Travelling through the wilds of the Underworld was a fascinating experience. I’d never imagined that the spaces beneath the surface of Arcadia could be so densely populated, or so rich and vibrant with life.
Over several days I’d passed through an incredible variety of biomes, each great cavern I journeyed through a thriving ecosystem with its own flora and fauna.
From a distance I’d observed a variety of intelligent life too, from spider people who lived in tree-like plants that hung from a cave roof in an inverted forest to beast-like nomadic herders who drove flocks of animals they greatly resembled across wide open plains.
Some caverns were even home to towns and cities. I dared not venture too close, but even from distant mountain peaks they were a comfort to behold, so many people coming together in the Underworld and thriving.
I had to maintain my distance from the people I passed by if I was to avoid trouble, but it was still a delight to see the strange subterranean societies and the dense cityscapes filled with surreal life-forms like the Mycoth.
Each cavern was networked to countless more by the web of tunnels that permeated the roots of the Cyclopean Bones, but I followed the directions Owauun had given me even as I resisted the urge to explore.
Though I might have longed to tread the streets of the Underworld towns and meet their denizens, time was of the essence. Even were I not marked for death by the Formorians, the Harpies were in great danger. I had to find a way back to the surface if I was to help my friends.
It was for that reason I had come here, to the edge of a desolate cavern of ancient, weathered peaks that descended from overhead as well as rising up from below.
Before me, high in the ancient range, there laid a deserted mountain lake home only to glowing blue water plants. Though a path wound its way up to the spot it was many hours from the nearest settlement, even with my inhuman speed.
I was there to pick up the beginning of a long abandoned road, one bored straight through the rock without care for ease or grace.
The rock itself seemed to have shifted however, in the eons since the passage was hewn seeing even the mountains rise and sink, subsidence opening cracks that let veils of water flow down the peaks above like titanic stalactites.
Under half a dozen streams from one such peak the Dweomer road lay submerged, the gatehouse that had once stood at its mouth now a flooded ruin eaten away by the gentle insistence of the waterfalls over immeasurable time.
Owauun had told me that long ago traders would be stopped here, forbidden from travelling any further into the lands of the Dweomer Empire, forced to conduct their business outside in the bazaar that was now a lake-bed, overlooked by the guards and the fortified entrance to the road.
The gatehouse had once been angular, not a single curve to it, solid stone shaped into perfect squares, now washed smooth and beginning to disappear entirely in places.
Descending into the cool water was an unpleasant reminder of my recent aquatic misadventures, the Phantasmal Demoniac and the fall from Grand Chasm… but I had survived the latter and overcome the former. This was neither a ravine deeper than a mountain nor an enraged demigod of myth.
All the same I felt tightness in my chest, as the cool water rose up my thighs, spreading over the crosshatched leather suit I wore, slipping into the diamond gaps to press to my skin.
I reminded myself there were no tentacles here; nothing would grab me and pin me at the bottom.
Submerging myself I found my feet disturbed a layer of grey silt, matching the stonework of the gatehouse – its remains had formed a thick layer under the water it seemed – but it was heavy enough that it didn’t rise to obscure my eyes.
My body threatened to bob to the surface with surprising ease, perhaps a side effect of my new form, but I was able to stay down by blowing a plume of bubbles to reduce my buoyancy.
It would limit how long I could remain in the water too, but I was confident I could hold on for quite some time before I would start to pass out. That too was thanks to my new body of course. I felt a fresh sense of gratitude at my wonderful abilities.
Littering the lake bed were stunning deposits of bismuth, clean and fresh as if they had burst up only yesterday. They would have been still more remarkable to behold had not the rainbow quality of the metal been negated by the monochrome blue illumination, but even so the lattice of interlocking lines, stair-stepped surfaces all at perfect right angles, was both unmistakable and quite gorgeous.
But the deposits were far too large – such perfect crystal structures surely couldn’t have formed naturally? Yet there they were, many larger than I was, yet each perfectly formed, the edges blossoming with layered outbursts of detail, not a single imperfection visible.
Had they been on land I might have examined them closer, but I was loath to linger on the airless lakebed, so I pressed on.
Passing through the eroded gatehouse, its gates long since lost, I found a flooded tunnel beyond. The passage was perfectly square, the edges as sharp as the day they were cut, a layer of silt coating the floor near the entrance where it had invaded from the lake.
There was scant light, the glow of the plants outside failing to penetrate far through the murk, but even so my vision picked out steps far ahead, lit by an eerie green glow but raising up high enough to promise air.
Even with my inhuman strength it took a few minutes for me to swim the length of the tunnel, but uneasy though the experience was, when my head broke the surface I found I wasn’t even out of breath.
The stepped change in the tunnel appeared to be part of some sort of defense system – overhead the similarly stepped ceiling was pocked with square recesses, tubes that had likely once connected to reservoirs of hot oil, or maybe something worse. They would have been an excellent defense against enemies forced to travel the long tunnel at my back to attack.
The road I found myself on now was larger, high and wide enough that an elevated interstate could have passed through the centre without touching either side. Or so it might have, were the road not choked closed by roots.
All over they burst through the stone in tangles, descending from the ceiling and weaving in and out of the walls and smothering the doorways and windows of structures cut into the sides, boring down through the floor to descend deeper. Fronds near the edges were thin and fragile, but the main trunks were thicker than any tree I’d seen on the surface of Arcadia.
Given the extraordinary diversity of my new home it seemed likely I simply hadn’t visited the right forests yet, but even so I was impressed. If the roots were this vast, what must the actual tree be like? But that presumed, of course, that the roots actually emerged into a tree above ground at all.
In many places glowing bulbs let out a lambent green light, their lazy blinking on and off forming patterns I wasn’t smart enough to decode, which seemed to react to my presence as I moved through them.
There was still enough open space to proceed onwards – for now – but by my guess the tunnel was at least a third root by volume. Had the environment been wetter I could imagine the road being totally impassable with plant life.
As it was, however, the roots were no impediment. They in fact made an otherwise tedious journey rather stimulating. As I ran I leapt and even swung from root to root, the challenge of keeping my speed up in the dense environment a fun test of reflex and agility.
Several hours passed in that manner and still the road stretched out before me, the roots making it impossible to know how far I had still to go.
The quiet and still of the place was unsettling after the lively Underworld outside, but I was comforted to occasionally catch sight of small bat-like creatures flitting around side roads and segmented bugs scuttling in and out of recesses as I travelled. There was nothing larger that still moved in the ruin, but at least something was alive down here with me, in the bowels of the mountains far above.
When the road ended it was abrupt, the nest of roots parting ahead to reveal a strange sight; a cave with a stepped roof, the surfaces all carved flat, to precise angles spoiled only by the roots that broke through in places.
Four roads met there, at what might have been a security checkpoint or way-station, a place of grey stone and alien color, where what little light there was cast long shadows.
Four huge square pillars had once descended from the middle of the ceiling, mirrored by a second quartet rising up to meet them, stopping just shy of touching their flat heads and bases together.
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Now however, one of the four hanging structures lay on the ground below, a broken ruin that had sheared off its stalagmite counterpart two thirds of the way up as it fell, the two ruined buildings scattering their innards all over the cavern.
The remaining six and a half buildings were still impressive sights, all a uniform height of at least twenty floors to my eye, each formed in perfect alignment with the others and with the cave itself, every angle a precise 90 degrees, every line laser sharp.
Even the modern engineers of Earth couldn’t have formed concrete with such fine detail and accuracy.
The architecture was stranger than the technical expertise on display however, the large cuboid obelisks laid out in a grid, thirty-two smaller forms arranged around them sixteen on the ground sixteen more hanging down overhead.
All were stunningly minimalist in shape, bare and unadorned stone surfaces everywhere. Yet cutouts and openings were apparent too, as if chunks had been slid out by a giant hand, allowing intricate detail to show through, intricate forms like circuitry intermingling with nests of pipe-work and mechanisms of unknown nature.
Even in those areas of complexity not a single curve or off-angle was to be seen, the exposed structures bismuth-like concentric squares, branching tangles and and even spirals of angular lines with iridescent surfaces that still pulsed with mana.
Square piping emerged in places to vent glittering smoke from still-functioning innards, some energy source still fuelling the outpost despite the many millennia since its creators had vanished.
The smooth stone floor felt cooler underfoot than the rough terrain of the Underworld outside had, and the air was uncomfortably still, stagnant as a tomb.
I wondered again just what had happened to the Dweomer, the people who had built this strange and hostile place of brutal buildings like bunkers. I hoped I wouldn’t find the same fate they had.
Setting off along the road between the towers I made for the largest tunnel, straight ahead. Owauun had suggested that I should look for a Dweomer city if I wanted to find my way to the surface – the Dweomer has ruled over the surface world as well as the depths, so they certainly had ways to travel between the two.
As I reached the line of the smaller buildings I heard a metallic sound to one side, rapidly multiplying, forming a cacophony evoking countless blades being sharpened.
From the side of the nearest building I caught the glimmering of another huge block of bismuth, resting in an alcove in the structure.
But it wasn’t bismuth. Bismuth didn’t move.
Before my eyes the lattice of stepped crystalline metal seemed to unfold itself, the straight rigid metal struts sliding over each other along their lengths, maintaining right-angles yet using the combination of horizontal and vertical motions by thousands of pieces in baffling complexity to create a broader movement range.
The shape created appendages, extending a pair of legs then pushing out arms as it rose to stand, taking a step towards me with the sharp resonance of metal on metal.
There was no head, no sensory organs I could discern, nor even any internal engine to drive the six-foot high figure, but still it moved.
With a gait totally inhuman I thought it would surely fall, but as it pushed forward its round torso on two limbs a third grew from the ball that was its chest, countless building pieces rearranging themselves into a third leg, only for the original two to retract, more forming at the front of the mass as it rolled as much as walked, like a fluid sea urchin.
So bizarre was the apparition that I quite forgot to fear it as it closed in on me, wonder and fascination betraying self-preservation until it was close enough to loom over me and I remembered to be concerned.
I tensed, raising my arms and spreading my legs to ready myself should it attack, but the thing stopped there, weird resonant mana vibrating up from deep inside it, totally unlike any I’d sensed before. Some sort of magic was taking shape – if indeed what it was doing could be counted as magic.
It could have been taken as a threat, but the energy it was producing didn’t feel dangerous in intensity. I could guess that it was some sort of detection or identification magic.
“Hi there,” I spoke, almost surprising myself with my voice, after many hours of silence. “I don’t suppose you’re a defense golem, are you? If so, I have some bad news about your creators….”
A moment later I felt its mana extending outwards, moving with a bizarre regularity. Not washing through space in all directions like a flood of water, but extending smoothly in unseen linearity, growing like a bismuth crystal around me.
I’d never even imagined that one could so strictly and precisely shape mana outside of one’s body – I was still struggling to shape it inside myself after all – but the creature made it seem effortless, as if the mana was simply following its nature.
After ‘scanning’ me the creature was inert for a moment as if pondering what to do, but then I sensed mana being generated in all corners of the linear mangle of shapes once more, in far greater intensity.
“Hey, easy now, there’s no reason to fight me, I’m just a passer-by,” I said, not really expecting it to listen, but trying all the same.
The golem defied my hopes by meeting my expectations, an appendage growing from its round body and stabbing towards my chest!
Uncertain of what the machine could do to me, I dodged the attack rather than trying to block it.
The speed was impressive, but only by human standards.
A second blow curved from overhead and I weaved to one side, the impact clanging to the ground by my feet, throwing up fragments of broken rock.
Each strike had the power to split the stone floor and raise a plume of dust.
I grinned as I caught one in my hand and felt the golem straining against my fingers. With a shove I sent it staggering back. My anchoring was really improving, if I said so myself!
It resumed the offensive, stretching out longer limbs to tower over me as it sent more attacks whipping down to impale or bludgeon me, scuttling forward like a spider as it lashed out, seeking to enclose me in a forest of legs like a cage.
Behind I heard a second set of metallic motions. Snatching a glance I saw another golem approaching fast from the building behind me, joining the attack.
My movements flowed together as I recalled my spars with the Valkyries, ingrained motions combining in an effortless evasion. I couldn’t help but laugh as I toyed with my foes, recalling Owauun’s words; golems such as these had been keeping out intruders for eons, yet they were barely a warm-up for me.
Each attack I dodged was an opening, each counter I landed shattering bars of metal and scattering more as my fists pulverized my opponents piece by piece.
I caught the emerging arm that tried to strike from my back, planting my feet and tossing the offending golem into the air with a grunt, the machine whirling end over end to crash into the small building it had emerged from.
A new sense of confidence was growing in my heart. Or perhaps it was rather that dormant seeds were germinating once more, after the fires of Grand Chasm and the flood in the forest.
I hadn’t realized how much defeat had affected me, but thinking back to my past exploits it was clear to see. Along with losing the fight I had lost my confidence in myself.
The realization was one thing however, a full recovery was another.
The thrown golem had rooted itself to the corner of the building where it landed, clinging like a spider as it rearranged its insides, an ominous surge of mana making the hairs stand up on the back of my neck again as a spire of cuboid spirals pushed out of the golem’s body.
Perhaps making a ‘full recovery’ of my self confidence would be unwise. I might have the power to overcome my mistakes, but I was alone down here, and as I’d learnt facing the Demoniac, the wrong mistake could be fatal even to me.
While I was engaged in melee the spidery golem took aim with the square spire, crenellated with whirls and eddies of rectilinear offshoots.
The structure was gathering energy as it pointed towards me; for a moment I thought it would shoot lighting, but when it fired it was the core of the spire itself which launched at me!
I leapt aside, the projectile crashing into the stone where I’d stood a moment earlier, the tessellated cuboid struts rapidly starting to shift and flow against each other as the detached spear started pulling itself out of the stone.
It crawled over to the other golem, still battling me in close quarters, seamlessly integrating itself into the larger mass.
Many of the pieces that had been knocked loose had also started to link back up and wiggle towards the main body.
It was as if each square-ended beam of metal contained its own mechanisms to operate independently. Destroying a few would be little to impede the overall function. The design was amazing, incredibly advanced, yet oddly limited too – why could the pieces only move orthogonally? Why were all the parts larger or smaller variations on the same cuboid metal beam?
The form of the mana when the golem scanned me might be a clue; perhaps this was some intrinsic property of the magic that the Dweomer had wrought?
But I wasn’t going to find out by holding back and getting myself beaten again.
“I’m sorry about this.” I sighed, addressing the golem with which I was exchanging blows. “You’re amazing, but I can’t let you keep attacking me. I have somewhere I have to be. There are people in danger, real people with mind and lives, who don’t spend millennia hiding in a cave waiting to ambush anyone who isn’t their long-extinct creators. And you… you probably don’t even have a mind at all, do you? You’re just automatons, doing what you were built to do…. I hope.”
I very much doubted it would understand English, so perhaps I was actually just speaking to myself; trying to talk myself into destroying the mindless automaton.
It was hard to know what might be effective against a metallic golem with no vital internal parts to target, so I elected to overwhelm it with my strongest attack. I began chanting, letting the words handle the magic while I split my focus with fighting.
As the second golem fired another projectile at me I kicked the incoming spear into the chest of the first, sending it tumbling backwards from the force.
Closing the distance in an instant I struck, a lightning-packed punch blasting the machine open even as the bars and struts liquefied in the intense heat!
With the first golem destroyed the second never stood a chance. Soon it was splattering down the sides of the building it had anchored itself to, molten slag oozing over the pristine stonework.
Not all of the component pieces of my enemies were melted, but those which survived made up only a small fraction of the whole, scattered about the chamber. I felt safe enough ignoring them.
With my victory I might have set off running once more, but a thought had occurred to me.
The Dweomer were relatives of modern dwarves if my understanding was correct, and if Gar had been anything to go by, dwarves were short and relatively slow-moving creatures.
Why then would they create such huge roads that covered such vast distances? The effort in excavating the giant tunnels much have been great, no matter how advanced their magic or technology, and the distances involved would have taken a dwarf days to travel.
Logically they must have had some sort of transportation that merited their gargantuan highways and made journeys more manageable in length.
And if their golems still worked, perhaps their cars did too?
Searching the cavern provoked more golems to attack me, but I disabled them each in turn as I investigated around the surviving towering buildings.
The search was proving fruitless however, until I thought to investigate the mana in my surroundings.
Closing my eyes and looking out not with sight but the new sense I had gained for the supernatural felt strange at first, like asking myself to see without seeing. But I kept at it. I already knew I could sense mana, and it wasn’t the eyes which were responsible for that.
Reaching out, not with a hand, but with my mind, I felt the tingle of magical essence flowing all around me.
The six intact towers were alive with it, multiple sources emitting powerful signatures, including what might have been generators or power cells of some kind.
Maybe they were what provided power to the golems – around each were gathered many of the automatons, their distinctive magical resonances blending together to make it hard to gauge their numbers. They were enough to know I didn’t want to go inside the buildings.
That might have been the end of my search for transport, but I could also detect traces of magical energy moving up the rectangular structures towards their tops.
Thinking of helicopters, I jumped up onto one of the buildings, carefully limiting my strength so as not to crash into the tower that descended towards it overhead.
Landing atop the flat, featureless surface was a disappointment, no sign of a vehicle in sight, but I looked around anyway, just in case I was missing anything.
Almost buried by dust I would have missed the faintly glowing control panel were I not also feeling for hints of mana.
A recessed square on the flat rooftop, the panel had what might have been a screen, still faintly illuminated with trace essence, elaborate crystalline bismuth structures curling around it.
When I touched the material it glowed to life, but it seemed to need more power.
In the hopes I might summon some machine to carry me onwards, even up out of the Underworld, I attempted to feed the device some of my own mana. I didn’t yet have the precision to inject my mana directly, but Shukra had told me in great detail about how I was constantly ‘oozing’ out mana uselessly, so I figured I could put that outpour to use now.
Pressing my hand to the surface the metal glowed brighter, a hum spreading out through the building under me.
With a crack the surface moved, as if the whole rooftop were a machine breaking free of a seized state, then the building started to rise up, shedding dust as it levitated!
Panicking, I fell over backwards as I overbalanced from the movement, my hand slipping from the controls.
With a crash the roof slammed back down.
A second attempt was smoother – this time I was ready for it as the roof lifted off, leaving the rest of the building behind and sliding through the air towards the road ahead.
My ride was far too big for a single person, but it fit the tunnels well, with room for a second to pass over overtake it as it flew along silently through the air, like a colossal flying carpet of rock.
Its movement was entirely automatic – that it was carrying me in the direction I wanted to go was, as best I could tell, just good luck.
That made me deeply suspicious.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t find a way to give the machine direction.
Attempting to change the flow of my mana as it passed into the panel was tricky, but with enough time and focus I did manage to make the current shift slightly.
Nothing happened to the platform.
Frustrated, I tried ‘pushing’ harder, tensing my muscles as if to squeeze magic out of my hand by force. The surprising thing was that I’d ever thought that could work. Unsurprisingly, it did not.
Muttered reproaches also had little effect on the flow of supernatural energy around my body. It seemed that I could only let my new ride take me wherever it had been last programmed to go.
At least I was making great time!