Decemberland

Chapter 44: Before the Storm

Then the noise abruptly stopped.

Everything was quiet.

“… Can you sense its distress?”

The voice broke the silence. Its resonance reached miles in front of her, reminding her how much farther she still had to go. She slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder. No one. Just torches and peculiar statues for as far as she ran.

“… H-Hello?” she called. Nothing. Carefully, she got back to her feet, brushing off her knees, daintily patting the scabs she received from falling. Her leg still hurt, as did her wrist. And the bloody flesh wounds on her face began to dry up, but still stung. Behind her eye lids in her empty socket, she could feel air drying up the inside of her skull. Her body felt as if it would fall apart at any second. Is this what death felt like? Would she die soon? Was there really any point left to running?

“’Tis a sorrowful sight, this one.”

Another voice. She spun around. Nothing. Skeptic, she slowly turned back around and walked forward. Something was there. She was sure of it.

“Why doth it keep onward so?”

She spun around again, before the next voice could finish. But once again, nothing showed itself.

“Survival instinct,” said another voice, from out of nowhere.

Nico walked backwards, unsure of where to look.

“Not so,” said another, “Tis far more complex than that.”

She limped forward, attempting to ignore the voices, but aside from her footsteps that was all that could be heard.

“What doest thou’st see?”

“Bitterness. Fury. Sorrow.”

The voices began to irritate her. As if she couldn’t leave them no matter how far away she got.

“How quaint.”

“I prithee it doe’st know it is hopeless?”

“Spare it. Pain brings hope verily as well.”

“Here, here! Hope for the hopeless! Shall we tell it how long it has left?”

“Silence. Tis not our place.”

“Anon, she is a cutpurse! A pinchpenny! It smells of foul intent.”

“Hold ye tongue, ye bigot jackanapes. Cast not thy stones. It has already been beaten for its sins.”

“Hark! We are all stone! If we could we simply would!”

Nico spun around on her good leg on the moment of emphasis in their speech, and for a split second she captured a shiny, lifelike glow in the eyes of every stone statue behind her. Her breath cut short, and she lost her footing walking backwards.

Instead of falling onto the cold, hard ground, however, she continued to fall into a dark pit that appeared from out of nowhere.

The pit slanted and Nico tumbled on its side until it became completely vertical. The next thing she knew her body rolled through a small vine covered opening and into a bright space. She fell flat on the ground, sprawled out on her back. Her head spun, but above her head she saw bright light shining down between the tops of walls, like a tall room with no roof.

As soon as everything stopped spiraling, she sat up and struggled to her feet. Just as she suspected, she fell into an enclosed space outside of the mountain. Above her, the sky shone. Oddly enough, it shone bright daylight down onto her. The last time she checked, it was late night…

The wall in front of her framed a large, wooden, antiquated gate. Two large rings hung from each door, no lock. The room she stood in felt tranquil and peaceful, yet deep down inside she couldn’t help but feel that the calm was a prelude to a dark finality, waiting just behind those doors.

But where could she go? Four walls surrounded her, three made of stone, one holding a gate to the only path available to her, and another made of dirt holding the path she couldn’t go back to if she tried.

Her steps were tentative. She grasped the large metal rings on the gate with her good hand and pulled. Not all the way, but just a crack to see what lied in wait for her.

A long, narrow pathway stretched far into the distance. The walls stood just as tall as the ones in the room, and there was no roof.  At the remote end of the pathway, Nico squinted her eyes to make out yet another gate of the same size and structure as the one she just opened.

Curious, she stepped through the gate and started down the path. Where exactly did this lead? Had any of the townspeople been here? Did they know about this place?

Getting closer, she noticed a small figure sitting in the corner next to the gate. It dressed drably, in brown rags that covered its entire body.

She came closer to the second gate than she expected. Time felt slightly off.

“Halt,” said a low, gruff voice from underneath the dark hood of the figure, “Who is it?”

Nico stopped, not sure what to say beyond an introduction. “I’m, uh…  er, Nico.”

“And what is it that you wish for, coming here? Nico of the ‘Uh-Er.’”

“That’s… I’m sorry. I’m wondering where this gate leads. I’m hoping somewhere safe. I just need to rest.”

“I can tell. You look as dreadful as I do,” The figure stood up, a mass of tattered brown robes, and he was much taller than she initially thought. Standing five feet above her in height, he moved, almost as if gliding, towards the door to open it. Not a finger poked out of the tattered sheets as it curled a robe covered limb around the ring of the door. It turned its hood toward her before opening.

“I will tell you now that the way forward is not safe. There will be many long, winding paths for you to choose. And you might lose heart before the end. But it is because of who you are that these paths present themselves. Only you can walk them.”

The gate clicked as he pulled, and mist crept through the opening. “Of course, you would not be here if she did not call you.”

The words of the mysteriously robed figure echoed in her head. The calm she felt began to rumble. The tension in the air thickened. Barrels of fog from the wide open gate crawled out to greet her.

She took her first step towards the maddening conclusion to this six month gauntlet.