Once his hands no longer shook, he opened the panel again. This would be tricky even were he able to see. Snagging the rope and pulling it out in the darkness was next to impossible.

But Jig was in no great hurry. For the first time in several days, he didn’t need to worry about anyone sneaking up on him or stabbing him from behind.

He experimented for a while to find out exactly how long he had before the panel closed. It would remain open for a little more than two breaths after he touched the floor or wall of the alcove. Plenty of time to reach in, holding his sword by the blade, and drag the crossguard across the floor toward him. All he had to do was catch the rope.

After cutting his hand twice, he stripped off his loincloth and wrapped it around the blade for protection. Everyone else was dead or gone, so he wasn’t worried about modesty.

He pulled out at least half of the skeleton in assorted bits and pieces before he managed to snag the noose. Once he had rope in hand, he stood up and redid his loincloth. Feeling decently dressed once more, he hurried back to the Necromancer’s throne room.

The rope measured seven feet once Jig untied the knot. It would have been longer, but he had sliced off the last few feet when he cut it from his neck. Jig sat down at the edge of the pit and began to work.

The rope consisted of three cords twisted together, and Jig guessed that any one of those cords would hold his weight. He wouldn’t have wanted to haul Darnak around with one, but goblins were skinny and light. It took a while to get the cords unraveled. The rope acted almost alive, the way it twined about itself and tried to tangle into knots.

In the end, Jig held a thin rope about twenty feet long. He tugged on the two knots that bound the cords end to end. They didn’t give. Satisfied, he tied a loop in one end and tried to toss it over the arm of the throne. Looping the arm of a floating throne in pitch blackness would have challenged even the most coordinated of heroes. Jig took close to an hour before the rope caught.

The plan would have worked, save for his cut hand. As he lowered himself into the pit, his hand flared with pain. His arms were already tired from throwing the rope so many times. With blood on one hand and sweat slicking the other, his hands slipped free, and Jig followed his companions into the darkness.