Holding on to the rope with her legs and one arm, keeping the torch in the other hand, Nua slowly began to slide down. She tried not to think about the height. Climbing the goliath was one thing; going down in almost complete darkness, without any idea what awaits her at the end (not explosive gasses, as she managed to figure out by tossing a torch before), was another. The passage had been unused for centuries, with not one living thing inside, no bats, rats, or any other vermin. The smell of dust surrounded her as she descended. She tried not to glance at the torch which would spoil her night vision. It was a nice perk of her otherwise unfortunate birthright, but it came with increased sensitivity to strong lights as well.

Her undertaking turned out to be surprisingly easy. Although the walls were obsidian black and smooth as an eggshell, they had bronze-colored metal rails fastened to one side with reinforced scaffolding. Even without the rope, it would be perfectly good to climb. Her experience from the junkyard speaking through, Nua guessed that once a carriage traveled along those rails. That was clever and must have been comfortable, not at all like what she was doing right now.

Still, she remained on her guard. After a while, she noticed the first door, or what had remained of it, at the opposite side of the shaft. She studied it for a while. Contrary to the entrance in the pedestal, this one was badly cracked and a piece of ruined wall – or ceiling – was peering through. Nua wasn’t sure if it was real or a trick of her mind, but when she directed her torch at the opening, she heard a quiet, eerie squeak. Suddenly she remembered Flavius’ ramblings about the denizens of the lower levels. She made haste.

After a while and a few more doors – which she did not stop to look at – she finally saw a surface under her feet. It was the carriage, all right, built of bronze alloy and with a considerable hole torn in the ceiling. Nua did not let go of the rope but slowly settled herself on top of the carriage. Then she took a peek inside. Whatever made the hole – after all that time, could it still be there?

After a short exploration, she was able to determine several facts. For once, the carriage seemed safe to go in. Nothing inside, except a broken bench and a completely trashed door. Nua wasn’t sure if it was shattered from the inside, or from the outside.

The other fact was that she was at the very bottom of the shaft and the line turned out to be long enough. Now that she had thought about it, the pit was not as bottomless as she initially thought, about six levels total. No monsters, no ghosts. Things were going smoothly.

She tugged at the rope and waited for Flavius. She wouldn’t risk any more exploring without having him at her back. This place was ancient and frightening and the sooner he gets what he was looking for, the better.

Then, when he’s distracted by his loot, she will run for it.

Good that the shaft looked easy to climb back up.

Come to think of it, what kind of a return route did he have in mind?

Flavius landed on the carriage with a grunt and a metallic clank. Nua froze, not sure if they haven’t just alarmed every damned monster in its lair.

“Something destroyed the carriage” she whispered.

“It was ages ago, probably when the temple was still under siege.” Flavius gave the surroundings an expert look. “Ether burst. Looks like the carrying mechanism exploded and the passenger had fled.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

Nua glanced at him. So he knew there was a siege.

“They might still be around.”

“If so, they’re very much dead. No living thing was here for a thousand years. At this level, we can meet two kinds of monsters. The ghosts and the etheric devices. For the first kind, I have my shield. For the other, my notes. And you.”

“Is the thing you’re looking for an ancient etheric device?”

His eyes flared.

“Do you like having your head attached to your body?”

That counted as a yes. Flavius’s anger was brief, though. Too brief.

She definitely needed to plan her escape route on the way.

The carriage’s open door gave way to a corridor, as dark as the shaft. When Nua took the first two steps, however, all of a sudden it got much brighter. The girl cowered in terror. Only after nothing else happened, she peeked through her fingers and saw oblong glass shapes stuck to the walls as if they were torches, glowing with soft yellow light. She heard the explorer snicker behind her back.

“Guide.”

So she did.

Soon after, they saw the first desiccated corpse, dressed in ancient armor, not unlike the ones she saw in the vision. He, or she – it was not certain at this point – was sitting beside the wall, their head resting on their chest as if in resignation. There was a dagger in their chest, and the leathery, mummified hand was still holding the hilt. It was evident that the mortal wound was self-inflicted.

When the corridor branched into several others, they stumbled upon more bodies, their clothing deteriorated, but weapons and plates were untouched by time. After some consideration, Flavius selected a sword. Most of the arms were definitely odd – too large, too ornamental, with runes and jewels all over them. Nua did not touch a thing. Any weapon she’d get out of this place would lay devastation to the Bottoms. She would be the first to die for such a prize, and then people would kill each other to get it, until it finally got to some larger persona, perhaps a gang leader or a noble. She searched for an innocuous knife or such, some treasure that would not raise suspicions. Everything, though, looked just too good for her, and on top of it, inscribed with ancient runes. Nua never saw that much writing in one place and wondered if these were spells, or if the ancient Unsagga liked to write poetry on everything they owned.

Perhaps the latter, because the runes were also running along the walls and the doorframes, sometimes engraved, sometimes inscribed in bright, moonlight-colored metal. The explorer moved slowly now, not letting her go ahead as he used to. He stopped at every intersection, reading. This was one thing she could not do as a guide.

Except for that, he would get her to open every door, check each entrance for traps, and look first if he wanted to loot any treasure. It was sheer luck she didn’t get afflicted with any curse or mangled by some clever mechanism, though a few times it was close. At one point she had a close encounter with an arrow that shot from the doorframe and did not hit her only because Nua was too short. After that, she managed to memorize a set of runes that appeared on the trapped door. It turned out they were all signed and Flavius didn’t even bother to tell her.

As for the purpose of this floor, she could not guess. They didn’t explore much. Two rooms Flavius decided to go into were storages, one with weapons – as strange as those found with the bodies – the other full of darkened bottles, dust-covered vials and containers. Most were broken, although it was hard to tell if they fell when the temple was under siege or when the drawers deteriorated and crumbled. He picked two of them, very happy with himself. He also took several items, weapons or otherwise made of an alloy that had this odd, haunting shimmer of moonlight. Was it True Silver? Probably so.

He dispatched, as well, a few more ghosts. Each time Nua cowered behind him, trying to avoid getting noticed. After the first vision, though, she never received another one. Perhaps it was because she didn’t let herself become entranced.

At last, they found themselves in front of another door that looked very special indeed, all covered with glittering runes. Two corpses lay on the floor, and these did not die a self-inflicted death. Judging from the way they were positioned – on both sides of the door, enormous halberds crisscrossed one with another - it looked rather like they waited here until the end.

“I’ll need your blood again.”, said Flavius. His eyes were on the runes, and his mouth moved silently as if he was translating.

Oh, good he told me, thought Nua somberly. She bit the cut on her finger, letting it bleed again.

“Do not fret” he added. “This is the last time.”

Somehow, it sounded very ominous.