To his credit, Fel had found quite a bit of useful gear among the crematorium’s slabs in the time Zo’Dal had been gone. Before long, they were each clad in worn, but usable leather armor, and weighed down with a handful of other gear. Fel wore a backpack with a small assortment of adventuring gear, including the spare flasks of lantern oil and a length of rope, as well as a battered iron helmet. He carried an arming sword in one hand and the lantern in the other.

The armor was a little too big for Zo’Dal. It shifted uncomfortably on her shoulders with each movement, and she doubted the cracked and moldering leather would offer much true protection, but the weight of it gave her some slight feeling of security, however optimistic it might be. She still carried her club, but Fel had found a dagger which she had slipped into one of the boots he had also managed to find for her. That was the real treasure he had found. They, like the armor, were a little too big and seemed to be coming apart a bit at the seams, but she didn't care. The soles of her feet were sore enough from walking barefoot.

“Here.” Zo’Dal said when they reached the chimney in the main corridor, and gestured up. “If you give me a lift, I can climb up and see if there’s a way out.”

“How will I get out?” He asked, looking up, brow furrowed in a doubtful expression.

“I’ll let the rope down for you to climb up.”

“You said there are stairs ahead. Why not go that way?”

“We’re underground, Fel. Those go down. This goes up. It might be a ventilation shaft and take up right to the surface.”

Fel peered up again, holding up the lantern in a futile attempt to see where the shaft led. The light clawed up the uneven walls only a short distance before being drowned out by the darkness. Zo’Dal tapped her fingers against one thigh impatiently as Fel considered the shaft with an implacable expression on his scarred face.

“Well?” She asked.

“Okay.”

Zo’Dal nearly sighed with relief. She had no desire to brave the stairs, and certainly didn't want to go deeper into whatever dungeon they had found themselves in.

Fel set down the lantern and drew the coil of rope from his pack, handing it to her. She looped it over her head and shoulder, set her club down to free her hands, and pulled at her leather jerkin in an attempt to prevent it from shifting and getting in her way.

Once he had set aside his sword and pack, Fel had little difficulty lifting the half-elf, but it still took a couple minutes of arguing and clumsy acrobatics before Zo'Dal was crouched unsteadily on Fel’s shoulders, just below the open chimney. He held her ankles tightly to prevent her from slipping from her perch. She stood slowly, swaying slightly and straining to maintain her balance as she raised her head and shoulders into the opening. Fel grunted as he shifted to compensate for her movement.

Above her, the shaft stretched straight upward, but in the darkness, she thought she could just barely make out where it opened into some space, perhaps thirty feet above. She ran her hands along the rough walls of the shaft and found some suitable handholds just wide enough for her to dig in the very tips of her fingers. They weren't much, but they should be enough. Already, her experienced eyes picked out more hand- and toeholds above, picking out a path for her ascent. She glanced down at Fel who was looking straight back at her.

“I got it.” She whispered, conscious that her voice might carry up the shaft and unsure what, or who, might await her at the top.

He released his grip on her ankles and she heaved herself upward with a quiet grunt, quickly grasping the next meager handholds and pulling her knees up to dig her feet into the wall. Supporting her own weight, she paused for a brief moment to steady herself and take a breath, then started upward.

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

Zo’Dal’s progress was slow and her limbs protested each time she pulled herself another few feet up the chimney. Evidently, she hadn’t entirely recovered from her earlier soreness yet. The air in the confined space was hot and cloying, making every breath feel thick and strained. She could feel sweat beading on her brow and beginning to slick her palms. Perhaps she had been overconfident in her ability to make the climb.

No, not overconfident. Zo’Dal pushed down her doubt and kept going. She wasn't going to give up, she could make it. If she could scale the Ivonnum inner wall in the beating rain, she could manage this. She focused on the next handhold above her and pushed everything else aside. One handhold, then another.

Zo’Dal was more than halfway to the top when one of her feet slipped, sending a small shower of small stones clattering down on Fel below. Pain shot through her fingers as her entire bodyweight fell suddenly upon them and her knee slammed forward into the stone wall, but she managed to hold on. She bit back a cry of pain and felt tears welling in her eyes, blurring her vision. Slowly, painfully, she heaved herself upward again. Her fingers felt like they might tear out of her hands and her arms burned, but she managed to get her feet under herself again.

She paused there for a few heartbeats, blinking away tears, trying to catch her breath through gritted teeth, and waiting for a pulsing pain in her knee to subside. She looked down and saw Fel in the orange glow of the lantern light far below. He was calling up to her, but the rasp of his voice was lost in the echo of the shaft. She ignored him and turned her attention upward again. Just a little further, a few more feet, she could see the open, unlit space at the chimney’s mouth, the ceiling overhead. Her muscles screamed in protest, but she ignored them too. She wasn't going to give up now, not this close.

The strange iron band felt like a lead weight around her wrist, pulling against her strained muscles as she reached for the next handhold. Just a little further. She fought upward. The mouth of the tunnel was just above her, just beyond her reach. She reached upward, stretching painfully to grasp the next hold with numb fingers. As her fingers dug into the narrow ridge of rock and she began to haul herself upward, her eyes caught on the iron band about her wrist. For only a heartbeat, her attention slipped, drawn by the glint of silver lettering in the darkness-

Suddenly, the ledge of rock broke away beneath her fingers. A surprised cry escaped her lips and for a sickening instant, she felt weightless, then she was falling. A moment of panic flashed through her, turning her stomach inside out, but she forced it down. She kicked out her feet and hands, pressing them against the side walls of the shaft in an attempt to arrest her fall. The rough stone tore into her palms, but she forced through the pain. Her momentum slowed and she skidded down the shaft, but didn’t stop. She was going to hit hard.

Her feet dropped free of the bottom and reflexively, she pulled her legs in, preparing to absorb as much of the approaching impact as possible. Instead, Fel broke her fall.

His arms wrapped tight around her as she slammed into him, forcing the air from her lungs. Then she was sprawled on her back, choking, head spinning. It took a moment for her to finally suck in a pained breath. Relief flooded her and she lay there for several long moments, too exhausted to attempt to move. Her heart pounded like a drum and chest heaved as she caught her breath. It seemed like every one of her muscles either burned or had gone entirely numb. Her palms and her knee, where she had hit it into the wall, stung, but she was alive and, as far as she could tell, hadn’t broken anything. She could almost smile.

It wasn’t until Fel let out a groan and released his vise-grip on her that she realized she was lying on him or that he had been holding her at all. A pang of worry gripped her and she quickly rolled off of him. She sat up, looking over her companion lying sprawled on the hard floor.

“Are you okay?” Zo’Dal asked. She shook his shoulder gently, and hardly noticed the bloody smear her hand left on his sleeve.

He stirred, groaning again, and pulled himself up to an elbow, and relief washed over Zo’Dal. He looked around dazedly before his eyes met her own.

“I live.” He said, stretching his neck, “I thought you could climb.”

Zo'Dal's face flushed with embarrassment and indignation. She bristled and opened her mouth, ready to defend her injured pride, but the reply died in her throat. She had failed. She shouldn’t have, she knew she shouldn’t have. She had made far harder climbs with ease before, and her mind raced to find a reason or an excuse to justify her failure. Her eyes fell on the iron band, and the silver lettering stared dully back at her. No, she had failed, let herself slip, and she could've killed both herself and Fel in the process. Her shoulders sank. And once again, Fel had saved her, at least from a broken ankle.

“Thank you,” she managed after a moment of silence.

He only offered a dismissive shrug in response, and any feelings of gratitude or concern Zo’Dal felt quickly withered. Fel pulled himself to his feet, wincing slightly, and went to retrieve his pack.

“Can you walk, or must I carry you?” He asked, not looking back at her. “We’ve wasted enough time.”