Level: Novice

“Who are you?” Om replied, to the voice that had welcomed him.
When no answer came, he stumbled on with closed eyes. A red, pulsating light replaced the burst of white light, but he felt so dizzy that he couldn’t be sure whether he was seeing it through his eyelids or through open eyes. He lurched into the left wall of the tunnel, which made him lurch to the right and hit that wall. Knowing that the tunnel was narrowing he stretched his hands out to their surfaces, so that he could guide himself. Wood replaced the rock wall. Om ran his hands along the rough timbers as he stumbled forward but stopped when he heard the timber floor creak and a low voice.
“Are you there?” he nearly cried out, but something told him to remain silent.
“Nothing doing, as usual,” a male voice murmured. “Did you bring that little bottle of … you know?”
“Sh! I thought I heard something!” another male voice hissed.
Om thought the voiced sounded strange for those of Angels. With a furrowed brow, he tensed, waiting to see what would happen next.
“It’s alright; it’s the Boss!” the second voice hissed louder.
“At ease men!” a smooth, strong voice said. “Have you seen anything?”
“No sir!”
“No Lord Tantor!”
“Well be on your guard. I have seen the light of the Evil One. He’s close, very close. Do not let him through. If you do, I will have to burn your faces off with the Disk of Light. Understand?”
“Yes sir!”
“He won’t get through!”
“Alright. I will send your relief extra early tonight. And there will be four men.”
As Om waited, the pain in his head eased, allowing him to see more clearly that he stood in front of a door. The voices were on the other side, and faint light through cracks above and below the door threw their moving shadows into relief.
Footsteps crunched on loose stone, leading Om to believe that the ‘Boss’ was walking away. The name Tantor sounded familiar to Om, but he couldn’t think where he had heard it. He scratched his chin and tried to sit on a protruding timber but lost his balance and fell in a heap on the floor.
“You’d better check inside,” the first voice whispered.
“Probably just a rat,” the second voice countered.
“But you heard the Boss. He’s expecting something!”
“He’s always expecting something! He’s been waiting for a hundred years. He comes out here every night, so they say … !”
“Go on!”
“Are you mad? No. Either we get the Boss or we stay put.”
Om remained motionless, hardly breathing, as long as he could. But cramp in his leg reminded him of his age, and he began to wonder what he was waiting for.
‘I stand a better chance now!’ he thought.
He waited until both voices were silent and kicked a timber with his slipper.
“What was that?” the first voice asked. “I definitely heard something.”
“Drink this. We’re not moving.”
“But I can’t relax! I feel like any moment something is going to crash through that door!”
“Let it!”
“You’re drunk!”
“So? Wait. If we hear nothing more, then it’s gone.”
The voices remained silent for a while, before the first voice blurted:
“It’s no good. I can’t stand it.”
“What are you going to do? We can’t go in; Lord Tantor has the only key!”
“I want that reward. What do you think I took this damned job for? Every night, standing out here in all weathers, cold, rain … . If we wait out here, no reward. Or worse, the next guards will get it.”
“How?”
The first voice remained silent, as if the man were hesitating. Then he mumbled:
“You can see inside. One of the other guards showed me. This plank is loose. Pull that peg out and we can take a peek. Bring the torch.”
Om started to back away from the door silently, but the other voice replied:
“Listen, whatever it is, it’s small. It must be scared. If we look inside and it’s a rat, then we can rest easy. If it’s this Evil One, then what can we do out here? We won’t get the reward! What do you think I took this job for too?”
“You don’t need the key. The door’s rotten. We can say he – or it – broke it down.”
“Sh! Keep your voice down. You stand in the doorway while I go inside. Draw your sword and hold the torch for me!”
Om heard a squeak as one of the guards pulled the plank aside, and a pale, yellow beam of light probed the darkness inside the tunnel. He knew he had only moments to act. Gathering all his strength, he sucked in his breath and charged at the door.
“What the … !” the first voice cried, seeing the door explode and something brown and bony tumble over his colleague.
Om landed in a heap and let himself roll out of the wreckage of the door.
“Get him!” the man on the ground cried, trying to right himself.
Om opened his eyes, but he didn’t wait to see what would happen. He scrambled to his feet and lurched into a row of bushes, not far away. Paying no heed to the scratching thorns, he forced his way through the undergrowth and kept running, frequently crashing into trees and bushes, for there was no moon in the night sky to see by. He ran until his lungs were on fire. Finally, he could run no more and fell to his knees. Crawling under a particularly thick bush, he waited for death to come.
Om never heard a single, human voice in the darkness, though he heard the call of many wild animals. He poked his head out of the bush to stare at the darkness above.
“Why are there no stars?” he asked himself. “Perhaps this is Hell.”
He certainly felt as if he had been scalded. His leg muscles burned while his skin stung from the cut of a thousand thorns. His fists and one shoulder were badly bruised from their impact with the door, and he had a deep cut down the calf of his left leg, which dripped blood onto the leaf litter. But Om had too much adrenalin pumping through his veins to care, and when the effect of this wore off, he fell into a deep sleep.
Only when he woke did Om feel a cold fear in his stomach. Moments later, this was joined by the burning anger of frustration. Now he remembered where he had heard the name Tantor. The priest Setau had once told him this was his real name. Only now did he realise fully why he had entered the gulley; his burning desire to find the man who let his daughter die and wreak revenge had never flickered out and now raged in his breast again. For a thousand years Om had waited for this chance. Forsaking all, even a need to find the Key, he had clung to life for this one moment, and now it had come and gone without him knowing. He cursed himself and beat the ground with his fist.

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