“Boy,” Tsaeb laughed, “you sure are stupid. No willpower. Can’t lie to save your life. Can’t keep a secret—why do you spill your guts like that?” Tsaeb sat against the stone wall, shaking his head in disbelief.
I, for only a moment, remembered when I had first met Tsaeb, how he had sat in front of the brick wall in the alley, bouncing the tiny colored ball. Tsaeb looked just like that now, minus the ball and the golden jacks. I briefly wondered if he still had them.
I placed my hand on Sophia’s shoulder.
“But I think I can cheat the system,” I said with a wry smile.
Tsaeb jerked his head sideways. “Are you crazy?”
“Think about it,” I turned and said, “Sophia is the way she is because she’s been used by everyone. Even Ronan said she’s different than most imps and it’s no wonder why.”
Sophia listened warily, not sure what to make of it yet.
I continued:
“Generally, imps are bound to their Masters word, right? I bet she played by the rules like every other imp until they screwed her over one too many times.” He looked back down at Sophia. “Am I right?”
Sophia was not one to take pity well, and this to her was certainly a form of pity. She drew her lips together angrily and looked away.
We heard voices, and feet shuffling through leaves. Twigs and pinecones snapped and crunched underfoot.
“Hurry!” whispered Sophia pushing me in the back toward the hole in the ground.
Tsaeb jumped up and peeked around the half-window. “Two men,” he said looking into the forest, “but they don’t look like guards.”
“There’s nothing to step down on!” I argued.
Sophia pushed me and down I fell many feet into the hole. I landed on my chest and dust flew up all around me. Slightly disoriented, I heard Sophia say to Tsaeb, “Hurry and cover the hatch behind me!”
Sophia landed perfectly on her feet next to me, and with a loud rumble, darkness swallowed up what little light had come from above.
.
“They lied when they said the truth is always best.”
--
THE TUNNEL WAS NARROW and I could barely see through the blackness. It carried the echo of our footsteps as we snaked along the dirt path stealth-like. There were no rooms, or carved out nooks in the walls, no places for mounted torches, or any evidence that there ever had been. The path went in only one direction, and knowing it was likely impossible to become lost was my only comfort.
Within minutes, we came upon an old metal door with rusted hinges where on the other side of it was a room. Mice scattered across the floor. Old wine barrels lined the walls, covered with cobwebs and the dust of a thousand years. Broken clay bowls and pottery lay strewn about, little wooden chairs with missing legs and shattered backs tossed around. There was an antique spinning wheel, a butter churn and a modern toaster and coffee pot. Silverware lay in a pile with woodenware. Jars of jelly, or what appeared to be jelly, were crammed onto an enormous shelf. The room was a pantry of sorts, one that probably had not been used in a countless many years.
“Now what?” I whispered.
“Shhh.”
I focused on the door that led into the rest of the fortress, keeping my guard up in both directions.
Sophia took me by the arm and pulled me down to her eye-level.
“From here on out,” she said quietly, “it’s going to be tricky.”
I hunched over, listening intently.
“But leave the talking to me.”
“And what if I have to talk?”
“I don’t know,” she said, “Play dumb if you have to, but don’t say nuthin’ about the queen.”
We carefully crept out of the pantry and into a hall that seemed to go on forever.
In less than a minute, we were spotted.
“Stop!” shouted a guard rushing up behind us from the corner. “Who are you and what business do you have here?”
I felt my heart stop.
The guard moved quickly in front of me and Sophia, staff in hand. Just then, three more guards joined them, all wearing identical armor and carrying identical weapons. One had wiry orange hair poking out from underneath his helmet.
Sophia wrapped her arms around my waist, eyes full of tears. Confusion took over, but didn’t last long enough to give away the ruse.
“You’re scaring my daughter,” I said, holding Sophia close with one hand at her back and the other on the back of her head. “Please, put down your staffs.”
Everything about this felt awkward, but my ability to act was now the difference between life and death. I wanted to pinch her for what she did, which was the opposite of what she warned before. I thought she was supposed to be the one doing all the talking.
“Hmmm,” said the guard with the wiry orange hair, “I’ve never seen either of you before.” He looked over at his comrades.
“Me either.”
Sophia wiped her fake tears. “It’s my fault, not my daddy’s.” She sniffled and gripped my waist tighter, pressing her cheek into my stomach.
“I went to watch the widow Mae do her potions,” Sophia went on, “but couldn’t find her and I got lost.”
The guards didn’t seem to be buying it.
“The widow Mae, eh?” said one guard.
“You’re a little liar,” said another. “She died two years ago. Blew up herself.”
I felt Sophia’s body stiffen. She was speechless. Not a good sign.
The guard with the wiry orange hair grabbed me by the arm. Another guard went for Sophia. In the scuffle of staffs and armor, shouting and clanking metal, I heard Sophia scream and then she cawed. A mass of black feathers exploded and a raven flew out of the small crowd and toward the ceiling. It took me a moment to realize that the raven was Sophia, and an even longer moment to see that Sophia was getting away and I was not. Three more guards rushed to the scene, and the one with wiry orange hair poked at the air furiously, trying to gut the bird with the blade of his staff. Sophia cawed and swooped down at his face, jutting her big black beak near his eyes, missing them just barely and searing the skin above his nose.
Sophia flew down the hall and away while I was dragged to my very own cell in a dungeon. They must have knocked me unconscious because I couldn’t remember falling asleep in this wet, dank place, nor did I remember being shackled by my ankles to the wall.
I reached up and rubbed the back of my aching head. I felt the warm, moist sensation of blood against my fingertips. The sound of water dripping slow and sparingly came from somewhere on the other side of the dark room. It stank here, like rotten food or perhaps the rotting corpses of rodents. My clothes were soiled and in addition to the annoying pain from the bump on my head, I could feel my bottom lip busted and bleeding.
I could only imagine how long I had been here. I could only imagine what the people of this fortress were going to do to me next.
I leaned against the wall and closed my eyes. Sleep never came, though I wanted it to, the kind that comes and never leaves. I was genuinely frightened. This was a different kind of fear than being on the bridge in Big Creek, or the attack by the succubus back at Tiny’s Inn. In this fear, I was alone. I missed the annoying company of Tsaeb, even Sophia. I just knew I was going to die. I was going to be hanged in the town center where my body would be left to rot, pockets picked clean, among other areas of my person I tried hard not to think about. I drew my legs toward me, pressing my knees into my chest. With my arms wrapped around my legs, I began to rock back and forth. Was I losing my mind? I began to think so. Thoughts of fear and fear of death turned into thoughts of suicide. I imagined ways to hang myself. I thought about how inmates on television did it, by tying their sheets together. But I wasn’t given a bed, much less a sheet to choke myself with. I was going to die, and it was going to be a death not of my choosing.
A light, almost too faint to be seen, shone underneath the massive iron door. I heard noises move past, some that sounded like boots cl
omping against the stone, voices and something heavy, as if being dragged.
I then heard laughter, but it was not a voice near the room; it was in my head.
I really am going insane...none of this is real.
“Oh it’s real, alright,” said the voice of the Devil in my mind. “But I have to say; you’ve gotten farther than anyone since my old buddy, Tacitus.”
“Where are you?” I said rather grudgingly. “Get out of my head and show your face!”
“Tsk, tsk,” said the Devil. “I would, but that’s just not possible. Unfortunate, I admit, but nothing I can do about it right now.”
“Nothing you can do about it?” I shouted. “Bullshit!”
“No, really, I can’t appear in Creation, not like you can. You can say I’ve been sort of banned from that place.”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” I said. I pulled my back away from the wall and went to stand, until I remembered my predicament. “God should’ve done us all a favor and banned you from the Outside too.”
“Oh, now don’t be so cruel. Besides, you have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Well then why don’t you enlighten me? No, you can’t do that, can you?” I scoffed. “How convenient. Just like Tsaeb, no one can tell me anything.”
“I wouldn’t say no one, Norman,” said the Devil. “Anyone from Creation has free will to tell you anything you need to know, as long as they know it themselves, in which this case there are only few.”
“And why can’t you or Tsaeb tell me? Why all the damn games?”
“No games,” the Devil said with sincerity. “Believe me when I say if I could tell you everything, I would have in the park. Still wouldn’t have given you a choice, but you’d know everything at least. Anyone from the Outside is forbidden to discuss The Task, even amongst each other—telling you everything would make things so much easier, which is precisely why it’s forbidden.”
“By whose rules?”
“The Big Ass in the sky, of course.”
“Why are you here?” I said. “If you can’t help me, then why bother me? I’d rather you just leave me alone.”
The Devil sighed. “I’m hurt, truly hurt,” he lied.
I shook my head.
“Go away.”
“I will,” said the Devil, “I have a two o’clock appointment provoking the drunk-driving accident of a rather important member of Congress. Missed that one last week and had to reschedule. Won’t miss it again.”
“So, then what’s keeping you?”
I felt my eyes blink involuntarily, and then my head shook side to side, also involuntarily.
“You’ve grown some balls since last I saw you in the park,” said the Devil with my lips.
My hand went over my mouth in attempt to shut the Devil up or at least stop the Devil from taking more from me than my mind.
“I had to stop by and visit,” said the Devil, “because it’s my job to hear thoughts of suicide, and most importantly, to help push them along. Usually, I just get my sin demons to deal with it, but you’re what I call a ‘special case’.”
I felt my eye wink.
“Oh,” I said, “you’ve come to help put me out of my misery?”
The Devil laughed, but this time only in my mind.
“No way. I can’t have you doing anything crazy like that.”
I pressed my fists firmly against my ears. My eyes clenched shut. “Get out of my head then!”
“Only if I sense a shred of hope,” said the Devil.
The moment was long and silent and I was beginning to wonder.
“Great!” the Devil said suddenly. “You’re too much of a wuss to kill yourself. That’s good.”
I burned with anger, my teeth grinded together harshly behind my tight lips.
“Leave me alone!”
There was silence. I opened my eyes and lifted my head.
My mind felt lighter.
“I’ve got to get out of here,” I said aloud to myself.
I went to my feet carefully, holding myself up with my hands braced against the cool rock wall. The shackles on my ankles were short, leaving me only enough room to stand, but not enough to walk. I looked toward the iron door. The light from underneath it allowed me to see that it was the only way in or out of the cell.
Suddenly, the door swung open taking me by surprise, sending me crashing back onto the floor.
“Thought I left yah, huh?” Sophia said standing in the doorway. There was a plump old woman with her, not much taller than Sophia, wearing a hideous orange apron and a floppy, pointed witch hat.
“This him?” said the old woman, sucking on her teeth. She regarded me with a scrutinous glass eye that sent shivers up the back of my neck.
God, I hope that’s not the queen....
“Yep, that’s him,” Sophia answered. “Let’s get on with this, eh?”
The old woman waddled into the cell and I could’ve sworn I heard her thick legs rubbing together when she walked. A huge clanking bundle of keys hung from around her waist. In a second, my ankles were free from the shackles.
“Get up,” said the old woman as she went back toward the cell door. “My time is precious, and since you ain’t nothin’ like I thought you’d be, already you’re wastin’ it.”
The old woman rounded the corner.
I wasn’t sure if I had any right to be offended, as I was unsure of everything at this moment. I went to my feet.
“Don’t mind her,” said Sophia, “she’s always disappointed.”
Sophia motioned ‘this way’ and led me away from the cell and past a dozen others. The dungeon reeked of urine and feces. Prisoners talked to each other through the walls, and talked to themselves and the walls. Some stood pressing their faces between the bars of their tiny door windows.
The old woman led us up a dozen sets of rock stairs and onto a more scenic floor. The ceilings towered, held by the marble and stone pillar foundation. The residents slithered along past us with proud chins and noses in the air. Cold stares shot through Sophia and me like verbal insults. The people here were clearly unlike those that lived outside the fortress. Their way of dress was rich. The air smelled of expensive musk oils and exotic fruits and sweet foods.
I could feel every disapproving eye upon me and it briefly reminded me of my interview day at the office, the way Mr. Bastardi looked upon me as a rich prick might look upon a factory-worker.
“Where are we going?” I said. I had wanted to ask the question the second we stepped out of the cell.
The short old woman continued to waddle forward, the keys steadily clanking against her thick thigh.
“To see Queen Illian,” answered Sophia, looking back once to catch my eye. “I told you I could get you in.”
Oh, thank God...thank God that one ain’t the queen!
“Yes,” I said aloud, “you did say you could.” I looked around me, watching those watching me.
I was about to see the queen. It suddenly hit me, I was about to stand face to face with a real queen. I was going to...sleep with a woman I had never met, nor seen, nor spoken to beforehand. I couldn’t shut out the disturbing pictures in my mind.
We came to a stop underneath a towering archway where on each side, intricate stone statues of a woman and a tree had been carved. The room just beyond the archway looked more like a foyer, small compared to the hallway.
“Wait here,” grumbled the old woman. She never did look at us when she barked her demands, but I was glad because that damn glass eye of hers was unsettling. It wasn’t right in the socket and looked as though she had been punched and the glass eye shoved back too far and made uneven with the real eye.
She reached up with her pudgy knuckles and knocked three times on the tall oak door.
The door made a clicking sound from the inside and then the old woman went in alone, softly shutting and locking the door behind her.
I stood there with my fingers interlaced in front of me, fidgeting. There was an odd scent
in the air, like wet dirt with a smidgen of pine needles. The floor, I noticed when the heel of my sandal felt uneven, was laced with tiny roots grasping the crevices of the tile. I examined the walls and floor closer, seeing that the roots were coming from underneath the door, and some sprouted up from the floor itself, snaking along the ceramic grooves perfect and complexly.
Barely a full five minutes went by before the old woman came back, just when I managed to calm my nerves some.
“Before you can go in,” the old woman began, “you have to answer one question correctly.”
“And what if I get it wrong?”
The old woman grinned wide and her glass eye spun around in its socket. She reached up to steady it. “If you get it wrong, I get to have my way with you before you go back to that cell and await the hanging noose.”
“But Norman’s the real deal,” Sophia said, stepping up, “so he’ll get it right.”
I clearly wasn’t as confident.
“And since you’re not my type,” the old woman added, “I won’t have much use for you, so I’ll likely just harvest a few parts and be on my way.”
I took a deep breath and felt Sophia’s small hand pat me on the back encouragingly.
“Alright, shoot,” I said.
The old woman interlaced her fat fingers and rested them against her even fatter belly. She paused and then said, “Which of the Four Horsemen carries scales?”
Oh no...I know this, but I can’t remember! Shit!
I began to pace, one arm across my stomach, chin in the other hand.
“I know this,” I said, still pacing.
“Well then answer it,” Sophia urged, “Come on.”
“Hush! I need to think.”
“But you said you knew, so what’s there to think about?”
“Please,” I said, stopping to look at her once, “just be quiet.”
The old woman looked even more confident now. Her grin had become a smirk; her glass eye seemed more alert and alive than the real one. Already she let her hands loose as if ready to take hold of me any second and drag me off to her torture chamber.
“Famine,” I answered. “Yeah, it’s Famine. He rides the black horse and carries the scales. I did a paper on the Four Horsemen in Sunday School.”
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