Author's Note: I do apologize for the delay. I've been busy sandbagging my basement and lugging around buckets of water and fun stuff like that. The snowmelt is not being very kind to me this year.


Beneath

Halfway down the well shaft, Brianna realized that Ember had long since hidden a secret.

She had lighted her chalice as soon as her head had sunk below ground level, unwilling to suffer through the near-darkness even if the shine made her a target. The ring of light had traveled downwards with her, illuminating the slick, black walls, but at last it had expanded as the shaft widened.

Below her lay a cavern that could have easily fit all of Ember inside it.

She still hadn't reached the bottom. Above her the winch was creaking rhythmically as Khelgar and Bishop turned it, and every time the foreboding, high-pitched noise preceded another drop of several hand's breadths. Looking off to the side, she saw only darkness. Below, the chalice's shine was beginning to reveal an expanse of glittering ice. She could not spot any movement but kept her eyes sharp nonetheless. As exposed as she was, dangling in mid-air with no cover, she needed to anticipate any attack in order to have a chance to live through it.

An inquiring shout caused her to flick her eyes to the small circle of daylight above.

"Go on," she called back, trying to estimate how many more turns of the winch it might take for her to reach the ground. She thought if she jumped now, she might not hurt herself, but there was no telling how thick the ice was, and how deep the water beneath. There was no good reason to risk it.

She found herself wondering whether the residents had known about this cavern at all. Ember's water supply had to be massive. The ice stretched far beneath her, bordered by a rock shelf to one side that looked as though it could carry her. She'd need to reach it somehow, if she wanted to depart her ride without running the risk of breaking through the ice. Hypothermia was not something she wanted to deal with on top of all her other problems.

Eventually, when the bucket had nearly reached the bottom, she experimentally bent her knees, trying to swing sideways. The rope creaked ominously, but granted her a bit of movement, just enough for her to be able to dismount onto the rock shelf.

Despite her care, there was a cracking noise as she let go of the rope.

When she was sure she had regained her balance, she lowered the chalice. The ice was indeed thin, and spidery cracks had begun to form where the bottom of the bucket had impacted it on her dismount.

"Crap," she muttered, before remembering that there was someone down here, and drawing one sword with her free hand. Squinting into the darkness, she saw very little, and nothing that looked like a person.

The shelf she was currently balancing on snaked around one side of the cave, vanishing behind a bend in the rock wall. Sliding her feet forward carefully and testing the stability of the rock on each step, she made her way around that same bend and found herself able to step off the shelf and onto the ground. Behind her, several pebbles she had dislodged scattered and dropped onto the ice.

Another shout from above made her turn.

"Ye'll be alright, lass?"

That was, of course, Khelgar, hollering into the well with all his might.

"Yes!" she screamed back. Then she turned back, intending to advance further into the darkness, and found herself face to face with the cave's occupant.

She reeled back so far she nearly fell into the ice. At the last moment she managed to catch herself on the wall, dropping her chalice and scratching her hand bloody as she clung on for dear life. Her right arm, sword still firmly in her grip, described a ridiculous loop in mid-air in order for her to regain her balance. Finally, she succeeded and pulled herself forward. Her hand stung badly.

"Bloody hells," she cursed.

The slim figure before her bent to pick up her chalice, holding it out for her as she shakily made her way onto solid ground once more. The object's shine illuminated a boy's thin, pale face, freckled, and with impossibly dark eyes.

Brianna squinted.

"Marcus?" she asked, dumbfounded.

"Hello," he replied simply.

It took her several moments longer to come to terms with who was standing in front of her. She hadn't honestly expected to see the boy again, not after everything that had happened.

"What are you doing down here?" she asked eventually.

"Surviving," he said. When he turned, she could see the glint of Bishop's dagger, tucked in his belt.

It seemed like Marcus had been doing very literally what he'd said. He was clad in what appeared to be several layers of discarded, dirty rags, all held together by the belt around his waist. His hands had been stuffed into children's gloves several sizes too small for him, with holes cut in the fingertips to allow for more room. On his feet, he wore boots that appeared to once have belonged to a grown man. When she followed him further, she discovered that he had made his home on another rock shelf, a small niche lined with pelts and dirty blankets.

"You've been down here all this time?"

She could scarcely believe her eyes when he nodded. It seemed a miracle he was still alive, especially considering the temperatures.

"Since the attack," he elaborated, crawling into his nest of pelts and wrapping himself up. "I hid down here because I knew I had to. I hunted. There's lots to hunt in this cavern."

His hand went to his belt and he pulled out the knife, holding it out for her.

"You can have it back now."

Baffled, she took it and sat down next to him on the shelf.

"So you saw this coming? The attack?"

He nodded, then shrugged.

"I knew something was coming," he confessed then. "I knew you would be there, but not really you."

That caught her attention.

"What did you see?" she asked, trying to sound nice, leaning towards him. "Who did you see, that was me but not really me?"

He seemed to have trouble putting his vision into words, knotting his hands frantically.

No wonder, she thought. I can't imagine many people feel an urge to chat with him about his gloomy premonitions.

"It looked like you, like the shell of you," he finally explained. "When I looked, really looked, the shell faded away and I saw a large man, hulking, like an ogre, but bald. He looked mean, and he swung his sword and cleaved a man in two. Then I went and climbed down the rope and hid in the well."

Brianna had trouble containing her excitement. This was the first hint, the only clue she had gotten as to who had taken her identity. The boy had just described the real face of the Butcher of Ember.

"I need you to come with me," she told him. "Up the well. We'll get you into the warmth, and you can tell that story again to someone who will find the ogre-man, and punish him."

"But…" Marcus appeared confused for a moment, frowning and wrinkling his nose at her. "Don't you want to follow them?"

"Follow who?"

"The men. Two of them, two who followed the man who was the shell of you. When Ember burned, they were trapped inside, and they jumped down the well. Hurt themselves, both of them. Then they fled."

He pointed into the darkness.

Brianna stared as she tried to sort through his words. "Two of the attackers fled through this cavern? Didn't they see you?"

Marcus shook his head.

"They didn't have light. I just sat right here, still as a mouse, and wished they wouldn't see me, and they walked past and didn't see me at all."

She bit her lip as she thought, staring at the boy and then past him, into the darkness. This might be just the clue they needed, the lack of which Sand had just lamented, up in Ember's ruins. If they could find the men, or even just their bodies or a weapon they might have left behind…

"Do you know where this cavern leads?" she wanted to know.

Once again, Marcus shook his head.

"I know there's goblins," he offered. "I've heard them, yipping and grunting. Stayed out of their way."

There was nothing to it, they would have to go and explore the place.

She unwrapped the boy from his pelts and blankets and led him by his arm back to where the bucket was dangling over the ice.

"They're going to pull you up," she explained to him as she used her sword to fish for the rope. "Tell Sand, that's the elf, that I said to get you to Port Llast as soon as possible. Tell them I want them to lower down my pack. Tell…"

She paused, frowning as she thought. Sand would have to come along, in order to evaluate any possible evidence. Khelgar would make any goblins think twice about attacking them. Bishop would be useful as well, if there was tracking to be done. Neeshka might enjoy the exploration. Shandra and Grobnar could be the ones to escort the boy back to Port Llast.

Eventually, she gave Marcus a list of people she wanted down the well, made him repeat it to be sure he would remember it, lifted him into the bucket and shouted a command to far above. Faintly, she could hear the squeaking of the winch, and watched as Marcus, looking even more pale than usual, clinging on to the rope for dear life, traveled higher and higher.

Then she waited.

There was debate up above. She grit her teeth, wishing she could be up there herself and put an end to the talking. It was cold. They needed to get moving. She wanted to be in a nice, warm bed before it was evening and the temperature dropped even further.

Her pack was the first thing down. She fished for the bucket once more and then spent an annoyingly long time trying to untie the straps which had been tied to the bucket's handle so tightly that she was tempted to cut them instead of fiddling with them. She suspected Bishop of the deed. Eventually though, she managed to loosen them and gave the rope a hearty tug, sending it up.

Minutes later, her ears once more picked up the winch's rhythmic squeaks. This time, the bucket carried Sand, who appeared less than amused about the ride.

"You have certainly had better ideas," he commented as she assisted him in keeping his feet dry when he reached the ground.

She couldn't help but grin wryly. "You still came down here."

"Much as I dislike this excursion, I do see its necessity," he stated, while she tugged on the rope once more to send up the bucket. "Now then, what is the story with that beggar-child? Why was he in a well, of all things, and why are we sending him to Port Llast?"

"He's a seer of some sort. Qara said so." Brianna paused when Sand made a face, in order to make one of her own. "I know you don't place much stock in her expertise, but feel free to examine him yourself when we get back to the inn. She nearly freaked out seeing all of his power. He foresaw the attack on Ember. And," she paused dramatically, giving him a triumphant smile, "he saw through the leader's magical disguise."

Sand's expression froze.

"He can identify the real murderer?" The moon elf's expression changed slowly, making him look as though she had just told him some priceless arcane secret. "By Mystra, this may just make him our most valuable witness. Give me your sword."

Perplexed, she did. He grasped the hilt very briefly and ran finger along the broad edge, muttering several nonsensical words she was pretty sure made up a spell.

Moments later, the blade itself shone with soft purple light, competing with the golden glow of the chalice.

"Pretty," she opined, then realized that this meant she did not have to carry the chalice any more. "And handy." She stuffed the holy object into her pack and drew her second blade instead.

The weight of both swords in her hands was beginning to feel right to her. She'd noticed during practice the previous day that, fighting one-handed, she now kept wanting to lift a blade she was not carrying with her free hand. She supposed it was a sign of progress, though it was also annoying when she did want to fight with only one blade.

When the bucket traveled down again, she was expecting Neeshka, but instead it was Bishop holding on to the rope. Above their heads, the winch's rhythmic squeaks were ominously drawn out as it presumably struggled under the weight of the ranger.

Bishop did not need assistance on the dismount. He did the same Brianna had done, swinging the bucket enough to be able to step onto the rock shelf.

"Fancy mud hole you found here." He looked around, his hand releasing the rope.

"Isn't it though." Brianna frowned at him, even though he had his back turned. "Didn't think you'd be so eager to come down here."

"The gnome was talking," he replied and ran his gloved hand along the rock. "Ore, is it?"

Surprised, she stepped next to him and brought her sword close. The violet glow traveled across the dark wall until she saw the vein that ran through the rocks, a hint of orange-golden glitter that appeared to bleed through the stone.

"Stars, I think you're right. What is this, iron?"

"Beats me," he shrugged. "I'm not an expert on rocks."

"We can be quite sure that the people of Ember did not know about this cavern, then," Sand said, stepping close as well. "Or they would have taken advantage of this."

"We could," the ranger proposed. "Might make us all a bit of gold on the side."

Brianna had to admit that it wasn't his worst idea.

"I should tell Calindra, once we get back to the Alliance Arms. We just have to make sure Luskan doesn't catch wind of it, or they'll be crawling all over this place."

Still using her sword for a light source, she searched the wall and found several more streaks of the same ore, splitting off from what was probably one large vein somewhere deep in the rocks. Since Calindra was currently doing nothing but waiting at an inn for her partner, she might not mind a project.

"What in the hells?" Bishop snarled, causing her to spin round.

The ranger was staring at the bucket, which was dangling above their heads, being in the process of being lowered once more. Instead of carrying one of the people she had expected it to carry, however, a jolly, gnommish face was peering over its edge.

Sand groaned.

"Grobnar," she called up to him, not quite managing to keep the exasperation from her voice. "What are you doing?"

"Why, I thought I would help," the gnome shouted joyfully, oblivious to their reactions. His voice echoed through the cave. "I once explored a cave, you see, a very deep one, and I encountered a number of odd creatures in those depths, and they looked like they were going to eat me. As it turned out though…"

She screamed his name to get him to stop.

"Thanks for the offer," she said then, wrecking her brain as to how to get him to go back up the shaft. They did not need Grobnar around on this expedition. "But, listen, this is going to be very dangerous. Er…"

She turned her head and looked to Sand for help.

"There is a carnivorous, gnome-eating cave moss down here," the moon elf supplied lamely.

Brianna changed her expression to one of incredulity.

"A carnivorous moss? Oh my!" Grobnar squealed. "I've never even heard of such a thing! I would love to see it, to examine it."

He jumped with excitement. Actually jumped, his frizzy hair flying, his pack lifting from his shoulders.

Brianna stared with horrified fascination.

Then the gnome's feet landed in the bucket again, and with one final, strained noise of protest, the rope broke.

She couldn't have reacted for anything in the world as suddenly, bucket and gnome were on a fast downwards dive. They impacted the ice hard, causing the entire layer to break apart with increasingly loud cracks, and with a surprisingly minor splash, vanished beneath.

For several seconds, all three of them just stood and stared.

Finally, Brianna found her voice.

"I can't believe that just happened." she croaked.

She could spot no movement beneath the floating chunks of ice.

"Someone ought to help him," Sand opined.

There was another moment of silence, during which Bishop turned his head towards the wizard.

"Yeah, well, it isn't going to be me."

Brianna was still staring at the water. At these temperatures, entering the water wasn't just unpleasant, but possibly suicidal. She didn't want Grobnar to die, exactly, but she had no desire to risk her own life for the damned gnome either.

She turned to Sand.

"Haven't you got some spell prepared?" she asked hopefully.

She heard him grinding his teeth.

"Oh, the old lift-gnome-out-of ice-water-spell, you mean? Sorry, I must have forgotten to study it this morning, how foolish of me."

"What have you got prepared?" she asked, feeling nervous as the seconds ticked by.

Sand counted off the spells on his fingers.

"Let's see, I could cast a few more light spells, if you'd like to set the mood. I could shoot him with a magic missile and put him out of his misery – if I knew where to aim, of course. I could create a gust of wind down here, if you'd like to feel a little more uncomfortable."

"Thanks Sand," she said, resigned.

"You are most welcome, dear girl."

They kept staring, as though expecting Grobnar to shoot from the ice at any moment. Then, Brianna sighed and bent to pick up a rock.

"Cast your light spell on it. I want to know how deep the water is."

Sand obliged.

She flung the now-glowing chunk of rock into the water, watching it sink while illuminating everything in its immediate vicinity with a ghostly blue-tinged shine.

The water was not as deep as she'd feared. Deep enough for Grobnar to drown, certainly, if they didn't hurry up and think of something, but if she turned out to have some sort of brilliant idea, the gnome might have a chance.

She reached for another rock.

"Do it again," she ordered Sand.

The wizard hesitated.

"This is my last one," he warned her, and she resisted the temptation to bash his face with the rock.

"Just do it," she snapped, irritated. "Unless you have a better idea, how about shutting up and helping me, hm?"

Sand cast the spell.

"Why do you even care?" Bishop, leaning back comfortably as though nothing at all was wrong, wanted to know. "I don't."

"That's obvious," she told him as she threw the second rock. "I haven't got the patience to bother with everyone still up there whining and bitching about how I didn't save the gnome. I don't fancy having to deal with yet another death someone will probably make me responsible for during the trial."

"You're pathetic," he smirked.

In the glow radius of the second rock, she glimpsed a small, gnome-sized shadow beneath the ice. Too far out to reach him from shore.

"Yes, well, maybe I am."

She pulled a face when she realized what she was about to do.

Oh bloodied, blasted hells, that fucking gnome is going to owe me big time.

"You could have let Zeeaire kill me," she reminded Bishop.

He didn't like that at all. His eyes narrowed, but she had more important things to do than banter with the ranger.

Like taking her clothes off.

Sand's eyes widened when she tugged at the buckles of her armor.

"You're not… going in there?" the wizard spluttered, staring as though sure she had lost her mind. He was probably right.

"Well, one of us has to." She grit her teeth, dropping the armor, tearing off her tunic, peeling her way out of her layers. "There's a couple of healing potions in my pack, and one of your endurance potions. Further back in the cave there's some pelts. They smell bad, but they'll be warm. Bishop, try to make a fire, if you can."

"She's gone off the deep end," the ranger informed the wizard.

Brianna, now only in her silken undershirt and leggings, tuned him out and focused on the spot in the water where the small, dark shape of the gnome still drifted.

"Fuck," she said succinctly, took a deep breath, and waded into the water.