There was only a few inches of air, and the mariner found himself clinging to the ceiling, taking a few deep gulps, and then submerging to swim some more. He hoped Dhamon and the half-elf were close behind and that they hadn't given up and tried to backtrack. Still, he told himself, he wasn't going to lose a precious minute worrying about his companions. Time to put his own skin first and to let the stinking thieves save themselves. Concentrate on getting back to Fiona.

"Awww…" he breathed, as he held on to an outcropping and let his arm drift out in a sweeping pattern, his nose pressed against the ceiling. His fingers brushed against cloth. "Who am I trying to fool? Dhamon? You all right? Dhamon!"

There was a muffled reply, and they were off again, another hour passing, the mariner guessed, as they followed the stream in the pitch darkness, gulping in air when a pocket presented itself. The water was warming, evidence of something underground, perhaps volcanic heat.

Dhamon was thinking of the dragons: the green who slew his men in the Qualinesti Forest; Skie, who could have killed him and Rig and everyone else at the Window to the Stars; the Black he'd encountered in the swamp and who would have slain him save for the scale on his leg- which at the time had branded him as a servant of the red overlord.

Death didn't frighten him anymore. Everyone died. It was just a matter of when. Drowning would not be so painful. Then his jaw tightened and he scolded himself. Dying would be the easy way out. And there was the sword to consider-he had no desire to let the ogre chieftain keep the sword and the gemstones. His musing was interrupted by needlelike claws against his neck-Fetch. The kobold was stretching for air. Rikali's fingers brushed his shoulder, Rig's hand reached out again to make sure they were all nearby.

Then a hint of green intruded.

The kobold started clawing Dhamon's back, jabbering frenziedly and pointing.

"I see it!" Dhamon spat, as he took in a deep breath against the ceiling, dove under, and swam toward the light. Rikali moved past him, feet kicking furiously, knocking Dhamon and almost dislodging the kobold from his back as she went. He saw her outline as they neared the green glow, then he saw her rise. Dhamon kicked faster.

Rikali's hands struck stone. Frightened she'd hit a dead end, she panicked and gulped, drawing water into her lungs. Her hands flailed about, feeling angular stone. Stairs! She pulled herself out of the water, climbing on the steps, gasping, and instantly rolling onto her back to stare up incredulously at a smooth oval rock that formed most of the ceiling of the otherwise rough-hewn chamber. The rock was reflecting the mysterious green light. The underground river continued to rush by her, and she turned to watch it.

"Dhamon. Come on, lover," she breathed. "Come… oh!"

Dhamon's head appeared above the surface, in the narrow space between the water and the rocky overhang. Fetch's craggy face craned around Dhamon's neck. The kobold was coughing and spitting as Dhamon gulped in air and hauled himself out. A moment later, the mariner materialized and followed them.

Rikali was yawning. "We could sleep here. I'm so very tired. Just an hour or so, all right, lover?"

"No time for sleep," Dhamon said. But his yawn and his drawn expression hinted at how terribly tired he was, too.

Fetch dropped off Dhamon's back and started wringing out his robe. "Good thing that we found this place, huh? Breathe in that stuffy air! Damn. My hoopak. Lost it in the water." He turned to glare at the river, most of which was obscured by the rocky overhang. "Now how am I gonna get me another one? Sure ain't gonna find a kender in Bloten. Maybe Donnag's got one in his…"

"You might not have to worry about it, Fetch," Dhamon suggested. "If we can't find a way out of here, you won't need a weapon."

While the kobold continued to bemoan his misfortune, loudly mulling the possibility of dying at his spry age, and while Rig speculated that they might want only to take a quick breather here and then continue to follow the river, Dhamon joined Rikali in taking a good look around the chamber. They searched along the closest wall, hoping to find a staircase leading up, or a natural chimney they might climb. They'd heard bats a while ago-but there wasn't a trace of them here, not even guano on the floor.

There were no carvings on the walls, nor on the collapsed columns that at one time likely reached to the glowing rock high above. Dhamon had expected to see more images of dwarves, but everything appeared untouched, except for the pillars, which had been ground smooth. There were no symbols to Reorx. The remains of stone and wooden benches littered the floor, the rotting wood adding to the fusty smell. The only area intact consisted of a raised dais at the back of the chamber, and three black half-moon steps leading up to it. On either side of the steps were black pedestals, atop which perched perfectly round black stones, polished to a mirror finish and eerily reflecting the green light.

Oddly, Dhamon thought, the pedestals and globes looked to be devoid of the stone dust that covered everything else.

The mariner whistled softly. "Now I wonder what all this is about." Forgetting the river and their dire situation for a moment, he padded to the center of the chamber. He stopped halfway, bent, and studied something on the floor. "I bet this isn't part of that dwarven ruins," he mused, his hand stretching out and closing around an object. He brushed the stone dust off, coughed to get Dhamon's attention, and held it up for him to see. It was a skull, human or elven, and a thickly rusted knife with a carved bone handle protruded from the top of it.

"Several more if you want your own souvenir," Rig said. "They all look pretty much like this. Lovely place beneath the mountain." Then he replaced the skull and yawned. "I think we better get out of here."

Rikali slid up to Dhamon and took his hand, interlocking her fingers with his. "I don't see a way out along these walls, and I don't like this place, lover. Shivers dancin' on my back. I want out of here. Place makes me feel… creepy. I want to see the sky. And I so very badly want to sleep. Maybe we better go swimmin' again. Follow the river." Much softer, she added, "Please, just get me outta here."

Dhamon tried to extricate his hand, but she only held it tighter. He returned a gentle squeeze, and listened to the kobold persist in his high-pitched frettings about his hoopak and imminent demise. Then he tugged the half-elf forward, not sure why he felt impelled to investigate this place further rather than returning to the river and leaving.

But there was a prickly feeling at the back of his neck, an unnerving sensation that might cause other men to flee, but that only made Dhamon determined to discover what was causing it.

A scrabbling sound over the rocks indicated Fetch had finally decided to accompany them. "Still have my old man in my pouch," the kobold announced. "The tobacco's worthless, though." He picked it out and tossed it to the floor, adding to the debris.

"You're worthless," Rikali hissed at the kobold. She shuddered when she glanced down at a dozen skulls, all with protruding daggers. A few were small, kender, or perhaps human children. She hoped not children. Although she didn't care for dwarves, she was certain they wouldn't have done this. Not to children. But who would have been capable? "By my breath, that one had to have been a tiny baby." She paused to stare at a particularly tiny skull. "Who could've done such a thing, and why? Who…" She stopped herself. No use asking Dhamon, she decided, he didn't seem in the least bit interested.

Dhamon had stepped away from her, finally extricating his hand, and was climbing the narrow black steps. He glanced only perfunctorily at the pedestals. Standing at the edge of the dais, the green light haloed about him, casting a sickly hue across his skin and making his wet hair look like strands of seaweed. He moved near the center of the dais and stared at the floor. "Odd."