It was with some surprise that I discovered in that tunnel an immediate distaste for enclosed spaces. In hindsight, I should have expected that my time in captivity, bound to that lectern, imprisoned in the room behind the blank bookcase, had left its mark on me in this way.
“Stop fidgeting,” reprimanded Fen, shaking me lightly, “what are you doing?”
I at once realized my selfishness, and took hold of myself. Fen relied on me, and I could not let her down, could not let my own worries get in the way of our quest.
“Sorry,” I said, calming the tremble in my voice, “where to next?”
The nightstand’s tunnel had led us down into a somewhat larger tunnel, but still far too cramped for my taste. To make matters worse, it was entirely dark, and I only knew of its approximate size by the way our own sounds bunched around us, except forward and back where the tunnel ran.
“I know this place well,” whispered Fen, moving forward, “I don’t need your help here.” When she spoke, there was a harshness in her tone that told loudly of her anger. She resented me, for having blinded her, for ruining her life, for being a burden. And she resented herself, for having opened the secret door, then for opening me, and for now being stuck trying to escape with a talking book. And she resented this castle with its tricks and her Master with his wrath, and everything else while she was at it.
Fen lowered her head and shook it, then sighed, and breathed a tiny, little laugh at how ridiculous this all was.
“Listen, Book, I’m sorry. I know you… I know it’s not your fault,” she said, her fingers tightening around me, which hurt, but not in an unpleasant way. Later, I realized it was the first time I felt a hug.
She continued speaking, her voice a little distant, as though her thoughts were far away, “All those years, I could feel you, reaching out. It was such a familiar feeling, and I got so used to it… You know, I don't think I could imagine this place without that feeling. Without you, I suppose. I wanted to get out of here too, to go into the world, just as I somehow knew you wanted to. Sometimes, I wasn’t sure if it was me or you who felt that way, but it didn’t matter. No matter how much I tried, I could never find a way out. I’d just met another dead-end, you know, just before I finally figured out how to get to you. Maybe that’s why your pull felt so strong, because in a castle full of dead-ends, you felt like the only real door, the only real way out of here. I guess it makes sense though, since reading books always made me feel free, for a while. Maybe I’d read more than I should, and you were just that one book too many, and that’s why now I can’t read anymore. I don’t know… I don’t know what I’m saying.”
I reeled with all these revelations. She had felt my mind too, and it had been for years? And the way she felt about me, and the life she’d had, and what she’d implied about this castle, and all the books she’d read before, and-
It was all too much.
I had no idea where to begin, what to respond to, or even what to think. Perhaps most of all, I was impressed by how much she had to say, for the presence of her mind had hitherto been discreet. That was when I first learned that the nature of one’s mind does not equate the state of one’s mouth. Her hidden-away thoughts had tumbled out with her voice, as though her loose tongue had just begun sweeping out the corners of her mind.
Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.
The moment dragged on. When at last I spoke, it was somewhat stupidly, for, of all my thoughts, this was the only that was clear and immediate, “Just how long is this tunnel?” (this is a very long tunnel, isn't it?)
Fen breathed funnily, dismayed by my response, and answered tersely, “Long.”
I knew I had been insensitive, and mustered a remedy, “Fen, about everything you said, I have too many questions, and I want to listen to you, but, from what you told me, we have to find a way out of here, so that you won’t be punished, and so I’m not locked up again.”
Fen’s step lightened as she listened, and she patted my cover wryly, her voice rising with that lilting sing-song I recognized from listening to the shape of her mind, “Why, Book, you’re much more sensible than I thought! And you’re right, we have to focus. So, yes, this is a very long tunnel. I discovered it here when everything I put in my nighttable kept disappearing. I looked in one day, and found this tunnel. Even if it seems straight, it goes all over the castle, and its doors are hidden everywhere. As far as I can tell, only goblins come here, stealing anything they can reach through the doors.”
Fen’s voice fell to a hush as she continued, “And, sometimes, a Dark comes through. It pushes you out by the nearest exit, which is why I don’t come here often. Once, I was exploring and I’d gone too far, and the Dark pushed me out from above the cupboards in the kitchen. I fell and knocked the sous-chef into the sauce. They accused me of hiding there to steal cookies. Even after that, I don’t think they realized there was a tunnel.”
“What do the goblins do with the things they take?” I asked.
Fen must have heard the concern in my tone, because she answered reassuringly, “Don’t worry, they won’t take you. I can deal with them. But, to answer your question, I don’t really know. I’d love to get back my books they stole, though.”
At this I perked up, “Other books? Like…”
“Nothing dangerous, or magical, don’t worry,” reassured Fen.
But she had misunderstood my meaning, so I pressed lightly. “No, I meant, books like… Passion on the dunes?”
I could feel Fen flush, her breath halter, but it was my turn to loose rein of my tongue, “You know, by Fecilia Harness? Author of Tender waves? And, Find me in the orchard?”
You may cast judgement on me for pressing a matter so clearly personal and delicate. Indeed, it would be difficult for me to offer any good justification for my behavior, other than this: at that point, of all the subjects at hand, I had been overtaken by my intrigue for Fecilia Harness’ three books known to me. These were the only books in existence I had knowledge of that I hadn’t read, and their allure had tantalized me beyond measure. I had to know more, but learned nothing else than the fact that Fen’s palms became clammy when she was embarrassed, which was uncomfortable to my covers.
Fen cleared her throat, “Ahem, well, Book, listen, I don’t usually read those kind of books, I’d just come across it and -”
The damp warmth of Fen’s palms suddenly turned cold and sharp. She turned to face behind, and whispered, “Oh no, it’s coming.”
And there, sure enough, in the pitch black of the tunnel, was somehow an even blacker darkness, small by its distance but growing as it ebbed up the hall towards us. Fen clutched me tightly beneath her arm and began to run, feeling along the walls for a way out.
