Dragons of Spring Dawning - Margaret Weis [148]
The sudden movement took its toll. The room swam before his eyes, forcing Caramon to stand still a moment, fighting the pain of his injury. When he could see again, he looked around, getting his bearings.
“Where are we?” he asked without expecting an answer, just wanting Berem to hear the sound of his voice.
“Far, far below the Temple,” Berem replied in a hollow tone. “I am close. Very close now.”
“Yeah,” Caramon agreed without understanding. Keeping a fast hold on Berem, he continued to look around. The stone stairs he had come down ended in a small circular chamber. A guardroom, he realized, seeing an old table and several chairs sitting beneath a torch on the wall. It made sense. The draconians down here must have been guards. Berem had stumbled on them accidentally. But what could the draconians have been guarding?
Caramon glanced quickly around the small stone chamber but saw nothing. The room was perhaps twenty paces in diameter, carved out of rock. The spiral stone stairs ended in this room and—across from them—an archway led out. It was toward this archway Berem had been walking when Caramon caught hold of him. Peering through the arch, Caramon saw nothing. It was dark beyond, so dark Caramon felt as if he were staring into the Great Darkness the legends spoke of. Darkness that had existed in the void long before the gods created light.
The only sound he could hear was the gurgling and splash of water. An underground stream, he thought, which accounted for the humid air. Stepping back a pace, he examined the archway above him.
It was not carved out of the rock as was the small chamber they were in. It had been built of stone, crafted by expert hands. He could see vague outlines of elaborate carvings that had once decorated it, but he could make nothing out. They had long ago been worn away by time and the moisture in the air.
As he studied the arch, hoping for a clue to guide him, Caramon nearly fell as Berem clutched at him with sudden, fierce energy.
“I know you!” the man cried.
“Sure,” Caramon grunted. “What in the name of the Abyss are you doing down here?”
“Jasla calls …” Berem said, the wild look glazing his eyes once more. Turning, he stared into the darkness beyond the archway. “In there, I must go.… Guards … tried to stop me. You come with me.”
Then Caramon realized that the guards must have been guarding this arch! For what reason? What was beyond? Had they recognized Berem or were they simply acting under orders to keep everyone out? He didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, and then it occurred to him that the answers didn’t matter. Neither did the questions.
“You have to go in there,” he said to Berem. It was a statement, not a question. Berem nodded and took a step forward eagerly. He would have walked straight into the darkness if Caramon hadn’t jerked him back.
“Wait, we’ll need light,” the big man said with a sigh. “Stay put!” Patting Berem on the arm, then keeping his gaze fixed on him, Caramon backed up until his groping hand came into contact with a torch on the wall. Lifting it from its sconce, he returned to Berem.
“I’ll go with you,” he said heavily, wondering how long he could keep going before he collapsed from pain and loss of blood. “Here, hold that a minute.” Handing Berem the torch, he tore off a strip of cloth from the ragged remains of Berem’s shirt and bound it firmly around the wound in his side. Then, taking the torch back, he led the way beneath the arch.
Passing between the stone supports, Caramon felt something brush across his face. “Cobweb!” he muttered, pawing at it in disgust. He glanced around fearfully, having a dread of spiders. But there was nothing there. Shrugging, he thought no more of it and continued through the arch, drawing Berem after him.
The air was split with trumpet blasts.
“Trapped!” Caramon said grimly.
“Tika!” Tas gasped proudly as they ran down the gloomy dungeon