Ring of the Or'tux, page 31
Hunter alternated between watching Larus and Father Thomas, and the waterfall. Of the two scenes before him, the waterfall held his interest more. He wondered how long the water had been falling through this cavern. If the information Father Thomas had on the Or’tux was accurate, then this cavern would have had to have been in existence for a long time. Which meant that it may have started out much smaller, with the waterfall having eroded much of it away over the years. Or maybe the waterfall hadn’t even been in existence when the Or’tux inhabited the temple. Could the waterfall have eroded through and removed the passage, perhaps a stream that had eaten its way through the bedrock above?
Excited at the idea, he sat up. How long would it take for water to erode that much rock away? Of course any earthquakes or other seismic activities would have accelerated the process. His eyes flicked back to the narrow shelf running along behind the waterfall. Could that be all that was left of the passage? If so, would Shank have used it?
Climbing to his feet, he started toward the edge of the waterfall again then stopped. A glance over to the other two showed them to still be in conversation. He almost spoke up about his idea but thought better of it. They might think him foolish. So moving to where the passage ended near the waterfall, he began looking for evidence indicating that Shank may have intended to go this way.
It took him all of five seconds to find an eye ring pounded into the side of the wall. With only a modicum of rust marring its surface, the eye ring looked relatively new compared to the rock wall it was driven into. And Shank had carried a rope! Tie that to the ring and you would have a way to anchor yourself as you worked your way across the narrow shelf behind the waterfall.
“Hey!” he hollered. Glancing to the other two, he waved for them to join him. When they came, he pointed out the eye ring and then the narrow shelf running behind the waterfall. “I think Shank went that way.” He then explained his thoughts on how the waterfall may have eroded away the passage.
Larus was quick to agree. “Good thinking,” he praised. Taking the rope from his pack, he tied one end through the eye ring. The other he tied about his waist. “I’ll go first and make sure there is a passage on the other side. If so, I’ll hold the rope secure while you two come across.”
“Okay,” said Father Thomas. “Be careful, my son.”
“Don’t plan on being anything else,” Larus replied with a grin. “Wait for my signal then come across one at a time.” With that, he moved to the edge of the drop-off and placed a foot upon the shelf.
Immediately, the water from the fall began pelting him. Droplets of icy water quickly had his clothes drenched as he worked his way along the shelf. The water coating it made for treacherous footing, but he took each step carefully. With his body firmly pressed against the cavern wall, he found what handholds he could as he scooted his left foot forward. Once it was firmly in position, he would slide his right.
Barely two feet separated the falls from the wall and when he reached the main body of falling water, felt it begin to intermittently strike his pack with force. As long as he kept a firm stance on the shelf, the force of the water wouldn’t knock him off. From this point on, handholds became much more important, especially during the times he was sliding his feet.
A handhold here, sliding his foot there, inch by inch he made his way along the back side of the waterfall until he reached the far side. Through the mist, he could see where the shelf began to widen as it continued on toward a dark opening. It was the passage!
Once past the falling water, he quickened his pace until he stood upon the rock floor of the passage. A quick examination of the walls revealed another eye ring similar to the one on the other side. Untying the rope from around his waist, he securely threaded it through the eye ring then pulled it tight until the rope was stretched taut across the back of the falls. Then he tied it off.
“Okay!” he hollered to those waiting on the far side of the falls.
So thick was the spray coming up from where the water impacted below that the far side was totally obscured. He waved his arms and shouted again, this time as loud as he could. If they heard him, their reply was lost in the waterfall’s roar. Did they hear him? He had no way of knowing. If they did, someone should be starting across now. Hoping that they had, he returned to the rope stretching between the two eye rings and waited.
As he waited, he could see the rope moving, but whether from the water from the falls striking it or one of the other two crossing, he didn’t know. Fortunately, he only had a minute to wait before Hunter appeared making his way across. Once Hunter was close enough, Larus reached out and helped him across the last few feet. Hunter was soaked.
“Any trouble?” he asked.
Hunter shook his head. “No,” he replied as he moved an errant strand of sopping wet hair from out of his face. “Slipped once but with the rope was able to right myself and continue on.” He grinned as he added, “I’m not ashamed to admit the crossing terrified me.”
Larus patted him on the back and was about to comment when Father Thomas appeared along the shelf. He had one knee on the shelf and the other leg dangled precariously below. Trying to stand, he was knocked back down by the force of the falls.
“Father!” Larus cried. “I’m coming!” Leaving Hunter’s side, he rushed to the rope and started to make his way out to Father Thomas. “Just stay where you are!” He saw Father Thomas glance toward him and nod.
Scooting along the shelf, Larus reached the priest’s side. Then with one hand maintaining a grip on the rope, he used his other to grab the straps of Father Thomas’ pack and lifted. With the added stability Larus gave him, Father Thomas was able to bring both feet back to the shelf and stand on wobbly knees.
“Can you make it?” Larus asked.
Father Thomas shook his head. He made a reply but it was lost in the roar of the falls.
“Then we’ll do it together,” Larus shouted. Keeping a grip on Father Thomas, he helped the priest work his way to the far side until both were finally standing upon the dry, rocky floor of the passage. Father Thomas quickly sank to the ground.
“It might be a good idea to rest for a few minutes before continuing,” Larus suggested.
“I agree,” replied Hunter. His legs were a bit on the wobbly side too though he wasn’t about to admit it.
Larus went to where the passage continued and gazed into the opening. Not far from where it resumed after the waterfall, light faded completely as the ceiling finally came together to form a tunnel. Returning to the other two, he commented, “We’ll need light to continue.”
“Are the sticks wet?” asked Hunter.
After opening his pack and checking on the sticks of wood they planned to make into makeshift torches, Larus nodded. “A bit wet,” he explained. “But not so bad as to make them unusable.” Within his pack was some cloth which he removed and wrapped around the end of one of the sticks. A bit damp, but with a little effort could be coaxed to burn.
By this time, Father Thomas’ breathing had calmed and the shaking in his legs had diminished. When Larus glanced his way he said, “I will be fine. Took a misstep going under the falls and thought my time had come. The rope saved my life.”
“Glad not to have lost you Father,” Larus replied. “Do you think you will be able to continue now?”
“Yes,” Father Thomas answered. Holding out his hand he said, “If you would be so kind as to lend me your hand?”
Larus gave him a grin. Coming over, he took the hand and helped him to his feet. Indicating where the passage continued he said, “Looks like it continues to descend.”
“Do you still think this goes to the temple?” Father Thomas asked.
“Maybe,” replied Larus.
“I’ve been thinking,” interjected Hunter. “The weeds Shank harvested may grow in an underground cavern.” As Larus turned toward him, he rose to his feet. “We may be taking a long way to nowhere.”
“Always a possibility,” he said. Turning to Father Thomas he asked, “What do you think? Are we going the right way?”
About to answer, Father Thomas stopped and then closed his eyes. After a moment’s prayer he opened them and shrugged. “I do not know.”
“Well,” Larus said, “there’s only one way to find out.” Kneeling down, he removed his flint from his pouch and proceeded to strike sparks. As they landed upon the cloth tied to the stick of wood, he gently blew glowing sparks until they caught. Now with the torch burning, he came to his feet and said, “Let’s go.” Leading the way, he entered the passage. Father Thomas and Hunter followed close behind.
Moving down the passage, the light from above rapidly faded until they were completely shrouded by darkness, with the only source of light being that of the torch. Not far after the light faded, the passage narrowed until it was again the width it was when they had first left the ancient road.
They traveled through the narrow confines for only a short span before they again heard the sound of water ahead. A minute later, the passage came to an abrupt end at a dark chasm.
Wider than what the torch’s light could illuminate, the chasm opened up before them. Above, the wall rose several feet before curving to move almost horizontally away from them. Where the passage ended was a drop off that sloped at a steep angle down and away into darkness. It was out of that darkness before them that the sound of fast moving water emerged.
Larus held the torch out as far as he could and scanned the rocky slope below them.
“Do you see anything?” Father Thomas asked. Larus shook his head.
Hunter searched the area too, then the thought occurred to him to look for eye rings similar to what they had found by the falls. A minute’s search revealed there were none.
Then, Larus suddenly pointed to a point some distance down the rocky slope. “Look,” he said.
Directing his gaze to where Larus indicated, Hunter found what looked like steps carved into the rocky surface. “Steps?” he asked.
Larus nodded. “If you look at the slope from there to here,” he said, “you can see others.” Indeed, the first step was just below where they stood. It was an ingenuous design in that it blended almost perfectly with the rocky surface. So well did it blend in that you wouldn’t see it if you didn’t know what to look for.
But now that they knew, it was easy to see the series of steps carved in a non-linear pattern down the steep slope. Each step was of different size, shape, and position. Yet when they began making their way down from where the passage ended, found each to be immobile and sturdy. They were a marvel of craftsmanship, not what one would expect from a blood thirsty people such as the Or’tux were said to be.
Larus of course went first with Hunter next and Father Thomas bringing up the rear. The steps held no discernable pattern or path other than taking them further down toward the sound of rushing water. Forty steps later, they came to the source of the sound. It was a small underground waterway, carved naturally from the bedrock.
Its depth was unknown as their sight could not pierce its churning mass. Peppered with rocks jutting from the water as it were, the water was in a state of constant turbulence.
The last step came to within a foot of the waterway’s edge. This step being large enough for all three to comfortably stand upon it at one time, they paused to consider where to go from there.
“I’d say we follow the water,” suggested Larus. Downstream to their left, the surface of the ground abutting the waterway was fairly level and smooth, while upstream looked to be much more rugged. The others indicated their agreement.
Hunter gazed upon the water with trepidation. “I hope we aren’t going to have to wade across,” he said.
Larus gave him a grin. “Let’s worry about that when we have to shall we?” he asked. Moving off the last step, he began walking along the side of the underground waterway. For the most part it ran fairly straight with only gradual twists and turns. All the while, the semi-level path running alongside continued to match its course.
After about ten minutes of walking, faint light began to be noticed ahead along the river’s path. Also, the sound of water seemed to increase.
The light was a welcomed sight to Hunter. He hadn’t much cared for trudging around underground as they had been. But as they drew closer, the light didn’t grow much brighter as he had hoped. When they finally reached where the waterway emerged from underground, they realized why.
The waterway had emerged from the side of a deep, narrow crevice where it cascaded down into unknown depths below. Above, the crevice extended at least fifty feet, maybe more before reaching open air.
“This is it!” Larus exclaimed excitedly. Pointing just below where they stood, he indicated a series of ten steps that led down to a narrow landing. From the landing, a four-foot wide drawbridge extended across the crevice to an opening on the far side. “It’s the way inside the temple!”
Chapter 24
The drawbridge was hinged on the far side and the remnants where chains had once connected to it showed how it could have been raised. Made of stout beams of wood, it had survived the years in surprisingly good shape.
An arched opening loomed on the far side. The stone bordering the dark, ominous opening had been worked and shaped to form columns, columns very similar to those encountered along the ancient road.
Father Thomas gazed at the darkness within the arched way and felt his skin crawl. Never before had he felt so strong a sense of wrongness as he did now.
“Are you okay?” Larus asked.
Barely able to turn his gaze from the opening, he saw Larus looking at him with concern. “There is something…,” he began, then stopped.
“What?” asked Larus. Moving his gaze toward the arched opening across the chasm, he tried to determine what had Father Thomas spooked.
“I…I do not know,” Father Thomas stated. “A wrongness.”
“Wrongness?” Larus returned his gaze to the priest.
Father Thomas nodded. “I cannot explain it better than that,” he replied. “The thought of going in there…” Suddenly, a nervous shiver ran through him.
“But that is where we have been led,” Larus said. “We must.”
In a barely heard whisper, Father Thomas said, “I know.” Then taking a deep breath, he offered a prayer up for courage, then nodded.
Father Thomas’ reaction caused Larus grave concern. A priest often was more in tune with forces that other mortals were not. Placing a hand on his sword, he laid the other on Father Thomas’ shoulder. “Are you going to be able to enter?” he asked.
“Yes,” Father Thomas assured him though his tone said he wished to do anything else but that.
“Okay then,” he said. “Tell me immediately if whatever you sense becomes worse.”
“Rest assured I shall,” Father Thomas said.
Larus didn’t translate that particular conversation for Hunter, but Hunter knew something was up. The tone of voice and facial expressions spoke volumes. He glanced questioningly to Larus who said, “It’s a rival god’s temple. He’s having a hard time with entering.”
“Oh,” he replied.
Larus glanced to Father Thomas again and hoped he was right about what was bothering him. Some priests do react adversely when in the presence of another deity. For their sakes, Larus fervently hoped that was the case now.
Stepping toward the drawbridge, he placed a foot upon it to test its strength. When it easily supported his weight, he started across. Upon reaching the other side, he glanced back and saw Father Thomas motionless on the far side making no move to cross.
Apprehension bordering on fear was plainly visible on the priest’s face. “It’s okay to cross,” he hollered over the crash of the water below.
Father Thomas licked his lips and took a step onto the drawbridge then paused. First a glance to Larus, then one to the darkness extending to unknown depths below the drawbridge. Finally, he took another step and rushed across. Behind him followed Hunter.
Larus extended his hand to help him across the last few feet which Father Thomas gladly took. “Thank you,” he said in a raspy whisper. His grip on Larus’ arm was surprisingly strong.
“You’re welcome,” replied Larus as he saw Father Thomas perspiring. “Are you sure you are okay?” he asked.
Father Thomas gave a halfhearted grin. “As well as I can be,” he assured him. In his mind he silently said a prayer to Casdralla, trusting in her to see him through.
Larus again looked him in the eyes, searching.
“I am fine,” asserted Father Thomas.
From the way perspiration still beaded the priest’s forehead and the fact that he was a bit paler than normal, Larus knew he was anything but fine. Not pressing the point any further, he turned to face the arched opening.
Before him, a passage extended into darkness, past the reach of the torch’s light. The floor of the passage was smooth as were the walls and ceiling. Easily wide enough for two men to walk side by side, the ceiling was high enough to allow all but the tallest of men to walk erect without fear of scraping.
“I don’t suppose any of us have figured out why we are here?” Hunter asked.
Larus turned back toward him. “No,” he said, shaking his head. Then he pulled forth the crystalline arachnid and held it before him. “But I’m sure this will aid us in some manner.” Slipping it back within his shirt, he turned and started into the passage. To Hunter he said, “No matter what happens, stay close to Father Thomas.”
“Wh…what do you think is going to happen?” quavered Hunter’s voice.
“I don’t know,” he said without looking back. “Just stay near him. He may need your help.” A glance over his shoulder showed Father Thomas doing slightly better. The perspiration had diminished though in the torch’s light, he still looked a bit pale. Returning his attention back to the passage before them, he kept alert for any sign of danger. Father Thomas’ nervousness was beginning to get to him.
