Palindrome

Someone had split my skull in two and used the halves as bongo drums, I had to breathe through the red haze of pain before I even dared open my eyes. I recalled the fall I took, and the way my head had hit the shelf behind me. But hadn`t I fixed that? Had I just imagined the cool touch from the angel/doctor? Sudden realisation hit me, the fear forced my eyes open, and my body made a jolt. Blinding pain soared through me, making me sick. I swallowed fiercely, trying to keep the contents of my stomach down. I was on my back, tied to a table of some kind – If I got sick now, I would surely choke on my own vomit, not the way I wanted to go.

The table underneath me was cold, and I concentrated on the feeling of stone against my warm, sweaty body, letting it cool me down and help me heal.

What was the last thing I remembered? Samuel had arrived! He was here to help me, he wanted me to invoke Lilith, and I had spent the day meditating and preparing. The throbbing in my head made the memories hard to sort out. My heart sank when I finally got through the events, damn Mrs Jensen… The drugged tea, and her admitting to the fact she killed her husband. I was back in the Pevensy-House, kidnapped by George. Oh, how I hoped it was George and not William. I recited a short healing spell to help my head on the way, but it seemed the pain was too strong. Hadn`t Mrs Jensen said something about headache? Maybe it would fade, but I didn’t have time to wait for that, I needed to get out of here before the torture and killing began. I opened my eyes slowly, adjusting to the dim light in the room. I waited a minute to be sure I wasn’t going to be sick and then I started examining my surroundings. It was a big room, high under the ceiling with gothic arches decorating the roof. Maybe I wasn’t in the Pevensy-House after all? There was no daylight allowed in, the only light-source was two flickering torches mounted on the wall. The only noise heard was me moving on the table and the distant sound of dripping water. It was too dark to see the end of the room, it felt like nightmares were waiting for me in the gloomy corners.

I ignored the surroundings and concentrated on my body. The ropes holding me tied down turned out to be just scarfs made of silk, they seemed ceremonial. The thought of how many others they had kept tied down forced it`s way in, but I had to push it away. I looked over the edge and saw that it wasn’t a table, it was a solid block of stone, almost like a butchering stone or a sacrificial piece. The scarfs were attached to iron-rings imbedded in the altar. My legs were free, but that didn’t help me much. At first, I tried to slide my hands gently through the knot, but the more I struggled, the tighter it got. Neither of the spells I cast worked, tears rolled down my cheeks and I wanted to scream. I yanked fiercely; the fabric tight around my wrists. I had to get out of here, no matter what. I yanked, pulled and dragged, until my skin started to bleed.

I was screaming inside my head, afraid to make noise so someone would notice I was awake.

Please. Please. Help me. I don’t want to die here. Please.

I could feel the silk get wet from the blood, making it even harder to move. One last try, I pulled hard three times, and opened my eyes in surprise when I heard a rift. The right side had started to give in. I leaned over and saw a small tear in the fabric, I wiggled and pulled, and tugged until the rift had gotten big enough so I could slip my mangled hand through the hole. The hand was swollen, bloody and bruised, but I was free. I wasted no time in ripping off the left one as well and jumped off the stone only to fall to crumbles on the floor. My legs simply caved in, useless after hours on a cold surface. Face to the ground, I took a deep, cleansing breath and shook my legs so they would come alive. I used the stone to help me stand and dragged myself up slowly. When I had remained standing for half a minute, I took some steps; happy when I seemed to stay up alright. I examined the room more thoroughly, where was I? Due to the lack of windows, I had no idea what time it was or what my surroundings were. I took one of the torches but stopped surprised when I saw the soft gleam from the ceiling. I lifted the torch, could that be black obsidian? No wonder none of my spells had worked, this place was designed to stop spells and curses. Witch killers gone professional.

There had to be a door somewhere, would they guard it? Blood dripped from my wrists, making my hold on the torch slippery, and the ooze from the oil burned in my eyes. The room was bigger than I first thought, I hadn`t reached the end yet. I tried to walk quietly, but the echo from my footsteps seemed to scream under the ceiling. A gate appeared on my right side before I reached the end, the wooden door was ornate and sturdy, towering almost to the ceiling. I let my fingers glide over the pattern, it was made from mountain ash… Even more protection from sorcery. I used it as well, but in small doses. Was this door the way out? I put my ear close to it, but it was too thick to hear anything happening on the other side. The Goddess was silent, whether it was because of all the protection or other things, I didn’t know. Should I use time to examine the room further, or should I try my luck and open this door? Nothing, just my own voice in my head.

My battered hand trembled slightly when I reached for the handle, surely they would keep it locked if it was the way out. It wasn’t. Locked, or the way out, that is.

The hallway was narrow and made of big blocks of grey stone, water running down the walls. The room I came from was kept in good condition, here time had done its toll. Every other meter there was a paraffin lamp, adding to the atmosphere. The door slammed behind me, making me jump – I froze for a second, but no Beasts in sight. This had to be a cellar under the Pevensy-House. Could the house have been in their possession all the time? I couldn’t remember when the house had been built, it had always just been there, an eccentric part of town.

The corridor had several doors, some made of wood like the one I came in through, and some made of iron, with small windows high up. This was a dungeon if I ever saw one. Why would they need dungeons? Oh, William. My heart yearned for him, but the rest of me was disgusted – it was an unsettling feeling, being so torn.

Come Josephine, in my flying machine…

I dropped the torch I was carrying, a tsunami of shock crashed through my body. What in Lilith`s name was this? Was it part of their torture? Was I meant to get here? The song pushed me back to the time I was about six or seven, I was out playing on the swing, begging Natan to push me so I could get higher.

“Don`t you wish witches really could fly?” Natan laughed at my wish, only three years older than me he seemed so grown up, and wise. Older brothers knew everything, I was sure of that. “Push me, Natan, I want to see how high I can get, maybe it`ll feel like flying.” He walked over to me but didn’t get close enough to push me. “Can`t you just summon the wind and make it give you speed?” I put out my tongue to him and glared, “No, silly, we can`t use the elements to our entertainment, mom said so.” Natan just smiled and finally gave me a small bump in the back. “More!” My laughter echoed in the big garden and mixed with Natan`s answering one. I got higher and higher, and when I closed my eyes, I could almost imagine that I WAS flying. Natan`s voice was low behind me, but I recognised the song. “Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes, up she goes…”

The voice floated through the rooms; deeper than last time I heard the song. Which door? It had to be from one with a window, since I could hear it so well. What would I see? George or Jafet waiting for me with a mocking smile? William? I wanted to run towards the sound, but at the same time I wanted to turn and get as far away from the house as possible.

Balance yourself like a bird on a beam…

In the air she goes, there she goes…

I tried to speak, but my throat closed up, allowing just a raw whisper to get out. There were three doors with small windows with bars covering them. I peeped quickly in the first one, the room looked like something straight out of a movie set. Hay on the floor, and a low bed on one side. Nothing else. Empty.

A man was sitting on the bed in the next one, leaning his back against the wall. His eyes were closed, head turned upwards. The matted hair was dark and long, beard covering the lower part of his face. He was skinny, dressed in plain cotton trousers in an undeterminable colour and a blue shirt. He had nothing on his dirty feet.

Natan.

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