yet otherwise visible. The thin, mangy arm covered by tufts of coarse hair and thick folds of weathered skin was soon followed by another, which planted its free hand—or paw—on the ground, as if to brace itself. Two more hands then appeared, working industriously away at widening the hole; a long pointed snout with a round nose at the tip emerged slowly from the opening. Moments later two eyes, well sunk into the fat end of the snout some three feet up from the nose, poked themselves just barely from the broadening hole, inducing Elli to step back and freeze. Elli tugged gently for Beatríz to follow her slowly and quietly backwards.
“Yes, yes, I see you! Look at the light! Look at the light in darkness and live! Can’t go back! Can never go back! Come forward—not going to hurt you!” said the creature as it dug feverishly away with its second pair of arms and pulled itself free of the hole, disclosing a pair of legs on which the creature stood—facing the girls. “Yes, yes, I see you! Step forward! Yes, yes!”
Beatríz and Elli stepped gingerly toward the creature and into the glow of its lantern. It was about seven feet tall, and looked almost exactly like an upside down comma; the same tufts of hair and folds of skin that covered its four arms and two legs also coated its body.
“Yes, yes! Come, come! Sit down! Yes, yes!” The creature sat cross-legged in the middle of the tunnel and beckoned the girls with four out-stretched arms, the lantern swinging gently and scattering soft shadows. Elli and Beatríz knelt down about ten feet away from the creature, but prepared to grab their knives they had already swiftly stowed, positioning themselves for a quick departure if required.
“And who might you be?” asked the creature as it lifted the lantern toward the girls’ faces.
“My name is Elli—and this is Beatríz—and we are children, but not from around here.”
“Yes, yes, I see that.”
Elli quickly added, “And, please, who and what are you?”
“Yes, yes. My name is Aneht, and I am a ground grub,” the creature answered, setting the lantern on the ground without releasing it.
“Would you please excuse me for a moment while I describe you to my friend who can’t see—I mean, can’t see with her eyes?” Elli said, and then turned and whispered to Beatríz.
“Yes, yes, by all means, I see that!” said the grub, who folded its four arms across its abdomen, causing the lantern to swing wildly and startle Elli.
“Miss—is it miss—Aneht?” asked Elli.
“Yes, yes, Miss Aneht,” replied the grub, “or just Aneht.”
“Miss Aneht, we’re lost. We don’t know where we are or where we’re going, and we’re tired and hungry and thirsty, and we need to get out of here. Can you help us?” Elli pleaded.
“Yes, yes! Well, first things first and last things last. You are certainly not lost, since I found you! But, of course, you can’t get out of here if you don’t know where here is—or what it is, if any here at all. Yes, yes. So, there is really not anything to be gotten out of at present, since you can’t know if you are in anything in the first place—if you don’t know what anything is or where it is, if anything or anywhere at all. And, of course, if you don’t know where you are, if any place at all, you can’t know where you’re going, if any place at all. Yes, yes. So, when all is said and done, about the only help you require is help getting something to eat and drink—if, of course, there is anything to eat and drink that can be gotten at all, yes, yes,” said the grub, who then smiled as if having given the perfect answer to Elli’s imperfect question.
“But, Miss Aneht, then . . . what are we . . . specifically . . . to do now?” asked Elli haltingly, uncertain what to think or say in response, and becoming annoyed.
“Yes, yes! Well, of course, you are to do nothing, since you logically—and obviously—can’t do anything, yes, yes. But!” she exclaimed, raising a finger for emphasis, “it is I who can do something—and so I shall!”
“And what is that something you are going to do, Miss Aneht?” Beatríz interjected anxiously.
“Yes, yes. Well, of course, that something is anything I can do that I choose to do, which is pretty much everything I do, which is all I do—and, yes, yes,” she added, with delight, “you will simply come along for the ride!” Whereupon the grub held out two hands and said, with alacrity, “Let’s go! Time’s always running on and running out—always starting, never stopping—always now and never past, and always ending, forever and ever! Yes, yes! The time is now! Follow the light and live!”
“It’s okay, Beatríz; it has to be,” Elli whispered while placing Beatríz’s hand into one of the grub’s hands before placing her own in the other.
Once gripped by Aneht, each of the girls felt like one of the grub’s appendages, dangling free, but well secured. A moment later, Aneht dove back into the hole, flinging the girls through the air in tow.
~three~
Starnee, consistent with having been only half asleep, awoke feeling only half refreshed, and glanced quickly down at Childheart and Thorn, the one still asleep and the other still unconscious. He dropped next to Childheart, who was immediately awakened. The unicorn also felt less than fully refreshed by his sleep, although less because of any ineffectiveness of his slumber, or any residual exhaustion from their recent battle, than by being away from the Forest of Lament, but he said nothing to Starnee. The condor gently nudged Thorn, and, as he expected, received no response. Nevertheless, the wound remained closed and Thorn’s breathing was steady and more evident; Starnee announced to a still drowsy Childheart that it was time to leave. He promptly gathered Thorn’s “sticks” into his talons and took flight, circling twice overhead until Childheart was on his way.
Both Starnee and Childheart were encouraged as they headed back toward Taralina’s castle, but wondered what they would find there and what the ensuing hours would bring. If they found the castle enemy-free, or requiring them to make it that way, they had already agreed that Childheart would resume the search for Jamie and Alex.
Starnee flew ahead and scouted the compound, returning to declare no signs of life anywhere about the castle, enemy or otherwise. He added, however, that all entrances to the seemingly undisturbed castle were shut, leaving him uncertain about what if anything might be waiting for them inside. They agreed that the only suitable place to attempt access was the vast set of double doors forming the principal entrance atop the lengthy outside staircase; it was also the only place that provided Starnee the possibility of entering the castle.
Within minutes the condor and unicorn had together reached the compound. Starnee circled with his limp cargo while Childheart jumped the slight remains of the outer and inner walls and trotted with forced ardor up the length of the staircase. On reaching the top, Childheart poked his horn through one of the latch rings, turned it, and pushed hard against the door. When it didn’t budge, he employed the same technique with the other door, but to no avail. So Childheart reared up on his hind legs and brought his front hooves down violently against the doors, forcing them open with the sounds of clanging iron and splintering wood. If anything at all was already inside the castle, it now knew of the unicorn’s harsh presence. Nevertheless, Childheart walked stealthily into the castle, as if his entry was still a secret. After a few minutes, he returned to the open door and motioned for Starnee to set Thorn onto a rug that Childheart had found inside and dragged through the doorway, spreading it on the broad landing. Once Thorn was on the rug, Childheart pulled it back inside, Starnee walking into the castle behind them.
The two friends stood in the middle of a large hall serving as an anteroom, the only light in the place being the pale one from the outside streaming across the threshold and cutting the darkness just enough for them to see that all the other doors and windows had been boarded over, apparently for a long time; the only exception was an iron gate that was furthest from the main entrance, resting slightly ajar. Dust was thick on everything, which seemed to have been left undisturbed, as if a sole occupant many years ago had departed abruptly and without forethought, leaving the boarding