Chapter 4

Dale and Aisling followed the path marked by the tumbled-down, whitewashed rope fence. They reached the end and cast their lanterns about to have a look. 

'Is this it?' commented Aisling.

'Not sure what I was expecting. It's not so much a mine as a pit in the ground. Not even that; a divot. No mine cart even. No mule. Not even a wheelbarrow. We're supposed to carry it on our backs all the way back to the chapel,' grumbled Dale.

Dale whirled around and ducked. 'Someone's coming!' he hissed.

'That would be the others?' Aisling remarked.

'Right. Of course.' Dale's hand trembled as he rubbed his weary eyes.

Aisling went over to a rotten little shed by the cave wall. 'There's some wooden yokes and hods to carry the ore, like we were shown in training,' she called, as Irene, Percy, Flora and Zachary arrived.

'And what kind of condition are they in?' Dale asked. 

Aisling gave a grimace.

'There's lots of work to be done. So much toil, and for such little appreciation,' a voice said, from a little way beyond the path. It was a gentle, delicate voice. It sounded musical almost; like the voice of a natural singer.

The six labourers stopped and wiped away the grime of a few hours' toil. They turned to see a young lady, possibly around Dale or Aisling's age, who was perched on a rock. She had a cloak wrapped around her shoulders and black hair that was tied back in two tails. Her face was refined; one might call it handsome, and she had bright, knowledgeable eyes.

'You aren't the only ones in the cave, as you would have seen by now. There's many ways to get help to make things easier. I know it all seems confusing and strange when you're new down here, but you needn't worry so much. It takes time to adjust.' The young lady's voice was gentle and reasonable.

'Who are you?' Dale asked, in a softer voice than when he spoke before.

'You can call me Gladys. Now, I can tell that you're a bit upset with how things are. You've been sent down here and things seem awfully odd and scary. The place is in a run-down state, and - ugh! That Company! You needn't worry. Help is at hand.' The young lady smiled. 'I'll bet you've met that chapel lad. Oh, you should be careful who you listen to. What a disagreeable boy!' Gladys' cloak flapped as she threw up her arms in exasperation.

'Disagreeable! Too right!' agreed Dale.

'Thoroughly abrasive, and rude,' said Gladys.

'Rude is what he is,' agreed Aisling.

'And unhygienic,' said Gladys. Irene nodded and couldn't help but smile.

'Did you know, he pretends to the Company that he's dead? Officially off their books? He even carved a gravestone for himself. What a terrific liar! You can't trust anything he says. You know, I'll bet he didn't even tell you about me, or the rest of us.' Gladys rolled her eyes and shook her head in disapproval.

'No, he never said anything about you, or anyone else,' replied Percy.

'I must confess that I have great difficulty in taking anything he says seriously. What tall tales he seems to be telling us – absolute flights of fancy!' Zachary uttered in resentment.

'Well, I should be glad to let you know more. I can tell you how things really are. I'll set the record straight. I could certainly tell you a thing or two about this Henry Evans and what he gets up to. I'm willing to bet he's keeping you in the dark about lots of things! 

'First though, I see you brought some provisions with you. It's difficult to get anything good to eat around here, let alone fresh from above, and I've come an awfully long way…' Gladys gave a doleful look at Irene's supplies.

Without hesitation, Dale brought Irene's sack over and opened it for Gladys. 

'It makes a lot of sense that Henry isn't telling the truth, or giving us the full picture,' Dale said. Gladys whisked the whole bag out of Dale's hands and stashed it somewhere within her cloak.

'Well, you're not the only ones down here! It's not like that dreadful Company are the only ones who know about this place. Everyone wants some of the iron ore. Lodestone, they call it. Henry doesn't want you to know because he doesn't like to share. Everything he has is in shambles. Everything he touches turns to muck, and he's jealous to a fault,' the young woman said with her lilting, tuneful voice. 

'Whereabouts did you come from? Did another company bring you down here?' Percy asked.

'Oh, I'll show you, all in good time,' assured Gladys.

'What about all these creatures Henry talked about – these goblins and ghosts and fairies, are they real? Are they dangerous?' Irene asked.

'Oh, it's all in your head. Never trust the fey folk, but respect them! They're harmless enough as long as you don't get on the wrong side of them. Stick to the paths, be respectful, be generous and share things, and you can do no wrong,' Gladys replied.

'So they're real, or they're not?' Percy's brow was furrowed in confusion.

'What can you tell us about Henry? Why does he never reveal himself?' Irene couldn't help but interrupt.

'Oh, little Henry is as rough as the rock he chips away at! So lumpen is he, that he could have been kicked out of clay!' Gladys gave a silvery laugh that was as musical as wind chimes. The sound of it made a ripple of chuckles around the others.

'Bear in mind that he lied about his own death. With someone who has been down here so long; who else's death has he lied about, when the burden of guilt was his own?' Gladys interjected with a serious tone, and the laughter stopped.

'What? Whose?' Aisling demanded.

'Oh, I don't have all the details, I wouldn't want to mislead you. Perhaps we could go to ask someone else who is more knowledgeable,' Gladys replied, as she made a vague gesture with the hem of her cloak.

'Yes, let's do that, please. We're in such a wretched state and don't know what to do. We could use all the help we could get,' Dale pleaded.

'Well, things tend to run on favours 'round here, so if you could be so generous as to do something for us then I'm sure that would put you in good stead.' Gladys rubbed her chin and cast her eyes upwards in thought.

'Anything! What do you want us to do?' Dale asked.

'Yes, tell us,' Aisling implored.

Gladys gave a smile. 'There is a certain flowering plant we're looking for. It has bonny, bright white petals – so bright that they seem to glow in the dark! It's very pretty, but also has… medicinal properties. Fetch me one and I'll see what I can do for you. Now, this flower likes company, but it likes to stand out. It's such a delicate looking thing, but likes to grow among uglier plants. Big, bushy ones. Maybe prickly too.'

'Oh, I know where that might be!' Flora exclaimed. 'Near our chapel. Lots of wild, nasty thorns grow there. I can lead you.'

'Oh yes! Wild, nasty thorns. The perfect place,' Gladys beamed. 'You folk seem so bright and capable. Brave too! I'm sure you'll fit right in.'

The six workers downed their tools and set off back in the direction of the chapel. They took a shortcut from the path to head straight there. Gladys hopped along the top of one boulder to the next, with a carefree, well-practiced spring in her step. The others looked with admiration as Gladys leapt up on a stone ridge with a flap of her cloak, and glided along the top with a footing so nimble it seemed like she floated above the others, even without the use of a lantern.

The sea of thorns was vast and sprawling, and against the unearthly beam of distant light, they could see how the strands twitched and curled on their own.

'There! I think I see a flower. Is that it?' Flora called. She pointed to a small hillock with a lone speck of white on it, like a flake of snow. 

'Well spotted! I'm impressed. I can't tell you what a help this will be. Go, get it snagged for us, quick,' Gladys urged.

'I can see a way around the bushiest parts, over here,' Percy observed.

'Let me handle this. I can get through, no worries,' said Dale. He made big strides over the low-lying strands.

'I can see another way as well. Oh, what a pretty flower, I must have it,' said Flora, and set off in another direction. 

Dale gave a yell when his foot broke through the thorns and down into a dip that went past his knee. Flora cried out in alarm when she overbalanced and put both hands down to protect herself, straight onto the jagged points. Percy's uniform got tangled all along his arm and collar. For each of them, the thorns grasped and tightened like snares on their clothing and sunk into their skin.

'Go on, help them!' Gladys cried from up on the ridge to the others. Aisling went to pull out Flora but lost her footing, twisting her ankle as she did so. She fell to a kneel and the thorns held her there. Zachary and Irene tried to wade in to help but then they too were snared in the claws of the spiked tendrils. All were now stuck fast.

'Go on, go! Get it snagged for us!' Gladys' voice turned harsher and took on a jeering tone as she waved her arms, cloak flapping in excitement. She burst into a fit of raucous laughter. 'Go, get snagged! Get snagged!'

'You! What the devil's going on here?' Henry bellowed as he scrambled over a boulder and came into sight. He swung his stave up at Gladys, who leapt into the air out of the way. 

Gladys' feet never touched the ground. Before their eyes, she turned into a crow and flapped about the cave, just out of reach of Henry's stave. 'Never trust the fey folk! Never trust the fey folk! Get snagged, get snagged! Nasty thorns, you'll fit right in!' One more peal of mocking laughter from her turned into the cawing of a crow. It was echoed around the caverns by a chorus of other bird cries in the dark, then Gladys flew off deep into the shadows. 

Henry growled with anger as he turned to the others. 'Hold still. Stop moving, you're making it worse,' he barked.

Henry rolled his stave into a puddle of water that trickled through the rock. He drew out a pouch from within the sacking cloth at his waist, and with slow, clumsy movements from his gauntlets he sprinkled a powder onto the stave's metal head, where the damp made it stick.

Muttering some kind of prayer or incantation, Henry held his lantern's flame under the stave. The stave fizzled and steamed, and then as it seemed the lantern light might fizzle out, the stave ignited with an orange glow, and fiery sparks hissed and spat. 

Henry raised the glowing stave and plunged it down into the sea of thorns around Percy's feet. The tendrils made a hiss and screech as they burned, and the mass shrunk away. The orange corona around the stave faded before their eyes, but again and again Henry thrust it down into the thorns. They shrank back to free Zachary, Irene, Aisling, Flora, and then Dale, who was laid back with his head just above the brambles, the most hopelessly trapped of all.

The new miners sat about in abject, humiliated defeat, and nursed the scratches they took from the thorns.

The glow on Henry's stave fizzled out. 'Powdered, charged iron filings, that was. A good deal of trouble to make,' Henry scolded, and brushed the flaky remnants from the stave. 'So, now you've met the fey folk in person. At an educated guess, that was a bogle. Sly tricksters and liars they are, and have a thing for turning into animal form.' 

'It told us a few things about you,' Dale said, with an angry scowl.

'What did I just say? They are tricksters and liars, as you have seen for yourself!' Henry shouted. 'But tell me, I'm dying to know. How did a bogle manage to convince you to go wading out into a bed of thorns of your own accord?'

There was a moment of quiet. 'We were trying to help her, by reaching that flower,' Flora said, sniffling. 

'What flower?' demanded Henry. Flora pointed, but there was nothing there. 

Henry shook his head. 'You're definitely the kind of folk who have to find out everything the hard way,' he remarked in a scathing voice.

'She – that crow - said there were others out there. Other people. She seemed to suggest they were down here for the lodestone too,' Zachary said. 

'There are,' Henry replied. 

'When were you going to tell us?' demanded Dale.

'I've been trying to tell you one thing at a time so you might believe me. It's a lot to take in,' Henry explained. 'So far, you haven't listened to even that.'

'So the – bogle? It was telling the truth about that, then. It also said that you weren't telling us the truth, so who are we to believe?' Irene said.

'Listen, I wasn't the one who talked you into getting stuck in some thorns. I got you out! I've told you some very simple things; don't stray from the path, magic is real, it's not to be trifled with, and there are things down here; spirits that are not natural and of this world. They are not your friend and are not to be trusted. You haven't listened and look what happened!' Henry retorted, getting angrier as he went on. 'I figured you went out by yourselves. It's a good job I woke up and guessed you went this way.'

'Well, you're a poor guide and we don't trust you!' Dale shouted. 

'You lot are unbelievable, and you're the worst of all.' Henry pointed at Dale. 'I say this should be a lesson to remember. Come on, let's get back to the chapel, this has clearly been a write off.' 

'I'm staying. Come on, let's continue mining,' muttered Dale. He was still sat on the rocks, curled up and nursing the scratches left by the thorns. 

Everyone else followed Henry as he set off back to the chapel, limping and wincing at their own injuries. 

'How much ore did you manage to dig up?' asked Henry.

'We put in a few hours' work. Well, I guess so. That's what it felt like. It's hard to tell,' replied Percy.

'Yes, but how much?' Henry repeated.

'Not much,' replied Irene.

'I'm worried that we're behind schedule. That awful woman and her damned company will be back tomorrow and we haven't much to show for it. And they never properly explained what they meant by getting them 'charged iron ore,'' Zachary mourned.

'We went through that in training,' said Flora. 'You have to raise it in the pulley, up into, well, whatever that is. The light.' She pointed at the distant glow of the beam.

'Well I don't know, maybe I wasn't listening!' Zachary protested with a flap of his hands.

'I have a stash of spare ore hidden away,' Henry muttered. 

'Why is it getting so cold? There's an awful draft,' asked Irene. Her teeth chattered and she rubbed her arms. 

'It's getting worse,' remarked Aisling. 

'Honestly I couldn't tell you. Things were pretty quiet until yesterday. When you showed up,' said Henry.

'So it's our fault,' Dale grumbled, coming up behind.

'Didn't say that,' Henry grumbled back.

They arrived back at the chapel and to their dismay they saw things were in a worse state than they left them not so long ago.

'The flooding's back! And now it's overflowed the dam!' Irene wailed.

'Look at the thorns! They've taken all over this side of the chapel! All up the side, and it's coming in through all the cracks! It's as bad as ten years' growth. All in the space of a few hours,' Percy moaned in dismay.

'It's getting its own back for before where we burned it,' Flora said.

'That's ridiculous! We didn't burn it, he did!' Dale burst out in a rage and pointed at Henry. 'And plants don't get their own back. You're being absurd.'

'They've come straight here, and made their way right to us. It can't be a coincidence,' Percy tried to explain.

'My stew will be ruined. Again.' Aisling gave a plaintive groan.

'I don't know what's going on round here, but I want to know what you propose to do about it.' Dale shook a finger at Henry. 

'Well, I don't know! I'd like to know as much as you do as to what is happening to my home!' Henry yelled at Dale in a fit of rage. 'Come on then, let's go and find out shall we? Gather whatever tools that are left, we may need them!'

'I've had enough of this madness. I'm going to stay here and make myself useful. I'll shore up this place and bail out this water. I'll rip up every thorn by its roots if I have to, you see if I don't!' said Dale. 'Who's going to stay and help? Irene? Aisling? Come on Percy, make yourself useful and grab a bucket. What you're going to do is bail the water out and build up the rocks. I'll think of a way to redirect it.'

No-one moved, or said anything. 

'Fine! I'll stay here and sort it all out myself! Just you leave it all with me! Go on!' Dale cried.

Henry shut the chapel door, with Dale still inside. 'Works for me,' he said in a flat, deadpan voice.