In the Fly of the Storm
October 5, 2015
As the three warriors left the pit behind, the last hints of lights died and the darkness devoured them. The wide walls remained difficult to see in the spattering light on Jack’s single torch. What he could see just left him wishing he’d been spared the sight. The porous charcoal colored stone dripped a foul mucus like they traveled down a dying man’s throat. Light reflected off the clinging grey slime and in many places it slowly covered the bones that littered the floor in a chaotic jumble of splintered death.
“This place is lovely,” Tynilia said under her breath.
“I suggest we keep as quiet as possible,” Shadowknife reprimanded. “Most likely the Dead God’s hearing is quite acute.”
Jack wanted to speak, but stayed silent as he searched the floor for tracks. A single set of human prints could be seen. Huth still lived, but with the colossal beast following behind him who could know how long that would remain the case.
After another five minutes of walking, a small alcove appeared on the side. With a hand motion, Shadowknife drew them into the bone lined room. Dropping his voice, the Darcarre said, “Huth’s prints continue and the Dead God would have caught up to him long before now. So he must have escaped the creature’s notice.” Turning toward Jack, he continued. “I also think, since your mate and I can see in the darkness that it is time to extinguish your torch.”
“Agreed,” Jack said. “Tynilia, please guide me. Shadow, take point.”
Without another wasted word, the trio set forth. They hadn’t gone more than three minutes when Shadowknife froze.
“Something approaches,” he hissed at them. “Two of them and on foot.”
Jack risked relighting his torch. He had a moment of introspection when he used his lighter. He stared at it for a few seconds once the torch flame grew. It remained one of the last possessions he still had from his own world. How long had he been trapped here? Would he ever be able to return? The danger of this world often left him forgetting the strife he had left behind. Without his help, how did his own world fair? Would there be anything for him to return to?
Such thoughts were pushed aside when two figures stumbled into the dim ring of torchlight.
Huth assisted Vel-Linna, but she didn’t look well. Her body didn’t appear harmed, but her eyes stayed blank. As Huth rushed forward talking in his language that Jack still had yet to learn, Vel stood where she had been left. A statue, her wide eyes appeared to see nothing. While the others spoke to Huth, Jack stepped toward the young shaman of Yig. He felt the hackles on the back of his neck rise. Her long hair had turned white.
“What happened to her?” he whispered
Tynilia answered. “Huth says the Dead God, had spared her for some reason and had moved into a side chamber for long enough for him to rescue her. There is-”
Her sentence was interrupted by Vel-Linna letting out an ear rending scream.
Everyone jerked as shivers ran down his spine.
The ebony form of Shadowknife turned toward them. “She screams because the Dead God comes for us!”
To be continued next Monday