Fate Undone: A Novella

Chapter III - Part IV

The door to the root cellar was unlocked. Had it not been, Abraam would have chopped it apart himself. Fortunately, the subtlety he was hoping for was granted. He pulled a couple of torches from the wall sconces in the aisle, gave them to Nikos and Eleni as he ushered them inside, and then he went down the steps with a light of his own.

Within the barrel-vaulted cellar, lining the dark stone walls to the left and right, were stacks of casks and wooden shelves loaded with large earthenware pots. Salted meat and dried fruits and vegetables filled most of everything. Tucked between the open spaces where food wasn't stored were elaborate braziers of twisted iron with cold, empty dishes upon their tops where flames would have danced. Abraam led the way past it all, his torch guttering above his head from his hasty movements. It was a long cellar, but it eventually split, offering two dead ends. Abraam turned left and brought them to an old wooden door in the floor, kept shut with a hefty iron lock. There were more casks here, though they stood up on end and crowded the sides.

"Nikos, hand me a brazier," said Abraam.

Nikos dragged the nearest brazier to his father's side. Abraam traded his torch for it and lifted the heavy iron up with both arms like a battering ram. With a grunt, he threw the object against the door, cracking the wood. When he tried again, he sent it straight through the old door, into a black pit that opened up in the ground, swallowing the iron and the splinters. The brazier struck sharply against unseen stone, again and again. Its racket shrank away as it pounded unevenly, until it gave off a final echoing crash somewhere below. A sudden moment of stillness followed. The whole time Eleni had been glancing back down the cellar, expecting to see angry men rush their way, but there were none.

"It's time to 'Walk the Dark,'" said Abraam. He took his torch back from Nikos and ventured forth, kicking down loose scraps of hanging wood to make the path into the pit clearer.

The twins followed with unease. Down the pit was a staircase of crooked stone through a narrow tunnel hardly wide enough for two. Every step was different in shape and size, making the descent feel awkward and unpredictable. At any moment, it seemed as if the stones beyond the reach of their torches might drop off and take them down into a bottomless chasm.

"How did you know about this?" asked Eleni.

"Stavros mentioned it once." Abraam picked up his pace, taking some of the smaller steps two at a time. "It isn't as much of a secret as it is a forgotten relic."

"And why is it even here?" asked Nikos.

"It's a symbolic connection between man and the gods—the manor and the temple," explained Abraam. "It served a religious purpose in the past. The old lords would come down here with nothing but a cane to 'Walk the Dark.' Blindly, they would reach the temple as a kind of meditative prayer. No two steps were made to be identical as to make assumptions without a light impossible."

Abraam stopped talking for a moment and just listened to the sound of their clanking feet. The rattle of their armor and gear echoed loudly ahead and behind. Nobody's been in here for a hundred years. And now here we are, using this place for a purpose it was never supposed to have. He listened to his own breath, too, taking in the stale air. He could hear the unease deep in his lungs, trying to steady itself. He thought of Anna and prayed she was alright, then he kept talking, to keep his nerves in check.

"The Walk itself was meant to keep kings and queens humble. Vassilios Manor resides above the city to ensure the populace knows who is there to offer support and punishment alike. For a time, the Walk was mandatory for the old lords to remind them how no man could ever rise above the gods, no matter how high the throne." The steps ended and a wall emerged. The iron brazier lay there. To the right, the tunnel continued past strands of limp cobwebs. More steps descended even further. "It also helped to empower their faith. Emerging from out of the pitch dark to come up into the temple on the other side was like a rebirth. The Walk taught the lords that there is always a higher power, and that none of us would ever exist without that. A hundred years ago, a king never made it out, though. He was too hasty and broke his neck on these steps. He was the fifth lord to have died that way, so the people demanded the Walk be closed up."