"He won't stop," Alan said, to the winds, to the water, to the vaulted
ceiling, to the scurrying retreat of the goblin. "I think he'll kill me
if he goes on. He's torturing me. You've seen it. Look at him!"
Davey was thrashing in the water, his face swollen and bloody, his eyes
rattling like dried peas in a maraca. Alan's fingers, still buried in
Davey's shiny blond hair, kept brushing up against the swollen bruises
there, getting bigger by the moment. "I'll *fucking* kill you!" Davey
howled, screaming inchoate into the echo that came back from his call.
"Shhh," Alan said into his ear. "Shhh. Listen, Davey, please, shhh."
Davey's roar did not abate. Alan thought he could hear the whispers and
groans of their father in the wind, but he couldn't make it
out. "Please, shhh," he said, gathering Davey in a hug that pinned his
arms to his sides, putting his lips up against Davey's ear, holding him
still.
"Shhh," he said, and Davey stopped twitching against him, stopped his
terrible roar, and they listened.
At first the sound was barely audible, a soughing through the tunnels,
but gradually the echoes chased each other round the great cavern and
across the still, dark surface of the lake, and then a voice, illusive
as a face in the clouds.
"My boys," the voice said, their father said. "My sons. David, Alan. You
must not fight like this.
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