Eremes felt it the moment he set foot on the second floor.
Something was wrong here. Terribly, terribly, wrong.
The air smelled of death.
He quickly glanced at Retha, and she nodded, confirming his suspicions. It was hard to pinpoint, but something was not quite right.
He took a step, and the moment his foot touched the ground, his mind alighted upon the cause. There were no footsteps on this floor. For the past few hours, while their party had wandered the third floor of the biological laboratory, their footsteps had echoed in the sonorous space. However, the doppelgangers, ephemeral as they were, made no sound as they flitted around. It was possible that the residents of this floor had not yet escaped their cells, but Eremes doubted that. The mage should have escaped a long time ago. Perhaps they were all resting, waiting for a solution to come to them? What a flimsy explanation, he thought to himself. Only a fool would stay in place when faced with such a dire situation. Eremes was about to discard that possibility when he first heard the series of echoes.
There they were – like music to his ears – though perhaps, Eremes thought wryly, that was not the best analogy. He had never been appreciative of the finer arts.
The footsteps were harsh, loud. And suddenly, he became aware of a second noise. The wheezing gasps of a gas mask.
The firefighter's suit was dusty and worn.
Retha leaned over towards Eremes. "It almost looks like he's wearing a santa costume," she whispered, and he suppressed an out-of-character giggle. Her next comment was more appropriate, given the situation at hand. "Do you think he's hostile?"
"Not sure," he replied shortly. "We'll have to wait and see. Do you want to make contact, or should we wait for him?"
Suddenly, driven by some second sense, he ducked, and an axe flew above his head. "Guess that means he's an enemy. I'll take care of this."
A few quick flashes of his katar, and the firefighter lay dead in front of Eremes.
"Do you think it's possible that he thought we were doppelgangers?" Kathryne asked in a detached tone.
"No way," Retha replied. "We're not see-through, remember?"
"True…but perhaps he's been wandering out here for longer than we have. Maybe he lost his grip on sanity?" she suggested.
"I don't think so…" Cecil shivered. "Did you see the look in his eyes? I don't think he was human anymore…"
"Something is very wrong here," Alt-Eisen agreed gravely.
Eremes turned towards Retha. It was strange how everyone in the group had unequivocally accepted her as the leader, he thought. But it was hard not to like Retha. People naturally gravitated towards her down-to-earth personality. "I think you're all right about that," Retha said. "But as much as I would like to leave this place as quickly as possible, there are still six other Midgardians who have been trapped within this dungeon, and if we left them behind, I would not be able to live with myself. I say we try to find them, starting with the closest one. Whitesmith Alt-Eisen?" she prompted.
"The nearest cell should be straight ahead," he replied.
"Then that is where we shall go. Does anyone object?"
The group was silent, as Eremes thought it would be. Nobody was willing to be heartless enough to abandon the remaining six prisoners.
The unnerving silence continued as they walked towards their destination. With a mighty Lord of Vermillion, High Wizard Kathryne blew down the door.
As one, they ventured forward.
As one, they peered into the waiting darkness.
Eremes's skin tingled with a sixth sense. It was quiet. Too quiet.
In a cylindrical glass container, a mage's body floated, suspended in midair by a familiar green liquid.
A/N: Thank you for the reviews, Baubles :)