Stephen Lawhead - The Realms Thereunder

“So,” said Daniel. “It’s him. I was wondering if I’d see him again.”

“You know him? It?” Freya said.

“I think so,” Daniel said, looking closer. “He had hair and not so many teeth when I last saw him, but that’s the guy I was talking to in the church just before I disappeared. He gave me some sort of enchanted leaf, then sent me out after you. It was obviously a trap.”

“You carry a gun now?” Freya asked disdainfully. “I’m not sure I like that.”

“Weren’t you glad that I had it now?”

Freya handed Daniel’s unused sword back to him.

“Do you know him?” Daniel asked.

“Yes. That was the . . . person that captured me. He was my tutor, Professor Felix Stowe. He tricked me into thinking I was married to him, that I had children with him. I think he meant to starve me.”

“Huh.” Daniel gave the body a kick. “You’ll have to tell me more about that.”

They stood over the body for a moment and then, without a word between them, turned and walked away.

“Freya,” Daniel said, “about what we were talking about before all this . . . We need answers for this.”

“Yes,” answered Freya, although it wasn’t an easy word to say.

“I think you’re right. We need to go back.”

Before . . .

Daniel and Freya landed with a bone-rattling thump right in the centre of a large chamber filled with a light so bright they had to shield their eyes. When they were able to see once more, the first things they noticed was that Swi?gar and Ecgbryt were not with them.

“Daniel! Freya! Are you well?” came the voice of Swi?gar from the ragged opening above them.

“Yeah, we’re fine!” shouted Freya, squinting around her, not used to such a glare. The chamber walls were high and straight with lots of faces, so that there were no dark corners in the room. The light fell from what looked to be a complicated type of chandelier in which flaming objects threw light on silver plates, which then reflected the light down into the centre of the room onto a large stone dais.

A large door made out of iron that had rusted into a dark brick-red took up one entire wall. It was covered with gears and dials of all sizes, some as big as the knights’ shields. There were huge iron bars set into its iron frame that looked as if they might retract if the mechanism was worked properly.

Freya looked back up at the hole they had fallen through. It was right near the top of the ceiling, and it was not the only one. The whole top of the room was a honeycomb of tunnels that led down into the oddly shaped room.

“Can you reach back up to us?” called Swi?gar.

Freya said she didn’t think so, but that the knights should try to find another way down. She described the room to them. “There are other tunnels leading in here-lots of them, and a door!” she said, still blinking in the light.

“Very well. Do not move from where you are, and we shall work to join you shortly.”

“Worry not, ??elingas!” came Ecgbryt’s voice. “Take heart; think on what King ?lfred would do in a situation like yours!”

Freya rolled her eyes at that and then felt Daniel’s hand tug at her elbow. He was staring in apprehension at the walls and corners of the room. Shading her eyes, she looked around and drew her breath in sharply. Darkly clad, person-shaped bundles huddled together in the corners of the octagonal room. Some of them had faces-dull, nearly lifeless faces, in which pale eyes blinked and shifted. There were too many to count at a glance, and not one of them was looking their way; they stood disconsolately gazing at the floor. Freya shuddered.

She felt another tug at her elbow as Daniel directed her attention to the dais at the centre of the room. Looking closer, she saw in the centre of the dais a slight figure sitting cross-legged in front of a large wooden rack.

He looked like a young man, not quite old enough to shave.

His skin was smooth and so pallid it was almost white, but in the direct light of the chandelier, he seemed to shine brightly. He was very thin and wore clothes made from what appeared to be fine soft leather. His hair was long, a deep reddish-brown and swept back. He did not look up as they approached; his eyes were fixed on a large book that rested on the wooden rack.

His hands were busy with a regular, repetitive activity. In one hand he held a large rectangular stone. His other hand held nothing. The scraping sound came from his fingernails dragging firmly and steadily against the rough stone.

Freya looked closer-each fingernail was large, long, and bone white. In fact, they didn’t look like fingernails at all, but more like horns growing from inside his fingertips. The strange youth was paying them no attention, only gazing in a detached, almost bored manner at the book in front of him.

“Excuse us,” Daniel said in a small voice, clearing his throat.

Without any other sign of noticing his visitors, the boy put the stone to one side and picked up a thin length of embroidered cloth that lay across his lap. He placed it neatly down the centre of the book, gently closed it, and then raised his head, his expression not the least bit surprised at their appearance.

“Hello,” he said in a soft, slow voice that flowed honey-thick. “Who might you be?”

Daniel introduced himself and Freya. The stranger’s eyes regarded each of them in turn, running up and down their bodies. Daniel looked up at the strangely mirrored chandelier that was throwing light into the room.

“Is that daylight?” he asked.

“Of course,” the stranger replied simply, turning his eyes to scrutinise his fingers once more.

“Does that come from the surface?”

“Yes.”

Daniel and Freya exchanged a look of excited apprehension.

“If we could climb through it, we could go home,” Freya whispered urgently.

“But not before we kill Gad, right?” Daniel said in the same urgent whisper.

Freya twisted her lips.

“It’s a long climb,” the figure on the dais said absently. “And it spits you up in the middle of nowhere, but it does lead ‘out,’ as you have it.”

“Where, exactly?” Freya asked.

“Oh, how should I know?” he said, dismissing the question.

He placed an elbow on his knee and brought his chin to rest gently on his hand. “What realm are you from?”

“Er . . . ,” said Daniel, not knowing what to say.

“England,” Freya said. “We’re traveling with knights named Swi?gar and Ecgbryt, from Ni?ergeard. Who are you?”

“What brings you here?” the boy asked, lightly brushing one of his boney nails down his cheek. “Why have you disturbed me?”

“We didn’t mean to disturb you,” Daniel replied, surprised by the coldness of the question. “We’re looking for something . . . ,” he said, then added, “but we won’t tell you any more until you tell us your name.”

The boy smiled. It was not a nice smile. “My name is Nemain, son of Credne; I am one of the Aes Sidhe.”

“Who?” Daniel asked.

The boy smiled an indulgent smile. “There is a reason you’ve not heard of me. But come, tit for tat. Quid pro quo. Your names?”

“Hold!” came a bellowing voice that rolled around the room.

Freya realised with relief that Swi?gar had arrived. There was a dusty shlufff sound and the knight’s bulky form slid through one of the larger holes on the other side of the room. He fell next to a few of the silent, mournful figures in rags who lurched out of his way.

He rose and took large, swift strides around the dais towards the lifiendes, his eyes on Nemain and his spear raised. Ecgbryt slid into the room, glanced around quickly, and took his place behind him.