Five pensive figures made their way back to the ridge. Odd comments of support were given along with additional words of caution. The sun was now high in the sky, shedding its golden rays upon the haunting valley lying beyond the tree line.
Stopping at the ridge, Hanor checked the rhythms of his heart, ensuring he had made the right decision. Pulsing smoothly, he knew he had.
“If you get into trouble…,” Bane said, wiping a tear. “Shout as loud as you can, and I promise…, I will come and get you.” Hugging him, it felt like a farewell.
“And you had better come running,” Hanor joked.
Rubbing his head, Hallen disliked the whole affair. “I cannot believe I am letting you do this. You, a mere lad doing what a great burly Hite dare not.”
“You have nothing to be ashamed of Hallen,” Hanor said, prudent. “It is because of my illness, and not because I am courageous. You would do the same.”
“Your words are kind Hanor but… a Hite’s pride is too large to be softened so easily.”
“I feel like Hallen does,” Kifter said, patting his back. “But since first meeting you, I have grown evermore respectful. Even though you remember so little, there is wisdom in you to have confidence in.” With a final wink, “Call if you are in trouble.”
Tarmon had the last words. “I am tempted to give you a whole book of advice, but… only you know what you must do. Just remember about illusions, for they will be your toughest challenge. Go well and take care.”
All seemed quiet at the ridge, memories of what went before trying to unsettle Hanor as he got ready to move. Fears increased, whirling again in his stomach. Taking a few quick steps, Hanor climbed the small ridge. Those pursuing forces had shut off as soon as he had left their territory, half-expecting them to be waiting. But like the first time, nothing moved. Glancing behind at the others before braving the unknown, ignoring the rumblings inside, he had a task to do.
Starting forward, Hanor strode with hope and purpose. Anticipating their first strike, on leaving the cover of trees, the four onlookers behind disappeared below the curvature of the land. Now isolated, his footsteps were the only sounds in this barren place. Soon passing where they had first been set upon, movements in his stomach heightened, sharp stabbing pains the result. The fears seemed determined to get out. Staying focused and strong, he continued, awaiting the explosive rush to come. Permitting him to enter this far to make certain there was no escaping, it was difficult to concentrate.
To his surprise, the other side of the valley came into view. Drab browns and greys, a bleak reflection of this side, there were no bushes or crawling plants anywhere, no wildlife either. A lack of wind added to the disquiet. Holding his stomach, it felt tight as if dehydrated. Images of him drinking water somewhere arose, the memory lingering for a while before fading. Encouraged, he hoped more would come. Daring to glance above, the clear blue sky showed no signs of life. Hopeful of seeing a Fliryn, but none were there, this deadness reaching to the invisible stars and beyond.
Bewildered, the valley floor on the other side crept into view, and still there was no attack. Light and patchy, the brown rock levelled out and merged into a grey stone ridge that encircled the valley’s base. Unfaltering, when reaching the crest of the valley rim, he did not chance a pause to take stock of the situation. Whilst moving, he had something to focus on.
Aiming down to his left, the descent was gradual, the rock rough minimising the risk of slipping. Catching his breath, numerous piles of stick-like shapes were scattered upon the ground. Without needing to investigate, they were skeletal remains of unfortunate individuals who had tried reaching the bottom, proving Tarmon’s tale to be true. Too far in, their deaths were a testament to the damage a foolish heart could do. Turning away, he looked around for additional pointers, landmarks to find his way back. A slight bend hid the far end to this bleak valley. Searching for the Tomb, it was nowhere in sight.
Disbelieving the Souls had still not struck, down he meandered, opting not to run in case he tripped. Intense, such concentration took its toll, expectations drawing a different kind of fatigue. Determined to last the distance, he guessed the Tomb was past that bend around to his left. Jumping down, the wide ridge encircling the valley floor was higher than he first thought. Standing on its edge, he checked the final drop. Patchy grey, the valley floor was some twenty hand-spans below, hard and unforgiving. Standing atop the rock wall, there was a slight gradient near the bottom, daring him to slide down. Leaping could result in a broken limb, which would make his escape less likely. The other side of the valley looked more accessible, but it would take too long to get there. Unwilling to take the risk, they would attack before he even got there.
Scratching his head at the problem, briefly distracted from the original purpose for being here, his guard slackened. Not until the immense surge from behind swooped in did he realise the mistake. Forgetting about their presence, the lapse cost him dear.
Floodgates opening, cramps of fear in his stomach shot up to his heart like a chilling blade, dislodging whatever had been protecting him. For the first time in his short memorable life, strands of fear stabbed at his unsuspecting nerve. His dream of reconnecting to life was in that moment realised. Shattering the invisible veil of his illness, a sense of dread started choking him. Losing balance, the momentum of their drive knocked him backwards, falling like a loosened boulder. Broken only by the curving base of the wall, he tumbled, rolling out into a heap on the valley floor. Winded and disorientated, shivers ran through him at the shocking change. Struggling to get up, his leg ached, his knee especially. Managing to stand, where were they? Why were they not already upon him? Remembering why he was here, the Tomb was nowhere to be seen. No gaps or holes were to his right, so he went left.
Desperate to stay calm, pulses of fear accompanied every straining step. Vulnerable, the others would not hear him from here. Expecting to be attacked again, he tried running, but a throbbing knee had other ideas. Agonising, a shooting pain ran up his leg, enough to slow him. Conceding to the grim ache, he started limping. Peering up and around, where were They?
Not waiting for long, tormenting him like a hapless animal, in his mind’s eye he could discern them sweeping along the valley floor from the other side towards him. Heart-stopping, terrible shrills filled his ears, their delight obvious. Anxious in case they could detect the change in him, closing his eyes when they hit, the force again knocked him to the ground. This time, a few lingered, gleeful. Sneering at what was to come, but as if pulled by a higher will, to his surprise they returned to the pack.
The Souls’ imprisonment here was partly of their own making he could now see, their movements proving this. Each one could release themselves from this open tomb if only they knew how. Their desire to exchange places with anyone who entered the valley had become an obstacle to their freedom. That error was again at hand, seeking to exchange with him rather than change within themselves. Discerning them as a collection of individuals, but moving as one by a united desire, he did not question how he knew. Accepting the insights as they rose, the vibration of their evil shivered through him.
Daring to move, his leg continued throbbing, demanding rest. Digging deep, he forced himself on. Scanning ahead for the Tomb as well as the surrounding area, he kept close to the wall restricting any attacks from that direction. To his horror, they descended like a preying beast in front, blocking his way. Calculated, Hanor paused, indecision striking him.
Savouring their power and the dread generated, he was flooded by grisly insights. Their presence, they hoped, would increase his fears, granting supremacy over his wavering will. Needing him to react, it was a tool used to overcome any unwitting individual. Holding his nerve, it was too late to escape now.
Fears were strong, proving he had taken a substantial step towards recovering his emotional health. That inner peace of earlier was gone, disappearing just before he had fallen. Unable to recall his history yet, a full recovery was still lacking. Comprehending the details in a few rapid heartbeats, that healing would be short-lived if he did not do something soon.
Stepping forward, Hanor decided to seize back control. Concentrating, tuning into that original peace he had experienced prior to the veil of his illness breaking, he started running, courage rising through the madness. Heading straight for the crowd of Souls, the defiant reaction superseded all pains in his aching leg. Charging, their twisted hate emanated like a polluted dust in front, preparing to snatch him from this world.
Staring down at the One, his Light brighter than anything witnessed before, through him they could see their freedom lay, but how they did not know. Registering it on his previous visit, it was imperative he did not escape this time. Concocting a plan to trap him, but what was this charge, this defiance confronting them? Did he not fear them still…, even now?
Opening up like a cavern, they accepted his sacrifice. Closing in behind when he surged to the centre of their domain, the entire assemblage concentrated on the centre of his Light. Condensing like an imploding force of immense power, two hundred and seventy three Souls rushed at him, seeking that promised freedom. Drawn to his Light, howls of desperation followed, determined to gain that ultimate release.
Running hard, Hanor saw his chance of escape shut behind. But to his astonishment, his perception altered dramatically. Sensations of running faded, replaced instead by a floating as if moving through water. Surreal, his body began dissolving from his conscious mind, trying to understand what this place was. As if venturing into another world, the overpowering sense of mind was unmistakable here. Coated by a thick layer of evil, the darkness was the governing force of this Realm. Tuning in further to the vibrations of the obscure surroundings, he could not detect any warmth or love here, only selfishness with all of its egocentric thought forms. No true life existed, only illusion. Saturated by greed and hate, this stark environment housed only dark entities eager to satisfy their own deranged appetites.
Understandings of their plight flashed through his mind, the details like beams of light piercing the shadows of this underworld. Not lasting long, his perception altered again. Conscious of the many Souls about to descend on him from all sides, there was nowhere for Hanor to turn. Terror rattled him, whirling sensations forming in his stomach again. Writhing back and forth, he could not believe it possible. Getting colder, the feelings condensed into a single form like a hand trying to seize him inside. Horrified, it started rising as if alive, just as Hallen had said.
Split between what was going on inside him and the external forces about to crash down on his position, time altered again to yet another rhythm. Certain he was not going to survive, inspiration flared to his rescue, triggering an idea. His attention was focused in the wrong place! Unsure why, he tuned into the poundings of his heart instead, concentrating on its rhythmic beats. It seemed to slow but intensify. Each pound now echoed around him like an explosion, time slowing to a trickle. His mind seemed to merge with his heart, a sense of oneness developing through the panic. The merging generated a wave of mental energy that pulsed outwards in every direction.
Uncertain of the effects, Hanor stayed in that concentrated state for a short while before coming round. Something unique had just happened, but he knew not what or why. Daring to look up for the attacking Souls, he could not perceive them anywhere. Searching with his mind’s eye as well as his physical ones, where had they gone? Standing close to the valley wall, he had somehow reached the bend in the valley. Checking in both directions, but nothing moved. Stalling when looking behind, a natural crack in the rock face was like a gaping wound in the hillside. Assuming the narrow cleft was the opening to the Tomb, the idea of getting trapped inside stalled his eagerness. Doubts throbbed, indecision gripping again. Relieved the sharp stabs were no longer in his stomach, he did feel more connected to his surroundings, a sure sign he was recovering. What should he do?
Desperate, the Souls regrouped, blinded by the incredible Light emanating from the boy. Many voices now spoke as one, questioning what that Light had been, so bright and powerful. Through the blistering pain however, the same impression remained; he was the key to their freedom.
A shudder within alerted Hanor to something approaching behind. Braving a look, the qualms were justified. Sweeping in, to his dismay the Souls were coming again. Delaying his flight, curious, the field of energy surrounding them had somehow changed. Unsure why, their presence was now far less menacing. Certain the edge to their evil had been softened, as if an awakening was taking place within their dark realm, it was only a seed of potential, but it was there and growing. If it continued expanding, there was a chance of real change taking place, enough to set them free.
Not lingering on the matter, for their intent was the same, he turned and slipped through the opening into the dusty atmosphere of the Tomb.
Cloaked in darkness, Hanor felt his way forward, convinced the Souls were about to follow. Anxious about banging his sore knee, he could not discern anything in front. Behind at the entrance, a brilliant fan of light was aglow, slicing its way into the pitch-like night. Expecting a flood of shrills, but there was no sign of that mass of evil entering.
Stopping when reaching a considerable depth, it felt like he was in a tunnel, shuffling feet echoing back supporting the idea. Expecting the worst, silvery rays beaming through the entrance still showed no signs of those Souls. Waiting, the thought of them sneaking up whilst he fumbled in the dark was enough to halt any advancement. The longer he waited, the more convinced he became that they would not, or even better, could not enter. Generating other doubts, did they know something he did not?
Spinning at the prospect of what might be lurking here, checking the blackness, he half-expected to see something move. Fears thumped his heart, pleased that he was at last on the mend. Far from an ideal location, but it was better than the emptiness of before. Healing to this degree, there was nothing to stop him healing altogether. Memories were still not forthcoming, trusting it was only a matter of time. Thoughts of his brother’s death hovered close, daring him to tune into the travesty. Discarding the temptation, it too would come when ready.
“One step at a time,” he whispered, wary of waking any creatures living here.
Creeping forward, half-step by half-step, the dull throb of his knee hurt. Movements of his hands disappeared altogether. The slither of light behind at the entrance was now but a fading glimmer. Wondering how deep this tunnel went, finding the Stone without torchlight was laughable. Walking blind like this was equally mad, the possibility of falling into a ravine slowing him further. Daring to believe nothing did live down here, concluding there was no food for any creatures to feed on, he was not convinced.
“It is good to have doubts,” he muttered, feeling more complete with every careful step. Bumping into the side, his shoulder scraped against a cold but dry wall. Feeling its shape, it bulged before curving into an arc above. Speculating the size of this place, he edged forward, still clueless as to how he was going to find the Stone.
Temperature dropping, the noise of his shuffling lessened, clearly approaching a larger chamber. Tempted to call out to check its depth, hesitancy warned him to stay quiet, unsure what was in front. Listening for signs of life, a trickle of water would help, but only an empty deadness was apparent.
Straying out beyond the security of the tunnel, the chamber he sensed was sizeable. Floor solid like the rock outside, it seemed strange that this was an ancient tomb. What would he find?
After many half-steps, his hands reached the opposite wall. Strands of frustration formed, another sign of reconnecting to life again. Considering which way to go, finding the Stone here would be a miracle. Brandor should have elaborated on what to expect. Too late to question now, opting to follow the wall, he edged his way round to the right.
Without reference points, his bearings began playing tricks. Unsure how long he edged along, it was a while before he reached the tunnel entrance whence he first arrived. Crossing to the other wall, he was not giving up. Doing the hard bit outside, surely he could find a Stone if he was patient enough.
Completing a circle and more, he now had a rough idea how big the chamber was. Growing in confidence, he started crisscrossing the room. When nothing tripped him up, he walked faster, keeping hands outstretched just in case. Without immediate success, time itself harkened him on, the thought of spending the night here ghastly. And to leave undercover of night was equally bleak. Back and forth he went, careful not to knock his aching knee.
After a lengthy short-turn of searching, Hanor sat down to take a breather. Pressing back against the wall, stretching his leg out in front, his knee ached but was manageable. Closing his eyes, even though in the dark he did not have to, there was an element of strength gained from the safety of his inner world. What was he to do? With each unsuccessful crossing of the chamber, the sense of woe was increasing.
Now he had stopped, he felt sleepy. If he rested here for too long he might not get moving again. Mentally and physically drained, longings for a warm bed at Tarden drew him further down towards slumber. Responding to the futility of his search, Tarmon’s vague words ran through his tired mind. “If you need help, call out to the Unseen.” The Yarmi Folk had talked about the Sacred a great deal, so what did he have to lose? Unsure if he had ever done it before, it seemed strange that they might know he was down here in the belly of the earth. Awkward, as if others were listening in the dark, if he did not do it soon, sleep would claim him.
“I have tried… but failed,” he said, hoping the words would flow naturally. The darkness appeared uninterested in his call, but he proceeded anyway. “I know not the importance of this, but I am at a loss. Please help me find this Stone, and get back safely to the others.”
Sitting in the pitch darkness, short moments passed undisturbed, waiting for something to happen. Hopeful, but nothing materialised. Extending into longer periods, those long periods eventually arrived at a complete short-turn, and still he waited. Eyes heavy, the prospect of looking again was grim. Cumbersome limbs now felt heavier after the long wait. Lying down, resting his head on an arm, his eyes closed. The relief from letting go was wonderful, passing from wakefulness to sleep in a heartbeat.