by Unknown
He found it. A small steel ring attached to the right hand side. Grasping it, overcome with fear, he tugged on it.
The door didn’t budge. His heart sank.
He tried again, and still the mighty door didn’t shift at all.
He was stuck down here, in the darkness, alone.
He gave it one last try, with all his strength. It jerked slightly, a screech indicating it had moved from its stubborn position. His body shaking, he took a deep breath, spluttering in a reaction to the poor uncirculated air, and pulled on the doorhandle again. With a lurch, it opened, an almighty groan echoing down the spare dark hallway.
On the other side of the door, Rian was met with a surprising yet welcome stream of sunlight. Relieved, he shielded his eyes from the penetrating fluorescence, waiting until they adjusted. Lowering his arm, he was confronted with a horrifying sight.
“Sweet heaven, save my soul from the heart of darkness,” he wailed.
CHAPTER 16.
Overcome with self-pity, Cervis found himself paddling in the noxious water, struggling to keep afloat. His legs kicked arbitrarily, his head sinking below the surface intermittently. Each paddle he would grasp out with the hope he had reached the other side, and each time has was met with a surge of water. Spitting and sobbing, he felt a hand grip his own, and he cried out. He pictured the girls face, her ghostly eyes and black teeth.
“Up!” hissed Phillipe’s voice, “up now!”
His puny strength offered Cervis little assistance, yet filled him with solace. Panic seemed to lessen, while the surge of adrenaline continued. Bouts of fatigue rattled his brain.
Once across the other side, Phillipe wasted no time climbing the spiral stairs.
“Wait,” Cervis wailed, reaching out to stop Phillipe, “I saw a girl, up here.”
Turning, Phillipe grasped the dreamcatcher, “excellent,”” he said.
They pottered up the steps, spiralling around in nauseating momentum. Gripping the cold rock that formed its centre column, they climbed.
“I heard voices,” Cervis chimed, keeping an eye on his feet to prevent tripping, “I heard them.”
“I imagine voices would not be uncommon in a place like this.”
“What do you mean?” Cervis asked.
The higher they climbed, the more light they were met with. A harmonious lime glow bathed the rock above them as they reached the top. An arched doorway greeted them that led into a small room filled with flowers and plants. Although indoors, it served as a sort of greenhouse. Lines and lines of wild flowers, Danube orchids, jipsom weeds and yellow roses. Handmade joinery along the walls held ferns and thorns, and piles of hay, manure and dirt lined the back.
Phillipe jerked to a halt as Cervis burst into the room. Greeted by waves of beautiful smells, he smiled.
“Incredible!” Cervis chimed. He graced a few steps further, then turned to Phillipe, “there must be a way out here.”
“I cannot enter,” Phillipe said, still paused at the entrance.
“What do you mean?” Cervis asked.
Phillipe’s neck arched, and he gazed directly above him, to a small dangling crystal above the doorway.
“This room, I cannot enter.”
“I don’t understand, we will be able to exit here, we can find-“
But as he was speaking, Phillipe turned back, and disappeared down the stairs. The pitter-patter of his footsteps grew softer, until silence filled the room.
“Stop!” Cervis called, “wait!”
But Phillipe hadn’t waited. He had vanished back down the stairs, down to the depths of the cavern, to the voices and the darkness. Beginning to shake, Cervis battled his headache. The vein in his neck thumped. He was now all alone.
“Don’t be afraid,” cooed a female voice, soft and gentle. A trickle of a tear flowed down Cervis’ cheek, and he hunched down to his knees. Quivering, he let the fear take hold, and the loneliness engulf him.
“Please,” he muttered, rocking back and forth, “please, please.”
A soft footstep echoed behind him, and the voice called out again; “My name is Rhana, what’s yours?”
---
Excerpt (7) - Van Wëegan’s transcripts, dated March 1350;
Franües made promise he had word where Thomas might be. He had then insisted this is where Cassandra would be also. He had proof my love had made her way south to the City of God with a league of musicians. The land in question lies in the Valley of the Dead, forty miles south of Tunbridge, Kent. The death of the high priests in the Abbey where I was contained had left me sad. They died in fear, in the hope they would be saved by their God, and by me. Yet both failed them. It wasn’t long after their death that I was freed by men seeking refuge, Jews hiding from men who slaughter them for mercy. I could not stay there, in that Abbey or in that town.
I knew I was devoid of choice, that if I was to find Cassandra, I must embrace risk. And so I have.
On my way to the Valley of the Dead, I made note of hundreds of gypsy camps. Homeless orphans, hungry women, alone and cold. I fed them with what little I had, and they were quick to join me on my passage. One man I fed even established he had seen Cassandra and the musicians pass.
Upon reaching the valley, three days had passed. The village was not what I had expected. It too had been swept by the pestilence, and bodies lay roadside, succumbed to rot. Decrepit houses lined the border, and tepee style tents the innards. In the middle, a fire raged so high it was visible from hundreds of miles away. I had been awake for three days, and my yearning to see Cassandra had taken its toll. So I slept, in a small crop near the fields to the south. Here I would be left to think, to ponder, to understand what I would say to her. At least that’s what I planned, but I had fallen asleep, left with no time to contemplate at all.
And now I am awake, and as I write this I note the following;
Upon my waking, I have discovered intricate, seamless cuts in my skin, a message of some kind. I know not who, nor why. The pain did not wake me, or the sound interrupt my slumber.
Yet here it is, as light as day, cut into the flesh on my belly – AO | 01001 | XXX
What does this mean?