Of course, it wasn’t the same, but for some reason it felt the same. He was tired of it. He felt bad within himself about himself, and made a personal vow he would no longer be just a follower. So determined, Wudrick turned northward. Had the western wellkeeper’s sudden disappearance meant that he had fallen into the gorge? How could he just ignore that mystery. He was a scientist. He would have to investigate and discover the truth.
"Where are you going? Come on!" demanded the gravelly voice.
“But - but....”
"Quickly!" the voice demanded. "I fear the whole structure may soon collapse. We must retrieve the manuscripts of the Ancients."
"But...,” Wudrick could only mutter as he turned and followed the Hooded One to the well. Intermittently, he turned and looked toward the place in the far north where he had seen the wellkeeper disappear. All he saw now was tranquillity, lending even more doubt about seeing what he thought he’d seen. Maybe in his shock at what had happened to Center House he just imagined one more horrific scene.
Turning to look back one last time, his eyes fell upon his wife sitting majestically, and silently, upon the Center House bell with the mantle of many pieces draped over her shoulders. He felt sick to his stomach and quickly turned away. The loathsome sight made him reaffirm his commitment to be a leader - a scientific leader. To do so, he would have to forsake his wife, and, of course, she would renounce him as an apostate, but that didn't bother him. Still, he had no inclination to join the eastern rebels either. He had made his decision. Science, he affirmed was above politics.
Wudrick quickly caught up to the Hooded One. Then followed behind, as a dutiful child, not even caring where he was being led. For this time he chose to follow, and it made all the difference in the world.
***** ***** *****
"When are we going to get home?” Tyter moaned.
"Soon,” Brindle lied uncomfortably.
"We will not!" he challenged. "We're lost and I'm tired. I'm hungry, too. We're going to die down here, and I don't care if we do. At least, if I'm dead, I wouldn't be starving to death."
"You're such a suckling!” Brindle cried. Her patience had worn thin. "I can't believe I ever thought you were so brave for going down into the well everyday.” Her voice rose in frustration. She couldn't believe her hero could act like such a - a child.
"Yeah, well let me tell you, I was scared to death nearly every time I went into that well, but I went in anyway. You want to know why? Even if you don’t, I'll tell you - because Bourg wanted me to. That’s why, and I trusted him. Even when I fell off the swing seat, I knew that on the surface there was someone who loved me and would do everything he could to save me. He wasn't some scrawny, young female dragging me all over Underearth through worm holes." Tyter was defiant, but full of genuine fear.
Brindle bit her lip. He was right. Bourg knew what he was doing. She didn't have a clue. She had led Tyter through tunnel after tunnel, never knowing what dangers might lie ahead. Even now, she didn’t know how far they had gone or in which direction. For all she knew they could be somewhere beneath Nocomback, the land beyond returning.
Brindle stopped. Tyter's head bumped into her rear-end. "Hey!" he grumbled.
The tunnel was wide enough for Brindle to turn around and face Tyter, so she did.
"What's the matter?" he asked, fearing the worst.
"Nothing,” she said. "No, that's not true. The truth is we are lost. I don't know where we are or where we’re going,” she confided honestly, expecting Tyter to begin crying, but he didn't.
The unprecedented silence that followed spoke more eloquently of their common bonding in the face of adversity than mere words could ever have. Their meditation remained constant until a whiff of cool fresh air softly caressed their faces.
"At least we have good air to breathe. I think we should rest here until morning. Then we can look for light and find a way out. If that’s alright with you?" she asked.
"It's okay with me,” Tyter answered, as if all fear had suddenly left him. Knowing you’re lost, can be far less scary than following after someone who is pretending they’re not.
The cool air quickly grew colder, making Tyter shiver. Brindle held out her arms and wrapped them around her young companion. Instantly, his eyes were opened. He looked around for a moment, surveying what little there was to see in a barren tunnel. Then he re-closed them, feeling, perhaps, that it was better to not see anything than to see nothing at all. Brindle adjusted her position so that as he leaned back, his head rested on her totes which cushioned it like two soft, puff pillows.
The sensation was not wasted on Tyter. He wondered if that was what his mother would have felt like had she lived to give him comfort. It was the last thought in his mind until he was awakened some time later by the scream.
***** ***** *****
Mardrith felt like she’d been crawling for days, rather than hours. Her hands, knees and toes no longer hurt. The dirt from the tunnel floor had caked into her open wounds, stopping the bleeding. She was weak and tired. Still, she crawled on.
She didn’t have Brindle's fortuity to see in the dark, so she was oblivious to the numerous alternate paths she could have taken during her trek. But it probably wouldn’t have made much difference anyway. Still, it might have been of some interest to know that in the Underearthian maze of catacombs, she had managed to go in a complete circle. And for all her pains, she was only a few rods from where she had started.
Upon hearing a strange noise, Mardrith froze and listened. The predominant sound filling her ears was the pounding of her own heart, as pulsating surges of life-fluid, throbbed in her temples. Beneath this, however, was the sound that had captured her attention. It was a peculiar gurgling sound.
As Mardrith stilled herself to listen, her body gave in to exhaustion. Leaning back, she drew her bloodied, mud-packed knees to her chin and leaned against the side of the tunnel. Almost immediately the mixture which caked them hardened to form a cast. She wondered if she would ever again be able to straighten out her legs. Her eyes closed of their own accord and she could not reopen them, no matter how hard she tried. But the truth was, she didn’t try very hard. Whatever the gurgling sound was, it was either far away or very small, and she had drifted too quickly, too deeply into sleep to consider either possibility.
In her imagination she saw Fleetra’s strong, but narrow arms reaching out to her. As she watched, these became transformed into the thick, hairy arms of the wellkeeper of the west. Mardrith shook her brain and the image dissolved into that of a small young female with a veget puff stuffed up each nostril. It made her laugh and laugh, but only in her dream. It was the last thing she remembered before she heard the scream.
***** ***** *****
As Brindle, Tyter, Mardrith, and Bourg yielded to exhaustion in Underearth, the first hint of dawn rose over the surrounding rolling hills. After the Hooded One informed Loden of the whereabouts of the chest containing the records of the Ancients, he in turn informed his fellow rebel leaders of its existence, and impressed upon them the importance of rescuing it from its perilous station beneath the suspended rubble which had once been Center House.
Unfortunately, they were not all that impressed and their grumbling over the matter nearly lead to a rebellion within the rebel ranks. To ward off catastrophe, Dampy volunteered to traverse the understructure of the suspension to ascertain whether or not the chest was, in fact, salvageable. The very suggestion so surprised the other rebels, they soon forgot their original complaint and began arguing whether or not "Dampy the Dinky" was qualified to take on such an important assignment. However, since there were no other volunteers, the perilous task fell to him by default.
Joudlier had argued hardest against his little buddy taking on such a dangerous assignment, but when Loden sealed Dampy's fate with an official appointment, Joudlier blustered forth a half-hearted demand to join his friend on the perilous path.
Loden was quick to point out that, until the sturdines
s of the structure was properly evaluated, the extra, unnecessary, weight on the suspension might collapse the whole unit, losing the valued chest and two brave males to an eternal descent into the misty unknown. Joudlier was quick to agree, admitting he had been, perhaps, a bit hasty in volunteering, and offered instead to escort his friend to the departure point at the gorge’s edge.
Loden, however suggested he do even more. He told Joudlier to take a long rope with them. Then, when they found a place of embarkation, he should secure a rope about Dampy's waist. That way, if the suspension collapsed while he was traversing its understructure, there would be at least some chance to recover him, or at least his remains.
Then, Loden and the other rebel leaders, along with several chief constructors met in a conclave at Loden’s hut. Over the objections of everyone, but upon the insistence of the Hooded One, Wudrick Pulpitt took center stage, laying out a revolutionary design for building an extension to the well, now that the expanse was too wide for a conventional bridge. All were amazed that this bumbler had devised such elaborate plans for the device, for none knew that he had actually conceived them from the writings of the Ancients. And, although the majority of constructors remained skeptical as to its feasibility, Loden ordered the construction to begin immediately.
***** ***** *****
"Ow! Not so tight!” Dampy complained as Joudlier tied a veget rope about his waist.
"Ah, hush. Don't want you popping through this loop,” Joudlier said as he cinched the triple knot.
"Ow!” Dampy cried again. "Well, if you put one more knot in this rope, a fall will probably snap me in two anyway.”
Joudlier stopped and studied his knots, considering if three were really enough. Then he decided it was a chance he was willing to take, and motioned for Dampy to get on with his assignment.
Dampy made several attempts to find a way through the maze of wall boards, roof beams, framing planks, fixtures, furnishings and an assortment of associated debris. Although the sun had not yet risen over the rolling hills, its rays reflected in the eastern sky, causing the upper layer of the suspension to glisten, but little illumination found its way to the understructure.
Although Dampy did locate several possible paths into the heart of the structure, each was either blocked by immoveable debris or had no supports sturdy enough support his weight. To make matters even more difficult, the rope about his waist was constantly snagging on one thing or the other, restricting his maneuverability. More than once, Joudlier panicked and gave the rope a hard jerk, thinking Dampy had fallen, and, as a result, nearly caused him to.
Eventually, however, he did locate a path with some promise and made his way back to Joudlier at the gorge’s edge to report his finding. "I think I've found a way to get to the chest."
"By Fate, be careful!” Joudlier admonished.
"Oh, I will. I will,” Dampy responded with a certain air of false sincerity. "First, I'm going to crawl out to a certain place about halfway to the chest. From there I should be able to see if it can be retrieved. I'll - er, probably be there for some time so don't panic and jerk me off this thing, for Veget's sake."
"Haven’t panicked yet, have I?” Joudlier snapped back defensively.
"Yes, you have! So when I get to that certain place on the path, I'll give a couple of short tugs on the rope which will mean I’m going to stop for awhile to survey the situation from that vantage point. So, don't panic and jerk on the rope."
"I won't!” Joudlier protested with no lack of consternation, then fell into a pouting mode.
"Right. Now, give me some slack. Here I go."
"Okay, be quick about it."
"I'll be as quick as I need to be,” Dampy rebuffed his big, brooding companion. Then carefully, he made his way along his selected path which was, of course, no path at all by any definition of the word. What Dampy called a path was just a series of handholds and footholds which looked as though they would drift away into the dark, grey mist of the abyss at the slightest touch.
"And just when did you come to think of yourself as brave?” Dampy asked himself, as he perched precariously on a splintered plank. Carefully, he drew up slack on the rope about his waist, quickly untied the triple knot, and retied it around a relatively stable looking beam. Then he gave it two sharp tugs to signal Joudlier he’d reached his observation post. Immediately, the rope was jerked out of his hand.
"Veget, Joudlier, don't panic!” Dampy cursed, as the beam with the rope tied to it swayed with a low groan. Just as immediately the rope went slack. Joudlier’s initial panic was short-lived for the resistance he felt on the rope assured him that his little friend was safely perched on some relatively safe roost evaluating the situation.
"Well, here goes - everything,” Dampy inhaled the words. Grabbing hold of a finely crafted length of ornate doweling he swung out over the expanse and hooked his legs over a parallel timber. Releasing his hands, he dangled by his knees. His pullover fell down over his upper torso, virtually blinding him.
"Blast!" he cursed. "This isn't at all what I had in mind,” he thought, working his hands up his inverted torso and releasing the sash holding the pullover tightly about his waist. The material fell down the length of his inverted body, slipped over his head and fell slowly away, disappearing into the mist below. That wasn’t his plan either, but there was little he could do about it now.
Having his sight back and his hands free, Dampy began to swing his body back and forth until he was able to reach back over his head and grab onto another beam. Releasing his locked knees he swung forward. Once in full swing, he released his hand grip. His momentum flung his body forward, landing flat-footed on the edge of a fairly sturdy plank. However, to keep from flying forward into the abyss, he immediately shifted his weight backwards - but too much so. On the brink of falling backwards into nothingness, he waved his arms frantically to catch his balance. The plank beneath him swayed steadily, but gradually, his weight shifted, and he stumbled forward to safety.
"Well, that was easy enough,” he joked aloud with nervous humor, while looking around for something to tie about his loins. For although Dampy was a very short male he had a very large rod.
It was a fluke of nature that had cursed him since birth. Every marriage-eligible female had heard of his endowment since their childhood, and worked themselves into a holy horror at the very thought of being inserted with such a meaty monster. Still, even this may have been considered a blessing, if only the rest of him had grown to comparable size.
Now, his un-fortuitous rod could cost him his life, if he didn’t find a way to keep it out of harms way. Looking up, he saw a cot cover twisted among the debris, and reached for it. However, it was just out of reach. He tried stretching his body as far as he could. But it wasn’t quite far enough. He gave a little jump, but when he came back down there was a cracking sound beneath his feet. Fearing it would give way, Dampy quickly lunged forward and dove onto a splintered stretch of flooring. His naked body slid across its rough surface until he came to a safe halt - but not before he felt the pain.
"Yeow!” Dampy squealed and grabbed his rod. He had been pierced by a splinter two seeds long which had buried itself into the soft glandular ridge at the tip of his penile shaft. Steadying his rod with one hand, he grabbed the splinter with the other. Quickly, he gave the splinter a swift jerk to remove it, but it snapped in two leaving a good third of it deeply embedded in his tender flesh. A ribbon of red trickled down the shaft between his fingers.
""This is not good - not good at all,” he thought out loud. Through trial and error he soon discovered that holding his organ tightly to his lower abdomen, helped to ease the pain. "But how can I climb around in this maze with only one free hand?"
The sun now peeked over the mounds of the rolling hills, projecting its horizontal rays making it a bit easier for him to distinguish another covering of some sort among the debris. This one was in easy reach of the platform. Still holding himself, he awkwardly made his way toward
it. It was a sash about a rod long and eight seeds wide. Reaching out his free hand, he grabbed it.
Slowly, Dampy sat up and pressed his rod firmly against his abdomen with his right thigh, for any undue movement caused him unbearable pain. With his two free hands he folded the sash in thirds and tore off one third. He girded his waist with the longer strip, and tied one end of the shorter strip to it. Then he twisted the waist strip around so that the tied end was at the small of his back. Reaching down and drawing the loose end between his legs he tied it to the front of the waist cloth, creating a makeshift rod sling which gently cradled his injured organ.
Lastly, he pulled the waist band high on his hips to minimize any movement of the wounded member. This maneuver relieved the pain, but didn’t extinguish it. For, birth to death, the sexual organ of a male mammal is fated to a continual dance of extension and retreat - a fact generally overlooked, until even a minor modification induces the severest of pains.
"At least I have two hands free, now - and at least two good legs,” he half joked as he crawled across a mesh of fallen debris. It was fairly easy going until he came to a gap about ten rods long. Ahead of him, on a section of the upstairs flooring, rested the object of his quest - the chest of the Ancients. Except, perhaps, for the polished latch, it certainly didn’t look very important.
Dampy made his way as far to the right and as far to the left of it as he could in order to evaluate the strength of the underlying support structure and to locate at least one suspended path which would allow him to reach it. To his dismay, he discovered there were none.
The chest was enmeshed in a cluster of debris hanging down from above, leaving the lower level virtually surrounded by air. It appeared that the only way the chest could be retrieved was to come down through the top - a most perilous undertaking, since the whole structure would quite likely collapse under the weight of any workers foolhardy enough to make such an attempt.
Pieces: Book One, The Rending Page 54