An Archive of Our Own, a project of the
Organization for Transformative Works
There was an entire system of tunnels under the Bulwark. Sydari had found yet another grate at the end of the ash-filled hall directly under the gaols. Another ash cache? The tracks left behind by this infiltrator suggested that she was heading in the right direction. The ceilings in these tunnels were low, very low. Sydari had to crouch to fit through the space. Veleth was right – no one ever came down here. The whole subterranean network was clogged, it restricted how quickly she could move through the labyrinth. Clearly, her infiltrator never expected anyone to get this far. They’d normally be right, but she was the persistent sort. Gold was promised and that was as good a motivator as she could think of.
The cache under the Bulwark led into yet more caves. How extensive is this place? These tunnels were oppressively dark. Up and down could begin to lose meaning. It was humid here; she could hear water running in rivulets down the walls. Sydari was thankful she took that torch from the gaols. It affected her ability to move undetected, but with this level of darkness she’d have to make compromises. No, she needed the light, or she’d never have seen the giant double doors of a Nordic Tomb as they stood before her in the gloom.
Water trickling down the ancient ironwork left behind rusted scars deepened by thousands of years of erosion. Enthir once mentioned the things extended this far east, didn’t he? She touched its surface. Cold, damp. The rust stained her fingers, so she wiped them on her tunic; it was ruined anyway.
