the midday meal. Before we started again, one of the women tested the straps holding me to the horse, but she needn’t have bothered. I hadn’t moved an inch on the first part of the journey, and I doubted I’d ever move again.
The afternoon lasted an eternity. When I was conscious, I turned all my attention in on myself, trying to strengthen my body to withstand this ordeal, trying to ignore where the straps seemed to be cutting into my flesh. I focused my mind on transcending the pain. This would surely be over some day, and when that day arrived, I wanted to be strong—in mind, if not in body—to face whatever came next.
Then finally, after twenty lifetimes, it was over. The women called out and were answered by male voices. The women’s voices went off in one direction while my horse was led in another. My feet crashed painfully against something, which I concluded was a doorframe when the air changed from feeling open and chill to being enclosed and warm. I guessed it must be a stable.
Several pairs of hands loosed me from the horse. They slid me off one side and I fell in a heap, unable to stand or even to move.
“All right, then,” a loud male voice said, hurting my ears, “I’m not supposing you can walk.” He laughed at his own joke. “I guess I’ll be having to carry you.”
He picked me up as if I weighed nothing and tossed me over his shoulder. Someone made weak little groaning noises with every step the man took, and I realized it was me.
Out into the open again, then back indoors. His footsteps rang out on a stone floor. After a little while, he stopped. Another man made a strange grunting noise, then I heard a metallic rattle, a loud click, and the creak of door hinges.
The man carrying me stepped through and, as the door closed and locked behind us, began descending a staircase that went on and on, turn after turn, forever.
We finally stopped at what must be the bottom. Another voice made a series of unintelligible grunts, after which the man carried me a little farther. More key rattling, another lock turning, and a door scraped open. I was dumped onto a damp stone floor. The man untied my wrists, making me want to weep for joy, only to secure them behind me again.
“That’ll be doing you for awhile,” he said. The door closed, the lock clicked into place, and I was all alone.
I didn’t even try to move; I just lay there like a dead thing. I’d been without eyesight for almost a full day now, and my hearing had grown keen when I cared to listen. I did now, but heard nothing—no footsteps, no keys, no locks, no doors. Was there simply no noise beyond the door, or was it so heavy that it blocked outside sound?
My thoughts twisted in on themselves, and as time crept past, my imagination began to supply the sensory stimulation that was lacking. Colors swirled before my eyes, resolving into images then dissolving into haze. A mountain reflected perfectly in a still lake. Sunset beyond a field of ripened wheat. Water trickling over stones in a creek. And I even heard the babble, which, as I tried to force my mind away from water, turned into a distant chanting. I strained my ears to catch the words, sure that they would supply the magic to free me.
My senses threatened to take me on a hallucinatory ride, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I could only hope that my sanity would be intact on the other side.
But then a sound—a real sound—chased the imaginary ones away. The door was opening. I lay still, hoping they would think me asleep. Footsteps approached, and someone crouched down next to me. My heart pounded so hard that it sent flashes of light into my brain.
The person held a cloth over my nose.
At this new threat, my body burst into life. I struggled in earnest, not wanting to die, not now, not here, not this way. As I tried to draw air into my lungs, a pungent odor filled my nostrils, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Still, I jerked my head from side to side,
The afternoon lasted an eternity. When I was conscious, I turned all my attention in on myself, trying to strengthen my body to withstand this ordeal, trying to ignore where the straps seemed to be cutting into my flesh. I focused my mind on transcending the pain. This would surely be over some day, and when that day arrived, I wanted to be strong—in mind, if not in body—to face whatever came next.
Then finally, after twenty lifetimes, it was over. The women called out and were answered by male voices. The women’s voices went off in one direction while my horse was led in another. My feet crashed painfully against something, which I concluded was a doorframe when the air changed from feeling open and chill to being enclosed and warm. I guessed it must be a stable.
Several pairs of hands loosed me from the horse. They slid me off one side and I fell in a heap, unable to stand or even to move.
“All right, then,” a loud male voice said, hurting my ears, “I’m not supposing you can walk.” He laughed at his own joke. “I guess I’ll be having to carry you.”
He picked me up as if I weighed nothing and tossed me over his shoulder. Someone made weak little groaning noises with every step the man took, and I realized it was me.
Out into the open again, then back indoors. His footsteps rang out on a stone floor. After a little while, he stopped. Another man made a strange grunting noise, then I heard a metallic rattle, a loud click, and the creak of door hinges.
The man carrying me stepped through and, as the door closed and locked behind us, began descending a staircase that went on and on, turn after turn, forever.
We finally stopped at what must be the bottom. Another voice made a series of unintelligible grunts, after which the man carried me a little farther. More key rattling, another lock turning, and a door scraped open. I was dumped onto a damp stone floor. The man untied my wrists, making me want to weep for joy, only to secure them behind me again.
“That’ll be doing you for awhile,” he said. The door closed, the lock clicked into place, and I was all alone.
I didn’t even try to move; I just lay there like a dead thing. I’d been without eyesight for almost a full day now, and my hearing had grown keen when I cared to listen. I did now, but heard nothing—no footsteps, no keys, no locks, no doors. Was there simply no noise beyond the door, or was it so heavy that it blocked outside sound?
My thoughts twisted in on themselves, and as time crept past, my imagination began to supply the sensory stimulation that was lacking. Colors swirled before my eyes, resolving into images then dissolving into haze. A mountain reflected perfectly in a still lake. Sunset beyond a field of ripened wheat. Water trickling over stones in a creek. And I even heard the babble, which, as I tried to force my mind away from water, turned into a distant chanting. I strained my ears to catch the words, sure that they would supply the magic to free me.
My senses threatened to take me on a hallucinatory ride, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. I could only hope that my sanity would be intact on the other side.
But then a sound—a real sound—chased the imaginary ones away. The door was opening. I lay still, hoping they would think me asleep. Footsteps approached, and someone crouched down next to me. My heart pounded so hard that it sent flashes of light into my brain.
The person held a cloth over my nose.
At this new threat, my body burst into life. I struggled in earnest, not wanting to die, not now, not here, not this way. As I tried to draw air into my lungs, a pungent odor filled my nostrils, unfamiliar, but not unpleasant. Still, I jerked my head from side to side,
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