All Shadows Fled - Ed Greenwood [40]
There came a ringing of steel from behind him. "What's ahead, scout?" a self-important swordcaptain snapped. Pelaeron himself, scourge of lazy soldiers. Oh, joy.
"Traps, sir," Fflarast said, indicating the fallen block and Baeremuth's arm. "I'm deciding how best to safely proceed."
"Well, hurry up about it," the officer snapped, prodding Fflar's mail-covered backside with his sword tip. "We haven't got all night, you know." A file of warriors was crowding into the room behind the swordcaptain. Fflarast looked at them-and at Pelaeron's steely eye- and then swallowed, shrugged, and carefully climbed over the rubble to the left of Baeremuth, on into the darkness.
Darkness where there should have been light. The torch had been with Baeremuth, and no mage lights were near. "Torch," Fflarast rapped out, keeping his voice as laconic as possible, and reached back.
The swordcaptain curtly waved an armsman with a blazing torch forward. The man reached to hand the torch to Fflarast, shuffled amid loose stones, tripped, and measured his length on the rubble. Stones shifted-and Fflar flung himself backward into unknown darkness as hard and fast as he could.
An instant later, armsman, torch, Pelaeron, and all vanished in a roaring and tumbling of stone as two carefully balanced blocks collapsed sideways, and the floor of the chamber above came down.
Fflarast landed hard on his tailbone on rough-edged rocks and lay there groaning. The chamber he'd come through was now a new-sealed tomb in front of him. He was lying in a cross passage-and listening to fresh crashings off to the left as heavy stones dropped and rolled. Tortured metal shrieked briefly as it crumpled, a man screamed for an instant, and then there were only echoes. Echoes that faded slowly into silence.
Fflar shuddered. He snarled wordlessly. Gods take all wizards! Save my bruised behind! Grunting, he rolled slowly and carefully to the left, to his knees, and felt for his sword.
There was another rolling crash in the distance, and shouts. Fflarast found his sword and clutched it, not moving as he fought down fear. He was alone in chill darkness with death waiting all around him. For the greater glory of Zhentil Keep, whose proud lords would not even know that Fflarast Blackriver had died in the service. Or care one whit, if someone told them.
"Hungry beasts take them all," Fflar told the darkness softly, and stayed on his knees, wondering how long it would be until dawn… and if he'd dare try to find his way out of the ruin even then.
Far down the passage, many torches glimmered and danced, and a voice said, "There-that's armor!"
"I serve Zhentil Keep!" Fflar shouted desperately, flinging up his arms in case someone was very eager to fire his crossbow. No quarrels answered. The voice came again. "Who are you, soldier?"
"Fflarast Blackriver, of Pelaeron's Mace." He cleared his throat and added, "I'm alone. Pelaeron and most of his swords lie under stone beside me. We've struck two traps already."
"It seems a contagious habit," the voice responded dryly. "Stay where you are. I'm going to throw you a torch."
A moment later, fire whup-whup-whupped end over end through the darkness, trailing sparks, and fell amid rubble, showing Fflar a row of archways on one side of the passage, and doors or fallen walls on the side he'd come in by. A boot-still twitching feebly-could be seen in the fall of rubble beside him. Fflarast swallowed and turned his back on it, looking through the nearest arch.
"What can you see, soldier?" the voice asked.
"A huge chamber-probably a great hall," Fflarast answered. "It has balconies around its inside walls, and the roof's gone somewhere. There's moonlight at one end."
"Off to your left-my right?"
"Aye," Fflarast called. "It looks open-big empty stretches."
Voices murmured down the corridor. The officer called, "Can you get to the torch?"
Fflarast struggled over rubble for a few sweating