For all their effort the opposing numbers were proving too great. They were being pushed back on both sides and would soon be crushed between the hammer and the anvil.
With the enemy closing in all around them Max did the only thing they could do. He flung open the door to the nearest cell and ushered the others inside. They retreated with their backs to the door still fighting off the invaders.
Once inside the room the defenders found the odds more favorable. The narrow door meant that only two soldiers could fight against the cyclops at once, and the cyclops was making short work of them. Still, as the bodies piled up beside the cell door, the cyclops began to tire. His movements slowed and his blows became labored. He sustained many minor wounds that were beginning to accumulate. He couldn’t hold out much longer.
“We have to find a way out of here or we are all going to die.”
“These walls are solid rock.” Blaise tapped against the wall searching for a hollow spot. “It seems the only way out will be to fight. Surely their numbers are reduced and their morale is sapped. With a bit of luck we may be able to rout them long enough to make an escape.”
“No.” Max spoke solemnly as he stared into the wall. “During the battle I could see they are bringing fresh men down from both sides. Another pair replaces every man we strike down.”
The others remained silent. Blaise’s sword clattered to the ground. He didn’t stoop down to pick it up.
The emotions of the last few hours washed over Blaise and rooted him in place. He heard the words of the Merchant echoing inside his head. The tale of his brother’s betrayal horrified him as doubts gnawed at his mind. He still wasn’t certain if his father was alive. He wondered about his family. His nephews and his nieces that lived with him in his forest dwelling. Were any of them still alive?
Anguish gripped him as he collapsed to his knees. Visions of atrocities ran through his head. His kingdom, the land that he had grown up in, was being destroyed by war. Gardens lush and beautiful were engulfed by flames. The courtyards where he had walked with his first love crumbled under the boots of invaders. The statues of old heroes and kings stood headless before the steps of his father’s palace. Blood trickled slowly down the steps from a body lying dead upon the stairs.
The air was heavy with smoke, and Blaise could not make out the crumpled shape on the palace steps. As he neared, the face was brought into clear focus. He stared at the eyes in his father’s gentle face. His mouth was agape and his face contorted. He had clearly died in agony unimaginable. He was pinned to the steps by Hunter’s dragon blade, which had pierced through his heart.
Anger surged like lightning through Blaise’s system. He felt his muscles constrict as he leapt to his feet with a roar. He ripped the wooden bench from the ground and swung it mercilessly through the air. Max grabbed the girl and dove to the ground using his own body to cover hers from the shattered fragments that exploded as Blaise smashed the bench into the wall.
He broke it in half three times before he felt the rage begin to flood from his system. His anger was abated. It had had its fill.
With one final effort he tossed what remained of the bench across the room. As it crashed into the wall one of the stones it had struck receded back. A low rumbling shook the cell as the back wall began to part. A small gap only big enough for them to crawl through was opened.
“My goodness!” Max shouted. “We can get out of here now.”
Blaise fell in a stupor to his knees. He didn’t realize he was crying, but he could feel the warm dampness as it spilled down his cheeks. The sound around him had faded. He heard only a slight ringing in his ears. He vaguely realized he was being dragged by Max toward the crawl space.
As he turned his head he saw that the cyclops had been pushed back and men were pouring into the room. At the head of this new contingent was the pale knight. Blaise watched Max’s lips move and realized he was shouting something but he couldn’t hear it. Blaise moved into the crawl space as Max motioned to him. Blaise was plunged into darkness and silence and he moved steadily down the narrow hallway.
Chapter 12
A clear, cool spring trickled down a smooth moss-covered hill. Blaise heard the gentle rustling as the leaves brushed against each other trying to share their warmth. Sitting beside him were Max and the girl they had rescued from the Merchant’s palace.
Max noticed Blaise stirring and moved over to him.
“Are you feeling better?” Max looked at him, his eyes deep with compassion.
“I’m fine. I’m just glad that we made it out here.” As Blaise finished his comment he trailed off, looking around. The cyclops was nowhere to be found.
Blaise started to speak but Max already knew what he was going to ask.
“He couldn’t fit through the crawlspace. He wouldn’t let us stay with him. He said he would fight his way out and meet back up with us.”
Blaise felt pangs of emptiness shoot throughout him. He felt the emotion flooding him all over again.
“I think I need to go for a walk.” Blaise’s voice was distant and he turned quickly and walked away. The thick forest swallowed him up only a few dozen yards past the tree line.
As Blaise’s footsteps faded in the dense forest, Max turned to face the girl next to him. Her dark hair fell like a frame around her face, forcing focus onto her gentle yet pronounced features. Her soft red lips were plump and smooth like the fruit of freshly picked cherries.
The eyes that had so powerfully drawn Max’s gaze before now looked gentler. Like the ocean after a storm they appeared calm and tranquil, but just beneath the surface lay a devastating force waiting to be unleashed. The combination of beauty and danger seduced Max with ease.
The not so subtle curves enticed Max’s young mind, but still he felt himself more drawn to the beauty of her angelic face. Her gentle features were in stark contrast to the conditions in which she had been found. Found in the grimy and mold covered cell of a forgotten dungeon, it had seemed unfathomable that such beauty could live in such squalor.
When she had bathed herself in the river, and the dirt had washed away Max could see the clear radiance of her skin.
Max felt suddenly embarrassed as he realized he had yet to even ask the girl for her name. He almost felt as if he was in love but didn’t know anything about her.
“My name is Ava.” She spoke almost as if she understood Max’s uneasiness. “Thank you for freeing me.”
Max struggled to speak, but he found his words caught in his throat. His hands dripped with sweat and he breathed quickly. “It’s not a problem. You helped us a great deal in the escape. If it wasn’t for you we would have surely been cut off and killed.”
Ava brushed the hair away from her face and smiled. “I’m just glad to be out in the sun.” Her expression dampened. “You know, I wasn’t always locked up there. I used to be normal.” She smiled again. “Or at least as normal as a princess could be.”
While Max realized this should be a major revelation, he found himself not at all surprised. Her beauty fit well with the role of princess. Perhaps, he thought, someday with the role of queen.
“How did a princess end up there?”
“It’s quite a long story.” A pout crossed her face. “Well, perhaps it’s not so long, but it is quite painful.”
Though she tried to wear her face like a mask, Max could see the pain beneath. He moved closer seeking to comfort her but thought better of it. He simply sat back and attempted to look as comforting as possible so that she might continue her story.
“But I guess since you saved me it’s the least I could do,” she relented. “I grew up in a peaceful childhood. I would spend hours playing in the gardens at my father’s palaces. I would ride across the rolling hills of green and amber on the back of glorious white steeds. Everything was like a perfect dream until my later years.”
She paused and glanced out into the sky. She smiled at the memories of her carefree life, but beneath her joy lay a deeper sadness.
“My father sought for me a husband before even my older sister. I was one of six sisters, and they all hated me for my father’s actions. In secret they plotted against me. They had me sold into slavery by my cruel aunt. The Merchant bought me and threw me into the dungeon. He said he would come for me when I was ready to be his wife.”
“That’s terrible. I’m sorry you had to go through that.”
“It was not easy to accept. I have missed my father and my land but the past cannot be changed. Thanks to you, though, I am free.”
“I swear the Merchant will pay for what he has done to you,” Max said.
Ava smiled and laughed lightly. “You are brave, Max. No one could ever doubt that.”
“So I must ask,” Ava continued, “What were you doing in the Merchant’s palace?”
Max relayed the entire story. He found himself embellishing a few parts for his own benefit. The story was long, but he found that his enthusiasm did not wane. It was helped along by the look of admiration written clearly on Ava’s face.
When he finished telling the story he looked away. His face flushed red with embarrassment. He felt a soft hand turn his chin. Ava’s deep eyes stared into him. Her head moved slowly closer to his, her lips curled in half smile. He felt her delicate lips press lightly against his. A feeling of euphoria washed over Max’s body, and as quickly as it began it was over.
Ava pulled slowly away, her eyes glowing with satisfaction. She bit her bottom lip shyly and smiled. “You are a sweet boy, Max.”
She rose from where she was sitting. Max rose as well. She laughed and motioned for him to sit down.
“I’m going for a drink. I shall be back shortly.”
Max could not help but admire her as she walked gracefully down the slope to the crystal-clear stream.
Blaise trudged on through the forest no longer feeling anything. Brambles and thorns tore at his clothes and skin. He was covered in blood both dried and fresh. His mouth was dry as sandpaper and his lungs struggled to take even a single breath. But he took no notice of it.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been walking. Time was nothing to him anymore. Simply a measure by which to count the hours until he would pass from this nightmare into dream.
Nothing in this world was worth living for. Nothing was worth dying for. Betrayal poisoned his mind, his body, his soul. He felt detached from the world. How could his brother have done this? The death created by his own blood, by his own family. It made him sick.
Had he played a part in this? He was sure he had. Perhaps if he had not argued so much with his brother or thwarted his ambition so readily this would not have happened. But he had only done it because he thought it was for the best. Surely, he thought, he didn’t do it to cause something like this.
But then again, Blaise didn’t feel so certain. The world was strange. It had its own motives and its own plans. It cared none for the dreams of men. It used them as Blaise used a sword or a shield. Not caring for them. Only caring for that which they could bring.
He felt cheap. He felt old. He felt used. He knew he was a pawn of the heavenly powers. His entire life he thought he had been moving to thwart evil but in fact he had been playing for the other side. The cruel powers of vileness and evil used him to trap the king. Now with the trap set he was no longer needed, and even with the truth revealed he was powerless to stop it. When the trap was sprung the king’s doom would be sealed.
Blaise was lost in despair as he wandered into a clearing in the forest. There stood a beautiful silver lake. A waterfall ran down into it and a soft mist hung in the air. The silver dew hung on the leaves and blades of grass, and the whole clearing sparkled with majesty.
Even this beauty did not stir Blaise. For he knew (or believed he did) that it was a hollow beauty. Just like everything else in nature it was only concerned with its own pleasure. The gods in heaven, he decided, were like little spoiled children given an ant farm to play with. They would watch the ants go about their business and would decide on a whim which ones to act cruelty upon. They would squash them or tear off their legs or drown them in a glass of water, for nothing more than to alleviate boredom.
Blaise spat in disgust. He felt as if his entire life was a lie. He realized now that every action he had taken had led to his father’s death at the hand of his brother— if he wasn’t already dead. Without his consent tears began to stream down his face. They beaded down his cheeks and he blinked, willing them away.
As the drops dripped down onto the water surface they dispersed and changed colors rapidly through the water. The water came alive, and fountains shot out from the lake, dancing like stars across the surface. In the center of the lake a bubble began to rise out of the water. It glowed like a miniature sun, and Blaise cast his hand over his eyes and fell to the ground filled with terror.
“Do not be afraid.” The voice spoke softly and the fear left Blaise.
He lifted his head up and beheld a figure of water hovering above the lake. It was faceless and formless yet he could vaguely make out eight limbs. The figure beckoned for him as it sank beneath the surface.
The bubble floated across the water leaving a wake behind it. Blaise climbed inside the bubble and it floated to the center of the lake. It descended at a snail's pace down toward a cave. The cave was completely sealed and yet as the bubble came closer, the cave mouth opened, swallowing the bubble and taking Blaise down into the subterranean haven.
Inside the cave was a strange and wonderful scene. Strange flowers and trees grew not from the ground but from the ceilings and the walls. Plants of every hue and pigment spread out like a rainbow across the cave.
The ground was light pink sand that sparkled. Sitting on the far end of the cave was the strange figure Blaise had seen earlier. Now in the water it was more clearly seen. The eight limbs danced and floated. They waved almost as if summoning Blaise toward them.
The beauty and seclusion of this haven made him wary. It was too beautiful. Too perfect. He held his ground, unsure of whether to approach the figure.
Sensing his hesitance the figure rose from the floor. It hovered, it limbs moving more quickly, transfixing Blaise with their beautiful grace.
“The world you know is no more.” The figure spoke with a soothing and sage voice.
The words washed over Blaise, and he felt as if something deeper came with them. He felt as if some tide was crashing against the shores of his mind, threatening to flood the very pathways of his consciousness.
“Change is only a figment of your imagination. The world you know has always been, is now, and shall be forever. The only change comes from the illusions of man. The external and insubstantial trivialities cause the suffering that you have come to know.”
Blaise felt the tide rising. The levees within his mind burst and the water rushed in upon it, drowning all resistance. A warmth like that from a cup of hot tea spread slowly through his body.
“Relax and allow the feeling to flow upstream. You are not dying from this world but rather you are being born most purely into it. I bring you now into the world as pure as I once did.”
“What do you mean; ‘As I once did?’” Blaise spoke for the first time
“I have been known by many names both before and after my passing from your world. But only one name have you ever known me by.”
The formless face behind began to change. Features of familiarity stole through the luminescence of the figure. He saw the soft caring eyes that had watched him take his first step. He saw the sweet lips that had sung him to sleep. He saw the gentle hands that held him in embrace. He saw the kind lady he had known as mother.
“Mother?” Blaise’s voice cracked as tears welled to his eyes.
“But how? You are dead. I saw your body placed in the casket with my own eyes.”
“I left that world then. Now I still have not returned to it. I am of a different place than the one that you inhabit. Yet I have influence within this world and I may choose to spend it h
ow I wish. Until I have no more.”
“No more? What do you mean?”
“I choose to give what I possess to strengthen you, my son.”
“But shall what shall happen when you have no more?” Blaise spoke with heavy concern.
“When I am spent, I shall become formless. No more than the energy that I once was before my creation by the heavens.”
“But I shall see you again on the other side?”
His mother smiled gently at him. Her eyes were soft as clouds, and they shone like diamonds. She smiled delicately.
“I am afraid that in order to aid you in your time of need I relinquish that right. Even when you pass on from this world we shall not meet. Not until heaven and earth become one at the end of days.”
Blaise stood in silent understanding. But his heart ached at the sight of his mother. She had died during Hunter’s birth. Her death had brought the life of that monster into the world. Beauty and honor had left the world and a traitorous fiend had entered. When the devil made such trades what hope was there for the world? Despair sank into Blaise and he fell to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
“What saddens you, my son?” Her voice was laced with compassion only a mother could produce.
“I am nothing.” Blaise could not bear to meet his mother’s eyes as he spoke. “Over the past weeks I have been humiliated more than I care to admit. A child has saved my life half a dozen times. I am no man. Hunter was right; I am not fit for this task.”
His mother looked down upon him with sorrowful eyes. “You are braver than you give yourself credit for, son. Each time you have fallen you have taken up arms again, and you have shown no fear. To fail is not failure but to fear failure is to die.”
“And yet I fear it now. I fear to leave this dream and return to Max. How can I draw arms against my brother? How can I strike down my own blood?” Blaise laughed as he thought about it. “How can I even think I could be match for Hunter? He is the most skilled of all swordsmen and I am nothing but a woodsman.”
Maxwell's Closet Page 10