Puddlebrain

Chapter Thirty Eight

The Briders moved steadily, matching their pace with each other to the point that they were in sync with their movements. The same legs would be inserted deep into the earth by each of them, and the same rocking motion would shake their passengers. Puddlebrain had never created life before – if, indeed, they could be called 'alive'. They seemed to be but she wasn't sure. She had wanted something, needed it, and that something had appeared. It wasn't, at all, what she had expected but it seemed to be serving its purpose. They were descending and that's what they had to do. It was better than climbing down. Or falling.

She yearned for Billy to be right. The Hole couldn't be bottomless.

Could it?

The light that had been emanating from the mouth of the Hole had been following them as they moved. She hadn't realised it at first then, when she looked up (she had yet to find the courage to look down), she found she couldn't see the opening. There was only darkness above them. She knew the glow was nothing to do with her but wasn't about to complain. If it had been absent, she felt sure they would have been suffocated by the night.

She started to count each time they moved down a foot or so, trying to gauge how far they were travelling. When she was half way to a thousand, she gave up. She looked over to Billy, concerned at his continued silence and couldn't help but laugh. He wasn't silent. He was snoring softly. Oh, the luxury of sleep!

She was about to rouse him when the Briders stopped. Puddlebrain looked down. The light spread out beneath them. They had arrived. As one, the Briders extended their rear roots, seeming to flow into them until they had moved from the walls to the floor.

"Billy," she whispered. The gnome didn't move. "Billy!"

"Let me sleep," he muttered.

"I think you've slept enough," she said.

Billy's eyes snapped open and he looked around, suddenly alert.

"Oh," he said.

They were in a low cave. The light hung around them like a mist, clinging but looking as if an errant breeze might blow it away any moment. The walls of the cave were smooth. Too smooth for a natural formation. Billy ran his hand over the rock, feeling for the slightest bump or crack.

"It's warm," he said.

Puddlebrain felt the wall. It did feel warm. It should have been cold. Slick with moisture. Warm and dry and smoother than the silk her mother used to spin when she was young was unnatural.

There was an opening on the far side of the cave. She started towards it.

"What if there's something down there?" Billy hissed. "Or someone?"

"That's what we're here for," she told him. "So I'm hoping there is."

"You're going to get yourself killed. Or taken. Or vanished."

"That's what I have you here for."

"Me? Now you want me around? You're not going to turn me into a twig?"

"I haven't decided yet. Stick around."

"Hilarious," growled Billy. He stormed off in front of her, pleased the light seemed to be willing to follow him. Puddlebrain hurried after. She was pleased also - that she had been able to prompt him (she preferred not to think that she'd manipulated her friend) into moving.

They entered the tunnel. The witch had to bend slightly to avoid scraping the top of her head on the rock ceiling and she kept a hand on Billy's shoulder for support. He opened his mouth to stab a jibe at her but thought better of it. The time for sarcasm had passed. It would, he hoped, come again but at that particular time, silence was the best idea. Besides, though he'd never admit it, her touch was comforting. He would worry about whether or not he was going soft later, when the sharpness of his wit could be revisited.

The tunnel seemed to be almost as long as the hole they'd come down. If they hadn't had the light, they both felt they would be unable to move at all. Bold plans and a need to save their family and fellow villagers had spurred them into action. Such problems seemed to have faded into the darkness, leaving behind distant memories blurred by an increasing sense of foreboding.

In other words, they were scared. Only their mutual contact and the Hole's glow kept them from shrinking down and becoming like the rock that surrounded them. Cold, hard and unmoving.

And then, before their thoughts could wrap around their ankles and tie them down or drag them back, the tunnel ended.

The light extinguished.

The darkness surrounded them.

And they could hear breathing. Deep, raspy and harsh as if each breath was forced to travel over razor blades to exit the mouth and, in the process, was becoming shredded.

"Is that you?" whispered Billy, wishing for the hand on his shoulder to still be the witch's.

"No, I thought it was you," she responded, hoping the shoulder beneath her hand still belonged to the gnome.

It took a second, stretched by the tension between them, for them to realise that the sound was, in fact, both of them. They were panting but trying to hold their collective breaths. Their bodies' struggle was causing them to rip the air from their lungs with each exhalation.

"Shhh," said Billy. "I thought I heard something."

"You shush," retorted Puddlebrain. "So did I!"

"We would appreciate it if you could both be quiet. We are trying to play."

The pair's ragged breathing stopped. Their heartbeats tripped over themselves in their hurry to fill in the breaks left by the halted gasps.

"That wasn't you, was it?" Puddlebrain asked.

"Nor was it you, was it?" Billy responded.

"It was we."

"Who... Who are you?" asked Puddlebrain, her voice hovering hesitantly on the darkness as if afraid to venture any further out.

"We are the Multitude."