Two were locked; the other opened upon a
runway leading downward. It was spiral and he could see no
farther than the first turn. A door in the corridor he had
quitted opened after he had passed, and the third warrior stepped
out and followed after him. A faint smile still lingered upon the
fellow's grim lips.
Turan drew his short-sword and cautiously descended. At the
bottom was a short corridor with a closed door at the end. He
approached the single heavy panel and listened. No sound came to
him from beyond the mysterious portal. Gently he tried the door,
which swung easily toward him at his touch. Before him was a
low-ceiled chamber with a dirt floor. Set in its walls were
several other doors and all were closed. As Turan stepped
cautiously within, the third warrior descended the spiral runway
behind him. The panthan crossed the room quickly and tried a
door. It was locked. He heard a muffled click behind him and
turned about with ready sword. He was alone; but the door through
which he had entered was closed--it was the click of its lock
that he had heard.
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