[Womb of the Dark Mage]

Chapter 30 / 10

To the Extremities

When Richard’s eyes adjusted to the dim light, he was able to just barely make out the rough trail that curled down around the side of the cliff face. With Sparlyset on his back, he was extra careful, but it was wide enough. This time. The farther down the trail they travelled the brighter the cave became. He started to make out the silhouettes of bulbous things sprouting from the stone. It reminded him of the forest blanketing the slopes of Mount Flange.

He thought the increasing light was his imagination at first, like his eyes just kept adjusting and revealing more and more. Soon he realised these bulbous forms were beginning to emit light. As flames flickered to life in the town, a blue glow blossomed in mushrooms across the caverns. To Richard’s eyes, each tree-like fungus twinkled with a rainbow sheen.

“They’re magic,” Richard said.

“Gleaming…” Lamet muttered. “Flaring fung…?” she trailed off.

“It’s like they can tell it’s early morning,” Geoff said as he awed at the mushroom forest.

“Flashing fungus!” Lamet exclaimed. She pointed at them with her palm up.

Geoff laughed. “I don’t think you’re allowed to name these, Lamet. The town probably has that covered.”

“We’ll see,” she said. Her pace quickened as eagerness returned to her step.

At the base of the cliff a dirt trail led them straight towards the town. The tall mushrooms bathed them in their blue glow.

“Should we expect hostility?” Richard asked. “Kind of surprised to see people down here at all.”

“As am I,” Lamet said. “Unfortunately, I cannot say what we should expect.”

The edge of town was a park where streams trickled around beds of bright, thorny plants. They were pretty in their own way, he supposed. There were benches sitting so close to the thorns his knees itched just looking at them.

A sudden frantic scratching made him turn his head, and he looked down the street just in time to catch a creature scurrying away. Its long tail was the only detail he caught.

“A denizen?” Sparlyset questioned.

Richard shot Geoff a look, and his friend sighed, letting go of his MGS so it just hung around his neck. The last thing they needed was to provoke the locals by brandishing weapons.

“A child, perhaps,” Lamet mused. “The village is stirring.”

The mushrooms shedded light like the morning sun, now. Except for the blue tint. Richard could hardly believe the place existed. Were there mysterious places like this hidden on Earth, as well? He had never been outside his home country of the Losslands.

Richard gawked at the square buildings, oddly reminiscent of human structures. Except their windows had bone shutters in place of glass. Someone was visible through the narrow slit, watching them pass by.

A distant bell sounded, sending a clear chime echoing through the cave. It rang only twice, and then the streets were deathly silent again.

“That sounded like a summoning bell,” Lamet said.

“… Summoning?” Geoff leaned towards the Riteweaver attentively. He gave Richard a look, with his lips curled in, that told him he wanted to say something.

Lamet held her palm up. “Yes, the bells we use to summon elders for the Rites. You have seen them.”

“Oh, those.” Geoff nodded. He definitely had something to say. Something about summoning?

As they walked towards the centre of town, where Lamet insisted the bell sound had come from, they began to see people watching more openly. First it was a man standing in his doorway. His hair and eyes were brown, and his skin the same pale white as every other puren Richard had seen. What stood out was his long arms and hunched back.

When Lamet turned her palm up at him, he returned it, and continued watching them with quiet curiosity. Richard breathed a little easier going forward, knowing they weren’t openly hostile. So far.

After following the same road for several minutes, it suddenly ended in a low wall guarding a pit that looked endlessly deep. Not even the mushrooms growing from the pit’s perfectly straight walls illuminated the bottom. Sparlyset tapped him twice as he leaned over the edge, so he backed away. The town continued on the other side, but there was no bridge that he could see.

“The Depths of Despair,” a raspy voice said. A puren had come up and perched on the very edge of the pit. They peered over the side without fear of the terminal drop. “A grave for those who commit aught of malevolence in Mother’s Mourning.”

“You toss criminals down there?” Geoff asked.

The brown puren titled his head. “The odd creature speaks odd words.”

“You throw criminals in the pit?” Lamet translated.

The stranger smiled. “Indeed, visitors in the dark, though I only tease. I bid you descry no threats weaved within my impish words.”

The puren hopped down from the wall and slinked off down the road without another word.

Geoff squinted after the small figure as they disappeared around a corner. “Is it just me, or did that guy speak an awful lot like Sparlyset?”

“This must be a culture of ancient eloquence,” Sparlyset said.

“More that you raised yourself on lore written in a similar period as the one this settlement originates from.” Lamet retorted.

“Yes,” Sparlyset said thoughtfully, “and my mind begins to tingle with recollection. ‘Mother’s Mourning’ is mentioned in a verse scribbled in one of our more esoteric texts.”

Lamet shuffled closer. “How can that be? I trust you recall this verse in its entirety? If it truly speaks of this place, any information it contains could be invaluable.”

Sparlyset gave a palm-up. “I will recite the relevant fragment as well as I recall.” She cleared her throat. “At the dawn of Mountain’s breath, in depths of stone that serve as warning, torn of heart by newborn’s death, we abandoned them in Mother’s Mourning.”

Lamet crossed her arms. “What could this mean…?”

“It’s not a riddle, Lamet, don’t hurt yourself,” Geoff joked, earning him a glare from the concentrating Riteweaver.

“Is that all you remember, Lightweaver?” Lamet resumed walking along the road parallel to the long pit. She held her head low as she tried to puzzle out the details.

Richard hurried to keep up with her and Sparlyset reached out to poke the Riteweaver’s shoulder. “That fragmented verse is the conclusion. Much was faded, and more still was a confusing tangle of details incomprehensible without their context. I recall little beyond the best interpretation I could form at the time.”

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Then give us your best interpretation,” Lamet sighed.

Sparlyset cleared her throat. “The death of a newborn brought some turmoil, and the people became divided,” she began. “A faction migrated and settled the regions of our birth… the Mountain’s breath… the rest were sealed beneath the stone. The poem exposits the details of their history… our history, perhaps.”

“An apt enough interpretation I suppose, though it reveals nothing of use,” Lamet said. “I will have to ask you to show me the text when we return to Mount Flange.”

Sparlyset suddenly squeaked and tapped Richard’s shoulder.

“What is it?” he asked, as she continued tapping him.

“Humans!” she exclaimed.

“What?” He was already looking at her head peeking over his shoulder; she wasn’t watching anything. “What humans?”

Lamet cocked her head expectantly. She tapped him more. “The apparition spoke of humans! ‘He would no longer be human,’ she said! ‘Death should not be challenged!’”

Lamet stopped walking. They had come to where solid ground skirted the edge of the long pit. “When was this?”

“When your nefarious brother stole Richard from me!”

Richard tried to suppress the rage that burned in his heart. It was hard to forgive someone who willingly harmed innocents. Not him, and especially not Sparlyset.

The Riteweaver resumed walking with her tail swishing through the air. “I see why you drew the connection, you think perhaps they attempted to resurrect the newborn and this caused division amongst the people? All we have is bits of old lore so far. Perhaps we will learn more, and these details will become relevant. If not, then better that we did not waste the time standing here pondering them.”

“If nothing else, I hope we find out why an old puren spirit was talking about humans.” Richard said. Sparlyset tapped him once. He smiled, loving how she kept up the gentle tapping to communicate with him. He had a strong feeling they would find something as they delved deeper, but he was worried it wouldn’t be what they were looking for.

“There,” Lamet pointed.

Richard was somewhat disappointed by the change of subject, but he followed her finger’s direction anyway. There was a haphazard collection of square houses, completely lacking the rigid organisation that the other side of the town had. Some of the old stones made them look downright crumbly, and he noticed some sections had actually been replaced..

Past the houses a plaza was built through the base of a towering mushroom tree. The hunched puren man from before gave them a palm-up as they passed, and then trailed behind them.

Once they were closer, he curled his nose at a sour scent in the air. He could see inside the dome carved into the base of the giant blue mushroom. There was an elaborate statue of long, coiling shapes, and people were gathering around it.

“An effigy of Saankejeba?” Sparlyset said quizzically.

“Is that like Vaankekada?” Richard asked her.

“Your memory is keen, my love,” she said with a tap on his shoulder. “As Vaankekada is the goddess of life and knowledge, Saankejeba is the primordial goddess of language and communication. Her body is comprised of six pyrosomes.”

“I remember the statue from your village,” he said. “You remember that, Geoff?”

Geoff squinted at it. “Yeah that noodly thing right? With the bell in it. No idea what a pyrosome is though. Why didTongues even translate that?”

Lamet shrugged. “It is the nature of the goddess of language, I am not entirely surprised you understood it.” She continued approaching the statue unperturbed by the crowd assembled at its base.

“I—” Geoff hustled after her. “I didn’t understand it though. What the heck is a pyrosome?”

Richard was pretty sure he knew what a pyrosome was. A sea tube or something… he saw them on TV during one of his nature programs. Geoff had been with him. He supposed it made sense, now that he looked at it. They were sort of lacking in any obvious features, and the stone carving couldn’t do justice to their bioluminescence.

The Riteweaver didn’t offer an answer before she stood squarely in front of the crowd. They were all brown purens, and they all regarded them with curiosity. The crowd parted to allow a group of elders to step forward. Their faces were covered nearly to their chins with scales.

The man who had addressed them before crept by and disappeared into the crowd. Many of them were old people, Richard realised, and everyone had crooked posture and arms that were a little too long.

A woman stepped forward. “Welcome to Mother’s Mourning,” her voice creaked like an old oak on the verge of collapse. There was no friendliness in it. “I am elder Carayul. May I inquire into your purpose here? Travellers have not burdened this accursed place since its founding.”

“I imagine not, given the turmoil we faced to get here.” Lamet replied. “We come in pursuit of another blue puren. He would have come through not long ago.”

The elder glanced up at her colleagues. Their hunched backs made them appear very short. “There is naught we can do to aid you. We have just this moment dragged our weary bones from our nightly slumber to greet you upon warning from an early-risen child. If this other you speak of snuck through before the forest’s light, there were none to witness him.”

“Might we search the town and its surroundings? Or can you direct us towards any exits he may have taken?”

Another elder addressed them, speaking in a similarly aged voice. “I urge you to consider our perspective. Only our ancient lore reminds us of a world beyond our walls, and most here have not read it.”

“I take it you are the Lorekeeper here? Should I repeat my question?”

He turned his palm down. “There are twin gates, but they are eternally sealed. We would sooner toss you in the Depths of Despair than open them if we could. All the crucial lore warns of the dangers beyond.”

“I respect your decision to keep them shut, but might you share the nature of these supposed threats?” Lamet’s tail flicked impatiently.

“Cleft dragons, shades of the dead, fey… the list is extensive.” His eyes twinkled with the obvious question of how they entered the village, but he refrained from asking.

“Let me guess,” Lamet said carefully, “The gates can only be opened by an artefact that is not even here, and its location and nature is unknown to you.”

The old man hesitated, and then silently turned his palm up. His face scrunched up into the image of a man offended.

“And your lore describes it as the Heart of Shadow?”

His lip curled into a snarl. “What have you discovered? Tell me you have not opened the gates.”

“The one we pursue has opened the gates above the cliff,” she said. She sounded embarrassed, and her tail curled around her leg. “It leads to a cavern of indescribable proportions and darkness. Above it, a labyrinth of tunnels snakes upward. There is indeed a cleft dragon of immense size lurking within.”

A murmur of concern rippled through the crowd. That concern was reflected on the elders’s faces.

“Do you have the means to reseal the gates?” Lamet asked. “There are statues that I thought might serve that purpose.”

The old Lorekeeper growled. “The lore describes the method but once sealed the gates can never be compelled to open from here. I trust you treacherous travellers will retreat to your own demesne?” The elder gestured to a younger man to follow him, and they left the way Richard and his companions had come.

Lamet hung her head. “We cannot, not without the other. But we will not ask you to delay in sealing the gates. If we are trapped here, so be it, but we cannot allow him to continue.”

The Lorekeeper didn’t answer Lamet. No doubt he was in a hurry to seal the gates. Elder Carayul cleared her throat to get their attention, confirming Richard’s thought that the Lorekeeper was leaving them to be dealt with by the others.

“Heed our righteous demands, and we will not discard you like unwelcome rubbish to the clouded depths. Now come.” She walked briskly away, her steps punctuated by the sharp tapping of a short cane.

Richard shrugged at Lamet when she looked at them. He knew she could Bound them through the gates, but not back into the tunnels without being able to see them. As far as they knew she had volunteered them to be trapped underground forever… he hoped she had a plan. If anyone did, it was Lamet.

Elder Carayul waved the crowds away, but they only backed far enough to be out of the way. When Richard looked over his shoulder, he noticed people gathering across the Depths of Despair as well.

The old side of town was larger than he originally thought. The area near the mushroom dome was extremely disorganised, with many homes sharing gardens or entrances. A rare few had multiple levels. One thing they all had in common was a thick orange fungus growing around the base.

But beyond the giant mushroom tree the town sloped down and the houses were again newer and more organised, though not to the degree of the first street they had walked.

Geoff shot him a nervous look. Richard nodded to him. None of them were looking forward to whatever was going to happen. Geoff fidgeted with the strap of his MGS the entire way.

The gate soon came into view, set into the side of a quarry. Water trickled down the cavern walls into a pool that had drained through the gate when it was opened. The elders all swished their tails.

Carayul addressed them bitterly. “If you will not return from whence you came, then depart onward ere the gates are sealed.” The other elders voiced their agreement.

Richard stepped down the wide stairs of cut stone after Lamet. Geoff was still trying to fidget his nerves away. As Richard entered into the waist-deep water he felt Sparlyset shiver on his back. He could barely tell how chilly it was because her spell protected him, and he wished there was something he could do for her. Maybe he would have to learn Warmth himself.

He waded to the base of the gate and Geoff knelt down to help pull them up.

“Thanks Geoff,” he put his arms around his friend and squeezed him. “We’ll get through this. We always do, right?”

“Yeah,” Geoff sighed, “we will.” He glanced at Lamet momentarily before staring off into space. He closed his eyes, and his head bobbed determinedly. “We will.”