Part 8.

“I banged my head on something on the wall.  I thought I would wait until you kind gentlemen came along to investigate, as my hands are currently tied behind my back for some reason.”

“There are some torches here, quite a few of them,” Percy’s voice came from ahead, near the imp.  “Oh, and some tinder boxes.”

“Why would there be torches here?  Ours still don’t work,” Redthorne’s voice came from one side.

“Try and light one Percy,” said Dreth, a suspicion growing.

There were noises as Percy fumbled with the tinder box.  A moment later a torch flared up.  “Hey! I can see again!” he said.

They looked around, to find themselves in a standard looking dungeon corridor made from dark gray stone blocks.  It stretched away into the distance in front of them.

Dreth frowned as he doused his old light.  “Why do these torches work and ours don’t?” he asked.

“Obviously some sort of special enchantment,” replied the wizard.

“Hmmm, and why are they here?  Why not at the entrance?” Dreth took one and examined it as Percy lit several others and handed them round.  The torch seemed normal.

“Definitely some sort of magical emanation,” said Redthorne.

“Give one to the imp,” Dreth told Percy.  “Imp, get going.  You’re still on scout duty.”

“And how am I supposed to hold it with my hands tied genius?”

“Good point.  Cuthbert, untie his tail, he can use that.”

They waited as the zombie released the imp’s extremity, and Percy handed him a light.  The imp coiled his tail around the torch.

“Right then, off you go,” said Dreth, gesturing ahead.

Ichabod gave him a nasty look, but staggered off down the tunnel without saying anything more.

Dreth looked on as the imp disappeared into the dark, until only his torch could be seen bobbing along like a Will-o-wisp.

“Right, after him then.”

They started walking towards the light.

~   *   ~

Ichabod muttered to himself under his breath as he stumbled down the corridor.  “Stupid denizens, just wait until I get back, I’m going to file such a complaint.”  He stopped.  The tunnel split into two.      There was straight on, and now a new corridor off to the right.  He looked down each one.  Both disappeared into the gloom.  Shrugging, he turned right and moved along the new way, which was remarkably similar to the old one except it wound about more.

He turned another corner and carried on into a widening space until a hiss next to his ear brought him up short.

“What have we here then?  An imp!”  The voice was hard as diamonds.

He gulped.  “I will have you know I am a representative of the Dungeon management,” he said.  “If you…”

“Them!!” said the voice.  There were more hisses.  They sounded like snakes.  Ichabod had always liked snakes, though he was willing to reverse his position.  “They are the ones who imprisoned me here!  Well, nice of them to send me a snack!”

Ichabod dropped the torch and turned to run, but several sharp stabbing pains in his back caused him to stumble.

“My pets like you it seems,” the voice said, as the imp felt chunks of his flesh being torn from his body.  He twisted to confront his attacker.  No sooner than he did so he realized his mistake.  He tried to raise his hands, but they were still bound behind his back.  There was a feeling of heaviness as his eyeballs crusted over.

He managed one brief scream before it all went black…