Morning, or something that felt like it, came after a long sleep, disturbed by fitful dreams of scuttling dead things with gasping forests of hands. I woke with a start, sweat cold on my skin despite the warm bedding around me.

For a moment I thought it had just been the dreams that disturbed me. Then I heard something moving, the sound of fleshy footfalls on stone.

There was something inside my cave.

At first I thought it was another of the predatory monsters I’d encountered in the mushroom forest, but there were far too many noises to be just one of them.

Snatching a glimpse around the bend in the tunnel I saw the silhouette of coiling horns, a huge elongated humanoid torso covered in limbs – the centipede-people had found me!

The intruder hadn’t spotted me yet, but it was sniffing the air, its skull-shaped face swaying as if following air currents as it slowly scuttled closer.

With how small the cave was, hiding would be impossible – there wasn’t even space to pass it by. It would be upon me in mere moments.

If I couldn’t hide I’d have to escape. I began an incantation. Whispering the words did little good in so small a space and the gaunt creature was quickly aware of my presence. That did it no good however; a gale blew it from the cave like a bullet from a gun, body twisting and limbs flailing as it sailed through the air!

Looking out at the wetlands below, I saw the creature squirming angrily to its many feet in the water. Dozens more were visible, some already clinging to the cliffside just below me. It was time to go.

Jumping over the head of the nearest foe as it tried to grab me I landed in the flooded marsh beneath with a splash and set off running. Angry centipede-people hissed and spat, puffing strange gases from their vented sides as they chased after me.

If the monsters had been armed with projectile weapons or magic as the invaders in Chasm had been I might have been in real trouble, but as it was I was able to leave them behind once I got out of the water and onto dry land, escaping through a gulch that ate through the cliffs a few miles from where I’d slept.

The dense undergrowth of the steep valley gave way to drier more arid terrain as I rose up, away from the drainage basin. The ground ahead was rocky and crumbling, a maze of low hills and valleys that helped me shake off the direct pursuit, the light coming from gnarled and twisted strands of wood that grew right out of the rocks in places, tipped with glowing yellow sacs that reminded me of lamps.

It would have been interesting to stop and examine the plants, but even once I’d left my pursuers behind I kept running. My unpleasant awakening was proof that the centipedes weren’t going to give up on catching me, so I needed to maintain as much of a lead as I could.

At first I struggled to understand how the monsters had zeroed in on me so precisely, but then I noticed the lingering stains of the sticky liquid they’d spat at me back in their hive. There were faint blotches of it on my right arm and all over the right of my abdomen and thigh. I couldn’t see clearly, but I suspected there was more on my back too.

It had almost no scent even if I sniffed the skin directly, but there was a faint trace of something sharp and cloying there – and a murmur of mana that certainly wasn’t mine. They must have sprayed me with some sort of supernatural scent marking that they could track, even at long distances.

What made it especially bothersome was that I couldn’t seem to get it off. Even scrubbing at it with water and a porous stone didn’t work.

Magic could probably dispel or dissipate it somehow, but, while my mana control had definitely been improving, the only language of magic I knew was that of the Harpies; magic for conjuring the elemental forces, not unpicking a strange cursed spit attack.

There was one way in which Harpy magic could fix the problem of course. If I were to burn the spit away I doubted they’d be able to track me, but who knew how long it would take, given my resistance to flame.

I’d heal of course; I’d survived worse than full-body burns before, but even if I was prepared to burn myself alive for minutes, even hours on end – which I damn well wasn’t – doing so in this situation was suicide. I’d be broadcasting my position to anything and everything for miles around and I’d be a sitting duck while I was recovering.

Better by far just to focus on putting as much distance between me and them as possible. If I could find a way back to the surface I could worry about the scent marking later – gross though it was to leave the stuff on myself.

~~~

With escape to the surface in mind I’d been running for what felt like a day, possibly two, when I came upon something which gave me hope.

I’d passed out of the mind-bogglingly huge chamber that housed the hive and wetlands, but even the passageways which connected it to other open spaces were huge enough that it didn’t entirely feel like I was underground.

As I ran I’d passed through an amazing variety of landscapes teeming with strange and often beautiful life. Nothing had prepared me for what I now faced however – after passing down a long tunnel I had emerged at the edge of an underground desert!

Entering the huge space, the silky glowing reeds I’d been moving through gave way to mossy patches, and then finally bare stone. At the same time the temperature soared, the ground so hot that normal people would have been burned by it.

That ground soon also gave way, turning to sand, fine and soft underfoot, whipped up into dunes by turbulent winds. The dunes were small around the edge of the vast space, low like those of a beach, but in the distance they rose up impossibly high, towering like mountains.

And yet those monoliths of silica were only minute bumps against the scale of the chamber of rock, which defied all attempt to gauge.

Dominating the cavern was the sun. It hung far above, a glowing sphere, hovering effortlessly as it slowly rotated. My bewildered eye could only judge the orb as impossibly colossal, fixed in the exact centre of the vast domed space, itself a perfect sphere.

The golden surface of the not-so-miniature star was dim in places, but rippled with uneven waves of brilliant luminance, shining out like crepuscular rays through cloud, packed with immeasurable magical power.

Despite the urgency of my purpose, my feet slowed to a halt among the dry ripples of sand as I took in the sublime sight, awed by the magnificent scale and the beautiful, shining dunes in their staggering desolation.

It was the platonic ideal of a desert, here, deep under the mountains, a sight I could never have dared dream of, shocking me out of my immediate concerns, hunger, fear and fatigue lost to a moment of enchantment.

The thought scarce entered my head that the terrain ahead might present a formidable barrier to my passing, so enraptured was I with the idea of exploring it.

Even if it had, I would have been confident in my ability to endure the heat. It might even prove effective as a deterrent to the clammy-skinned centipedes.

Even if not, I couldn’t pass up promise of adventure in the desert.

Traversing the dunes was challenging, the sand giving way easily underfoot, while walking down between the slopes would lead me on a longer path – and one without the wonderful sights of the dune ridges.

My solution to both problems was to take to the air, jumping rather than trying to run, bounding from peak to peak.

My passage wasn’t as fast as I might have expected; each leap left a crater in my wake, each landing driving my body waist deep into the sand, however the extra challenge of extricating myself still left the method faster than walking.

Rare rock outcrops broke up the pristine slopes and gave a window into the strange ecosystem of desiccated life forms and bone dry terrain. They also made for excellent springboards to aid my passing.

After several hours in the desert my throat was growing uncomfortably dry and the heat was growing draining, if not intolerable, so I took a short break to have a shower and a drink. Magic was a wonderful thing!

The wonder became literal when I saw side-effects of my indulgence; wherever the spray from my bathing landed on the desert sands tiny glimmers of green rapidly emerged, minute shoots and leaves pushing up, tingling with mana as they greedily sucked the moisture.

In mere minutes I was surrounded by a cacophony of flowers and glowing leaves, dozens of species appearing from nowhere. The plants must have been dormant, seedlings buried under the surface, awaiting the rain.

What rain there could be in a desert underground I couldn’t say, but I felt guilty for waking those on whom my spell had fallen, so I made sure to at least give them enough water to get by for a while.

Leaving behind a burgeoning oasis around a glittering lake, I returned to my journey with renewed enthusiasm.

Though I’d been in the desert for many hours I didn’t tire of the magnificent biome.

It helped that I had the power to refresh myself and quench my thirst whenever I pleased, however the sights kept coming too.

In the far distance I saw a mountain of sand rising up, a tan tsunami breaking upon the desert. What emerged was the carapace of a worm-like creature, towering higher than a skyscraper!

Its body was ringed with layer after layer of shining lacquer, armor plates or scales, openings between them like blowholes billowing particulate clouds that engulfed entire dunes – a hint at the mind-blowing scale of the sandworm.

There was no way I could tell if such a creature was hostile to humanoids, but given the sheer world-altering scale of the entity I doubted it would even notice me.

Perhaps it was the culprit responsible for hollowing out such vast caves underground?

The full length of the serpentine leviathan took several minutes to disappear back into the sands, but once it had gone I set off again… making sure not to head in that direction.

Leaping as I did helped me keep a straight path through the desert, but it also gave me an excellent view of the coming terrain and landmarks as I travelled. On one such leap I spotted another feature in the distance which seemed to be moving.

It was far smaller than the sandworm, a mere series of specks. After the first glimpse I assumed it was a mistake on my part, but over subsequent jumps I determined that the shapes were definitely shifting against the dune atop which they rose.

The formation was one I’d initially taken for rocks, or perhaps the weathered skeletal remains of some ancient creature, but as I came closer I realized the figures I was seeing were just that – humanoid travelers, crossing the desert!

They were walking in a column, leading what appeared to be pack beasts laden with goods in large saddle-bags at their sides and strapped on their backs. The figures were clad in thick layers of material to ward off the ‘sun’, broad and shallow bowl-shaped objects atop their heads, reminiscent of the conical straw hats traditional to parts of east-Asia back on Earth.

As soon as I was close enough to confirm that they didn’t have elongated bodies like centipedes I made a b-line for them, elated at the prospect of meeting other people. I was still totally naked, but the humiliation was secondary to more practical concerns – and if anything I was becoming something of an expert in nudist greetings.

They seemed to have become aware of my exuberant approach, as after a while they stopped walking, huddling together with their animals in an open and relatively flat space between two grand dunes.

It was only as I was a scant couple of leaps from reaching them that I realized that the figures weren’t quite as humanoid as I’d thought – and they weren’t wearing hats. What I’d taken for headgear were their heads!

The creatures appeared to be mushroom-people, clad in thick layers of dried and woven leaves with long broad blades like reeds. The outermost layer of the garb was a single woven sheet that went over their mushroom-cap heads and hung down on all sides like a personal tent, the only gap at the front where they looked out from faces that emerged from the chest – or was that stem – of their bodies. The garments were likely protection against the light overhead, giving each a similar yellow coloring to the dunes around them.

The forms that the drapes hid were barrel-shaped bipeds, torsos rotund and circular, skin white and a little leathery. They had four limbs in the usual places, but said appendages weren’t jointed like those of a humanoid; instead they were closer to the flexible trunks of elephants, save only for their greater thickness. Their legs were around thrice as long as they were thick, and while their arms were slenderer they were still relatively stubby for their overall size.

The pack animals they led wore similar shrouds to those of their masters, a thick layer totally obscuring the forms underneath, hems brushing the sands as they walked. All I could discern was a general outline; long snouted heads on short necks, rounded bodies and triplicate stubby tails that each ended in a bony club. Around their eyes the cloaks had blinkers, angled to protect against the sun, but I could see pale green fuzz like moss which could have been body hair. From how they moved I could imagine they were bipeds, with gaits similar to dinosaurs.

I might have hesitated to involve myself with more fungal friends after how badly the previous attempt had gone, but these were clearly intelligent in the more relatable, humanoid fashion, given their clothing and the elaborate harnesses and enigmatic but well-crafted goods on their pack beasts.

Even if the beings proved hostile, I was determined to give them a chance. It would be a relief to finally have someone to talk to.

Landing a respectful distance from the mushroom-folk so as not to shower them in sand, I scrambled out of the impact crater and raised an arm, waving toward the group.

“Hello there! Can you understand me? I’m lost! It’s so good to see someone else down here, I’ve only met monsters so far! I don’t suppose you can tell me where here is by the way?”

It was as I was running over to them that I noticed the fearful way the travelers were closing ranks, exchanging muttered words.

“Stay back!” the lead figure called out, holding up both hands as if to ward off some monster. I could understand his voice, even if it was unusually deep, thick and ponderous, but it seemed understanding wasn’t the biggest hurdle. It hadn’t occurred to me, despite my past experiences, how easily I might be taken for another of the underground world’s monsters.

“Oh, no no no, don’t get the wrong idea,” I said quickly, replying in his tongue. “I’m not a monster, I’m a human! I know look, uh, very different to you – and I lost my clothes in a fight – but I’m not dangerous and I don’t mean you any harm.”

“Don’t listen to it, Owauun” another of the travelers insisted. “I’ve heard of humans; Overworld animals. They could never get all the way to the Underworld, and they’d never know Comspraki.”

“Normally I’d agree with you, but I really am human, and I guess I’m something of a student of languages? I fell down a ridiculously huge chasm and ended up underground – I’m completely lost, I didn’t even know this place was called the Underworld.”

‘Owauun’ spoke up again, his voice not so unlike a human’s, but replayed at half speed with more pauses. “There’s no chasm down to the Underworld. I know, I’ve been all over. Even if there was, nothing could survive a fall like that, you’d be a lichen-mark on a rock. And then there’s the challenge of crossing the dunes with no supplies or even clothing….”

“And only a monster could have mana like that, whatever it is!” a smaller, slender figure piped up, voice higher pitched and tense. “A normal person would be dead in seconds giving off their essence like that!”

I waved my hands in what I hoped was a reassuring gesture, trying to be understanding as well as non-threatening. “Okay, okay, we clearly got off on the wrong foot, but would you believe I get this monster thing a lot? I know it’s disconcerting, and yes, I’m naked… that happens a lot too lately… but I have, uh, something of a disorder when it comes to my mana control – it’s a real problem but I just can’t help it right now. I was actually trying to learn to control it when all this happened-”

My words didn’t sound so bad to me, but as I tried to explain myself the mushroom-people seemed to be growing more agitated if anything.

“Don’t come any closer,” Owauun insisted again, my words unheeded, he and his posse retreating several paces. “We’ll not harbor a criminal, no thank you. Leave us be, you… whatever you are.”

“I told you I’m not- wait, what? A criminal?” I asked, my impassioned defense of my humanity derailed abruptly. “I’m not a criminal! I mean for real this time! Call me a monster if you must but I’m not a bad gu… er… person.”

The leader bobbed his head, his yellow robe shaking. “The Formorians don’t give out the death brand lightly – and even if you’re innocent they’re not likely to care now. Never known a Formorian to listen to reason before. You’d better be on your way, monster, we don’t want to get dragged into your crimes too.”

“Okay, uh, let’s talk about this,” I suggested uneasily, suspecting that I wasn’t going to like what would be said. “Just hear me out, and if you still want me to leave I’ll go without a fuss, alright?”

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When they failed to reject the suggestion I went on quickly. “If the Formorians show up I’ll tell them you refused to help me. You can even tell them I tricked you. I promise I won’t hurt you or anything. I just… want to talk.”

“Do you swear it?” the leader asked sternly.

“I swear. I don’t want to get any innocent people caught up in…whatever mess I’ve gotten into here.”

The desert-fungi hummed slowly before replying. “You feel like you’ve a clean cap.”

“How can we be sure, boss?” asked the flighty thinner fellow. “We’ve never seen this species before; we’ve got nothing to go on!”

Owauun replied with what I’d come to understand was characteristic lethargy, frequent pauses between his words. “Now Kiuun, you know I have a cap for these matters. I don’t feel any deceit in this one… and if that’s so then we can at least offer some advice to a lost soul.”

I grinned in relief at the cumbersome speech. “Thank you, I really appreciate it. It’s great just to meet someone who doesn’t want to kill and or eat me.

The gathered mushrooms stared quietly at me.

So… uh… who exactly are the Formorians? And what’s the death brand?”

The mushroom gave a honking bark of a laugh. “You really aren’t from the Underworld… ‘human,’ was it? The death brand is the mana sticking to your body – look closely there, under those puffballs on your chest, the oily stains. Those stains will never wash out you know. As for the Formorians, well, they’re the ones who gave you that mark.”

“I… suppose I know what we’re talking about in that case…. I can’t say I didn’t wrong them, but it wasn’t on purpose. I really am lost down here; I stumbled into their hive by accident and they attacked me.”

“Even if I believe your tale, to another Formorian bearing the brand is proof enough of your crime – one worse than trespassing to be sure.”

I winced at his words. “While I was in there I… damaged some of the structure by mistake and… destroyed some of their eggs. One of the, uh, Formorians, caught me there and tried to do something to me – I don’t know what, but I couldn’t understand it and it turned hostile when I tried to get away. In the end I had to fight my way out.”

The mushroom people were solemn at my explanation. “A very serious matter indeed, that. The Formorians won’t give up the chase. Not after the slaughter of their young.”

“But it was an accident!” I protested.

“Mmh, perhaps ‘human’ societies are different, but in the Underworld to break into a home, kill children, then flee resisting any attempt at capture, would be seen as damning evidence of evil intent.”

“I admit that when you put it like that it sounds terrible, but these eggs, they weren’t about to hatch or anything, I’m not even sure if they were fertilized.”

The mushroom nodded slowly at that. “That could be why the formorian didn’t attack you on sight. Of course you didn’t let yourself be captured either.”

I groaned at the ridiculous mess I’d gotten myself into. “How was I supposed to know I was being arrested? It didn’t even have a language.”

“Pah, of course it did, boy!”

“Hey, I’m a girl,” I cut in quickly.

“Really?” he asked, narrowing his eyes in the powerful sun as he examined me.

I resisted the urge to move my hands to try to cover myself up; it would have just made the situation all the more embarrassing.

He gave a rumble in this throat. “Apologies, girl, it’s hard to tell with monster species. I suppose we have at least one thing in common.”

“I’m no- wait, you’re a girl too?” I asked incredulously of the deep-voiced, burly-limbed creature.

“Yes, I am, is that a problem, ‘human’ criminal?”

I felt foolish as I realized my mistake – the same one she’d made. The last thing I wanted was to make another enemy.

“I’m sorry, that was rude of me. Our species are very different, but I shouldn’t have assumed…. You were telling me about the Formorians?”

She smiled. “That makes us even then. As for the Formorians; you might not have been able to understand it, but they certainly do have a language, it just isn’t spoken. They communicate through gestures and scent. For more complex ideas they use touch to transmit thoughts directly.”

“Oh… I thought…. Ohhh.”

I recalled the way the centipede-creature – the Formorian – had reached out with its many hands to try to touch my body.

“I… didn’t realize that was what it was doing,” I admitted sheepishly.

“Mmh, well I wouldn’t worry terribly much, it’s a complicated magic to hear them tell it. They spent centuries working out how to use it on my people. It probably wouldn’t have worked on you at all.”

“And if it hadn’t, then what? They’d have arrested me? Thrown me in a cell?”

“Oh no, they’d probably have executed you no matter what. No-one comes back from their hives. The Formorians see other species as little more than livestock. Even we aren’t permitted to enter – we do our business outside.”

“So they would have killed even if I’d never touched their eggs?!” I asked, starting to feel a sense of whiplash from the conversation. “Are they all like that? Wouldn’t that make them enemies to everyone else who lives in the Underworld?”

“I suppose that’s one way to look at it. They’re very insular, so even we don’t know so much about them, but they control a lot of territory in the Underworld and they’re willing to trade with we Mycoth.”

“How can you do business with a species like that?” I asked incredulously.

“It’s a lot easier than fighting them you know. My people aren’t gushing with mana like you, nor do we have the Formorians’ numbers.”

“Yeah,” Kiuun piped up again. “We can’t be seen – or smelt – having anything to do with you, not when you’re a wanted criminal!”

Kiuun’s selfish, shortsighted attitude was testing my patience – trading with the Formorians was helping a group who should have been the Mycoth’s enemies – but in truth I really couldn’t feel any magic, or sense any great physical prowess from any in the group. What exactly was I expecting a merchant caravan do against the Formorians?

Not supplying them with goods and services would be a start… but I didn’t even know the whole story. Even if it was as bad as it sounded, I wasn’t going to get another person murdered by horrible centipede-specists for nothing.

I gave a sigh of resignation. “I understand that you don’t want to get involved, and I’m grateful for you all hearing me out. I’ll go on my way in a moment, but before I go could you give me some directions?”

“Oh pah, don’t listen to Kiuun,” Owauun honked in amusement. “He’s still young after all, afraid of his own shadow. I like you girl, you’ve a kind cap on your stem.”

She turned to the slimmer fungus. “And you should remember the wisdom of the Lattice, Kiuun. If you still want me to bear your fruit some feed, before you grow female. We were going to make camp soon anyway, the sammaskel need a rest; we can at least give this poor girl a meal and point her towards civilization.”

I had many questions about the conversation between the two, but my position was still precarious enough that I chose to wait and focus on the situation at hand. Hopefully I’d have the chance to find out what Owauun meant later.

“Are you sure you won’t be in danger if you give me food?” I asked, despite the gurgle of my stomach. “Just directions would be a great help.”

“Oh nonsense,” Owauun insisted, speaking down any attempt to object from myself or her companions. “Here on the dunes we’d see the Formorians coming miles away. Besides, they can’t blame us for just running into you. We’re not their subjects, just independent traders.”

After that there were greetings all around, even Kiuun proving a gracious enough host once he matter had been settled. It sounded like he had a soft spot for Owauun.

Some of the younger members of the caravan had trouble speaking fluently in what I learned was the trading language of the Underworld, Comspraki, but I decided not to say anything about my probable ability to speak in whatever their native tongue might be; if they’d been suspicious of a human speaking Comspraki who knew what they’d think if I could speak a species-specific language too.

Of course while we were exchanging words in Comspraki, the names weren’t translated. The nomenclature of the Mycoths lent itself to eerie high sounds and comical honks and barks, constructing names that most humans would have struggled to pronounce, let alone tell apart, but thanks to my linguistic advantages I could recreate them easily – although apparently with a very odd accent due to my different vocal chords.

But Owauun had no such god-given powers, relying purely on her experience as a merchant dealing with strange foreign languages and names. It was impressive how close she was to how I myself spoke my name, considering that she was a big talking mushroom lady.

“Now, Safkhet, you take a seat while I see what we have in the packs for a human,” Owauun declared after everyone had been introduced. “First let me get you something to wear.”

Her tone had taken on a motherly aspect as she bustled around, directing the other mycoths. She fetched me a sheet of woven reeds that I was glad to wrap myself in like a cloak as the travelers unfurled a series of woven mats made of similar material, portable seats a lot more comfortable than the burning sands. Next was an awning of similar material suspended overhead on wooden poles.

In just a few minutes they’d set up suitable shelter for themselves and the creatures, sammaskel, which carried their goods. The latter were grazing on a spontaneous burst of greenery thanks to a little water magic.

When I’d conjured the outpouring for them the mycoth traders had asked me to fill some canteens too, the vessels made, they explained, from mushroom leather. I wondered about the ethics of the Mycoth using mushroom ‘skin’ as a crafting material, but then humans used animal hides all the time. If anything it would probably have been insulting to suggest that all mushrooms were the same.

Owauun looked me up and down as I sat on one of the mats. Her eyes lingered on the outline of my thick thighs through the weave. “You’re thin – you could do with a good feed. Do humans like wood?”

“Uh, we… tend to eat vegetables and meat. I don’t think I can digest wood. And I think I’m a healthy weight for my species, we’re just more slender than Mycoths.”

“Hmm. I’d say you could still use some building up if you’re to travel alone through the Underworld. If wood’s no good… let’s see….”

She rummaged in one of the packs liberated from the backs of the resting sammaskel and retrieved a parcel of blue rubbery ‘meat’, wrapped in leaves that still had a faint fluorescent green glow.

“Here you go, girl, a lovely cut of prime meat for you. All it needs is a pinch of salt. I don’t suppose you can grow that too, can you? Ah, no offence intended!”

She burst out with a honking laugh, like an agitated goose. I was totally baffled, but several others joined in with a ‘chuckle’ of their own.

It seemed that in Mycoth culture telling a person to ‘bear their own fruit’ was akin to one human telling another to go fornicate with themselves – or in simpler terms to ‘go to hell’. I wasn’t quite sure why, but it seemed that the Mycoths reproduced via ‘fruiting’.

That didn’t quite explain the gag, but ‘Fruit’ and ‘food’ were also the same word in Comspraki, so in that tongue the saying had become ‘grow your own food’. Tenuous though it was to me, Owauun’s suggestion could apparently be interpreted as quite rude.

The joke was rather incomprehensible even understanding the linguistics, but it highlighted a whole extra layer of complication I’d never considered when dealing with multiple languages.

As for the meat itself, there was a suspect aroma to the cut of what I could only guess was some sort of squid, but the mycoths seemed to take my hesitation for enthusiasm and I didn’t want to offend them by rejecting their generosity.

Owauun was soon frying it in a metal bowl, which I was able to heat for her. She also sent Kiuun to fetch some salt from one of the packs after he’d had a good laugh.

Reluctant though I’d been, the scent of the sizzling cut was stimulating my hunger. The smell wasn’t quite like anything I’d eaten before, but it evoked a variety of meats as it cooked, like a strained metaphor for a food I knew.

While not exactly meaty, the taste wasn’t bad either. If I’d grown up eating it I would probably have agreed that it was quite a delicacy. The main hurdle was the rubbery consistency.

But hunger was the best spice, and I was grateful to my hosts that I had anything to eat at all.

The mycoths, meanwhile, were swallowing what appeared to be chunks of rotting wood and vegetation. After they’d finished they seemed to fall into a doze, only a few of them making themselves stay awake to keep watch.

Owauun explained that this was their normal mode of timekeeping. They had not ‘days’ but ‘feeds’, referring to a period of activity that stretched most of their waking hours, ending in one large meal. After eating they would rest, their bodies digesting their food, and then they would start the ‘feed’ cycle over with another period of activity.

It felt strange to have only one meal to a day, but by the sound of it the Mycoth ‘feed’ was a shorter interval than 24 hours. With no sun overhead – at least normally – the Underworld had no reason to follow the sun’s passing to track the time.

The mention of ‘feeds’ also reminded me of the strange conversation I’d overheard earlier between Owauun and Kiuun. I wasn’t sure if it was something I should be asking about, but given my personal circumstances it could be very relevant.

“So, uh, you said something to your friend, Kiuun, earlier. About bearing his fruit before he… grows female?”

“Mmmh, your species are another with fixed sexes then?” Owauun asked. She looked almost disappointed.

I hesitated at that, but I really didn’t want to get into my own exception there. “… usually, yes. Human sexes don’t normally change.”

“Mycoth are rather different. All mycoth begin as males, small and inexperienced like Kiuun, but over time as we age and grow we develop stronger, female bodies, capable of fruiting – if we meet a male we like. Of course as we grow older we move on to the third sex, but Comspraki doesn’t really have a word for that….”

“Wow… humans definitely don’t work like that. And when two mycoth fruit you’re… having children together?”

“That we are. Generally the older partner raises the young until they’re grown boys. After that they have to take care of themselves – like Kiuun, although I still have a special fondness for him as one of my first fruit.”

“Woah, Kiuun is your son?”

For a moment I wondered if this was some deep, dark secret, but she just gave a nasal laugh. “He didn’t get a place with the caravan by being the best merchant to be sure. He still has a lot to learn.”

“For… humans we don’t normally, uh, reproduce with members of our family. It leads to, um… children that get sick more, that sort of thing. It’s actually taboo in human cultures.”

“Then you need to find strangers to reproduce?” Owauun asked, as if that were somehow itself an odd idea.

“Well we get to know them before we… start reproducing with them.”

“That seems like a lot more work.”

Owauun had never heard of such an affliction as inbreeding in Mycoth reproduction, but as she explained, mycoth children didn’t take after their direct parents very closely in the first place. Who could say how their genetics worked? I wasn’t sure they even had DNA in the first place.

I also got the impression that the Mycoth didn’t take reproduction to be something particularly erotic or sensual in the way that humans did. By the sound of it they didn’t experience eroticism or romance at all the way humans would understand the concepts. Having fruit with another mycoth was more a matter of choosing someone you admired and thought there should be more people like.

Learning about the Mycoth was as fascinating as it was surreal, and I was lucky to have a kind and patient guide to answer my questions in Owauun.

She seemed confused by my inquisitiveness however. I got the impression that was just how the Mycoth were. She’d seemed genuinely surprised when I asked if she’d ever thought about going to the surface world, as if I’d suggested she might like to dip her head in lava to see what it was like.

“You said you’ve travelled all over the Underworld, but do you never wonder about the places you’ve never been? All the sights and sounds, the people and the creatures, the landscapes and the history… there’s so much to discover in Arcadia. Don’t you feel like you’re wasting your time if you just stay in the same place forever? Even if the place is as astonishing as the Underworld.”

Owauun nodded her head, as if trying to dislodge some invisible creature on the brim of her cap. I’d come to understand it was a gesture akin to shaking the head for a human.

“If that is how you see things perhaps it’s not so surprising that you fell in a chasm and ended up in the Underworld, Safkhet. No, if anything I should say your ideas sound quite unhinged, as if you actually wanted to seek out danger and death.”

Her words could have been taken as offensive, but I got the impression she was speaking out of concern for me if anything. There was compassion in her eyes.

“I can understand wanting a change of caverns from time to time, even if not all my people would agree, but we have everything we need here in the Underworld. We have a place to make our homes and the freedom to live our lives and pursue our goals. When our time comes we can join the Lattice and rest in peace with our ancestors. Why would we want to leave all that behind to travel into the terrors of the unknown?”

“Well, I suppose I can understand where you’re coming from there,” I admitted. “I’ve met some really… awful monsters after going through some wetlands….”

I gave an involuntary shudder as I recalled the monster I’d recently slain, and the smaller scavengers that had pursued me. If there were worse horrors still to stumble upon then perhaps there was a good reason for the Mycoth to be homebodies. Perhaps Owauun and her party were the adventurous ones in her society.

She gave me a sympathetic look. “It sounds like you had a run in with the taruchel. Nasty creatures those, it’s lucky they’re slow moving.”

“The ones that waddle around on four legs and have porous bodies full of… other things?” I asked, grimacing at the memory of touching one.

“That’s right. You’re lucky you got away with your life, Safkhet, going through the wetlands is suicide. If they catch you they’ll eat you alive!”

“Really? Aren’t they scavengers?”

Owauun gave a honking laugh. “Those monsters will eat anything that moves, girl. You obviously didn’t get too close, good thing too, or you wouldn’t be with me now.”

I raised an eyebrow at that. “They were disgusting and awful, no argument there, but they weren’t very aggressive. Most of them tried not to get too close to me; they just followed me from a distance. It was the bigger one that was really bad….”

Unbidden the sensation of cold fingers clawing at my body returned, phantom tendrils attacking my mouth as they pulled me under the water….

Owauun gave a grumbling murmur, the memory once again just that. “Safkhet? Are you alright?”

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just had a scary time in the mushroom forest.”

Too late I recalled that to the Mycoth nodding the head meant disagreement rather than assent.

“The forest? Surely not…. Not the forest on the far side of the marsh? Even the air is deadly there, thick with the spores of the taruchel and worse things besides!”

“That’s the forest.”

“And you actually went inside?!”

“I thought it was a good idea,” I said sheepishly. “I was trying to throw off the Formorians. I regretted it pretty quickly.”

She gave a long puff of air. “It’s amazing you survived at all. Too much of the air there and even we Mycoth would be done for.”

“I’ve heard that sort of thing before,” I said with a wry smile. “But it was the monster that was the problem, not the atmosphere. It was some sort of huge… deathly predator. I’m not even sure if it was alive, or the remains of something else, grown through with some sort of parasite. Where the head should have been… it was like an open wound, full of tentacles.”

Owauun stared at me incredulously. “Surely this is some sort of human joke, Safkhet?”

“If it there’s a joke then I’m the butt of it; that monster nearly killed me. If I hadn’t realized it was using illusions I don’t want to think about what would have happened. Even then it was way too close thanks to my carelessness.”

“Illusions… you can’t mean to say you encountered a Phantasmal Demoniac?!”

“I don’t know, am I saying that? Its flesh was all black inside, and there were glowing orbs growing out of holes in its body that it used to create illusory copies of itself. I’ve never seen anything like it before, and I hope I never do again.”

“That’s… I thought they were a myth,” the mycoth woman murmured, aghast. “You really saw one? And escaped alive?! We have to tell the other caravans; anyone passing nearby is in terrible danger-”

“Relax, Owauun. I didn’t escape it, I incinerated it.” I spoke the words with a certain malicious pleasure after what the monster had put me through.

Owauun gave a shudder, the motion running up her body to her cap. “Incredible… you’re really telling the truth.”

“Is it really so amazing?”

“It is, absolutely it is!” she gave a honking laugh. “Girl, that wasn’t just some hunting beast you chanced upon; you encountered a mythological being, some would even say a spirit, an avatar of death and disease! The Phantasmal Demoniac is a horror story we tell our young, a legend!”

“It was awfully fragile for a legendary monster.”

“Fragile…. A creature impervious to magic, with a body that can’t be cut, and you call it fragile?”

“I don’t know about cutting it, but its body can be torn apart if you can just get a grip on the slimy flesh. As for impervious to magic; I’ll admit it took less damage than I expected from my spells, but they still finished it in the end. I recommend extreme cold to weaken it, it hated that.”

“I will… tell my people about that. But you should be careful who you tell that story to, girl, most would assume you were a liar. Anyone who believed you would think you were a monster more dreadful than the Demoniac itself.”

“But you don’t?” I asked hopefully.

“Oh no, you are definitely a monster, your mana alone makes that clear. I… believe that you think you are a human though.”

Ouch. Just when I thought I was making a real friend in the Underworld.

She saw my expression and corrected herself however. “Don’t be downhearted, girl. Whatever you may be, I can tell you’re of good heart. You’re honest and kind.”

I smiled shyly at the compliment. “Thanks, I can live with that. But if my story is so outlandish, why do you think I’m honest? Can you tell when people are lying?”

“Mycoth have a sense most species lack; honesty. Not that we’re more honest, although we’re that too, but we can sense deception. The better we know and understand someone the more easily we can tell, but I happen to have a very good cap for it. We might not be able to tell if the finer details are right, but we can feel it when someone is trying to trick us.”

“Wow, that sounds like an incredibly useful ability for a merchant.”

Owauun smiled. “I’m a very good merchant.”

I grinned back. “But not a very modest merchant.”

She laughed. “Modesty is another of those strange ideas other species seem to value. At least in our society it’s seen as rude to try to lie and deceive others about your thoughts and feelings.”

“That’s why you’re so blunt about everything?”

“Blunt, yes, we get called blunt a lot – not that I mind, it’s true after all. Others say rude, even arrogant, but you develop a thick stem interacting with other species.”

She didn’t sound annoyed, resigned if anything, but still I felt for her. Cultural differences were something I could sympathize with.

“So most of your people don’t venture out to trade, right? So do your people have cities in the Underworld?”

She nodded. I was still struggling to get used to a nod meaning no. “There are quite a lot of merchants and traders among us – we have a talent for it after all. We’ve never had anything you’d call a city. There is the Lattice, but most of our people live in smaller settlements. Towns and villages.”

“Are there any near here?” I asked hopefully.

“Ah, I’m sorry Safkhet, but I don’t think you would get a warm welcome while you bear the death brand.”

“Ugh, no, I’m sorry, I was forgetting. I don’t want to get your people involved in whatever mess I’m in with the Formorians.”

“If you manage to settle the matter… somehow… then I’m sure my people would give you a warm welcome. I wouldn’t put it past you to just scare the Formorians into giving up….”

I ignored the latter part in favor of the encouraging invitation. “Thank you, I appreciate it. I hope I can do that some day. Uh, some ‘feed’. I shouldn’t be wasting any time having fun down here anyway; first I need to get back to the surface. I have things I still need to do up there.”

“Your people are waiting for you?”

“I don’t know if you can call them my people… but my friends. I hope they still reciprocate the feeling….”

“There aren’t many ways to reach the Overworld from here, and most would require travelling through the territory of the Formorians, or multiple other species first. But with your abilities you might have more luck forging your own path. If you can find your way into the old Dweomer roads you might be able to reach the surface without going through hostile territory at all.”

“I’ve heard of the Dweomer, didn’t they die out?”

“Well, probably.”

“Probably? Isn’t that pretty easy to check?”

“It was long ago, before my time. The story is that they vanished. In the span of a single feed their towns and cities were left totally abandoned. Not even one survivor.”

“Seriously? Didn’t anyone investigate what happened?”

She nodded, laughing. “Of course! Many tried, but the Dweomer left behind all their creations. Golems. Even now they’re still standing guard over the empty Dweomer settlements and patrolling the forgotten roads through abandoned wilderness. To pass through Dweomer lands you’d need an army. At least normal people would. But I’ve never heard of a Dweomer golem as terrifying as the Phantasmal Demoniac – so you’ll probably find that route quite relaxing.”

“If I can find my way, perhaps. I don’t suppose you know where I can get a map of the place?”

“What is a map?”

“A… diagram that shows you what the terrain looks like in miniature.”

“That sounds expensive. Is it a toy for wealthy humans?” There was a glint in her eye at the prospect of a new trade good.

“Hah hah, no, it’s for navigating through unfamiliar places. You look at the map and you can see where you are in it.”

“How confusing. Is the map a magical device? Do you… enter the map?”

“Nooo no, it’s not supernatural, it’s just a drawing; like a picture.”

“Humans find their way with pictures?”

“Well, some do.” Catching myself in a nod I quickly stopped it.

“By the way, how come nodding means no down here? On the surface it means yes.”

“Hmmm…. I suppose I never really thought about it,” Owauun admitted. “Why do humans nod for yes?”

She had a point there – I really had no idea why shaking your head up and down meant yes to so many surface species.

She went on. “It’s just obvious that you shake your head up and down if you don’t like something. I suppose you could say it’s like you’re shaking off a bad idea. We’re sensitive about anything on our caps you see, since we can’t touch the tops for ourselves – it’s a vulnerability of ours. The best we can do if something grabs us up there is try to shake it off.”

“That actually is pretty obvious when you put it like that. Maybe we humans should be doing it that way too!”

We shared a laugh at that.

When the moment passed there was a quiet that could have easily turned awkward, but I felt surprisingly comfortable with Owauun. She was no Aellope, but for a giant talking mushroom I thought she was pretty great.

“Oh, say, Owauun?” I asked after a minute. “There are a lot of things I don’t really understand about the Underworld, but… this desert is extra bizarre. How come there’s a giant… magic sun in here? Did someone make this place this way on purpose? Maybe the Dweomer?”

She nodded slowly. “The Dweomer ruled this place once, it’s true, but even then the sun and the desert were old. I’d say these sands were old before even the Lattice began, before the Mycoth existed.”

“Who made this place then?”

“I never really thought about that either. I don’t think anyone knows. The Formorians might I suppose, they never forget anything, but I don’t think you’ll be asking them.”

After that we talked more about the geography of the Underworld, but in a place with no maps the best directions I could get were things like local landmarks and popular trails. It was better than nothing of course.

A few hours after their meal the other mycoth travelers began to stir, and soon the temporary camp was being bundled up and packed away as they prepared themselves to set off again.

As a parting gift Owauun had insisted on giving me something more permanent to wear, and as much as I didn’t want to cause trouble for them or impose on their generosity, I wasn’t going to turn down the offer.

The clothing they had was made of interwoven strips of mushroom leather, spongy brown material, soft compared to animal hide but strong and flexible enough that it would at least survive being worn by someone like me for a little while – unlike the woven wicker-like cloak I’d borrowed.

In fact the ‘suit’ that they presented me with was actually quite durable, if a little tight – the v-neck stretched easily to accommodate my legs as I pulled it on. The suit was restrictive at the chest after going without clothing for a while, but the mycoths assured me it would wear in nicely.

The leather strips were around an inch wide, woven in a crosshatch that stretched around my curves and gave the otherwise plain garment a diamond design. The small gaps where I stretched the fabric revealed squares of my pale pink skin, but it was still a drastic improvement.

Owauun tried to offer me leather boots too, as my new clothing left my hands and feet bare, but I refused – they looked even more expensive and I was quite comfortable without them. Nothing I’d stepped on in this world had caused me any harm yet after all.

“I’m sorry that I don’t have anything to give you in return, after you’ve all been so kind,” I said, as they gathered to see me off. “But I really am very grateful. If I can ever come find you folks again I’ll make sure to bring some gifts to thank you.”

Owauun smiled. “Thank you, Safkhet. I’ll look forward to getting treasures from the surface world. They’ll sell for a lot!”

I took her hand in mine, squeezing firmly. “Thank you again, for everything; the food, the clothes, the friendship. Especially the friendship…. Take care, Owauun, don’t get in any trouble with the Formorians.”

“I wish you luck, Safkhet, but I don’t think you need it.”