Chapter Sixteen—Depths

Shiro’s feet touched the floor about four paces from where his torch had fallen. Something was different, he realized. There was more light now. Far more light than there had been before.

He could see Ali climbing down the rope clearly, could even see dust motes gently falling through the air. The light from his torch. It had lit the glow rocks in this part of the dungeon and now am ambient light, slightly blue in haze, suffused the chamber. Shiro could see the walls, the urns and alcoves.

It was beautiful. There were also many sarcophagi lining the walls.

“What’s this!” Ali called, still climbing down the rope. He looked a true adventurer in his open jacket, scimitar waving about as he climbed down the rope. Did Shiro present that same swashbuckling image?

He was a samurai. A noble warrior. He was no rogue. The thought worried him. He was now in a dungeon. Or a tomb. Whatever it was. He was raiding this ancient place.

Ali touched down beside him and clapped the dust off his hands while he breathed in and out to catch his breath.

“One torch and these rocks light up!” He laughed, spreading his arms. “They must have been very, very hungry for light, my friend. Just like we’re hungry for loot and treasure, eh?”

“Mmm,” Shiro noised with a nod.

“Just as I am hungry for more conversation,” he said, a skeptical eyebrow raised at Shiro.

“It seems we do not need the torches anymore.”

“Well, we need the rocks!” Ali said, launching himself in the direction of one. It was nestled into the top if a spindle. Ali vaulted himself onto a sarcophagus, sliding over it on his hip. Then he snatched it out of its holding cup. The glow lit his hand when he closed his fingers over the stone. He laughed. “This stupid rock,” he said, gesturing to it with his other hand. “This is worth the trip on its own.”

Shiro saw at least three more. He went to one, took it, held it high. The light in his immediate area was bright. Then he stalked to his torch and crouched, thrusting the stone at the light. The light emanating from the magic stone brightened enough to make him squint against its powerful luminescence.

“Good idea,” Ali said, doing the same.

Shiro had to close his eyes while they both charged their stones with the light of the torch. They would need good pouches to conceal the light, in case thieves spotted them. Shiro did not want to be a beacon, like he had been when first arriving in these lands.

Now he dressed much like the local peoples—like a local adventurer. With his tanned skin and black hair, it was easy for him not to draw the eye, unless a person was paying attention.

Shiro stood, raised his stone above his head so he could get a good view. “Let’s get the others and then make our way down this thoroughfare and through that arch. I have a feeling something lies beyond in those chambers.”

“By the gods, Shiro!”

“What is it?”

“I don’t believe I have ever heard you speak so many words at once.” He laughed, slapped his thigh and shook Shiro by the shoulder. “You’re catching on, my apprentice.”

Shiro scoffed.

“Come—come!” Ali said, beckoning Shiro.

They loped across the room and took up the stones and added them to their loot sacks. One stone wouldn’t pay off Shiro’s debts, but two? Perhaps now. But if he could find two or three more, surely he would be debt free, a man no longer hunted. He could focus on leaving these lands and making his way back to his homeland.

The only problem was…

I’m not sure these peoples have discovered my homelands, he thought. Kami preserve me—I don’t even know if I’m on the same world.

The thought sent a chill of fear through him. Shiro missed his homeland, his mother and father.

Daimyo Karage probably thought he had abandoned his duty.

“Come!” Ali called excitedly. “Why are you distracted, my friend? Loot awaits, eh?”

Shiro shook himself, followed his adventurer partner until they were standing before the gold gilded arch.

And then something behind them stirred.