‘You! What the devil’s going on here?’ Henry bellowed as he scrambled over a boulder and came into sight. He swung his stave up at Gladys, who leapt into the air out of the way.

Gladys’ feet never touched the ground. Before their eyes, she turned into a crow and flapped about the cave, just out of reach of Henry’s stave. ‘Never trust the fey folk! Never trust the fey folk! Get snagged, get snagged! Nasty thorns, you’ll fit right in!’ One more peal of mocking laughter from her turned into the cawing of a crow. It was echoed around the caverns by a chorus of other bird cries in the dark, then Gladys flew off deep into the shadows.

Henry growled with anger as he turned to the others. ‘Hold still. Stop moving, you’re making it worse,’ he barked.

Henry rolled his stave into a puddle of water that trickled through the rock. He drew out a pouch from within the sacking cloth at his waist, and with slow, clumsy movements from his gauntlets he sprinkled a powder onto the stave’s metal head, where the damp made it stick.

Muttering some kind of prayer or incantation, Henry held his lantern’s flame under the stave. The stave fizzled and steamed, and then as it seemed the lantern light might fizzle out, the stave ignited with an orange glow, and fiery sparks hissed and spat.

Henry raised the glowing stave and plunged it down into the sea of thorns around Percy’s feet. The tendrils made a hiss and screech as they burned, and the mass shrunk away. The orange corona around the stave faded before their eyes, but again and again Henry thrust it down into the thorns. They shrank back to free Zachary, Irene, Aisling, Flora, and then Dale, who was laid back with his head just above the brambles, the most hopelessly trapped of all.

The glow on Henry’s stave fizzled out. ‘Powdered, charged iron filings, that was. A good deal of trouble to make,’ Henry scolded, and brushed the flaky remnants from the stave. ‘So, now you’ve met the fey folk in person. At an educated guess, that was a bogle. Sly tricksters and liars they are, and have a thing for turning into animal form.’

‘It told us a few things about you,’ Dale said, with an angry scowl.

‘What did I just say? They are tricksters and liars, as you have seen for yourself!’ Henry shouted. ‘But tell me, I’m dying to know. How did a bogle manage to convince you to go wading out into a bed of thorns of your own accord?’

There was a moment of quiet. ‘We were trying to help her, by reaching that flower,’ Flora said, sniffling.

‘What flower?’ demanded Henry. Flora pointed, but there was nothing there.

Henry shook his head. ‘You’re definitely the kind of folk who have to find out everything the hard way,’ he remarked in a scathing voice.

‘She – that crow - said there were others out there. Other people. She seemed to suggest they were down here for the lodestone too,’ Zachary said.

‘There are,’ Henry replied.

‘When were you going to tell us?’ demanded Dale.

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‘I’ve been trying to tell you one thing at a time so you might believe me. It’s a lot to take in,’ Henry explained. ‘So far, you haven’t listened to even that.’

‘So the – bogle? It was telling the truth about that, then. It also said that you weren’t telling us the truth, so who are we to believe?’ Irene said.

‘Listen, I wasn’t the one who talked you into getting stuck in some thorns. I got you out! I’ve told you some very simple things; don’t stray from the path, magic is real, it’s not to be trifled with, and there are things down here; spirits that are not natural and of this world. They are not your friend and are not to be trusted. You haven’t listened and look what happened!’ Henry retorted, getting angrier as he went on. ‘I figured you went out by yourselves. It’s a good job I woke up and guessed you went this way.’

‘Well, you’re a poor guide and we don’t trust you!’ Dale shouted.

‘You lot are unbelievable, and you’re the worst of all.’ Henry pointed at Dale. ‘I say this should be a lesson to remember. Come on, let’s get back to the chapel, this has clearly been a write off.’

‘I’m staying. Come on, let’s continue mining,’ muttered Dale. He was still sat on the rocks, curled up and nursing the scratches left by the thorns.

Everyone else followed Henry as he set off back to the chapel, limping and wincing at their own injuries.

‘How much ore did you manage to dig up?’ asked Henry.

‘We put in a few hours’ work. Well, I guess so. That’s what it felt like. It’s hard to tell,’ replied Percy.

‘Yes, but how much?’ Henry repeated.

‘Not much,’ replied Irene.

‘I’m worried that we’re behind schedule. That awful woman and her damned company will be back tomorrow and we haven’t much to show for it. And they never properly explained what they meant by getting them ‘charged iron ore,’’ Zachary mourned.

‘We went through that in training,’ said Flora. ‘You have to raise it in the pulley, up into, well, whatever that is. The light.’ She pointed at the distant glow of the beam.

‘Well I don’t know, maybe I wasn’t listening!’ Zachary protested with a flap of his hands.

‘I have a stash of spare ore hidden away,’ Henry muttered.

‘Why is it getting so cold? There’s an awful draft,’ asked Irene. Her teeth chattered and she rubbed her arms.

‘It’s getting worse,’ remarked Aisling.

‘Honestly I couldn’t tell you. Things were pretty quiet until yesterday. When you showed up,’ said Henry.

‘So it’s our fault,’ Dale grumbled, coming up behind.

‘Didn’t say that,’ Henry grumbled back.

They arrived back at the chapel and to their dismay they saw things were in a worse state than they left them not so long ago.

‘The flooding’s back! And now it’s overflowed the dam!’ Irene wailed.

‘Look at the thorns! They’ve taken all over this side of the chapel! All up the side, and it’s coming in through all the cracks! It’s as bad as ten years’ growth. All in the space of a few hours,’ Percy moaned in dismay.

‘It’s getting its own back for before where we burned it,’ Flora said.

‘That’s ridiculous! We didn’t burn it, he did!’ Dale burst out in a rage and pointed at Henry. ‘And plants don’t get their own back. You’re being absurd.’

‘They’ve come straight here, and made their way right to us. It can’t be a coincidence,’ Percy tried to explain.

‘My stew will be ruined. Again.’ Aisling gave a plaintive groan.

‘I don’t know what’s going on round here, but I want to know what you propose to do about it.’ Dale shook a finger at Henry.

‘Well, I don’t know! I’d like to know as much as you do as to what is happening to my home!’ Henry yelled at Dale in a fit of rage. ‘Come on then, let’s go and find out shall we? Gather whatever tools that are left, we may need them!’

‘I’ve had enough of this madness. I’m going to stay here and make myself useful. I’ll shore up this place and bail out this water. I’ll rip up every thorn by its roots if I have to, you see if I don’t!’ said Dale. ‘Who’s going to stay and help? Irene? Aisling? Come on Percy, make yourself useful and grab a bucket. What you’re going to do is bail the water out and build up the rocks. I’ll think of a way to redirect it.’

No-one moved, or said anything.

‘Fine! I’ll stay here and sort it all out myself! Just you leave it all with me! Go on!’ Dale cried.

Henry shut the chapel door, with Dale still inside. ‘Works for me,’ he said in a flat, deadpan voice.