17

Under the Underworld

CRASH!

Oydd woke up with a start. He heard a second crash coming from the morgue—this time like a gong being struck as one of his tin basins fell to the floor. He cursed the mouseling as he rolled over and tried to fall back to sleep.

He heard a third crash, followed by an undead moan—the sound of an unbridled monster hunting its prey. But all of his creations were 'bridled,' which made the raucous all the more curious.

With a sigh of annoyance, the rudra rose, grabbing his thin metal staff from where it lay propped against the wall near the entrance to his chamber.

Oydd heard the sound of a massive fist pound against the wall followed by another howl, almost sad—deep and spit-choked—and then a nearly imperceptible squeak from the far side of the wall.

As he entered the morgue he saw the hulking form of Gad, beating the tiles against the back wall. A cheekbone protruded from beneath the peeling grey skin on its face. No, not peeling—reforming, a benefit of the creature's troll heritage.

At some point on its journey home, the ghoul had lost a hand. Several ribs poked out from its deformed chest, and one eye bulged to nearly twice the size.

Upon sensing Oydd it turned and let out a primal roar, its fetid saliva spraying over its crooked jaw and yellow tusks.

"Lita," Oydd spoke and a bright light shone from the tip of his staff.

The trollblood stumbled backward into the wall, squirming to cover its eyes with its forearm. Then suddenly it charged.

Oydd raised his free hand. The veins bulged on the side of his bulbous head, and the ghoul's charge slowed, until it it stopped altogether—not without much evident strain on the rudra. He closed his eyes as he held its struggling bulk, then raised a palm toward his creation, gathering energy, and commanded, "Redimis!"

A whistling of wind spiraled around the ghoul. Its limbs went limp and its eyes rolled back into its head.

Oydd exhaled and the creature fell to the floor. A moment later, Oydd collapsed to one knee. He took two deep breaths, then collected himself and stepped over Gad's unmoving body. He inspected the back wall, where the ghoul had beaten its arm against the tiles and found a patch where the tiles had fallen away, revealing soft earth. Kneeling, he discovered a small hole—one that had somehow avoided his attention.

He dropped to his hands and knees, until his cheek was nearly against the ground, and held the glowing tip of his staff up to the narrow tunnel.

Oydd hissed, "Mouseling!"

He heard a very slight shuffle of weight then a tiny nose and whiskers poked around the bend.

"Come here," he said sternly.

The nose retreated.

Oydd took a calming breath then seated himself on the cold floor.

After a minute of quiet, the mouseling quietly hopped into view, holding to the edge of the hole for protection, and peered dolefully up at the rudra.

Oydd watched her for a moment before speaking, careful not to scare her away again. When she relaxed he took another breath and whispered, "What do you have in there?"

Patches disappeared back into her hole and emerged a few seconds later presenting the rudra's missing scalpel. Oydd took the instrument and placed it on a nearby table.

"No... little one. Something else. Something troubling."

Patches gulped and took a step backward. Then, awkwardly she swung the tip of her tail around the corner holding it up for the rudra to see. There, near the tip, rested the obsidian ring that had gone missing from his office. Oydd had been so caught up in other research he had forgotten it.

"Give it to me." He tried to speak softly. The mouseling hesitated, nonetheless, but ultimately hopped from her hole. She slipped the ring from her tail with a tiny paw and handed it to the rudra.

"Were you wearing this all night?"

Patches nodded.

"Have you done that before?"

She nodded again. "He was going to eat me..."

"No," Oydd replied. "More likely trying to serve you." He held the ring up before his eye and watched it catch the magical light from his staff. "I should..." He paused, considering the ring between his thumb and forefinger, and then slipped it onto his hand without another word.

*****

"Lord Licephus and the ettin, Ghajan, have begun to hunt down the lead cultists. The cultists, on the other hand, have mobilized." Oydd sat in his office. His eyes remained on the black ring that newly adorned his finger.

"What does that mean?" Cricket asked.

"They have taken more defensive positions, and the more powerful members are now traveling in pairs, which severely limits our ability to target them," Oydd explained. "I have reason to believe that Lord Licephus was wounded in his last assault and forced to withdraw."

Jeshu raised an eyebrow. "So what do we do?"

"We have identified the leaders who we believe to be most vulnerable. Actually, our current target is not a member of the Right Hand, but a demon named Naraka, who is sympathetic to their cause. We intend to eliminate him before he joins. He resides in Agoth, which will make our attack unexpected."

"Agoth?" Jeshu replied.

"Which means," the rudra continued, "we'll have to venture into the underworld."

"What?" Jeshu asked, shocked. "What does that mean? We're in the underworld."

Cricket laughed.

Oydd, on the other hand, contemplated the question. "I don't consider this the underworld."

"I've heard you call it the underworld. You said Bale was one of the principal gods of the underworld."

"Yes," Oydd stated. "But I didn't say that was here." Seeing the druid's exasperated look, he clarified. "After Bale betrayed Serinyes, his followers fled to a lower realm—a place called Agoth. It is much deeper than these caves, and less hospitable. But I understand why you would call this the underworld, from your perspective."

"Meh..." Cricket seemed unconvinced. "If this is part of the underworld, this is the friendly part."

"Regardless," Oydd continued, "beneath us is Agoth, a lake of fire and brimstone, where you will find Bale's most powerful and most numerous allies."

"Like imps and deep goblins and demons," Cricket added.

Jeshu looked to Oydd for confirmation and the rudra nodded. "Beneath that is Sheol—the still darkness. Not even the deep goblins go there. It is... unnaturally dark. So much so that the denizens of Sheol seldom venture even to Agoth. They would be like fish out of water."

"Kind of like me on the surface world," Cricket said.

Oydd ignored him. "And the inhabitants of Agoth seldom venture here. The dhampiri are powerful enough to defend their realm. Or... they have been in the past. It seems Bale's influence has grown stronger here as the dhampiri decline."

"In what sense have they declined?" Jeshu asked.

"My answer does not leave this room. But the world you see around you is a sinking ship. At its height, there were ten times as many dhampiri, and half as many slaves. I wouldn't be surprised if we outnumber them now." He thought for a moment, and said to himself soberly, "The ratlings alone must outnumber them by now."

The rudra twisted the obsidian ring on his finger absently. "The ettin will arrive at the Trench this morning. He will not approach the Warrens. So we will meet him there. You need to know his... leadership style. Unlike the vampire, he will expect strict and immediate obedience. If you step out of line or ignore an order, expect a swift and harsh punishment. Do you understand?"

Jeshu nodded.

Cricket played with one of his feelers.

"Cricket, I'm mostly talking to you. You will follow him with military discipline, do you understand?"

"Ugh... yeah. I got it."

"I'm not joking. No suggestions. No running off on your own. Don't ask for information from him. He is not to be trifled with."

"I said I got it." Cricket turned away, scratching his cheek.

"Very well. Make any preparations. We leave within the hour."

*****

The ettin, a two-headed giant over ten feet tall, arrived on foot, and waited near the Trench—an expansive chasm on the outskirts of Al Tsirith, over a mile across at some points. The ettin's dark bronze skin glistened in the cold, damp morning, the heat from his thick, toned muscles melting the frost to steam. He wore the tan furs of a surface creature with which Cricket was unfamiliar, with matching moccasins, along with what appeared to be the jaw of a drake as a shoulder pad, its teeth downturned.

In one hand he held a ten-foot iron spear with a barbed tip. In the other he held a large double-sided hook resembling an anchor, connected to the butt of the spear by a long chain.

Cricket learned Ghajan was only the name of one of the heads. The other, Ghajan called Onubi, though only he addressed the second head, and Onubi only addressed Ghajan. Each head had its own personality. At times it seemed Onubi controlled an arm, though Ghajan clearly possessed the ability to control both arms, even against the will of his brother.

Ghajan bit his jaw tight, two ivory tusks protruding from his lower lip, and glared when not speaking. When he spoke he turned his chin up and puffed out his chest, each word spoken with stern authority. Onubi, the quieter of the two, but by no means gentle, mostly picked over the smaller creatures with a critical eye and nodded in agreement with anything the dominant head said.

Onubi winced when his brother spoke, and cowered when Ghajan grew angry.

The ettin glared down at Oydd. Ghajan chewed a dried, black herb in his mouth that stained his tongue. "We need an archer. Who's your best archer?"

"An azaeri named Ty'lek."

Ghajan snorted. "Send for him. Do we have access to a healer?"

"The dryad standing next to me."

Ghajan stepped up to the dryad, so that he was looking straight down. "Do we have a different healer?"

"No," Oydd answered.

Ghajan growled. Onubi laughed, but fell silent at a stern look from his brother.

Ghajan spat a mouthful of the black stuff off to the side of the druid then grabbed another clump from a tin on his belt which he began to chew.

"Fine. We'll take this one."

The giant surveyed the remaining troops, including the two zombies and Gad. Finally he came to Cricket and sneered.

"An insect?"

Cricket's antennae drooped at the giant's tone.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

Onubi caught the look of disappointment and gave the insectoid a wink with his eye in Ghajan's blind spot. He reached out and swatted the insect lightly. "I don't like this one!"

Cricket stumbled backward but caught his balance and quickly returned to attention.

Ghajan looked Cricket up and down, with a tight jaw. "It's fine. It looks strong to me." Cricket perked back up at the praise, spurred by Onubi's disagreement.

Ghajan returned to the rudra. "These will do."

At his order, the group began to descend a wide pathway into the Trench. Cricket noted the path was devoid of dhampiri footprints or the tread marks of merchant carts. He saw only the scrapes from the enormous claws of the cave drakes and a few small game prints.

The smaller prints, interestingly, only went down. If anything came back up alive, it did so by another route.

As they walked, Onubi slung the hook over his shoulder then loosed a large gourd from his waist and immediately chugged half its contents. The giant then nudged Cricket with his elbow and offered him a swig. It smelled of rum. Cricket leaned forward to view Ghajan's reaction to the offer, but the dominant head ignored his brother, keeping a stern eye on the road.

"No thanks." Against the rudra's orders, Cricket risked speaking to the submissive head. "That will kill me."

The ettin laughed, which drew Ghajan's attention and he controlled Onubi's arm, ramming Onubi's forearm into his own face, drawing blood from the nose.

Onubi looked down, away from Cricket and his brother, then strapped the gourd back onto his belt next to half a raw goat. He placed his hand on the chain, with the hook still over his shoulder.

After an hour of steep descent, the air grew hot, and occasional bursts of steam rose from the depths of the Trench, billowing ash into the air. Wiry red critters with yellow wings crawled along distant walls, skittering out of sight as the war party passed.

Soon the air turned a hazy yellow, and the druid began to cough and breathe heavily.

Jeshu looked around at the others. "I'm not used to this heat. It's burning my lungs."

"It's only going to get worse," Oydd replied, then turned to Ghajan. "I recommend sending him back."

Ghajan looked the dryad up and down then scowled. "Coward." He turned and continued down the path.

Jeshu continued to follow, but slowed and grew lightheaded. Oydd sent Gad to his side to prop him up.

"That's a waste," Ghajan growled. "Send the dryad back to the colony. He's dead weight. We're stronger without him."

Jeshu started to object when a fit of coughing seized him.

The ettin continued forward without a backward glance, and Jeshu turned back toward the surface alone.

Patches started to climb down from Oydd's shoulder to follow the druid, but the rudra placed a hand on her paw and gestured for her to stay.

As they dropped further, streams of molten rock began to pour from distant crags, lighting the smoky air with a dull red glow. The heat began to sting Cricket's eyes, but Oydd assured him it would clear up as they dropped below the magma vents.

Though the rudra was not entirely incorrect, as the stinging heat abated, the smoke thickened, which irritated Cricket’s at least as much. A yellow film began to form on his eyes, forcing the insect to stop now and then to wipe the powder away with his hands.

"Deep goblins," Ghajan's voice boomed, too loudly, as he pointed to tracks in the yellow mud.

Cricket stooped to get a better view of the taloned, four-toed foot, estimating its height. "It's a big one. Maybe a head shorter than me."

"You afraid?" Ghajan grunted.

"Oh, no," Cricket clarified. "Excited." Oydd shot him a look.

Looking down over his tusks at the insectoid, Ghajan nearly smiled in amusement. "Good, little warrior."

Eventually the pathway widened and leveled out into a hub of intersecting tunnels, thermal vents, and burnt orange pools that Cricket first mistook for lava. Oydd called it iron oxide. "Basically rust," he added.

Blood red leeches clung to the rock at the bottom of the pools, and, stranger still, a species of oysters that incorporated the iron into its shell. They appeared mostly black, but with a metallic sheen in the crevices.

The chasm continued down for at least another half mile, where Cricket was certain he saw a lava flow, but the group left the steep pathway in favor of the side tunnels where the steam was a healthy white.

Ghajan grinned. "Drake tracks. And they're fresh."

"What does that mean?" Oydd asked.

"It means a dhampir," Ghajan answered. "One of the drake guard."

"It means a traitor," Onubi added, speaking directly to Ghajan.

I don't like that this excites him, Oydd said. Be careful. We are not equipped to fight a drake.

Cricket drew his sickles with his upper arms, and grabbed a shuriken in each of his smaller arms. He unconsciously let the ettin gain some distance on him, from his habit with scorpion.

Oydd slowed to speak to the insect. "I need—"

"Achoo!" Cricket covered his mouth and released a monstrously loud sneeze through the holes in his back. The smoke billowed away and a dusty yellow mucous sprayed all over the rudra.

Oydd blocked his beak and eyes with a sleeve, but the sneeze covered his robes and for a moment he was completely speechless from shock.

"Sorry," Cricket said, starting to sniff again. "That powder gets in my noses."

"Your noses?" Oydd asked in disgust, wiping snot from his arm and flicking it on the ground.

"Yeah, the holes down the sides of my back. I can't close them," Cricket said with a congested voice, then started to sneeze again.

Oydd darted away, his eyes wide in horror. "Don't call them that!"

"What are they called then?"

"I don't know," Oydd snapped. "I could look it up in my library. I have a book on genjipod anatomy. But anything sounds better. Nostrils... vents..."

"Genjipod..." Cricket repeated in a whisper. "You know, no one calls me that except you. Like... no one."

"Really?" Oydd asked with a tone of disappointment as he attempted to clean his chest with a sleeve.

"What were you going to ask?"

"I don't recall," the rudra spat.

Ghajan's eyes remained forward, but Onubi glanced over his shoulder at the two, which meant that Ghajan likely heard the conversation as well.

Oydd composed himself and pushed ahead of the insect.

As Cricket began to awkwardly clean out the holes on his back, he heard the hissing warcry of the deep goblins. He recognized their guttural language by the raspy croaks and clicks, but knew only that they were coordinating an attack through the smoke.

Ghajan raised his spear as if to throw while Onubi wound the loose chain around his wrist and gripped the hook. From a distance, Cricket saw the ettin hurl his spear through the smoke like a javelin, then yank it back instantly with a writhing red goblin with black horns impaled halfway up the shaft.

Ghajan ripped it free from the spear, nearly tearing it in half then tossed the torn body aside and prepared another throw.

Three more goblins appeared from the smoke, brandishing crude spears in their long black claws.

The ettin swung his spear like a club, knocking two of the goblins back into the smoke, as an arrow flew from Ty'lek's bow, piercing the third through the ear. It dropped to the ground and thick black tendrils erupted from the wound, spreading down the goblin's throat and along its forehead.

A goblin jumped out near Oydd, but Cricket instantly caught it in the throat with a shuriken. A second shuriken dug into its foot. The goblin hissed through a bleeding hole in its throat and fell to the ground staring at the insect with its lifeless black eyes.

Cricket beamed. "I was just trying to distract it!"

The rudra ignored him, calling Gad to his side. In the thick smoke, his zombies closely resembled the deep goblins, and ran about tearing apart their red, horned cousins with little risk to themselves.

Here and there an arrow pierced the smoke as Ty'lek picked off any goblin silhouette holding a weapon.

Cricket caught up to the ettin and saw Patches swinging her tiny knife at a fairly small goblin. Like Licephus, she slashed through the air and several yards away a cut appeared on the goblin's cheek—just a shallow slit like a papercut. The mouseling squealed and retreated as Cricket ran by, taking its head with a powerful swipe of his sickle.

The ettin roared in defiance, daring more goblins to charge him, his eyes darting about the nooks and crannies of the cavern. For a moment, the assault stalled, but Cricket still heard hissing and crackling tongues through the smoke.

"A'gula!" Ghajan cried, pounding his chest with his fist. A moment later a drake twice his size snapped its jaws at his throat.

The ettin jumped back and readied his spear, but the drake's rider pulled back on the reins, holding her mount at bay.

The smoke cleared from the movement of the beast, revealing a lithe dhampir rider in leather armor. She wore her long, black hair in a braid over her shoulder and bore the crimson mark of house Ahrose. Cricket only knew three or four of the dhampir houses but the name jumped into his head like a forgotten dream. It sparked some memory that he did not have time to explore.

Seeing the ettin, the rider pulled her reins aside and spurred the drake away at full gallop, bounding from the rocks and down the tunnel.

Ghajan bellowed after her angrily. "A'gula!" he repeated and beat his chest again, issuing a challenge. However, he did not pursue.

"Oh, crap," Cricket whispered to Oydd. "Where have I seen her before?"

"You haven't."

"No, I have. And the sooner I remember it, the less embarrassing it will be. I don't want it to be awkward if she's, like, an ex or something."

"She's not your ex, because you've never had a girlfriend."

"I said or something. Besides, you're forgetting about Jade."

"The assassin who tried to kill you?" Oydd clarified.

"Yes," Cricket said confidently, then frowned. "You're mocking me! But that is part of the mating ritual for insectoids."

"Trying to kill each other?"

"Yes. Keiklu told me."

"The dishwasher?"

"The old, wise, insectoid dishwasher. It's normal for the male to dance for the female while she tries to eat him. Then, if he dodges her attacks long enough, it means he's from good stock, and they mate."

"That's ridiculous. He's pulling your leg."

"He's not. I touched her thorax. We were both feeling things," Cricket still whispered.

Oydd whispered back practically at a shout, "And then she tried to bite your head off."

"Tried!" Cricket said winningly, holding up a finger to accentuate the point.

Ty'lek nodded in agreement.

"Quiet," Ghajan yelled, and the two stopped arguing instantly. "The next one to speak gets tossed off that cliff."

Cricket clipped his mandibles closed then placed a hand over his mouth for good measure.

The calls of the goblins faded.

The ettin stood staring off into the billowing smoke for a moment then darted off at a full sprint.

Cricket nearly gasped, if not for the hand over his mouth.

Follow him! Oydd ordered.

Cricket picked up the mouseling, then he and the azaeri made their way into the thinning smoke after the ettin.

Oydd held the rear with Gad and the two zombies.

Cricket tracked the giant, signaling the correct tunnels to the archer. Ty'lek, however, followed the trail easily enough on his own. The feathered lizard pulled two arrows from his quiver then knocked both at once. He held the Nightcrawler bow sideways and stalked through the smoke on the tips of his toes.

Cricket stayed a step behind, not wanting to be in the path of the Nightcrawler's arrows.

A large brown mass appeared ahead and the ettin materialized, staring down a side passage and breathing heavily. When he sensed the others behind him he pointed ahead. "The fumes are dark here."

Cricket came up to his side and looked down the indicated tunnel where the fumes turned yellow again, almost orange, darker than before. He heard the bubbling of hot springs and smelled an acrid odor that curled his feelers.

Oydd caught up as the ettin entered the passage. The giant held a hand over his mouth and coughed. "Stay low," he barked. "The fumes are thicker near the ceiling."

The group passed several dark boiling pools, then one that was clear and turquoise, and came to a yellow underground lake, where the spacious ceiling brought in some more breathable air, despite the thick plumes rising from the water.

"What is this?"

Oydd stepped to the edge of the shore, where a white and orange crust built up like sand. "Acid, I believe. If you give me a moment, I can figure out what kind..." Noticing the ettin's bored look he rephrased, "...I can figure out how dangerous it is."

Ghajan growled in annoyance then grabbed one of the goblin zombies by the head and chucked it into the lake.

The zombie's green flesh instantly turned white as the acid bubbled around it, forming a hard white crust that slowly drifted away from the body along with chunks of cooked goblin meat. The zombie rolled over in the water, bones already protruding from its flesh.

"We'll skirt the shore," Ghajan said. "Lizard, where are her tracks?"

Ty'lek knelt and inspected the stone, finding nothing, then checked the walls, and gestured left.

Despite his eagerness to catch the dhampir, the ettin breathed too heavily to run, and he sweat profusely despite the dry air.

With Ty'lek at the lead, the group rounded the lake and entered a narrow side chamber, where the drake's clicking purr reverberated from the porous, volcanic rock.

Sensing nowhere for the lizard to run, the ettin strutted ahead. Even from the rear, Cricket soon made out the drake and rider through the yellow smoke. The drake pawed forward, though the dhampir watched the ettin with a look of terror.

"Ahrose Peska." The ettin called the dhampir by name. "How far you have fallen."

The dhampir made no response and Ghajan walked fearlessly within biting range of the drake.

"No words? But it doesn't matter. We know why you are here."

Suddenly the ettin charged, ducking under the drake's head, and thrust his spear up through the soft skin beneath its jaw. The spear penetrated the roof of its mouth, pinning it closed, and exited through the nasal cavity with a sickening crunch. Onubi tossed his hook over its head and immediately Ghajan jerked his spear free, spraying chips of bone along the ground. Then the two brothers yanked down with all of their weight, pulling its chin to the ground before it could lift a claw.

The drake whimpered as the massive ettin pushed down on its head, holding it still, then Ghajan shouted, "Lizard!"

Instantly an arrow sped from the Nightcrawler to the dhampir's chest, penetrating the leather armor near her heart. Black tendrils spread violently in every direction from the arrow, and the leather began to peel and crumble to ash that drifted away on the air.

Ghajan held the drake still until it stopped squirming, then Ty'lek loosed an arrow into its eye for good measure.

Cricket looked over to Oydd. "You didn't want to stop him from destroying the brain?"

Oydd smiled and placed a hand on the drake's snout. "Oh, I don't think that is a problem any longer."

The ring on his finger emitted a black light and began to thrum. Minerals in the air sizzled and sparked around the ring momentarily and then the drake's eye opened with an empty, green glow.