Tent World

Chapter Twenty-Three--The Pit of Hell

When the strength of the leaf kicked in, Cheryl complimented herself for her good sense in eating it. She needed courage. She knew it. This was war, and she was in the middle of it. The Keeper was wrong. What he said about the leaf must have been part of his strategy to keep her helpless. Only the queen would benefit if that were to happen.

When the column was safely beyond her, Cheryl continued walking down the hill toward the castle with Duffer panting at her feet.

The sun was passed its zenith as she approached the south wall of the castle. Black smoke filled the sky to the east. The hills she had crossed blocked her view to the lower valley of Land, but from what she could see, it looked like smoke was still rising.

Stepping into the shadow of the castle walls, Cheryl felt a chill pass over her in spite of the afternoon heat. She had an urge for another leaf, but the words of the Keeper came back to her. The strength she had gotten from the leaf earlier seemed like a long time ago, and now that its effects had worn off, she felt guilty for having taken it.

It seemed that with each step, she fell deeper and deeper into despair. She was alone with no weapons. How could she face a queen who could throw fire from her throne across the night sky? How could she make a difference? The Keeper said that hope was within her. Did he mean that the leaf brought only false hope? We are all we have, the Keeper had said. It felt to her as if she wasn't enough.

When Cheryl came to the obelisk marking the road that led up the cliff to the castle's entrance, she stopped to rest. But the ache in her muscles and bones and the exhaustion that was nearly overwhelming her were beyond what rest could satisfy. Using the obelisk for support, she leaned against it. It was cold to the touch. Not a quick cold like you would get if you touched an ice cube, but the cold of a chilly night that seeps into you until you shake uncontrollably.

"It's up to us, old dog," Cheryl said absently. "Don't you wish you were back home? Do you wish at all?"

Pushing herself away from the obelisk, she forced her legs to take one step and then another up the road toward the castle. The climb was difficult. The road was steep, and with each step, Cheryl felt weaker. She stopped several times to rest, but each time it was harder to get underway again.

Turning a final switchback, she saw the front gate. It was closed. Scanning the top of the wall for sentries, she saw none, and the only sound she heard was the wind whipping around the rocks along the top of the cliff.

Was the castle deserted? Had everyone gone to Land? Or was this a trap about to spring on her as its victim?

A rumble and then a rattle of moving chains came from inside the wall. The massive, hardwood gates began to groan. Cheryl grabbed Duffer and jumped behind a rock, and waited. Shortly, a group of soldiers and several wagons filled with supplies set out from the castle and continued passed her down the hill.

Cheryl waited until she heard the chains clattering again, and then she sprinted through the closing gate. The massive doors closed with a thunk behind her.

The courtyard was deserted. A door opened into a guardhouse to her left, but she saw no one. Across the courtyard, several stone steps lead to a formal entrance into the castle. A brass door, two stories high, was ajar and revealed a pink and white marble hallway beyond.

She crossed the courtyard cautiously, looking in every direction. Once inside the hall, she tiptoed down the highly polished stone. No sound could be heard except the clicking of Duffer's toenails on the stone. At an intersection, she looked up and down the hall. The south hall ended abruptly at a set of closed doors. The north hall ended at an open room.

Feeling weak and sick to her stomach, Cheryl slipped her hand into her pocket and touched a leaf. She pulled her hand away impulsively. It occurred to her that she should empty her pockets to avoid using them, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It seemed too much to face the evil power without them close at hand just in case she needed them.

But I won't use them, she said to herself.

Duffer barked, its nose pointed down the hallway.

"Shhh, Duffer," Cheryl said.

Duffer barked again, and it started toward the open room.

"Come," Cheryl ordered. The dog kept going. "Duffer, come back!" Still, the dog ignored her, and it began running toward the open door.

Cheryl started after her dog. Her legs felt rubbery. It wasn't a pleasant feeling, but she had to do something.

Duffer disappeared through the open doors at the end of the hall. She barked several times and then yelped.

"Duffer!" Cheryl cried. She charged down the hall--her feet slapping against the marble--the noise echoing through the hall.

Dashing heedlessly through the door, she entered the throne room. "Welcome, my child," someone said.

Cheryl looked around, searching for the one who spoke. Scores of men stood against the wall with spears held ready. A palace guard near the door held Duffer flat against the floor with his foot and pointed a spear at the dog's head. A girl in a white dress sat on a throne at the end of the room. In a cluster to the left of the throne stood men dressed in black with red sashes, looking fierce and defiant.

"Who . . . who are you?" Cheryl asked. She moved toward the throne. The girl didn't answer. No one in the room moved.

At the right side of the throne, sitting on the top step, she saw Roy. His head was down, facing the floor. "Are you okay, Roy?" she asked.

"Things are not as they seem," he said. "Be careful."

"That's her, your Majesty," a familiar voice said. Irrigato was chained to the opposite side of the throne. "She was my prisoner. I was bringing her to you, your Majesty."

"Silence!" A hiss filled the room. Cheryl covered her ears with her hands. The sound terrified her. Nauseated her. She stepped backward and slipped her hand into her pocket without thinking.

The girl on the throne stood awkwardly like a scarecrow with sticks for legs. She descended the stairs in jerking motions, her chin resting on her chest. As the girl approached a short black stone wall centered before the throne, smoke belched out of the hole, drifted up, and spread over the room. When it reached her, Cheryl thought it smelled like burning hair.

Something near the wall moved, and Cheryl stepped forward to get a better look. Then she realized it was the wall that moved. The black stone melted into the shape of serpents. Three serpents. They rose into the air and hissed. First, one and then the other twisted its body around the girl until they were twisting around each other above her head. The girl raised her arms into the air above her head, and when she did, the serpents hissed, and a flame spit out of the hole, arched near the ceiling, and shot toward Cheryl.

Cheryl jumped backward, slipped on the marble, and fell onto her back. To break her fall, she pulled her hand from her pocket, spilling leaves to the floor.

The fireball hit the floor just in front of her, scorching the marble.

Cheryl scrambled to her feet.

The girl's arms relaxed, and her head rose until she looked directly into Cheryl's eyes.

Cheryl's legs collapsed, and she fell to her knees. Standing before her, wrapped in the serpents' embrace, was a girl that could have been her twin.

"Messema, hail to our queen," chanted those who circled the room.

Thesnake heads turned toward Cheryl and hissed.