Elfborn: The Quest

Icy Rescue

Swinging out into the darkness, Lash eased his way down the rocky face of the crevice wall as he stared down into the belly of the crevice, his Elfborn vision barely able to penetrate the chilly murk. The rope buzzed hoarsely in his gloved hands as it slipped by with each bounce backward and down into the darkness, a captured hornet that promised pain if he let it go. And his boots grunted with each impact on the sharp edged stone wall, the thick leather soles protesting raspily as they ground against jagged shards and roughly chiseled surfaces.

Still, after several moments of carefully repelling down, Lash couldn't determine whether he was any closer to the bottom of the chasm than he was when he started, the murk almost impenetrable now that he was well out of the dim light of the night sky above, and the guttering flame of Garrett's storm lantern.

Gritting his teeth in frustration, Lash slowed his descent as his mind worked. 'It's too bad Ithus hasn't bothered teaching me any real magic beyond those healing runes,' he silently groused. 'A spell to light up this chasm would be handy right about now!' He fought off a sigh as his frustration continued to grow in the realization of how powerless he currently was.

Then he gave himself a shake. Hanging there, filled with pity and frustration wasn't going to do Kenneth any good. He had to come up with a plan and quick, if the other knight was to survive!

Without Ithus, he would have to rely on more mundane methods of solving the problem of the pervasive darkness. 'The only way that I can see to do that is if I manage to somehow light one of these extra torches I brought in my rescue backpack,' he concluded after a moment of thought.

Of course that solution, in itself, presented certain difficulties. One crucial problem being that he was currently sliding down a rope with both his hands in use! But a solution presented itself when he accidentally let his lower hand, which was governing the amount of rope that was sliding around his backside, get a little close to his body.

With a flare of pain, it jammed between his buttock and the rope, nearly jerking him to a halt before flipping him over and off the rope. Hastily Lash pulled his hand free to let the rope continue feeding out as it had been, continuing his descent without spilling him roughly to the ground. However, the incident was enough to get the wheels in his brain spinning.

If he was able to put his clenched fist against his body slowly enough, it could act as first a brake, then perhaps even a hold, allowing him to free his other hand to hunt for the torch and his tinder box. It was chancy and Lash didn't know for sure if it would work but, considering the alternative, it was the best he could do.

Carefully he slid his bottom hand closer and closer until, with a jerk of the partially frozen rope, it slammed into his leg and backside. Quickly he leaned back to counter the force that threatened to dump him last time and found himself braced in space, the rope trembling as it stiffly held his weight.

Silently hoping Garrett would continue to hold him despite all these new maneuvers and jerking on the line, Lash quickly but carefully reached back with his top hand to draw one of the spare torches from his backpack. Then, holding it between his legs, he fished out his tinderbox and, bracing it against the inside of his thigh, he struck a small flame.

Teeth grit with the effort of precariously balancing while retrieving the torch, Lash lit the tar-soaked cloth wrapped around the torch's crown. He waited until the flames were dancing high before he let it drop. He then hastily returned the tinder box to his pack before looking down, ready to continue his descent.

And immediately groaned out loud in frustration as he watched the torch tumble the last few metres to hit the ground with a shower of sparks. Ten more metres down. Compared to the distance he had already dropped, it was a pitance.