It was the twelfth day.
Even the templar accompanying them was tired.
He flinched as the tapping started up again, the spirits in the deep roads trying to lead them who knows where. If someone had told him about the number of dead down here, the number of blighted that he would have to face, he would have balked.
But none had and so he had gone on the expedition. Wealth beyond measure had been promised what with the blight just having been finished. The first three days had delivered, the convoy stumbling upon many unlooted caches. After that though, some had gone back to the surface. More continued so he went with them.
Problems arose then, that night, if it was that time for he could not tell. A demon of greed, the templar and mage had declared it to be, took possession of someone and wrecked havoc. Supplies were lost, riches destroyed, the convoy scattered in the madness.
He should have stayed on the surface. How he yearned for the feel of sunshine once more. He blinked, the party was slowing, a split in the tunnels up ahead and then there were screams. No one could tell from which way they came. They ended before a decision could be made. A coin was flipped and the path set by those brave enough to lead.
The tapping ended.
Someone ran, other followed, the templar charged, some followed, the mage’s staff shined in the darkness, he cowered as the demons washed over the group, easily felling those who had ran, howling all the while.
He felt something touch him and he shrieked, flailing at the encroaching darkness.
He just wanted to feel sunlight again.
And then there was a voice, a voice most glorious whispering in his ear and he felt it, the sun on his skin. He cried for he was free then he felt metal on his hand and he was wrenched up, the templar standing before him now, a convulsing demon at his feet.
He staggered for a few steps then found his footing as he ran once more behind the templar. The rest were fallen and he could hear tapping again. But it was no longer following them.
It was the fourteenth day.
The templar stumbled again, his complaints about some unending song being much the same as whatever song he was hearing. He could hear nothing except their footsteps. Nothing seemed to move in the darkness here, nothing at least that he could hear. He shivered, there were no more lava gatherings anymore. He wondered if out of all the things he had seen down here the cold would be the one to kill him.
There were worse ways to go he supposed and then the templar stopped. The sound of rocks moving echoed through the tunnel. A crumbling and a creaking, as if someone was opening a door.
He glanced at the templar, wondering what to do. The templar grunted then advanced, sword ready for whatever laid ahead. A rock crashed against his shield soon and he staggered back, and then more rocks lashed out, as if the earth itself hated them. The templar collapsed, a torrent of rocks flying at him and then he ran once more, abandoning the templar to his fate.
It was the seventeenth day.
He could not remember when he had last eaten. He was crawling now, no destination in sight, just crawling.
The tapping started again and he started crying though he was not certain whether it was from terror or relief that it would be over soon. It grew closer and then he could hear the spirits again.
He wished he could have felt sunlight again.
