The chamberlain’s quarters were near the guard station, and Melzar was startled by heavy pounding on his door. “Melzar, open up!” demanded a loud voice.
The old man, attired in the impeccable garb of the high court, opened the door to reveal Samoth and a group of guards supporting a limp and bloodied man.
Samoth stepped forward and shouted, “Jabin has appointed you keeper of the keys, and by command of the Queen of Heaven, this man is condemned to the land of the forgotten!” Even as Samoth spoke, the men around him withdrew in fear.
Melzar felt a bit dizzy as he turned to examine the prisoner. Who is this? he wondered. Suddenly Thomas raised his head, and his swollen eyes met those of his friend.
Melzar gasped. “What has this man done to deserve such a fate?”
“Why does it matter to you, old man?” Samoth said with a sneer.
“I do not readily hand out the keys to the darkened door,” Melzar said steadily. “It must be a very serious charge indeed.”
“He asked the Lady to leave her throne,” Samoth said. “We will put an end to such insolence. Quick, give us the key.”
Melzar scowled and fumbled through the many keys on his ring. Finally he withdrew a long black key, which he touched with loathing. Presenting it to Samoth, he said, “I cannot come with you. I have many pressing concerns. You may open the door yourself.”
Samoth seemed to recoil. “Give the key to him,” he said, pointing to the burly man who was holding Thomas. The big man scowled but took the key in trembling fingers.
Melzar turned troubled eyes upon Thomas. How could he lose such a friend? But wait! What was that? What was Thomas doing with his hand?
To Melzar’s surprise and great joy, he noticed that Thomas had crossed his forefinger and thumb to form a cross. The old man looked again into the face of his friend and saw a faint smile.
A strange boldness enveloped the old man, and with only a glance at Samoth, he crossed his own thumb and forefinger. Thomas and Melzar’s eyes met one last time, and Melzar’s heart leaped for joy.
The guards grew more pensive with each descending step, but strangely, Thomas gained new strength. He was familiar with these steps, and the stench did not render him afraid. Had he not traversed these steps countless times in his attempt to cleanse the prison?
The group moved more slowly with each descending flight, and those at the rear fled when they were out of Samoth’s sight. Only a very few reached the final flight of steps to the heavy iron door. Samoth’s torch flickered in the stagnant air. He stopped at the landing and held his torch aloft. “Take him down and unlock the door,” he commanded.
The men holding Thomas stood as if riveted to the floor. They felt a tug as Thomas began to lead the way. Step by step, they descended until they stood before the frightful door. The guard with the key could not move.
Thomas turned to him. “Let me,” he said, reaching for the key. A few moments passed as he fumbled with the lock, but everyone heard a loud click, and darkness swirled into the stairwell as the dark door swung open. A putrid odor poured onto the landing and began to climb the stairs.
The guards threw their weapons down and raced up the stairs toward Samoth’s light.
In the growing darkness, Thomas turned to face Samoth. “I pray you find forgiveness in the Lord Jesus!” Raising his hand in farewell, he turned and stepped into the darkness.
“Shut that door!” Samoth screamed. Two men rushed down the stairs and slammed the door. The earth shuddered, and thunder boomed up the staircase. The darkness began to dissipate, and Samoth’s torch once again shone bright.
“Give me that key,” Samoth demanded. The guards raced back up the steps and placed the key in his outstretched palm. Samoth glanced at the key and realized for the first time that his hands were stained with Thomas’s blood. Turning, he nearly ran up the stairs, hoping to find a wash basin to remove the last vestige of Thomas from his hands and his mind.
Maria tossed and turned beneath her covers. The night was young, but Samoth was already gone. His touch had left her cold and dissatisfied.
Tossing her covers aside, she leaped from the bed. At once she began to pace the room, feeling caged like some animal. She needed space, and when she spied the stairs leading to the roof, she instantly began to climb. She knew these stairs were only used on Holy Nights, but right now she didn’t care. She climbed rapidly and only paused for a moment at the door that led to the roof. Should she go on? Why not? Who could stop her?
Lifting the latch, she shoved the heavy door aside and slipped quietly out onto the roof. Everything was quiet. Tonight, eerie shadows greeted her with mock severity. Tomorrow night things would be so different. She would be met with bonfires, people, praise, and adulation. She would be the center of her kingdom’s attention.
She stepped quickly to the altar centered on the flagstone rooftop and rehearsed the ritual in her mind. Usually she felt exhilaration, but tonight everything seemed dull and absurd.
Trying to catch the thrill of former services, Maria climbed the altar’s rough stone steps and knelt to stroke an imaginary sacrifice. Virgin maidens would dance and keep time in a circle below. Suddenly Maria stopped, disgust filling her soul. “I can’t do this!” she cried.
Desperation filled her heart. She felt dirty and alone. Samoth was using her! Even this worship service reduced her to nothing more than a courtesan. Maria recoiled. Was she a deity or a laughingstock?
Bitter tears rolled down her cheeks. Falling prostrate upon the altar, Maria thought she heard a mournful wail far away. Her heart stood still. Had she only imagined it?
Visions of a handsome slave filled her mind. Could it have been …? Her mind reeled. Dreadful memories of Thomas’s battered face focused in her mind. She shuddered at the thought of his dark tomb.
Turning her eyes to the brilliant moon above, she cried out, “What have I done?” Sobbing, Maria laid her head on the rough stones of the altar. The moon kept silent vigil as she wept.
Finally, her tears spent, Maria raised her head and studied her surroundings. Nothing had changed. She was still alone. “I have nowhere to turn,” she said. “If I want power, I shall have to use my own. If I want counsel, I shall give my own. If I want comfort, I shall have to make my own!”
Resolve grew within her heart. Whether Samoth used her or not, whether she felt the thrill of worship or not, she would go on! She would persevere. “Tomorrow is a new day,” she said with growing conviction. “Tomorrow is my day.” Rising to her feet, Maria raised her fist to the moon. “I’ll show you! I don’t need you or anyone else. I can make it on my own!”
Far beneath Maria, in the depths of the earth, Thomas was fighting a battle of his own. He had been so bold when he could still see the light in Samoth’s hand, but when the door crashed shut, his world disappeared in darkness. He heard the key scrape in the lock and reeled at the finality of his sentence. Terror gripped him as he groped for the wall. What lay beyond him? He had never been able to see beyond the door, but he was quite sure a narrow ledge was all that separated him from a very deep chasm. What would happen if he stepped one way or another? Would he disappear into the caverns below as had all those he had brought here?
What of Melzar? Would he come to the rescue? Would Samoth even return the key? All questions faded as Thomas realized he could not stand in the darkness forever. Carefully he dropped to one knee and settled to the ground, all the while touching the door with one hand. He did not want to lose that door! Placing his back against the cold iron aperture, Thomas settled back to see what would happen.
In what might have been minutes or hours—time was impossible to determine—there grew the sounds of small, padded feet scurrying all around him. Miniature voices called to each other in a language of their own.
Thomas shifted his weight more firmly against the door. When he dropped his hand to the floor, it bumped a
furry creature, which let out a frightened squeal. Thomas jerked his hand away.
Thousands of tiny voices took up the frightened cry, and Thomas joined the clamor. “Oh, Lord,” he shouted in desperation, “calm my fears!”
The cries of his unseen companions slowly subsided, and some sense of calm returned to Thomas. Maybe it’s nothing dreadful, he thought as he brushed his hand slowly around at his side. His fingers connected with a large furry object, and the creature darted swiftly away.
Rats, Thomas thought with disgust. He moved his feet gingerly, but nothing seemed to contend for the space about them. Rats must not like the edge of this cavern either, he thought to himself.
Thomas began to realize that he could not move without disturbing a growing number of rats that, like him, were clinging to the wall. Easing himself forward, he heard tiny feet rush past him in their haste to some predetermined destination. All was good until Thomas suddenly realized he had lost the door. Which way should he move? Not daring to make a mistake, he wrapped his arms about his knees and sat perfectly still.
He sat for what seemed like years, pondering his next move. The wounds inflicted upon his body hurt so badly, and here in the darkness there was no distraction to take his mind from the pain. Thomas thought of Melzar occasionally, but as time lapsed, so did his hope of rescue.
An endless stream of unseen visitors passed close to Thomas. When some stopped to investigate, Thomas swung his arms to rebuff them, but eventually he grew too weary for even that limited activity.
Drifting into an eerie slumber, Thomas dreamed of rats feasting on an endless procession of corpses. He could hear the rats’ laughter as they called to one another in their foreign tongue. Helplessly, Thomas watched lifeless men march down an endless stairway, plunging headlong into the abyss of the rat kingdom.
Suddenly Thomas saw his own face among those marching in the long procession. “No!” he tried to shout, but the line of men continued descending toward the abyss. “No!” he screamed again, but still they moved forward. The edge of the abyss loomed into sight, and unable to stop his own march, Thomas felt his stomach pitch as he fell headlong over the side. He imagined huge rats with forks and knives in their unwashed hands, and napkins about their necks, awaiting a signal from their king.
“No!” Thomas screamed as their sharp knives cut into his flesh.
Thomas awoke with a start to find that he was indeed surrounded by furry creatures. There was a sharp sting as another rat bit his leg. Thomas flailed wildly, and rats scattered. Kicking again, Thomas’s legs suddenly sailed into nothingness.
Grasping madly for something to hold, Thomas’s hands came up empty. His feet flailed as his body slid over the edge. A scream rent the darkness.
Silence settled upon the cavern, until once again the soft pad of tiny feet could be heard moving toward a feast already in progress.
CHAPTER 25
Detour
Rudy and Wart stood surrounded by tall trees and thick brush. The forest was dark, and little light filtered through the treetops. When Seagood and Mathias had darted into the surrounding brush, searching for the elusive watchers, Wart had not noticed movement in the shadows. Suddenly a hand reached from the underbrush, clamped over his mouth and jerked him backward off his feet. Twist as he might, he could not free himself from his captor.
With his back to Wart, Rudy hissed, “Quiet! I think I hear something.”
Wart tried to shout, but all that escaped was a muffled, “Mmph!”
Rudy turned to discover two men on top of the squirming lad. Instantly, his sword cleared its sheath.
Six swords met his own, but what stopped Rudy was not fear for himself; it was the terror in Wart’s eyes. A sword lay at Wart’s throat. Reluctantly, Rudy tossed his own sword to the ground. “If this isn’t a fine kettle of fish,” the big man said with a groan. They were completely surrounded, and it was clear that more men were in the shadows. “Don’t struggle, Wart. It won’t make things easier.”
Wart and Rudy tried to relax, but their captors didn’t. No one moved.
“We lost him, Ru—” Mathias began as he and Seagood appeared from nowhere. They were instantly surrounded by drawn swords.
“Welcome home,” Rudy called. “Wart and I thought we would throw a little party for you two. Don’t look now, but there are more in the shadows.”
“What is the meaning of this?” Mathias demanded.
Rudy shrugged and turned to his captors. “Our leader has returned,” his voice boomed. “Summon your master and present your charge. We have done you no harm! Why are we being held in this manner?”
A cloaked man stepped from the shadows, his hood drawn low over his face. Seagood brushed past several blades to meet him.
“Are you the leader of this rabble?” Rudy asked. “What is our crime, and why have you taken us captive?”
The cloaked man studied Seagood and then turned to Rudy. “Why doesn’t your master speak for himself?”
Rudy glanced at Seagood in surprise. Their captor clearly spoke in the common tongue of Amity.
“Who are you?” Rudy asked. “And why have you detained us?”
“I am Benhada Rooleen, Captain of the Southern Watch.” The cloaked stranger threw the hood from his face.
“Dad!” Wart shouted in surprise.
The man held his hand up for silence, never taking his eyes off Seagood. “My lord,” he said, bowing slightly. “I have presented myself. Now, will you be so good as to explain why you have disturbed us by entering the Gray Lands?”
Rudy studied Seagood for a moment and then spoke tentatively. “We tend to urgent business and did not realize we were trespassing. No harm was intended.”
“You carefully guard your words. Will you tell me plainly where you are from and where you are going?” Benhada asked.
Rudy made no response, and Wart grew uneasy.
“You refuse to speak?” the man asked.
Silence met his question.
“I cannot let you pass!” Benhada said with finality.
“But Dad—” Wart exclaimed.
Again the man held up his hand for silence. “This I will do! If you promise to cooperate, I will escort you to Gray Haven. There the master and lady will decide your fate. The woods are full of my men. Should you try to escape, you will not go far.”
Seagood weighed his options and nodded his assent.
“Release them,” Benhada Rooleen called. His soldiers released their prisoners but kept a wary eye upon them.
Wart struggled from his captor’s arms and rushed to his father. “Dad!” he cried and threw his arms around him.
“Who are these men with you, Son?” Captain Rooleen asked.
“Friends of James Stafford,” Wart began, but he stopped at a glance from both Seagood and Rudy.
“James Stafford!” Benhada exclaimed. “Well, you have chosen noble companions. I am very pleased.”
Everyone seemed to relax. Seagood and his party returned to their horses. Wart’s father spoke to his men hidden in the underbrush. “Walk your mounts until we reach the road.”
Upon reaching a narrow trail, everyone mounted, and Wart rode beside Rudy, who twisted and turned in his saddle. “What’s the matter, Rudy? We are making good time!”
“We are going the wrong way, lad,” Rudy whispered.
“I wonder where my dad is taking us.”
“Is he really your father?” Rudy asked, his voice filled with suspicion.
“Sure,” Wart said in surprise. “Don’t you think I’d know my own dad?”
“Things are not always what they seem,” Rudy whispered. “Don’t tell him too much! We don’t know if people in this country will be friendly with our purpose or not!”
“Why shouldn’t they be?” Wart asked.
“I don’t know. Nonetheless, beware!”
“Aw, nothing, Dad,” Wart answered easily. “Say, I’ve got a lot of catching up to do. Let’s start with where you went. Why are you here, and where are you taking us?”
Benhada leaned back and laughed aloud. “You haven’t changed a bit. You are still full of questions. I could always count on you to keep my trips down the river busy with questions.” He settled into the easy gait of the road. “I suppose I should go back to the last run we made down the river together. Do you remember it?”
“Remember?” Wart said. “I’ve thought of nothing so much since we parted!”
“Remember how I feared bandits on the river?” Benhada asked.
“Yes.”
“I left you at your aunt’s because I thought the river was too dangerous. I did not intend to leave you there forever. I meant to return for you, but I never made it.”
“I know. What happened?”
“I was attacked by bandits the very next day,” Benhada explained.
“How did you escape?”
“I didn’t, really,” Benhada explained. “I was nearing the rapids and had camped for the night, not wanting to hit rough water in the dark. Bandits attacked my camp and beat me. I’m sure they thought I was dead, but I’ll tell you more in a moment. Just now, we are about to enter the actual boundary of the Gray Lands.”
The group topped a large hill and dropped into a sweeping valley beyond. The moon shone on a desolate land, void of grass or trees.
“Is this the Gray Lands?” Wart asked. “It doesn’t look too great at night. Does it look any better in the daylight?”
“Not much,” his father conceded.
“Dad, if this is the beginning of the Gray Lands, why are you stationed near the river?” Wart asked.
“The river separates the Gray Lands from Endor, and the area we have just ridden through forms a buffer zone between Endor and the Gray Lands. As times have grown more dangerous, the lord and lady of the Gray Lands have positioned more soldiers along the river to watch for enemies and to limit pirate activity. The land on this side of the river helps keep the Gray Lands safe,” Benhada said.
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