Chapter 29
Into the Mountain
Ben
I KNOW THEY’VE been saying my name for the past few minutes, but it’s not until Bruno actually puts a hand on my shoulder that I’m pulled away from the edge.
I reluctantly pull my gaze from the colony below me and return to the task at hand.
Up until now, I’ve refused to turn away because, to me, turning my back to the colony would be to turn my back on Lillian.
This sightline is the only thing I have of her.
“We’re going to get her back, Ben.” Bruno’s sentiment is kind, and I know he wants to believe it as badly as I. “We can’t do that unless we keep moving forward.”
He deserves my thanks, or at least an acknowledgement that I appreciate his continued care for Lillian. I can’t bring myself to offer either. Instead, selfishly, I don’t even spare him a glance.
From one thought of Lillian to the next, I join Diederick. “Are we close?” I ask.
The man has been meticulously searching for the latch on a hidden passageway etched with markings. When we put together his own studies and Lillian’s clue, it brought us around the left side of the mountain.
“We’re close,” he answers. He runs his hands over a patch that looks worn, flattened by years of use.
We’ve been staring at this door for hours, but we only find the proof when Oliver points out a chipped vertical line.
Instantly seeing the key to the illusion, I hook a finger underneath and tug lightly.
The stone door gives way immediately. It swings open smoothly, as if someone were still caring for it regularly.
“Great, another cave,” Mr. Bennett huffs. He’s the first to lead the way despite his initial apprehension. The rest of us follow without fanfare. Onward and upward is in fact the only option at this point.
“It’s a servant's entrance,” Diederick says a short time later. “I suspect this will lead to the kitchen, or their equivalent of one anyway.”
Despite the intricacies in the design of the walkway and the stunning stone murals adorning the walls, no one has the extra energy to ask for more details.
The only thing that sparks my own thoughts is that I know Lillian would have questions, even if she were equally as exhausted and equally as frightened as we men stand now. I wish she were here.
Something I notice early on is the lack of death in this tunnel.
The Lost Colony had been estimated to house tens of thousands of settlers, and the death of their lineage littered the Amazon region all the way down to the river.
There were even signs of the massacre in the settlement below.
Those working in this place either had fair warning before, or they never made it as far as where we stand now.
“What’s that up ahead?” James asks, holding his flashlight—courtesy of Oliver’s stealing—up toward the cave in front of us. Sure enough, the light plays silly with the walls.
Diederick answers as he moves his own beam back and forth. “I think this tunnel may open up.”
“The kitchen?” Oliver asks, all too ready to get to some place of normalcy.
“I don’t think so,” Diederick answers.
Mr. Bennett blows past us. “Only one way to find out.” His singsong voice echoes off the wall. Part of me wants to tell him to keep it down, else we wake something we shouldn’t, but he ends up silencing himself when we reach the widening of the road.
“Oh, how lovely!” Oliver says in delight. Lovely indeed. A brilliant amazonite floor stretches out before us. Black and turquoise tiles are patterned in such a way to illustrate a large flower. A lily.
Oliver is giddy with excitement at seeing the art. He makes an energetic step forward, but I catch the signs before he steps foot on the puzzle floor. Some tiles are more worn than others. It’s tricky, but when the light washes over them, you can see a true path.
Before Oliver can step out onto the floor, I throw a hulking arm to the side.
Knocking him in the chest, he stumbles to the ground behind us.
Unfortunately, no one can do the same for Mr. Bennett.
In his ignorance of the beauty before him, he stomps out onto the floor only intending to bypass the room as quickly as possible.
My warning can barely slip out before the tile he crosses over gives way, and he disappears from sight with a bloodcurdling scream.
The sound of tiles breaking on something below cuts off Mr. Bennett’s screams, and this is replaced by a sickening squelch. There is only silence from the pit now.
“Charles!” James cries, leaping into action. Thinking he might fall prey to the same fate, I tackle him to the floor, and Bruno springs into action beside me. “Let me see!” James bellows from beneath me. “I need to see!”
Knowing the depth of his good sense, I release him at his request. He kneels at the edge of solid ground and shines his light over the hole. Our eyes follow.
“Oh, god,” Oliver gasps between gags. “What of his family?”
No one comments; no one could after seeing something as truly scarring as seeing a man shredded by a dozen spikes after a 20-foot fall. The only grace is that he clearly died on impact as two jagged stone spikes have driven through Mr. Bennett’s chest.
James falls completely forward, face to the ground. His shoulders heave, but in rage or sadness, I can’t tell.
How does one comfort a man who witnessed his friend and commander die in such a way?
We had comforted each other during the war. No matter if we respected or loathed a superior, we always mourned them together.
Following in the footsteps I laid years ago, I lower myself to the ground and rest a hand on James’s shoulder.
Behind me, Oliver prays over the hole and crosses the scene.
I hadn’t known him to be religious, let alone Catholic.
While I wouldn’t consider myself practicing—I haven’t in a long while—and despite my complicated relationship with a higher power, I won’t pretend not to be comforted by the grace Oliver brings to the scene.
But of course, we are not in a God-fearing place.
From beyond the puzzle floor, a sweet giggle swells.
It’s eerie enough to pull us all from our shock.
Standing for us to find her, a little girl giggles again.
I hope that it might be one of Lillian’s helping hands, but her grin twists into something sinister, and then she’s gone.
Gone before we can decipher if it’s a trick of the mind or the mountain.
Real threats linger here; it’s best that we remember that.
Patting James once more, I wave Oliver forward to comfort the grieving man so I can join Diederick at the edge.
He’s moved on from our sighting quickly, as I expect he feels the weight of the floor in front of him.
I hope he does not feel the guilt. If the light hadn’t run over the path in the perfect way, I wouldn’t have noticed it either.
“I should have seen it,” he says simply.
“So see it now,” Bruno answers, flicking his light across the room. “Don’t quit on us.”
A long breath escapes him, confirming that he is still here with us. Proving that I believe him up to the task, I offer him my flashlight. He takes it with a sure hand and begins to chart the floor.
“What kind of lunatic would build something like this in their home?” James demands from behind me, clearly in an early phase of grief.
No one responds to him, but I suppose that’s because no one has the right answer.
Lillian never really explained the hierarchy of this colony to me, though I expect that no one could know for sure.
I wouldn’t call this place a palace, but it’s not a normal home either.
Whoever lived here was a leader, someone who took the security of their home seriously.
Whoever used this tunnel had access only because they knew they were given the code to unlock the floor.
It’s a code left cracked for us by the people their leader trusted most. Trusted and then killed them.
A shiver runs down my back thinking about what we might find further into the fortress.
Lillian had mentioned a final sanctuary where things had devolved with the dagger.
I expect things to be bleak there, very bleak.
“I’ve solved it,” Diederick says from beside me. There is no joy or pride in his voice, only detriment. “I will go first to make sure it holds.”
“We’ll go together,” James says, wiping his nose on his sleeve. Even in the dim light I can see his puffy eyes. “We’ll go one tile at a time.”
I can tell Diederick hates the idea of risking any of us, but he bravely approaches the tiles anyway. He leads us through without a single misstep.
I’m much too happy to leave the hell of the puzzle room behind me. I’ve very nearly gotten the sound of Mr. Bennett’s scream out of my head when we stumble into the next corridor. I should have known there’d be more.
We find two more floors like the one with spikes beneath.
Both are different sizes with different codes; both have different terrors below.
These are also in much rougher shape. Dilapidated and broken tiles give us a peek down into an empty chamber with inescapable walls slick with moisture.
The third floor only has the correct pattern still standing; a bottomless pit lies below in darkness.
When we finally reach an interior hallway, we are all down to our last threads of sanity. Any longer and I think one of us would have broken down.
We do eventually break down in the comfort of the preparation room that Diederick had expected to find.
It’s the first room with a window. Moonlight greets us, not the sun.
At the realization that we had spent the better half of a day solving those damn puzzles, I can only bury my head in my hands.
The sight of night is enough for an unspoken moment of rest.
We spread out in the ray of moonlight shining from the small window in the corner. There’s nowhere comfortable to sit, but I hardly think that matters to anyone. Oliver distributes the food, though no one wants to eat. I expect Mr. Bennett falling is replaying in all of our minds.
Each man keeps to his own devices, thinking of love, life, and most certainly death.
My own thoughts turn to the history surrounding me.
This place, what it was before the massacre, is where Lillian came from.
This is her ancient home; she is a piece of this place, a good piece.
Suddenly protecting the sanctity of it becomes something I desperately want to do.
I’ve always felt respectful of history, but feeling it and seeing how quickly a life can end, it lights a fire in me to do good.
Whatever comes next, I have to be prepared to do the right thing. Going into this, I fought every sign that this would not end well for the two of us. I still plan on fighting it, but I know that a sacrifice must be made.
I must be ready to follow Lillian’s lead even if it kills me, even if it just might kill her. When a ghostly wind whistles from the window, it crosses my mind that the forest might just be agreeing with me. It’s a gut punch I can’t shake, even when the breeze stops and everything goes still.