Free The Owl Service by Alan Garner

reverting to swamp.
    Gwyn made towards the light. Alison had stopped, and Gwyn approached very slowly. He was within a few yards of her when the light was switched off.
    Now what? She can’t see any better than me, so she’ll still be there: dead ahead, to the left of that stump –
    The light came on again, but far over to the right, almost out of his vision.
    What’s she playing at?
    It was moving at walking pace, flickering, as though the battery was giving out. Gwyn followed.
    How’s she got there so fast? I didn’t hear her. He listened. The river was at the back of every sound, but his ears were used to the night.
    She must have flew.
    He followed the light. Alison began to zigzag.
    She can’t know I’ve rumbled her. What’s she up to?
    And the light went out again.
    Not twice you don’t, girlie.
    Gwyn bent low to skyline Alison. She was somewhere near the edge of the wood, and the trees were black against the silver mountain.
    Now then.
    But the light came on even farther away, and well inside the wood. The battery was keeping up, but the light still flickered.
    Weak connection, thought Gwyn. But how’re you moving so fast? What’s she after? Wanting to get me flustered so she can give me the slip?
    Gwyn checked that Alison had not put him on the bright screen of moonlight. Still crouching, he ran for the cover of a tree, and stood up against it.
    He was beginning to enjoy the game.
    Hard luck, girlie. What are you going to do now?
    The light was steady.
    Your move, old stick.
    Gwyn’s head jerked back against the tree. The light was still there, but another had appeared, a hundred feet away to the left. Two of them. And the first light now came mincing towards him.
    Gwyn swirled round the trunk. There was a third pale fire behind him. He saw that they were not torches, and never had been. He stood as if bound to the tree. They were flames. They had trapped him.
    If I shout no one’ll hear.
    The flames walked, two at a distance, casual, backwards and forwards, marking him off from the world outside the wood, while the first flame came on.
    Sometimes it sank to the ground, or paused, or turned aside from Gwyn for a moment. And then it came on.
    This is where Huw’s old feller went mad. Get me out of here. Get me out of here.
    And sometimes the flame grew tall, and wavered, like laughter.
    How do I stop from going mad? He wasn’t hurt, was he? He couldn’t stand it: inside: in his head. Think, man! You’re not a peasant! Do something! Use your loaf!
    â€˜The – acceleration. Acceleration of – of a free falling body – is thirty-two – thirty-two feet per second per second.’”
    There were more flames. He was aware of them, but could not take his eyes off the big flame. It was moving slowly: tottering: playing with him, and coming nearer.
    I shan’t go mad. What did the old feller see? – Shut up! “‘The acceleration of a free falling body is thirty-two feet per second per second. Per second per second.’” It’s only fire. That’s all. What happened to him, though? “‘I before E, except after C’!” shouted Gwyn.
    But the flame was as tall as he was, and stood before him.
    â€œâ€˜1536, Statute of Union! 1543, Wales divided into twelve counties! Representatives sent to Westminster!
    â€œâ€˜Matter consists of – of three – three classes of substance! An Element! A – a Compound! And a mixture! Describe an experiment!’ Mam! ‘Grind! Grind – together! Together – ten grammes of fused sodium acetate and fifteen grammes of soda lime! Place some of the mixture in the test-tube, Mam, and heat strongly! Then – then NaC 2 H 3 O 4 + NaOH = Na 2 CO 3 + CH 1 !’ It does! It does! It does!”
    The other flames danced.
    Gwyn stopped. It was very quiet in the wood. Gwyn stared at the flame. He let go of the tree, and took a slow step