Downfall

Rig swiftly followed, trying to shut out their words and concentrate on the water. His element, whether fresh or salt, he felt it flow about him, pleasantly cool despite the summer, as it was part of an underground stream shielded from the heat by the tons of rock that cocooned it. He concentrated on the flow, determined to discover how the water entered the chamber.

"No other way out," the mariner growled after a few minutes. Softer, he said, "Always figured I'd die by drowning. Just didn't want to die with Dhamon."

Dhamon's torchlight danced spookily against the water's surface and the elaborately carved rock walls. The light touched softly on hundreds of images of dwarves. The dwarves were forging weapons, cooking, mining; a fat couple was dancing around the image of an anvil; a child was stacking rocks. On the ceiling was a tiled image of Reorx, almost identical to the one they'd seen on the floor above. There was a great gash in one of the walls, and Rig gestured to it.

"That has to be where the stream broke through. But it's more like a river now because of all the rain," he said, quickly moving toward it. He bumped into something and pitched forward into the water. He came up sputtering, the kobold on his back complaining shrilly. He felt about beneath the water-a stone bench, a stone table, a few other objects he couldn't readily identify. He forced himself to move slowly, bumping into more things hidden beneath the inky surface, and he sent a shower of water Rikali's way to get her attention. "Over here! And be careful."

For once he cursed all the weapons he'd loaded himself down with. He'd be swimming with ease now, and not slowly navigating around, if he didn't have the glaive on his back. But he wouldn't allow himself to drop it. "All this damn rain," he said to himself when he finally reached the gash in the wall. "It must have swollen the stream so much that it broke through a thin section of wall. Yep, it's thin here." He broke off a piece of rock.

The half-elf was treading water at his side, for the water had risen and she could only touch bottom with her toes.

"Well, that's good to know," she huffed, "we're all gonna drown ‘cause of all the rain."

Dhamon had sloshed up behind her. He looked nonplused, his face ever stoic, eyes flitting to his left and right. His breathing was regular, and he moved deliberately, as if he knew where he was going, and was not in the least bit worried about what lay ahead.

The mariner shook his head at Dhamon's apparent lack of concern, took a deep breath and entered the gash, holding onto the rock wall so he wouldn't be swept away. Fetch coughed and tightened his grip on the mariner's neck. The torchlight showed Rig's fingers inching higher on the wall.

"What's he doing, lover?" Rikali had her hand on Dhamon's shoulder. He was helping her to stay above water.

Dhamon didn't answer as she continued to fret and shower him with useless questions. He was watching the mariner's fingers, becoming harder to make out as the torchlight faded. There was a final sputtering, then the flame went out, smothering them in a thick and absolute darkness. Rikali moaned and dug her fingers into his shoulder.

"Lover? I can't see any thin'."

A sloshing and a string of high-pitched curses from Fetch signaled the mariner's return.

"Dhamon?"

"We're here, Rig. What did you find?"

"There's about a foot of air between the stream and the rocks-for the moment anyway. And the water's moving pretty fast. I think it's our best bet. Follow it and pray it spills us out somewhere."

"I don't pray," Rikali whispered.

"You're insane!" Fetch spat at the mariner. "Go in there?"

"And you've a better idea?" Dhamon asked as he dropped the useless torch and felt about with his hands, finding Rig and then the gash in the wall. Rikali continued to hold onto Dhamon, her breath coming in ragged gasps as she worked to keep her chin above the water, all the while muttering about the dark and drowning.

"Yes, I've a better idea!" the kobold squawked. "I can see! A little. Maybe if we stay here, really search this room, we can…" The rest of his words were drowned out as the mariner followed Dhamon and Rikali through the gash and into a corridor the stream had cut ages past.

In the darkness, they moved through the water, sometimes swimming awkwardly, Rig struggling the most with the glaive and the kobold on his back. Their heads bumped against outcroppings in the ceiling, bringing curses, and the stream pushed them against jagged spikes protruding from the walls. Dhamon felt something slick brush against his leg, a fish or a snake-he hoped it was nothing worse as he continued feeling his way.