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The pitch black void that lay before me was narrow and hardly big enough to accommodate a child, never mind a man's large frame, but I nevertheless crawled intrepidly, or foolishly, into the space, running my hands along the walls as I stared sightlessly into the darkness.
What will you do when you see Thomas? How will you get him free? I knew not a single answer to the questions that beset me constantly. But I could not very well do nothing, for it was not in me to be complacent and idle. Thomas was my brother in all but blood and despite that he was confused and had somehow grown delusional, I owed him my loyalty. He would have done it for me.
If nothing else, I would at least talk to him. Perhaps comfort him through the bars and say my last farewell, but that would be my last resort once I had exhausted all efforts to free him. I had few ideas to offer really, but all I was certain of was that he was not a malicious boy. Only confused by his feelings for me and he did not deserve this fate especially because I did not believe...nay, I knew he was not capable of rape.
After what seemed an eternity, I came upon a precipice, my fingers clutching at the edge of the damp stone. I carefully leaned as far as my balance would allow so that I might feel along the wall perpendicular to the ledge and thereby get an idea of what I could not see.
The stone was freezing cold and slick with water. The cistern lay somewhere on the upper floors, so perhaps this water was the result of a minuscule seepage from above. During my blind inspection, my fingers brushed across a piece of iron that protruded solidly from the wall and I wrapped my fingers around it, deducing for myself that it was, or felt like, a type of handle. Running my hand up above it, to investigate further, I discovered naught but more moist rock.
Ergo, I changed the direction of my intrepid prodding and searched the bottom of the handle instead, sweeping my hand downwards till I bumped up against another protrusion: it seemed as solidly embedded into the stonework as the one above it. I gingerly eased one foot over the edge, placing it hesitantly on the iron perch and, holding on to the handle above it, moved my other foot down even lower, hoping to find purchase in the stygian pit I had rashly managed to position myself into.
Yes!
I had guessed aright, for there was indeed another foothold projecting out with which to rest my weight onto. I tested the stability of the iron step and, finding it to be secure, I maneuvered my whole body off the ledge and onto the wall. With the assiduousness of an ant, feeling its way blindly along a pathway, I climbed down into the unknown depths of the oubliette, testing each foothold tentatively before continuing on.
Without warning, the iron bar came loose from its base beneath my foot the same moment I maneuvered to step onto the one below it. I screamed as I dragged my nails against the rock, but it was of no consequence; I had only enough time to register my own terror ere I plummeted into the depth below, clawing uselessly at darkness.
❅
I should be dead. Why was I not? By some strange and absurd miracle, I had landed on my feet like some deranged cat. My heart was yet pounding and my innards still convulsing with the panic that had surged when I fell. But that was not all. What in God's name was happening to me?
I looked down at my fingers and blinked rapidly as I stretched my hands in front of my face, studying my flesh in the darkness — peering at the blood that continued to ooze from my ripped fingers. And therein lay the crux of the matter. I could see! I had fallen, landed with curious agility, and then suddenly, upon opening my eyes, I had been vested with a strange sort of sight; a green fog had somehow possessed my eyes and imbued them with the gift of verdant vision.
Whether from my shock or the jolt of the fall, I knew not whence this sudden sight originated, but I could see just as clearly as if I were in a dark room lit by green flame. I plucked at the jagged nail that still hung loose from its root, hissing as I did so. I tossed it into the nook then raised my gaze to see the handle, from where I'd fallen, hanging precariously from its foundation. I should be dead! I thought again with a shudder.
Carefully, I pushed myself onto curiously steady legs and stretched my arms out on either side, as much as the confining space would allow, so that I could grope my way along this new direction; I still did not trust this peculiar ability. The dank passage ultimately lead me to a set of stairs. I ascended along the steps on all fours and — bemused by the grooves in the stonework beneath my hands that I should not, logically, be able to see — banged my head loudly against an unexpected barrier; a ceiling. My staircase had, apparently, ended abruptly, and the ceiling had turned out to be a trap door leading, presumably, out onto the floor above.
As swiftly as it had come, my gift suddenly left me, the eerie green sight expunged in an instant and once again I was blinded.
"No matter," I muttered, having a strong urge to hear my own voice just now. "I shall soon be out of here."
I felt it no surprise, however, that when I endeavored to lift the door, it gave not an inch. The air was stale and suffocating, so I began to feel around nervously for the keyhole with panicked fingers and nearly collapsed with relief when I eventually did find it. I then pulled my trusty key out again and fumbled with the lock as my heart palpitated anxiously within its cage, the privation of comforting firelight and fresh air urging me to desperation.
The sense of drowning in darkness was a most unpleasant sensation, and on hearing that mellifluous sound of the latch turning, I nearly cried with relief. But I had yet the presence of mind to pause and listen for footsteps or voices above. Hearing none, I lifted the lid and scrambled out of the hovel like a rat from the night soil. The trapdoor had been buried underneath a large, thick mat of woven rope and I scrambled out from under the heavy mass, furiously clawing at the weight, till finally I was free.
Taking care to lock the trapdoor, and replace the rug, I investigated my surroundings. I found myself staring agog at shelves upon shelves of dire looking weapons.
I must be in the armourer's tower, I thought.
I knew it to be on the south west side of the keep and so it made sense that I should find myself here of all places, since I could not have crawled a great distance, being as I resided in the west wing; although, it had certainly felt an age since I'd left my chamber. I did indeed require a weapon if I was to protect myself tonight and, as providence would have it, I had crawled my way straight into the armoury. Ha!
With great celerity, I scanned my choices. I had not the strength, or training, to handle a long bow, nor a crossbow for that matter, more was the pity. I ignored the broadswords, falchions and claymore's, tucked away in their sheaths and scattered into large chests, as I inspected the rest of the inventory. There were lances and Pikes erected in multitudinous rows along the wall — the glaives glistening dangerously in the faint light of the outside torches — and flails, maces, axes and clubs had been haphazardly dumped into large barrels, but it was the selection of daggers decorating the shelves that drew my eyes.
I grabbed two pernicious-looking blades and tucked one in the belt at my waist and the other into my right boot. It was time to leave. I was never more grateful for the endless winter nights — the sun had long ere now forsaken us to the thick blackness of a still moonless night. I guessed the time to be around six o'clock in the evening. I would have the full moon to guide my way within an hour, perhaps two, but first I needed to sneak away to the postern door under the stealthy cover of a starless sky. I hoped the moon's unearthly glow, when she did finally rouse herself from slumber, would break easily through the thin layer of icy clouds that hung in the heavens tonight.
I snuck downstairs, then crept along the silent shadows of the casemate and atilliator's workshop, empty this time of an evening, before peeking my head through the doorway, just in time to see Lucian. He and the other's were only now leaving the bailey through the inner gatehouse. I watched angrily as Carac lead a broken-looking Thomas into the night beyond. Behind the Greyback men, followed a procession of ten guards and seven shackled malefactors huddled between each armored man. One of the criminals looked decidedly odious and almost as large as Carac. I shivered to think what that man had done — even his warden seemed leery of him.
The timing of their egress from the guardroom, where the dungeon was located, could not have been more fortuitous, because the conspicuous little succession attracted the eye of every servant and watchman in view of the courtyard. Taking this to be my chance, I made good my escape. I pulled the hood of my vermillion cape securely over my face and, keeping to the shadowed perimeter, slipped discreetly away. I would doubtless intercept the company where the postern tunnel opened into the woods.
I grasped the postern's ringed, brass handle and tugged at the heavy door, distractedly peering through the shadows behind me as my muscles strained. By my third attempt, I realized — with growing indignation and dread — that it was not just the cold that had fused the gate shut. My husband had, I was certain, locked it!
No! Blast you, Lucian! I clenched my hands at my hips to keep from pummeling the door in fury.
Who else but he would have been wily enough to take the added precaution of bolting the door and casting my schemes awry? I had come too far to be stymied now! Reaching for the silver chain around my neck, I sent up a little prayer to the obscured heavens — begging that my task not be hindered at so untimely a junction — as I turned the bow. Despite these prayers, I did not credit that my key would once again serve its purpose and contrive success; luck was, after all, a fickle cur and I lacked faith that Ulfrlykill would vouchsafe my progress a third time.
However, the sound of the blade loudly snapping the latch aside abruptly quelled the tears that threatened, for it was mayhap the sweetest din a desperate woman had ever perceived. I blinked away the moisture gathering on my lids and restored Ulfrlykill to its resting place against my breast. The bejeweled, red eyes of the silver wolf glinting despite the lack of moonlight, as if to wink in satisfaction.
"Well done," I whispered, patting it affectionately.
It was beginning to snow heavily and I mentally congratulated myself on selecting my warmest raiments and sturdiest boots for this endeavor as, taking another fugitive look behind me, I skulked into the thicket that covered the hidden gateway, vanished into the night like a silent specter.
❅
I hid a short distance from the path I knew to be the route the group would traverse and waited for them to arrive. The blizzard had not abated even a little and I huddled into my heavy cloak as the sounds of the night played out around me. Somewhere an owl swooped down at an unsuspecting rodent, its victorious screech a veritable death knell.
At last the jailers and their wards, Thomas included, emerged along the path, their lamplights eerie in the perforated curtain of snow, and I looked behind them to find that the lords of Nørrdragor were suspiciously absent. I was at a loss for where they had gone, their disappearance extremely confounding, but I could not fathom that quandary any further — the company was now passing me by. Covertly, I moved in behind them, knowing that the falling snow would cover my tracks in the process.
As I followed them at a distance, I shot clandestine glances at my rear, but there were thankfully no pursuers. I would be thoroughly reprimanded and worse, properly disciplined, if Lucian were to capture me now. That thought I could little afford to entertain, or I might lose my nerve altogether, and so I hummed softly to myself. The sound carried no further than a foot in front of me as the headwind howled and cut at my cheeks. I, on the other hand, could hear clearly how the men up ahead yelled and laughed raucously, their humor as displaced as a fly in the broth.
When I came to realize what I was humming I quickly ceased that too, for I was even more likely to turn back if I considered the words of the old bedtime rhyme Mildred had taught me as a child:
Venture forth, ye dauntless souls,
Where none hath gone ere now:
Into the woods where beasts and trolls,
Wait near each shadowed bough.
Tread thee not where spiders creep,
Each web a silken grave.
Be still and let the monsters sleep;
Yield not the blood they crave...
Thy courage ebbs into the dark,
Thou heeded not my words!
Terror comes, so swift and stark,
Lo! It startles all the birds...
Ho! what lurks in yonder shade,
Withal the shape of peril!
A beast arrives where you have strayed
Its jaws are foul and feral.
Hearken well to what I say;
Ye bairns attend me quite—
The wise go to the woods by day,
Only fools trespass at night...
"Carpe Noctem," I whispered grimly, the rhyme replaying in my head over and over again though I willed it not.
❆
When at last we reached the infamous towering walls, I slipped back down into the gully and picked my way forward, the relentless wind swallowing the noise of my boots breaking through the thick snowy layer. I observed the guards closely as two of them, the largest of the group, struggled to crank the stalwart winch, but finally they did manage to raise the iron gate.
They deposited their burdens roughly into the forbidding maw of the labyrinth and used their war-scythes viciously to deter the malefactors from their continued attempts at escape, lest they wished to impale themselves on the pointy ends of this wicked spears.
I knew not which death I would rather have and hoped to God that the choice would not be presented to me as was the case with the criminals I beheld. Thomas was the smallest man by far and I hoped to aide him through the gate somehow, but I had little confidence in the successful outcome of that plan, if I was being honest. I myself could barely fit through the gap once the heavy portcullis was lifted that small degree.
When the guards retreated back whence they came, I waited a few more patient moments and, after a reasonable amount of time, climbed up the slope when I was sure they would not suddenly return. By that time, only three men still remained at the gate and I was exceedingly relieved to discover that the one I sought was, in fact, amongst them; Thomas stood stood shivering beside two other unassuming men. I did not know how much longer this divine intervention would continue aiding my objective, but I had been fortunate thus far and hoped it would continue long into the night.
"How now!" cried Thomas when I stepped into view, the torch in the bracket spotlighting me as I reached the gate.
"Shhh!" I grabbed his cold hands between the bars as the other two men gathered close, hopeful looks etched across their grimy faces. "I have come to help!" Though how I might accomplish that, I knew not.
I recognized the men beside Thomas as being the two drunks who had recently bludgeoned a passing traveller to death over some minor insult. I did not take them for particularly violent men as they were sober now and staring woefully at me through abstemious eyes, but could see plainly now that none of the men before me would fit through the gate if I winched the portcullis... not even Thomas.
With all my heart I did not want to enter the maze and so my fear kept me frozen where I stood, but what other option was there to be had? I thought furiously as the three of them shifted anxiously, awaiting the disclosure of my great plan; yet I maintained no such strategy!
Three pairs of eyes watched hopelessly as I ran to the winch and tried with every ounce of my meagre strength to raise the powerful gate, but it was all in vain — it would not lift above the fraction I myself could barely fit through. The effort as fruitless an endeavor as I had known it would be.
In the end, I gave up and looked to the sky for answers, as Lucian had done that fateful night when he had found me here himself, not a few feet from where I stood now.
Think! I yelled inwardly at myself. Had I come only to stare at Thomas through the bloody gate? Think, Aria! I commanded again.
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