Eva and Talus descended deeper into the Abyss, level by level, bridge by bridge. Fires still burned in the camps, but there was no sign of the goblins anywhere. A deathly hush had fallen over the place—even the moans of the spectres were gone.
Below, were no more bridges or even ledges. Still the chasm reached down endlessly. If only they had wings like Apollyon. Perhaps they could make gliders, though nothing nearby looked suitable. It wasn’t a comforting thought anyway.
A barely noticeable fracture in the rock wall caught Eva’s attention. Marks where crude tools had cut into the softer rock surrounded it.
“Torch,” said Talus, making his way back to the nearest camp. They returned to the entrance, each carrying a torch in one hand and their weapon in the other.
The goblins had burrowed tunnels deep into the rock, winding their way into the depths of the earth. The tunnel opened into a chamber with a platform, picks leaning against the walls, and wooden stairs leading downward.
They descended the stairs and passed through a door into another winding passage. After a short distance, it forked in two.
“We go left,” said Eva.
Talus reached into his satchel, took out a piece of charcoal, and marked an arrow on the wall. Eva was impressed. He seemed to have thought of everything.
On they went, passing one fork, then another. Talus marked each one. Then the tunnel ended abruptly. Only the sound of their breathing and the nearby drip of water broke the silence.
They retraced their steps until they reached the charcoal mark on the wall. This time they went right. Talus marked this passage as well.
The passage continued downward for some time, meandering left and right, sometimes seeming to loop back on itself. The air grew stifling. Dark fungus clung to the walls. Eva thought she heard muttering.
Vermin scurried underfoot. Rats. No. Real rats. Eva wondered whether Talus had a word for them. She didn’t ask.
They reached another fork and went left. The passage took a sharp turn and began to climb. It was hard to breathe. Smoke clung to the ceiling. Talus glanced at Eva.
“We keep going,” she said.
Words broke the silence, guttural and beyond recognition. Yet echoing, almost in mockery, the speech of men, giants, and satyrs. Talus stopped and motioned to Eva. A hollow opened just beyond the flickering edge of their torchlight. Eyes gleamed from within. Eva tightened her grip on her sword.
They inched forward, hugging the far wall. Talus’s hooves made scarcely a sound against the stone.
Eyes turned toward them. Eva tensed, drawing a deep breath. Then he appeared. Barely half her height. Dirty face. Wide eyes. His eyes followed them as they passed, but he never said a word.
A brood hollow? The thought had never even occurred to her. Talus didn’t seem to be surprised at all.
On they continued until they reached another fork. But it was already marked. Talus stared at it for a long moment. Then they headed right.
They passed another brood hollow, then a guarded sleeping pit. Cries rang out, but the goblins made no move to attack. They only gibbered in fear and cowered in the shadows.
When they rounded a bend, the tunnel ended at a gate frame. Eva peered through cautiously. It was the first glimpse of imposed order. A room had been hewn from stone as if by a mason, with a platform large enough to hold files of armed creatures.
