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FALADEL

I hiss from pain, my vision going dark for a few seconds. This is harder than I thought. I stop, taking a few moments to breath before yanking once more on the knot in my torn shirt, trying to stop the bleeding. I grit my teeth together, closing my eyes as pain lances across my vision in bright red streaks. Everything hurts. But the burning heart of all the pain is the jagged wound in my side. I don't dare take out the crossbow head. It went too deep, and I don’t have the medical tools or training to staunch the bleeding once it comes out. I just broke off the shaft, and used my tunic as a makeshift bandage for the wound. But it’s not good enough, I can still see dark ominous blood staining it’s way through in the light of the flickering torch.

Slowly, painstakingly, I start to get up. My legs feel shaky and my whole body is caked with sweat. I blink away a sudden bout of wooziness as I finally step away from the wall, and hesitantly go over to pick up my torch. Each step hurts. Bending over feels like a thousand knives are being pressed into my side, and standing up is somehow even worse. Guilt hounds me. I don’t think I’ll be able to keep my promise to Briareth. Just going off of how my racing heart seems desperate to push all the blood out of my body and my current reactions to simply standing up, I’m not sure I can make it to the end of this hall, much less get out of here after destroying whatever has been interfering with people’s health and magic. I shut that thought out of my head though. I have to succeed. It doesn’t matter what happens, my friends are counting on me. I just hope I don’t disappoint them.

It isn’t that long of a walk to the end of the corridor, but it feels like it takes ages. No roads branch off, the walls and floor are carved smooth and flat, it should be an easy path. But each scrape and bruise I got from the mini-cavein shouts to get my attention. With every hunched and uneven step my side screams at me. I stay as close to the wall as I can, leaning on it when I need to rest, using it as support, moving slowly and carefully, and desperately hoping my legs don’t give out. I’m not sure I could get up again if I fall. But I shut that thought out. I need to get up. I need to reach the end. There simply isn’t another option.

Finally, I see it. An end to this tunnel, an opening into a wider area, my heart rate doesn’t increase. It’s already pounding as fast as it can. Abnormally fast. I can imagine all too easily the crossbow tip, still lodged in my side, sending toxins into my blood stream. Poisoning me. I crush that thought. I won’t think about it. I won’t. Instead I take another step forward. And another. And another. Maybe, just maybe, if I’m lucky–

As soon as I pass through the entryway, I twist my neck, straining my eyes to look past the shadows at the edges of the pool of torchlight. It is a small circular room, no exits or windows into the above world, no ornaments or furniture besides the simple wooden table in the center. The hope that had slowly built inside me crashes down. Of course whoever built this tunnel didn’t provide a second access point. They were trying to keep a secret object safe, not prepare for earthquakes and dragon attacks. Why would they put in a second entrance to their end-chamber? It would just add another access point for thieves.

But this means that there isn’t an exit for me. For a moment, my imminent future pushes past the walls I’d put up. I’m going to die here, there’s no escape. If I don’t bleed out, die from the poison I suspect was on the bolt, or simply suffocate, I’ll starve. I’ll die of hunger or of thirst! It will be a slow, painful death. And I won’t be able to do anything to stop it. I’ll die down here! I can feel my heart racing. My breath comes in loud labored gasps, blocking out all other sounds. The room swims around me, and I feel light headed. My whole body is numb. I can’t breathe. I can’t think. I can’t– I can’t– I! My vision fades until all I can focus on is the bright yellow light in front of me.

Desperately I stare at the light, willing it to come back into focus. It reminds me of the sun, bright and warm. It reminds me of the best parts of my life: learning how to garden and growing sunflowers as tall as my father; sitting with my father listening to endless petitions and learning how best to help the people of our kingdom; the golden dustmotes shining in the light that drifted through the castle library; the first glimpse of the dawn as Briareth and I escaped from the dwarven mines; our travels together; celebrating the hard won peace with an afternoon picnic with all my friends; and then going back home to pour over new trade requests; the sunset sparkling over the celebratory golden wine pushed to the side on my work table. Slowly my breathing returns to normal. I’m on my knees, still trembling slightly. Before me lies my nearly dead torch, dropped from my hands when I started to panic.

But I’m done with that now. My friends need me. Ignoring the pain lancing under my skin, I get to my feet and carefully make my way over to the table in the middle of the room. The ceiling creaks and rumbles ominously, but I ignore it. The table only has two objects on it. The first is a small cylindrical container with an open lid and a strange design painted on it. Then there is a small cord connecting the cylinder with the second object, a machine that folds open like a sideways book without any pages.

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One of the sections of the strange sideways book glows with a harsh white light, the other has raised squares with– I bring my torch slightly closer. Are those letters? But they don’t look right. I blink a few times, and something spatters onto the raised squares. “Blood?” I whisper, realizing belatedly that something is coming out of my nose. I wipe it off, a bit of its iron taste seeping into my mouth and steeling my nerves. I need to finish this.

I look into the cylinder, it’s mostly empty, just a large rock at the bottom, but something feels off about the rock. Uneasy, I shut the cylinder’s lid. It makes a slight hiss and I flinch painfully away, but nothing happens. The lid looks to have sealed itself shut. I doubt I could open it again.

Hoping I haven’t just made things infinitely worse, I turn to the glowing machine. Hesitantly, I tap one of the buttons. Its corresponding symbol appears on the screen in some sort of black ink. A shudder goes through my limbs and my side aches dully, reminding me I can’t have much time left. I blink trying to focus, and then blink again. My vision is fuzzy, but not in a passing out way. It’s more like, everything is going blurry. Suddenly, pain rips through my body. It charges across my skin, streaming through my blood. I am open. My whole skin breathes in a way I’ve never felt before. It hurts, like my entire body is on fire. But it's a different sort of pain then my wound. It's almost a good pain, a cleansing pain. Like a bone being set back into place. Blue sparks dance in front of my eyes, and suddenly, my vision sharpens. My hands jitter from the aftershocks of that massive wave of pain. I can’t control them as they scrape across the section of the book below the raised squares. When I finally regained control of my body, I realize the glowing part of the book has changed. A small box has appeared on screen, asking for– I pause, unable to believe it. I can understand the symbols, both on the keyboard and in the box! They’re letters, letters forming words, words asking for a command. Hesitantly, I type in END, and then touch SUBMIT on the glowing box. I don’t know how much clearer I can be. I want the magical interference to end. I want Briareth, Folas, Adamar, and Valkallyn to get their magic back. I want all the people who were sick to get healed. I want the war with dragons to end. I want all this to end.

I stare at the strange glowing book with no pages, unsure of what to do next. It seems to be thinking, little lights going continuously in circles on its glowing section. Above me the ceiling rumbles ominously, and I take a step back from the table, intending to head to the doorway. As soon as I take a step, I nearly collapse from pain. Whatever strange thing just happened to me, where it felt like lightning raced through my veins and my vision cleared, my wound didn’t like it. Still doubled over from pain, I stumble back, clinging to the table for support. It takes a few seconds for me to get my breathing back under control, and another minute before I can stand up straight again. By then, the book has gone completely dark. I shut it.

And then, so no one else can ever use it to wreak-havoc, I drop the torch on it.

I carefully, agonizingly, make my way back to the entry as it slowly catches fire. I don’t want to be here if it explodes. When I reach the doorway, I look back. The strange book lets off smoke as it burns and tiny pops as pieces melt. The smoke smells toxic, and there is a lot more of it than I thought there would be. For a second, my worries about suffocating down here rear their heads. But the smoke sifts out through cracks in the stone arch of the room's ceiling. Slowly, I slide myself down the doorway, wincing at every jarring movement, watching the flames. Another rumble comes, rocks creaking and straining overhead.

I want to move out of the doorway, back into the tunnel, preferably somewhere the ceiling isn’t quaking. Briareth might be able to come back for me after this has all calmed down. But I can’t move. I’m not sure if poison is finishing the job, or if I’ve lost too much blood, but I can’t feel my feet, and my whole body feels far too heavy. Slowly, I let the intrusive thoughts back into my head.

Perhaps this won’t be that bad. I’ve lived a good life. I’ll have died saving my friends. I’m not sure I’d be that good of a king anyway. It’s something I’ve always prepared for, something I always expected and definitely wanted to excel at, but never something I really wanted. I don’t know what I would have chosen for myself. I’ve dabbled in other jobs, but only as experience to better understand how my people lived. I never thought about doing them permanently. Slowly my mind twists in and out of consciousness. I spiral out of time and place, not knowing how much time has passed, not caring that my body has lost almost all sense of feeling, still considering the problem. I can’t decide on an answer though. My mind is too fuzzy. It keeps coming back instead to the parts of being a Prince that I loved. Diplomacy, adventure, the ability to help people permanently and directly. I can’t think of any other jobs that would get to do all three. Perhaps all I could be in this life was ever and always an elven prince who worried a bit too much about everything. What had Briareth always called me? A mother-hen?

I can barely feel my lips twitch into a smile. The revelation is a little late to do me any good. But I appreciate it anyways. It brings some peace to my still buzzing mind.

When the rocks finally fall, as some part of me knew they would, I’m able to lift up my head and smile at them. If there is another adventure, I’ll be glad to embark on it. If there is nothing, then I can at least say I completed this one to the best of my meager abilities.