Room22ab
Jora reaches for the black mirror and the reflective surface rushes over the group. A moment of disorientation and vertigo leaves the group weaving on the edge of disaster on the narrow path.
The mirrors have disappeared as has the black door. There is no way to go back now. Spanning the center of the pit is the promised rope bridge.
The bridge seems too fragile to support a single person, let alone the entire group. The wooden slats making up the path are cracked and covered with moss. Insects burrow into the ropes supporting the bridge and crawl along the planks.
“There is no way we’re going to cross that thing,” Lamia says.
“We don’t have a choice,” Jora says.
“But it’s rotting,” Conrad argues.
“We could fall,” Safir says.
“Shut up, all of you.”
Jora’s eyes blaze at each in turn, silencing dissent.
“We made a choice. If we don’t follow the rules we’ll never be allowed to exit this room.
“Look, we can do this. Conrad and I have run the three-legged race before; this is the same principle. We just have to link together and act as one. Everybody link arms.’
Jora holds out his arms and first Safir and then Lamia link their arms with his. After a moment, Conrad joins the tight huddle, linking arms with the girls.
“Trust me,” Jora says. “If everyone moves when I tell them and follows my lead, we’ll be across this in no time.”
Three very nervous people nod their acceptance of his leadership and Jora gives them his most winning smile.
“On three, everyone step toward the bridge. One. Two. Three. Step!”
The circle of friends moves minutely toward the bridge following the tug of Jora’s arms.
He continues calling cadence and they group moves onto the bridge which bounces and sways with each step.
Dozens of steps later the group stands in the center of the bridge. Below them, the bottomless pit seems to pull at them with each step.
“I think I see something moving down there,” Lamia says, craning her neck to look over the side of the bridge.
“Don’t look down!” Jora doesn’t mean to snap at his friend but his nerves are at the breaking point. “Keep moving. Step!”
The group shuffles toward the ever nearer ledge. The bridge bucks like an untamed horse as they approach. Sweat pours down Jora’s face as he drags the group as fast as they dare move toward the ledge.
Groans and pops surround them as the bridge’s structure begins to visibly fray. Jora’s left foot touches the ledge and then he stands upon solid ground. Three steps later, the rest of the group stands safely on the narrow ledge.
Cheers and whoops echo into the chasm, they made it alive.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jora says.
Conrad reaches for the door and yelps in pain. “It’s still sealed.”
A roaring sound echoes up from the pit. Jora looks over the edge and sees a bright light moving rapidly upward.
A chuffing roar like the sound of the blacksmith’s furnace reaches their ears and the approaching light begins to take on the shape of an enormous creature.
“It’s a demon,” Safir shouts.
Jora draws his sword. He has no clue what good a sword will do against a demon from the pits but he refuses to die without putting up a fight.
He pushes Safir behind him with his free hand and raises his sword as the fiery shape reaches the top of the pit.
The flaming creature smashes through the bridge which bursts into flame and tumbles into the pit. The demon hovers in the air before them. Waves of heat radiate from its form evaporating the sweat which had coated Jora’s face.
“Well done, mortals,” it says. Its voice wavers and is full of crackling sounds as if flame itself were forming words.
Jora’s sword drops slightly.
“You’re not going to kill us?”
“Of course not,” the demon says. “I have been bound with but one duty, to slay those who choose wrongly and to reward those who choose correctly. You, human, have chosen well and shall be rewarded.”
“Um, thanks?”
The demon laughs at Jora’s confusion.
“Hear now the wisdom which I impart. The passage you seek demands a price. Pay the boatman ere you see the other side.”
“That’s it?” Conrad sounds disappointed.
The demon laughs and gouts of flame erupt from its mouth with each guffaw. The netherworld creature flares brightly and vanishes leaving behind nothing except a puff of smoke.
“Pay the boatman,” Jora muses.
Lamia reaches for the handle and turns back to the group with a smile. “No shock, we can get out of here.”
“You defended me,” Safir says in a low voice.
“What?” Jora turns away from the door to face her.
“You placed yourself between the demon and me. That was very brave.”
“It wouldn’t have mattered. That thing would have swatted me like a fly.”
“I don’t care. You’re my hero.” Safir touches the center of Jora’s chest and smiles. A blush creeps onto her cheeks and she removes her hand and pushes past Jora toward the door.
What choice should the adventurers make?