Jean Rabe - Downfall

He grabbed Fiona's hand and raced down the remainder of the steps, wincing as rocks crashed down from the ceiling and struck him.

"Are you all right?" he called to her, not slowing his pace and tugging her to get her to move faster.

"Yes!" She was having a difficult time keeping up with him.

The mountain continued to shake, spitting rocks at them and showering them with dust that filled the air and made them cough.

"Hurry!" Maldred urged. Then suddenly his feet flew out from under him as a step crumbled beneath him. He released her hand, but too late, she was falling down with him. Tumbling down the last fifty feet of stairway, their bodies pummeling each other, the torch flying from Fiona's hand, singeing her tunic and the flesh beneath, then going out amid a shower of stone and dust and plunging them into absolute darkness.

She heard the cry of bats, panicked, perhaps hundreds of them. Then that sound faded and she heard Maldred's breathing. She reached forward with her fingers, exploring, finding rocks, the edge of the stairs, feeling his chest, incredibly broad and muscular but rising and falling quickly. He moved away from her, his feet fumbling and pushing rocks away, then standing and finding a wall to lean against.

"Fiona?" he gasped.

"Here," she answered. She moved some rocks aside that had landed on her, felt her legs to make sure they weren't broken. Then she stood and groped about, connecting her fingers to his. He didn't move away this time. "Are you hurt, Maldred?"

He shook his head, then instantly realized she couldn't see him. "Sore," he answered. "That's all."

"So dark," she said as she groped behind him and felt the wall, searched with her foot and found the bottommost step. "We've got to get out of here somehow."

"Not by climbing up." He pulled her close and felt the gash on her cheek from the troll. It was bleeding again. "That way was sealed with the cave-in."

"Can you see?"

"I can sense it."

"How?"

"I just can, that's all," he said, with a slight edge to his voice.

"Rig and Dhamon!"

Maldred closed his eyes and hummed, shut out her questions and felt the wall behind him, fingers from one hand splayed over it, fingers from the other wrapping around hers to hold her in place. He was performing an enchantment, a simple one as far as he was concerned, but one of great importance to both of them. Within the span of a few heartbeats, he'd sent his senses into the stone, his mind flowing through the rock, up the rubble-strewn steps, through a thick wall of collapsed rock, and into the chamber that wasn't a chamber any longer. It was as if the top of the mountain had broken off and poured down on what was left of Reorx's temple. "No Fetch," he whispered. Then his mind was searching through the rocks, expecting to find the crushed body of the kobold. "Not here. Not here. Not dead."

Fiona was listening to his voice, realizing he had cast some spell, and surprised at his ability to do so. She had thought him merely a brigand. But she wasn't offended by this secret he'd kept, rather she was pleased-as it meant he might find a way out. She wanted to ask him about Rig and Dhamon, but waited, fearing if she interrupted him she could ruin the magic.

"Down this way," he was whispering to himself, his voice almost melodic. His mind flowed through what was left of the other archway, slipped around boulders, caressed the shattered images that had been so painstakingly carved so many centuries ago into walls now forever ruined. "Not as blocked. Light at the bottom." He focused on the torchlight as his senses moved down the passage, noting it was even deeper than the one he and Fiona had taken. There were side passages that had been concealed by the faces and figures on the wall, which were revealed by all the ruptures.

Maldred's mind flowed through a crevice and caught a glimpse of a room beyond. There was a feast hall with a great stone table and stone benches, all carved out of the very mountain and all now unreachable-a great prize destroyed before Donnag could claim it. There was another room, featureless, which he surmised had served as a barracks, with rotted planks of wood and sheets lying about. A third room contained a smaller altar, a miniature replica of the destroyed chamber above, though it lacked the same array of ornate pillars.

Maldred focused again on the light.

"Dhamon," he said finally, sighing. A measure of relief Fiona could not see crept across his face. "He lives. Rikali. Fetch." He paused, his senses trained on the kobold, on his explanation of the troll catching the pillars on fire. And he let out a clipped laugh. "Only Rig truly believes the little liar."

"Rig is alive?"

Maldred's senses travelled farther, past them and down the last of the steps, to an ironbound door partially blocked by rubble. "They're near a door. Some digging and they can reach it," he continued to himself. He wanted to talk to Dhamon to tell him to pass through that door, there was certainly another way out somewhere behind it. The dwarves who carved this place would not have allowed themselves to be trapped with only one entrance and exit. But his magic couldn't let him break inside Dhamon's thoughts-at least not without actually being face-to-face with him.

So then he pulled his mind back away, leaving Dhamon and Rikali and flowing back through the rock toward himself and Fiona, discovering other hidden chambers as he went, nearly all destroyed. He was bolstered by the fact that his good friend was brave and resourceful. "Dhamon will find a way out," he whispered.

Then he sagged against the wall, let out a deep breath, smiled broadly, and released Fiona's hand. "Dhamon, Rikali, Fetch. They are all right. Rig, too. A little beaten down by the rocks, but their passageway did not suffer so much damage as ours."

"Your magic," Fiona began, her tone indicating she was impressed as well as surprised. "I didn't know that you're a sorcerer, that you could…"

"I am far from a sorcerer, Lady Knight," he said with a chuckle. "I am a thief. Who occasionally dabbles in magic. And I just happened to know a simple enchantment that lets me peer through rock. I've found us a way out. It'll take us a while, but the way looks clear."

Fiona wished she could see him, see anything but this blackness. "How can we get to them?"

She was reaching out with her hands again, and he took both and pulled her face close to his. Despite the rain and the stone dust, the faint trace of sweat, she had a fragrance about her. He inhaled deeply. Then, bending, his lips brushed hers.

"Lady Knight, we can't get to them."

"Pigs, but I'm not gonna die here! I won't have it!" Rikali ground her teeth together and squeezed by Dhamon and Rig, nearly stepping on Fetch in the process. "I'm gonna have me a grand house on an island. Far away from here, and no cave-in is gonna stop me." She felt her way down the staircase, careful not to trip over chunks of rocks and collapsed steps. "Wonderful idea this was, lover, comin' down here lookin' at all of the carved dwarves. I've had my fill of dwarves, I have! All I was lookin' for was a few baubles. Haven't gotten much that sparkles lately. Damn little-everythin' considered-from riskin' my pretty little neck in that valley of crystal gettin' gems so you can buy some old sword from Donnag."

Dhamon shot her a withering look. The mariner's eyes narrowed and he studied Dhamon, his expression souring. "Well, you ain't got nothin' now, lover. Donnag's got all of the gems and that sword too. Donnag's the better thief, I'd say. This is all truly wonderful. Shoulda stayed upstairs and picked the eyes outta those wooden dwarves.

Desecrating a temple to a dead god. Pigs to it all! Never thought much of the gods, anyway."