Chapter 68: The Steps

With the skeleton defeated, Alcar and Brutus walked on. The tunnel continued much as before for a considerable time. It was as straight as ever, though it had stopped its gradual rise and now began to descend again, deeper into the earth.

Or so it appeared to Alcar, anyway.

With almost every passing step, he cursed the crazed goblins or dwarves that had mined such a place. Why – no routes out at all? What the hell had they ben thinking?! Wasn’t the design of this tunnel deeply unsafe?

There also hadn’t been any further side tunnels, meaning that if he had continued without defeating the skeleton, it would surely have kept up its relentless pursuit for the entire time.

At last, though, after around another two hours of bitter, resentful trudging, something changed: a set of huge granite steps downwards appeared in front of Alcar, filling the width of the tunnel. His heart leapt with relief.

There was still only one way to go – downwards – but at least it signalled a change. Perhaps they were getting close to some kind of destination?

Alcar yawned, leaning his staff agains the wall for a moment, and rubbing a hand through his hair, and then patting at his sweaty armpits. He would need to rest at some point. But first, to get out of the damn tunnel.

With a glance over his shoulder followed by another reassuring word to Brutus, Alcar began to descend the steps. They were large and deep, and very even with little sign of wear. Each step was formed of a foot of solid stone both in its depth and its riser, and the flight as a whole was several feet wide.

As they progressed downwards, Brutus managing the steps with relative ease at his side, Alcar raised the guttering torch in his hand and peered ahead. Once again, no end was in sight. It was an incredibly long flight of stone stairs, taking him deep, deep into...

Well, what?

Where was it leading him?

Alcar paused on a single step, reaching into his robe for an apple, and then passed a few more beef strips to Brutus.

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

As he munched, he looked upwards, back the way he had just come. He had already descended quite a long way; the top of the steps was no longer in sight. Once again, though, with the remaining two undead monsters presumably still on the move somewhere behind them, there appeared to Alcar to be only one way that he and Brutus could go.

It was just terrifying to think that he had no idea how deep this would lead... or what they would find at the bottom.

With a deep breath, Alcar began stepping downwards once again. Perhaps he should count the steps? At least that way, if he needed to make it back up in a hurry, he would know how far there was to go.

But then again, he should probably have started straight away if that was going to be his plan...

“One, two, three, four, five...”

“Woof?”

“Just a thing I’m gonna do to pass the time, Brutus.”

“Woof.”

Alcar counted.

And on reaching what he believed to be the number one hundred and seventy three – though he may have got muddled at one point, and math was never his strong suit anyway – his heart jumped a little as he saw a wider stair with a gap to the side. But on closer inspection, he saw that the gap was just an alcove, of the kind that could take a statue. There was a further one on the other side, just a fraction further down.

“This could be a place that we could take a rest, Brutus,” he said.

“Woof!” Brutus responded enthusiastically.

Together, they stepped off the stair and settled down in the alcove, Alcar spreading out his damaged robes as best he could so that Brutus had something soft to sit on. It was a pity he had lost the woollen blanket, he reflected. Getting another would be a high priority.

Brutus lay his head down on Alcar’s legs, and in moments the dog’s eyes were closed. “You’ve done well, boy,” Alcar murmured, rubbing the creature’s muscular back. ”Very well. And hopefully a better, safer way lies ahead of us. A route back to the surface. Perhaps connecting to a town, where we could sleep for the night at an inn.“

Alcar felt his own eyelids starting to droop, and decided to extinguish the torch. It would be best to save it – and with both the lizardwoman’s flint and steel, plus his own sorcery, it would be straightforward to light it again.

After that, Alcar realized that he must have dropped off and slept soundly for some time. His eyes snapped opened in the dark, and holding out one hand, he muttered a now familiar incantation:

“Rac et weimannia!”

The flickering flame was larger upon his palm now – painfully so – but remembering about the razor root, Alcar reached inside his robes and pulled out a pinch, putting this on his tongue. Soon, he found himself gaining more control over the flame, and he reduced its extent that it resembled a purple candlelight – much the same level that he had used earlier.

Or had that been the day before? He had no way of keeping track.

Picking up the extinguished torch – it would still be useful soon enough, Alcar rose and stepped out onto the flight of stone steps again.

“Let’s go, Brutus.”