Pritchett hanged back, feeling around the slide with his hands, hoping to find a secret switch that would close off the entrance to the secret tunnel. He gave that up when he saw Everett stepping into the creepy doorway. Instead, Pritchett made a bee-line for it just as it began to close, bumping into Everett and nearly knocking the man down.

Ben nearly stepped on the little crab walking ahead of him. The crab turned and pinched his ankle in revenge. "Ouch. Sorry little guy," said Ben. The crab closed his claws a few times in quick succession and resumed walking.

The small tunnel past the door was made of the same grey rock, with a golden stripe running on the ceiling above Ben's head, providing a decent amount of illumination. Although not daylight level, it was enough that one could reliably make their way around.

As he followed the crab, Ben could feel the flow of fresh air coming from ahead, accompanied by strange chattering noises. It was not long until the little tunnel ended and they came into a massive round chamber, red crabs crawling on almost every surface.

The crustaceans moved in a myriad of lines across the chamber, their little legs digging paths into the floor. They appeared to be caretakers of some sort, the red lines of crabs heading in different directions and going through differently marked doors.

Ben's little guide crab was bigger than the others, and if he squinted he could see the rune on the crab's head, encrusted in the carapace, a sort of twisted symbol resembling the letter W. Maybe it was a coincidence, but it reminded Ben of the Witch with her floppy, large-brimmed hat, and he hoped that the little crustacean was some sort of inter-dimensional guide, sent there to help him.

The guide scurried over a large, broken-down piece of wall that had fallen from somewhere up top. Apparently, the little crabs had not wholly grasped the intricacies of building maintenance. The crab then began gesturing and making clacking noises with its claws. This caused the rest of the crabs to take notice, turn around, stop their efforts, and split down on each side, pushing themselves so that a pathway for the two men could be created.

The guide jumped up happily and continued its trek. Ben followed it, not wanting to make a bad move and be consumed by the crustaceans. He wondered if there was any animosity hidden in their beady little eyes. Pritchett seemed to think so, as he kicked aside a wayward crab that mistakingly forgot to clear the way. This caused the army of crabs to chatter and stomp their little legs against the stone.

"I wouldn't do that again," said Ben. "There are thousands of them, won't take much more than a minute to clean the meat off our bones."

"I better not," said Pritchett, looking a bit shaken, which was appropriate given their situation.

They were led to a square slab of stone, and they stood on it awkwardly, with everyone silent, and the army of crabs staring at the two men expectantly. Finally, with a hitch and a groan, the slab began descending, creaking and spreading grey dust in the air. Ben coughed and covered his mouth, the chain that linked the cuffs rattling. Figuring out a way to get rid of them was high on the priority list, as they impeded his movement.

The slab moved with painfully boring speed. After a while, even nervous fear that you're going to die at any second can lose its luster. Ben began to tap his feet and pace around the little square. It was too small for human use, as with Ben and Pritchett standing side by side, and with a little crab between them, the two men's shoulders were nearly scraping the walls. So Ben's pacing could more accurately be described as one step forward, one step backward.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Ben ran his tongue over his teeth and spat out. His mouth tasted terrible, which was not surprising given that water and hygiene were now a faint dream. He did not even get a chance to shave in the past few days. Ben felt his jaw with his fingers and wondered how many people would cross the street if they saw him coming the other way.

Since the already glacial progress of the last few days had slowed even more, with the appearance of the world's slowest elevator, Ben decided to get some answers.

"So," he said, pondering how to best breach this subject, "From what I gather, you guys are some sort of rebels?"

"Pretty much," said Pritchett. "It's going poorly. Well, it was going poorly before we got blockaded. I'm not much sure what to call it now. Then we came here to steal some guns and you know how that went. Look, I'm really not the right person to talk about these things. I'm starting to get grey around the temples and yet I'm sure I'll die a corporal. But I'll tell you, if we make it out of here, I'll buy you a map and a tub of ink and we can write it all down."

"Huh," said Ben.

"What?"

"That was almost friendly."

"Ah, you'll do something stupid in no time, so don't get used to it. I hardly mean it," said Pritchett. "Not big on the odds of us getting out of here anyway."

And with that, and the sound of horribly maintained magical machinery, the elevator pitched to a stop.

"Are you sure about this?" said Pritchett, fiddling with his stolen pistol.

"What if it's sending us down into where they're making those monsters."

"Ha. That would be some bad luck," said Ben.

The elevator doors opened, leading to a silver staircase, ornate with golden inlay carvings on the steps and twisted metal rods stuck on each side, acting as a banister. The staircase gave off a soft glow, at odds with the imposing and impenetrable darkness that made up the rest of the chamber.

The guide crab waddled over to the steps and failed to make the summit, giving it a few tries before slouching off with his claws hanging on the ground. As the crab looked especially dejected, Ben took pity on it and picked it up, holding it in his cupped hands. The crab seemed to like this new mode of transportation, giving Ben only a handful of hurtful pinches.

The stairs went on and on. Ben got the feeling that they were in a much bigger chamber than it appeared but due to the lack of light, they could not see, making it seem as if the stairs were the only things in existence. Ben wondered what things might lurk in the dark.

The higher up they went, the more dizzy Ben became, and the burning in his calf and thigh muscles turned incendiary. Eventually, the wind began to blow. It was a horrid thing, warm and foul-smelling. The two men covered their noses as best they could and struggled to carry on.

In the distance, Ben could see the dim silvery glow of thousands of other staircases. They were made in strange shapes, often twisting back in themselves or cut off, seemingly, without having reached a destination.

Fortunately, their own staircase had an end. They reached it none too soon, as they could barely breathe due to the foul miasma floating around. Ben and Pritchett nearly tripped over themselves as they hurried to leave the awful smell behind.

They now found themselves in a small, arched hallway, from the looks of it made out of red mud, with bits of straw poking out and scratching the two men. The sound of running water made them persevere.

At the end of the cramped hallway lay a small ornate fountain made out of jagged mountain rocks. Water fell from a tap two feet above, swirling around the fountain as it settled. On each side of the fountain were two identical doors made out of wood, each with its own polished, ornate metal handle.

The smell of fir trees inundated Ben's nose. Pritchett knelt and began drinking straight from the tap, stopping only to groan happily and mention that the place smelled like his seaside homeland.

Ben let the little crab down on the side of the fountain, as he waited his turn. The water tap was barely big enough for one severely dehydrated person, never mind two. While he waited, a shadow ripped itself off the wall, shook the dust off its shoulders, and cleared its throat politely.

The shadow began to solidify, and as it transformed, it took off a large top hat and bowed to the two men. When it spoke its voice was akin to that of a bored politician giving a rehearsed speech.

"Welcome to the Labyrinth travelers. Would you like to purchase a guidebook?"