Downfall

"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.