Finally they came to a place where a fresh fall of dirt and rocks blocked most of the passage. The ball did not hesitate. It floated to the top of the tunnel and vanished in the crevice between the debris and the ceiling. That left Wiz and his companions in darkness except for the faint glow coming through the crack.
"It doesn’t look very big," Donal said, eyeing the crack doubtfully.
"The spell does know enough not to go where a man may not follow?" Kenneth asked.
"Well, ah…" Wiz realized he hadn’t thought of that. "Come on, let’s see if we can get through."
He scrambled up the mound of loose earth and tried to wedge his body through. His arms and head went in easily enough, but his torso went only halfway. He tried to back out but with his arms extended in front, he couldn’t get any purchase. He kicked his legs and tried to writhe his body from side to side, but only succeeded in getting a mouthful of the fetid dirt.
"Help me out of here," he called as he twisted his head to one side and spat out the foul-tasting earth.
Donal and Kenneth each grabbed a leg and tugged strongly. Wiz slid out, still spitting dirt.
"Gah!" He wiped his tongue on the inside of his tunic. "No good. We’ll have to dig."
Kenneth muttered a comment about half-something spells. Wiz ignored him and picked up his staff. "backslash light exe" he commanded, pointing the staff down the corridor. At once everything let up with eerie blue light. Then Wiz turned to work on the blockage.
They had no shovel, so at first Wiz threw dirt back between his legs like a dog. Then Kenneth took off his helm and passed it up to use as a scoop. When they came to rocks too large for Wiz to move by himself, Donal squeezed into the tunnel beside him to help. All the while Kenneth stood guard with his bow at the ready, looking nervously down the way they had come.
"I think it’s big enough," Wiz said at last, panting from the exercise. "Let me check."
As he moved to climb back up the dirt pile, Donal caught his arm and shook his head. "Bal-Simba said to take care of you, Lord. I’ll go first."
"I wish you’d remembered that while I was digging," Wiz said as Kenneth knocked the dirt out of his helm and laced it tight to his mail coif.
"Bal-Simba did not say to do your work for you," Donal replied. Then he scrambled up the dirt pile and squeezed into the crack, dragging his great sword behind him.
"All clear," he called after a moment from the other side and Wiz slithered through after him with Kenneth close behind.
Amazingly, the seeker’s golden light was still visible, reflected off the wall at the end of the corridor. Wiz and his companions hurried on, turned a corner and there, about twenty-five yards in front of them, was the seeker, bobbing up and down gently in front of a stout oaken door.
"Moira? Moira?" Wiz called as they came down the corridor.
A pale tear-stained face appeared in the tiny barred window set in the door.
"Wiz? Oh, Wiz!"
Wiz rushed ahead of his companions and pressed against the door. "Oh my God! Darling, are you all right?"
"Oh Wiz, Wiz. I’ve been so… Oh Wiz!" and Moira started to cry.
"Come on, we’ll get you out of there. Stand away from the door, now."
Moira backed from the window, as if reluctant to lose sight of him.
"Get as far away as you can and cover yourself," Wiz instructed her. "Tell me when you’re ready."
"I’m… I’m ready." Moira called tentatively from within the cell.
Wiz raised his staff.
"What was that?" Atros growled.
"Vig noiss. Egplhossion." The goblin commander’s human speech was slurred by his great tusks.
"I know that, idiot! But what caused it?"
The goblin merely shrugged, which only increased the wizard’s ire. For over two hours Atros had been searching the dungeons based on the report of a troop of goblins who had been attacked in their guardroom by a strong force of human warriors and wizards. At least that was their story, Atros thought sourly. So far he had seen nothing to prove it.
"Well, where did it come from?" he snapped.
"That way, Master. Where special prisoner is." Atros ears pricked up. What was the old crow hiding down here? "Well, let’s check. Quickly."
With nearly fifty heavily armed and armored goblins behind them Atros and the goblin commander set off down the tunnel at a trot.
The dungeons were a difficult labyrinth in the best of times, but with the incredible attack going on above, the maze of twisty little passages was almost impenetrable. The magic which usually guided the knowledgeable wasn’t working and Atros was forced to rely on the memory and navigating skill of the goblins. He had a sneaking suspicion they had spent most of their time down here lost and wandering in circles—if a circle wasn’t too regular a figure to describe their movments.
But something had obviously happened to those guards and Atros was encouraged by the report of humans in the dungeons—apparently Northern guardsmen at that. What was going on over their heads was unbelievably powerful, but it was also strange. None of the familiar magic or non-magical forces of the North had been encountered. Atros had perforce learned a grudging respect for the Northerners, not only for developing so many mighty new spells but for keeping everything so secret that the League’s spies had gotten only the vaguest of hints.
However that left the League’s more conventional resources uncommitted and Atros had a shrewd suspicion that they would be thrown in at a critical point. When that happened, he vowed as he jogged along grimly, he would be there and there would be such a duel of wizards as the World had never seen.
Wiz charged through the smoldering ruins of the door and swept Moira into his arms. She was dazed and weeping. She was filthy and her long red hair was matted with dirt, but she was still the most beautiful woman Wiz had ever seen.
"Oh my God, Moira, I thought I had lost you forever."
"Wiz, oh Wiz," Moira sobbed into his chest. Then he reached down, lifted her chin and kissed her.
"Now what?" Atros demanded of his hulking companion as they came around the bend. Ahead of them was a faint golden glow, the likes of which Atros had never seen down here.
The head goblin only shrugged and signalled his men to advance cautiously. As they moved down the tunnel cautiously the light grew brighter and steadier. They came around another bend and there, at the end of the tunnel was a shattered door with a golden light emanating from it and the sound of voices. Human voices. Atros stepped aside as the goblin captain and his soldiers advanced.
At the cell door, Kenneth stared down the corridor and fretted. It was bad enough that the Sparrow hadn’t turned off his seeker ball now that they had found the hedge-witch. Worse he was clinched with her and he wasn’t making any effort to get them away. Kenneth’s well-developed sense of danger had been nagging ever since they entered the dungeons and now the nagging had grown to a full scream. If they stayed here much longer they were going to run into something they could not handle. Kenneth had no doubt at all these passages were full of things like that.
He frowned and squinted down the way they had come, careful not to expose his body with the light behind him. Was it his imagination or had he just heard a scuffling sound, like something heavy trying to move quietly?
Well, one way to find out, he thought to himself. Silently he nocked the arrow he was carrying in his bow hand. Then he drew and loosed a shaft down the corridor.
He was rewarded with a shout and the sound of running feet.
"Attackers!" Kenneth yelled, and fired another arrow. Donal was at his side instantly, his sword at the ready.