Toren Daen
I awoke in darkness, blinking the stars from my eyes. I felt a momentary flash of panic at the blackness before a soothing warmth caressed my mind.
I sat up carefully, igniting a bare spark of fire over my palm for light. I blinked nervously as my eyes adjusted to the light.
Thanks, I thought to my bond, sighing as I remembered where I was. The darkness of the tunnels was an encroaching thing. It almost seemed alive at times, the shadows clinging to your boots and whispering in your ears. If I wasn’t careful, I could imagine going mad from life in these caves.
“It is no worry, Toren,” Aurora replied in my mind. “I dislike this darkness, just as you do. I understand your anxiety.”
Around me, the three dwarves were already preparing for departure, a solid resolve in each of their movements as they cinched on belts and tested their weapons. Borzen nodded at me as I awoke, and Gruhnd offered out a palm to help me up.
I took his calloused hand gratefully, hauling myself to my feet. I gave him a thankful nod as I ran a hand through my hair, trying to tame it with my fingers.
I’d built a level of camaraderie with those two as the day went on yesterday. Protecting each other in the darkness had that kind of effect. If there wasn’t a bit of trust, we wouldn’t be able to trust our backs to the men at our side.
But as the dwarven elder narrowed her eyes in my direction, I felt a bit of disappointment. It seemed that the more time I spent, the less Jotilda liked me.
“Not everyone will like you,” Aurora advised in my mind. “That is an unavoidable fact of life, my bond.”
I sighed, tying my hair back before taking a drink from a waterskin I kept stored in my dimension ring. I know, but I still have to work with the elder. I’d like to understand where her dislike comes from, at least. Even if she doesn’t like me, we both have a duty to keep Alacryan and dwarven relations civil.
“Then what are you going to do?”
I rolled my shoulders, adjusting my clothes and brushing out a bit of dust. I allowed the small pinprick of fire to hover near me still, bathing me in gentle light. I’ll do what everyone should do when they have some sort of conflict. I’ll talk about it.
—
Our small group continued on through the cave, the firelight I created earlier allowing us to continue. Jotilda had explained that this deep into the caverns, we would be fighting stronger monsters than tunnel worms and gallows spiders. Earlier, she had forbidden me from any sort of light for fear of scaring away potential mana beasts or allowing them to ambush us.
But now, that fear was pointless. Anything ahead would have nowhere to run, and my senses were sharp enough to protect from an ambush.
A team of dwarven earth mages had used an advanced Earth Sense spell to get a rough estimate of the size of these branching caverns, and according to Jotilda Shintstone, we were nearing the end now. Once we cleared out whatever was left, we’d be able to return to the main hideout.
As before, Gruhnd and Borzen trailed behind me, keeping up the rear with steady eyes and even steadier hands. They’d gained a few scrapes and bruises throughout this endeavor, but by and large, nobody had gotten more than a slight cut as we cleared out the tunnels.
Ahead of me, the dwarven elder walked with rigid purpose, her plate boots clanking in tune with her step. I allowed none of that sound to actually echo into the air, of course, but I’d realized that people found the sounds they made comforting, so I let them hear the familiar rustle of metal-on-metal.
Well, here goes nothing, I thought to myself, moving forward. As I did so, I altered the sound spell surrounding us all with an effort of will, striding next to Jotilda as she marched.
“Hey,” I started. “Got any idea of what we can expect in this final stretch of cave?”
The elderly woman furrowed her rigid gray brows. “The final bits are always the hardest, Alacryan. So don’t let your guard down by dilly-dallyin’.”
I raised my hands in a what-can-you-do manner. “Look, Elder Jotilda, I don’t know what about me is so irritating to you, but we’re going to have to work together once we’re done with this.”
“I’m sure you don’t know, human,” Jotilda said, not turning to look at me. “You seem so ready to inject yourself into the lives of us dwarves that you haven’t stopped to ask if that’s what we want.”
I tilted my head. “It was your Elder Rahdeas who decided to welcome us Alacryans,” I said, weathering the woman’s anger. “Not me and not you. But we have to live with that reality anyway. So even if you don’t like me, could you at least pretend that we can get along?”
Jotilda stopped, turning to me. She shoved a gauntleted finger into my chest. “I can’t do that, Alacryan. Do you know why?”
I took a measuring breath, maintaining the calm layer of my emotions. “No, I don’t. That’s why I’m talking to you right now. To try and figure that out.”
“You think we’re traitors, don’t you?” Jotilda spat with narrowed eyes. “You might talk nicer. Might put up an affable front and try to be friends. But you think the exact same thing that sneering noble did back in the cave. You think we sold out our continent to yours, don’t you? That we’re dogs with no loyalty at all. Lesser.”
Borzen and Gruhnd behind us clearly felt uncomfortable, trying to look anywhere but Jotilda and me as their intent radiated their emotions. I finally felt my forced composure crack as my neutral face shifted into a glare.
Because Jotilda Shintstone was right. These dwarves were traitors. It was partially because of people like them that Dicathen fell so thoroughly to Alacrya in that otherworld novel. All the loss of life, all the brutality? It was all allowed by people such as these. Because the strength of a chain was determined solely by its weakest link.
“Nothin’ to say, Alacryan?” Jotilda sneered, moving closer and staring up at me, her chin raised defiantly as her mana flared.
I exhaled, trying to take back my emotions. To center myself. My breath came out as hot steam instead. “I do not think that you are lesser,” I said, trying to diffuse this situation. “I don’t subscribe to the idea that purity of blood defines your innate worth as a being. That is measured by your ability to think and reason.”
“Pretty words, Alacryan,” Jotilda retorted, “But you don’t deny you think us traitors, do you?”
I remained silent, glaring down at the arrogant dwarven elder. She huffed with anger, spinning away–shoving my shoulder in the process–and adjusting the helmet on her head. “The cavern is just up ahead. Don’t forget how to fight, now. Wouldn’t want the traitors to die.”
Borzen and Gruhnd trailed awkwardly behind me, refusing to meet my gaze as we reached the final stretch of cavern. I felt my blood boiling in contained anger as I stared out into the expansive darkness, the little fire by my shoulder revealing a massive cave without end. A forest of stone spikes stretched everywhere I looked, each thrusting upward in defiance.
Each stalagmite stretched at least twenty feet into the air, their points sharp and deadly. Far above, thick stalactites leaked water in a steady drip back down to earth. Some were coated in a glowing moss that provided a bare outline of greenish-teal light, adding a strange ambiance of mystery to the cave.
Jotilda stopped in place as she stepped from the tunnel to the massive cave, scanning the room while her hand brushed her axe. “Well,” she said quietly, crouching low in the shadow of one of the large stalagmites, “It seems that–”
My senses screamed at me as a rumbling heartfire pounded against my ears. Instincts gained through assimilation and countless hours of combat spurred me on as I rushed forward, drawing Inversion from my belt as I blurred toward Jotilda. She turned in slow motion, her eyes widening in surprise as I shot toward her.
She tried to bring her axe up in vain, but my hand snaked past her guard with ease. I grabbed the collar of her plate armor solidly, feeling the metal bend under my enhanced strength before I threw her backward.
Just in time for something large, dark, and covered in coarse fur to smash into my guard. I barely deflected a swipe of some sort from a massive claw, but the impact sent me flying backward, my body smashing through a stalagmite before I managed to catch my balance on another.
I levered Inversion, prepared for another attack from that dark blur.
But then the ambient mana warped, a familiar energy threading through the air. I winced as a strange, omnidirectional warbling attacked my eardrums, the sound reverberating from everywhere and nowhere at once.
I sent a stream of mana to my ears, strengthening them and protecting myself from the adverse effects. With my enhanced body, I was able to shrug off the onset of nausea and disrupted balance.
Where is it?! I thought, darting away from where I was lashed to the stalagmite. The beast’s mana signature was already indistinct and murky, and my ability to pick out their heartfire was overwhelmed by the constant humming that seemed to coalesce from every side. I was about to send out a flurry of fireballs to give myself light to see, but–
“Toren!” Aurora shouted in my mind, our tether cutting through the domain of sound that seemed to coat everything. “The dwarves! They are in distress!”
My gaze snapped back to my dwarven companions, my eyes widening at what I saw on the ground. Gruhnd and Borzen flailed wildly, seeming to stumble over their own feet as they cursed and fell. Neither could seem to manage a coherent spell as they tried to move, the sound spell affecting them far more intensely.
They can’t cast spells! I realized. Their concentration has been disrupted by this attack too thoroughly! They can’t visualize or mold their mana!
Only Jotilda remained on her feet, though she swayed unsteadily as she levered her axe at the darkness around her. I slammed a mindfire stamp into the earth, trying to rocket back to my companions. They couldn’t function through this spell like I could.
Except I had to duck as that same dark blur nearly tore out my throat, a massive bulk blocking out the bare light for a moment as it flew past. I fell out of the sky, rolling as I hit the ground to center myself.
Scratch that, I thought, tuning out the constant hum that seemed to assault me from all sides like a constant hammering of drums, I am a bit affected. My balance isn’t as good as it normally is.
Plus, that dark, flying mana beast–which presumably was maintaining this constant spell–was targeting me in particular.
That meant it was either smart, powerful, or both if it recognized me as the greatest threat. Considering my luck, I’d wager the latter.
Aurora, could you please protect the dwarves? I asked, my hands clenching as I funneled more mana into my telekinetic shroud. I need to be able to focus on this threat.
“I will, my bond,” the asuran shade replied nearly immediately. “Do not let yourself be taken unawares.”
I grabbed the feathered brooch pinned to my vest, sensing that the mana beast I fought wouldn’t let me reach my companions. Imbuing Aurora’s relic with a bit of heartfire, I hurled it toward where Jotilda tried to cover her fellow dwarves. At the same time, I changed the source of heartfire to the feather in my chest.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
As the relic flew, it glowed powerfully, seeming to unfold and multiply over and over as it expanded, slowly taking shape. In half an instant, a massive bronze bird of prey erupted into space, displacing the air with a push of wind as it neared the dwarves.
Aurora would be able to protect my three allies. Now, I needed to focus on whatever was trying to kill us.
It uses the darkness, I thought, conjuring a dozen fireballs around me that bathed everything in a deep orange glow. I levered Inversion as my eyes darted around the massive cave, searching for any hint of movement.
Then the warbling undertone in the air mutated, seeming to rise in pitch and intensity for a split instant. I winced as the focused attack hit my ears, causing me to lose balance ever-so-slightly. The fireballs in the air sputtered as my concentration was disrupted.
The mana beast soared in from the side. I barely had the wherewithal to pivot, bringing a sound-shrouded Inversion up against my attacker as I got a glimpse of massive fangs and an eyeless face.
But as I swung my vibrating weapon, something in the air changed. I noticed as the air around the creature seemed to oscillate in a familiar way, and then I felt my sound spell break away as I tried to cut the creature. Instead, my attack barely scored a hit on the furred monster, while its claws scored deep cuts across my telekinetic shroud.
What the hell? I thought as the force of our collision sent me tumbling through the many stalagmites again. I grit my teeth as I reoriented, balancing on a spire of jutting rock. I leapt directly upward as the dark shadow tried to scrape at me again. I twisted in midair, layering a shroud of sound over my fist as I tried to punch the thing.
I was met with disappointment as an area around the creature vibrated, the spell it cast seeming to rip away the one coating my fist.
But the pent-up telekinetic push along my knuckles wasn’t affected. I let that burst as my knuckles impacted the fur, earning a raw, high-pitched screech of pain from the monster as I danced backward along the stalagmites.
My head snapped to the side as I felt Aurora engage her magic, swiping at something far away. I could just make out a bare red glow as she fought some sort of monster.
“Worry for your own battle, Toren!” she said sternly to me. “I can handle this fight! Do not let yourself be distracted!”
My bond’s advice was more than timely. That concentrated sound spell rattled my ears again, but this time I was ready. I braced myself, then rocketed in the direction I sensed the spell coming from.
Inversion burned red as I imbued it with a sizable portion of fire mana. I saw a flash of the mana beast’s face as I zipped past, flying just as fast as it.
It had no eyes on its face, only skin and sunken pits where they would otherwise be. Massive fangs like those of a vampire jutted from its jaw, each an ivory spike as long as my arm. In the instant that I saw its face, I found myself wishing that I hadn’t.
The batlike mana beast tried to twist out of the way as I swung my dagger-like horn as I passed, but not fast enough.
I scored a long, clean cut along one of its wings, causing it to wobble slightly and screech in pain. I saw it had two sets of wings as I twisted midair, trying to latch onto the monster with a telekinetic pull.
But the monster still held a measure of dexterity despite its damaged wing. It surged upward unnaturally, its midnight black fur camouflaging it as it disappeared into the darkened ceiling, hiding somewhere amidst the stalactites.
It’s able to change its strange sound domain spell to cancel out my sound spells, I thought as I darted up toward the ceiling like a predator sensing prey. But it can’t do anything about my fire spells. And it’s fast on the wing, but I’m faster.
I quietly thanked Cylrit for the training he provided in standing my ground. In this near-absolute darkness, I needed to play a more cautious game to draw out this mana beast from where it hid.
I sensed it coming from the side again, divebombing me with another screech that tried to rattle my eardrums. It zeroed in on where I stood on a stalactite, surging toward me on two sets of blackened, batlike wings.
That won’t work again, I thought with a smirk, preparing to deflect another swipe of its claws.
Instead, the wind was knocked from my lungs as the thing body-slammed both me and the stalactite, shattering the stone with a resounding crash and sending us tumbling down to the cave floor. My telekinetic shroud cracked from the impact, then shattered fully as my back hit the ground, the several-ton mana beast on top of me.
I grunted in pain as the thing’s claws pinned the arm that held Inversion, my landing wrenching the limb out of socket. I snapped my head to the side as those massive fangs tried to bite down on my skull, primed to pop it like a watermelon.
I snarled as I let go of Inversion, then latched onto it with my telekinetic emblem. When the monster reared up again in all of its ugly glory, ready to try and bite me once more, the white horn lurched forward under my command, embedding itself into the monster’s midnight-black chest.
The batlike mana beast screamed in pain, stumbling backward and releasing my arm. The ambient mana surged in turn, that warbling effect it conjured intensifying as the creature sprayed dark blood onto the ground.
I didn’t let the opening go. I kipped up, throwing a handful of fireshot at the exact same moment. The mana beast tried to fly backward, blood streaming from its chest where my weapon was embedded, but my spell peppered its wing membrane before it could get too far.
It fell like a dropped stone, screaming in terror as its wings were ripped to burning shreds. I bounded forward once, set my shoulder back into the socket, and then concentrated a fireball over my hand. I pumped mana into the orb, feeling myself begin to sweat from the effort as it grew more and more concentrated.
Then I hurled the compressed orb of heat, my attack casting the cavern in deep orange light as it streaked for the falling mana beast like a missile. My fireball morphed slowly, growing wings and talons as it became a burning bird of prey.
Somehow, the eyeless bat managed to twist, emitting a high-pitched scream of sound magic that caused my fireball to detonate prematurely.
It exploded in a nova of heat, searing away glowing moss and blackening any stalagmites that it neared.
I burst through the conflagration, a combined layer of fire and telekinesis building along my shin as I trailed smoke. I twisted as I approached the eyeless creature, bracing for the motion with a few telekinetic stilts far below on the ground.
I snapped a solid kick into the monster’s jaw, my telekinetic pushes and contained buildup of fire exploding on impact. The monstrous creature’s scream was cut short as its lower jaw smashed up into its skull. Splintered bone, blood, and a tumbling fang spurted from the thing’s head, while my shinbone crunched from the pushback.
The massive bat crashed into the ground, the constant warbling sound effect evaporating as the mana beast that caused it spasmed in death throes, lying in a crater and surrounded by its own splattered blood.
I landed solidly on the ground, wincing as I put weight on my leg. I slowly healed my shin, allowing my heartfire to wash away the damage I’d caused myself from my telekinetic recoil. My shoulder, which ached slightly, experienced a soothing warmth as I addressed its dislocation with a spread of aetheric lifeforce. And with a bit of a mental twist, I absorbed the lifeforce in the beast’s blood that coated me.
I exhaled steam as I stalked toward the dying mana beast. It was easily four times my size, but its wings were broken and mangled in the fall. Its chest heaved in a shudder as it tried to breathe, but I suspected its lungs had been damaged by the fall as well. Two of its four fangs had been shattered by my kick, turning its already ugly maw into an approximation of a burst watermelon.
I marched up to the creature, finding the leather-wrapped hilt of Inversion jutting from its sternum. Even if the beast had managed to escape me, the connection I held with this horn allowed me to pinpoint its location precisely.
I withdrew Inversion, a spray of blood exiting the bat-like beast’s fur as it tried in vain to move. I created a shrouded blade along its length, funneling fire mana into the crystalline edge. The thing crooned piteously one more time before I swung my conjured saber across its throat.
But I wasn’t allowed a second to relax. “Toren!” Aurora shouted over our bond, a sense of urgency threading through. “You are needed immediately! Come here, now!”
I bolted into action, slamming a mindfire stamp into the ground as I surged toward where I knew my bond was. I’d traveled a slight ways from the start of the fight, and I had to weave and dart around stalagmites as I surged toward her location.
What is it, Aurora?! I thought, gritting my teeth. Are you in trouble? Do you need assistance in your fight?
“No, I am well,” my asuran bond replied. “But the dwarven elder is not!”
I erupted from the forest of earthen spikes, able to finally hear heartfire without issue once again. I immediately zeroed in on one that felt weaker than the others and was fading fast.
Aurora’s massive avian relic loomed victoriously over another batlike beast, this one notably smaller than my quarry. Its fur was covered in deep burns, traces of plasma and eviscerated body parts telling the story of their struggle. Her soulmetal exterior seemed entirely unharmed.
But illuminated beneath her wing, Jotilda lay breathing raggedly. There was a jagged cut along her thigh that had shorn through her metal armor with ease, causing the flesh to pump thick blood out onto the stones.
Damnit, I thought, sliding to a halt near the dwarven elder. Her eyes were closed and her breathing was uneven, but I knew she was conscious. She was losing blood fast, but I could heal something like this.
I held my hands over her leg, calling on my heartfire. My hands fuzzed with orange-purple light, banishing the darkness around us, before I let the motes of energy drip into her wound.
I heard her heartfire, beating weakly as she slowly bled out. And as my own lifeforce met hers, I tried to sympathize. Tried to match the tone of my chest to hers so that I might heal her.
Except… Except I couldn’t. I couldn’t understand why this woman, who otherwise seemed like such a stalwart and honorable warrior, would sell out her own people to Alacrya. To Agrona. She’d doomed them to experimentation and slavery.
I’d grown in the depths of East Fiachra, watching how the lowest of the low faced their discrimination. And I had no illusions that Agrona’s blood-based society would put every dwarf even lower than the lowest slum rat in Alacrya. After all, even if the urchins bore no magic, they had the blood of the Sovereigns in their veins.
I couldn’t imagine subjecting someone to such a fate. To such a cruel state of existence.
“Why do you rebel, Shintstone?” I forced through gritted teeth, feeling a growing well of despair as blood continued to seep around me. “What makes you reject Dicathen?”
The elder was silent for a moment, and for a moment I feared she had fallen unconscious. “You are a fool, Alacryan,” she said in a rasp. “I don’t reject Dicathen. I choose Darv.”
“Then tell me the difference,” I demanded, feeling strangely helpless as the woman slowly died. I had all this healing power, and it was stalled by my inability to understand the very person I’d been tasked to know.
“The dwarves are never treated as equals,” Elder Shintstone pushed. “Never been allowed to rule for themselves. Even way back when,” she choked out, “Even during the war between Sapin and Elenoir. Darv is entirely reliant on Sapin’s trade for food. In these wastes, we can’t plant our own crops or rear any livestock. So we sent our warriors to fight the elves under old King Glayder’s demand, even though we had no stake in the battle.”
“Elder Rahdeas believed it worthwhile to side with you Alacryans,” the old dwarf wheezed. “Thought we’d be able to carve out a place for ourselves under Agrona’s rule. But even a continent away, you humans think us lesser,” she said quietly. “You immediately call us traitor to our people instead of asking why we rebel in the first place.”
I felt my heart clench in guilt as Elder Shintstone’s words settled into my bones. She leaned her helmeted head against Aurora’s warm exterior, not seeming to recognize her surroundings.
“Your Scythe Seris isn’t even treating with us herself,” Jotilda whispered. “We aren’t worthy of her time, so she sends a representative in her place. A representative of a representative. No matter what we do, we aren’t allowed to make our own choices. Always forced to abide by the laws and desires of others.”
I settled back as the dwarven woman’s words flowed through my system. She seemed to expel more energy with every breath, but there was a strange lucidity to her words as she vented what must have been years of restrained anger.
“And even now, the dwarves aren’t allowed to fight their own battles. You rushed in earlier, casting yourself as our savior when we were confronted by that noble idiot. Even during a dwarven rebellion, the dwarves are never allowed to stand up for themselves.”
Though each of the dwarven woman’s words struck me like a blow, I still felt as our heartfires slowly moved into sync as I gained what I needed. I held out a hand over Jotilda’s wound, remembering the way every single man and woman in East Fiachra had been degraded and beaten. How they’d been pushed at the whims of those greater than they, unwilling to let them simply live their lives in peace.
Jotilda's ragged wound slowly, painfully, healed over as I felt the sympathy I needed. I wrenched my eyes shut as she drifted off into sleep, a large pool of her own blood around her.
She would likely be very surprised to wake up tomorrow.
“I am sorry,” Aurora said over our bond, bowing her avian head in regret. Her eyes–like roiling suns–closed as soulmetal lids covered them in shame. “I was engaged with this Echo Vespertion, and was not aware that it had managed to strike at those I was tasked with protecting until it was already over.”
“By Mother Earth,” I heard a ragged voice say from behind me, “You’re an emitter, too?”
I turned to see Borzen supporting Gruhnd under his shoulder as he stared down at me, wide-eyed. Both were covered in a layer of dust that seemed soul-deep, but they appeared unharmed, though a bit unsteady on their feet. When Aurora’s relic opened its eyes, revealing stars that ripped away the veil of this cavern’s darkness, Borzen stepped back, gulping in fear.
I stood, a sour feeling coursing through my veins. I ignored the two other dwarves, too overwhelmed by my own thoughts. I walked past them, going to inspect the second corpse.
Borzen seemed to dismiss his fears, releasing Gruhnd as he pushed his way toward Elder Jotilda’s body. He laid a meaty finger across her neck, checking her pulse. He sighed in relief when he felt that she was fine.
The orange-haired dwarf picked up her body from the stone, purposefully avoiding looking at the looming phoenix construct above him. “Thank you, Toren,” he said quietly, looking toward me. “She wouldn’t say it, but I will. Dwarven pride doesn’t wash away gratitude.”
“It’s nothing,” I sighed, looking down at the batlike mana beast that Aurora had slain. “It seems, though, that I have a lot to think about.”