A few stalagmites away, his shivering body hugging the stone, Adalmar hears Khazrael's call. Is it a trap ? I can't afford to trust him.
Then he hears the sorcerer moving away. Letting a few seconds pass, he follows suit, silently, though he takes care to follow a slightly different path. The first few "steps"* he can take in the dark, his mind having recorded the layout of the place - this specialized memory comes naturally to people living in the wilderness. After that, though, he is reduced to taking out the torch again, though he mutes its glow by hiding it under his cloak. Kir has perched on his shoulder and swings his head from side to side - still focused.
He doesn't hurry, for he is now convinced that his survival is out of his hands - let Fate or the gods judge his worth.
Inside, he is praying for the fallen.