image [https://i.imgur.com/kmfmtHM.jpg]
Since the few dozen shallow funnels looked identical, I didn’t debate which to take inside. Settling for one in the center, I poked Creeper into the circular shaft and looked through its spearhead.
A buildup of minerals roughed out the sides of the well, but the round symmetry betrayed the shaft’s artificial origin. Someone had hollowed this out long ago. I put away the short sword and scabbard I’d recently tied to my waist to keep them from snagging on the mineral buildup and secured a rope to a long spike that I drove into the ground. After tossing the rope into the hole, I dropped inside.
When the shaft skewed at a 60-degree angle, I slid against the sides of the walls until I ran out of rope. While hanging on its end and bracing myself against the sides of the tube, I tied it to another line and ensured that the lashing held. I dropped another 30 feet at the same angle until I dropped into a round room filled with odd mechanisms.
The eight vertical shafts drained into tubs that floated a few feet above the floor. The sturdy rock tubs collected rainwater but looked like a modern sculpture. When I found one almost filled to its high watermark, I poured a waterskin into it until it tipped, spilling its entire contents into a drainage basin. I couldn’t guess where the water went.
Magnetism’s interface explained the invisible force governing the floating tubs. A repulsion stronger than anything I’d seen held them aloft. Someone designed it to tip when water filled it and right itself after emptying.
A central disk with a grooved channel diverted the rainwater between the tubs. It also floated in midair and possessed no complex workings.
Was this a giant water clock? Its mechanisms seemed too simple. I imagined a stable of monsters below, each depending on a measure of rainwater to survive. I couldn’t conceive what other purpose one might have for dousing measured quantities of water into the earth.
While Detect Magic showed nothing aglow, the Magnetize interface revealed magnetic fields so potent that I could barely read the direction of its attraction. A powerful repulsion from metalwork kept them aloft. I stupidly extended my hammer to one tub. It almost lurched out of my hand. The pull they exerted looked stronger than anything else I’d encountered.
I backed away and Magnetized the nearest tub. The floating cistern didn’t move, but I nearly brained myself after rocketing across the floor. I tried to avoid a collision with Slipstream, but magnetic pulls counted as grapples, and I slammed into the hunk of tub.
Never had Magnetize affected my position. I reread the spell’s description.
Power (spell)
Magnetize (tier 3)
Prerequisites
Mineral Communion, Arcane magic rank 14
Cost
25 mana
Cooldown
none
Cast time
Channel
Description
Caster instills target metal within 5 yards with magnetic attraction for a duration of one second per rank in arcane magic. Concentration must be maintained to sustain the effect. Proximity to caster and natural magnetism will increase the spell’s effect.
Leaving the tubs alone, I passed through an opening between rain collectors. It led to a catwalk suspended over a chasm. The void beneath the grillwork opened to a space filled with giant disks and oversized machinery. Supports and axles spanned the space, yet nothing bore modern mechanical features. Presence projected a grid of shadows onto everything below.
This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.
I felt stupid testing the grill’s strength to see if it would support me. The six inches of metal didn’t wiggle when I transferred my weight. With Slipstream, reaching the jungle gym of giant beams and wheels beneath me would be easy. Holes in the grill’s design gaped wide enough that I might not need magic to explore. I surmised the previous explorers all went down there.
I could slip between the grate for a tour of the space below. The void yawning beneath me extended further than my 60-foot infravision range. I would save the big space for later. But first, I wanted to explore the end of this suspended corridor.
The shapes beneath me weren’t just structural. Creeper revealed great disks touching one another like great gears—some the size of a Ferris wheel—yet none of the gears possessed teeth.
I walked across the grill, following the corridor to a closed hatch. It looked like it belonged in a science fiction movie. A 10-inch thick encasement framed the hatch. Two slabs of metal formed the door, which barred any passage. Beside it stood a waist-high frame encasing two metal rods whose tips almost touched. Detect Magic made them glow. I tried to jiggle them, but the encasement held them in fixed positions.
Magnetize’s interface showed magnetic charges in the rods and how they connected to levers controlling the doors. Bridging the gap with a silver piece accomplished nothing, so they didn’t work on a circuit. The metal’s natural magnetism wasn’t strong enough for my spell to move them. I tried to force the rods together with a pickaxe, but they wouldn’t budge.
No amount of grunting, cursing, and brute force made the rods wiggle. I scanned the door’s components using Magnetize’s UI arrows to understand its physical form, but doing so revealed no hidden functionality.
Everything seemed unnecessarily hefty—as if the cost of metal wasn’t a factor. Even the grate beneath my feet felt solid. For a second, I doubted the wisdom of pushing further. Was this way too high for me? Would a level 50 caster bypass these doors without a problem? The level 18 general never mentioned what level monsters to expect.
Instead of trying to figure anything out, I cheated with Mineral Communion and reviewed the memories of the surrounding stones. Most scenes stood empty, so combing through the memories took a half hour, but I saw two periods of activity. The first series comprised human adventurers squeezing through the floor grating.
The second group involved dwarves with pale skin, whom I suspect built the place. They bore beard braids I’d not seen among Hawkhurst’s citizens. Most looked like sorcerers, casting spells and milling around without tools or weapons.
The dwarves used spells to open the hatch, heating the rods with unfamiliar magic. Was this a time for Mineral Mutation? It seemed like turning the rods into flesh or vegetable matter would hurt my situation. No, this wasn’t the answer.
Wasn’t metal supposed to do something when it got hot? Did it expand or contract?
Before spending points or damaging anything, I tried my available spells. I targeted the rods and cast Scorch. After the flames flickered out of existence, nothing happened. Ten seconds later, I recast the spell. The metal rods felt warm.
After 20 Scorches, the metal glowed red, but they looked closer. With a 4-second cooldown and a 6-second cast, I spammed it until I depleted my mana. A 100-point mana potion gave me enough for ten more casts.
I only need six. With barely over 40 mana remaining, the pieces of metal tinked together, and the door slammed open at magnetic speeds. I didn’t trust the rods enough to enter the aperture. If it cooled down while I went inside, would I trap myself? Would it close as violently as it opened?
With only 40 mana at my disposal, I needed to escape if a monster popped out. I used Slipstream’s interface to explore the room without going inside.
A raised throne dominated the small octagonal room. I spotted another rods-lock mechanism on the other side of the door, so at least I could exit.
I zapped the outer rods four more times, but the doors slammed shut halfway through a Rest and Mend. They opened after a dozen Scorches, so I emptied the rest of my mana into overheating them, hoping they’d give me a little time. They glowed orange after I performed another Rest and Mend, so I figured I had a few minutes to explore. I went inside.
The rods quickly cooled, causing the doors to close a minute later. Since keeping the doors open grew tiresome, I gave up. I’d reheat the exit rods after I finished investigating.
Burning through a half hour of Mineral Communion didn’t reveal who sat on the throne. As far as I could tell, no one had. I caught a few scenes of dwarves building the place and installing heavy metal slabs, and I studied the strange results of their labor. The throne’s raised platform used the only masonry in the dungeon—all other structures, walls, ceilings, and floors came from natural rock, carved with a spell similar to Dig. The dwarves I knew didn’t build this way. Perhaps the visions showed Mineral Mutation in action.
The cardinal points of the octagonal walls held eight metal frames containing live holograms of the valleys around Iremont. The images looked real, and poking my fingers through the two-dimensional plane caused my fingertips to shimmer. Hawkhurst appeared in the southern view. Magnetize’s interface showed magnetic fields surrounding the frames. I’d stumbled into a security room.
Four banks of metal rods filled the space between the screens. I counted many sets of rods in the room, each connected to metal wires embedded in the wall and burrowed further into the dungeon.
If this was a control room, perhaps heating one of these many rods changed the screens, letting me preview the monsters below.