The Hooded Figure

The Dungeon

After what seemed to James like forever, his feet finally felt the hard ground at the end of the stairs. The lamps -that were the only illumination in the underground passage- were scarce and far between, forcing him to feel his way along the wall with his hands. His knees were scratched and bleeding where he had landed after tripping several times in the dark.

It was eerily silent and, perking his ears, James realized he could no longer hear Tula and the guide's footsteps. He quickened his pace, his heart beating wildly in his chest, only to stumble on a large stone and force himself to slow down again. He walked around blindly till his legs were shaking in a mixture of fear and fatigue before he finally admitted to himself that he was hopelessly lost. Tula had left him behind.

What if I never get out? as soon as the thought entered his head he reproached himself for having it. He needed to stay positive. A high pitched wail filled his ears and he froze. What was that? his eyes searched the tunnel in the dim light of a nearby lamp, hoping to find its source. His search came up short and when he was going to dismiss it as a figment of his imagination, he heard it again, louder this time. 

He pinpointed the direction the cries were coming from and his legs instinctively led him towards them. He silently prayed that Tula would be there. As he drew nearer the cries grew louder and he could tell that they were feminine. In the dim light he spotted a metal door strewn to the side, ripped off its frame. Tula! 

He rushed past it and entered through the door-less frame. Inside the cell was even darker than the passage and he had to wait for his eyes to adjust. The was stale and stank of sweat and excrement. James scrunched his nose against the smell and searched the room.To his left, he could barely make out someone lying against the wall. He bent down beside them and realised it was his guide. He brought his hand up to the man's neck, holding his breath. Nothing; the man was dead. 

Another shrill scream cut the silence and brought James to his feet. Searching the dark room, he saw another figure, at the far back. It sat in the straw, curled up against the wall. James crept closer and realised it was a woman, draped in rags that may have once been a brown dress, or was it white? It was hard to tell with the layers of dirt and grime. Moving yet closer he realised she was crying, her shoulders shaking with every sob. Her arms hugged her knees to her chest as yet another wail escaped her throat.

James sat down beside her carefully so as not to startle her, she didn't take any notice. He felt a pang in his chest as she wailed again. Her cries were so full of mourning and pain he could feel his chest tightening for her. He slowly put his arm over her skinny shoulders and pulled her closer to him, letting hr cry into him. Just past her he saw Tula. She stood a few feet away watching them patiently, her cloak making her almost invisible in the dark.

After a while the shrill cries slowed to raking sobs, then the sobs subsided into sniffles, and eventually all was silent. Tula came forward and bent down onto one knee next to the woman. Slowly, she took her hand.

"Sillia?" Her voice was soft, almost pleading, "let's go". She tugged at her hand and the woman eventually allowed Tula to pull her onto her feet. Only then did realization dawn on James; had she called her Silla? This woman was Bray's wife? And then it all made sense; why she was crying so mournfully, why Tula had waited for her so patiently, instead off forcing them on like she usually would.

The trio made their way out of the cell, James trying his best to avoid looking at their guide's body. He noted that Sillia did't even take notice of it, probably too deep in despair to see anything. Only when they were in the tunnel did they hear them, men's footsteps. They echoed through the tunnel and he heard himself take a sharp intake of breath. They were already in the dungeon.