Souldancer (Soul Cycle Book 2) by Brian Niemeier Page B

gradually downward, but it intersects with a service tunnel off the main stair. The stairwell was heavily reinforced and may have withstood the worst. It should lead to any surviving laboratories.”
    “Pardon me for a scatterbrain,” Damus said, “but this expedition has been a walking tour of hell. What compensation does this dank hole have to offer?”
    Arcanadeus glanced around as if his eyes could pierce stone. “Is that not obvious my dear Gen? Secrets that once cost trespassers their lives have lain forgotten for a generation. Now they are ours for the taking.”
    “Unless they’re better left down here,” said Nahel.
    Damus tugged at his coat’s torn sleeve. “Or burned with fire.”
    The expedition stalked along the dim narrow passage in single file. Arcanadeus led while Nahel brought up the rear, his drawn swords granting Xander a measure of comfort. Still, he tried not to imagine what horrors might be stalking that defiled labyrinth.
    After what seemed like a short time, Arcanadeus called a halt. “It’s no use following this path any farther.”
    Xander peered ahead, hoping to find a way that the Steersman had missed. His hopes fell when he saw a pipe-laden wall with a hatch like the one at the tunnel’s entrance. This door was already open, but slabs of jagged stone filled its bent and battered frame.
    “We must return the way we came and turn left at the main passage,” Arcanadeus said. “Another path lies through the door at the far end.”
    Nahel took the lead as they processed from the side passage into the main corridor. He gave his head a typically canine shake.
    Xander laid a hand on the malakh’s shoulder. “Is something wrong?”
    “The weird smells and echoes are messing with my senses,” said Nahel. “I’ll be fine once we’re out of this tunnel.” A short time later, he signaled a halt before a rust and lime-encrusted door. Xander noticed a lever jutting from the corroded hatch.
    “Please tell me you can open it,” said Damus.
    Nahel strained at the lever. “I hope so, ‘cause it looks like the only way forward.”
    The door creaked stubbornly open. Moist air rushed out, filling the passage with the stench of a stagnant bog. Nahel persevered, pushing the hatch the rest of the way open.
    The rust-eaten door opened on a large cylindrical chamber. Xander saw that the floor was lost under a pool of brackish water. Circular grates ringed the ceiling high overhead, and dark stains marred the walls. Though reluctant to go any farther, he found himself sloshing in lock-step with Nahel and Damus as they pressed on into the mire.
    Something is wrong, Xander thought. We’re forgetting something.
    Standing knee-deep in the muck, Nahel scanned the room with a puzzled expression. “What? Are we supposed to climb up?”
    Damus heaved a sigh. “There’s nothing for it now but to turn back. What a waste.”
    Xander realized what was wrong only after it was too late to act on his knowledge.
    The squeal of rusted metal thundered throughout the chamber, and the strong door slammed shut as if pulled by unseen hands. The murky pool swirled with grey foam as the floor gave way, turning the room into a whirlpool. Xander fought against the tide, but the roaring water swept him toward the center.
    The falling water level revealed several pipes disgorging filthy runoff into the draining pool. Just before he went under, Xander thought he saw a pale mass emerge from one of the pipes and disappear into the frothing vortex.
    The filthy current smothered breath, sight and sound, leaving only chaotic blackness. The flow climaxed in a powerful jet. Xander saw light once more. And he was falling.
    His stout body hit the water with a massive splash that deposited him on a bed of submerged detritus. Xander’s arms flailed wildly as he struggled to the surface for air.
    Wracked by heaving coughs that dredged bitter muck from his lungs, Xander fought to regain his senses. Awareness dawned of sheer encircling