Holding On

#3


Holding On



Slipping behind the loose panel, Faranzo grinned to himself. His shrill-voiced nurse could never find him in this secret passage. Beginning to explore the passage with the light of his candle, the boy said to himself, “This even makes up for a stupid trip to visit a stupid nobleman because he didn’t pay the stupid tax. A secret passageway all to myself!” Nurse had remained next to him the entire journey and she scolded him no matter what he did. Peasant!

Faranzo scowled. Faintly from outside he heard a rumble of thunder and knew a storm was raging. Riviv also was a pest, always nagging his older brother to play with him or do something stupid like put a frog in Nurse’s bed. Not that the older boy would have minded vexing that woman, could he have known they would not be blamed for it. Why could Reviv not understand that Faranzo was eleven years old, almost a man, and could not be bothered with such immature children as his six-year-old brother? He had almost caught Faranzo discovering the passage yesterday, so the older boy had locked Reviv in a closet today so he could get away safely from Nurse to explore it.

Lost in thought, Faranzo had neglected to notice his path and now he gazed all about him, wondering how many turns he had taken and how far he had strayed from the opening into the castle room. Suddenly feeling afraid and very alone, the boy examined the wall next to him, hoping that it had an entrance through which he could pass. The shadows seemed to be pressing in around him, the silence echoing silently in the long passageway, when he spotted a large, heavy iron ring jutting out of the wooden floor. Grasping hold of it with both hands, Faranzo pulled with all his strength, desperate for something to open a way out of there. The ring did not move, but in a moment he discovered that he could turn it. Swiftly, the boy twisted the loop of iron, praying that it would do something.

At last there was a great clash beneath him, like something large and heavy had fallen, and the iron bar came easily out of the wood in his hand. Faranzo gazed at the thing in his hand in surprise, noting that it looked similar to a giant screw. Then the floor beneath him creaked and shook slightly. Grabbing the candle, which he had set down, the boy leapt to his feet and turned to run down the passageway but he tripped and found himself falling through where the floor should have been, things tumbling on top of him. Then something hit him with tremendous force and he knew no more.



***



Pain, unbearable pain, was shooting through his body, pain like he had never imagined. He could not think, he could not breathe, he could only fight the pain that threatened to consume him. Far away he heard screams of agony. His legs were filled with fire, his brain was exploding, pain tore at him like a raging tiger. With all his strength, he pushed the searing pain out of his head and opened his eyes. Darkness. He thought he must not have actually opened his eyes, but he had and all they could see was blackness. Then he realized that the distant voice screaming was his own and no other sound could he hear. In the darkness he had to fight the agony alone, using all his strength just to hold on to life. The pain overcame him and he fainted.

Outside, the storm increased its vigor. A small pool of water formed beside the castle wall until it found a crack between the stones, through which it flowed onto the floor where it materialized into the shape of a woman clad in a loose tunic.

“There,” the Rain Nymph laughed softly to herself, shaking her dripping locks which sent a patter of rain to the floor. “What a glorious storm. Now, where did I hear that sound?” After listening for a moment, the Nymph caught again the sound of sobs and she followed it through the passageways, her liquid eyes seeing easily despite the darkness of the hall. Soon she drew near a great stone wall, through which she could hear a child crying. Singing softly to herself, the Nymph felt along the walls until she found a small round dent, into which she pushed her finger. Slowly, a small portion of the wall swung open and she quickly ducked through the opening, almost falling over the child which lay there.

“Oh you poor thing,” she murmured, immediately sitting down beside it and taking its hand.

“Mother?” the boy asked, lifting his head and trying to see her.

“Not mother, little one,” the Nymph shook her head with a quiet laugh, sending water all over the room. “but I will help you. I am called Neriea and am a Rain Nymph.”

Now calm, the boy sat up and said proudly, “I am Riviv and am the son of a very important man. My brother is important too, but he locked me in here and threatened to tell Nurse that I was the one who put mustard in her lotion if I complained to her.”

“Then we had best get away before your brother returns,” Neriea replied, laughing. Taking the child’s hand, she led him through the hole in the wall, and then bade him close the door behind them. “I have oft been in this passageway, and can take you to the guest chambers where stay your parents, I suspect.” Smoothly she glided forward and Riviv trotted contentedly beside her, holding tightly to the cool, wet hand.

After several minutes Neriea halted, and gazed forward in surprise. Riviv heard the sound of ragged breathing and he shrank towards the Nymph. She let go of his hand and moved forward quickly a few steps, then stopped and picked something up.

“You need to see this,” she said quietly, as she thrust a candle into his hand and turned back to search for something else. Riviv felt a tinderbox pushed into his other hand as his companion said, “Light the candle. I cannot for I would put it out as soon as light it.”

With trembling fingers, the boy lit the candle and then gasped with surprise as it lit up the entire passageway, glistening off the Nymph who had stepped away to not drip on the flame. Before them was a heap of wood and rubble and from there came the sound of moaning in a voice he recognized. Tightly gripping the candle in his left hand, Riviv ran forward into the rubble and pulled a board off of his brother’s body. The boy burst into tears upon seeing Faranzo’s white, drawn face, and the blood which had spattered on his body. In a moment, Neriea was on the other side of the injured boy and had assessed the situation.

“Your brother fell and broke his leg,” she explained to Riviv, her eyes no longer dancing. “He needs a human doctor because the bone has broken through the skin which is why he is bleeding. He may have other injuries as well that I cannot see. He is unconscious from loss of blood or pain.” Biting his lip, Riviv had stopped crying and was listening carefully to the Nymph’s words. She looked earnestly at him. “You need to be very brave. I cannot get help, so I must stay here to help him hold on to life until help comes. You need to climb up to the floor he fell through and follow my instructions so that you can fetch your father or someone. Will you do it?”

The boy’s heart quailed at the thought of traveling in the passageway alone, perhaps getting lost in there forever, but his brotherly love swelled up and he nodded firmly. Neriea smiled and kissed his forehead before giving him the instructions and watching him clamber up the jutting rocks in the wall to the floor above. He would do it, he would do anything to save his brother.



***



Pain still gnawed at the boy, barely kept at bay from destroying him. Helplessly the boy flailed about with his arm, longing for someone to help him bear the pain, someone to help him hold on to life. His hand hit something, not hard but firm. It was a hand that gripped his tightly. He felt a warm, wet kiss on his forehead, and both his hands were filled with those of a person. A soft voice was murmuring something, he did not care what because someone was with him. As the pain increased those hands held tighter and he knew they would not let him go. Someone was with him.

Drops of water flowed down Neriea’s face as she removed the splinters and rubbish from the boy’s leg as much as she dared. He cried out and lifted his arm. In a moment she had grasped his hand in her own and he gripped it tightly. She sought out his other hand and held that one also, gently, for they were bruised and bloody, but firmly. “Oh Creator,” she inwardly cried, “help him hold on!” She kissed the child’s forehead, praying that some of her peace would enter him. His eyes were screwed shut and his lips compressed as he writhed, seemingly fighting an inward battle. As time passed he would sometimes moan or cry out, and then would she hold his hands tighter, knowing he needed her presence. Drops of sweat beaded on the boy’s face and she began to feel drained as she fought the battle with him, but still no one came. “Oh You who made the rivers and rain and wood and stars,” she silently pleaded, “give him strength! Do not let Riviv have lost his way but make him bring help!” At last she saw lights far down the passageway and knew that Riviv had done his job to save his brother.

It seemed a thousand lifetimes passed with the pain, the person, and Faranzo the only things in the world. Then, through the roar of pain, he heard voices and felt the wet lips brush his forehead again, a drop of water falling onto his face. His fingers were empty and for a moment he cried out, abandoned, but then there were lights and voices and the small hand of his brother stroking his face, such a soothing feeling. A moment later someone tried to move him and that hurt so much that he fainted again.

When Riviv had at last gotten back into the castle after getting lost several times and had made his mother understand his story, she had instantly called her guards and they had torn up the wall to get through to the secret passageway. Waiting only to fetch something to use as a stretcher, the party followed the little boy down the hall while Nurse went to seek out the castle physician in great haste. The mother thought she saw someone with Faranzo a moment before they reached him, but it disappeared and she paid no heed as the sight of her oldest son’s torn body and pain-ridden face made her faint with horror. Riviv ran immediately up to his brother and stroked his face, holding tightly to his hand. For a moment, the older boy’s eyes flickered open and he tried to smile, but then fainted as the guards tried to gently ease him onto the stretcher. Riviv refused to let go of Faranzo’s hand so he walked beside the stretcher, whispering encouragement to hold on in his brother’s ears, as they traveled slowly and carefully back up the passageway. The remaining men followed, one of them carrying their master’s wife unceremoniously over his shoulder.

Once back in the bedroom, the men laid their charge on the floor and left him in the care of the physician while a maid rain in to help with the lady. Laying down beside Faranzo, Reviv closed his eyes to avoid watching the physician work on his brother’s leg. He cried as the older boy screamed in pain. He held on to his hand no matter how hard the other squeezed it in his pain. “Thank You, whoever You are who rules the world,” he whispered, “for helping Faranzo hold on until I got back.”



***



“. . . because of the severe concussion,” the physician ended his report to Faranzo’s parents on the boy’s injuries and subsequent needed treatment. He then looked at them gravely and said, “Your son should not be alive. Though his injuries are not of mortal nature, how he held on for hours alone with no attention is beyond comprehension and has never happened before in my experience.”

“Please,” the lady held up her hand, looking white. “Please, do not speak of it. I cannot bear the thought of my poor boy--” she broke off with a sob.

“You will take the boy to your quarters so you can look after him, will you not?” the father asked.

“Oh yes,” his wife exclaimed, “I don’t think I could handle seeing him look like that again. It near broke my heart.” She wiped her eyes with a delicate lace handkerchief.

The physician flushed, then bowed and replied, “Certainly if that is what you would desire. He needs competent care for the next few days at least, so it is well to have him near me. I fear I will have to keep your other son as well, as he refuses to leave his brother’s side. It may be that holding on to him has been the saving of my patient.”

“Yes, yes,” the man waved his hand for the physician to leave. “It will be better for them both to be gone so just go and stop dripping Faranzo’s blood on the carpet; it is disturbing to my wife’s nerves.”

It was late in the evening when Faranzo opened his eyes, the pain having been eased by the physician’s medicine.

“Well now, look who is awake,” the physician exclaimed softly. Patting the boy’s hand, he added, “Thanks to your brother’s speedy work in getting you help, you are going to be all right.”

Turning his head slightly, even that small motion giving him a stab of pain, Faranzo saw his brother sitting beside him, still holding his hand. Tears sprang to his eyes, and he smiled at the little boy, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. “Thank you,” he whispered. In the window above him, a watery face looked down upon the little group and smiled, before melting away into the raindrops. He had held on.