Hero´s Manual 11

[bending_sickle]

Chapter 10: Down into the Darkest Dungeon

“Remind me to ask Vicky where he got those delicious scones.”

“And remind me to bang you upside the head,” retorted Gwen.

The two were sitting at the top of a flight of stairs, facing a very sturdy, and very locked, bolted and possibly soldered, door. The faint light peeping in beneath the door only managed to accentuate the oily darkness at their feet. They’d both woken up whilst being carried into the cellar (or “Dungeon of Scary Things”, if you prefer) and had endured some of Vicky’s taunting from the other side of the door.

Hero stared under the door for a while, rubbing his bruised head, and said, “What for?”

“I have this theory: if I smack your head and listen very carefully, maybe I’ll hear something, and I’ll actually believe there’s something in there.”

“Like a maraca?”

“Yes, Hero,” sighed Gwen, “exactly like a maraca.” If this was Vicky’s cellar, Gwen thought, maybe she could find herself a bottle or two.

“I never did like those,” continued Hero, oblivious to Gwen’s disinterest. “You’ve got to keep on shaking them. ‘S very annoying.”

Or maybe a barrel would be more helpful, considered Gwen.

“Look,” she said, standing up and dusting her pants, succeeding only in spreading the dust uniformly across her bottom, “let’s go downstairs and see what’s what.”

“What!”

“What?”

“You want to go down there?” whispered Hero, scanning the darkness beyond the few illuminated steps. “You don’t know what’s down there. Could be Scary Things, like Vicky said there was.”

“Hero, Vicky’s evil mascot is a camel. His uncle’s a dentist and part-time vampire. He collects carpets, for Cod’s sake. A Scary Thing for him is probably a three-legged cat.”

“Actually,” said a voice from behind the door, “it’s a candlestick. A three-legged cat is just a Disturbing Thing.”

Hero flattened himself to the ground, squinting under the door. “Quasi?”

“Of course, if it were a dog, it would be a Slightly Funny Thing, but there you go.”

“Quasi, let us out,” said Gwen, sitting down beside Hero, feeling silly for talking to the illuminated floor.

“Don’t be silly. I just came to eavesdrop a bit,” said Quasi. “Ta now.”

Leaving Hero straining to hear returning footsteps, Gwen stood up and gingerly took a few steps downwards. She flailed her arms around her, seeking a railing or wall, panicked when she found neither, and sat down in the dark. Soon, she heard Hero shuffling towards her, opting for the safer method of going down: sitting on each step and plopping down to the next.

“It’s dark down there,” whispered Hero.

“I know. But Vicky’s not going to let us out anytime soon, and neither are the other two.”

“But I’m scared of the dark,” said Hero, quite matter-of-factly. It might have been a declaration of fear, but in no way was it a cry for mercy. (Not yet, anyway.) Gwen sought his hand in the dark, managed to jab him in the ear, and squeezed his shoulder instead.

“I’m not too keen on it either. But let’s go down, just to see what’s down there. Maybe there’s something we can open the door with.”

“But we won’t see it, will we, in the dark,” said Hero testily. “And we won’t see the gaping hole in the middle of the floor either. The only thing we’ll see is our whole lives flashing ‘fore us as we fall to our deaths.”

After a brief moment of awkward silence, Gwen started down the steps again. Once at the foot of the stairs, they still could not find a wall, so they decided to walk straight ahead till they bumped into something.

“Ow!” Gwen leaped backwards, hopping on one foot as she tried to soothe her stubbed toe. Something bumped against her then latched on with incredible force.

“Let go, Hero,” said Gwen as she gingerly put her foot down again. “Ow.” Again she’d stepped on something sharp. Sweeping her foot across the floor, she realized the entire area before them was littered with small hard objects.

“There’s what feels like coins on the ground,” said Hero from somewhere near her ankle. “Think maybe it’s The Villains Treasure?”

“How on earth do you actually pronounce capitals?”

“Well, er,” said Hero, confused. “I make words or sentences out of them. Like ‘Washing tons’ or ‘Pear is’. That last one is very existential, I think.”

Gwen just rolled her eyes then gave a start: there! She could just make out the glowing outline of a small window.

“Try to make your way to that,” she said, pointing.

“I’m not going anywhere alone. I’d wander off into the dark, you’d hear the echoes of a scream, and that’d be it for me,” said Hero, managing to translate his fear of darkness into a determined pessimism. “Then you’d be all alone but for that bone-chilling silence after a scream. It really should have a name. Like ‘atriance’.” A pause, then, “And I seriously hope you’re not pointing. We are, after all, in pitch dark. Where do you want me to go?”

“There’s a window over there.” After a moment, she clarified: “Ahead and a bit to your left.”

“Oh, well, a window…” he muttered, shuffling towards the faint light with a soft smile on his face. After a half dozen curses, stumbled and clashes, the pair reached the window. Hero reached up and, softly caressing the edges, managed to open the window and let in the faint evening light. While he stared at the light, Gwen cast a glance about Vicky’s Dungeon of Scary Things.

Its floor was littered with coins: not gold ones, or even silver, but rather what seemed like the contents of a very large piggy bank. There was also an old sofa, carpets (awaiting Quasi’s reluctant inspection), several old knee-high boots and a vast collection of candlesticks (all tied together with chains), lamps, flashlights and light bulbs.

“Oh, would you look at that.”

“Haarng!” howled Hero hysterically, having forgotten the vast darkness at his back.

Hmm, said H, lounging in Letter Land, remind me to get h’another batch of those h’alliterative pills from my supplier.

“You know, I don’t think Vicky is quite right in the head,” mused Hero once he calmed down enough to take in the view.

“What could possibly have given you that notion?”

“There’s only so many boots a man can have, really. And that sofa is in mint condition.”