Becoming P.T. Lyfantod - 57
A serial fantasy novel
What follows is Part 57 of Becoming P.T. Lyfantod
If you missed Part 1, start there:
I was feeling pretty good about what I’d said. Proud of myself for revealing some of my secret selfishness to my friends… and relieved they hadn’t held it against me. I was starting to get used to not being able to see as my other senses began to compensate. I noted changes in the air, growing cooler and clammier the farther we went. The smell of cold stone reminded me vividly of a trip I’d once taken to Pontefract Castle, in Yorkshire, and its famous dungeon. The moisture from the walls dripped down my fingers. Our breath, our footsteps echoed in my ears. And with every doom, doom doom, of the drum, I imagined I could feel something of the dimensions of the space. The long tunnel sounded long and… tunnel-like. I wondered if this was what it would be like to be blind. If, given time enough, I’d be able to navigate entirely by sound. Like a dolphin, or a bat.
But my senses weren’t as sharp as I fancied, for I was caught entirely by surprise when Merry screamed. Her scream was followed by a grunt, “I’ve got you, I’ve got you—!” heavy rustling, and a thump as—I imagined—Tom and Merry collapsed, panting, to the ground.
“What happened?” demanded Iain.
“I—I got overconfident,” Merry gasped.
“There’s a drop,” came Stuart’s voice. “It… seems deep. It’s lucky you didn’t fall in.”
Doom, beat the drum. Doom doom.
“Yeah. Lucky…” Merry’s voice shook.
“I told you I’ve got you,” Tom said.
“At least no one’s hurt,” I said. “Right?”
“I’m fine,” Merry confirmed. “Just… surprised.”
“Are we sure it isn’t just another step?” Iain asked.”
“I…” Merry paused. “No. I can’t feel the bottom.” Her voice sounded strained, and farther away, somehow, echoing strangely. “It smells wet, and—”
Doom, said the drum.
“—the drum. It’s somewhere down there.”
“Down there?” Iain repeated. “Stu, move aside a bit—”
“Maybe we can throw something in,” I suggested.
“Good idea. But I don’t have anything.”
“Me neither,” said Iain. “Tom?”
“Just some coin—”
“That’ll do,” Iain said.
“What? No! All I’ve got are one and two quids—”
“Tom!”
“What! I can’t believe…” Tom grumbled and complained, but I heard a jingle.
“Thank you,” said Merry.
“You can pay me back later.”
“Wait for the drum,” Iain said.
The drum sounded, and as it faded, Merry murmured, “Here we go—”
For a moment, there was only expectant silence—then a faint but distinctive tink.
“There’s—” Stuart began, but Merry shushed him.
A few seconds later, there was a far more distant ploop. The unmistakable sound of the coin hitting water.
“Okay…” Tom said. “What does that mean?”
“It means the floor—if there is one—isn’t solid,” Iain said. “How far would you say that was, Merry?”
“I don’t know. Five or six feet? But… what if it was just a pipe or something?”
“We must be meant to carry on somehow,” Iain said. “Tom, give us more coins.”
“Get stuffed, Lloyd—”
“Tom, please? Just a few,” Merry said.
“Grrr… Fine. All for the cause, right? But next time—along with a functioning torch—someone’s bringing some bloody marbles.”
“Deal.”
“And if there’s another one of these holes…” Tom warned.
“We’ll just have to hope there isn’t. Ok, here goes—” After a brief silence there was another distant splash, minus the clink. “That’s… Let me try again.” This time, the coin definitely hit metal before it reached the water. Merry cleared her throat. “Ok. Well, whatever it is, it’s over on that side too.” Wherever that side was. “But it’s obviously not solid. I’m not sure what to do…”
“I’ve an idea,” Tom said. “We’ll lower you down, and you can see if there’s anywhere to stand. What do you say, Lloyd?”
“What—? No!”
“It might work,” Iain mused. “Between the two of us…”
“You’ve lost your minds if you think I’m going t—”
“What’s the matter, Mer?” Tom teased. “Don’t tell me you’re scared.”
“Tom Firth. If you think it’s unreasonable not to want the two of you dangling me over some pit in the dark, with no idea how deep it is or what might be at the bottom…”
“Well, if you have any better ideas, I’m all ears.”
“Maybe we missed something,” Stuart said. “A secret lever, or a hidden door—”
“Oh, that’s good,” said Tom. “How do you propose we find them, considering we can’t see?”
“I don’t—”
“Right then. Any other half-arsed ideas to share with the group?”
“Don’t talk to him like that.”
“I’ll talk however I bloody want. If he thinks we’re spending the next three days walking back and forth along this damn—”
“I’ll do it!” I yelled.
“What?” said Iain and Merry at the same time.
“I’ll do it. I’ll go over. I’m taller, but I don’t think I’m that heavy. Merry and Stu have been taking all of the risk. Besides, it’s not like you guys’ll have to do all the work. I do pull-ups.”
There was a brief silence while they thought it over. Or possibly questioned my upper-body strength. “All right,” Iain said eventually. “Firth, think you can manage?”
“Don’t worry about me.”
“All right then, P.T. Come here. Merry, Stu, scoot back a bit.”
I stowed my torch in the back of my trousers and inched ahead, sliding awkwardly around Tom and Merry. It was more than a little unsettling, knowing the hole was there and not being able to see it. But Tom put out a hand and guided me forward. Soon I sat with my feet over the precipice, wondering what lay between me and the bottom. I really hoped it was sturdy enough to hold me.
“Okay…” Iain came to kneel at my left.
“I need to be able to move as I go down,” I said. “I’m going to turn around and climb over. Only after I’m down should you two take my wrists. If I don’t feel anything, you can pull me up. Okay?” They agreed. And so, with more than a little trepidation, I flipped over onto my hands and knees. Tom and Iain each laid a hand on one of my shoulders to track my movements. The butterflies in my stomach got squished as I slid first one knee, then the other over the pit, so I lay on my front with my legs dangling.
“Nothing so far…” I announced in a forcibly neutral tone.
“Be careful,” Merry urged, entirely unnecessarily.
The rough stone dug into my belly as I lowered my upper half over the ledge. I stretched my legs and pointed my toes, praying for something solid. The corner bit at my ribs, and still there was nothing. With a jerk, I dropped further, the edge sliding painfully up into my armpits, leaving only my arms over solid ground. My hands were flattened against the floor, and it was getting difficult to hold on.
“Still nothing," I croaked, half-strangled by the stone wedged against my throat. I began to wonder if I’d made a terrible mistake. Iain was much stronger than I was, and considerably more athletic. He’d have been far more capable of holding himself up. He was also by far the heaviest… Cool air carried the smell of standing water. “I’m going to hang down by my hands. Get ready—”
“We’ve got you,” said Iain. And so, with their hands sliding up my arms ready to tighten, I let myself fall. The soles of my shoes found no purchase against the clammy walls. An inarticulate sound escaped my throat. The ground bit at the exposed flesh of my wrists, and just when the edge came into my palms, my fingers clawing, my arms wrenched straight—my feet hit something solid.
There was an audible clank, and suddenly my weight was divided between my pointed toes and straining fingers. Then Tom and Iain’s hands clamped around my wrists, which while reassuring, also made it harder to maintain my own grip. Any moment I was going to have to let go, and there was no way of testing whatever it was beneath me without releasing my hands.
“There’s something,” I gasped, “I can’t—”
“Should we pull you up?” Iain asked, full of urgency.
“Lower. Slowly—”
“Tom?” Iain said.
Tom grunted.
“On three, then. One, two—”
I lost my grip.
There was a brief, terrifying lurch as I fell those last few inches, before my heels touched down. “Hurngh!” someone grunted above me. The floor beneath me groaned, complaining at the sudden weight, and my heart leapt into my throat. But after a tense couple of seconds, I was confident enough it would hold.
“Okay,” I breathed. “You can let go.”
“You’re sure?”
“Y…yeah.”
The pressure of their hands vanished one after another, and I lowered my arms, rolling my strained shoulders and massaging my raw, bruised wrists with a heavy sigh.
“What’s down there?” Merry called.
I felt around with my foot. “It feels like a grate… Like the kind you’d find over a drain.” I knelt down in place and slipped my fingers between the bars. “Metal bars. Round… in a grid pattern.”
“How big’s the hole?” asked Iain. “Is there anything else?”
“I—” At just that moment the drum sounded. There was no doubt now it was coming from below. Urging us onward. Driving us away.
“…P.T?”
“The drum. It’s…”
Just what is waiting for us at the bottom of this pit?
I swallowed and forced myself to move. Still on my hands and knees, I crawled away from the wall, ever more aware of the yawning dark below. I went a few feet before my fingers hit a curving stone lip. I felt about. “The tunnel goes on!” I called. “Or, no—wait.” I climbed off the grate and onto solid ground, but I’d only gone a short distance before I met a wall. Like a mime in an invisible box, I fumbled one way then the other. The space I’d found was only a few feet across, and about as deep. I even jumped to make sure that there wasn’t another ledge above.
We weren’t so lucky.
