Previously on Hidden Fragments
Calen discovered a possible clue to the legendary Scroll of Genesis hidden within an old hymn and became convinced that the mysterious island of Lumenreach could be reached after a great storm. As he waited in the lighthouse for the weather to clear, hope grew that God’s Word would soon be restored to the people.
Meanwhile, trouble struck at the farm when young Tobin disappeared in the forest. Guided by Pax the dog, Grandfather, Isola, Marisa, and Vorren followed the trail and finally discovered a deep, dangerous hole hidden among the trees. Tobin however was nowhere in sight.
Chapter 43
Into the Dark
“Calen! Wake up!”
Somebody was calling him, just when he was having such a wonderful dream. In the dream he was with Marisa again. He had his arms around her while she was reading to him from the Scrolls. It felt like a bit of heaven and not something he wanted to end.
“Let me sleep,” he groaned. “I don’t want to wake up.”
“Wake up, now!” the voice almost shouted it out. “The storm is over. The wind has died down. This is what we’ve been waiting for.”
The wind?
Oh no… Suddenly Calen realized where he was and jolted awake. He stared into the warm face of Magdalena. Not quite Marisa, but seeing her face, one of God’s dear children, was more than enough.
“Am I too late?” he asked in alarm as he forced himself up. “Has the night passed?”
“Come and look,” Magdalena said. She motioned for him to follow her as she stepped outside.
Calen jumped up, ignoring the stiffness in his muscles and followed.
It was still dark.
Dark enough, although far away on the horizon Calen could see a faint strip of light. The new day was coming, but there was still time. An almost overwhelming feeling of awe overtook him. Thousands of tiny lights seemed to smile at him and offered him a joyful greeting. Never before had he seen a sky so full of beauty and mystery.
“Look at the water,” Magdalena softly broke through his musings. “Let’s see if we can find Lumenreach.”
Calen forced his attention to the sea before him.
True to what Magdalena had said, the water was calm, smooth as glass. What a glorious sight. Even on some of the lakes he used to visit, the water had never been this still. It was hard to imagine that just moments ago this water had been whipped up into a foamy fury that would have been dreadful to even the most experienced sailors.
But not now. The ocean lay still and harmless, as flat as a bowl of honeyed cliff-goat milk pudding his mother used to make for his birthday. So smooth, it felt as though even a spoon would disturb it.
Above them, the lighthouse fire spiraled into the dark sky, casting its glow across the waters. Calen followed the trembling reflection over the sea.
Nothing.
No strip of land. No Lumenreach.
But how far did the light reach?
Magdalena stood beside him, staring intently into the darkness. Then she cried out. An excited, almost childlike sound, unexpected from such a composed woman.
“By the grace of God… there!”
Calen turned, following her gesture, but saw nothing. She was pointing slightly away from where he looked, yet the light shimmered there too.
“Where?” he asked.
He leaned forward, narrowing his eyes, forcing his gaze into the moving reflection.
And then… he saw it.
A faint strip of darkness breaking the water. Small. Bare stone. No trees, no height, just a low line of land rising from the sea.
“Lumenreach!” they exclaimed in chorus.
Calen nearly jumped up in excitement. But as quickly as the joy came, a darker thought followed.
“How will we find it, once daylight comes and the mist returns?” he asked. “Soon we won’t be able to see the island in the reflection of the fire anymore.”
Magdalena thought for a moment, then pointed out over the water.
“Look there. Do you see that old watch-post? The one that juts out into the sea?”
Calen followed her hand and nodded.
“If you draw a line from the lighthouse to the island,” she said slowly, “it passes straight over that watch-post. If you keep those two points in mind, the lighthouse behind and that post ahead and you keep sailing in that direction, you should come close. It may not be perfect, but even when the island vanishes from sight you’ll know where to look.”
Calen nodded. That made sense. At the same time, dread welled up. He had never been out to sea before, let alone embarking on a boat. He bit his lower lip and fought off his rising anxiety. He could not show Magdalena he wasn’t as confident as he wanted her to think.
She knew.
She smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Calen. God brought you this far. He will not abandon you now.”
“I-I know,” he said while he tasted bile. The urge rose to tell her he wasn’t afraid in the least, but it was useless. How strange, one could never hide his feelings around true children of God.
He cast her a faint smile and nodded. “I know. Thank you.”
He turned his eyes again on the water to take another good look at the island. His heart took a jolt.
The island… it was gone.
The sun was rising. It just stuck the top of the red ball out of the water and the reflection of the fire no longer showed. The wind was back too. The water no longer resembled a bowl of honeyed cliff-goat milk pudding.
“It’s gone,” he whispered.
“Not gone,” Magdalena said in confident tones. “Just out of sight. It’s a lot like God. He’s not always visible either but nevertheless, He’s always there waiting for us to land on Him.”
Calen grinned. That was something Marisa would have said.
“Let’s have breakfast,” Magdalena suggested. “And then…”
“Then what?”
“I’ve got a small boat. A stable sailboat that will safely bring you to Lumenreach.”
***
A shock went through Marisa as she knelt beside Vorren in the grass and stared into the dark hole Tobin had fallen into. She could not see the bottom. How deep did this cavern go? She could not speak as she listened to Vorren’s voice echoing through the darkness. Again and again, he called Tobin’s name, pausing each time to listen for an answer.
Nothing.
Apart from the rolling echo of his own voice, there was no sound at all.
“Tobin…”
The boy’s name sounded strange and hollow in the darkness below.
Isola’s face had turned chalk white as she stared into the pit. Grandfather had wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She opened her mouth and, in a high trembling voice Marisa had never heard from her before, whispered, “Did… did Tobin fall in there?”
Vorren rose to his feet and paced restlessly around the opening. “I can’t see anything,” he said. “But the dog certainly seems to think he’s down there. And there’s nothing to hear either.”
“How deep is it?” Grandfather asked hesitantly.
Vorren shook his head. “Deep. I can’t even see the bottom.”
Isola began to cry. “What do we do now?” she sobbed.
“I’m going down,” Vorren said firmly. “If he’s down there, he’ll need help.”
“T-That’s impossible,” Grandfather said in disbelief. “You yourself could fall to the bottom.”
Vorren considered that possibility for a moment, then shrugged. “I’ve faced worse dangers than this,” he said simply. “There’s no time to waste.” He looked at Grandfather. “Unless you know another way, I’m going in.”
Marisa suddenly saw Vorren again, struggling in the swamp where he had nearly drowned. He was a true soldier. She nodded at him with growing admiration. She hesitated but then spoke softly, “Let me pray for you, Vorren.”
Would he reject her offer? She remembered how he had refused to pray the night before.
Yet, his response surprised her.
At once he walked toward her and bowed his head. “Please, Marisa. Pray that I won’t fall… and that we can save Tobin.”
Warmth rose in Marisa’s heart. She took his rough hand in hers and whispered a short but heartfelt prayer. When she finished, Vorren looked at her for a brief moment. Gratitude shone in his eyes.
Words from one of the Scrolls came to her mind.
This man is not far from the Kingdom of God.
Vorren had already turned away again and walked back to the hole in the ground, where he knelt down carefully. She watched him run his hands carefully along the edge of the pit. Solid rock. Hard and unforgiving, by the look of it.
Yet here and there narrow ledges could be seen, and thick tree roots jutted from cracks in the stone wall. Vorren studied them carefully. He glanced back one last time, and then carefully lowered himself into the darkness below.
Grandfather watched breathlessly.
Isola wept softly.
Marisa kept praying.
Pax was now softly yelping.
Far in the forest she heard the cuckoo once more. Dark clouds had drifted in and blocked out the sun. For a moment, she shivered. “Lord… please help Vorren. Amen.”
***
To his surprise, climbing down proved easier than Vorren had feared. Everywhere his feet found narrow ledges to rest upon, while his hands clung to the tough roots jutting from cracks in the stone walls. They offered enough support to keep him steady.
Slowly and carefully he lowered himself, inch by inch.
Before long he was completely surrounded by darkness. Here, the daylight no longer reached. Marisa and the others could almost certainly no longer see him. To them, it must seem as though he had vanished into the earth.
But he had not. He was very much alive and not about to yield to the darkness.
Fortunately, he could see fairly well in the dark. Now that his eyes had adjusted, he could still make out parts of the rocky shaft around him. Even so, it was impossible to judge how far he still had to go before he reached the bottom. Beneath him, the darkness was nothing more than a black pit, seemingly without end.
He figured that by now he must have at least climbed down more than fifty feet into the cavern, still there was no sign of a bottom.
At one point he glanced upward and saw the distant circle of daylight above him. He could just make out Marisa’s silhouette leaning over the edge. Of course, she could not see anything anymore.
As he saw her silhouette, an image of her face came back to him. So determined and noble. That girl truly possessed conviction. He had never seen such certainty among the soldiers of the Council of Twelve, nor even in his captain or in the members of the Council. Those men cared about power, appearances, obedience. Not truth.
Her prayer had affected him deeply.
It had been short, simple even… yet strangely comforting. Almost as though someone was climbing beside him and he was no longer alone. That was impossible, of course. No one was there.
And yet…
What if God truly existed?
Vorren shook the thought aside. This was no time for such questions.
Carefully he climbed lower still. Bit by bit. Always searching for another handhold, another ledge.
One slip and he would fall. No man was made for this sort of madness.
Suddenly panic shot through him.
This was insane.
What was he even doing?
At that exact moment, one foot slipped from the ledge. His full weight suddenly shifted onto his other leg and the thick root he clung to with one hand.
The root held.
Vorren regained his balance and let out a deep, trembling sigh of relief while sweat dripped from his face.
Rest for a moment.
He cursed himself under his breath.
Fool. Don’t think. Just move.
He could not afford another mistake like that.
“Tobin?” he shouted again. “Are you down there?”
Still no answer.
Was Tobin even here?
Of course he was. The dog had known it. Animals sensed things far better than men did.
Vorren tried to push away his doubts, but they clung stubbornly to him.
What if the boy was dead?
No. No, he could not think like that now. Another mistake and he would join Tobin at the bottom.
Then, faintly, he heard Marisa’s voice from far above.
“Vorren?”
The sound was strange down here, rattling with echoes as though she stood miles away. Barely audible.
“Are you all right, Vorren? Have you reached the bottom yet?”
Vorren swallowed hard, tightened his grip and shouted back, “I’m fine!”
Even to his own ears he sounded hoarse and unconvincing. But it hardly mattered. He doubted Marisa could hear him clearly anymore. He had descended far too deep.
His muscles were beginning to burn fiercely now. As a soldier he was accustomed to hardship, but this was something else entirely.
Come on, Vorren. Forward, march.
Again, he thought of Marisa’s prayer. Somehow it gave him courage. He closed his eyes for the briefest moment and muttered quietly to himself, “God… if You are there, help me.”
Then he shouted once more into the darkness below.
“Tobin! Let me hear you!”
“Vorren?”
This time the voice came from beneath.
A frightened voice it was. It drifted upward out of the darkness. Weak. Broken. A child’s voice. And not far away at all.
Joy surged through Vorren’s body. Tobin was alive, and he must finally be nearing the bottom of the shaft.
“Hold on, Tobin!” he shouted eagerly while forcing himself to keep descending with utmost care. “I’m coming!”
“I’m hurting so bad, Vorren,” came the trembling reply. “I think something’s broken.”