A House of Cards

by Douglas Bornemann

  Past the alcove, the passages lost their rough-hewn character and became more cave-like. In places, Alexi caught the distant echo of rushing water, and occasional unwelcome droplets smote him from above. Soon, the passage gave way to an expansive cavern. Dona drew her confiscated cloak tight against the deepening chill. As they picked their way downward, the musty smell gave way to one far more cloying and intense. A high-pitched chittering erupted overhead, and when Alexi held his sword aloft, the cavern’s roof twinkled like the sky on a moonless night.

  He strained his arm for a better look. Lost in the distraction of the roof, he failed to notice the steeply sloped floor had become slick. Despite Dona’s support, he slipped. Dona screeched as he dragged her down with him. Together, they slid past Alphonse, who leapt out of their way, and into Brent. The air about their heads churned—the chittering became deafening.

  The Monsignor shielded his eyes with the crook of his arm. “Bats.”

  Alexi, Dona, and Brent’s willy-nilly slide ended as they plowed into a pungent mass the consistency of curdled milk.

  “Ugh, guano.” Alexi said. “I think we’ve found the source of the smell. Is everyone all right?”

  Brent clambered to his feet “No, you oaf, everyone is not all right. Look what you’ve done.” He held out his muck-slathered journal. “How do you expect me to read this?”

  “It’s not like I did it on purpose. And you could have warned us that the floor was getting slippery.”

  Brent sputtered “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  The Monsignor intervened. “Done is done, gentlemen. Let’s see if we can clean it up.”

  Brent grudgingly relinquished the soiled journal.

  The Monsignor produced a strip of white fabric.

  Dona recognized it immediately. “Oh, Monsignor, not your stole.”

  “There are more where this came from.” He dabbed away the worst of the malodorous grime and wrapped the journal in the cloth. “I’ll need to wet it for the rest. For that matter, the three of you could also stand a good rinse. From the sound of it, water can’t be far off. Shall we make for it?”

  Brent gaped at him. “Are you mad? We dare not deviate from the path.”

  “Without the journal, do we even know where that is?”

  “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  “So noted, Mr. Brent.”

  They picked their way carefully around the edge of the cavern until they came to a narrow side-passage. The sound of rushing water was louder here, and the air from the passage comparatively fresh. It took very little encouragement for even the sullen Bursar to nod his assent.

  “But I’m not going first,” he said. “Not without the journal.”

  Alphonse stepped forward. “I’ll go first.”

  Since it took a bit of climbing, the side passage proved difficult for Alexi and the Monsignor, but with grim determination and a few bumps and bruises, they made slow progress. Alexi had to renew the light several times, but eventually the difficult stretch was crossed by a trickle of fresh water. It emerged from a broad cleft and disappeared into another in the passage’s opposite wall. They followed the trickle’s channel down a shallow slope, hoping to discover a pool large enough to meet their needs. The omnipresent rumble of rushing water told them it couldn’t be far, but the sound proved deceptive. After a short stretch, the trickle disappeared down a hole they couldn’t follow. They were forced to retrace their steps.

  “I told you so,” Brent said. “You can’t expect to navigate this maze without a guide.”

  The Monsignor paused. “Using the journal while soiled might end up obscuring more information. Are you suggesting we try?”

  “Can’t we just find some water first?” Dona asked. “There must be some nearby. I’m not sure how much longer I can take this stench.”

  Alexi peered into the opposite cleft. “Maybe there’s a pool upstream? The water must be coming from somewhere.”

  The Monsignor eyed the slope dubiously. “All right, then. Upward it is.”

  Brent shook his head, but followed.

  After a short climb, the passage widened. The farther they went, the more the ceiling dripped. Subtle colors played across the occasional gleaming stalactite. The passage was anything but even, and the path was made more treacherous by odd shadows and reflections. They slowed to a crawl. Eventually, the walls of the passage fell away, revealing an immense cavern. The ceiling, now far above, dripped stalactites to either side like the ribs of some great sea creature. A multitude of pools lay before them, stretching beyond the power of Alexi’s blade to illuminate.

  “Finally,” Dona said. “Alexi, can you make me a new light?”

  Alexi sighed wearily. “Do we really need another?”

  She patted his cheek. “Even though I love you all, a bath is not something I’m willing to share.”

  He was too tired to fight. In short order, the glow from her locket added to that of the blade.

  Dona strode off among the pools. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

  Alphonse crossed his arms. “Do you really think it’s safe for her to go alone like that?”

  The Monsignor shrugged. “There’s been no sign of Chervillian construction for some time. We’re likely beyond the range of any deliberate traps. If she watches her step, she should be all right. Why don’t you gentlemen clean up, and I’ll see what I can do about restoring this journal.”

  . . . . .

  Dona looked forward to getting clean again, even if it meant a quick dip in a bitterly cold cavern pool. After only a few minutes, she found one appropriately out of sight. The sound of rushing water thundered through a broad fissure on the pool’s opposite side.

  After a glance over her shoulder, she reached into her habit pocket for her collection of odds and ends. Despite her collision with Alexi and the Bursar, the wands from the altar were unscathed. Setting them aside, she examined the Vismort’s ring—and nearly dropped it—the resemblance to the jewelry in her hope chest was uncanny. It could almost have been a matching piece. There was something odd about it. She turned it back and forth—and then she had it. She tucked her locket into her habit, dousing the light. Despite the sudden darkness, she could still see the ring plainly. It had a faint glow—much fainter than her locket—but unmistakable.

  That’s odd.

  The allure of getting clean was too strong for her to dwell on the ring. She stripped off her soiled clothes and rinsed the habit in the pool repeatedly. Satisfied the fabric was as clean as she could get it, she stepped into the pool. She could only tolerate the frigid water for a minute or so, but despite the bone-chilling cold, she felt much better for it. She slipped into her clothes again, but since they were still wet, they offered precious little warmth—she would need to stay active. She vigorously swished the cloak, which had been far more thoroughly soiled than the habit, but the water numbed her hands. When the cloak snagged a branch, she snatched it up and swirled with that instead.

  Idly, she wondered what kind of tree it could have come from. With sudden realization, she drew back the branch for a closer look—it wasn’t so much a branch as a bone, and she had a sickening feeling it was probably human. Tossing it aside, she held the locket over the pool. Its bottom was littered with bones. Wide-eyed, she backed away.

  “Alexi.” Her voice echoed across the chamber.

  “Are you done?” he asked.

  “Oh, I’m done, all right. Could you come over here? And bring Alphonse with you. I’m not sure we’re alone in here.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alphonse’s blade sang free of its scabbard. “Are you all right?”

  “I think so.” Keeping a close eye on her surroundings, she snatched up her collection and stuffed it in her pocket.

  “Are you coming?” Her voice held an uncharacteristic tremor.

  When Alphonse finally appeared, he carried Alexi’s lighted sword. Dona was still peering about with the lo
cket held high.

  “Are you looking for something?” he asked

  “I’m not sure. Take a look in that pool, and you tell me.”

  Alphonse approached the water.

  Dona shivered. “Don’t get too close.”

  He held out the sword. “Are those bones?”

  “They sure look like it to me.”

  Brent arrived next. “Bones?”

  A plume of water shot out from a fissure across the pool. Alphonse leapt back, but too late to avoid a soaking. The passage gurgled, spilling into the pool several more times before settling down to its customary roar.

  “In the pool,” Dona said. “At the bottom.”

  Brent approached the water. “The light, if you please.”

  The fissure sputtered again, and more water spilled out. Alphonse edged forward to light the Bursar’s view.

  “They’re human,” Brent said.

  Dona nodded. “I thought so too.”

  Alexi limped closer for a look, while the Monsignor sidled toward the fissure to see what lay beyond. He stepped back just in time as more water gushed into the cavern.

  “Why does it keep doing that?” Dona asked.

  “You mean the water?” Alexi said. “It probably always does that.”

  “It didn’t do that the entire time I was bathing.”

  The fissure surged again. The pool was noticeably deeper than it had been.

  “We must be very close,” the Bursar said.

  “Close to what?” Alexi asked.

  “The funerarium—where the souls of the dead are prepared. We might be able to find our way from there, assuming the journal is readable again.”

  A rushing torrent interrupted Alexi’s next question—the fissure’s flow was now constant and increasing.

  The Monsignor had to shout. “We’d better find it soon—or be ready to swim.”

  Dona’s shoes were already partially submerged. “We won’t last long in water this cold. Let’s get out of here.”

  “We can’t,” the Monsignor said. “Once this water hits the sloped passage, it could fill completely. Even if we didn’t drown, we’d be dashed to death.”

  “There,” Brent cried, pointing upward.

  Alphonse held up the sword. Far above, where wall met ceiling, they spied another opening, partially blocked by a railing.

  “The funerarium,” Brent said. “It has to be.”

  Dona’s heart sank. The frigid water was already lapping at her ankles, and the railing was 30 feet up. With two of them unable to climb, it might as well have been a mile.

  Alphonse switched swords with Alexi again. He then turned to Dona. “May I?”

  She passed him the locket.

  “I’m going to see if there’s something up there that can help us.”

  The climb’s first few feet were easy, but as he got higher up, the cave wall curved outward over the cavern floor. He got stuck once, and at another point he nearly lost his grip, but by the time the water reached Dona’s calf, he was waving at them from the railing.

  “I’ll be back,” he said. And then he was gone.

  Dona approached the wall. “Bring the sword over here.”

  Alexi eyed her quizzically as he approached.

  “Perfect,” she said. She began to climb.

  “What are you doing?” Alexi asked.

  “I’m going to see if he needs help.”

  “You’ll never make it. You’ll break your neck.”

  She inspected the wall intently for fingerholds. “Alphonse didn’t.”

  “Alphonse is—”

  “A man?” Dona asked.

  “—an athlete.”

  “I guess we’ll see if that makes a difference, then. Move the light.”

  Grudgingly, Alexi shifted the sword. “This is crazy.”

  “So is standing around waiting to drown. I’d rather die trying.”

  The Monsignor cleared his throat. “Alphonse may find something to help. Shouldn’t you give him a chance?”

  “If he does, I’ll be one fewer person to pull up. Light, please.”

  Alexi adjusted his position.

  The Monsignor tried again. “But if you’re injured, you may not be able to help.”

  Dona didn’t reply. She had reached the difficult stretch and was discovering that Alphonse had made the climb appear much easier than it was. Her fingers had gone numb—she had lost any sense of precision.

  She pushed forward on determination alone, struggling to follow Alphonse’s trail. Inch by painful inch, she dragged herself upward. She looked down only once and was horrified by the drop. But the sight of Alexi standing in frigid water above his knees steeled her resolve. Stretched to her absolute limit, she grabbed the railing.

  Applause and a collective sigh of relief rose up from below. Then she lost her grip. With a shriek, she fell away from the wall and dangled by one hand from the railing. Her fingers dug into rusty, flaking metal. She tightened her handhold. Forcing herself to focus, she stretched her free hand toward the railing, but no longer had the strength to reach that far. The wall was also out of reach. With nowhere left to turn, she looked down. She was out of options.

  “I’ll catch you,” Alexi cried.

  “Alexi,” the Monsignor said, “back away. If she hits you, you could both die. Let her try to hit the water.”

  “It’s not deep enough.”

  “It’s her only chance.”

  Alexi hesitated.

  The Monsignor spoke with quiet intensity. “Alexi, you must give her space.”

  His eyes fixed on Dona, Alexi swallowed hard and took several steps back.

  The Monsignor called out. “Fall backward, but don’t overdo. If you hit flat, the water may break your fall.”

  Dona stared at the water and whimpered. With what little feeling remained in her fingers, she sensed the railing slipping away.

  Viselike fingers encircled her wrist. “Give me your other hand,” Alphonse ordered. Within moments, he lifted her to safety.

  Alexi whooped with joy. Even Brent applauded. The Monsignor sighed and bowed his head in silence.

  Weeping openly, Dona threw herself into Alphonse’s arms.

  “You’re safe,” he said, “but we need to hurry if we hope to help the others.”

  She sniffled a few times before she caught her breath, mortified she’d allowed her pride to circumvent reason—but she didn’t have the luxury to dwell on it. “Did you find anything?”

  Alphonse held up the locket. The room was small. Tiny alcoves carved into the walls held old candles in various stages of consumption. Near them stood a metal brazier. A circle of corrosion by the railing suggested that Alphonse had moved it from the balcony. Perhaps it had been placed there to vent its smoke into the larger cave beyond. Dona longed for a means to light it, if only to recover the feeling in her fingers.

  A stone platform occupied the room’s center. In some respects, such as a frieze of skulls around its edge, it resembled the altar from the Vismort’s chamber. But unlike that altar, this platform’s top was tilted and its surface inscribed with deep channels that converged to a lip on its lower end. Implements of cruelty hung from the walls. Knives, tongs and hooks were all represented. Many had corroded, but a few still seemed pristine. Dona took down a corrosion-free knife.

  “Brass, I think. And coated with something. Some sort of resin maybe.”

  Alphonse struggled to open an iron-bound door that now stood slightly ajar. The hinges had rusted tight. “The water is loud over here. Good thing you yelled. If you hadn’t, I would never have heard you.”

  “What’s this?” Dona asked, inspecting a large furry lump resting amongst the cobwebs on the platform.”

  Alphonse shuddered. “If you want to know, you are braver than I am.”

  She prodded it with the knife “No, seriously.”

  Alphonse yanked the door again, but it didn’t budge. “I was serious. Hey, I could use a hand over here.”

  Do
na didn’t reply. She was staring in shock at the ball of fur. For one who had lived her entire life under his reproachful eye, there was no mistaking the distinctive face of Mr. Lop Ears.

  “What is it?”

  “Oh, nothing,” Dona said.

  “Hey—isn’t that just like the one you have?” Alphonse said. “You know—the stuffed toy on your hope chest. Helena said it was yours.”

  “I guess there’s a slight resemblance. They must have been popular back in the day… Wait, what were you doing in my room?”

  “Just visiting.”

  “You could be expelled for that.”

  “If we don’t get out of here, the point will be moot. Could I get a little assistance, please?” Alphonse grabbed a hammer. “You pull, while I pound the rust off these hinges.”

  The rust fell away more easily than expected, as did one entire hinge. With it gone, they pried the door open enough to squeeze through. The sound of rushing water was deafening.

  Alphonse went first. Before them, a great chasm reached upward into darkness. The channel below churned with raging water. They stood atop a rock outcrop that jutted out over the flow. A narrow bridge suspended from thick ropes spanned the chasm, reaching across to a ledge that followed the river.

  Alphonse tugged on a rope. “How is this still standing? It must be at least as old as the door.”

  Dona inspected the fibers. “Resin again, I think. The ropes are caked with it. And look, so are the slats.”

  “Do you think it would still bear a person’s weight?”

  “I have no idea. It seems to be in good shape, but how do you tell if they missed a spot?”

  “We’ll need a piece of that rope.”

  “I see what you mean—we can’t untie it from this side.”

  Alphonse cocked an ear. “Did you hear that?”

  “All I hear is water.”

  “I’m going back to check on them.”

  Together they made their way back to the balcony. The water had risen to Alexi’s waist. Alexi and the Monsignor supported Brent, who shivered violently.

  “Alphonse,” Alexi cried. “Where are you?”

  “I’m here. What’s happening down there?”

  “He’s freezing to death,” the Monsignor said. “And I daresay Alexi and I are soon to follow. If you are going to find anything to help, it had best be soon.”