Tragic Innocence

Chapter 35: Virtuous Intrigue

            Pentulla ambled pensively behind Crow as he lead her towards the darkened corridor that lead into a blank wall.  She could not help but still see the spiteful image of Spring Brook’s burning eyes as she had turned to bid her farewell.  A shiver coursed up her shoulders that had nothing to do with the coolness of the home.

            She absently watched Crow hunker down to his heels and remove an oval rug braided with dark colors.  His hands smoothed off dust that rose slowly to their faces.

            Pentulla coughed and swished her hand before her face.  “What is it you do?”

            “Taking you to your chamber.”  Crow raised his eyes with a grin upon his lips.  “There was a time when all who apposed Rolac needed sanctuary from his vices.  Though my father was tortured and thoroughly interrogated to his whereabouts, this person was never found; this was a chamber for a very special refugee once a very long time ago.”  His voice was soft and careful as his agile fingers dusted off a small corner and dipped into the hole that suddenly materialized.

            Pentulla arched a brow with interest.  “Oh, really?”  She dropped to her heels and watched with renewed interest.  “I wonder who it was.”

            Crow turned his face towards her, and though she could not make out his features in detail, she could feel his warmth directed to her.  “Beware the age of absence…”

            “What?” Pentulla quirked a brow, clearly confused by his expression.

            Then, without warning, the hatch was slowly pulled open as a puff of ancient dust rose straight for their faces.  Crow jerked his face away, pinching his eyes and mouth tightly shut.  Pentulla lost her balance and toppled backwards, but did not crash to the floor, for Crow’s reflexes were much quicker than she could ever have imagined.

            “I apologize for the latency of the warning,” Crow mused as he carefully balanced her against the adjacent wall.

            Pentulla giggled.  “I am much too intrigued for what you have to show me rather than the age of common dust!  Come--!” before Crow knew what was going on, Pentulla had trotted down the steps and into the tunnel.

            She awaited him on the other side, watching him light a candle encased in a fragile glass globe.  The warm light highlighted his high cheekbones and prominent brow bone as well.

            “This way,” he tilted his head and offered his elbow once more.

            The passage was tiny and cramped, as Pentulla quickly discovered when she could not straighten her back.  But it did not last long, for an ancient door with massive brass handles that hung in great loops guarded the small passageway with an ominous air.  “Curious.”

            “Yes…  It is no longer under enchantment, for there is no one to protect on the other side any longer.”

            “This one must have been a very important person indeed.”

            “Yes, he was.  Come.”  Crow opened the door that miraculously swung open on well-oiled hinges.  This time, there was no stale air to attest its age.

            Pentulla gazed at the wondrous workmanship of the simple but elegant walls of the small tower they slowly ascended.  The steps were small, but efficient.  There were many nooks along the inner wall containing silent and dead candles whose wax folded over many layers to a short stump.