Mheren was the first to descend into the tunnels. "There's no time for
arguing," she said, after Poiniard had given her an uncharacteristically
chivalrous look. "There's no light at the bottom, and neither of you can
see in the dark. I'm an elf, and I can." The matter decided, she sat down
on the edge of the hole, dangling her feet in the air. She made a quick
check of the straps on her backpack and tightened her swordbelt, then set
her feet on the topmost rung and climbed down into the gloom.
Poiniard and Shespi huddled around the opening and watched the warrior- maiden descend. "Hurry up," Shespi said with a nervous glance over her shoulder. "If someone sees us before we get the hatch closed again, they'll know for sure where we went, and pursue us."
"Right," Poiniard agreed. "I'll go next." He glanced down to make sure Mheren had descended far enough for him to start down the ladder. Only the top few rungs were visible- the rest were hidden in the shadowy depths. There was no sign of Mheren. "Are you all right?" Poiniard called out, as loudly as he dared.
"Yes," came the faint, almost muffled reply from below. "It goes down quite a way."
"Enough talking," Shespi said.
Poiniard nodded and set his boots on the first rung. It was metal, and felt both slick and rusty. He, too, quickly checked that his gear was secure for the climb, then lowered himself into the tunnel. He labored under the weight of his heavy pack, which almost threatened to unbalance him. For the first time, Poiniard wondered whether all that gold was really worth it. The added bulk made for slow going down an already treacherous climb.
He had not gone very far when he began to feel an oppressive gloom close in about him. He fought the bile rising in his throat, for the air coming up the shaft from the tnnels below was thick and foul smelling. "How can Mheren stand this," he thought. The air just seemed old and musty, but the darkness seemed almost unnatural. Glancing down, he could not see much beyond his own feet, and Mheren was nowhere to be seen in the gloom below. Poiniard tried desperately to ignore the sense of revulsion that grew in his stomach every time he descended another rung.
Looking up, the light coming in through the square opening seemed pale and filtered, as if he were looking through a glass of ale. He saw Shespi's silhouette as she swung her shapely legs down onto the ladder.
"I'm coming down," Shespi called out from above, her voice barely a whisper.
The rusty metal handholds set in the slick masonry didn't seem nearly as secure as he would have liked. Poiniard took the deepest breath he could manage in the foul air, and tried to refocus all his attention on his descent. "Slow and steady," he told himself. "Firm foothold, tight grip, keep your pack centered."
"I'm closing the door," Shespi said.
Poiniard heard a soft clang and a muted click as the grate slid into place.
"Oh dear," Shespi said.
"What?"
"It's locked now," Shespi answered. He could hear her gently trying the grate she had just closed. "I didn't know it would do that."
"Well, no matter," Poiniard said, wondering why the grate would be locked from this side. Carefully, he moved down another rung. "I've got Wyrding, don't forget. Getting out won't be any trouble for us at all. But we won't be coming back out this way, anyway."
"You're right, I just don't like having a locked door behind me." Resigned that there was now only one way to go, Lady Shespi set about descending after the others.
A few moments later, Poiniard had lowered himself even further, and began to wonder how far down the shaft went. Surprisingly little light was making it down from above. Shespi was nothing but a slim, dark outline against the wall above him. Poiniard paused a moment to look down. He couldn't even see Mheren, let alone the bottom. "Mheren?"
"I'm here," she answered from somewhere below him. She sounded very far away. "I think I can see the bottom, and I can hear water dripping."
"I think I hear it too," he said, a slow, steady drip-drip-drip. Suddenly, he heard a shriek of metal, and a snapping sound, and a splash. "Mheren? Are you all right?"
No answer came, just the sound of frantic splashing. Panic gripped him, and he strained his eyes down into the darkness. Poiniard nearly lost his grip, hastening down to his friend.
"I'm all right," Mheren's voice said at last, coughing and spluttering somewhere below. "The last rung broke off. But it seems I've found the bottom."
"Hold on," Poiniard said. "I'm coming."
"Take it slow," she warned. "I don't want you falling on top of me. You should be able to feel where the last rung was. Don't worry, it's not a long drop from there. Just lower yourself and hang by your arms and let go." The others heard some small splashing as Mheren got to her feet. "Ugh," she said. "I'm standing up now, and there's muck down here up to my thighs. And I'm covered in it!"
"I guess your gown is ruined, then," Shespi called down jokingly.
"What's left of it," Mheren replied. "I hate to think what I must look like now."
"I hate to think what it is you're covered in."
The elf didn't really concern herself with her appearance. She drew Monarchal from her sheath and surveryed the small chamber at the bottom of the shaft with her elvensight. "We're in luck- there's a tunnel here leading northwest."
"Of course there's a tunnel," Shespi said. "Did you think I was leading you into a trap?"
"No, Lady Shespi, I didn't mean to imply that." Mheren searched around a bit more, waiting for the others to finish their descent. "The tunnel's not very high, we'll have to walk hunched over. And I don't think we're going to like this- it looks to be half-filled with this same, horrible slime."
"But at least it's too small for trolls to fit?" Poiniard asked hopefully.
"Looks that way," Mheren answered.
"I'm at the last rung now," Poiniard said. Doing as Mheren had told him, he went the last few rungs using only his hands, until finally he hung by the last good rung. He let go. His feet hit the murky water almost immediately, so it was only a drop of a few feet. "You're right," he said, pinching his nose in the darkness. "This stuff smells awful." He tested the slime, taking a few cautious steps. It seemed too thick and viscous to be water. "Hold on, I'll get a torch lit."
"Make it quick," the elf said. "So you can get out your Sword."
Poiniard and Shespi huddled around the opening and watched the warrior- maiden descend. "Hurry up," Shespi said with a nervous glance over her shoulder. "If someone sees us before we get the hatch closed again, they'll know for sure where we went, and pursue us."
"Right," Poiniard agreed. "I'll go next." He glanced down to make sure Mheren had descended far enough for him to start down the ladder. Only the top few rungs were visible- the rest were hidden in the shadowy depths. There was no sign of Mheren. "Are you all right?" Poiniard called out, as loudly as he dared.
"Yes," came the faint, almost muffled reply from below. "It goes down quite a way."
"Enough talking," Shespi said.
Poiniard nodded and set his boots on the first rung. It was metal, and felt both slick and rusty. He, too, quickly checked that his gear was secure for the climb, then lowered himself into the tunnel. He labored under the weight of his heavy pack, which almost threatened to unbalance him. For the first time, Poiniard wondered whether all that gold was really worth it. The added bulk made for slow going down an already treacherous climb.
He had not gone very far when he began to feel an oppressive gloom close in about him. He fought the bile rising in his throat, for the air coming up the shaft from the tnnels below was thick and foul smelling. "How can Mheren stand this," he thought. The air just seemed old and musty, but the darkness seemed almost unnatural. Glancing down, he could not see much beyond his own feet, and Mheren was nowhere to be seen in the gloom below. Poiniard tried desperately to ignore the sense of revulsion that grew in his stomach every time he descended another rung.
Looking up, the light coming in through the square opening seemed pale and filtered, as if he were looking through a glass of ale. He saw Shespi's silhouette as she swung her shapely legs down onto the ladder.
"I'm coming down," Shespi called out from above, her voice barely a whisper.
The rusty metal handholds set in the slick masonry didn't seem nearly as secure as he would have liked. Poiniard took the deepest breath he could manage in the foul air, and tried to refocus all his attention on his descent. "Slow and steady," he told himself. "Firm foothold, tight grip, keep your pack centered."
"I'm closing the door," Shespi said.
Poiniard heard a soft clang and a muted click as the grate slid into place.
"Oh dear," Shespi said.
"What?"
"It's locked now," Shespi answered. He could hear her gently trying the grate she had just closed. "I didn't know it would do that."
"Well, no matter," Poiniard said, wondering why the grate would be locked from this side. Carefully, he moved down another rung. "I've got Wyrding, don't forget. Getting out won't be any trouble for us at all. But we won't be coming back out this way, anyway."
"You're right, I just don't like having a locked door behind me." Resigned that there was now only one way to go, Lady Shespi set about descending after the others.
A few moments later, Poiniard had lowered himself even further, and began to wonder how far down the shaft went. Surprisingly little light was making it down from above. Shespi was nothing but a slim, dark outline against the wall above him. Poiniard paused a moment to look down. He couldn't even see Mheren, let alone the bottom. "Mheren?"
"I'm here," she answered from somewhere below him. She sounded very far away. "I think I can see the bottom, and I can hear water dripping."
"I think I hear it too," he said, a slow, steady drip-drip-drip. Suddenly, he heard a shriek of metal, and a snapping sound, and a splash. "Mheren? Are you all right?"
No answer came, just the sound of frantic splashing. Panic gripped him, and he strained his eyes down into the darkness. Poiniard nearly lost his grip, hastening down to his friend.
"I'm all right," Mheren's voice said at last, coughing and spluttering somewhere below. "The last rung broke off. But it seems I've found the bottom."
"Hold on," Poiniard said. "I'm coming."
"Take it slow," she warned. "I don't want you falling on top of me. You should be able to feel where the last rung was. Don't worry, it's not a long drop from there. Just lower yourself and hang by your arms and let go." The others heard some small splashing as Mheren got to her feet. "Ugh," she said. "I'm standing up now, and there's muck down here up to my thighs. And I'm covered in it!"
"I guess your gown is ruined, then," Shespi called down jokingly.
"What's left of it," Mheren replied. "I hate to think what I must look like now."
"I hate to think what it is you're covered in."
The elf didn't really concern herself with her appearance. She drew Monarchal from her sheath and surveryed the small chamber at the bottom of the shaft with her elvensight. "We're in luck- there's a tunnel here leading northwest."
"Of course there's a tunnel," Shespi said. "Did you think I was leading you into a trap?"
"No, Lady Shespi, I didn't mean to imply that." Mheren searched around a bit more, waiting for the others to finish their descent. "The tunnel's not very high, we'll have to walk hunched over. And I don't think we're going to like this- it looks to be half-filled with this same, horrible slime."
"But at least it's too small for trolls to fit?" Poiniard asked hopefully.
"Looks that way," Mheren answered.
"I'm at the last rung now," Poiniard said. Doing as Mheren had told him, he went the last few rungs using only his hands, until finally he hung by the last good rung. He let go. His feet hit the murky water almost immediately, so it was only a drop of a few feet. "You're right," he said, pinching his nose in the darkness. "This stuff smells awful." He tested the slime, taking a few cautious steps. It seemed too thick and viscous to be water. "Hold on, I'll get a torch lit."
"Make it quick," the elf said. "So you can get out your Sword."
