On the road with the pilgrim

The pilgrim emerged from the valley just as the sun was breaking clear of the mountains on the eastern horizon. He stopped for a moment, to wipe the sweat from his forehead, and to steady his shaking hands.

"You look like you've had a rough time of it," said a voice, and though its tone was gentle, the pilgrim started from the rock where he was sitting and drew back a space.

"I'm sorry," the man said. "I didn't mean to startle you."

The pilgrim nodded nervously, and took his seat on the rock again, a small space from where the man now sat. His face was warm and concerned, and the pilgrim relaxed a little.

"It was a difficult voyage through the valley," he finally said. "I thought I would never make it out."

He looked back over his shoulder at the ravine he had just come through. Even now with the morning light spilling over the cliffside, the valley was remarkable more for what its shadows concealed than for what the light revealed. He could see motion in the shadows, and heard the echo of long, sibilant hisses that came from the creatures that lived in the darkness. Something scuttled along the wall, almost seen; while other things slithered or scraped their way across the valley floor.

Somehow, he had gained safe passage through that, and at night. Even now, with the morning sun warm on his face, just the memory of the mouthless whispering that he had endured in the dark was enough to make the pilgrim shudder. He put his hands to his face and held them there a moment, until he regained himself.

The man placed his hand on the pilgrim's right shoulder, and that human touch nearly pushed him over the edge.

"I had to go through it, you see," the pilgrim said desperately, more to himself than to the man beside him. "I was following the path set before me, by the lord of the road, and I thought it would be safe."

"Was it?" The man took the cloak from his shoulders, and draped it over the pilgrim, to warm him.

"At first." The pilgrim shuddered, and as he drew the heavy cloak about himself, a deep pain crept into his eyes. "At first it was easy. I'd followed his directions before, and had come to no real harm, and I thought it would be the same this time as well. But by the time I had gone a quarter-mile, the sun had begun to set, and by the time I had walked an hour, it was gone completely, and the only light I had was from the few stars I could see."

The man said nothing, but as the pilgrim talked, he began a small fire for the pilgrim to warm himself at, and produced a biscuit for him to eat and a flask of brandy to drink.

"I didn't know what to do," the pilgrim said, and it seemed even now as he spoke that he was back in that darkness, lost and struggling to find his way. "I knew if I went back that I would never find my way again, and I knew that if I stayed, then the things I could hear rustling in the dust around me would take me. I didn't have any choice but to take one step, and then another, and then another, never knowing if each step would be the last one."

"That must have been difficult," said the man.

"That wasn't even the worst part," said the pilgrim.

"No?"

"No." The pilgrim laughed bitterly. "The worst part," he said, "was that I was not alone. I was being followed. It was moving in complete silence. It didn't breathe, and it didn't disturb even the smallest stone as it moved, but I knew it was there the entire time, just a few steps behind me. I didn't dare look back, or it would have me, and if I tried to run, I would only trip and be caught. So I had to walk the entire night, with this thing stalking me, with all the patience in the world. It seemed like months, and while it was going on, I wished and hoped so hard to be out of those shadows that sometimes I even convinced myself I had escaped, only to realize a moment later that I had deceived myself, and I was still trapped."

"It's all right," the man said. "You've made it through. You're safe, and it won't get you now."

As soon as the words were said, the pilgrim knew they were true, and he relaxed, and soon fell asleep. When he woke, the man gave him cakes baked on the coals of the fire, and let him drink his fill, until at least it seemed the terror of the valley was gone. As a new day dawned, the pilgrim tied his satchel to his walking stick and glanced back one final time at the valley and its shifting shadows.

"I hope," he said, "that I never go through a valley like that again."

The lord of the road sighed.

"You will," he said. "And some of them will be far worse. By the time you have finished, you may even curse the day you set your foot on my path."


Copyright © 2011 by David Learn. Used with permission.


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