The Home of Misery and Madness

12th Day of Autumn

767 Karloman’s Peace

His muscles strained and protested the unseen force that bound him in his place. His limbs trembled under his effort to resist and push through the abyssal barrier. His nostrils flared as he sucked in great lungfuls of air into his chest. His mind went dumb, free of thoughts, as the full breadth of his focus became fixed on overcoming the invisible obstacle.

Tormenting shadows danced before him again, taking the shape of past traumas, performing the play of his most painful agonies. It was as if the darkness itself wanted to arrest Ekkehard and imprison his mind in misery and madness.

The spectres took new form.

First, the shape of a giant owl, its head rotating slowly until its face stared down upon Ekkehard. Its wide eyes were vast empty oceans of black through which Ekkehard fell.

Then, a city street, lined with wooden stakes.

Ekkehard resisted the last vision, closing his eyes and screaming his resistance as with every tendon and fibre he pushed himself forward.

He lifted his right foot off the ground and it shook with effort. The bones felt as if they would buckle and muscle strained on the edge of tearing, but nonetheless, he pushed forward.

When at last he had completed that final step, he stumbled.

Ekkehard fell forward and sprawled across the cave floor.

It was as if nothing had been holding him at all, and he had thrown himself through the air.

The darkness that had swallowed him receded and gave way to a pale blue and green light that now illuminated the cave.

The orange glow of the campfire he had been following was nowhere to be seen.

Panting, Ekkehard remained on the floor for a moment, unable to rise. His body was racked from the efforts, sweat beading down his forehead as his heart drummed in his chest so quickly, he feared it would burst. He could not breathe in enough air, taking large rapid inhales as he tried to calm his body.

He rolled on his side, and lying still, stared at the cave wall as he tried to recover.

‘What in the hell was happening to him,’ he wondered to himself.

He had never experienced anything like this before. Invisible forces and taunting shadows. What was all of this?

Was it sorcery?

Had he blundered into a sorcerer’s cave?

He had never met a sorcerer before. He didn’t even know anyone who had. They were known of. Sorcerers were rare, and all that were found were taken into the service of the emperor. Few were ever found outside of the capital and so they remained a mystery to the majority of people, and they were one for Ekkehard.

Yet, they were known of and Ekkehard had read of their powers in the scriptorium of the temples. Dark magics, given to them by the ancient enemies of Karloman, capable of manipulating a man's mind or doing harm to his body. There were few specifics in the texts he had read, but as he lay there, he remembered them and thought them the only explanation for what had happened to him.

A sorcerer’s cave then.

That was where he was, and that was a far more dangerous place than he had intended.

Perhaps the apparition that had chased him here belonged to the sorcerer. Perhaps it was a manipulation of the mind.

That would explain it all.

‘Yes, a sorcerer lives in this cave,’ Ekkehard said to himself.

As Ekkehard’s body slowly regained its strength, he became keenly aware of a cold dampness assailing him. The floor he was lying on was slick with wetness. A thin line of slimy substance coated it, and his hands slipped across the stone surface as he pushed himself back up onto his knees.

He wiped the foul-feeling liquid from his hands onto the tough fabric of his trousers, but despite vigorous effort, it clung to his skin.

‘Ehk,’ he exclaimed as he furiously tried to dry his hands.

Giving up on any notion of cleanliness, he gave up on his hands and instead took in the dimly lit surroundings.

It was difficult to make out anything.

He was inside the cave, and he was much further in than he thought.

Looking behind him, he could see no sign of the entrance he had just forced himself through. Looking ahead, there was a ghostly glow, providing what little light there was, emanating from just ahead. The source lay behind some bend in the tunnel he had found himself in. Once more just out of sight and just beyond explanation.

As he stared down the tunnel, he became dizzy.

The tunnel seemed to expand and contract disorientingly.

Sound reverberated from before him and travelled menacingly beyond him. It was a deep hissing sound that reminded him of laboured breathing. It seemed to inhale before him and exhale as it rushed past him.

Ekkehard felt a rush of wind cross his skin as it went. He staggered, sprawling away from the sound, attempting to crawl back and away from it.

He imagined some diabolical beast appearing and consuming him.

Then it was gone.

Lying against the hard ground of the cave floor, Ekkehard could hear the pounding of his heart in his ears once more. His wide eyes were unblinking as he refused to look away, fearful that whatever had made the noise was simply lying in wait.

After a few moments, Ekkehard began to laugh.

‘I really am losing my mind,’ he thought to himself.

Sorcerers and monsters. What foolish ideas.

He was just tired, hungry, and in a dark cave. He was letting his mind play tricks on him.

‘Time to get a hold of yourself,’ he said to himself out loud, his voice echoing through the tunnel.

He got himself to his feet and attempted to brush off layers of dust and slime that he could feel clinging to his clothes. Looking back, he still couldn’t see the entrance of the cave.

He must have rounded a bend without noticing.

He would probably struggle to find his way if he headed back in darkness. After all, he had been entirely lost on his way in. He was better off going deeper in, towards the light, he decided. It would be safer to spend the night in the security that the cave offered, and he was protected from the weather should it take a turn for the worse again.

As he took his first steps down the tunnel, however, a cold chill ran down his spine and goosebumps rose on the skin of his arms. He shook his head at the sensation, dismissing it and letting his rational mind win over his instincts.

‘Enough of this,’ he said as he walked, each footfall echoing down the tunnel as he ventured.

He followed the meandering cave tunnel for what he guessed was a few hundred metres. The further he went, the colder it got, and eventually, it was so cold he was reminded of the direst winter night he had experienced in the north. He wrapped his arms around himself in response, trying to keep warm.

As he rounded another bend in the cave, it opened into a large chamber and Ekkehard found himself in some odd form of subterranean oasis.

It was dozens of metres in diameter, and the roof of the cave reached so high that the unearthly glow of the cave was extinguished long before it reached the top. Strange mosses, algae, lichens, and other veritable plant life grew all around the chamber, coating the floor and climbing the walls. The pale green and blue lights that illuminated the cave emanated from the peculiar plants, some of which glowed across their entirety while others had luminous bulbs that acted as eerie torches.

In the centre of the cavern, there was a small pool of sapphire water from which the alien vegetation stemmed. The water was clouded, but in a way that gave it a pristine blue hue, reminiscent of clear summer skies. The plant life was thickest near the pool, and large mushrooms formed what one could mistake for benches around its circumference. Long vines flowed from the abyss of the cave roof to frame the pool, giving it an almost pavilion-like visage.

There was something about the scene that appeared almost designed, as if it was not natural, but sculpted and then abandoned to overgrowth. It made Ekkehard wonder if he had stumbled upon some being’s secret place of worship or perhaps meditation.

Whether deliberately arranged or an accident of nature, he thought it was beautiful, nonetheless.

Looking at the scene, Ekkehard suddenly felt his groaning muscles relax and his breathing become clear and steady. The cold chill that had enveloped him was gone, and he stood tall in the serene chamber.

For some reason, a reason he couldn’t quite explain, he smiled.

Beyond the pool, circling around its far side, the earth of the cave climbed upward, creating a natural viewing point from which a person might overlook the site. At the edge of the viewing point, Ekkehard could make out what looked like a plinth or lectern.

That certainly wasn’t a natural formation, he concluded.

That was also the first real sign of possible inhabitants. He crept backward, hiding in the shadow of the mouth of the tunnel he had emerged from. Narrowing his eyes, he peered through the ghostly light of the cave and searched.

Suddenly, there was a muted, soundless explosion of light that erupted from the pool. It swirled in his vision like a subaquatic kaleidoscope.

When it cleared, a new scene lay before his eyes.

Ekkehard ducked back further into the shadows of the chamber and crept low to the ground. He was no longer alone.

The cave was younger now, the plant life less wild and more kept, and torches hung along the cave walls illuminating the place in a reverent glow. Around the pool, which was no longer clouded, were six figures dressed in heavy-set black robes. Each sat upon benches as a seventh robed figure stood before the plinth upon the raised platform above them.

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The seventh being preached vehemently in a foreign tongue from his podium as dissatisfied murmurings passed through the waiting audience.

Unintelligible jeers were cast back at the speaker, whose irritation was evident as he spat curses back at those before him.

One of the six figures, having apparently heard enough, rose from the bench. He began to make his way from the meeting and walked toward the tunnel Ekkehard was hiding in.

Ekkehard’s mouth went dry, and his throat seized.

Ekkehard was unarmed and outnumbered.

If he was discovered, these strange people would surely attack him, and he couldn’t fight them all.

Perhaps he should run, he thought, but if he did so, the approaching man would surely see him.

Where would he go anyway?

Even if he found his way back out in the dark, he wouldn’t be able to climb down the mountainside before they caught him. He pushed himself up against the side of the cave wall, trying to make himself as small as possible, and hoped the darkness would hide him.

The figure approached in confident strides.

Ekkehard held his breath and closed his eyes.

When he opened them again, the figure was passing him.

Then Ekkehard felt all the air in his lungs escape, as the being's head turned slowly to look upon him.

The oblivion beneath its hood receded and the face of the creature beneath was revealed.

Ekkehard’s body became ice.

Then, Ekkehard saw it was a man.

A young man.

A strong man.

Possibly the most perfectly beautiful man Ekkehard had ever laid his eyes upon.

Ekkehard smiled at the man, and the man smiled back.

Ekkehard felt a warmth embrace him, and the fear he had felt fled his mind and body. He felt light, as if for the first time in his life, someone was helping him to carry the weight and burden of it. He looked at the man longingly, taking in every tiny detail of his features, trying to commit them to memory so that he would never forget the exquisite visage of this most enviable of men.

What was that expression?

Was it surprise he saw on the man’s face? Was this man surprised to find Ekkehard here?

Of course, he wasn’t, Ekkehard thought, chiding himself for even thinking it. This man was flawless. He knew everything and everyone. Of course, he knew Ekkehard would be here. Such a being could never be surprised. Ekkehard was a fool for even thinking it.

The being’s expression shifted.

‘Oh no,’ Ekkehard thought out loud. Is that sadness in the man’s eyes?

Ekkehard hated himself. He didn’t know how or why, but he was certain whatever was wrong with the man was his fault. He had wounded this amazing creature.

What had he done?

Think, how have you hurt this beautiful being?

Ekkehard could feel blood vessels in his mind popping as he tried to focus his thoughts, and his head throbbed from the effort. He couldn’t fathom what it was he had done; he was too dumbstruck in the presence of the man to remember even a second of the life he had lived.

‘I’m sorry,’ was all Ekkehard could say.

He was sorry.

He was so eternally and infinitely sorry.

He was sorry for not having been a better son to his parents, a better brother to his siblings, a better husband to his wife, and a better father to his son. He was sorry for his actions during the Merchants War, for the lives he took and for the families he ruined. He was sorry for turning his back on the faith and forsaking his oaths and vows.

He was sorry, most of all, for the weakness he had shown every day since the day he was born.

Tears rolled down Ekkehard’s face.

‘Please,’ he begged.

Mercifully, the being’s face shifted again, and Ekkehard gasped in response.

Sympathy. Understanding. Forgiveness.

Ekkehard sobbed.

Then, time itself seemed to slow as the being moved, as if passing through water, closer to him. As it came, it reached beneath its white cloak and revealed a golden sphere of intricate design. With one outstretched hand, the being placed the orb before Ekkehard’s face, and he saw himself reflected along the pristine surface.

The more he stared at the orb, the brighter it shone and shimmered. Limitless marvels danced in radiance, and Ekkehard saw within it an infinity of beauty and serenity, an eternal reward, fulfilment, and contentment beyond measure. Divine winds gently howled from this thing, and he felt their kiss caress his skin as it blew back his hair and wiped the tears from his eyes. A melody enveloped Ekkehard, seeming to emerge not from the being’s mouth, but from the universe itself as it whispered. A perfectly synchronized choir serenaded Ekkehard with a song written just for him.

‘Ender Infi Aqirancend. Net Fore Infi Aqirancore. Infi Aqirancel I,’ it whispered.

‘I don’t understand,’ Ekkehard said. They were the only words he could manage. He was enraptured by the orb, staring at it, mouth agape, slack-jawed.

Then the light was gone. In the snap of a finger, the being had turned from him, the beautiful face hidden, and the golden sphere it carried secreted away once more. The man’s black robes blended with the shadows of the cave, and he vanished into the darkness right before Ekkehard’s eyes.

He despaired.

‘No,’ he cried out, crawling on his hands and knees to the space the man had occupied.

‘Come back!’ he cried, ‘I need you!’

There was no response.

‘Please,’ he whimpered.

Then, his memory returning to him, he recalled the other figures he had seen in the cave, and Ekkehard spun around to see if any of them had seen him.

They were gone.

The cave had also shifted its appearance once more, returning to the natural, overgrown state it had been in before. The orange glow of the torches replaced once more with the pale glow of foreign plant life.

Ekkehard shook his head, blinking in frustration.

What had he seen? Who had that beautiful man been? Where had he gone? How could Ekkehard find him again?

‘What is going on?’ Ekkehard asked himself out loud.

This time a booming voice replied.

‘Time to get a hold of yourself.’

Ekkehard leapt in fright and collapsed into a ball, covering his face from whatever might be coming for him.

As he calmed, he realized the words had been his own. The voice that echoed was his.

Ekkehard chuckled to himself. Just an echo. The cave system must go on for miles if it took this long for it to return, but it was just an echo.

He got himself back up on his feet and brushed dirt and grime from his robes.

‘I guess I really have lost my mind,’ he muttered to himself. He said the words believing they would ground him, dismissing what he had experienced as a hallucination of the mind. He hoped, however, that this rationalization was wrong.

He hoped the man was real.

He hoped to find him again someday.

He felt his hand tremble at the thought he would not.

‘Enough of this,’ he stated, balling his hands into fists and holding them firmly at his side. ‘Let’s find out what is really happening here,’ he said as he turned and strode into the cave chamber, no longer willing to be tricked by shadows.

He turned his attention to the plinth overlooking the pond and decided to investigate it. It was, after all, the most interesting addition to the cave, and he figured if there was proof of habitation to this place, it would be there. A natural ramp bent around the edge of the large chamber, climbing up to the platform the plinth rested upon.

Ekkehard marched toward it.

As he reached the bottom of the ramp, he stopped dead.

Something behind him was laughing.

A soft laughter.

A woman’s laughter.

Not the kind of laughter of a person in hysterics, but the familiar laughter of a wife amused by the childishness of her husband.

Auriana’s laughter.

He went numb. His eyes widened, and his lip quivered as he grimaced so hard his entire face ached.

He did not turn around.

Could it really be her?

Could this place make that possible?

He turned his head slightly, and slowly stopped as soon as he saw the blurry outline of a figure in the corner of his eye.

‘No,’ he said out loud and snapped his head back facing forward again. ‘Not that.’

He continued to climb the ramp, and the laughter ceased.

As he made his way up to the viewing point, he discovered that the object was not only much larger than he had imagined, but it was also not separate from the cave floor. It was a natural rock formation that had been carved into a smooth, elaborate lectern. Examining it as he neared, he noted that it was covered in strange angular designs and etchings of symbols, all of which Ekkehard was unfamiliar with.

As Ekkehard crossed the smooth surface of the platform, he realised that it must once have been part of the cave wall. Someone had carved and chiselled the rock away to form the overlook. He wondered if perhaps the entire chamber had been hollowed out by hand at some point. Whatever the case, Ekkehard was sure now that great effort had been undertaken to create this place.

When he was only a few steps away from the podium, he realised it was tall and wide. Taller and wider than he was. From his low position, Ekkehard could not clearly see what rested upon its surface.

There was something there, however, Ekkehard could see that much.

A faint aura of light shimmered upward from the slanted desk of the plinth, and Ekkehard envisioned that precious jewels or sacred artefacts must have been hidden there. Such riches were of no use to him right now, but should he and his brothers escape to some village or town, he could barter with them.

A pair of giant steps, too large to have been crafted for ordinary men, had been carved at the foot of the altar. Ekkehard climbed them, having to jump a little up each step, and looked upon the treasures.

He was disappointed to discover all that rested upon the lectern were seven old books.

‘No. Not books,’ he thought to himself. ‘Tomes.’

Seven large ancient leather-bound tomes with intricate and ornate coverings were displayed on the desk. Two of the tomes had been given positions of prominence, laid parallel to one another in the centre of the table, while the other five formed an arch over them. They were massive, each as wide as his forearm and fist combined and longer still in height. Each was covered with different designs and symbols. The markings that adorned them could have been words or letters foreign to Ekkehard, but he had no way of knowing.

Unable to read any titles that may have been displayed, he gazed across them all, examining their artfully crafted covers, most of which had been finished in some form of plated metal.

Of the five arching tomes, the leftmost book was engraved with dark green metal and depicted a large tree circled by various pairs of birds. Following it, the second book was covered in bright yellow metal depicting an ornate sword thrust upward before a blazing sun.

The middle book was an orange tome that depicted a gathering in some lavish garden. At the centre of the garden sat a beautiful woman. The woman wept while those around her made merry as they sipped from cups of wine and engorged themselves on plates of fruits and meats.

The next book, however, was not engraved with metal. Instead, it was made of red leather, and carved within the leather was the image of a single open eye. The iris was fashioned not in the circular shape of man or the arrowed shape of beast, but rather in the shape of a strange symbol of two connected loops that overlapped one another at the centre.

The rightmost book made Ekkehard uncomfortable, and he couldn’t linger on it for long.

It was finished in white metal, its only adornment the shape of an upside-down skull. Ekkehard first thought it a human skull. From the corner of his eye, however, he noticed that it was oddly long and angular.

He shook his head and turned to the two books of prominence.

It was the leftmost that first caught Ekkehard’s eye. Like the eye-adorned book in red, this book was also devoid of metal finishings. In fact, it was free of any embellishments or markings of any kind. It did not appear to have been dyed with any colouring in its fashioning, leaving the material used to make the book bare. A pinkish-brown material that was finely grained and covered in large pores.

Having spent many years inspecting the quality of leather, Ekkehard recognised cured flesh when he saw it. He wondered what manner of creature had provided the skin, however, as it was not a kind he had seen before.

He reached a hand toward the book but pulled back the instant before his finger brushed the surface of its cover. He wasn’t certain, but for a second Ekkehard thought he had seen the cover of the book rise and fall, as if it were breathing. It made his skin crawl and he turned from it.

At last, his gaze drifted to the final book.

Seeing it truly for the first time, he wondered how he had managed to ignore it until this point. He examined it with rapt awe.

It shone golden before him, just as the beautiful man’s orb had, seeming to get brighter the longer he looked. The cover depicted a city of astonishing magnitude and wonder, fashioned in gold and stretching for hundreds of miles across a perfect land.

He admired the intricate and vivid detail of the etchings.

Giant towers manned by beings of golden light were scattered across the length of an impossibly high wall that surrounded the city. Great temples, where the people could gather for celebrations, were dotted across the cityscape. Theatres and festival sites played out endless entertainment. In the far distance, climbing up the mountainside upon which the city rested, upon the highest peak, was a great golden fortress. It rose above the city and climbed into the sky, its watchful eyes safeguarding those below.

Ekkehard looked down from the wondrous castle to the streets and marketplaces where the people of the city milled about.

The people walked upon golden cobblestone, and all of them wore fine dresses, gowns, and robes, and their ears, necks, fingers, and wrists were adorned with fine jewellery. Musicians, jugglers, and other entertainers mingled through the crowds, bringing joyous merriment to the street dwellers who watched and applauded.

As Ekkehard examined the scene, he could hear the music of the entertainers and the applause of the city people over the sound of the hustle and bustle of the great city. He reached his hand out toward the book, and as his fingers neared the cover, his eyes widened as he watched the city people begin to move.

They were talking to one another.

They were laughing with each other.

Though they spoke some foreign tongue, Ekkehard knew they were speaking about him.

Some even pointed toward him. Some even spoke his name.

Ekkehard longed to visit the city of wonders and reached for it.

His fingers brushed the cover of the tome.

The golden shine died. The joyous sounds of the city silenced. The depiction was motionless and without life once more.

Startled, Ekkehard examined it as he gripped the book in both hands, confused. Then fright overtook him as a new sound filled his head.

It was a voice.

This was not like the melodious voice of the beautiful man, which now seemed like a distant memory. Nor was it whispered or distant.

This was a powerful voice.

A guttural and foul voice.

It was an evil voice, Ekkehard knew that.

What was most disturbing about it was that it wasn’t a voice spoken.

The voice emerged from inside his own mind.

‘The Book,’ it rasped before taking a deep pained breath, ‘of Heaven,’ it said.

Ekkehard’s body was frozen from head to toe, and his breath began to turn to vapour as he exhaled. A shadow rose over the desk of the lectern, and Ekkehard realised something was behind him. He stepped back down from the pedestal with eyes wide and hands trembling and, slowly, unable to stop himself, turned around.

There was nothing there.

Ekkehard scanned the rear of the viewing area again and again, his heart still pounding in his chest.

There was still nothing there.

He let out a sigh of relief and cursed his increasingly addled mind as he turned back to the plinth and the books that rested upon it.

Then, terror.

He had come face to face with darkness itself.

He screamed.