her journey when she had wanted him to come with her. Surely, having a mouse along was an altogether different thing. So she asked the question before she thought about it for too long.
‘Would you like to come along with me?’
‘I’d love to,’ said Noil and the girl knew within her heart that she had made the right choice.
After Noil recovered he rode high in the girl’s sweatshirt pocket, his head poking out. The first break to the winding trail came when the path was blocked by a solid wooden door. Pausing before it, Maisey felt apprehension wash over her but turned the handle, pushing hard to move the rusty hinges that held it. Her heart slowed its frantic pace as she encountered another straight trail that seemed more like a corridor stretching ahead. Linoleum below her feet gave squeaks as she walked. The walls were painted white, reflecting the overhead fluorescent lighting which created a hospital feel. Reaching another door, the girl pushed and it swung back easily.
The smell of disinfectant bit hard into her memory and with great reluctance she ventured into the sterile room. A small child sat huddled in the corner, knees drawn up, arms hugging them as her body shook with sobs.
‘This is the Hall of Despair,’ said Noil.
‘Makes sense,’ replied Maisey as she touched the child on the head, though the child, who seemed unaware of their presence, broke out in a fresh bout of crying.
‘Leave her,’ said Noil.
Windows gave a view of a room beyond and walking to its door, Maisey entered and flicked on a switch to light the interior. A bed lay in the centre of the room, upon which lay a still figure. Machines hummed with wires that ran from them to the unconscious form. Gazing at the figure Maisey was shocked to see that it was her own mother.
The beating of the machines stopped and a nurse entered the room from a corridor beyond. Seeing the flat line of the machine she called for a doctor and arriving a second later, he checked for a pulse. Finding none, he wrote on a chart while the nurse unhooked the machines and pulled a sheet over the body.
‘Don’t do that,’ Maisey called as the pair left the room. ‘She’s not dead.’ She tried in vain to move the sheet. In confusion she turned, pressing her face to the window and let out a pained cry. It felt like despair was pulling her down as Noil’s voice broke in.
‘Look! Look at the child.’
The child raised her head to wipe at her swollen tearstreaked face.
‘It’s me,’ said Maisey. ‘But how can it be?’
‘Let’s go, please,’ begged Noil. ‘You can’t gain anything by staying here. You must pass through it.’
Maisey felt dizzy and weak. Noil’s voice seemed to come from far away. Climbing from her pocket he reached around to where the mirror rested and grasping it, hauled it back up to the sweatshirt pocket where he balanced it, clear side facing Maisey. For a second it seemed to have little effect then with a jolt she asked, ‘What happened?’
‘You might say that your past thoughts and fears caught up with you. I used the mirror to stop them from dragging you down. See, they’re gone.’ Looking around the room which was now empty, she saw that he was right. ‘Nothing more than sinister shadows created in despair,’ said Noil. ‘These rooms have held your fears, either imagined or real and you have to pass through them to rid them from your life. Remember your goal? To find the Rock.’
‘He passed the mirror back to Maisey and settled back into her pocket with a sigh of relief.
Following the path the doctor had taken, they continued their journey though now the trail had reverted to a tunnellike passage that wound ever steeper. With barely enough light to see, the dampness was replaced by humidity that made progress difficult.
‘Let’s rest,’ said Maisey.
‘I’ve been here before and it’s not a good place to stop. Soon we should come out into a cavern that is cool. It’s not much further,’ said Noil.
Tiredness dragged heavily on Maisey but Noil urged her on. He leapt down from her pocket and rushed ahead, urging her on faster but she felt helpless to comply. Her legs grew heavier and her mood was confusing. She felt herself sink into a lethargy that was all consuming, its roots based around Noil’s seeming lack of sympathy to what she was going through. As he ran ahead then back, she felt an overwhelming irritation and self-pity until she could contain it no longer and stopped to lean against the rock wall.
‘I’m too tired!’ she snapped. ‘I don’t care. I’m gonna rest and that’s that!’
To her surprise though, Noil merely shook his head in disgust. ‘You do, but I’m going on ahead.’ With that, he turned and hurried off around a bend in the tunnel, leaving Maisey alone with her thoughts.
How dare he? Doesn’t he realise what I’ve been through?
She couldn’t understand his attitude and gave up trying, turning her thoughts to all the worry that she had gone through over her mother’s illness.
After a time Maisey couldn’t hear the echo of Noil’s steps any longer and she rose and decided to move on. She’d shown him that she wasn’t to be pushed around and now she hoped that he would stop it. She looked about her with a little caution as she rounded the bend, remembering Noil’s agitation, but here it was beautiful.
To her right was the continuing tunnel and to the left a light-filled illuminated path that gave promise of the rest spot that Noil had spoken of, so here she paused. Vines grew down the wall to the side of it, beneath which was written something. Maisey cleared away the crawling moss and other offshoots to read ‘Ms Dé’.
Upon entering this passage Maisey felt her feet cushioned by something. In fact the entire tunnel was encased in silken threads, woven expertly around to form a beautiful archway and as she progressed further in, she felt safe and secure. She could see that ahead was a room and as she approached it a shrill voice called to her.
‘Come in my dear. I’ve been expecting you.’
The speaker was a little sweet-faced woman with jet black hair flecked here and there with grey. She sat spinning slowly and contentedly pausing now to beckon the girl to enter and be seated beside her.
Entranced, Maisey moved to her side. ‘What are you doing?’ she asked.
‘Spinning,’ came the reply. ‘Sit down and tell me all about yourself.’
Maisey did as she was told but a part of her wondered at her own meekness, her willingness to comply. Yet as she sunk down into the silken folds of a white beanbag, another part of her felt compelled to unburden herself. She began. The lady said little, content to listen, occasionally nodding while her fingers worked expertly over the thread. Maisey’s eyes rested on the wheel and the whirring had a hypnotic effect on her as she poured out her fears. It was a relief to tell someone, someone who was sympathetic, and she felt herself slipping further into the soft silk that now rose all around her.
With a start Maisey opened her eyes and wondered where she was. She was lying down encased in something and a great feeling of claustrophobia washed over her. Slowly she remembered Ms Dé and their conversation, the spinning wheel and now this!
Panic seized her as she struggled to free her arms from the tight folds of silken thread that cocooned her. Wriggling around she finally managed to free one arm. She used it to pull herself up and around to where she could see the lady herself, still spinning much farther away down a narrow tunnel of silk. Terror threatened to overcome her as she grappled with her bonds but she could barely move them and she felt that if the old lady kept spinning, she would suffocate.
Stay calm. Remember your gifts. It was Rendal’s voice as he guided her but as she thought of the gifts she had she knew that the only one she could reach was the mirror, so now she used her free hand to pull it awkwardly out of her pocket. She stared long and