Swinging out into the darkness, Lash eased his way down the rocky face of the crevice wall as he stared down into the belly of the crevice, his Elfborn vision barely able to penetrate the chilly murk. The rope buzzed hoarsely in his gloved hands as it slipped by with each bounce backward and down into the darkness, a captured hornet that promised pain if he let it go. And his boots grunted with each impact on the sharp edged stone wall, the thick leather soles protesting raspily as they ground against jagged shards and roughly chiseled surfaces.
Still, after several moments of carefully repelling down, Lash couldn't determine whether he was any closer to the bottom of the chasm than he was when he started, the murk almost impenetrable now that he was well out of the dim light of the night sky above, and the guttering flame of Garrett's storm lantern.
Gritting his teeth in frustration, Lash slowed his descent as his mind worked. 'It's too bad Ithus hasn't bothered teaching me any real magic beyond those healing runes,' he silently groused. 'A spell to light up this chasm would be handy right about now!' He fought off a sigh as his frustration continued to grow in the realization of how powerless he currently was.
Then he gave himself a shake. Hanging there, filled with pity and frustration wasn't going to do Kenneth any good. He had to come up with a plan and quick, if the other knight was to survive!
Without Ithus, he would have to rely on more mundane methods of solving the problem of the pervasive darkness. 'The only way that I can see to do that is if I manage to somehow light one of these extra torches I brought in my rescue backpack,' he concluded after a moment of thought.
Of course that solution, in itself, presented certain difficulties. One crucial problem being that he was currently sliding down a rope with both his hands in use! But a solution presented itself when he accidentally let his lower hand, which was governing the amount of rope that was sliding around his backside, get a little close to his body.
With a flare of pain, it jammed between his buttock and the rope, nearly jerking him to a halt before flipping him over and off the rope. Hastily Lash pulled his hand free to let the rope continue feeding out as it had been, continuing his descent without spilling him roughly to the ground. However, the incident was enough to get the wheels in his brain spinning.
If he was able to put his clenched fist against his body slowly enough, it could act as first a brake, then perhaps even a hold, allowing him to free his other hand to hunt for the torch and his tinder box. It was chancy and Lash didn't know for sure if it would work but, considering the alternative, it was the best he could do.
Carefully he slid his bottom hand closer and closer until, with a jerk of the partially frozen rope, it slammed into his leg and backside. Quickly he leaned back to counter the force that threatened to dump him last time and found himself braced in space, the rope trembling as it stiffly held his weight.
Silently hoping Garrett would continue to hold him despite all these new maneuvers and jerking on the line, Lash quickly but carefully reached back with his top hand to draw one of the spare torches from his backpack. Then, holding it between his legs, he fished out his tinderbox and, bracing it against the inside of his thigh, he struck a small flame.
Teeth grit with the effort of precariously balancing while retrieving the torch, Lash lit the tar-soaked cloth wrapped around the torch's crown. He waited until the flames were dancing high before he let it drop. He then hastily returned the tinder box to his pack before looking down, ready to continue his descent.
And immediately groaned out loud in frustration as he watched the torch tumble the last few metres to hit the ground with a shower of sparks. Ten more metres down. Compared to the distance he had already dropped, it was a pitance.
"Burn me," he hissed as he let the rope once again slide through his gloved hands. "I could have just been a little more patient and saved myself a torch!"
His heavy soled boots growled as they took the burden of Lash's weight on the uneven floor of the crevice, the dancing flames from the torch painting uneven shadows on the narrow sided walls to either side of him.
"Sir Kenneth?" he softly called out, giving the rope a tug to tell Garrett topside that he was down safely. "Are you well?" He reached out and scooped up the torch to hold it high, his sharp eyes stabbing into every nook and cranny. To his Elfborn vision the torch cast enough light to illuminate the crevice to noontime brilliance.
"Sir Kenneth!"
With his voice echoing in his ears, Lash took a cautious step forward then another, working back towards what was the beginning of the crevice, the torch held high. Topside it was where the horse fell, slaying itself by ripping open its belly on the sharp rocky shards that lined the crevice with a lethal carpet. It made sense that the knight, heavily weighed down by his armor, shouldn't fly much further. 'I just hope he didn't share his horse's fate!' he thought grimly as he pressed on.
Sure enough, five steps towards the mouth of the crevice, Lash's logic paid out as he caught a glimpse of metal reflecting the light of the torch ahead, where the walls narrowed considerably. If it hadn't been ripped from Kenneth's armor on the way down to fall isolated to the crevice floor, he was looking at the knight's landing place.
Mindful of the walls that were rapidly squeezing in towards him and their deadly, jagged, surfaces, Lash slid forward, placing each foot with care as he locked his eyes onto the glimmer of metal. From what he could see, it was hard to determine one way or the other whether Sir Kenneth had survived the fall intact. In fact ...
"Come no closer!" a hoarse voice tightly commanded out of the darkness, catching Lash by surprise. But he was already shaking it off by the time the voice continued, filled with pain, anxiety and not a little fear.
"If you value your life, you will advance no further!"
"Sir Kenneth?" Lash asked softly, the tone in the man's voice making him look around nervously. Was it his imagination or did it suddenly seem much darker down here?
"It's Lash de Marniet, Sir Leo's nephew, come from the Questor camp. I'm here ..."
"To die, de Marniet," Kenneth hissed, cutting Lash off. "If you don't turn around and climb back out of this hell's maw, right now!"
Abruptly there was a bright flash of bluish light from much deeper into the crevice and, with a jerk, Lash drew his sword, staring hard into the shadows as he tried to blink the purplish afterimage away. Sir Kenneth moaned out loud.
"Too late," he almost sobbed. "It's too late. You've already attracted its notice."
"Burn me to ash, what?" Lash demanded hoarsely. "What sort of creature ...?"
With a harsh snarl of discharge, a scintillating rope of blue energy lashed out to strike a rocky outcrop close to Lash's head, blasting red-hot shards in every direction, angry bees that stung through clothing and armor. Ducking with desperate speed, Lash threw his arms hastily over his head to ward off several glowing chunks that hurtled in his direction. He hissed in pain as several caromed off his body with enough force to bruise, temporarily blinded by the flare of light so close to his eyes in the darkness.
"What the hell was that??" he snarled tightly before dropping to his knees to cower beneath his arms as blast after brilliantly blue blast slashed past him to shatter stone and fill the air with ear-rending sound. And, underneath it all, he could hear the voice of Sir Kenneth, babbling incoherently as the creature attacked.
'Burn me,' he thought darkly as lethal shards buzzed about his ears. 'Kenneth is right: I am going to die in this hole. Unless I can somehow get out from beneath this attack. But how? Use magic that will surely condemn me for a monster as well?' Lash grimaced at that thought.
Of course any magic he could use would have to be volunteered by the ghostly presence he could almost feel in his mind, like the healing runes. So far Ithus' memories had been far from easy to recall after the initial storm of them entering his mind, the mere thought of attempting to do so making his stomach twist sickeningly. But if he didn't do something soon, he would be just as dead as his ancient ancestor was.
Without warning there was a lull in the assault, a pause in the deadly rain of blue fire that hammered all around the crouching Elfborn, slashing his skin with its missiles and pounding his body with rocky debris. And Lash knew that this was his chance.
He took hold of the torch, which had fallen a step back as he fell to his knees and swiftly rose to his feet, his face determined even though the darkness was filled with the flashing afterimages cast by the deadly bolts of energy. He was blind, but there was a good chance that his attacker was too, if it had vision like a man's. After all, none of those blasts of energy had even been close to striking him. Not that it mattered; the stony shards those blasts were sending flying in every direction were almost as deadly. Lash grit his teeth as he braced himself. It was now or never!
Tossing the torch towards where the slashing blasts had originated with a shout, Lash charged forward, hopping over those stone outcroppings that he could see, staggering over those that he could not. But either way, he didn't let himself be deterred as he ran towards the darkness, sword held high and yelling at the top of his lungs.
Only to come staggering to a halt in a relatively clear space beyond the jagged floor he had just traversed, finding it disappointingly empty.
"Wha?" he began, his face a mask of confusion as he turned this way and that, trying to see beyond the bright purple splotches that dominated his vision.
"Where did you go, monster?"
"It comes and goes as it pleases," Kenneth commented dully from close by. Turning slightly, Lash could see the knight curled up against the wall in his peripheral vision, his armor battered and torn by his violent fall. Not only that, but the shiny steel was also blackened in a strange manner in several spots, as if some sort of fire had burned it. The man's legs twisted at odd angles, obviously broken and his left arm hung limply. There was blood all over the place, speaking of the rough descent down along the harsh walls of the crevice and the man's face was nearly hidden by it.
What Lash could see of it wasn't good. Bruised and swollen, the man's eyes were almost hidden behind thick, swollen folds of his own battered flesh. Death wasn't just knocking on this man's door; it had stepped across the threshold and was making itself at home in his kitchen!
The swollen and split lips moved and Kenneth's voice issued from the dark space between them.
"It first came upon me after I awoke from the fall. It hit me twice. Or ... maybe it was three times." The head slowly shook from side to side, each movement painful. "No matter. I just knew that I was dead. This creature ... this 'demon' has the power of invisibility and uses foul magic to cast at its enemies. As you have now witnessed, de Marniet."
"Have you noticed a weakness, Sir Kenneth?" Lash asked almost desperately. "Anything I can use, if it comes back?" He slowly looked from side to side as he eased into a ready crouch, his sword hilt clutched tightly in both hands. He cautiously crabbed along the edge of the open space, anxiously waiting for his vision to return. On the floor of the crevice the torch flickered fitfully but, thankfully, refused to go out despite the abuse the Hybernian was heaping onto it.
"Not that I've seen, de Marniet," Kenneth replied after a brief pause, his voice noticeably weaker. He didn't have long, if Lash was guessing right about his condition. He was most likely broken inside, bleeding from a wound they couldn't reach, in addition to the obvious damage on the outside. Such a wound would slowly suffocate a man to death without a surgeon being able to do a thing for him.
"It ceased its attack shortly after it realized I was already finished. Truly itsi a demon sent from the dank gates of Hell itself to ... to ..."
Lash frowned as Kenneth's voice faded and he turned to begin striding back to the injured knight to check on him. Only to have his boot snag some unseen edge on the floor. Cursing softly, Lash staggered as he regained his footing, reaching out with his left to brace him as he felt himself approach the wall.
It was as his hand flailed out, trying to catch the wall before his face did, that he felt the warm tingle that raced across his fingertips as they came into contact with a magical field. Then, with a flicker of blue light, a dancing net of energy abruptly snapped into place around his hand, racing up his arm to slam into his body with teeth-numbing force. The net of energy danced over him for a brief moment then, with dizzying power, it picked him up and slung him with brute force through the air.
His breath snatched away, Lash gasped uselessly as he hung suspended in the darkness for the aching length of a single heartbeat. Then he was crashing hard into a stone column before dropping to the ground, barely managing to avoid impaling himself on several long spikes of stone that jutted up from the ground by virtue of landing on his hands and knees.
Still, the brief flight and its jarring ending had battered him mercilessly and, groaning in pain, he flopped onto his side, his head spinning and his body pounding with pain. The hand that had touched the magical field, whatever it was, was numbed by the shock and his entire body still sang with the energy that had so briefly but so devastatingly pulsed through it.
For a moment all Lash could think about was drawing his next breath. But Kenneth's hoarse whisper, sounding as if the man had roused himself from death to utter it, sent a cold rush of adrenaline through him as it gave him something more to think about other than his battered body and gasping lungs.
"It comes." The simple phase was deceptively mild. Still, it sent a shock of urgency through Lash's body. Gritting his teeth against the pain, he struggled back to his hands and knees, trying to once again see past the flashing light that filled his vision with its afterimage.