“The Dead Hollows, I presume.” The Chief says, glaring up at the twisted tree before her, which stares back down at her with wicked, hollow eyes.
“Stands out, doesn’t it.” Rann comments, leaning on his greatsword.
“The Capital is a short distance from here. We have some rules to go through.” Mole says, turning to face the group as we gather on the edge of the Dead Hollows. “Follow my footsteps precisely. Don’t stare up at the trees, and don’t step on their roots.”
“What happens if we step on their roots?”
“Grinning Gums have spikes on their roots coated with poison. If it cuts your skin, you’ll die. If you step on the roots of a Fool’s Gum, it will eat you.”
“The tree will eat me?”
“Fool’s Gums look like Grinning Gums, but they’re alive, and hungry. They eat anything within their root’s reach.”
“Uh huh…”
“That wouldn’t happen to be a “Fool’s Gum” over there, would it.” The Chief asks, pointing her staff in the direction of a tree standing slightly apart from the others around it.
It’s virtually identical to all Grinning Gums around it with two notable exceptions - the tree in question has very few leaves, and a large portion of its trunk is stained red, leading up to an open, empty mouth. That… that’s a tree that eats people, isn’t it.
“You can see the malice coming off it, too?” Mole looks up at the Chief, before nodding his head. “Good. Makes avoiding them easier. Follow me.”
Our trek through the Dead Hollows is far more hazardous than any journey we’ve undertaken before. We follow in Mole’s footsteps - literally, as he knows the only safe path through the tangled mess of roots stretching in every direction across the forest floor. Mole, followed by Rann, then the Chief, myself, Johnny, Arshak, Arshiya, Einar, Rob, and then Crow and Rabbit at the back. Every root is covered with tiny reddy-orange spikes, almost indistinguishable against the red-brown mud and orange rocks that they spread out across. The roots of the Fool’s Gums have similar spikes with a slight curve to them, making it easier to grab onto its food and yank it towards its hungry maw.
“Falian’s brass balls… It’s like walkin’ through a pit of snakes with all these damn roots…” Johnny groans, taking a careful step forwards over a knotted mess of roots.
“I don’t see what moving through these roots has to do with the God of Metal’s genitals, Johnny.” The Chief mutters in annoyance.
“What? You too fancy-schmancy for colourful expletives, Chief?” Johnny grins back at her, jumping over a large root.
“This is the fastest route to the Capital. We’re almost there.” Mole calls back, jumping over a large root, which Rann steps over behind him.
“Just keep your eyes forward, Johnny. You wouldn’t know what an actual pit of snakes even looks like.” Arshak scoffs, jumping to the spot that Johnny just stepped out of.
“And how would you know that, huh? The New World’s got snakes of all sizes all over the damn place. South of the Spice Isles ain’t the only place in the world with snakes, kid.” Johnny shoots back.
“Snakes aren’t native to Samarkal. The wild snakes just escaped from the merchants’ ships onto the islands. Arshak and I have never seen them all bunched up like these roots, though.” Arshiya adds, hopping effortlessly over a particularly gnarled and thick root.
“Hah! So you’ve never seen a pit of snakes either!” Johnny quips.
The Chief stops in front of me, turning to look back over the rest of our group. “Do you two have nothing better to do than complain and bicker all the time?”
With a grunt, Rann’s flat-tipped greatsword comes crashing down on a spiked root, cleanly hewing it in two. The severed root curls and shrinks back like a living tendril, retreating into the mess of tangled and immobile roots covering the forest floor.
“Isn’t much else for them to do out here.” Rann shrugs, hefting his greatsword over the red wolf pelt on his shoulders onto his back.
“Ah.” The Chief glances down, shaking what’s left of the severed root off her cloak as it drops to the ground lifelessly.
“Are you alright, Chief?”
“Yes…” She trails off, staring at a particular tree amidst the forest.
She tightens her grip on her staff. Following her sharp gaze, it’s clear which particular tree has caught her attention. Amidst the red-and-orange canopy, this “tree” has no leaves to speak of. Its naked brown branches jerk and bend upwards, in a poor imitation of the plant it mirrors. Two deep gashes mark its trunk, sitting just above a large, shadowed cavity, surrounded by triangular slivers of bark jutting out in every direction. There’s a very noticeable red stain covering much of the tree, running down from the large, gaping cavity in its centre. The Chief clicks her tongue, raising her staff a little, goading the Fool’s Gum to make a move.
“That’s not a staring contest you’ll win, Chief.” Rann comments, leaning over to peer at the Fool’s Gum the Chief is staring at.
“I’m simply gauging how easy it would be to blast it in half.” She responds, pointing the head of her staff directly at the tree’s centre. “Right down the middle…”
“Not here, Chief.” Rann sighs, putting his hand on her staff to lower it.
“Haven’s Chief.” Mole says, looking back to face us given we’ve all stopped already. “Are you a light wizard?”
“That’s one way to describe my skills…” She answers, raising an eyebrow as she holds her staff upright again. “How could you tell?”
“The golden light around you, surrounding all the other colours.” Mole answers, nodding to himself.
“How… You can even see magical aptitudes?” The Chief asks, noticeably impressed.
“Your yellow light is so bright I have to squint to look at you.” Mole states. Is… Is he squinting? His fringe is always covering his eyes. “We’re close to the Capital. Come on.”
We advance more carefully, given the Chief’s close brush with the roots of a Fool’s Gum. It’s slow, literally tracing the steps of the person in front of you through the hazardous mess of roots covering the forest floor of the Dead Hollows like a carpet, but the roots grow less tangled as we move on. Soon, it’s apparent that some roots have been cut away, carving a small, but visible path through the woods.
Mole raises his hand for us to stop. We’ve made it to an actual clearing; the first I’ve seen within the Dead Hollows. No roots spread across the ground; it’s just orange-red rocks and deep brown mud. There’s no apparent entrance around us.
Mole steps forward, raising his hands to his mouth and whistling out something like a bird’s call that I don’t recognise.
Nothing happens, for a moment. Unbroken stillness, all around us. We all tense, grouping up after having moved in single-file for so long. Crow and Rabbit move up to stand either side of Mole.
“Mole.” A smooth voice pierces the silence.
A dozen hooded figures suddenly emerge amidst the treetops, bows drawn, aimed, and ready. One leaps down from the trees, standing before Mole. Over their hood they wear a delicately carved mask of red wood, in the shape of an eagle, or… no, a gryphon, going by the beak. Their cloak is adorned with long black feathers reaching down to the floor, standing head-and-shoulders taller than Mole. Besides the mask, the only other splash of colour on this figure cloaked in blackness is a scruffy, fuzzy tail of red fur hanging from his shoulder. A sharp blade glints in the dim light beneath their cloak.
“Griffin.” Mole responds.
Griffin, the masked figure, tilts their head up to look across us, then back down at Mole. Their face is completely obscured by their mask, styled after a gryphon’s head.
“Crow. Rabbit. The three of you must have a very good reason for bringing these people here.” Griffin’s voice is smooth as silk, but you can hear the knives beneath, the veiled threat in his calm words.
“They’re the leader and representatives of Haven. Crow found them.” Mole answers calmly.
“Haven? The Haven?” Griffin scans across our group again, then looks down at Crow. “and Crow found it? I’m not sure if Jackhorn will be pleased, or jealous.” He laughs. A fake laugh, intended to put you at ease.
“Wasn’t that hard to find it… I just followed their hunting party back.” Crow says, his voice lower and a little shaky.
“I see, I see… and this answers my question how, exactly?” Griffin looms over the three children, making full use of his height and mask to intimidate them.
“Ahem… if you’ll allow me.” The Chief steps forward, catching Griffin’s attention. “I am Mia Lichtrufer, Chief of Haven, and these are the members of Haven’s Expeditionary Team. We have come to meet with the Wolf Queen in person, with the intention of establishing friendly relations between our two factions in the Abyss.”
Griffin stares at the Chief for a moment. “Friendly relations, hmm. That’s the story you used to get this far.”
“She’s sincere, Griffin.” Mole comments.
“To your clouded eyes, perhaps. People her age are far more experienced liars.” Griffin isn’t convinced.
“The Queen trusts in my judgement…” Mole adds, which does little to convince Griffin.
“Don’t disparage the boy’s abilities. He lost his natural sight for them. Or do you really think that mask does anything to hide your true feelings?” The Chief raises an eyebrow at Griffin.
“And what would you know of my “true feelings”, woman?” Griffin retorts.
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“Uncertainty.” Mole and the Chief answer simultaneously.
“Gh…” Griffin fights the impulse to recoil back upon being correctly called out. “Well. You said you’re here to establish “friendly relations”. You are well-equipped, well-armed, and well-provisioned. What could you possibly want from a bunch of orphans like us?”
“To help each other.” She responds. “We have many children in Haven. Looked after, given food, clothes, and shelter, with a schoolhouse and a growing number of trades to learn. All we ask for in return is your help securing provisions outside Haven and to help bring newly discovered children back to safety in Haven.”
“Hmm…” Griffin ponders, glancing back down at Crow. “Has anyone else from your unit seen Haven for themselves, Crow?”
“N… No. They… they found me, when I was scouting Haven. They made me bring them here, but…” Crow looks up at Griffin, steeling himself. “I believe that they want to help us. The children of Haven even tried to help me and keep me hidden from the adults.”
“Hmmmm…” Griffin sighs, relaxing his stance. “I suppose I should leave this to the Queen’s decision… I’d never hear the end of it if I turned away a situation as interesting as this. Alright. Open the gates, we’ll see about arranging an audience with the Queen.”
With a rumble, the wall of branches and leaves on the other side of the clearing begins to move, lifting upwards to reveal a wide, deep cave entrance. Four cloaked figures with masks over their eyes march out on either side of the entrance, standing to attention with bone-tipped spears in one hand, holding their other arm across their chest with their hand outstretched and flat in a salute.
“If you’d be so kind as to follow me.” Griffin gestures towards the entrance to the Capital.
“Well.” The Chief smiles. “Let’s meet the queen, shall we?”
The eight of us from Haven, Rabbit, Mole, and Crow follow closely behind Griffin as we descend into the cave. The entrance itself is dark, but the wide open subterranean space it leads to is brightly lit with dozens of glowing orbs hanging from the cave’s ceiling. No, to call it a cave is to do it a disservice - it is the bustling heart of a thriving village. Carefully laid smooth stones form a town circle, with six paths running off to the left and the right, and a seventh, the grandest of them all, opposite the entrance we stand in. Yet grander, and stranger still is what lays at the centre of this space.
A bubbling fountain, carved from pristine white marble, overflowing with clear, blue water. Small figures move back and forth, taking water from the fountain to drink, running from room to room, market stand to market stand. Dozens of them. Many aren’t even half my height in stature. The attention of the crowd is quickly drawn to the group of adults that have just entered their sanctuary. Some, presumably guards given their cloaks and masks, stand to attention with spears in hands, while many move up to simply look at us, with concern and confusion as to just what we’re doing here.
“Move aside.” Griffin commands. “These are guests of the Queen.”
The crowd quickly parts, opening a path through past the fountain. Griffin’s words carry weight in these halls. All nod in respect as he passes, even the children that look barely five years of age.
“Hmm…” The Chief pauses, resting her hand on the edge of the fountain, peering into its blue waters.
“Clean water outside of Haven…”
“No small feat, this level of purification… certainly a mage of some skill.” She muses, before moving on with our group.
Along the grand seventh road we follow, out of the underground clearing and along a corridor lined with rough-woven curtains. At its end lay double doors of carved red wood. Two smaller doors stand either side of the corridor just before it, beside long, low, wooden benches.
“Now…” Griffin turns to face us, clasping his hands. “If all of you could lay down your arms and hand them to the guards here.” He smiles, gesturing to the four guards that enter from one of the side doors, standing to attention and giving the same salute from earlier. Are these the same ones from earlier…?
“The three of you will be following me. The Queen is eager to hear about your dealings with the people of Haven, Crow.” The double doors open, showing the winding path beyond which Griffin, Mole, Crow, and Rabbit traverse down, the doors closing behind them with a thud.
“Ahem. Your weapons please.” A guard asks, holding out his hand.
It’s an odd scene. Four children with spears fashioned from rough sticks and sharpened bones, asking for the bows and iron weapons of eight adults.
“Well.” Rann shrugs, unholstering his greatsword and leaning it against the corridor’s wall. “You heard them. Is it fine to leave this here?”
“We’ll take it with us… Er…” The guard trails off, watching another guard trying - and failing - to pick up, let alone move Rann’s greatsword. “You can leave them here.”
The group grunts in acknowledgement, putting down their spears, taking swords from belts, removing quivers, and carefully leaning bows against the walls. I place my spear against the wall, but… I can’t exactly take off my wings.
Not that they know I have them. Crow, Mole, and Rabbit aren’t here right now.
“Your staff, ma’am.” A guard asks the Chief.
“What about my staff?” She responds, leaning on her staff.
“You can’t have it on you when you see the queen.” The guard explains calmly.
“Then I won’t have it on me.” With a smile, the Chief’s staff disintegrates into golden sparkles that quickly dissipate. Her staff is gone.
“That… Does that count…?” The guard looks at another, confused. The other guard nods and shrugs.
“Anything under your cloak, ma’am?” The third guard asks me. Gods, they’re all so small… But, uh…
The Chief shoots me a look. I understand.
“... No. Nothing underneath it.”
“Good. Please wait here, the Queen will see you shortly.” The four guards salute once more, leaving the corridor as we all set down our backpacks and pouches, sitting down on the benches and waiting for our appointment.
“Waiting in the parlour to see the Queen… And I thought my life had improved from the last.” The Chief sighs, crossing her arms and leaning back.
“I don’t imagine anyone waiting in a parlour for the queen with their arms crossed, Chief.” Rann comments, mirroring the Chief’s pose.
“We’re in a cave inhabited entirely by children led by a figure who calls herself a queen. I’m maintaining as much candour as I can in such a nonsensical situation. Still…” The Chief glances down the corridor. It’s well lit, and despite being underground, the stone pathway is immaculately clean. “I can’t discredit the effort and dedication it would take to build such a place. Nor the effort to keep stone walkways so clean in a cave…”
“They have a marble fountain with water as clean as the Crystalfall’s, beneath a forest with living trees that eat people. This whole place doesn’t make any sense.” Arshak huffs, leaning against the wall.
“This is the Abyss, Arshak. I thought you’ve been on the team long enough to know that nothing makes sense down here.” Rann comments.
“Going by what we’ve seen, they have expert pathfinders, a mage of some skill, and talented woodcarvers. All would be greatly helpful towards Haven’s future.” The Chief nods. She’s kept a sharp eye on her surroundings since she got here.
“You think they’ll agree to workin’ together, Chief?” Johnny asks.
“We made it this far.” She shrugs. “So far, things have gone better than I expected.”
We more or less settle in and wait. Small crowds constantly form around the end of the corridor in the settlement’s main space, before being quickly shooed away by the guards. We’re too far to hear anything particular, but there’s an air of intrigue and excitement. This is probably the first time a group of adults have been allowed to come here, judging by the age demographics of the Wolf Pups.
A lot of the attention is focused on Rann, wearing a “red wolf’s” pelt that the Wolf Pups see as an impressive status symbol. Griffin, one of the leaders of the Wolf Pups is presumably a Red Wolf himself, had only a tail on his person. Rann wears a full pelt across his shoulders; its white fangs bared and its empty eyes ever watchful. Some point at the Chief and her eyes, Rob and how tall he is, or Arshak and Arshiya for their similar orange hair. Johnny, Einar, and I don’t draw much attention compared to the others.
Crow, Mole, and Rabbit have probably told the Queen everything they know about us, though. My wings, the Chief’s magic and soulseer status. We won’t have the element of surprise in an engagement, but that’s not what we’re here for. We’re here for an alliance. Hopefully, Crow is talking about what he saw at Haven; the relative plenty we enjoyed, a safe, secure location, a close-knit and nurturing community dedicated to its young. A community that the Chief wishes to invite others to, so that they may grow together.
After some time, the double wooden doors creak, slowly pushing open as they drag across the flagstones. The same four guards from earlier stand at attention to greet us, standing either side of the corridor.
“The Queen will see you now.” One speaks, and we all rise.
Two guards lead from the front, with the Chief behind them and the rest of us following double-file, with the last two guards closing the door behind us. The corridor we follow rounds a corner, delving deeper into the earth. Red and orange vines hang from the ceiling and adorn the walls, with several small, glowing orbs hanging from reach, illuminating the tunnel in almost perfect daylight. We walk in silence, until coming to another set of double doors of red wood, which bear an intricately carved wolf’s head upon them, surrounded by smaller depictions of four other animals; a bear, a jackhorn, a gryphon, and a bull.
“To the Queen of the Wolves of the Abyss, I present;” Griffin calls, as the doors start to creak open, revealing the throne room before us. “The Chief of Haven and her People.”
Our escorting guards march forward, standing either side of the corridor once more and saluting as we enter the throne room.
It’s almost an unbelievable sight. I know I say that a lot down here and yes, you think you’d get used to it, but this is just completely different all over again. Marble-white flagstones line the floor, just as the walls are built from off-white stone blocks, buttressing the deep earthen roof above. Shallow canals of crystal-clear water run along the floor from the doors to the far side of the room, leading up long, wide steps, across the stone podium and to another fountain identical to the one we passed in this settlement’s heart.
Four figures sit on the podium across from us. Four spots are marked for four to sit on the same level, while the central position is elevated. To the left sit two; the first is a tall, lanky figure, sitting legs crossed with their hand on their knees and wearing a mask of red wood carved like a rabbit’s head with deer-like antlers jutting upwards. The second is someone as burly and stocky as Rann, just maybe half a foot shorter than him, kneeling rather than sitting, their mask in the shape of a bull’s face, with long, heavy horns hanging from their head. To the right, beside the empty spot, sits a muscular figure in a contemplative pose, with their mask clearly carved in the shape of a bear’s head. Each wears a segment of red fur somewhere on their person - the skin of a Red Wolf.
At their zenith sits the most striking figure of all. Their wolf-like mask is adorned with red gemstones in its cheeks and ears that glitter in the sunlight coming down through the cave roof that’s far too bright to be real. Their body is wrapped in dark brown cloth, spreading across their podium and hanging off the sides. Something is off about their posture; the way the cloth sits across their body hints at additional limbs beyond the number you’d expect a human to have. If they’re human at all. The only visible skin is their neck, which is almost ghostly pale, and their outstretched hand, gripping a staff of smooth white wood adorned with a brilliant red gemstone the size of a clenched fist. Their posture, their stature, their seat, says it all; we have earned an audience with the Wolf Queen.
“Finally.” The Queen speaks. Her voice is smooth, sultry, and certainly mature, in the tone one would use when conversing with a dear friend, yet it fills the room and rings in your ears long after she finishes speaking. It’s almost reminiscent of Tiff’s voice, with the comforting, disarming factor turned up to eleven.
“The fabled people of Haven, the hidden paradise of the Abyss, come to my doorstep to parley.” She tilts her head slightly, the wolf mask’s gaze settling upon the Chief. “You must be Mia Lichtrufer, their Chief, come to meet the Queen in person. Your sincerity and respect is graciously accepted.”
“Your Majesty.” The Chief nods her head forwards and curtseys, despite her lack of skirt, with the effortlessness of one who has practised the rituals of the court all their life. “Mia Lichtrufer, Chief of Haven and representative of its people, at your service.”
Rann kneels down on one leg, lowering his head in respect, a motion the rest of us quickly copy.
“You have travelled far, through treacherous lands, to reach the throne room of the Capital, guided by my children no less. You treated them well and with respect, as they tell me, especially little Crow. I am most impressed that it was he who first found the hidden town of Haven; a treasure some have spent all their lives searching for.” The Queen speaks, her soft, dulcet words flowing like silken banners dancing in the wind.
“He showed me many things I myself did not know about my home. What fills my heart with pride more than anything else is how the children of Haven treated him like one of their own upon discovering him; even putting themselves in trouble just to help him. As their leader and one of their mentors, small things such as that show that I am raising them well.” The Chief smiles, remaining in her pose of respect as the rest of us do.
“And yet.” You can hear the Queen’s smile through her mask. “You thought you would still hold the upper hand, even here in my own throne room.”
The slow-moving water through the shallow canals of the floor suddenly surges forth, covering the ground around our legs in a thin layer of water, driven by sorcery upwards into our boots and pants before flash-freezing solid, trapping us in place.
“You are in my domain, people of Haven.” The Queen rises, the red gemstone of her staff sparkling in the light as her impassive mask glowers down at us. “You are in no position to set terms.”