The closer they got, the more the cavern looked like a dragon's maw. As though the giant beast had been petrified to stone.
At first, she doubted there was a way out through the cave. But then she saw a slender path leading into its shrouded heart and her mouth tightened into a grim line.
Fresh scuff marks on the stairs carved crudely into the stone showed the Twins had entered the tunnel in a hurry.
"Be careful," the warlock said nervously. He sucked loudly on his bottom lip and his grimoire was open in his hand. "They could be waiting for us. They've got bows, remember. And arrows. Not only that, they sound like they're scared. Which makes them dangerous if you corner them up there. We got lucky once. I don't think we'll get lucky again."
"Do I look stupid?"
"Remember Gaket?" His voice was dry. "I told you not to let his shit touch you. What did you do? You not only touched it, you let it nearly possess you. And the cage? Didn't I say not to open it? So, you know. Yeah, you look just stupid enough to need some fucking reminding now and then."
The elf almost choked on her retort as a roar of wind belched dust and grit from the tunnel's mouth.
Ejected in the rush of wind, small stones skittered down the stairs and across her boots.
Squinting into the hot exhalation, the elf kept one hand hovering close to A Flaw in the Glass while the other shielded her eyes. She could smell raw earth and burnt metal. The tang of it made her flinch.
"What the fuck was that?" Chukshene coughed and spat as dust settled in the echo of the blast.
"No idea, 'lock. But even if it was the Gates of the Shadows Halls opening, I'd still be heading in there." She tightened the bracer on her left arm. Though outwardly she appeared determined, inside she felt cold chills of fear strumming on her guts like they were lute strings. "Two fellers I want dead are still alive in there and I ain't letting them get away. Besides, it's also looking like the only way out. We ain't got any idea what happens while the walls are up, but chances are we don't want to know. Also a good chance we'll find out any second. Which means we ain't got the time to fuck around. So, I reckon it's best that you open that book of yours and stick your nose in it. Then pick up your dress, Chukshene, and move."
"It's not a fucking dress! It's a robe! Big fucking difference, you long-eared thug. Shit." He looked around, desperate for another option. Struggled with indecision before noticing she was already making her way up the uneven steps. "Hey! You're crazy. You know that? Fucking crazy. You belong in a madhouse! It's the only solution. Protect you and me."
"Relax, Chukshene," she said, half turning. A crooked smile toyed at the corner of her mouth. "I ain't got suicidal tendencies. So quit whining and start climbing."
Angling steeply upward, the stairs led deep into the heart of the cave.
Scraped out of the solid stone, the unnatural tunnel twisted and turned like a cut snake. Where it was too steep, more stairs had been chipped into the rock, but mostly it was grit and soil flattened by frequent use during the wars fought here.
Her vision being better than a human's, the elf didn't need light to see the slick edges of the tunnel and strode confidently forward. But the warlock had no such gift.
He barked a few quick words of power and a small globe of sickly yellow light unfolded itself from the darkness with a wet hiss to hover obediently a few metres ahead.
Something moved swiftly up her right wrist, and she slapped it, looking down sharply.
Nothing.
She pursed her lips and twisted the loose-fitted bracer to see if whatever had crawled over her skin had burrowed under the leather.
But nothing was there.
Maybe it was her imagination? Still, she could have sworn she'd felt it.
"Everything okay?" The warlock watched her intently, the yellow light staining his face and giving it an eerie demonic glow.
She nodded. "Fine. And what did I tell you about asking me that?"
"Fuck off. If you don't want me to ask, then wipe that expression off your face. It creeps me out. Makes me want to piss myself. And, stuck here under a mountain of rock makes me want to piss myself enough as it is."
She allowed there was something repressive about the tunnel.
It wasn't high enough for starters.
It had started wide at the mouth, but had quickly closed enough that she could touch the roof by lifting an arm without too much effort.
Some of the wall had collapsed, forcing them to squeeze through more narrow gaps. A bleak reminder of the fragility of tunnels.
About all that pleased her was when that she occasionally caught a glimpse of bootprints. Which meant she was still on the right track as she hunted her prey.
She didn't yet expect the Twins to make their stand.
Their bows wouldn't be much use in here. They'd most likely try to set an ambush at the exit of the tunnel. All the same, she paused at every sharp turn and was careful in case they'd grown sick of running and had decided to use their swords.
They hadn't gone far when she heard a slow drumming sound.
Like a heartbeat.
Muffled and heavy.
Motioning the warlock to silence, she knelt on the moist floor and pressed her hand against the soil.
She felt it like a soft pulse between her fingers.
It was distant. But steady.
And for her to feel it, it would have to be big. Which meant it had nothing to do with the Twins, and everything to do with the force which had trapped them in the fortress to begin with.
"What is it?" he whispered as she started forward again.
"Drumming."
"I don't hear anything."
"It's those little round ears of yours, 'lock," she said with a tight grin. "Ain't good for much. You'll hear it soon enough, I reckon."
He strained to hear, but gave up with a sigh. "I'll trust you. What's making it, you think?"
"Ain't sure. Reckon whatever controls those walls is waiting somewhere between us and the top of the cliffs. Could be the tunnel's bait. Which means whoever set the trap could be up ahead."
"Bait?" He winced. "And we took it. I don't suppose they're friendly, do you?"
"Relax. Could be someone chopping potatoes for all I know. Maybe they're setting the table right now. Getting ready to feed you a fucking banquet."
"Don't say that," he said sourly. "I'm fucking hungry. Just thinking about a table of food right now is enough to make my guts try crawling up my spine."
"You ate not long ago, 'lock."
"Did I? Tell my stomach that." He tapped on the corner of his grimoire thoughtfully. "Look, Nysta. Are you sure about this? Whatever can raise walls like those outside is bound to be powerful. And probably not very human. I really doubt it'll appreciate your two friends sneaking up on it. In fact, I bet it'll do your job for you. There's no point following them to their deaths. And maybe there's another way out. We didn't even try looking around. Maybe we're wasting our time. Maybe we'll get killed for nothing. There's still time to get out of here."
"You reckon there's a way out back there, 'lock?"
"Maybe. Maybe not. Look, I'm just saying, if we're going to die, I'd rather not die in a hole in the ground. There's gotta be better place."
"There's no good places to die."
"I know that. I just meant-" He cut himself off and exhaled sharply, eyes widening. "I can hear it. The drumming. What in Grim's fucking name is it? I think I just swallowed my balls."
"Hardly a meal."
"Funny. What were you again? Joker'Jadean?"
The elf stopped so suddenly that he threw his arms up in front of him, certain he'd gone too far. Afraid that the hand which blurred to the knife at her hip meant to punch the blade deep into his chest.
Unaware of the warlock's reaction, the elf seized A Flaw in the Glass and fell into a fighter's crouch as a hot wall of air roared suddenly up the tunnel.
The warlock's ball of light flickered as the wind shrieked past. The sound was like a heavy metallic crunch mingling with a banshee scream.
His robes were whipped by the blast, staggering him back a few steps. Eyes wide, fear drained the colour from his face.
Violet eyes glinting, the elf held her pose until the air stilled and the only sounds she could hear were the muted drumming and Chukshene's gasping breaths.
He waved for the light to come closer to him, as though it would provide protection from things lurking in the shadows. Said; "That doesn't sound good."
"Didn't smell too good, neither."
"It's a wyrm," he decided, pressing his back against the wall. "A fucking wyrm. We are so fucked."
"Ain't a wyrm," she said thoughtfully. "It's something else."
"Like what? What else makes tunnels in the ground? What's big enough to make this much fucking noise and breathe hot air?"
"Don't reckon it was breath," she said, letting go of the knife at last. "Smelled like burnt metal. And something else. You never been near a blacksmith's, 'lock?"
He studied her carefully. "You're saying we're headed into a smithy? Next you'll tell me it's a lost tribe of dwarfs. We're too far south and a long fucking way from Dwarfsholme. There can't be any dwarfs in the Deadlands. No, it's a wyrm, I'm telling you."
"Only one way to be sure," she said, grinning without humour. "Walk with rhythm and find out."