Chapter oneI, Dray Prescot, Lord of Strombor and Krozair of Zy, crawled painfully along a narrow and jagged tunnel with dust clogging my mouth and nostrils and stinging my eyes and every now and then my head would go thwack! against a damned rocky outcrop in the roof. By Makki Grodno’s disgusting diseased black-fanged winespout and deliquescing dangling left eyeball! I’d wager that clever Na-Si-Fantong hadn’t crawled along here. Oh, no! He’d have used his sorcerous powers to create a smooth marble avenue and strolled along without a care in Kregen.
As for me, I’d hared off after the mage when he’d snatched the ruby and — of course — a whole world of rock and rubble had avalanched down at my back, shutting my friends away and shutting me in.
All I could do now was crawl on as best I could
