back against the side wall, but the lantern bumped against the platform, keeping him from descending.
Sapphira pushed against the side wall to make the gap wider. “Good thing you’re going first.”
After sliding down farther, he paused, his face now the only part of his body above the platform. As a breeze from below blew his hair into a frenzy, he smiled. “Don’t worry. If Nabal’s down there, I’ll chase him away with his own whip.”
He slid out of sight, and the lantern’s glow faded, leaving Sapphira in almost complete darkness. She groped for the scroll and tied it in her own belt, then copied Elam’s descent. Being smaller than Elam, she managed to squeeze herself and the scroll between the platform and wall without help.
When she slid into the gap between levels, only the glow from Elam’s lantern colored the darkness, providing just enough light to illuminate the rope that stretched between them. With a cool draft breezing up from below, she felt like a dim island in a blowing sea of blackness, following a guide she really barely knew at all. Of course she could trust him, couldn’t she?
Feeling exposed and helpless, she continued sliding, concentrating on a mental image of Elam’s noble face and chivalrous manner. This young gentleman wasn’t anything like the bestial monsters in Nimrod’s lust-filled temples. He would never entertain the idea of taking advantage of a girl.
Elam pushed each succeeding platform out of the way with his feet. When he finally reached the mining level, he swung off the rope and held out his hand to her. She took his hand, and when she planted her feet on the board, she kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said softly.
He untied the lantern and gazed into the mining cavern. “For what? Taking your hand?”
“That’s part of it.” Sapphira pulled the scroll from her belt. “It’s hard to explain.”
Without looking back at her, Elam nodded and walked out into the cool chamber. “I think I know what you mean.”
She pulled up alongside him and breathed at the lantern. “Time to sleep for a while,” she said. The wick immediately darkened, leaving only the billowing glow from the nearby magma river. She strode ahead and waved for Elam to follow. “No giants in sight. Let’s go.”
The two hustled along the trench, probing deeper into the dimmer recesses of the chamber. The coolness of the stale air chilled Sapphira’s hands and cheeks, and just when she thought about relighting the lantern, the distant radiance of the abyss caught her eye.
Sapphira slowed to a creeping tiptoe, Elam at her side. When they neared the edge, he laid a hand on her shoulder and took the next two steps alone, craning his neck forward to peek down into the strangely illuminated hole. Sapphira edged to his side again and peered down with him.
The streams of light that swirled to the surface looked like a morning mist caught in a gentle eddy. When the gemstones on the walls of the abyss absorbed the streams, the crystalline facets seemed to exhale them in a more consistent, static glow that rose toward the ceiling.
Elam whispered into Sapphira’s ear. “Only one way to find out what’s down there.”
“Talk to it?” she asked. The Ovulum began to warm in her pocket. “Are you sure?”
“Why not? If whatever is down there could get out, wouldn’t it have escaped a long time ago?”
“Good point.” The Ovulum grew so warm, it began to sting her leg. She took a step away from the pit. “But if it’s what I think it is, I’m not sure we should talk to it at all.”
Elam glanced back at her. “What do you think it is?”
“A bunch of evil spirits called Watchers. I read a scroll that said they would be sent to the abyss in the lowest realms.”
“How do you know they’re evil?”
“The scroll said so.”
Elam looked down at the ground for a moment, a pained expression on his face.
“What’s wrong?” Sapphira asked. “The song again?”
“I’m not sure.” Elam covered one ear with his hand. “It’s like the song’s stuck in my mind. I don’t know if it’s a voice or just a memory, but the words keep coming back.”
“And you can’t ignore it?”
“I’m trying to.” He uncovered his ear and stared at her, giving her a weak, forced smile. “Anyway, can you trust who wrote that scroll of yours? I mean, if Morgan told me something was evil, I would think it was probably good. How do you