Jean Rabe - Downfall

"Is it this river?" Rig risked a question, gesturing behind him. "Is that what it's showing? Is this where our river comes out?"

Fetch shrugged. "I asked it for the way out."

"Well, ask it if that's our river," Rig insisted.

The kobold stirred the air with his fingers, concentrated harder, and felt suddenly fatigued, as if the pool was absorbing his energy. But the eye finally blinked and the scene shifted again.

"That's us!" Rikali exclaimed. They looked at a mirror image of the half-elf and the kobold peering into the pool, the river rushing by behind them. Another blink and flowing water filled the orb. Now they could see the underground river, which was lit green by the magic of the chamber. There was a fork, a branch of the river veering crookedly, and an equally wide one that went straight ahead. The magical eye swept along the wide, straight path, then angled down a narrow cutoff. The image blinked, and again the scene with the cave and the waterfall appeared.

"That must be the way out! Fetch, you're wonderful!" She stood and whirled toward Dhamon, pointing at the river. "We take that river until we find a narrow branch to the west. And that will get us out of here."

The mariner kept looking at the pool. "Ask it something else."

The kobold cocked his head. "What?"

"Ask it about Fiona. See if she's all right."

Fetch scowled, but was quick to oblige when the mariner shouted, "Just do it!"

The eye blinked and Fiona came into focus. She was standing on a rocky slope, face tilted up and catching the rain. It was pouring all around her, the sky a dark gray. At her side was Maldred, and Rig growled deep in his throat as he saw this. The big man was extending his hand to the Solamnic, helping her climb up the side of a mountain, was brushing her injured cheek with his free hand. She didn't recoil from Maldred's touch. Indeed, she moved toward him as he lowered his face to hers.

The eye blinked and was black again.

"Well, enough of that," Fetch said awkwardly. "Mai and the Knight made it out all right. They're somewhere at the base of the Kalkhists, probably headed back to Bloten. And it looks like it's headed toward morning outside. No wonder I'm so tired. I could sleep for a year."

Dhamon padded slowly toward the river.

"Another question," the mariner's tone was vehement and demanding.

"What?" the kobold seemed exasperated. "We know the way out, just gotta feel for it in the dark, so let's go… unless you want to ask if there's some great treasure nearby." This idea instantly appealed to Fetch, and he started stirring the image, a big smile stretched across his face. "Something magical, maybe a few enchanted trinkets, coins and gems and…"

"Treasure," Rikali whispered.

"No," Rig barked. "Shrentak. Ask it about Shrentak. The Solamnic Knights who are being held there. Probably in the dungeons, if it has such a place. It must have such a place. Do it, you little rat! Ask it about Fiona's brother."

"Aw…" Fetch wriggled his nose in disgust.

"His name's Aven."

Fetch shook his head. But once again he twirled his fingers. "Maybe there's treasure in Shrentak," he whispered. His lungs ached a little, as if he'd just raced a great distance. Indeed, he was tired from the ordeal of the fire and running down the steps, all the hours without sleep, plunging into the river and swimming and finally arriving here. His joints ached terribly, come to think of it, his hips especially, and now his fingers. But, there was this great magical artifact at his command…

"Aha!" The mariner clapped his hands. The image inside the eye displayed a dark interior, catacombs filled with mud and muck and cramped cells. A thick gray-green ooze dripped from the walls and along the ceiling, and lizards scurried down the hallway. The image shifted to a corridor lined with…

"Cells!" the mariner practically shouted. "I want to see inside the cells!"

Fetch concentrated again-harder. He dipped his index finger below the surface for the briefest of moments, then tugged it back and twirled the air again.

"Amazin'," Rikali gasped. "Fetch, I had no idea you could…"

"There, that's it!" the mariner cried, cutting off the rest of the half-elf's words. One instant he was gazing into the pool, and the next, the image of the dank corridor sprang up around them, transparent and ghostlike. But at the same time it was frighteningly real. It was as though they had been transported into the middle of the rough-hewn hallway, which stretched in both directions as far as they could see. Cell doors lined the hall, doors made of thick, rotting wood laced with heavy rusting bars. They clearly heard slime dripping from the ceiling, saw the ethereal green globs drop to the floor and vanish. There was a stench of urine, so strong it made their eyes water, and the worse smell of death.

Rig took a tentative step forward, then another until he found himself at the entrance of a cell. He peered through the bars, found his face passed right through, a sensation similar to walking through a cobweb. Beyond were a dozen men, all human and so emaciated they looked like skeletons with skin hanging on them. They breathed shal-lowly, huddled together and squatting in their own waste. Their sunken eyes took him in emotionlessly. One struggled to reach out a hand. Rig fought the bile rising in his throat, then he forced himself to leave and look at the next cell.

Rikali had silently padded up behind him. "Solam-nics!" she gasped. Their plate mail was gone, but a few had tabards identifying themselves as members of the Order of the Rose. There was no trace of Knightly pride in their suffering frames, and no hint of defiance on their gaunt faces. They were thoroughly broken. Some had no eyes, just vacant scarred sockets, a few were missing limbs. Nearly all of them were terribly maimed, testaments to burns and torture.

The mariner's body shook with pity and revulsion, and his fists clenched in anger. "Horrible," Rikali whispered. Then she edged away from Rig and closed her eyes.

Rig continued to scan the faces, swallowing hard when he thought he recognized one. "Aven," he stated. Scraps of what was once a Solamnic tabard clung to the man's scrawny frame. His skin was as gray as the stone walls and was laced with boils and thick recent scars. The red hair was long and matted and dotted with the husks of insects, and his heart-shaped face, once full and flawless, was gaunt with hunger. He could have passed for Fiona's twin at one time. Now he was barely identifiable. "Aven," Rig stated louder.

With considerable effort, the man lifted his head and appeared to meet Rig's stare. There was a flicker of recognition in the sad eyes. "Fiona's brother, Aven," the mariner told Rikali. "Fiona and me, we set our wedding on her birthday so Aven would be there. He was supposed to have leave from the Order then."

The Knight looked like a corpse and moved sluggishly. He stared at them, but even that simple act seemed to take all of his strength and cause unbearable pain.

"Aven, he can see me somehow. Aven…"

All of a sudden, the Solamnic tried to rise, pushing against the floor with his skeletal arms while his feet slipped on the slime-covered stones. Finally, he stood, swaying on scabrous feet and shuffling toward Rig. His mouth opened, as if he wanted to say something, but only a rasping wheeze came out.

The mariner took a step forward. "No!" he shouted as the Solamnic fell to his knees, eyes still fixed on Rig.

"Aven, we'll get you out of there," Rig said. He tried to reach for the man, but his hand passed through the apparition. "Hold on and…"

Aven coughed dryly and clutched his chest. He seemed to watch Rig for a moment more, then he fell back and crumpled to the floor. A sigh escaped his lips, and then he stopped breathing.