the water, far above, was blindingly orange, as if itself was burning. She could almost make out tongues of flame snaking down from the top of the cistern.
She turned back to the obstruction. There was no way to go but forward. She pushed at it again, feeling her fingers tug on something soft and gooey. It dawned on her that the spider webs that had fallen into the well must have collected at the bend. The mist had said she would need to use what she acquired from the dreams if she wanted to escape.
Well, she had acquired two things: a sword and a necklace. Sara was certain the thing to use now was the sword.
She swung the weapon against the entanglement, struggling against the thickness of the water, but once it connected, the webs parted like butter and the blade sliced easily through the waterlogged mess. She continued slicing through the narrow tube until her arm began to tire, but she finally reached the end of the tangle and slipped easily through the parted, sheer curtain. At last, she was free of the webs and saw that the passage straightened and rose upwards.
Sara’s lungs were beginning to burn as she kicked furiously higher, the light diminishing somewhat now that she had passed out of view of the fire. After ascending what felt like at least the same distance as her initial descent, she reached a blank stone wall which blocked the passage. Sara twisted furiously, her hair whipping around as she looked for some other way out. Her chest felt as if were about to explode as she reached her limits of air. She dropped the sword and pushed desperately against the stone with both hands.
It would not budge.
As she shoved at it, her hands brushed against a tiny imperfection in the ceiling. Sara impatiently pushed her floating hair aside and looked closer, feeling it carefully with her fingers. It was a very small, oval indentation recessed into the shape of a rectangle. Sara knew she had only a few more seconds before she began to quench her thirst for air and gulp in the water, becoming a floating skeleton instead of a burning one.
Her mind drifted, a bit foggy, as the lack of oxygen began to affect her reasoning. She had used the sword. It would be no help now. What else? The ring! God yes, the ring.
Trembling, Sara pulled the chain over her head, fumbling a bit to get the circle situated between her fingers, and then pressed the opal into the oval hole, the rectangular setting fitting perfectly into the remainder of the notch. Now what? She rotated the ring slightly and heard a loud, groaning sound. Then, the ceiling slid back and she burst through the well into a stone room identical to the last, except that it was empty and lit by open cathedral windows with sunlight streaming in.
Sara dragged herself out of the cistern and lay gasping like a fish on the stone, looking dazedly up at the row of windows encircling the chamber. Then her head fell back and she promptly passed out.
* * * * *
“Sara.”
She opened her eyes, blinking.
“Sara Aster. Awake.”
Sara slowly sat up and felt her dress. It was dry. Her hair was kinked slightly, but it too was no longer wet. She must have been lying here awhile. She glanced over at the low well in the center of the chamber and frowned. The same indistinct mist was floating over it, tethered by the haziness, its eyes, if they could be called eyes, watching her.
She stood up and looked at the figure, her eyes narrowing. “You again,” she said evenly.
The mist undulated, saying nothing.
Sara got to her feet and put her hands to her hips, her lips pursed. She could feel anger and resentment building within her. She was still imprisoned in a stone room. This was preposterous. She had had enough.
“Now look here,” she said to the shape. “I’ve done every single thing you asked. I looked into the Metus Lacus, the Desiderium Lacus, and escaped the chamber. Now what? May I go? I still have no idea whether this is all some jazi-induced nightmare or whether
She turned back to the obstruction. There was no way to go but forward. She pushed at it again, feeling her fingers tug on something soft and gooey. It dawned on her that the spider webs that had fallen into the well must have collected at the bend. The mist had said she would need to use what she acquired from the dreams if she wanted to escape.
Well, she had acquired two things: a sword and a necklace. Sara was certain the thing to use now was the sword.
She swung the weapon against the entanglement, struggling against the thickness of the water, but once it connected, the webs parted like butter and the blade sliced easily through the waterlogged mess. She continued slicing through the narrow tube until her arm began to tire, but she finally reached the end of the tangle and slipped easily through the parted, sheer curtain. At last, she was free of the webs and saw that the passage straightened and rose upwards.
Sara’s lungs were beginning to burn as she kicked furiously higher, the light diminishing somewhat now that she had passed out of view of the fire. After ascending what felt like at least the same distance as her initial descent, she reached a blank stone wall which blocked the passage. Sara twisted furiously, her hair whipping around as she looked for some other way out. Her chest felt as if were about to explode as she reached her limits of air. She dropped the sword and pushed desperately against the stone with both hands.
It would not budge.
As she shoved at it, her hands brushed against a tiny imperfection in the ceiling. Sara impatiently pushed her floating hair aside and looked closer, feeling it carefully with her fingers. It was a very small, oval indentation recessed into the shape of a rectangle. Sara knew she had only a few more seconds before she began to quench her thirst for air and gulp in the water, becoming a floating skeleton instead of a burning one.
Her mind drifted, a bit foggy, as the lack of oxygen began to affect her reasoning. She had used the sword. It would be no help now. What else? The ring! God yes, the ring.
Trembling, Sara pulled the chain over her head, fumbling a bit to get the circle situated between her fingers, and then pressed the opal into the oval hole, the rectangular setting fitting perfectly into the remainder of the notch. Now what? She rotated the ring slightly and heard a loud, groaning sound. Then, the ceiling slid back and she burst through the well into a stone room identical to the last, except that it was empty and lit by open cathedral windows with sunlight streaming in.
Sara dragged herself out of the cistern and lay gasping like a fish on the stone, looking dazedly up at the row of windows encircling the chamber. Then her head fell back and she promptly passed out.
* * * * *
“Sara.”
She opened her eyes, blinking.
“Sara Aster. Awake.”
Sara slowly sat up and felt her dress. It was dry. Her hair was kinked slightly, but it too was no longer wet. She must have been lying here awhile. She glanced over at the low well in the center of the chamber and frowned. The same indistinct mist was floating over it, tethered by the haziness, its eyes, if they could be called eyes, watching her.
She stood up and looked at the figure, her eyes narrowing. “You again,” she said evenly.
The mist undulated, saying nothing.
Sara got to her feet and put her hands to her hips, her lips pursed. She could feel anger and resentment building within her. She was still imprisoned in a stone room. This was preposterous. She had had enough.
“Now look here,” she said to the shape. “I’ve done every single thing you asked. I looked into the Metus Lacus, the Desiderium Lacus, and escaped the chamber. Now what? May I go? I still have no idea whether this is all some jazi-induced nightmare or whether
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