rock. Some of them were so deep I could stick my hand in up to my forearm before I could reach the impression. I saw it. I was there and believe me when I tell you that they were real. Just think about it for a minute – Fo Fum doesn’t stonesing, but he’s so strong that he can punch into rock completely unaided. Now, I don’t know about you, but that scares me.’
‘So you think this Fo Fum was there and he really took out these Hundred Axes?’ asked Nibbler.
‘Someone made those marks.’
There was silence as they imagined how powerful someone had to be to do that to rock without stonesinging or the Will and the Way. A sudden splash of water and the jerking of Crumble’s fishing rod interrupted their thoughts. Grinning, Crumble hauled in his catch.
‘Now that’s a fish!’ he said with relish. ‘If we catch a couple more like that we’ll have enough for a royal feast.’
Charlie’s stomach rumbled at the idea. Barbequed fish also conjured up memories of her first day in Bellania: being chased by Sic Boy, falling off the waterfall, meeting all the Tremen and sharing their beautifully prepared meal beneath the trees of Deepforest. Her smile faded as she remembered how Stotch had died soon after that event. Dark thoughts so briefly pushed aside returned with a vengeance.
‘Crumble, Nibbler, we’ll rest tonight, but tomorrow we make our move. Things are going to have to move a lot faster from this point on.’
Nibbler looked up with a haunted expression on his face and Crumble hesitated as he lowered his fishing hook into the river.
‘Crumble, will you look at the map and see if you can find –’
‘Enough, Charlie, that’s enough,’ insisted Crumble. ‘We’ll both help you the best we can. I’ll look at that map with you tomorrow and we’ll find a safe place to open the Portal, but right here, right now, let’s try to enjoy ourselves.’
Charlie frowned at him. ‘Don’t you get it? Don’t you understand what’s at risk?’
‘Of course I get it, Charlie. Your parents, the return of the Winged Ones, a chance to return Bellania to a state of peace – all of that good stuff. And I’ll help you get there, but not all of this has to be bad. Life’s too short to dwell on sorrow. If you fill your stomach with nothing but anger, hate and regret then that’s what you’ll turn into: an angry, hateful, regretful person. My uncle used to say “The wound that bleeds inwardly is the most dangerous”. I never knew what he meant, but having seen what you’re putting yourself through I finally understand. Charlie, you’re your own worst enemy.’
Charlie hesitated. She wanted to say something to defend herself, but felt that if she opened her mouth she’d only make matters worse.
‘Charlie,’ said Nibbler with a gentle voice, ‘he’s right. I can’t stand to see what you’re doing to yourself either and I’m afraid that I’m going to lose my best friend because of it. You’ve been surrounded by darkness for so long that you’ve taken it into yourself. You’re becoming as menacing as the people we fight and that’s just not who you are.’
Charlie couldn’t deny that what they said had a grain of truth to it, but how could they say such a thing? Didn’t she have the right to change after all that she had endured? She felt the unbearable pressure of responsibility, always bubbling in the back of her mind, build to the point where she thought her head would explode. With it came a feeling of anger and a strong need to express herself.
She opened her mouth, but before she could vent an image of her grandma’s kitchen, very much unexpected, appeared in her mind’s eye. It was a vivid memory of better times when her parents were still around. And although the kitchen was empty she could tell that her gran had just been in there. She could see the flour-coated kitchen top, the rolling pin so recently used. The memory was so strong that she could smell the scent of fresh baking, and lingering in the air was the aroma of her mother’s perfume. With that reminder came a sudden peace that lulled her heart. Relaxing from her tense position she shut her mouth.
Then she opened it again. ‘It’s not easy. It’s not! They’ve taken everything from me, even the promise of any return to normality, of ever having a regular life. All of