Serial Micro Fiction: Zamy and Landric – Part 7

When Zamy’s captor said it wouldn’t be too much longer, he was certainly using a different measure of time than the children were. A few minutes turned into an hour, and then two, of winding deeper into the caves. Landric was sure they were under the mountains now. They had to be with as long as they’d been moving.

Eventually the tiny sounds that bounced off the close walls gave way to a deeper echo as the walls widened and the ceiling rose. No longer in a tunnel, the footsteps sounded more hollow and the turns had ceased. This reprieve lasted about as long as seconds at a Nom’s feast. They were quickly in another tunnel and they could feel the long, slow spiral of the stone’s descent.

When the tunnel leveled and straightened, Zamy and Landric could hear the sounds of other people moving, working, talking. Small gasps sounded from the lips of several voices as they passed by, and hushed whispers disappeared as they were taken further into the massive cavern.

Now the echoes almost drowned the two little Noms. It felt as if they were two hundred feet deep, at the bottom of the ocean; or at least what they imagined that would be like.

They were lifted with a huff and the echoing noise of a boot clashing with the ground. Stop, lift, stop, lift. “Stairs,” thought Landric. Soon they were moving forward again and they heard the sound of dozens of boots sliding together as if something formal were about to happen.

Tired from the long trek while carrying their captives, they let them fall from their shoulders, somewhat unceremoniously (but careful enough to not drop them on their heads).

“Ouch!” called Zamy, more out of surprise and a bit of frustration than actual pain.

“Easy!” came a soft, deep reprimand that was moving toward the children. The sacks were lifted off Zamy and Landric’s heads and they stared into the deep-set eyes of the king of the dwarves.