The Company's goods lift rose to the heights of the cavern.

Light shone within it like a meteor as it ascended into the dark reaches of the cave above, until it was swallowed from sight by the trapdoor that closed behind it.

Down on the floor of the caves, the miners cast off the gloves and padded caps of their uniform. Together, they took a while to sit or lie down, and gazed up at the starless night of the cavern's heights.

Henry materialised from his hiding place and came to join the others. His armour plates clicked and ground together as he flopped down to rest his head on a mossy patch of a stone. He let the wooden staff he leaned on roll from his hands and a deep breath could be heard within his helmet.

'Once again, the lift's ascending back up into the world above, leaving us down here in the dark. It doesn't get any easier, to be reminded of the surface…' Henry murmured.

'We've made it past our first week. That's one step to getting out of here,' remarked Flora in a small, wistful voice.

'I think that journey will be a long one,' murmured Percy as he gazed upwards.

'The damned Company and the mining quota it gives us, just so we can pay our way out of its slavery. One day they'll answer for it! One day they'll pay!' Zachary shouted up into the echoing emptiness beyond.

'No one should be enslaved. What debt did we incur?' Aisling said.

'Only they can decide. No doubt they could drown us with facts and figures if we asked, none of which would make sense,' replied Henry.

'These past few days have gone by in a whirl. What strange things we've seen! Lord, what lies in wait for us next?' Irene wondered aloud.

'Settle in for the long haul, that's what I would advise. Like it or not, we're here to stay. Don't think of the number of days ahead, focus on the day you've got,' answered Henry.

'So we'll fix up the chapel then? Make ourselves at home?' retorted Irene.

'Yes. It will be easier with extra hands, and someone else to appreciate one's efforts.' Henry's voice was a tired whisper from within his crudely-shaped iron helmet.

'You've never done it your entire life!' Irene scolded.

Henry grumbled a response. He continued to recline and gaze upwards.

'I'm hungry,' Aisling stated. She climbed to her feet and set off back to the chapel.

The others shrugged, sighed, picked up their things, and then followed her.

The next day, the miners pulled up dead thorns and swept out river muck from within the chapel's crumbling walls.

Loose bricks were wedged back into holes and the gaps stuffed with as many loose rocks as could be found. Muffled cursing could be heard as, once again, the wet hearth was dredged out and the coals replaced. 

The grime on the windows was doused down and swabbed until the glass could once again be seen through. Supply crates were dismantled and used to patch holes in the roof as best as could be done.

Piece by piece, the chapel' accumulation of soot, dirt, slime and moss was scrubbed out. With the lamps refilled and lit, it seemed more spacious and homelier than the rotten state in which it was found little over a week ago. 

Henry stood in the doorway and wrung his hands with discomfort as the others worked.

'I'm not helping you! I can't bear to see you tear up my home like that! I can't even be here and watch this!' Henry cried in distress.

'I don't understand. It looks so much better now!' Irene exclaimed.

'I told you it was how I liked it! It kills me to see you pull it all apart like that. That was my entire life in there!' Henry shouted, as he got angry.

'If you're not helping, then leave us to it! Bloody useless…' Aisling's voice echoed inside the hearth, along with a string of other epithets.

'Go on ahead then, do as you please! I'll go and make myself useful, instead of wasting time here,' Henry seethed. He grabbed his staff and disappeared off somewhere into the caves.

'What's gotten into him?' asked Flora.

'I think our arrival has been stressful for him, even before everything that's happened. Like it hasn't been bad enough for us also,' Irene grumbled.

'He's been alone for a long time and I think it's a lot to get used to,' suggested Zachary.

The miners set down their cleaning equipment and brewed up a pot of tea.

'Maybe when we're done we should go and swing a pickaxe round, just for a while. I feel a bit bad using up all Henry's reserves,' suggested Percy.

'I don't. You go have fun with that,' said Aisling.

'I'll come and look at the seam to check it's still there, but that's all you'll get from me! I've slaved away in this kitchen until my hands are blood raw!' Zachary proclaimed, as he raised his pink palms for the heavens to be his witness.

'How can we do a decent day's work if we don't know what time it is, or even what day? If we don't know what the date is, how are we supposed to hit the quota? How much are we supposed to even get?' Aisling raved in a sudden, rare display of passion.

'We'll figure something out. We could… see how long a lamp burns and mark the time that way. We'll make a calendar. Henry seems to know when it's night and day,' Flora said to try to soothe Aisling.

'The Duchess said we need to gather twenty-six pounds of ore per week; chipped down and charged in the light,' Percy offered.

'How do we even measure that?' Aisling demanded.

'Henry seemed to know a way?' Flora ventured, with a shrug.

'Henry, Henry, Henry! Now he's disappeared somewhere again without telling us, like he did with that sun gem. I doubt we'll find out where that went,' Zachary interjected in a bitter voice.

'He is struggling with being part of a team,' admitted Irene.

'He shouldn't keep secrets from us. That's not how a team works,' said Percy.

'Why don't we have a meal then head out? Breakfast, lunch, dinner; whichever it would be,' suggested Irene.

'I looked in the stream; the one the mermaid said would have fish for us. Sure enough, there's a few swimming around in there. They're so docile I could grab one with my bare hands,' Zachary said.

'Fresh fish, down here? That's music to my ears,' replied Percy.

'I want to go and see the girl in the garden again. She said she would help us. We can't forget about her. We never even asked her name!' Flora said.

'Good idea,' replied Irene, as she examined the blisters and splinters of hours spent scrubbing the chapel's dirty crust. 'I can't let you go on your own.'

'Why don't you come with us? It might take your mind off things.' Flora patted Aisling's hand, which took some courage. Even though Aisling's earlier frustration wasn't directed at her, to Flora she was still intimidating.

'No thanks, she gives me the creeps.' Despite her irritable mood, Aisling managed a little smile.

After they had eaten, Aisling, Percy and Zachary set off for the iron ore seam.

They cast their lanterns about for light. Dripping water echoed, distant streams gushed, and a waterfall thundered somewhere deep in the cracks of the earth.

The mysterious noises of the caves were more audible now in these narrower, more distant paths. There was a nocturnal chorus of frogs, a buzz of insects, and what sounded like the evening call of birdsong, although no birds could be seen.

The mysterious beam of light that hung in the air began to turn from glacial blue to pearly white and the banks of mosses and little flowers began to light up and glow all their different colours.

'I'm a bit less certain about going on our own. You know, without him,' said Zachary, referring to Henry. 'It's a bit scary, are we sure we're going the right way?'

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'Don't say that,' groaned Aisling, as her eyes scanned about in the dark.

'We've been this way before, we just have to stick to the path,' replied Percy, although his voice was far from certain.

'I came this way without Henry before. It was with Dale. He was sensible, he wasn't afraid,' Aisling mumbled.

'Until he went crazy,' remarked Zachary.

'Aye. Shame, really,' replied Aisling.

The miners heard movement behind them, and turned to see two orange orbs that glowed like hot balls of iron.

They heard a rhythmic sound of panting, and in the dim light of their lamps, a huge, shaggy hound came into view.

The three miners gasped and drew together. They readied their pickaxes and shovels, holding them out at arm's length at the beast.

The hound fixed them with the unwavering stare of its glowering orbs. The panting ceased and it emitted a low growl.

'Don't run! If you turn your back it'll chase!' urged Percy.

The hound padded forward and circled to a side. It gave a low, rumbling growl. The miners found themselves backed into a parting between some boulders. They edged their way backwards until they found themselves in a crevice filled with loose scree.

The miners tripped and stumbled as they retreated as far as the crevice would allow. To their relief, the hound didn't pursue them.

'Where are we? I don't recognise any of this,' whispered Zachary as they emerged into an open area where lots of broken shale slates lay around, and all the rock was dotted with lichen.

'That blasted dog hasn't followed us, but now we're well and truly lost.' Aisling's teeth chattered and her voice trembled.

'What's this?' Percy cast his lantern after they stumbled along a little further. He crouched down for a closer look.

'It looks like Company property; a signpost for an iron ore seam. It's so old it's rotted and stuck to the ground. We must have found a forgotten mining area,' Percy said as he rubbed at the signpost. It revealed the insignia of The Righteous Anglian Mining Company Of Our Lady's Hallowed Earth.

By the light of their lamps they saw that a pathway was marked by the Company's whitewashed ropes. Even in the gloom, a promising metallic speckle could be seen in the rock.

'That bloody hound did us a favour!' Zachary exclaimed, and was hushed by Percy and Aisling.

'Let's knock out a few chunks and head back to show the others. We can leave a trail so we don't lose it,' suggested Percy.

Percy caught sight of Aisling's expression, and his face dropped. Aisling had frozen still and her eyes were wide, and fixated on something behind him.

Percy turned, and above the line of some boulders, he caught sight of something spherical that gleamed with the shine of polished metal. It looked gold, perhaps, or brass. It was difficult to be sure in the dim light.

'It moved. It's watching us,' Aisling whispered through clenched teeth.

Zachary turned to see what they were looking at. With great caution, he raised his lamp and took a step towards it.

With his lamp a little closer, it appeared to be a metal face, like a statue.

Zachary screamed as the statue's face shot down out of sight behind the rock, and he ran to Aisling and held her arm. Aisling clung on to Zachary, and the pair of them were rooted to the spot with fright.

On the other side of the boulder, they heard a rhythmic thump-clank noise that receded into the caves.

'It's running away!' Percy exclaimed.

To Aisling and Zachary's astonishment, Percy dropped his shovel and gave chase.

'What are you doing, you madman? Why are you running after it?' Zachary trilled, as he and Aisling were left by themselves, huddled and confused.

Percy scuttled down the uneven, winding tunnel. He vaulted over boulders and felt his way along with the free hand that didn't hold his lantern.

He kept low to the ground and often scampered using his hands as he tried to keep pace with the pumping metal footsteps, without tripping on rocks in the darkness.

The route he took was winding, and the figure was often out of view, but its regular footfalls guided the way by their echoes.

While Percy started to tire and lose breath however, the footsteps were regular and unrelenting.

He caught glimpses of his quarry around this corner then that, and then it scaled an incline ahead. He followed, and just about managed to keep up.

The dark cave opened up into a wide chamber that was well-lit by the distant beam of magical light. The chamber was so vast that its flat, even floor was more like a plain, with little by way of cover along its base.

The figure was in plain sight. Percy hung back and watched as it made its way across the cavern chamber.

The shape of the figure and the way it moved seemed as though there wasn't a person inside the metal plates, but rather it appeared to be a statue that moved on its own. It was the height of a child of around twelve to fourteen years old.

Percy concealed his lantern behind a rock before he slipped out from the shadows and followed the figure. He prowled on all fours and ducked into any scrap of shade that he could find along the way.

He saw with astonishment that the trail the statue took led to a building. It was much better built than the miner's tumble down little excuse for a chapel. This building was made with stone walls of a regular and solid build, fortified with wooden beams, and had glass windows that glowed with lights from within.

The figure entered the building through sturdy double doors that were wide enough to fit a cart full of deliveries.

There was no movement ahead, so Percy scuttled in closer until he could get close enough to a window that was left ajar.

Inside the building, machinery clanked and chugged. Percy heard a click and a whir, and then speech that sounded like it was made by a wind-up music box or a mechanical organ from a fairground.

The tones the speech made chimed and harmonised, and the pace was rhythmic and steady, as though each word had been recorded and was played in sequence.

'Father, I have something to tell you.' 

Through the gap in the window, Percy saw it was the walking statue that spoke. It approached a fat man who sat in an armchair who made deep, rumbling snores.

The statue clicked and whirred again before it repeated itself with the same tone;

'Father I have something to tell you.'

'Oh, what is it now, and where have you been? I told you we have chores. This blasted place is a dysfunctional mess, I tell you…' the man spluttered.

'Father,' the statue intoned again.

There was a muffled groaning from the man, followed by deep, wracking coughs that ended in a wheeze. With effort, he turned to face the childlike statue.

'I was playing by the ore pit,' the statue chimed out.

'Oh you were, were you? What were you playing?' The man asked the statue with a wearied, paternal indulgence.

'Choo-choo trains!' the statue pealed out in response. The walking statue rolled its arms by its side and walked in a circle while its voice made a perfect mimicry of a steam train.

The fat man bellowed with laughter, which ended in more coughing.

From here, Percy could see that the figure he pursued had circular glass eyes and a letter-box shaped mouth on a statuesque head. It was shaped with smooth curves and lines that were more stylised than realistic.

In this light the metal from which the statue was made gleamed in a way that didn't seem like brass. Percy wondered if the entire body could be clad in gold.

'I saw some other children, and they were talking about digging up our ore and taking it,' the statue paused its train motion to say.

'WHAT?' The man bellowed in outrage. 'Bard, get in here! BARDDD!'

A man appeared from around a doorway. He wore a peculiar outfit that featured a beige overcoat with a red trim, and a tricorn hat with a feather plume. His white shirt had a ruff collarand long, pleated cuffs that protruded from his sleeves. He wore billowing rider's breeches and leather boots that extended up past his knees. A tusk horn hung around his neck and a lute was strapped over his back.

'Did you call, my lord?' the man addressed as Bard enquired. His voice was booming and operatic; even theatrical.

'I have here a veritable plethora of pixies for your mechanisms.' Bard produced a glass jar from his coat pocket and held it aloft. Inside, several lights fluttered and hovered.

'Oh, very good. I only asked for one. You spoil me, you spoil me,' replied the man, distracted by the goods on offer.

'And here, my lord; another ripe delivery. All the sweetmeats and delights of the caverns!' Bard proclaimed as he clapped his hands.

In marched a troupe of little maids in single file. They stepped in unison until they came to a halt and gave a neat turn to face the man in the chair.

None of the tiny maids were taller than waist height, and each wore flirtatious housemaid's uniforms that were shameless with what they revealed of bosom and thigh.

In unison, the maids presented net sacks that brimmed full of oozing snails, writhing eels and squirming rag-worms.

'Oho! Here they are, my lovelies, all neatly in a row! And they've brought me a feast!' the big man said as he slapped his belly with glee. 'Oh, make them do a turn, make them do a turn!'

Bard patted his hands together and twirled a finger. The maids' skirts whirled around them and raised higher as the tiny maids did a pirouette.

Throughout all of this, the maids' expressions remained as blank and set in place as the golden boy's did. The fat man brayed with delight and rubbed his knees in appreciation.

'Now look here, Bard. There's no time for that. Look how much you've brought me! You're going to make me burst,' the man gave a petulant grumble.

In response, Bard tootled a jolly little tune on a penny-whistle that by some sleight of hand he appeared to produce from thin air.

The one named Bard was dressed like some town crier from the olden days, or at least a theatre mock-up of one, Percy considered. The man wore only a plain shirt and breeches. He was so fat that he was squashed in his chair. He was barefoot too, so likely never moved out of it.

The chair itself oversaw what looked like a workshop. It had lines of benches and racks of tools along its length. At this end, an industrial-sized furnace blazed, and there was the background noise of machinery grating and chugging from somewhere within.

Back outside the window, Percy continued to spy at the scene with his face creased in bafflement.

Before he realised, the chugging of machines in the workshop had given way to the rhythmic footfalls of marching behind him.

Percy spun around to see a troupe of figures march his way. There were perhaps a dozen of them.

They had thin arms and legs that were as straight as poles, and robust, blockish bodies. Their heads were round domes, shaped like a bell, with no features except for two hollow eyes.

Each of the figures carried pickaxes, shovels, and sacks that swung with heavy loads of goods. They stamped towards the workshop in unison.

From his exposed position, there was nowhere for Percy to run or hide. He simply froze in panic.

The figures came so close that Percy could have reached out and touched one, but still they marched without breaking pace.

This close, Percy could see they were scuffed, dirty, and speckled with rust. They seemed to be made of solid wood and metal, and their limbs moved by way of gears and pistons.

It seemed that there was no way people could be inside the walking mannequins. They were man-sized statues, or puppets, that moved on their own.

Percy watched as they filed inside the building, past the fat man, Bard, and the golden boy-statue.

'Quiet, now! Stop that tootling and listen here, Bard. The boy's told me he caught some folks poking around one of our ore seams, trying to take what's ours! This won't do at all,' the man sputtered. Veins stood out on his reddening brow.

'I' truth, I have never heard tell of such things!' replied Bard.

'This isn't one of your flights of fancy is it lad? You didn't imagine them up?' With effort, the big man turned to demand an answer from the golden boy.

'It's the truth, sir,' replied the boy.

'Bard, it's your job to keep me informed. You're supposed to be my bringer of news, why did I have to be informed by the boy here?' the man demanded.

Bard gave a parp on his horn.

'Oyez, oyez. Hear ye, hear ye! This just in…' Bard addressed the room.

'Don't make a mockery of things, it's too bloody late to announce it now…' snapped the big man.

He felt that his luck was running short, so Percy slipped away from the window and ran towards the spectral river of light that coursed its way through the caverns. From there, he sprinted along the direction it flowed to reach home.