He was beginning to wish the chamber was flooded, because swimming through the ruins would be much easier.
Fool! he chastised himself, remembering his climbing magic. He was especially thankful at that moment that he no longer needed to swallow things such as spiders and blobs of nasty stuff to bring his magic to life. The manifestation of his abilities suddenly were that much more useful.
Nodding in satisfaction, Vambran invoked the arcane force that allowed him to skitter across walls and ceilings, and he lowered himself down through the hole. Once on the underside of the wall, he scrambled down to the next level, the inner wall of the ancient building. He was on the verge of maneuvering toward another doorway farther in when something whizzed past his ear.
Vambran spun in place, searching for whatever had soared so close. He was painfully conscious of having lost his trident. Whatever had passed him had traveled so fast that he had barely caught a glimpse of motion-he didn't know if it was a flying beast or an object that had been hurled. He spotted nothing, even while holding his light high overhead to illuminate as large an area as possible.
Motion attracted his attention again, and he watched as something swished toward him a second time. It was a small blade, perhaps a short sword, and as it whisked by, nearly slicing into his ribs, he followed it visually. The sword stopped and hovered, turning in place and pointing at him once more.
What the-? Vambran wondered, watching the floating sword warily. When it shot toward the lieutenant a third time, he deftly stepped aside and swiped at the blade with his hand, trying to knock it from the air to the floor. He managed to strike the sword upon its hilt and redirect its flight slightly, but the sword recovered and zipped away, into the deeper darkness beyond the range of Vambran's coin.
The mercenary waited, listening. The sword did not appear again for several moments, and Vambran wondered if he had scared it off with his strike. Still, he wanted to be sure, so he turned his gaze all about, seeking some sign that the blade was coming again.
When the sword did strike, Vambran did not see it, for it attacked him from behind. It caught the lieutenant in the small of the back, but thankfully, it was a glancing blow and not a direct stab. Even so, Vambran staggered from the impact and felt burning pain erupt in the wound. The sword danced away into the darkness as Vambran staggered over to a wall and placed his back against it, watching for more attacks and speaking the words of a healing orison.
The mercenary had barely managed to complete the spell to soothe his wound when the sword slashed in again. Vambran ducked and the blade struck hard against the wall behind the mercenary. The collision did not seem to confound the weapon, which skittered sideways along the wall and disappeared once more.
How am I going to fight this thing? Vambran wondered. I don't even have a blade of my own. Then he had an idea.
Grasping his coin once more, Vambran visualized the magic he wanted to use, and with the words on the tip of his tongue, he waited patiently. Sure enough, the sword came swooping in again, trying to catch the mercenary off guard by dashing down from the ceiling. Vambran almost didn't notice in time, but he spotted the enchanted blade at the last moment, leaned out of the way, and cast the spell he had readied.
As his magic dampening prayer radiated out from his coin, Vambran watched the sword plummet to the floor, motionless. Before it could grow active again, Vambran leaped on top of the blade and pinned it to the stones. He reached down and gingerly grasped it by the hilt. When the sword didn't react, Vambran eased it out from under his foot and let it rest in his hand, testing its balance and weight. It was a fine blade, well crafted, and was still shiny and free of corrosion. He wondered what sorts of enchantments had been placed on it, or if it might suddenly animate and attack him again. He considered pinning it beneath a heavy rock, hoping to preclude the weapon from coming after him again, but he decided to hold onto it for a while instead, in the event of any other kinds of trouble.
Vambran turned his attention once more to the task of finding the center of the great building, feeling certain that an inner door inside the circular hallway would lead there. But because the building had tipped when it came to rest, the lieutenant had to walk on the inner, rounded wall. As he followed that wall around, the descent became steeper and steeper. Eventually, he was forced to return to his spidery wall-walking to keep from slipping right down the curved slope into the depths below.
When Vambran had traveled perhaps a quarter of the way around the path and it appeared to him that he was in a nearly vertical shaft, he discovered a broad double door leading deeper into the building. He clung to the wall next to the portal and tested it, but the door appeared to be warped in its frame and wouldn't budge. Vambran remembered his newest gift of arcane sorcery, and despite the terrifying results of its previous use, he decided to employ it once more. Backing up a few steps, he gestured and watched as the doors groaned and rumbled, forcing their way open. As the twin panels parted, Vambran peered inside.
The chamber beyond was magnificent. The soft glow of colored illumination was the first thing that caught the lieutenant's eye-points of light scattered in random locations around the periphery of the room. He wasn't sure what was creating the lights, but enough of them were present, giving off a soft glow, that he could see without difficulty. The chamber was huge and round, as he had suspected from traversing the outer hallway. It was capped by a domed ceiling, with columns throughout the hall, many of which still held it predominately intact. A number had broken away, their remains littering the lowest surface, what Vambran thought of as the back wall.
The floor itself was not flat but rather bowl shaped, with rows and rows of benches in concentric circles filling it at one time, all facing toward the center, a theater in the round. In the center, a dais stood high enough that all in attendance would have been able to see without hindrance. A large stone altar, built to be one continuous fixture together with the dais, still remained in place. The intricately carved cube jutted out almost horizontally from its base.
Vambran was mesmerized. Somehow, he knew that it was the chamber spoken of in the sea elves' histories, the same one Arbeenok had seen in his vision. He was standing in a place of history, wondrous history. The thought made him eager and sad at the same time.
All of this had been wrought to endure, he realized. It was built to withstand the test of time. And in a way, it has, though not as they would have wanted it. A shame.
Still using his magical climbing, Vambran stepped through the doorway and moved inside. He still held the sword he had subdued, afraid to release it lest it attack him, but thus far it had remained quiescent. Taking a deep breath to control his excitement, Vambran decided to investigate the sources of light first.
The glittering specks were clusters of gems, put together as flowers, and as best as Vambran could tell, they had been enchanted with minor magic that caused them to glow. Nothing more, he thought. And they function still, fifteen centuries later. The simple beauty of them made the lieutenant grin. He considered prying one loose from its mounting, a token to take back with him, but the idea appalled him for some reason.
I'm here for one thing only, Vambran told himself. And people on the surface are waiting.
Turning his back on the curious glowing gem blossoms, Vambran began to cross the vast floor toward the center, traversing it on hands and feet since it was nearly vertical. He was careful to avoid the benches that still clung to their mountings, fearful that he might dislodge one and send it crashing to the bottom of the room. Even with his caution, he dislodged a number of fragments of stone. The floor had buckled and shifted during its tumble to the bottom of the sea, leaving myriad cracks and fissures throughout the stonework.