She looked briefly at her reflection in the gently running
stream. A few of her dark braids touched her shoulders and she shook her head
to set them in line. She looked up at her surroundings: it was a cool, dreary
day; a densely clouded sky with a soft, intermittent breeze blowing. Her horse
was drinking from the stream nearby, cherishing every mouthful of cold water. Several
great trees grew on the banks of the stream, their roots twisting around and
touching its waters, framing the winding serpent. Their branches were filled
with deep green leaves lilting in the breeze. She watched as each leaf danced
and fluttered like a communion of green butterflies.
It was close. It had to be.
She called to her horse and led the animal away from the stream and back up the grassy bank. She rode several miles more across the rolling green fields, broken every now and then with small groves. She heard the disjointed songs of birds as she passed these outposts of greenery, but she could not take the time to cherish their music. Her destination was at hand. She soon came to the crest of a hill overlooking yet another of these glades, yet this one seemed special. It was solemn, like a small fortress. It was guarding something. She squinted. Sure enough, at the center of the grove, tangled amidst vines and leaves and scrub, was an unnatural hint of gray. She had found it. Finally, she had found it. Wasting no time, she spurred her horse onward down the hillside.
When she was upon the grove, she came to a stop and dropped off the side of her horse and led her faithful companion into the shelter of the glade. There, directly before her was nestled a plain-looking rectangular gray stone structure. It was not large or impressive, and could almost be mistaken as a natural part of the earth, so entangled and enwrapped in grass and vine and root. It was worn and run-down, forgotten and old beyond time. She stroked the horse’s neck and gave the noble animal a pat before moving towards the structure. At the stone edifice’s base, nearly invisible until one was right upon it, was an opening; a dark, narrow crevice that revealed a set of worn stone steps that led deep into the earth beneath the structure. Her heart pounded with excitement. She cleared the brush and vines away from the opening and stared down into the murky darkness, one hand grasping her knife to be sure it was there, ready for swift use if need be. She went back to the horse and retrieved a torch enwrapped in cloth from her baggage. After proceeding back to the structure, she lit the torch and held it aloft. With a breath, she began descending down the stairs.
The passage was long and narrow. An earthy smell that she could almost taste abided from deep within the catacomb. Vines and moss clung and enwrapped the stone walls at her sides, the lantern’s light frightening small black things that scurried away into moist, musty cracks. Soon these vines ceased their meddling and gave way to undisturbed, yet still worn, stone walls and steps. She was near the bottom. Finally, after the pale daylight from above was long behind her, she reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened on a long corridor. She moved her torch around in a circle, noting the ancient stone walls made with brick on top of massive brick. Carefully and slowly she moved forward, her torch flickering before her in her left hand, her right hand pensively on her sheathed knife at her waist.
It was close. It had to be.
She called to her horse and led the animal away from the stream and back up the grassy bank. She rode several miles more across the rolling green fields, broken every now and then with small groves. She heard the disjointed songs of birds as she passed these outposts of greenery, but she could not take the time to cherish their music. Her destination was at hand. She soon came to the crest of a hill overlooking yet another of these glades, yet this one seemed special. It was solemn, like a small fortress. It was guarding something. She squinted. Sure enough, at the center of the grove, tangled amidst vines and leaves and scrub, was an unnatural hint of gray. She had found it. Finally, she had found it. Wasting no time, she spurred her horse onward down the hillside.
When she was upon the grove, she came to a stop and dropped off the side of her horse and led her faithful companion into the shelter of the glade. There, directly before her was nestled a plain-looking rectangular gray stone structure. It was not large or impressive, and could almost be mistaken as a natural part of the earth, so entangled and enwrapped in grass and vine and root. It was worn and run-down, forgotten and old beyond time. She stroked the horse’s neck and gave the noble animal a pat before moving towards the structure. At the stone edifice’s base, nearly invisible until one was right upon it, was an opening; a dark, narrow crevice that revealed a set of worn stone steps that led deep into the earth beneath the structure. Her heart pounded with excitement. She cleared the brush and vines away from the opening and stared down into the murky darkness, one hand grasping her knife to be sure it was there, ready for swift use if need be. She went back to the horse and retrieved a torch enwrapped in cloth from her baggage. After proceeding back to the structure, she lit the torch and held it aloft. With a breath, she began descending down the stairs.
The passage was long and narrow. An earthy smell that she could almost taste abided from deep within the catacomb. Vines and moss clung and enwrapped the stone walls at her sides, the lantern’s light frightening small black things that scurried away into moist, musty cracks. Soon these vines ceased their meddling and gave way to undisturbed, yet still worn, stone walls and steps. She was near the bottom. Finally, after the pale daylight from above was long behind her, she reached the bottom of the stairs, which opened on a long corridor. She moved her torch around in a circle, noting the ancient stone walls made with brick on top of massive brick. Carefully and slowly she moved forward, her torch flickering before her in her left hand, her right hand pensively on her sheathed knife at her waist.
Soon she came to a wall straight ahead and a fork in the
passage. Two more identical corridors extended to her left and right into the
darkness. Despite the worn stone, the complex was perfectly angular and neatly-constructed.
She looked down each passage, but both were the same to her. She chose the left
route and made her way deeper into the dungeon.
The passage was the same as the last and soon another fork,
identical to the last. She went right this time until she came upon another
corridor to her left branching off from the one she was following. She moved
down it and slinked deeper into the depths until the passage made a sharp right
turn. She followed it more, her heart thumping, sweat forming on the back of
her neck.
She stopped suddenly. Dead end. The passage ended in a
featureless wall the same as any other in the place. She examined the wall
carefully but found nothing. She had to turn back. Slowly, she made her way back
to the long corridor she had originally come from. When she reached it, she
turned left and continued on her way. Soon enough there was another fork. Left
or right. She chose left and very quickly came to yet another fork. Left or
right. Left again. The clopping of her footsteps on the hard stone. Another
sharp right and then…
She quickly unsheathed her knife in a flash. An unsettling shuffling creeped towards her from the darkness just beyond her torchlight. She steadied herself and held her knife before her, ready to strike. A mess of round glowing eyes and then a terrible “SCREE!” as a gigantic, pale arachnid lunged at her. She quickly jumped back and thrust her knife forward into the underside of the creature’s head. It squirmed and screeched horribly, slashing its many limbs out in every direction. One of them scratched her cheek. She quickly withdrew her knife from the beast’s head and sliced at the offending leg, slicing it clean off. The creature crumpled to the floor in agony, its fangs dripping and gnashing. She raised her knife high in the air with both hands and landed it deep in the monster’s head. The spider writhed and screeched and then slowly twitched its last as it went limp, rolled over, and curled its remaining legs inward. Panting, she wiped her knife of the beast’s white blood and sheathed it. Queerly, the creature began to quiver and bubble and then before her eyes it seemed to melt away into the floor, leaving behind an acrid-smelling stain. She carefully moved beyond this residue and soon enough discovered what the beast had been guarding.
She quickly unsheathed her knife in a flash. An unsettling shuffling creeped towards her from the darkness just beyond her torchlight. She steadied herself and held her knife before her, ready to strike. A mess of round glowing eyes and then a terrible “SCREE!” as a gigantic, pale arachnid lunged at her. She quickly jumped back and thrust her knife forward into the underside of the creature’s head. It squirmed and screeched horribly, slashing its many limbs out in every direction. One of them scratched her cheek. She quickly withdrew her knife from the beast’s head and sliced at the offending leg, slicing it clean off. The creature crumpled to the floor in agony, its fangs dripping and gnashing. She raised her knife high in the air with both hands and landed it deep in the monster’s head. The spider writhed and screeched and then slowly twitched its last as it went limp, rolled over, and curled its remaining legs inward. Panting, she wiped her knife of the beast’s white blood and sheathed it. Queerly, the creature began to quiver and bubble and then before her eyes it seemed to melt away into the floor, leaving behind an acrid-smelling stain. She carefully moved beyond this residue and soon enough discovered what the beast had been guarding.
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