Dragonspell - Donita K. Paul [63]
A crude ladder made from chopped branches and bound with coarse rope lay against a wall nearby. Shimeran gestured to it, and Dar moved to pick it up. Kale saw the doneel strain against its weight and went to help. Together they maneuvered the end to the edge of the hole and tipped the ladder upright. Hand over hand, they lowered it into the black pit.
Kale wanted to object. Going down that ladder felt like going into a trap, but her bearings on Leetu Bends told her that the kimen was taking them in the right direction.
Shimeran leapt onto the top rungs of the ladder without a sound and quickly disappeared. Dar gestured for Kale to go next, but she shook her head. He stopped beside her, patted her arm, and then stepped down on the second branch rung tied to two long poles. In the gloomy light, Kale watched his ears, perked and twitching, as Dar descended below the rim of the hole.
She cast a glance around the dismal enclosure. Unadorned walls of poorly cut stone looked typical of a poor farmer’s barn, not a wizard’s castle. No beauty of form rested here. The shades of gray and black shadows obscured any attractiveness. Even in the quiet of the place, there was no peace.
She peered into the hole. Down there, turmoil, evil, and danger danced along roughly hewn stone corridors. She heard echoes of horror and couldn’t shake the feeling that this was present distress, not something lingering from the past. Shimeran had gone down the ladder. Dar had followed. Kale reached to touch Leetu’s mind.
We’re coming! she called, and swung her foot over the top of the ladder, before she could think any more about the terror below.
The wood creaked under her weight. The rungs had not protested a bit as Dar and Shimeran climbed down. But the doneel was half her size, and the kimen so small he could probably float on a stiff breeze. A light flashed into view below her, and she slipped, almost losing her footing. She gasped, clung to the frail ladder, and searched for her companions in the sudden brilliance.
Dar stood beside Shimeran, whose clothing now radiated a golden glow.
“Hope,” he said as he smiled up at her.
“Hope?” she echoed.
“The golden light is a symbol of hope. The most perilous part of our journey through the wizard’s stronghold is already past. There will not be any guards down here to bother us. Nothing but rats and cats and druddums.”
Kale shivered and stepped quickly down the remaining rungs. With her feet on the dirt floor, she put her hands on her hips and eyed the kimen.
“And how about the journey out of the wizard’s stronghold?”
“It will require another color.” He clapped his hands together and scanned the various routes away from the entry. “Which way, Kale?”
Kale patted Gymn through the cape material. The gesture soothed her brittle nerves. She nodded at a dark tunnel veering to the right. Shimeran started off without comment. His bright light bounced off the rock walls. Chisel marks showed where hands holding metal tools had widened the natural tunnel. Moisture clung to the gray stone, and in places, ran in trickles down to the floor, leaving brackish puddles.
The underground tunnels twisted, following a natural pattern. Here and there man’s tools had made tight stretches higher and broader. Some tunnels opened into caverns. Cages made of heavy bars stood empty in these large underground spaces.
Kale stared at hall after hall of unused cells. One looked much like the one before it. None of the caverns were occupied, but all of them were disturbing. Something about the repellent odor also set her on edge. The caverns smelled like an unclean barn. Yet with years of disuse, the granite rooms should smell more like an empty storage shed. She had expected to see suffering and had steeled herself against the horror of this evil prison. Where were the victims of Risto’s harsh hand?
They entered yet another ominously quiet cavern. Shimeran’s light increased and touched the walls. Chains hung from metal pegs driven into the stone. Doors sat at odd angles, none of