The map table hadn’t done justice to the drop-off at the end of the gallery. The sloped ceiling of the cavern plunged sharply downward, caked in rapidly hardening sputters of magma that fell into an orange haze far below. If the heat was uncomfortable before, then it had now reached unbearable levels. The river of molten stone had seemed thin when they’d run alongside it in the gallery, even more so after Zaric had partially covered it with his working.
The size turned out to be an illusion, as the flow cut deep into the stone, flowing at a snail’s pace down the edge into the larger pool at the bottom. To make matters worse, their only way forward was a thin outcrop of rock just barely wide enough to fit a wagon—a ledge of blackened stone so perilous that it made Talia’s stomach drop just looking at it.
One wrong move would send the wagons tumbling down into the infernal lake below. Talia gulped and looked over at Osra. The apprentice’s expression was indecipherable behind her hood, though the hunched shoulders and shaking hands told their own story. It would be her first time working on something so crucial without her master present—Zaric had hardly even stirred, kept deep asleep by a potent cocktail of sedatives. Hopefully just to spare him the pain of manaburn, but Talia hadn’t missed the heavy looks the delvemaster had exchanged with Lazarus when he’d dropped by for a visit.
Talia went to comfort Osra with a pat on the back but dropped her hand once she remembered the girl’s reaction to being touched. Instead, the arcanist just shuffled awkwardly, wanting to provide some sort of reassurance, but not sure how to go about it. Behind them, the caravan waited impatiently for the go-ahead. Tunnel drakes huffed like bellows and pawed at the ground, while delvers perched on rooftops scanned every inch of the cavern with roving, worried eyes.
In the Deep Under, stillness meant death.
Talia turned to her mindsense—the psionic net stretched as far as she could maintain it—and wasn’t sure how to feel. On one hand, there were no other living beings around—nothing but the expedition. On the other…
It’s been clear before, and that didn’t save us.
To be fair, the reason she’d missed the last attack was that she’d been asleep, but in Talia’s mind that only served to highlight how all it took was a moment of inattentiveness for the Aberrant to slip through the very stone around them.
At least there was no fear of an attack from within. The wounded delver Lazarus had kept under observation had gone through hell—Talia shuddered as she remembered the retching sounds from behind the curtain—but showed no signs of turning after the blood cleanser had run its course.
Now we just have to hope that the stock of them will be enough to see us through another battle.
The psion shook off the intrusive thought as Osra took a deep breath, centring herself, and raised her arms, imitating her master. The difference being that while Zaric did so from habit or for dramatic effect, Osra claimed it helped her focus.
The apprentice mage’s thoughts twisted into the now familiar patterns of magic in Talia’s mindsense, and the stone flowed in response. Osra’s imagery was obviously different than her master’s. Where Zaric was all about a mass of rock moving like water under his control, his apprentice’s approach was more akin to a weaver’s.
Tendrils of stone swept from the cave wall and ceiling, spiraling down towards the natural bridge and buttressing it. The ledge didn’t even get any thicker. If anything, it got slimmer, its shape shifting into a fuller arch to better distribute weight and the sides extending out to give the wagons some breathing room. Cracks faded away and jagged edges smoothed out until the expedition was faced with an arch that wouldn't be remiss in Karzgorad.
For something the girl had come up with on the fly, it had a sort of utilitarian beauty. Talia felt a burst of pride at her friend’s work. Strings of stone threaded with ore ran down in strands from the ceiling to couch the gracefully curved bridge.
With a final clench of her fists, Osra completed her spell, causing the rock to crackle as it got ever so slightly denser. The mage slumped from the effort, before she remembered where she was and straightened her back, turning to click at the caravan. Torval, standing on the roof of wagon one, nodded his cloaked head, passing the message along.
‘Passage clear’
A twitch of the reins sent the tunnel drakes moving again, and Talia watched the train make its way forward, giving Osra some time to breathe. Wagons one, two and three, followed closely by seven and eight made it over without issue before Talia ushered them onto the eaves of wagon four when it passed them. Talia guided the tired apprentice through the door to her bunk, plucked the clicker from her mouth and whispered.
“Well done. Can’t imagine that was easy,” she lauded.
Osra nodded, pulling back her hood to shoot Talia a ghost of a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. The tiny grin faded as quickly as it came, and the girl turned away.
“Master Zaric wouldn’t’ve even broken sweat,” she muttered.
Talia frowned, bracing herself against the other mage’s bunk as the wagon swayed its way across the bridge.
“Yea, well Zaric isn’t—”
Her mindsense screamed at her as something other intruded from the edge of its range. Talia sprinted out of the cabin, not even bothering to close the door, a scream on the tip of her tongue.
“FASTER! GO FASTER! IT’S COMING!”
Her voice echoed through the cavern, startling the delvers and drawing attention to her. She waved frantically for drivers of wagons five and six to hurry, dread mounting her chest.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.
Below, magma rippled turbulently as the large, flickering mind she’d sensed made its way up through the molten rock.
Whether spurred on by her words or the panic in her voice, wagon four jolted forward—nearly throwing her off—to allow wagons five and six onto the bridge. Talia’s mouth dried and she closed her eyes as a rush of hot air billowed up from the pit below.
No, no, no! They aren’t going fast enough!
She felt Osra join her on the eaves, her thoughts a wash of confusion.
“Talia, what’s wrong?” she asked as their bunk wagon finally made it to the other side.
“It’s below us,” the psion answered in clipped tones before yelling again, ”HURRY!”
Osra frowned and gave Talia a concerned look.
“What’s below us? Talia, you aren’t making any sense!”
The young arcanist clenched her teeth as wagon four made it off the bridge and into the tunnels, wagon five hot on its heels. Wagon six brought up the rear, her vision of it obstructed, but her sense latched onto the nine souls caught inside it. Delvers gathered behind her muttering in confusion and calling out questions, but Talia ignored them, her eyes riveted on the bridge as wagon five made it off, hoping to catch a glimpse of six as it did the same—
Her stomach dropped.
The flickering mind in the magma accelerated moving faster than anything should through the viscous substance, until suddenly it wasn’t in the lake but in the air above it, streaking dozens of metres upward, defying gravity with its sheer mass.
Talia’s eyes caught a glimpse of its incandescent form from between the wagons and she jumped off, sprinting towards the bridge with all the speed she could muster. In her mind, she conjured up the imagery for a force net that she’d been practicing whenever she got the chance—ever since the Chasm of the Lost.
It didn’t matter.
The world shook and cracked and hissed as the Aberrant magmamander landed on the bridge with all of its gargantuan weight. Cries of shock and surprise rang out, muddled with agonized screams.
The bridge didn’t even buckle, it simply snapped as the creature landed on it, stone buttresses cracking and crumbling almost immediately and sending it tumbling down to the magma below. Along with wagon six.
Talia was too far to help any of them, skidding to a halt by the edge of the drop and fighting back horror. The wagon didn’t really splash, instead landing on the surface of the lake, already burning from the radiant heat. The driver and a pair of dwarves on the roof were instantly immolated. Metal buckles melted. Leather and hair burst into flame. If she focused hard enough, she thought she could hear eyeballs pop in their orbits.
They were the lucky ones, their flaming corpses snatched up by the monstrosity before they even knew they were dead. The six minds—lives—still caught in the wagon screamed in terror, the sound muffled by the soundproofing and the crackle of burning wood. They were trapped, the door of the wagon pinned against hot magma. If the heat hadn’t gotten to them, then the smoke most certainly would.
By the old gods…
The magmamander surfaced again, just a brief glimpse of malevolent eyes creeping above the surface of the magma like some amphibious predator in a stagnant lake. Talia could do nothing but watch as it took great big chunks out of the wagon with its maw, each bite a splutter of molten rock and a flash of silver teeth.
By the time it got to the cooked flesh inside the cabin, it was already dead and still, wafting up through the air to add the aroma of seared meat to the acrid black smoke.
Then, silence.
The lake bubbled as the last traces of wagon six burned up.
Then the Aberrant beast sank below the surface, slipping out of Talia’s mindsense only to blip back into range just as quickly. Picking up speed.
Osra and a few of the crew arrived, some bearing ropes, others bearing weapons. They peered off the side with morbid curiosity, and Talia heard the man next to her gulp as he saw what was left of the wagon.
“Back!” Talia barked, “It’s coming for another pass! Get back!”
She pushed the man next to her back toward the wagons, sticking her clicker in her mouth and calling for full speed.
The group of four stumbled back toward the wagons, shaken and afraid, and allowed themselves to be pulled up onto the eaves of wagon five.
C’mon, c’mon, c’mon we’ve gotta go!
The wagon train lurched into gear, building up momentum, just like the flickering, facsimile of life beneath the lake. The only problem was that while the caravan would take a few minutes to accelerate through the tight tunnels, the magmamander had already proven that it could reach them just as fast, if not faster.
Talia turned to Osra, spitting out her clicker.
“You need to collapse the tunnel,” she said.
The apprentice mage didn’t move, her gaze stuck to the ledge as it faded from view oh-so-slowly. Talia shook her.
“Osra, listen to me. I can help, but I don’t know if I can bring down the ceiling without crushing us under it,” she said, palming her wand meaningfully.
The other girl came out of her daze, looking at Talia with fear in her eyes.
“I—I—Can’t—I’m not strong enough—I—”
The arcanist grabbed Osra by both shoulders and looked her in the eye.
“You can. It’s not about power, it’s about precision. I need you to crack the ceiling so that when I blast at it, it doesn’t bring the whole thing down, just the part nearest to the ledge,” Talia said.
“I—”
“You can do this. I know you can, but we don’t have much time, so I need you to do it now.”
For a moment, Talia thought the girl would balk. Then something came over the young mage’s face, part resolve, part faith.
“Ok. I—I’ll do it. I’ve got this.”
Wagon five lurched under them, and Talia watched nervously as Zaric’s apprentice stuck out her hands in front of her, palms pressed together. Below, the Aberrant drew closer and closer, building up speed.
Holy shit if this works it’s going to be so close.
Following the other mage’s lead, Talia closed her eyes, bringing up the image of a force wedge. There was no elegance to it, no finesse, just a triangular construct designed to do as much damage as she could. It would be her last resort if the wand didn’t work.
“Raaahhhhh—”
Osra’s cry of strain broke off into a sob. At first, Talia thought nothing had happened. That the girl had failed. Then a resounding crack echoed through the cave and fractures spiderwebbed across the ceiling.
Zaric’s apprentice collapsed onto Talia’s shoulder, her task done, and her mana spent. But Talia had no time to check if she was alright. In the pit, she felt the magmamander take to the air once more, its scaly bulk defying the laws of nature to fling itself at the ledge.
Talia raised her wand, blasting the crack Osra had created with bolts of force and quick switches of concentrated blasts of pressurized air.
Nothing happened.
Panicking, she sent mana into the construct in her mind, sending it billowing forth invisibly to strike at the stone. The ceiling buckled and cracked—and the collapsed entirely, plunging the tunnel into darkness and sending up a plume of dust and debris to join the already smoke-filled air.
Behind the rubble, she sensed the seething anger of the Aberrant, its warbling, metallic screeches still audible despite the blockage.
Thud
THUD SLAM THUD
BANG!
It beat at the cave-in savagely, but only succeeded in making things worse for itself. As the caravan pulled away, Talia watched it fall in her mindsense, plunging back into the magma lake.
And don’t fucking come back. At least, not until I’ve had a nap. Or maybe two.