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Story Time: The black dungeon
An eerie wind was blowing one cold gloomy midnight. Two figures wrapped in blankets emerged from a lone wooden house on a hilltop. Alert and watchful the couple stealthily walked north. Being familiar with the area they had no difficulty finding their way in the dark.
Suddenly the couple stopped short, straining their eyes and ears to detect danger. They thought they had heard something from behind the tall trees on their right. Was somebody watching them? But they heard or saw nothing apart from the darkness. They continued moving until they reached the thickest part of the forest where the trees stood in a V shape. Stopping there, they looked around to make sure no one was watching them. Then the older person, pointing to a rock nearby, said, “Ghazi, remove this stone! Your father, Razi, had instructed me to do it when you are eighteen years of age.”
The boy moved the rock aside, and his mother got hold of the small leather purse underneath it. Then they quietly walked home.
“What’s all this?” Ghazi asked his mother as they entered the house and locked the door behind them.
“It’s a sad story,” Mother heaved a long sigh, as they sat down on the bed. “Your father was a bold man and never hesitated to say something he thought was right. You were only one year old when the tribesmen choose Shahbaz their new leader. Razi knew the man wasn’t the right person to become the chief of our tribe so he openly spoke against him. But Shahbaz Khan was powerful and influential and they elected him. Razi knew he would be imprisoned for life by the new chief in the Black Dungeon.”
“What’s that?” Ghazi interrupted.
“It’s a secret prison and only a few people know about it. Before they took him away, your father had drawn a map showing the way to the Black Dungeon, and had hidden it under that rock, expecting you to free him when you grew into a strong, young man.
“Why didn’t father hide the map in the house?”
“Because he knew Shahbaz’s men would search our house, and he was right! Soon after his arrest they ransacked the house and took away everything they thought was valuable.”
“I will help set free my innocent father,” said Ghazi determinedly, studying the map in the dim lantern light, his face flushed and eyes sparkling with rage.
“Calm down, son! I know you are a brave and loyal son. But you must plan well with a cool head before you venture out to your father’s rescue. Your slightest mistake can spoil the game.”
From the next day Ghazi spent much of his time gathering information that could help him free his father. A few days later, one evening when he came home, a smile played at the corner of his mouth. “I have found out that Mr Dawar guards the Black Dungeon at night,” he told his mother. “I have been visiting his wife, and today managed to steal her earing while she was asleep. Now I have the whole plan. There’s not much time for us. We must leave now: I have a horse outside,” he told his mother.
Ghazi hurried back to the horse and fitted special rubber shoes on its feet to make the galloping inaudible. His mother came out with a large bag of essentials. They quietly rode away west in the dark. After covering two miles, they arrived at Khasa, a small village where Ghazi’s friend Nadir lived. Leaving his mother at his friend’s house, Ghazi rode towards Black Dungeon. He had to pass a dangerous hilly tribal area to get to the secret prison. He rode steadily and quietly along the dark path. He knew if all went well, he could reach the prison by midnight.
Then the boy heard something that made him stop for a while, it was the sound of howling wolves that seemed threatening in the still dark night. Ghazi waited a while then mustering all his courage, continued his ride. He couldn’t afford to waste time. A short while later the menacing sound died down. The boy took a sigh of relief, and rode a little faster. At last he reached Black Dungeon and saw Dawar holding a lantern in one hand and a long, sharp sword in the other.
“What on earth are you doing here?” snarled the guard.
“Your wife has asked me to run an errand for her, explaining how I could get here.”
“Impossible,” roared Dawar. “Don’t play a trick on me. My wife can’t do such a thing. Tell me the truth or I’ll pierce your stomach with this,” he raised the sword.
“Don’t kill me, Sir,” Ghazi pleaded. Your wife had good reason to send me here. She had trouble with one of the chief’s men and she wants you to be with her in no time. She gave me her earing in case you didn’t believe me.” The boy fished in his pocket and brought out the earing and handed it to the man.
Dawar turned it over and over in his palm. He recognized his wife’s earning. Not knowing that the boy was Razi’s son, Dawar asked him to take his place and rode off on Ghazi’s horse. Wasting no time, the boy broke open the lock with a rock and entered the prison. He found three people sleeping on the ground. He recognized his father, who looked like Ghazi. “Father!” he whispered, shaking the old man gently. Razi woke up with a start. “Don’t be afraid I’m your son, Ghazi.”
“Oh, my boy!” tears of joy flowed down the old man’s cheeks. He hugged him hard. “We must leave at once.”
“We must set the others free too,” Razi pointed at the sleeping men.
Ghazi woke them too and the four escaped from Black Dungeon making their long journey under the cover of darkness. By morning they reached Khasa. Ghazi’s mother was overjoyed to see her son and husband safe. They decided to live in Khasa. They were now safe, free and happy.
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