What
does the god of fire demand of Brendan?
A commanding voice tells him every attempt he makes will fail … unless he does as it asks. Brendan ropes in his mate Johnny, if only to tell him he’s completely bonkers. They end up in a place they thought never to visit again, a place of nightmares from their childhood.
CHAPTER 10
MORNING. Gear puddles around us. Rucksacks with
food, water, and medical stuff. Rope. Torches. Spare batteries. Phones are charged.
Ha, looks to me as if we intend doing more than scouting around the entrance,
but I say not a word, allowing Johnny to gather what he regards as essentials.
He sent a message to his Janet, telling her he’s helping a mate out today, and
is now all business. Most unlike Johnny.
While he
mutters away, I go into my studio. Staring at my failures, I know this needs
doing. I need to get back to normal. I need to feel supple clay under my
questing fingers. I am a potter, not a penitent to some god with delusions. Right?
Too right.
Feeling
better, decision made, I rejoin Johnny. We’ll drive out to where the road
peters out, and hike the rest of the way, a matter of half an hour at most. No
long walk into twilight this time.
We’re on our
way within minutes, neither offering conversation. Soon enough, we abandon the
car, load up and start walking. The morning is fresh, still damp after the rain
two nights ago, and birdsong accompanies us. Weaving through the trees on a
track only animals now use, we come to the jumble of rocks, and there we stand,
mouths agape.
Whatever
barrier the local authority put up twenty years ago is no longer in place. The
chains that, by all accounts, fenced the area, lie forgotten in the mud,
rusting away, barely discernible. One sign remains on a listing and rotting
wooden post, but the words are indecipherable. In fact, other than for that
sign, the place looks exactly like it did on the day Harriet went in, never to
come out with eyes able to see.
“No one
remembers,” Johnny grunts.
Harriet’s
parents do, I want to say, but don’t. “We’ll make a stink about this when
we go back,” I promise instead.
Nodding,
Johnny moves forward. We then commence a dedicated search of the area. Other
than deer tracks, we find little. No one has been here in a long time.
Around ten,
sitting on a boulder with thermos coffee to hand, I look at my mate. “We’re
going in, aren’t we?”
He shrugs,
sips his brew.
Yes, we are.
We don’t wish to come here a second time. Do it now and be done with it. On the
flipside, that means, if successful, I’ll have time enough to fashion a host of
planters in the interim. Won’t make my deadline, but I’ll only be a week or so
late. The tester will go in the oven when ready and if unbroken after, the large
firing can commence. Shaking my head at my mercenary thoughts – gotta eat,
dude, relax – I again give attention to Johnny.
His eyes have
narrowed. “Look there. There, to the left. Do those rocks look pulverised to
you?”
They do. It
looks as if a giant trod there as he entered. Fanciful? Maybe, but my heart suddenly
thumps against my ribs.
* new cover not yet live online
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