Despair

There is no pit so deep, that God's love is not deeper still.

~ Corrie Ten Boom

The boat rushed into the oncoming mist of morning with easy grace, swaying as it charged up one wave, only to slide down the back of another. The wind was strong, sending them on their way, but there were no stars to guide them even though the foreboding sky above was almost as dark as night. A bank of clouds as black as pitch was rolling towards them, driving the boat before it like a bit of thistledown.

"They aren't following us," Edmund remarked when he had looked astern, staring into the offing as the islands that lay like dark dreams slowly vanished in their foaming wake.

"I know," Peter said grimly, and Edmund understood what he left unspoken. The Norden would rather let them escape than brave the coming storm.

"I have a compass," Peter said. "If only we had a bit of light."

In silent reply, Edmund pulled the shining ball of golden thread from his pocket. Held close to the compass face, it shed just enough light to see the dancing needle.

"South-west," Peter said straightening and reaching out to let out one of the sheets while Edmund hauled in the other so the small vessel was running before the wind. As they bent to coil up the loose rope ends, Edmund looked up to see Peter pass a hand over his face as if he thought he could wipe the exhaustion from his brow.

"Knackered," Edmund muttered.

The wind grew stronger.

Huddled next to the mast, wrapped in Alasdair's cloak as well as her own, Margaret was the first to hear the low rumble of thunder coming over the dark horizon. As she raised her miserable head to stare around herself, Peter's promise still rang in her ears with grave assurance. She did not know who he was, or what power he might wield, but he was the sort of person who must be believed, no matter what. He said he would come back for her sisters and in her heart a small chink let in a beam of hope, even though the lowering sky was terribly black and, when she looked up, she could barely make out the shapes of her three companions.

She bestirred herself when it came to her that none of them had eaten in hours. Searching through the stores, she found bread and olives and a skin of wine, and climbing over the thwarts, she delivered the provisions to the others. Their heads cleared as they ate, but as they looked around, the waves only grew higher. Margaret, clambering over Peter's legs, gave Alasdair his cloak back, wrapping it around him despite his protests; there was little he could do to stop her since he had both hands on the tiller.

Peter glanced astern once more, and Margaret, on the bottom boards next to him, saw his eyes widen. They all looked back then, and their mouths went dry. All across the horizon, under the darkness of the clouds, they could see a moving line of dark, dark water. It was wind… and watching it come was like watching the edge of the executioner's sword while kneeling at the block.

"We have to reef!" Peter shouted as the wind suddenly rose like the wind of a hurricane and the boat heeled sharply over. A curtain of pouring rain fell across them until it seemed that there was no air or sky, only water. The red sail turned black and Alasdair held the tiller with all his might as Peter and Edmund struggled to shorten sail and lash the reef points.

After that, it was only flying spray and ice-cold water. The seas grew ever higher, rolling on relentlessly, black wave after black wave, laced with silver. The little boat raced along as if it were a steed galloping through ever changing mountains, and the mountains did not care. It was as if the sea was a great, powerful, fitful being, and they were drifting on the back of it as it moaned and roared, never seeing them in the darkness. Margaret had felt helpless before; life with her father had not been conducive to hope, but this…this was worse than despair.

In the stern of the boat, Alasdair and Peter, even with their strength, struggled to hold the tiller steady. They knew in this great sea with each rising, rolling wave, that if they lost control the boat would founder in a moment and they would all sink into the abyss.

Hours passed and the wind grew, howling like a wild thing, whipping up the waves until it was hard to tell them apart from the sky. Night may have fallen once more, but it was already so dark it made no difference. The boat rocked and swayed, and Margaret was crying when Edmund pulled her up and pushed a bucket into her hands, motioning her to help him.

The black water was swirling around their ankles, dark as pitch and colder than ice. Margaret could no longer feel her feet and her shoulders screamed as she dumped bucketful after bucketful into the raging wind, only to have it replaced by a flying wave. Water smacked her face, she couldn't breathe.

"No!" she sobbed. "I will never see my sisters again!"

They all knew it was the end when the sail burst with a roar and trailed in sodden tatters in the wind. The boat swung around wildly, and they all looked up one last time to see the blackest wave of all rising up like a rearing horse to come crashing down to crush them.

~o*o~

Susan woke.

She was lying still on the silver couch in that silver room, looking up at the shimmering stars that seemed to weave in and out of each other. As feeling slowly came to her, she realized that her hands were resting on the hilt of a sword that had been lain across her. Slowly she sat up and lifted it, wondering at the intricate silverwork in the pommel and the blue star sapphire set in the hilt. She knew from years of practice herself that it was a sword worthy of a king.

"It is a gift," the voice spoke, somewhere in the darkness to her right. "I made it for your brother, the brother who has taught me to hope again."

"Will you let me see him?" Susan asked softly.

"No!" the voice spoke with a low rumble, then more gently, "No, if I let you go, I will be letting go my last hope. If I let you go the only place left for me is down to misery and death."

"Yes, yes, you must…you cannot learn to live again if you do not first die," Susan replied. "Let me just tell you this, no matter how deep you sink, Alsan is there, just a little deeper. You can only look for Him."

"He is not here," the voice replied.

"Is he not?"

"No," the voice said heavily. "My hope is not for him, but for you. You still love your brother; despite all he did. Perhaps you can find it in your heart to love me as well."

Susan shook her head in anguish, "You are still so lost."

"Yes, I am lost." The voice was quiet. "I have been so long without love, it tears my soul. I do not want to be alone."

"If you will not let me go, then I must stay," Susan replied. "May I ask just this?" She hesitated, "I ask one boon. Please send to my brothers and sister that I am still alive and well. I am afraid they will worry."

"They will want you back."

"They already want me back," Susan replied with certainty.

It seemed in the shadows she could see his shape, just a little darker than the darkness. He was hunched and huge, or perhaps it was just his shadow cast against the silver trees. As he moved, he groaned, as if afflicted with a deep and abiding pain.

"You are hurt," Susan said. She had always been able to sense injury in any living creature and she knew this was pain.

"I am grievously injured," he replied. "My wounds are many; at this moment, I should be dead."

"But you are not?" Susan replied.

"I cannot die."

There was silence and Susan wondered.

At last the Monster continued, "Many years ago I drank of a cup. I was promised life, but instead, I was given living death. I paid dearly for that drink…dearly. There were many of us. We drank of that cup and died."

"You came down here?"

"I do not remember," he replied. "I remember little of my life. During the day, I am here, in this place. I forged these trees, those stars. I worked magic. I knew a little magic from my former life, but I have learned it better as the years have gone by.

"During the night," he continued. "I know little. Memories are only vague shadows; my soul is here, but my body wanders endless corridors in utter darkness. The Beast is slowly taking me over; he is on my back."

"But you are injured?" Susan said. "Who injured you?"

"I do not know," he said. "I only know that I am mortally wounded and but cannot die."

"Why won't you come to the surface?" Susan reached her hand into the darkness in the direction of the voice… she almost thought she touched it, felt warmth at her fingertips…then there was a hiss and the thing drew back. "Why won't you come and see the sun? There are roses and a great blue sky and just now, the heads of wheat are dancing in the Summer wind. Why won't you come?"

He said but one word: "No."

Production Note: We went severely overbudget generating the wind and rain for this chapter. We are also having difficulty with the occupants of the boat, as they claim that they felt we were really trying to drown them.