Crouching behind the door, Bryony saw Globb pick up a lumpy biscuit. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast, and watched enviously as the troll turned the biscuit over in his podgy fingers. Then he tapped the biscuit hard on the arm of his wooden chair.
Bryony frowned. “What’s he doing that for?”
“To dislodge the weevils,” said Boney.
Bryony’s envy changed into disgust when she saw a shower of tiny bug creatures tumble from the biscuit onto the arm of the chair. She was even more disgusted when Globb scooped up the bugs and shovelled them into his mouth. When he had eaten all the weevils, he tossed the biscuit aside and picked up another, before repeating the entire process.
Grimacing with revulsion, Bryony made a mental note never to complain about her dad’s dining habits again. Then she thought more about her father, and her pangs of hunger became pangs of guilt. She had no idea what might have happened to him since she’d been taken from the taxi. Jane and Edwin too. If what Boney said was true, some evil force was working against Wychetts; the same force that had brought her to the Dungeon of Dreams.
She had wanted to escape the dungeon so she could fly to her mum in America, but now Bryony wasn’t so sure about her plans. Could she turn her back on Wychetts and her family if she thought they were in danger?
As Bryony debated her course of action, Globb went through a further five biscuits. Then he took another slurp of tea, which he snorted all over the wall again, before settling back in his chair.
“Time for a nap,” grunted the rock troll. “And well earned it is too, what with that human girl causing so much trouble. I’m sure a few hundred years chained up will wipe the smile from her face. If I could work out where her face was.”
Globb clasped his podgy hands together and closed his beady eyes. A few seconds passed before Bryony dared speak.
“Is he asleep?” She studied the gaoler’s bulbous stomach rising and falling. “I can’t hear him snoring.”
“Trolls don’t snore,” said Boney. “At least not when they’re asleep.”
“So how can we be sure he’s soundo?”
“We could try sniffing his armpits. It’s a well known fact that trolls emit a stronger body odour when unconscious.”
Bryony shuddered at the thought. “Maybe we’ll just have to chance it.”
“Yes you will,” said Boney. “Seeing as you’re better equipped in the hands department than I am.”
“I’ve got to use my hands?” Bryony shuddered when she realised what Boney meant. “Can’t we just magic the ring from his nose?”
“It is a magic key and therefore resistant to magic. According to my rat informant, Globb only sleeps for five minutes twenty-seven seconds. So I suggest you make haste.”
“But what if I wake him up?”
“He’ll most probably bite your arm off. Trolls don’t like having their naps interrupted.”
Bryony was horrified. “I could lose an arm?”
“You’d still have one more to spare than I have. Now hurry up, we’re losing time.”
“OK.” Bryony took a deep breath. “Here goes.”
She slipped into the kitchen, holding Boney under her arm whilst creeping up to the sleeping troll. Globb stirred as she drew near, tilting his head to one side and muttering something under his breath.
Bryony froze, fearing the troll was about to wake up.
“He is merely dreaming,” Boney assured her. “Do not be afraid. You have confronted greater challenges this day.”
If truth be told, Bryony would have preferred facing a swarm of giant cockroaches than put her hand anywhere near Globb’s ugly face.
Globb still muttered to himself. Treacly mucus oozed from his nostrils, trickling down his metal ring before dripping to the floor in glistening puddle.
“I can’t do it.” Bryony stepped back from the chair. “It’s too disgusting.”
“You have no choice,” Boney told her. “If you ever want to see your mother again.”
Bryony knew Boney was right, but it still took an almighty effort to move her hand towards Globb’s drooling snout. She could barely look as her trembling fingers closed around his nose ring, and she shuddered when she felt warm snot dribbling over her fingers.
Then Bryony froze as a thought struck her.
“Do I pull, twist, or what?”
“I have no idea,” confessed Boney. “When we’re done I’ll make it my first job to write an instruction manual for future reference. Until then we’ll just have to wing it. First try pulling. Gently though.”
Bryony pulled on the ring.
“It’s not moving.”
“Try a little harder.”
Bryony tried harder. “Nope.”
“Then perhaps try twisting it.”
Bryony tried twisting the ring.
Globb’s nose twitched, but the ring remained secure.
Bryony tried twisting the other way, but to no avail.
“Try twisting and pulling together,” suggested Boney.
Trying to ignore the fact that her hand was now smothered in glistening troll snot, Bryony did as instructed. There was a revolting squelching noise, but she felt the ring loosen.
“It’s coming.” Bryony clenched her teeth as she twisted the ring further. “Yes, it’s definitely…”
Globb snorted. A fountain of mucus erupted from his nostrils, drenching Bryony from head to foot. And as she stood there, smothered in warm sticky snot, the troll started speaking.
“Mummy? Are you there?”
“He’s still asleep,” whispered Boney. “He’s just dreaming.”
“Mummy?” Globb spoke in a shrill childish voice. “I can hear you, Mummy. Please tell me you’re there.”
“You’d better answer him,” said Boney.
“But I’m not his mummy,” Bryony pointed out.
“He won’t know that.”
“So you answer him.”
“He can’t hear me. The telepathic link doesn’t work with trolls.”
“Then why have you been whispering for the past ten minutes?”
“Purely for dramatic effect. Now you’d better answer him.”
“Mummy?” Globb’s voice became more agitated, and his flabby head lolled from side to side. “Mummy, are you there?”
“I’m here,” crooned Bryony, trying to remember what her own mother would have said to her when she was an infant. “There’s nothing to worry about. Just go back to sleepy byes, there’s a good girl. I mean boy. I mean…er… troll.”
“But I can’t,” wailed Globb. “I’m scared of the bed bugs.”
“They’re nothing to worry about,” murmured Bryony. “Only tiny little insects.”
“Actually troll bed bugs are eight feet tall,” said Boney. “With venomous fangs. And three heads.”
“You’re not helping,” growled Bryony.
“Mummy, where have you gone?” Globb’s voice rose in pitch, and his head twitched furtively. “Don’t leave your little Globblet.”
“I’m still here,” said Bryony. “Now please go back to sleep.”
“I want a song,” mewled Globb. “Sing me a song or I’ll wet the bed.”
“Best do as he says,” warned Boney. “If you thought troll sneezes were messy…”
Bryony shrugged. “But what shall I sing?”
“Something restful. Surely you know a lullaby or two?”
Bryony’s mind had gone blank. Then she recalled a song her mother used to sing to her. It was a silly rhyme, and years since she’d heard it. But as she sang, all the words came back to her…
“I see the moon and the moon sees me,
Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree.
Oh, let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.”
As Bryony sang, Globb calmed down.
“Over the mountains, over the sea,
Back where my heart is longing to be.
Oh, let the light that shines on me
Shine on the one I love.”
The lullaby seemed to be working, so Bryony continued.
“I see the moon and the moon sees me
Shining through the boughs of the old dead tree.
When she returns then I shall be
Back with the one I love.”
For a moment Bryony was a toddler again, nestling in her mother’s arms as she listened to the song. Then she remembered she was holding a troll’s snotty nose ring.
“That was lovely,” gurgled Globb. “I feel all warm and snuggly now.”
“Good,” said Bryony. “So you can go back to sleepy byes like a good little Globblet.”
“Only if I get my good night kiss,” demanded Globb. “Please kiss me good night, Mummy.”
“You heard him,” said Boney. “What are you waiting for?”
Bryony’s stomach lurched at the thought. Then she had an idea.
“Of course I’ll kiss you good night,” she told Globb. “Pucker up, my little Globblet.”
Smiling to herself, Bryony pressed Boney’s face against Globb’s quivering lips.
“Hey! What are you…” Boney’s cries of protest were smothered by a disgusting slobbering sound. Bryony couldn’t help laughing, but didn’t spot a lump of melting hot wax drip from the candle onto Globb’s flabby cheek…
The troll woke up with a start, drenching Bryony in another deluge of snot as he exhaled a deafening snort.
“What is this?” Globb’s beady eyes focussed on Bryony. “Who are you?”
“I’m your Mummy,” said Bryony. “Now go back to sleep.”
“Mummy?” The troll’s pig face crumpled into a frown. “You’re not my mummy. You’re way too ugly.”
“Who are you calling ugly?” Bryony lost her temper. “You’re so ugly, even your reflection ducks.”
“It’s you!” Globb bellowed in rage. “The human child, come to steal my magic nose-ringle!”
“It’s not like that.” Bryony let go of Globb’s nose ring, gooey strings of snot trailing from her fingers as she backed away from the chair. “I was only adjusting it. Thought it looked a bit wonky. There, it’s much better now. You look lovely. I’ll just go back to my chains.”
“Chains is too good for you.” Globb lurched to his feet. “You’re too much trouble to be kept alive. I’m gonna drown you in slunge, then chop you up and feed you to the cockroaches!”
By now Bryony had her back to the kitchen wall, and there was nowhere else to run. She saw Globb lumbering towards her, and noticed the puddle of snot on the floor by his chair. Then she had an idea…
“But I’m innocent, remember?” Still holding the skull, Bryony edged along the wall towards the wooden hatch. “The Guvnor might not like it if you hurt me.”
“The Guvnor ain’t gonna hear about it, ” vowed Globb. “I’m in charge down ‘ere. And I’m gonna make you regret the day you set foot in the Dungeon of Dreams.”
Enraged, Globb lowered his head and charged at Bryony…
18 Into the Dream Well
Bryony’s plan worked perfectly.
Globb’s right foot slipped in the puddle of his own snot, and the troll exhaled a surprised grunt as he skidded across the floor.
Bryony dived out of the way just in time. There was a loud slap when Globb’s blubbery face slammed into the hatch on the wall. The troll’s body slid to the floor like a massive dollop of lard, whilst the hatch sprang magically open.
“Good work,” said Boney. “Now let’s get out of here.”
“You won’t make it.” Globb stirred, his piggy head lifting to fix Bryony with a baleful stare. “Even your magic can’t help you escape from the Dungeon of Dreams.”
But Bryony was not to be denied. She tucked Boney under her arm and ran straight at Globb, using his flabby stomach as a springboard to propel her up and through the opened hatch.
The hatch slammed shut behind Bryony. It was dark inside the shaft, but there was enough light from Boney’s candle to reveal that she was sitting on a small wooden platform. There was a grinding noise, a lurch, and suddenly the platform was moving.
“We made it. We escaped the Dungeon of Dreams.” Bryony smiled down at the skull in her arms. “Thanks to you, Boney.”
“On the contrary,” replied Boney. “I must thank you, Guardian.”
“We made a good team.” Then Bryony had an idea. “Hey, we need to think of a trendy name for us. A single catchy word, like a combination of Bryony and Boney.”
“That’d be ‘Boney’,” suggested Boney.
“Or ‘Bryony’,” said Bryony. Then she giggled. “Doesn’t really work, does it?”
Boney didn’t reply at first, his hollow eye sockets staring blankly into space. When he eventually spoke, his words surprised Bryony.
“I am afraid,” declared the skull.
“But there’s nothing to be afraid of now,” said Bryony. “We’ve escaped the dungeon. All those slimy tunnels and giant cockroaches are history.”
“It is not the past that troubles me, but the future. The Boney you first met in the cell wasn’t my true self. For as my memories return, I feel I am changing.”
“Back to the real you. That’s good, huh?”
“Perhaps.” Boney spoke softly. “But what if I change into someone bad? What if you don’t like the real me?”
Bryony thought about that, then shrugged. “It doesn’t matter what you’ll be like. I never would have escaped from the dungeon if it wasn’t for you. I’ll always remember that, and I’ll always remember you as you were down there, when I needed you.”
The skull seemed to grin back at Bryony. “And I shall always remember you, after you’ve gone.”
“Gone where?”
“To your mother, of course. In America. You’re still going to see her?”
“How?” Bryony studied her wristwatch. The dial was smashed, but she could still make out the time. “I’ve missed the flight by now.”
“But you can still go to her. We are now beyond the magic seal, so with your powers you can go anywhere in the blink of an eye. So what are you waiting for?”
“But what about you?” Bryony gazed at the skull.
“I shall stay here. I need to find out who I am and how I came to be a prisoner in the Dungeon of Dreams. And I believe the answers may lie at the top of this shaft.”
Bryony hesitated. She was desperate to see Mum, of course. But after all they’d been through together, she couldn’t abandon poor Boney.
“I’ll hang around for a while,” she decided. “Until we reach the top of the shaft.”
“Are you sure? We have no idea what awaits us. You may come to regret that decision.”
“Right now I regret not having a cushion.” Bryony was struggling to get comfortable on the hard wooden platform. “Why is it taking so long? When Globb got his biscuits it only seemed to take a few seconds.”
“That would be the weight difference,” said Boney. “And I’m not saying you’re fat. Just fatter than a tray of biscuits.”
“Thanks. I think.” Bryony winced again as she felt something digging into her leg. She put a hand into her trouser pocket and removed a small parcel, no larger than a matchbox. The wrapping paper was stained and soggy, and at first Bryony didn’t recognise what she was holding. Then it came back to her.
“It’s my birthday present. From Dad, Jane and Edwin. It’s been in my pocket all this time.”
“Open it,” suggested Boney. “It could be something useful.”
Bryony doubted that. “Edwin chose it, so it’s probably something dumb like a joke wart.”
Despite her misgivings, Bryony started unwrapping the parcel. The soggy paper tore easily to reveal a small blue box. Her grimy fingers prised the lid open, and she caught a flash of silver from inside.
Still suspicious, Bryony tipped the contents of the box into the palm of her hand.
And what she saw made her gasp with astonishment.
It was a piece of jewellery, a silve
r chain with a heart shaped pendant. Only when Bryony studied the pendant more closely, she saw it wasn’t a heart, but some sort of leaf.
“That is a bryony leaf,” observed Boney. “The bryony plant was used as magic medicine back in the old times. It was considered a very powerful herb.”
“It’s beautiful.” Bryony dangled the pendant in front of her. “I didn’t think Edwin would choose something like this. He must have put a lot of thought into it. And I didn’t even say goodbye to him. Or Jane. And I don’t know what happened to Dad, either.”
Suddenly Bryony felt her eyes welling with tears.
“All I was thinking about was Mum. I walked straight into a trap and left my family and Wychetts defenceless.”
“Do not punish yourself, Guardian. We will soon find out who brought us here, and can use our combined powers to save Wychetts and your family. And then you’ll see your mother again, I promise.”
Bryony fastened the pendant chain around her neck. She looked up, hoping to spot light at the end of the shaft above her. But there was only blackness.
She thought they should have made it to the top by now, and wondered if the platform had stopped moving. She lifted Boney up, using his candle to illuminate the walls of the shaft. She could tell the platform was moving from the way the bricks in the wall were whizzing past. Except the bricks weren’t whizzing in the right direction…
“Hey.” Bryony realised something worrying. “We’re not going up. We’re going down.”
“And fast. I must admit, I didn’t think you were that much fatter than a tray of biscuits.”
“We’re speeding up.” Bryony noticed the bricks were whizzing faster.
“Indeed.” Boney retained his usual calm detachment. “It seems as though we have stumbled into yet another trap.”
“But we followed the rat’s directions.”
“That may be so. But even the rat wasn’t sure what lay at the top of the shaft. Or the bottom, for that matter. If there is a bottom. For all we know, this shaft could go on forever.”
Wychetts and the Dungeon of Dreams Page 11