Peatwood dived backwards as the bark ghoul swung again, one hand clutching his swelling nose. Flett grabbed his podgy hand and began to sprint around the semicircle of brambly trees surrounding the phraxmine.
The bark ghoul was faster than they were. However, it was impeded by the fact that it was much larger than its quarry, and had to negotiate the labyrinth of blackened trunks. Perhaps there were going to be able to slip around the phraxmine undetected after all.
Unfortunately, their luck ran out.
"Did you hear that, Gork-Teg?" shouted a hammerhead goblin somewhere off to Flett's left.
"There's someone in there," said a second.
"Naw, it's only a bark ghoul," growled a flathead.
"A bark ghoul that's chasing someone, you halfwit!" roared the first hammerhead.
"Cut 'em off!" bellowed the second hammerhead. "They're trying to circle around the perimeter! We'll ambush 'em!"
It was no good. If they kept going, they might escape the bark ghoul, but they'd run right into the waiting arms of the phraxmine overseers. Their only hope was to cut across the glade itself, and hope that both the overseers and the bark ghoul would be caught by surprise.
Flett gestured at Peatwood, who understood immediately. As one, they turned and burst out of the trees. They were now running out in the open, in plain sight of anyone who might cast their gaze in that direction.
At first, the three muscular goblins didn't seem to notice anything. They continued to move towards the outer edge of the phraxmine, as Flett and Peatwood dashed towards the pithead. The slaves, driven half-mad by exposure to twilight glow, barely registered the young fourthling and woodtroll who had just appeared on the scene.
The first one to react to the new turn of events was the bark ghoul.
Snapping and snarling, the brambly tree monster changed direction and came crashing out of the Deadwoods, stumbling into the clearing. Through the thick, foggy air, Flett could see the creature's three dark eyes focused directly upon him and Peatwood.
The startled goblin overseers snapped a look towards the bark ghoul stomping in the direction of the pithead, and then their eyes found the two individuals it was chasing.
"There! Over there, Thugwitt!"
The goblins began to dash in the direction of Flett and Peatwood. But they seemed much too far away to catch up, and they weren't as fast as the monster chasing them. Flett figured that the bark ghoul was their most pressing concern now.
He was wrong.
There came the sounds of glistergun fire, and all of a sudden the bark ghoul let out an earsplitting roar of pain as two of its branches were blown off by energy charges. Another volley of shots blasted it in the back, and the beast came crashing to the ground.
Now that the bark ghoul had been dealt with, the overseers directed their attention to Flett and Peatwood.
"Come on!" Peatwood screamed. "Back into the Deadwoods!"
They had no choice. The Twilight Woods side of the phraxmine was still so far away, and even now more overseers were surging out of barracks on either side. The only option was to go back.
They dashed away from the pithead and threw themselves back into the tangle of dead trees just as a fresh wave of blasts kicked up the dirt around them.
"They won't get far," Flett heard the flathead growling. "Put every phraxmine on the alert. We'll catch them!"
As they dashed on ahead, weaving wildly between trunks, they heard the sounds of pursuing goblins. Every so often, they passed into an abandoned glade filled with boarded-up, run-down cabins…the buildings which had housed phraxminers during the Third Age of Flight, located so far away from the phraxmines to protect the workers from twilight madness, before Vartolius Xax had ordered a new barracks to be constructed directly on-site, sacrificing the workers' safety in the name of efficiency. Whenever they heard the sounds of stampeding overseers drawing nearer, Flett and Peatwood switched direction, determined to lose their pursuers.
And suddenly, they caught sight of a totally unexpected structure ahead of them. Resting in a tree less than strides ahead of them were a pair of old-fashioned sky galleons, their flight-rocks removed and their outlines disfigured by a network of platforms and staircases. For some reason, this structure was not run-down and crumbling like everything else out here. A rope ladder dangled from one of the open doorways, extending down to the ground.
"Climb up!" shouted Flett without a moment's hesitation. He scrambled up the ladder at lightning speed, Peatwood directly behind him, as the yells grew nearer. By the time the charging goblins arrived on the scene, they had disappeared inside. They dashed past, taking no notice.
"Hello," came a deep voice behind them. They jumped in fright and looked around. A dark shadow was moving towards them. The next moment, light flared from an ancient oil lamp, casting a flickering glow over the scene.
The speaker was a grizzled old flathead, but there were others inside this strange building. Flett saw a shryke-mate with dull purplish-blue plumage, a stooped gabtroll that was missing an eyestalk, a young but heavily-scarred and pockmarked oakelf, and a gaunt fourthling with a thick gray beard.
The instant that the lights had flickered on, all five of them recoiled, staring at the red jacket that Flett was wearing. "He's with the Empire!" shouted the oakelf.
"We can't let him reveal our secret," wheezed the gabtroll, drawing a chipped scimitar from his belt.
"No! No!" cried Peatwood, diving in front of Flett and holding his arms wide. "It's all right! He's a deserter!"
"Are you sure?" said the fourthling, folding his arms. "Are you quite sure?"
"They could both be spies," squawked the shryke-mate.
"We aren't spies," said Peatwood, gingerly picking at the clumps of dried blood already forming around his bent nose.
"You're talking to them as though you know them," said Flett in confusion.
"I know of them," said Peatwood. "Shuttlers, they call themselves. Not long ago, there were dozens of groups like this, stationed all over the Eastern Woods. They were a mixture of Omniphrax academics and disillusioned citizens of the Empire, all working to help runaways escape. They used to act as waypoints for those heading to Omniphrax, each group guiding travelers to the next. Most of them got stamped out by glistership patrols, and the Empire thinks they're all gone, but it was always rumored that a few of them remained."
"I can't answer for any other groups," said the flathead. "We could well be the very last Shuttlers still out there. Most in Omniphrax no longer think Shuttling is worth the risk. These days, those who want to help rescue the oppressed of the Empire become Pirates Academic."
"We feel differently," said the fourthling. "Certainly the Pirates Academic have been able to rescue people in greater volumes, but what about individuals like you, who have already fled from the Empire and need help to complete the journey? There's not a smidgen of help the Pirates Academic can offer you. That's the whole point of Shuttling. Once we're all gone, they'll have little hope."
"As it is, we have precious little capacity to help," said the oakelf. "This structure we're in…it used to be a tavern. 'The Hulks', they called it. It's cozy enough, but hardly a useful hideout. When we can, we steal supplies from nearby phraxmines, but we have nothing to offer you at the moment."
"You did help," said Flett. "Thanks to you, we lost our pursuers. You have our eternal gratitude."
"We only wish we could do more," said the gabtroll, his single eyestalk bouncing. "It sounds as though the overseers have gone. Head for the Twilight Woods, and make haste!"
With heartfelt goodbyes to their rescuers, Flett and Peatwood descended the rope ladder and set off into the dark trees once more. This time, they never changed direction, moving purposefully ahead, as the mists grew thicker and thicker, the air starting to twinkle, the atmosphere flooding their heads as though they were submerged in liquid…
"Flett," said Peatwood softly, as they pressed on between the dead trunks. "My nose. It doesn't hurt anymore."
Flett glanced at the woodtroll. The pain may have left him, but his nose didn't look any better. He stared around at the twinkling of the thousands of twinkling phraxcrystals, at the swirling sepia dust whooshing through the half-lit glades…
"This is it," he said. "We've reached the Twilight Woods."