Nick was working on writing a letter of passage in the scribe’s room on the second floor of master Hildebrand’s house. The room was in the back of the building, looking out over a small backyard that contained the outhouse. It was evening, the sun had long since set and the room was lit by oil lamps along the walls. The letter Nick worked on was fairly standard, still it was always tricky to check the exact principalities the factor was expected to travel through and make sure that all the requirements for free passage were met.
His master was having the factor in question over for a working dinner in the room below, and was expecting the letter of passage to be done before the dinner was finished. It was not uncommon at all for Nick to work until late at night in situations like this.
The door opened and Nick looked up. He recognized Hans, who had gotten Nick’s job of waiting on the master when Nick was promoted to scribe.
“Mister Nick, there you are. I was looking all over for you. The master needs a bottle from the cellar.”
“And why aren’t you getting that bottle, when it’s so important?”
“He needs a specific bottle, and you know I’m not good with the letters. Not yet, at least.” Nick had been teaching Hans to read and write, but he still had a long way to go.
Nick sighed. He was used to being pulled in different directions; that was normal for any of the people in master Hildebrand’s employ. But the cellar was dark, damp and dirty, and he wasn’t eager to go there at the best of times.
He took the piece of paper with the name of the wine from Hans and made his way down. There were two oil lamps hanging next to the cellar entrance. Nick took one, lighted it and went down.
“That is strange,” he murmured as he felt a draft when he opened the cellar door. There were no windows or other doors to the cellar, which was a main reason why the place tended to be so disgusting. A draft should not be possible.
He carefully descended the old wooden stairs, listening for any sound other than the soft creaking. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness he saw the dirty wine racks along the walls. The musky smell was exactly what he expected, but the dark hole in the floor was most definitely not.
The hole was about three feet in diameter. As he got closer, he could see a ladder leading down. Curiosity got the better of him, and after putting the oil light down, he carefully descended. The ladder felt cold, made out of some strange metal, looking much lighter than cast iron.
The pit was only ten feet deep with what felt like a stone floor at its bottom. Strangely enough, it wasn’t getting any darker the deeper he went. There were no candles or other light sources, but he could clearly make out the rough walls, and it was obvious that a tunnel led out from the pit.
In for a cent, in for a guilder Nick thought to himself and he started down the corridor. It sloped downward and curved around, and shortly opened up into a large, strange room. The room seemed empty, the walls decorated with round and rectangular patterns.
The moment he stepped into the room, he felt himself picked up by invisible hands and held in the air. An involuntary scream escaped his mouth but then nothing more happened. He hung in the air, arms and legs spread out, about three feet above the floor, unable to do anything.
He could move a little bit, wiggle his fingers, turn his head, but not more. He looked around the room. It seemed to get brighter. First he thought it was his eyes adjusting to the dim light, but then he realized a ray of light was coming from one of the walls and pointing at him.
The light continued to get brighter and brighter, to the point that he had to close his eyes and turn his head away from the source. He felt a tugging in the back of his head, as if someone had a string wrapped around his thoughts and was pulling on it.
In his growing panic, he thought of his brother Klaus. He remembered the two of them running through the fields, unaware of the ordeal that would befall them. He remembered them discovering the strange, round clearing in the woods.
The tugging in the back of his head grew stronger, and somehow that tugging felt like his brother. It reminded him of the warmth of Klaus’ body as they sat back-to-back in the grass.
In his mind, he reached out to his brother, tried to hold on to him as he had tried all those years ago. He remembered the scream, as they were torn apart, and tried to reach out even further with his mind.
“Klaus!” he yelled. “Klaus! Come here, Klaus!”
Something snapped and the force holding him up in the air disappeared together with the bright light. He fell the few feet to the ground, not able to see anything. He felt drained as if he had been working on the fields all day. Still, he managed to crawl out of the room, finding the corridor by touch, and climbed up the metal ladder. Ignoring the oil lamp, he continued to crawl up the stairs and out of the cellar.
Outside of the door, he collapsed and everything turned black.
⁂
When he came to, Nick was lying in his bed, in the small bedroom he shared with Hans. He slowly opened his eyes and looked at the familiar surroundings. Light was streaming in through the small window, indicating it was about mid-day. He wondered how long he had been passed out.
Nick got up carefully but he didn’t feel dizzy, as he had felt a couple of years ago when he had been knocked out by a blow to his head. He put on his clothes, which were draped over the chair in the room, and went downstairs.
In the kitchen, the cook looked at him.
“Nick, you are awake! You must be hungry!”
Now that she mentioned it, Nick did feel pangs of hunger coming from his stomach. He sat down in the chair the cook motioned him to and gratefully accepted the piece of bread she gave him.
“What happened to you?” she asked. “Hans said he finally found you asleep in front of the cellar room, after nobody could find you for almost a week. Where have you been?”
“Been?” Nick stammered. “I went into the cellar to get a bottle of wine for the master, as Hans had told me the master wanted. I don’t remember anything after that.”
“That was eight days ago, you must have been somewhere?”
“I don’t know, I really don’t. The next thing I know is that I woke up in my bed, just about ten minutes ago.”
“Nicholas Braun, what are you hiding?”
“Nothing, ma’am,” he lied. The room under the cellar had been so strange that he had decided he must have imagined it.
The cook was not convinced, but she gave up trying to push him. The rest of the day, Nick had to explain over and over again that he had no idea what had happened to him. Master van der Kuijp himself called him into his office and asked him about details, but Nick stuck to his story. Eventually everything turned back to normal and the episode was forgotten by all but Nick.