* * *
She disappeared into the vegetable garden and ducked into the greenhouse. After stopping for a moment to see if anyone was going to try to call her back, she relaxed and sat down on a small, wooden stool, mulling over the morning’s events. This had been the strangest morning she could remember. There was no Grimbell to meet her at the gate. Usually he walked her home in the evening and she wondered if he would be finished with his business in time to walk with her this evening. Then there was Miss Tibi’s and Geoff’s conversation. Who had gone missing? Other than Grimbell and Lady Lee, everyone else was at work. She hoped it was not Grimbell. Strange, too, was Miss Tibi allowing her time to explore the field on her own to pick flowers.
When she thought it was safe to venture out, Deelind slipped out of the greenhouse and walked into the vegetable garden. Catching her reflection in the greenhouse glass, she watched the lean girl stop to scoop her long, chestnut-brown hair away from her heart-shaped face and into a loose ponytail using a hairband she always kept on her wrist. The day was warming quickly, and she was glad to have her hair off her neck. As she gazed at her reflection, bright, emerald-green eyes framed with thick, long lashes stared back. Pale skin that seemed to burn at the slightest hint of sunlight accentuated her hair and eye colour. While some would say she was pretty, in that moment, clad in jeans and a T-shirt, standing in a place she known all her life, she felt very ordinary. Turning away from the reflection, she found herself sighing as she walked along the stone path that wound its way through the vegetable garden. It was a beautiful clear day that should be filled with relaxation and fun and yet…
Her dreams were bothering her again. Since her sixteenth birthday only two months ago, the dream she had been having for years had suddenly become more frequent and alarmingly real. She breathed in lungfuls of crisp morning air in an attempt to brush aside the after-effects of the dream.
While growing up, she had imagined the young woman from the dream to be her mother, but she couldn’t remember her, so she wasn’t sure and there were no photos she could look at. Gran didn’t keep photographs, believing that they captured pieces of your soul. For as long as she could remember she had lived with her maternal grandmother, in their traditional two-bedroom thatch cottage on the outskirts of a small Welsh town called Buttercup near the English border.
Her thoughts tumbled around in her head as she walked. Now that she was sixteen, she would soon have to choose if she wanted to carry on with school or leave and work full-time at the manor house. There was not much else to do at the estate other than work in the kitchens, and she couldn’t imagine herself doing that for the rest of her life. She had never thought about what she would do when she left school. For her, school was a place to survive. It didn’t help that it was the only high school in the town.
She kept to herself at school and did not have many friends. Most of the schoolkids belonged to the Thorn gang. The rest just scattered at the end of the schoolday in a bid to escape being chased down by the gang.
Two students, Spike Drake and his younger sister, Rose, pretty much ran the school. Spike was the gang leader and a renowned bully who would help himself to the student’s lunches or their food money, or just beat them up for fun. Two years older than Rose and herself, Spike should have finished school already, but he had been kept down twice and was now in Deelind’s year.
Spike hated her, but he and his gang seldom bothered her. This might have something to do with her living on the side of town that the gang rarely visited, but it was probably because of an incident that had happened three years earlier. It had been the first day back at school after the summer holidays and Spike’s first day in her class. Spike had been told to sit behind her and, to stamp his authority in this new class, he leaned across his desk and cut her hair. On hearing scissors snip and seeing her hair fall onto the floor, she had spun around, leapt out of her chair and shouted, ‘You little weasel!’ This was followed by a loud crunching sound as she broke Spike’s nose and knocked him out cold. Both of them had been suspended from school but it was worth it. Of course, Miss Tibi had fussed about it at the time but her gran, knowing that Spike was a violent bully, had simply said, ‘Well done. He won’t bother you again.’ Her heart warmed at the memory. Gran was the best.
Spike’s father, Mr Drake, was a committed follower of Blackthorn and a member of Blackthorn’s personal army. Blackthorn could have been the Devil’s son and some people were sure he really was the Devil. He ruled the town with the use of drugs and his army of bullies. Crossing him or his army could mean death, although the police never seemed able to link any deaths to Blackthorn or his followers. It didn’t help that the police station in the town was only open every Monday and Friday morning. It had a phone outside, near the front door which was linked to the main police station a couple of miles away. The Thorn gang made sure that the phone never worked.
Between Blackthorn’s army and the gang, they controlled most of the northern part of the town and largely had free rein in and around the rest of the town, too. However, they seemed, for some reason unknown to her, unable to completely take over the town. There were areas that Blackthorn’s people never seemed to go, such as her cottage and Lady Lee’s manor estate on the west side.
Some days the gang members would arrive at school with black eyes or broken bones and their clothes full of dirt. She heard whispers at school that said the Thorn gang would get into fights with the orphans that lived somewhere past the manor house. She had never seen or been able to find out exactly where this orphanage was located. When asked, Miss Tibi would say, ‘Oh, they live a few miles away and you need to stay away from them.’ When pushed, Miss Tibi would get all flustered and Deelind would drop the subject, having received no answers. She had looked on a map and could not find an orphanage or any other building past the manor house.
Deelind tried to make sense of Geoff’s comment that morning. ‘If anything happens to her again…’ Had they even been talking about her? Nothing other than the confrontation with Spike had ever happened to her. She had never been sick nor broken a bone in her body. Her life was rather boring.
Her musings were interrupted by a strange noise coming from the far wall of the vegetable garden, the one next to the meadow. Looking first to see if Geoff or Miss Tibi had heard the noise, she carefully made her way towards the sound. In the past she had peeked over the wall which revealed a meadow pitted with craters. It looked like an old battlefield and she had wondered if it had happened during the Second World War. It must have been a while ago because the craters were now covered in grass and flowers.
A rumble came from underground just as she peered over the wall. The sound was coming from a large, twenty-foot grassed crater in front of her. Suddenly, grass, flowers and soil from the edge of the crater shot up into the air. Instinctively she closed her eyes as clumps of dirt showered down on her. On opening them again she saw the dirtiest, strangest-looking boy with scruffy, black hair standing in the crater. Just behind him was a fresh hole in the side of the crater. The boy’s large hands were full of soil, he was barefoot and he wore a fluffy bodysuit under his blue denim dungarees. She noted that he was only about an inch taller than her as she watched him go bright red and try to speak several times.
His warm, brown eyes squeezed shut as he moaned, ‘Oh dear. Ivan’s never going to take me out again. Nice to see you, Deelind.’ He dived head first at the other side of the crater and with some weird noises and movements he created a second hole and disappeared down it at a rate that her brain battled to take in. Oddly, there was an ‘L’ sticker, like those found on cars for learner drivers, stuck to his bottom.
Not even two seconds later another odd-looking boy popped out of the first hole in the side of the crater. With his messy, black hair and similar facial features, he was clearly related to the previous boy. Older, this boy was taller than the previous boy by several inches and had well-defined muscles that rippled through his bodysuit. This time she could see th
at what she thought was a bodysuit was, in fact, fine, softly sheened black fur. His overly large, broad hands were easily the size of a side plate and he had strong, thick fingers.
‘Deelind?’ His brow furrowed in dismay. ‘You’re not supposed to be here. Sorry about Mug, I don’t think he will ever get the hang of navigation. Dad is going to go mad when he finds out about this.’
‘… uh…’ she said, loosely pointing at him, ‘what… how… who?’
‘Must run. Don’t worry about the burrows,’ he said as he disappeared into the second hole.
Her mouth dropped open. Burrows? Recalling her gran’s saying about catching flies, she snapped it shut. Shaking loose some of the dirt from her hair and quickly brushing it off her clothing, she discarded her basket and clambered over the wall. On the other side, she jumped into the crater, which now contained two holes, one on either side. She peered into the first hole where the boys had come out and then went over to the second hole that they had disappeared down. Both holes looked scruffy, the soil was slightly moist, with a freshly dug, earth smell, and they disappeared into darkness.
CHAPTER 2
THE MOLERS
Eyeing the holes warily, Deelind hesitated for a moment. Her body broke out into a cold sweat. She hated dark and cramped places and she was seriously considering climbing into the hole. With it being Saturday and the start of a week’s holiday, her jeans and T-shirt were perfect for this. Miss Tibi would not have been pleased had she been wearing her school uniform. Miss Tibi wasn’t going to be happy about this either, but she just had to find out more about these boys. After wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans, she crouched down on her hands and knees and crawled into the hole.
The soil around her was surprisingly firm, but while the hole was big enough for her to crawl down, it was not a comfortable fit. Her arms, legs, sides and head scraped and bumped the sides of the hole as it changed in width and height. The crisp air blowing in from the hole’s entrance changed the deeper she went, becoming dense and moist. The hole travelled sharply downwards and the light from the entrance was fading quickly. Nervous, she slowed down. What was she doing? Where was she heading? Why was she following these strange boys?
She stopped. The tunnel had gone completely dark. The space around her felt smaller and darkness pressed against her. Her heart lurched and spots danced in front of her eyes. Gasping, she was only able to take shallow breaths. As her throat began to close, panic threatened to overwhelm her. Think! Breathe! Several long minutes passed before she was able to think even a little. Had the tunnel entrance collapsed, and she was stuck? A small rational part of her knew that the light from the entrance was no longer reaching her. Trying to turn around, she discovered she couldn’t. Panic roared up again. Her eyes blurred with tears as she tried to reverse but her body and clothing caught against the tunnel walls, hindering her retreat.
A scuffling sound came from behind her. She froze. A big lump formed in her throat as terror pulsed through her. What was that?
‘You’re claustrophobic, aren’t you? You must keep going forward,’ said a young voice.
Screaming in fright, she scrambled blindly forward as fast as she could.
‘It’s okay, Deelind, it’s only me,’ the voice called out. ‘We will be out of this excuse of a burrow soon and it won’t close up for at least another few minutes.’
Some of what he said penetrated her fear-filled mind and she stopped. Taking some deep breaths, it was a while before she could no longer hear her heart thundering in her ears.
‘You scared the life out of me! How do you know my name? What do you mean, ‘close up’? Who are you?’
‘I’m Tom,’ the voice declared proudly. ‘I am seven years old.’ Well, that was helpful.
‘Why are you following me? How do you know that this hole comes to an end and why will it close up?’
‘This is a burrow not a hole. You ask more questions than I do. Why are you following Mug and Ivan?’
This was going nowhere. ‘Tom,’ she said, digging deep for patience. ‘Who are Mug and Ivan and what do you mean ‘burrow’?’ Realising she had little choice if she wanted out of this cramped space, she started slowly crawling forward.
‘My brothers, of course,’ said Tom, who sounded right behind her. She was suddenly relieved that it was dark, and this boy could not see her in this awkward position. ‘Dad says tunnels are permanent underground passages. Some of the tunnels are reinforced with bricks or sandstone. Most have cobbled stone floors, and some have lighting. They are built by moler or Mole People engineers. Burrows are temporary underground passages dug by molers. They are dark, low and narrow, and you must crawl through them like this one and holes are just that, holes. Did you like the ‘learner’ sticker I put on Mug’s bottom?’
Amused, Deelind felt herself relax a little. Her panic had receded, and since Tom’s arrival the claustrophobia was easier to manage. Ignoring his question, she asked, ‘What is a moler?’
‘Molers are molers.’
‘That still does not answer my question.’
‘Molers are miners, gardeners and landscapers of the land,’ he said as though reciting something he’d been told. He sighed. ‘It’s boring really. Mug has just become a moler and Ive is trying to teach him how to navigate but he has no sense of direction, which is a bit of a problem if you are a moler. That is why I thought he needed a learner sticker,’ chortled Tom. ‘I’m not going to become a moler. I intend to be a Dragonknight.’
Far from answering her question, she now had more questions. Briefly closing her eyes in a reach for patience, she reminded herself that Tom was just seven years old.
‘Why and how does the burrow close?’ she said, suddenly concerned that this never-ending burrow was going to seal up on her at any minute.
‘That is the gift of a moler. It closes to hide the fact that molers exist. It can be dangerous because if it closes around you it will trap and suffocate you. There are two types of burrows. This is a travelling burrow which only closes after fifteen minutes. We’ve got plenty of time. The escape burrow is the dangerous one and only dug by experienced molers because it closes up in seconds.’
Her head ached from all the day’s strange events and the aftermath of the panic attack. Suddenly she could see a dim light ahead as she felt her way awkwardly around a sharp, ninety-degree bend. Hearing voices arguing, hope filled her, and she sped up. Finally, she crawled out of the burrow only to exit into what looked like a tunnel. It was lit and well constructed, and the air felt more normal. This bigger tunnel looked like it had been around for a long time as the walls were smooth and dry and there were glowing lights embedded into the ceiling. It was big enough to allow an adult to stand upright and wide enough to allow two people to walk side-by-side. Still on her hands and knees, she looked up and saw the two boys whom she had followed into the burrow. They had stopped arguing and were now standing on either side looking down at her. She scrambled to her feet. Glaring at each of them, she could see worry and surprise on their faces.
‘She is even prettier close up,’ said Mug, turning crimson.
‘You’ve exited here into the outer defence perimeter tunnel and with all this noise the whole hill is going to know something is up!’ Ivan hissed at Mug. ‘It’s Dad’s problem to train you and good luck to him. With your navigation skills, you will never get out of the pit.’ Facing Deelind, he said, ‘We have to get you back to the surface as quickly as possible, before anyone finds out you were down here. Why on earth did you follow us?’
Ignoring this, she said, ‘Who are you?’
Ivan’s forehead furrowed as he said, ‘Sorry, I forgot you have no idea who we are. I am Ivan, this is Mug, my middle brother, and Tom there is my youngest brother.’ Turning towards Tom, who was standing behind Deelind, he said, ‘Why are you following us, Tom? You were told to stay at home.’ Within a blink of an eye Tom disappeared down the tunnel. She saw that he looked just like any other small, human child. He didn’t have the
same fur skin and broad, palmed hands that his brothers had.
‘Leave him,’ said Mug catching Ivan’s arm as Ivan turned to chase after Tom. ‘You will never catch him. He’s too quick.’
‘Fine,’ said Ivan, dragging his hand through his hair as he glared down the tunnel where Tom had disappeared. ‘We need to get her out of here before George and his patrol arrive to investigate all this noise and the illegal entry into this tunnel.’
‘I am not going anywhere until one of you tells me what is going on. What are molers and Dragonknights?’
‘We have no time for this,’ said Ivan waving his strange and now seemingly dangerous hands in the air. Her eyes rounded and she resisted the urge to take a step backwards.
‘Let’s take her home first, Ive,’ said Mug, his eyes bright with excitement. ‘She needs to clean up before Tibi sees her. She looks like she’s been rolling around in the mud.’
Looking down at herself she saw she was covered in dirt, her knees were muddy, and her white T-shirt had turned a mottled grey-brown. She was sure her hair was a mess and most likely full of soil as well.
‘You make her sound like a puppy that you can take home. However, you do have a point about getting her cleaned up,’ Ivan said, looking her over. ‘I think we should hand her over to George and let him sort this out.’
‘No!’ said Mug, paling. ‘I did this. I don’t want her getting into trouble because of me. Anyway, you owe me for covering for you when you slipped out last Saturday to see Kate.’
‘Okay,’ Ivan grumbled. ‘I will get you close to the guardhouse and then it is over to you. Let’s move, quickly and quietly please. Your burrow will be gone soon, and no one will know that it was there.’ He left without waiting for agreement. Deelind still hadn’t decided to follow, even as Mug pleaded and promised to explain stuff on the way. However, she wasn’t all that keen on facing Miss Tibi and explaining why she had crawled into a hole after a moler-boy she did not know. Before she could give it any more thought, Tom had reappeared behind them. Coming up next to her, he grabbed her hand and pulled, urging her forward.
Deelind and The Icefire Page 2