IX. You are not alone
There were three shapes altogether, darting out of a suddenly opening up hole in the wall, with none other than Raoul de Chagny leading the way, waving a revolver in one hand, a sabre in the other. The gypsies before him retreated a few steps, uncertainly. Raoul cast a quick glance over the assembled, then picked out Créon immediately, just as if he knew who he was looking for. "You!" he bellowed, pointing his revolver at him, jutting out his chin grimly. "Don't move!"
The idiot! The complete idiot! Did he not realize that Créon had nothing to fear from him, as long as the Master still had his mental powers? Yet the Phantom did not bother himself with what the foolish boy's fate would be; all he truly saw was one of the slender shapes coming in Raoul's wake, positioning herself at his shoulder, so lovely with her wild dark curls all tangled and clutching a dagger in each hand. Hell be damned, but she was beautiful!
"Get out of my way", Raoul demanded, brandishing his revolver, and the Phantom realized that until now Créon had done nothing at all. Surely this could not still be his surprise at the sudden assault? What did that monster intend to do, what did he intend to do with his Christine? If she would only run, as long as she still had the chance!
For a moment, nothing happened, then, miraculously, Créon stepped aside, motioning his servants to clear a path.
"That's right", Raoul said with what he probably thought was grim satisfaction but what, to the Phantom's ears, rather sounded like a child who had just chased away another from his birthday cake. "If anyone makes a wrong move, I'll shoot him!" Then he turned to his two companions. "Untie him now."
With one accord they sprang forward, side by side, Meg even jostling a gypsy out of her way. They approached Niobe fearlessly, and Meg waved a sabre at her to make her back away – his very own sabre, the Phantom realized, just as the daggers Christine was carrying were his. Meg, still in his own clothes, was beaming at him, while Christine's features bore a warm, yet pained little smile. She must have felt what had happened to him, the Phantom realized. She must have shared his sufferings. Never again would he allow anything like that to happen to him, knowing it would hurt her as well! And he would rip Créon to shreds for this, he truly would!
Swiftly he felt the knots tying his hands coming loose, but there were many, and it took longer than he would have expected. At last, he was going to be free. Free! It was hard to believe, after all he had been through, that he should be released, and he did not understand why Créon did not intervene. The man just stood there, ignoring Raoul, and watched! And so did Niobe; she had simply moved aside a few steps, but she was still there, watching. Watching. Everybody was watching. Doing nothing, except watching.
The fires in the braziers were still flickering, the shadows still dancing, but otherwise time seemed to have stopped.
When the cords finally gave way, it took all the Phantom's concentration not to stumble forward or fall to his knees. He longed to put an arm around Christine's shoulders for support, but he would not display weakness. Never again! And he would not this way point out to Créon and his men who among his rescuers he held dearest of all.
Rescuers. No, he still did not entirely believe that what was going on was real. Was this not just another illusion of Créon's, created to torment him? Any moment now, they were going to take them all captive and tie them to poles. Any moment now. But this time, he was ready to die to defend the girls. He would not let Créon have them.
Any moment now…
Taking up his hands, Meg examined his wrists in turn, running her fingertips over the angry red welts and grazed spots his ties had created. "Does it hurt?"
Did it? He shook his head. If they did, he could not feel it. All he felt was that pain that was no pain, that pain in his mind.
And then Christine was there, with his cloak and his mask. Only now he truly realized that his face was uncovered, but it was too late; Christine already stood facing him from the right. How brave she was, not to wince when looking at him! And how beautiful, how incredibly beautiful… Taking the mask from her, with nothing but her before his eyes and on his mind, he still remembered to turn his head away when Meg came over to join Christine, so that at least someone did not have to see his face.
Putting his mask back on made him feel much better, much less vulnerable, and even standing upright without swaying seemed easier to him now. With his mask back, he was again who he had used to be before he had fallen into Créon's hands. He was himself once more.
"Come on", Christine said softly, touching his arm, and for a tiny, perfectly blissful moment he forgot all the pain. "We'll get you out of here. Everything will be alright."
Normally he would have been annoyed about being spoken to like a child, but it did not matter to him now. Nothing mattered, except that Christine was there. And Christine could treat him like a child as much as she wanted to. No amount of annoyance in the world could overcome that feeling of warmth rising in his insides.
He tried to straighten his shirt, or what was left of it, ready to leave – if Créon would truly let them, that was, and he still doubted it – but it was useless. The fabric was much too torn to still fit him properly; all he managed to do was become tangled in it. With a growl, he pulled it off, ignoring Niobe's snicker, and tossed it in her direction. She could keep it for all he cared, and snog with it all night! Taking his cloak from Christine, he threw it around his shoulders, despite his lack of a shirt feeling sufficiently dressed now. Were not his cloak and mask all he truly needed?
Meg signed to Raoul, and the foolish boy waved his revolver and snapped, "Clear a path! Move away from the door!" Did he not see that it was never going to work? No, he was just plain stupid. Why did that impertinent milksop have to turn up down here? As much as the Phantom welcomed the girls' help, though he did not want to think about what Créon might wish to do to them now, he refused to accept Raoul's.
Once again Créon did the unbelievable: He motioned to his followers, and immediately the way was clear to the arch framed by the pair of angels, though several among the servants were fingering their belt-knives longingly. Adhemar's face was grim as he watched them, but he, too, made no move to intervene. "We will meet again, young Erik", Créon said quietly.
"Come on", Christine repeated, nodding towards the exit under the archway. Both she and Meg fell in beside him as they made their way towards it. It was not easy and took some concentration, but the Phantom tried to walk as upright as he could, without any signs of exhaustion or dizziness. Although he would have preferred to put an arm around each of them for support, he made himself go without, and he even took made an effort not to try to press his shoulder blades together as he progressed further, even though he could almost feel his enemies' gazes boring into his back, and he did not trust that insolent slimeball of a cockroach to give them some proper cover. But still, he refused to turn around.
Past clusters of servants they went, gypsies as well as others, most of them men, but a few women, too, grimy-faced as often as in ragged clothes. He took in every detail now. Past Bertrand, at whose distorted face Meg gave a shudder; past Adhemar with his hard, claw-marred features, his pale eyes shining with hatred. Past Aeternus, whose expression was impassive, as was that of his fair-haired followers, who once again stood at either side of him; one of them, with a calm, serious face and a sharp nose, around forty years of age, while the other was probably in his mid-twenties, his features retaining much of boyhood, and both of them with intelligent blue eyes, as the Phantom now noticed. He briefly wondered what kind of men they were and what made them trail Aeternus so faithfully. Past Ferox and Atrox they went, and past the carefully ordered heaps of supply goods Créon had had brought in, the girls keeping their attitudes remarkably well, and already were but a few paces from the exit, when suddenly Kalo stepped into their path. Curse him, did that fat old brute never learn? The light from the braziers flickered across his rough features, distorted in fury, as he tried to bar their way. The Phantom wanted to shoulder him aside, yet surprisingly Meg reacted before he did, the sabre darting upwards in her hand and piercing the man's arm before she withdrew it again. With a half-strangled howl, Kalo staggered out of their way. Turning around despite himself, the Phantom searched for anyone who would step in to intervene and take revenge, quite ready to rip off that unfortunate fellow's head with his bare hands to ensure the girls' safety, but nobody did. The only one who moved behind him was Raoul, walking backwards slowly as he kept Créon and the others in check with his revolver. Créon stood as a statue, towering above every other man around him, and his one single eye was still on the Phantom, cold and calculating. What did he plan? What was he going to do?
They reached the arch flanked by the pair of sculpted angels and passed through it, and were briefly bathed in the unearthly red light of the lantern above the doorway before they stepped out into the welcoming gloom of the corridor.
Free at last. The Phantom hardly dared to believe it at first, but with every step he took, it slowly became certainty, and relief flooded him, washing away the worst of his exhaustion and pain. Walking upright was growing easier the longer he went, and he stopped clutching his cloak around him and enjoyed the cool, moist air on his skin instead, so very welcome after the underground hall's suffocating heat.
Free at last.
He wanted to pull both girls into a tight embrace, yet postponed this idea until later on, when he would have had the chance to scrub off all the dirt and sweat. Instead, he caressed Christine's shoulder briefly. "Thank you", he said warmly. "Both of you. I couldn't have done it without you." It was not easy to admit so, yet Christine's presence made it easier. "But promise me one thing: Never again endanger yourself just to get me out of trouble."
"You watched over me for years, even over my dreams, and you were always there when I needed you", Christine replied. "I owed you that much."
"And besides", Meg added, grinning and flourishing the bloodied sabre, "it felt good." Then her free hand went into her pocket, and she held out his ring for him to take. "Here, you'll be missing it."
"Thanks." He put it back into his pocket. Christine was watching him, he noticed, and as she saw the ring, there was a brief flicker of emotion on her face, so quickly gone that it was impossible to determine. Yet the feeling at the back of his head spoke of sorrow. Did she truly care, then? Were those memories as painful to her as they were to him? He did not ask; now was not the time for it.
There was something else on his mind, though, a very disconcerting thought: What is it Créon is planning to do? This rescue was much too easy to be against his will…
