Legion automatically got to work on deciphering the ape-men’s language. Having a lot of people Consumed meant they knew almost every former active language on the planet, but Polyglot had made the scholarly art of linguists a nigh-automatic thing, and basically anyone with the intellectual chops paid for it and used it.

Most people’s original languages had been bumped down to second languages by The Human Tongue. Polyglot instantly restored them to full proficiency, which they enjoyed immensely, even if the whole world was tearing down old signs and printing new ones, and the books and magazines were being retooled, and there was an absolute explosion of new fonts out there...

When you had so many people in Markspace to learn languages from, learning every odd language under the sun wasn’t hard... although the number of people who dared to learn Aklo wasn’t very high. Demonic telepathy was naturally useful as a sidestep, but was kind of a limp-wristed alternative to actually knowing the words.

“Is there anyone you would like us to speak to?” Legion asked calmly. “The surface forces we represent do not seek hostile relations with those who are not hostile to us.”

The F-rex wasn’t slow. “You are alluding that there are surface forces who will be hostile if they come here, Elder Legion?” Felderjaw asked immediately.

“That is correct, Elder Felderjaw. Your cavern and the Felldeep in general have access to mineral wealth that could mean fortunes, as well as plant and animal life no longer existing on the surface.”

The F-rex’s tail was switching again, clearly agitated. “Am I correct in seeing that you have... very interesting bloodlines, Elder Legion?” the dinosaur Druid asked carefully.

“They are quite rare where I come from, Elder Felderjaw. The primary inhabitants of the surface realm are the Seven Races and their Children.” The Holo changed to display typical ranges of humans and Ancients, elves, dwarves, gnomes, hyn, orcs, goblins, and the Children, the dhatun, halvyr, urukhar, and ogryn. “There are other species, like the Jotuns, around, but they are a minority.” Their eyes widened at the sudden sight of some of the taller trolls, ogres, and smaller Jotuns, as the larger ones were indeed extremely rare to see. “There are no scalefolk of note in the Outer World, although that is not true in the Inner World, nor are there intelligent saurians such as yourselves, and your simian servants do not have relatives up above, either, although I believe they do in the Inner World.”

Said ape-men whooped and gibbered, pointing at the images of several tribes whose locations flashed on a map of the Hollow World in the background excitedly.

“I can smell the Great Ones upon you, although it is... strange,” the F-rex murmured, daring to poke her great head forward and inhale.

Legion lifted a hand, and brought up Wrath, making the ape-men jump away in reflex. They lifted the other, and brought up Scorn, the hellfire contrasting with heavenly fire in right and left.

Felderjaw’s eyes looked between them sharply, and then at the one bearing them, thinking hard. “You are a Warlock, Elder Legion,” she finally said carefully, as Legion quenched the fires.

“To be precise, Elder Felderjaw, we are a Warlock Grandmaster.” The weight of the Title was significant. “Among those to whom we are Sworn is the very Land within whose heart you lie, which is how we were able to enter, and we can leave very easily.”

“You and those you represent have no designs upon our caverns, Elder Legion?” the dinosaur Druid repeated carefully, having absolutely no desire to test the absolute power she could feel radiating off this intruder.

“If they present a threat to us, Elder Felderjaw, we have extremely threatening designs, indeed. Yourself and your lands are completely safe from us and those we represent. If you wish to open cordial relations, we can facilitate such with you.”

The dinosaur stared at Legion thoughtfully, thinking and considering the outsider floating there in midair, as unmoved as if she was a stone planted there, those utterly gorgeous wings so easy to be distracted by, were not her moving illusions drawing the eye.

Totally overwhelming Presence. It was like being in the presence of one of the Old Gods, totally overwhelming, and she had no desire to fight them, either.

“What...what are your own plans, Elder Legion?” she asked respectfully.

“I am a scout. I am looking for threats to the Worlds outside the Felldeep that need to be removed. I shall be continuing on through this cavern system, seeing what dwells within, and if it is a threat, we shall soon move to clear it away.”

The draconic language conveyed pride, arrogance, and utter confidence impeccably. Felderjaw’s eyes fell to the moving Holo once again, and saw the displayed map there shrink in scale in every direction. The maps of the Felldeep above and around her own cavern become visible as the overall dimensions shrank quickly.

If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it's taken without permission from the author. Report it.

The map was extremely accurate. She felt herself reflexively swallow in fear, ready to vomit up her last meal for extra speed to retreat.

The map continued to grow and grow and grow, far beyond any lands she knew of, and it was all done so very precisely...

“I am not the greatest of the Cavern Guardians, Elder Legion,” she said softly, wondering if she should take the risk. She realized that she could not stop this outsider, so establishing friendly relations with those this Elder Legion represented would be wise... especially if they would just leave the Caverns be. “I can give you an introduction to the Great Druid of the Living Caves, Elder Legion,” she offered, glancing at one of her Aspirants, who hastily moved to her carry-bags and dug out a carved tooth, six inches long and yellowed with age. The simian respectfully approached and held it out to Legion, who merely raised a finger, and the tooth lifted from the hand of the hairy Aspirant to their hand.

Legion inspected it once, inclined their head in acknowledgement to Elder Felderjaw, and slid it into one of the pockets of their Vest. Notably, there was not the slightest bulge to indicate it was there.

Legion gestured at her Holo-map. “Where can I expect to find this Great Druid, Elder Felderjaw?” she asked calmly.

A moment of will brought up a floating light, which drifted forwards to hover over one of the larger caverns to the south and east, not in the middle of the collection there. “Elder Marshflag is usually found around the lakes in the middle of her Cavern, Elder Legion,” the F-rex indicated quietly.

“For the sake of politeness, Elder Felderjaw, may I have the names of the other Guardians of their Caverns?” Legion asked with exacting patience, as if these measures of propriety and respect of personal territory were all-important... as they most certainly were in the Felldeep.

“Perhaps we could return to our settlement, and speak more at length, Elder Legion?” the saurial Druid asked politely.

Legion considered that, and how much time it would take... and then the fact that this was a first contact scenario, and setting up proper ambassadorial relationships was the right thing to do, even if took some extra time.

“Please lead the way, Elder Felderjaw,” they agreed courteously.

-------------

I watched two of the simian Aspirant Druids clamber aboard the feather-frilled saurial with all the teeth, Legion flying effortlessly alongside, hands clasped behind them as they glided alongside the bounding saurial Druid. The third Aspirant took to the trees, brachiating on ahead of them with energy and great agility, as powerful and sure as any great ape, hooting and letting the jungle know their Guardian was coming and don’t try anything stupid or they would be dinner.

I groaned again. Sleipner popped up on his screen, More Problems?

“Legion just encountered the edge of a potentially friendly civilization down in the Felldeep. Just how many bloody secrets does this planet have?!?!”

The motorcycle hummed beneath me as we shot along just above the waves that spread out around us, giving us a miles-long perfectly smooth track to hurtle along on. Do You Think There Is Another Blessing Out There?, Sleipner finally asked hopefully.

I sighed again. There were only four known Blessings of unicorns on the planet. One had taken shelter in the Ælvashin Forest of the elves in Norway, one was in the Amazon jungle, and two were scattered in the northern forests of America and Canada.

For completely believable reasons, their trust level of humans was very low, indeed, and the werewolves didn’t help, enjoying the use of their horns as magical fetishes of the highest caliber... while the Magi and Alchemists also loved using alicorns in their experiments and ceremonies.

Master Fred had been one of the few people alive to actually witness a Blessing gather at the call of its Herd Stallion, when he had brought Sleipner back to them.

“I doubt that there are any in the Felldeep,” I said to him softly. “But there may be a couple in the Hollow World’s forests. I believe there is a forest down there that is guarded by a ki-rin, and I do not believe they would not succor their kin.”

!!!. Sleipner obviously thought that was very good news.

Now we only had to find the forest...

I sighed, and etched another half-smile. Ahead of Legion, a tree-city built into jungle giant darkwoods was revealed in the distance before them, while the Florans and Aethrans were scrambling to put together a proper embassy... and some people interested in getting rid of a bunch of yuan-ti.

The geoic society down there probably relied on their crystalline realm to stay alive, so negotiating with them over selling stuff or mining it was probably a no-go on the face of it. On the other hand, they were aggressive about coming up for the salt mines, and proper repayment for that aggression was definitely something that could be talked about... over fists, if need be.

More Karma to earn on the stack. I reflected that despite conservation for lower Levels, that Gettysburg Shroudzone, the last Shroudzone north of Mexico, was almost gone, and there were a lot of people who wanted a diversion, and not necessarily via an immediate trip to Russia.

Legion had already passed them by, and could certainly lead an effort if desired, sooner or later. The last thing we needed was an empowered serpentfolk race if they got hooked up directly with the Demon Prince that had started them in the first place began reinforcing them.

No, we didn’t need that at all, and that meant that before the Shroud fell we were going to have to kill as many of them as inhumanly possible...

-Lady Traveler,- a polite /voice broke into my thoughtstreams, and I turned my attention to Starsister Stillmoon, who hailed from Preugia in Italy, and the Temple of Starry Dreams there.

-Starsister Stillmoon?- I /replied politely. There was little way in Markspace to disguise who and what I was, so the Sylunar who Swore to me tended to be literally starry-eyed when they addressed me.

-We have a request from the Alchemists to speak with you, Lady Traveler.- She had to deliberately not call me ‘Chosen’, a Title I had expressly forbid anyone from calling me until Sylune Herself bestowed it upon me.

That was literally never going to happen, given I was consigned to the Shroud, so I didn’t have to put up with it at all, logical as the claim was.

An invitation from the Alchemists, now?...