The sand in the hourglass continued to trickle incessantly, running away with time in slow motion. Beads of perspiration dribbled their way down the once rough stone walls, worn smooth by the constant moisture and the repeated attempts by condemned men to climb up and escape its stalwart security.
Athor blinked and heaved his bulky figure to sitting. Sleeping was a futile experience here and none of us had slept since our arrival, which I couldn't quantify. But sleep wasn't our greatest fear. There were worse things, things that lingered in the shadows, things that fed off the fear and anguish of trapped men. Things even your mother has never heard of. But they exist. They exist here. And they're always waiting for you to give up hope. That's when they come.
"It's hopeless," muttered Athor shaking his head uncharacteristically, he was usually so gung-ho about missions, and was never without a backup plan. But not today; today his eyes were lifeless, young, almost resigned to their fate. "We're never getting out of here."
The dripping of the walls continued, but a definite rumble could be distinguished from the shadows beyond the iron barred cell door. Something had heard.
"I have a plan!" I heard myself exclaim, then silenced myself regretting my inability to gauge appropriate talking volumes. A snorting from beyond the door confirmed I'd almost awoken the guards in the tunnel. Athor glanced up from his slumped depression and Doughty and Littlejohn shuffled closer so that I could whisper. "We'll lure the guards in here and attack them while the cell door's open, then we'll find the map room, grab some food and escape down the mountain path. As soon as we cross the river we'll be safe!" The enthusiasm in my voice was forced, but just believable enough to rouse Athor and the others.
"I'll call the guards." Athor was already on his way over to the cell door. The others picked up bones from the far corner to use as weapons. This would be our only chance.
