My arm had fallen from the tree.
It reeked of sewage and had turned a hideous color. The fresh layer of dirt coating it also led me to the same conclusion as the shifting sky had: some indeterminant amount of time had passed since I first arrived in the clearing. There were two primary suspects, but my love for one of them immediately dismissed it as a possibility, and so, I blamed the Chaser's ability.
My main concern was the time. I hadn't a clue how much I'd wasted and couldn't think of a solid way to check. At least a day and night, but it could easily be more than that. We meet at the Skypiercer Tree in five nights' time. If I held any intentions of meeting Keeper, I'd have to pick up the pace, maybe even skip a few nights of rest.
I drank my fill of blood, which was not as easy as it should've been: the container was so heavy that I had to prop it up on some rocks and lay on the ground to drink from it, and once my bloodlust was sated, my shadowed arm disappeared. I reattached my old arm with a Repair and topped back up on blood to ease myself of the exhaustion. Afterwards, I spent far too long squeezing the air, twirling my knife, and enjoying the feeling of being whole again. Once I'd gotten familiar with it, I set off towards the Skypiercer.
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About halfway through the Forest of Green, I was delighted to stumble across another pathway headed in more or less the direction of the tree. Given the two prominent lines in the dusty earth, I guessed carriages used it more than people on foot. That didn't make much difference for me though, and I happily plopped the container on the ground before refastening its ropes to my waist.
It was only a handful of minutes later when the clattering sound of wagon wheels approached from behind. I stopped at the side of the road and waited a good while, somewhat hopeful that a faster means of transportation might come around the bend. And to my surprise, a carriage made of a light wood soon followed. Curiously, nothing pulled it along.
The flat-topped wagon slowed to a stop a little ways after passing me, and the door shot open. A figure wearing stark red robes fumbled out.
"Oh!" He turned back to the open door and nodded furtively, then ran over to me, waving his arm. "Hello, traveler! Do you come from Stock?"
The man running up to me had a bald head and a pudgy face that suited his elated grin quite well.
"That I do, are you headed towards the Skypiercer Tree?"
The pudgy man slowed to a stop, panting with his hands on his knees. "Oh! Would you look at that, you've got a Globetrotter."
"Globetrotter?" I glanced at the container trailing behind me that he'd pointed at. "Is that what it's called?"
"A good one, at least. That thing looks lousy as all Mares. I'd find you a fine one down in Blink if you're heading through to Skypiercer."
"Blink?" I asked, pulling out my map.
"Oh, won't find it on that, most folk don't know it exists. It's about halfway from here to where you're headed. Right at the edge of the Dunes."
He wasn't wrong, Blink wasn't anywhere on the map. Actually, most of The Forgotten Dunes were without villages. Halfway isn't bad, and anything that can get me to Skypiercer quicker would be a blessing.
"A new Globetrotter sounds like a great idea." I wonder how I'll get all the blood from one to the other without raising suspicion. I gave as congenial a smile as possible before asking, "Who are you?"
The man only looked at me a little funny. "Not sure what you're on about, but I'd be glad to bring you along with us."
I narrowed my eyes. Strange. I can't exactly turn down a carriage across the Dunes, but definitely strange. "Well then, to what do I owe the kindness?" I asked, reaching for my new coin pouch.
The man let out an excited huff. "Nothing at all if you'd help pedal the rest of the way."
"Pedal?"
"Come, I'll show you."
Inside the so-called Pedalpod, there sat another bald man. He wore the same red robes but looked a fair bit thinner. His sunken eyes stared back at me. He didn't move or blink.
The carriage itself was cramped but could probably fit four or five in an emergency. The inside had no floor, either. I could see right through to the pathway underneath. Instead, in the middle there sat a strange contraption on which the other man had his feet propped.
"My friend here doesn't speak much, don't mind him," the pudgy man said, before jumping into a lengthy explanation of how the wagon moved. In brief, it was person-powered.
"How does it steer?" I asked.
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"Follows the curve of the road for the most part, it's got a lever to turn a little but that slows the thing right down."
Upon being invited in, I pulled myself into the cabin and settled my feet on the pedals. Soon after, we were off. I wouldn't have called it particularly easy work. The pedals felt very much like I was pushing the weight of myself, two other men, and the carriage all with my feet, but once it got rolling we seemed to be moving a fair bit quicker than I could walk, so I didn't complain.
"Getting the hang of it, eh?" The pudgy man said, a relaxed grin shooting from cheek to cheek.
Of course he was happy, he wasn't doing any work. His friend on the other hand looked utterly miserable, legs quivering and loud panting filling the cabin. I only returned a weak smile.
"Can't thank you enough for this. I was about to pass out, myself," he said. "I'll show you the best Globetrotter place I know, you'll love the guy, too. Real wholesome fellow."
It wasn't too long until the dusty earthen road passing by underneath us turned to a faint yellow and the carriage began to rattle much more intensely.
"Looks like we're in the Dunes!" the man yelled over the noise of the shaking wagon. He leaned right over me as I peddled, fiddling with a string tied around a small knob. When the string came loose, the tarp that covered a window sprung up.
The vast expanse of pale yellow stone stretched out past the horizon. The forest had completely disappeared in less than an hour, in favor of the hard sandy rock.
"It's all rock," I said. "Where are the dunes?"
He chuckled with his hand resting on his belly and gazed out the window, off into the distance. "Funny you should mention it, I can't quite remember!"
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About an hour later, the pudgy man tapped at my arm. "Stop! Stop here."
The carriage slowed to a crawl after we took our feet off the pedals, finally lurching to a stop. The scenery out the open window was pretty much exactly the same as it had been when we first entered the Dunes.
"Why are we stopping?"
"What do you mean why? We're here. You've got some mighty legs on you too." The pudgy man fumbled himself out of the cabin. "I haven't ever done that route in so short a time! Must've been twice as fast as normal, don't you reckon?" He whacked at his friend's leg as he was coming out behind him.
"I thought we were stopping at Blink." I stepped out of the wagon, and sure enough, only barren yellowish stone sprawled out as far as I could see, except for a canyon in the far distance.
"Oh, don't you worry." Both of the red-robed men went around the wagon, kneeling by each wheel, and fiddling with them until they popped right off.
Only slightly concerned, I checked Maker's map, and we were indeed at the far edge of the Dunes. "Wonderful village you have here."
"Patience, traveler." He laughed, piling the wheels inside the cabin. Then, he brushed the sand away from the stone around the edges of the wagon. As soon as he did, I saw the spot where we'd stopped wasn't made of stone. It was made of wood, the same light wood as the carriage.
He latched a few hooks into previously covered indents below, then motioned me into the cabin. The wheels had been piled up onto the center contraption from which we pedaled. Both men took firm hold of the pillar and slowly turned the wheels. The entire centerpiece spun. From below, the wooden floor creaked open.
"Blink and you'll miss it." He smiled.
The floor below opened up to a dark room, and soon the entire caravan jerked into motion, descending into the ground. The light of the surface quickly dimmed to nothing, and the carriage stopped about when its flat roof took the place of the ground above. As my eyes adjusted to the dark, a faint flickering light shone up into the cabin. Both men slipped down through the hole in the bottom of the cabin and climbed down a ladder that had either come up from below, or down from the carriage, though I hadn't noticed which one.
I followed down into the dark room, hopping off the last rung of the ladder, about half my height from the floor. I kicked up a plume of sand and it only barely stung my eyes. The flickering torchlight down a tunnel revealed the details of my surroundings. It was an empty room with uneven walls, as if dug out by hand. The tunnel that stretched out in front of us led to a much greater, almost warmer, shifting light. Both robed men set off down the tunnel and I trotted behind to follow.
On either side of me, flames atop sticks burned hot, nearly searing the sides of my face as I walked by. The warmth from the end of the pathway grew with every step. And soon, we reached it.
The tunnel opened into a grand, circular hall. Six thick pillars sprouted into the ceiling and held up the roof. In the center of the hall, the statue of a woman held a blazing bonfire. It burned brightly in the cupped palms of her hands, blackened from soot.
The robed men cut across the middle of the echoing room, towards one of the other countless tunnels that shot off from the vast space. "Come, commercial district is this way."
I was mesmerized by the sheer scale, by the number of paths that sprouted from one room, and by the idea of what might lie behind them. Wouldn't want to get lost in here.
Down the winding tunnel, we crossed various nodes that shot off into a myriad of other directions, only further cementing my concern to keep an exit route in mind. I memorized the path back as a series of numbers, translating them to letters, then to a sentence. A useful memory trick. I came up with ‘Barn cats eat flying chickens deserted and alone.’
Nearing the end of the tunnel, the faint chatter from crowds of people grew louder, and soon, the walkway ballooned out into a large hallway. Villagers wandered about a long stretch of market; men, women, and children, most wearing white robes but a few wore red, the ones who did were also bald. Along the walls, stalls were dug into the stone. The place was nowhere near as busy as the markets in Stock had been, but there were enough people to put me at ease.
"So where's this craftsman you were talking about?"
"Oh, he's close by," the pudgy man said. "Down a little alley, doesn't get any customers. No wonder he's got to sell so cheap, eh?" He poked at his lanky friend, who seemed as unamused as always.
As we shuffled down the hallway, I began to notice eyes following me. Not many, but a few. Some of the villagers would watch me walk by, maybe whisper something to each other. I wanted to brush it off as visitors being rare, but neither of the bald men had warned me about such a thing. The glares weren't remotely consistent either. Some would stare with sad, forlorn eyes, shoulders drooped or leaned against a wall. While others would look on with what I could only describe as a passionate rage.
"Are you sure it's close?" I asked.
"Oh! Right here, just around this corner." The pudgy man dipped between two shops, and the lanky one, too.
But as soon as I stepped to follow, the entire floor of the market gave way below me.