Thomas Reid - The Emerald Scepter

The open space was actually a low-ceilinged tunnel, perhaps ten paces wide, that vanished into the distance, well beyond the light of the torch. It stank of waste and sea salt. Runnels of liquid poured down the walls or directly from small holes in the ceiling in various places, and the sounds of drips and splashes echoed in the distance.

The group stood at the end of the tunnel. At the time, only brown sludge covered the bottom of the passage, but Pilos understood that the water level sometimes rose up past the roof when-

When the tide comes in, the priest realized, his fears growing. This is the sewer, and it connects to the harbor!

As if sensing Pilos's desperate recognition, the wizard chuckled. "Lak, Borth, get them ready," she said, sitting down on one side of the gate and opening a bag she carried. "We don't have much time," she urged.

Lak grabbed Pilos's arm and shoved him forward, sending him sprawling into the nasty muck. Without his hands free to stop himself, the young priest landed hard against the floor of the tunnel with a splat, striking his chin and coating his face with filth. Spots swam in his vision. When he regained his senses enough to realize what had happened, Lak was sitting on top of him, locking the second cuff of a pair of leg irons around his ankle.

No! Pilos thought, grunting and thrashing, trying to shake the little man off and free himself. No!

Lak jumped up once he had finished, and Pilos turned to see that Borth had similarly secured Quill, who was mumphing through his own gag and jerking at the manacles still restraining his wrists behind his back.

"Consider yourself ready," the small man said, his tone smug.

"If you could swim fast enough," the wizard said with a smirk in her tone as she pawed through the contents of the bag, "you might reach the end of the tunnel before you drown." She laughed and looked at Lak and Borth, who stood chuckling. Pilos saw that she was examining Xaphira's and Emriana's belongings. "It's a shame to lose these fine things," she commented, examining the various blades and jewelry, "but we can't take the risk that someone will come looking for them. So I guess we'll tie the bag around your neck so it can disappear with you. The current usually washes the bodies out in a day or two, doesn't it?"

The two thugs nodded. "Yeah, sometimes the fishermen find them floating near the boats," Borth said with glee in his voice, "but sometimes they head out to the open water and no one ever finds them."

Pilos watched as Quill suddenly tried to rise to his feet and rush at the three of them, desperation perhaps lending him strength, but Lak saw what was happening and kicked him with one boot, sending the bound man sprawling into the slimy muck again. The mercenary landed on his side with a grunt and lay there for a moment, gasping for breath.

Pilos turned to stare at the three thugs, wanting to give them one last defiant speech, but he held off when he saw the wizard. She had a very strange, almost pained look upon her face. He watched her as she stared at nothing for a moment. Then she stood suddenly and turned her attention down the tunnel. "What's that?" she said.

"What?" Lak asked, looking where she did. "What do you see?"

"I thought I saw something shiny," she said, pointing. "Way down there."

"Shiny like what?" Borth asked, craning his neck to get a better view.

"Maybe a bit of jewelry, glittering in the light of the torch. Go see," she ordered.

"Aw, there's nothing down there," Lak fussed, turning back to gloat over Pilos. "You're imagining it."

"What if there is something? What if it's a tiara covered in rubies? Part of the lost treasure of Narneth Elor, washed out of some secret hidey hole for us to find? Don't you want to make certain? Here," she said, holding out the torch for Lak. "Go check."

Lak looked at the wizard for a moment, his expression doubtful, then he sighed and grabbed the torch. "Come on," the small man grumbled at his larger companion, trudging down the tunnel. "Let's go see what she's talking about."

The two men took the light with them, leaving the wizard and her two prisoners in the ever-deepening darkness, and splashed through the slime. Pilos noticed it had risen slightly and had become shallow water.

Now, the young priest thought as he struggled to his feet, my only chance.

Pilos was up on one knee, trying to decide whether to slam himself into the wizard first to incapacitate her and stop her from using magic, or if doing so would give the two men too much time to return and catch up to him. Then the woman was beside him, her mouth close to his ear. Pilos wanted to bash his forehead into hers, possibly stunning her, but her words stopped him.

"Don't move," she whispered. "Let them get a little farther away first, or they will hear us."

The Abreeant gaped at her, though all he could see was the silhouette of her head. He opened his mouth to ask her what in the Nine Hells she was talking about, but she placed a finger on his lips, shushing him.

"Trust me," she said.

"Where is this thing?" Lak called from the distance. "We don't see any treasure!"

"I don't think you've gone far enough yet," the wizard called. "It was really a ways down there."

Pilos wasn't sure, but he thought he caught the sound of some disgruntled swearing. He waited, though, his heart pounding, wondering what the woman intended.

Finally, after another interminable moment, his captor said, "Now. Head for the stairs, as quietly as you can. No matter what happens, don't stop, don't turn around."

Pilos still didn't understand, but he didn't object as she helped him to his feet. He began to walk in the direction of the stairs, feet shuffling. His blind movements made splashing sounds like a roaring torrent in his ears.

In the distance, Pilos heard Lak shout, "Hey!" and he made the mistake of turning to peer over his shoulder. He could make out the silhouette of both Maquillon and the woman directly behind him, their outlines illuminated by the glow of the distant torch, which was growing stronger. "What are you doing back there?" the small man shouted.

"Damn," the wizard said from right behind Pilos. "Move it, you two," she muttered. "Get up those steps."

Pilos turned back to the task at hand, his heart threatening to leap out of his chest. He tried to take a few more steps, then slammed face-first into solid stone. He sat down with a grunt of pain, tasting blood on his lip and realizing that he had missed the smaller opening at the end of the tunnel. Right behind him, Quill nearly toppled over him, and the wizard collided with both of them.

"Don't stop!" she said, scrabbling around in the dark, trying to help them to their feet. "Get through the gate!"

Pilos could hear running footsteps behind them, but he was too afraid to turn around to see how close their pursuers were. Instead, he felt his way along the stone wall, sensing Quill frantically shoving him from behind. When he suddenly felt space in front of him, he darted forward, fighting against the water, which was nearly up to his knees. Three or four paces beyond the barrier, he crashed against the partially open gate, badly bruising his shoulder. He grunted in pain again as the gate creaked and swung almost completely shut. Quill bumped into him again from behind, and the man gave an urgent, almost frantic grunt, urging Pilos to keep moving.

Blessed Brightwater! Pilos thought, trying to wedge his shoulder between the gate and its frame so he could slip past it. Hold your ever-loving horses!

Finally he shifted enough to nudge the gate open and stumbled past the barrier, Quill right on his tail. Blind, Pilos continued forward until he struck the first submerged step with his toe and lost his balance, careening forward and slamming himself against the rough edges of the stairs.