If it's so dark, I must be inside something, he mused. There must be walls. A roof, at least.

The mercenary oriented himself and determined which way was up, then began to swim in that direction, slowly. He had no wish to strike against rock without warning. As he swam, he tried to control his terror.

If I sank down here, I can swim back out, he reasoned.

If you can find your way out, a little voice told him.

I will.

Suddenly, Vambran's head broke through the surface. He coughed for a moment as his body tried to adjust to air after so long underwater. Water flowed from his lungs, spilling out of the gills the necklace had magically produced, and at last, he could draw in a solid breath.

The air was terribly cold, so cold in fact that Vambran could see his breath in the dim light of his coin. It smelled stale, musty. Old.

Knowing that he must be inside a sealed area for air to still be present, Vambran held his light up, as high as he could reach, hoping to catch a glimpse of a ceiling overhead. He could not.

Well, then, I guess I'd better start swimming, the lieutenant decided. Somewhere around here there must be walls, something that's keeping the air trapped inside.

Vambran tried to select the direction that would lead him toward the opening he had tumbled in through, but he had become so disoriented that he had no clue. He paddled along slowly, again not wishing for his face to meet stone. Even so, he was startled when something solid appeared in his view.

It was a wall, not just of rock, but of worked stone blocks. The seams of the blocks were slanted, angling sharply, giving him the impression that the wall was tilted, cocked to one side. He began to follow the wall, swimming in the direction that the seams angled upward, hoping that he might find the bottom of something and perhaps dry land beyond.

When his feet brushed against something, Vambran yelped and flailed, certain that some creature had nudged past him, menacing his toes. But then his foot struck again and he realized it was a surface, a smooth stone surface, and a moment later, he was ascending a steep, paved slope. Wet and naked, he was keenly aware of the cold air.

The incline was sharp enough that Vambran had difficulty walking up. More than once he nearly lost his balance, but he hunched forward and picked his way with care, following the wall, which seemed to have a gentle curve to it.

All at once, Vambran found himself at the edge of the slope, reaching up and grasping for a handhold to pull himself the last few feet. Beyond was more blackness.

He shivered in the cold, wondering what was beyond his puny little light.

I need more illumination, Vambran thought. To the Hells with it, he decided.

The mercenary spoke the familiar magical phrase aloud and pointed his finger upward and ahead, A searing, bright flash of light shot forth from his fingertip and raced ahead. For the first few seconds, Vambran simply could not see, for the brightness of the flare hurt his eyes. But as his eyes adjusted, he began looking around, and what he saw amazed him.

The remains of a city block spread out before him, as if at the bottom of a steep hill, tilted at an awkward angle. The place where he stood had cracked and folded somehow, so that he was at the crest of a ridge between two downward slopes. Behind him, sliding back into the water, was the paved slope he had ascended, with portions of ancient walls enclosing it on either side. Only parts of those walls remained upright, for much had been crushed by massive rockfall piled on top of it. For the first time, Vambran had a real sense of just how much debris must have rained down on top of the ruined city after it slid into the ocean.

Ahead of him, lining either side of the ancient street, Vambran could see two or three partially intact buildings. The architecture was scalloped and wavy, and everything must have once soared to great heights, for the design seemed to be all spindles and towers and flying bridges. The topmost portions of the buildings were destroyed, though, tumbled down as huge boulders had smashed them away. Only their bases remained, tilted and canted at strange angles as the overbearing weight of a million tons of rock, and the water of the ocean above, pressed down.

Perhaps most impressive, though, was the largest structure at the far end of the cavern, much below him. Mostly buried under rock, gravel, and broken paving stones, the building looked much as Vambran had imagined the great hall from Arbeenok's vision. All he could see was a facade, but it appeared round with many columns adorning the outside.

Before Vambran could discern any additional detail, though, his flare faded, leaving him blinking in the much dimmer light that his coin could provide. He considered firing another light into the air, but he decided against it, for he already knew he wanted to explore that building at the base of the hill.

He picked his way carefully down the slope of the ruined street, working somewhat sideways, switching back and forth at an angle to lessen the steepness of descent. The street had buckled and heaved out of alignment during the destruction of the city, so plenty of places had formed for Vambran to gain handholds and footholds.

At last he reached the bottom. Standing on a pile of loose rock that had partially covered the surface of the building's facade, Vambran surveyed the ruins of the doorway. The portal yawned open, a hole that was almost level with flat ground because of the way the building had come to rest on its back. The doors that might have once sealed the opening were nowhere to be seen. Beyond the frame, the lieutenant could see that a great circular hallway wrapped around the whole of the building, a concentric walkway that might once have surrounded the chamber in the center and been brightly lit with evenly spaced windows.

The way the building was canted, Vambran realized, he would be forced to drop down into the darkness and slide down the steep incline. At first, he wasn't sure how he was going to get out again.

He was beginning to wish the chamber was flooded, because swimming through the ruins would be much easier.

Fool! he chastised himself, remembering his climbing magic. He was especially thankful at that moment that he no longer needed to swallow things such as spiders and blobs of nasty stuff to bring his magic to life. The manifestation of his abilities suddenly were that much more useful.

Nodding in satisfaction, Vambran invoked the arcane force that allowed him to skitter across walls and ceilings, and he lowered himself down through the hole. Once on the underside of the wall, he scrambled down to the next level, the inner wall of the ancient building. He was on the verge of maneuvering toward another doorway farther in when something whizzed past his ear.

Vambran spun in place, searching for whatever had soared so close. He was painfully conscious of having lost his trident. Whatever had passed him had traveled so fast that he had barely caught a glimpse of motion-he didn't know if it was a flying beast or an object that had been hurled. He spotted nothing, even while holding his light high overhead to illuminate as large an area as possible.

Motion attracted his attention again, and he watched as something swished toward him a second time. It was a small blade, perhaps a short sword, and as it whisked by, nearly slicing into his ribs, he followed it visually. The sword stopped and hovered, turning in place and pointing at him once more.

What the-? Vambran wondered, watching the floating sword warily. When it shot toward the lieutenant a third time, he deftly stepped aside and swiped at the blade with his hand, trying to knock it from the air to the floor. He managed to strike the sword upon its hilt and redirect its flight slightly, but the sword recovered and zipped away, into the deeper darkness beyond the range of Vambran's coin.