Forest Kingdom Trilogy 1 - Blue Moon Rising

a pause, and then the elevator rose gradually back up the shaft. Rupert snatched up his lantern and waited impatiently as thr wall cavity fell slowly within reach.
    'Hold it!' The elevator jerked to a stop, and Rupert moved forward to peer into the cavity. A human skull, broken and distorted, gleamed yellow in the lamplight. It could have been a recent death, or it could have lain there for centuries; Rupert had no way of knowing. Either way, it was a bad omen.
    Rupert hefted his sword uncertainly, and then yelled for the Champion to continue the descent.
    The elevator fell for what seemed like hours. Rupert clutched his sword so tightly his hand started to ache, and he had to force himself to loosen his grip. The air grew thick and moist, and the cloying sweet stench turned his stomach. Again and again, Rupert told himself there was no chance any of the townspeople could still be alive. But he had to be sure. He glanced back up the shaft, but no trace of the cavern remained, save for a dim speck of light far above him, like a single star on a moonless night. And then the platform slammed into solid rock, and Rupert was thrown to his knees by the impact. The elevator had finally reached the bottom of the shaft.
    Rupert called up to the Champion that he'd arrived safely, but there was no reply. Rupert shrugged, and looked about him. A series of tunnels led off from the base of the shaft, each opening barely four feet high. Rupert chose the largest tunnel mouth and crawled gingerly forward on hands and knees, holding the lantern out before him. Moisture beaded the dark stone walls, gleaming brightly in the pale golden light. Rupert scrambled awkwardly on into the darkness, and tried not to think about the vast weight of rock hanging over his head. His back ached from the unaccustomed strain of moving on all fours, and the sword in his hand seemed to grow heavier and more of a nuisance with every bruise it earned him. The tunnel floor was suddenly wet under his hands, and Rupert stopped as a horrid thought struck him. His stomach lurched as he looked down, certain he'd find the stone slick with freshly spilled blood, but there was no trace of crimson in the thick, viscous slime that lathered the floor. Rupert frowned, put down the lantern, and rubbed a little of the stuff between his fingers. The slime was clear as water and very slippery. He brought his fingers to his nose, sniffed cautiously, and then snatched his hand away. The slime stank of death and decay.
    The tunnel seemed suddenly full of the stench, and Rupert scrubbed his fingers on his jerkin until he was sure they were clean again. His breathing was harsh and unsteady, and his knuckles whitened as he clutched his lantern and his sword. The familiar stench and the dark crowding around him had thrust him back into the Darkwood, and once again fear threatened to overthrow his reason and leave him lost and alone in the darkness. He flailed with his arms as panic took him, and they slammed into the tunnel walls.
    The solid unyielding rock was strangely comforting, and he drew strength from its inflexible reality. His breathing gradually slowed to normal, and he even managed a small smile at how close the dark had come to sending him back to the edge of madness. He might still be afraid of the dark, but it couldn't break him. Not just yet, anyway.
    He stared down the narrow tunnel before him, and held up his lantern. The floor was covered with glistening slime for as far as he couldd see. Rupert gnawed his lower lip uncertainly. He wanted to go onn, if only to prove to himself that he could, but this was supposed to he a scouting party, and he ought really to go back and tell the Champion what he'd found. The slime worried him. Demons left no such trace to mark their passing. Rupert started to edge slowly back down the tunnel, and then froze. Far ahead in the tunnel darkness, someone was singing.
    The voice was male and female, both and neither, and it called to Rupert. It promised light and love, friendship and protection, all he ever wanted and more besides. The voice was sweet and smooth and slick, and Rupert trusted it. The voice called, and Rupert crawled slowly forward, into the slime. His
    hands slipped and he fell forward, the hard impact driving the breath from his lungs. He gasped for air, and the sweet stench of decay filled his nostrils, shocking him awake.
    Rupert froze in horror as he realised what he'd been doing. The voice still sang, beckoning