Whitman led the group to a spot on the unbroken northern wall of the passageway. He stopped, looked back at the other three men, then put his hand on the stone.
It passed right through.
"Illusion," said Regdar.
Whitman's hand, disguised by the illusionary wall up to the wrist, came back into view, and he waved Regdar forward.
The big fighter nodded and stepped into the imaginary stone. He felt his hand slip effortlessly through, then speckled black brick filled his vision, and for a split second, everything went dark. When his eyes emerged from the illusion, he had to squint to protect them from the bright light.
On the other side, a worked-stone arch marked the opening to a hallway. Torches lined the walls every few steps. Though it was bright, the illusion had blocked the light from illuminating the outer hallway. A stairway led up at the end of the hidden passage, rising so steeply that from where he stood, Regdar couldn't see the top.
The others came through the illusionary wall, and as a group the four men headed up the stairs with Regdar in the lead. Moving carefully onto the first step, the big fighter rose. Above him, the stairs climbed higher, the angle of the ceiling still preventing him from seeing where the stairway ended.
"I don't like this," he whispered, and he drew his sword.
The others followed suit.
For several tense moments, Regdar climbed, craning his neck as he did, trying as best he could to get a glimpse of what was up ahead. Silence enveloped the stairwell, broken only by the sounds of the flickering torches and the scuffling of four large men ascending the rough stone stairs.
Finally Regdar caught sight of the top. Five steps away, he could see darkness spread out over the last step. What lay beyond, he hadn't a clue. He stopped and turned back toward the others.
"I can see the top," he whispered into Whitman's ear. "Good place for an ambush."
Whitman nodded.
"We go up fast. They know we're here. No sense in trying to surprise them. Let's just minimize the danger to us." Regdar looked Whitman in the eyes then pointed to Tasca, standing one step below the dwarf.
Whitman nodded again and turned to the elf, repeating the message in his ear.
Tasca responded in kind, relaying the information to Clemf behind him.
When all three nodded to Regdar, he turned back toward the top step, took a deep breath, gripped his sword tightly in one hand, and charged.
His armor made a tremendous clank as he ascended two steps at a time. As his head breached the level of the landing, his right foot struck the second to last step with a loud click. Looking down the well-lit corridor, Regdar saw nothing but more hallway.
A moment later, stairs beneath the fighters' feet collapsed, turning into a steep, smooth chute, and Regdar tumbled backward.
Whitman cartwheeled to his right, kicking away from the falling fighter and spinning gracefully through the air. He reached out and caught hold of one of the sconces. Regdar fell underneath the acrobatic dwarf, clanging and crashing as he slid back toward the elf.
Tasca bent his knees and jumped forward, diving over the tumbling fighter toward the top of the chute. His midsection cleared Regdar, but his feet smacked into the back of the falling man's head. Landing on his stomach on the smooth chute, Tasca reached for the top lip where the end of the last stair used to be. His fingertips grazed the landing, but he slid backward with the tilt of the steep slope.
Regdar felt Tasca's feet hit the back of his head, and his arms flailed wide, reaching for anything that might stop his descent. He caught nothing, and he fell backward.
Clemf continued running forward, his feet slipping with every step. His body was in motion, but he made no progress, managing only to stay in place.
Regdar landed on his shoulders and struck his head against the ramp. His feet tumbled up and back over his twisted body. He somersaulted out of control backward down the chute. He saw the black stone ceiling, then his feet, then Clemf's comical, stationary run. When Regdar's feet collided with the tattooed human's chest, the two tangled up in a heap.
Limbs flailed. Armor crashed and clanked. All of the air in Regdar's lungs rushed out in a groaning whisper each time his back smacked against the floor. Clemf cursed in several languages.
At the bottom of the chute, both men tumbled out of the secret chamber, shooting through the illusion and smashing into the opposite wall. Regdar lay on the ground with his back bent against the stone. Clemf rested on his belly, unmoving.
A moment later the illusionary wall wavered, and Tasca flew out. He too landed facedown. He whimpered softly, then let himself collapse completely to the floor.
Regdar took stock of his body. His hands and forearms were scraped up pretty badly, and his head hurt. He felt around and discovered a number of bruises, but nothing seemed broken, and his injuries were minor. Lifting himself up on his haunches, he got to his feet.
By then, Clemf and Tasca were beginning to move. Both men moaned as they struggled to get up.
"Nice work, Regdar," spat Clemf as he checked himself out.
"And you would have known to avoid that step?" quipped Tasca. "We're lucky it was just a trap and not an ambush."
"Listen, Clemf," Regdar held his hands out, pleading, "I-"
"Save it," snapped the tattooed man, biting off his words as he stuck his upraised index finger in Regdar's face. "There's nothing you can say that's going to make me forgive you, so just keep out of my way, and for Pelor's sake, don't talk at me." Clemf spun around and limped back through the illusion.
"That went well," said Tasca.
Regdar wrinkled his forehead. "How come you're not mad at me?"
"I am," said the elf. "Eventually you'll have to sleep." Tasca smiled then turned and followed Clemf out of the hallway.
"Great." Regdar shook his head. He took a few moments to finish his personal examination before joining the others at the base of what used to be the stairway.
When he crossed through the illusion, Clemf was kneeling down and scratching at the stones on the floor. Tasca stood over him, looking up the chute.
"Whitman," Tasca whispered the dwarf's name. Receiving no answer, he repeated it a bit louder. He turned around and shrugged. "I don't think it's such a good idea to start yelling, but the last I saw, Whitman was hanging on to a torch sconce."
Regdar nodded toward the chute. "Do you think you could climb it?"
The elf nodded. "Yes, but not fast." Tasca looked down at Clemf. "Any luck?"
The tattooed fighter shook his head. "Just rocks. No lever." He stood up.
"Mechanism's probably at the top." Tasca scratched his chin. "Where the hell is Whitman."
A slapping sound echoed down the chute. All three men readied their weapons in a blink, and they stood, anxiously watching for whatever was coming down at them.
The noise grew louder, and Regdar squeezed the hilt of his sword. A shadow tumbled into view, skewed by the flickering torches. Regdar could hear the other men suck in their breath, then a long, brown, serpentine object unraveled at their feet.
Clemf lunged forward, smashing the thing with his sharp blade. His attack hit its mark, slicing right through. Sparks flew off the stone. A piece of the creature before them came off.
It wasn't a creature.
Tasca lowered his rapier. "It's a rope."
Clemf's cheeks flushed, and he sheathed his longsword. He opened his mouth to say something, but thought better of it and closed it again.
"Hurry up, will you," came Whitman's voice from down the chute. "We don't have all year."
Tasca sheathed his blade and grabbed the rope. He climbed up hand over fist, jamming the toe of his boot into the corner where the wall met the floor. In a few steps, he disappeared from view.
Regdar held his hand out and bowed his head. "After you."