Clay lifted his own lantern, playing the beam on the top of the piled rubble. “Can’t see a gap.”
“I’ll find it,” Loriabeth said, shrugging off her outer layer of coverings, “if there is one.” She started to clamber up before they could protest, moving with a sure-footed energy that belied her former weakness. Clay found that his guess had been right; the air was definitely warmer now.
“Jammed,” Loriabeth called down after a brief inspection of the rubble. “But I can feel air rushing from somewhere beyond this thing. Some of these boulders don’t seem too heavy either.”
“Guess I got some more work to do,” Clay said, holding his hand out to Hilemore.
“Just enough to get us through,” Hilemore said, handing over a flask of Black. “I’d rather the whole thing didn’t collapse on us.”
Clay told Loriabeth to come down and then had them concentrate their lanterns on one spot at a time. He used just enough Black to dislodge the topmost pieces, lifting several chunks clear and placing them carefully at the base of the pile until they had a decent-sized gap.
“Still blocked,” Loriabeth said, having climbed up once more. “Think a decent push will see us through, though.”
Clay clambered to her side, seeing the way ahead blocked by a large slab. He took a sip of Black and concentrated on the slab, finding it stuck fast. Another few sips and the barrier began to give, grinding against the enclosing rubble until finally tumbling free.
“Me first,” Clay said, scrambling into the opening and pretending not to hear Hilemore’s stern command to stop. He crawled through in short order, pushing his lantern ahead of him and emerging to be confronted by a black void. His lantern beam roved the darkness finding nothing for several seconds until it caught the edge of a narrow surface below. “Got a walkway here,” he called over his shoulder before clambering down.
He moved to where the walkway met the edge of the rubble, tapping an experimental foot to its surface. “Seems solid enough,” he said as the others climbed down to join him. Clay watched Hilemore’s narrow gaze survey the walkway and assumed he was debating whether to bring the rest of the party inside before continuing.
“It’s gotta lead somewhere,” Clay said, fighting the impulse to simply stride off on his own.
Hilemore hesitated a moment longer then nodded. “Single file. Miss Torcreek . . .”
“Rear-guard.” She sighed. “Yeah, I know.”
The walkway didn’t take long to traverse, though the echo birthed by their footfalls told of a very deep drop on either side and made for a nervous few moments. After thirty yards it broadened out into a round platform about twenty feet across. The only feature was a lone plinth about four feet high positioned where the walkway met the platform.
“We must be in a shaft,” Hilemore said, his lantern revealing the platform to be the top of a cylindrical column that descended far into the void below.
“It’s different,” Sigoral said, stamping a boot to the surface of the platform and raising a dull echo. Clay lowered his gaze and saw the Corvantine’s meaning. This platform had been fashioned from familiar stone, some form of granite by his estimation, rather than the impermeable material that formed the spire. The surface was formed of interlocking curved slabs, giving it a maze-like appearance that bespoke a remarkable precision in its construction. Ain’t seen nothing like it, he thought, not since the city beneath the mountain.
He moved to the plinth, finding it also constructed from the same granite as the platform. There was an elegance to its form, almost as if it had grown from the stone even though closer inspection revealed it to have also been fashioned from interlocking bricks.
“What is that?” Loriabeth asked, stepping to his side and playing her lantern over the upper part of the plinth where it broadened out into a near-flat surface, in the centre of which sat a crystal about the size of a fist. Once again Clay’s memories of the city stirred, recalling the statues and the floating crystals in the White’s lair.
“Diamond maybe,” Loriabeth went on, leaning closer to tap a finger to the crystal.
Both Clay and Loriabeth gave an involuntary yelp as a bright yellow glow appeared on the crystal, accompanied by a low, almost musical note that thrummed the surrounding air. The four of them stood stock still as the sound and the glowing point in the crystal faded away, all clutching their weapons and waiting. Clay saw the sweat shining on his cousin’s skin and took some small comfort from the fact that at least they wouldn’t freeze in here.
“It would be best if you didn’t do that again, miss,” Hilemore told Loriabeth, receiving an apologetic smile in response.
Lieutenant Sigoral moved to the edge of the platform and fished a small coin from his pocket. “A full crown,” he said, tossing it into the void. “I trust you’ll reimburse me in due course, Captain.”
Clay counted off twenty full seconds before detecting the very faint note of the coin connecting with whatever lay below.
“That’s quite a drop,” Sigoral observed.
“Very well,” Hilemore said, holstering his revolver and striding back towards the walkway. “I’ll order the rest of the party to join us. We’ll establish a camp in the passage-way and prepare for further exploration tomorrow.”
“It’ll take all the rope we have to reach the bottom,” Sigoral pointed out.
“Then we’d best tie some strong knots.” Hilemore strode onto the walkway and paused, turning to Clay with an impatient frown. “I’ll have no argument from you on this, Mr. Torcreek.”
Clay cast a final glance around the platform, his gaze lingering on the now-lifeless crystal gleaming dully in the plinth’s surface. “You give the orders, Captain,” he said, wiping sweat from his brow and flicking it away before starting after Hilemore.
They froze as the crystal sprang to life once more, the glass flaring bright and a series of notes filling the air. The light was of such intensity Clay found himself momentarily blinded. He blinked to clear his vision, finding that the crystal was shimmering now, flickering with a rapidity that brought an ache to his head. He moved closer, squinting through streaming eyes and making out the few dark droplets of moisture on the crystal’s blazing facets. My sweat, he realised. It felt my sweat . . .