Deeds of Their Past - 21. Chapter Twenty-one

Morning came with the sun shining brightly into the once grand hall. Birds fluttered about broken rafters, and a cool sea breeze blew in from the gaping hole in the far corner. In the distance came the call of seagulls, and the crashing of water against the coast.

After striking camp, they packed Nathan’s rucksack with supplies, and headed to the large door they discovered the day before. Both men stood silent, dreading the dark entrance. Nathan felt the urge to simply walk away, but knew the amulet for Morgana was the only option to rid themselves of their pursuers, permanently.

“Ready?” Nathan asked.

They locked eyes, and Brohm gave Nathan his crooked smile, heartening his resolve.

“Now or never, yuh? Let’s get this over with,” he said, leading the way.

The rusty red trail they encountered in the hallway continued down the narrow spiralling steps. With each turn, the ceiling came closer, and Nathan noted Brohm’s quickened breathing in the claustrophobic space.

“Breathe slow, big guy,” he said, laying a hand on his shoulder.

Brohm nodded, stopping to gather his wits.

“You’re doing fine,” Nathan continued.

After a moment, they resumed down the seemingly never-ending spiral. Thick spiderwebs shrouded the way forward, and Brohm used the torch to burn them away, carefully peeking in the nooks for hidden spiders planning to land on them.

Finally reaching bottom, they escaped the narrow stairs, however the low ceiling remained, forcing them to slouch. The hallway offered two directions, and the mysterious rusty trail continued down the left.

Using the torch, Brohm signalled to the right. “How about we go this way?”

“You’ll have no complaints from me.”

The hallway was too narrow for both men to walk abreast, so Nathan stood close behind with a firm grip on his shoulder, trying to glimpse the way forward around his big frame. They entered a small room with a wooden table and a few chairs, grey and rotten. Two more passages exited the room, and they explored the nearest one. Its purpose quickly became apparent as they passed row after row of rusty gated doorways.

“Hopefully no prisoners were left behind,” Brohm mumbled.

They peeked into the cells, finding them empty, and after six rows of doors, arrived at a dead end. Returning to the small room and alternate passage, they discovered more rows of empty cells. However as they neared the end of the passage, Nathan caught a glint of light on the floor—a key—and a desiccated hand reaching for it through a gated doorway.

“Poor bugger,” Brohm said in a grim tone.

They pondered in silence at the skeleton reaching for its freedom, never to have it. Brohm crouched down, and carefully placed the key into its hand in pity.

“What a way to go. In the dark . . . alone,” Brohm continued quietly.

All routes exhausted, they backtracked to the spiral stairs, and the rusty trail.

“How long you reckon blood lasts before decomposing?” Brohm pondered.

“No idea. Why do you ask?”

“Well, I’m beginning to think this happened after everyone abandoned this place.”

“Maybe so, but it’s still old. I’m willing to bet whoever’s blood this belongs to is dead, and the attacker long gone.”

“But what if—”

“Brohm, we’re down here for one reason: finding the amulet. Once we do, I just want to forget this sad place, alright?”

The big man offered a solemn nod.

“I’ll admit I’m curious to know what happened here,” Nathan continued. “But gods, this place creeps me out, and I want out of here as quickly as possible.”

They followed the trail, arriving at a gloomy chamber. Stepping in, the ceiling rose up, finally allowing them to stand up straight. Various torture devices lined the walls, alongside tables containing an array of brutal tools. In the centre sat a stone-lined pit, and the rusty trail ended there, telling the story of a body that had been dragged and dumped. Brohm peered into the depths, yet was unable to see the bottom.

The two men took in the sombre chamber in silence as they continued to explore the far end, finding another downward spiral staircase choked with spiderwebs.

“I don’t like this,” Brohm said, glancing about with apprehension.

“This is the only passage left to explore. Here, give me the torch. I’ll lead.”

Nathan cleared the way of webs and made his way down the crumbling steps with Brohm reluctantly in tow. After minutes of slow advance, they reached the bottom, revealing a crooked corridor. The ceiling had partially collapsed, rock and debris partially blocking the way.

“The way ahead is clear,” Nathan said, peering through a narrow gap.

“I don’t know if I can do this.”

Nathan glanced over his shoulder to find Brohm bracing the walls at both sides, as though holding them up to hinder their crushing squeeze. He rushed to the big man, took an arm and guided him to sit down.

“I can’t breathe,” Brohm gasped, his anxious breath visible in the frigid air.

“Yes, you can. You’re breathing fine,” Nathan said, mopping sweat from his brow.

“I hate this,” he whispered.

Nathan’s heart sunk to see him in such a state. He wanted to hold him, comfort him, and pull him out of this gods-forsaken hole.

“I promise you, Brohm. This will be the last time we ever do something like this.”

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“We just gotta get through this. We’ve come this far. We can’t stop now.”

Brohm shut his eyes tight and a tear rolled down his cheek. He wiped at it angrily. “I hate you for this.”

“If that’s what it takes to continue on, you can hate me all you want.”

They locked eyes. Brohm’s jaw was set, brow furrowed.

“You ready to do this?” Nathan asked.

The big man nodded.

Nathan clambered up the loose rock, carefully holding the torch ahead of him while crawling through the short passage to the other side. Safely through, he looked back to see Brohm’s face glowing in the flickering light.

“I can do this. I can do this,” he told himself.

With bared teeth, he dived into the hole and elbowed his way in. However once he was halfway through, Nathan could see his fear fighting for dominance.

“I’m stuck!”

“You’re not stuck,” Nathan said calmly, placing the torch safely out of the way against the rubble. “Suck in your gut and give me your hands.”

They clasped wrists, and Nathan braced himself, pulling hard while Brohm tried to wiggle himself through. Without warning, he broke free, falling atop Nathan and pinning him down.

“Now I can’t breathe,” Nathan gasped.

With no room in the narrow passage to roll off, Brohm grasped at the walls to pull himself up. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just got the wind knocked outta me,” Nathan said, coughing.

After dusting themselves off, Brohm handed him the torch, and they continued to the end of the corridor to find another large chamber. The ceiling revealed the other end of the pit, and on the floor below lay bones, dumped and forgotten. Blood-stained tables lined the walls with rusted butcher’s knives and cleavers strewn about.

“What in hells is this place?” Nathan asked.

“I reckon it’s best we don’t know.”

To the left, they found another passageway with more cells lining the walls. At the end was a doorway, however the opening was completed blocked by stone and rubble.

Brohm kicked a rock in disbelief. “Great! Now what?”

Nathan examined the collapsed passageway, but found no way through aside from digging, and even that would likely prove impossible. He cursed under his breath.

“This was all for nothing,” Brohm continued.

“We had to try.”

“I know. But what do we do now? We’re back to where we started.”

Nathan pondered, but could think of nothing.

“Maybe take our chances at a port,” Brohm suggested. “Cross the sea and . . . start another life, I guess?”

“It’s risky,” Nathan said. “But I think you’re right. It’s the only option we have left.”

They trudged back to the butcher’s room. Brohm lagged behind, clearly dreading having to squeeze through the small hole again. However, just as they reached the pile of bones, Nathan stopped in his tracks.

“Do you hear that?” he asked.

“What?”

“Listen.”

Both men stood still, listening to the silence. Nathan’s ears perked at the ever-slight sound of whistling wind.

“I heard that. Where’s it coming from?” Brohm asked.

Nathan rushed about the chamber, shining light into the dark shadows, and found the source at the far end of the room.

“Brohm, come here.”

The chamber walls were lined with bricks, however one corner was natural rock, revealing a cave entrance.

“You think this is what Morgana was talking about?” Brohm asked, a slight hint of hope in his voice.

They stepped through the craggy portal, torch held up to shine light deeper within. The simple and straightforward corridors of the dungeon didn’t prepare them for the labyrinthine system ahead. Passageways branched off randomly, only to reconnect at other junctions, adding to the confusion. Tight corridors opened to vast caverns filled with stalactites, offering many more directions to choose.

Despite drawing arrows in the dirt and using rocks as waypoints, it didn’t take long before they found themselves hopelessly lost. They double-backed often, only to arrive somewhere completely unknown to them. Nathan, frustrated and tired, jammed the torch into a crevasse and removed his rucksack.

“I guess if you’re going to hide your worldly treasures in a cave, it should be hard to find. But this is ridiculous,” Nathan muttered while rubbing the back of his neck.

Brohm grunted his agreement, swigging from his waterskin, and then passed it to Nathan. “I reckon we should find our way back and try again, more slowly this time.”

After drinking his share, he handed it back to Brohm and shouldered his sack. They searched for clues they’d left behind, only to find none. No matter which way they turned, it seemed to lead them farther away from their goal. Untold hours passed, and while Nathan didn’t let it show, he felt a tough ball of unease lodged in his gut. Glancing back at Brohm, his face didn’t hide the fact that his concerns were similar. He saw fear, exhaustion, and anger at their situation. But then his expression shifted to surprise.

“What’s that?” he asked, pointing past Nathan.

The torchlight never penetrated far into the gloom, which contributed to their dilemma, but now a reflective surface shined back at them in the dark. Both men rushed forward and a sudden waft of death assailed their nostrils. It was an armoured man, sprawled face down on the narrow path, his metal helmet the cause of the reflected light.

Nathan coughed. “Gods, what a reek.”

Covering his nose, Brohm nudged the body over with his boot, revealing a half-decomposed corpse teeming with insects. Retching, he stumbled farther down the corridor, pulling Nathan with him. Once far enough from the body, they coughed and gasped for air.

“Ugh, the smell is still in my nose,” Brohm complained.

“Looks like we’re not the only ones looking for the treasure,” Nathan said. “But how did he die?”

“I’m not going back to find out. Yuck!”

After recovering, they continued down the corridor, and a small object on the ground caught Nathan’s eye. A gold coin. A few steps farther revealed another, and still more.

“Somebody left in a hurry, yuh?” Brohm said.

“Maybe . . .”

Following the trail of coins, Brohm gathered them as they continued, shoving them into his trouser pockets. Ahead, the corridor split two ways, but the correct passage quickly became obvious.

“I see a lot more gold,” Brohm said.

They entered an alcove, filled with coins, jewels, and artifacts.

“This has to be it. I can’t believe we found it!” Nathan exclaimed.

“We should be careful,” Brohm said quietly, covering Nathan’s mouth. “We don’t know who—or what—killed that guy.”

Nathan nodded at Brohm’s careful advice. “I admit it’s strange that this treasure was never fully recovered.”

“We still don’t know what really happened here. Could’ve been something so terrible that it wasn’t worth the risk, yuh?”

Both men suddenly stood silent, listening for anything, but Brohm’s nervous, heavy breathing was all Nathan could hear.

“Did you have to say that, Brohm? You’re creeping me out.”

“Sorry.”

“Let’s just find this amulet and get out of here.”

They searched through jewel-encrusted cups, daggers and swords, rings and other jewelry. Much of it was tarnished with age.

“I think I found it.”

Brohm pointed at a simple necklace with a tiny jewel at its end. It looked completely out of place among the lavish items surrounding it.

“I don’t know. I pictured something a little more . . . fancy.”

“Magick is magick, yuh? Doesn’t really matter what it looks like.”

Brohm crouched down, fumbling to pick up the fine chain with clumsy fingers. Once in his grasp, he carefully glanced around the room, bracing himself from an attack by some unknown force. However, once confident nothing was going to happen, he held it up in the light to examine it further.

“Keep it,” Nathan said. “We’ll take anything else we find and Morgana can choose what she needs.”

Brohm tucked the necklace into his pocket and continued the search, digging under coins and moving items aside. However, after fifteen minutes of searching, they came up with nothing.

“What if someone’s already taken it?” Brohm pondered.

“That’s always a possibility. Come on, let’s get outta here.”

“What about us?”

Nathan stopped to look at him. “Huh?”

“We’ve gone through the trouble to get down here. We should take some of this coin for ourselves. We’re gonna need it.”

“I admit, it crossed my mind. But I keep thinking about that dead guy out there. What if this stuff is cursed? What if something chased him, and he ran out in fear, dropping the coins he took.”

The big man swallowed hard. “Cursed?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he was with someone else, and they killed him.”

Brohm didn’t seem convinced. “A test, then. Follow me.”

He stepped into the dark passageway, and Nathan hurried to follow. They continued onward, not heading back the way they’d come. Nathan assumed Brohm didn’t want to pass the body unless he had to. The feeling was mutual.

After twenty metres, Brohm stopped abruptly and stood silent, waiting for what he likely considered was the inevitable—someone or something coming to claim their treasure. Yet, nothing happened.

“I guess it’s safe to take,” Nathan said.

“I reckon so.”

They returned to the alcove and gathered as many coins as they could carry. Even with their pockets and Nathan’s rucksack considerably weighed down, it barely made a dent in the pile left behind.

“You know, if we’re careful with it, this gold could last us a long time,” Brohm said. “Make for an easier life together.”

“I . . . I guess we never really talked about that. What happens when this whole thing is over?”

Brohm scratched the back of his head, avoiding his gaze. “Well, I figured it was clear.”

“What?”

“I reckon we make a good team, yuh? I mean, if you’ll have me, I’d like to stick together.”

Even in the cold chill of the cavern, a warm glow filled Nathan, and his heart ached with joy. “Of course I want that.”

Brohm offered a shy grin. “Well then, c’mon. I’d rather spend time with you anywhere but here.”

The alternate passageway from the treasure room was curiously unlike the rest of the cavern system, as though maintained for easier passage. In the distance, a faint sound of rushing water broke the silence within the forgotten corridors.

“You hear that?” Nathan asked.

“Yuh. I reckon an underground stream.”

They advanced toward the sound, reaching a massive grotto with a wide channel of flowing water blocking their path to the other side.

Brohm raised the torch into the air. “Can you see a way across?”

“Yeah, there’s rocks rising out of the water,” Nathan said, pointing them out. “We should be able to step across.”

“Okay, I’ll go first to make sure it’s safe.”

The sudden wallop of déjà vu hit Nathan in the gut as Brohm passed him the torch, knowing without a doubt he'd dreamed about this. While Brohm crossed the dark waters, Nathan scanned the chamber, looking for the daemon he knew to be lurking in the craggy shadows.

“Okay, your turn,” Brohm said. “But be careful. That one rock is really slippery.”

Nathan’s feet refused to move from the overpowering fear of his prophetic dream. “I can’t. I’m going to slip and the torch is going to fall in the water.”

“What’re you talking about? If you know you’re going to slip, you can be prepared for it. Just be careful.”

The memory of Morgana came to mind of how his dreams were just one possible future. He knew what to expect now, so maybe he could change the outcome. Drawing a deep breath, he tentatively stepped onto the first rock without a problem, and peeking over his shoulder affirmed no sign of the daemon.

Carefully hopping the series of rocks in succession, he stopped abruptly at the last one. Submerged underwater, the surface was slick and slimy. Brohm stood scant metres away, reaching with a hand just out of reach. Nathan dipped his boot into the water cautiously, testing the rock before placing weight onto it.

At that moment, a chunk of crumbling rock fell behind him. Spinning around in terror to face his nightmare, the extra heft in his rucksack threw him off balance, and despite waving his arms madly to right himself, the delicate purchase he had on the slippery rock gave way.

“Careful. Nathan!”

Brohm reached out to grab his flailing arms, but to no avail. Nathan splashed into the chilly water, falling into a hidden pit much deeper than he anticipated. Even holding up the torch as high as he could wasn’t enough to save the flame, and his world quickly transformed to a place of cold and darkness. Sputtering and disoriented, he grasped out in all directions in search of the stream’s edge.

“Brohm! Where are you?”

A large hand firmly grasped his arm and his immediate reaction was to pull against it.

“Give me your hand!” It was Brohm’s voice, nearly hysterical.

Nathan reached out into the dark to find his other hand, and with a hoist, Brohm pulled him from the icy waters. Coughing, he peered about, fearing to see red eyes in the dark. There was only blackness, and relief swept over him.

“Are you okay?” Brohm asked.

“Yeah, just f-freezing.”

They stumbled in the dark, finding the nearest rock wall from memory. Nathan collapsed against it, and Brohm sat beside him, quietly whimpering.

“Brohm, I . . . I’m sorry.”

“It’s so dark. Gods, I can’t see a think.”

Cursing its weight, Nathan angrily ripped the wet rucksack off his back, and held Brohm’s quivering body. “I’m here,” he whispered.

“I’m trying to fight it,” he said, taking his hands and crushing them in panic.

“You’ll be okay.”

A few minutes passed in silence. Brohm’s grip loosened, and his breathing slowly returned to normal. “I don’t know how you do it. You always manage to bring me back.”

Nathan felt Brohm’s warm hand caress his chilled face, yet it did nothing to alleviate the profound dread and dismay he felt. They had no chance to escape this place. This would be their tomb.

It was then he felt the wet torch resting against his leg.

“I need my tinderbox,” Nathan said.

Riffling through his pack, he discovered the contents surprising drier than expected. The familiar tin brushed against his hand and he took it, along with the blankets. Loose coins spilt out in the process. Those same damned heavy coins that caused him to lose his balance. Maybe they were cursed.

“What’re you doing?” Brohm asked.

“It’s a long shot, but I’m hoping whatever magickal properties this torch has might allow a spark to re-ignite it,” he said, handing the blankets to him.

Striking flint against steel, the brief flashes fought against the oppressive darkness. Sparks flew, but hissed dead as soon as they hit the soggy torch.

Brohm sighed. “It was worth a try. Maybe it’ll work when it’s dried out.”

“Yeah, but how long is that going to take?”

Silence answered him. Leaving Brohm to his thoughts, he undressed completely out of his wet clothes, wringing the excess water out. While laying them flat on the ground, he shivered uncontrollably and his teeth chattered.

“Nathan, come here.”

Guided by Brohm’s beckoning voice, he knelt at his side. Strong hands pulled him under a blanket, and to Nathan’s surprise, found the big man’s naked body waiting for him, heat radiating from his thick form. The other blanket lay on the ground to protect them from the cold.

Brohm held him fiercely close, holding his head to his massive chest. The warmth enveloped him, and in short time, his shivering ceased. For the briefest moment, Nathan allowed himself to forget everything, and simply enjoy being held, protected.

Yet despite his wishes, the despair returned. In all their attempts to escape capture and death, he was their own worst enemy. His mistake cost them everything.

Brohm soothed him, as though sensing his guilt. Even now, the big man dauntlessly stood his ground against the all-encompassing knowledge that they were dead men. Nathan allowed that courage to seep within his own self, to accept his end with the man he loved.