The ranger’s free hand shot out to block the incoming dagger of the closest attacker, a prelude to his counterattack that had the elf slamming the end of his hilt into the savage’s nose. A simple, but swift, downward stroke of Stormweaver then split the man down the middle. He was dead before he hit the water.
The last of the four Darkakin leapt the gap between them and grappled Galanör’s back. With only a moment to spare, the elf raised his hand and snatched the wrist that was about to plunge a jagged dagger into his shoulder. Wild, like an animal, the Darkakin revealed more of his ferocious nature when he tried to bite the ranger’s grasping hand. Superior strength won the day, however, when Galanör flung his foe forward, over the top of him. Thrashing in the water, the blind savage could do nothing to stop the cold steel of Stormweaver from driving down through his chest.
Prepared to now aid his companions against the other half of the ambush, the elf could see he was not required. Gideon was already removing Mournblade from one of the two dead bodies slowly submerging at his feet, while Aenwyn brought her scimitar round in a sweeping arc to lay low the last of the Darkakin.
“Is anyone hurt?” Galanör asked to a pair of shaking heads.
“Are you?” Aenwyn echoed.
“No. Though I do miss having two blades,” he added, his chest heaving.
“Quiet,” Gideon commanded, his head tilted to direct his right ear down the tunnel.
Both Galanör and Aenwyn heard it too now - a tapping sound against the tunnel wall. The ranger imagined one of the Darkakin knocking their crude weapon against the stone. They were either using the sound to locate their prey or it was their idea of an alarm, alerting others to the presence of intruders.
“We need to move,” Gideon urged, turning back to face the adjacent tunnel entrance. “That way. Quickly.”
With every direction as much of a mystery as the next, the elves made no objection and fell in behind the old master, who led with the torchlight. Looking up, it was becoming clear that Aenwyn’s orb was faltering, soon to fade altogether.
“Look,” Galanör hissed, directing them to the ripples pushing against their own. “More are coming towards us,” he warned.
Gideon turned left and right, moving his torch to investigate their surroundings. There was only one other tunnel, though its entrance was no larger than an ordinary door. Without discussion they passed through, avoiding the oncoming savages for now. The narrow passage curved round to the left before the ground gradually began to descend, leading the companions to a large rectangular chamber.
Aenwyn moved her hand through the air, directing the last light of her orb further into the chamber. Before it died completely, they glimpsed another doorway on the other side, where the ground rose back up. Before they could consider alternatives, the sound of water breaking against the walls behind them spurred the group on. They descended into the larger chamber, submerging them up to the waist in water, and made for the doorway on the other side.
At the back of the group, Galanör was sure to keep checking over his shoulder for any sign of their pursuers. By the time they reached the new doorway, the side they had come from was steeped in darkness, concealing any trailing Darkakin.
Following the new tunnel, the water now returned to below their knees, they paused at a junction offering four alternative paths. “This place is a maze,” Aenwyn groaned.
Galanör turned back to the way they had come and raised his sword to point into the shadows. “Just pick a tunnel. It doesn’t matter which.”
“This one,” Gideon declared, making a decision for them all.
Taking little care for the sound they made, the three companions hurried down one of the four paths, passing other tunnels as they did. It was the fourth passage though, that caught Aenwyn’s eye and she brought them to a stop.
“What is it?” Galanör asked.
“I thought I saw…” Aenwyn tilted her head and narrowed her eyes down that fourth passage. “Bring the light,” she instructed, shifting her stance to let Gideon by. His torch lifted high and forward, they all saw a flicker of something green in the firelight.
“Crissalith,” Gideon muttered, his tone verging on disbelief.
Approaching the green hue, they entered a rounded chamber of jagged walls and abandoned mining equipment poking above the water’s surface. Holding the torch up, Gideon revealed for them all a small cave brimming with green crystals protruding from the walls.
Galanör extended his hand and attempted to conjure a simple fire spell. “Nothing,” he reported, his hand absent any flames. “I cannot use magic,” he added with a hint of relief he never thought he would entertain with such a bleak statement.
Gideon returned Mournblade to its scabbard and ran a finger along a crystal’s edge. “Try again,” he requested, turning back to look at Galanör’s belt.
The elven ranger understood and quickly took the Hastion ring from the pouch on his belt. Worn on his index finger, Galanör held up his hand to marvel at the blue gem. “If this doesn’t work—”
“It will,” Gideon interjected boldly.
“Some light perhaps?” Aenwyn suggested.
Galanör clenched his fist and voiced the right spell in his mind. Opening his hand again, a glowing orb of light took flight above and between them. All three companions smiled in relief - they finally had a weapon that would give them the advantage over their enemy.
“We need to prise it from the rock,” Aenwyn said, reaching for her dagger again.
Her words took a moment to sink in as Galanör was still holding a moment of triumph with Gideon. “We need a piece large enough to be used as a weapon,” he finally suggested.
Aenwyn inspected various collections and clumps of the crystal before settling on a particularly pointed gem, its shape close to that of her own dagger. “This one will do.” She hacked with the steel and hammered with the
