“We can fit,” Aenwyn reassured. Using her dagger as a lever, the elf cleared some of the larger rocks, thus increasing the size of the gap. Her torch returned, she was the first to climb up. Flat on her stomach, she crawled through the narrow gap until it opened up to the base of the mineshaft.
“It’s clear!” she called back to them.
Following her example, Galanör and Gideon scaled the rubble and squeezed through to join her in the main shaft. The torch’s fire and Galanör’s dimming orb cast light on the uneven floor and revealed the half-buried debris from the old mining equipment and walkways. Looking up, the visible sky was beginning to turn orange as the sun brought an end to the day.
“Is the Crissalith beneath us?” Aenwyn’s tone matched the look of concern on her face.
“There will be some yes,” Galanör said, crouching down to grab a handful of dirt. “But we should think of it as lost and look elsewhere - we won’t be getting through this.”
“Agreed,” Gideon said, moving across the shaft. He rounded a large mound of rubble and lowered his torch in search of other passages that might still be accessible.
Galanör turned on the spot to get his bearings. He recalled the six entrances that had lined the inner wall, one of which they had just crawled out of. Having never entered any of the others, however, he couldn’t suggest the best one to investigate.
“Over here,” Gideon called. Using his torch, he illuminated another gap between the rubble and the top of a passage.
Aenwyn crouched down to examine it better, her eyes squinting into the darkness. “We could crawl through it,” she surmised.
“Good,” the old master said, “because it’s the only one I’ve discovered that isn’t completely blocked.”
“I will go first,” Galanör volunteered, but Aenwyn was crawling through before he had finished his sentence.
With no choice but to follow her, all three were soon on their stomachs again, crawling through the dirt. It was longer than the tunnel that connected Atilan’s lab to the main shaft. Galanör had to steel himself in the enclosed environment, the ranger being more accustomed to open spaces. It was a relief to hear Aenwyn finally drop down to the passage floor.
Back on their feet - and up to their knees in water again - with their torches held up to the dark, Aenwyn tilted her head. “How far do you think it goes?”
Galanör couldn’t fathom the answer, though he imagined the passage leading into a labyrinth from which there was no return. “Who can say?” he replied. “Keep your wits about you and stay close.”
Gideon moved to run his torch along the right-hand wall while Aenwyn took to the left. Galanör guided his orb towards the ground in front of him and walked down the middle of the path, his eyes scanning for even a hint of green crystal.
Though it was hard to define, the passage appeared to curve around to the right. It wasn’t long either before they came across another passage, offering them a new direction. Galanör had to wonder if was just another way to get lost.
“Which way?” he asked aloud, his voice carried away down the passage.
“I see no reason to deviate from our current path,” Gideon opined. “Let us see where this leads first. At least we know there are other tunnels to search.”
Galanör agreed with a nod of the head, though he kept his concerns to himself for now. There was no need to share his growing worry that this entire endeavour was futile.
A few hundred yards further ahead, they were presented with two more tunnel entrances, each as mysterious as the other. None of them felt the temptation to investigate the new passages. As they moved on, however, a single sound reverberated through the passage to their right. The three companions stopped in their tracks, waiting to hear another noise. Galanör’s best guess was a rock falling to the ground. It was also his hope.
“Let’s keep going,” Gideon bade.
The elven ranger inhaled a breath having held the last one for the moment. He turned away from the passage entrance to follow Gideon when he paused, sure that something significant had just caught his eye. While Gideon and Aenwyn walked a little further, Galanör approached the nearest wall and narrowed his eyes. What was it? What had he seen against the jagged wall that jumped out at his senses and told him to stop?
By the time he realised what he was looking at it was too late. A pair of pale eyes were looking back at him.
A creature with the form of a man leapt from the wall and barrelled into the elf, taking them both down into the water.
“Galanör!” Aenwyn yelled.
Submerged and under the weight of his attacker, the ranger shoved his foe and quickly pushed himself up above the water. The creature rose to its feet a moment later and screamed with rage before renewing its assault. Galanör hadn’t seen it before, but his enemy was wielding a crude dagger, or perhaps it was a sharpened rock: he couldn’t say in the gloom and the figure was coming at him with some speed. Never one to be flustered in a fight, the ranger’s sharp instincts took over and he side-stepped the incoming attack. At the same time, his left hand darted up like a knife’s edge and caught the creature across the throat. A swift kick to the chest launched it back, right in line with an arrow from Aenwyn’s bow.
Falling like a stone, it collapsed into the water, dead.
Galanör looked to his right, locking his gaze with Aenwyn’s. She saw the thanks behind his eyes and nodded once, a
