The dwarf ran his stubby fingers over the limestone walls. He liked the feel of the rock; he always had. As a youth he had learned to appreciate stone when he visited Thorbardin. He liked the smell of it.
He moved through the passage slowly, in part because he was enjoying his surroundings, but mostly because he was fatigued. He knew he probably should have rested with the others near the cave entrance; it would have been the sensible thing to do. But this passage was... inviting.
Behind him, he heard the crunch of pebbles under Groller’s heavy boots. From somewhere overhead came the squeals of cave bats. They were music to his ears. It had been far too long since he was inside the earth. He sorely missed those trips to Thorbardin.
Fury was nearby, and the dwarf heard the wolf softly panting. Jasper hadn’t asked Groller and Fury to come, though he hadn’t objected when they followed. After that incident with Feril and the snake, the dwarf suspected, the half-ogre didn’t want anyone wandering off alone.
The passage narrowed and twisted downward. They were now so far from the entrance that no light reached them. The dwarf’s eyes picked through the blackness. He glanced over his shoulder. Groller was feeling his way, his long fingers running along the right-hand wall. His left hand dangled down to brush Fury’s head.
Water ran in thin rivulets down the wall, hinting there was a mountain stream somewhere above them. Jasper brought the water to his lips and smiled. It tasted sweet. “We’ll not go too much farther,” the dwarf said to himself. “Just around this corner.” His hands stretched out to touch the rock, which was much smoother here. Judging by the way the passage twisted and dipped, he guessed it had been formed long ago by an underground river.
“Lifetimes ago,” he whispered. “Maybe before the dragons. I wonder how far down this tunnel goes? We should go back. Yes, we should go back. Wait. What’s this?”
The passage forked, one side heading steeply upward and drastically narrowing, the other continuing to spiral down. The passage walls were shot through with minerals. Jasper noted the marks of picks along the wall. So this passage was mined, he thought. Maybe mined by dwarves. I wonder when.
A layer of slate cut through the rock. The dwarf chipped a piece away with his thumb and stuck the rock in his mouth to suck on.
“Just a little farther,” Jasper said to Groller, tugging on the half-ogre’s ragged tunic to let him know which direction he intended to take.
“You’re going too fur,” Groller said.
The dwarf felt for Groller’s hands. He cupped them and brought them together in front of the half-ogre, then slowly drew them apart. It was the gesture Groller had taught him for more. Then he drew Groller’s hands close together, the sign for small.
“Just a little more,” Jasper said to himself.
Groller got the idea. “Not much mer, Jaz-pear. Furl be worried.”
The dwarf moved ahead, prodding here and there with his fingers, trying to determine how long ago this passage was worked. “Hmm. The floor is slate here. Smooth. Gotta watch my step. A little slippery.” He hoped Groller could tell that he was being more cautious. He reached to his belt, where the leather sack containing the Fist of E’li dangled. He didn’t want the sack to come loose.
“No, no. We won’t go too much farther. Just a little bit, a few more feet. Rig’ll probably be worried, too. Just down this corridor, around this corner, and...” He heard the crack of the stone beneath his feet, then felt himself falling.
He let out a shout of surprise, lost on Groller. The wolf howled as Jasper fell. The dwarf’s arms and legs churned, his fingers struck rock, and his knees were badly scraped. He shifted himself and dropped his right hand to his waist, holding the sack tight.
Then he slammed into a small shelf and lay still. He tried to stand, but sharp pains shot upward from his right leg. “Broken,” he muttered. He ran his fingers along the wall, then started crawling. How far did I fall? he wondered. His head had begun to throb, too. Gotta find a way back, he thought. Then, once again, he felt the ground give way.
He fell, bouncing against the walls, and then striking the hard floor many feet below. Mercifully he lost consciousness.
Above, Groller had seen Jasper disappear. The wolf brushed by the half-ogre and peered over the ledge.
“Jaz-pear!” Groller called. “Jaz-pear!” He reached down to Fury, feeling for the wolf’s head. “Jaz-pear!” Maybe Jasper couldn’t talk, Groller thought. Maybe Jasper had hurt himself. “Fuhree. Find Jaz-pear.”
Groller nudged the wolf forward and reached a hand up to either side of the tunnel, groping his way along. The half-ogre dropped to his knees and felt with his hands. He cursed himself for not arguing with the dwarf. Jasper was weak from the blow Dhamon had dealt him, tired from climbing the mountain. He should have rested, Groller thought. He’s probably passed out from exhaustion.
Instead of the dwarf, however, Groller found a jagged hole in the floor. “Jaz-pear!” he called. The wolf pawed nervously at the edge of the hole.
“Jaz-pear fell,” Groller said. He glanced over his shoulder, back the way they had come, debating whether he should retrace his steps and get the others to help.
But Jasper and he had been walking for quite some time and had covered a good bit of distance. If the dwarf was hurt—if he wasn’t already dead—going back might lose precious minutes. Groller couldn’t risk it.
“Fuhree! Go ged Rig!” Groller called. The wolf retreated down the tunnel, while Groller tested the edges of the hole. He found a secure hold where the slate was firm and lowered himself over the side. He swung his feet around. Nothing to stand on immediately below. He swung his legs in widening circles until they connected with something solid several feet away: another rock wall. Keeping one hand firmly on the ledge above, he began to feel about in the chamber below for another hold.
His fingers wedged themselves into a crack. Then he released his hand on the ledge above and repeated the process, finding cracks and working himself downward as a spider might. At last, his feet brushed against something to stand on, a narrow horizontal ledge that seemed sturdy enough to support his considerable weight.
Jasper must have fallen straight down, Groller guessed. And that’s where the half-ogre was going, too, hand over hand, cautiously but at a steady pace. He suspected he must have descended at least ten feet by the time his groping hands found a wide crack in the wall. He braced himself against the sides and moved farther down.
It was eerie, seeing nothing, unable to hear anything, unable to tell for certain what distance he had descended. All he could smell was musty air and something foul—bat droppings he guessed, when his fingers encountered a sticky mass on an outcropping.
Groller found another ledge and paused a moment to catch his breath. His aching fingers were scratched and bleeding from the rocks. He glanced around, seeing nothing except darkness. Nothing but an eternal sheet of gray. Nothing but... his eyes peered down and saw a bit of lighter gray. “Jaz-pear?” The light gray area didn’t move.
The ledge widened, angling down after a while, and he took this course. It seemed to drop steeply now, going right toward where he wanted to go. He hurried, moving quickly, almost falling a few times. His feet scrabbled across loose rock, and he fought to keep his balance.
He was getting closer now. Just another moment and then... The ledge beneath the half-ogre gave out and he fell. He bumped repeatedly against the cavern wall. The rock scratched his face and knees and arms, as he flailed madly to find a hold. From out of nowhere a spike of rock struck his chest.
Groller groaned and felt a greater impact: the floor of the cavern. His head struck hard, and the dark gray all around him turned to black.