Chapter 5:
Into the Grave
Moving quickly so as to give himself less time to get scared, the young mouse made his way up to the room he presumed had once been the Abbot's study.
It was very dark in the room; he could barely make out the keys on the organ as he sat down to play.
Having had a few lessons when he was younger, the mouse knew exactly where the notes he had to play were. He ran his paw to the C, then the D, then the B, the G, and the A. The notes rang through the castle, and their eerie sound haunted the young mouse.
He had no time, however, to go into a reverie at the melancholy sound. As soon as he had hit the last key, the young mouse felt the floor open beneath him. He was falling down, down, down a long, dark, spiraling chute.
Finally, he hit the ground. Looking up, he realized he was outside. The recorder's ghost had been right: the secret passageway had led him out of the Abbey...into the cemetery grounds.
Leaving the passageway's drop-off area, the young mouse headed towards a second set of gates. These ones led to the graveyard. Two statues sat on either side of the gates, and the air was thick with fog.
Shuddering, the young mouse realized how full of those tormented souls this area would be. He thought he saw a squirrel in front of the gates, but then it vanished. That scared him even more. Steeling himself, he entered the graveyard.
Upon entering, he met with rows upon rows of headstones. Reading one, he saw "Pawflash and Ambrose: Together in life, together in death". In front of that headstone was a hole. It seemed too convenient...perhaps Malazrael already knew he was here. It didn't really matter though...there seemed no alternative but to go down the hole and face whatever was lying in wait for him.
Slowly and carefully, the young mouse lowered himself into the hole. He landed with a soft thud on the dirt in the underground tunnels. Two coffins were on either side of him. Who knows what'll happen if I venture too close to those, the mouse thought to himself. I'd best stay away.
Moving straight ahead, the young mouse's paws clenched into fists...there was danger lurking around every corner, and he knew it. Through a series of dark and winding tunnels he ran, sometimes pursued by the demented spirits of the Abbeybeasts. Every time he rounded a corner, he expected to see Malazrael, waiting for him, poised to kill.
Finally, he rounded one last corner. He found himself in a special clearing, with a stone at its back, upon which is engraved "Abbot's Crypt." Stepping inside, the way out was quickly filled in with soil.
From behind him, the young mouse heard an eerie, otherworldly cackle. Turning, the young mouse saw the figure of a dark-clad fox materializing in the shadows. Holding a scythe in both paws, the fox pointed the weapon menacingly at the mouse.
There was no doubt in the mouse's mind that this was Malazrael, the one creature capable of keeping souls from the Dark Forest.
"You have intruded upon my Abbey," he said in a deep, distant- sounding voice. While his voice was every bit as terrifying as any of the other spirits that had spoken, his lacked the madness of a beast possessed. The young mouse could tell that this was, indeed, the master here.
"These souls are mine. And so shall yours be. Arise, my slaves! Show this fool the power of Malazrael, the master of death!" The fox disappeared. The battle for the fate of Soilran Abbey - and all the souls thereof - had begun.
In every corner of the room, there was a coffin. The young mouse gulped, imagining the thoughts on the minds of those pour beasts. The mouse figured they all consisted of one word: "Kill."
Indeed that was what those beasts were thinking. Diving from the coffins, four at once, they made straight for the mouse.
The young mouse knew that he had no time to fire his Spirit Bow. He scrambled away from the ghosts, managing to dodge their murderous fangs.
Getting to his feet, he looked around. Then he dropped faster than a dead bird. Malazrael materialized, catching him dead across the midsection with his scythe. The young mouse rolled away, his vision hazy from the pain. He could feel the blood pouring out of an open gash across his midsection - Malazrael was alive. The damage had actually been done to his body.
Acting too fast for his own mind, the mouse leaped to his feet, fitted an arrow to his Spirit Bow, and let fly.
It hit the fox, who had raised his scythe to the sky to proclaim his victory. A shocked look on his face, the fox disappeared.
The mouse tried to stay alert, but his vision was already almost gone. He could feel the ghosts diving for him, though, their evil was so tangible that he could sense it without seeing them. He rolled out of the way.
This time, he knew Malazrael would attack. He leaped aside. Hearing the scythe rip viciously through the air, the mouse fired off another arrow towards the fox. He assumed it hit, because the scythe didn't swing again.
Once more, the ghosts dived for him, and again, he rolled away. Malazrael changed up his timing just a bit and caught the young mouse on the shoulder, but he was past caring about pain. He simply rolled away and fired another arrow into the fox.
It became monotonous. He did not know how many times he hit Malazrael. Time seemed to fade out of mind. His footpaws became numb. Still, he battled on stolidly; this was a fight he could not lose.
At last, he fired a last arrow into the fox. Wounded in a dozen places, clothing stained with blood, the young mouse collapsed to the ground. Looking up, he saw the wicked fox before him. Waiting for the killing blow, the mouse saw something completely different. A shaft...one of his shafts...was protruding from the fox's chest.
"NO!" he shouted, looking in disbelief at the wounded mouse before him. "I CANNOT DIE! I...I AM AFRAID...I...." Those were the last words that the fox Malazrael ever spoke. His scythe clattered to the ground, his cape fell around him, and he died.
Just as the young mouse started to lie down and die, content with his salvation of all the souls in the Abbey, he was hurled from where he lay. He landed in front of a coffin with two torches - one on either side - around it. The mouse knew immediately where he was: the Abbot's tomb.
A blue wisp hovered above the coffin. Suddenly, the lid flew off to reveal the body of a mouse...not the decaying, rotting corpse of one of the horrible inhabitants of the Abbey, but as a living beast. The wisp flew inside of the dead mouse. His eyes flew open. The young mouse let out a cry of surprise.
"DO NOT WORRY," said the dead mouse. "YOU HAVE INDEED SAVED ALL OF US."
The young mouse looked around. It was as though he was floating over a tranquil lake, with trees all around it. It was peaceful here. He could feel his wounds healing, his hurts fading away.
"I ONLY BROUGHT YOU HERE SO YOU WOULD BE SURE OF OUR ULTIMATE FATE. I SHALL LEAD MY OLD FRIENDS TO THE DARK FOREST AT LAST. AS FOR YOU...WE ARE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL, BUT WE CANNOT DO MUCH FOR YOU NOW. EXCEPT FOR ONE THING...."
In a flash, the peaceful surroundings dissipated. The young mouse was slammed back onto a path...a path that lead straight to the inn he had been searching for. The truth quickly dawned on him: after freeing the Abbeybeasts from Malazrael, the Abbot had shown him that they had really made it to the Dark Forest! And then he'd sent him back here!
No one will believe this, the young mouse thought to himself. Then another realization hit him. Of course no one will believe this! They'll say I made it up or mistook a dream for reality.
Checking his pockets, the mouse realized all of the objects he'd collected were gone; the Spirit Bow, the fishing rod, the parchments, the keys...all gone! Confused and depressed, the young mouse's pace slowed as he headed towards the inn. Perhaps he had been dreaming.
But just as he began to think he had dreamed the whole thing up, the strong winds blew a piece of parchment in his face. The young mouse turned it over.
Adorning the top was a single letter R, under which was written, in a firm, flowing script, the words "Thank you." A smile of complete content crossed the young mouse's face. Throwing the parchment to the winds from whence it came, he stepped through the door of the inn.
Around a table by the fire, the only people still awake in the entire inn, were his three friends, a hare, a badger, and a squirrel.
"What took you so long?" the badger asked.
"Oh, nothing..." the young mouse replied, smiling to himself. "I've just had the most peculiar dream...."
Moving quickly so as to give himself less time to get scared, the young mouse made his way up to the room he presumed had once been the Abbot's study.
It was very dark in the room; he could barely make out the keys on the organ as he sat down to play.
Having had a few lessons when he was younger, the mouse knew exactly where the notes he had to play were. He ran his paw to the C, then the D, then the B, the G, and the A. The notes rang through the castle, and their eerie sound haunted the young mouse.
He had no time, however, to go into a reverie at the melancholy sound. As soon as he had hit the last key, the young mouse felt the floor open beneath him. He was falling down, down, down a long, dark, spiraling chute.
Finally, he hit the ground. Looking up, he realized he was outside. The recorder's ghost had been right: the secret passageway had led him out of the Abbey...into the cemetery grounds.
Leaving the passageway's drop-off area, the young mouse headed towards a second set of gates. These ones led to the graveyard. Two statues sat on either side of the gates, and the air was thick with fog.
Shuddering, the young mouse realized how full of those tormented souls this area would be. He thought he saw a squirrel in front of the gates, but then it vanished. That scared him even more. Steeling himself, he entered the graveyard.
Upon entering, he met with rows upon rows of headstones. Reading one, he saw "Pawflash and Ambrose: Together in life, together in death". In front of that headstone was a hole. It seemed too convenient...perhaps Malazrael already knew he was here. It didn't really matter though...there seemed no alternative but to go down the hole and face whatever was lying in wait for him.
Slowly and carefully, the young mouse lowered himself into the hole. He landed with a soft thud on the dirt in the underground tunnels. Two coffins were on either side of him. Who knows what'll happen if I venture too close to those, the mouse thought to himself. I'd best stay away.
Moving straight ahead, the young mouse's paws clenched into fists...there was danger lurking around every corner, and he knew it. Through a series of dark and winding tunnels he ran, sometimes pursued by the demented spirits of the Abbeybeasts. Every time he rounded a corner, he expected to see Malazrael, waiting for him, poised to kill.
Finally, he rounded one last corner. He found himself in a special clearing, with a stone at its back, upon which is engraved "Abbot's Crypt." Stepping inside, the way out was quickly filled in with soil.
From behind him, the young mouse heard an eerie, otherworldly cackle. Turning, the young mouse saw the figure of a dark-clad fox materializing in the shadows. Holding a scythe in both paws, the fox pointed the weapon menacingly at the mouse.
There was no doubt in the mouse's mind that this was Malazrael, the one creature capable of keeping souls from the Dark Forest.
"You have intruded upon my Abbey," he said in a deep, distant- sounding voice. While his voice was every bit as terrifying as any of the other spirits that had spoken, his lacked the madness of a beast possessed. The young mouse could tell that this was, indeed, the master here.
"These souls are mine. And so shall yours be. Arise, my slaves! Show this fool the power of Malazrael, the master of death!" The fox disappeared. The battle for the fate of Soilran Abbey - and all the souls thereof - had begun.
In every corner of the room, there was a coffin. The young mouse gulped, imagining the thoughts on the minds of those pour beasts. The mouse figured they all consisted of one word: "Kill."
Indeed that was what those beasts were thinking. Diving from the coffins, four at once, they made straight for the mouse.
The young mouse knew that he had no time to fire his Spirit Bow. He scrambled away from the ghosts, managing to dodge their murderous fangs.
Getting to his feet, he looked around. Then he dropped faster than a dead bird. Malazrael materialized, catching him dead across the midsection with his scythe. The young mouse rolled away, his vision hazy from the pain. He could feel the blood pouring out of an open gash across his midsection - Malazrael was alive. The damage had actually been done to his body.
Acting too fast for his own mind, the mouse leaped to his feet, fitted an arrow to his Spirit Bow, and let fly.
It hit the fox, who had raised his scythe to the sky to proclaim his victory. A shocked look on his face, the fox disappeared.
The mouse tried to stay alert, but his vision was already almost gone. He could feel the ghosts diving for him, though, their evil was so tangible that he could sense it without seeing them. He rolled out of the way.
This time, he knew Malazrael would attack. He leaped aside. Hearing the scythe rip viciously through the air, the mouse fired off another arrow towards the fox. He assumed it hit, because the scythe didn't swing again.
Once more, the ghosts dived for him, and again, he rolled away. Malazrael changed up his timing just a bit and caught the young mouse on the shoulder, but he was past caring about pain. He simply rolled away and fired another arrow into the fox.
It became monotonous. He did not know how many times he hit Malazrael. Time seemed to fade out of mind. His footpaws became numb. Still, he battled on stolidly; this was a fight he could not lose.
At last, he fired a last arrow into the fox. Wounded in a dozen places, clothing stained with blood, the young mouse collapsed to the ground. Looking up, he saw the wicked fox before him. Waiting for the killing blow, the mouse saw something completely different. A shaft...one of his shafts...was protruding from the fox's chest.
"NO!" he shouted, looking in disbelief at the wounded mouse before him. "I CANNOT DIE! I...I AM AFRAID...I...." Those were the last words that the fox Malazrael ever spoke. His scythe clattered to the ground, his cape fell around him, and he died.
Just as the young mouse started to lie down and die, content with his salvation of all the souls in the Abbey, he was hurled from where he lay. He landed in front of a coffin with two torches - one on either side - around it. The mouse knew immediately where he was: the Abbot's tomb.
A blue wisp hovered above the coffin. Suddenly, the lid flew off to reveal the body of a mouse...not the decaying, rotting corpse of one of the horrible inhabitants of the Abbey, but as a living beast. The wisp flew inside of the dead mouse. His eyes flew open. The young mouse let out a cry of surprise.
"DO NOT WORRY," said the dead mouse. "YOU HAVE INDEED SAVED ALL OF US."
The young mouse looked around. It was as though he was floating over a tranquil lake, with trees all around it. It was peaceful here. He could feel his wounds healing, his hurts fading away.
"I ONLY BROUGHT YOU HERE SO YOU WOULD BE SURE OF OUR ULTIMATE FATE. I SHALL LEAD MY OLD FRIENDS TO THE DARK FOREST AT LAST. AS FOR YOU...WE ARE ETERNALLY GRATEFUL, BUT WE CANNOT DO MUCH FOR YOU NOW. EXCEPT FOR ONE THING...."
In a flash, the peaceful surroundings dissipated. The young mouse was slammed back onto a path...a path that lead straight to the inn he had been searching for. The truth quickly dawned on him: after freeing the Abbeybeasts from Malazrael, the Abbot had shown him that they had really made it to the Dark Forest! And then he'd sent him back here!
No one will believe this, the young mouse thought to himself. Then another realization hit him. Of course no one will believe this! They'll say I made it up or mistook a dream for reality.
Checking his pockets, the mouse realized all of the objects he'd collected were gone; the Spirit Bow, the fishing rod, the parchments, the keys...all gone! Confused and depressed, the young mouse's pace slowed as he headed towards the inn. Perhaps he had been dreaming.
But just as he began to think he had dreamed the whole thing up, the strong winds blew a piece of parchment in his face. The young mouse turned it over.
Adorning the top was a single letter R, under which was written, in a firm, flowing script, the words "Thank you." A smile of complete content crossed the young mouse's face. Throwing the parchment to the winds from whence it came, he stepped through the door of the inn.
Around a table by the fire, the only people still awake in the entire inn, were his three friends, a hare, a badger, and a squirrel.
"What took you so long?" the badger asked.
"Oh, nothing..." the young mouse replied, smiling to himself. "I've just had the most peculiar dream...."