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Some time earlier, Al, looking back, watched Dave and Arlana disappear into the tunnel on his right then observed the others as they headed to the tunnel entrance on the left of the cavern.
Tandor said. “I’m ready.” Hanging his light gourd from a shoulder strap, he picked up his spear in both hands, and started down the centre tunnel.
Al followed him into the tunnel mouth. The green-yellow glow of lumi-lichen illuminated the walls and Al could see that the tunnel was round, as if it had been eaten out of the rock by a rock-borer, the giant armoured beasts he had encountered before. From time to time, he saw chisel marks. The tunnel had been widened and squared off. He could hear the slow drip of water.
After about one hundred meters, the two reached a tee intersection. Tandor nodded, questioningly, at the side tunnel heading off to their right. Al shook his head, so Tandor continued straight ahead. Al felt a sense of apprehension. Tandor moved even more slowly, cautiously, and as silently as possible, picking his steps forward. After some time, the tunnel widened. Tandor raised his fist, signalling Al to wait, while he advanced cautiously. Suddenly from out of the darkness, a floppy object flew at Tandor, and wrapped its many snake-like arms around him pinning his arms to his side.
Dropping his pack, Al rushed forward, sword drawn, and sliced off the grape-fruit-sized head of the octopus-like creature. Its tentacles relaxed, and the creature fell away from Tandor. In the same moment something hit Al in the back, and he felt his own arms pinioned by tentacles, even as he saw a third creature attack Tandor. Al rolled onto his side trying to crush the boneless beast on his back. But its tentacles were very strong. He couldn’t break free.
As Al struggled, a hideous man-shaped figure approached him. It was shorter than he was, but broad-shouldered. It seized Al, lifted him to his feet, and held him twenty centimeters from its face. The creature’s jaws protruded forward and were filled with teeth. The pupils of its eyes were cat-like slits; its face was covered with fine, snake-like scales. Yet the creature spoke in the Common Tongue, “Hisst. Get up meat. You walk if you know what’s good for ya. Hisst.” A forked tongue showed between its teeth. It spat at Al’s feet.
“Trogs,” exclaimed Tandor, spitting in disgust. The Trog at Tandor’s side hit him so hard he fell down. But the Trog forced Tandor to his feet again. “Hisst,” it said. “Walk, vermin.”
Al looked around as he staggered down the tunnel in the direction they had been going. He counted twelve Trogs, many carried the eight-armed creatures on their shoulders so that they looked as if they had two heads. The creatures, carried by the Trogs, had straps around their bodies with an attached loop, which aided the Trogs in throwing them.
The tunnel ran on for several hundred meters, wider than before. It curved slightly to the right, and then to the left. When Al stumbled, he received a kick in the ribs before being roughly dragged back to his feet. As he was getting up, he noticed that the Trogs did not wear shoes, but had wickedly clawed feet.
The acrid stench of sulfur dioxide in the tunnel made several of the Trogs cough. Eventually, the tunnel grew brighter, and they rounded a bend emerging into twilight. Some of the Trogs moaned at the light and covered their eyes with crude cloth veils.
The trail was made of hard-packed sand and ash. All around them Al could see fissures and craters, some of which emitted a red light from their depths. The heat was sweltering. Sections of the road had been newly repaired, as if the earth’s convulsions regularly destroyed it.
Al looked up. A massive shape—a huge rock or small mountain with a fortress on top—rose out of the fissured land. About a kilometer ahead, he could see the road zig zag across the face of the rock as it climbed up to the fortification.
His ribs were aching painfully by the time they reached the mountain. The climb up the switchback exhausted nearly all of his strength. Just as he thought he would fall down for the last time, the road entered a tunnel in the rock wall, emerged to cross a stone bridge, and entered an open gate.
Inside, the Trogs stopped before armed guards who were clothed in black and red livery. “Hisst. We are here to see Zambor for our reward. We captured these spies in the long tunnel. My people are hungry and have not eaten man-flesh in a long time. Hisst.”
An officer approached in pure red livery and a gold torq around his neck. “You will get your agreed upon reward in due time. Right now Zambor is up in the black tower embarked upon a great work. It may take many days. When he finishes, he will decide which of his slaves and prisoners he will send to you for your feast.”
Two of the Trogs walked up to Al and Tandor and stroked the eight-legged octos—causing the creatures to release their grip on the prisoners—then hoisted them back onto their shoulders. Other Trogs handed Tandor’s backpack and their captives’ weapons to the soldiers. Without another word, the Trogs hurried out the gate.
Two guards escorted the prisoners down a long, spiral staircase. They passed several landings and side exits but kept descending. The stairs were so long that Al thought they must be at the level of the bottom of the small mountain, and nearly at the level of the lava. He noticed the temperature had become much hotter. When they finally reached the bottom of the staircase, they met a jailor, and a second small man who cowered whenever the jailor looked at him.
“Bring them!” said the jailor to the soldiers. “Show them the way, Trog meat,” he added, looking at the smaller man.
With keys dangling at his side, the small man took them to the end of a long horizontal dungeon passage where he unlocked a door with a key as long as his hand. With the help of one of the soldiers, he wrestled open another rusty door, its hinges squeaking, and the door scraping across the floor. They thrust Al and Tandor inside, then forced the door shut. Al heard the key turn and the bolt slide into place. The light under the door gradually disappeared as the small man and the guards returned to their duties.
Al touched the wall by the door and made a slow circuit of the cell. The walls were rough. At intervals, he felt wetness. The back wall was even rougher than the side wall, and Al felt a trickle of water cascade down to a small drain hole on the floor. He continued his circuit. There was moldy straw in one corner and a foul-smelling bucket. Reaching the door, Al completed the circuit. He estimated the cell was a crude square, roughly four meters on each side.
Al could hear crackling as Tandor settled onto the straw. Slowly sinking to the floor, Al put his face into his hands.
Now what do I do Lord? Who’s going to rescue Pam and Little Thomas? My arrogant decisions haven’t helped them, and now I’ve led my friends into disaster.
Rocking back and forth with his hands clasped around his knees, a thought came to him, a scene in a favorite book called The Silver Chair. The characters, Eustace, Jill, and Puddleglum had been captured in their pursuit of Prince Caspian.
Puddleglum had said that Aslan’s signs never go wrong. Following the signs doesn’t mean that you will always be rescued, but you are doing your duty. Like the servant in King Lear when Gloucester’s eyes are being put out, and the third servant tries to intervene and is stabbed in the back.
All I can do is my duty. And do it to the end. Even if I have to pay for it with my life.
Al bowed his head, prayed for Pam, Little Thomas, the coming baby, and his friends. He pleaded for rescue for all of them, but in the end, he resolved to do his duty no matter what happened, even if these were his last days. Even if he was sent to the Trogs for their feast.
His despair did not leave him, but his mood lifted a little. In the silence, Al heard the drip of the water along the back wall. Then he heard the sound of footsteps approaching. Light played through the crack under the door. There was a scraping sound and a rectangle of light showed in the door a foot above the floor.
The face of the small assistant with the keys appeared in the rectangle. He was holding a lantern to shine through the little door. “My name be Weasel, and I be the assistant jailor. I see one of you be a Rebel, or at least from the Guild by the looks of him.” He looked furtively over his shoulder to be sure no one was listening. “I be wanting to bargain with ye.”
“Why would you want to help us?” asked Al.
“Many years ago, I be captured while serving in the Guild. I was sent to run a message to soldiers on patrol. I was captured and sold to Zambor as a slave. I find being a slave go against my grain and I have been plotting to escape. So ever since, Zambor be furious with me and send me to watch dungeons under the head jailor. No light and little food. Now that Zambor owes a meat debt to Trogs, I be sure I be on the menu. Only thing saving me be Zambor is busy. Will ye help me or no?”
“How can we help? Why do you need us? If there’s a way out why not just go on your own?”
“A lone man will never escape. I’m hoping ye have friends waiting for ye.”
Tandor got up and approached the door. Lowering himself onto all fours, he peered at the face. Lapsing into slave talk, Tandor said, “Ye do be vaguely familiar. Who you are ye?” After several exchanges, Tandor seemed satisfied and said he recognized Weasel’s name and knew some of his history. “I say we trust him.”
“I agree, what have we got to lose?”
“Weasel, trust goes two ways. Open the door and come talk to us and tell us what you want,” said Al.
Weasel pulled his key, unlocked the door, and came in with his lantern. He was shaking.
“We’re men of our word Weasel. We won’t hurt you, or treat you treacherously. What do you want for our help?”
“I be wanting to go with ye. As I said, alone, I have no chance if Zambor looses the Trogs and hounds. Just take me away from here before Zambor finishes his work in the tower with his guest.”
Al decided to trust Weasel further. “This guest, I take it he came from Seth?”
“Aye.”
“This guest brought a pregnant woman and a boy with him?” Al probed. “Where are they?”
“Sir, there be no pregnant woman and boy with the guest from Seth. I would know if there were. The slaves talk.”
Having sensed a glimmer of hope that through Weasel he might find Pam and Little Thomas, at Weasel’s words utter darkness and despair crowded into Al.
Tandor took over the conversation. “Weasel we will help you escape. Bring us a bit of light and our packs. That would be a good beginning.”
“I only have your pack sir. Your weapons be stored upstairs for Zambor’s inspection when he be waking from the plant.”
Al roused himself. “What is this plant we keep hearing about?”
“High up in the main tower, Zambor has this huge grey plant, which be looking like a giant cabbage. Most of the Mutandi wizards have one. When he be experimenting and creating a new animal, he puts the animal to be operated on, on one side and he lies down on the other side and the plant closes up. He uses the plant to make changes in the animal. After many days he comes out, and some new monstrosity be born.
“This time the guest came with many guards and wanted Zambor to work on him. The guest be saying he wants to be like the old ones, living long, and being very powerful.”
What was Bigelow up to?
“How long do we have until the process is done?”
“Don’t know. Zambor and the guest went into the plant last night with this fellow you call Bigelow. The time be depending on how big the change be. The jailor has gone home for the night, leaving me in charge. We should be leaving as soon as possible. Zambor could wake at any moment.”
“I have to check for the woman and the boy—they have to be here.”
Weasel became very agitated. “No kind sir, don’t you be trying that. They catch you for sure. Please don’t sir. Poor Weasel be killed right away and then you’ll be right back in your cell. I be getting us out so no one sees.”
“He is right, Al.” said Tandor. “Your wife and child are not here. We know why Bigelow came. They don’t have a role here. If Bigelow had them, he would have left them back in Seth. Something has happened to them, but they’re not here.”
Al knew Tandor was right. This wasn’t just about him and his family, but he had to think about getting his friends out of this pointless danger. Even so, he couldn’t just abandon the search for Pam and Little Thomas. He had no idea where to look next. Oh God, forgive me if I blow this! Al took a deep breath. “Alright, we’ll go as soon as possible. How do you plan to get us out of here, Weasel?”
“This fortress be hollowed out underneath with many chambers and passages. The dungeon be the lowest level so far. In me time here, I go exploring and looking for a way out. There be earthquakes in the lava field that be opening up new channels from time to time. I be following a new crack that opened up, and I already followed it a long way. I just be needin’ to find a way to the surface. There be many side passages to explore. One of them be leadin’ to the surface.”