Got no coverage on the laptop yesterday, and it was like a nightmare not knowing what’s happening back home. Maya hasn’t budged since Sunday. But we don’t think it was simply some mindless bodily reaction that caused her to stir. She was trying to smile. I’m convinced of that. And even if it was only some subconscious desire that put that look on her face, I don’t care. She’s alive. She’s trying to come back to us. I know her strengths so well I know she’ll return to us soon.

O’Heir, Justin, and the doctor have relocated to the inner tunnel and set up the webcam and computer equipment there. Just for good measure, they’re taking it in turns to sit by the entrance to the outer tunnel to listen for any changes in her breathing, any small sighs, or any other sounds that might indicate she’s coming around. I’m so very, very grateful to them all. I’ve no idea how I can thank them. I guess the best way will be to somehow arrange for them to take a brief trip into the Parawerthan to get an experience of this place themselves. Then again, even if they can’t come in here right now, I’m sure the very sight of Armbranch will sate their curiosity for a while. I’m going to bring him over to our side. And, though I haven’t figured out the practical issues yet like how to disguise him or prepare him for what he’ll see, I’m going to give him the tour of his life.

As for the others? Well, they haven’t mentioned much about the envelop gateway, but I’m sure they’re just as curious as Armbranch. Time enough to worry about that later.

We’re less than a day away from the exit now. Yet it’s hard going. Though Kanar’s reasonably sure the mushy ground is safe to walk on, it’s hard to trot across it without imagining a part of it might turn to mud at any moment and suck us down. A dark cloud appeared on the horizon a few hours ago. It’s a narrow, circular cloud, and the more I focus on it the more I think it looks like a funnel. Yes, an inverted tornado funnel that’s sucking the remains of this place away.

Maya moved. I can’t believe it. She moved. I didn’t see it happen. Nor did O’Heir or the others. But her head is tilted to the right now, and her mouth is partly open. God. It looks like she was trying to smile. I can’t believe it. My heart almost stopped when I logged onto the webcam and I saw the change. I’m still shaking so much it’s hard to write properly. And now all I want to do is stay and watch in case she moves again.

I can’t though. True, Sara, Kanar, and Cutter are delighted. But they won’t let me stop for long. Even when Armbranch stood by my side and proclaimed I needed at least half an hour of a break to check on Maya, they didn’t give in. We need to push on, and fast, Kanar said. It’s easy to see why he’s so pushy. It’s like this whole environment is in the hands of some master sculpture who is ‘unsculpturing’ the place back to whatever base material he started from. The last of the trees and vegetation sunk into the ground this morning. All that’s left are rocks and mounds of grey earth that’s so spongy it’s like walking on a bog. The sky’s so low it’s easy to imagine if I could reach just a bit higher I’d be able to touch the clouds.

But at least Maya moved. And at least I’ll be back with her soon.   

O’Heir and Justin took the doctor down to the entrance of the outer tunnel earlier. They stopped short of pulling Maya out. It just didn’t feel right, O’Heir said. Not yet anyway. He spun the doctor some bullshit story about a ‘cult’ that poisoned Maya and were holding her hostage down in the tunnel. It’s probably the most preposterous story I’ve ever heard, and, at first, I thought the doctor wouldn’t go for it. He did. He seems so chilled out I’m sure he wouldn’t have batted an eyelid if he had heard the truth. I understand now that all he needed was a reason to be there—no matter how ridiculous that reason was. I don’t know what he owes O’Heir, or what O’Heir might have promised him, but I’m eternally grateful he’s there.

Better go now. The sooner we push on, the sooner we’ll stop again and I can check in on my darling. Should have brought an Ipod Touch in here with me. At least that way I could watch Maya while I walk. If I ever have to enter this godforsaken Parawerthan again, that’s what I’ll be bringing with me.

Trudging through this dying land is taking its toll. My leg muscles are constantly cramping, my back is aching, and at times I can almost hear my knee joints squeak. I’m knackered, absolutely knackered. And it looks like the others are faring no better. Nobody talks any more. They just slog along in silence without ever looking back. I haven’t looked back for a while either. I don’t want to know what’s there. All I want to know now is where this damn exit is so I can spend more time with Maya. Even Armbranch is feeling the pain. He doesn’t moan, but I can see the weariness in his eyes. It sits heavily there like some artificial gravity that causes them to droop in the most alarming way.

Maya’s condition hasn’t changed: not that I’m allowed much time to stop and check in on her. I’m beginning to resent Sara’s relentless push through this place. Yes, it’s for our benefit. But she could at least show some smidgeon of understanding. A part of me is starting to dislike her very much.

Sick of all this running. We don’t stop for any more than a few minutes during the day, and it’s never enough to give the laptop battery a good boost. It’s constantly running down and I can’t keep a proper eye on Maya like this. She hasn’t changed. And I’m beginning to wonder if she ever will and that her life force was simply scattered on the wind the way it might scatter the ashes of a corpse. Poor, poor Maya. Does she know what’s going on now? A part of me hopes she doesn’t while another, more selfish, part does because I need her to use all her energies to make things right.

We stayed moving all through the night and most of today. I finally convinced Sara and Kanar that I needed time to rest and spent an hour looking in on Maya. That alone gave me the strength to keep going. I also managed to charge the battery to 30%. It should be enough to keep it going until we get out of this place. The atmosphere is unbearable now. It’s hot and stuffy and hard to breathe properly at times—especially in mid-afternoon. And it’s all happening so sterilely it’s hard to believe it’s happening at all and that we’re just blundering through some hostile jungle. There are no smells here. Even our body odours (which are quite bad now) seem empty and old, like the smell of old bones. All the colours are fading fast, too. The greens, browns, and yellows that marked out the trees and vegetation, are slipping away like oils from a canvas leaving nothing behind except grey outlines that makes me imagine I’m wandering through a ghost landscape.

When we stopped earlier I took the opportunity to ask Sara if the Maymen (or anyone for that matter) could transport Armbranch and I to an area close to the gateway envelop. A funny look crossed her face when I mentioned going home. And I don’t think it had anything to do with her wanting to know more about where I come from. It wasn’t an inquisitive look she gave me. No. It looked more like a brief flash of pity. When she told me we could discuss all that once we were safe, I didn’t push it. Right now I’ve enough on my mind without trying to analyse what that look meant.

Didn’t stop for long last night. Though I can’t see this ‘shrinking’ Kanar claims is happening, I can sense it as easily as I’d sense an approaching storm. The atmosphere is tight, mercilessly tight. The very air seems heavy and damp and clings to my muscles whenever I move. It’s not any trap, though. Nor is it any more of Gerridian’s mischief. He’s gone. We’re sure of that now. No. It’s just like Kanar predicted. This place is collapsing in on itself and the pressure is draining energy from all of us.

One bit of good news. We found Cutter exactly where we’d left him days ago. He’d recovered well, but was smart enough to sit tight instead of trying to locate us. He didn’t care much that Gerridian had fled. He was much more interested in us, how we fought the Basilod, and how Maya was. Funny, he’d never mentioned her much before. Now he talks about her all the time. Says he’s like to meet her.

Unfortunately there’s no change back home. And this only adds to the heaviness in my limbs and the lead in my gut. O’Heir and Justin went to the entrance of the outer tunnel this morning to see if they could spot any change the webcam might have missed. Nothing. She hasn’t as much as budged, and her breathing is as slow and shallow as normal.  

Time to push on now. Sara’s sent a tracker insect ahead and it’s located the exit, although she’s not sure if the Maymen are still outside with their balloon.

No change in Maya. It’s so frustrating to just watch her lying so still in that cold place when all I want to do is scoop her up in my arms and carry her back into daylight. I dreamed about that last night, dreamed I was back in the tunnel and standing over her while she slowly regained consciousness. It was a cruel, disorientating dream. When I awoke and saw the first rays of dawn creeping over this shattered forest, I screamed with rage and cursed this place with all my might. Kanar soothed me. He said that Gerridian had poisoned this place with wicked influences, and that it was possibly one of those influences that caused the dream in the first place. I don’t fully understand what he means by ‘influences’ but I think he means it’s some malevolent side effect from Gerridian’s magic.

We met up with Sara and Armbranch early this morning. It was no great surprise to learn that they’d suffered from these wicked influences, too—albeit in a more physical way. Something attacked them yesterday morning. Sara had a broken arm and her face was bruised and puffed up. Armbranch is missing two fingers. He says they were bitten off by an ‘invisible’ creature. They’ve started regenerating already, and he was in such a cheerful mood to see us he was able to joke about it, said his flesh was so sour it would give whatever took them a bellyache for a month. Sara was less happy. When she heard that Gerridian had fled, a cloud formed in her eyes and she sat alone for the next half hour just staring into space before pulling herself together and asking about Maya.

I found it strangely easy to tell her there was no change. And I haven’t checked in at least fifteen minutes. It’s coming to the point that I dread looking at the webcam because I can’t stand looking at her like that any more.

If it was one thing getting into the tunnels so easily, it was quite another thing getting out. The laptop died shortly after my last post and I’ve spent the past 36 hours in a state of almost constant agitation. Not about being trapped in the tunnels. No. About Maya. Even if it was over a video link, I couldn’t stand the thoughts of her waking up and not being with her. We finally made it out of Gerridian’s lair an hour ago. Maya hasn’t budged. I’ve been sitting watching her and I haven’t seen as much as a flicker of an eyelid or twitch of muscle. O’Heir, Justin, and Ana have been watching her in shifts. Though they report no change in her condition, they’re ready to pull her out of the tunnel the moment anything happens. And they’re sure that something will happen. The atmosphere around the house has changed, O’Heir said. It’s not as dark and brooding as before, and birds have returned to the trees along the lakeshore. What’s more, Daidogan keeps repeating that Maya’s on her way back. It’s a long journey, she says, but she’s on her way and we need to be ready soon.

I desperately hope it’s true. After all we’ve been through, I can’t stomach the thoughts of Maya suffering any longer. Kanar seems positive, too. Though he hasn’t straight out said anything about Maya, he’s dropping plenty of hints that I need to have patience.

Patience! That word’s starting to sound like some mental whiplash slicing through my brain. But I guess there’s little else I can do. And we’ve plenty to worry about this end. We’ve got to regroup with the others and get out of here fast. Everything’s changing, shrinking. It’s like someone’s pulled a great plug and this whole world is draining away. Kanar admitted as much earlier. He said that now Gerridian’s gone, his false empire is contracting and will soon collapse in on itself with such force this whole place will be pulverised into a mass the size of a pea. Sounds like something out of a science fiction film. But I believe him. He figures we’ve got less that three or four days to find our entry point before it closes over.

We’ve got to get moving now. I’d prefer to stay, of course, just sit here and watch Maya while the laptop recharges. Kanar won’t let me.

The beast is dead! God knows it happened so fast, my mind is still playing catch up. But it’s dead! Dead! Dead! Dead! After all the misery, confusion, fear, and pain, of the past fourteen months, I have to keep repeating that word in my head just to convince myself it’s true. Dead! The fucking Basilod is dead! Dead! Dead!

But it almost brought us with it so easily.

Maya saved us. Yes, Maya warned us we were walking into a trap. We were exiting the seventh chamber when I heard a tiny cry above me. I knew immediately it was her—or at least a part of her life force. I hadn’t noticed anything different about this tunnel, but when I looked up I saw that the colour was all wrong. Instead of the blue grey rock, the walls had a pinkish tinge to them, a fleshy tinge. The Basilod. God knows how it happened, but the beast had managed to mould itself along the ceiling. Or maybe a better way to put it might be that ‘it became the ceiling.’

It was only a brief cry, a three second warning, but it was enough time to get the laptop open before that terrible fleshy, ceiling collapsed down around me. Its weight dragged me to the ground and pinned me there. But not for long. The laptop saved me. I used it to cut my way into out of the beast. And it was like fighting my way through the worst nightmare. Elements of Maya were everywhere—scattered memories, images, a thousand different faces, all the same, yet all terribly warped with agony. She knew I was there. That much was sure. She knew because she called to me again and again and again, from a hundred different places, with a hundred different words.

I burned my way out of that thing. Though the battery was low, the radiation from the laptop seared away the flesh and opened an exit.

When I finally emerged, Kanar was cutting the beast asunder with some invisible energy. Strips of the Basilod’s flesh were plastered all over the walls while its innards were a bubbling mess that covered the floor like boiling tar. Kanar was standing in the mouth of the tunnel. His eyes were closed, but I knew right then he could see everything, and more. There was something about the intensity of his stance, the way his entire body trembled, that made me wonder if I was simply looking at a shell and that the important part of him was off somewhere else and locked in some titanic battle.

I waded through the Basilod’s remains, and enjoyed every step of it. After so long chasing after this thing I couldn’t help stamping that bit harder on the flesh. It was over quickly. But it could so well have gone the other way. Even Kanar hadn’t known the beast was there. It’s dead now. And, thankfully, Maya’s life force has been released. I don’t know what’s going to happen next. Neither does Kanar. We only hope her life force knows which way to go.   

So why did Gerridian sacrifice the Basilod? The only theory Kanar has (or at least the only theory he’s telling me) is that we’d damaged the beast fatally the other day and Gerridian didn’t see any point in keeping it. Instead, he tried to use it to snare and kill us with its dying strength. Typical Gerridian. Always opportunistic. Never prepared to risk himself in head on confrontation.

If I didn’t know his strengths already, I’d say he was nothing but a downright coward.

Kanar says that Gerridian has abandoned this place now. He admitted that he knew as much before the Basilod encounter, but didn’t want to say anything in case we didn’t find the Basilod and I became despondent. If anything,  would have expected him to be despondent. After all, his prey has eluded him. Apart from being depressed about it, Kanar views this as a great victory. We’ve forced Gerridian to abandon his empire. It will take him time to construct another one and he’ll be exposed in the meantime. Kanar keeps talking about the future, and how we can plan another expedition after the magician once we rest up inCraterCityfor a while.

But all I can do now is watch Maya. She hasn’t as much as blinked since the Basilod died. Kanar told me not to worry about, says it might take time for a recovery. O’Heir’s optimistic, too. I’m not. I guess I just expected her to sit up and smile the moment the beast released her energies. Maybe she still will. I’ve got to have patience now. Lots and lots of patience. And it doesn’t help that the laptop battery is almost drained.

Still tramping through this maze of tunnels. And with every corner we turn, I half expect to see the Basilod standing there just waiting to attack. But there is nothing here. Okay, so we found more chambers, but not the chamber Kanar suspects Gerridian is using as his home. Most of these chambers were empty. The fourth cavern still had some clothing and materials displayed around the walls. But if there was a skeleton there (and we suspect there was) it was removed. Probably recently. Kanar admitted earlier that he thinks these chambers are some kind of trophy rooms and that Gerridian was in the process of removing his trophies when we disturbed him.

A good theory, but why doesn’t Gerridian attack. I can’t figure it out. He created this place. He knows it intimately, yet he allows us to wander thorugh it unimpeded. That alone leaves me so suspicious I want to flee. Gerridian’s sly. I learned that much already. But this? Well, it’s inexplicable. I’ve been trying to convince myself that Gerridian’s afraid of us. But the more I think about it, the more ridiculous it sounds. True, this is a fake empire. But what power created it? Seemingly unlimited power, that’s what, power that might crush us easily.

Then again, Kanar’s also a sly one. I’m not entirely sure of the limits of his power either.

I gave him some Water of the Woods this morning. He was dubious at first when I told him I had it. But after taking one sniff of the bottle, his face lit up and he took three quick sips before handing it back to me. I told him to keep it. It’s not much good to me anyway. Then, just as I thought he was about to berate me for keeping the Water secret, I heard the most terrible crackling sound. His bones. That’s what it was. His bones were crackling like the muscles surrounding them were swelling out and making him look oddly taller and younger. When I asked him what was happening, he told me the Water was acting to massage away the fatigue resting in his flesh and that it enabled him to recycle that fatigue into something positive.

The way he spoke about the fatigue made him sound like it was a living thing that only someone like him could experience. I didn’t ask him about it. Right now, I don’t want to know.

Things are quiet at home. I don’t know what hold O’Heir has over the doctor, but he seems happy enough to stay a few days. He doesn’t question anything either. Or maybe O’Heir just says that to stop me worrying. Ha. How can I stop worrying? I don’t know exactly what happens a person who’s been in a coma for over a year, but I’d imagine their muscles soften up and their internal organs might need some encouragement to return to normal. She hasn’t eaten or drank anything for a year. How could I fail to be worried about that?

Found another skeleton in the third chamber. Another old man, Kanar said. He was laid out in much the same way as Keyes, and wearing the oddest clothes I’ve ever seen. Some of it looked like armour—a perfectly preserved breastplate, shoulder plates, leg protectors. A bowl shaped helmet had been placed beside the skeleton’s head. The helmet was encrusted with coloured stones. A sign of rank, I suspect, although from what time period or place it came from I have no idea.

We were both so tired last night, Kanar decided we needed to rest. We slept in shifts in Keyes’ chamber. (I prefer to call it a chamber because ‘tomb’ sounds too morbid.) And it was pleasantly relaxing in there. Even when Kanar was sleeping, I didn’t feel alone. No. I was almost like a part of Keyes was in there, too, watching over us. At one point I thought I heard a faint cry echoing out from somewhere, but I only heard it once. After that, Kanar’s snoring drowned out everything else.

And boy could he snore. I guess it must have had something to do with the air in here because I’d never heard him snore before. But once he got started, there was no let up. It got so bad at one point I almost woke him up because I was convinced if he didn’t ease up, Keyes himself might rise and shout for silence.

Kanar is visibly slowing. He’s calling a halt now ever hour or so, and the breaks are stretching longer each time. This place is sapping him, feeding off his energy. And I can’t help wondering if that’s part of Gerridian’s plan. He’s here somewhere. I can sense him.

Sad news. We found Keyes. Or at least we’re 99% sure it’s Keyes. Though the bones lying on the marble slab in the second chamber we entered looked no different than any other human bones, it was the clothes that convinced me. They were old clothes. Old Irish clothes—breeches, boots, jacket, and shirt, that would have looked better hanging in a museum.

Kanar can’t tell how Keyes died, but he did say that the bones were that of an old man. And at least Gerridian laid him to rest with respect. The slab is fashioned from the finest marble, the skeleton was laid out in decent ‘corpse’ pose, and Keyes’ belongings were laid about the walls on shelves. We found another brace of pistols, books, a casket with some coins, and lots of different odds and ends he must have gathered up along the way. We didn’t find any ‘magic’ feather or ink, though. In fact we found nothing at all to connect him to the Golden Eyes.

Poor Keyes. After all his adventures, to die in a place like this must have been a torment. Or maybe it was a relief. There were no signs of disfigurement on the skeleton, but who knows what he suffered here?

I’ll have to let Lailia know about this as soon as we get out. So far, she’s the closest person to Keyes I’ve met in the Parawerthan.

Sean Patrick Keyes 1851–2011. At least when I get home I can look at his crypt and know the truth now. It could be nice to modify the dates on his grave. Nice, but impossible. It would attract too much attention and when I get home I don’t want any attention. All I want is a nice, long rest. For now it’s enough just to know the truth.

Finally got some reception in here. It’s been a long slog over the past few days. And if I thought moving through a tunnel might be easier than cutting our way through a forest, I was sorely wrong. At times it feels like the atmosphere’s so thick it clings to us, forces us to push through it. It’s hard to breathe, too. Suffocatingly hard. But at least the tunnel’s stopped sealing up behind us and we’re moving along a route we can identify on Keyes’ map. The fact that all the offshoot passages we’re passing are clearly marked makes everything so much more real. What appear to be chambers or caves are clearly marked in the centre of the map. That’s our destination.

We haven’t heard or seen a single sign of Gerridian yet. The only company we keep here are the echoes of our footsteps. It’s enough for now.

We’re in the tunnel. Reception’s really bad and I keep losing the connection. But at least I have something. I guess I should be grateful for that because this isn’t much of a tunnel any more. After hours of further deliberations last night, we passed inside shortly after four this morning. We barely made two hundred yards before it started to seal up behind us. Or maybe ‘mould’ might be a better way to describe it because it really looks like something is softening the rock and moulding it to fill in the space behind us. It’s more fascinating than terrifying. It’s pushing us forward. Not aggressively, but steadily. Kanar thinks that . . .

Sara sent one of her scout insects into the cave this morning. We hid outside watching the entrance until it returned shortly after six. It emerged unscathed and without any discoloration. Initially this was enough to raise our hopes that this entrance was unguarded. Then again, Gerridian’s smart. He could just as well have allowed the creature to come and go as it pleased just to fool us. It was only when Sara and Kanar analysed the scout more thoroughly that the declared the entry safe.

We’re going in later tonight. But it’s only Kanar and me going in there. Sara and Armbranch will wait outside as a backup. I don’t really like the idea of splitting up the group any more. It was one thing leaving Cutter behind at our last main camp. He was injured and Kanar’s ensured he’s well protected with some of his magic. It’s quite another leaving Armbranch and Sara outside. I argued against it, said it was a risky strategy. I was overruled. I guess they’re right. Why risk everything in one go? It’s stupid.

Makes me feel like a lamb, though.

Got to check in with Maya now. I’m bringing the laptop inside with me, but I have my doubts if I’ll get any reception in there. I guess I’ll just have to hope for the best.

We were attacked last night. Or, should I say, something tried to attack us. I didn’t actually see the beasts before Kanar drove them off. All I heard was a lot of bawling and growing and breaking vegetation. Another wind came, too. But the grey dust is soaked as deep into this landscape as a tattoo into skin and the wind didn’t blemish it.  Gerridian’s desperate now. We know that. Kanar told us earlier that the creatures he sent after us last night were weak and easy to drive off. Gerridian wasn’t probing our strength this time. No. He was hoping for a lucky break.

We spent much of today moving east. The Horseshoe Mountains are a great lump on the horizon now, and it’s hard not to look at them without thinking they’re real. They probably are. They rise so high, daylight turns to dusk shortly after midday when the sun passes down behind them. It’s hard to believe Gerridian (or anyone for that matter) could have the ability to construct such majestic things.

The forest around us is strong and thick now. Gerridian’s doing, of course. But we’re used to hacking our way through the undergrowth, so this doesn’t slow us much. Armbranch found the first cave an hour ago on one of his scouting missions. The grey dust leads past it, but Kanar’s sure this opening leads into the underground system Keyes detailed on his map. We’re pausing here for a while so Kanar can study the map better.

Things have settled back home. The doctor’s arrived, and the first thing O’Heir did was instruct him to check out Justin. He’s okay. A bit shaken, but okay. Maya looks great, too. It’s almost like a part of her has been released already because every time I look at her I think I see just a hint of a smile on her face.

Just seeing her like that is enough to give me strength.

Success—or at least a partial success. Justin entered the tunnel an hour ago. Hell, I watched the whole thing on the webcam. And it was like watching some real time rescue show. The shadow stayed away from him when he sat by Maya and stroked her hair. Though I couldn’t hear anything, I knew by the look on his face when he first heard the wind sentry. He didn’t panic. He simply got to his feet, and backed up slowly. It was the shadow that panicked. It flitted about the tunnel as crazily as a shrimp trapped in a jar. At one point it tried to get back into the inner tunnel. But they’d blocked the exit with buckets of gasoline to stop it.

I didn’t see the sentry take it. But Justin mailed me a report minutes later and said the sentry simply sucked the shadow up. The last he heard of it was a long shriek that faded as if the shadow was falling down a great pit. Justin didn’t hang around to find out more. The shadow’s gone now. That’s all that counts. The shadow’s gone, and Maya’s lying in peace. God it’s such a relief to just sit and watch her. A therapy. That’s how I’d describe it, a wonderful therapy that eases the ache in my muscles and settles my thoughts enough so I can think of the future again.

Caught up on the news today for the first time in days. So the courts are getting tough on the London rioters and sending some to jail. Well, I can think of a much better sentence. A couple of months in this place would quickly sort them out. If they tried to pull that kind of ‘looting’ shit in Crater City I doubt they’d get away as easily as a stint in jail.

Almost lost it last night. Gerridian sent another wind that hugged low to the ground as if designed to uproot the very forest. Earth was whipped up from the ground and sucked out from beneath the trees, laying the roots bare, and tossing up a great dust cloud that enveloped our camp. At one point the dust was so thick I could hardly breathe and thought I was choking. I was well able to scream, though. When I heard Maya’s voice crying out from the depths of the storm, I screamed and screamed and screamed with rage until Armbranch pinned me to the ground and clamped his hands around my mouth.

Damn Gerridian. Damn him to hell. The storm’s long gone, but I can still hear Maya’s echoing from deep within my mind. It’s almost like he’s planted something in there, something to drive me insane.

But at least his storm didn’t work. Whatever is in that grey dust is resilient. When the winds faded and the debris settled, the outline of the dust was still clear amid the broken trees and smashed vegetation. We’re close to the Horseshoe Mountains now. Oddly enough, the dust trail seems to be veering right, as if to bypass them. A false trail? Kanar doesn’t think so. Though he admitted that Gerridian might have the means to lay one, he doesn’t think this has happened and insists we keep following it—at least for another day or so.

Time now to write to Justin. I’m going to ask if he’ll enter the tunnel and check up on Maya. That’s all. I’m not going to ask him to attract a wind sentry. I’m not being indecisive. I just don’t feel like I have the right to ask that much from him.

Besides, I think I know already what he’ll do.

On the move all day. We stopped for a few hours this morning, but I couldn’t sleep. All I could do was sit with Maya and whisper encouragement to her. The shadow is still in there with her. It’s settled, though. I only saw it move about a few times and it never once went near her. I’d like to think the thing has a conscience, and that it doesn’t want to be there. But judging by the Basilod’s behaviour, its shadow won’t hesitate to do its master’s bidding when required.

O’Heir says the doctor will arrive in Singleton within hours. He’s also offered to go into the tunnel and summon a wind sentry to see how the shadow might react. He figures it might even drive the shadow away. Great idea. It’s also an insane idea. Yet, the more I think about it, the more I wonder if it’s the insane ideas that really work best in this place. I said I’d think about it. I also said that if anyone was to go in there, it should be Justin. O’Heir’s done enough, and Justin’s biting at the bit to get a crack at the thing.

Time to go now. Gerridian sent a violent storm our way earlier. But it failed to dislodge any of the grey dust. We can still follow it easily, and Kanar wants to push on through the night again. Gerridian will be attempting to ‘renew’ the Basilod. I didn’t ask what he meant by that. I can only guess it wouldn’t be good.

Dreadful news from back home. Shortly after I mailed an update to O’Heir, he sent news that the house had been attacked. The shadow. It thrashed the kitchen at roughly the same time the Basilod fled our trap. It didn’t deliberately wreck the kitchen. No. O’Heir said the damage was caused because the shadow didn’t want to leave. Something dragged it into the tunnel, and it spent five minutes fighting that something before finally succumbing.

It’s down in the outer tunnel now. With Maya. And it looks like it’s staying.

Since I got this news, I’ve been checking on Maya every few minutes. She’s still lying in the same position, but I don’t know how long that will last. The shadow is openly visible now, and at times it looks like it’s hovering directly over her. Good God. What if it touches her? Or worse, what if it tries to carry her into the Parawerthan? I feel so very helpless and lost. I know Gerridian’s playing a mind game to encourage me to panic. I also know I need to stay especially focussed if we’re to finish this.

But seeing Maya under threat like that is tearing me apart. We’re leaving camp in the next few minutes, and I don’t know if I can bring myself to switch the laptop off.

Desperation. That’s what I keep telling myself. The shadow’s with Maya because Gerridian is growing desperate.

Finally, after over thirty-six hours skulking about in this mess of a forest, we had things out with the Basilod—or at least we had a major skirmish, a major successful skirmish. We almost lost Cutter, though. And that was long before the Basilod attacked. In the early hours of this morning he detected something on the breeze that left him choking and writhing on the ground. If Kanar hadn’t got to him quickly, the poison would have finished him off in minutes. It was a special poison Gerridian sent, a gas that only a breeze sifter could have detected. If he hadn’t managed to warn us before he fell, we’d all have gone down with him. Even now, after another three doses of one of Kanar’s potions, he’s hardly fit to open his eyes. He won’t be right for days, Kanar says. And, though Cutter certainly saved us, that means we’ll have to leave him behind when we pursue the beast.

It came on the wind, silently this time. But Kanar was prepared. One of the contraptions he set up the other night (a thing that looked like a clock suspended inside a wooden frame) began to emit a tiny beeping that sent him scurrying about the clearing and tossing a grey dust into the air. The dust hung suspended in the air for almost a minute before something passed down through it and landed on the ground not fifteen feet away from where I was standing. The beast. The dust clung to it, formed and outline, and gave me my first half decent look at the thing. Though it was smaller than I’d expected, it was still the build of a rhino and armed with a spectacularly ferocious set of claws. As it closed on me, it cut through the trees as easily as a storm might cut through smoke.

I held my ground until the thing’s hot, filthy breath scorched my face. And when that mouth opened, all I heard was the sound of Maya crying deep within its belly. I almost broke and ran. But Kanar was closing on it then, and I knew if I moved it might mean certain death for him. I was the bait, and if the bait fled the hunters would surely suffer. When Kanar signalled to me, I opened the laptop and jabbed the screen towards the beast. At first, nothing happened. Those cobalt eyes simply narrowed and stared at the screen for one long moment, before fixing its gaze on me. That’s when I realised the damn laptop was in ‘sleep’ mode. I punched the Enter key. The screen flickered into life. The Basilod twisted back and tried to rise. But Kanar’s dust had hardened into some kind of coating that slowed the beast for one brief, vital moment.

It was enough for the others to strike.

Everything happened in a blur after that. Sara fired some kind of dart at the thing that cut straight into its chest and lodged there. Second later, Kanar threw a metal object at it that exploded on impact and showered it with a bluish fire. One of his traps exploded beneath the beast, and sent a darkish cloud billowing up into its underbelly. For one brief moment, I’d swear the Basilod split in two. Something fell away from its haunches and started a fire on the ground. Then it was shrieking and bucking about the clearing, tossing trees and bushes aside and sending great sprays of earth shooting through the air.

I dived to the ground and shielded the laptop with my chest as the debris rained down. I don’t know how long I lay there. Minutes. Hours. I’ve no idea. All I know is that the beast was gone when Sara helped me to my feet.

We’ve wounded it badly, Kanar says. Now we’ve got to pursue it and finish it off. It’ll head for its master’s base. And we shouldn’t have much trouble following it. Kanar’s grey dust will dribble off it as it moves, and leave a trail for us to follow.

Must get a drink. So thirsty.