The Amber Isle by Ashley Capes

Author:Ashley Capes [Capes, Ashley]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Epic Fantasy, Action Adventure, fantasy, adventure, quest, mystery, lost civilizations, treasure hunter, Never, blood
Publisher: Close-Up-Books
Published: 2016-04-21T14:00:00+00:00

Chapter 8.

The rising thunder from charging feet eased but it did not stop. Luis’ song may have slowed them, perhaps turned a few away, yet still the bulk of the horde continued on. Slap. Slap slap slap. Slap slap. Slap. The wet sound of their feet beat an awful rhythm.

“We’re trapped,” Ruveo snarled.

“Then we fight,” Ferne said. He held his huge axe in both hands, his lamp on the stone floor.

“Or we run,” Never said. He strode to the opening marked for danger. “There are no footsteps from within.”

“Your skull passage?”

Luis checked the others, Ruveo doing the same on the opposite side of the hub. “The creatures are in all of them,” Luis said.

“Even the way we came,” Ruveo added.

“Play it again,” Ferne said. “A different tune.”

Luis tried and again, while the slapping lessened, it did not stop.

Ferne shook his head. “Slimy bastards are herding us down there.”

“So maybe we die there instead of the certainty of dying here. What do we have to lose?” Never asked.

“Don’t plan to lose anything.” Ferne took up his lantern. “Go then.”

Never charged into the corridor. Shadows thrashed on the walls and the thump of booted feet soon buried the slap of webbed ones. This passage was no different to the others – dark, smooth, room enough for two abreast, the uniformity occasionally broken by a vein of quartz and its glittering, filtered light.

“Do they follow?” Never called over his shoulder.

“Yes,” Luis shouted back.

A blank wall appeared ahead. Lit by a pair of quartz veins, it bore no markings, no symbols. Never bent by the floor and stretched to look at the roof, but there was nothing. “This looks rather grim,” he muttered.

Silence, until finally, “Ready your pipe, Luis.” Ferne had set his lamp aside once more, and stood with his axe held across his chest.

Ruveo was cursing. He kicked at a wall, but his blade was drawn. Hopefully he was as good as Luis claimed.

Luis took Never’s arm, fingers digging into the flesh. “Isn’t there something you can do?”

“Let me think.” He moved a sconce and cupped his hands beneath the flow, dousing his face with water. He blinked at the cold as it ran down his neck to soak his shirt. He took a drink this time and stared into the quartz, its surface rippling with water.

There had to be something... He straightened. What if...? Yes! A water-lock. Like in the Temple of Pacela beneath Isacina. He spun. The other vein bore no water, but featured a twin sconce. Never slapped the wall, splashing himself. “I have it.”

“Then do it quickly,” Ferne snapped.

He dumped his pack and tore a water flask free then emptied it into the dry sconce. It filled halfway.

The clap of webbed feet drew closer.

Luis’ pipe sang, and hissing drifted down the passage, but the feet did not stop. Never jammed the empty flask beneath the running quartz – holding his breath. Faster. Faster. His heart began to skip beats.

The moment the brim overflowed, he leapt to the opposite wall, shaking the flask until the sconce filled.

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