[While on a rescue mission gone crazed, a holy warrior and a rogue fight bandits, demons, and the urge to rip each other's clothes off.]
The mission, rescuing a princess, could be going better.
Séa is an earnest paladin, honest and gullible. Tash is...
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The lumpy-flat stony surface blended in with all the other rock formations a furlong south of the keep. Hardy fir trees, desiccated ferns, and abundant outcrops dotted the landscape. The clouds threatened rain, but so far had failed to deliver more than a smattering of cold, wet pellets.
But it's not ordinary, Séa thought. There's a ... an absence of light, but not the kind of light you can see. A raindrop impacted her helmet with a light ping. Restless air stirred the surrounding pines. Nothing about the spot appeared unnatural or out of place, at least, to the eyes.
Tash stabbed a pointer finger downward with confidence. "This is it. It looks about how I remember it."
Ghomarck hovered at Séa's elbow. His eyes followed Tash's movements from under bushy brows. "How was the trap door opened, before?"
The rogue circled the flattened outcrop as if it were a sleeping lion. She pointed to a loose rock about the size and shape of a loaf of bread. "We twisted that one."
The wizard combed gnarled fingers through the snarls of his beard. "But ... the gnomes. Perhaps I should cast a dispelling, to be safe."
Séa caught her lower lip between her teeth. "Does it feel ... wrong ... to you?"
The rogue squinted at the paladin. "Eh?"
"A darkness. An oppression." Séa gestured aimlessly in the air with her hands as she met the suspicious gazes of her companions. "Oh, never mind. Pardon the mysticism."
Tash's eyes shifted to the wizard. "I vote for caution. De-magic away."
From his collection of belt pouches, Ghomarck pinched diamond dust into a vial of water. His hoarse incantations atomized the water into a misty jet, which he aimed toward the hidden trap door. The mist sparkled merrily, and a spring-fresh scent wafted on the air.
Séa's lips curved upward at the display of arcane wizardry, but her delight died swiftly. The magical cleansing did nothing to dispel the unease that hung about her like an invisible fog.
"Nice." Tash strode toward the latch-rock.
Séa chased her down, rattling as she jogged. "Tash, let me. I'm wearing protection."
Tash pursed her lips. "That's ... not entirely illogical."
The paladin lowered her helmet visor. "Then it's agreed. The switch is my bitch."
The rogue retreated and groused in Ghomarck's ear, "So she's a poet, now?"
Séa flexed gloved fingers, then gripped the stone. She tensed her legs and applied clockwise force to the block. It spun with a rasp. A subterranean clunk vibrated the soles of their feet. With frictive rubbing sounds, the flattish rock split and the halves tilted away.
With a satisfying snap of sinew, Séa brandished her mace, but no ravaging hordes erupted from between the rock slabs. Breezes threaded through pine needle combs and the sighs caressed the ear.
