Sunken Treasure

By Fippy

(Authors Note: This piece is in fact one of a series of episodes. Whilst it could and should stand on its own merits, please remember that much is explained in what goes before and after this story.)

Of tunnels and waterways far from the sun...

I laughed as the mildewed skeleton dropped out of the darkness, leering at us. My guide did not see the funny side. Yelling fearfully, he began to retreat, fell backwards into the water and cowered there, hands before his face, warding off the imminent attack from the skeleton. My laughter sounded mocking and sinister as it echoed along the sewer. I thrust forward my firebug lantern to illuminate the inert skeleton that hung from a root breaking through the stone roof. I gave my guide a kick not hard.

"Look, you dimwit. Its dead." I chided. The man peered between his hands, eyes wide. "It just fell through the roof." I continued. "It's not going to hurt. You're a spineless idiot for a bargee. I thought you lot lived your lives in the rivers and sewers?" I shone the lantern in his face.

The fat man got awkwardly to his feet, still peering nervously past me at the hanging bones. "We do," he croaked, "but it ain't natural to share tunnels with the dead."

I snorted contempt. "It's just a load of bones. Probably been here for a century or more." I looked mischievously at the near-toothless skull and green bones. "Who knows, it may be an ancestor of yours, who lost his way in the dark."

Laughing again, I smashed the skeleton aside, sending bones flying in all directions. I couldn't resist giving the skull a good, hard kick. It bounced down the sewer, sending a rat scurrying for cover. "Now come on, you told me you knew where that barge lay and we've been down here for hours."

"Gold river'll be just up ahead." the bargee announced. "Then it'll be just a wee boat trip to the downpipe." He kicked a rat that was investigating his boot.

I led the way in silence, lantern held high in the hope of avoiding further scares to my guide. The firebug hummed inside its cage, and the light flickered now and then as it moved about. For the umpteenth time I wished that the bug would give off heat as well as light. A chill wind blew along the sewer, cutting through my heavy jacket. I could live with the stench, but I do love to be warm and snug. The Master always mocked me for it. With a curse, I dodged a sudden inflow from a side pipe.

A few bends further on, the pipe emerged into a low, arched tunnel four man heights across but less than a man high. Gold river was aptly named. Its surface was a ruddy-brown colour, flowing slowly from an archway in the left-hand wall and turning in a lazy bend away to the right. The water was opaque as though heavily laden with mud and silt, and the stench of sewerage had been replaced with a sharp, metallic smell.

The lantern-light barely illuminated the far bank, where a low flat barge lay tied to a stanchion. Beyond, a set of worn steps led up out of the low tunnel. A narrow path ran along both sides of the river, just inches wide and inches above the level of the water. Brown deposits told me that the path was often flooded.

The bargee pointed upstream. "Back towards the mines," he explained. "To the river via Market Square sump.", he pointed downstream, where the tunnel curved away. "Up to Pudge Street." He indicated the stairs opposite. He seemed proud to map our position to the bustling streets above us. I watched the bargee fish a length of rope from the water. As he pulled, I saw that it ran across to the boat. When the slack had taken up, the rope slipped the special knot on the other side and the barge floated free. His thick, muscly arms hauled it over, against the slow but persistent current.

It looked to me as if the small boat would sink under my slight weight, let alone the huge bargee, but the things were built to carry huge loads and were remarkably stable. With a practised knack, the bargee stepped across, distributing his weight in the centre, and extended his hand to me. Once I was aboard, he coiled the rope and the barge floated out into the main stream. He sat down, took up a short pole and began to punt from a sitting position, the roof being too low to stand. The barge leant precariously with each thrust.

Me, I sat perfectly still, unwilling to rock the boat and dunk us into that golden, icy, water. The tiled roof lay a couple of feet above ours heads, making me wonder how they travelled the river when it flooded. The tiles above were devoid of the weeds growing along the walls at the water's edge. Did they scrub them to avoid clogging? The lantern cast long, deformed, shadowy copies of us across the arced ceiling. Curious that I am, I wondered what would happen if we met traffic in the narrow, low tunnel, but our only visitors were rats scurrying along the side paths. Within moments the bargee steered left at a crossways, away from the main flow and towards a landing stage.

The perils of steps that lead down...

It was good to be back on firm ground. I held the lantern while the bargee stepped out and moored the barge to a wooden peg. Who was responsible for keeping track of the barges in this labyrinth of sewers and pipes? Not that I cared, just so long as they were there when we needed one. Instead, I turned my attention to the tunnel leading away from the river. It was dry, more an inspection-way than a sewer. Inside, stone steps ascended and descended. "Up or down?" I asked, voice echoing.

"Down." the echoes replied.

We descended the worn, cracked steps in single file, and there was barely enough room at each landing to turn for the next stairs. A warm breeze blew up from the depths. It smelt of death and decay. I was barely conscious of it, but it made the bargee even more twitchy. Some of the landings bore tunnels heading into the gloom. Several flights down, the bargee tapped my shoulder and pointed down the musty tunnel. "Here."

How did he tell them apart? He couldn't have travelled every one of the hundreds of miles of pipes and tunnels beneath Necros? Did bargees make maps, or did they hold their incredible knowledge in their head, passed from father to son? Whatever, I was glad to have the guide along. I could have wandered down here for ever, alone, with no hope of locating the barge.

I became aware of rushing water, somewhere ahead - not the trickle of a sewer inlet, but a full scale torrent. I knew that sound carried a long way underground. The bargee urged me on. "The downpipe." he said without explanation. We seemed to be getting somewhere at last.

Famous last words! A rockfall brought us up short at a crossway. The bargee swore, stood with hands on well-built hips and surveyed the rubble. He harumphed and he cursed and he tried to move the rocks - all to no avail.

"So?" I said. "We can go around, can't we?" I swung the lantern from one tunnel mouth to another.

"If we must." The fat man looked spooked, eyes wide and flitting from side to side, his vast stomach quivering with rapid breathing.

I shot him my best pitying glance. His edginess was becoming tiresome. "Which way?" I asked. The bargee pointed past me. Five paces down the new tunnel, I realised that he wasn't following. In the flickering lantern-light, I could see him back at the crossway, squirming, afraid to follow, afraid of being alone in the dark. "Come on!" I called. "No join, no coin. No way, no pay." Then I turned and moved on, stepping up the pace. Sure enough the fat man came scampering after, muttering and grumbling. I chuckled, but that only upset him more, so I shut up.

Of Bones with a purpose...

The sound of rushing water was louder, and so was the smell of death. The tunnel came to an abrupt end, as though unfinished. It certainly led nowhere, unless one counted the large hole smashed in the end, leading to a rough space beyond. Unafraid, I stuck my head in, lantern held high. Catacombs! Could this be the source of the man's fears? The dry smell of decay assaulted my nose. On both sides the tunnel walls opened into niches where coffins lay, some solid, most rotten and collapsed. Bones and rags hung from the coffin remains, and littered the floor. I turned back to the bargee, whose wide eyes flicked nervously between me and the hole. "How far do these catacombs go?" I asked.

He swallowed hard before answering. "They're huge, but we only have to cross this one chamber." His eyes flicked back to the hole. "Then there's another hole back to the pipes."

"You've been this way before?" I asked. The only reply was a hurried nod. "So what's the problem? You're alive aren't you?"

"It's unlucky to walk the homes of the dead." the Bargee pleaded.

"Utter Rot! I do so most evenings and I'm one of the luckiest men in Necros." That was true actually, but I doubted that it carried much weight with him. Neither did my wicked grin. There was only one motivation he would understand. "Remember you get to keep half the jewels from the barge, but my generosity decreases with every minute we dally."

Oh, the torment on his face! How can a man choose between treasure and his worst nightmare? I resisted laughing at his discomfort. I had anticipated this to be a boring excursion, but it was having its moments. At last he gave in, and we scrambled into the parched atmosphere of the catacombs. He edged so close to me that I could feel the sweat through his clothing. "Lighten up." I told him. "Don't disturb them, they won't bother with you." That was a bit of a fib, but it seemed to reassure him.

As before, I led the way and he kept right on my heels. The hallway opened out into a central, domed mausoleum filled with musty stone vaults and coffins, some intact, but most shattered. I could hear his breath catch whenever the light picked out a skeleton upon the dusty floor. It was clear to me from the layers of dust that it hadn't moved in many a decade, but I doubt that my guide thought that logically. The dome was impressive. I wondered how many topsiders knew that such a huge boneyard lay under their feet. Where were we? I wanted come back here later for a snoop, a chat with the dead, that sort of thing.

A dozen hallways extended from the domed chamber. The bargee directed me to a specific one, in an awed whisper. It was so peaceful here - not a single sound filtered down from the outside world. On the odd ocassion that we paused, I strained to hear the sound of rushing water somewhere in the distance. We had barely stepped into the new hallway when they came upon us. Our only warning was a loud clatter, the rattle of bones, as all around us the dead rose from their coffins, and from the floor. With surprising speed, they smashed their way through wood, fell from niches, one even emerged from a hole in the ground. Those who haven't seen animated skeletons are usually amazed by their speed and the unearthly way they coalesce from bones scattered wide. Many of our foes were headless, as they clawed and reached for us.

The bargee let out a long wail and turned to flee. Don't be fooled into thinking skeletons have no substance, since they can smash you apart with bone clubs. The bargee took such a blow in the midriff and doubled up onto the floor. Like a mad, grinning horde, the skeletons set about kicking the life out of him. His screams and yells punctuated the constant clacking and rattling of bones. I can hold my own against skellywags, but I had to find a way to help him. These had a purpose - I could all but smell guard-sorcery. I stuck my hand into one of them and gripped his rib-cage. Ancient bones are very light, and despite my slight build, I found it easy to lift the skeleton right off the ground. I swung it back against his fellows, sending them smashing to the wall in a pile of legs, arms and ribs. That wouldn't stop them for long. As they re-grouped and separated out their limbs, I ran for a gap and leapt clear.

"Cover your eyes!" I yelled to the bargee, but my warning was unnecessary, he lay in a foetal position, hands sheltering his head as they pummelled him with thigh bones. I had a perfect shot down the length of the hallway. Drawing the wand of petrified wood from my belt, I took aim and spoke the activation word. The Rod of Shattering works every time. No pyrotechnics, no noise or flashy bits, only pure destruction! Throughout the hallway, bones exploded, sending myriads of tiny fragments cascading through the air. I felt many of them hit my clothes, or scratch exposed flesh.

The silence lasted several heartbeats, until the bargee's whimpering began again. He was buried in bone fragments. I crunched over to him and pulled him to his feet. "You look shattered!" I quipped, and grinned widely. He gave a groan of pain in reply.

"What happened to them?" he asked, peering nervously into the darkness at the devastation around us.

I retrieved the firebug lantern from where I had dropped it, and showed him the Rod. I don't think he believed me when I explained its purpose, even though we were ankle deep in the evidence.

Of denizens of the deep, you'd most hate to meet...

Then came the grunting out of the darkness. I raised the lantern and the bargee gave a frightened yelp at their approach from both sides.

"Ghouls" I murmured. Damn! We weren't prepared for this. I had no doubts now as to who had laid the guard enchantment on the skeletons. They edged forward until their long knives glinted in the light. I counted four on either side of us. There was no way we could fight them.

"Blast them!" shouted the bargee, voice breaking in fear. He made a grab for the Rod, but I pushed it back in my belt.

"It won't work on them." I told him firmly and grabbed his flailing arms. "Listen..."

He pushed me aside and backed against the wall. Their was madness in his eyes as they searched this way and that. A stake from a rotten coffin made a handy weapon, which he thrust before him. "Come and get me, foul corpses!" he yelled. They entered the light - contrary to popular belief, ghouls don't mind light - and he gave out a horribly anguished scream. I guess he had never seen a ghoul before. The man actually feinted, a grown man like him!

I made no move as they edged closer, no sudden movement that would prompt them to attack. I had been in scrapes with Ghouls before, and had always escaped with my life. My greatest hope lay in the fact that they were Red Ghouls, more intelligent than their common brethren and quite capable with the human tongue. The first leprous arms touched my own, but I didn't flinch. "Take it easy." I spoke clearly and slowly. "I'm not going to resist you. Go easy with those blades."

I let them take the Rod and knife from my belt. "You follow." they ordered, and I could do nothing but obey, making sure that they brought the bargee too. It took three of them to lug him along. It was a short walk through the catacombs and into their lair, which consisted of old tunnels curving deep into the bedrock. The sound of rushing water was closer, and I suspected that they lived close to the downpipe. I tried to peer into every tunnel or cavern that we passed, to make a mental map of their lair, but they led me roughly and their lanterns used the smaller, and less bright, breed of firebug than my own, which they had left behind.

Finally they pushed me into an old dungeon, saled with an iron door. They dropped the bargee onto the dirty pile of straw within, then left us, their rotting fingers taking time to secure the lock. A single lantern hung from the low ceiling, and a bucket of fouled water stood in one corner. They had graciously left us a dead dog for food, but I guess we could go without food for a while! By the time the bargee came to, I had put together the basics of a plan. I really wasn't kidding when I said I was the luckiest man in Necros. The ghouls had unknowingly left in the cell exactly the materials I needed. The only uncertain factor in my plan was when - if ever - they would let us out.

The bargee may be a whimpering coward but he still had some brains. It took him mere moments to assess our situation and join me at the corner furthest from the rotting dog-corpse. He looked less terrified than before, which had a lot to do with being surprised at being alive, I imagine.

"They'll eat us, won't they?" he asked, quietly, unable to disguise the tremor in his voice.

"That's generally what ghouls do." I replied. He rolled his wide eyes. "But it won't come to that." I added.

He looked me in the eyes, then shuddered. "You mean we should kill each other?" he squealed. I knew he hadn't the guts to do that, and stared at him for a long moment.

I gave him a sly wink. "No, I mean that I have a plan to save us." He gave a stunned look. "Yes, everything's going to be alright. We'll be out of here in a couple of days at most." Okay, so I overdid the enthusiasm, but it was worth it to see the hope in his eyes, the calming effect it had on him. Why get the man down? Besides, he would be more useful to me with some confidence than as a wretched wimp.

"How are you going to do it?" he asked a moment later.

"I'm not." I said. "Do you believe in Blood Elementals?"

He frowned. "What are they?"

"Know what a water elemental is?" I asked patiently.

"Of course."

"Its blood brethren is the same, but composed of blood instead of water, and it can grow just as big." Obvious really.

He looked impressed. "And this blood elemental is going to save us? How?"

I grinned widely. "You'll see." This was turning fun again, and I couldn't wait to see the reaction of the ghouls. "Go and carve me some dog, will you?" I asked, with such seriousness that he actually believed me. I chuckled at his shock. "Only joking!" I reassured him. He didn't see the funny side.

The ghouls could return at any time, so I didn't waste time gathering together what I needed. A piece of rotten wood near the door yielded a rusty nail. Though it stank so that I nearly retched, I tore a small piece of skin from the dog, and hurried back to the door where the stench was bearable. As the bargee looked on, fascinated, I ripped the hem of my jacket to reveal some green crystals. The skin fragment was still sticky and pliable from body juices, so I found it easy to wrap some of the crystals inside to make a small packet which I then secured to the nail with another piece of skin. Satisfied, I stashed it away in a pocket.

"Is that what you'll use to summon this blood thing?" the bargee asked. I nodded. It didn't matter that he had put two and two together and got three. As far as he was concerned, that's exactly what the charm was for, though in reality there would be no real blood elemental, just another of my clever tricks. I began to whistle smugly and even thought about getting some sleep.

Of Blood and its uses outside of the body...

I judged it to be two full days before we heard the ghouls at the door. The stench of the corpse was overpowering, forcing us to rip our clothing to provide nose masks. My stomach felt tight from lack of food, and grumbled loudly when I moved. From the look of him, the bargee was suffering worse. A leprous hand thrust a lantern through the open door. In its light we could see half a dozen armed ghouls outside.

"Master want to see you." came a gruff voice, and we were unceremoniously grabbed. I must admit, the news came as some surprise. I almost wished that we weren't planning to escape - it would be interesting to meet a Ghoul Master, but I wasn't that stupid, and the plan stood.

"Remember," I whispered to the bargee as they led us into the tunnels. "I may be occupied, so shout loud when you see the elemental." He nodded excitedly. That was an essential part of the plan. For some worrying moments I doubted my luck, as we were marched through low tunnels with no sight of the cauldron I needed, but at last we turned a corner and there one was, standing in a niche in the tunnel.

For those of you unfamiliar with ghoul culture, Red Ghouls are so named for their obsession with a diet of blood. They drain it from carrion into huge cauldrons standing throughout their lair, leaving it to "season" before drinking. A disgusting habit. As we passed the cauldron, I tossed the nail-charm in, being careful that the ghouls didn't see. I counted the paces to seven and sneaked a glance behind. Sure enough the cauldron had begun to bubble, the first globs of thick red slopping over the sides. Perfect.

I leant across to the bargee and whispered in his ear. Aren't people strange? You tell them not to look behind them and you can guarantee they'll do the opposite. Well, he took one look at the seething cauldron and stammered out a couple of words, which in the enclosed space seemed like a yell. "B...b...blood elemental!"

Now ghouls aren't smart, but they're not stupid, and they didn't like what they saw either. No sooner had they relaxed their grip on my arm than I tore free, yanking the fat man with me. He hesitated, but not for long, not when I let go of him and raced off down the uneven tunnel. Inside three paces I heard him labouring behind me. I darted into the first side tunnel and snatched a firebug lantern from a niche. There was a clamour of cries and grunts behind us, and I wondered how long the ghouls would attack the bubbling cauldron before they realised they had been conned. I wasn't going to stay around long enough for that, and ran ahead to the next intersection, keeping my head low to avoid the rough ceiling.

"Wait!" the bargee called, so I did. He pulled up beside me panting and snuffling. How could someone let themselves get so unfit? I let him take two deep breaths and then pulled him on down the right tunnel. Right is right!

That's when the alarm sounded. The clang of metal on metal echoed around the labyrinth until we could no longer judge the direction of its source. Maybe there was more than one. I heard snarling voices from ahead, so I darted into the first opening we came across, straight into the company of four ghouls.

They were as surprised as we were, and certainly more frightened. I glanced quickly at the great cauldrons of water, the smoky fires with chimneys, the piles of foul-smelling meat. "The kitchen." I said, though I hadn't meant to voice my thoughts. The poor ghoul wenches didn't know what had stumbled into their safe little cave. I brandished the firebug lantern before me and yelled. The noises and gasping-screams of the bargee were equally as menacing, and together we blundered right through the cave unmolested and into the tunnel beyond.

Right, then right, headlong into the earth, then a right, and then a down.... A Down?!

I pitched forward into the dark hole, dropping the lantern in an effort to prevent my fall. I would have done so, had not the bargee blundered right into me and broken my grasp on the rough wall. Together we plummeted. I was more afraid of being crushed under his weight, than the fall itself. Fortunately we fell a mere ten feet. The lantern hit first and bounced to one side. I rolled away on impact, narrowly avoiding being squashed by my huge guide as he hit the ground with a thump. We shuffled round to face each other, spitting dust and blinking furiously. I reached over to retrieve the firebug cage. The bars were bent but it was otherwise intact, though the creature spun round and round, sending angry strobes of orange light about us. It clacked its mandibles and buzzed furiously, so I quickly set the cage the right way up and left it alone to calm down.

The bargee was moaning again. "You said this job would be easy. You didn't say nothing about ghouls and chases, and... and holes."

"Shut up."

"And now we're even deeper underground with no idea of where we are."

I looked at him hard. So much for his natural sense of direction and position. I'd never seen a bargee panic and fret so much, and said so.

"We live on the water." he defended. "We know all the pipes and rivers there. We don't know this deep down, and we don't venture into the lairs of ghouls." He coughed and hacked. "Apart from anything else, it's so dry down here."

"Do you hear the alarm?" I asked quietly.

"What alarm?" he said.

"Exactly!" There wasn't one, and that was good news. Ghouls have a short attention span and had no doubt forgotten us already. I took up the lantern. The firebug peered at me and clicked his mandibles, but otherwise seemed to be his normal self, so I held him high and looked along the tunnel. There were no openings in sight, but footprints in the dust told me that the ghouls did use this tunnel, but how often I couldn't judge.

"So where are - ?" began the bargee.

"Sssshh!"

"What?"

"Listen!" I said. "And stop moving."

"What?" he said again, annoyed.

Gate crashing a party can lead to a Royal mess...

What a duff bargee I had latched on to. I explained that I could hear water running in the distance. He cocked his ear this way and that and declared that he too could hear it. Frankly, I didn't believe him, but held my tongue. With luck, the tunnel would return us to the waterways, taking us beneath the ghoul lair. As before, I led the way, keeping the pace slow so that he wouldn't complain. Just around the first corner we came across a makeshift wooden door, poorly hung and covered with dry rot. The sound of water came from beyond, yet still distant. We had taken far too long already, what with being captured and everything, and I simply wanted to get to the treasure. With that in mind, I pushed the door and walked inside, coming face to face with half-a-dozen ghouls.

For a long moment we all stared in surprise. My mind raced to find a plan, as I looked from the ghouls to the passage behind them and back again. The bargee blocked my flight back through the door, and he surprised me by not uttering a word. I suspected shock. The largest ghoul wore the charms and necklaces of a chief - largely the mummified organs of dogs, cats and humans no doubt. The two to his left would be his guards - amazing what you can deduce from vicious-looking spears! Behind them stood some old crone of a ghoul that looked two hundred years old if a day, and liable to crumble to dust at any moment. To the chief's right hunched a plump, toothless hag whose hair frizzled in all directions. She held on tightly to a small slip of a girl (ghoul girl of course), barely five feet tall and possessing fiery red hair, unusual for a ghoul. The girl met my gaze without fear but with a sense of longing, and wrinkled her nose before proceeding to look me slowly up and down.

My heart sank. We had blundered right into the royal party and a ghoul princess who had the hots for me! Get yourself out of this one!

We all spoke at once. "We're done for!" squealed the bargee in my ear. "We're ghoul-meat!" "Shut up and let me do the talking!" I rasped back. The guards raised their spears. "No move." they barked. The crone whispered to the Chief. He in turn whispered to the hag. The Princess spoke to her father, without taking her eyes from mine. I couldn't understand her, but her voice was sweet, and her teeth white. Almost unheard of for a ghoul. The bargee whined again. I elbowed him in the stomach.

"You." The Chief's voice cut through all the noise. "Here." he ordered and pointed to the ground at his feet.

My heart said "Run". I had an inkling of my fate and it sent waves of panic out to my body. My mind, always the stronger of the two, told me to get a grip. I swallowed hard, I breathed deep. Again. Then I moved, before he could repeat the order. I gave the lantern to the bargee, moved swiftly before the chief, and knelt at his feet.

There was but one way out of this and I didn't like it. In fact it petrified me. For a moment I actually courted the thought that death may be preferable. It probably would, if death didn't mean being eaten alive by these things.

The chief stamped his feet. I choked in the dust. I forced my mind to focus, as I had been taught. Focus. One wrong expression and it would all be over. I moistened my lips, blew the dust from my face and then raised my head to look up at the Chief. They all loomed above me, even the petite ghoul-girl. As our eyes met, hers laughed at me.

"Much confusion have you made in my home." boomed the Chief. I turned my attention to him. "You trick my people, escape, enter my own chambers with no invite." I tried to look apologetic. The chief's stern expression suddenly sprouted a grin, an horrific black-rotten toothed grin. "You are suitable for hand of my daughter. You are hers."

Just like that! But I knew their ways, and I was going to come out of this smelling of roses, which was more than they did. I stood, slowly, and met his gaze. His breath would have killed a man at twenty paces but I breathed through my mouth and concentrated on maintaining a face of steel.

"I am hers." I agreed. "It is my honour to take her to my bed, and serve her above all other women."

"Whaaaat?" called out the bargee incredulously. I ignored him and watched from eye-corner as the guards moved in on him. He stifled his cry. I turned to the princess and smiled warmly. We looked each other over. She was definitely half-human. Her copper hair would be the envy of many women topside. Her features were not so much ugly as unusual, exotic - she had misshapen ears, her teeth were white but barbed and her nose had only one nostril. Despite her drab, loose clothing, it was obvious she possessed a reasonable figure. She had all the right bits and no extra growths that I could see. I aged her at fifteen.

I know what you're thinking. You think I'm sick, perverted, insane? Maybe, but I've been with worse-looking whores topside. A man could do a lot worse, and she was a princess, though her realm left a lot to be desired.

"Kiss your bride." boomed the Chief. Did I detect a hint of surprise there?

With the briefest of hesitations, I leant across to her. She flashed her fangs in a broad smile. I was relieved to smell perfume, sickly and overdone as it was. There would be time for lessons on making-up later. Her nose wrinkled again - a sexual thing for ghouls, I guess. Our lips met and she definitely took the initiative, thrusting her tongue deep down my throat. I didn't dare reciprocate through fear of her barbed teeth, but the kiss fired up my libido. She was good. We withdrew for breath, then kissed again. I put my arms around her shoulders and she clasped me tightly around my bottom. I relaxed and enjoyed it. I think I heard the bargee retching, and I believe the murmurs about me were appreciative.

We finally separated and I turned back to the Chief, fighting somewhat for air. My mouth tasted of her musky perfume. He grinned again - not at all a pleasant sight. "Wise one." I began. You could never flatter a ghoul too much. I contemplated calling him Dad, now that we were family, but I don't think ghoul dynasties work the same way.

"Your daughter has great beauty." I continued. "This is a great day for me." Yes, lay it on thick. "Yet I beg one small favour. My servant and I came not to invade your home but to seek the falling water, where we have work to be done." I motioned towards the far passage, from whence came the sound of water. "I beg we be allowed to complete our task before I return to take my bride."

He thought it over. Honour and duty were big on a ghoul's agenda, believe it or not. Don't believe every story you hear about ghouls. Repulsive they are (in the main), but trusting also. Surprisingly enough, they rarely lie either, though whether this is due to honour or stupidity is open for discussion.

However, it is not my intention to offer a lecture on ghoul culture, merely to relate my story, so suffice to say that the chief did agree, after much discussion with his ancient advisor, and the princess herself. He warned me against betraying his trust, which I accepted with suitable sincerity and respect. I rather think he believed his jurisdiction ran further than it did. It was unlikely that his guards would hunt me topside, as he threatened, but I knew the ghoul clans operated a mutual extradition policy, which would make my venturing underground hazardous should I forfeit the marriage.

After wearisome discussions I got to kiss my bride once more. To my relief I managed to avoid embracing the hag who in no way could be the mother of the delicate ghoul-girl. My companion, the bargee, was weary too, though happier knowing that we were off the menu. The spear-carrying ghouls gave us escort into the tunnels, leading us towards the sound of running water. I was content to follow in silence, alone with my thoughts. I had entered this labyrinth a brash, daring adventurous youth, and was leaving them betrothed to a ghoul! Only the taste of her sickly perfume reminded me that it was indeed real. Would I return to her when this was over? I wasn't sure. What would you do if you were me?

How greed leads to a sorry ending... and where to hide your jewels...

The sound of water grew louder until we at last emerged at the banks of a swift-flowing river, much like the first we had ridden, but clearer and fresher. Our escort waved their spears at us then slunk back into the darkness. Was that a last sign of warning for me to return, or a mark of respect for their new Prince? I laughed aloud, and turned to the bargee. "Your territory, friend." I said gaily.

He stared at me with narrowed eyes and guarded expression. Frankly, I didn't care what he thought, as long as he knew where we were going.

"That way?" I asked, gesturing down river. He nodded, took the lantern and led us along the narrow walkway, surprisingly agile-footed on the wet stones. In moments we stood on the edge of a precipice, the river plunging into the abyss. The sound was thunderous, a constant roaring and gurgling. From the edge, with the lantern held at arms length, I looked into the depths and marvelled at the downpipe. The river and four other pipes, each man-height, emptied into a near-cylindrical hole carved into the rock. White waters swirled and churned thirty feet below, but the depth of the water was anybody's guess. At the waterline, a series of pipes carried the water away to who knows where.

"There! Over there." the bargee was shouting and pointing to one of those horizontal pipes right below us. I saw what I took to be a mound of driftwood choking the pipe entrance, but then I realised that I was looking upon the barge, battered but intact and somehow jammed into the entrance. Our destination at last, but how to reach it? The bargee had the answer. He edged around to a rusty iron ladder pinned to the wall and descending into the maelstrom below.

"You're mad!" I yelled at him, but he either didn't hear or didn't want to. He clambered cautiously onto the first rung, tested it with his weight, and began down. Cursing, I moved round to the ladder It looked hellishly slippery and ready to break at a moments notice, yet it held the bargee's weight.

Who on earth built this thing? I mused as I fastened the lantern to my belts. Who and why? I stepped oh-so-slowly onto the ladder, and hung over the torrent below. What did the downpipe do? Where did the water go? I started down. How did they persuade anyone to construct a ladder in such a hellhole? Down a step. Why had the barge plunged into the downpipe? Another. My foot slipped and I grasped the rung furiously with both hands, heart racing. It took an age to regain my footing, and I banished further questions in favour of concentrating on the descent.

By the time I had reached the bottom, the bargee had jumped the few feet to the barge and was standing atop the ripped deck, impervious to the waves crashing around him and the spray soaking us. I wasn't going to let any fat man better me, so I jumped to join him. The barge was wedged tightly into the pipe, held by great iron hoops that rose from the deck, reaching from port to starboard at chest height. The tarpaulin had long since washed away, and it was like looking into the rib-cage of some long-dead sea serpent. For the most part, the waves surged under the deck and into the pipe, allowing us to move along the deck unhampered to the great iron chests chained to the deck.

The bargee rubbed his hands gleefully and made straight for the nearest. I grabbed his arm, put my face next to his and yelled. "All you want, but the ring with the black cube is mine." I shook him until he nodded, then let him go.

He squatted beside the coffer and pulled a wad of cloth from his belt, from which he unwrapped a set of fine-edged tools. With his legs astride the chest, he set to picking the huge padlock. A freak wave swept across the deck, saturating us, yet he continued undaunted. Copying his lead, I crouched before a smaller coffer and set to work with my own lockpicks. These locks were no problem to an accomplished picker like myself. I had been drenched countless times and was shivering with the cold by the time I had located the ring I had been sent to retrieve. I made to slip the dark shape onto my finger, then thought it better to stash it in my pockets along with other the gems and jewels.

You know, every artifact has a crowd of lurkers. You cannot see them of course - the spirits and night-creatures prefer their own worlds to ours, but they are there. They gather round, seeking warmth from the power of the thing, waiting their turn to reach into our world and draw it back to their own. I believe there came just such an attempt at that moment.

The largest wave of the day smashed over the deck, splintering timbers and shifting the balance. The water snatched the ring from my grasp, then took me too, into the churning water of the downpipe. I thrust my hand after the flying ring, and it appeared to me that I did a slow one-armed dive into the freezing water. I choked and thrashed frantically for the surface. I felt a lump inside my tightly clenched fist. I had caught the ring! Lady Luck, my constant mistress, had dived with me.

Spluttering, I treaded water, utterly alone in the darkness, firebug drowned in the depths. I couldn't see and the noise in my ears deprived me of all clues of my whereabouts with regards to the ladder. I was conscious of the undertow tugging me, and of the weight in my clothes. With my free hand I scooped the gems and stones from my pockets, letting them sink into the darkness. I wondered if the bargee had done likewise, for if not, he would surely drown. I yelled until my throat ached, but to no avail. I heard nothing but the water. I reached around me. The waters pulled me every way at once, and I was as likely to swim into the whirlpool at the centre as I was to find the wall. Of finding the ladder I had no chance. All the time my chilled body grew weaker.

I made a snap decision. I rarely agonised over choices. First, to protect my investment. Being oh-so-careful not to drop it again, I stuffed the ring into my mouth and swallowed hard. I felt the lump go all the way down inside. I would worry about retrieving that later! I took a deep breath, then another, and then the largest my lungs could hold, before swimming deep down, into the clutches of the whirlpool.

I think I lay there in the mud for hours until I fully realised where or even who I was. The sun was sinking low when I eventually stirred, pushing myself up on my elbows. I lay caked in smelly mud, on the spit close to where the Blue River joined the Polomac, in the poorhouse district. I felt as if I had been dredged through hell, then spat out again. My clothes were ripped, my arms and face were scratched and bloody and I felt horribly sick.

As the golden light of the setting sun glinted off the spires and domes of Necros City, I thought of the princess, somewhere down below. I realised that I didn't even know her name, unpronounceable though it would be. Would I go back to her? It might be fun for a while. I smiled to myself and lay back in the slimy mud. That is another story.

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