From Darkness Won - Jill Williamson [141]
The green light cast an eerie glow. Moss-covered beams stretched between the buildings above, perhaps to help support the walls on either side. Or perhaps to support the floor inside each home.
Jax pulled the paddles inside and reached up to slow the boat by slapping a beam. He kept his hand in the air and used the next two beams to slow the boat to a stop before an iron door coated in rust and moss. A stone wall encased the door and matched the masonry of the cottage on their right. Anyone who traveled this canal might assume this a back entrance to the cottage.
Jax reached around to the backside of the beam overhead and pried out a knot of wood. He reached inside and handed an iron key to Sir Eagan.
Sir Eagan took the key. The boat bobbed under his weight as he stood and reached for the door. Waves smacked the sides of the boat and the stone walls, and Sir Rigil’s green torchlight swayed over their faces.
Sir Eagan fiddled with the key until a soft click sounded. He handed the key to Averella. “Pass that to Jax, please.”
Averella did, and the giant put the key and the wooden knot back in place. Sir Eagan pushed the door inward. It moved slowly in the water, creating a small whirlpool. Sir Eagan pulled on the door frame, drawing the boat into the dark chasm. Jax helped by pushing on the beam.
“Bran, close the door?” Jax said.
The door clanged shut. Gren whimpered. The torchlight lit up the canal walls. They were smooth stone with patches of slimy lime coating. Bushy green moss covered sections of the roof like sheepskins.
Wood scraped behind her. Jax picked up the paddles. They splooshed into the water and the boat surged forward.
The tunnel walls raced by, their contours rippling in the torchlight. Averella felt as if they were being poured down a long stone chute.
“Noam, help me take this armor off,” Gren said.
“Leave it on,” Noam said. “It’ll keep you safe.”
“But it’s too heavy. I can’t bear the weight anymore, nor can I breathe. And if I fell overboard, I’d go straight to the bottom. Master Rennan, would you like to wear it?”
“Sir Rigil is the better warrior.”
“Which is why you should wear the armor, Master Rennan,” Sir Rigil said.
Averella was just as tired of the stiffness of her own armor. “Sir Rigil, you may wear my armor, if you like.”
Still holding the torchlight, Sir Rigil stretched his arm out over the edge of the boat. “As long as you can bear the weight, my lady, I beg you keep yours on.”
The boat rocked as Averella and Sir Eagan removed the armor from Gren and Noam and Sir Rigil fastened it onto Bran. Averella passed the time by fishing her old rope belt out of her pack and tying it around her waist. She sheathed the new sword she had acquired in the Mahanaim courtyard, hoping her old sword, Firefox, would serve Harnu well. She put her helm and satchel in her pack to make everything easier to carry, and she felt for Prince Gidon’s ring. It was still hanging on the twine around her neck. Good.
Hours passed before Jax said, “Here we are.”
The tunnel came to an end in a circular cave. The ceiling was covered in pale dripstones that resembled dirty icicles, some of them furry with what looked like frost but was likely some type of lichen. Perhaps Jax could reach a sample so Averella could take a closer look. A small cave in the back must be the way out. The idea of standing on solid ground again lightened the weight of Averella’s armor some.
Jax jumped out of the boat. Sir Rigil handed the torch to Bran, then got out on the other side. The men ran the boat aground, splashing through the water. A cluster of black on the ceiling shifted. The torchlight reflected dozens of tiny pricks of light. Eyes?
“Sir Jax, are those bats?” Averella pointed toward the blackness on the ceiling.
“Gowzals, I fear.” Jax helped Gren out of the boat. “It’s best we move quickly. They can be savage in a bunch.”
They certainly could. Again Averella pushed thoughts of the Mahanaim watchtower