After about an hour, George stopped to take a breath. To avoid another cave-in, he had worked his way from the top, grabbing and tossing aside the bricks and mortar as it they were nothing but pebbles and sand. He wiped his forehead and looked at his progress. There was a decent sized hole, large enough for a child or a very slim person to get past. He would need to widen it a little bit more before it would allow his wide shoulders and chest through. Now that he had managed to break through the rubble, the sound of running water could be heard. He was beginning to wonder if he had made a bad choice; while the water wouldn’t be too deep, it was cold and by the sounds of it, the source of the rushing water sounded like a waterfall.
Well, he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Stretching and loosening his muscles, he began the slow process of clearing the rubble again. Some he grabbed and tossed behind him and others he just pushed into the unknown space in front of him. He could hear them splashing into the water, before a thud, letting him know that they had settled on the bottom. It was still a gloomy darkness that surrounded him, preventing him from seeing what was beyond the hole. But aside from the sounds of rushing water, he could not hear anything else. His own senses told him that there was no living creature inside.
Having widened the hole enough and deemed the chamber beyond as empty, he reached back for his jacket before he slowly made his way down. He gasped a little when he made contact with the ice cold water. As expected, the water was thigh high at most and after the initial shock, he gradually got used to the numbing cold. With no light to guide him, he could only move forward, hoping that he would come across some platform or dry land. The sound of water was getting louder and louder and he could soon feel the spray against his face.
Reaching the waterfall, he found a wall and guessed that this was a canal and the water was rushing from some water source aboveground. Using the wall as a guide, he made his way to the left of the pouring water and was relieved to find a platform about chest height at the end of it. He dragged himself up and sat, cold and exhausted. There was a wind blowing at him and he guessed that there was an entrance there.
Feeling uncomfortable in his damp and wet clothes, he stripped down to his briefs and wrung whatever water he could from them. His shirt and jacket had only been damp but his trousers were soaked through. He did his best but couldn’t do anything about his shoes; well, it wasn’t like he had not trekked in soggy footwear before. He gave a wry smile as he thought about his waterlogged suit. This was the third one that he had ruined since the attack and he was running out of them. He never thought that he would miss chainmail but at least they were sturdier than these suits, even if they tended to rust after a while.
After making himself and his suit as dry as possible, he dressed himself again and moved towards the exit. It was blocked by an extremely sturdy metal grate. The bars crisscrossed in a square pattern and he couldn’t even fully wrap his hand around a single bar. There was no way for him to squeeze through but he didn’t need to. He felt the edge where the grille met the frame and found hinges on one side and a disturbingly large lock over a set of deadbolts on the other. After thinking and gauging the thickness of the stone for a moment, George suddenly slammed his palm of the side with the deadbolt. There was a creak as the metal and wall disagreed with each other. This would take a while… so he slammed his hand into the stone where the deadbolt had slid into the stone instead. This was the man who slayed dragons and cleaved horses with a single strike. The stone could not withstand the blows and was starting to crack. Seeing it weaken, he grasped the bars of the gate and pulled hard.
The combined attack from both sides weakened the stone considerably and not long after, George was able to break the stone, and open the grate, bending the sturdy metal deadbolt in the process. Pulling open the gate, he listened for a moment, in case his commotion had alerted anyone to his presence. After hearing nothing but silence, he went in. Again, George was given the impression of lifelessness; like the area held no human life. His footsteps that echoed in the darkness was the only accompaniment that he had and the wind that blew a little stronger now his lone guide. After a while, he came to the source of the breeze, a crenel in the wall for archers. George had never been as thankful for the little light that poured in from that hole as he did now. After being confined in that space for so long, after wandering around in the semi-darkness for half a day, he longed for some light.
The hole was obviously too small and he was unable to see anything through it. He suspected that it was there more for the light than for archers; it was too narrow. So he followed the path and walked, using the wall as his guide. He would come to a window or door sooner or later and then he would be able to get his bearings. The rough stone walls felt solid, reassuring. Just like the silver ‘S’ that was embroidered on the lapel of his suit. More than once his fingers had found their way there, rubbing against the slightly coarse silver thread in an absent minded manner. It was his talisman, his lucky charm. He would survive and he would go back.
A creak and bang that suddenly broke the silence drew George’s attention. He ran towards the source of the sound. It was a window shutter, being blown about by the wind. He rushed forward, hoping to be able to get outside from there. To his disappointment and maybe his expectation, the window was covered with a metal grille, to prevent enemy intrusion. The bars were a little more decorative, in a diamond lattice instead of the usual square. He looked out the window and could see a cliff that overlooked down into a rather frightening abyss. So even if he could exit via the window he wouldn’t have risked the fall.
Sighing in frustration, he turned around to look for another way out. He was starting to see signs of former human inhabitation now. Wooden furniture that looked pristine of the outside but was rotten and hollow on the inside; decaying tapestries faded and covered in dust that he couldn’t make out the colours or patterns in the cloth. Everything that he had touched had immediately fallen apart when he did so, leaving him covered in dust that made him cough and choke. He had thankfully not come across any human remains or that would had made it even more macabre.
Judging from the furniture and the window grille earlier, he guessed this to be the solar or living room for the family of the castle lord. He hadn’t been into a castle in centuries but he could guess the layout based on where he was. It made sense. The windows allowed the light in and the position of this room where enemies could not approach would only be reserved for the lord and his family. Then the tunnel from which he came from were likely the secret passage which they used to escape if the situation got too dire. He now regretted his direction choice but it didn’t matter; the other end could also have been blocked too.
He quickly found the door to leave the room but he paused when a painting by the grimy fireplace caught his eye. The castle and interior he had judged to be from a medieval age but the painting was too refined to be from that age. But it wasn’t the style that caught his eye but rather the subject. It was a half portrait of a man in armour, holding a helmet under his arm. The man had dark hair with dark, brooding, impatient eyes; he stood at an angle and was looking away from the artist, focussing of something to the viewer’s left. He had a stern, even fierce countenance; as if he had not wanted to pose for the portrait. He was covered in facial hair but there was something very, very familiar about the man. George stared at the portrait for a while but still could not place where he had seen the man. Giving up, he opened the door and left.
Exiting the room, he came to a corridor; to his left was a wall with another crenel and to his right were stairs that led to what he suspected were the sleeping chambers. In front of him was a rather large door, made of solid wood and reinforced with metal bands and studs. There was a deadbolt and he could see the supports for a drop bar. Pulling the heavy doors open, he stepped into the great hall. He could see stairs and passageways leading to the kitchen, pantry and armoury and another door at the end, askew and damaged. There were stairs leading to a landing that encircled the hall, with more crenels interspersing the walls. Not only did they let the light in, but they allowed archers to attack without being aimed at as well. There was a large stained glass above the door he was heading towards. But it had been shattered and now only little areas of the floor sparkled in colourful light where the glass had not fallen off.
If the solar had been pristine until one touched it, the great hall was the opposite. It was littered with rubble and weeds and the neglect and decay was so bad you couldn’t see the original appearance of some of the furniture in the hall. There were also large holes where something had damaged the walls and the landing and stairs had fallen apart in some places. This was where a battle took place. But he couldn’t understand how the solar, which was only a door away had been left untouched. Even if there was no one there, the enemies would have made it a point to ransack everything instead of leaving it like that. It was all very strange.
As he neared the door, George could see a glimpse of the outdoors and he gaped. Frowning, he ran forward as fast as he could. The sky outside was strange. It was a strange purple red and even though he could see the sun, the moon and the stars were also clearly visible. Taking a look at his surroundings, he realized that he didn’t recognize the design of the castle or the plants that had taken over the entrance and courtyard in front of him. Where in the world was he?
