by Sean Russell
“But you have a purpose now,” she said, her fingers cool on his face, touching him as though she were without sight and wanted to know him. “Escape from Eldrich’s trap. Escape, ultimately, from Eldrich. We have ways of hiding ourselves. We can slip away, as long as he believes, at least briefly, that we are dead.” Her fingers traced his brow. Erasmus closed his eyes and felt her touch, cool and gentle on his skin.
Erasmus felt the unreality of the moment touch him. “I can never escape him,” he said. “You don’t know. Eldrich lets no one go. He would find me. Even if he had no further use for me, he would never let me escape.”
She pulled him very close to her.
“But Eldrich does not plan to live in this world much longer. There is a reason he has sacrificed seven. He hopes to open the way one more time and slip through. That is his plan, I’m sure. If we can escape, we will strand him here. Eldrich will be trapped.” Her voice seemed very hard suddenly. “I am not as kind a person as I seem, for the idea of revenge seems sweet to me now. To strand Eldrich in this world he would escape, and trap the priest here, alone, in this netherworld. These are the thoughts that bring me comfort, the weapon I use to drive away despair. Only let me live to have revenge. If I could appeal to a higher power, that would be my prayer.”
Forty-Five
Erasmus lay looking up at the dome of the chamber, so like a star-filled sky that he could almost imagine that he had escaped to the world above. He drifted in and out of sleep, rising to clouded consciousness, sinking down into the depths of dream. They were all becoming more and more lethargic—all except Deacon Rose and, oddly, Clarendon.
Erasmus tried to force himself to the surface, back to consciousness, but a current took hold of him, spinning him slowly, pulling him down. Erasmus could feel the great chasm below him, leagues of dark, silent ocean—the place he would drift for eternity, tugged this way and that, half in dream. The cold of the limitless sea seeping into him. A world of cold blue.
He tried to call out, but no sound came.
Swim, he thought. I must swim.
Up, if only I could. . . .
Suddenly he was swimming, following a trail of bubbles that escaped his lips. Up, straining toward air and light. Starlight.
When he broke the surface Erasmus found himself sitting up, gasping for air, covered in a cold sweat.
“Flames,” he whispered. “Bloody blood and flames.”
He looked around. The others lay here and there about the chamber, their posture strange as though they’d collapsed and were too weak to arrange their limbs for comfort. Anna and Banks lay near the crypt, Rose between them and the nance. Hayes and Kehler sprawled by the door to the hallway, and Clarendon stood silently, staring at the wall as though reading what had been written there.
Erasmus forced himself up, his head throbbing. Vertigo gripped him, and he braced himself, waiting for it to pass. A moment later he made his way slowly to the stream that emerged from beneath the nance. He knelt down and drank from cupped hands.
If only I were a fish, he thought. I could dive into this stream and find my way out, out to the sunlight.
He moved across the chamber, staring down into the opening that drained the water from the font. Clarendon appeared beside him.
“Are you well, Mr. Flattery?”
Erasmus continued to watch the water spin down into darkness.
“Mr. Flattery?”
“How wide do you think this opening is, Randall?”
Clarendon stopped, considering. “More than a foot. A foot and a third? Perhaps as much as a half?”
“That’s what I would guess.” Erasmus glanced across the chamber to where Hayes and Kehler slept. He pitched his voice low so that anyone who might still be awake would not hear. “Can you pass through such an opening?”
“One not filled with water, certainly. I think you could yourself, Mr. Flattery, though it would not be comfortable, but even so, I think you could.”
Erasmus nodded. He crouched down, examining the small trench that carried the water across the floor. “How could we not have seen this? Look, Randall—what if we were to take rubble from the collapsed tunnel and dam the flow of water? We could build up a small dam down this side of the channel, across it diagonally to the wall. Do you see what I mean? Force the water out onto the floor and into the hallway. There must be gaps among the fallen blocks of stone—enough for water to find its way—and beyond the chamber the floor of the tunnel slopes down.” He looked back at the opening in the floor. “It might be hard to stop all the water, but if we could reduce it substantially we could explore this pathway. We have a rope. We could lower you. . . .”
Clarendon stared down into the darkness where the water disappeared. “And if our dam gave way?”
Yes, Erasmus thought, that was not impossible. He thought of the boy in flame. “I will chance it. It could hardly be a death worse than the one we live now.”
Clarendon nodded once, then glanced over his shoulder. “Come away from here for a moment.” He led Erasmus to the chamber’s far end as though he would show him something. “But what of Rose?” he whispered. “He will not allow these Tellerites to escape—not if he can in any way prevent it. I’m not convinced he will even let us escape. Did you not say that he believes he is to be a witness? That somehow Eldrich will free him?”
“It is possible, yes.”
“Then all he must do is wait, and somehow this unholy bargain between the church and the mages will be honored. Perhaps our own deaths are even necessary.” He put a hand to his brow, suffering the same throbbing ache as everyone. Erasmus almost reached out a hand to steady him, but thought better of it. Clarendon was a proud man.
“I’m not certain your idea will work, Mr. Flattery—we have such poor material to make a dam—but it is our best hope and I feel we must try it.” He cast his gaze once more across the chamber. “Leave Rose to me.”
“But, Randall, certainly we can’t . . .” Erasmus had almost said “murder the man,” he was so unsure of anyone’s judgment. They were becoming desperate.
“I will not harm him if it can be avoided, but I don’t know how we can take him with us either. We shall see. I will speak to the others. I think Rose is watching us this moment, afraid that we’ll find some way out. Perhaps your plan has already occurred to him, but he has said nothing. Leave it to me, Mr. Flattery.”
Clarendon went to Hayes and Kehler and roused them gently, leading them off, still half-dazed, down the Hallway of the Seven, as they had learned it was called.
Erasmus wanted to examine the opening in the floor again to be sure his judgment was not wildly mistaken, but he didn’t want to arouse the priest’s suspicions. The man hardly seemed to sleep, and was always watching.
A spasm of abdominal cramping bent Erasmus double, and he lowered himself to the floor, resting his back against the writing on the wall. A cold sweat broke out across his brow again, and in spite of himself he moaned quietly. If they didn’t get out soon, they would certainly be too weak. They might not have the strength to follow Erasmus’ scheme as it was.
* * *
* * *
Some time later Erasmus had gone to the end of the hallway and was examining the rubble that had fallen, blocking their exit. Although massive blocks predominated, there would certainly be a quantity of smaller material, more or less suitable for their purposes. Getting it out without causing further collapse would be the problem. They would likely need several cubic feet of material, which would make a hole in the rubble large enough to be dangerous—or so he thought. He was no quarryman, after all.
As he stood there considering the possible problems, a sudden cursing and shouting came from the main chamber, then the sounds of a scuffle. He ran as best he could and arrived in time to find Kehler, Hayes, Clarendon, and Banks wrestling Rose to the ground, Anna standing near, making quick motions in the
air before her.
“You must gag him quickly. . . . Banks!” she said.
A moment later Rose was thoroughly bound, both hand and foot, and a filthy handkerchief had been used to gag him cruelly.
The others were near to collapse from the effort, and Rose was glaring at them with a viciousness that Erasmus would not have thought possible of a priest.
Clarendon saw him coming and raised his hands. “Now, I know you did not agree to this, Mr. Flattery, but we do not trust this priest to let us go. If our plan works, and once we are all safely away, you may release him and make your way out together. We are sure he will do nothing to harm you for fear of Eldrich.”
Erasmus had not been warned about this speech, but it made immediate sense. Better Rose did not think he was being left behind.
“Why would he fear Eldrich on my account? The mage trapped me here as well.”
“That might be so, Mr. Flattery, and I cannot deny that Eldrich has dealt with you in the worst manner, but we all know mages have their own ideas of justice and do not brook interference. I think this priest knows enough of Eldrich that he will not dare interfere with you.”
Erasmus glanced at Deacon Rose, wondering if he believed this act, though Clarendon, at least, was quite convincing.
“I haven’t the strength to argue,” Erasmus said resignedly, having no difficulty finding the right tone, for he truly was exhausted. “We must be sure to let him drink, and to do him no harm. But let us get on with our task, while we have some strength left.”
* * *
* * *
No one had imagined how arduous an endeavor they had taken on. Removing material from the collapsed passage proved both more difficult and more dangerous than expected, and the rocks and smaller fragments that they could get free made only an indifferent dam. Water poured through it as through a sieve, and though its flow was reduced, it was not reduced enough that anyone would dare the opening.
Exhaustion and hunger wore away at what little strength they had, and reduced them to taking longer and longer rests between trips to their quarry. Erasmus did not like the looks in the eyes of any of them, for he could see the doubt there—doubt that they could accomplish the task at all. And if they did, who would have the strength left to crawl down into this tiny passage that they all knew would steal their strength away in fifty feet?
Their labors drove them all to consume quantities of water, but no amount of water was a substitute for food, and they were all soon so exhausted that a few moments of effort were followed by many more of recovery—and occasionally one of them would fall into a sleep that could not be fended off.
If we had only come in here with our reserves undiminished, Erasmus thought, but the journey through the cave taxed us all more than we expected.
Anna emerged from the tunnel carrying a boulder the size of a skull—not such a burden really, but she struggled with it as though it were a hundred-weight.
“Is this any use?” she asked, nearly dropping the rock to the floor, and then sinking down beside it.
“I’m sure it is,” Erasmus said, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Rest a moment,” he said. “We must pace ourselves if we are to succeed.”
She looked down at the stream of water that found its way through their makeshift obstruction, and Erasmus thought she might begin to cry.
“Clay is what we need,” he said quietly. “Something to fill all the crevices.” The problem of engineering their dam had fallen to him, and he did the best he could with it, while trying to keep up a brave face, which was the harder part.
Kehler and Hayes had proven themselves adept at extracting stone from the pile of rubble, and soon invented any number of dodges to shore up the pile while they pulled loose some stone. Every now and then they would stand back and heave rocks at the pillars they had made as braces and the pile would collapse again. Dangerous, Erasmus was certain, but no one had a better suggestion.
“How are they doing out there?”
Anna nodded. “Well enough. They have a bit of a stockpile waiting now. How much more do we need?”
Erasmus looked at their efforts. They had filled the channel for about three feet, but the dam was so porous that the water had not yet overflowed its banks. They had also built up a small dike along one side of the channel, but this would likely need more material if they ever succeeded in forcing the water to back up.
Anna pressed her hands to her eyes for a moment, and then forced herself up. She crossed the chamber stiffly and a moment later returned with a coat. “Try this,” she said. “Perhaps it will stop up some of the holes.”
Erasmus spread the coat over the inside of his dam. For a moment they waited, watching.
“It was a foolish idea, I suppose,” Anna said.
“No, wait a moment yet. It is having some effect I think. And you’ve given me an idea. Kehler and Hayes dragged much of their gear in here. Did they not have oiled cotton bags?”
These were found, one split and laid in place, and they were rewarded by a noticeable backing of the waters.
They all stood watching the miracle, the water finally overflowing the banks of the channel. The low dams that were to direct the water away from the opening in the floor were only partly effective, but signs of success energized them all for a while. Two hours later a shallow pool of water covered the floor to one side of the channel and the nance, flowing slowly out into the hall and disappearing into the pile of rubble.
They all lay on the hard floor on the dry half of the chamber, unable to move, it seemed.
“We must not wait too long,” Clarendon said, “for we cannot know how long the dam will hold.”
Although several heads nodded, no one rose to begin their efforts. Hayes and Kehler were snoring.
They had consumed the last morsels of their food some hours earlier and Erasmus was now regularly seized by spasms of abdominal cramping that would last several minutes. He noticed that Banks suffered the same, though the others were less affected. He’d begun to wonder if he would make it out even if the passage proved viable.
Erasmus glanced over at the nance, with its macabre figures. What purpose did trapping them serve? Destroying the followers of Teller, clearly, but Eldrich could likely have done this less elaborately once they had revealed themselves. No, Erasmus was certain that Anna was right—they were a sacrifice. But was it that simple? Had they nothing more to do than die? It made so little sense. . . .
Rose squirmed around on the floor near the door to the crypt, and this prompted Clarendon to rise and check the man’s bindings. They let him drink by soaking the handkerchief used as a gag, for Anna and Banks were afraid to let the man speak, which seemed to indicate that Rose might have more skill in the arts than Erasmus had believed. Not enough to loosen his ties, apparently.
As much as Erasmus knew Clarendon was right, he felt sleep drawing him down, into the infinite blue, at the mercy of currents and undertows and upwellings.
Something brought him to the surface, though he could not say what. A strange warmth and tingling, almost luxurious, as though he had just had love. As though he had never gone into that hard, lightless place inside the earth, far beneath the roots of the great trees that bathed in sunlight.
His vision would not quite clear. Light, pale and cool. Starlight. He could hear a mumbling, almost singsong chant. And then—there—Anna standing beneath the masked figures. What was she doing? Erasmus tried to move his head for a better view, but he could not.
I’m dreaming, he told himself, for often, in his dreams he was frozen, immobile.
But then he heard Anna speak, her voice cracking and almost overcome with exhaustion. “Teller be praised,” she whispered, “I’ve done it. . . .”
Erasmus tried to speak, but only a hoarse breath escaped him. Anna came down from the nance, Banks rushing to support her, comfort her.
Someone else was trying to speak. Erasmus could hear strange, gargling vowels, cursing.
And then the sea took hold of him again, rocking him on its gently lifting breast beneath a star-scattered sky.
* * *
* * *
“Mr. Flattery?”
Someone shook him from his sleep, from his drifting toward darkness. Clarendon.
“They’ve gone, sir.”
“Wha . . . ? Who’s gone?” He propped himself up on an elbow, somehow surprised to find himself still in the chamber.
“Anna and Banks, sir.”
Erasmus came fully awake, though his mind could not quite escape the dream-fog. He looked across the chamber. Their dam still held, the mirror-calm pond spreading across the floor. Then he noticed the rope knotted around one of the urns on the nance and leading to the opening in the floor.
“When?”
“Just a moment ago, I think,” Clarendon said, putting a hand to his head. “I watched but could not move. I—I’m not certain our sleep was quite natural.” He shook his head, pressing his eyes closed in apparent pain.
Hayes stirred nearby, moaning. And Rose, Erasmus realized, was wide awake, his eyes wide with frustration and rage.
“Why did they go without us?”
Clarendon helped him to his feet. “One of the urns on the nance is opened, Mr. Flattery. It would seem clear that they managed to break the charm and fled with the contents. King’s blood? Is that what you called it?”
Erasmus nodded.
Rose began to make a terrible choking noise, writhing on the floor. In an instant Erasmus and Clarendon had his gag off and were pounding him on the back.
For a moment Erasmus thought they would have to bear the responsibility of the man’s death, but then he managed to catch a breath, and then another.
“They took the seed,” Rose said, his voice only a hoarse whisper. “Water . . . Please . . . Water.”
