Angeline was still wiping tears from her eyes as the guards escorted her and Wogan up a staircase that descended from one of the shanties on the bridge above. Xerro had fallen to his death moments ago and she had still not even had time to process it. They had known him only a couple days but her heart ached as if she had known him her entire life. Wogan was stoic as always, she wondered if he even felt the loss.
The stairs ended in a tavern that was currently empty. A single woman waited in the room, wearing the vestments of the holy church. The legionnaires genuflected to the woman before departing. She walked behind the bar after the soldiers left and put out three glasses.
“Hello princess,” she began, “I am sister Margriete. It was I who responded to your letter.”
“A bar is a strange place to meet a holy woman.” Said Wogan, as she poured the contents of a bottle into the three glasses.
“It is the last place we will be disturbed, and besides,” she said, tipping back her glass, “just because I am a holy woman doesn't mean I'm not human. Before the calling of Amon I was born to the nomads of the highplains. We never make deals without a drink in hand. Deals are never made with someone you wouldn't drink with.”
Wogan held off, a Kingsblade didn't just take any drink offered, but Angeline picked up a glass and sipped it.
“I understand your plight, my dear.” Margriete said, pouring herself another drink. She raised an eyebrow at Wogan, still having not touched his glass, “your kingdom is vital to the stability of the kingdoms in this region. However, your father's dismissal of the Archbishop's aid when this conflict began is not likely to endear him to your current situation.”
“My father is now dead, thanks to his arrogance, and he did not foresee a sorcerer leading the lizardmen against us. He had paid the price but I do not believe our people should pay it as well.” The princess now braved tipping the glass up as Margriete had. It burned as it sank down her throat and seemed to drive the air from her breast. She struggled to maintain her composure, although a single tear ran down her cheek.
Margriete smiled as she poured for herself again and then refilled the princess, “I agree, but the Archbishop is insulted and convincing him to give his word of aid will not be easy.”
“Then what is the point of this?” Angeline asked, tipping her glass up again, and again the burn causing her face to flush.
“Ah, but what if I told you that you did not need his word to get his aid?” The sister knocked back her drink as well, before once again filling the glasses back up.
Angeline once more reached for her glass, no longer thinking about the act of drinking or what it was she was drinking. Wogan put his hand down on top of the glass.
“Enough.” He said to their host, “I am aware of the nomads of the highlands, as I am aware as to why you always drink during negotiations.” He tipped back the princess's glass and fixed Margriete with a stone stare, “so tell me what you are offering.”
Margriete looked at the Kingsblade for a moment and decided she liked his no nonsense approach. “Fine, you do not need the Archbishop to agree to anything. Not when you have the ear of the man who signs the paperwork. I can get you in to plead your case to Bishop Thaddeus. The Archbishop may be the ‘spiritual leader’ but father Thaddeus keeps this church running. It is he you need to speak to.” She downed a last shot. And corked the bottle.
Angeline was giggling and swaying at the bar, Wogan caught her in one arm before turning to sister Margriete, “fine, where And when sister?”
“Meet me tomorrow at noon, on the steps of the temple. I will take you to him.” She smiled at the princess, who was barely keeping her eyes open at this point, “she has heart, trying to stand toe to toe with me. I've been doing this longer than she's been alive. Take her and let her sleep it off.” She put a hand on Wogan's cheek, “we'll get you the help your people need.”
Wogan scooped up the tipsy princess in his arms, nodded to the sister and left the tavern onto the bridge. He carried her all the way to the Palisade and to her room. “Wee!” she squealed as he set her on the bed. She wrapped her arms around his neck before he could stand back up, and pulled herself closer to his face. “Oh, my Wogan.” She whispered into his ear in drunken bliss, “oh, my Kingsblade, my protector, sheath thy blade in me. End this torturous game between us, I can bear it no longer.” At that she pressed her lips tenderly to his and kissed him long and deep.
He cradled her head in his hand and laid her back on her bed, and stood back up. By the time he removed her sandals and placed a blanket over her, she was breathing in sweet little wheezes of sleep known only to the inebriated. The Kingsblade stood for a moment taking in the beautiful, sleeping form of his princess, drew in a deep breath and held it as he left the room, closing the door to her room softly. He released the breath in a long forceful exhale and stomped frustrated to the room with the tub. He stripped out of his armor while the tub drained, and refilled it after disabling the magic rune. Then sir Wogan took a long, cold bath.
The girl let out a scream so long that Xerro felt he would have passed out from lack of air before he would have gone as long as she did. But no sooner than she stopped, her eyes, which he couldn't help notice were the bright green of pure jade, widened and she hopped down off the statue to hide behind it.
“W… why…why aren't you asleep?” She stammered from behind the headless stone lady.
Xerro looked around at all of the beasts and animals collapsed in slumber around the edges of the clearing, “I'm sorry, am I supposed to be sleeping?”
“Everything that hears me falls asleep.” She said as she peaked out from behind the rock.
It quickly became clear to Xerro that she was suffering a curse too. “Well that won't work on me, I'm sorry. How long have you been down here?”
“I've always been here,” She said in a tone full of sorrow, “with mama then by myself since the men in armor stole mama's head.”
He looked at the headless statue with the grim realization that it was actually her mother. She had been beheaded and turned to stone. The girl was now looking out from behind her mother's stoney corpse, her full face visible. It was a young pretty face, he estimated she was somewhere between ten and twelve. It occurred to him that she must sit with her mother every night and sing, this lump of rock was her only company down here. She has been all alone her whole life, he thought to himself, only kept safe by her curse.
“Hi,” he began again, determined to help her, “my name is Xerro. What would your name be?”
She looked at him with wide eyes full of confusion. She had never been able to talk to anyone before without them falling asleep, “Melodie.” She said quietly, looking down at her feet.
“A beautiful name,” he said with a smile, “as beautiful as your voice. I heard it as I walked.” He took a step forward and she did not run, but he stopped at one fearing she may bolt at any moment, like that deer you spot in the woods on a walk. “I have never heard singing as beautiful as yours. Where did you learn that song?”
“My mother sang it to me when I was little.” It was her turn to move from behind the stone and take a step toward him. “Zero is a funny name. I thought it was a number.”
“It is actually the lack of a number. And it is Xerro, X-E-R-R-O.” He risked another step closer. Her full self in view standing before him let him see she had wrapped and tied her forearms, shins and feet in strips of dirty cloth and her modesty was only kept intact by a ragged slip and her own wild hair that reached her knees. She was obviously also smart and resourceful.
“It is still funny.” She said with a slight laugh and even slighter growing confidence. Between speaking she kept her lips tight together and pulled into her mouth a little. She still feared her own voice, as if with the next word he would fall into slumber like everything else.
“It is,” he said with a smile as he took yet another step, which she mirrored with a step of her own. “Still, it is my name.”
“If you aren't sleeping does that mean my curse is over?” Her eyes pleaded, hoping he would say it was so.
“No.” He said plainly, wishing he could tell her otherwise. “But my curse keeps yours from working it seems.”
“You're cursed too?” She asked, taking an extra step on her own. “Did they toss you down here, because of it?”
“No, I fell. Just being clumsy, I suppose.” he said with a smile. Another step brought the two an arm's length from each other.
“Then you should be more careful.” She chuckled lightly as she raised her arms and fell into him, wrapping them around him in a hug and burying her face in his chest. Her chuckle turned to sobs, “thank you.” her voice came muffled out of his shirt.
He wrapped one arm around her shoulders and cradled her head with the other hand, “and what are you thanking me for?”
She looked up at him now, with tear filled eyes, “that you're here and I don't have to be alone anymore.”
He removed his jerkin and wrapped the leather vest around the girl to better cover her. It reached his waist but on her it sat halfway down her hips, “I promise Melodie, if I can help it, I will make sure you are never alone again.”
She cried for a good five more minutes, her face buried again in his shoulder before she wiped her face on her bindings with a long, loud sniff and smiled at him, “are you hungry?”
It was mid morning when they were crossing the bridge before he fell. It was now night, so he felt he should be. Adrenaline from fear and then awe was dampening his appetite, “sure, what do you do for food around here?”
She led him through the glowing labyrinth of the chasm, to an area that would be dead center of the opening above. A handful of different fruit trees and bushes were contained by a crude fence. From what he had read in his many library excursions it had been set up so at least one fruit would be in bloom while the others are dormant. Pears currently hung from one of the trees. It was brilliant actually.
“Did you do all this?” he asked as he picked a pear.
“No,” she replied, fetching a pear of her own, “mama did, I think. This is where we always got our food.”
“All you eat is fruit?” He asked, concerned. Just fruit made for a poor diet.
“Oh. No.” She peeped from behind the pear she was biting. She continued as she chewed, having no concept of manners or decorum. “I also fish.”
The stream that ran through her clearing seemed to continue along the whole center of the cavern. Where the water collected deeper dark shapes wriggled around in circles, nipping at the roots of the glowing fungus that reached the water and the insects that skirted its surface.
Melodie gave him a shh signal with her finger to her lips and crept up to one of the collection ponds. As she reached the edge she slapped the surface and the fish glowed with glorious life. Reds greens and yellows streaked the creatures who looked like what you would get if you crossed a catfish with an eel. Melodie began giggling as they wriggled in the pond. This had the expected effect of the fish stopping swimming immediately and floating to the surface. The girl quickly scooped one up in her hands.
“Now we just need a fire…” he began, just before she bit into the fish, trailing mucus between the bite in its body and her chewing mouth. She tried to offer him a bite as she masticated, but he waved off the offer.
Of course, she didn't know how to make a fire. She was probably too young when her mother met her end. “If you can wait, I will grab the other,” he grunted as he climbed out over a rock where the second had floated to, “and I know a way to make it taste even better…'' His monologue was interrupted as he slipped off the slick rocks and into the pond. Wet again now he resolved himself to simply grabbing the fish and slogging out of the waist deep pond.
In a matter of minutes Xerro had found enough flammables and a rock to strike against the crude blade of his would be assassin, to have a fire going. Now he could dry himself and make dinner.
To say that Melodie was in awe would be putting it mildly. She stared at the flame with rapt intent, and he only had to keep her from trying to touch it twice before she got his hints that it was dangerous. He gutted and skinned the fish with the skill of someone who had been surviving on his own for years. He stuck a long stick down each mouth, handed her one and held his over the fire. She Mimicked him but couldn't resist pulling it back several times to see what was happening to it.
“Keep it over the fire so it will cook.” He laughed, “I will let you know when they are done, I promise.”
“This fire is amazing, did you create it?” She gasped, “oo, is this your curse?”
He laughed, “no. Fire is a tool. Civilizations have had it for centuries.” He looked at the dim lights along the wall high above the mouth of the chasm and pointed them out to Melodie, “see the city above, they use it to see at night, to cook food, and keep warm.” He inhaled for the second part of her question, “and my curse is magic doesn't work around me. Magic like your curse can be bad, but some magic is useful, even beneficial. And my curse means I can never enjoy or benefit from any of it.”
“Were you born with it, like me?” She asked, her jade green eyes glowing in the firelight staring across was so striking it took him a moment to reply.
“No,” he replied softly, “a monster took me and did this to me when I was very young. I've been running from him ever since.”
She looked at him for a long while, her eyes sad and far away, “my curse came from my mother’s curse. I don't know if my father sent her away because she was cursed, or it was because she was sent away that she was cursed. But she ran and hid down here right after the ground opened up and swallowed part of the city. She turned anything that saw her eyes to stone. I never saw her face, she only ever looked at me through a veil, and I had to be a good girl and never make a sound so she wouldn't sleep. But we were happy. We were happy until the soldiers showed up and took Mama from me. She had shown me enough to survive. And for however long I have been here I have done just that. Just survived.”
“You will live.” He replied, “not just survive, I will try to make sure you truly live a life, Melodie.” He pulled his fish back and squeezed it between his fingers, “its done, enjoy”
He pulled off chunks of the meat and ate it while the girl just chomped down on the fish again. She pulled back and huffed at the heat from the meat. She saw how Xerro was eating and once again mimicked him. She found it delicious this way, the cooked meat warmed her belly. And she sat, picking at the fish while never taking her eyes off Xerro, letting out a long sigh.
After they finished Xerro threw the bones and sticks into the fire, “it's getting late. Should we sleep?”
“We don't sleep at night.” She replied, still licking the grease of the fish from her fingers, “most everything down here is active at night, so it's really only safe to sleep during the day or something may sneak up on you at night.”
Xerro pondered how the princess and her Kingsblade would find him if he was hole up sleeping when the best light to spot him was making it down here? But, he then wondered, would they even be looking? Would they assume he couldn't have survived the fall? Did they care enough to even wonder if he, a man they only knew a few days, survived or not? He decided he was on his own, he would once again figure it out on his own, like he always did. But this time it was just up to him to save himself, he had to save her as well. He HAD to get her out of this pit. She didn't deserve to be down here.
He stood up and wiped his hands on his leather pants, “whelp, what do you do for fun all night then?”
Her eyes widened, intensifying how they sparkled, “I will show you my favorite place! I think you will love it!” And before he knew it she was dragging him by the hand through the maze of rubble once again.
The passage was lined with various statues of creatures, large spiders, the rat-hounds and many others Xerro had yet to see. Her mother had defended this place, which explained the statues.
When the passage opened up again the large space was formed from two or three buildings that had not completely crumbled and were holding each other up. The fungus lit its interior and spilling out of one of the buildings were piles and piles of books. So he assumed this used to be the city's public library. Next to a set of broken off stone steps was several stacks of organized books. Melodie had already run to the piles, hopping in the stairs like a couch and grabbed a book.
“This is my favorite,” she gushed.
Xerro sat down next to her and looked over at her book. It was one of those story books full of fanciful stories where the good guys always won and brave knights rescued princesses. He had to stifle a laugh at an illustration that bore a little too close of a resemblance to Angeline and sir Wogan. Her eyes were busy darting back and forth across pages she had read, probably a hundred times. As she read she slowly leaned to lay her head on his shoulder.
Xerro read while she did, seeing as she didn't seem to be in too much of a rush to pull her attention out of her book. It was the usual saccharine girl's tales. So he skimmed more than read. She lived in these books, he was sure this is how she escaped her life down here.
They read for hours, book after book, in the polychromic glow of the fungus the words and illustrations danced on the pages. She laughed, and smiled, and it wasn't because of reading, she was doing what she did everyday but because now she wasn't alone. So he knew the best thing he could do was be here with her. It was what she'd been missing for so long.
Before either of them knew it the fungus began to dim.
“Is it dawn already?” She asked sleepily.
The fungus was inside but still somehow it reacted to the dawn the same as the mushrooms that could see the sun. It had to be one big interconnected thing.
“I guess so," he said. “Do we need to return to the clearing?” He whispered.
“No,” she replied, “I sleep here. Like I said, it's my favorite place.”
She yawned as she led him to another of the buildings in this rubble teepee. The fungus was quickly fading as they reached a corner piled with rags. She lay down and curled up in the middle, still wrapped in his leather jerkin. He lay down against the wall, still barely able to see her as the light disappeared. She smiled at him as the darkness closed in.
A few moments later, just before he fell asleep, he felt the rags shift and she lay down beside him, little spooning against his abdomen. She had shirked off the vest and grabbed his hand, pulling his arm over her and holding his hand in hers. She sighed contentedly and was soon emitting a soft little snore as she slept. He lay there thinking back on all the promises he had made to a girl he just met. And she now clung to him, seeing his curse as her salvation from her own. He thought to himself, what have I gotten myself into?
The captain of the guard hurried up the steps to the top of the wall. The legionnaires that were supposed to be spread out along the wall were gathered in one area looking down. It had better be something damn interesting, thought Captain Horsant as he approached the men.
“Alright, what is this all then?” He barked, as all the men snapped to attention.
The corporal on duty stepped forward, “sir, there appears to be a fire down in the pit, sir. There is someone alive down there.”
Horsant looked at the man skeptically, “are you sure someone didn't throw something burning down there?”
“No, sir,” replied the soldier. I would have seen the fire fall. I was watching the whole time sir. It just started, down there. I watched it burst into life.”
Horsant pondered this for a moment. If someone or something was down there, capable and intelligent enough to make fire, it was trouble. He was not looking forward to briefing the Archbishop about this in the morning. “didn't someone fall into the pit this morning, corporal…?”
“Turnip, sir,” he replied, “and yes, a member of Princess Angeline's entourage. But I do not see how he could have survived.”
Horsant took a brief look over the edge, the chasm was hundreds of feet to the bottom, “yes, well put. Write up a report Turnip, and we will brief the excursion team in the morning to investigate when we brief his Grace.” He looked about at the assembled men, “well that's enough, back to your posts!”
Turnip gave a smart salute, and the other legionnaires scuttled back to their usual positions. Horsant made his way back to the steps and his warm office. Even so, it was going to be a long night.
“Aaaa! By the gods!” Angeline screamed when she awoke. Her head felt like Wogan's horse was sitting on it and the morning light creeping through the window felt like a spear through her eye and out the opposite ear.
Wogan entered her room smiling, maybe a little more than was safe in front of his suffering princess.
“Why do I feel so horrible?” While the princess drank wine regularly Wogan had never known Angeline to overindulge in her life, so this would be her first ever hangover.
“Four shots of Highlander rotgut will have that effect, your highness.” She saw he was dressed in his court vestments, which thankfully meant they didn't have to leave soon. She could take her time dying in peace.
“What happened, what was decided?” She asked, flopping back on the bed, completely unlady-like.
“You were brilliant as always.” He replied, diplomatically, “she told you that the Archbishop was unlikely to relent in light of your late father's refusal. But the regional bishop, a father Thaddeus, might be able to help without bothering his grace. We meet at the high temple at noon.”
“Good,” she moaned, “because I don't remember any of that.”
“Maybe you should not try and outdrink a nomad of the highlands next time.” He proffered advice to his ailing princess.
As Angeline lay and groaned, Wogan wet a towel in the pitcher in the running board and dabbed at her forehead. “In fact, maybe you should leave all future heavy drinking to me.”
Though still in pain, she smiled at her Kingsblade, “as always, what would I do without you Wogan?”
“I am but a man in service to his princess.” He said softly, continuing to apply cool water to her forehead, “I am nothing without you.”
He draped the cloth across her brow and returned to the side table. She heard the sound of pouring and he returned with a goblet. As he sat her up she could smell the aroma of fermented grapes.
“No please,” she begged, “no more for a while, please.”
“It is good you have learned a lesson,” he said trying to comfort her, “but trust me my lady, this is the quickest remedy for what ails you.”
The bridge seemed an even more difficult crossing this time, Angeline fought to keep images of Xerro falling out of her mind the whole way across. Luckily Wogan's cure for her hangover lowered the pain in her head to a dull ache. She nursed herself on his waterskin the whole way across and this time they actually made it to the far side of the bridge. The Grand Temple of Amon shining in white marble dominated your view as soon as you passed through the main gates. In the yard, a squad of legionnaires were preparing for something, and since the Archbishop himself stood on a balcony overlooking them in the courtyard so it had to be important. True to her word, sister Margriete stood on the steps of the main entrance waiting for them. One corner of her mouth curled in what seemed a self-satisfied smile as the princess approached.
“Good to see you again, your highness,” she said.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“Something big about to happen?” Asked Wogan, indicating the legionnaires.
The sister looked over at the prepping soldiers, “apparently someone started a fire in the chasm last night. So the sweep today will be more thorough. Shall we see Father Thaddeus?” She motioned them to follow her.
Angeline looked to Wogan wide eyed as Margriete walked ahead, “Xerro,” she whispered, “he has to be alive.”
“Princess, Xerro's quirk may be strange but a fall is most certainly non-magical.” He whispered back.
She raised her eyebrows in that threatening manner only she could achieve, “Wogan!” She managed to shout while still keeping it a whisper, “if there is a chance our friend is alive we have to find out.”
Wogan closed his eyes and exhaled, knowing full well this discussion had already been lost. He highly doubted the lad could have survived a fall like that, but he could not stand how distressed she had been. And now the hope he lived had brought back her smile he loved so much.
“Sister,” he called ahead. Margriete stopped her stride and turned to the pair, “how do the legionnaires get to the bottom of the chasm?”
“There is a passage that leads to a barred gate at the bottom of the pit. Why are you concerned sir Kingsblade?” She asked with a tilt of her head.
“A friend of ours fell yesterday, shortly before we met with you. If he survived, that fire may have been him.” Angeline told her, tears of hope and sorrow barely held in check reliving it as she explained.
“I'm sorry my dear,” she said with perfect compassion, “it is unlikely he survived. Even if he did, the chances the creatures didn't devour him are next to nothing. That said, if he is still alive the legionnaires will surely bring him back up and I can make sure you are notified immediately.” She concluded, taking the princess's hands in hers and lightly kissing her cheek.
“Still,” added Wogan, “I would like to accompany them down, to search for myself.”
Margriete turned to the Kingsblade, “that would be, I believe, unwise. There are many dangerous foul beasts in the Pit of Adelphi.”
“I am a Kingsblade sister, and not afraid of foul beasts.” he replied, trying to use a tone implying he was invincible, if in fact invincible had a sound.
“You do not carry the blessing of Amon, and the legionnaires do.” The sister retorted, seemingly just to remind Wogan that the legionnaires were actually, in fact, invincible before continuing on to their scheduled meeting.
Father Thaddeus's office had the appearance of him having tried to stuff an entire library into a steamer trunk and having the books subsequently explode. Paper littered the room and buried the desk. Thaddeus himself was tall and lean with sparse black hair and a face full of wrinkles that years of worry had carved with a dull spoon. He looked up from whatever bureaucratic blockade was waging trench warfare on his desk and saw the eyes of a tired man suddenly sparkle when they met sister Margriete's. Angeline knew this look. She saw it nearly every time a man first met her. Heck, she saw it every day in Wogan's eyes. The father and the sister had a bond she wasn't sure the church allowed, and it made the princess smile.
“Sister, I was not aware I had a meeting today,” he said as he stood, causing papers to tumble over in what had to be a war crime to the battle being waged on his desk.
“Father, this is crown princess Angeline of Amberwyben.” She began, waving away the eyebrow raising of death the princess was giving her for letting them believe the good father was expecting them. “Amberwyben is under siege and I needn't tell you if they fall; so does half the food supply for the continent.”
“Yes,” he replied in a matter of fact tone that Angeline did not find encouraging, “his Grace offered aid three months ago, and I believe King Hargold refused it.”
“Yes, and he paid the price for his pride.” She stated, bowing her head and touching her brow with her palm, fingers outstretched in the sign of Amon. “Hargold has fallen in battle and the kingdom will not last much longer.”
“He is dead?” Thaddeus asked, much more reserved. He walked around the desk, which took more time to navigate than his gesture was meant to, and took the princess's hands in his. “My sincere condolences, princess. He is in a better place now. Your father was arrogant, but he was a good man.” He made his way back to his desk, which might have been made easier with the help of a sherpa. But he eventually sat down before continuing. “Now then, what is it we can we do for you, your highness?”
“I need to save my kingdom.” Angeline pleaded, “I need your legionnaires.”
“We cannot dispatch the legion without much preparation. Contingencies must be made for the dangers here.”
“Just a hundred or even fifty of your legionnaires would make all the difference.” Wogan added.
“But his Grace bestows the protection of Amon. He would have to travel with them leaving the soldiers here without it. And he has already decided to not give aid on account of your father. Convincing him otherwise would be no small task.” He replied.
“What about loaning us a pendant?” Asked Angeline.
“I could give you a pendant and a scroll with the blessing, but would the high priestess at your castle be able to cast it?” He offered honestly.
“I don't know,” the princess answered on the verge of tears. She nearly collapsed on the floor if Wogan hadn't held her up.
“There simply has to be something we can do Thaddeus,” said Margriete, with a shake of her head. “Why could you not accompany them and recite the blessing?”
He gave her a look that suggested she had just spoken to him in fluent catfish. “I can't leave, the church itself would fall apart.”
“Good,” the sister replied without hesitation, “then maybe they would finally appreciate what you do here for them. You are the heart of this church, Thaddeus not Ambrose.”
“Are you mad?” He snapped in a tooth gritted whisper, “you have seen the power he wields. Amon chose him, I am just doing whatever I can in the light, but he holds life and death in his hands.” He then in frustration, turned to Angeline, “I am sorry princess, I wish it were not so but there is nothing I can do. This meeting has become too dangerous and I must cut it short. Margie please, escort them out.”
“Thad, please..” she began, but his face told her this was a final decision, and he waved them away.
They walked the halls to the main concourse in silence. Angeline was crushed as her last recourse for her people fell away like Xerro at the bridge. Suddenly, Sister Margriete pulled them inside a prayer alcove.
“I am so sorry, highness. He is a good man I promise, but he has no confidence.” she hung her head on her hands, “Ambrose is all flash but he doesn't really do anything. Thaddeus keeps this church going, he makes sure the poor are fed, the people are safe and he spreads the word and the light. Ambrose has him so blinded to his own worth, he can't see what he can do. But we will help you, no matter what either of those two buffoons say.” she peered out of the alcove for a second before continuing, “meet me back here tonight. I will get you a pendant and the scroll, as Thad suggested and we will just have to pray your high priestess is up to the task.”
They left with Angeline once again feeling hope in her heart.
It awoke with the cursed light burning its multiple eyes. The human morsel was nearly in its grasp when the sound that brings darkness had foiled the hunt. Now it scuttled back to its lair to await the comforting dark. Then, it would find the man again, and feast on his fluids.
It was still black as pitch in Melodie's den when Xerro awoke. The girl was still emitting the sweet little snores of sleep drifting from her. He pulled his hand from her and she awoke with a start.
“Are you leaving?” He couldn't miss the fear in her voice.
“I've just slept enough.” He brushed his fingers through her hair trying to calm her. “I just wanted to look around while it was still light out. I'm not leaving you, I promise.”
He stepped over her but she clung to his hand, following behind as he felt his way through the rubble until the light of the tunnel out was visible. The floor of the chasm was different in the failing light of the day. But in less than an hour the sun would be down, and everything would be hunting them again. He knew that the legionnaires did patrols down here, there had to be a way up. If they could just get there before the soldiers left and closed it or locked it up or whatever they did at night.
When they reached the retaining ponds, Melodie got a drink while Xerro examined the fire from the night before. The remains of their cook fire was disturbed. Someone dug through it today, as well as the area around it was littered with boot tracks. They had been here, and they knew she and he were down here. If he could find them. They could be rescued.
Xerro could see the direction the boots left in, they could follow. “Melodie come on, we need to go this way.”
“But I haven't sung to mama yet.” She replied, “and that is this way.”
“But the soldiers went this way.” He argued, “if we follow we can get out of the pit.”
He noticed the fear welling up in her eyes, “but, the soldiers took mama's head. They are dangerous, why would you want to follow them?” Her breathing became more erratic as the fear mounted.
“Melodie please,” he pleaded, “however they get down here is our way out. We must follow them so I can get you to the city. I promise I won't let them hurt you.” He held out his hand to the frightened little girl. “Trust me. You do trust me, don't you?”
She nodded and took his hand, “but the soldier door is all the way across the chasm. We won't make it before the sun sets.” She was following along behind him, being pulled by her hand as she spoke, growing breathless. “And that's his territory, even the soldiers know to be back in the door before he wakes.”
“He?” Questioned Xerro, before the more pertinent part of her comment reached his mind. “Wait, you know where the soldiers come and go from?” The girl looked up at him and nodded slowly. He took in a deep breath and cupped her chin gently in his hand, “Melodie, why didn't you leave here before then if you knew the way out?”
Tears streaked the young girl's cheeks as she answered him with a trembling lip, “be… because they killed my mom, and… and if they kill… killed her they might try to kill me… me too.”
“No,” he said, pulling her again into a hug, “they won't kill you too, they wouldn't dare. Because I won't let them.”
The mission sergeant reached the top of the stairs where captain Horsant was waiting for him. He gave a salute, to which the captain merely responded, “report.”
“The fire was apparently from a campfire Sir.” The sergeant relayed, “someone is definitely alive down there. There were even some fish bones in the fire that were cooked and discarded. However we did not find them, they must be holed up down there somewhere.”
“But the beasts down there are active at night. Why make a fire at night that would draw them to you then hide during the day when it is safer?” queried the captain, more to himself than the soldier before him. Not that sergeant caught on to the rhetorical nature of his musing.
“You don't suppose,” he began, a cold line creeped up his spine just picking at the surface of what he was suspecting, “she's still alive down there?”
Horsant was quick to fend off the same suspicions in his head lest his spine be subjected to the same thermal onslaught, “she was finally found and slain nearly twelve years ago, sergeant. No, it shouldn't be her.” Still the seed was passed and worry was quickly germinating. “Double the guard at the gate tonight, then get some rack time Sergeant.”
Horsant saluted but as he turned to leave the sergeant asked, “what will you do now sir?”
He stopped and said plainly over his shoulder, “I am going to talk to the only one left who was there when they put her down.”
Melodie was pulling on Xerro to hurry. The light was already beginning to disappear over the rim of the chasm. They had left the maze of rubble and partial buildings behind and were crossing a flat open area with ground that had the feel of a farmer's field plowed by a blind mule with the hiccups. Here only scattered piles of rock dotted the large barren plain.
“Hurry!” She cried, “the light is almost gone.”
They were just able to see the metal doors across the field, when Xerro had to yank Melodie back against him when the ground rolled in front of her like a cat beneath a bed sheet. She shivered in his arms as the ground continued to roll in more and more places around the field without ever stopping directly ahead. Whatever it was, it was enormous.
“It's him, it's him.” She whispered, shaking against him. “We're too late.”
“Can you not just put it to sleep?” He asked.
“My voice doesn't work on it.” she said, " Besides you, it's the only thing I can't make go to sleep.”
“Skite!” He swore, looking back and realizing it was dozens of yards back to the labyrinth of stone from where they stood. Xerro cast his gaze about, desperate for a solution. Ahead in the field around sixty paces was a large stone, the size of a carriage. If they could climb onto it it may provide shelter from whatever was beneath the dirt. As they stood there making plans, the last sliver of light disappeared over the edge of the chasm, plunging the pit into darkness. Behind them the fungus rolled to glowing life, following the retreating line of light. Xerro realized the killing field here was devoid of the fungus.
“When I say, we run,” he whispered, “to that rock.”
“We won't make it.” She replied, muffling her voice in his shirt.
“We can, we have to hope.” He said, running his hand along her tear soaked cheek. “We can't just stay here.” he turned her toward the boulder, keeping hold of one of her hands. “Steady,” he whispered, watching the rise and fall of the dirt as it moved. The mound of soil sank once more in front of their feet, “now.” The two of them ran as hard as they could. She was a bit faster than him, he could feel that he was falling behind, pulling on her hand as she pulled ahead of him. This was his plan however. As the ground a scant step in front of her feet erupted he dug in his heels and yanked her back to him. A beast with a head like a snake sprouted like a tree before them, snapping vicious jaws closed just where Melodie would have been. Its head was the size of a horse, out of the back of its head it had horns that ringed the neck. It arched its back and plunged back into the dirt. It looked like a snake but as it poured out of the ground and back in, along its sides were dozens of small clawed limbs that seemed to propel it through the soft soil.
“Go!” Shouted Xerro, pulling her back into the rushed dash for the rock while the creature reoriented itself. Once the tail disappeared beneath the sediment, Xerro pulled the girl into a zigzag pattern. The beast surfaced again just off from where they last stepped, this time arching toward the two, attempting to close its jaws on them. Xerro fell to the ground dragging Melodie with him as the jaws closed over head. Xerro got a close look at its head. What he thought were eyes were just darker patches of scales on its head. From its nose and chin each sprouted two tendrils that rotated in spiral patterns, that explained how it churned up the soil as it propelled itself forward. But what struck him was that its head was smooth and lacked anything resembling ears. That explained why Melodie's curse did not affect it. Xerro also now knew how exactly it hunted.
She had buried her face in his shoulder whimpering while they lay there, “don't move.” He whispered as quietly as he could into her ear. “It hunts us by movement.”
They lay there for a long time, until the soil stopped rolling. “We need to go. And when we do we have to get up and run as quickly as we can. Run for the rock. Do you understand?”
She nodded, still breathing shakily into his shoulder. He breathed in and out deeply for a minute then, “go.”
As she scrambled up, moving from all fours to two legs he shoved her ahead and instead of following her, Xerro ran parallel to the rock. Melodie slammed into the stone, palms first and paused to look back.
“Xerro!” She screamed, seeing he was drawing it away, risking himself to give her time to make it to safety.
“Just climb!” He screamed, “get to the top of the rock!”
The dirt seemed to boil again as the creature began to move one more. Xerro pivoted and began to circle around the rock, as the beast approached from behind. Melodie had made it to the top and watched him make a large circle back towards her. She crawled to a flatter side of the stone and hung over the edge, sticking her hand out. “Xerro!” She called.
The beast was breaking the surface just behind his heels when their hands entwined and she swung him up with all her might, just inches away from gnashing teeth. The boulder shook as the monster slammed down onto the dirt after missing its prey, causing Melodie to slide off the rock. Xerro maintained hold of her hand, swinging her around himself, inches above the beast and onto his back. She clung to his neck as he climbed, muscles ached and burned as he pulled the combined weight of both of them to the top of the rock. Both of them collapsed on top of the stone, panting. Xerro lay there with leaden limbs thinking, I bet sir Wogan would have done that and been up and ready for a sword fight and I can barely move.
Melodie had once again buried her face in his chest and held onto him trembling. It took a herculean effort to drag an arm up and around her in turn.
“I…” he croaked, “I need to sit up.”
She helped him up, propping him up by his arm across her shoulders and he peered over the side. The rolling dirt was circling the rock.
The cursed light was gone and the glow from the mushrooms was visible from the lair. It crept from the tunnel and reached out with its senses. And finally it smelled the human that had eluded it. It followed the pull of its sensory hairs. This time the prey would not escape.
Two cloaked figures made their way across stone tiles from the gate of the bridge to the marble steps of the great temple. The guards at the gate had been two of the legionnaires who had initially led them to sister Margriete, whether this was merely fortuitous or planned, Wogan couldn't be sure but they were on their way to meet the sister either way.
Horsant was exiting the main hall to the marble steps, he had informed his Grace of the report that no one was found in the pit capable of starting a campfire, and the rumblings of the men that she had returned. He waved away his concerns and assured Horsant that captain Longinus, of his personal guard had himself slain her that day, affirming her to be distinctly dead. After all that he couldn't shake the humiliating feeling of being treated like he was incompetent. He was so deep in berating himself for failing the Archbishop that he collided with a man shaped wall of steel wearing a cloak.
“What is this?” He asked, with a look that said there was no possibility that someone would be able to sneak onto the grounds, “Who are you and what are you doing here at this hour?”
“Please Captain,” Angeline stepped in immediately, her practiced pleading look coupled with her beauty taking the man off guard, “we reported our friend fell into the pit yesterday, and we were told by sister Margriete that we would be informed of what had become of him. Well sir, the sun has set so your legionnaires must have returned. We must know what has happened. We were on our way to inquire with her.” She feigned being on the verge of tears as she closed her comments. Wogan was always astonished how easily she got her way. But he had to admit, even though he knew her tricks he doubted he could refuse her either.
Horsant closed his eyes in regret, “we did find a body, broken and twisted from the impact on the rocks. I am sorry princess. The men brought the corpse up if you wish to arrange for his burial.”
“Just one?” asked Wogan. “Old or young?”
“I beg your pardon?” Horsant replied, the odd question dislodged him from his sorrowful platitudes.
“Was the man you found a young man?” He repeated.
“Um, well no, about my age really.” He confessed, growing ever more confused.
The princess sighed, “then it is not him. He went over with the attacker that tried to mug us. The body you found must have been the brigand!” She turned to her knight smiling, “Oh Wogan, he IS still alive.”
Wogan was about to gently dissuade her optimism When a sound like a crack of thunder split the night. But instead of descending from the sky, the sound rolled up from out of the chasm.
“What do we do now?” She asked, as he caught his breath.
“We get off this rock,” he stated, watching as the monster beneath the dirt circled the stone and appeared to be speeding up. “And we need to do it soon.”
She followed his gaze to the large blob of dark that blocked the light of the fungus. It crawled to the edge of the killing field to the wall of the chasm. Its slow approach didn't halt, it simply continued to walk, off the ground and up the wall, and straight towards them.
The two were shaken about when the stone rapidly sank a foot into the dirt. Melodie screamed, but the rock was too small. There was nowhere to go that wasn't in range of the dampening effect of Xerro's curse. The spider flinched, then realizing her scream did not bring the darkness it climbed faster across the chasm wall. Her scream however did give up their position to the beast as it burst from the ground and arched over the stone, falling straight towards them on top.
“Skite!” He cursed again, grabbing her by the waist and rolling off the stone. The several ton reptilian horror came down with such an impact that the stone split with a sound that split the Heavens.
Without a second thought Xerro threw Melodie over his shoulder and sprinted toward a pile of loose rocks in the distance between them and the iron door in the cliffside. He scrambled up the pile of rocks, looking back at the beast as it flailed about on the surface, apparently having knocked something loose in its head. The spider waited, still and silent on the wall for the beast to stop thrashing, as if he too was aware it couldn't see.
“Sneaky bugger, aren't you.” He whispered, then to her, ”don't move. Our troubles have doubled.”
They had moved out further from the wall than the stone previously afforded them. Once the dirt beast dove back under the surface the massive spider had to jump to the fractured rock. When it did, the beast rolled the dirt in front of it.
“Yeah, come on, ugly,” Xerro said quietly, “come get eaten.”
The spider slowly stretched out one leg and pushed it into the dirt. Then another then another, one leg at a time it crawled off the rock and made its way, a step at a time towards them. The steps were so soft the beast didn't seem to react, Xerro could almost swear its arachnid face was grinning at them. But one soft step at a time it made its way to them.
The wall was in a frenzy as soldiers made their way to the spot above the gate. If Horsant didn't think Angeline and Wogan should have been there he made no comments.
“What is happening?” Horsant barked.
Turnip turned and saluted, “we found the missing man sir. He is currently in the killing field, sir.”
“Killing field?” Angeline shrieked, “go get him then.”
“We can't ma'am,” said the Sergeant, “it is night, the Dweller is awake.”
“The what?” This time it was Wogan.
“A huge beast that lives under the ground down there. It only comes out at night so it is the reason why we make our patrols during the day only.” Horsant replied grimly.
“but the legionnaires are invincible,” said the princess, “surely you can go kill it.”
“Invincible to being cut or stabbed, being swallowed whole is not something we are willing to test, my lady.” Horsant replied.
Angeline looked at Wogan, she didn't say a word or raise an eyebrow, but he could see tears in the corners of her beautiful blue eyes, and he sighed, “how do I get down there?”
Sister Margriete waited in the alcove, the young couple had yet to arrive and she was beginning to worry. The pendant was easy enough to hide but she feared the scroll was conspicuous up the sleeve of her robes. Her fears only got worse when the commotion from the concourse outside began to inform her that the princess and her Kingsblade may have gotten distracted from their mission.
Melodie shivered against him as the spider approached them. She was up against him meaning her voice wasn't an option and he couldn't step away from her without setting foot off the rock pile and alerting that subterranean monster. So the arachnid edged closer in the slowest hunt in natural history. Melodie shifted in his arms, her feet knocking loose a small stone from the pile and it bounced down the pile to thump into the dirt. The spider froze as one of the humps of the serpent broke the surface before sinking again.
Xerro let go of Melodie, “be ready to run,” as he began to pick up stones from the pile, loading them in the crook of one arm. When he stood up the spider was moving again. He flung a rock across the space between and it landed halfway. Once more the spider stopped as the soil rolled between them. But undeterred the spider began moving again, and again Xerro tossed a rock in fromt of it. This time, the soil did not move. The spider began again and again another rock was tossed and again for some reason the beast didn't respond. Xerro began to worry his plan was in jeopardy of failing, placing Melodie and him in danger of being dinner. The spider as well began to notice the other monster was now ignoring the human's ploy and increaced its speed. Xerro tossed another and another stone ahead of the approaching spider. The spider was now not bothering to pause when the rocks hit the dirt. Abandoned also was the tactic of only putting one down one leg at a time. The spider was quickly approaching trot as Xerro flung rock after rock in front of it.
At a dozen paces it jumped at the pile of stones. This was the end, Xerro thought as he grabbed a hold of Melodie to spin her away from the approaching fangs, placing himself between her and the pouncing spider. “I'm sorry,” he whispered.
The dirt from the exploding ground rained down on them when the jaws of the beast closed on the mammoth spider. “Run!” He shouted to Melodie, not wasting a moment as he pushed her forward. The serpent slammed into the ground sending another torrent of dirt cascading on them as they fled the rocks and made a beeline for the doors in the cliffside. Xerro didn't know how long it would take to devour a spider that size but he wasn't willing to bet on it.
The door was larger than it seemed before the sun set. It was at least twenty feet square and solid metal. He figured he had minutes to figure out how he was going to get them on the other side of it before the serpent came for desserts. He wished to himself it would just open and make it easy for them.
To say Xerro had a bad history with wishing would be like saying chickens have a bad history with foxes. Pretty much every time he wished for something in his life the universe pretty much delivered him the opposite. So when the gate began lowering in front of them he was justifiably confused.
When the gate hit the ground there stood sir Wogan, with a spear locked over his shoulder. Xerro smiled for a moment until he realized he was throwing it at him. He grabbed Melodie, pulling her behind him again putting himself between her and the danger. Only then, over her shoulder could he clearly see the serpent beast leaping out of the ground at them. He fell backward with her in his arms as the spear raced overhead, through its open maw and impacting the back of the monster’s throat. It let out a roar of pain as it twisted in mid air and dove back into the welcoming soil.
Sir Wogan already had his hands under Xerro's arms and was dragging him and Melodie to the gate. Before he was halfway across he was already shouting, “close, close the gate!”
The three slid down the last half of the door. As the heavy chain winched it to a booming close. Surrounding them were legionnaires. Melodie clung to him shaking, as Angeline appeared out of the crowd, wrapping her arms around him, “Xerro, thank the gods you are alive. I was so worried.” Melodie looked up at the beautiful blonde girl hugging HER Xerro with furrowed eyebrows. The princess seemed to only become aware of her when she felt something squeezing Xerro tighter. “Oh! And who is this pretty little thing?”
“This is Melodie,” he told her before leaning in to whisper in her ear, “she's been down here all her life. But please don't let on to the guard. I'll explain later..” The whispering between Xerro and this new blonde was not loosening the strain on Melodie's eyebrows. “Apparently she fell in a few weeks ago. I wouldn't have survived if it wasn't for her.” he said as She released the hug. He looked down at the girl holding a death grip on his ribs that he assumed was due to fear, “Melodie,” he strained, “this is her highness, princess Angeline of Amberwyben.”
Melodie felt her heart sink, not only was she beautiful, but a genuine princess as well. “It's nice to meet you Melodie.” The blonde said in far too dulcet tones for Melodie's taste, as she wormed her way between her and Xerro to give her a hug.
She stood up, clasping her hands in front of her to restore at least some sense of decorum. “Apologies, are either of you hurt? How do you feel sweetheart?” she asked as Melodie once more attached herself to him.
“We're fine,”said Xerro, taking the initiative, “she doesn't speak, or can't. It may be shock I'm not sure.” He continued, employing Angeline's own eyebrow communication technique.
“Still,” said a voice making its way through the crowd of legionnaires. “I should take a look at her. In case there are injuries she couldn't tell you about or you wouldn't recognize.” Sister Margriete had appeared between two soldiers, and when she passed by Angeline with a hand on her shoulder to feint the unsteadiness of age she whispered, “you missed our appointment, but I see you found your friend.”
The sister knelt down, feeling each limb and pushing at places on her torso. She noted old scars and scabs, and particularly the dried blood on her torn and dirty gown, just between where her legs met. The girl looked eight to ten but was apparently older than she looked. It was when Margriete was examining her head and Melodie opened her eyes that the sister gasped.
“I know,” said Xerro with a smile, “her eyes are beautiful aren't they?”
Margriete stood quickly, and Xerro noticed her face had paled significantly, “my boy, you have no idea.” She said quietly, her voice trembling slightly. So shocked at what she saw, the sister forgot to hold onto the scroll up her sleeve. It fell to the ground and was picked up by Corporal Turnip, “oh, sister you dropped some…” he noticed the seal of the Archbishop on the scroll. “This is from his Grace's private library. Its removal is forbidden. Sister, what were you doing with this?”
“Nothing, it was just research. His Grace knows all about it.” She tried to explain, but still shaken, she was hardly convincing.
“I am sorry sister, but we must take you before the Archbishop to confirm.” Horsant said, as two legionnaires each grabbed one of her arms the captain turned to Angeline, “I'm sorry princess, I am glad you found your friends but you and your entourage should vacate the holy city at once.”
They watched as sister Margriete was marched up the steps. She turned back to look at Angeline, who seemed about to speak up on her behalf and shook her head. So the princess could only watch as their only ally was arrested simply because she was trying to help them.
The last two guards at the pit gate escorted the four of them to the gate on the bridge and sent them on their way.
Margriete sat in the cell beneath the guard house for hours. Ambrose was furious, especially when a search of her yielded the pendant, compounding the Archbishop's anger. He accused her of heresy and had her locked up.
As she sat in the damp musty cell she heard the door atop the stairs echo the click of the lock and a pair of slippered feet descended the steps to her.
Thaddeus looked at the same time disappointed and heartbroken. He approached the bars and grasped them, placing his forehead against them. “Mags, why? What were you thinking?”
“What was I thinking?” she mimicked, the hackles of her anger rising. He was taken aback by this unexpected hostility. “I was thinking that I was doing what you and Ambrose refused to do. Helping someone, an ally, in trouble looking for a solution. I was helping those in need, as Amon commands!” She was growing louder and Thaddius was shocked that she was the one mad in light of what had happened. “Because you and the Archbishop would not. Because you Thad, your nose was too stuck in your papers and forms and Ambrose's nose stuck too far up his own ass! That's what I was thinking!”
She seemed to deflate now, like after her initial anger was gotten out another concern overcame her. “But that doesn't matter now.”
“How can you say that?” He asked, confused as to how she could so callously brush off her own fate.
“That girl, the one the princess's friend brought up from the pit.” Her eyes now pleaded with his, with so much more than words could express, “her eyes… her eyes Thad… her eyes. They were Delilah's eyes.”
“That is not possible.” He said, as if trying to will the possibility itself away, “she could not have survived fourteen years.”
Margriete grabbed his hand through the bars before he could pull away, “she has her eyes, and she is the right age, she is Delilah's daughter.”