“Can’t you make another light?” Amal asked as they were swept off into the darkness.

“I don’t have any more money,” Emmaline admitted, then much to her own surprise, she started to laugh and Amal joined her the pair of them roaring with the mirth of recent death narrowly averted. Amal squeezed her hand and she squeezed back 

“What about the staff,” he asked. Emmaline gripped the golden staff, she could feel the magic pulsing inside the thing, though she had no idea for the moment what it did. Adding her own spell to the enchanted metal could have a variety of effects, ranging from bad to disastrously bad. She opened her mouth to tell Amal this and then a sound reached her ears. Water rushing over rocks. Amal didn’t react but then he had lived his life in an arrid landscape where water was rare. He hadn’t heard the roar of Riechbach falls, or seen the mighty Tablec tumble from its headwaters.

“Waterfall!” she yelled, “Grab hold of something!” The boat picked up speed suddenly and the roar swelled to a crescendo. Spray flicked up over her face and she grabbed hold of the boat desperately. With a horrifying lurch, the boat plunged into the darkness and water poured over them soaking them both as they plunged into blackness.

Emmaline opened her eyes and rolled over onto her back. It was still pitch black but she could feel water lapping at her ankles. Her entire body arched and throbbed. Her hand still clutched the staff in a grip that would have whitened her knuckles if she were able to see. Gathering her will she spoke the words of a spell, drawing miniature flecks of  iron from the sand around her into a ball of metal that burst into a soft silver glow. Amal was sitting up beside her her rubbing his eyes and their boat lay in splintered ruins upon an underground beach. A dark passage ran from the top of the beach, eaten away perhaps by ancient flows of water.

“You… sure know how to show a girl a good time,” she muttered.