Dhamon arrived shortly before sunset.
The half-elf was on her feet, intercepting him before he reached Maldred. She wrinkled her nose, sniffing. “Town nearby?”
“About eight, nine miles. It’s small. You’d be hard-pressed to even call it a village.”
He knew why she’d asked. The half-elf could be perceptive when she wanted to, and he knew she smelled alcohol on him. Dhamon had wandered into the village after spotting its only business, an inn with inviting smells coining from it.
Dhamon reached into his pocket, pulled out a handkerchief, and passed it to her.
“Venison,” she said approvingly. “It’s spiced.” She gobbled the dried strips without a thought of sharing.
Behind the half-elf, Dhamon saw Varek’s eyes narrow. Is the young husband jealous? he wondered. Or am I? Dhamon brushed aside thoughts of Rikali and went over to Maldred. He knelt by the big man and prodded him awake.
“I found something,” Maldred said, as he pushed himself to his knees. “Something right here.” He thrust a finger at the ground in front of him and grinned lopsidedly. “I’m not sure just what it is, but I think we should take a peek.”
“You still look tired,” Dhamon observed.
“Magic does that to you.” Maldred leaned over the spot he’d indicated and pressed the heels of his hands into the earth. He closed his eyes and started humming.
Dhamon was quick to interrupt him. “You sure you’re up to this? Whatever’s down there has probably been down there more than three hundred years. I’d say it could wait another day.”
“I appreciate your concern, my friend,” Maldred replied, “but I’m not that tired. Not when there’s pirate treasure to be had.” He resumed his humming, and Dhamon sat back. Varek and Riki approached quietly.
Maldred’s tune was different this time, deeper and throatier, louder and without much fluctuation—like a bass horn sounding one long, constant note, then sliding down a measure as its player runs out of breath. He kept up the monotonous tune, snatching a breath here and there, letting his humming become softer yet at the same time more intense. Suddenly the sound wavered. Dhamon was on his feet, motioning Riki and Varek to back up. The ground trembled gently at first, then shook, pebbles bouncing as the big man hummed louder. Maldred moved too, crawling backward on his hands and knees without stopping his spell. The ground split in his wake.
“By all the vanished gods!” Varek cried. His face was filled with astonishment, and his feet were frozen to the spot. The half-elf yanked him back. The sivak approached cautiously, clearly awed. Where Maldred had knelt was a gaping hole, sides irregular and looking like the open mouth of a hungry beast. The vibrations continued, and the companions—save the sivak—stepped back, though the hole didn’t widen.
Rather it deepened, as if Maldred’s magic were a giant drill that was excavating far into the earth. Dhamon tested the ground near the edge. The earth fell away into a black nothingness far below. There was a rumbling, followed by a tremor. The shaking continued for several minutes more, then finally quieted.
“Pigs, but I thought you were makin’ an earthquake, Mal. I thought it was gonna be like that Vale of Chaos all over again.” The half-elf shook a finger at the big man, then crept forward, leaning dangerously over the edge despite Varek’s attempt to hold her back. “Can’t see much,” she announced. “It’s a long way down there and there ain’t much light. Just some dirt and rocks and wood.”
“Wood,” Maldred said grinning. “Worked wood where there shouldn’t be any.”
“Lots of wood,” Ragh added.
Dhamon was leaning far over, his keen eyes picking through the shadows. “Oh, there’s more than wood down there,” he said, breaking into a rare grin. “I see a ship’s mast, my friend, and part of a sail. And there are a few broken crows’ nests.”
Chapter Sixteen
Abraim’s Tempest
“Foolish thing to do at night,” the half-elf grumbled. “Gettin’ dark up here, sun settin’ an’ all. Darker down there. We ain’t got a lantern. And we ain’t got a rope. Never mind that we can’t see the treasure. How we gonna get to it?”
“Gotta be a twenty-foot drop to down there,” Varek judged.
The sivak shook its head. “Thirty.”
Rikali tapped her foot. “Pigs, some thieves you are, Dhamon, Mal, comin’ on a treasure hunt an’ not coming prepared. How’m I gonna get down there?” She anxiously paced around the hole. “Not even a torch.”
“I can see well enough,” the sivak pronounced after a moment. “I do not require a lantern.”
“But you can’t fly down there, Ragh,” the half-elf continued. “Neither can we.”
I can see well enough, too, Dhamon thought. He could make out the forms of five ships, none of them wholly intact. There were other shapes farther back, perhaps rocks or more ships. He heard something down there, too, a sound faint and hard to discern over his companions’ talk. Sand falling from the cavern ceiling, pebbles bouncing off the ships, he decided after a moment. A stone shifting—all from the aftereffects of Maldred’s spell.
Rikali stopped pacing and glanced at Maldred. “Can you make some steps with your magic? We could walk right down an’…”
Maldred shook his head. “You know my magic is not that precise, especially with… dirt.”
“How about some light?”
“That I can do,” he said, “though it won’t last long.”
“Right—clothes will help.” Dhamon slipped away toward their meager supplies, pulling spare trousers and shirts from their satchels, a long dress from Riki’s sack. Despite Varek’s and the halfelf’s protests he began ripping the clothes into thick strips and tying them together. He wound a small strip around a dry branch he picked up. “It’s not a proper torch,” he told Maldred, handing it to him. “It won’t last long, but it’ll have to do.”
They had one blanket among them, which Varek had taken from the spawn village for Riki. This, too, Dhamon tore into strips, adding the length to his rope. When he was finished, he looped one end around a rock a few feet away and tested its strength. “Should work,” he said. Maldred was holding the makeshift torch close to his chest, caressing it, mumbling to it. For a brief moment heat pulsed in his chest, then his arm. The cloth around the end of the branch caught fire. Dhamon glanced at the sivak. “You’re the heaviest, so you’re last. But you are coming.” So we can keep an eye on you, he added silently.
“I’m light. I’ll go first,” Varek volunteered.
Maldred made a move to stop him, but Dhamon put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. With a nod to Riki, Varek grabbed the torch and was quick over the side.
“Your magic loosened the earth, Mal,” Dhamon said in a hushed voice. “Nothing wrong with our over-anxious young man being the one to test just how sturdy the ground is below.” He watched as Varek reached the end of the cloth rope, then jumped the remaining ten feet. Varek walked in a tight circle before motioning for the others to follow.
“Can’t see much!” He yelled. “Maybe one of these ships has a lantern!”
The half-elf made a grab for the cloth rope. “Ladies next,” she said.
“No. You’re staying up here,” Dhamon told her, taking the rope out of her hands. “Someone needs to keep an eye out for any Legion of Steel Knights, maybe for the farmer who owns this land.”
The half-elf slammed her foot against the ground. “There’s been nobody come by the whole time we’ve been here—not that you’d know that with all of your gallivantin’, Dhamon. You just don’t want me to see what’s down there, do you? Don’t want me to have a proper share of the treasure. I want what’s due me, Dhamon Grimwulf. You ain’t leavin’ me behind again an’—”