Chapter 4: A Light in the Dark

A sharp, sudden pain flashed in Rags’s head as he began to wake up, dazed. Fortunately, it was dark so much so he couldn’t see the cavern roof from the thick blackness of the lightless interior of the stone labyrinth. If he had looked behind him the faint glimmer of moonlight still shone and far ahead awaited him… a flame.

The dark and quiet was a comfort to Rags. The absence of things can allow briefly a tranquillity of the mind before idleness turns the mind in onto itself. He quickly grasped the situation: his survival and the disappearance of Robber and Beast and the confusion, briefly abated. His turmoil began once more with the thought of why he was still alive?

He spent a while laying there tormented as he tried to work out the logic of why he was still alive and if that was in fact what he wanted. The idea of chance, of his lack of control, was foreign to his thinking. The cause he was sure was him, somehow it was his fault he lived. He just didn't have an explanation that made sense yet.

With another stroke of good fortune Rag's attention settled on his surrounding. This fortune was of little benefit to the distorted ponderings of the child's mind cast of from awareness of the body and riddled with errors. He questioned how much better would it be if there was nothing but darkness. No pesky light, to see more, no more possibilities. In the dark, out of the light, he could stop. He could, he believed reach an end. Run out of history with the movement of an experienced hand telling the disinterested eyes of time the son had died a foolish child trapped in the dark. The last thought, the final word of his life was approaching. It had to be over soon. No more Robber, no more beast and fear, no more pain.

A sound invaded his musing, it pulled him out of his himself.

“Greeting, young one and blessing of … upon you.” Spoke a deep voice, with the quality of one trained and practised in public speech.

“Good, em, day,” answered Rags after taking in the figure holding a small candle on a brass tray. The figure wore a long robe cut at the hands and ankles. Rags guessed that it had been as white as clouds once but now had been mostly blackened and scrapped. The features of the figure were hard to discern as the light was held at the waist and near arm’s length away.

“How hard is the … ‘s way, for one as young as yourself to have faced such misfortunes. Look at your rags. Alas, I am here. The … is wise indeed, you may have thought yourself forsaken by ….. But now the reason for my endless wanderings in this dark place has been clear. Come young one, is there anything you need, now that I have found you the way out will be near enough. … our purpose, our meeting has occurred.”

Rags’ stomach rumbled loudly the sound echoing a little in the tunnel.

“Ah, what a sound. A healthy sound, soon the sound of a healthy and happy child.” Said the figure putting a hand inside the robe and pulling out a biscuit. “Here, child eat.” The figure said kindly.

Taking the biscuit he devoured it without reserve.

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“A healthy appetite, this is well, good child.” He said and pulled out another biscuit. “Have another.” Which the child swallowed in large bites. “That is all, I have only a few left. Praise … to feed us on the rest of our time in... Trial. Yes, most unexpected has my time spent here been, but fortunate of course now that I have met you, good child. For I will take you out of the dark and into the light. Myself too of course as well. Now that you are here … will put us on the right track finding you must be the reason I have been kept here lost.”

“I am most grateful for your generous meal and aid, priest.” He paused, tilted his head as if listening to his own words. A smile faint and swift lived for a moment. He sounded right at least, normal again.

“I can tell you the way out, I think.” He began again. “As much as any words can be trusted by those spoken in shadows. Yet while the Dark is rightly fought, of course, it is in as Jorik said in shadows and sleep where all people are equal. Knowing this, and that I will not follow, for if I will now, I know no shame or pride may pierce fear and despair that dogs me. My life lies towards possible death. The flame at the... Must be extinguished. I came with others needs as an excuse for glory, now my own need and your kindness ushers in renewed courage and energy.”

“My good child, you make no sense. Has darkness ailed your thoughts till your speech sounding that of a noble learnt speaks nonsense. Look at you, in rags and your mind broken. Alas, I am here.” Replied the Priest, patting Rag's head with a playful ruffle. For Rags No words filled with such pity and concern has been spoken to him before. It caused an alarm yet the clarity of awareness of good but patronising intent behind the Priest's words.

“Your kindness knows no bounds, Priest.” He spoke each word clearly, with a new force and a masked ferocity conveyed by a widening of the pupils and the biting of his teeth, he did not look at the Priest any longer but into the darkness. “Do not let my clothes deceive you, they are a symbol of my survival. I have strived for glory and while my fate may be wretched I will not have my dignity questioned because of my misfortunes. I mean to extinguish the flame and complete my endeavour. Even if it means facing whatever prowls these caverns.”

“The unknown, ah how brave you are to face it, child. Once we are out of here (now?), I will personally teach you in the way of … You will be certain then of who you are, a learned man you will be.”

A flash of fury appeared and the flush of red burned on his cheek. Rags noticeable took a few deep breaths.

“I am Brandon Son of... And..., I am already learned. I know the histories going back to the ancients and cultures spanning the world, I have listened to debates by the greatest minds of the age on questions that will shape the generations to come and if you could grasp their meaning would banish your ignorance of nature and reliance on idols. I decline your request, but it does warm my heart to know as low as you think of me as my appearance and strange words no doubt warrant to your ears, you would expend great energy and learning on me. Your kindness, if not your ability to listen is well met. How blunt I am.”

“No, no child. You are tired and much distressed by your trials. Rest, I will keep watch.” Said the Priest, a wide smile on his wrinkled face.

“I am, tired. I will rest for a bit.” Said Brandon. He didn't fall asleep right away, his eyes closed as soon as he curled on the hard floor. The effort to speak, the great feeling that had swelled and burst leaving uncertainty. His thoughts raced but warmed by the fire and the gentle humming of the Priest he drifted into a troubled sleep.

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