverage and lifted it to his lips. Its smell was earthy and sweet, like beetroot and honey. In fact, it tasted good, bitey, but very good. Although he wouldn't drink it all, two more gulps and he slid it across to Briar, who caught it, winked, and kept it for after.

"The missus and me," Brand said, rejoining them, "well, the missus, is drawing ye a hot bath in yer room upstairs. Should be ready shortly."

"Splendid my good man," Rod spoke through a spattering of bread crumbs.

Brand looked at the small rodent on his table.

"Ah," he said, "a wee desert mouse. Long ways from home aren't ye me furry fellow?"

"Indeed, a journeyman I've become with these interesting folk."

"Good for the spirit, travelling is. Done it myself before starting the Burro and taking up with the missus."

"And a keen establishment you've made for yourselves I must compliment."

"We both thank ye kindly," Brand said before diverting the conversation, "But I must ask, and I don't mean to appear rude by doing so, but how old have you reached by now?"

It was a fact known to only a few that the humble desert mouse was capable of sustaining life for many hands, living by his wits and his will to survive against all adversity just on that thin threshold of a chance that something interesting may happen along and so whisk him away on the journey of a lifetime. Thus, for a species who do not live by true family units and whose males are all essentially wandering bachelors, Rod's answer of 11,384 days was consistent with such longevity, and therefore scored a " _well done"_ from Brand and a " _good one"_ from the table nearest their left.

During such time as said conversation was taking place, and having finished her meal in its entirety, Cetra politely excused herself from the table.

As well, adjacent to a second and far less than grand fireplace compared to the big one used for cooking, a trio of musicians had gathered to sit and play. Their sound was lively and Celtic to Billy's ears, with instruments not dissimilar to a violin, a banjo, and a guitar; all appeared to be made of timber and were very basic in design and decoration.

That said, the Burro was filled with good cheer; indeed, its cup did runneth over.

Though despite all this merriment, Barret was none too happy with such a sight as he beheld going on near to the large doorway at the far end of the bar.

It was a big fella that leaned with his hand against the wall and one leg casually crossed behind the other; his broad shoulders dominated a smallish head with a face that was wrinkled and stub-nosed and bordered on both sides by pointy, but droopy lobed ears.

Between this behemoth and the wall was Cetra, and she appeared to be trapped by her own naive politeness.

Barret felt his Irish blood boil.

He stood to his feet and scraped the chair on the floor behind him. He waded his way through patrons to the far end of the bar. He did not take his gaze from the big fella's back.

For one fleeting moment Cetra was able to catch Barret's eye before he was completely obscured behind the big fella's bulk.

Barret stopped and tapped the big fella on the shoulder.

He was a big fella.

"Hey, big fella," Barret growled confidently and stood his ground, "the lady's with me."

Big fella turned around languidly and looked Barret up and down. "Who are ye," he laughed, "to be thinkin' she'd be hookin' up with a topey turd like ye?"

Barret tensed ready to go.

"Name's Barret the Irishman, and if I'm set to be ripping your ears off I'd at least think it partly polite to hear what name _you_ go by."

Big fella's head flinched, his eye winked, and he cracked his neck.

"Spanner," he spat, "dealer of pain.... in all.... manner."

"I knew someone called Spanner once," Barret chided, "he was a real tool."

"What ye say?" Spanner fired.

"I said," Barret said, "I'm telling you to leave the lady alone."

"Leave the lady alone, ye say?"

"Right... leave the lady alone. Are you deaf?"

"What?"

"I thought so."

What ensued was a short pause, during such time as Spanner huffed and collected his thoughts. Once having collected his thoughts he then exploded.

"I'm gonna rip yer head off ye topey head.... ripped.... off."

_Finally_ , Barret thought.

Still tensed ready to go and his Irish blood burning through his veins, Barret raised his fists ready for the fight. "Come on wing nut," he taunted, "have your go."

But before any knuckles could be swapped, or blood be spilled, a commanding voice rumbled across the tavern floor. It rattled steins and shook the walls, it quelled lanterns and silenced patrons, it completely threw the musicians out of tune. It was Brand, and he was bouncing.

"Take it outside boys," he said.

Such was his dominance and influence within the community that he demanded the attention of everyone, even more so when he announced that _all bets were on._

"All bets are on," someone else cried from within the crowd.

It was enough to excite.

So much that the doors were held open and the two men were escorted out to the muddy road, encouraged by the wagers set _for'n'agin_ them both.

Thankfully it had stopped raining.

As for the others?

Rod hitched a ride with Billy, and he and Briar now stood at the front of the crowd positioned on the verandah, watching as their good friend Barret and his very big opponent were encircled by a cheering mob of spectators.

"My money's on Barret," Billy yelled over the noise.

"What's money?" Briar asked, breaking his chant of _fight fight fight_ from the rest of the crowd.

"Money...! You buy things with it.... You pay for dinner with it."

"Yeah?" Briar said, "Nope, we use gold for that."

Billy gaped.

"You'd bet on Barret?" Briar said surprised, "Why on Bradley would you do that?"

"Because he's got the advantage."

"How do you think?"

"He's Irish."

Cetra, on the other hand, had gone in a completely different direction. Knowing that men had to be men and that fighting was just one of many excuses men had to exalt their manliness; putting aside the idea that it was all to do with keeping a woman's honour intact, which it wasn't, that was simply an excuse – like _having_ to scull the three steins of beetroot cider placed before you on the table just because you were dared to – she decided to separate herself from the ruckus and retire to their room where she met with the missus, who had just finished drawing their bath.

"Hello the missus," was her greeting, "I am Cetra."

The woman looked up from steaming water and wiped her hands on the apron around her waist. "Cetra is it?" she smiled between ruddy cheeks, "Name's Beth. Well pleased to meet ye young lass."

"They are fighting downstairs," Cetra commented.

"Oh they are? Good for the bonding it is, the men make new friends that way."

Beth was a sturdy woman, not large by any account, and certainly not skinny or timid looking, but big boned and muscular and somewhat attractive for a publican's missus, if that meant anything at all.

"Well," she said, "I'm sure ye'll be wanting to get yerself cleaned up now. Once yer all done with just rinse the mud off yer boots in the same water and leave them by the fire. I'll sort the bath out in the day."

"Thank you Beth, you are very kind."

"If ye be needing anything else just let me know."

Then she was gone, and Cetra settled into the first bath.

Meanwhile the fight downstairs proceeded.

Although Barret was no match in weight, he was confident in his speed and agility. Spanner was big and slow.... and dumb. Sure he could probably wrestle a medium sized Hump to the ground, but if Barret kept away from that hold he was sure capable of knocking him to the mud.

Yes.... the mud.

Spanner's fists were hard and heavy. It was the bulk behind them though that posed the biggest threat, for the fists themselves were slow and inaccurate, and when they swung through the air they had a difficult time making contact with Barret's head which, to Spanner's growing frustration, continued to duck and weave.

In the same tense, during those moments of ducking, Barret was able to shoot a couple of punches into the big fella's lower stomach, producing little effect, but when he weaved he found the opening to sink a few hefty lefts in just under the ribcage on Spanner's side, causing him to gasp heavily and wince.

Barret figured he could go on this way forever, wait it out for the big fella to tire and collapse through exhaustion, but where was the fun in that?

For a moment, just out of interest, he dropped his guard.

Spanner saw the opportunity and struck out, hitting Barret squarely on the left side of his face and sending him deep into the mud.

The cheers that followed rang into the night as a couple of diehard Barret fans entered the ring to help him out of the mud and back into the game.

Billy and Briar _booed_ Spanner from their balcony seats and Rod screamed encouragement to Barret whilst sparring with the air on Billy's shoulder. They were caught up in the crowd, indulging themselves in the jostling and all the _oohing_ and _aahing_ , not having given a single thought to their female companion and her whereabouts.... what was her name again? Cetra?

Lucky for some, but unlucky for most on the betting board, Barret came to his feet again with nary a scratch. No blood in the mud, no news of a bruise, he was cocky for all to see.

Cocky that is, though not necessarily brave.

He was smart enough to get a few more punches in to the body, he was lucky enough to hook a powerful left to the big fella's jaw; he was cocky enough to clap his hands and cheer for the home team. He was so caught up in himself that he failed to see the two consecutive hits that would send him back into the mud.

The first one went to the stomach. Hard and heavy and driven by muscles as strong as a Humps; it stole the wind from him and made him gasp as his body doubled in two.

With his boots stuck in the mud he was able to keep his ground, but that left him open for another.

The second one went to the chin. It was an uppercut that sent him flying backwards through the air to land once again embedded in the soggy road. This time Barret was down for good, out for the count, silenced for two hands. It was long enough to render the fight over and Spanner the victor. Cheers were sung and winnings were exchanged, and soon the crowd began to disperse.

Barret pulled himself from the mud and sat upright, gazed at Billy and Briar as they slopped their way toward him.

"Great fight," Briar called out.

"Good one Barret," Billy agreed, "You ok?"

"Yeah," he said, but looked away at the big fella who was moving toward him now and the large open hand that was extending his way.

Barret smiled and laughed as he was hoisted up out of the mud. No words were exchanged at this time; they shook hands, eyed each other respectfully, and then separated. It was a great moment.

"So how much did you win pig-boy?" Barret said to Briar.

"Huh?" Billy said.

"Well you didn't think he was going to bet on me did you?"

"I would have."

"And you would've lost. But Briar didn't. Come on pig-face, nice win or what?"

"Very nice," Briar admitted coyly.

"Good," Barret said, "You can pay for the beds."

### CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Of course, Barret was the last in the bath.

He'd got so muddy that Cetra took it upon herself to seek out Beth and ask to borrow one of Mr Brand's night dresses; Beth was only too happy to oblige. "Sure thing me wee lass," she'd said, "Can't get the old bugger to wear the things these days anyway, likes to sleep in the nude, ye see." Then she'd blushed. "No complaining though," she'd whispered with a nudge of the elbow and a wink of the eye. By her own generosity, and her having taken so well to Cetra, Beth even offered to give Barret's sodden clothes a good tub.

"As good a woman as Brand is a man," Rod said from atop the table he had been placed on by the window of their room.

The limited light shed by a single lantern worked well to mask the true shade of the water in the bath after Barret removed himself dripping over the floor. He wrapped himself in a spare blanket and moved to stand directly in front of the open fire.

"Ah, nothing like warm buns," he said with a grin.

"All we need now is the butter and jam," Billy quipped.

Next to go in were the boots, and Billy cleaned them all with a cloth supplied specifically for that purpose. When he was done he lined them all up like little soldiers on the hearth next to Barret who refused to get out of the way.

By the time Cetra re-entered with Barret's damp clothes draped over her arm, everybody had settled. She dragged a couple of chairs nearer to the fire and hung the clothes over the top of them to air; then she jumped into her bed.

It hadn't rained again since sometime before the fight had begun earlier, but a good, dry wind had picked up and it whispered a promise of hardening their trail up a bit for the next day's journey.

Briar's head hit the pillow and he snored loudly in jest. As far as washing went he had cleaned the mud from his hands and splashed a little water up at his nose then wiped it dry with the bottom corner of his blanket. So, apart from his boots toasting in front of the fire, he was clothed fully and lying on the bed.

"I'm topey stuffed," he gargled on the pool of saliva in the back of his throat.

Having simply procured a noise that sounded more like _grrrrimtrrrrrrroprystrrrruft_ , Briar propped himself up a little higher on the pillow, swallowed back the offending spit, and said again, "I'm topey stuffed."

As opposed to Briar, Billy welcomed his bath, and as for covering up, his bare essentials were sufficient for sleeping in. In fact, so soft was his mattress that he felt like he was lying within the billowy folds of a cloud.... or gooserat down for that matter.

So what was a gooserat? Well.... Kind of a rats body with a long neck and a bill like a goose making it look sort of miniature prehistoric. It grew down instead of fur or feathers, which made it a highly sought after commodity; although its supply was in abundance anyway because the veracious creatures bred like rabbits.

"What does _topey_ mean?" Billy asked softly, leaning the question toward Barret.

Barret cupped his mouth with a hand and leaned his answer back at Billy, "It's how they curse," he said.

_Oh,_ Billy mouthed, "It sounds stupid. He says it like he doesn't know how to use it."

"I know."

"So what's this bed made of? It's really soft."

"How soft?"

"Really soft, feel it," Billy sat upright and gestured with a nod.

Barret shifted across the floor and sunk his hand deep into the mattress.

"Gooserat down, softest material on the plain."

"Gooserat?" Billy gagged, "That sounds off."

Barret just laughed, "Like a lot of _topey_ things around here," he said and then went back to his fire.

"I say, good fellows," Rod spoke now from his cushy spot on the pillow beside Cetra's head, "What happens next?"

It was a valid question.

It was also followed by a rather prolonged silence.

"Well...." someone eventually began but was quickly drowned out by Briar's sudden bout of legitimate snoring.

"Listen to it," Barret said pointing, "Sounds like a Hump boring through a mountain side."

"Like a train running over a bull," Billy said.

"Like an elephant burping after eating a big bale of hay," Barret volleyed back.

"Like a pig...." and then it trailed off.

They both laughed.

On the opposite side Rod and Cetra looked at one another quizzically before Rod posed the question once again.

"So what happens next?"

"Well...." that someone began a second time round.

"I'd still like to go home," Billy said, "Wouldn't you, Barret?"

Now _there_ was something Barret hadn't actually considered. Why was that?

"Ok then, if we want to know how to get you home.... maybe we first need to look at how you got here."

"The pillars," Billy said.

Barret tapped his chin and began to pace the floor.

"The pillars...." he repeated, "Yes, that's how we both got here. And Cetra's been there too."

Cetra's eyes suddenly widened more than they already were. She knew about the pillars, she'd been there lots of times, that's where she went to pray, when she could find it that is.

"How many times have you been there?" Barret asked.

"I have been there a lot of times."

"And what happens when you're there?"

Cetra thought for a moment.

"I pray." She looked at the ceiling and pursed her lips. "I go to the beach and sometimes I go to the fun park. But they are not real. Billy saw grass and trees and it was really funny when he was scratching around in the grass because I saw him rolling around in the sand."

Barret screwed up his face. He turned to Billy questioningly.

Billy just smiled, shrugged and laughed a little.

"And then," Cetra continued, "I think of where I would like to be and what I would like to be doing and I open the door and there I am!"

"Hang on," Barret interrupted, "it takes you wherever you want to go?'

"Well..." she nodded, "if I am hungry it will take me somewhere I can eat. That is why Billy and I came out at the marketplace, because we were hungry."

Billy sat up in bed suddenly rigid. "So," he said, "if I had been thinking about home instead of my stomach it might have taken me there?"

"Maybe?" Cetra answered, unsure.

It was certainly a revelation worth exploring.

"But if it was going to put you somewhere because you wanted food," Barret said, "why not just drop you off at the local milk bar? Why put you here where you don't even know where _here_ is? These aren't even people and none of them know anything about our home, what's it called again...? Oh yeah.... EARTH!"

"It really is my only option though, isn't it?" Billy pointed out.

"So far. We just have to keep moving and see if Cetra can find it"

Both Billy and Cetra nodded in agreement.

"I'm happy to keep going on as a company for as long as possible," Rod said proudly.

Barret looked at his clothes and wondered if they were dry yet.

"Is there anything else you can tell us about the pillars that might come in handy," he ventured.

Cetra placed her long index finger to the corner of her mouth.

"I see Barry there sometimes," she said, immediately capturing Barret's attention. "The first time he told me to stay away, but I did like it there so much that I did not listen to him. He is used to me now. He said that he is always close by and that I should wait for him whenever I am there, because I keep moving it on him, but sometimes he will take too long to show up, so I just go. It is funny because whenever he sees me afterwards he tells me that he got in trouble from his father for losing it again."

"Losing what?" Billy said.

"The pillars, silly."

"Sooo...." Barret started slowly, anticipating something relevant in return to the question he was about to ask, "What does this _Barry_ look like?"

"He looks like you and Billy," she answered without any hesitation, "only different. You know what I mean?'

So far so relevant....

"And do you know his father's name?'

"No."

"Is Barry the same height as me, short brown hair maybe?"

"Yes."

"Skinny?"

"Yes."

"Always carries a black leather satchel?"

"I suppose it could be leather."

Barret clapped his hands behind the cover of the blanket he was wrapped in and let out an excited though restrained " _woohoo"._

"Barry is my supplier," he announced with enthusiasm. "Not that I'm supposed to be telling you about it, they like to keep quiet about themselves.... but this is just too good...."

There was a sudden new-found buzz around the room, grins from ear to ear to ear, and continued snoring from Briar, with his mouth open and his tongue hanging out the side.

"So why haven't you ever mentioned any of this before?" Barret asked Cetra.

"You did not ask," she answered matter-of-factly, "and I did not know that you knew Barry."

"Yeah but...."

"Barret, if you do not ask why would I think to tell you?"

"Oh," Billy grinned from the sidelines and pointed at Barret, " _Burn!_ "

The plan had now become much simpler, all Barret had to do was get to Brock and Barry, or Cetra had to stumble across the pillars, whichever came first the next would follow.

"Look at it," Billy said with a smirk when he glanced again at Briar.

"You could pop a rapple in his mouth and he wouldn't even know it," Rod laughed.

Tiredness enveloped them quickly after that, but Barret lay awake well after the others had given in to sleep. He was waiting for his clothes to dry.

### CHAPTER THIRTY THREE

Sometime during the night, while everyone was asleep, Barret did something utterly despicable.

Around the same time that the fire was dying down to its last red hot embers and the bruising to his face had finally come through, Barret quietly dressed himself and then gently doused the lantern, rendering the room to a dull orange glow. He sat down on a chair beside the hearth where it was hot, the same chair his shirt and jacket had hung, and rolled his pants up to the knees.

As yet there was no movement from around him in the room, each one of his companions slept soundly. They'd all had an exhausting day.

Barret grabbed for the leather satchel hanging from the chair next to the table under the window; it was the same table that Rod had been put originally before taking the long and harrowing trip in the semi-gloom of the room to reach the comfort of Cetra's pillow.

There was hardly anything left in the satchel, two rapples and a chunk of dried meat at the most, maybe the herb bundles, but it was too dark to tell.

He took Briar's boots from the hearth; they were clean and warmed through from the fire and they fit nicely inside.

Briar's snoring was now a little quieter than at first, hopefully it was a good sign of pig-face having gone into a deeper sleep; either way, his mouth remained open wide.

In part, Barret's plan had been ill-conceived via the innocent quip made earlier on in the night by Rod the desert mouse – _you could pop a rapple in his mouth and he wouldn't even know it._

Amazing enough, yet somewhat predictably, Briar did not wake up when the offending fruit was indeed placed into his mouth. It dropped in easily, wedged against his teeth, and because his tongue was still hanging to the side, remained free from blocking his airway; something that Barret only now nodded his head in consideration to.

Now, although Barret had never had any kind of experience with babies at all, he figured that Briar was about the size of a big one, and as such knew enough to assume the potential comfort in wrapping him up in a blanket before trying to move him off the bed. Good thing Briar had never actually got beneath the covers at any time, which made it all the easier for Barret to fold the bottom of the blanket up and over Briar's body, then bring each side over to cover him and encase him, like a babe in a rug.

Barret gagged.... _ugly baby!_

Barret threw the leather satchel over his shoulder and then tucked it behind his back. He leaned forward over the bed and slowly glided his hands beneath Briar's knees and his shoulders, then picked him up nicely, allowing the pillow to fall away from behind his head.

So that was easy.

What would he have done if Briar woke up?

Well.... he hadn't really thought that possibility through.

In any case, removing Briar from the room wasn't enough to rouse him, nor was the effort of carrying him down the stairs enough. At the doors he fidgeted a little and uttered something incoherent behind the rapple in his mouth, but otherwise he remained sleeping still.

Outside the wind had already dried up the mud significantly, except in those areas where it was at its worst, like in front of the tavern where Barret and his sparring partner had churned it up earlier. Still, it was good to know they would be stepping out onto dry land when they departed at day break.

For some reason, in this instance, Barret had no conscience. This was payback, pure and simple. Briar deserved what he got.

In saying that, Barret tucked the bundle closer into his chest and out of the wind; he stepped out barefooted onto the now only slightly boggy road, and carried Briar away to give him what he apparently deserved.

### CHAPTER THIRTY FOUR

There was still many hands of darkness to go before the sun would pop up from beyond the horizon and give him the day, but Brand's insomnia of late had given him an excuse to do the things he needed to do that he couldn't get done during the day while he was working. This night he decided to do an early inventory of the bar. Not so much a difficult task, but more so time consuming and positively dull; a job for the missus. Of course, he would never outwardly say such a thing, Beth was a strong minded woman, and she'd kick his topey hide. Apart from that, she was the one who had insisted on taking control of all the stock and financial sides to the business, so even when he might be inclined to do inventory, she'd come along afterwards and double check his figures, but.... that was alright. She would still praise him for helping out; she was also a grateful woman. Later in the day he would spy her wandering around the bar with a pad and a pencil and he would ask her, _"What are ye doing my love?"_ and she would answer him, _"Just doing some inventory,"_ and then he would say, " _But I've already done the bar,"_ and then she would answer, softy and without looking at him, _"I know."_

She was also a very lovable woman, with a heart of gold and patience for all-sorts. Yes, she could fire up if need be, especially when something inappropriate was going down in the bar, but that was just how she was, a mother figure to the town. To Brand though, she was his woman, and she was plenty fine.

Meanwhile.... back to work.

_Steins.... 1, 2, 3.... keep counting.... 105. That's eight down from the last count five days ago. Broken or just lost? Maybe I should've bought those metal ones from that fellow and gotten rid of these earthenware ones. But ye can't have metal steins, then it would be just a mug. Steins are made of stone, that's why they're called steins; I can't have patrons coming up to me and saying, "Hey Brand, give us a mug of cider," it don't sound right. Now when they comes up to me and says, "I'll 'ave a stein filled with cider," that makes my day seem all the better_.

Alternatively, Beth could have the job done in half the time.

That's when the tall, young fellow with the dirty feet walked into his tavern.

It was an odd moment, and silence followed.

The intruder was lanky in build, with brown hair, and had his pants rolled up to the knees. There was a shadow on the left side of his face though the light from the lantern filled the room, and he was grinning.

"I saw the light on," he said, "I'm glad you're up."

Brand finally recognised the chap from the fight earlier, the same one who had come in from the storm with his four companions and requested a room for the night. Barret was his name, according to the betting board.

"Not my business maybe," Brand said, "depending on what ye may have been up to out there, but where've ye been all half dressed as ye are?"

Barret moved closer to the bar and sat down on one of the wooden stools there. "Been taking care of some business," he answered, and then reached into his trouser pocket.

"What sort of business?" Brand questioned sternly.

Barret pulled out a few pieces of gold coin and placed them on the bar in front of the publican's eyes.

"Can I count on your discretion?" he asked.

"Nope," Brand said, looking passed the coins at Barret with disgust.

Barret pulled out a couple more coins to add to the bribe and then winked casually.

"Young fellow," Brand chided, "I ain't condoning none of yer shenanigans in my town now...."

To which Barret added even more coin, and....

"There ye go," Brand said, finally agreeing to the terms.

Barret sighed.

"Alright," he began, "I've discarded of a trouble maker from our party. Been stirring up problems and right near got us killed by Humps."

Brand laughed, "Humps ain't going to kill ye. They might roll all over ye and play with ye for a wee bit, but they ain't into killing."

Barret absorbed the mockery. "Well," he continued, "either way, he needed to go...."

"Ye talking about that wee pig-face," Brand guessed, "The wee yelp.... Briar?"

"That's right," Barret said.

"Aye, seen the mischief in his eyes I did, straight away. So what ye do to him?"

"I won't tell you now," Barret teased, "but be certain you'll hear about it when day breaks."

"So what exactly are ye paying me off for then?"

Barret leaned in close, over the top of the bar, and glanced around the room briefly before locking eyes with Brand.

"I'd appreciate it," he said softly, "if you might casually mention to my companions that you met with our little pig friend, let's say, about now, while you're up doing whatever it is you're doing, and that he was carrying his satchel and he said he was leaving and that his friends would take care of the bill."

"Sounds right dastardly," Brand smiled. "He bet against ye didn't he?"

"Yes."

"Good fighting that was young fellow. Most that take on Spanner go straight in for the barrel and end up bouncing off. The only reason ye lost is because ye seriously thought ye could win."

"Yeah thanks," Barret droned.

Brand reached under the bar and brought out two steins. He placed them between himself and Barret before taking a short stroll through the door to an adjoining room where he disappeared for just a moment until re-emerging with a heavy looking earthenware bottle cradled in his arms. He winked at Barret, then placed the bottle on the bar and popped the cork.

There was an immediate smell, sweet with honey and something else, Barret couldn't tell.

"Carrot mead," Brand said, answering the quizzical look on his friends face, "Make it myself. Family recipe, ye see. Can't bring myself to putting a price on it though, so we don't sell it."

"Smells good," Barret said.

"Smells _ridiculously_ good," Brand corrected him.

He picked up the heavy bottle and tilted it up in the crook of his arm to pour. It flowed out, almost _oozed_ , and cascaded like a rich, orange waterfall into each stein, _glugging_ softly as the mead was replaced by air at the back of the bottle.

"Cheers," Brand said as he corked the bottle and clasped the stein in one motion.

Barret lifted his frothy headed cup and _chinked_ it against the barman's.

They drank.

It was sweet.

It was good.

"By the way," Brand pointed out, "ye forgot to put yer boots on."

### CHAPTER THIRTY FIVE

"Briar's gone."

It was Billy. He was the first to arise and notice that Briar was gone.

In the space of five or so hands it had gone from dark to light, so now the sun shone brightly and deeply into their room on the first floor of the Cantering Burro.

"What makes you think he's gone?" Barret asked, sitting up and yawning loudly.

"He's taken the bag, and he's taken his blanket," Billy answered sullenly.

Quiet followed, and Cetra stirred. Funny enough, Rod remained curled up and asleep.

Briar's bed was empty. It had not been slept _in_ , and now the top blanket was missing. The leather satchel was gone, Briar's boots were gone, and the fire had died out completely.

What was of _no_ significance though to the others was that Barret's pants' legs were rolled down, his feet were clean, and the cold bath water was just that little dirtier than it had been prior to them all having gone to bed the night before.

"Doesn't surprise me if he's taken off," Barret said.

"Who has taken off?" Cetra asked almost incoherently whilst yawning.

"Briar."

Cetra looked about the room before acknowledging the implication.

"Maybe he is downstairs having breakfast," she suggested.

"With his blanket?" Billy answered.

"Maybe he was cold."

"Maybe it turns out the pig-boy is just a rat after all," Barret spat.

Ultimately they all came to the same conclusion that Briar would be downstairs pigging into some breakfast, and that he was indeed cold, hence why the blanket was missing; and that he took the satchel so they would all be ready to go.

So many variables, and yet, they were all wrong.

"Caught yer piggy friend in the wee hands of the night," Brand announced when they had all gathered before him at one of the tables downstairs. He had prepared a quick breakfast for them all; toast cooked over the fire with goats' milk butter again to spread and choko preserve sweetened with molasses.

"Aye, took off in the dark he did. Don't know where he got off to though. Said ye'd all take care of the bill for him."

Billy was truly shocked, and again felt utterly betrayed.

Barret huffed, feigning his disgust, and then casually declared to the room, "Am I the only one here not surprised? I mean, seriously, he's been a traitor since the moment he disappeared that night from Ballders'."

They all knew to an extent that he was right; only.... Briar had shown such promise in recent days of better character. Though Billy was certainly not surprised by the Irishman's reaction. Yes, Barret and Briar had begun to tolerate one another just a little.... well, barely enough to get them all through the last days, but they had never once for even a brief moment begun to enjoy each other's company, and Barret had made his feelings quite clear from day one.

"Maybe he's around town somewhere," Billy said.

"He could be gathering provisions for the next leg of our journey," Rod suggested.

Cetra and Billy nodded in agreement.

"In the dark?" Barret said, trying to re-establish the idea that Briar had simply gone.

"Indeed," Rod continued, "gathering provisions in his own special way."

"What, deviously?"

Hanging in the background of their conversation, Brand witnessed the beginning of his new friend's demise; that is to say that Barret's plan appeared to be coming undone. The question was now, did he need help?

Without thinking, Brand stepped up to the challenge.

"Mumbled something about guilt and not deserving no friends like ye all," he said loudly and off the cuff, then winked casually in Barret's direction.

Barret liked that, now he was getting his gold's worth.

"Did you notice in which direction he left?" Billy asked the publican.

"Aye," Brand said and then hesitated.

This pause gave Barret the time he needed to somehow prompt Brand's response to the question in the opposite direction to where Briar was actually stashed. To achieve this, he turned slightly away to his right, tilted his head to the side a little, and pretended to flick his hair.

Brand, who immediately got the gist, pointed a finger in that same direction and said, "Went toward left outside the door, he did."

"Then that's where we're going too," Billy decided, "Hopefully we can catch up to him."

Pleased with the outcome, Barret agreed with Billy and also suggested they leave quickly. Suspicion had been avoided, or was it just a guilty conscience now surfacing? Barret shook his head.

They finished their toast, gathered some provisions from Brand, and payed their bill.

"Thanks for _everything_ ," Barret said to the barman and shook his hand, "You've been more than helpful."

"Indeed," Rod piped up, "It was a pleasure to meet up with such a good sir as yourself."

Brand nodded his acknowledgment and in parting said, "Remember this my young travellers, if ye need to know in which direction the wind is blowing, just look to the fields and gaze upon the burros' bum."

Thus, upon good advice, they departed; our four companions, travelling in the opposite direction to which Barret had, under the cover of darkness, carried away and disposed of his burden.

### CHAPTER THIRTY SIX

On the opposite side of town, in the centre of an empty market square reserved for feasts and festivals, a small crowd was gathering. It was not an organised gathering, but one driven more so by curiosity and chance amusement. You see, aside from the warm and glorious first sun that beat down upon their brows, and the delicious smells of breakfasts that enriched the air surrounding them, a humorous little pig creature had been put on display for all to see in the Grand roasting pit dug out many days before by the town's elders.

It was a commemorative pit, hollowed in anticipation of a battle yet to be fought and a victory yet to be won. Generations of townsfolk had carried the story, each passing it down the line, from father to son, mother to daughter, publican to patron, neighbour to neighbour, and from burro to burro; until in its present state, having been over many days misinterpreted, miss-communicated, and completely misunderstood, it had become nothing more than a charred hole in the ground, dug in remembrance of some old town squabble that hadn't even occurred with an adversary that no one could even remember.

Now on this day though, a day that no spectator particularly deemed as grand, and therefore no expectations had been placed on such a tasty morsel being dangled before them all in the Grand roasting pit, there was indeed a plump pig-boy trussed to the spit by its hands and feet, hanging with its back to the hole, fast asleep with a rapple in its mouth. Beneath it in the pit was a mud soaked blanket and a leather satchel with the toe end of a boot poking out from under its flap.

Such was the sight that it provoked much laughter.

On the opposite side of the coin there were those select few who mumbled their disapproval at such a tasteless prank. In rebuttal, their views were jeered at by the majority who savoured the prank as being quite tasty indeed.

"Anyone for bacon?" someone cried out.

To which the laughter continued and those rigid do-gooders were simply pushed aside.

Soon though, and much to everybody's disappointment, the pig-boy woke up and ruined all their fun.

### CHAPTER THIRTY SEVEN

"I know that sound," Barret said, stopping in his tracks.

They were on the outskirts of town, just about to step beyond its limits, when the familiar sound touched his ears. From somewhere very near the shrill song of a small carrion flute resonated in the air around them; it played an unknown tune, or barely a tune at all for that matter, but its sound was distinct.

To their left the fence line continued into the distance for quite some way before it turned back into town. Five posts along that fence was a young girl, she was sitting on the grass, her back against the post, and her legs were straight out in front of her with ankles crossed. She was a petite thing, maybe a little shorter than Billy in height, she had long blonde hair brushed behind small rounded ears, and she wore a grey tunic with a white shirt underneath. Her feet were bare and dirty, and a little larger than you'd think; her eyes were closed and against her pursed lips she brushed a fine bone carrion flute.

"She is pretty," Cetra said.

"Though she can't hold a tune," Billy added.

The girl stopped playing and turned to look at them. On the left side of her face, that side which had previously been turned away from them, a large raspberry coloured blotch trailed down her cheek, from the eye to the corner of her mouth, it was oddly in the shape of the letter _G._

"Hello little girl," Cetra said first, "What is your name?"

"Gabriella," she said timidly.

"Gabriella. That is a beautiful name. My name is Cetra."

"Most call me Gabby," the girl said, appearing to be suddenly comforted by Cetra's presence, "Only my parents call me Gabriella."

"Gabby is nice too," Cetra affirmed, "It does match the birthmark on your cheek, G for Gabby."

"Oh?" Gabby sounded quizzically, "That's not a birthmark, it's a brand."

"A _brand?_ " Billy gaped.

Gabby looked at Billy suspiciously and then turned her attention to Cetra again.

"I have a lot of brothers and sisters...."

"So do I," Cetra said.

".... and my parents kept forgetting our names, so they branded our first initial onto our faces so they could remember who was who."

"That's just awful," Billy said quietly, "How many brothers and sisters do you have?"

Again Gabby looked upon Billy with suspicion, but Cetra nodded her head and winked, indicating to the girl that he was ok.

"I don't know," Gabby said, "I see them around town.... with their brands. Some of them I've never even met, mostly the younger ones that is. I don't go home much."

"That is very sad," Cetra said.

"It's ok. I get by."

"Hmmm," Cetra hummed as she paused to think.

This gave Barret a window of opportunity to get in his own line of questioning. He approached the girl slowly and crouched down a short distance away.

"Where did you get the flute from?" he asked pleasantly.

Gabby pointed to the horizon directly in front of them. "The next town," she said.

They all looked and saw the smudge of another town in the distance. They had missed that up until now.

"Who sold it to you?" he continued.

"A tall man," she said, "looked a bit like you only much skinnier."

"When did you see him?"

"Just yesterday," she answered.

"Hmmm," Barret hummed as it was now his turn to pause and think. He stood up again and went back to stand with Billy.

They talked softly about the chances of Barry still being in the next town, about the place with the pillars being potentially within their grasp, about what Billy looked forward to most when he eventually got home; and about the weather.

At the same time, in a whole separate conversation, Cetra asked Gabby a question.

"Do you want to come with us?"

Where "Yes!" was Gabby's immediate response.

So now, when the boys turned their attention back to the girls, Cetra and her new friend Gabby were holding hands and ready to go.

"I did ask Gabby to come with us," Cetra told them.

Billy smiled at the girl and as usual Barret huffed. Then they all agreed to head out.

In the mean time, Rod, who had had little or nothing to say for the past 180 or so hands, continued to lie on his stomach and soak up the warm sun.

"I like your mouse," Gabby said when she finally noticed the lump on Cetra's shoulder, "He's cute."

Rod stirred and sat up. "Thank you young lady," he said in response to the compliment, "But you must forgive me, my mind had wandered back to home. I am Rod, and I am very pleased to meet you."

"Gabby is travelling with us now," Cetra said.

"Oh, how delightful," Rod said, clasping his hands together, "Welcome aboard my dear."

Although the next town was only on the horizon, it was still going to be a long walk.

"You miss home do you?" Gabby asked.

"My home is among the rocks and the sand," Rod said with a sigh, "Perhaps it's not so much that I miss the desert, but more so that I miss that past life."

"Oh?"

"You see, I have now lived to find my adventure, so that old life is history. We desert mice live long lives to get to where I am now; I just hope it doesn't end too soon."

"What happens if it ends?" the young girl questioned.

"I may die."

This comment made Cetra's ears prick.

"Why would you die?" she asked gravely.

Rod looked into her eyes. "We live to stumble upon our adventure in life, when that adventure comes to an end what more do we have to live for?"

"Then we must keep this adventure going," Cetra said firmly.

"But Billy may well be nearly home," Rod added.

"Maybe _he_ might, but I have been wandering around for a lot of days and I am always finding something new to do or somewhere new to go. So you, sir Rod, you will stay with me."

Her words were forceful, and Rod was honoured. "Tally-ho then," he called.

Hands passed.

The sun climbed higher into the sky.

Gabby whistled another tuneless tune when their conversation was exhausted.

A lone bird squawked as it flew overhead.

A single fl blew up on the breeze and landed on Barret's upper lip. He flipped it away with the back of his hand and it blew off somewhere else.

Billy waved his hand over the satchel which had been supplied by Brand earlier that day. He elbowed Barret in the side and said, "Watch this." Again he waved his hand over the satchel and from it produced a delicious rapple.

Indifferent, Barret said, "Watch what?"

"Magic," Billy commanded.

He passed the rapple to Barret and repeated the action, waving his hand over the satchel and suddenly.... magically.... produced another rapple.

Barret rolled his eyes and returned his attention back to the path before them.

"Desperate for entertainment, are you?" he said.

"A little," Billy admitted.

He handed a rapple to each of his companions and they cracked on.

Although for a while now, Billy had felt an odd sense that they were being followed.

"I feel like we're being followed," he said.

Not the only one, Cetra also admitted to a similar feeling of something out of the ordinary, but the sensation she felt was of something ahead of them, and it was something very familiar.

" _It is here_ ," she shrieked excitedly, "I can feel it."

Thus after a momentary pause to consider what Cetra was actually implying, they too became excited, drawing in even Gabby who really had no idea what she was getting excited over but thought it would be fun to just go with the flow.

"Are you serious?" Barret yelled, outshining any reaction Billy may have tried to exhibit.

Cetra jumped on the spot and smiled that exaggerated smile she smiled so well. There was no matching her joy, it was spontaneous and contagious, and it drew everybody in.

"There!" she cried and pointed a long finger along the path they were already headed.

About half way between them and the next town, nestled amongst a bunch of bushes and shrubs and a little way off the road itself, there were several wooden sheds. They stood isolated, appearing abandoned; but Gabby told them of a more sinister story.

Beneath those pitched and somewhat cracked rooves, bubbling and fermenting just under the surface of the earth, ingested and thus excreted by large, ravenous Bloody worms, lay the composted remains of every dead thing to have come out of that town just a little further down the track. From the insignificant yellow flowering plant held so dear by the young and frivolous Emma Piebeard, who one day forgot to water it and thus found it the next day huddled into a ball and crying its last breath of oxygen; to the one recently deceased town elder, Bart Bigbod, who undesirably put forward a bill to have those very sheds dismantled and in their place proposed the establishment of a town cemetery proper. Inexplicably, Bart was soon thereafter _found_ decapitated atop a steaming pile of burros' excrement by a band of local farmers, who perchance, just happened to be the very same farmers who chose to fertilise their crops with the rich compost produced from the darkness of those same sheds in question.

"That's nasty," were the only words Billy could muster.

Barret, on the other hand, was morbidly intrigued.

They continued along the path at a steady pace, eager to get to the place with the pillars, at least three of them not too keen though on the implications surrounding their destination, one curious to know what a worm bloated corpse might look like, and Gabby.... Gabby was indifferent, she'd walked this path a million times.

"I've walked this path a million times," Gabby reassured them, "It doesn't smell bad or anything."

"Well I for one agree with the farmers," Rod boasted, "The breaking down of dead bodies is a very natural thing, and essentially it is not simply a rotting corpse in this instance, but the manure produced by the Blood worms all mixed in with soil and plant matter. Readymade compost. That's beautiful."

"Yuck," Billy gagged and poked out his tongue, "You may as well be irrigating your crops with raw sewage."

"On the contrary, young man," Rod retorted, "Sewage is bodily waste, full of toxins. This is rich body compost itself, no different from cow or chicken manure."

"And cows and chickens don't eat _meat_. You don't fertilise your veg with the poo from a meat eater. You don't rake up the dogs' poo and throw it in the garden; you throw it over the back fence where you won't tread in it."

Billy's knowledge of gardening was limited to his father's influence, which was limited to a little book called _A Vegetable Patch for Beginners_ , written by Marmalade Anneg. They had laughed about the author's name for days, but their vegetable patch had thrived.

"This certainly is very interesting," Cetra butted in sweetly, "But we are here now."

Indeed they were there now, and it didn't at all smell bad, just as Gabby had said. In fact, it smelt strangely sweet and oddly pleasant. Who'd have ever thought that worm poo could smell good enough to eat...?

Ugh!

There were eight sheds in all, none were locked but two had red flags tacked to their doors. A final one was falling apart and visibly in disuse.

Barret fingered one of the red flags and found the smell to be concentrated more around those two sheds.

"What are the flags for?" he asked Gabby.

"The flags stay there for five days," she said, "That's how long it takes for the worms to finish their job and then settle back down after their eating frenzy."

"Eating frenzy?" Billy gulped.

"So these two are fresh ones?" Barret said, "What would happen if I opened the door and fell in?"

Gabby giggled. "They would eat you alive."

" _Nice_ ," Barret said, nodding his approval.

Curiosity is a strong driving force, and Barret was no exception to that; it drove him to do something that nobody really expected, or even hoped he might do for that matter – open the door.

Now everyone knows the significance behind a red flag.... it is a warning, it means _stop._ Gabby knew it, Billy even knew it, Cetra figured it out once she knew there were man eating worms involved, and Rod.... well, he seemed to know everything. So why was Barret so uninformed?

Curiosity!

Curiosity gives license to stupidity.

Thus when Barret stuck his head through the doorway and peered into the gloom of the shed he screamed, " _Oh my...!_ " and forcefully grabbed onto the sides of the wooden framework to steady himself.

The others, apart from Gabby, cried their concern and quickly ran to their comrade's aid, grabbing him by the clothes and pulling him back. They stumbled but never fell; and Barret laughed.... and kept laughing until both Billy and Cetra slapped him across the head in disgust.

Curiously though, seeing as how the door was now already open, they all craned their necks to have a look inside, and it turned out to be just dirt, sweet smelling, richly fertilised dirt.

Distractions entertained, and the curtain brought down on Barret's fun, Cetra now concentrated on the giddiness she was feeling produced from the close proximity of the place with the pillars; her place of worship.

"It is that one," she beamed and pointed at the shed that was structurally unsound and almost near collapsing.

Behind her back everyone smiled and shrugged their shoulders before following. Obviously it was only a very short walk, but for Cetra it was a walk filled with excitement and anticipation. Her God's presence was there, and she could feel it already, with arms outstretched and welcoming.

To their surprise the old rusty hinged door opened easily and without even a single _creak_. Cetra looked back at everybody and smiled before stepping over the threshold. They each followed, Barret then Gabby, but Billy hesitated for a moment to glance around one last time at the plain they called Bradley. He still had that feeling of being followed, and was certain he may have heard footsteps lurking around the sheds. Finally though, he stepped through the hole and closed the door behind him.

### CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT

Where were their thoughts?

Cetra saw her beach with its pier and fun park.

Billy still looked upon his perfect forest and heard the sound of his mother's voice calling him home for supper.

Rod was disappointed, he anticipated a lot of cheese just as Cetra had suggested, but all he saw was his rocky desert home.

Gabby's eyes showed tears and wonder. All her family stood before her in the town square, at least she assumed it might be all of them; each had a branded initial on their face and when she counted them, apart from her parents, her siblings numbered twenty five.

Barret, on the other hand, saw nothing more than a stone wall, and was perplexed by everyone else's reaction to it.

Cetra turned and caught sight of Gabby. "It is not real, Gabby," she said, and then, "What is it that you can see?"

Gabby stifled a sob and answered the question softly, "All of my family."

So Cetra went to the girl and put an arm around her shoulder. "You can talk to them," she said, "Look, they are waving," she assumed. She raised her hand to wave back but Gabby remained still.

"You said they weren't real," Gabby reiterated.

"That is right,"

"Then I don't want to,"

By now Barret had a question he'd liked answered.

"What is going on?"

Now Billy stepped forward. He described his vision, and then went on to talk about Cetra's. "What do _you_ see?" he finally asked.

Barret stumbled over his words for a moment and then waved his arms at the walls around them, "Stone walls and a door," he said complacently, "And by the way, you forgot to _close_ the door."

"I did not," Billy snapped and then spun around to see that the door was in fact ajar.

" _Oh!_ "

" _Oh_ is right Billy," Barret said.

"But I'm sure I closed it."

"Of course you are."

"How about I go close it again," Billy suggested, "Maybe the wind blew it open."

"Maybe it did."

"I must confess, Barret," Billy said, "I'm almost sure I heard someone walking around out there."

Barret grinned, "Maybe it was Bart Bigbod come back from the dead half eaten by Bloody worms."

"That's not funny, Barret."

"And you think he's followed us in here?"

"I _did_ close the door," Billy said quietly.

"Where's he going to hide?" Barret said, waving his arms around at the room again.

Billy removed his gaze from Barret's face and went back to close the door.... again? He listened for the _click_ , and then pushed on it to be sure. Satisfied, he rejoined his companions.

"Why can't I see something good like the rest of you?" Barret protested, "I feel like I'm in a cell."

"Maybe you feel trapped," Rod suggested before licking his left paw.

"Huh?"

"Seems we can see what may be on our hearts at present. I for one realise that, even though I am with good company and enlisted in a grand journey, in my heart I find myself missing the desert."

"You think I'm trapped?" Barret said, "In what?"

"Well, for one thing," Billy contributed, "you don't seem to be interested in going home."

"Bradley is my home," Barret said.

"And," Cetra decided to join in, "I do not think you are happy selling your things anymore."

"That's right," Rod affirmed, "You've had a taste of the adventure now, young lad, just as I have. There's no going back, you need to map out a new path for yourself."

"Hoorah!" Billy cheered.

"Well thank you all very much for telling me that I need to get a life," Barret huffed. "For your information I do enjoy the markets and its people, and no, I don't believe I want to go home. I've done well for myself here...."

"Maybe so," Rod continued, "but where do you go now after the adventure is over? Do you simply go back to selling your _things_ as Cetra put it, will that suffice, will that make you happy? Or...."

"Or...." Barret jumped in, "do I continue wandering around the plain aimlessly...?"

" _Aimlessly?_ " Rod protested loudly, "Young man, have you not yet captured the essence of this journey we've undertaken? Do you truly believe this has all been in vain?" He stood up on Cetra's shoulder and turned around with his paws outstretched, "Look at where we are my boy, have we not reached our treasure? And then, yes, what happens after this...?"

Barret shrugged.

"We depart on yet another adventure to find even greater treasure."

"Hoorah!" Billy cheered again and clapped his hands.

Cetra and Gabby followed suit, clapping and cheering and generally jumping up and down even more so than Billy did; and then, amid all their clamour, when the door suddenly opened wide and a dark, silhouetted figure stood within its rectangular void....

### CHAPTER THIRTY NINE

....Still they cheered.

"What the....?" was the barely menacing sound that scratched from the figure's mouth.

"Hello Barry," Cetra called out.

"Cetra?" Barry returned her call, "Now I never thought I'd meet up with you here."

"Barry," Barret said now.

"Barret?"

A few clicks of silence later and....

"So I'm sitting inside, right," Barry started, "eating my lunch, and I hear this racket out on the patio...."

"Patio....?" Barret questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, patio...!" he said and trailed off for a moment. "Hey! Who are these guys? What are you all doing here?"

Introductions were short, though pleasant all the same.

"Listen Cetra," Barry whispered, "I get into enough trouble when it's just you hanging around, my father thinks I'm losing it. Get it? Losing it? Well, I don't need more of your sort giving me grief."

Cetra grabbed his arm and reassured him, "Do not worry, they do not know how to find your place like I do."

Barry looked at her and winked, "Strangely, I'm not convinced," he said.

There was a light streaming in from the open door, and it was not daylight. It was actually far brighter, crisp-like, clean and white.

"I must say," Barret said, "I was a little disappointed in this place up until now, but that door certainly doesn't appear to be leading outside anymore."

"Correct," Barry affirmed, "It's all part of the trickery."

"Trickery?" Barret said, "For what purpose?"

"Now there's a good question," Barry said and paused to think for a moment.

In the background Billy's forest blew up a light breeze which rattled the leaves on the trees ever so slightly; Cetra's waves crashed on the sand and lollypop music floated up from the fun park; Gabby's family persisted with doing whatever they could to get her attention; and Rod's desert was silent.

Barret's stone wall remained a stone wall of no interest.

"So what is inside?" Gabby spoke up.

"Well, little lady," Barry said with a smile, "maybe we should all go in and have a look, and then we can discuss your future."

"Ok," she shrugged.

Rod, on the other hand, who had for the while been silent atop Cetra's shoulder, asked, "What do you mean by _discussing our future_ , old boy?"

Barry continued to smile and said, "Well, now that you are all here, you don't really think I can let you leave do you?"

"Don't make it sound so sinister, Barry," Barret said.

"I was only joking," he laughed, "But if it were Brock who'd found you here.... Watch out I'd say."

There was a short lull in the conversation, and then....

Barry led them into the adjoining room.

Now, Billy and Cetra were already acquainted with the layout, and although Barret had been there many, many days before, it appeared to have gone through a number of changes; so to reiterate mainly for the benefit of Rod and Gabby....

It was a bright room, glary ceiling and all that jazz, circular in shape with a cobblestone floor and fourteen identical stone pillars. At the opposite end was a stair bordered by an archway similar to the one they had just entered by.

"This is pretty," Gabby said.

"My word," Rod added, "this is spectacular."

In the middle of the cobble floor was a table and a single chair. On that table was a plate with a jam sandwich and beside it a glass of milk.

"Some meal you got there," Barret quipped.

"It's sustaining," Barry grunted back. "Now who was last in?"

Each looked at the other and then Billy raised his hand like a naughty school boy.

"You didn't close the door," Barry said pointing at the archway behind them all.

" _Again_ , Billy?" Barret chastised.

Poor Billy wasn't certain if he had this time or not, either way, when he moped back to do so, he realised that there was no longer a dark passageway as there had been previously when he'd first encountered the room a number of days before. The ornate wooden door was now immediately hinged to the archway between the two pillars at the opposite end to the stairs.

"I see you no longer have a hallway here," Billy said matter-of-factly.

"Correct," Barry affirmed, "Brock thought it was pointless, so we took it out."

_A simple enough reason_ , Billy guessed and shrugged his shoulders in response.

"But, how do you know that?" Barry continued, eyeing Billy curiously.

"Well...."

And so began the story. A phenomenal tale of events, in part exaggerated, intermittently humorous, and everybody got their turn to tell it. War games, pellet guns, cold mist, hard cobblestone floors, rude rabbits, red headed girls with two left feet, bleeding lips, fourteen pillars, blinding ceilings, dried lizards, Humps, pig-headed kids, talking donkeys....

"What is a donkey?" Cetra asked.

....Talking burros, angry burros, curiously named desert mice, hungry burro eating desert monsters, zigzag mountain paths, kamikaze black birds, disappearing black birds, stupid dumb sage bushes and pig-headed kids, Burtle stew....

"Hmmm.... Burtle stew is yummy," Gabby contributed.

....Humps again, perverted Humps, drunken Humps, hungry trees, hypnotic blue flowers....

_Oh and the rest_.

"Billy, what is a lion?" Cetra asked.

"Um.... that must have happened while you were sleeping...." Billy faltered and glanced sideways at Barret who grinned in response.

So that was their story.

"Hmmm...." Barry hummed while rubbing his chin.

There was a _pip_ come from within the satchel hanging at his side. He put his hand in, fiddled around for a moment, and then pulled it free again. It did not _pip_ after that.

"So you want to use our Elevator to get back home?" Barry ventured smugly.

" _Elevator?_ " was Barret's response as he now looked sideways at Billy who was looking sideways back and snickering.

"Yes.... _Elevator!_ " Barry said again, but his tone was now unsure.

"Don't you mean _transporter?_ " Billy jumped in.

"No, Elevator it is."

"But an elevator _elevates_ things," Barret said, "Doesn't this thing just _transport_ you from one place to another?"

"Yes...." Barry hesitated, "But who's to say that each plain isn't one above the other?"

"Aha," Rod contributed, impressed with the man's quick thinking. "A valid point my young adventurers."

"And," Barry continued, "don't peeve me off or I won't help you."

"Aha," Rod cried again in response to everyone else's silence, "yet another valid point made."

Indeed.... and after a few more moments....

"So, these _plains_ you speak of," Billy began his question, "how many are there?"

Barry's reluctance to answer meant that he was either unsure or that he was sworn to secrecy, eventually he said, "Don't you worry about that, it's not important. What I will do for you though is take you along to see Brock, because.... well...." He hesitated and quietly reflected upon his immediate future. "I'm going to get in so much trouble over this...."

### CHAPTER FORTY

Getting to Brock was a cinch.

And the first thing he did when he saw his son Barry was slap him across the face with a wet hand towel.

But before this could happen....

Barry had led them up the stairs and outside onto the _transporter_ floor of the _Elevator,_ where he then proceeded to herd them toward the centre of the circle of fourteen stone pillars. During said time Cetra had managed to break free of the flock; she skipped and jumped and somewhat awkwardly danced around and giggled and laughed, and then she rejoined the bewildered group carrying a big, exaggerated smile plastered across her face. After which, Barry had rammed his hand into the satchel at his side, pulled from it what looked to Billy like a calculator, tapped it twice, then grimaced and shook it to his ear, tapped it twice again, and then raised his left eyebrow and nodded.

What ensued lacked considerably the excitement anticipated. In fact, Gabriella's exact wording to describe her account of the experience was: "Well that was a fizzer!"

It was simple, one moment they were surrounded by fourteen stone pillars, then blink it was black, and then they were surrounded by four stone pillars.

In that same instance Billy had felt an odd _bump_ against his behind, but when his surroundings changed, he had found no cause for it.

Again, simple.... humdrum even. " _Where was all the mist?_ " Billy had asked, " _Where was the falling onto stone hard enough to crack a coccyx?_ "

Barry's head had tilted to the right and his lips mouthed a dumb _huh?_ in response. Then he had led them down the stairs, only this time they entered directly into living quarters.

A lounge room with minimal decor, but comfy looking all the same, with five doors leading off around its circular wall.

Three of these doors were open, and from one of them Brock had emerged with dripping hair, face half lathered and a fluffy pink towel wrapped around his waist. That's when he slapped his son across the face.

"What the...?" he said and trailed off as he grabbed Barry by the forearm and muscled him into one of the adjoining rooms.

Billy had seen that same look from his own father, that switching-into-lecture-mode look.... _just give me a whack and be done with it for goodness sakes_.

It must have been a good sixty something hands before they emerged again from that room. Brock was now dressed in cargo pants, shirt and a jacket, his feet remained bare, his face was half shaven, and he wore a grey cap that showed through the dampness from his hair.

"Well you're here now," he said, "guess I'm going to have to kill you...."

Barret's mouth was the first to open wide in protest but Brock's steady hand quickly waved the aggression away.

"Ease up champion," he grinned, "I was only joking.... of course. Now Barry has an idea, but we'll talk about that later, maybe. Take a seat, make yourselves comfortable. Does anyone want a drink?"

They all mumbled positively and nodded approvingly to one another at Brock's sudden hospitableness. When Brock left the room via one of the open doors into what appeared to be a kitchen, they all sat as invited to do so. When Brock returned with a tray of drinks they graciously accepted the yellow liquid.

"Pineapple and passionfruit cordial," Brock said.

"Never heard of it," said Gabby, "but hmmm."

Billy sighed when he drank it, "Finally something normal. Thankyou Brock."

"Not a problem, Billy?"

Billy nodded.

"And we also have...." Brock stopped to point at each of them individually, "Cetra, Rod and Gabby? And here's my good man Barret," he added at the end.

"Hello," Barret said and waved at their host.

"So," Brock said as he moved to stand next to his son, "in this big brass universe of ours where people don't come to us but we go to them, how is it that you came about coming to us?"

It was a fairly simple question, but it made Barry cringe all the same. In the events he had described previously to his father in private there had been particular facts avoided, like how they had come to actually be there. Barry went to step away from Brock's side but was immediately detained by a forceful grip around the arm.

Silent glances followed and in her innocence Cetra answered, "I see Barry all the time."

"Oh?" Brock said, his grip tightening.

"Oh yes," she continued, "Barry is my friend, he lets me come in and pray."

"Huh?" Brock screwed up his nose, "He lets you come in where? And do what?"

Barry squirmed.

"In here.... or the other one. Where are we now?"

Brock took his cap off and slapped Barry across the head with it.

"You're in my house," Brock said, "and I do understand your plight, but Barry really shouldn't have brought you here." He glared at his son. "Don't you think that if I knew how to get you back to where you came from I would have already done so for Barret five years ago?"

"See Billy," Barret said, "I tried to tell you it was pointless."

"Why?" Billy's voice cracked and his eyes began to water, "Why is it so pointless to simply want to go home?"

Gabby slid across the lounge and put her arm around his shoulders.

"I say old chap," Rod now spoke, taking charge of the conversation, "my young friend here has travelled a long path to find you. He's fought off monsters and Humps, been engulfed by flowers and trees, he's endured rain and lightening, and he has had one of his friends turn their back on him. He's championed through to maintain all dignity and strength, and all you can say is _'I can't do it'_? Well I am very sorry sir, but that is just not good enough. Billy deserves much more from you than a big fat nothing, he deserves answers."

"Answers to what?" Brock retorted, slightly intimidated by the small desert mouse.

"Well, for starters," Rod continued, "something tells me we're not on Bradley anymore."

Brock and Barry looked at one another and began to fidget. They felt a little awkward with everybody staring at them, and Brock decided to smack his son across the head one more time before sending him through into the kitchen to replenish their drinks. When that was done they both sat down. It seemed _their_ story was about to unfold, but that was going to be alright after all, because apparently Barry had an idea.

### CHAPTER FORTY ONE

"Now don't you worry about that," Brock said sternly, "it's not important."

Yeah, alright then, their association with Ballders was obvious – they were all merchants – but this whole _fugitive_ business was gnawing at Barret; and although Brock wouldn't divulge _why_ they had been branded outlaws, he did happen to casually mention that if he were to ever be found on Bradley by any one council authority he would most certainly be either castrated or decapitated, or hitherto punished in accordance with the _Vile Punishment Administrators Act_ , which was also dependent on the actual council he was eventually brought before. Barry on the other hand was free to roam particular portions of Bradley only.

"That's why I gave you a job," Brock said to Barret, "and you're not the only one, I have one if not more merchants on every relevant plain."

" _Relevant plain?_ " Barret said, implicating a question.

There were relevant plains and irrelevant plains, which really meant that there were plains they were able to travel to and plains they were not able to travel to, quite simply.

Apparently....

"This big brass universe of ours is made up of infinite plains. Well, maybe not the universe entirely, but certainly a chunk of it least ways. Which chunk? How big a chunk?" Brock shrugged his shoulders. "In any event, we are Plains Traders first and explorers second."

"So everything I sell on Bradley you've acquired from other plains?" Barret asked.

As a Plains Trader one would move between the plains gathering and _acquiring_ unique items by whatever means applicable at the time. Obviously the _most_ applicable means available was currency or barter, though theft was also an option. This of course was dependent on the circumstances surrounding an item, like its accessibility. Was it up for sale cheap in a marketplace, or was it overpriced on the upper storey of a high-rise department store? Was it simply in somebody's front yard, or was it behind a glass case in a maximum security museum? Maybe some freckle-faced kid with a bone stuck through his nose had it atop his fat head, or maybe some voluptuous woman dressed in red and standing next to a red velvet covered door had it wrapped around her little toe. In such a big brass universe of random possibilities, chance was unavoidable, and one had to be quick to take advantage of every situation on offer.

"Sounds busy," said Billy.

"And very often dangerous too," Barry added.

Intrigued, and yes, a little confused, Gabby lifted her legs up onto the lounge where her knees were facing Billy and just touching his trousers; she asked, "Which plain are we on now?"

"Four," was Barry's response.

"Four?" Barret repeated.

"Yes, four," Brock reiterated.

"Do you mean like, plain number four?" Billy suggested.

"Yes."

"Aha!" Rod broke in, "As in _four pillars_."

"Correct," said Barry.

"That will mean that our Bradley is number fourteen?" Cetra ventured.

"Yes," Brock smiled, "Plain of Fourteen Pillars."

Cetra clapped and bounced in her seat. "Yay," she cheered.

Unbeknown to everyone else in the universe, traders and explorers had been numbering the infinitely varied plains that exist for thousands of years.

"What is a year?" Cetra asked, her question backed up by a quizzical nod and a hum from Gabby.

"365 days," Billy answered.

"Hmmm," said Gabby and quickly did the math in her head, "That would make me about.... _fifteen years_ old."

This caused everyone to stare at her for a stunned moment, for she had done the math in record time.

" _What?_ "she said, "I'm good with numbers."

Indeed!

By now Barret was curious enough to ask how it all worked.

"Now don't you worry about that," Brock answered sternly, "it's not important yet."

"So what number is my Earth?" Billy finally asked in the midst of Barret's disappointment.

"That, young man," Brock said and then turned to his son and shrugged his shoulders, "is another question we cannot answer."

"Why not?" Billy sulked.

Yes, why not?

"Because...." Brock began.

There were holes in the system. They didn't know the names of _every_ plain, only the numbers assigned to then, and in a list of say, one to a hundred for example, several numbers might be missing.

"So why don't you just take me to all of them?" Billy suggested.

"Are you kidding?" Brock said aghast, "We're talking about thousands of year's worth of discovery, who knows how many plains there really are out there? Maybe what we have at present is just the tip of the iceberg. And who's to say that this _Earth_ of yours isn't somewhere inside a gap?"

"Well, we'll start with all the ones you know," Billy said frustrated.

"No," Brock said sternly, "I don't have time to go traipsing around the stuffing universe for your sake; I've got a business to run, and there's only the two of us."

"I thought you said you had one or more merchants on every plain?"

"Yeah, but just like Barret, they don't know anything about this," Brock said waving his arms around the room to emphasise where he was. "They don't know what we're really doing here. To them we're just travellers shrewd enough to come across weird and whacky things for them to sell at market."

Barret nodded his head in agreement. He knew they were elusive. When he had needed more supplies they were there, but in the blink of an eye they'd have gone again.

"Well, show me how and I'll do it all myself then," Billy suggested, his frustration still evident.

Brock looked across at Barret and laughed, "He's a determined little blighter isn't he?"

"You have no idea," Barret answered shaking his head.

"I'm serious," said Billy seriously, "Somewhere, somehow, you and this _Elevator_ of yours have the means to get me home, and I'm not simply going to walk away from that, like you seem to hope I will."

"No doubt young Billy, I agree," Brock said calmly, "But I don't possess the knowledge to get you home. You see, there's only one way to travel between the plains, and that's by the Elevators. Problem is you didn't get to Fourteen via an Elevator. So where the brass did you come from?"

"EARTH!" Billy snapped.

"You see, never heard of it. My assumption is that you've fallen in through a gap somewhere, maybe even from one of the abandoned plains."

"Abandoned plains?" both Billy and Barret said in unison.

"Earth is far more advanced than Bradley," Barret added, "It has billions of people and.... electricity.... "

"Maybe so," Brock said, "but just maybe somewhere between now and an eon ago the Elevator was shut down for some reason. Maybe it broke and no one could get back there to fix it, and then all the energy contained within it went whacky."

"Sounds plausible," Barret contributed, "So what sort of energy is this you're talking about?"

Immediately there was a lull in the conversation. Barry sighed and Brock turned to him and nodded.

"H.M.E," Barry began, "Harnessed Magnetic Energy."

There was a chorus of _oohs_.

"Its origins come from some random obelisk that's been floating around space for ever and a day. We just call it Pillar #1. Somewhere along the line it became affectionately known as _Una_ ," Barry shrugged his shoulders. "Apparently it's still floating around out there somewhere. Maybe it's lost."

"The energy reproduces itself," Brock continued, "Our ancestors found a way to harness it and contain it. From there they honed in on its properties and discovered that it was one big brass generator of power capable of opening up holes in the universe and boiling the kettle for a cup of tea."

"Your ancestors?" questioned Rod.

"Yep," Barry affirmed, "thousands of year's worth. Family business you see."

"That's right," Brock said, "But now there's only the three of us."

"Three?" Cetra asked.

Barry nodded, "Me, Brock and Grandpa Bilson. He's retired now, to the farm; that's the Plain of Three Pillars. He looks after the archives."

"Archives huh...?" Rod pondered audibly.

"Plains Traders' archives from day dot," Barry said, "Books, journals, maps, diagrams, receipts, old remote controls; it's all there."

"And therefore so too are the answers we seek to get Billy home," Rod cheered.

_Ah yes! Of course_.

"Lovely," Billy said and leant forward in his excitement. He felt Gabby pat his back and he turned to her and smiled.

Gabby said, "Let's go then."

"Yeah," Billy agreed, "let's crack on. Grandpa Bilson here we come."

There was a buzz around the room, a promise of restoration, and hope in the air that Billy might still get home yet.

But wait....

"But wait," Brock interrupted, "before we go, and I do agree with what you're saying Rod, my father is no doubt far more equipped to offer Billy any help; but first we have a proposal for you all."

Their interest was marred by scepticism.

"Understandably our trade business is thriving, but because there is only the two of us everything else suffers. Maintenance, exploration.... There are still at least twenty Elevators that need updating to the latest model, and I can't remember the last time I discovered a new plain. What I'm proposing is that you come and work for us.... Just imagine it...."

### CHAPTER FORTY TWO

They did imagine it.... and of course, they were all enchanted by the idea.

Barret didn't hesitate to accept; he knew they had all been right about him before.... he had no direction, no purpose here. He was lost. He still didn't want to go back to Earth with Billy though.

As for Cetra and Rod, well, they were partners now, joined at the shoulder. Cetra was a wanderer by nature anyway, and Rod saw it as an opportunity to fulfil his lifelong dream of perpetual adventure. _Yay_.

Gabby was down with the idea too. She figured no one in her family would even notice whether she was around or not anyway, so what the hay.

Now Billy on the other hand, well he still needed to get home.

"Wonderful," Brock said and clapped his hands together, "But don't come aboard lightly, it's not all brass and giggles you know, its dog hard work.... sometimes dangerous, always adventurous, and very satisfying. I will guarantee there won't be a day goes by where you don't feel some sense of achievement...."

"Ok, Brock," Barret cut in then, "you've already sold us to the idea, you can take us through the recruitment speech later, but now let's go see if Grandpa Bilson can get Billy home. I think he's been waiting long enough, yeah?"

"Indeed," Rod agreed, "Let us bring this immediate task to its conclusion before embarking on yet another."

Thus Brock led the way, up the stairs onto the cobblestone platform surrounded by four pillars, then through the big brass universe via the portable remote control and some good old H.M.E. Again during the process Billy felt that same odd _bump_ against his behind, but when his surroundings had changed, and only three pillars now encircled them, its cause had vanished.

"What the...?"

"Huh?" Barret said, "What's wrong Billy?"

"Twice now something's hit me from behind."

"Oh well, don't worry about it. You could be home soon anyway."

Billy looked at him questioningly, "What's that got to do with it?"

Barret grimaced and then shrugged his shoulders.

"You know," Billy said, "I still have that feeling that something has been following us."

This time Barret rolled his eyes and turned away.

Somewhere in the midst of the conversation, Gabby had taken hold of Billy's hand. Maybe it was even before they had left the Plain of Four Pillars.

Brock cleared his throat and spread his arms wide to emphasise their new surroundings. Beyond the cobble platform and the three stone pillars, beneath a big blue sky and a bright yellow sun, where animals made animal noises and leafy green vegetables grew leafy and green, a little farm stood as the single most prominent feature on an otherwise uninhabited landscape.

"Pretty," said Cetra.

"Really pretty," said Gabby.

"Pretty awesome," said Billy.

"So this one's not packed into a shed or a wardrobe?" Barret said to Brock, indicating the three pillared Elevator they were now walking away from.

"This one is a fixed structure," Brock answered, "Up to date model with old fashioned aesthetics to stay in keeping with the farm."

"Hmm, nice."

"I know. As far as we're able to tell this plain is completely uninhabited, so we don't have any need to hide this one."

Barret nodded, "Interesting how you can do that, I mean, the mechanics of it all must be...."

"I know," Brock said, "I'll teach you all about it."

Just a short distance ahead of them was the farmhouse; it stood dominant on a thick green lawn, with its wide verandah and white washed weatherboard walls, its heavy set raw oak door and the larger than might be expected rooster standing as sentry on the bottom step.

"Hello Mr Rooster," said Cetra.

Mr Rooster _clucked_ back aggressively and scratched at the wood under his feet. He eyed off Barry first.

Barry grunted a response. He walked ahead and grabbed hold of a long handled shovel which had been propped up against the verandah railing purposely to ward off big, scary roosters, then he pointed it threateningly at the rooster and simultaneously yelled at it – "Get out of here BR" – and thus succeeded in clearing the way for his company to enter.

"BR, is that its name?" asked Rod.

"Bad Rooster," Barry said, "BR for short."

In parting, BR puffed up his feathers, flexed his wings, and _squawked_ one last _squawk_.

### CHAPTER FORTY THREE

Grandpa Bilson was an old man, not so old though that he should be cared for on a regular to permanent basis, or even that he needed to be nursed into bed or onto the toilet, what really made him noticeably old was that he whistled when he talked.

"Ah, Brock my boy," he said, greeting his son with a big hug and a smack on the back, "finally after thirty years I'm retired you bring home company."

Brock moaned. "Come on dad, don't make out you don't see anyone, you see plenty."

"Maybe so, but I have to go see them. Nobody goes out of their way to visit me in my own home." He pinched Brock's cheeks and continued talking. "Look at you, half shaven and barefooted. In my day I used to get around in a three piece suit and a pocket watch."

"Come on dad," Brock whined this time.

Bilson turned his attention to his grandson. "Now Barry," he said, "come over here and give me a hug, then you can introduce me to your friends."

Barry grinned stupidly and complied.

With family courtesies over and introductions complete, it was time to get down to business.

Except Bilson had a different idea.

"Food," he said clapping his hands together, "I'm hungry, you're hungry, whatever the reasons are for my boys bringing you here can be discussed over dinner and wine, but for now go on, take our guests for a tour while I prepare."

"I can't stay dad," Brock spoke up.

"Why? You got better things to do with your time than spend it with your father?"

"Come on dad. I've got a meeting to go to. It's really important."

Bilson stared blankly at his son for a moment. "Alright," he said finally, "You must wear a tie though."

"Ok dad."

"And aim for a Windsor knot, not that stupid lazy thing you do when you're in a hurry. Try to look respectable."

"Come on dad, you know I can't get it. You need the same coordination to juggle three balls as you do to tie a Windsor knot."

"Drama...." Bilson said shaking his head. "And shave properly, you look like a scruff. And put some shoes on...."

"Ok dad," Brock finished up and walked away.

Bilson snapped his fingers and said to his guests, "Will you excuse me now? Barry will show you around our home, and then we will take dinner on the terrace and tell tall stories."

It was a grand tour they were taken on, being as it was a big house and all. The story went that it was about two hundred years old, built around three hundred years after the plain was originally discovered and subsequently abandoned due to its non-existent trade opportunities. Further to the story, and looking for solitude after running away from a rather awkward confrontation with an eight feet tall, muscle-bound barbarian warlord's mistress, who had developed a rather inappropriate infatuation for his wily salesman charm, great great Grandpa Bealnd had one day been leafing through the archive records where he came across a three hundred year old listing on a discovery which at the time had been classified as _Empty but green_. He built the house with his three and a half sons and his only daughter who had passed during its construction. A plaque in her memory could be seen above the mantle of the fireplace in the sitting room which, not by coincidence, is also where she had died and was then buried simultaneously.

"Three _and a half_ sons?" Billy queried.

"Now there's a funny story...." Barry went on to tell it, but by the end, even he could understand their reluctance to see its funny side.

Beyond the polished floors and the three reception rooms, below the wide staircase leading to eight bedrooms and their eight adjoining _en suites_ , past the downstairs cloakroom, grand dining room, and very big country style kitchen where Grandpa Bilson was preparing dinner, drinking wine, and singing in a funny language, lay an undulating outside land of green pastures, bordering forests, and free-range farm animals all strangely scarred with the odd divot taken out from various parts of their hides.

Billy noticed this and said, "Barry, what does it mean when there's a big _dent_ in the side of a pig?"

"It means," Barry _tisked,_ "that Grandpa Bilson has been eating too much pork. We've told him time and time again to rotate his meat intake."

To Billy the implications seemed horrendous; cutting slabs of meat from the side, or the leg.... or the rump of a beast while it was still alive? _Nasty!_

Though, assurance was given that it was completely harmless, and exactly how the animals were bred; that is unless, it seemed, Grandpa Bilson was to inadvertently overindulge and thus subsequently eat a beast to the bone before it was able to regenerate itself.

"You simply cut through the skin," Barry said, emphasising the procedure with his hands, "and leave it attached on the top side so you can peel it back like a flap and then press it in again to cover the hole left behind."

"And the blood?" Barret asked, possibly a little disgusted now.

"They've been bred not to bleed," Barry answered.

"Huh! So how does that work?" Barret continued.

Barry put a finger to the corner of his mouth and lifted his gaze to the sky, he said, "I don't know. Go find a biologist on #52 for your answer, that's where they came from."

During the conversation, Gabby's face had been screwed up for the most of it; Rod appeared to be cooking up ideas in his little head as to how one might go about breeding an animal not to bleed; and Cetra listened on curiously, but gave off the impression that she had _been there done that_ all before.

"Do they not wander off?" she asked.

"Occasionally," Barry said, "but they come back soon enough, there's nothing out there for them."

"Doesn't appear to be anything here for them either," Billy mumbled to Gabby.

To which Gabby responded, "There is maybe if you're looking to start a fight."

"Yeah?" Billy said, catching her gist, "You wanna piece a me?"

"Yes I do," Gabby followed, "I'll have a slice of your rump and a kidney please."

Their subsequent laughter was hushed and handled privately between the two of them, behind their hands and facing side on to the others; they appeared to be sharing a moment.

When the moment was over, and a _clanging_ sound _clanged_ its way up from the house, Barry announced their return to Grandpa Bilson and the dinner that would be awaiting them on the terrace.

### CHAPTER FORTY FOUR

"Very interesting," Bilson said while scratching his chin.

Their meal on the terrace had been well prepared and even more so finely delivered. The spread across the table had satisfied all their senses, even when it came down to the sizzling beef and pomegranate; its _sizzle_ had been absolutely _sizzling_.

So now, with full bellies and savoured flavours still lingering upon their tongues, they all sat in the archive room which Bilson also liked to call the library.

"Now let me get this straight," Bilson continued, "rock crushes scissors, scissors cuts paper, and paper covers rock?"

"Right," Billy affirmed, "and we count one.... two.... three.... and on the third we show our weapons."

Meanwhile, during such time as the boys were playing frivolous games and generally being raucous, Cetra and Gabby took it upon themselves to begin the search for whatever they could find that might be of some use in getting Billy home.... because someone had to make a start.

"What are these?" Cetra called out to Bilson, more so to get his attention than an actual answer.

"Those are receipts of some sort," Bilson answered, his hand shaped like a rock, "The whole shelf is receipts."

But Cetra already knew that, because that's what the labels on the boxes said. Her aim was to coax the boys into abandoning their game, so when they did she smiled and clasped her hands together, happy with her conquest.

"So my young guests," Bilson said, spreading his arms out in welcome, "what we need to do is find anything we can that refers back to this _Earth_ you've mentioned. Can't say I have ever heard of it, but it must exist because you both say you've been there."

Billy and Barret nodded, "Live there," Billy corrected.

"Yes...." Bilson trailed off while he glanced around the room and considered where he might begin.

"I believe I have a question," Rod said, standing up atop the backrest of the armchair he had been placed to observe the games, "What if the plain we are looking for is one which has yet to be discovered? In that instance there would be no record of it to find here."

"Not possible," Bilson replied a little pompously, "You see, magnetic energy is everywhere; subject a metal rod to an electrical field and you've got a magnet, but it won't have the ability to move from one plain to another. That's where our single sourced H.M.E. comes into play; only _it_ is capable of moving us between the plains, where it _doesn't_ exist there is no way for anything to pass through. Then, if that were the case, both Billy and Barret would not be here."

"Brock said that we've probably come from a plain with a broken or abandoned Elevator," Barret said, "Do you know how stupid that really sounds?"

"Stupid no!" Bilson said seriously, "Possible yes. If an Elevator were to be broken then its energy would be scattered. When I say broken I mean more so demolished. Now if that energy was to come together again.... randomly.... and someone or something became caught up in it.... well, who knows where they could find themselves."

There was a chorus of _ahhh's_ around the room.

"Ok," Gabby joined in now, "here's a question for you; if you need this H.M.E. present on both plains to travel from one to the other and as you say, it is _single sourced,_ how do you get it from one plain to the next in the first place considering that it does not exist yet on undiscovered plains?"

Rod nodded his approval of the question, "Bravo young Gabby," he cheered.

Bilson smiled and clapped his hands, "Wonderful," he sang out, "There is a concentrated level of H.M.E. which will actually punch holes through the universe...."

He trailed off in thought for a moment, everyone waited and just as Barry was about to walk over and wave a hand in front of his Grandpa's face, he continued.

"Can I confide in you all?" he asked, "I mean, we say _universe_ , and for thousands of years now we have believed that we're travelling the universe, but I have a different notion."

"Have you become the theorist now, Grandpa?" Barry butted in.

"Say this, all these plains exist on one planet only."

"Like separate dimensions," Billy suggested.

"Indeed! It seems quite implausible that magnetic energy could send someone hurtling from one side of the universe to the other...."

"I know what you mean Grandpa," Barry said with less sarcasm this time, "Like each plain is layered one above the other. I've been thinking the same thing."

"Yes my boy, and how is it that you may have come to such a conclusion?"

"One sun, one moon, Grandpa," Barry said excitedly, "Everywhere I go there's only one sun and one moon."

"And," Bilson added, "star constellations are always the same."

"Ok," Billy jumped in, his curiosity aroused, "so how would all those layers look from outer space?"

"How did it look from your Earth?" Bilson asked.

"Well, it looked like Earth."

"So it might appear as whatever plain one went into outer space from?" Barry said, tripping over his tongue a little."

"Although few are actually privy to any such technology needed to find out," Bilson added.

That is when rod calmly stepped in.

"Hold on for a moment chaps, before you all get ahead of yourselves...." he paused. "Bilson old boy, you seem to have descended from a line of great intelligence, a family with thousands of years worth of discovery and invention, and yet, with this evidence you have brought forward, you would think that _you_ might be the first ones to have come up with such a theory?"

"Well...." Bilson dropped his bottom lip.

Cetra stopped smiling long enough to look hard at Rod, "I think you might have been a little harsh then, Rod," she scolded.

"That is alright," Bilson said and waved his hand in the air, "I welcome criticism. How are we to move forward if our actions and ideas are not challenged by others?"

"All I was trying to say," Rod spoke softly now, "is that, one sun, one moon, the same star constellations.... they are all very obvious similarities, surely they can't have gone unnoticed for thousands of years?"

"Well...." Bilson said again and hesitated before answering, "I suppose. But, the idea has certainly never been documented, not to my knowledge anyway.... and I am the keeper of the archives.... nor has it ever been suggested, not by my father, or his father.... We have simply always referred to the whole scheme of things as taking place in this big wide universe of ours."

Cetra giggled, "It does sound more romantic put that way though."

The comment invoked nods of approval and a hum of _hmmm's_ around the room. It was Cetra's light heartedness that brought them all back to the task at hand.

"So where do we start?" Barret asked.

"Anywhere you want," Bilson shrugged.

Anywhere they wanted encompassed a wide area indeed. It was a large room; it had many books and many boxes, and a fair amount of dust also.

"Do you mind if I clean as I go?" Cetra offered and grabbed for the feather duster conveniently resting on a nearby table.

"I would welcome it my dear," Bilson said graciously.

He turned to rod who was still perched atop the back of the lounge chair and motioned for him to climb aboard. "We can discuss ideas and opinions," Bilson said.

Everybody began to wander and peruse, glancing at titles and names and labels, wiping their hands across shelves and rubbing the dust between their fingers. Barret found himself leafing through books with an historical content, their only title being a number embossed onto the spine; Billy and Gabby discovered an entire corner devoted to personal journals; and Barry wound up doing very little to help at all.

"The problem we have," Bilson said to Rod, "is that we have no real time line to go by. Who knows how far back we might need to go to find this _Earth_ of theirs?"

"Well, to begin with," said Rod peering forward from Bilson's shoulder at the shelves filled with folders, "how far back are _you_ actually acquainted with? Maybe that could be our starting point?"

Bilson tapped his chin with an index finger and said, "Perhaps."

The one thing they all came to realise quickly was that no record in that entire library known as the archives was dated. Apparently the reason behind this was that it was all in order anyway, and every plain had different measurements of time, so what was the point?

In the corner of the room Billy and Gabby were pulling out journals randomly and glancing through them, each book was entitled with the writer's name and there really were thousands of them, all arranged from ceiling to floor. There _was_ one book though which stood out amongst the sea of spines and names; it sat a little crooked on its lower shelf, and it appeared to be missing at best about three quarters of its pages.

It was Bradley's journal. Coincidence? _Yeah probably_.

The pages had been torn out leaving the binding in tatters. On the last one was a final entry, it read _R.I.P.M._

Billy flicked a few pages back and discovered that each entry was separated by a funny squiggle; it was from the last squiggle that he began to read aloud to Gabby.

" _Darn this day. That is how I shall start.... Darn this day very much. My beautiful Sarah is gone from me. She is no longer.... and therefore nor am I. My venture began this darn day at Avebury Manor, my dealings with the servants there have always gone very well...."_

Billy's ears pricked at the sound of his own voice, "Avebury Manor?" he repeated. "Yes! Avebury Manor is in Wiltshire. Barret, I've found it!"

Barret's and everybody else's eyes turned toward Billy's excitement. Amongst that excitement Billy bounded toward one of the four lounge chairs in the middle of the room, sat himself down, and continued to read out aloud.

"They certainly are nice folk. Cuthbert is especially fond of pilfering little trophies from his Lordship's collections to trade with me. 'It don't ma'er,' he says to me, 'they woont know what they got,' and then he laughs. He is missing his two front teeth, the poor fellow. Spits when he talks. I always make sure I stand at a distance.

" _Afterwards, I rode to visit my love.... Sarah.... We laid a rug down in the field and took supper together. Sarah is a handsome cook and she is precious company. If it were true that such a moment could have lasted forever...."_

In the background Cetra and Gabby both sighed and sought out each other's hands.

" _Now my Sarah is but a distant dream to me. Her disapproving father's quest was to seek us out and destroy our love. When he found us together he pursued me with his writhe hatred all the way back to the Elevator.... and there I cannot go back. My assumption is that he has torn the stones down in his rage.... and now my Sarah is gone for all time...."_

"Wouldn't the Elevator have been invisible?" Barret asked.

Bilson cleared his throat and said, " _Concealing_ technology has only been available to us for a few hundred years, so assuming this account is prior to that, then the answer is _no_."

"Also," Billy added, "if memory serves me, Avebury Manor has only been around since the sixteenth century."

"So we're looking at a period somewhere between three hundred to five hundred years ago," Barret concluded.

"Oh yes, that's all fine," Gabby protested, "but how does the story finish up?"

Billy glanced down at the final few paragraphs written in the journal, "Um...." he read forward in his head, then, "....lost without her.... blah blah blah.... life not worth living.... blah blah blah.... then this _R.I.P.M_."

"And thus broken hearted," Gabby sang out, continuing the story with drama, "he tore out the remaining parchment from his uncompleted journal and gave his life over to the bitterness of death."

Rod clapped and cheered, "Bravo little lady," he said.

"Actually," Bilson cut in, "I remember such a story, if this is the same account. He was so stricken with grief after the loss of his one true love that he did indeed kill himself. Now the technical side of the story is that the Elevator must have been broken and rendered useless, so the plain would have been listed as _Defunct_."

"Is that what we are looking for then," Barry said, "one of the _defunct_ listings from three hundred to five hundred years back?"

"Oh yes," Bilson agreed, and then he shuffled slowly across the floor toward a shelf filled with black folders, deep in thought all the way.

The folders carried manifests of every plain ever discovered, from their names to climates, to major trade, from those that still operated to those which were now classified as Defunct. Over time numbers were added and removed from the list; like Brock had said.... _there were gaps_.

Bilson took four of the folders and shared them out between his guests.

"What do you think we should be looking for now, Billy?" he whistled.

Billy sat back with his folder opened across his and Gabby's laps before humming his thoughts. He was reasonably quick to give an answer, but during that time he considered the possibility that sixteenth century Earth wasn't at all known as Earth. What they should probably be looking for is a listing for _Wiltshire_ , or even more so _England_.

They all nodded and began their search, and in fact it wasn't long before Cetra quickly became excited over her discovery of plain #85, name: England, climate: wet.

### CHAPTER FORTY FIVE

"This is all very well," Billy said of the excitement surrounding him, "but where do we go from here?"

_Plain of Eighty Five Pillars, also known as England_.

"I mean," he continued, "do we go outside to the Elevator now, type #85 into that calculator of yours and off I go?"

"If it were that simple, Billy, Barry could have sent you home earlier because he would have known about your plain," Bilson said. "By all means, for curiosity sake, give it a go, but now that I've got the number eighty five I can go and hide myself away in the workshop, do some recalibrating of a control or four, and finally send you home. It's that simple."

"Yeah really?"

"Well...." Bilson faltered, "I'd be lying if I said I knew what I was doing."

Billy frowned, "Oh?"

In theory, Bilson was ready to expand his knowledge; he was willing to test his capabilities and his understanding of H.M.E, yet on the practical side of things, well.... Billy could either live or die.... _Such is science_.

After Bilson excused himself and then walked away tapping his index finger to his forehead, there was a short silence, and a few funny glances between our five companions.

"So what do we do now?" Gabby asked.

There were a number of suggestions put forward to her question, like they could remain in the library and read some more, or they could play _rock-paper-scissors_ again, they could go and cut a slab of meat from the side of an animal and eat it, Cetra considered cleaning to pass the time; but the one thing they all agreed on was what might happen if they were to punch the number eighty five into Barry's remote control.

"I assume it will come up with 'Not in Use'," Barry advised, having already experienced a number of different ramifications from punching in wrong numbers.

Yet their interest did not wane.

"We'll try it anyway though, right?" Billy said.

By now the sun was on its decline, and as they exited the house and made their way toward the Elevator Billy re-hatched an old conversation with Barret.

"I've still got that feeling," he said dully.

"Huh?" Barret grunted.

"Like being followed. Like someone's watching us." Billy paused to look at the glazed expression on Barret's face. "I'm sure I saw something at the window when we were in the library, you know, out of the corner of my eye."

Barret pursed his lips, "You're not going to let up are you?" he huffed, annoyed with Billy's persistence.

"Maybe we should scout around, see if we can find anything."

"Billy, you're forgetting one thing," Barret said, "how could someone have followed us through into two different plains?"

"I get that, but remember both times we went through I was bumped from behind, like someone running into me?"

Barret groaned impatiently, "If we look around will that keep you happy?"

"Yes."

"Happy enough that when we find _nothing_ you'll shut up?"

"Ok."

By now the others had gathered together in the centre of the Elevator and were encouraging Billy and Barret to catch up and join them. When they were all there, encased within the structure built of three large stone pillars, Barry pulled from his satchel the remote control. He held it aloft in his left hand for all to see and proceeded with his right to punch in the numbers eight and five.

Everyone else held their breath.

The control let out an empty _blip_.

A short moment later, as if it had been thinking about the request asked of it, the message – _NOT IN USE_ – flashed across its screen.

There was a unanimous sigh.

"Try it again," Gabby prompted excitedly.

Barry punched the numbers again and this time the control _blipped_ twice, vibrated, and the message – _NOT IN USE_ – blinked angrily across the screen in red.

It was a letdown sure, but certainly if it _had_ worked they would all be somewhere in England by now wondering _how on Earth_ they were going to get back. Anyway, Barry's confidence in its failure was unwavering, otherwise he would never have agreed to the whole thing in the first place.

"Shall we have an early supper?" Barry suggested then, "Just leftovers and sandwiches. We can sit and relax into the evening after that."

They all agreed and set off back up to the house, but Billy and Barret broke away from the group in search of something entirely different. Billy's agenda was to seek out his intruder; Barret saw it as an opportunity to say a heartfelt goodbye in private, yet still try to convince Billy to stay, maybe.

"How can I convince you to stay, Billy?" Barret began as they wandered around the yard.

"Are you going to miss me, Barret?" said Billy with a big smile.

"Well.... Cetra and Rod are.... and that Gabby looks like she's taken a shine to you...."

"She has not."

"She has too," Barret smirked, "She's all over you."

Billy grinned and turned away. For a fleeting moment there was silence between them, until Billy broke it smugly.

"You're going to miss me...."

"Yes I am," Barret said sternly, "The last few days have been the best days I've had since landing in this place. Until you and Cetra pulled me out of that marketplace I was going nowhere, I was just a junk salesman. Now I'm going to travel the universe and discover new dimensions, how many people can write that into their resume'? You're my friend, Billy, I want you to stay and do it all with me."

Billy could feel the emotion, and a single tear presented itself in the corner of his eye. Barret's friendship, along with Cetra, Rod, and now even Gabby's was and always would be special, but no proposal made to him could ever convince him to stay; he missed his family, and he wanted to go home.

"You know I can't stay," Billy said softly and squeezed Barret's arm for a quick second, "That's what this whole journey has been about.... getting me home. You've known that all along."

"But I seriously didn't think we would ever get there," Barret said, "Look at me, I've been stuck here now for five years it seems."

"You still have the option to come home you know."

"No," Barret said flatly.

Billy spread his arms out wide and said, "Well, look at the adventure you've got waiting for you here.... that's exciting."

Barret turned away and discretely wiped away what Billy figured was a tear. When he turned back he grabbed Billy and hugged him, Billy felt himself lifted off the ground for a brief moment until being released again, then in an instant Barret had straightened himself up and cleared his throat before saying, "Finished looking now?"

The grin on Billy's face went unnoticed, "Yeah sure," he said.

Then they turned back toward the house in silence.

### CHAPTER FORTY SIX

"And you all thought the self serve animal buffet outside was weird," Barret called out when he and Billy entered the kitchen and interrupted whatever conversation was taking place at that time, "you should have seen this thing...."

Barry and his three supper guests had eaten by now, but they had left all the fixings on the table for the two boys. As was hinted at earlier, it was simple leftovers and sandwiches.

"It was a plant, see," Billy continued on Barret's behalf, spitting a little in his excitement, "but it wasn't planted...."

"No," Barret bounced back in, "no roots you see, and it was running around the yard...."

"Yeah, it was jogging around on two big leaves...."

"And it was about this high," Barret said holding his hand at waist level. "Hey, that's probably what you saw at the window."

Billy considered the possibility, "Maybe," he said.

Out of everybody present the first one to comment on Billy's and Barret's experience was Barry; he spoke calmly.... and _almost_ convincingly.

"That's our runner bean," is what he said.

This in turn was followed by silence.

"Yeah," he continued, "he has to run around to create energy. It supplements the energy from the sun so he can produce more beans. He's a bit of a show off really, a bit of an overachiever."

Again with the silence.

"When he's ready to be picked he usually comes to the back door and stands like this...." Barry raised his arms to the side as the example, "....then we.... pick his beans."

The silence was broken.

"Are you serious?" Barret said without trying to sound rude but failing.

Barry confirmed his story with a definite "Yes."

"Does he have nice beans?" Gabby asked with a smirk.

"He does actually, best I've ever tasted."

"And if you asked him where his travels have taken him," Billy carried on, "he could say _'Oh, I've bean here, I've bean there, I've bean pretty much everywhere, heck.... I've even bean to the Plain of Three Pillars'_."

"He's obviously _bean_ a handy plant to have around," Barret added.

"No doubt you've _bean_ enjoying the fruits of his labour, too, huh Barry?"

Barry chose to yawn in response and then said quietly, "Should I get used to this sort of behaviour from you lot?"

After the laughing had stopped Bilson entered the kitchen and announced his impending success.

"I believe I have almost done it," he said clearly and proudly.

"Yay," Cetra cheered, happy as usual.

Though altogether there were mixed emotions around the room.

"Are you sure?" Barret questioned, "I mean, I'm not letting him go if it's just an experiment."

"My boy," Bilson assured him, "of course it's an experiment, I don't think anyone has ever been sent back to a _defunct_ plain before, but rest assured, it is an experiment where the outcome is obvious.... but contained.... like mixing sodium metal with water," he shrugged, "Don't worry, he will either go or stay. It's not like he could be cut in two and one portion goes back to England and the other remains here...."

"Alright," Rod said loudly and abruptly, "I must say you're yet to convince me."

Bilson's bottom lip dropped a little, "Well, I haven't finished yet," he said.

"So how much longer do you think grandpa?" Barry asked.

Bilson took a moment to think and pick at some leftover food, "I will work tirelessly into the night if I have to," he said with a great deal of enthusiasm.

"Crack on then," Billy added.

"Very well," Bilson agreed and exited the kitchen.

Their eyes followed Bilson's back until it was out of sight; then they all nodded and hummed at one another.

"Well," Barry said and grinned. He watched on as Billy and Barret set about putting together their own supper.

"What shall we do now, young Barry?" Rod asked amongst the clatter of utensils and mastication of food, "How do you plan on entertaining us?"

"Ah...." Barry started by waving a finger in the air, a thought had just occurred to him. "Here's the thing, see; at the moment I have two orders in for _Shpeggs_ , now normally I would wait until Brock was available to come with me, but seeing as how you're all here, why not throw you in the deep end and see if you can swim. Consider it a training exercise."

"I'm up for that," Barret grunted through a mouth full of mush.

On the opposite side though, Cetra showed a little more curiosity when she asked, "What is a _Shpegg_?"

Ah yes.... what is a Shpegg?

"Now where would the fun be in telling you that already?" was Barry's answer. "But if we go this evening I can make the supply early and keep two customers very happy."

"And that's very important," Barret added.

"For sure, you know where I'm coming from," Barry agreed. "But Billy, It's not mandatory that _you_ come along, although you're definitely welcome to."

"So where are we going?" Billy answered enthusiastically, wholly investing his excitement in the adventure.

They were going to the Plain of Eighty Eight Pillars.

One interesting fact about #88 was that it had wandering magnetic poles, a problem which limited the plain's ability to sustain any long term life other than that which may have been lucky enough to adapt to the fluctuating magnetic field surrounding it. This instability also created a less than desirable environment for H.M.E to function correctly, in fact, it darn well messed it up entirely to the point of uselessness.... except for a period of fifty three seconds every fifty three minutes when the poles actually came into alignment with one another and stabilised. In this fifty three second window H.M.E registered as normal and transportation was attainable.

"So how do you know when that is?" Gabby asked.

"I don't," Barry said, "I stand out there pressing eighty eight for as long as it takes. It happens eventually."

Rod shook his head, "Crude I suppose, but effective."

"Yeah that's just great," Barret said, "but what are these creatures that have adapted all about?"

"Now, why spoil _that_ surprise?" Barry answered.

### CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

Barry said, "Oh, the seasons must be changing, I didn't count on it being this dark already."

They had only waited for about fourteen minutes before their fifty three second window of opportunity opened up, but when it did they were transported instantly and without a _bump_. Now they were encircled by eighty eight pillars - of course this was implied as they weren't about to start counting them all to verify whether Barry was right or not - and beneath their feet the cobblestones scratched with a gritty layer of dust and dirt. Overhead, strips of colour unfolding across a darkened sky gave some light to what may have otherwise been an ebon landscape; both Gabby and Cetra implied its beauty by the dreamy, big eyed looks upon their faces.

"This looks ominous," Rod commented.

What they could make of that landscape surrounding them was that it appeared rocky and craggy, and far less than inviting. Shadows loomed all around and kept their secrets hidden, but in the spectacle of light which changed as often as the ribbons of colour in the sky there was movement from beyond the eighty eight pillars and the cobblestone floor.

"Bugs," Barry announced simply, "many, many bugs."

"Emphasis on the _many_ ," Rod agreed.

"It looks like a wriggling, woven technicolour blanket," Billy said and then looked to Barret's green in blue face for a typically sarcastic response.

"Just say whatever pops into your head Billy," Barret delivered, "no matter how stupid it sounds."

Billy smiled.... he would miss that.

_Many, many bugs_ could really be considered an understatement, and Billy's analogy wasn't that far off the mark. They were thick, like pea soup, but they swarmed only beyond the circle of stone pillars. Perhaps they were influenced somehow by the malfunctioning magnetic field, or alternatively they were affected by the pretty aurora, maybe they simply couldn't bring themselves to come any closer to the human presence; either way Barry hadn't an answer and unfortunately that meant there was no way to avoid going through them.

Though just off to the right of the cloud of insects and within the shadow of a crag there could be seen a red glow, as if two crimson eyes happened to be penetrating the darkness, they appeared and then soon vanished, and in the wake of this the insects dispersed.

"What was that?" Barret said.

Barry said, "Nothing."

"And don't tell me it was nothing," Barret said.

Barry said nothing.

Their passage was now clear and Barry walked ahead toward the edge of the cobblestones, anticipating that his guests would follow; but it didn't happen.

"Come on," he said.

And when that didn't work....

"Trust me. I come here all the time. Nothing out there is going to hurt you."

He was fully aware that his tone was only distantly reassuring, and by avoiding their concerns he understood their hesitance, but if he were to tell them what was out there now he would remove all possibility of them following him. Barry recalled the first time Brock had brought him to this place, at only ten years old Barry had been a weedy looking kid who stood at the same height as his father's right elbow – anatomically speaking, Brock's right arm was shorter by approximately one inch from the shoulder than his left arm and as such Barry liked to compare himself as being greater in height than his father's left elbow – though even at that tender age he aspired to be just like his dad. At the time Brock's words had been simple and yet harsh, " _you either come with me or stay here alone,"_ and as comforting as those cobblestones may have felt with his father right there next to him, Barry knew that fear would be all that remained once Brock was gone.

"You stand a better chance out there with me than you do here alone," Barry said, opting for a new approach.

Billy shrugged and scraped his boot across the dust before casting his nerves aside and joining Barry at the edge. He looked back at his friends with an encouraging smile and said, "Come on, let's do this. We're stuck here for fifty three minutes anyway, let's make the most of it."

So off they ventured into the dark landscape, ever cautious yet excited at the same time. Gabby held Billy's hand and walked close, Rod stood tall on Cetra's shoulder and sniffed the air, and Barret led the team forward with Barry in command.

"How far do we have to go to find a _Shpegg?"_ Barret asked.

"Not too far," Barry said.

"Will you tell us what a _Shpegg_ is yet?" Cetra questioned.

"Alright," Barry turned to her and answered, "It's a delicacy.... used for cooking."

"A fungus maybe?" Billy guessed, "Like a truffle?"

"Yes...." Barry stopped and rubbed his chin, "perhaps.... like a truffle."

"It's a good environment for fungus," Barret added quietly.

"Well...." Barry continued, "Maybe not so much a fungus as...." he trailed off.

"As what, young man?" Rod prompted.

"You'll see," Barry said, "No point in getting you all excited just yet now is there?"

The cave loomed up ahead of them.

"Hang on," Barret jumped, "I don't remember you mentioning anything about a cave."

"Well...." Barry said, "There's a cave, and the _Shpeggs_ are inside."

"How the heck are we supposed to see anything in there?" Barret protested.

Barry pulled out a torch from his satchel and flicked it on. The light shone bright and circular on the rocky wall before penetrating into the darkness of the cavern.

Inside the air was stale and slightly acrid, like a bag of vinegar soaked chips left to desiccate in the hot afternoon sun; it wasn't entirely unpleasant, though it did burn a little like chilli on the breath.

Barry walked casually and confidently ahead of the rest, guiding their path through the dry, warm tunnel, being careful not to tread on the orange blob things that randomly littered the unusually level earth beneath their feet.

"Don't step on the orange blobby things," he said over his shoulder and smirked to himself, "They don't like it."

As expected they all avoided the orange blobs, though, contemplating their existence, wondered what sort of a threat they could have possibly posed.

"They look like jellyfish washed up on the beach," Billy said quietly.

Further on, Barry's torch flashed across a junction where the cave split into two separate tunnels, each one exhibiting its very own distinctive qualities. The cave on the left remained warm and exhaled a sweet breath of air from the somewhat jagged and slightly smaller entrance compared to its right counterpart; which in comparison was less jagged, a little larger, and expelled a gas that was both hot and rancid; assumedly the two coming together gave the main cavern that stale vinegary smell.

"I know which one I'd rather take," Gabby said.

"Obviously that one has far more appeal," Rod said pointing to the left, "Although _appeal_ isn't quite the description I'm after."

"How about this," Billy said, "if I _had_ to make a choice between the two, I'd go that way. But honestly, I'd sooner just go home now."

It was a good thing that Barry had paid no mind to the conversation going on behind him, for during that time he was able to make the preferred choice _for_ them without impediment from his own witling personality.

So they entered the left tunnel and travelled its length. There were no orange blobs this far in, but there were noises.... and scratching.... and strangely something that sounded like a beating heart, or was that just the echo of Billy's own trying to break free from his chest? He wondered now if he should have stayed back on the farm after all, safely tucked away and relaxing on the Plain of Three Pillars, waiting calmly for Grandpa Bilson to figure out a way back to England; although Barry appeared confident and completely at ease considering their situation, and that in itself was partly reassuring.

The tunnel opened up into a chamber that was broken into sections by twists and turns in the rocky walls, it was a layout filled with secrets and dark places; and toward the far end, obscured slightly by the lip of a stone alcove that had no choice but to give up its secret upon the intrusion from Barry's torch, there hung three dirty sacks. They dangled at about chest height, each one strung up between two cords connecting it to the roof of the alcove and its floor.

Barry hummed his thoughts as he led the group toward them.

Upon closer scrutiny they looked like three shiny grey rugby balls held suspended within a light, silky webbing.

"The mysterious _Shpeggs_?" Barret assumed.

Barry glanced around their stone enclosure first before removing a knife from his leather satchel. He asked Gabby to hold onto one of the sacks while he cut away the webbing, first from the bottom and then from the top. It came away easily and Gabby cradled its soft bulk delicately in her arms.

"It feels funny," she said squeezing it a little between her hands, "like a big squishy potato."

Barret drew near and prodded it with a finger, "You still haven't really told us what it is," he said to Barry.

"What do you think it is?" Barry asked with a wry smile.

"A great big spider egg," Billy laughed.

To which Barry simply hummed and smiled again.

"Ah.... No!" Barret protested disdainfully, "Don't even go there!"

"Ok, settle down you big baby," Barry said in an effort to defuse any rising situation, "Do you really want me to tell you what it is right now? Or would you rather we all just get out of here?"

They all nodded their heads and repeated the _getting out of here_ as a pretty fair idea.

"Very well then," Barry continued, "Barret, come take hold of another _Shpegg_."

"Ah....No! Not if it's got anything to do with a spider I won't," Barret said, voicing his disgust.

Barry grunted his impatience with the Irishman and then said, "Billy, how about you, you good to go?"

Billy was good to go. He took hold of the second _Shpegg_ and pulled it toward him while Barry cut away the webbing. Taking the weight of it against his chest he figured it to be roughly one and a half pounds, and it was indeed rather squishy to the point of easily poking ones finger through the silky smooth skin. Billy quite expected the webbing to be sticky, but it wasn't, and it appeared as strong as fishing line if not maybe stronger.

"It looks like a big testicle," Billy said without considering the possible ramifications of such a vulgar comment and failing to take into account the fact that there were two girls and a rather polite and well-mannered desert mouse present.

"Tally-ho young lad. Maybe...." Rod was thinking out loud, "....we are in the belly of a giant rock monster and have inadvertently stumbled upon its dark nether regions."

"Let's just hope he doesn't get an itch," Gabby quipped, much to her disgrace in the eyes of Cetra, who was standing against a black crevasse in the wall, shaking her head at the mouse on her shoulder and _tisking_ at everybody else as they stifled their laughter.

Just for a moment, while Barry was encouraging their departure, Cetra felt something brush up her arm; it was a swift sensation, accompanied by a moment of icy numbness, climaxing at her shoulder and then disappearing. In its wake Cetra voiced her displeasure by squealing like a little girl.

Everyone, including Cetra looked back....

....and Rod was gone.

### CHAPTER FORTY EIGHT

The _Shpegg_....

The _Shpegg_ is one of the lesser known delicacies peddled down the centuries by a line of descended Plains Traders throughout this big brass universe of ours. It is a commodity supplied primarily to a race of Globulitites known as Globulites who reside on the Plain of Eighty One Pillars. Used in anything from breakfast squibble to a hearty dinner stew, it can fetch anywhere upwards of 1000gg's per every ounce, with a minimum weight generally around the one and a half pound mark. By comparison, and taking into account the resilience of their gold coin currency which tended never to fluctuate and forever remained strong, if ever there was a market to be had on Bradley for the _Shpegg_ it would come in at a price of no less than 199,991 gold coins per ounce, making it in any case an unviable option due to the inconceivability of there even being in existence the 4,799,784 gold coins required to purchase at the least one _Shpegg._

Originally discovered by an ancient relative now admirably known by her latter day descendants as Great Aunt Bronte, it was supposed to be called a _Spegg_ , but due to the misfortune of her being both blind and impaired of speech, it was translated into the records as a _Shpegg_ from #88 – _Shp_ being from the root word _Shpider,_ and _egg_ from the root word _egg_. It was only later as the knowledge behind their own dialect developed further that the initial mistake was investigated, though by then it was far too late to be making any corrections that could perhaps severely impact their clientele who had been consistently purchasing what they knew was a _Shpegg_ now for centuries.

They were a rare commodity unique to the Plain of Eighty Eight Pillars.

They were also great big spider eggs.

Meanwhile the _Shpeggs_ were safe, but Rod wasn't....

When the spider reached its front leg through the crack in the wall toward the delicious smelling rodent perched on top of the bandit's shoulder, it secreted a toxin via the many tiny hair follicles that covered its entire body and thus produced in the mouse a paralysis induced coma immediately upon that moment of contact, whereas the mouse uncontrollably _clenched_ around the spider's leg and thus was completely immobilised. Such were the benefits of this defence mechanism that it was invaluable more so as a method for hunting, in saying that, the spider need only walk into a cloud of swarming bugs and there an instant meal could be had. Though on this desolate plain there was certainly no shortage of fare. A favoured prey of the spiders was the ever reproducing blind rats, being that the creatures had no eyes and as a consequence were as clumsy as an intoxicated topey on the top of a beetroot cider barrel, their plump black bodies supplied the spiders with a regular, and very satisfying meal, in comparison the bugs were simply sweets for after.

Back in the monster's nether regions Barret was having what one might call a _hissy-fit_.

"SPIDERS..? I don't do spiders!"

By now, after having finally learned the eight essential elements pertaining to a _Shpegg_ and not yet having come to terms with the reality of it all, Barret fought to contain his eyeballs in their sockets and his heart within his chest.

Rod was gone.

Where was Rod?

Off with the great big spiders of course!

Cetra and Gabby were recruited to take the _Shpeggs_ back to the Elevator; they would be safe there. Barry had figured out a long time ago that there was no conceivable threat to humans on #88, the spiders were flighty and puny, and only came up to about knee height, but still, he should have known better than to have brought a little mouse along for the ride.

Barret gave a heavy handed argument as to why he needn't go after Rod and the great big spiders, he said, "I don't want to."

"What are you Barret, a man or a mouse?" Barry chided, "Because look at the trouble being a mouse has got Rod into. Now suck it up and grow some!"

"Burn!" Billy said in response to the dressing down.

That settled and Barret's chest now defiantly puffed – only to save face, he still didn't much like them spiders – Barry lead them all through a fissure in the wall.

"I assume you know where you're going then?" Billy guessed.

"Um.... er.... yeah," Barry said, "Remember the bad smelling cave...?"

"It all smells bad dude," Barret said.

"Well...." Barry faltered, "This is kind of a back door."

"And with its long, dark and cavernous corridor, it's a real treat," Barret persisted.

"You're just a barrel load of fun at present aren't you Barret," Billy mocked his Irish friend.

Barret _hmphed_ and then mumbled something about _dirty great big spiders_ and their _dirty great big Shpeggs_ and how Plain Eighty Eight could go and do something _great big and dirty_ to itself.

In the shadowed extremities of the circular light shining outwards from Barry's torch a number of beady red spots reflected back randomly; Barry suggested that these phenomena were more than quite probably spiders' eyes, and that in lieu of hesitation they should bravely continue moving forward.

Thus in place of bravery Barret grabbed hold of Billy's arm and suggested by the strength of his grip that he had no intentions of letting go.

The smell assaulted them before the visuals could disgust them; their nostrils wrinkled with the acidity of the air and their throats burned from the bile that gushed upwards from their stomachs. When they forced themselves to enter the chamber they immediately felt sick, in fact Barret even went so far as to discreetly turn away from Billy and throw up against the wall nearest him.

"Well that was gross," Billy commented while shaking off Barret's hand.

Barret quickly regained himself and wiped his lips with the back of a hand. "Must've been something I ate," he coughed.

"Yeah, that'd be it." Billy shook his head and continued forward into the chamber, leaving his Irish friend behind to go and stand alongside Barry deep within the bowels of the rock monster.

This is where things were hanging and something gooey stuck to the soles of their boots. Billy was mildly reminded of an abattoir he'd once visited during a school outing – which one was that again?

Barry shone the torch across dangling, web encased corpses; they all appeared similar in size except for one. It caught Billy's eye when it swayed amidst the stillness of death, moving slightly from the feeble attempts to escape by its occupant. The spider's meal was alive and wriggling, but the noise it made was muffled, hollow and dull, like the bonds it was imprisoned within were suffocating it.

"Over there, that has to be Rod," Billy said and pointed a finger at the smallest of the cocoons. He looked around at Barret to see what he was doing, but Barret's form could only just be seen in the faint backlight from the torch. "You ok, Barret?" he said.

"Having a ball back here," Barret's voice crackled in the darkness.

Barry, who was still holding the knife tightly in his hand, moved forward quickly to retrieve their little friend. Rod was close to the wall, a wall with many dark holes, the dark holes with no doubt many unseen eyes. When he raised the torch above his head to see to cut the webbing, a slender shadow caught his eye; he knew what it was, but on reflex he very stupidly grabbed for it anyway, rendering his hand immobilised and clutched awkwardly around the hairy leg of a spider. He screamed, not because it hurt, but because he wanted to avoid the embarrassment of dropping the torch in order to grab the hairy leg of a spider.

Billy stood back and gaped. In the dull, angled glow of the fallen torch he noted the size of the leg hanging down the wall and imagined the possible size of the body it was attached to somewhere back there in the dark; more importantly though, he realised, was the body presently attached to it at _this_ end.

"Billy, get the torch," Barry commanded loudly.

Billy retrieved the torch and immediately aimed it into the hole. What glared back at him from that hole was a big spider with reflective red eyes; it was spindly and oddly robotic in appearance, with an angled body rather than curved. One could almost say it looked alien.

_Of course it looks alien...!_ Billy thought.

"Barret!" he yelled as he turned away from the spider only to find the Irishman there beside him already.

"Big spider!" Barret shuddered and received the torch that was being passed to him.

"Now grab a rock and use it," Barry yelled.

Billy picked up a sizeable rock from the ground and smashed it down hard on the spider's leg; the spider squealed but Barry's hand remained attached.

"No...." Barry screamed, "You have to hit my hand...."

"But...." Billy stared questioningly.

"My hand's numb," Barry continued to scream, "trust me, I won't feel a thing."

So Billy smacked the rock down hard onto Barry's hand and again the spider squealed, but this time Barry's hand woke up and let go. Moments later, after Billy had squarely pegged the rock at the spider's head and shooed it back into the far recesses of its hole, Barry felt the pain.

"You said it wouldn't hurt," Billy shouted guiltily.

Barry rubbed his knuckles and cringed, "Not immediately...." he said quietly through gritted teeth.

Rod still dangled and swayed slightly within his webbed cocoon, he couldn't say much considering his mouth was bound by sticky strands, and thus had little to contribute to their situation other than to continue dangling and swaying.

"Big spider gone," Barret said gladly after all was done. He took the knife from Barry's good hand and at the same time holding onto Rod he cut away the webbing so as to free the little mouse.

Immediately after that everything seemed to pause for a lengthy moment, then....

"Jolly good," Rod said and coughed up a sticky gob of webbing onto Barret's hand. Luckily though this disgusting reflex went unnoticed and he was therefore able to _swish_ the phlegmy lump off and onto the ground with a quick flick of his tail. Afterwards, being satisfied with his discretion, Rod looked at everybody and said, "I think we have company."

Company indeed!

As Barret flashed the torch light around the chamber suddenly many red eyes glowed into focus and made their presence known.

"This can't be good," Billy commented.

_Can't be good...?_ They were in a dark cave, surrounded by who knew how many toxic, hairy legged spiders capable of paralysing a limb with a single touch.... _Of course it wasn't good!_

"They aren't usually this bold," Barry said with a surprised lilt to his voice, "Maybe we should go."

"You.... think...?" Barret stammered.

There were two ways out that Barry knew of, the main tunnel leading back out to the first cavern where it met up with the sweeter smelling of the two, and the nasty back door corridor they had come in by. Barry considered them both, weighed up the pros and cons in his head, realised there were no pros but plenty of cons, and definitively decided to leave via the front door.

So Barry grabbed Barret by the shoulders and pushed him forward, forcing the Irishman to light their way. For a moment Barret balked, but the overwhelming desire to simply get the hell out of there helped him to overcome his fear of the great big, hairy legged, spindly and robotic looking spiders.

At first they moved slowly, their eyes challenging every dark spot and red glow they glimpsed. Billy unfortunately found himself delegated to the rear, but Rod shrewdly managed to work his way into the security of the middle by climbing up Barret's sleeve onto his shoulder and then running across the bridge that was Barry's arm and hiding himself somewhere under the collar of Barry's shirt.

It wasn't long before they reached the outer chamber, though it certainly felt longer under the circumstances. Many heart beats passed and much stale air was gulped during the distance travelled, and when they finally emerged from that place and cast their eyes upon the very first orange blobby thing, they were glad.

Although that gladness was short lived.

From the darkness of the tunnel behind them came an echo of sounds culminating into a single deafening scream, it ripped at their ears and chilled their blood, it raised the fine hairs on the backs of their necks.... it was altogether frightening.

"My goodness," Barry gasped, "I've never heard them do that before."

"And let's hope we never have to hear them do it again," Barret yelled.

So they decided to make a run for it.

They ran hard....

They ran over the orange blobby things. The orange blobby things didn't much like that and so squirted them all with icky orange goo; it certainly wasn't the most pleasant of sensations experienced thus far by our team of bandits, though it wasn't a deterrent either.

They ran beyond the threshold of the cave and were instantly immersed within the ever changing colours of the aurora – blue in green and then green in yellow, even red in purple made a brief appearance.

They ran because they could hear the spiders' pursuit of them, a sound oddly similar to that of a rain storm on a tin roof.

They ran through the rocky and craggy terrain, hesitant to look back, hearts racing and breath raking, ignoring the eyeless rats that skulked in the shadows and the bugs that got caught up in their hair.

Red spots in the distance glowed together with the lights in the sky and made known to them a presence of many more spiders that had yet to join the chase.

Until they reached the Elevator, where Cetra and Gabby were cradling _Shpeggs_ and patiently awaiting their return, they refused to stop running. When they were all finally gathered together again in the centre of its cobblestone floor, and Cetra's and Gabby's questions were passed over into the void of selective hearing, Barry pulled out the remote control and pressed the number three.... and he continued pressing the number three while a force of great big spiders hesitantly advanced onto the Elevator platform.

"Dumb remote," Barry yelled out of frustration and shook the contraption in his hand.

"Dumb fifty three minutes," Gabby yelled back because nobody knew just how much time had actually passed.

"Dumb spider eggs," Cetra yelled also and grinned and jumped up and down on the spot.

"Dumb _spiders_ ," Barret yelled because he hated those eight legged creatures even more so now.

"Dumb clowns," Billy yelled....

### CHAPTER FORTY NINE

Back on the Plain of Three Pillars Gabby said, "Phew that was close."

Billy agreed, "Down to the wire I'd say," he said.

"Well, _I'd say_ ," Barret said, "that was an adventure we needn't have had."

"Ah but," Barry said, "you certainly couldn't deny the excitement of it though, could you?"

"Yeah," was their unanimous cry.

"Oh, and by the way Billy," Barret started, " _dumb clowns?_ "

"Clowns _are_ dumb," Billy snapped to his own defence, "And what of it anyway, you don't like spiders."

There was another unanimous round of agreement.

"How's your hand Barry?" Billy asked with that burning guilt one gets when they have just seriously smashed a rock into someone else's knuckles and inflicted a tremendous amount of pain.

"It's seen better," Barry answered. The back of his hand was bruised yellow and a little bloodied, but aside from that it was still quite useful.

Cetra and Gabby continued to cradle the _Shpeggs_ , they were very glad to see Rod safely returned to them.

"Shall we take these inside then go and find Grandpa Bilson?" Cetra asked and began to walk ahead in anticipation of an affirmative response. The answer came in the nature of them all following her across the yard.

At that very same moment, whence our team was crossing the damp yard and making their way back to the big house, it just so happened that Bilson was re-entering the workshop with a cold meat sandwich in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. Upon glancing over the bench where he had been working all night so far he became mildly perplexed. At once he wondered whether or not he had started out with five remote controls, presently there were only four, and it dawned on him that maybe he was beginning to lose his mind, or least of all it was slowing down some. He _was_ getting on after all; no doubt it was going to rear its ugly head to some extent eventually. Regardless, whatever his mental capacity and its future existence therefore beheld, his immediate task was now only moments away from completion; a tweak here, a turn there, a hum of an old romantic tune, and _vuala_.... magic!

All that needed to be done now was for Bilson to close the window and mop up the wet footprints on the floor.

That done, and one of the calibrated remote controls tucked snugly away in his top pocket, he left the workshop and travelled once again to the kitchen where he discovered there a group of orange goo stained anthropoids having made themselves comfortably seated around the central island bench.

" _Shpeggs!_ " he declared rambunctiously and clapped his hands together, "Anyone for soup?"

The looks he received were incredulous.

"Is the old guy serious?" Barret said quietly.

"Unfortunately yes," Barry answered just as quietly.

"Have you ever tried it yourself?" Barret asked.

"Not on your life!" Barry said and then simulated puking.

Bilson came around and patted his grandson on the shoulders, "You shouldn't have gone to all that trouble," he whistled.

"I didn't, grandpa," Barry said, "They're for a customer."

"Of course they are," Bilson said in a low voice and grinned over the top of Barry's head. "Although, I wouldn't mind being surprised with one sometime," he added.

"I don't think so grandpa."

Bilson winked at his guests and tapped the outer material of his top pocket.

"I guess it can't be any different than eating a swallow's nest," Billy said off hand.

"How so, young man?" Rod asked freely from his regained position atop Cetra's shoulder.

"Yes Billy," Cetra agreed, "What is a swallow that you can eat its nest?"

"It's a bird."

"How can you eat a bird's nest?" Gabby cringed.

"They make like a jelly from the bird's spit which holds the nest together," Billy informed them, "They use the jelly in soups and desserts and things."

Enough said about that....

Bilson grinned and again tapped his top pocket to declare the successful completion of the immediate task at hand.

Indeed now that time had come, the final goal had been reached, and Billy's adventure must come to a close. To depart from such good friendships was sorrowful, and to have lost Briar's before journeys end was heartbreaking; but England beckoned, and his mother's voice still carried on the wind, calling him home for supper.

When they reached the outskirts of the Elevator everyone stopped; even the runner bean made its way over to them and stood silently aloof.

Bilson cleared his throat and then pulled from his top pocket the newly calibrated remote control. "You have to enter on your own this time Billy," he said.

Billy looked at Bilson, smiled at him, and then turned to his friends.

"Kids my age only dream of being part of an adventure like this," he said to them with a crackly voice, "That's why we read books. But how lucky am I.... to have gone on one with all of you."

"Very lucky indeed young chap," Rod quipped, "But it is we who are forever grateful and indebted to you. It is you who have pulled together this band of wanderers and given us direction. It is all to your credit Billy, you are the finest young fellow I have ever had the privilege of meeting."

Rod began to applaud and everyone soon followed. Gabby was the first to throw herself into Billy's arms; she held him tight and whispered in his ear how she would miss him though she had only known him that day.

Cetra did the same, and Billy responded equally.

"I am not going to say goodbye Billy," she said to him and shined her big eyes, "because I have a feeling you will be back some day. But I will miss you while you are gone."

Billy smiled and hugged her again, "You'll always be my first love," he whispered confidently.

"I know," she said.

"Oh my goodness.... Bring in the soppy brigade to mop up all the sop will you," Barret chided with an impatient Irish grunt.

When he broke from Cetra, Billy extended a hand to Barret and said another goodbye. Their previous encounter had been heartfelt enough, and Billy respected the fact that Barret had a hard time displaying any further emotion than anger, especially when it came to parading it before a crowd. Of course, Barret's response in this instance was honourable.

"Take care Billy," he said, "Maybe one day, when I've learned all I need to know about this gig, I'll come and visit you. I'm sure that if we can send you home we can fix it to do just the opposite."

"One thing at a time tiger," Bilson said, "We've bigger whales to poach first up. Don't know what you're doing yet, but you're doing it anyway."

"I believe, old man," Rod said, "that is what you would call _keen-to-go_."

So with goodbyes out of the way there was just one thing left to do which would bring Billy's adventure to a close.

"Young Billy, off you go now, don't make England wait," Bilson said with his finger poised over the remote control's keypad, "I have calibrated the remote in such a way that you should drop near enough if not exactly onto the original site of the Elevator; given there's anything left of it that is."

"Otherwise...?" Billy said.

"Well.... otherwise, you could wind up _anywhere_ , I assume wherever the highest concentration of H.M.E is located,"

"May I pose a question?" Rod asked, "If the magnetic energy is no longer contained, then you cannot really refer to it as _harnessed_ , correct?"

"Hmmm...." Bilson hummed, "A very good point you make. Maybe we should call it R.M.E.... _Random_ Magnetic Energy, what do you think?"

"Lovely!" Billy interrupted as he stepped onto the Elevator and made his way to the middle, "Let's crack on shall we."

When Billy was in place, and Bilson was hovering above ignition, Barret heard _scuffling_ from behind the opposite pillar, like a sound of turf being kicked at.

When Bilson lowered his finger from its poised position over the remote control and pressed the buttons eight and five, Barret looked on as Billy turned away from them to face that same pillar.

In what could only be described as a rather confusing moment that followed, out from behind the pillar a shadowy figure emerged and darted into the circle, it latched hard onto Billy, pushing him backwards.... where together they stumbled.... and disappeared simultaneously.

All were stunned to silence for about two seconds.

"What the...?" cried Barry.

Nobody answered.... not immediately.

Then Barret gasped and said, "Was that...?"

### CHAPTER FIFTY

"Briar...!" is what Billy was surprised to hear himself call out in that split second before hurtling through the universe and landing with a hard _thud_ on the thick green grass beneath them both.

"What the heck...?" was the next thing he said.

They were in a heap, with Briar sprawled across Billy's lower half and pinning him down with the weight of a pig. A drizzle of rain about them had dampened the grass plenty enough to soak through to Billy's back and cause him a chill. A shadow fell across them in the failing light from a roughly hewn stone pillar; it was leaning ever so slightly and was accompanied by several others, all drawing their own long shadows away from the diving sun.

"What the...." Briar repeated with a toothy grin.

Billy pushed him off onto the wet ground and they sat up near to each other and smiled.

Then Billy grimaced, "No no no," he chanted and shook his head, "You can't be here. You can't come home with me. You need to go back."

Briar screwed up his snout and stared down at the ground.

"What happened to you Briar?" Billy said, "Why did you just take off like that?"

Briar's look was one of confusion, not that it was much different to any other look he may have given off, pig shaped faces didn't lean toward differentiating between emotions too easily, and to Billy it simply appeared that Briar may not have heard the question.

"And Brand said you'd just up and left early before the sun rose," Billy continued.

"I did not," Briar snapped.

"Well, you were gone. I was a little upset at that."

"So why didn't you come looking for me?"

"We went in the same direction that Brand told us you'd gone."

"You wanna know what happened to me?"

"Yeah."

Briar rolled his eyes and coughed.

"I fell asleep on the bed...." he began, "and I woke up a pig on a spit!"

"Huh...?" was all Billy said.

"Everybody was laughing at me Billy," Briar continued, "I was tied up to a roasting pit in the town square.... upside down.... with a rapple in my mouth."

Billy looked on questioningly and stupidly asked, "How'd you get there?"

"I don't know," Briar said gawping, "I'm thinking the tall Irish topey, but then, when you all took off on me I wondered whether you weren't all in on it."

"Never," Billy said positively, "Do you really think Barret would do that?"

"Do _you_ really think he would?" Briar echoed the question.

Billy hummed and stuck his tongue out to taste the rain. It tasted British.

"Maybe, come to think of it...." he began hesitantly.

"Of course he did," Briar huffed, "When I got out of the pit I found out which way you'd gone...."

"I _knew_ we were being followed," Billy said, "Why didn't you just catch up to us?"

"Because I thought that none of you cared that I was gone."

"Oh Briar, we cared. Even Barret cared in his own special way."

"I doubt it. He never liked me," Briar said dropping his lip.

By now the rain was a little heavier, and the air a little cooler. Billy stood up and reached out his hand to help Briar do likewise.

"They kept blaming me for leaving doors open," Billy whined, "and it was _you_ all along. Barret thought I was going stupid."

"Barret's stupid," Briar spat.

"He's ok," Billy said.

"No."

Billy flicked wet hair from his forehead and then asked, "How did you follow us through the plains?"

"Is that what we did?" said Briar, "That was weird."

"So it was you that kept bumping into me," Billy now realised, "How did you know when to jump in?"

"I didn't," Briar said, "After hearing you tell your story and seeing you all huddled in the middle of those rocks I figured something must be going to happen, so I jumped in there."

"You retreated quickly."

"I know! How good am I?"

"So you managed to stay hidden all that time?"

"Did I say I was good?" Briar said proudly.

Again in the fading light Billy took a survey of their surroundings. The stones encircling them were in disarray, they were all roughly cut, and a number of horizontal cap stones spanned above to create odd shaped arches. It all looked somewhat familiar.

"Do you really want me to go back?" Briar asked.

Billy thought for a moment, "I guess, if I had a choice," he said, "you would have to go back."

Briar frowned and put his hand into his jacket pocket.

"You don't look _right_ here, Briar," Billy continued, "People don't look anything like you here, and animals don't talk. I don't know how I'm going to hide you."

Briar ran his chubby fingers over the small metal box in his pocket and flinched when he accidentally pressed one of its buttons. Nothing happened, but he guessed he needed to be careful with it.

"I don't want to go back," he said softly then, "No one cares about me there."

He managed to _acquire_ the box from the old man's workshop earlier. Briar had watched him through the window while he tinkered around with at least five of them. When he was done and gone from the room Briar climbed in the window and took one.... because.... well.... he'd seen the other two guys using the same thing and he figured it looked important. Turns out it was.

"Well," Billy said, "we don't have much of a choice now do we? We'll just have to figure something out."

When the sun finally vanished beyond the horizon and night relieved the day, Billy came to a sudden realisation as halogen lights flickered on all around him.

"Oh, well.... will you look at that...." he said to Briar who's vacant expression indicated that he wouldn't have known at all what Billy was talking about.

Billy glanced around at the derelict stone structure that surrounded them again and smiled.

"Stonehenge," he reported. "Who'd have ever guessed that Stonehenge was an Elevator?"
