Chapter Five

They entered the secret passageway and heard a click as they did so. They had triggered a foot plate inside that closed the bookcase behind them. Fortuntaly, as they discovered, there was a switch on the wall that would reopen it.

They went down the stairs, headed  underground, guided by the torchlight through thickest darkness in the stairwell. As they emerged into a room, they found the torch was unneeded as it was lit upon entry by some sorcerial means. The room was a sizeable study area with bookcases with many books upon them, as well as many study desks and chairs. They examined some of the books and found they were mostly blasphemous, heretical, sorcerous, and demonic tomes.

‘The lair of the false and the devil’s children,’ said Gamallio

‘A wicked priest must’ve ministered in this church, leading the faithful astray,’ said Centen.

‘If we encounter him, if he lives, we will confront him on this unrighteous store,’ Gamallio.

They found a trapdoor with more stairs leading down, so down they went, having found no sign of the boy in this room.

Entering the next room it was a dormitory area with many beds, (they figured the priest taught in some kind of underground school and haven for heretics and devil worshippers here) and kitchen area, were they presumed the priest (and anyone else) would spend nights while studying evil literature. There was no sign of the boy here either, but another trapdoor in the room, leading further down.

Going down, they found the next room was another study with bookcases and table and chair. On the chair was a skeleton dressed in a cassock, the priest had apparently died sitting as his desk, in front of him was some obscene work of pornographic literature, ‘The Sultry Sorceress.’ Examining some of the books in on the shelves, they seemed to all be works of pornography and vulgar literature as well.

At the opposite end of the room from the stairs was a passage going some way in, make it a baker’s dozen in yards, or a score of meters perhaps, I’m not too good with measurements, and a set of doors that were open within it. They got to the foot of the passage and looked in towards the open doors, thinking this was were the boy must have got to. Looking in through the doors where they were it was dark, so they go their torch back out, however as they did so a thick mist appeared in the doorway that was both alarming and alluring, inviting and forbidding, enchanted but natural.

They went inside the passage and stood just outside the open doorway, making for mystification, building excitement, and stirring trepidation. They both looked deep into the mist and then at each other, then turned back to the misted doorway stepped in, going through a misty corridor, and with mystification made, excitement built, and trepidation stirred, emerged into none other than the lavatory.

Perhaps you guessed it, because the priest and his students would need one if they were spending nights here.

And call it a toilet, latrine, bog, or loo if you wish. One of those is probably preferable, because lavatory is almost certainly far too posh a term for this tainted repulsiveness of a ‘poo palace’ as a sign read near the doorway. And that might be the right term for it, it was absolutely enormous for a toilet, bigger than the church itself, vast in fact, but unlike your usual palace for royalty, obscenely revolting to speak its bare minimum description: I won’t describe the scene itself as that might violate human rights by such hideousness conveyed.

But the first thing to strike them, of course, was the stench, yet that isn’t even the word for it, it was far more evil than a stench, you’d think the food at the Glorious Chub prominently worthy of a rave review compared to this smell. And by all rights it should drive anyone straight back from whence they came rather than linger in such vile air, however there was some sort of sick, curious (and probably corrupt) attraction to the lavatory (I’ve changed my mind, posh term it is), perhaps it was to do with the power of the mist, which was almost gone but just about lingering in the toilet (we’ll swap between terms as we fancy), that somehow enticed one to want to explore the area.

And it had some strange things in it for a toilet, an arcade games machine, a standing telescope, and an orangery extension, as well as some other things that you just won’t believe were in a toilet if I mention them. But you probably are wondering about more of a description, what did the ‘poo palace’ really look like? After all you don’t often get toilets bigger than churches, especially not underneath churches.

Well OK, and not to stick the eyes everywhere and in each cubicle, they were in a gender neutral zone and it was something like a cross between a medieval and a modern day toilet, with a touch of sixteenth century novelty to it, much of the décor a questionable chartreuse colour, but not as bad as those walls at the Glorious Chub. To get into the apparatus, much was overflowing, some with a diarrhoeaic colouration, others where brimming with past days’ brown contents but smelling all too fresh, and some of the bins were competing with the toilets for use, there was lavatory practise in the sinks too, and there were puddles and piles on the floor that were competing with the toilets for use.

There were some kind of I suppose we can call them, ‘special,’ toilets I have never seen before that had all too explicit instructions on the wall of how to use them, and encouraged ‘exploration of unconventional methods’ and seeking advice from more experienced users for a fuller experience.

There were showers and they were gross as a poo pit too, and after examination of the area, they definitely surmised sins of the number two had been committed.

Now, being a good way up from where they had entered, and having had a good look around the area for the boy and not finding him, they had noted there were some other doorways too, but had delayed entering any in further search, being distracted by a sign that said, amongst other things, considerations for a dinery extension were being made for the toilet, but the shed was off the agenda. There appeared to be some Latinate code writing too. Gamallio being something of a proficient puzzle solver was carefully examining it, thinking it might contain some important clue about the area. Centen joined him in this activity, making hopeful, if probably useless, suggestions at his remarks on it.

As they continued in this study, the mist, which was mostly by the entrance area started to pour in from the corridor leading into the toilets, changing from enchanted but natural to a stygian fog as thick as fully lathered butter frost on a pudding, floating forward with foggy thrusts in cimmerianly caliginous creeping form, and threatening vicious misty assault to anything that got in its way as it began a victim-scanning patrol.

The monks, with their backs to the mist were unaware of its approach, too well engaged with the sign, and the mist continued to float forward, eagerly looking for prey. Getting a way up the toilet, it soon spotted the monks and gave a misty menacing smile.

Perhaps the purpose of the disgustingly curious attraction of the poo palace was to lure victims for a misty demise?

The monks were still engaged with the sign as it got closer, growing with wicked hazy glee at the opportunity to rain foggy doom on a pair of hapless latrine loiterers.

Slowly and steadily it got closer and closer, and still they were locked on the sign in some complicated discussion as to code cracking, and yet closer it got with foggy malevolence in its dark guise, and just when I thought it could get no closer before being upon them, Gamallio cracked the code, ‘“if it should come for you, know it is bound to this place unless one should betray the heart”, I wonder what that’s talking about,’ he said and Centen had just turned around, giving up as Gamallio translated this, confronted with the mistific horror before him, freezing by the foul fog.

The mist let out a misty cackle, fully announcing itself.

Gamallio spun around at the horrifying noise and shouted a powerful prayer to heaven. He grabbed hold of Centen to make a dash with him, but his brother was still frozen in terror of the misty villain.

‘Have faith in God, man!’ cried Gamallio, and he gave Centen a sharp slap, snapping him out of his limb locked state, and they ran for it, with the mist pursuing them.

They were headed for a doorway not far from them, going deeper into the loo. Gamallio, being an old man, couldn’t make swift pace, so they made slow escape, Centen not wanting to outstrip and abandon his brother despite panic panging him, but the mist made fairly slow floaty chase, mist not being the fastest foe to fly from.

A snailish flee and follow you could say, and I can tell you, I thought the mist was going to have the better of it when Gamallio stumbled over, Centen nearly fainted in fear at how close the mist got then; but he summoned all his courage, pulled his brother up, and with a final somewhat fast, but still overall slow dash, they made it through the doorway.

Making their way through a long, filthy passageway they emerged into another area of the toilets.

It was the gents. And it was even viler than the previous area. The mist, knowing which toilet it was, hadn’t pursued them into it, being possessed not of the bravery to enter a place so nasty.  I’m not cruel enough to describe it this time, but suffice to say the smell was worse. A lot worse in fact. They weren’t sure they could last in this area long with such a horrific smell.

However, they soon spotted the boy. He was lying unconscious on the floor. He had probably retreated into the gents from the mist too and passed out from the villainous stench, in fact a stench so villainous it made villainy seem all fine and dandy. They knew if they lingered too long they’d probably drop unconscious too. So, Centen scooped the boy up and over his shoulder, and noting there was another passageway leading out, they went through it, thinking it better to take a different way out. It looped back into the gender neutral zone. The mist was nowhere to be seen. Apparently it had disappeared. They were safe it seemed, but made a hasty escape nonetheless, leaving back through the doorway they came in through to the lavatory.

They went to the dormitory area and laid the boy down on one of the beds, hoping he’d recover, and offering prayers to speed it. Being escaped from the horrific stench of the lavatory seemed to do the trick and the boy soon stirred and opened his eyes to his rescuers. They explained to him that they had been sent by his sister to find him, the boy was relieved and explained how he had discovered the secret passageway in the church after his sister left and, curious as a boy is, went in to explore. He too had fled from the mist and must’ve feinted in the gents from the smell as suspected. The monks explained their vow, they said they’d redon their blindfolds and he could lead them out of the church. So it was so, and the boy was reunited with his overjoyed sister.

They discussed the underground heretical and pornographic study rooms, the dead priest, and their close encounter with the mist, wondering about a possible relationship with the priest and the mist of that vile latrine. They couldn’t figure it out but supposed it might have been a summoned demon, devil spirit, or some sorcery was involved. Gamallio explained the code he had cracked, and supposed it applied to the mist, thinking perhaps it was a demon then.

‘“If it should come for you, know It is bound to this place unless one should betray the heart” that’s definitely what it said, is it?’ said Centen.

‘Definitely,’ said Gamallio

 ‘I suppose we should be OK?’ said Centen

‘Have faith,’ said Gamallio, and repeating himself, froze midway through the word ‘faith,’ recalling his broken vow when he had plunged into the river, and looked at the promiscuous sorceress, wanting to be saved.

‘Are you OK, brother?’ said Centen.

‘Yes, yes, quite,’ said Gamallio, pulling himself out of the troubling thought, ‘I think the hunger might be getting to me is all, ‘we should make a move.’

Reila told told them she’d give them a lift on her wagon to Ninidom and get them some food when they got there. They thanked her and got into the wagon, ready to head off.

They hadn’t gotten that far and the church was still in view, and while the boy was looking back out at it as they travelled, he could see some sort of dark form emerging from it. It was the mist indeed. It was coming after them..

‘It’s that mist,’ said the boy.

‘The mist?!’ said Centen, ‘I thought we had faith?’

‘It’s quite far off, I don’t think it can catch us, it looks too slow.’

‘Still, we better make pace,’ said Centen, ‘why’s it coming for us?’

‘Yes make pace, that’s a good idea,’ said Gamallio.

Reila, heeding this command picked up the speed. However, doing so the mist that had only been slowly floating towards them picked up pace too in a sudden burst of foggy excitement.

‘Actually looks like its getting quicker,’ said the boy, ‘its definitely closer now.’

‘Don’t worry, we’ll outstrip it,’ said Reila, and sped up, however this only served to encourage the mist and it made swifter pursuit after them.

‘It’s getting closer!’ shouted the boy

‘Giddy up!’ shouted Reila.

‘How are we doing?!’ said Centen.

‘It’s closer!’ said the boy and they cut through the wind faster yet, the mist speeding up and not at all far behind them now, ‘I think it’s gonna get us,’ said the boy, terrified. Then Gamallio,who had been sitting with growing guilt but hoping for escape, shouted, ‘I’m the one it wants!’

‘What do you mean?’ said Centen.

Gamallio hastily explained how, back by the bridge, in sudden desperation to escape the water, he had broken his vow in the river and looked at the sorceress, quite to the shock of his brother, ‘so I’m the one it wants, my sin has finally caught up with me, but we needn’t all perish on account of me.’

‘Brother, pray!’ said Centen.

‘There’s only one thing that will work now, said Gamallio standing up and fumbling to where he figured the edged of the wagon was , ‘ride on!’ he said and leapt off the wagon, ‘ride on!’ he shouted again, landing hard on the ground.

‘Brother!’ shouted Centen.

‘There’s nothing we can do now,’ said Reila, glancing behind her as the mist enveloped the old monk. The boy watched as Gamallio disappeared from sight in the evil haze. The mist was satisfied having caught its holy prey.

‘Is he out of sight?’ asked Centen.

‘He’s out of sight,’ said the boy

Tears swelled beneath his blindfold. He was crushed. They were safe, but dear was the price for a brother’s lack of faith.