over this door looked familiar; it was the same Joseph had seen before entering the spiral stair. Calling his servant, G’azal had the young man open the door. Joseph saw the servant hold a cloth up to his nose as he grasped the door handle. Inwardly he prepared himself for whatever lay behind the door, whether beast or torture chamber.
A wave of hideous stench washed over him as the door opened, like the smell of a thousand corpses rotting in the sun. Forcing the bile rising in his throat down again, Joseph dared look through the door. A small ledge could be seen, ending at a cage,suspended by thick chains from the ceiling. Below the cage, the entire room dropped away twenty feet down, into a wide pit of some dark, black liquid. Skeletal remains could be seen, partially sticking out of the liquid, as well as decaying corpses. These were not animals.
Overcome by the sight and smell. Joseph leaned against the passage wall and vomited onto the floor at his feet.
“This is a very sacred place,” the Bishop said, watching Joseph curiously. He seemed unaffected by the room or its contents. “All our new workers are privileged to spend their first night here. But...” He looked back, down the passage. “Before you sleep, there is something else I want you to see.” He beckoned for Joseph to follow him, his face brightening. Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, Joseph moved after the priest, a growing hatred for this entire underground realm blossoming in his mind. As he stepped forward he ran back over the rooms and caverns, mentally tallying the servants and number of guards he’d seen.
The bishop walked up to one of the stone door, nearer to the entrance of the horrifying passage. Its symbol resembled a crude drawing of a lion, such as child might draw in the dirt. The servant grasped an iron ring in the door and dragged the heavy door open with difficulty. G’azal stepped through the door and ushered Joseph inside. Wide and low, the room held no furnishing nor other doors. Its stone walls were finished, however, and carved out from the rock to form a round room. The smooth floor featured a yawing pit in its center. A long, wooden board--just wide enough to stand upon-- spanned the ominous opening. Two guards stood by the edge of the pit. A prisoner stood on the board, a rope tied about his waist; the rope went up through a metal hook embedded in the ceiling, the other end held by one of the guards.
Suddenly, a deep roar reverberated through the room, joined by another. Eyes wide, Joseph realized the pit was home to great and ferocious beasts, the like of which had not been seen in the kingdom for generations. In his mind’s eyes he saw himself, sitting by his father’s chair on cold winter’s nights as a young lad, listening to tales of the Black Bane, the fearsome lion-like beasts that had once roamed their island. Outlying villages lived in constant fear of the creatures that preyed upon livestock and folk alike. The king’s great-grandfather had led great warriors to slay the beasts over many months, to ensure the safety of his people. Despite his best tactics, traps and maneuvers, many of his best knights were killed in the endeavor, but the bane was defeated. The monarch slew the last of hem, himself, taking as part of his royal crest the roaring black lion, lest the nation forget the blood spilled or their safety. Neither lion, nor wolf the beast were thought of as unnatural and bloodthirsty.
“Black bane...” Joseph said, to himself.
The priest heard his words and turned towards his new prisoner with narrowed eyes.
“An ugly name,” G’azal sneered. “Myths propagated by ignorant peasants. These glorious creatures were nearly hunted to extinction by the short-sighted nobles of our land, just so farmers and lumbermen could breed a little faster.” He stepped closer to the pit, good humor overtaking his face once more. “I found this pair of fine animals in the Easterly land of Weymin. They
A wave of hideous stench washed over him as the door opened, like the smell of a thousand corpses rotting in the sun. Forcing the bile rising in his throat down again, Joseph dared look through the door. A small ledge could be seen, ending at a cage,suspended by thick chains from the ceiling. Below the cage, the entire room dropped away twenty feet down, into a wide pit of some dark, black liquid. Skeletal remains could be seen, partially sticking out of the liquid, as well as decaying corpses. These were not animals.
Overcome by the sight and smell. Joseph leaned against the passage wall and vomited onto the floor at his feet.
“This is a very sacred place,” the Bishop said, watching Joseph curiously. He seemed unaffected by the room or its contents. “All our new workers are privileged to spend their first night here. But...” He looked back, down the passage. “Before you sleep, there is something else I want you to see.” He beckoned for Joseph to follow him, his face brightening. Wiping his mouth on the back of his arm, Joseph moved after the priest, a growing hatred for this entire underground realm blossoming in his mind. As he stepped forward he ran back over the rooms and caverns, mentally tallying the servants and number of guards he’d seen.
The bishop walked up to one of the stone door, nearer to the entrance of the horrifying passage. Its symbol resembled a crude drawing of a lion, such as child might draw in the dirt. The servant grasped an iron ring in the door and dragged the heavy door open with difficulty. G’azal stepped through the door and ushered Joseph inside. Wide and low, the room held no furnishing nor other doors. Its stone walls were finished, however, and carved out from the rock to form a round room. The smooth floor featured a yawing pit in its center. A long, wooden board--just wide enough to stand upon-- spanned the ominous opening. Two guards stood by the edge of the pit. A prisoner stood on the board, a rope tied about his waist; the rope went up through a metal hook embedded in the ceiling, the other end held by one of the guards.
Suddenly, a deep roar reverberated through the room, joined by another. Eyes wide, Joseph realized the pit was home to great and ferocious beasts, the like of which had not been seen in the kingdom for generations. In his mind’s eyes he saw himself, sitting by his father’s chair on cold winter’s nights as a young lad, listening to tales of the Black Bane, the fearsome lion-like beasts that had once roamed their island. Outlying villages lived in constant fear of the creatures that preyed upon livestock and folk alike. The king’s great-grandfather had led great warriors to slay the beasts over many months, to ensure the safety of his people. Despite his best tactics, traps and maneuvers, many of his best knights were killed in the endeavor, but the bane was defeated. The monarch slew the last of hem, himself, taking as part of his royal crest the roaring black lion, lest the nation forget the blood spilled or their safety. Neither lion, nor wolf the beast were thought of as unnatural and bloodthirsty.
“Black bane...” Joseph said, to himself.
The priest heard his words and turned towards his new prisoner with narrowed eyes.
“An ugly name,” G’azal sneered. “Myths propagated by ignorant peasants. These glorious creatures were nearly hunted to extinction by the short-sighted nobles of our land, just so farmers and lumbermen could breed a little faster.” He stepped closer to the pit, good humor overtaking his face once more. “I found this pair of fine animals in the Easterly land of Weymin. They
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