Chapter 17 — The Fight in the Cave of the Moon Butchers

           Idonotknowhowfarweclamberedbeforewecametothegrating.Itmaybeweascendedonlyafewhundredfeet,butatthetimeitseemedtomewemighthavehauledandjammedandhoppedandwedgedourselvesthroughamileormoreofverticalascent.WheneverIrecallthattime,therecomesintomyheadtheheavyclankofourgoldenchainsthatfollowedeverymovement.Verysoonmyknucklesandkneeswereraw,andIhadabruiseononecheek.Afteratimethefirstviolenceofoureffortsdiminished,andourmovementsbecamemoredeliberateandlesspainful.ThenoiseofthepursuingSeleniteshaddiedawayaltogether.Itseemedalmostasthoughtheyhadnottracedusupthecrackafterall,inspiteofthetell-taleheapofbrokenfungithatmusthavelainbeneathit.Attimesthecleftnarrowedsomuchthatwecouldscarcesqueezeupit;atothersitexpandedintogreatdrusycavities,studdedwithpricklycrystalsorthicklybesetwithdull,shiningfungoidpimples.Sometimesittwistedspirally,andatothertimesslanteddownnearlytothehorizontaldirection.Everandagaintherewastheintermittentdripandtrickleofwaterbyus.Onceortwiceitseemedtousthatsmalllivingthingshadrustledoutofourreach,butwhattheywereweneversaw.TheymayhavebeenvenomousbeastsforallIknow,buttheydidusnoharm,andwewerenowtunedtoapitchwhenaweirdcreepingthingmoreorlessmatteredlittle.Andatlast,farabove,camethefamiliarbluishlightagain,andthenwesawthatitfilteredthroughagratingthatbarredourway.