As Tarn stepped into the dark shadows of the archway the effects of the chilled temperature began to intensify, like a thousand icy needles pressing against his skin. There was a feeling of transition, as if he were walking through progressively thicker layers of snow. With each step, the world began to shift from black to gray, and cold to colder.
Tarn pushed forward, feeling the resistance pushing against him as he crossed each barrier. He could now see more detail ahead, the blurry images of rocky canyon walls on either side of their exit point, with a pair of metal rails on the ground leading right up to.
It was only as his breath began to put pressure on his lungs that he realized he was not breathing. Crossing one membrane after the next, his view became brighter even as his skin felt the icy burn of the cold.
With a final push, he passed through. He felt his ears pop as if he had ascended to a great height, while the moisture in his eyes began to dry. He blinked, trying to get a focus on the world around him.
The arch opened into a rocky canyon, its walls a mixture of deep orange and black stone which climbed more than a hundred feet up at the lowest points. Save for an occasional crack here and there, they were nearly sheer and appeared to Tarn’s eyes to be unclimbable. Above them was a cloud-filled sky, dropping tiny particles of snow as it moved forward in an endlessly rolling gray wave.
The narrow space between the canyon walls only enhanced the effect of the howling wind that tore through the canyon. It bit at his skin, feeling like a swarm of invisible gnats were gnawing him away. Yet there was more on the wind than just the whine of it tearing through the rocks. There was another group of howls there, the cry of native animals reminding him they would not be alone or safe in this desolate place.
His interface began updating the new statistics, adding to the sense that the clock was ticking against them already.
//BODY TEMPERATURE: 92% (External temp: -10 / Modifiers: +2 Torch)
Torch strength: 64%
//GRAY RESISTANCE: 98% (Base reduction: -5 per hour) //BODY RESERVES: 99% (Base reduction: -3 per hour)
Minus 10 temperature. The entry room before the arch had been +2. Now that his modifiers were lower than the ambient temperature, he was losing body heat fast. Fortunately, the torch was offsetting that a little, but that too was dwindling.
How far do we have to go? The dungeon had called the journey ‘grueling’, but that description was frustratingly light on detail. Still, he doubted this one round of torches would be enough.
Tarn watched the rest of the team exit the arch way, each showing the same level of disorientation he had felt. All but Lash, who gleefully scampered out of the shadowed gateway as if he had been walking in a light rain. In moments, Bog too began to grin.
“Ahh the bite of it!” she cried joyfully, thrusting her bare arms high. “This air has the teeth of a predator!”
Jental looked decidedly less happy with the temperature. She ducked lower, trying and failing to find relief from the screaming wind rushing past her, pulling her dark cloak ever tighter around her. Jental’s scowl only increased as she watched Aryo walk past, cold but clearly less disturbed. Born on the Cairn Plains, he was more accustomed to the temperature.
Yet checking his interface, Tarn could see everyone on the team was equally impacted by the effects of the environment. However comfortable or uncomfortable they all might feel, they were all slowly dying simply from being here.
Isca hovered a few inches off the ground for a moment, her face focused. Even over the wind, Tarn could faintly hear the buzzing whine of her wings as she struggled to keep aloft against the gale. Finally she relented, shaking her head at him as she touched back onto the ground.
“Tarn.” Urthin was the last to exit archway, and was now turned and studying the path where they once exited. His hand was upon the rock, smooth stone where their doorway had been. “We are all through and the exit has been removed as expected.”
“These look like mine cart rails?” Aryo shouted above the wind. He had come to stand beside Tarn, and was kneeling to examine the pair of metal rods that followed the canyon, curving off out of sight. “But they’re so wide. No cart would be this big.”
“Lash told you – it called a ‘train’.” Scampering forward, the gremlin had all but buried himself inside his cloak, pulling the hood up so his ears poked out the front. “Big metal machine, like ten horses in one. Moves fast and loud. Lurim saw them on other world, tried to make copies – small ones. This big one. Fire and stream, wheels and noise.”
“We need to get moving people!” Tarn shouted, gritting his teeth and stepping forward. The wind blew directly into their face, pulling at their hair and hoods, pushing against any attempt at progress. “Down the canyon, and keep your eyes sharp!”
His torch sputtering, Tarn struggled to keep his head up as he walked. The others were around him, but they became merely gray shapes in the blowing snow. On either side of him, the canyon walls stayed nearly as constant as the weather, towering on either side. The thin crack of sky was visible between them, even more ashen and overcast.
Of all the places Tarn had seen, none match this for its feeling of desolation, of lifelessness.
As they moved forward, the chasm began to curve to his right, finally creating a change in the scene before them. The rails continued onward, but now in the distance they could see an end to canyon and the land it rested upon. Two miles distant or more, through the mists and haze, Tarn could make out the faint ghost of a great opening, a vast chasm that cut across their road.
Carrying the railway over this unending divide was the largest structure Tarn had ever seen, a massive wooden trestle bridge that seemed to leap over the opening in the earth, disappearing off into the distant fog. A mist hung over the trestle, clinging to it like damp vines. The wooden crossbars and slats added to skeletal feeling of the bridge, as if some great beast had died and its bones had become this awesome monstrosity.
“Sands of Time,” Urthin uttered next to Tarn, his jaw open in admiration. “In all I have read, I know of nothing compares to the scale of this construction.”
“I feel something when looking at it.” The wind tore at Bog’s azure hair, pushing it behind her. “Like I am looking at meal I once ate and enjoyed. It feels familiar.”
“What?” Lash climbed up onto a surprised Aryo’s shoulders, putting one hand over his eyes to study the distant trestle. “Just far away bridge. Wood. Nails. ‘Ooo so big.’ Everything big to Lash!”
“It feels malevolent to me.” Isca pushed her goggles up on her forehead, as if she did not wish to behold it. “I can’t explain it, other than to say my eyes do not enjoy looking upon it.”
“No, winged one.” Narsol sounded reverent, his smile broad. “You do not appreciate the majesty of what you see. It reminds me of the Labyrinth of Years - off in the Bloodthorn Bogs. A pyramid of bamboo and vines a hundred feet high, and five times as intricate. Oh, the month I did my trials there as a boy … alone, bleeding, finding myself. It was there I learned to test myself, to truly be an orc. Best days of my life.”
Bog opened her mouth to speak, her eyes wide for an instant with curiosity. They then darkened into a glare that she lowered upon Narsol.
“I – I am sorry,” he stammered. “I did not mean to-“
“Do not apologize for speaking.” Bog said curtly. Pulling her cloak over her head, she pushed forward into the wind. “It is my fault, for listening.”
“Nice moves, handsome,” Jental muttered to Narsol with a smirk. “You’re clearly winning her over.”
“That is not my intention, human. I respect her wishes. I was merely overcome with a memory, that is all.”
Taking a brief glance at his interface, Tarn could see they were all down to nearly half their temperature. The canyon walls were still protecting them, even as they channeled the wind they pushed back much of the snow. Out on the bridge, they would be exposed.
“Come on,” Tarn said. “The sooner we reach that thing, the sooner we’re on the other side. It looks to be a good two miles away still and-“
Then an orange glimmer upon the distant bridge caught Tarn’s eye. For a moment, he thought it was another torch, perhaps someone making a perilous crossing. It was fire, pushing against the mist and blowing snow, but it was moving far too fast to be a person.
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A gust parted the clouds, allowing Tarn to see the true nature of what approached them. It was a long black cylinder, hurting across the bridge at tremendous speed, propelled along the rails by a series of massive wheels. A metal chimney near the front of the object bellowed black smoke into the air, while a whistle-like whine drowned out even the wind.
It must have been one of the trains Lash had described, headed directly for them and completely on fire. At the speed it was moving, it would be on them in seconds.
“Scatter!” Tarn shouted. “Off the rails! Get to the sides!”
Pulling a surprised Isca off the railway, Tarn threw them both against the wall. He could feel the thunder of its approach in the earth, shaking him to his core.
“Wait - what is that?” Aryo cried, pointing across the bridge at the approaching menace, as it seemed to flames on its approach.
“Move your ass, junior!” Jental shouted, grabbing the startled Zephyr and pulling him to the other side of the tracks. Tarn was relieved to see Narsol scoop up a fascinated Lash, while he trusted Bog and Urthin to react.
In seconds, the noise of the train’s approach drowned out all sound, making it hard to even think. Tarn could feel the waves of heat coming just a heartbeat before it passed in a flaming scream of metal. The metal beast looked to be made of black iron that somehow was aflame, the huge drive wheels almost a blur as they shot past.
Through the flames Tarn could make out one clear, primitive design, repeated over and over along the side of the engine – engraved on the metal of the cylinder.
An axe.
With a deafening roar the train flew by them, leaving behind a cloud of thick, choking smoke that burned Tarn’s eyes and nostrils. Carried by the rails, he knew it would have no hope of stopping before it crashed into archway back to the Sword. But he was sure now it didn’t intend to.
I am under constant attack by my brother, the Sword told him.
The sound of an explosion ripped through the canyon, sending vibrations shuddering through the stone. For a moment, all Tarn could see was smoke, all he could hear was the ringing in his ears. Blinking against the soot in his eyes, he struggled to read the information his gem thrust upon him.
//Dungeon damage: 14740 //Heal rate: 15.5 ps. Est repair 15.8h //Ambient temperature raised +20. Duration: 30m //Current Temperature: 97%
“That was… an experience,” Isca said, shaking her head. Tarn realized she had been holding on to him during the thunderous passing of the train, and her hands lingered on his waist for a moment before releasing. His heart still pounding in his chest, he winked at her and was rewarded with a smile, her cheeks blushing.
“Everyone all right?” Tarn could feel the warmth of the engine’s passing, interlacing with the chill of the air. One bright side he supposed.
“Thanks to her, yes.” Aryo’s cheeks were as red as Isca’s. He let out a cough from the soot in the air. “I guess I need to keep my wits about me better.”
“If you need wits to avoid something like that, I’m going to be real busy keeping you from getting killed.” Jental shot Tarn a questioning look, which he returned with an approving nod. He told her to keep everyone alive and apparently, so far she was taking it to heart.
“Put Lash down, Big Green!”
As Narsol lowered the gremlin to the ground, Lash scampered past the others, running to Tarn with abandon.
“Boss, loot on train. Lash saw boxes, chests on the back. Falling off.” Lash jumped excitedly, pointing back around the corner. A mile or so farther, the engine had no doubt impacted with the Sword, leaving firey wreckage.
“We’re warm from those flames.” Bog walked back towards them, her eyes anywhere but Narsol. “But it won’t last. Maybe Lash is right. We did find those torches and … fire strikers.”
Tarn looked back at the distant bridge. The huge structure was now covered with both snow mist and dark, acrid smoke. After about a mile, the remainder of the bridge was lost in shadow. There was no telling how long it would be.
//External temperature +18
The warmth from the train was already fading from the air. They’d need more ways to fight the effects of the gray spaces, and Tarn didn’t think they’d have enough temperature left to make the crossing.
“Good eyes, Lash. Bog is right – we should check for anything we can use.”
“But what was that?” Jental waved the smoke away from her eyes. “The little guy said it was a ‘train’ – but what was it really? Why is it here?”
“It’s an attack,” Tarn said. “The Sword Dungeon told me about it. The Axe is attacking him. It. Whatever. I think the train is just… how our minds see it.”
“It’s hard to accept that the dungeon talks to you.” Aryo shook his head. “I believe you Tarn, and I’ve seen a lot of weird things lately. But a building that talks. I just – six months ago the most complicated thing I talked to was Pa’s ornery cows.”
“It is not hard to accept, child.” Narsol shook his head. “Even great powers can be communed with, after all.”
“Oh really?” Jental slid next to the orc, draping one arm across his shoulder. “Talk to any axes lately, sweetie?”
Narsol turned to Jental, then gently but firmly removed her hand from his shoulder.
“No.” he said plainly, then turned to Tarn. “Might I suggest I scout ahead? I could take one other with me. This fog is thickening, and I predict soon we will lose sight of the bridge. We cannot afford to be taken by surprise again.”
Again? Was that a shot at me?
Tarn decided to let that go. More interesting was Narsol’s suggestion of taking another with him. He was pretty sure he knew who that would be. The last thing he needed was more tension between Bog and Narsol.
“Good idea,” Tarn said. “But Urthin can scout ahead on his own. He’ll move faster that way. Smiley, get to the entrance of the bridge and try to get a read on how long that passage across it is going to take, and if we’ll find anything else unfriendly in there. Demonic ‘trains’ or otherwise.”
“A wise decision.” Urthin nodded. “I shall be brief, but no amount of intel would make me consider this place safe. We must balance caution against expediency.”
Without waiting for a reply, Urthin turned. His gem flashed with an azure light, and he vanished into a tear in the world around him.
Tarn saw the set in Narsol’s jaw as the orc watched Urthin leave on the mission he had suggested. That reaction is worth noting, Tarn thought to himself. The man wasn’t used to letting someone else call the shots, but that was all the more reason to keep him close.
“Isca,” he turned to the Kithikin. “You, Aryo, and Jental are the three fastest people we have here. Head back to where the train crashed into the Sword. See if there’s anything worth salvaging. Make sure you use those magic glasses of yours, and if it looks safe bring it back.”
Isca nodded, giving her wings an extra flap to loosen them up. Her eyes were filled with confidence, recharging Tarn with the sight. His mind was churning with worries about the mystery of Narsol, the naivete of Aryo, the aggression of Jental.
“If something locked wing-girl, you bring to me!” Lash poked a thumb at his chest, grinning. “You all thumbs!”
“We’ll see, little one.” She turned back to Tarn. “Thanks for the pain in the ass,” she added with a whisper, nodding her head at Jental.
“Don’t mention it.” Tarn winked. Grabbing one of the spare torches, Isca gathered up Aryo and Jental and the trio began to head back around the corner at a brisk pace. “Hurry back and be careful!”
Isca nodded, and with Jental and Aryo in tow she walked in the opposite direction, back from where they had come. Tarn pushed away the feelings of worry that threatened to creep into his thoughts. Isca was smart, capable and she was a veteran.
“Well, even if Urthin is scouting ahead,” Tarn said, getting to his feet and looking at the dwindling light around them. “If I’m reading the clouds right, it will be dark soon. Let’s head closer to the bridge and see if we can find a good campsite.”
His torch sputtering, Tarn threw it to the ground and pulled a fresh one from his pack. He knelt and touched the tip of the fresh torch to the smoldering one. No reason to waste fire starters.
Tarn took the lead, with Bog walking close behind. Narsol kept a short distance, a few paces back, but Tarn could hear the steady crunch of his boots on the snow. The wind had lulled in the past few minutes, allowing for fresh snowfall to float gently down from the unending clouds above.
As they moved, they could see debris from the flaming engine that had torn through the canyon. Lash scurried back and forth, holding each metallic piece up to his large eyes for study. Most he tossed, a few he threw into his sack.
The air was chilled and dry, with clouds of smoke still lingering, floating in the air like malevolent islands. Ahead of them the canyon continued to twist, a channel of rock and stone that led to the distant bridge.
“I’m going to need to talk to him, you know?” Tarn looked sideways at Bog as he spoke, keeping his voice down. “He was in a big hurry to come with us, now he keeps arguing with me. There’s something he’s not telling us.”
“I know, Tarny.” Her voice was steadier than he expected. “I think so too. Narsol’s been where we’re going, and he hasn’t told us much.”
“You think I’m giving him a free pass? Going too easy on him?”
“No.” Bog shook her head. “You’re testing him. Waiting for the right moment, like you always do. Tactics, that’s your thing. But if you’re worried about how I’ll react, don’t.”
The smoke from ahead began to blow closer to them now, interleaving with the snow. Tarn felt the wind rising, as the acrid taste of soot filled his lungs.
“You worry I cannot handle being among … orcs?” Bog waved her hand in front of her face, trying to clear some of the smoke away. The wind had begun to increase, blowing snow again mixing with the ashen clouds.
Tarn noted Bog did not say ‘her own kind’, but that was nothing new. On some level, this moment had been coming ever since they had lost the staff. Without the Arch Mage’s shield protecting the capitol, the orcs were sure to reach it during the annual invasion. It hadn’t worked out the way he expected, but Bog ended up encountering them all the same.
“I trust you, Bog. I know this is hard for you, so I’m concerned sure. But it won’t stop me from talking to him – I just thought that…”
Tarn paused.
Why is this damn smoke so thick? It was too thick, suddenly the black cloud was all around them, encompassing. Tarn could hear Lash’s cough, but all he could see was Bog, and even she was hard to make out.
“Freeze!” He shouted, throwing up one hand. “Everyone stop moving!”
He balled his fists as how stupid he felt. The smoke cloud was unnatural, it was obvious. If he hadn’t been so in his own head, he’d have noticed it.
Tarn closed his eyes, to better focus on his hearing. There was little to see now anyway. Narsol’s boots came to a crunch as they stopped. He could hear Bog’s breathing, Lash’s soft clearing of his throat. But there was more, something past the wind that cried as it ran through the narrow canyon.
Beneath the wind, there was a lower sound. Guttural and hungry growling, multiple animals. Somewhere ahead, but still too close.
Then the growling came from behind as well, just before the still-time froze him and combat begun.