Fair Semblances: An Allegorical Fantasy (Chapter 33)

The rumblings and stirrings of the Dragon’s bowels were becoming more pronounced at an alarming rate. The four fugitives found it difficult to negotiate the pitching floor of the unlit tunnel, and an irrational fear came simultaneously upon all four, an unspoken but palpable dread that their time was short, that the world they knew was marked for destruction, that if they stopped or even slowed down at all in their Gadarene flight they would be buried alive with the rest of the city. It was as if they were a nauseating poison to the Dragon who had swallowed them up, and he now had no recourse but to vomit them out, and in vomiting die.

The tunnel was narrow, with a low ceiling that just brushed the hair of Carl, the tallest of the four, and the escapees continually found themselves pitched against one of the walls, or else into each other, so that they soon became sore and bruised. Occasionally, large chunks of stone broke loose from the ceiling or came cascading down from the walls, and several times one of the companions tripped over this fresh-fallen rock in the dark path before them. Although it had not yet happened to any of them, it was on everyone’s mind that a loose rock falling from the ceiling at the wrong time could easily crush one of them. The more they allowed their minds to race through the gloomy maze of possible mishaps and adversities, the faster they fled down the gloomy tunnel; and the faster they ran, the more excitedly their minds raced too, so that they were soon in a veritable panic, stampeding as cattle before a prairie fire.

Although they had to run along beneath the greater part of the city before reaching the pit at its far southern edge, it seemed like just a few moments before they had actually arrived. By this time, Carl had fallen quite a few feet behind the other three; but somehow, he managed to muster up enough air capacity from his overtaxed lungs to call out a warning to Gilead, Mishael, and Shashi up ahead:

“Hold on – you passed – too far – no, stop!”

The three friends ground to a quick halt, and turning back around walked slowly in the direction from which they had come, all of them gasping for air and dripping with sweat. After just two or three paces, they noticed a rectangular portion of the wall that was gray instead of jet black; and looking more intently, they saw that it was an open doorway, leading out to the open air of the dusky night. In their terrified haste, they had passed it by the first time without even noticing it.

“We’re almost free,” gasped Gilead. And the three paused, doubled over with their hands on their knees, to wait for Carl, who was in even worse shape than the rest of them, to catch up.

But just before Carl arrived, the tunnel heaved again, this time far more vigorously than it ever had before, and cast all four companions to the floor. There was a sharp report which reverberated deafeningly down the corridors of the tunnel, followed by a prolonged, thunderous rumble, sounding like nothing so much as the crashing roar of the avalanche that Gilead and Mishael had been through just a few days earlier. The entire tunnel was collapsing in on itself.

By this time, Carl was scrambling toward the others on his hands and feet, and then, somehow, he was on his feet and running again. Behind him, and proceeding at a much faster rate than he was running, the tunnel roof was caving in. The whole passageway was falling down in progression from the source of that mighty tremor, much like a row of dominoes, or perhaps better, like the waves rushing out to agitate the surface calm of a quiet lake, which progress rapidly out from the point of impact occasioned when a stone is cast into its depths; and Carl was about to be overtaken.

“Hurry up!” Gilead cried out; “You’re almost there!”

A few seconds later, Carl was within a few paces of the companions and the exit from the hateful tunnel; but just then, there was another mighty tremor, the four friends were once again thrown together in a heap on the floor, and the ceiling of the tunnel collapsed all around the little exit, burying it hopelessly beneath untold tons of crumbled rock and dirt. And that was it. The collapse of the tunnel had been interrupted at the exit, and all four friends were still alive and trembling before the dusty heap of destruction just behind them. They were alive, yes – but their only avenue of escape had been cut off.

The four distressed runaways disentangled themselves and for a few moments simply sat on the floor trying to catch their breath. Finally, a weary and discouraged sounding Mishael, addressing Carl, asked,

“What will we encounter further down the tunnel? It’s obvious there’s no turning back now.”

“Thur’s nothin’ down thataway but th’ pit,” Carl responded, still a little out of breath. “An’ we don’ wanna go thur, ‘at’s th’ wors’ place in the ‘ole city. ‘At’s whur the Exatoits live, an’ it’s whur Vrak puts all th’ wors’ of ‘is pris’ners. They jis’ work the ‘ole day lon’, an’ they don’ git much fur t’ eat, an’ th’ tas’masters are turr’ble cru’l. An’ ‘sides, thur’s no way out, th’ wall’s too ‘igh an’ it surroun’s the ‘ole pit with no gates ur nothin’.”

“Well, we have to go somewhere and we can’t go back,” Mishael replied, a little impatiently. “Are you sure there’s nothing else between here and there? No other exit, not even a drainage pipe or air vent?”

“No, thur’s not a thang. It’s nought but a couple feet from ‘ere to th’ pit.”

“In that case then,” Gilead butted in, “we must go to the pit and see what will become of us there. Our only other option is to sit here until we either die of thirst or are buried alive. No matter how small our chances are in the pit, they are no worse than our chances of survival if we sit here and do nothing.”

“But th’ pit’s th’ wors’ place in the ‘ole city,” Carl said again in amazement. And then, for added effect, “It’s th’ wors’ place in th’ ‘ole city”.

“Nevertheless,” Mishael answered calmly, “It’s our only remaining option. We have no choice but to go there and see what will happen.”

“I agree,” Shashi added softly.

“Wull, whurever you go, I’ll go ‘ith ya too,” Carl assented in an abashed tone of voice. “’At is, if yu’ll still ‘ave me.”

“Carl,” Mishael replied in a sincerely affectionate tone, “we would never have made it this far alone, and we will certainly not go any further without you. You are truly a most welcome addition to this company. From now on, whatever we face, we will face together. So let’s go! To wait here is only to invite further disaster and difficulty.”

Although no one could see it in the darkness of the tunnel, Carl was blushing a deep crimson, and his heart was brimming with pleasure.

It was only a couple hundred feet to the edge of the pit. And soon, the companions had traversed the intervening space wordlessly and stealthily, and could see the tunnel’s end, where the floor simply dropped away, and nothing was visible but vast, empty space above, below, and all around. Without a spoken admonition (for none was needed), the four friends dropped to their hands and feet and crawled, or rather pulled their prostrate bodies along by their forearms, up to the edge of the pit. What they saw was unexpected and overwhelming in several respects.

First of all, no sooner had they looked over the edge of the pit, than an unexpected ray of sunshine peeked over the high surrounding wall, and fell directly on the outstretched faces of the foremost companions, who happened to be Mishael and Gilead. They had assumed that the gray night into which they had peered before the tunnel collapsed had been the gray of dusk. In reality, it was the gray of dawn. A new day was just beginning.

But most astonishing of all to the two of them, and likewise to Shashi, as soon as he was close enough to see, was the sheer, overwhelming vastness of the scene before them. The famous pit was in reality just that: nothing but a pit, a vast, circular hole in the ground, dropping away out of sight. But the enormity of it was staggering and unexpected to the three of them who had not seen it before. They could barely see to the other side of it, and it was only with a great deal of effort that they could discern that there were people opposite them, people who had the appearance of the most insignificant motes just barely interrupting the smooth surface of the ground on the other side.

Besides the pit, which doubtless covered at least as much area as the entire city of Vrak, there was only a narrow strip of level ground all around the hole, and beyond that strip of ground a tall, black encompassing wall, uninterrupted by gates or windows. Apparently, the only entrance to the pit was the tunnel which our companions were now in; or actually, as Carl explained, there were two tunnels from Dolos: that which they had come through, and which had fallen into disuse; and also one more, a little newer and easier to negotiate, which came out just a few yards away from where they were hiding.

To their left, between the pit and the wall on its westernmost edge, was a long row of dome-shaped structures large enough to be easily visible even from so great a distance. To Mishael, they resembled nothing so much as the tall, narrow mushrooms that used to crop up in the meadows of Fair Semblances when Spring arrived.

“What are those?”, he asked Carl, pointing to the strange structures.

“Them’re th’ forges,” Carl responded. “’At’s whur they make all o’ th’ armor an’ weapons an’ whatnot. An’ b’side ‘em thur’s the saw whur they cut all th’ stone t’build th’ city. They get th’ ar’n an’ th’ stone all from th’ pit thur, and they carry it up from th’ bottom on them walkways thur” – here, he pointed below, where a circular walkway was cut into the pit; looking down, they could see one level about twenty feet below them, and perhaps ten feet wide, and then, far below that, another level was barely discernible as well – “An’ they say,” Carl continued, “’At it’s ‘otter ‘n you kin ‘magine down thur at th’ bottom, an’ ‘at’s whur they a’ work now, pullin’ up wagons of stone an’ ar’n a’ day lon’ an’ it takes ‘em th’ ‘ole day jis t’ get one wagon up t’ th’ top, as it’s such a lon’ ways down thur. But Vrak don’ mind, seein’ e’s got a whole tribe of ‘em.”

“Shh!”, Mishael interrupted him; “I hear something”.

Sure enough, a few seconds later they could all hear the sound of feet running toward them on the stone walkways below; and soon, they could see a group of half-naked, olive-skinned workers rushing along from the west, making the long climb up out of the pit as fast as they could run. The companions watched their progress for a few minutes, when suddenly, as they passed a spot in the wall of the pit where a small room had been carved out, an iron-clad taskmaster brandishing a fearsome whip leapt out and shouted something unintelligible at them. The workers paid him no attention, and as one mad, panic-stricken throng they rushed against him, overwhelmed him, and continued running, pushing him down and leaping over his outstretched body.

“They must be scared of something,” Gilead whispered. “I bet it’s the earthquake”.

As if on cue, the ground pitched beneath them again, nearly shaking some of the slaves below right off the walkway; and to their left, maybe a hundred yards or so, a large chunk of stone that until then had been a part of the pit wall collapsed and plunged below. Somewhere far beneath them, the companions heard panicked screams from just about where the rock would have struck the walkway.

For some time, the four friends observed the same thing happen over and over again. In twos, threes, fours, even up to dozens, the slaves were all running up from the bottom of the pit as fast as they could; and in the meanwhile, the earth was still shaking and rock was falling from the pit wall, or occasionally, from the top of the high surrounding wall. The taskmaster soon gave up any idea of subduing the crowd, and instead began to make his own way up out of the pit, following after the stampeding slaves.

“Say, Carl,” Gilead spoke up after a few minutes: “When the slaves all get to the top of the pit, where will they go? Where do you suppose they’re gathering?”

“Wull, they a’ live on th’ other side o’ th’ pit. They ‘ave thur homes a’ cut into the side o’ th’ pit thur, an’ ‘at’s whur th’ women ‘n chillun ‘ould be. I s’ppose they’d go thur to fin’ thur fam’lies.”

“Listen, I have an idea,” Gilead continued. “You said there’s only one other way out of here, through the new tunnel that goes back to the city, right?”

“’At’s right”.

“Well, I’m sure we could never make it through alone, and we would be certain to run into someone, especially as it’s now morning. But you saw how quickly the taskmaster stood aside when a whole mob came rushing at him. Maybe if we get the whole tribe together, and run back through the new tunnel into the city, we could overwhelm any of the soldiers stationed nearby, and find a way out of Dolos before Vrak can put together an army to stop us. It’s a small chance, I know, but I’m afraid it’s the only option we have right now.”

“Sounds good to me,” Mishael assented at once.

“I think you’re on to something,” Shashi whispered excitedly: “Mishael’s mirror showed an open door and that’s just what happened, then it showed the whole tribe of slaves in Lebben-Or, so that must be what will happen next. If we make it out of here, something tells me it will be with the whole tribe, and not alone.”

“Well then,” Gilead replied, “Let’s try to make it to where the Eschatoi are gathered together, without being seen.”

It actually turned out to be an easy enough task to get to the other side of the pit unobserved. There was so much commotion and confusion below that no one even thought to look up above; and there was certainly nobody patrolling the strip of ground surrounding the pit. Whether or not there were usually patrols, Mishael didn’t know; but he suspected that even if there were, they would all have gone to where the tribe was gathering together, hoping to find a way to quash the uprising. So at first tentatively, and then casting off all stealth, they made their way as quickly as they could manage to the other side of the pit. Still, it took them a couple hours to get there, and the whole time, the ground was shaking and rocks were tumbling from the pit and the wall.

Finally, after what seemed an eternity, they were within a few hundred feet of the gathered slaves. Stretched out in several levels below them were the houses of the Eschatoi, just as Carl had said, cut into the solid rock. But the houses were all unoccupied, and the whole tribe was gathered together on the ground above the pit, milling around anxiously. The men were largely concentrated on the eastern side of the gathering, and were conversing in low, nervous tones. Back behind them were all the women and children. The women were all occupied with keeping the children quiet, and the children were largely occupied with crying in piteous tones. Occasionally, another tremor would shake the ground, more rocks would fall, and two or three screeches would be heard from the midst of the crowd; then, all would be more or less silent for a moment longer.

At first, Mishael wondered where all the guards and taskmasters were; but then, he saw them all gathered together, high up on the wall above them, occupying a raised platform that apparently functioned as an observation deck. He scanned the company quickly, and estimated that there must be about a hundred or so of them up there. They seemed to have resigned themselves to the impossibility of their current situation, and were just going to wait it out until the panic had died down in the crowd; and so, for the most part, they were no longer even watching the crowd anymore, but were chatting, laughing, and drinking, as if to say, “As long as we’re stuck up here, we might as well enjoy it”.

Just then, one of the guards noticed the four companions, pointed to them, and shouted something out to the rest. A few shrugged, some of them laughed, and the rest just went back to their business without a word.

“They don’t seem to care that we’re here,” Gilead whispered. “I guess they suppose that, since there’s no way out, we can’t stay out of their grasp forever. Soon enough, the Eschatoi will calm down, and then they’ll be able to get their hands on us.”

“Shall we go try to find a few of the tribe’s most prominent men, and try to sell them on our idea?”, Mishael asked.

“Yes, we’d better do so as soon as possible,” Gilead replied. “Do you see that handful of men standing by themselves over there? I’ve been watching them for some time, and they seem calmer and more deliberate than the rest. Perhaps their opinion would carry some weight with the whole tribe. I propose that we go speak to them.”

“Let’s do it then,” Mishael said; and the other two nodded in assent.

The four companions walked over to the little group of men that Gilead had pointed out. The men noticed them coming at once and left off talking, waiting to see who they were and what they had to say. When they had gotten within a few paces, Gilead called out in a friendly voice,

“Greetings, friends!”

That was the only sentence he uttered however; for just then, the most terrific tremor they had felt to that point set the whole ground reeling beneath them, and they all fell to their hands and knees. The women and children at once began to wail and screech most piteously, only this time they did not cease, for the ground was still convulsing beneath them, making it well-nigh impossible to regain their footing for any length of time.

For a few minutes, Mishael was only occupied in trying to keep his balance. But suddenly, he felt a shadow pass over his face (it was now midday, so the sun was high in the sky) and he glanced up to see what had caused it. A vast tract of the surrounding wall had broken off, and was swaying back and forth. Right in the middle of the endangered section was the observation deck, with its dozens of taskmasters, who were now likewise crying out in panic.

Mishael stared up at the wall in shock; it was leaning further toward them all the time, and for a few seconds, it seemed about to drop. If it did, it would crush the entire tribe below, and our four companions with them.

The wall shuddered, and came to a tenuous halt in its downward progress, leaning some twenty degrees or so in from its upright position, directly over the Eschatoi. Then, once more, the ground rumbled and pitched beneath them, sending a mighty wave through the solid stone ground, as if it were made of water. The wave in the ground met the base of the wall, and cast it back the other direction. The wall jerked back to an upright position, held there for a few seconds, then started to pitch over the other way. This time, there was no stopping it; it gained speed and toppled to the ground, shaking the whole earth almost as violently as the tremors of the earthquake had been doing. As one person, the entire tribe of the Eschatoi began swarming over the shattered stone and debris of the toppled wall, running away from the horrible pit where they had lived and died for generations. The wall had come down and they were free at last.

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