The endless series of dark tunnels lit by flickering light of magical orbs, and silence broken only by the hollow echoes of their footsteps, were starting to give Lindley a terrible headache. How much farther before they wandered out the other side of Lowerment into the dead abyss? Shudders ran through the spine of Lindley as he followed the scavens.

Eventually, though, the tunnel before them emptied out into a barrel-shaped cavern, and Lindley heard the sound of rushing water. An underground river gushed over stones, and a forest of flowstones hung low over the water.

“We’re not far from the city’s outer checkpoints,” Gargdor said.

Lindley stared at the river, grateful for anything to look at besides dark tunnel walls. The water foamed around the flowstones as if from the mouth of a crooked-toothed beast. Blue-green plants grew among the rocks on the shoreline, and there were a few stepping stones out in the river itself, but these looked dangerously slick and barely large enough to hold one person.

How many humans had actually crossed this river in all the centuries since its creation? Lindley had never dreamed, when they set out, that the scavens would lead him this far into the Lowerment. He had been modest about his true thoughts of tight spaces, more than being a little afraid of tight spaces, but the idea of being so far from sunlight was already unnerving to him. Yet another part of him was fascinated by the fact that he walked in a cavern unknown to most of the people in the Overment. He had stepped into another world. If only he could go back to his own world safely, Lindley would be totally content.

Well, content might not have been the best word, not while the thoughts of revenge continued to bug his mind. Why did these two scavens insist on him meeting their king anyway? When they had stood near the bridge, for a second he had looked at two scavens again as if they were figures from the Underment. He wondered what was in their minds. They wouldn't be planning on sacrificing him to their gods, would they?

A sharp hiss and twang cut the air, vibrating down the length of the orb holder in his hand. Lindley flinched. A black, spiny rod had embedded itself in his light holder, just below the cage of light. Lindley brought the holder closer so he could see the object clearly.

His breath caught. Embedded in the wood was an arrow, the type of small arrows fired from a single-handed weapon.

Lindley opened his mouth to warn the others, when suddenly a second black arrow buried itself in his arm. Staring at the missile in shock, Lindley at first didn’t feel any pain. Blood welled and flowed in a warm trickle down his arm. Then the pain hit him and Lindley found his voice. “Aaargh! Arrows!”

More hisses echoed in the cavern.

“Get down!” Gargdor shouted.

Lindley spun, flung his orb holder in the river and threw himself to the ground behind some rocks. Ogvigh crouched beside him. Grunting, he drew his axe and gestured to the middle of the river.

Lindley clutched his wounded arm and looked through a crack between two rocks. In the middle of the river, three figures levitated near one of the larger flowstones. One was wearing a wizard’s robes, while the other two wore leather armor that fit their slender bodies like a second skin. These two figures reloaded their hand crossbows.

Even in the dim red light of the flowstones, Lindley could appreciate their graceful forms, elegantly pointed ears, and dark shiny skin. Lindley shouldn’t have been surprised to see the dark elves, the drows, in the Lowerment since it was their home, but he had never seen a drow before. He only heard tales about them. But knowing such beings existed in the world, and seeing them firsthand, was quite a different experience.

Red eyes—a wave of fascination and fear swept over Lindley. The tales don’t prepare you for seeing such burning eyes.

Throbbing pain in his arm reminded Lindley that he was not safe, even behind these rocks. Gritting his teeth, he wrapped blood-soaked fingers around the arrow’s shaft and pulled it out. Flesh tore as streaks of fiery pain shot up his arm. He quickly checked his satchel and put some healing herbs into his mouth. He didn't want to bring out his precious potions yet.

When he could stand it, Lindley looked at the barbed weapon. A mixture of blood and a black, ichor-like substance coated the point.

“Dighu qardh?” Ogvigh asked if he was alright in Scavish, his gaze traveling from Lindley's wound to the drow and back again, as if he couldn’t decide which danger to address first. "Vigh urda."

“Poisoned?” Lindley asked in panic. He understood basic Scavish at this point. His fingers shook when she touched her wound. A numbing fatigue traveled up his arms, weighing them down.

“Krrva vigh urda.” The scaven answered as he let out a silent breath.

Sleep poison? Lindley nodded his understanding to the words of the scaven as fatigue quickly spread to his chest and his legs. At least I hope it is and not something worse. He rolled onto his side, putting his back against the wet rocks by the river. The cold water revived him a little. He had to stay alert, but all he wanted to do was close his eyes and sleep.

“Come over here and fight us, you bloody things!” shouted Gargdor, drawing Lindley’s attention momentarily away from his wound. He made a sharp gesture. A large thread of water coiled up from the river and encircled his hand, forming the shape of another rune. The water snapped out, its foam crests like spikes that lashed at the drow archers and caused them to waver in midair.

The drow wizard raised his hands, but he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the blows. Water slapped the skin of his cheeks with audible cracks. His red eyes burned, and he shouted in incoherent fury.

“Like that, did you?” Gargdor’s deep, taunting laughter echoed in the cavern. “I’ll have you down from there. See if I don’t!”

The drow wizard shouted something in an unfamiliar tongue, snarling the words as his hands clawed the air in a complex gesture. A curtain of flame rose at the wizard’s feet and rippled across the river.

“Get down!” Lindley cried, and Ogvigh, who had been moving among the stones, making his way to the river, went down on his belly.

Flames roared over their heads, leaving a trail of steam over the river that temporarily obscured the drow.

“Got them angry now!” Gargdor touched the rocks along the shoreline, tracing symbols furiously as he crawled to where Lindley crouched, and splayed his hand against the nearest stone. “Watch your head, humanling.”

A burst of gold light shot up from the rocks, pushing the flames back to the edge of the river and creating a protective shield around them. Steam still rose in thick clouds. They couldn’t see the drow, but at least the drow couldn’t see them either.

Ogvigh again began crawling to the river. Halfway, he leaped to his feet and ran toward the river. He jumped through the flames beyond Gargdor’s protective barrier and disappeared. A breath passed, and Lindley heard a splash. He looked over the rocks, but Ogvigh was already underwater.