Episode C - Stoneskin, Stoneheart

Sarah couldn't breathe.  As she fell through the wormhole trapped in the monster's embrace, it seemed that no matter how hard she tried, she could find no air to inhale.  There was no air, only blue-green fire and rippling walls that reflected their descent like an organic hall of mirrors, over and over, world without end.

She gasped for breath that would not come, flailing about in the clutches of her monstrous captor, eyes darting wildly from one nightmare to the other - the great stony wings, the cruel beak and blazing eyes, the shimmering walls and burning air - all hope dying as she knew she must be.

I cannot take much more.

And then, as abruptly as it had begun, the burning, the reflections, the seemingly endless fall, simply stopped.  Real air surrounded her, she felt its cooling pressure against her skin, felt it flood her lungs until she was nearly intoxicated by it and then she felt a series of pains, sharp and dull, as first she hit against something hard and unyielding and then the monster crushed against her with the same force.

She screamed, her pitch wavering with the intensity of the pain, and then she blacked out.

When she came to she was in a small stone room lit by a single torch through a tiny grating from outside.  Apart from the grating there were no windows and no doors.  The whole chamber seemed to have been hewn out of the sandstone from inside, though how that could be possible and how Sarah had gotten inside it she couldn't imagine.

Did the wormhole open here? she wondered.  If that was the case she would have expected to see the winged monster to be in there with her, or at the very least some of its ashes, but she was alone, seated on the rough stone floor, her body aching like one big bruise.

            She felt across her chest, to where the pain was at its worst and winced as she applied only the tiniest bit of pressure.  Broken rib, she thought, at the very least.  Then she felt down to the pocket of her jeans where another sharp pain suggested the probable fate of her mobile phone.  Sure enough, the portable computer she would never be without had smashed to pieces.  None of the shards was very large and fortunately, though they had slashed and scratched her leg, none seemed to have penetrated too deep.

            Taking a deep breath she sat upright as much as she could and then began to roll her jeans down around her legs.  There was a fair bit of dried blood which stung as it peeled away from her skin with the denim, but once she had managed to get the trousers down to just above her knees she was able to see clearly the damage.  It would heal in time, but she wasn’t sure how clean the wound was, or whether infection was likely in this stoney place.

            Are there any doctors?  Is there anyone else here at all?

            She attempted to stagger to her feet, aiming to reach the grating and to see what might lie beyond it, but it took more effort than she had anticipated.  Whilst the injury to her leg was not as severe as it could have been, her muscles seemed weak, almost numb and, rethinking through what she could remember, there was no obvious reason for that.  Was it something to do with the wormhole, or did someone do this to me?

She had to settle for an undignified sort of bum-shuffle across the floor, before reaching up to the lintel of the little alcove which held the grating and pulling herself the whole wobbly way up.  What she found was disappointing.  The light of the torch in the space beyond was so bright that all she could see was glaring fire and darkness beyond.  Anything could have been hidden beyond it and she would hardly see a single detail.

She slumped back down onto the floor with a sigh and realised that she had no idea how to get out.  She was entirely dependent on the outside world which might or might not know she was there and which might or might not care.

She started to cry.

It must have been several hours later when she was stirred awake by some noise or other.  She started from a dreamless sleep she did not remember falling into and was instantly greeted by the pain of her wounds and, more horrible still, complete silence.

And yet she was sure she had heard a noise, not merely dreamed or imagined it.  She glanced up at the torch light flickering through the small grating and wondered if something was happening beyond, if there was someone out there, watching her perhaps, or waiting for something.  She held her breath and listened very carefully.  She could hear the crackle of the fire and the incessant pounding of her own heart, but beyond that, if she strained to hear it, she thought she could just make out a soft, slightly guttural sound, like someone, or something, breathing outside.

Two instincts were at war within her, the one to stay perfectly quiet, breathing as softly as she could, lying perfectly still; the other to shout out, to cry for help and hope that whoever was out there would take pity on her.  The latter instinct won and, though it pained her, she called out as loudly and clearly as she could muster, "Is somebody out there?  I can hear you!  I need a doctor!"  Silence.  "Will you help me?"

The silence continued for a minute or so longer and then, with sudden, jarring contrast, the sound of heavy footsteps on crumbling stone could be heard outside.  Sarah's heart seemed to leap into her throat as she listened and waited, but the footsteps were receding and soon faded away to nothing at all.  Neither help nor hindrance would be coming.

She stared at the wall for quite some time, just listening, hoping and fearing that the footsteps would return, but after about an hour it became obvious that they would not, at least not any time soon.  She was left alone with just her thoughts for company.

She thought of Thomas and how he would be reacting now.  Would he be angry?  Would he be trying to find a way to recreate that wormhole?  Sarah didn’t know whether the ashes would be reusable, or whether Maria had kept any more aside.  If so perhaps they could reopen the wormhole with ease, or perhaps not.  She didn’t understand the process well enough to be sure of anything, but she could hope.

Then she realised she could do something else.  At the Advent Explored course they have talked at the end about the importance of prayer.  Sarah had been unsure then, still not knowing what she thought about God and the Gospel they have spent four weeks explaining to her.  She thought she got it, certainly, but she didn’t know whether she could actually believe it.  Now she was in an even more unbelievable situation and there was nothing she could do about it.  Prayer didn’t seem so silly when it was the only option left open to you.

Feeling self-conscious, despite her solitude, she clasped her hands together as she remembered others doing as a child, though she didn’t recall seeing Thomas or Jen doing it when they prayed.  Then she closed her eyes and said her halting, uncertain prayer out loud.

“God, if you’re there… I know I haven’t believed in you and I still don’t know if I do, or not, but… but I’m all alone here and I don’t know what to do.  I miss home.  I miss my mum and I miss Thomas and I just don’t know if there’s any way I’ll ever see either of them again.  It’s probably a bit much asking for your help when I’ve never done anything for you, but I don’t know what else to do.  I’m helpless and you, so my new friends keep telling me, are strong.  Please help me, God.  I am in your hands.”

She flicked her eyes open, unfolded her hands and then realising she hadn’t finished the way she was used to seeing people end their prayers, she quickly clapped them back together, closed her eyes and added, “Amen!”

When she opened her eyes again nothing had changed.  She was still sealed into the little stone cell with no obvious way out and she didn’t feel any better about it either.

Well, fat lot of good that did, she thought.  She dropped her head back so that it was leaning against the rough wall, closed her eyes and screamed as loud as she could, letting all the fear, tension and frustration out in that one, extended syllable.

As the sound of the scream died away Sarah felt her tears coming back and was about to give in to them when she realised that what she first took to be the echoes of her own voice fading off down some corridor outside, were actually the sounds of two voices approaching.  They were both gravelly and harsh, like that of the winged monster, but they sounded more intelligent and more coherent.  She sat as still as she could and listened to them approaching.

“…the Slatewing says that she has something to do with the construct and I think we can use that.”

“You want to hold her to ransom?”

“I want revenge.  If she can help us get to those who wronged us, then I don’t care how.”

“Dealing with humans is always risky...”

“I know that.  I know that only too well.”

“Then what do you propose to do?”

“I haven’t decided yet.  But if she has something to do with Ellis Graves, then she has to be useful.”

Sarah gasped as she heard Ellis’ name being mentioned.  The sound was sharp and high and seemed to cut through the conversation happening outside.

“She’s awake,” the second voice said.

“Then it’s time we introduced ourselves.”

There was a sort of clicking sound and then suddenly a section of the wall a little larger than a normal house door which had seemed as solid and complete as any other began to slide out of the cell and then away to one side.  In the new doorway stood two tall reptilian creatures covered in scales very similar the ones the winged monster had worn, but these creatures had no wings, only long, slender limbs and a tapering, spiked tail.  Hovering above dark pits in their heads, their eyes burned brightly.  One had eyes of a cold, pale blue colour that was almost white, the other’s burned dimly orange.

“Hello little one,” the first creature said in a soft voice like shale sliding down a hillside as it stared down at her with its cold, cold eyes, “my name is Frostfire and you and I have some catching up to do.”

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