The Realms Thereunder

CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Gad
1

Gad took Freya by the arm and pulled her gently across the doorway. She now found herself standing at the entrance to a large, luxuriously furnished room-completely out of place in a sewer and oddly unreal, like a movie set or a French palace. The room was several storeys high and square, with a multi-tiered floor. The walls were lined with bookcases and electric lights in extravagant sconces. Deep, red-patterned carpets were laid around the room atop white marble floors. Expensive-looking furniture filled the interior-grand armchairs, plush couches, wide tables, and a long desk-all beautifully carved and polished to a shine. There was a grand chandelier overhead, an enormous fireplace in one wall, and even an ancient TV set, the kind that looked like a small cabinet with a screen on it.

“Let go of me,” Freya said, pulling her arm away from Gad.

“I really mean you no harm,” he said, bending down before her. “I must talk to you for a few moments. Do you want to sit down? Are you hungry? Thirsty? I do so want to help.”

“Then help Swi?gar. He’s still alive. He-”

“Believe me,” said Gad, standing up and moving to an armchair, “that no good would come of that. You saw his reaction upon seeing me. Is violence the first response of a reasonable man?”

“But you’re evil . . . ,” Freya said, uncertainty creeping into her voice.

“Yes,” Gad said, sitting. “I assume that’s what they would have told you. That’s just one of the lies of Ni?ergeard. Please, sit down and allow me to explain.”

Cautiously, Freya approached and stood near the chair opposite. She cast a look back at Swi?gar. “Please,” she said, “before it’s too late. Help him!”

“Yes, I will. But first I must see to the wound that he gave me,” Gad told her, indicating the gash at his side. “Come inside, there are things I must talk to you about.”

Reluctantly Freya followed him inside.

“I don’t blame you for your trepidation,” Gad said with a wince. He leaned forward and drew out a wooden box that was underneath the chair. “It’s not your fault, I know. You’ve been told all types of lies about me-lies that left no room for question, lies that you thought could not be challenged.”

“What lies? You control the yfelgopes. You’ve had Ni?ergeard surrounded for decades. I was there the last time you attacked. I was almost killed.”

Gad brought the box up onto his lamp and opened it. It contained bandages and bottles. He shook his head. “Lies spun with the threads of truth are always the hardest to disbelieve. Yes, I control the yfelgopes, and with them I’ve surrounded and attacked Ni?ergeard-several times now, in fact. But why have I done so? For what purpose? Can you tell me? Do you know?”

“Because you’re ev-”

“No!” Gad snapped, thumping the box with his palm. “The exact, specific reason! No one is simply ‘good’ or ‘evil’ entirely. You can’t tell me, can you? You have no idea!” Gad spat these words angrily, his face turning red. He jerked forward in his chair, causing Freya to flinch. “Stupid girl!” he spat at her.

Freya clutched the back of the chair, wanting to run but now afraid to. Gradually, however, Gad leaned back into his chair and placed a hand over his eyes.

“Forgive my temper,” he said. “I have been unjustly imprisoned by Ealdstan for hundreds of years and I have forgotten my manners. It is unfair to you, I know, and I apologise.”

He turned his attention back to the box and withdrew some sheets of sterile cotton and a bottle. He unbuttoned his shirt and shrugged it off his shoulders, then set about cleaning the wound.

“Yes, I’ve raised an army and intend to crush Ni?ergeard, but there is more than one reason that a man may revolt against the established order. They told you I was an oppressor, but under what circumstances would they tell you anything else? Authoritarian regimes need scapegoats to blame for their own mistakes. You’ve been there, you’ve seen what kind of place it is. The people are wasted, lifeless, spiritless. They want to die, but they keep hanging on. And whose fault is it? Not theirs, for the choices they’ve made. Not Ealdstan’s for deceiving them. No, it’s mine-the evil wizard’s. Yes, they told you I was an oppressor, but what if I’m a freedom fighter? A revolutionary?”

Gad, satisfied that his cut was clean, rubbed some balm onto another sheet of cotton and removed a roll of bandages from the box. “Ni?ergeard is a hostile occupying force in this land, a malignant dictatorship. They want to control us, make us live in the past with them, give up our identities, our hopes and dreams-make us something less than human. Deny us of our basic humanity, our chance to be glorious.”

“I know what you’re try-” Freya began, but was cut off again.

“Would you help me with this?” he asked. “Could you hold this bandage, just behind the shoulder here? It’s rather hard to reach . . .”

Freya cautiously rose and helped Gad bandage himself.

“Let me ask you a question. Was it your idea to come here? To go on some sort of mysterious quest underneath the surface of the earth?”

Freya didn’t answer, but Gad didn’t need her to.

“Of course it wasn’t,” Gad continued, winding the bandage around his chest with difficulty. “Imagine asking that of a child. They tricked you. They blindfolded you with their lies, told you all sorts of fantastic tales until your head started spinning, and when you were all mixed up, they took off the blindfold and pushed you where they wanted you to go. I do give them credit for their cleverness- but the fact remains that they perpetuate a sick, twisted, perverted doctrine designed to extinguish all of the brilliant and wonderful flames of humanity. The truth will always come out-I believe that. And that is why I stand against Ni?ergeard, for the sake of all the people in this world who are powerless to do so.”

The two regarded each other silently. Freya sat staring at Gad, who had raised his hands and now held them steepled beneath his chin.

“It won’t work,” Freya said, now uncertainly. “My friends are going after your heart right now, as we speak. If you’re trying to twist my mind around, or anything, it won’t work.”

Gad pinned his bandage down and settled back into his chair with a sigh. “Yes, I understand that.” He shook his head. “Fortunately, I have prepared for all of this, and they are doing precisely what they must do in order to help me. Indeed, let us see how they’re getting on.”

A remote control appeared in Gad’s hand and he pointed it at the antique television across the room. He pressed a button and there was a click, a hum, and a bluish-white picture appeared on the screen.