Light at the End of the Tunnel

Dare to follow a priest into dark territories.

 

Light at the End of the Tunnel

 

By Payton Smith

 

 

            The snow picked up outside of the cave which Dirg chose to make shelter in to wait until the storm passed by. Water froze to the side of the cave wall, making it slick and dangerous. It was as if he were trapped in the jaws of a great beast resting in the mountain side. The darkness gave way only to the small fire Dirg had made for himself, but where its light didn’t reach, everything sat masked by shadows. He felt as if something watched him, stalking him from the wall of darkness and lurking behind every rock.

            Dirg knew it unwise to cross the mountain pass in the height of winter, alone. Tattered and beat down, the travelling priest was worn down and only half way to his destination. After rummaging through his pack, he concluded the food he carried would last for a day or two. This blizzard won’t pass for at least a few days, he thought, this place will become my tomb. He pulled a feather from a pocket in his robe and observed the colors, blue and purple, the feather of a peacock.

            Setting the feather in front of the fire, Dirg began to pray a small chant under his breath. From the back of the cave, a small gust of wind carried up and out the cave mouth. This caused him to cease the chant for a moment and grabbed his attention. It could only mean that the cave was a tunnel and if he became dire then he could try and search for food within it. He began to pray once more.

            After finishing the chant, another gust of wind drove itself up and out of the mountain, this time it carried a foul stench. Dirg had smelt it before, the smell of death and rotting, but never this great. He gagged and walked over, trying not to slip and fall, to the opening of the cave. The fire flared with this gust and whipped around, causing its’ light to reach around corners it has not seen before. With the change of light, Dirg thought he saw small creatures scattering back into the protection of the darkness. A chill ran down his spine.

            The gust stopped and the fire settled, so he took his spot next to it and found the feather, surprisingly, unmoved. Taking in a deep breath, he searched the shadows, everything calm for the time being. The smell faded quickly and Dirg’s breathing returned to normal. If he was going to embrace his death, then he would need to forget any fears. He threw another stick on the fire and noticed that only a few more twigs rested at his feet to be burned.

            A shifting came from the shadows and Dirg rose to his feet quickly. A hiss sounded out, causing Dirg to move towards the cave mouth once again. Slithering into the fire light, a black snake with eyes as red as the fire rushed to the feather and devoured it thinking it a living creature. It retreated back into the cave and Dirg waited by the entrance, collecting himself and shivering from the bite of the cold flowing in from the outside.

            He returned to the fire to warm himself and concluded that it would soon run out. So he quickly warmed the last piece of meat that he carried in his pack. He ate it as the last decent meal he would ever experience, and prayed for an easy passage into the afterlife. The fire dwindled down to a faint glow and Dirg finished his prayers.

            Another gust of wind, carrying the smell of death, came from the tunnel and blew out the fire, leaving a small pile of hot coals. Dirg sat still for a moment, thinking of his next move, when he heard a voice, “what will you do now, Priest of the Light?” The voice was dark and low, and seemed to be grumbled through closed teeth.

            Dirg felt for his pack and pulled a torch from within it. Placing the end of the torch in the pile of hot coals, it quickly caught flame and lit the cave up once again. No one was in sight. He observed around for a few moments, waiting to see if anyone or anything would reveal itself to him. Glancing back at the storm outside, he decided that entering the tunnel was his only choice unless he wanted to freeze to the side of the mountain.

            With a deep breath, and trying to instill confidence within himself, Dirg, began walking to the throat of the cave. Leaving his backpack behind, he slipped constantly on the frozen rock beneath his feet. The cave quickly narrowed and forced him to crawl on his hands and knees with the torch held out in front of his face. The smell of death and rotting was more prevalent in the narrow passage, but he quickly got used to it and dismissed it.

            The rocks beneath him cut into his knees through his robe to bare skin. His robe slowly soaked up the moisture that melted off the surfaces from his body heat. The passage way decreased size once again, Dirg stopped and peaked through. On the other side waited a large, dark chamber, so he threw his torch into it and squeezed into the small opening.

            After a small drop into the chamber, Dirg grabbed the torch. His heart raced. He looked up to the small hole which he came, now out of reach to him, and sealing his fate to a death within the cave. He scanned the chamber, searching for a new direction to go. It was round and at the opposite side of Dirg, a door placed within the rock wall.

            Unlike any door he’d seen before, Dirg found himself observing it with great curiosity. An image carved into its surface, the image of a winged person flying away from an opened dragon’s jaw. Dirg knew only a single material made up the door, and that it hadn’t been used for an incredibly long time. As he placed the palm of his hand on the door, it began to heat, which he found strange considering everything else within reach was frozen.

            An enchantment, he assumed. On either side of the door, torches protruded out from the wall. He felt them with his fingers and deemed them both dry. After glancing around the empty chamber, he raised his own torch to the other two. They burst into flame, illuminating the room and blinded Dirg until his eyes adjusted. His body began to reheat as he stood near the newly born fires.

            The door began to creak and shift, until it split down the middle and slowly opened. Dirg looked inside, but couldn’t see in because of the darkness. Light burst out from the other side as two torches inside lit themselves. He stepped inside to find a long hallway with torches lining the walls, in pairs of twos, the torches continued to light themselves as Dirg watched to see more of what lay inside. Eventually the torches stopped and kept a constant flicker, but the end of the hallway couldn’t be seen.

            It has to be enchanted, he thought, perhaps an old mages’ hideout or an ancient warlock’s chamber. He prayed for it to be safe to continue on. The walls were smooth and made of the same material as the door. Walking down the hallway, he searched for anything, another door, another hallway, or any sign of life. After a moment he came to two open doorways, both pitch black inside, so he peaked into one with the torch to light his way. He began to notice movement coming from the back of the room.

            The movement caused a shuffling sound then Dirg began to hear a low, deep growl gradually getting louder. The growl of a dog. He slowly pulled away from the doorway and quietly tried walking forward, leaving the other room unchecked and hoping that the animal would return to sleep, but the growling continued. Heart pounding, he kept his attention forward and walked at a steady pace. The growling grew louder, so Dirg turned around.

            Standing half out the doorway, a dog or wolf watched down the hall and observed Dirg who stood frozen with fear, because of the animal’s condition. Its’ skin, rotten, fell off its face in small pieces, the black fur covering it grew in patches and seemed to gleam with a dark green tint, and it had only a single infectious looking eye. It rose its head and began barking, Dirg quickly responded by turning and running as hard as he could. Behind him, the dog chased after him and now, by the snarling and barking, he concluded that multiple dogs followed after him.

            Dirg heard snapping from behind him and felt a pair of jaws tearing off a small portion of his robe. He knew that they had him, until he fell. He fell through a square hole cut into the floor and landed in a small pool of water, about a hands length deep. The room he now resided in was entirely dark, besides the light shining through the hole from the torches above. He looked up to see four evil dog faces watching him and smelling the opening.

            With a howl, the dogs wandered off bringing Dirg’s attention to the new room. Making a cup shape with his hands, he brought some water to his face, in an attempt to quench his thirst, but he released it after realizing that he sat in a pool of blood, not water. His heart raced, I would’ve been better left with the dogs, he thought. Using his hands, he searched the floor.

            After grabbing a wooden stick underneath the blood, he lost any remnants of hope, because he held his torch. Caught in the commotion of the dogs, he had forgotten about it. He threw the torch and bent his face closer to the pool, taking in deep breaths to calm his nerves. You are already dead, he tried to reassure himself.

            “Abandon yourself from the light, Good Father,” a voice arose from the shadows.

            Dirg waited a moment to reply to the voice, to choose his words wisely, “What unholy heathen speaks to me?” he tried to reach the voice’s level of authority, but did so unsuccessfully.

            “Aarith Xa’Koore, Keeper of the Xa’Faroon.” It sounded closer this time.

            Dirg thought to himself, trying to remember a language he knew only so little of, most called it the demonic tongue, “Faroon? So we are in a prison?”

            “Correct, human,” the voice came as if the creature stood right before him, just out of reach of the light. “You will have to choose a direction sooner or later.”

            At that, the voice chuckled and drifted further away, and Dirg began to hear squeaking. He brought his attention down to the pool, small ripples lapped against his legs something was in there with him. Standing, frozen, he peered into the darkness then back down to see a rat swimming towards him, then another, and another. Dirg frantically kicked at the swarm of rats, each of them biting and clawing in their defense.

            Once he realized that the rats weren’t going to stop advancing on him, he looked up and bolted forward, into the darkness. He ran as fast as the pool of blood allowed him, gashes and bites on his legs drained out to add to the collection of red liquid. As he continued onwards he felt that the pool beneath him began to tug at his balance, although he couldn’t see where, he knew it flowed somewhere.

            The tugging became harder, until it pulled Dirg off his feet and carried him off. He tried to find something to grab onto, but was unsuccessful. Struggling to stay at the surface, he coughed mouthfuls of blood out to stop it from filling his lungs or stomach. After being dragged for a few moments, he was pulled under and sucked into a small opening in the ground, blind in the dark the whole time.

            Holding his breath, he fell into a lit chamber and onto a drain which to blood flowing from the room above fell freely into. Dirg rose and wiped the blood from his eyes and face, then viewed the new room he resided in. It was a square chamber with a single, closed and locked door with two torches on either side of it, illuminating the entire room. Scratched into the walls, unevenly and unorganized, writing in many different languages covered almost every portion of free space.

            Dirg saw something leaned against the wall in a corner of the room. As he approached it, he saw it more clearly. It was an old rag doll. He bent down and grabbed the ancient doll stained with blood. How did this get here? He asked himself.

            “Why do you have my dolly?” a little girl’s voice came from behind Dirg.

            He turned and laid eyes upon the girl. Judging on her face, he guessed her to be ten years old. She wore ragged sack clothing, this also stained with blood, and her hair was long, blonde, and incredibly grimy. She couldn’t be a normal human girl because her eyes were entirely blackened out. Taking a step forward, the little girl reached out for her doll, Dirg handed it to her without any hesitation.

            “Thank you, Father,” the girl said with a smile on her face.

            “What kind of creature are you?” he asked.

            “I am Tiara Xa’Koore,” she replied while playing with her doll’s hair. “I’m in charge of holding the keys to every door and cell in the prison.”

            “Another demon,” he said, but more to himself than the girl. “What exactly would demons hold in a prison?”

            “I will let you find out for yourself,” Tiara answered, pulled an old, worn key from her sleeve, and walked over to the locked door.

            “Why are you letting me live?” Dirg asked, suspicious of the demons intentions.

            “I can tell the rats have already gotten to you,” she unlocked to the door and turned to face the priest. “I can see their disease slowly spreading through your body, once it infects most parts of your body, they will shut down. So you’re already dead, Father.”

            She opened the door with one swift motion and it let in a strong gust of wind, carrying with it the sound of screams, roars, and shrieks. Dirg walked over and peered through the doorway, a giant open hallway stretched out before him, curving out of sight. Along each side barred cells made of the black metal created small holding chambers in the holes of earth. The hall was lit dimly by small lanterns hung be each cell and burning with a green flame.

            Approaching the first cell, he peered in to see an elf chained to the wall, she was in terrible condition. Dried blood clung to her face, her clothing and skin bore claw marks, and her ribs protruded out. Dirg caught eye of a pile of bones in the corner and let out a sigh. This caused the elf to look up at him and tears began to stream down her bony cheeks. Her eyes were asking for a savior.

            “You fool creatures!” Dirg shouted at Tiara who kept a gleaming smile towards him. “What would you even need a prison for? Aren’t your kind more about destruction that justice?”

            “Mother has bigger plans for us now,” she giggled a bit, “Oh! You may want to watch where you step.”

            Dirg looked down to the floor to watch as a snake sprang for his leg and sunk its fangs into his skin, its poison moved fast because his vision became foggy after a moment. He kicked the snake away and it slithered into a far off cell. Tiara still maintained a sparkling smile as she turned and began to walk away back into the draining room.

            “Take the key from her left sleeve and run it to the last cell at the end of the hallway,’ a voice rang through his head, “I can save the prisoners, but you must act fast.”

            Dirg didn’t let a second go by before he walked over and grabbed onto Tiara, then wrenched the key from her sleeve. He shoved her through the door and slammed it shut behind him. As he ran down the hallway, he heard Tiara screaming at the top of her lungs and shortly after, the barking and howling of dogs. She sent the pack on me, he thought and he chuckled, the poison coursing through his veins altered his emotions, switching fear with humor.

            As he rounded the curving hallway, the sound of the prisoners began to ring out as they started to cheer him on. This encouraged him to run faster even though he could no longer feel his legs. He dared not turn to see how close the dogs were, but he could hear their snarls behind him. He also didn’t look into a single cell, so he wouldn’t get distracted. He stayed as focused as the venom allowed him.

            Finally, at the end of the hallway, he saw a massive door made into the rock wall. After reaching the door, he swiftly unlocked it and pushed it open. Falling into the room, he turned to look back and see the dogs before they were to tear him to shreds, but they had stopped at the doorway. The room was extremely illuminated, almost bright, and it kept the dogs at bay.

            Dirg noticed the ground was covered with grass, and as he viewed the room through his blurred vision, he took in the trees and flowers. Assuming it that his head now created illusions, he laid his head down and felt the venom pumping through his head.

            “Rise great priest,” the voice he had heard in his head, sounded above him. “You have set me free and by doing so I can release the innocent and purge the evil from this place.”

            Dirg lifted his head to see a man in the middle of the beautiful sanctuary, he wore silver armor but wasn’t armed, wings like a white doves stretched out from his back, and the light, which made the room bright, came off him in an aurora. He walked to Dirg and helped him to his feet. As he stood a burst of light surged out and into the hallway. The dogs turned to ash and feel into a heap.

            “The evil is gone of this location and those that I could save, have been set free,” the illuminating man said.

            “Who are you?” Dirg asked, “Did you save me as well? I can’t feel the snake’s poison anymore.”

            “I am Galifer, one of the Angels of Light,” the man said then pointed to the doorway. Dirg looked over and laid eyes on his own body, lying face down and still. “You have sacrificed yourself to save many others and myself. You have done a great service and your soul will not be forgotten. Come with me and I will take you to Paradise.”

 

The End