Doctor Who_ Cats Cradle_ Witch Mark - Andrew Hunt [85]
Although it meant a long uphill walk Ace approached the wall alone – she didn’t want the : Ceffyl to be filled with arrows by overzealous soldiers. It was something of a slog, but Ace was fit and healthy and so she wasn’t breathing heavily when she reached the wall.
She looked up at the wall expectantly. As she had been nearing the top, she had seen torches moving along the wall and she felt sure that she had been observed. A torch came into view and illuminated a head that peered down at her.
'Hello ' she shouted, waving up cheerfully.
'You down there, what are you doing outside?’
‘Oh, nothing much. Hanging out, you know as you do.'
‘If you seek entry to Dinorben you must go to the town of Pontarcwai and wait for Chulainn of the Clyr and his people. We will not permit entry to any less It is too dangerous.’
'No, it's all right. I'll stick around.’ She waited for a reply. The soldier continued to stare down at her, so she sat down with her back against the wall and looked towards the distant horizon. She pulled a comb from her rucksack and began tugging it through her tangled hair. The torch light falling on her from above disappeared, but Ace remained where she was. She could hear a muttered conversation.
'You still up there?' she shouted. The muttering stop and the light came back, only to vanish again.
Ace decided that it was time to make her move. She kicked away some of the earth from the base of the wall – she had to go quite deep but she eventually came to some cracks into which she inserted one of her cans of nitro-nine. She repeated the procedure at short intervals along the wall.
Nitro-nine was Ace's pride and joy. It's all very well when you first discover that the secret of loud bangs is the expansion of gases within confined spaces, it's great when you manage your first truly destructive chemical reaction, but the satisfying moment comes when you create an explosive that does serious damage whilst looking and sounding aesthetically pleasing. Nitro-nine would have appealed to da Vinci and been appreciated by Beethoven.
Now came the tricky bit. For maximum effect, Ace wanted the cans to explode simultaneously. She'd fiddled with the fuses and hoped that they would be right, but that had never been her strong point. With fingers crossed, she nerved herself and pulled the lid off the first can. Immediately she raced to unleash the rest of the cans. With scant time to spare she headed down the hill.
There wasn't perfect synchronicity, but it did the job. The first blast knocked Ace off her feet, and the three others took out most of the wall. Within seconds of the echoes dying away, Ace heard hoofbeats pounding up the hill. Bat was at the head of the herd and Ace wasted no time in leaping on her back.
What was left of the wall presented no obstacle to the nimble feet of the Ceffyl. They were over it and into the valley in no time. Ace gave a wild victory whoop and pointed Bat tow the circle that led home.
11:
Corn Circles
Arthur looked with distaste at the two eggs gazing up at him from the sputtering oil. His head was still reeling from the whisky he had downed the night before. He had received word as to how much he could expect to be paid for the pub - it was nowhere near enough, considering what he had put into the pub. At the same time, to his' frustration the pub was not a going concern and he really had little alternative but to sell.
He tilted the frying pan to stop the eggs sticking and then transferred them to the warm plate underneath the grill. A health-conscious person would be balked at the sight of the plate - fried bread, tomatoes, sausages, bacon, mushrooms, baked beans and now eggs. Arthur picked up a tea towel and wrapped his hand in it so that he could carry the meal out.
The rather large gentleman was seated by the fireside when the took the breakfast in. Arthur placed the plate before him.
‘Ah, thank you.’
‘Would you like some tea, sir.’