“Goblins have a natural high attunement with mana and subsequently, magic. Back then, their first shamans taught us humans what they knew about magic and we in turn created our own system of magic while incorporating their teachings. Anyways, the Goblin Matriarch and the Orc Dragonrider agreed to migrate all their tribes to the Western Wastes because they wanted to end the fighting and save their people. Their tribes still reside there to this day.”
“I don’t understand. If they all migrated, then why are there still goblins in the Nasaar Kingdom and none of the ones I came across seemed intelligent at all.”
“Admittedly, the Matriarch and the Dragonrider only brought the tribes they were closest to which in turn were the most intelligent ones as well. They left behind the ones they considered feral and due to thousands of years of feral inbreeding, well, you have today’s modern goblins you’re more familiar with. Violent, stupid, and little more than monster fodder for the adventurers’ guild.”
I’m starting to feel lightheaded as I try to absorb everything he’s saying. Shaking my head to clear it, I’ve had enough and tell him, “Okay. Whatever. Goblins, orcs, elves, whatever, I don’t care. Let’s get back to The Fold and their prophet.”
Hawthorne snorts at me and tries to put on an offended look but fails and says, “You yourself said from the very beginning. Alright then. Now these are stories I’ve heard secondhand myself when I first got here all those years ago because The Fold was created much earlier than that. Not every slave pit was found and liberated after the elves were overthrown. Many of them, including this one, were lost in the sands of time.”
Confused, I ask, “Wait, if they were forgotten, then wouldn’t everyone inside them die? How would they even get food and water?”
“Not necessarily. You see, once again, this is all information I heard from someone else, but apparently, the inhabitants of the slave pit we’re in now managed to survive into modern times until very recently. As recently as a few decades ago. They somehow scraped together seeds which they planted for food and found a source of water, which they drank from. And then a few decades ago, the only survivor managed to climb his way out of here.”
“... That’s unbelievable. Wait, why didn’t they try to leave earlier then? Actually, how were they able to have offspring for this long while being closed off to the world?”
“Inbreeding. A whole lot of it too. Also, they did try to get out. But they were unsuccessful every time. The hand and foot holds we can use to climb up and down the different levels and ultimately use to climb out of this pit weren’t made by the elves. It was made by The Fold’s prophet, the Savior.
“It wasn’t until someone with a monstrous talent for magic, earth magic in particular, was born that a way out of here was created. This part gets a bit hazy, but apparently, the Savior’s last remaining relative and more horrifically, his only mating partner, died during childbirth. Overcome with grief over the loss of his partner and with his entire lineage in danger of dying out, his unstable emotional state fully awakened his talent for earth magic. He used his newfound powers and created hand and foot holds right from the stone walls, climbing his way out.”
“... You can learn magic that way?”
“Sure, it’s what our ancestors did during the War of Liberation from the elves. Of course, we have more modern systems in place to streamline the process but if your talent for magic is strong enough, you don’t need anyone to guide you and can learn it naturally.”
“... Alright. So far we have an inbred earth magic user who climbed out of this pit decades ago. What next?”
“Well, the inbred part probably plays a big role in what happened next. Or it could have also been due to the emotional distress of losing his… wife I suppose? From there, he started kidnapping people and throwing them into The Pit as a sort of fucked up re-creation of what he went through I guess. For some reason, the people who made it out of here didn’t immediately run away screaming and joined his little cult instead, giving grotesque birth to The Fold with the Savior at the helm.
“His first few followers started calling him that affectionately and that’s been his name since. I’m not even sure if he had a real name before the whole cult thing. Regardless, they’ve all just been kidnapping more and more people over the years, ramping up their recruitment and overall numbers. I was caught while I was traveling to Everview and have been here ever since. Fun times.”
“Holy fuck. That’s a lot to unpackage.”
“Yeah, well, I’ve had over two decades to unpack it all myself. I’ve grown jaded over the years and it doesn’t nearly sound as outrageous anymore as when I first heard it all.”
“Okay, I don’t understand how no one found this place and discovered there were people living inside for thousands of years. It’s only a few days' travel from Ocean’s Rest. Also, with how rampant The Fold is with its kidnappings, how the fuck hasn’t the kingdom sent someone to investigate the fucking inbred cult leader building his godsdamned cult here?”
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“You’re right that this place is only a few days’ travel from Ocean’s Rest but it’s quite far off from any of the main roads leading from Ocean’s Rest to Everview or vice versa. You’d need to veer off course significantly to find this place and why would anyone do that without dire situations like yours? You’re also overestimating the number of people The Fold’s kidnapped since its inception. Right now there’s about 50 or so people in The Pit and by my estimates, The Fold itself only has about 200 to 300 members. Around 300 or 400 people going missing over the course of a few decades? That’s nothing.
“Unless one of the kingdom’s princes or princesses goes missing around here, the kingdom won’t give a shit. They’ll just think a new bandit warlord settled down here and wants to control the surrounding regions. You have to realize the insignificance of commoners and lowborns in the eyes of the kingdom. We’re just the unlucky sons of bitches that happened to get lost here of all places and got caught by raving lunatics who worship an inbred psychopath.”
Dark thoughts flood my mind and I can’t think of a way out of this. Live down here for the rest of my life like a wretch or climb up and be forced into a cult that I can’t leave. What wonderful choices. Sighing, I ask him, “If the Savior made the hand and foot holds with his magic, then how did the elves get up and down these pits?”
“Magic.”
“Fuck.”
“Yup. Most elves are born with a strong affinity for magic and learning a wind spell or two that could help them float or fly would be simple for them. Human limitations are much stricter and those types of spells are normally out of our reach except for the best of the best human mages.”
I take a seat right beside Hawthorne and lean my back against his cave wall, tilting my head backwards until I’m staring at the ceiling. Originally, I thought I could climb out of The Pit pretty easily and then wait until I could find a chance to escape into the night. But after hearing Hawthorne lay out everything for me, I suddenly realized that the simple task of escaping has become infinitely more complicated and I’m not sure if I can handle it. The image of Ruben and Shadow lying down next to each other in the grave I dug for them keeps popping up in my head as if I’m subconsciously giving myself a warning. Sighing, I ask, “So what do we do? Just die down here?”
“That, or you could go up and join The Fold.”
“Why hasn’t everybody else down here gone up?”
“It’ll be different depending on who you ask but keep in mind most of the people still here are the dregs of everyone The Fold captured. Some can’t physically make the climb, myself included. I tried a few times when I first got here but I slipped while I was pretty high up during one of the attempts and shattered my ankle, permanently disabling my left foot. I lost my chance at getting out of here for the rest of my life with that accident. For others, like Corbin, who you killed last night, they love the feeling of having power over others and stayed down here on purpose to retain that sense of being all powerful. For the rest, it’s easier to choose a life you’re familiar with, no matter how terrible, than to plunge yourself in head first into the unknown, especially when the unknown is filled with an inbred magic user worshiping cult.”
“... Do you think I stand any chance at getting up there and killing my way out from here?”
“Do you really want to hear my answer to that?”
“No.”
“Didn’t think so.”
Feeling reluctant to just accept my fate of living down here for the rest of my life or to join a fanatical cult that kidnaps others and throws them into said hole, my eyes wander around Hawthorne’s cave and land on the little girl still asleep. Even with our lengthy conversation, she didn’t wake up once and kept sleeping unperturbed. “How’d such a young girl get down here in the first place? Where’d The Fold find her?”
“Slyvia came down here a few months ago along with a handful of other people. It turns out their traveling party was attacked by another bandit group stationed relatively close by who are at war with The Fold due to territory disputes. A few of them, including her, managed to survive and escape but they were picked up soon afterwards by The Fold’s hunting parties. Both of her parents died in the attack and her former companions weren’t willing to stick their neck out for her down here. Corbin wanted to get his hands on her but I put a stop to that. My leg might not work as well as it used to and I’m getting on in years, but I can still hold my own against a pack of vermin.”
Looking over at Hawthorne and his calm demeanor as if he didn’t just say something incredibly noble, my respect for the wizened old man rose tremendously in an instant. Giving him a snort, I chuckle, “You’re a good person, Hawthorne.”
He scoffs in response and says, “Just because I’m jaded doesn’t mean I’m heartless.” We share a laugh and when I’m about to ask again if there’s any other way out of here, a shrill scream that’s distinctly female pierces into the cave. The scream wakes up Slyvia and she sits up, groggily rubbing at her eyes. I’m amazed seeing how she didn’t show any traces of fear at all but rather pure curiosity at what woke her up.
Hawthorne and I rush outside with Sylvia slowly following us in tow. Outside, Corbin’s former crew are dragging a woman, kicking and screaming, into one of their caves. Slightly off to the side, a group of six of them are surrounding a man lying down limp on the ground, stomping on various parts of his body and mixing in the occasional kick to his ribs. Hawthorne is incensed and he spits on the ground before saying, “Tch. I knew that pack of rats would start going crazy with their king rat dead but I didn’t think they’d start before his body was even cold.”
His words barely even register in my head because seeing the scene in front of me makes something click inside my head. This is it. Months ago, back in Midriver, I bought Mary a puzzle set that would show the image of a puppy once all the puzzle pieces were correctly put together. It’s the same now and it’s as if all the pieces of the puzzle have neatly assembled themselves right in front of me and all I need to do is carefully place them together to solve the puzzle. Without a second thought, I rush towards Corbin’s crew with a smile on my lips and overwhelming joy in my heart. Bewildered, Hawthorne calls after me, “Where are you going?”
I shout back without stopping, “I’m going to see the puppy!”