Erebos by Ursula Poznanski Page B

growling. Sarius drops the shirt and begins to run. Away from the growling that doesn’t sound like an animal or a human, but rather a hideous mixture of both. His stamina is better now, he’s pleased to find as he runs over a slight mound.
    It’s pure chance that he slows down just in time before he plunges into a crater that opens up unexpectedly on the crest of the hill. Sarius glances down into the depths, which look fissured, precipitous and not at all inviting. Behind him the growling is getting louder. However curious he may be, he still doesn’t want to find out who or what is making this noise. A few steps further to the right he discovers a rusty ladder that doesn’t inspire any confidence whatsoever, but nevertheless seems to present an attractive opportunity to escape from the growling creature. He thinks about the blood-soaked shirt, and puts a foot cautiously on the first rung. There’s a grinding sound, but at the same time the wonderful music starts again, strengthening Sarius’s conviction that he’s on the right track. He can do nothing wrong. Without further hesitation he climbs down the ladder, borne by the melody and happily anticipating what awaits him below. With every rung of the ladder he descends it gets darker. By the time he reaches the bottom he can make out only what the torches on the wall are bathing in flickering light: roughly hewn rock faces, paths, passageways, turn-offs. He has landed in a labyrinth. He sets off blindly, and loses his bearings within seconds.
    There’s nothing in his inventory that would be suitable for marking the walls. No chalk, no thread. The only thing he could try is making scratches in the rock, but there’s no way he’s going to do that. Not with the new sword.
    A glance upwards reveals to him that the cleft he descended through is already a long way behind him. The daylight doesn’t reach all the way in here, but torches have been mounted on the walls at irregular intervals. Every shade of darkness prevails in between.
    Sarius walks on, his footsteps echoing over and over. Are they his? He stops, and the echo dies away.
    The music encourages him to continue on his way. He tries his luck with the first turn-off to the left, and regrets it at once because the next torch is an awfully long way away. He hurries to reach the light, but stops just before it. Something is glittering on the rock face. A wish crystal? Sarius fumbles for it eagerly, but under his touch the sparkling something dissolves, flowing down the wall in a slimy trail. He turns away, revolted. Finally – the next torch. Beyond it yet another junction awaits him. To the right or to the left?
    It’s lighter to the left. He creeps cautiously around the corner, keeping a firm hold on his sword. Every step echoes – if there are monsters down here, they’ll have heard him long since.
    Once again Sarius reaches a fork. Something like anxiety is stirring in him. He still has plenty of time to register for the Arena fights, sure . . . but everything looks the same here. Dark rocks, torches, puddles of water. And nothing else. Not another fighter anywhere to be seen, he’s thinking, only to stumble over a body immediately past the junction. The shock turns Sarius’s legs to jelly. He jumps back onto his feet as quickly as he can and points his sword at the obstacle that tripped him up.
    A cat woman. Sarius checks her name: Aurora. There’s only a tiny trace of red left on her belt – the rest is black as coal. So she’s not quite dead yet. When he touches her, she moves her hand weakly. It takes Sarius a moment to figure out what she wants. He lights a fire.
    â€˜Thank you. I’ve just about had it. Can you help me?’
    â€˜What did this to you?’
    â€˜A giant scorpion There are three or four running around here. Damned bugs – if they sting you, you’re done for.’
    â€˜Giant scorpion’