Jean Rabe - Downfall

"No time for sleep," Dhamon said. But his yawn and his drawn expression hinted at how terribly tired he was, too.

Fetch dropped off Dhamon's back and started wringing out his robe. "Good thing that we found this place, huh? Breathe in that stuffy air! Damn. My hoopak. Lost it in the water." He turned to glare at the river, most of which was obscured by the rocky overhang. "Now how am I gonna get me another one? Sure ain't gonna find a kender in Bloten. Maybe Donnag's got one in his…"

"You might not have to worry about it, Fetch," Dhamon suggested. "If we can't find a way out of here, you won't need a weapon."

While the kobold continued to bemoan his misfortune, loudly mulling the possibility of dying at his spry age, and while Rig speculated that they might want only to take a quick breather here and then continue to follow the river, Dhamon joined Rikali in taking a good look around the chamber. They searched along the closest wall, hoping to find a staircase leading up, or a natural chimney they might climb. They'd heard bats a while ago-but there wasn't a trace of them here, not even guano on the floor.

There were no carvings on the walls, nor on the collapsed columns that at one time likely reached to the glowing rock high above. Dhamon had expected to see more images of dwarves, but everything appeared untouched, except for the pillars, which had been ground smooth. There were no symbols to Reorx. The remains of stone and wooden benches littered the floor, the rotting wood adding to the fusty smell. The only area intact consisted of a raised dais at the back of the chamber, and three black half-moon steps leading up to it. On either side of the steps were black pedestals, atop which perched perfectly round black stones, polished to a mirror finish and eerily reflecting the green light.

Oddly, Dhamon thought, the pedestals and globes looked to be devoid of the stone dust that covered everything else.

The mariner whistled softly. "Now I wonder what all this is about." Forgetting the river and their dire situation for a moment, he padded to the center of the chamber. He stopped halfway, bent, and studied something on the floor. "I bet this isn't part of that dwarven ruins," he mused, his hand stretching out and closing around an object. He brushed the stone dust off, coughed to get Dhamon's attention, and held it up for him to see. It was a skull, human or elven, and a thickly rusted knife with a carved bone handle protruded from the top of it.

"Several more if you want your own souvenir," Rig said. "They all look pretty much like this. Lovely place beneath the mountain." Then he replaced the skull and yawned. "I think we better get out of here."

Rikali slid up to Dhamon and took his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "I don't see a way out along these walls, and I don't like this place, lover. Shivers dancin' on my back. I want out of here. Place makes me feel… creepy. I want to see the sky. And I so very badly want to sleep. Maybe we better go swimmin' again. Follow the river." Much softer, she added, "Please, just get me outta here."

Dhamon tried to extricate his hand, but she only held it tighter. He returned a gentle squeeze, and listened to the kobold persist in his high-pitched frettings about his hoopak and imminent demise. Then he tugged the half-elf forward, not sure why he felt impelled to investigate this place further rather than returning to the river and leaving.

But there was a prickly feeling at the back of his neck, an unnerving sensation that might cause other men to flee, but that only made Dhamon determined to discover what was causing it.

A scrabbling sound over the rocks indicated Fetch had finally decided to accompany them. "Still have my old man in my pouch," the kobold announced. "The tobacco's worthless, though." He picked it out and tossed it to the floor, adding to the debris.

"You're worthless," Rikali hissed at the kobold. She shuddered when she glanced down at a dozen skulls, all with protruding daggers. A few were small, kender, or perhaps human children. She hoped not children. Although she didn't care for dwarves, she was certain they wouldn't have done this. Not to children. But who would have been capable? "By my breath, that one had to have been a tiny baby." She paused to stare at a particularly tiny skull. "Who could've done such a thing, and why? Who…" She stopped herself. No use asking Dhamon, she decided, he didn't seem in the least bit interested.

Dhamon had stepped away from her, finally extricating his hand, and was climbing the narrow black steps. He glanced only perfunctorily at the pedestals. Standing at the edge of the dais, the green light haloed about him, casting a sickly hue across his skin and making his wet hair look like strands of seaweed. He moved near the center of the dais and stared at the floor. "Odd."

"What is it?" Rikali asked. She edged ahead of Rig, who was also moving toward the dais. "What? Is it valuable?"

Dhamon knelt and stretched out with his hand. Rikali scampered up the steps, settling herself next to Dhamon. Fetch was curious, too. The kobold, still wringing out his robe, arrived close on her heels.

"All right, what is it?" Rig found himself asking. "I don't suppose you've found a way out."

"No," Dhamon replied, pushing himself to his feet. He was still looking down at the dais, the prickly sensation persisting on the back of his neck. "And that's what we need to be looking for, not staring at this all day."

"It's beautiful," Rikali said. "I want to touch it, and…"

"Well, don't touch it," Dhamon sternly reproved her. "We don't know what it is or what it does, if anything. And we don't need to know. You want to live to see the morning? Then we need to get out of here. And I shouldn't've let myself get distracted."

"Beautiful," she repeated, reaching out.

"Don't touch it!" This from the kobold, who was pulling the half-elf's arm back. "Riki, stay away from it."

Rikali started to argue, but there was something about the kobold's uncharacteristically serious expression that checked her. What is it? she asked him with a cock of her head.

"It's magic," he answered. "And not necessarily the good kind." The kobold looked over his shoulder at Dhamon, then glanced down at Rig, who was standing at the bottom of the steps. "Supposed to be looked at, not touched. Not ever touched."

Dhamon and the kobold stood staring at it, Rikali stayed on her knees. The only sound in the chamber now was the rushing of the underground river.

"Fine," Dhamon said. "Let's leave it be and move on."

Rig shook his head, running his fingers through his hair. "Aww, I guess I should take a look, first." He moved up the steps and slid between Dhamon and Rikali, extending a hand to help the half-elf up. "I'll be careful. Hmmmm. Interesting."

At the center of the dais was a pool, almost oval in shape. But light, not water, swirled inside it. One moment it was a dark green color to accompany the glow from the ceiling, then it turned sapphire blue, the colors undulating as if they were alive and warring. Sparkling motes of a bright yellow-white appeared, looking like stars captured deep in the pool struggling to breathe. They were all but overwhelmed by the aggressive colors.

"So what is it?" Rikali's curiosity had gotten the better of her. "I mean, it certainly looks like magic. You got a clue, Fetch? Or are you just tryin' to scare me? Bad magic, hah. You wouldn't know magic, good or bad, if it climbed out of a lamp and…"

"Hush!" The kobold paced around the edge of the pool, until he was standing opposite her. He was watching the yellow lights as they flashed and flickered with a pattern he seemed to comprehend. "This is old," he said in a voice tinged with awe.

"Pigs, I could have told you that, you worthless little rat."