No effort is made to track or locate the escaped prisoners and, as an added bonus, no one thinks to bury the dead goblins either. Our burden miraculously lightened, we make good time toward the tower and camp within a mile of it the next night. In the morning, camp is broken and we hike the last mile to the tower.
The structure appears quite old and is made from irregularly-shaped masonry stones fit together with intention and mortar. Where it might have once been three or four stories, it has crumbled to one and a half, revealing the inside has rotted out and the tower is naught but a shell. A worn and weathered Buknar pine door rests ajar, its hinges long rusted away.
Twitch and Vong sweep the area before the rest of the party approaches, looking for anything that might indicate it’s being used as a hideout by goblins, such as campsites or traps. After a while, we are waived in.
Vong is smiling from ear to ear and I can only guess as to why. He says, “Lots of footprints about but nothing distinct.”
A secluded structure like this is as likely to be used by goblins as farmstead lovers, but I decide not to share my thoughts.
“So, now what?” asks Twitch, darting her eyes around with her entire body.
Something is bothering me about her, but I can’t put my finger on it.
“Let’s check out inside!” Vong declares and walks over to the entryway.
The door presents little challenge for most, but Rakatha and myself find some challenge in squeezing through the narrow gap—the door doesn’t budge at all. I exhale and just barely slide through. From the other side I can see that the stones that once made up the upper floors are largely piled behind the door and whichever ones could be budged already have been.
Rakatha, with all his bulky muscle, is having a harder time than me. After a few attempts to pull himself through, he starts unloading his arsenal and handing his gear through to Apul, piece by piece. After each exchange he attempts the breach again. Finally, dressed down to only his leather trousers and boots, he squeezes through.
As he pants from the effort, Apul stands awkwardly holding out his gear in anticipation of him wanting to re-equip. Instead, Rakatha sits down on a chunk of masonry and gulps mightily from a flask. Perhaps it’s even water. Not sure what to do with himself, Apul just stands there holding the gear out until his arms start to shake and he is forced to let his arms go slack. At about the same time, Rakatha stands again and reaches for his equipment. He doesn’t seek Pil’s help or even seem to notice him trying to but, oblivious to the mounting disrespect, the boy seems unfazed.
While I watch that scene unfold, Twitch locates a hatch in the floor. I’m not so engrossed in the scene between Rakatha and Apul that I don’t hear the discussion leading up to it.
“Pretty busted up in here,” says Vong. “I wonder how many stories it had.”
“Enough,” snarks Twitch, rummaging through the rubble.
“It had to have been higher than the trees or else what good is a tower, yeah?” continues Vong. “Here, let me help you move that.”
I hear grunting and the sound of stone against stone.
“Ouch!” screeches Twitch almost in unison with the sound of a stone crashing to the floor.
“Did that get your toe?” asks Vong, earnest concern gushing through his words.
“No, I—I banged my heel against a thing back here and it smarts somethin’ fierce!”
“Here, let me get you a—oh hey, cool! A trap door!” exclaims Vong.
“How’d I not see that?” remarks Twitch, sheepishly.
I look over at the pair of clumsy fools. Twitch is balancing on one leg, knee-high boot in one hand, rubbing her unshod heel with the other. Vong is kneeling on the ground behind some fallen stones and looks like he just received an Inter Eve gift.
Ralith is watching the scene almost as passively as myself. Has even he tired of the constant antics? He’s quite young to be so jaded.
The party gathers in the back of the tower by the staircase that still stands—it’s complete enough to reach the next level, at least. In plain view, in the common place for such a thing, is a cellar door. It is not made of Buknar pine, so it has fared far less well than the front door. Yet it still covers the hatch, though falling debris, weather, time, and insects have turned it motley. A stone staircase can be seen through the holes in the hatch but it quickly descends into darkness below.
Vong opens the hatch. It has no hinges and pulls away from the floor freely. He rests the hatch against the wall and peers down.
It would have been much wiser if he had, instead, checked for traps and listened for inhabitants before removing it. I suppose the charmed existence he leads has no room is his schedule for blown-off fingers or singed eyebrows.
Without any discussion, he begins to descend and Rakatha follows behind. Pil hurries to be behind Rakatha. Twitch hops around while putting her boot back on while Ralith hesitates to follow. Finishing wrestling her boot back on, Twitch hops onto the stairs and tells Ralith to “C’mon!”
Dubiously I bring up the rear. It’s pitch dark below since my eyes have not adjusted to the basement’s dim light. I have a lamp and some candles in my pack so I stop halfway down to retrieve them.
“Does anyone have a torch?” shouts Vong over the darkness, compensating for the wrong sense.
A round of “Nope”’s comes from the party.
Seriously?
The lack of light doesn’t seem to have stopped those ahead of me from stumbling around. It is probably unwise—
An explosion lights up the room and three things are revealed to me. First, there are several goblins slinking against the walls in the dark with drawn weapons. Second, the staircase continues down for several more levels. Third, someone has triggered a trap.