The walls of the tunnel were constructed from crumbling red bricks, looking like terracotta in appearance and touch. Similar to the land outside, the inside of the tunnel was dry, its base filled with dusty soil and sand that must have blown into it over the years, and the bricks of the bottom half were stained a darker color from whatever had flowed through it. Darian had also expected to see cobwebs and lichen hanging from the roof, but after consideration, he realized that he was just fantasizing, basing his beliefs on what he knew things would be like on Earth.

Darian was forced to enter the tunnel hunched over as the roof was just a little short for him to stand up in. It wasn’t long before he forgot and smashed the top of his head against the rough brick . Swearing while he rubbed the sore spot, he took out his helmet from his bag, wishing he had remembered it sooner, and placed it on his head. Within minutes he was extremely thankful he had, as the helmet took the brunt of another blow from the rough roof when he walked into a misplaced brick jutting down further than the others around it.

While his assisted night vision helped pierce the darkness within the tunnel, it was still gloomy enough to make sure he had to traverse the tunnel carefully. The further he went into it, the shorter the distance he could see clearly, a good indicator that the benefit he had received from the amulet was by amplifying the available light in the area. In a tunnel like this, where there was no light at all, the amulet wouldn’t help him that much.

After walking for about half an hour down the tunnel without finding any side tunnels off the one he was in, nor coming across any sign of the undead, he stopped in confusion. If they were using this as a way to get into the castle, then there should have been some of them down here, and by his calculations, he should be quite close to the castle by now, if not already underneath it.

It wasn’t long after that Darian saw a glow up ahead of him. “So, there really is a light at the end of the tunnel.” he quipped to himself in a whisper, knowing that danger could also be waiting for him there. The glow also provided enough illumination for his amulet to operate properly, lightening the darkness that filled the rest of the tunnel. It brightened enough for him to see that no undead occupied the long pipe ahead of him.

Reaching the end, Darian found himself in front of another metal grate blocking access further in, the bars spaced far enough apart that he could see easily within, but couldn’t squeeze past them. Grabbing two of the bars Darian tugged at them with all of his strength in an attempt to bend them so he could get through, but couldn’t budge them. He could fit his head through, though, allowing him to see a small square chamber, rough stone stairs against one wall leading up to an opening, and the tunnel continuing on the other side of the room. The light was coming down through the opening at the top of the stairs.

Shaking the bars in frustration didn’t help, the metal of these, unlike everything else he had come across, in excellent condition, the metal untarnished or pitted. The metal was so shiny he could almost believe they had only been put in place recently. If that was the case, then he had no chance at all of betting past them.

Resigned to the long walk back out of there, Darian made one more attempt at opening the grate, poking an arm through the bars and running his fingers around where they lay against the tunnels stonework, and was surprised when his fingers felt an oddity in it. From what he could feel, the oddity reminded him of a latch of some type. Grabbing the part he identified as a bolt he pushed and wiggled it, feeling it slowly slide upwards, then the grate suddenly gave way, swinging inwards from the pressure his body was putting on it. The hinges squealed tortuously as it moved and he stumbled into the chamber, the grate clanging loudly against the stones as it finished the arc of its swing.

The chamber was just like the tunnel he had passed through, being made of the same reddish bricks, the floor covered with a dry, almost powder like substance, neither dust nor sand. As this was joined to a sewer outlet, he didn’t want to think what it actually was, even if he could make a good guess about its origin.

The squeal of unoiled hinges echoes down the tunnels as he forced the grate shut behind him, and latched it closed again, this way he knew that his rear was protected when he continued in further. He knew it wasn’t perfect, but if they hadn’t breached the grate by now, the chance was they never would. If not, at least the noise of the grate opening again would give him sufficient warning to prepare himself. That done, he started to climb the stairs.

Hesitating just below the round opening above him, Darian listened briefly to see if he could detect any signs of life above him, but everything was silent. The light above was pale and flickering, a good sign it was being made by a fire, or torch, he didn’t know which yet. Cautiously, he walked up the last of the stone steps in front of him, and entered the area above.

The room he climbed into was small, being about ten foot square. Set in one wall was a closed wooden door, its beams banded with iron, and torch sconces were attached to the remaining three, all of them lit. The light was sufficiently bright enough for Darian to see that the room was unoccupied. Satisfied with what he was seeing Darian stepped into the room.

The second his foot touched the floor all of the torches suddenly burst into incandescent light, sending daggers of pain through his eyes and into his brain, and blinding him. It was so intense that he screamed in agony and fell to his knees scrubbing uselessly at his eyes with the palms of his hands, trying to clear his vision.

From his position kneeling position he could hear the door fly open and slam into the wall with a crack, followed by running footsteps as someone entered the room. He was just about to call out to whomever had entered when he felt a violent blow to the back of his head, knocking him face first into the stone floor, and the last thing he heard was his nose breaking with a crack as his mind was plunged into darkness.

…..

Darian groaned in pain as he slowly regained consciousness, finding himself hanging by his wrists, his whole weight pulling down at his shoulders leaving him with the suspicion that he had dislocated them. Cold metal bands circled his wrists, the sharp edge of them cutting into his skin, and trickles of coagulating blood oozed down his arms. His head was throbbing from the blow it had received and he had difficulties breathing through his broken nose. The only good thing he could see was that he was still alive.

Feeling the floor beneath his dangling feet, Darian stretched his legs and stood upright on shaky legs, hoping this would ease the strain in his shoulders, but found himself becoming dizzy as the pain in his head increased. He slowly and laboriously lifted his head and squinted, trying to focus his sight enough to work out where the hell he was. He wasn’t pleased with what he saw after everything snapped into focus.

The room he was in was a small round room, dimly lit with torches, with four pillars rising to the roof, the chain holding him up hanging from the roof between them. On the wall in front of him hung a number of evil looking tools, looking well maintained. He couldn’t name what they were, but he knew what they were used for… torture.

His chains rattled loudly in the small room as he turned, surveying the whole room, and he could hear faint voices from somewhere outside the room, growing louder as the owners of the voices approached. He heard a key rattling in the lock and swung around to face the door, prepared to meet his captors.

After the door had swung open Darian reared back in horror as two rotting corpses strode into the room. They paused in the doorway to watch as Darian struggled with his chains, tugging on them frantically as he attempted to pull them out of the roof. Darian knew if he was to die here, then he was going to go out fighting, and not slaughtered like cattle trussed up for a butcher. He also didn’t fancy being tortured before they killed him, either.

His struggles became even more desperate as they approached him, the reek of death and decay reaching him before they did. One of the rotting corpses reached for something at its waist and Darian closed his eyes, resigning himself to a short and painful future.

A minute later nothing had happened and Darian frowned, opening his eyes. The undead duo were just standing there, looking at him, one holding what looked like a scrap of cloth in one hand. He had been expecting something, but not this, and it confused him. All the other undead he had come across so far had attacked him on sight, so why were these ones just standing there, doing nothing ? Then they did something that shocked him even more, they spoke.

“Yes, you did the right thing calling for me, Roland.” said the one on the left, the words sounding blurred like he was speaking through a mouth full of food. “He will definitely want to see this one.”

The other just nodded. “He came in through the sewers, fair scared the crap out of me, it did, popping up unexpectedly while I was in the wine cellars. At first I thought he was one of those from outside, but one look at him purged that thought.” The speaker turned its opaque eyes towards Darian. “Didn’t think anything could come that way, I thought the barrier kept them out.”

“It does, but this one is different, it’s not undead, its actually alive. Hood ‘im Roland.”

The one holding the cloth stepped forward and lifted it up, preparing to place it over Darians head, but he wasn’t going to co-operate with whatever they were planning and lashed out with one foot, sending the one know as Roland staggering backwards. “I don’t know what you are, but either kill me or fuck off.” He snarled at them in a show of bravado. “You’re not taking me without a fight, I’m not going to help you with whatever little sick game you have planned for me” and lashed out with another foot, this time missing both of them. “I didn’t sign up to be tortured.”

They both retreated a step, keeping out of the range of his kicks. “Calm down, sir, just calm down. I do not know where you came to this idea that we would torture you, we are not like… those… outside.” he spoke the last part in disgust. “We do not stoop to torturing to gain information. We are only here to take you to one who wishes to speak to you.”

“Then release me,” demanded Darian, “and I will come with you peacefully.”

The unnamed one, obviously the one in charge, looked at him thoughtfully. It was a disgusting sight to Darian, and made his stomach churn, but he didn’t let it show on his face. “If I agree to this,” said the corpse “then you would still be required to wear the hood.” On seeing the look Darian gave him at this statement it quickly held up its rotting hands and added “For security reasons only, you have snuck in here like a thief, and we have no idea of your intentions. If you wish us to trust you, then you must first trust us. Put the hood on voluntarily and I will release you from your chains.”

Darian eyes the speaker skeptically. “Yeah, right, just trust you. How do I know you are no different to those outside, other than seeming a little smarter.”

The one Darian had spoken top reared back in astonishment at this, then responded angrily, ”How dare you compare us to those creatures. We are free minded beings, they are feral creatures who’s minds have been taken by the dead god Nekkir-Amon. It is his curse that leaves us looking like this, his curse that keeps us locked up in this place.”

This tirade stunned Darian, but it hadn’t finished. “I take back my offer.” It turned its back to Darian and called out. “Walfemor, enter and truss this ungrateful wretch up, but don’t harm him.” and a small skeleton dressed in chain mail entered the room. It stood only four foot high and at first Darian thought it was a child, but the thickness of its bones, along with the remains of a beard attached to its skull wiped that thought away. Thus was the skeleton of a grown warrior, and a really small one at that.

For its size, it was a quick little bugger and Darian only managed one kick in its direction before it had him wrapped up in chains and the hood pulled down over his head. He heard the chains holding his hands in place rattle as they were released and his arms fell lifelessly to his side, agony ripping through his shoulders.

The bag over his head must have been taken from a kitchen, for it stank of onions, making his eyes water. He flinched as rough hands grabbed him by the arms, and then he was dragged from the room, stumbling along, hoping the hands guiding him would keep him from tripping, or walking into something.

“Steps.” Spoke a rough voice, and Darian lifted his feet, feeling for the step before continuing up, and wondering where the hell they were taking him.