by Anna Dale
Huffkin gave her a big, broad smile. ‘Remember when you were Lodestar’s scribe? You mentioned to me that you’d heard an explosion and we worked out that Lodestar must’ve botched a spell. You told me that Dimpsy was ordered to clear up the mess she’d made. Well, I’ve just been to ask Dimpsy if she could remember which spell it was and sneak me the ingredients.’
‘And Dimpsy agreed?’ Athene asked in disbelief.
‘She certainly did,’ said Huffkin, smiling proudly. ‘We’ve become quite pally, you know. She’s awfully fed up with Lodestar. I told you how much she picks on her. It’s Dimpsy’s way of getting her own back, I think.’
Huffkin and Athene beckoned to Humdudgeon and he made his way painstakingly across the cave to join them. It was rather a squeeze on the plank.
‘This is stupendous!’ he declared when Huffkin had told him what the packet contained. He collected all their tools together and put them in his bag. ‘We needn’t bother with any more hammering,’ he said, which was music to Athene’s ears.
They decided to put their plan into operation the very next night on the seventeenth of August. For the rest of that day, final preparations were made: ropes were removed from the cave roof, ready to be stowed in a hole near to the shaft; and once they had eaten their breakfast, the escape committee were called together and reminded of their duties which they were to carry out as soon as the flood began. Lastly, Humdudgeon advised them to get as much sleep as they could in the next twenty-four hours. At midnight the following evening they planned to blow up the rocks in the cave below.
Athene hardly slept a wink although she tried very hard. She remained in her little hole all night and all day, fretting and fidgeting and imagining what it would feel like when she stepped out into the fresh air again. She tried her hardest not to think about what would happen if Lodestar decided to be awkward and refused to break the spell.
It was lonely sitting in her hole in the dark. It might have been less of an ordeal if she had put some Goggle Drops in her eyes, but the dribble of liquid in the bottom of her bottle was all that she had left and she did not like to waste it. Athene lost count of the number of heavy sighs she gave. She longed for the evening to come.
Humdudgeon masterminded the explosion. It was quite a tricky thing to get right because it depended on him doing everything wrong; from the mixing of the powders to the casting of the spell. He also had to generate a far bigger explosion than the one which had happened accidentally in Lodestar’s room. He aimed to make a large hump of rock above the archway drop down into the water, but it was touch and go whether he could get it to fall in exactly the right place.
While Humdudgeon was occupied with his perilous task in the cave, the others milled about in the chamber above and discussed the roles that they would be adopting in a short while. Athene’s job was to fetch her brother from the Digs and Tippitilda from the Stints; the two foxes and MacTavish were responsible for guiding all the animals, reptiles and bugs into the tunnels and making sure that no one got left behind; Shoveller was entrusted with rescuing the captives in the Coop; Humdudgeon had the job of scaling the shaft with the aid of a rope and a grappling hook and helping the Gloam to climb to safety and it had been left to Huffkin, who, they had all agreed, was the most persuasive member of their group, to try to talk Lodestar into breaking her secret spell.
‘I shan’t shout at her or use threats,’ said Huffkin as she tried to decide which tactics to employ.
‘Best not to,’ agreed Athene. ‘Lodestar’s terribly pigheaded and she doesn’t like to lose a fight.’
‘I’ll butter her up. Yes, that’s a good plan. Flattery always works wonders,’ said Huffkin, sounding more confident. ‘I’ll tell her what a staggeringly brilliant magician I think she is. I’ll go into raptures about the Confining Spell and I’ll say that I’m sure no other Gloam in the world would be clever enough to reverse it.’
‘And what if that doesn’t do the trick?’ asked Athene.
Huffkin shrugged her shoulders. ‘I’ll get down on my knees and beg,’ she said, trying to give the impression that she wasn’t worried about her forthcoming challenge, ‘and if that doesn’t win her round … oh, I’m sure I’ll think of something!’
‘It’s fairly crucial that you do,’ said Athene, wiping the brave attempt at a smile from Huffkin’s face.
The blast, when it came, sounded like a colossal clap of thunder. It was far louder than everyone had expected. Unused to noises of the ear-splitting kind, the animals fared worst of all. Rusty and Fleet darted under the cart, MacTavish barked for all he was worth and Shoveller tripped over his own paws and landed in a heap.
Smoke came pouring through the hole in the floor and Humdudgeon emerged a few seconds later, coughing and spluttering and covered from head to toe in dust.
‘That should do it,’ he croaked.
They waited for the smoke to clear. Then Huffkin knelt beside the hole and took a good look down it.
‘The water’s rising awfully fast,’ she said.
‘Then we’d better get going,’ Humdudgeon said. ‘Action stations everyone!’
‘Wait a minute,’ Athene said, before they all charged out of the chamber. ‘What’s the matter with Shoveller? I think he’s hurt himself.’
The badger seemed embarrassed to be stared at by everyone. ‘I’m as right as rain,’ he assured them groggily. ‘It was that ruddy explosion. Made me fall a bit awkwardly, and I bashed my head. Hurts like billy-o but it won’t slow me down.’ He teetered forwards to show them that nothing was amiss and almost collapsed in the process.
‘Hell’s teeth!’ Humdudgeon muttered, gripping his head in his hands. ‘We’ll have to carry you in the cart. This throws a spanner in the works and no mistake.’
‘Poor old you,’ said Huffkin as she lifted the buckets out of the cart and helped to heave the injured badger into it.
Rather than acting hard-done-by and forlorn, Shoveller writhed around in frustration. ‘The prisoners! What about the prisoners?’ he kept saying.
‘Shoveller was meant to go to the Coop,’ pointed out Fleet.
‘Well, someone else will have to go instead,’ answered Humdudgeon.
They all stared at each other in dismay. None of them were in a great hurry to volunteer. The Coop was a long way from any of the escape routes and whoever took on the challenge would have to deal with Scabbler before they set the prisoners free.
‘I’ll go,’ said Athene.
‘You jolly well won’t,’ Humdudgeon said. ‘Don’t talk nonsense. It’s far too dangerous.’
Athene’s face grew very hot. She stuck out her bottom lip. ‘Why shouldn’t I go?’ she said. ‘Nobody else wants the job and, besides, I’d like to be the one to rescue Coney and Kit. I feel very badly about leaving them there and I’m not afraid of Scabbler if that’s what’s worrying you. It would give me the greatest pleasure to wipe that horrible smirk off his face.’
‘I can’t permit it,’ said Humdudgeon, shaking his head. ‘What if something happened to you? How would your brother cope without you?’
‘He’d probably be better off,’ remarked Athene bitterly. ‘You think I’m a lovely sister, don’t you? Well, I’m not! Zach didn’t get here by accident – I told him to get inside the hollow tree because I hated him … because I didn’t want him hanging round me any more. I’m going to the Coop,’ she said defiantly, snatching up her rucksack and some rope. ‘Humdudgeon, I want you to look after Zach. You’ll see that he’s the first one to get out, won’t you? Promise me.’
‘Yes, of course. I promise,’ said Humdudgeon. ‘I’ll fetch him myself.’
Stunned by her confession, nobody moved to stop her as she turned and ran out of the chamber.
Chapter Eighteen
Waters Dark and Deep
The tunnels were teeming with bodies. Everyone had heard the blast and they were all trying to find out what could have caused it. Some of the Gloam were friendly and made room for Athene to run past, but
there were plenty from the Low tribe, too, and when they caught sight of Athene, they tried to catch hold of her and some of them even gave chase.
She managed to keep up a steady pace, despite having to lug her heavy rucksack, which Huffkin had helpfully filled with all of Athene’s belongings. She carried on, past the Latrines and the Stints until there came a point when she thought her lungs were going to burst. Athene stopped and sank to her knees, wheezing. Expecting a Low Gloam to catch up with her, her heart filled with dread, but when she looked behind her there was no one there. A lone trickle of water snaked towards her down the middle of the passage. Faster than any of the escape committee had predicted, the floodwaters had reached the tunnels. On the one hand, this was good because it seemed as if their arrival had distracted her Low Gloam pursuers. On the other hand, it was worrying because it gave Athene even less time to complete her rescue mission.
As she leaned against the tunnel wall, trying to catch her breath, she heard screams and shouts drifting down the tunnel from the direction she had just run. Although many of the cries must have been coming from those who had been warned about the possibility of a flood, it appeared that prior knowledge was not going to stop them from getting in a flap.
Her chest heaving at a slightly less frenzied rate, Athene watched as the trickle of water swelled into a tongue shape and stretched along the ground, threatening to lick her heels. The sight of it gave her enough of a shock to make her move on. She didn’t really run so much as lurch along, drawing in air in enormous rasps. After taking a few wrong turns, she eventually reached the flight of steps which led down to the Coop.
Her legs were feeling weak and wobbly, but she stumbled down the steps as quickly as she could. All was quiet. The soil was dry beneath her feet and, glancing behind her, she saw no sign of water seeping down the steps. Athene reckoned that she could afford to let herself rest for a minute while she considered the best way to tackle Scabbler. At their last meeting, she had almost floored the Low Gloam jailer with a punch to the guts and a kick in the shins. It was unlikely that the same tactics would work so well again. This time, the jailer would be ready for her flying fists and nifty footwork. Scabbler wasn’t a burly man, but he was tall for a Gloam and she doubted whether she would be able to get the better of him in a fight without the element of surprise or some secret weapon. What could she utilise on this occasion?
Athene sat down on the bottom step and took off her weighty rucksack. Not really expecting to find anything amongst her belongings which would help her, she opened the rucksack’s flap and delved inside it. Her fingers pushed past a woolly cardigan, a toothbrush and a bar of soap and she took out her torch and the small metallic ball which Dottle, the old Humble Gloam, had given to her. Athene had forgotten to ask Humdudgeon and Huffkin if they knew what the ball was supposed to do. Dottle had seemed to suggest that the ball could come in useful. Holding the ball by its leather strap, Athene examined it closely. It matched the size of a snooker ball, but its surface was dull rather than shiny. Athene had noticed that the ball sometimes emitted a delicate whirring sound, almost like a cat’s purr, but it was silent now. She was sure that the ball held some sort of secret, but without knowing what it was, it was as good as useless to her. She dropped the ball into her lap and turned her attention to her torch. It was small, but solid and might serve as a weapon if she took a careful enough aim. Throwing objects at another human being did not really appeal to her though; especially not since she had learned about the so-called Battle of Barnyard Bedlam. Her forefinger settled on the button which switched the torch on. Force of habit made her want to press it, but she managed to stop herself in time. With her night vision enhanced by Goggle Drops, the brightness of the torch’s beam would be intolerable.
A smile crept on to Athene’s face. Stuffing Dottle’s ball into the pocket of her trousers, she left her rucksack on the bottom step, and throwing the coil of rope over one shoulder, she stood up. It did not worry her unduly when she found that the wooden door ahead of her would not budge when she pushed her weight against it. Gripping her torch in one hand, she smote on the door with the other. She knocked loudly enough to be heard, but in a stuttering rhythm so that anyone who heard it might be fooled into thinking that the person at the door was of a nervous and non-threatening disposition.
‘Oh, goody – a visitor,’ said an unmistakable, whiny voice on the other side of the door. She heard muffled footsteps. Then Scabbler spoke again a little louder. ‘Who is it?’ he wheedled. ‘Who’s there? Which little lovey-dovey dinkums has come to pay me a call?’
Athene’s stomach was churning. Of all the Low Gloam that she had met, Scabbler was the one she liked the least. He was spiteful and unctuous and the mere sound of his reedy voice was enough to make her skin crawl.
Mustering her courage, Athene piped up, ‘It’s me, Athene. Please let me in. I’m hungry and thirsty and I’m tired of hiding. You were right. There’s no way out of here. I might as well give myself up.’
There was a disconcerting hissing noise, which Athene guessed to be the jailer’s self-satisfied snigger. Then she heard the sound of a bar being lifted and the door was opened a smidge. The bulbous, unblinking eyes of Scabbler peered through the narrow gap and his lips sprang apart to reveal a ghastly grin.
‘Ah, my pretty one!’ said Scabbler, a hank of hair falling over his face like a ribbon of slimy seaweed. ‘I shall be only too delighted to invite you into my chamber, but before I do, you must promise that you will not strike my poor old bones again. Such a rude, pugnacious little madam you were at our last encounter.’
‘I promise I won’t hit you,’ said Athene, and she meant it. Stealthily she slipped her torch into the waistband of her trousers.
Scabbler stared at her appraisingly; then nodded and opened the door a bit wider. Despite Athene’s assurances that she would not set upon him, he hovered just out of her reach as she trod into the chamber. Then, without warning, he pounced.
‘I’ll take that,’ he said, seizing the coil of rope that she had slung over her shoulder. Before she could stop him, he had tugged her left arm into a painful position, twisting it behind her back and pressing her hand between her shoulder blades.
Athene squealed and almost lost her balance as he pushed her further into the room. ‘Ow! There’s no need to be so rough,’ she grumbled, fearing that Scabbler might break her arm if he yanked it any higher. ‘I’ll do what you want, all right? Please let go of me.’
‘Not likely, my pet,’ said Scabbler, his mouth a hair’s breadth from her ear.
She did not dare to struggle while he held her so tightly, but she did manage to grab a corner of a blanket with her free hand as they shuffled past the jailer’s bed.
Scabbler’s constantly swivelling eyes immediately saw what she had done. ‘That was very sneaky,’ he said in a disapproving way. ‘I’m afraid I can’t let you take that blanket into the Coop. What would my other guests think of me? I can’t be seen to show favouritism, can I? You must sit and shiver like the rest of them, my sweet.’
He twisted her arm even more cruelly so that Athene was forced to bite her lip to stop herself from crying out.
‘Drop it, there’s a good girl,’ Scabbler advised her as they stumbled together across the floor like some clumsy four-legged creature.
The pain that flared in Athene’s arm was agonising but, stubbornly, she refused to let the blanket fall. It was only when they were a few paces away from the hole in the floor that she considered doing what the jailer had asked.
‘Drop it, I said!’ snarled Scabbler, his spit spraying Athene’s cheek.
‘All right, I will, if you insist,’ said Athene with a glint in her eye. Instead of allowing the blanket to slip through her fingers and crumple on to the floor; she tossed it over the grating which covered the entrance to the Coop.
Scabbler was taken by surprise. ‘What the …? Why did you …? ’ he stammered.
Flamboyantly, as if she were unsheathing a sword, At
hene whipped the torch from her waistband; then she squeezed her eyes closed, thrust the torch in the face of her tormentor and switched it on.
His shriek was so blood-curdling that it almost made her feel sorry for him. Athene suffered too, but to a far lesser degree. Unlike Scabbler, she was standing behind the torch’s beam and had shut her eyes before it had appeared. The light that filtered through her eyelids was a hundred times weaker than the dazzling blaze that must have met the jailer’s protuberant eyes.
In the Coop, the prisoners remained unaware of what was going on. The blanket was thick enough to shield them from the light and, as Athene had intended, they were spared any discomfort.
Athene felt the jailer release her arm, and she gave a gasp of relief. While the pain ebbed away slowly, her mind raced ahead to what she must do next. Two seconds later, however, she was startled out of her musings when Scabbler’s fists made contact with the torch. A number of random blows rained down on it before Scabbler got lucky and knocked the torch from Athene’s grasp. She heard the clunk and clatter as it fell to the floor. The hazy glow which had been visible through her eyelids gradually dimmed until it was dark enough for her to open her eyes. Scabbler lay on the floor with his hands pressed over his eyes. He was cursing and wailing and kicking his legs like a child having a tantrum.
‘Oh, my eyes … my eyes! The pain! You’ve blinded me! You callous, vicious, hard-hearted girl! I’ll have my revenge. Just you wait. I’ll make you wish you’d never been born!’
With no way of knowing how long it would take for Scabbler’s sight to recover, Athene worked quickly. She snatched up the rope that Scabbler had taken from her and, using a knife that lay on a nearby table, she cut the length of rope in three. Using the two shortest portions of the rope she attempted to tie the jailer’s hands and feet. This was, by no means, an easy thing to do because he lashed out at her whenever he felt the rope brush against his skin. Knowing that she needed to immobilise him while she could, Athene refused to give up. Once she had tied the final knot, she left the jailer struggling against his bonds and hurried over to the Coop. She dragged the blanket away from the hole and heard voices calling out to her.