Though it was dark last night when we climbed into this nest, I never realised we’d gone right to the top of the tree until I woke. There must have been cloud, too, because I didn’t see a single star. But when I woke this morning, I awoke bathed in the glow of a blood red sun. It was a fantastic sight, a scene I had to write about quickly before my mind tried to convince me it was some brilliant dream instead of reality.

This tree towers over most of the forest canopy and it’s like being adrift on a great sea of green that stretches off all around us. Off to our right the mountains are a grey line on the horizon. They look high, snow capped in places. Here and there small yellow birds skim across the canopy cutting swathes through the clouds of glittering insects that rose with the dawn.

Yet, strangely, with all this life, there was little sound. I could barely hear the chirp of the birds or the hum of the insects. Everything, even my own breathing, was strangely subdued.

Oh but how I wish I could photograph that scene so Maya could someday share this with me.

Stunned by this magnificent sunrise, it was a few minutes before I noticed that Armbranch was awake. His face seemed infused with this radiance. His features were glowing a deep, luxurious red that made me briefly wonder if he was adapting to some different environment like I’d seen him do a few times before. He wasn’t. It was simply the sunlight. Not only that, he was smiling a smile I’d never seen on his face before. It was a broad, lazy smile, a grin of absolute contentment I doubt the worst of this place could blemish.

When he saw me his eyes widened so slowly it set my pulse racing. Viewing a new dawn in the treetops hadn’t caused this. No. It was something else, something I knew I should recognise but couldn’t put my finger on.

Then I saw the bunch of orange fruit in his hands, and understood everything.

He was… stoned, out of it, doped up, or whatever you wanted to call it.

I wouldn’t say his voice was slurred. But it was different. Low and quivering, it reminded me of the way he sometimes spoke to the trees. I could understand it, though. He was remarking about how the skyline looked more like the inside of a great fruit. At first I thought it was a joke. Then I saw the half eaten fruit in his hand. It was deep red, a deep blood red that matched the red ball of sun perfectly.

He told me we weren’t going anywhere today. We needed to rest. This statement shocked me even more than his appearance because I’d rarely heard him wanting to rest before. And certainly not for a full day. I guess the laptop battery wasn’t the only thing that needed recharging. Armbranch did, too. And me, of course.

When he handed me one of the fruits, I didn’t hesitate to take a bite. It was about the size of a peach, but its consistency was thicker and reminded me more of a raw potato. It didn’t taste much like anything. A bit tangy, that’s all. But, somehow, even before I’d swallowed the first bite, this fruit had triggered something powerful in my brain that made everything around me look so brilliant and pure.

I’m getting dizzier and dizzier now. That’s why I need to write this down fast. If I don’t, I’m afraid I won’t have the presence of mind to do it later. Armbranch is laughing. Yes. Laughing like a crazy child. Wow! His mouth is opening so wide I can see right down his throat. It’s like looking down into a deep mineshaft and…

My plan to coax information from Armbranch is working. I’m being subtle about it. Instead of using a ‘pictures for information’ strategy, I’ve decided to engage him in conversation and slip in a few questions while he’s distracted. Worked fine. Last night he told me a bit more about himself. He doesn’t remember much about life before the Envelop. His earliest memories were of wandering through a great forest beneath a crystal dome. He remembers someone being with him, someone similar to himself that taught him the names and nature of every tree, bush, and plant in the forest. He also learned about the traps, and how to control the beasts, and how he could communicate with certain trees and feed from others.

Judging by the way he described it, I figure this was some kind of training ground, a place designed by the Envelop’s creators to test out their latest creation. Back home they might have called it a research and development centre. In here, it’s something much darker.

He says that one night he went to sleep and woke up the next day attached to Father Tree. And even if he speaks of this tree with an awed respect, I suspect another part of him desperately needs to know where he originally came from. Did he have a father, a mother? Probably. Will he ever know who they are? It’s doubtful. What’s also doubtful is that he’s one of a kind. There are more Armbranches around somewhere. I’m sure of it.

Every time I look at him now it’s hard to see him as simply a creation, a thing bred and trained for one specific purpose. (A purpose I’m no closer to understanding.) No. He’s more than that. He’s not a slave to his creators. He’s got a personality and a heart. And he’s so very inquisitive. Watching him study the photos on the laptop is like watching a child studying something new and exciting.

I don’t think he’s going to get easily bored with my pictures.

I paid more attention to the jungle again today. And it paid off.

The most unusual thing I spotted was a small brown skinned creature clinging to the side of a tree. It was so well camouflaged I’d never have seen it if I hadn’t stopped and stared at the tree for while. That’s what we did in Borneo. When the guides weren’t with us we’d just stop and focus at a single tree or bush or patch of ground. On average we spotted something about ten per cent of the time.

It’s no different here. Apart from the brown skinned beast (that scampered off when I got closer) I found some more insects and what looked like a small spider. I didn’t get too close to any of them. One of the insects, a dark red thing with about a hundred tiny spines protruding from its back, hissed violently when I lifted the log it was hiding under. Armbranch came running. I don’t think he’s impressed by my attempts at naturalism. Apart from slowing us down, he says these creatures could be dangerous.

‘Could be’ were the key words that unsettled me. So he doesn’t know what these things are. Of course it makes sense. He belongs in the Envelop. Why would he know much about what’s beyond it. It still came as a shock, though.

I’ve no doubt he’s right. Yet, I’m torn between two things. On the one hand I owe it to Maya to be careful. I also owe it to her to make the most of my time in here. If I don’t explore a little how can I ever give her an accurate and realistic description of the place.

She’s looking good tonight.

Time to light a fire now. I’m running out of insect repellent and those flies are driving me crazy.

We passed three more abandoned habitations today. Something was living in the last ruin. A low, guttural growling began when we approached it. Clearly a warning sound. When Armbranch suggested I stay back while he investigated, I was happy to oblige. Logic told me we should have left immediately. But I was excited. After so many days listening to birds and flies and the occassional distant crash in the jungle, this was the closest I’d come to seeing something new.

And I needed to see something new. Really, really needed it. After the deadness of the Envelop, I’d been hoping for a bit more than birds and flies to look at here. I guess it should have been the opposite. I should have been praying for a quiet journey. I wasn’t. With every passing day, the desire to see and learn more about this place is growing stronger. In an oddly enthusiastic way it’s like a part of me has shifted from being a reluctant traveller to a curious adventurer.

My excitement soon chilled when Armbranch returned, grabbed my arm, and led me away. There was something living in the abandoned mine tunnel, he said. Something we didn’t want to meet.

I didn’t argue.

There were no birds skipping about the twisted beams of that ruin. Apart from that sound, the place was totally silent. Even the flies seemed thinner on the air.

But I still want to see new things. It seems wasteful to tramp through here without taking full note of what it’s all about. This place is teeming with life. I’m sure of it. I can’t help thinking again about our trip to Borneo. The jungle was full of life there. But the animals and insects didn’t just pop up unannounced to greet us. No. We had to go and look for the wildlife.

I put that into practice today shortly before we stopped for the night. It worked. I found an insect sheltering under a leaf. At least I think it was an insect. It was about four inches long, covered in dark green scales, and had a pair of jaws I’d swear would have cracked a hazelnut.

I’m going to try and sketch it from memory tonight. And, going forward, I’m going to pay more attention to what’s around us.

What am I going to tell our grandkids if I don’t?

Justin’s finally back from Cork, with a gun. That’s why he went down there. He borrowed a hunting rifle from a friend of his because it was impossible to buy a gun in Cavan. Somehow I managed to hide my anger. There’s trouble simmering in Northern Ireland at the moment. If he was pulled over for speeding and the police found someone else’s rifle in the car he might never have got back for a few years.

I was also proud of him for going to the trouble on our behalf. I don’t blame him for wanting a gun. It’s a pity he didn’t get something bigger, a machine-gun, perhaps.

Must sign off now. Armbranch is annoying me to show him more pictures. I will, but tonight he’ll have to pay for them. With information.

If I’m going to learn more about the Parawerthan, this is the way I’m going to find out.

Well Justin never fails to surprise. He’s crazy. Absolutely crazy. Got an email from him this morning. He’s in Cork. Cork! I can’t believe he’s just left Maya like that and gone to Cork.

Worse still, he won’t tell me why he’s gone home. He just says not to worry. He’ll be back in Cavan tonight and after that he won’t be leaving again until I return.

Don’t worry! That’s rich from someone who just takes off like that without any warning. I hope he has a good reason. Otherwise…

Then again, it’s unfair to criticise him. He’s doing me a huge, huge favour. If he needs to go home then who am I to stop him? I guess what’s annoyed me is the fact he left without any warning. A bit of notice, or at least a reason for leaving, might have been nice.

I hope there’s nothing wrong at his home.

Passed more  abandoned habitations today. Most were made from metal frames, and none looked near as strong as the ‘bunker’. The roofs were long gone, the walls had collapsed, and the frames were twisted and buckled as if pummelled by some great force.

Spirit storms had visited, I suppose.

One thing was clear. They were built with the same idea in mind as the bunker. Each had a lifting ring attached and a mineshaft hole inside. We didn’t stop for long at any of the sites. Nor did we venture down into any tunnels, although I could see Armbranch was tempted. Too dangerous. Most had collapsed anyway.

Perhaps if we’d tried digging, all we’d have uncovered were graves.

It also appeared as if some effort had been made to cultivate the ground surrounding these habitations. Though any trace of crops had long since drowned beneath a sea of ragged, briary weed, the shapes of long abandoned plots were clearly visible. Rectangular and uniformly spaced. Manmade. It was obvious. In places we saw traces of fences, too. Strips of rusty, grass matted wire lay everywhere along the edges of the plots.

The bleached and cracked skeleton of some dog sized animal was tangled up in one of them.

We found no signs of people. Not even a weathered skull or loose bone. Nothing remained in these places except the shadows of ghosts sleeping amid the ruins.

It was with some comfort that the birds are back and chattier than ever. They don’t bother flying off when they hear us coming now. Instead, they appear to be curious. Perhaps the storm has given them a taste of real fear and taught them that we’re only a side show because they stay fast on their perches and warble among themselves as we pass.

It’s not hard to imagine they’re discussing us, trying to figure out what strange creatures we are. Their presence brings a life to this place I didn’t know it had until the storm had driven them off. It’s nice to pause and listen for a while. It’s nice to know that they’re there and unafraid.

It’s also nice to see how much they enjoy eating the flies, swooping down and cutting swathes through the glimmering silver clouds that gather in the clearings at dusk.

It’s at times like that I wish cameras worked in this place.

Justin has left the house for some reason. I haven’t had any contact with him since this morning.

Everything worked. Yes, everything worked as it should. Yet, my pulse is only winding down now. To distract myself from what was happening back home, I’d planned to continue trekking once the connection was dropped. I physically couldn’t. The moment the Firefox screen went blank, it was like a part of me -a deep mental part- had been swallowed up by that blankness, too. Everything around suddenly seemed grey and bland and lifeless. When Armbranch announced it was time to leave, all I could do was shake my head and stare at the laptop.

When I closed the lid I felt like I’d just closed the lid on a coffin.

I didn’t budge. I couldn’t. All the energy had left me and, besides, I couldn’t bear the thought of packing away the laptop. Armbranch understood when I explained everything to him. He seemed just as worried because he was looking forward to seeing more trees in my ‘magic window’.

At least that brought a smile to my face. There weren’t many other moments like it for the next four hours.

I just sat there on my dark side of the moon, and waited.

But, hey! Everything’s working fine now. The fuse box upgrade went okay and Justin’s decided to celebrate with a few cans of Bud.

We’re going to celebrate here as well. We’ve decided to make camp and after supper I’m going to show Armbranch some more photos. This time I’ll show him some snaps of Lough Oughter. I don’t know if he’s ever seen a lake before. Should be interesting.

First I’m going to lie for a while here with Maya. She looks even more beautiful than she did this morning. So, so beautiful.

God how I missed her.

Stopped and sent a final, private email to Maya. Justin’s ready to kill the connection in a few minutes. It’s a terrifying countdown.

Woke up his morning with a terrible heaviness in my gut. The first thing I did was check the webcam. The power’s still on at home. Well, I don’t know why I thought it mightn’t be. The electricity men aren’t scheduled to call for another five hours. One o clock. That’s what Justin said.

I won’t contact him yet. He’s probably still pissed off with me because I kept going over and over what he needed to do last night until he finally cracked and told me if I didn’t trust him to do some simple stuff like that, I could return and do it myself. I relented. But only after he agreed to duplicate the notes he’d taken already –just in case he loses the originals.

Armbranch, on the other hand, was childishly happy about what I showed him on the laptop last night. At first, he was wary about coming near the computer. When the light from the screen fell onto his arms he jumped back, furiously brushing himself as if burned. I managed not to laugh. I also managed to coax him back and show him a few pictures of Killykeen Forest Park I took shortly before we bought Singleton Cottage. They were nice landscapes, all trees and undergrowth; and when he finally got close enough to see them well, it was a while before I could get him to leave.

He didn’t touch the screen. But I could tell he wanted to. He kept reaching forward, like he wanted to feel what was there and see if it was real.

He’s off scouting our route now. I haven’t told him what’s happening back at the house. I’ll wait until shortly after midday before calling a stop and sending a final message home.

Perhaps when he’s talking to the ‘wind above the trees’ today he’ll tell it what he saw last night. Every time I think about that thing now I wonder if it’s something similar to that which killed the miners.

I guess there’s one other thing I need to concentrate on tonight. Armbranch won’t shut up about the ‘bunker’ since we left. It’s almost like he wants to return there and resume his search for the Water. I’ve got to distract him. The best way I can do that is to coax him into looking at some pictures on the laptop.

I mentioned it to him a few minutes ago. He seems wary but keen at the same time. I won’t explain much to him. No. As long as he stays clammed up about most things, I’m not going to give away any of my secrets either.

So, so tired. Too exhausted to write last night. Though the storm is long gone, the jungle is still so waterlogged in places it’s like trying to move through a hot, steamy swamp. The mud was so thick and sticky in places we were forced to take wide detours around some of the larger quagmires.

The jungle is empty and quiet. It’s like whatever wildlife was here fled before the storm and hasn’t dared return yet. It’s a pity the flies didn’t leave, too. It seems there’s a lot more now than before the storm. I don’t know how they managed to survive the rains, but it sure looks like they were busy wherever they were sheltering. They’ve multiplied threefold.

When we finally found a dry place to shelter last night it was all I could do to check up on Maya and drop Justin a quick email. The electricity people are coming tomorrow. It terrifies me to think of it. When Justin disconnects the cables running down through the basement floor, it’s going to be the first time I haven’t had Maya at my fingertips since we left the tunnel.

Tonight I’m going to concentrate on one thing. Making sure Justin knows how to reconnect the right wires and reboot anything that needs rebooting. The main thing I’m worried about is the home bridge. If anything happens to that, we’re screwed. Justin’s not the most technical person I know so…

Well, I’m going to trust him anyway.

It’s either that or I’ll have to postpone the whole thing and schedule another time for the electricity people to call. I won’t do that. No. The fuse box needs replacing. That’s that. And I’m not too worried about everything working okay later. I’m just scared to be out of touch for a few hours. That’s all.

Leaving soon. I’ve boiled the water and dissolved a half dozen iodine tablets into it before filling the empty bottles. It’s amazing how all signs of the storm have almost gone. All the flattened vegetation and drooping branches have straightened up already and the ground is bone dry in the clearing. Parts of the forest look a bit mucky, though. I guess we’ll just have to take it as it come.

I’ve got mixed feelings about leaving this place. On the one hand it did provide us with a secure shelter. But knowing what happened here made it a morbid, depressing shelter at times. There were moments over the past few days when I’d have been happier out in the storm instead of resting with ghosts.

Armbranch seems reluctant to leave, and it makes me nervous. I’m sure he’s still searching for that Water. Since daybreak he’s been irritable and restless. I don’t know what might happen if he knows I have it.

I hope we leave soon. The farther we get from this place, the more the memory of Lamlock’s tempting writing should fade from his mind.

At least I hope it does.

Found the Water. Hell, yes. I really think I did. When Lamlock said ‘look into the shadows to see the light’ I automatically assumed he meant the shadows below ground. It was the obvious place to hide something, maybe bury it into the walls or stuff it into one of those roots.

A part of me, a very suspicious part, was already convinced Armbranch had found it and was keeping things secret.

I was wrong. Lamlock hadn’t hidden it in the tunnels. He’d hidden it in their bunkroom instead. I was in there this morning, going through the trunks hoping to find some maps or other information about the Parawerthan when I noticed a long shadow stretching out across the floor from the lowest bunk towards the far wall.

The shadow was only visible when the cardburn light was placed on the table beside the bunk. I guess it must have been my experience back home following Keyes’ clues that triggered something because when I saw the shadow I immediately noticed a slight break in it close to the wall. A gap. Yes. A slight crack that was covered in dust. When I slipped the knife into the gap it triggered something. There was a click. Then a tiny, expertly camouflaged, trapdoor flipped up.

There was a bottle inside, a small brown bottle half full of liquid.

Armbranch had been in there several times and I don’t know how he missed it. Nor do I care. This Water is mine now. Who knows, it might come in useful. Maybe it might even cure Maya.

I never imagined he’d leave it in a place so easy to find. Then again, maybe that’s why I found it instead of Armbranch. He doesn’t think like a human.

Considering Lamlock placed such emphasis on this Water, it’s stored in a remarkably dull bottle. I don’t know what I was expecting, but it was certainly something a bit more exciting that this. Then again, the liquid in the bottle does behave in an odd way. Whenever I shine the headlight on it, it seems to suck the light in through the glass and concentrate it in a single, brilliant pinprick. Waves of energy emanate from that pinprick. They beat against my face and make my skin tingle.

It’s a pity Lamlock left no clues as to what this thing is. Then again, if it’s so highly sought, he probably figured everyone knows about it already. With luck, it won’t be hard to find out what it is. I won’t tell Armbranch about it. No. It’s best to say nothing for now in case he gets the idea that it should be his.

Storm passed outside sometime during the night. Shortly after lunchtime we opened the door and stepped outside. There’s no flooding. Okay, so the ground is a quagmire. But it’s drying out fast. From the doorway it was almost impossible to see beyond the clearing because so much steam was rising. It’s like a sauna out there and, for now, I’m much happier to stay inside where it’s cool and dry. And I’ve got lots of water. The pots I left outside are overflowing.

We’ll leave tomorrow if the ground outside has dried out enough.

Though I’d little hope of finding this Water, I descended into the tunnels with Armbranch earlier. The rope ladder drops for about fifteen feet and, incredibly, the earth walls are bone dry all the way down. Even when we reached the bottom there wasn’t a trace of flooding anywhere. The floor wasn’t even damp.

Three tunnels led off from the bottom of the ladder. One for each miner, I guess. The walls of each were plastered with a cement like solution, rock hard and stable. I guess it was meant to shore the walls up. We took the centre tunnel first. It ran for about a hundred metres. Here and there it was holed, like something had broken through. But we saw no signs of any living things down here.

Perhaps these were the places the miners opened the walls to find the worms. I don’t know. It’s a bizarre, sickening thought to think of those men down here feeding off dirt while the darkness around them grew deeper and deadlier with every passing day.

I’d surely have gone insane under those circumstances.

At the end of the central tunnel we found bunches of thick roots. Withered and dry, they pushed through the walls like escaping snakes. The roots were dead and so brittle they snapped off when I touched them. So this is where the Water of the Woods came from. The miners had tapped into the roots by making a thin cut on each and attaching small beakers to catch anything that dripped out.

The beakers were empty and coated with dust. That didn’t stop Armbranch from removing them from the roots and stacking them in a corner. He’s still down there examining them. Looking for drops of this Water, I presume

“Is there anybody out there?”

Spent last night listening to Pink Floyd’s The Wall, and that line’s jammed in my head like some kind of prophetic, mocking statement. Is there anyone out there? In this weather, I doubt it. It’s still a nightmare world outside.

Armbranch figures it’ll last two days. True, it might only rain for two days. But what about the aftermath? After this much rain, it might take two weeks or two months before any floodwaters recede. I can’t help thinking about those floods in Pakistan and China. They’re still in deep trouble there. Who knows, if this rain keeps up it might even undermine this building and cause it to shift or slip away.

It’s also occurred to me that if there’s anything down in the tunnels, anything Armbranch’s missed, a flood might drive it up. I’m ready if that happens. The Purdy is never out of my hands.

I’m steeling myself to go there later. Right now I’m going to sit with Maya for a while. Justin’s upstairs tidying the house before the electricity men come. He says it’s a mess. It probably is. Ever since we found the hand I guess we didn’t pay too much attention to keeping things in order.

I’ve been reading Lamlock’s story again. He says a storm attacked them here. What kind of storm, I wonder. It sounds unbelievable, a graffiti joke story written by the miners before they left for home after getting what the sought. Yes. It could be a joke if it wasn’t for the clothes, the smell, the cardburn, and the hair.

That hair!

When I touched it, it was as cold and dry as the hair of a corpse.

I’ve uploaded Lamlock’s writing to the blog. It’s here.    The Lamlock Writings!

In an odd sort of way, when I block out the thoughts of the hole, it’s almost comfortable and cosy in here. Once the window was sealed, all the noise: the thunderclaps, the thumping rain, and terrible whoosh and crackle of lightening, becomes a distant, muffled sound. It’s warm in here. Somehow, though they feel cold, the walls are insulating us from the cold and damp outside. It’s almost as if they can breathe, too. The air is fresh and pleasantly cool and the cardburn is a smokeless fire. It doesn’t even smell like a flame. It’s a perfect temperature.

Armbranch spent the afternoon translating the story from the wall. The three miners who came here sounded like decent men who left wives and family behind to seek their fortunes in this place. They seemed to have been in no doubt as to the danger. To make their story even worse is their claim that the actually did find some of this Water.

“Look deep into the shadow to see the Water’s light,” the writer, Cymbal Lamlock, says.

I don’t know what shadows he means. But I’m sure it’s some kind of clue as to where they’ve hidden it. Armbranch seems especially interested in this Water. I guess that’s why he spends so much time down in the tunnels.

After all this writing, I’m too tired to go down there today. To pass the time I’m going to arrange Lamlock’s story into Web format and post it on the blog. It’ll give Maya a better understanding of this place.

It seems the lure of riches drives men much the same way here as it does at home –despite the risks.

Lamlock also includes a last request in his writings. He’s left a lock of his hair behind along with a lock of one of his companions. He asks that someone bring it to a city called Ralanor and toss it into a special fire called the Erman Furnace  in order to release their souls to the afterlife.

Though Armbranch gathered up all the personal items scattered about in here and left them in the storeroom, I can’t help thinking about those men when I look around. How they must have suffered and cursed the day they ever came here. I’m sure Lamlock could have written these words with tears instead of berry juice.

Armbranch and I have decided we’ll take the hair with us. We’ll find some way to get it to Ralanor and lay these souls to rest. Their deaths have given us this protection from the storm. It’s the least we can do.

I hope that one day it will burn brightly and merrily within the Erman Furnace.

Hardly slept at all last night. Rain’s hammering down outside now with a violence that’s shocking. When I look out through the window I can barely see two or three feet beyond the ‘bunker’. It’s not torrential. No. It goes far beyond torrential.

Magical might be a better word.

And the air is so very cold. Chilling, almost.

After cleaning all the pots I could find and leaving them outside, we sealed up the door last night. But I’m not happy about the hole in the floor being left open. Though Armbranch claims he’s checked out the tunnels thoroughly, I still haven’t been down there. Every time I look at that hole I can’t help thinking about the hole in my basement floor back home, and that if I go down there I’ll find a different tunnel, a tunnel that leads me onwards into some other world beyond the Parawerthan. It feels dumb not to seal it up with something. It makes me feel vulnerable, like we’ve stupidly secured the front door against danger while leaving the back door wide open and welcoming. I guess the only way to rid my mind of those ideas is to face my fears.

But I won’t go down there yet. No. I’ll wait until Armbranch reads the full story from the wall. I need to get a better idea of what happened here before I get too adventurous.

Storm’s almost here. The boom of thunder started an hour ago and the sky in the west is filled with a brooding darkness. We’re inside the house, or ‘bunker’ as I’ve christened it. It reminds me of an old WWII bunker I visited once in Holland. It has the same claustrophobic atmosphere, the same depressing sense of protected confinement.

Armbranch told me more of what happened. This entire structure was dropped in here along with three miners. They were employed by a mining guild to search for something called the Water of the Woods. Armbranch won’t elaborate on what is. All he’ll say is that it’s only found along the edges of some of the more powerful Envelops. Certain roots stretch out for miles under the borderline and produce it. The three miners died when a storm found this place and laid siege to it. It’s purpose built to withstand a small storm. What it couldn’t protect against is bad luck, starvation, and madness.

He’s going to translate the writing word for word tomorrow. And I’m going to write it down and maybe post it up here for Maya to see. He’s also explained how that low flame is still burning. It’s an element called cardburn that’s used by miners. It gives us no indication how long it’s been since the place was attacked. He says a small piece could burn for maybe a thousand years.

I’ve had a better look around the bunker since we moved our gear inside. After hearing that story, it’s a morbid sight to wade through the tattered clothing, crates, shovels, and other debris littering the floor. I almost feel like cleaning it up out of respect for those who died here. At least they were human. I figure the clothes would fit a man roughly my size.

Justin’s been busy. He’s stocked up with food and bought some more electrical fence. He plans to rig it up by the machine, just in case anything tries to come through. He’s also planning on buying a shotgun. I don’t know how he’ll do that in Cavan. The gun laws are quite tight in this country.

His solicitor friend called him and told him we should be careful. Holten could be buffing, but he’s within his rights to pursue us if he thinks we’re holding something illegally.

Time to go now. The first rain is starting to fall and Armbranch thinks it’s a good idea to close over that door in case anything else outside gets ideas about coming here for shelter. The idea of being sealed in here terrifies me. But what can I do. It’s our shelter now, and I’m not keen to share it with anything else.

There’s a storm on the way, a big storm that will make it impossible for us to travel farther for at least two days after it’s passed. It’s the rain, Armbranch says. It’ll fall so heavily it’ll turn the ground to a quagmire.

But it’s not that storm I’m worried about. It’s the other storms, the ones he told me about last night. He didn’t elaborate much about them. He just told me that they rule parts of the Parawerthan. Spirit storms, he calls them because it’s rumoured the spirits of powerful, dead magicians are trapped within them. They’re incredibly dangerous. Much of the outer lands of the known Parawerthan live under their threat.

It’s a tailwind of one of these that caused this habitation to be abandoned. He’s read this on the walls. The inhabitants were adventurer miners who fell victim to it. When the storm came for them they spent many days trapped inside trying to wait it out. They failed.

And if that wasn’t bad enough news, he added that it might be a good idea if we sheltered from the coming tempest inside the habitation. He says it’s safe. I don’t care. It might be safe, but it’s also full of ghosts. Those miners left their belongings scattered everywhere. Who knows, they might not have even left at all. Maybe they just dropped down through that hole and tried to dig their way to safety.

At least what’s on the way is only a natural storm: thunder, lightening, rain. That’s it. Armbranch is sure of that. I don’t know how he sensed it last night, but there’s a definite change in the atmosphere this morning. It’s so hot and muggy the laptop screen keeps misting over. In order to write, I have to wipe it with my shirt every few minutes.

In an excitedly childish sort of way, however, I’m looking forward to spending a few nights in that house, or whatever it is. Deep down I know it’s safe. Armbranch’s searched both it and the underground tunnels thoroughly. Yet, I can’t push the thought that something terrible happened in there, something dark. When Armbranch translates what’s on the wall, I’ll push him to tell me more about the Parawerhtan -especially the storms.

At last we’ve found evidence of some intelligent life in this place. The habitation appears to have been hewn out of some kind of white stone. It’s about twelve feet high and maybe forty across, and sits in the centre of a clearing like a great button mushroom without a stem.

As if designed to be lifted, there’s a great rusted hoop attached to the top. The whole thing is dappled with lichen and moss, and streaked with dirt. Almost as odd as the habitation were the great humps of ground that formed a semi-circular pattern along the far side of the clearing. They were covered in a tangle of weeds and small bushes. Here and there the sides had collapses, perhaps through rain erosion, to expose a heart of crusty, dry red earth.

They looked too unnatural, too out of place. And it disturbed me. I’ve seen something like them before. I just can’t place where.

As we neared the building, Armbranch beckoned me to stay back. I couldn’t, and when I joined him he didn’t complain. I’d swear he seemed almost happy to have me along with the Purdy.

There were two layers of protection on its single window, one metal (dented and torn), the other a perfect stone cone that slotted neatly into the window and is secured by clasps on the inside. The front entry is of a similar design, only bigger, about five feet in radius. It too can be sealed with a cone that’s attached to a metal frame inside that uses weights to control how it opens and closes.

The door and walls are about two feet thick. I couldn’t imagine anything getting inside once that door is sealed.

Once inside, we followed a short corridor that branched off into three separate rooms. The smaller of the rooms looked like a storage area. Broken crates, empty sacks, and bottles were scattered everywhere. Beside it was a sleeping area with three bunks chiselled out of the wall. The third room was obviously their living area.

It was here that Armbranch got jittery. He insisted I stay in the corridor while he entered. I was happy enough to oblige. There was a musty, oily, earthy smell in the air that reminded me of a disused machine room. There was something burning in there, too; a low flame that simmered in an alcove across the room. The glow from the flame turned the wall above it a dull orange. It was covered in writing, lines and lines of writing so uniform I immediately suspected it was a message.

It was completely illegible, of course.

I was so focussed on the wall that I didn’t notice the hole in the floor until Armbranch hustled me back outside. He doesn’t want me to enter again until he’s deciphered the writing. We’ll sleep outside tonight. I agreed, but only if I could light a fire.

He didn’t answer me, but I saw a glint of some acceptance in his eyes. He just told me we wouldn’t be going any farther today and that I could rest.

I haven’t rested much since he went back inside a few hours ago. I’ve spent the time hunting for firewood along the edges of the clearing. I’ve only gathered the older, deader bits of wood.

That might placate him a little.

Must stop writing now. Armbranch’s coming back, says he has something to tell me, something important about the Parawerthan I must know about.

Something to do with storms.

Armbranch went off scouting early this morning. He returned within minutes. He says there’s a habitation up ahead. I can’t believe it. A habitation in here? Who on earth would want to settle here?

I don’t know whether I was terrified or elated when he told me it was uninhabited. Nevertheless, nothing will stop me going there. I’m running low on water, my clothes are stinking, and I’d kill for a hot shower –or a cold one for that matter. Finding water is becoming a priority. Whatever I find, I’ll have to use it. Whether Armbranch likes it or not, I’ll light a fire, boil any water I get, and add a few iodine tablets as extra insurance.

I’ve been sitting here watching Maya for that past ten minutes while charging up the battery. She looks different. Happier. In some deep, subliminal way I think it’s good that Justin’s close to her.