Stepping from the flight cube into the flooding chamber the first thing which struck me was the sheer intensity of the heat coming off the magma.
Even dozens of feet from the surface of the pools they radiated energy so intense I feared my clothes might burst into flame.
The mushroom leather held out, for the moment.
My second impression was the longing, for once, for shoes. Superheated rock was horrible to walk on, even if it wasn’t hot enough to actually destroy my skin. My pain threshold was a lot lower than my burning point.
With eyes watering thanks to the poisonous, acrid gases, I took in the situation as best I could.
The chamber Echo had landed in was around a hundred feet high, another hundred wide and twice as long. The flight cube rested on a higher area of dry ‘land’ at one end, but two thirds of the floor was flooded with magma, which was pouring in through dozens of fractures in the ceiling overhead.
As a picture it had a stark beauty, but as a refuge it left much to be desired. I didn’t blame Echo for that however, I’d put them in an impossible situation. Remaining in the Sepulchre’s flooding chamber with the enraged roots would have been suicide, and there had been no other avenue for escape. If anything I was grateful to Echo; they’d saved my life.
The sweet-hearted synthetic person had proven a true friend. Even in the dire dead-end in which I found myself, my body exhausted and aching, the memory of their words put a certain spring in my step.
I’d told them everything. All the things I’d been holding back and covering up. Things I was sure no-one would accept.
Echo listened to it all and never condemned me, even after hearing how my very presence had brought disaster.
They never rejected me as I’d feared they would. They never told me what a terrible person I was, or how the world would be better for everyone were I not in it.
They never told me I was being selfish to want to live my life and be with my friends.
When it came to being… trans… they barely seemed to understand why it mattered in the first place, but they were happy that I was happy.
It was a world away from what I’d have expected in my life on Earth, but even on Arcadia I hadn’t imagined a reaction like that – simple acceptance of who I was and care for how I felt.
That was itself a surreal thought – a person who felt happy just because I did. Not because of anything I did for them, or because of anything happening in their life.
A tear evaporated from my cheek at the memory.
Hope was a strange feeling, but it was the gift Echo had given me, along with their friendship. Hope that maybe, just maybe, the others would understand too. Would forgive me my weakness, lies and failures, and would accept me even knowing of my curse and what I was.
I couldn’t stop grinning, despite the danger we were still in.
But the painfully hot rock underfoot and the noxious vapors all around made sure I didn’t forget about our predicament. I couldn’t just stand around beaming like a buffoon as we were buried in lava.
I was going to get Echo out no matter what.
I focused once more on my surroundings.
Presumably the cave had been totally isolated until my spell; a sealed bubbled in the depths of the Underworld. Yet what had seemed a desolate and dead space of bare rock and baleful magma was not without signs of habitation.
Intermittent patches of white spread over the stone sides of the cave like lichen, the faint glow of metabolizing essence just noticeable despite the red glow all over. I had no idea what the growths were made of, as they seemed to thrive despite the heat.
Likely a similar substance to that of the wafts of embers which rose from the magma flows entering the chamber. There shouldn’t have been anything burning within the molten rock, and indeed though I’d taken them for embers, they were far from it. The dancing flecks of glowing red and black were alive.
Articulated joints glowed red-hot, connecting cooler black segments like shells, forming complex insectoid bodies, limbs ending in crab-like claws. As I watched the creatures swarmed around the edges of the pools, flitting about the thin line where magma met rock and started to cool, dipping back into the solidifying rock to deposit small glistening beads that were slowly subsumed into the newly deposited stone. Some of the flyers lingered too long and were caught and encased too.
Never had I imagined that I would see lava-flies spawning in volcanic runoff, but as best I could tell that was just what was happening. Arcadia was truly overflowing with vibrant and diverse life.
Just what strange life-cycle could induce creatures to lay eggs to be encased in bedrock for what had to be millennia I couldn’t say, but there was no time for me to ponder the matter or investigate closer. At that moment I didn’t particularly care either – the flies were no help in finding a way out, and I was far too anxious to feel any idle curiosity. A cursory glance ensuring they weren’t about to attack me would have to satisfy any wondering that might arise later, after our escape.
But while the creatures were irrelevant to actually exiting the cavern, they helpfully reinforced one notion – that they were able to spread all the way down here was proof that the bedrock of the Underworld contained many more cavities, tunnels and air pockets than did that of Earth. Given that, our chances of finding a way through weren’t zero, but that also left it more fragile. Damaged as it already was, the ceiling might give way at any point to the liquid mass it restrained, and unleash unknowable tons of superheated rock on us.
As I studied the arched roof of the cave I noticed another flow working its way out of a previously dry crack, the fissure widening as the discharge thickened. For a panicked moment I thought the split would keep growing and that would be it for us.
When it stopped I sighed in relief, but I was fully aware that it was only a brief reprieve.
Even if I had been at my usual magical strength I wouldn’t have dared try to use magic against those surfaces. Even something as simple as a spell to cool and solidify the magma could cause contracting and expanding material to give way, leading to a disastrous, sticky end.
There was also no way to know just how much magma lay above us. With how deep we were it could be a solid mile or more. That was a risk we’d have to take.
Sooner than I might have liked too – looking back at the magma lake I was horrified to realize that as I’d been surveying the chamber the fluid level had risen!
Despite the ruptured floor I could see the chamber starting to fill in real time by watching the sides of the lake, rising little by little as the influx outpaced the drainage.
We didn’t have long now. At that pace, perhaps an hour, but any fresh cracks in the ceiling could drastically accelerate the process.
My aching throat tightened at the thought. Drowning in magma sounded… really bad.
Searching for the most likely path up and past the magma, if such a trail existed, was a challenge from my position on the ground. Still, I picked out a few possible openings through which we might attempt escape.
The flight cube was too big for any of them, but if I could just bring whatever part of it housed Echo that would be good enough. But first I had to make sure that we weren’t ripping apart our only working flight cube to try to escape through a dead-end of the most literal variety.
Spurred on by my recently-developed love of not being slowly incinerated alive by liquid rock, I braced myself for a carefully calculated jump. I had to hit the opening I’d chosen, soft enough not to break anything load-bearing, but hard enough not to just fall back down.
At least there was rock beneath the hole I was aiming for, and not the lake of magma.
~~~
Some time before Safkhet’s ‘shocking’ emergence from the Golden Sepulchre and subsequent escape, the rescue party from Grand Chasm was marching through the yet-unshaken tunnels of the Underworld.
It had already been several days of walking and resting since their departure, but they had yet to sight a single humanoid, friend or foe.
They were kept focused by the continued signs of the passing of the enemy, the trail stretching on, seemingly without end.
With so much ground to cover and time potentially critical Berenike had determined that they could no longer match pact to their slowest allies. For the ogres that had meant the additional burden of quite literally carrying many among the group – with their large frames they were well suited to bringing people with them on their backs above their baggage, where as moving alone they would have quickly left behind the beastfolk and other smaller members of the party.
With no means to tell the time, they halted when Captain Berenike judged it necessary. Come marching time they traipsed through the same patchwork of gloom and glowing lights under which they had slept. The monotony in the face of their urgent mission was as draining as the rapid pace the Valkyrie set.
Anxiety was brewing in the warm, damp passageways of the Underworld, growing like the mold that already clung to the gouged out rock passageway the enemy had left. Even the Ogres, accustomed as they were to mining and underground life, did not travel so deep as to lose sight of the sun for days on end. Many had wanted to give up and turn back, but they pressed on for the sake of the loved ones they had lost.
Their expedition was organized as a rescue party, to find and assist those to go missing during the attack of Chasm. It had become clear that the enemy had taken any missing survivors with them in their retreat. Berenike still meant to find them, to save them if they could, but some had started to wonder if that was even possible.
In time the overgrown tunnels created by the retreating invaders had led the party down into another path of Dweomer origin, but unlike the previous road, it was severely degraded. Most among the party took that as an auspicious sign. No ancient Dweomer weapons were likely to be active if the tunnel was in such disrepair. Adding to their confidence were clear signs of the passage of the enemy, the stone scored and marked by their war machines.
That no further efforts had been made to conceal the damage heartened Gastores and the others, as it suggested that their foes no longer feared the possibility of pursuit. If that was so there should also be no more dead ends or tricks ahead.
Captain Berenike had the group keep a close watch on the trail and the surroundings all the same, but nothing large enough to threaten the travelers emerged.
A few times they passed the remains of Underworld monsters, some of which Gastores recognized, such as the shells of thorny mollusks like those they had warded off with ice. The creatures seemed to have been dead for some time, scavengers having eaten away the soft tissues, decay setting in to what remained. The natural conclusion was that the enemy had already cleared the passage during their march on Grand Chasm, and perhaps again on the return trip.
Over time there had been many cave-ins and collapses, however most of the rubble had been cleared by powerful hands – or machines – plowing a straight strip down the center of the giant ruined tunnel.
In some regions the giant square tunnel passed too close to underground waterways. Whenever it did it soon became apparent by the liquid seeping through the walls and ceiling, trickling down and dripping onto pillars of stone that grew up to meet the droplets, some standing taller than an ogre.
Illumination here came from plants of all sorts, adhering to the wet surfaces. The red and purple vines of the upper level were everywhere, but there were at least a dozen other varieties besides.
Some were shaped like ferns, growing densely around the waterways, giving off bars of green light. Others had broader leaves which reached out into the tunnel to catch the drips of water that filtered down through the aged ceiling to splat onto their spongy flesh and soak into the yellow-glowing surface. All about mosses clung to layers of dark earth that piled up in the corners, each patch glimmering in its own distinct shade of yellow. Strange mushrooms sprouted in damp dark areas, adding their own ghostly blues to the mix.
With the numerous candescent hues the way was lit vibrantly, the impression enhanced by the fluttering shapes of small insects moving between flowers. Hreran flittered about too, alien shapes surreal to his eye still. Both the bugs and the bats were prey to by wriggling snake-like creatures squirmed out of holes in the walls to snatch them from the air as they passed.
The latter animals appeared to hollow out the rock and conceal themselves inside it, emerging at the vibrations of the group’s passing, heads with too many eyes gnashing beaks that looked sharp enough to chew stone. But hostile as the creatures were, they were too small to pose any real danger. If anything they were a welcome change, so long as no golems appeared.
In one stretch of the old road the water had worn through the stone entirely to release streams that cascaded down grooves eaten into the walls and meandered along paths carved into the floor for a time, before they penetrated some surface and went on their way.
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Where the falling water was thick enough it even cut straight downwards, forming falls that linked ceiling to floor, collecting in churning bowls in the rock before continuing onwards.
Beautiful as the sight was, Gastores eyed the flood with concern, his steps faltering as they approached.
“Something up, Gas?” Ripides asked, seemingly untroubled by the sight, yet alarmed by Gastores’ reaction.
On Ripides’ back a young beastfolk woman looked back and for the between the ogres anxiously. Gastores ignored her, just as he did the man perched on his own shoulders, Lap. Forced together as they were, it was best to pretend that there was no near-stranger riding on you until they spoke up – it just made conversations awkward.
“Look at how the water cut channels into the floor, like the rock was only clay. And don’t you see all those holes and grooves in the walls? The water broke right through into the tunnel.”
“Yeah, guess it did. Don’t know what’s scary ‘bout that though – we’re not flooded. This more of your imagination thing?”
Despite his concerns, Gastores rolled his eye at the other guard’s words.
“Imagination isn’t just my thing, Ripides, most species use their imaginations all the time. Even you imagine what it’ll be like to eat your next fruit ration or get home after a long day.”
“Guess so? But you’re a lot better at it than me, Gastores. Like finding that tunnel, that was real smart. So if you got something on your mind I wanna hear it.”
“Oh… you do?”
“Course. Could be something gonna save our lives, right?”
None of his colleagues had ever taken much interest in his ideas in the past, so now that he found himself being pressed on the matter, Gastores felt an unexpected sense of self-consciousness.
“Well probably not, but its good you’re taking this sort of thing seriously. What’s worrying me is that there’s a lot of water down here, whole rivers full, and it’s really powerful. It can wear through solid rock and break into tunnels.”
“Guess so, yeah? This place is just weird like that.”
“Well what if we’re near another underground river when we get attacked, and the battle damages the walls? We could be flooded, even have people washed away, down those holes….”
Ripides’ square features took on a grave expression, a stark contrast to his usual blitheness.
“Heard about that happening in the mines. It’s real bad.”
“Exactly! We need to do something, find a way to detect water or something….”
Sulis’ giggle was a welcome splash of ease to the anxious ogre.
Coming up behind him on the back of another ogre, the enchanting young naiad placed a soft hand on his shoulder, which would normally have been well out of her reach.
“You’re safe while we’re together, Gastores.”
The two of them shared a slight blush as they processed her choice of words, but Sulis got over the perturbation quickly.
“If we passing too close to rivers I’ll say so. I won’t let anyone be washed away.”
“I guess I’m lucky to have you…. With me I mean! We’re lucky to have you with the rescue party!”
Ripides snorted with mirth, sniggers spreading to a few other ogres and the folk on their backs grinning, but Sulis didn’t seem to even recognize their existence.
Save one, the fussy older man Gastores was carrying.
“Lap, switch with me. Plades has gotten wet enough from my dress for now.”
The beastfolk man was willing enough, and the two ogres seemed to have no choice in the matter, so they paused for a minute to make the exchange.
Wordlessly Sulis secured herself atop Gastores, her legs reverting to tentacles, which coiled around him snugly. Oddly the ogre found that her water-wear, fluid and bubbling as it was, was protected by some film of magic, keeping him totally dry.
“Onward, Gastores,” Sulis commanded, her tentacles giving him a squeeze as if to control a mount.
Small though she was, Sulis several times heavier than her tiny figure might suggest. Yet despite that his new rider was surprisingly comfortable to carry, thanks to her unique method of supporting and spreading her weight.
The arrangement was also a lot more intimate than it had felt when it was Lap he carried, and it was a lot harder to pretend that Sulis wasn’t there. At his side, Ripides looked deeply amused by the situation, but was saying nothing.
“So… do your people spend much time underground, Sulis?” he asked, after a few moments of quiet. “I mean, I know you live on the surface, but you seem like you know your way around down here.”
“Some of the more adventurous naiads have explored the deeper flows of the waters in the mountains, but none have ventured this deep before.”
Her lyrical voice had a wistful tone as she spoke.
“Wow, that sounds… scary. Seems like a lot could go wrong swimming in caves underground… imagine if there was a cave-in….”
He gave a shudder, which seemed to startle naiad. That was surprising for Sulis, unflappable as she was, but it must be so, as he felt her tendrils hug him tighter in response.
“I suppose it’s not so bad for Naiads, right? You can’t drown, can you?”
“Not in healthy waters.”
“Do you like… underground swimming?”
“I always preferred the waterways of the surface, but it was a passion of my brother, Calidae. He was eager to explore the waters around Grand Chasm once our mission was accomplished. Before he was… taken.”
Now Gastores understood why the subject was a somber one for her.
“I’m sorry for the reminder, Sulis.”
“It wasn’t a reminder. Calidae is on my mind anyway.”
She paused, her tentacle-tips curling unhappily, but when she spoke again her voice was brighter.
“Were he not missing he would have come with us, just to see the Underworld.”
“That’s good then,” Gastores grinned, “he’ll get plenty of chances to admire it on the way back to Grand Chasm after we save him!”
Sulis’ laugh was a delight to hear.
“The Underworld is beautiful, despite the dangers,” she said after a moment. “I will enjoy showing it to him.”
“I’m gonna show Captain Encheiro and Lady Safkhet too,” the ogre said, grinning despite his worries.
As they walked on, the mood lightened, the naiad reached out her arm to one of the waterfalls they passed, trailing the tendrils that made up a hand through the cascading rush.
“How is it?” Ripides asked from Gastores’ side. “Looks good to wash off in, if there’s a waterfall near when we stop.”
“Tasty.”
“What, to drink? How’d you know?”
“Naiads can taste the water with our skin. This is rainwater, filtered through stone.”
The answer seemed to satisfy Ripides, but not Gastores.
“How do you taste with your skin?”
She paused before answering. When she did, it was with a curious tone, as thought it was the first time she’d ever thought about the question.
“I don’t know how I taste things with my body. I was always able to, so I assumed it was natural to be able to and never thought about it. It probably works the same way as my tongue does. How do ogres taste things with your tongues?”
It was Gastores’ turn to realize he had never thought about that, and pause to wonder.
“I have no idea actually. I guess I never thought about it either.”
“Do your tongues only work on wet things like ours?” she asked.
Despite having started the conversation, Gastores was surprised to hear Sulis asking multiple follow-up questions. Usually when he started getting what Encheiro had called ‘all philosophical’ people lost interest or tried to change the subject. Most ogres didn’t particularly want to think about why erdroot was called erdroot, or what it might be like to soar like a harpy over the mountains.
“Gastores?” came the patient reminder from over his head.
“Oh, sorry! I was just thinking. Ogres can definitely taste dry stuff. I think wet foods taste stronger though. Hey, does that mean you can’t taste your food unless you’re underwater?”
“No, we can taste anything that’s moist enough. The water in our mouths lets us taste anything we’re eating unless it’s very dry.”
“Wait, does that mean that you can taste everything you touch as long as it’s not totally dry?”
“Of course.”
The ogre felt himself blushing at his next thought.
“I should have washed my armor this morning. I mean this… whatever time it was when we started marching again, I’m really sorry, it must taste horrible.”
“Your armor is too dry for me to taste it. Unlike your skin. You’re quite savory, Gastores.”
His brows dilated as his cheeks burnt red.
“I should have washed myself too….”
“I don’t mind. You taste better than Plades.”
“You could wash in the falls,” one of the other ogres suggested helpfully.
“I don’t want to taste like dirt either,” he protested, flustered.
“You wouldn’t, this water is very clean,” Sulis said, as though to reassure him.
It was hard to tell if she was taking the idea seriously.
“But you said flowed through stone, right? Wouldn’t that make it dirty?” he asked. “The stone dust in Chasm gets everywhere.”
“This is different. Underground water is purified by flowing through layers of stone. These waterfalls are cleaner than many surface rivers.”
“Really? So it’s good to drink?”
“Try it.”
At her urging he caught some in cupped upper hands. The ‘taste’ proved clean and fresh, just as Sulis said, with a subtle but pleasing tang from what she explained were minerals.
Drinking ore also sounded unpleasant to the ogres, but Gastores assured them it was nice, and Ripides and several others also took a drink.
The towering Nefret also took a draught, complimenting the clean flavor, and soon after even Captain Berenike had stopped to sample the Underworld mineral water. The party was halted then for an impromptu break, refilling waterskins and refreshing themselves with the falls.
With the expedition paused Sulis had dismounted and Gastores was free to wander, but the two remained together, deep in conversation during their break. She was a fascinating trove of knowledge on all topics aquatic, and some more beside, and she seemed to find the ogre’s conversation equally engaging.
They had covered a variety of subjects, enjoying the curiosity they seemed to share, but in time the talk turned back to the water again, as Gastores was filling his skin at one of the flows.
“Sulis? Where does all this water actually go? There’s so much of it, shouldn’t the tunnels have flooded by now?”
“That would never happen. The stone beneath us is too porous. Water always finds a path onwards and downwards.”
“Where’s it going?”
“It will flow all the way to the bottom of the world.”
“Wow… that sounds really far.”
“Yes, it has a long journey still ahead of it, one barely yet begun.”
“But even if there’s all this space down there for water, wouldn’t it still fill up eventually?”
Sulis looked delighted at the question.
“I have studied this, the final fateful state in the life of all rivers. Through communion with the spirits my people have learned much that would otherwise be hidden. It is true that even the caverns and voids beneath us have their limit, but that will never be reached.”
Gastores listened, charmed by her poetic response, so far from her normally simple and functional speech. Her passions seemed the key to drawing out Sulis’ artistic side.
“Eventually the water will reach the hot, forbidden places at the bottom of even the Underworld, inaccessible to any living thing. There great infernos rage in the depths, consuming everything in liquid flame that even the greatest rivers cannot douse.”
“Wow… but… how do they know there are fires beneath the underworld? Wouldn’t we see smoke in all the tunnels?”
“I wondered that myself. I thought that surely eventually the rivers must extinguish any fire, not matter how great. But the spirits are sure of it. The proof is in the hot springs which bubble up, all the way to the surface. How else could such volumes of water be heated? There is the proof.”
The idea seemed absurd to the ogre – how could there be fires in the deep beneath the Underworld, with no trees for wood and no wind to fan the embers?
But the naiad was serious it seemed, and her people were experts on the waters of Arcadia.
Gastores had peered into one of the nearby openings bored into the floor by the flow, looking past the cluster of leaves which ringed it in the hope that he might perhaps catch some faint flickering of these deep fires.
The hole was well illuminated by the ample light all around, but even with the low-light vision of his huge eye he saw only a narrow mouth in the bottom of the basin, water flowing on to lightless depths.
It was as he strained his sight for some glimmer of burning at the bottom of the world that Sulis spoke once more, back to her usual composed tone.
“I owe you my thanks again, Gastores.”
His head jerked up from the water to look at her.
“You do? What for?”
“For finding the solution to the enemy’s disappearance, when no-one else could.”
“It wasn’t much I did. Just a thought that came to me,” he said bashfully, grinning.
“But it didn’t come to me, or to Captain Berenike. If you hadn’t realized the trick we would have lost any chance of… saving our loved ones.”
Gastores was taken aback by the tear in the naiad’s eye, but it was understandable when he thought of how she spoke of her missing brother. As strong as she was, Sulis was far from unfeeling.
“We’ll get them all back. Together.”
He spoke with a determination which surprised even himself, but it hardened as he saw Sulis smile her jagged smile.
“Together, Gastores.”
~~~
Resuming their trek, the party continued along the ruined Dweomer road, Sulis mounted once more on Gastores’ shoulders.
There was apprehension when they passed into an open chamber, partially collapsed in places, which had once been some manner of Dweomer way-station, but aside a few ancient bismuth hulks, long devoid of essence and grown over with vines and moss, there was no sign of hostile technology. The Underworld had reclaimed the route.
Indeed, as they moved on from the ruined buildings there was little sign of the Dweomer at all. Instead, as they travelled on they found the roadway continued to degrade, until it was only the suggestion of a square amid a mesh of tunnels that merged in and out of the path.
There air took on new and exotic fragrances as they left behind the vestiges of the old empire, and the already diverse flora and fauna exploded with variety.
It was a fascinating experience, at least for Gastores, however Berenike and the other Valkyries present seemed if anything to be more on guard. At their next halt the captain warned her patchwork team that, with the tunnels no longer isolated, they could at any time wander into the territory of powerful, hostile Underworld creatures. Worst of those were the Formorians, but there were as many species below the mountains as above them, and few would take kindly to intruders from the surface.
The following hours of marching proved her point, as while they met no formorians, monsters abounded.
Various Underworld species fled before the large group, while some few more aggressive species turned upon the interlopers. With the combat power they had available those creatures foolish enough to attack were chased off or slain by the Valkyries, the ogres, or the other gathered species from Grand Chasm, but there seemed to be a near endless supply.
Due to the attacks the group had closed ranks, moving as a unit for safety. That would have been dangerous, were there a possibility of encountering the enemy down any side-passage, but with the density of wild Underworld denizens it seemed highly unlikely that their foes were anywhere nearby.
Near the head of the pack, Gastores kept a close watch on the tunnels ahead for signs of danger. The Underworld had proven a fearful place many times over, and they were far from home and safety.
“Water ahead,” Sulis announced from his shoulders, her melodic voice lifting the tense mood of their advance in a moment, despite the potential danger of her warning.
“You detected it with magic?” Berenike asked, from behind them.
Sulis grinned her shark-grin.
“Not with magic, with hearing. From the rush there’s a lot of it.”
Several of the beastfolk with them were nodding now, but Gastores knew better than to doubt her anyway.
Soon everyone could hear the flow, a roar as if from a great cascade.
The air was humid and the tunnel rapidly widening as they came upon a rare bend in the path, where the last vestiges of the Dweomer road diverted around a deposit of some sort of dense, hard metallic ore.
Those being carried dismounted, all present readying arms. With no visibility and the cover of the sounds of water they had no idea what might be lurking around the turn.
The party moved slowly and carefully into the unknown space ahead.
Rounding the giant curtain they emerged into a cave hundreds of feet high and many times wider, a dozen tunnels converging and passing through the floor, littered as it was with stalagmites like trees and boulders and rubble like hills. Stalactites hung overhead too, many of them slick with water, a few meeting up with their counterparts to form pillars, holding up the magnificent ceiling. It was hard to identify the sides of the space with so many obstacles, but it was clearly huge.
Other tunnels branched off at the sides of the space, and even through floor and ceiling, some descending down from above to allow bats and other winged fauna to pass through, while others burst out from below, marked with wear from the passage of terrestrial beasts.
The marks of the enemy were visible too, where their huge machines had dragged themselves around – or through – the various obstacles in the cave, but the first thing Gastores noticed were the scorch marks intersecting that trail on the rocky floor ahead.
They started at the ramped maw where a path from below burst into the space like a ruptured boil.
The opening had traces of grey-blue sludge adhering to the edges, but the ogre’s eye was focused instead on the signs of fire and lightning scorching the stone, and the metal bolts which had punched themselves into the surroundings.
Nothing was visible in the tunnel but more dark residue and burns, but outside it the group soon started to spot metal debris, pieces of the automaton footsoldiers of the enemy.
If whatever they had fought with had also suffered injury or losses the monsters of the Underworld had left little trace, but that was no wonder. There were predators in the caves that could crunch bones like twigs and slimes that scoured clean even blood from the rocks.
With no more to go on, the group was all the more on edge as they followed the trail, rounding the next pillar, the sounds of water louder and closer than ever.
The sight which greeted them was a cave-in. A section of ceiling, maybe disturbed by lightning and projectiles, had collapsed, a flood of rock followed by the discharging of an entire underground river through the new opening, a waterfall pounding down upon the debris with a roar.
The turbulent, broken downpour was lit from above by dense plant life, lining the interior of the once-flooded waterway and casting a thick column of neon over the falls, dying them blood red.
Much of the surroundings were flooded with a shallow lake, the fluorescence of a dozen colors of plants, mosses and mushrooms mingling with the bleeding artery above to give the level plane an otherworldly appearance, like the landscape of a dream.
Excess water escaped in smaller rivers running across the floor, some plunging into nearby tunnels, others disappearing off into meanders between stalagmites.
The flooding could not disguise the field of the dead just beneath its surface. Nor could it hide the acrid tang of blood on the air.
Corpses were everywhere, resting just below the surface, or breaking through in torn and mangled islands. They were the bodies of deformed humanoids, elongated and horned, with far too many limbs.
Formorians.
Many were burnt, impaled or torn apart, corpses intermingled with countless wrecked golems, footsoldiers and even the larger tripods scattered all about in pieces.
Blue Formorian blood and green mechanical fluids polluted the new lake in toxic slicks that heightened the dreamlike show of colors, but the surreal scene was only fitting to the lone occupant of the battlefield.
A metal dome of interlocked triangles jutted out of the rockfall and the cataract that engulfed it, part of a longer metal creature that the collapse had pinned and crushed with the great weight of many tons of stone.
Atop the undamaged ‘head’ of the worm-like form reclined a gleaming scaled beast, refracting every colour to fall upon it twofold. It was as though it were itself glowing from deep within with dazzling iridescence to outshine all around it, yet like a mirror its scales seemed to have no colors to call their own.
Larger than an ogre, its body was long even for its size, stretched out that of a fish or serpent, but everywhere it curved around thick muscle, extending out at the shoulders and hips into eight elegant limbs with webbed paws. An earthling might have compared the shape to a ferret, but no ferret was ever so well armored or armed.
Fins like cut glass began in a ring like a plume at its neck and ran down its back and sides in ridges, thick and razor-sharp. More emerged at the shoulders and hips, and its tail, coiled around it multiple times, ended in one long blade. That final weapon split into two near the tip, which shone like metal – a gleaming serrated sword of crystal, alive with the colors of the cave.
The head of the creature was suitably aquatic in shape, ears like fins extending back from the streamlined bullet-like form, the jaw line slightly above the middle of the skull, giving it an impressive jaw and a distinct under-bite, triangular fangs just visible sticking up.
Eyes it had in two pairs, one atop the other, each covered in armored lids, while in lieu of nostrils there was vent high up on its forehead, through which a glittering plume of breath regularly emerged, thick with essence.
The group had frozen to the last at the realization of the regal presence before them.
Those sensitive to mana could not mistake the power the creature contained by the plumes it gave off with each breath, but even the magically ignorant could see the physical prowess of that athletic form and feel the menace on the air. The creature radiated an aura of majesty and danger.
There was silence for a heartbeat.
Then another.
Gastores was certain the beast could rip him apart with one sweep of that tail, should it please, but it was still far off, out across the expanse of water. If they retreated without disturbing it they could find another way around through the huge cave.
Captain Berenike had the same thought – with uncharacteristically delicate gestures she signaled to all to pull back.
With luck the rushing of water had drowned out the clinking of metal and the thuds of boots on the cave floor.
Gastores had barely taken a step when one eye opened.
Large and deep, the black orb drank in the light around it, only faint speckles of colour shining back, like stars in the evening sky.
It turned upon the rescuers.
Many were frozen to the bone. Others trembled.
Three more joined it, wisps of color like distant galaxies swirling and rising from their inky depths.
The head rose, long neck twisting around as it regarded the newcomers.
From that fresh angle it was impossible to miss the half-eaten remains of a formorian, trailing from its jaws.