Lair of Beasts [Book I in the Curse Of Blood Saga]

Chapter XXVII - Carpe Noctem

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The pitch black void that lay before me was narrow and hardly big enough to accommodate a child, never mind a man's large frame, but I nevertheless crawled intrepidly, or foolishly, into the space, running my hands along the walls as I stared sightlessly into the darkness.

What will you do when you see Thomas? How will you get him free? I knew not a single answer to the questions that beset me constantly. But I could not very well do nothing, for it was not in me to be complacent and idle. Thomas was my brother in all but blood and despite that he was confused and had somehow grown delusional, I owed him my loyalty. He would have done it for me.

If nothing else, I would at least talk to him. Perhaps comfort him through the bars and say my last farewell, but that would be my last resort once I had exhausted all efforts to free him. I had few ideas to offer really, but all I was certain of was that he was not a malicious boy. Only confused by his feelings for me and he did not deserve this fate especially because I did not believe...nay, I knew he was not capable of rape.

After what seemed an eternity, I came upon a precipice, my fingers clutching at the edge of the damp stone. I carefully leaned as far as my balance would allow so that I might feel along the wall perpendicular to the ledge and thereby get an idea of what I could not see.

The stone was freezing cold and slick with water. The cistern lay somewhere on the upper floors, so perhaps this water was the result of a minuscule seepage from above. During my blind inspection, my fingers brushed across a piece of iron that protruded solidly from the wall and I wrapped my fingers around it, deducing for myself that it was, or felt like, a type of handle. Running my hand up above it, to investigate further, I discovered naught but more moist rock.

Ergo, I changed the direction of my intrepid prodding and searched the bottom of the handle instead, sweeping my hand downwards till I bumped up against another protrusion: it seemed as solidly embedded into the stonework as the one above it. I gingerly eased one foot over the edge, placing it hesitantly on the iron perch and, holding on to the handle above it, moved my other foot down even lower, hoping to find purchase in the stygian pit I had rashly managed to position myself into.

Yes! 

I had guessed aright, for there was indeed another foothold projecting out with which to rest my weight onto. I tested the stability of the iron step and, finding it to be secure, I maneuvered my whole body off the ledge and onto the wall. With the assiduousness of an ant, feeling its way blindly along a pathway, I climbed down into the unknown depths of the oubliette, testing each foothold tentatively before continuing on.

Without warning, the iron bar came loose from its base beneath my foot the same moment I maneuvered to step onto the one below it. I screamed as I dragged my nails against the rock, but it was of no consequence; I had only enough time to register my own terror ere I plummeted into the depth below, clawing uselessly at darkness.

❅

I should be dead. Why was I not? By some strange and absurd miracle, I had landed on my feet like some deranged cat. My heart was yet pounding and my innards still convulsing with the panic that had surged when I fell. But that was not all. What in God's name was happening to me?