The Girl with No Name Ch. 30

Also, she was extremely concerned about the lost barrels of cannon-powder. That powder had not just disappeared: it had gone down into the cracks between separated layers of rock. Enockt seemed not be worried about that risk, as though the extra powder had ceased to exist the moment it fell out of sight. If Danka's observations concerning the cracks in the cliff were correct and the explosives forced the rocks to separate, it was likely Enockt was about to trigger a much larger disaster than he could possibly imagine.

The mass began inside the cathedral with the presentation of the crucifix before the oversized Virgin-Mother sheltered in the grotto. Prince Hristóckt was escorted to the front as the guest of honor and the representative of the region's secular authority. Danka had to remain outside along with the lower-ranking guards and servants. All those men were staring at her, given that she was one of the few women present, and the only one who was naked.

Danka realized part of Enockt's plan was to use her as a distraction. That was why he refused to let anyone warn her about the plot to kill the Bishop. Her suspicions were confirmed when she saw him skulking around the plaza in his worker's outfit. No one else would notice his suspicious behavior because the men were all too busy watching her. With so many eyes on her, Enockt assumed Danka would be too nervous to notice him or think about anything apart from the embarrassment she was enduring.

From what she had overheard, Danka knew that she'd have to be as far from the Bishop as possible the moment he lit the commemorative incense, because that was the signal Enockt planned to use to detonate the explosives. She also realized she had no hope of sneaking away from the plaza unnoticed. That simply wasn't going to happen. If she wanted to get away, she'd have to jump up and run. She'd have to choose the exact right moment to do it, an instant during the ceremony when everyone would be focused on protocol and reluctant to pursue her.

The sun was setting, which meant the outdoor portion of the mass was about to commence. The deafening bells rang and echoed against the cliffs as the procession came out the main doors. A group of priests, ringing hand-bells and swinging incense burners, came out, leading a group of companions carrying the large crucifix. They were followed by the Bishop, a group of more senior priests, and secular leaders, including the prince. Enockt had vanished.

Time was running out for Danka to prevent her soul from separating from her body. She had a hard time working up the courage to move, with all those men staring at her. Also, she wasn't sure she wanted to escape. Part of her tried to hold her back, the part of her soul that told her all existence was vanity and that to continue in the Realm of the Living was pointless. After all, wasn't everyone she ever cared about already in the Realm of the Afterlife? Wasn't it time to hold up her mirror and join them? However, the lonely and defeated part of her character was no match for the simple instinct to prolong her life, no matter what. She was a peasant before she was anything else, and if peasants were good at anything, they were good at surviving. Her instincts took over and cleared away the sad reflections her lost loves and the desire to join them. Her thoughts focused on the singular goal of living to see the next sunrise.

She eased off her knees, ducked behind a group of startled officials and ran to the edge of the plaza. Spectators turned around as she passed through the southern gate and disappeared into a wooded side trail. It was a disgraceful breech of respect and protocol. Maybe she had gone mad or was possessed, but the Church officials would have to deal with her later. They couldn't break away to pursue a disgraced servant precisely at the most important and dignified moment of the mass.

She avoided running down the main road, because as it descended it turned and crossed in front of the plaza. Danka knew she did not want to be below the site of the blast when it took place. Instead, she pushed sideways along a narrow path on a mountain slope. She ran past a startled man in a worker's tunic who was holding a piece of flint and several fuses. She ignored him and kept running, pushing through bushes and trees towards an outcropping. She followed the trail around the rocks and moved onto a steep slope covered by large trees. She no longer could see the church, so she figured she was safe.

She was expecting a loud blast and had covered her ears. She was not expecting an earsplitting crack that sounded like a lightning bolt hitting the ground right next to her. The bang, magnified by the echoes of the cliff walls, took her breath away. The lighting crack was followed by a muffled explosion. The second blast was more sinister. It was not as loud as the first explosion, but it was much larger, causing both the air and the ground to tremble. The second blast didn't end quickly like the first one. Instead, it changed from a roar to a rumble, punctuated with loud cracks and the sound of large objects breaking. At first Danka thought she could hear some screams, but the screaming stopped long before the rumbling stopped. Several large objects crashed through the nearby treetops and something hard slammed into the outcrop, dislodging a boulder and sending it tumbling down the slope. Within a few seconds clouds of choking dust billowed past the outcrop and obscured Danka's vision. The rumbling stopped and for a long time all she could hear were the chattering of panicked birds.

It was dark by the time the dust settled and Danka felt it was safe to investigate what happened. Fortunately, the moon was overhead, so she had some light to make her way along the rocks. As soon as she passed the outcrop, the light-colored dust covering the trees augmented the moonlight and made it possible to see the ground. However, as she moved towards the church, she couldn't see it. That was strange. Certainly she'd see at least a bell-tower or part of the dome, but there was nothing there. As she moved forward and stared at the spot where she knew the church should be, she felt the ground slide underneath her feet. She frantically pulled back and grabbed at a small tree trunk, only to dislodge it and send it tumbling downwards. She crawled up loosened dirt and gravel and gasped as she finally found solid ground. More trees and debris slide past her and tumbled into the void.

She was shaking when she stared at the spot where the trail should have continued. There was nothing there. She looked in the direction of the church. She saw nothing, except for a perpendicular cliff-face. The church and the ledge it sat on were completely gone. Was she imagining things? She looked again. There was nothing but a sheer wall of rock, but it was not completely bare. The back wall of the church, complete with the Virgin Mother statue, remained embedded in the cliff-side. The rest of the structure and the ground it sat on had completely fallen away. The statue serenely prayed over a drop of nearly 100 fathoms.

Danka's heart raced and she struggled to breathe as she tried to suppress the raw panic that had taken control of her soul. The event and the physical change were so overwhelming that it took her mind several minutes to comprehend what had just happened. Her body shook uncontrollably as she backed away from the void, as the new precipice continued to consume trees and soil along its edge. She could see nothing below, except billows of settling dust faintly lit by the moon. The colors and lighting around her were all wrong: everything looked like the world had been covered with a shroud of death.

Danka realized she needed to retreat to the "safer' side of the outcropping, see about finding an alternate route so she could descend, find a safe place to hide, and figure out what to do next. She worked her way past the loosened outcrop. Just seconds after she moved beyond it, boulders dislodged into a rockslide and went tumbling down the mountainside. Danka was left breathless by the narrow miss. Had she passed under that spot only a few seconds later, she would have been crushed. She knew that before doing anything else, she needed to settle her nerves. She knelt and desperately prayed to the Ancients, begging them to either rescue her or grant her a quick separation of her soul from her body. A few minutes later she calmed down enough to continue moving.

The moon settled towards the west as she studied the steep slope for paths leading downwards. In some places there was enough light to navigate through rocks and outcroppings, and in other areas she needed to grope her way through darkness under the trees. Fortunately, the steepest and most dangerous areas were also the ones with the fewest trees and most visibility. She focused on what she needed to do at each moment, not on how high above the ground she was or how far she still had to go. As she moved closer to the base of the mountain, she could hear human voices and see an enormous pile of tumbled rocks. Everything was covered with dust, which became much thicker as she emerged onto flatter ground. Guards and civilian on-lookers carrying torches lined the edge of the rockslide. The same instinct that forced her to move away from the explosion and guided her down the cliff told her to stay hidden and avoid being seen by the crowd. She slipped around them and made her way towards the pen where the expedition's horses were being kept. Danka decided that she needed to get away from Sihídikti Ris as quickly as possible. She'd return to Rika Chorna, tell Zánktia what happened and that Enockt was likely dead, reclaim her bucket, and leave the Vice Duchy. She didn't know where she'd go, but she knew she definitely needed to leave the eastern valley.

By that time her mind had cleared enough to allow her to realize what had happened. The entire ledge on which the cathedral sat had fallen in a single landslide, due to the cracks in the rock and Enockt's over-zealous use of gunpowder. The first explosion she heard must have been the blast at the surface that killed the Bishop and undoubtedly anyone else standing next to him. The second rumbling explosion would have been from the barrels of gunpowder poured into the gaps. That blast blew apart the inside of the ledge and caused it to disintegrate and collapse, taking with it the plaza and everything else except the back wall of the cathedral. There was no way anyone participating in the mass could have survived. Not only was the Bishop dead, but entire upper echelon of the True Believers' Church would be dead as well, along with Prince Hristóckt and the town councilmen of Sihídikti Ris.

She did not want anyone to see her. She felt that, as the only survivor from the pilgrimage, she would immediately be suspect, especially given the superstitious world-view of the True Believers. They'd have to blame someone for the disaster and she'd be an easy target. Her head would be wanted by... let's see... the True Believers' Clergy, the Vice-Duke's family, the town of Sihídikti Ris, the towns of other dignitaries attending the mass: in other words, the entire Vice-Duchy. Whether or not she was being paranoid didn't matter. There were times in her life she had been paranoid, but "irrational" fear was the only thing that had kept her alive.

She spent the next hour walking along a dust-covered path towards the corral where she remembered the procession's horses were being kept. Her plan was to hope the guards were distracted enough to allow her to steal a horse. She'd ride west, hide until she could steal some clothing, and sneak back to the safe-house in Rika Chorna. She was relieved to hear the whinnying of horses. So, no one had moved them. Good. The corral seemed deserted. That was even better.

She quietly hopped a fence and looked for an animal that seemed relatively calm. She was only a mediocre rider and would have to find a horse that would be tolerant and not try to throw her. As the more nervous horses sidled around her, she identified a couple of calmer animals near a feeding trough. Just as she approached them, she realized none of the horses in the corral had a saddle. She had wasted her time, because without a saddle she couldn't ride. She didn't want to give up on the plan to steal a horse, because it was the only means of escaping she could think of. So, she left the corral to look for a saddle and reigns. Fortunately, the tent where the supplies were being kept was not guarded. In fact, it seemed nothing in the corral was being guarded. Maybe all of the guards had abandoned their posts because of the landslide. A lit lantern had been left outside. She'd have to take it in with her to see what she was doing. She selected a saddle and reigns. She put out the lamp and went back out.

She was careless upon leaving the tent and had not bothered to check outside before emerging. Right outside the door were six local guards she had never seen before. The guards looked totally shocked as soon as the young woman came into their sight. Danka's determination to escape vanished. She had been caught and that was the end of it. She dropped the saddle and stood listlessly, waiting for the men to grab her.

The guards had their muskets ready, but they did not move towards her. Instead, they were backing away. Danka stepped forward and held out her hands. One of the guards, in a trembling voice asked:

"Who... who... who are you? What do you want from us, Mistress?"

"Who am I? Who do you think I am, Protector? Who could I possibly be?"

"Please Mistress. Have pity on us."

"Pity on you? Why should I have pity on you?"

The six men sank to their knees and began praying to the Virgin-Mother. Suddenly Danka understood the guards were mortally afraid of her, but why? Was there something strange about her appearance? She glanced at her arm and noticed it was covered with light-colored dust. So were her legs. She was covered from head to toe with dust. Maybe in the dark camp the dust made her look like a ghost.

"Mistress, please. We are simple men. We have our families. We'll give you whatever you want."

Danka realized that if the men thought she was a ghost, that misunderstanding might be her salvation. She also realized they were obscenely drunk. She had to think of a good response that would keep up the ruse long enough for her to saddle a horse and get out of the camp. If she chose the right words, the guards might even help her.

"And what could you possibly give me, sinners? Look at yourselves, drunk on your master's wine. Your commander leaves, entrusting you, and this is how you repay him? Why shouldn't I take you with me? I have taken far worthier men than you. Answer, drunkards."

"We are sinners, Mistress, and drunkards. We confess. We'll give you anything. Even the Bishop's horse. Just please show us mercy."

Danka's heart raced. The Bishop's horse. They were offering her the Bishop's horse. Trying to maintain a controlling monotone in her voice she responded:

"Very well, drunken sinners. Put the Bishop's saddle and saddlebag on the Bishop's horse. Tie him to the fence so your patron can make his last ride. But that won't spare you. The only thing that can spare you is prayer. When you have the horse ready, you are to face east and kneel, the six of you, close your eyes, and pray to the Virgin Mother. You will pray until sunrise. If the sun touches your faces, you will know that I chose to spare you."

"Thank you, Mistress."

"And another thing. You will keep your heads bowed in my presence. I forbid you to look up. You drunken sinners are not worthy of looking at me."

Danka spent several of the longest minutes of her life waiting for the men to bring the Bishop's horse and saddle him. She tried to stand impassively, terrified that at any moment the men would sober up and realized they were being tricked. However, as soon as they had the horse ready, they lined up facing east and knelt.

"Pray, drunkards, pray! Pray loud, so the Realm of Sin can hear your repentance! If I choose to spare you, I grant you permission to stop praying when the eastern sun touches your faces."

The men began reciting a common prayer to the Virgin-Mother.

"Louder, drunken sinners! How can the Virgin-Mother hear such soft mumbling? Louder!"

The men prayed loud enough to hide most other sounds within their earshot. Danka led the Bishop's horse to the edge of the camp. Remembering she was still naked, she decided to steal a guard's uniform. She peaked into a tent and saw bedrolls laid out, covered with various articles of clothing. She gathered up the pieces necessary to assemble a complete guard's uniform, including a helmet and boots. She worried getting dressed would take too long, that at any moment one of those guards would sober up, realize he was being tricked, and come after her. She needed to leave immediately. She could worry about getting dressed later, after she had put some distance between herself and Sihídikti Ris. She found a black cloth bag and stuffed in the clothing. Then she saw something else, a crossbow. She couldn't believe her good fortune. A crossbow... and a satchel with bolts. She grabbed an extra saddlebag to cover the church logo of the one belonging to the Bishop, slung her weapon over her shoulder, and mounted the horse. He was a fine stallion, totally black to match the cleric's dark clothing.

She galloped out the west exit of the corral in the pre-dawn light, desperate to get as much distance as possible between herself and the disaster before the sun rose. Ride... escape...

As she emerged onto the road and galloped around a corner hidden by a large stone building, she stumbled into a large group of panicky residents running around on foot carrying torches. She didn't have time to change the direction of the horse: her only option was to charge right down the middle of the group. The crowd screamed and ran away in panic. Danka flinched, expecting to feel an arrow or a musket-ball hitting her body at any instant. She emerged on the other side of the mob unscathed; shocked no one had taken a shot at her. She glanced back at the crowd. Most had dropped their torches and were still running away from the road. No one was trying to go after her.

Danka did not realize until later that she was still covered in light-colored dust and in the darkness looked more like a ghost than anything else. She was riding a black horse with a black saddle, saddle-bag, and cloth bag which were invisible to anyone on the ground at night. The townsfolk, already in a panic because of the landslide's noise and dust, thought she was a ghost floating through the air.

Desperate to avoid any more encounters with local residents, Danka veered off the main road and galloped along a deserted country lane passing through some orchards. There was just enough light in the pre-dawn sky to allow the horse to see where he was going. Just as the sun was about to rise, she came up to a stream. She figured she should let the horse have a drink. She remembered she was still naked and covered in dust, so she quickly bathed and got dressed. She couldn't do anything about her filthy hair without another woman to help her wash and re-braid it, but at least the rest of her was clean enough to put on the guard outfit. She pulled the helmet over her braids and slung the crossbow over her shoulder.

The horse finished his drink and was ready to continue. She re-mounted and continued her flight west. She knew, as long as she didn't get too close to anyone, a guard uniform was the best disguise and the best hope she had of making it back to the safe-house in Rika Chorna.

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The six guards remained on their knees, sobering up over the next two hours as they prayed to the Virgin-Mother. They cried with relief and joy when they felt the sun shining on their faces. Even after the sun was up, they remained kneeling and praying for a few extra minutes, just to be sure they truly were forgiven. When they opened their eyes and stood up, a horrifying sight greeted them. The cathedral and the cliff it sat on were gone! In their place nothing remained except a sheer stone rock-face! They looked at each other, and then back at the cliff. In the middle of newly exposed granite was a large gold rectangle, and in the middle of that gold rectangle the famous statue of the Virgin Mother prayed serenely over a sheer wall of rock and a jumble of massive broken boulders at its base. They couldn't believe what they were seeing. They didn't want to believe. How was it possible the cathedral was... gone? And why? What did it mean?