Ember felt those things with dread certainty. She ran to save her own life. But as she caught up to Hennet and Nebin, she regained the presence of mind to match their slower pace.
Hennet still held the lantern. Shadows danced like imps across (heir path, making an ungainly pantomime with magnified arms and pumping legs. Sarcophagi and tombstones, crumbling with age, retreated on either side. Another hundred feet, and they plunged out of the vast mausoleum into a narrow tunnel.
The dread fluting ceased. Without its mental pressure, they checked their headlong flight. Ember felt as if a black fist released its hold on her stomach.
Nebin panted, "I hope we don't have to return this way."
Brek Gorunn, his skin uncharacteristically pale, responded, "Even if it proves the only possible escape, we'd do better to languish here. Moradin grant me strength, we woke something better left sleeping. If we leave it be, perhaps it will return to its evil slumber."
Hennet stated, "Forewarned is forearmed. We were startled, no more. Other than fear itself, it didn't do us any harm."
He gripped his Golden Wand. Ember wondered if the sorcerer wasn't drawing too much confidence from his Duel Arcane trophy.
"It didn't hurt us because we ran too fast, genius," said Nebin. "As my master often said, 'It's the tentacle you don't see that you should fear the most.'"
Hennet frowned.
"Regardless of the creature's true nature," broke in Ember, "we don't have to come back this way. We'll deal with Sosfane and her cult in the revived temple. After that we can leave through the temple's front door." Nor will we be coming back this way if we lose the fight, she concluded to herself.
"Did you hear that?" interrupted Brek Gorunn.
He looked back toward the tunnel mouth that opened into the subterranean mortuary. A second of silence was followed by a distant, fluting melody. Though faint, it sent a shiver up her spine.
Brek continued, "Perhaps we should move farther along this tunnel. No need to lure that cursed thing after us with chatter."
Ember nodded. She took the lantern back and handed it to the dwarf. Cautiously they advanced down the corridor.
Unlike the previous urn-lined corridors, this one was plain and carved directly from the surrounding stones without additional decoration. The drip of ages painted small mineral-rich stalagmites on the ceiling and long, colorful smears down the walls. The smell of damp and rot grew, and pools of water lay at their feet.
After many minutes of slow trudging through the unremarkable tunnel, Ember ventured, "What do you suppose all this was, before New Koratia was built, and before Nerull's priests claimed it?"
"Could have been the under-portions of a ruined surface city, I suppose," Brek offered. "The 'Ancient City' Nebin is so enraptured with."
"Or the upper-portions of a subterranean city?" questioned Hennet. "I've heard legends about evil elves who congregate far from the sun's reach."
Nebin, not to be outdone, said, "A treatise I read in my master's library hinted that these and other ruins represent some translocation of time-somewhere in the future, some terrible event destroys all life, and the ruins of civilization are buried in the deepest past."
"That's a thinker," replied Hennet.
Brek gave the gnome a bemused look.
Ember smiled and said, "That sounds a little far-fetched. What treatise was this, and what learned scholar was its author, Nebin?"
The gnome harrumphed and said nothing. Hennet and Ember shared a smile.
The advancing light of the lantern revealed a branch in the tunnel ahead, a Y leading to left and right.
"Which way?" inquired Ember.
The dwarf stood quiet, looking and sniffing into each dark opening, neither of which seemed particularly different from the other in Ember's estimation. The dwarf puzzled, pulling thoughtfully on his beard, and looked for some sign or telltale rune.
Finally, Brek Gorunn said, "We should go right. If we have to retrace our route, it pays to be consistent-we should go right at every branch. Plus, I don't like the smell to the left. It somehow puts me in mind of that flute player."
That was enough for Ember. They took the right-hand passage. By this time, the damp was so extreme that a thin layer of pooled, stagnant water formed a continuous slurry on the muddy floor, limber promised to buy herself boots to keep in her pack for just such occasions-her order preferred open-toed sandals. Sandals are not suited for catacomb trekking, she thought.
"I hope the water doesn't keep rising," commented Nebin.
Ember realized that because of his stature, he would be affected more than the others. Still, she'd rather be short than feel the muddy sludge squeezing between her toes with every step.
Suddenly the lantern's light fell on a closed stone door blocking their passage ahead. Ember moved up, motioning the others to silence. She placed one ear to the door, listening, and heard nothing but her own heartbeat.
Pulling away, she told the others, "Be ready," and she opened the door.
A noise as of stone on stone echoed down the hall.
"Oh, shards!" she gasped as the entire length of the passage where they stood swung down beneath them.
For the second time that day, Brek Gorunn felt himself falling. What had been a slick, muddy, but level corridor was transformed into a slick, muddy chute. He and his companions helplessly slid, one after another, and dropped onto a slimy, muddy floor. Brek didn't know how far he'd fallen, but it was a hard landing even with the mud as a cushion. It hadn't been so bad for Hennet, Brek guessed, because the human had the advantage of landing on the dwarf.
Lying on his back while the others groaned and struggled to regain their footing on the treacherous floor, Brek surveyed his surroundings. They were in a pit, about twenty feet on a side. The ceiling was just visible in the lantern's light, placing it about thirty feet up, Brek estimated. The chute above snapped back up into its former position high above the floor, trapping them all in a tight box of stone. He scanned the walls; no exit was visible on any surface. He checked himself for injuries, found none, then rose to help the others who weren't as durable as dwarves.
"Oh, perfect!" grumbled Nebin, as Brek helped him up from a facedown position in the mud.
His elaborate coat was sopped and soiled. The others were back on their feet already. The lantern revealed bones of small creatures, cave vermin most likely, mixed in with the mud and water puddles filling the bottom of their prison. Besides the bones of vermin, a lone humanoid skull sat half submerged in the shallow muck. Its presence spoke volumes about the position they had tumbled into.
"We're lucky this shaft is not half-filled with water," the dwarf noted. "There must be drainage of some sort."
Brek nudged the skull with his boot.
"Drainage?" said Nebin. "Who cares? What a useless thing to say…hello!"
The gnome's rant was derailed, apparently when he noticed large runes on one wall. Brek Gorunn frowned, beginning to feel downright testy. He decided that Nebin was lucky he'd stopped speaking when he did; this was no time to test anyone's temper. Me gave the skull another kick, splashing it across the chamber. He hoped they wouldn't all end up the same as the skulclass="underline" lost, trapped, starved, and finally dead.
"What do the runes say, Nebin?" asked Ember.
"I can't make them out. But I will." The gnome gestured, releasing a pinch of salt into the air from his pouch, and incanted a few arcane syllables. His eyes gleamed with ethereal luminance, and he read:" 'You have chosen the Testing Pit of Lo-Riao. Your arrival here indicates your agreement to be tested. Choose your measure: Test by Strife, or Test by Wit.'"
The gnome scratched his head and said, "Lo-Riao? Must have something to do with the ancient city."
The others shook their heads, indicating that they were equally unfamiliar with the name.