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Chapter Six: The Lorisol Tunnels
I felt myself hit the hard cobblestone ground as the night-spirits stopped pulling and heaving me to who knows where. They turned, abandoning their captive.
“You have done well. I asked you to bring the girl and the knight to me, and you have succeeded,” The voice said. I scrambled up to see who was speaking, but a great force slammed me back to the ground. “I have already visited the night-spirits who captured the knight. He is unconscious as expected.” My captors cheered viciously. “But you have not managed to do the same to this girl. She is a strong one, and some of you may sense that she is the Singer. That is why you have failed to make her unconscious.” The voice trembled in rage and my captors were flung back. Now I could see the owner of the cruel voice.
It was another night-spirit, but taller than the rest and wispier. This was the shadow that had tracked Loren and me in the plains. I could sense the colossal power he had and I cowered in unconditional fright. His face didn’t really have an appearance, but was more a round, dark shadow, as feathery as the rest of his body. He had an evil aura, and it was none too obvious that he was evil.
I managed to strangle out a sentence to the leader night-spirit, “What—do—you—want?” I gasped between each word, restraining again the force that kept me to the ground. The night-spirit cackled, and let his shadowed face—or whatever you’d call it—open up into a false smile, but happened to look more like a sneer.
“You know exactly what I want. I want you and your little knight friend.” The sneer floated off his shadow-head, but left a small trace of itself still behind.
“But why? We have nothing precious to give,” I tried to sound innocent and convincing, to sound like these night-spirits had caught the wrong people.
“You do. You are the Singer, and you know it. I can sense it!”
“I am not the Singer. What makes you think a silly fairytale exists?”
“You are the Singer!” The great night-spirit leader roared, raising his arms to accentuate his anger. But even behind his terrifying fury, I could tell he faltered. I was managing to convince him, easily and surprisingly.
“I am not the Singer! I have only heard of one person, someone who is the Singer!”
“And who is that?”
“She lives in the kingdom of Iffrar, as a servant.” I couldn’t believe I was doing this, but I had too. Finally, she would get out of King Malville’s ruinous kingdom, but not in a way she hoped.
“What is her name?”
*
I sat comfortably in a cushioned chair, located somewhere in the Lorisol tunnels. Loren, King Ackador and Perstish listened intently as I told them of my encounter with the leader of the night-spirits.
“So you sent them to Iffrar?” King Ackador asked.
“Yes, I did.”
“And whose name did you give them?” This time it was Loren who asked.
“I...”
“Not Maria’s?” Loren knew all about Maria from one of our conversations when we rode to Lorisol.
“No. I gave him the name of my awful Sewing Mistress, Beatrice,” There were sighs from all three of the men in front of me. “I would never betray Maria in such a way!”
“A terrible story. Now we know that Narrm is after us. The First War will come to be soon, and we have yet to confirm Seraphina as the Singer and find the Seer and the Resurrecter,” King Ackador said, his face lined with worry.
“Who is Naarm?” I asked. I knew he wasn’t good, but I wanted to know who he was.
“Naarm is the sorcerer of evil. He can command all evil beings. In every person there is a bit of Naarm, but every evil being under his command has more than usual. We, the good people, have Lani in us, and we are happy to be at her feet. How did this happen? Once, at the beginning of time, Naarm and Lani were good friends. Then, they had a huge disagreement, and they parted ways. Naarm dwelled in hurting Lani so badly, that eventually his heart disintegrated into nothing but a black dust. Lani took Naarm’s attacks calmly, and all good in the end came to her. Above all gods and goddesses, Lani is the kindest and Naarm, the most evil. If ever you encountered one of them, you should hope it to be Lani, even if you are under Naarm’s rule.” And then King Ackador stood up from his chair and walked hurriedly away. The rest of us were left staring after him in confusion. I looked to Loren, my question in my eyes.
“He is affected in a way nobody knows when he speaks of Naarm and Lani. It is not understandable,” Loren answered. He got up and left then.
“What about you?” I turned to Perstish. He looked up, oblivious to what I had asked.
“What?”
“Are you going to leave, too?” I folded my arms across my chest. Perstish smiled weakly and then left himself. I was alone, in this dark, perplexing tunnel.
*
Hours had gone by, and I hadn’t yet stirred from my seat in the tunnel. I knew why Loren or the king or Perstish hadn’t come to bring me to the main gathering area. I wanted to be alone and they knew that. The first couple of hours alone, I had really thought hard about all that had passed so quickly, but after my mind was blank, freed from all thought. Now I sat with no reason, alone. Eventually, I decided I could be sitting here for eternity and nobody would come, so I stood from my chair and walked blindly down the dark tunnels.
*
I found my friends—it seemed nice to classify them as that—in a little area, the dirt floor furnished with a rich crimson carpet that was flattened to the ground by a couple of armchairs, similar to the one I had sat in alone. Loren, Perstish and the King looked up from a conversation.
“Hello again,” Loren smiled. He waved to a seat beside him.
“Thank you,” I sat. “Where is the rest of the Lorisol population?” I made my face appear quizzical, drawing the three men effortlessly into the beginning of a conversation.
“Let me tell you something that may help your curiousness,” King Ackador said. “These tunnels were fabricated in the early years of the Lorisol kingdom. They are many and so it gives freedom to my people. You may not see them, but they are here.”
“Have we passed any?” I asked.
“Indeed we have. The tunnels are dark and big in width, so a Lorisol is easy to miss,” the King took a battered goblet from the arm of his seat and sipped. “But sometimes the Lorisol folk gather to mingle with friends and family. These meetings are open to any Lorisol, and to show there is a party taking place, the Lorisols hang torches on the walls to follow.”
“And this has been going on for hundreds of years?”
“Ever since these tunnels were dug.”
I found the tunnels interesting, and now even more so. I did find it frightening, however, that I could have passed a bunch of people without knowing. Who knew who they were? The candle that stood on the ground between us all lit up my face, and Loren saw my expression of slight fear and shock.
“Do not worry, Seraphina. These folk in Lorisol are all good, except maybe a few. They know as much about the people they pass as you do,” Loren comforted me. He lifted his hand and rubbed it in a reassuring way against my arm. I looked at him, puzzled, and he retreated, seeing what he had done.
“Where are we to sleep?” I changed the direction of where the former conversation was going.
“There are hollows cut into the walls of the tunnels, distributed randomly. Each one is equipped with a small folding mattress, a pillow and a thick blanket,” King Ackador informed us. “To find one, I suggest walking along the walls, touching them, to find a hollow. Some tunnels are long and go without any at all, while sometimes the tunnel walls are simply just hollowed out for beds. I will come with you to find my own.” Then, the Lorisol King stood, and, in respect, Loren, Perstish and I followed suit.
We started on the walls of the tunnel we were currently in. Perstish and the King were on the left wall, and Loren and I on the right. Limply dragging our hands against the wall, we were bound to eventually find a bed, unless we were unlucky enough to be in a tunnel without beds.
Finally, I heard an exclamation come from Perstish, who was in the front. He had found two beds. Then there was the discussion of which two people should have them.
“The king should definitely take one as he is our Majesty,” Perstish stated.
“No, I think the young girl should. Anyway, have you forgotten my height? I am a giant after all and a human bed will not suit,” King Ackador said. I could not see through the darkness, but I’m sure the king waved his hand from where he thought I was to the beds for I heard and felt a moving of the air.
“Yes, I think that is a good plan. But where ever will you sleep, Ackador, if all these beds are human-sized?” Loren asked. It was an obvious question.
“You have not read much Lorisol history. Lorisol folk are known for having giant blood within them. Every so often there are sleeping areas for giants such as me. We may just have to find one,” the King explained, his voice threatening annoyance.
“Now that we have settled that Seraphina will sleep here tonight, who will sleep in the second bed? Obviously not the king, as he is too big,” Loren now said.
“I think you should Loren. I know Seraphina, but not as well. You are also her saviour, or captor, depending on how you want to view it,” Perstish explained his reasoning. “And if anything happens during the night—such as another night-spirit attack—she can escape with you.” King Ackador nodded in agreement, and Loren understood as well.
“Well, as we have settled who shall sleep here, Perstish and I must be getting on. Beds for my size are rare to find and in the tunnels my people don’t care much to leave the bigger beds for bigger people,” King Ackador’s ton indicated that these his departing words.
“Wait!” Loren cried before the footsteps of the King and Perstish faded out altogether. “Where shall we meet tomorrow morning?” The footsteps stopped.
“We will come to you,” grumbled King Ackador’s low voice. Then the footsteps started up again and this time they faded off. Now I turned to where Loren was—or at least where I thought he was.
“What now? I’m barely tired as it is day outside, but we shouldn’t leave our beds, for we’d probably get lost,” I demanded. I was slowly losing my patience, due to the fact that I couldn’t see in the dark very well.
“That’s logical,” Loren said. I imagined him nodding his head in agreement.
“And what are we to eat?” I asked. Then I realised we still had our packs with us.
“The food in our packs,” Loren repeated my after-thought.
“I should have thought!” I cried jokily, my hands in the air and a smile upon my face. Loren read my expression. He laughed along.
We blindly felt around in our packs for food and eventually Loren came out with a collection of dried fruit and I with some hard bread—or so we thought. We ate —unspeaking—on our beds and listened to the sounds of the echoing tunnels around us.
When we had finished our meagre supper, we stashed the wrappings into our packs once again and readied our beds for sleeping. I unfolded my hay-stuffed mattress—which fitted quite nicely into the hollow—and put the pillow where my head was to be and lay the blanket neatly on the mattress. As I lay down on my bed of sorts, I heard a groan from Loren.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Someone took out the fluffing in my pillow.”
