The hole above them shut with a rumble, causing trails of sand to fall on their faces. Vondell rubbed the dirt out of his eyes and peered over at the gaping hole at the center of the spiraling stairwell.
Even though there was light all the way down, he could barely see what was at the bottom.
"Does your swift-travel grace work in that form?" he whispered.
Gregory shook his head. "It'll undo the polymorph. And even if I wanted to, they have arrays set up," he replied.
Vondell nodded at this slowly before gesturing for Gregory to lead the way down. "You seem to have a very thorough information network," he said, following right behind Gregory.
Gregory shrugged. "This isn't my first onyx directive," he said. "And information is half the game."
The echoes of their footsteps filled the air before Vondell opened his mouth to speak again. "This agent of yours, how did you find them?"
"They wouldn't be my agent, if I told you that," Gregory replied dismissively. "Why do you ask?"
"Your agent, was being very selective with information they gave you don't you think?"
Gregory paused to look back at him. "They're the only reason we made it this far without blowing up half the city. There is such a thing as too much greed. What more information did you want?"
"Don't you think something's off? Why would they tell you about a hidden underground passage and the sort of arrays it's equipped with, but skip over the war-trove of poisonous plants outside?"
Gregory opened his mouth to reply, before hesitantly closing it.
"They're betraying their country for less than a grand knight's daily wage. I'm sure being selective is a big part of what they are," he replied finally.
"I'm not asking about their personality. I'm asking whether you're sure your agent, is actually your agent."
Gregory's face scowled, and he began walking down even faster than he had before.
"When you've given up as much information as they have, I'm not sure there's still room to call yourself a double agent," he replied tiredly, annoyance seeping into his tone.
"And besides, my people still have eyes on them. They're halfway to Mikas, with half-baked dreams of being a flower merchant. We have ways of knowing if someone is being too deceptive. It's not quite the world of swords and massive explosions you're used to," he added.
Vondell nodded at this, shifting his attention to the walls in thought. A series of primitive drawings were etched all along their length and seemed to continue all the way down. They depicted images of people praising and dancing around trees.
"The world of swords and explosions can show you a lot more about mortal behavior than shadows and secrets," he whispered slowly.
"I've clashed with the warriors of The Plains before. They may not have had the strongest swords, but theirs were wills of steel, their minds bound in chain," he continued, now looking forward.
"Unless your agent did it out of revenge, and took their life right after, I don't believe they gave up their people," he finished.
Gregory scoffed at that. "I didn't know you were such a romantic," he said, stopping to look at the drawings on the walls.
"But let me correct you a little. I don't know what sort of clashing you and those warriors were doing, but humans aren't elves. We're selfish and cruel. And the lowest of us would sell our mothers for less than a wooden coin," he said.
Vondell instinctively touched his ear; in this form, its edges were round, just like any other human's. However, the alienating look Gregory gave him, reminded him that deep down, he was not a warrior of this land. Perhaps a big part of why he hadn't told anyone about 'what' he is, was because he didn't want to feel even more isolated than he already was.
If the people of Antras knew he wasn't one of them, would he still be their 'Lord Black'? Vondell thought about that often, and he doubted it.
"We're a lot more simple than you think," Gregory added, before continuing his descent.
The rest of the journey was silent. Vondell wasn't convinced that the agent hadn't plotted something; in fact, he was more on edge than when he'd first woken up here. Something was off, and his 'partner' had too much pride to notice. It didn't help that all Vondell had to support his 'suspicions' was a gut feeling, but many a time did his gut feeling save him.
As they were approaching the end of the stairwell, they heard the echoes of someone preaching, bouncing off the walls.
"The Mother Gnarl will reward you for your suffering. Your service will not go unanswered." The voice sounded hoarse and tired, but despite that its owner repeated the phrase three more times before a chorus of other voices responded; "Praise be to the Mother Gnarl, Praise be to the Tigerna."
~A priest,~ Vondell thought to himself, becoming even more uneasy.
The preacher repeated this hymn, and his congregation echoed their response.
"Are you sure this is the right path?" Vondell whispered.
"It's too late to go up now," Gregory replied, right as they reached the last step.
They were now in a massive crypt with hundreds of serfs working to sculpt the walls, their work muffled by the preacher and their chanting. The crypt's corridor ran into the far distance, with decorated earthen arcs overhead spread out evenly the entire length.
Gregory and Vondell clasped their hands and walked down the corridor at a brisk pace. No one turned to look at them, instead carrying on with their work in a drone-like daze. Even the preacher, who was standing at the center of the corridor, didn't acknowledge their presence, instead staring towards the ceiling with his arms stretched out as he shouted his hymn.
Vondell took a glance at the ceiling and saw a massive depiction of Mother Gnarlt etched into it. However, what really caught his attention was an extra detail that had been added to the beautiful woman's forehead; a butterfly with six wings.
~It's here,~ Vondell realized, increasing his pace.
Once they reached the end of the corridor, the path split in two. One side was lit with fire torches, the other was pitch black.
"The council room is this way," Gregory, said, pointing to the lighted path.
Vondell already knew where he had to go. "We'll meet at the city gates just before the sun rises. If either of us is not there before then, the other will leave and hand in what they've found," he said.
Gregory looked off into the dark path, then back at the path he was about to take. "Take this," he said, handing Vondell a white flower. "If it glows, just crush it," he added, before pulling his hood down further and running down his chosen path.
Vondell watched him, leaving only when he had turned into another corridor.
"Surth," Vondell whispered under his breath.
"Once again, it is just you, I, and the darkness," he said, before heading into the black ocean that drowned his hallway.