On the third night, the castle grew quiet. Chris and Hopeful took turns resting against the wall. Whoever was awake listened for footsteps outside. They dared not both sleep too deeply, but they knew that staying awake all night would only weaken them further.
Chris said a quiet prayer. At the words “will not abandon,” he suddenly remembered the messenger beside the cross and reached into the pouch close to his body. The scroll was still there, and so was the parchment. Beneath them, his fingers found something hard.
The key called Promise.
He held it in the light coming through the crack in the door. For days he had thought about taking the wrong road and listened to Despair say that nobody would help. He had forgotten what he carried with him.
“Try it,” Hopeful said.
Chris put the key into the lock and gently turned it. A tiny click sounded inside the door. Both boys stopped, scarcely able to believe it. Chris pushed again. The door really opened.
They did not rush out at once. Hopeful listened first. Chris retrieved their waterskins from beside the table and examined the stone steps leading upward. They climbed slowly with their hands against the wall. The second door opened too. At last, however, they stopped before an iron gate.
The lock was stiff. Chris tried hard to turn the key, his sore hand trembling, but it would not move. The familiar thought came back: You can’t do anything right.
Hopeful held his hand and asked him to let go for a moment. “I’ll try.” When Chris had rested, they both held the key and turned it slowly. At last, something hard inside the lock gave way. The iron gate made a piercing noise.
The giant roared upstairs. The boys pushed through into the courtyard, then followed the wall outside. Despair came after them but was blocked by a tree that had fallen after the rain. They did not turn back to shout insults. They searched for the boundary stone on the right road and crossed beyond the meadow he controlled.
When they saw the sign, Chris could hardly stand. Hopeful helped him sit on a rock. They drank a little water, and neither hurried to get up. The key was still in Chris’s hand. He held it for a long time before putting it away again.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “Yesterday I still wanted to blame everything on Vain-confidence.”
“I know you’re in a hurry,” Hopeful answered. “But next time I ask you to stop, you have to really stop.”
“I’ll listen.”
They put up a wooden sign beside the low fence, explaining about Doubting Castle and Giant Despair. Chris wrote in large letters. Hopeful added pictures of a door and a lock. When other people came along, the boys stayed beside the sign and warned them in person too.
When they finally left the meadow, their feet still hurt and their clothes were still dirty. But Chris looked at his companion and knew that this time they had done something together that would help those who came after them.