The descending pit in front of the band was cleansed of shadows; only the green flame and the green light emitting from it covered the rocks. It was evident that no life escaped from it, as hundreds of charred bones slept peacefully for eternity in the flame.
Deron kept staring, his face carried an expression of mixed surprise and confusion.
The voice was right, it is a chasm with flame.
He thought. This chasm had no place to step. The flames danced everywhere and reached the top, almost touching the roof.
Ryne stepped forward and stood on the edge. His eyes darted around the pit to look for a way. A faint shadow of a tunnel mouth stood on the other side. But before he could move forward and focus on it, the green flame shifted and burned high. Ryne was forced to step back in fear. His breath grew uncontrollable.
One of the bandits beside Deron quickly took a used ball of bandage, with an exhale, he extended his arm back and threw it into the pit.
The ruined bandage landed near the flame, and at the faint touch of flame, it scattered into the air as ash without ember.
Defeated sighs echoed in the tunnel.
There was no way to cross the chasm without being burned. However, Deron didn't even know if the flames burned since coldness surrounded them. After a minute, he gave up as it was impossible to cross without being affected.
Pathetic, you gave up just like that. You couldn't even find a way to your goal.
Uninvited insults hurled inside his mind as Deron gritted his fangs.
If your useless flesh of a brain can't think of anything, follow my lead and learn.
Deron rolled his eyes as the voice kept humiliating him, but it was willing to help. So he stood in patience waiting for its words.
Look carefully, gladiator. The flames are dancing around freely; it means there is a narrow space somewhere.
Deron looked at the right and left walls of the pit, and indeed, the flames did not touch the walls completely; there was a tiny gap. It was enough to pass through one at a time. Otherwise, there was no other way.
Deron took a second look at the roof. The flames raged unequally and made flight impossible. If they were caught by a stray flame that decided to advance toward them, all of them would die. Not to mention, they had to carry Neg and another bandit, both of whom had no wings.
What? Are you scared? How strong is your will to reach your goal?
Deron shrugged off the voice and kept looking for another way, the floor, the previous turnings they missed. But it was fruitless; only two paths led them to the chapel. One was above the ground. He smacked his lips.
Tsk-Tsk.
Deron decided to follow the voice and turned toward his band to speak.
"I know a way."
His words caught everyone's attention; all of them focused their gaze on Deron.
"There is a narrow gap along the wall, enough to fit one fiend at a time; We'll need to leave our bags… and climb using picks. Flying is too risky."
Everyone except Neg exchanged glances. Ryne looked back at Deron and spoke.
"Do you hear yourself? We will die if we climb."
However, Deron snapped back.
"What do you suggest?"
Ryne opened his mouth to speak, but stopped; the silence echoed as he stood motionless.
"Speak, Leader! Aren't you the one who promised to take us to the gold?"
By now, Ryne's horns were glowing faint orange, his eyes locked with Deron's. But he did not speak.
"If you want to stay here and rot, be my guest. I am crossing this pit." His voice, mixed with courage and foolishness, echoed in the tunnel. Everybody looked at him as if they were seeing a new Deron.
Neg stood up and approached him. Her voice was calm as she spoke.
"Lead the way."
Deron looked at her for a moment and then looked back at the band and spoke.
"Take the picks and ropes, take whatever is important and leave the rest here."
With a soft rustle, Deron unstrapped his bag and pulled out a pair of pickaxes and rope. He called out to his band and asked them to focus on the way he tied the knot. He carefully tied one knot around his waist and one knot to the pickaxe.
Everyone else followed his directions and did the same. Even though Ryne stood with his arms crossed for a moment, he too followed Deron after a while. Who can resist the pull of greed after all?
With that, everyone stood before Deron with ropes around their waist and an extension tied around their picks. He moved toward the right corner of the broken tunnel edge. He sighed and struck his right pick into the wall beside the edge. With a few strong pulls, he tested the strength of the pickaxe. It lodged deep in the wall.
Deron grunted as he launched his body into the pit while holding onto the pick. For a moment, he swayed above the pit, but he quickly struck another pick. Deron did not stop; he pulled his left pick and extended his arm. After a moment, he struck the left pick half a meter away.
Following Deron, Neg also struck her picks and moved; her wooden leg was sturdy and supported her climb. Soon, everyone else followed.
Carefully, they scaled the right wall of the pit. Deron and the others were practically leaning their bodies against the wall. As the fire danced barely a meter behind them. Finally, they reached the gap, which had a narrow hole in the natural rock pillar. If they managed to cross this hole, they would be near the broken sewer entrance.
Hoarse breaths echoed behind Deron, and by now, everyone sounded like a pack mule. Even Deron felt his arms and shoulders exploding with pain. Every ligament and fibre in his arms burned.
His breath also raced, and it was clear his stamina was nearing its limit. Deron exhaled and took a clear look at the hole. The natural stone pillar was not thick; however, he could rest on the hole for a few minutes.
But first, he had to gain a footing, and it looked impossible as there were jagged rocks at the bottom of the narrow hole. Deron unhooked his right pick and swung back and forth with his left pick.
After gaining momentum, Deron was able to reach the hole and gain a footing. But jagged rocks also scraped through his leather boots. He grimaced as a rock tore the leather and made him bleed a little. He gritted his teeth and kept his footing and finally balanced on the hole.
Deron groaned as he unhooked his left pick and stood there for a few moments. He gradually regained his breath and finally steadied his breathing.
Each moment passed like a flash as he rested; he could see that other bandits grew tired while he rested. If he wanted to get that gold, he had to let them rest, too.
After a moment of finally gaining his strength, he reluctantly leaned forward and struck a pick on the wall in front of the hole. With a groan, he let go of his footing and swung forward. Finally, he lodged the other pick into the wall.
Deron could hear a sigh of relief behind the hole.
It was his mate, and she looked calm now. He gestured for her to move forward with his head.
Unlike before, each second stretched like an eternity as he watched her gain footing on the hole. She struggled for a while, but finally gained a footing and stood in relief for a few minutes.
But every good thing has to come to an end, so she gently leaned forward and hooked her pick. With a gentle motion, she moved toward Deron with her foot near the edge.
Surprisingly, her wooden leg was holding well. It was a miracle that it didn't snap by now. Neg leaned and swung forward.
However, her wooden foot slipped, and she lost her hold on the pick and was about to plummet down. Deron shot his arm forward in tension to catch her arm, but failed.
She closed her eyes and accepted her fate, but the rope tied to the pick and around her waist held her tight. She dangled on the rope above the flame like meat suspended above a furnace.
Her face lost its colour as the fear took over; if the pick lost its hold, she would turn into ash instantly. Deron descended toward her with the help of his pick and extended his arm.
Neg used her legs to push herself toward him. Deron held on to his rope with one hand and tried to catch her waving arm. He leaned toward her and tried to extend his arm a bit further. With a slap, she finally reached his arm and held it. A sigh of relief escaped from both.
Without wasting any time, Deron gently held her arm and helped her climb back to the pick.
But underneath his calm face.
Lose the dead weight! Do you want to die with her?
Deron hesitated for a moment as his arms felt numb. The pressure of holding on to picks and ropes for hours had taken its toll on his body. By now, his arms felt as if they were made of wet cloth. Sweat drenched his back as he supported his mate's weight, too. As the wall was too smooth to climb.
Is your brain half eaten? Lose her! There is no guarantee that you all will stay alive, so what happens if she dies here?
Deron gritted his teeth as he ignored the voice and kept guiding her toward the pickaxe she had lodged into the wall. With each second, his shoulders grew shaky. His arms trembled under both of their weight.
I am asking you again, gladiator. How strong is your will?
Instead of answering, Deron finally made her reach the pick. He looked at his mate and nodded. She looked at him and gave a faint smile and nodded, but he did not return it. His breath grew heavier than the rest.
He knew the voice was right; if he went to great extremes to help others, he would definitely die before they did. In such grave situations, the only thing that mattered was his survival unless the person in danger was useful. He had to act fast and look out for himself instead of helping, especially when it's the consequence of the others'.
With that, Deron and Neg moved toward the entrance. The picks struck the rock, making cracking sounds as they kept moving. Deron looked back and noticed Ryne passed the hole. Only two others remained.
But before they could pass the hole, the last bandit's pick snapped in half, and he only had one pick to carry him. The bandit in front of him decided to help him, and they both moved toward the hole slowly. But a crack echoed in the pit from the roof.
Something on the roof cracked. The crack spread, and a huge rock tumbled down into the flame. The restless flame turned violent as the rock fell into it, and it danced violently.
The next second, a whip of fire crashed into the two bandits and turned them both into ash in a second. Even before their screams could escape, their faces froze in fear, and their flesh scattered into the air as ash. Only their charred bones clung to their charred pickaxes. The rope connecting them to their pickaxe turned into ash before them.
Metal picks in their hands cracked and turned into ash; the skeletons of their former band members plummeted into the flame.
The rest of the band reached the entrance on the opposite side and sat on the floor. The three survivors avoided each other's eyes and let the silence stretch.
Deron knew that if he repeated his action. He might be the next one to scatter. He stared into the green-lit tunnel stretching into darkness. The gold awaited them.