Stiel could see how Spikerock Chasm got its name, the gorge was located in a small forest of spiky rocks, cracked boulders, and beaten ground. He had, however, no problem finding the entrance. Leaving the afternoon sun behind, Stiel entered the Spikerock Chasm, a lit torch in hand. Carrying his shield in such cramped quarters was out of the question, so he left it close to the entrance. At first, it seemed like the cave beyond the entrance would lead nowhere, but the Knight-in-Waiting soon found a tunnel in better shape, and he began walking, having to crouch slightly to avoid banging his head in stalactites hanging from the ceiling. At one point, the green-haired warrior thought that he should have brought his helmet, but he had left it with the shield, to save his head from bumps bound to happen. However, it would’ve obscured his vision ever so much, so the decision to leave it behind was sound.
Suddenly, something moved in front of him, just outside of the torch light, moving deeper into the tunnel. A few powerful strides after whatever it was later, and Stiel sorely missed the helmet, banging his head into the ceiling.
Not much to do other than to take it easy, and try to clear the stars dancing in front of his eyes. At least there was no blood, his scalp was intact.
Stiel continued down the tunnel, which now sloped a lot. The air was still fresh, but getting a bit moist. He could hear drops echo in front of him, and soon found himself in a cavern with a small underground lake. Here he can stand tall, the cavern is roomy. The faint dripping echo filled the cavern, pleasantly reminding him that he was out of the cramped tunnel.
A light splash alerts him, he takes a step from the small lake.
Another one. They are coming from the other side, but Stiel is reluctant to step into the water. Who knows what dwells in it, or how deep it is for that matter. He trails the wall to his right, and finds a way around it, but there is no sign of anything or anybody, and no more splashes are heard.
Another tunnel entrance. Stiel examines it, trailing its opening, which he’ll have to crouch to enter, with the torch.
Then he hears something, from inside the tunnel, some gravel rustling, and a swift swiveling sound.
“What the…” he whispers to himself, and then he understand, and throws himself to the side, just before the rock exits the tunnel entrance and hits the wall on the opposite side of the lake with a cracking sound.
A small sling, he notes to himself, and listens intently. Someone is scuttling away, further down the tunnel. Now he misses both his shield and helmet, although the former would’ve been too bulky to use in the cramped tunnel, and the latter would’ve made it even harder for him to see anything. It must’ve been a really small sling to work in this tunnel.
Stiel enters it cautiously, crouching low and moving as silently as he can. He can hear hoarse voices further down the tunnel, but he can’t make out the words.
Then he sees a light, an eerie glow. The closer he gets, the brighter it becomes, but Stiel is reluctant to turn out his torch, or even leave it. What if his attackers turn out the light? They obviously function better in the dark than he does, and knows the area. What did she say, the old woman? They’ve been too long in the dark, or something like that. Was this what she meant?
The moment later he finds the explanation to the light, when he almost steps on a small little mushroom bright with a faint blue glow, not very strong at all, but obviously just a small stalk with a minimal cap. There must be more of these glowing mushrooms, or larger ones perhaps, down the tunnel.
Stiel peers down, and makes the decision. He backtracks a few steps, and then pins his torch between a couple of loose rocks, making as little noise as possible. Let’s see if he can surprise these cave bandits…
Crouching really low, sword in hand, Stiel moves towards the light, and soon makes out a small cave up front, almost fully illuminated by these small mushrooms, around a bend. It is still a very dim and eerie glow, but it is enough for him to see.
Trinkets litter the cavern floor, along with musty piles of leaf and small twigs and branches, beds of sorts he reckons. A couple of spoons, a pan, some soiled cloths, a ceramic mug and a chamber pot full of small round rocks. The smell is anything but nice, but no excrement can be seen on the floor, which is somewhat puzzling since it was the first thing Stiel thought of.
There is movement inside, and hoarse whispers in tiny voices, but even though Stiel can hear that there are words, he can’t understand them, nor guess what language these bandits are speaking.
This must be it, the book must be here.
Stiel straightens as much as he can, and steps into the little cavern.
“Don’t move!” he says, and holds his sword at the ready.
The small spindly creatures do anything but that, all three of them. One is so startled he, she, or it, falls backwards and cowers behind a rock, hissing something in a weird voice. The other two, however, quickly gather what wits they may have, and throttles the intruder.
The Knight-in-Waiting doesn’t know what to make of these small creatures. They are human, sort of, much like children but with long knotty arms and legs, with grey-looking skin in the mushroom light. These weird humanoids have certainly been in the dark for too long, with big lidless eyes and huge irises filling their milky whites. Stiel find them repulsive, yet somehow he’s not without compassion for them.
“Stand back or I’ll kill you!” he warns, but the first one brings up a club made of some weird looking bone and swings it. Stiel easily deflects the blow, and just in time to meet the other one’s attack, wielding a frying pan. A deafening clang fills the cavern as Stiel meets the pan, which is quite big, with his sword.
“I don’t want to hurt you!”
Then a stone hits his left shoulder square on, making his arm go numb, and the green-haired warrior reassesses the situation.
He retreats into the cavern opening, drawing the bone club wielding little creature after him. A nasty smell joins him there, and he sees that his enemy has soiled himself, all the while grinning, or grimacing, Stiel can’t really tell in the dim light, and there is no way to know anyway. He deflects another blow, and slashes out, but the spindly thing just jumps back, leaving a trail of piss behind him.
Stiel retreats another step, bile threatening to enter his throat, tears filling his eyes. His left arm is waking up somewhat, but his shoulder is sore and swollen.
The swiveling sound alerts him, and Stiel manages to press himself to the wall, just to see one of those small rocks bounce harmlessly beside him. There is power in them at this short distance.
“I need to finish this now,” Stiel groans to himself, and charges the room.
The frying pan wielding creature is unlucky, just now preparing to enter the tunnel. Stiel plants his foot in his chest and tramples over him, grinding his teeth as he hears the creature slam the cavern floor, feels the breast bone collapse under his heavy boot, and hears the spine crack against the rock. No time to worry, to think about this, he reminds himself, and enters the warrior state that made him get through all those harsh years at the academy.
He slashes out against the club wielder, who scrambles backwards in terror, but this creature was never his intended victim. Stiel propels forward, and punches the third one, the one with the dangerous sling, right in its surprised face, sending it several feet up into the air in a spray of blood and teeth. The Knight-in-Waiting regains his balance by slowing his approach with his knee on the rock where the creature had been hiding, turns around in one fluent motion, and nearly cuts the head of the bone club wielding little monster thinking to exploit the situation.
Nearly being the key, because the little devil manages to duck below the sword, and then apparently decides it had had enough, and disappears into a crack in the wall, giggling or crying wildly, Stiel can’t tell.
All is still. The little thing Stiel punched is either dead or out cold, the adrenaline of battle pounds like drums in the green-haired warrior’s ears so he can’t tell if it is breathing or not, and he has no stomach to go and find out. A wet, heavy, nasty stink is starting to fill the room, coming from the first downed creature’s intestines. Stiel retches, staggers backwards, suddenly weak and with tears brimming his eyes. By chance he sees a book just beside the entrance to the small cavern. He scoops it up, hoping it is the one, and then stumbles back out in the tunnel, fleeing from the nauseating stench of the dead creature.