“I could get into big trouble for this,” Travis said, irritated.
“If they don’t kill us,” Rhoie answered.
“We should be safe from the King’s goons, at least for tonight. I’m not worried about them.”
Rhoie followed Travis into the tomb, and Travis shut the panel, leaving them in complete darkness. Rhoie was not superstitious. Even so, he was not at all comfortable in a pitch-dark tomb surrounded by dead people. He could hear Travis bustling around, and then a small flame erupted from Travis’s hand.
“Won’t that attract the men?” Rhoie whispered.
“They can’t see it from out there, but they will know where we are soon enough.”
“What are you talking about?” Rhoie asked, as Travis started pulling out one of the sarcophagi as if it were a simple dresser drawer. The marble scraping against marble made a dreadful screeching noise, like the cry of the dead.
“Are you mad?”
The king’s men heard the noise and were soon shuffling around outside the tomb. Rhoie tried to remain calm as the smell of dried-out death and decay wafted from the sarcophagus. Travis reached into the compartment with his whole arm. Rhoie heard a small click, then Travis pulled the death drawer out even further. Of course, thought Rhoie, a passage. He got a good look at the dead body as Travis grabbed the torch and irreverently climbed over it and into the tunnel. The body was that of a woman, many years dead. Her skin pulled tight over her skull, shrinking away from the teeth and empty eye sockets. Auburn hair hung across her forehead, and Rhoie could almost imagine the woman still alive, her hair blowing in a breeze, rather than from Travis’s clumsy jostling. Her mouth hung open as if she were in the midst of a dark, eternal scream.
“Come. Hurry!”
Rhoie was thankful that he could no longer see anything inside the tomb. The flickering light was now coming from behind the sarcophagus where Travis waited. He tried not to think about the woman’s face as he climbed over her body and into the tunnel, but the dusty smell of old death overcame him as his face came inches from hers. He took care not to touch the body, and was almost through his uncomfortable climb. Then, as he put his weight on his left arm, his ribs flared, as if the woman was digging her fingers through them. His arms collapsed, and he fell flat on top of her. He could feel the brittle bones crumble under his weight. Dust kicked up from the body and choked him. The experience lasted less than five seconds, but Rhoie felt as if he were embraced by eternity. He could not see the woman’s face in the darkness, but the image was stark in his mind. That eternal scream seemed more like a laugh now. He could almost hear it, cackling at the inevitable reality that he too would be a sack of crumbling bones one day, perhaps soon.
Rhoie was almost surprised that Travis did not notice it had taken him an eternity and five seconds to squeeze into the passageway on his hands and knees. As soon as he was through, Travis quickly pulled the sarcophagus closed from the inside and latched it shut. There was barely adequate space for the two of them to lean over side by side. Travis then crawled into a still smaller space. Rhoie followed him. There was only enough room for them to crawl through single file. Rhoie could barely see Travis in front of him, and could see nothing behind him, but he could feel something. He was sure death was following directly behind, crawling down the passage, playfully grasping at his feet, tickling his ankles.
“Quickly,” Travis ordered, but Rhoie needed no encouragement.
XXXVI
History remembers the Walvaai as the elite doctors of ancient times. Mythology remembers them as wizards with life spans of a thousand years, who had the ability to talk to animals and become invisible.
– Little’s Encyclopedia
As the two men traversed the back passages of the castle, Blade was beginning to think they might make it all the way through without seeing any guards. Verkleet had a keen sense of direction, and he seemed to be aware of the complex traffic of the guards. Their progress was awkward. Verkleet would continually halt before turning a corner, and then hurry along to the next. They saw only a few people this way, and then only their backs as they turned another corner ahead of them.
Blade wore a shield on his damaged arm. It rubbed raw and he could feel that it was beginning to bleed. He tried to ignore the pain.
“We are lucky to have made it this far,” said Verkleet. “It’ll be impossible to avoid the guards from now on. You know what to do, yes?”
“From your description, I should be able to find the well without much trouble.”
“The trouble will not come in finding the well, Mr Blade. I should be able to keep most of the guards occupied, but your task will not be easy.” Verkleet said, and then his face lit up with a smile.
“I am glad you’re enjoying yourself,” Blade said.
“It’s been a long time since I’ve had some adventure,” Verkleet replied. “This should be quite fun. Providing we don’t get killed, of course.”
“Of course.”
Verkleet led him around the next corner. Blade’s adrenaline rushed as they entered a large dining hall.
“I love this room,” Verkleet remarked.
It was indeed an impressive, cavernous room, with high, arching ceilings, and a table that looked as if it could seat a hundred people comfortably. Tall windows lined the east wall with long, elegant drapery. Blade did not take time to admire the decor, however. His attention was focused on the two soldiers at the door on the opposite side of the room. Blade lowered his head behind Verkleet, delaying the inevitable as long as possible. Verkleet led him around the dining table towards the windows, but they only took a few steps before the soldiers reacted.
“Who have you got there?” one of them called.
“Prisoner, tried to escape,” Blade answered, as they continued towards the windows.
“Who is that? Kokie, is that you back there? Where are you taking him?”
Verkleet sprang to action. He was out the window in seconds. Blade pretended to fall, and crawled as fast as he could to the window, so that he would remain concealed by the table. Then he stood up and jumped through the window in mock pursuit. “Sound the alarm,” he called. Blade followed Verkleet out the window, and hoped the guards still believed he was someone named Kokie.
~Æ~
Argus and Arconus sat alone at the large conference table. The King was agitated. This was a dangerous time. At first Argus had been relieved to find that Gastious was absent, but now he feared he knew the truth.
“Where’s Gastious, Your Highness?” he asked politely.
“I have sent for him, but no one can find him. I thought you might know,” Arconus answered.
“He and I do not confer on our schedules, sire,” Argus replied. “He is not with his beloved pets?”
“I have sent men to check on there, of course.”
“This is strange, indeed, and what of the prisoners?”
“I did not inquire. They are the responsibility of Gastious. I assume they are dead by now.”
“Perhaps we should be sure they are dead, Your Highness.”
“Why the sudden interest in the prisoners, Argus?”
Argus knew he risked betraying his knowledge, but it was far more important to find out where Verkleet was at this moment. “Gastious always comes when summoned. I am simply concerned for his welfare.”
Arconus chortled in reply.
“You know I’m not fond of Gastious, but he’s a loyal servant to you, and a threat to him is a threat to you. If something has befallen him, I can only imagine it was in the wasp pits.”
The King did not look convinced, but slowly rose from the table. “Why don’t we take a look?”
~Æ~
Blade had memorised the way to the well. Verkleet’s directions had been very precise, but Blade periodically had to alter his course as he came near guards. He wasn’t sure what Verkleet was doing, but it seemed to have the guards running about the castle grounds in a panic. Whenever he came across their path, he wou
ld start running purposefully in a different direction but, as Verkleet had warned, never in the exact opposite direction. He didn’t want to give them the impression that he was actually running away, but instead that he was in pursuit of the escaped prisoner. Blade knew that if they had one look at his face, the charade would be over. Verkleet’s plan had gotten him a great deal further than he had expected.
Then the inevitable occurred. He had made his way to the east courtyard, not far from the well. The courtyard was in disrepair, but remnants of its former glory were evident. He had been told the patterns of the shrubbery formed the shape of a great lion when viewed from the terraces above, but from the ground it just looked overgrown, like unkempt hair. A group of three soldiers rounded a corner of the castle at a brisk walk. They were far enough away that Blade’s face was not discernible, and he turned at a hundred-and-twenty degree angle away from them, jogging towards the well. A moment later he found himself in the middle of a virtual nest of guards.
~Æ~
As dusk settled on the palace grounds, Lieutenant Shriver found himself in a good mood. The tumultuous trial and its aftermath had been extremely stressful for the officers of the guard. Several captains had been demoted, and two beheaded for their incompetence. These left openings in the officers’ ranks, and the bright young infantryman had been promoted. His wife had been ecstatic at the news. The birth of their son had been difficult because of the size of the strapping lad. It had taken over a month for his wife to recover to the point where the doctors had proclaimed her out of danger, and they had been a happy family for the last three months, but a new baby was also a new mouth to feed, a new back to clothe and a new bottom to swaddle. Money was very tight, and the sudden promotion was a great help.
He had made his father proud. He had made lieutenant rank two years younger than his father had, and a year before his uncle. In a family of military men, this was a source of great pride. Shriver was proud to be escorting the King, however he was uncomfortable guiding them through the more trafficked areas of the castle, but Arconus enjoyed the air of invincibility he emanated by doing so. Shriver took his responsibilities seriously, knowing very well that a King was never invulnerable. Jeandania had seen several kings assassinated in recent history. Shriver swore he would not allow Arconus to meet the same fate, but the King did not make his job easy. Arconus may have been correct about how mingling so closely with his subjects affected his public persona, but Shriver would have preferred a less public route to the cellars, and the pits.
The lieutenant scanned the courtyard for anything unusual. He saw a man walking alone through the sparse crowd. The man stood tall in fine robes, and his path would cross in front of theirs a few paces ahead. Shriver did not recognise the man, but that was not unusual. There were many who visited the palace daily whom he did not know by sight. The man seemed to realise that his path would cross in front of the King, and slowed, as etiquette demanded, to let the King pass first. The man stopped and bowed his head. Shriver watched him closely. He did not seem threatening, but he was near enough to warrant attention. Shriver walked in front of Argus and the King, observing the normal protocol for such circumstances. He nodded to the tall man, and stood in front of his left shoulder as the King passed. This provided protection for the King, and a clear view of the guest. Shriver stood still and paid attention to the man. He seemed rather old, wizened, but otherwise unremarkable, certainly no threat. Argus glanced at the old man as well, and Shriver noticed something that bothered him.
It was a very subtle change of expression, but it was unusual for Argus, who never betrayed his emotions. Shriver noticed a very slight flaring of Argus’s nostrils, which he would have thought unremarkable but for a tip his uncle had taught him, that men always blink when they turn their heads. It is a normal action. The body seems to know that during the turning of a head, not much can be seen, and so it provides a good opportunity for a freshening blink. Shriver’s uncle taught him that when a man does not blink when turning his head, it is typically an indication of agitation or surprise. Argus blinked when he turned his head to look at the man in the long robes, flared his nostrils ever so slightly, and turned his head away again without blinking. Shriver said nothing, but took careful note.
~Æ~
Blade was near enough to the well and felt he could make it if he ran fast enough. He dropped the shield that had been chafing his arm, and was happy to shed the heavy overcoat of the King’s soldiers. He also dropped the sword, but kept the small knife. He ducked back into the garden, hoping to lose some of his pursuers and to lead them away from the well. A quick turn, and another, and then he nearly bumped into a soldier coming from the opposite direction. Blade ducked, rolled and slashed the back of the man’s leg. He rolled to his feet, leaving his opponent on the ground. He ran to the end of the garden, then straight towards the well.
Now his trust in Verkleet would truly be tested. The well was narrow, barely wider than a man’s shoulders, and about fifteen feet deep. Verkleet had told him that the well would be full, and that he would have to swim to the bottom, before being able to swim out beneath the walls. This meant that he would have to dive in head first. It was a terrifying thought. Doubt entered his mind. What if the well water was shallow and he did not survive the drop? What if he couldn’t find his way in the dark? What if Verkleet was lying? Then he would be stuck, head first, in a well with slippery walls. He would drown upside down, unable to turn around in the narrow space, unable to gain purchase to climb his way out. He put these thoughts aside.
The guards were closing in on him.
“I’ve used it myself on occasion,” Verkleet had told him. “It’s a perfect escape route, because no one is mad enough to consider jumping into it.”
“Except you.”
“And now you, my friend,” Verkleet had said through laughter. “And now you.”
Blade was a good runner, and he was less encumbered than his pursuers, who all had heavy uniforms and weapons, but Blade was weakened by his time in the pit, and he was beginning to tire. This would make it that more difficult to hold his breath long enough once inside the well.
Two servant women were at the well, gathering water for the palace. They watched his approach, horrified at the tattooed man charging directly at them. They stepped back, hands to their mouths, leaving the well bucket on the ground. They had unwittingly done Blade a great favour, saving him the trouble of raising the bucket from the bottom of the well. He sat on the edge of the stone wall and took off his boots. The guards were almost upon him. He took a deep breath and plunged in head first.
~Æ~
Shriver led Arconus and Argus down the last passage to the pits when they heard the door to the cellar open and close, and then the sound of urgent footsteps. The King halted, awaiting the soldiers. Shriver held a torch which cast long, quivering shadows on the cold stone walls.
Two soldiers caught up with them. “Sire, forgive the interruption.”
Arconus asked, “What news?”
The guards stepped near and bowed to the King before speaking. “There are two escaped prisoners on the premises, sire. We thought you should be informed.”
“Who are these men?” asked Shriver.
Argus answered for them, “They might be the men from the pits, sire.”
“Your Majesty, one of the prisoners jumped into the well.”
“Have you recovered the body?” demanded Arconus.
“No sire, not yet, but ...”
“He has escaped,” Argus said to the King.
“Through the well?” asked Arconus.
“I have heard of it happening once before, Your Highness.”
Arconus stared at the floor for a moment.
“Very well. Off with you.” He motioned to the guards with a wave of his hand.
Arconus looked annoyed, and Shriver knew this to be a dangerous mood, but then he nodded shortly to him and they resumed their journey.
The threesome came to the end
of the winding cavern and into the interrogation room. Shriver noted a look of mild disgust on both of their faces as the smell grew stronger. It was a smell of death, and of dirty men, but there was another unique odour mingled in, which he had only ever experienced here. He tried to avoid this place, sending his men with Gastious, or on Gastious’s orders, rather than going himself. Throwing a man into these pits was a cruel way to gather information. He knew this was necessary, but it remained a hateful place. Some under his own command had been forced to suffer its pains. The unique smell lingered hauntingly beneath the stench, at the edges of the senses, like the echoes of screams from those sent here to die.
“Your torch, please,” Argus gestured to him.
Shriver handed him the torch and leaned in behind the King and Argus, as close as he respectfully could, while they peered through the narrow rectangular window.
“I see nothing living or dead,” remarked the King.
“It’s impossible to see the whole cavern,” Argus said. “You, Shriver, you must go in to search.”
“Of course, sire,” he stammered, “but I’m unclear on what I’m looking for.”
“The prisoners might have escaped from here; and Gastious, the King’s Prime, is missing.”
“Yes, sire, of course.” Of course, he thought to himself, and a fear engorged him like nothing he had ever felt.
~Æ~
Blade shivered in the darkness. The swim had just about killed him. As Verkleet had directed, he had kicked and climbed his way to the bottom of the well. He had felt his way along the stones until he spotted a dim light glowing through the murky waters. He swam towards the light, only able to paddle effectively with one arm. He swam until his lungs started sucking for breath on their own, as if they were prodding him to open his mouth and nose. Finally, he had broken through the surface of the water in the narrow cave and used the last of his energy to climb out. There he had collapsed, exhausted.
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