“Come on,” Govin said, drawing his sword and proceeding cautiously down the passage out of the room. “That thing’ll figure out where we went soon enough.”
“Wait,” Ahleage called softly. “Let me take the lead. Istus knows I’m a fool, but I can keep a sharp eye out for”—he shrugged—“whatever.”
Acquiescing, Govin let Ahleage move a little ahead of him, and the group proceeded down the hall.
Shanhaevel, padding along beside Shirral, was trying very hard to keep from scuffing his feet along the floor. Despite his efforts, it seemed to him that every footfall was a thunderclap in his ears. This isn’t like walking on the floor of the forest, he reminded himself. Shaking his head, he redoubled his efforts at stealth.
The gloom of the place weighed down upon him. The mass of earth and stone overhead seemed somehow to be slowly sinking, pressing down, threatening to crush them all, to trap them them in the darkness. Even the lanterns Elmo and Shirral carried seemed to do little to banish the menacing shadows, and Shanhaevel found that he was hearing faint noises just beyond the range of the light. He shuddered and pressed on, staying close to Draga, who was right in front of him.
The passage ran straight for a ways, then turned to the right. There was a door to the left, currently shut, and the tunnel continued on into the gloom. It was here that the torches were lit, and the cobwebs and dust of before were absent.
“Which way?” Shirral asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
“No doors!” Ahleage replied just as softly, turning to head the other direction. “As long as we don’t open them, we’re not surprised by anything on the other side.”
Shirral looked at Shanhaevel, who only shrugged and nodded. They continued to pad along, and more than once Shanhaevel realized he was holding his breath. After a short while, this next passage opened into another circular room, although this one was larger than the first, and far from being empty, its rounded walls were lined with statues. Ahleage pulled up short of entering and peered around.
There were nine statues in total—strange and fantastic creatures, only some of which Shanhaevel recognized. Nearest was a great spherical beast with but a single giant eye in its middle, gaping jaws below that, and ten tentacles, also containing eyes, on its top side. It had been carved so that it appeared to float. Next to that was a rearing dragon, much smaller than Shanhaevel imagined a real one would be. The other forms were hidden by the gloom, although four odd, glowing bronze spheres set into the walls lighted the place. Two other passages led out of the room.
“Now what?” Ahleage asked over his shoulder, not turning his back to the chamber. “How much farther are we willing to go?”
“We need a place to rest,” Elmo said, “some place where we can hide and wait for a chance to go back and get out of here.”
“That way,” Govin said, pointing across the round room to the passage on the left.
“How do you know?” Ahleage insisted, scowling. “What makes that one better than the other?”
“I don’t know, but it is,” the knight answered. “I can feel it.”
Ahleage raised one eyebrow at Govin as if the knight were crazy, but finally he shook his head and crept across the open floor of the round chamber, heading for the passage Govin had indicated.
As Shanhaevel followed, he noticed that the glowing spheres had detached themselves from the walls and were floating, hovering. He looked more closely and realized the lights were closing in on the group.
“Uh, let’s hurry,” he said softly. “I don’t think this room is safe.”
When Shirral looked in the direction he was staring, she gasped, “Will o’ wisps!” She shoved Govin, who was in front of her, so he would move faster. “Don’t let them touch you!”
Ahleage looked over his shoulder, and when he saw the advancing balls of light, his eyes widened. He turned and jogged out the far side, the rest of the group close behind.
The Alliance hurried down this new corridor, which was once again kept in darkness, although it lacked the dust that might indicate disuse. It ran for much longer than the more recent tunnels had, and after a few moments, Shanhaevel heard running water ahead. Ahleage slowed, cautious once more, and the elf stole a glance behind them. The will o’ wisps, as the druid had named them, were not following, although they still bobbed and weaved in the now-distant chamber.
The water flowed from a horrid fountain set back in a slight alcove. Leering demonic faces spewed nasty smelling water from mouths, eyes, and open sores on their faces. The rancid water fell into several basins blackened by some sort of aquatic growth.
Ahleage shuddered and gave the fountain a wide berth, skirting along on the opposite side of the passage. “Still think this is a great idea?” he asked Govin over his shoulder as they continued. “How much longer does our luck hold out?”
“Ahleage is right,” Elmo said, slowing. “This is getting us nowhere but lost. We should stop and rethink this.”
“No,” Govin insisted. He pointed again. “I can’t explain why, but this is the way we must go.”
“Look, knight,” Ahleage said, turning on Govin with a fierce look, “we’re mad to be doing this. We found the key, and we should be trying to leave, not go deeper. And where is everyone? Why aren’t we running into temple forces? It scares me that it’s so empty in here.”
“I understand your reluctance,” the knight said. “I feel so many bad sensations from this accursed place that I want to retch. But for some reason, I can sense something else ahead.”
“What?” Ahleage insisted. “What do you sense?”
“I don’t know. I can’t quite put my finger on it, but it feels… holy, somehow.”
Ahleage rolled his eyes and whistled. “I think your brain has been poisoned by this place,” he said in disgust.
A sensation of frigid blackness suddenly ran up and down Shanhaevel’s spine. Shuddering from the unnerving feeling, he turned to peer back down the hall, half-expecting to see one of the will o’ wisps nearby. Instead, a shadowed thing reared up not two paces away and turned his blood to ice.
“Boccob!” the wizard yelped, jerking back instinctively and slamming into Draga.
Lareth’s face stared balefully at him and hissed, malevolence radiating from its spectral, spidery body. It shambled forward, its two front legs curled upward, reaching for the elf.
Shirral screamed, and Shanhaevel felt someone grab his collar and jerk him back as one of the tendrils swiped at his face, barely missing. They were running, Govin leading the way, all of them scrambling madly, desperately away from the shade that had crept up on them.
Shanhaevel paid little attention to the twists and turns of their progress, concentrating only on staying close to the rest of them and making sure Shirral was still beside him. He did not dare turn around to see if the animate shadow was still there. From farther back, the creature let out its keening wail, which both terrified the elf and relieved him. As horrifying as it was, it meant they were putting distance between themselves and the monster.
As he rounded another corner, still making certain he was keeping up with Draga, Shanhaevel nearly collided with the bowman, who had stopped to stare at Govin. The knight was standing in the middle of a hallway, once again a dust- and cobweb-covered passage, staring around uncertainly.
“Here,” the knight said. His voice was filled with doubt. “Somewhere right here…” His words trailed off as he peered at the floor, then moved to the wall and pressed it experimentally with his hand. A frown pursed his lips as he looked, then, shaking his head, stepped back and pointed, saying, “A door. It is here somewhere. Find it!”
Shrugging, Shanhaevel stepped up to where Govin had indicated. He looked, feeling his spine crawl from increasing panic at the thought of the shadowy creature catching up to them again. Suddenly, he spotted the seam Govin had somehow known would be there—the outline of a door!