Chapter One Hundred Fifty-One: ‘What remains of a Falling...’

‘So the worms have given up?’ Hector asked, still not entirely clear on what seemed like an ever-changing situation.

‘Uh, I’m not sure,’ said Garovel privately. ‘They’ve slowed down or stopped chasing us, but I don’t know if that means they’ve genuinely given up. My knowledge of worms is a bit spotty, in case that wasn’t already obvious.’

‘Then ask one of the others about it,’ said Hector.

‘Aww, but--ugh, fine.’ He switched over to a public voice. ‘So do you think they’ve left us alone or what?’

‘No,’ said Axiolis. ‘Judging from the movement patterns, they still seem agitated to me.’

‘Why are they keeping their distance, then?’ asked Yangéra.

‘Probably because they are hesitant to enter this area for some reason,’ said Axiolis. ‘It would make sense if this area was the territory of a rock golem. In which case, we have lucked out.’

Hector’s pessimism was doubting that.

‘Have we, though?’ said Garovel, perhaps feeling similarly. ‘We’re still both surrounded AND stranded. Doesn’t seem like the greatest luck to me, even if the worms have given up. Which, by the way, you’re also saying they might not have?’

‘Mm, indeed,’ said Axiolis. ‘They may just need to cluster up in order to overcome their anxiety. They are not exactly the brightest creatures in the world, so that may take them a while.’

‘Then let’s make use of that time,’ said Yangéra. ‘We should put some more distance between us and them while we can.’

‘Agreed.’

‘Yeah.’

‘Alright.’

And the group began walking again, though at a more cautious pace than even before they were being chased.

Hector had the opportunity to observe the various crumbling structures all around them. He’d never seen the like before. Most windows were longer horizontally than they were vertically, and whatever the faintly foggy material was that occupied them couldn’t have been simple glass, as it would have surely melted at this temperature.

He tried to recall if he’d seen material like this in Babbadelo, but if he had, it was escaping him. He thought about asking Garovel if he remembered, but the reaper had never seemed to give too much of a crap about architecture, so he probably wouldn’t. That, and he didn’t want to distract Garovel from his observational duties, right now.

Regardless, he wished they had more light. Even with all of their lamps probing around, the thick darkness still made it difficult to see very much at one time. And of course, pretty much every building was in shambles, too. That made it considerably harder to spot the architectural differences between here and the surface.

What a shame. He would’ve liked to get a look at an intact roof, but he couldn’t find one.

Still, it was interesting to him that this place even had buildings to begin with--or at least this many. Babbadelo had so few by comparison. Everything there had been carved out of the natural rock formations.

They found an apparent road, inlaid with long and flat stones, some of which reflected the light of the party’s lamps, illuminating pieces of the dark path and thereby making it mildly more clear where they were going. It was only so useful, however, as the path was regularly interrupted by large piles of rubble that needed to be cleared. Diego and Manuel made short work of such tasks while Zeff and Hector kept watch over the party’s front and rear, respectively.

And maybe it was just Hector’s mind playing tricks on him, but as they continued slowly onward, he could feel a heavy silence among the group, a kind of unspoken discomfort. But then, perhaps that was just because of the reapers. If recent experiences were anything to go by, having so many reapers in close proximity to one another without any of them speaking very much... that just didn’t bode very well, Hector felt. Like a bad omen, of sorts.

At length, the Lord Elroy was the one to break the atmosphere. “What is this strange aura?” he asked.

‘Ah,’ said Garovel. ‘You can sense that, too, can you?’

Hector didn’t know what they were talking about.

“I can,” said Zeff. “But only just. What is it? Do any of you know?”

‘It is ardor,’ said Axiolis. ‘It covers this entire area like a blanket, so dense that it’s become a kind of mist.’

“Is that bad?” said Diego, while Manuel Delaguna was busy explaining the half-silent conversation to the non-servants in the group. “Because it doesn’t sound so great.”

‘It is hard to tell,’ said Axiolis. ‘It could be nothing, but regardless, let us not disturb the mist if we can help it.’

Somehow, Hector doubted that it was nothing and so had to speak up, “Supposing it’s not nothing, uh... then what would it be? Hypothetically, I mean.”

The reapers hesitated visibly.

‘Hypothetically,’ said Axiolis slowly, ‘it could mean that a rock golem is slumbering here. Which would be wonderful. Golems are quite docile and friendly toward humans.’

‘It might even help us fight the worms, if they decide to follow us into this area,’ added Garovel.

‘Indeed.’

Diego had the same question that was occurring to Hector. “If it’s so wonderful, then why should we avoid disturbing the mist?”

‘Because,’ said Axiolis, again slowly, ‘it could also be a feldeath.’

No one said anything. Even Manuel stopped translating for the non-servants.

Manuel’s reaper picked up the slack. ‘We should clarify that, while it is yet unclear at this point, a golem is the more likely case,’ said Lorios.

‘Of course,’ said Axiolis. ‘I have been able to sense particularly strong ardor from much of the rubble around here. And rubble is made from rocks. Which is what golems are.’ The reaper didn’t sound as confident as Hector would’ve liked.

Garovel helped him out. ‘Or it could be nothing, like Axiolis first said. In fact, I know of a fascinating theory regarding the seemingly pointless accumulation of ardor.’

Hector tried to intervene privately. ‘Garovel, is this really the time?’

‘I’m just trying to keep everyone from freaking out,’ the reaper said, also privately.

Diego grew impatient as the group kept walking. “Well, go on, then. Tell us your magnificent theory.”

‘Oh, well, it’s not MY theory, per se. Just one I’ve heard, like I said.’ Garovel allowed a beat to pass. ‘But anyway, yes, it has to do with golems, too, actually. And how they’re created.’

‘Oh?’ said Axiolis. ‘I’ve not heard this before.’

‘Neither have I,’ said Lorios.

Before continuing, Garovel looked to Yangéra, doubtless wondering if she knew what he was talking about. When she shook her head, Garovel’s next words sounded positively delighted. ‘Well, the idea is simple enough. Whenever ardor accumulates in one place like this, it begins to bleed into the environment, and then, over a period of decades or possibly centuries, sentience is achieved, and the very land itself comes to life in the form of a golem.’

As he listened, Hector laughed through his nose, quietly enough that it must have blended into the muted hiss of his armor. He couldn’t help thinking about how much Garovel must have been enjoying himself.

‘Or in other words,’ Garovel went on, ‘all of this mist that we’re sensing here could, in truth, be nothing, for now. But ten years from now? Or a hundred? Perhaps a golem will arise.’

‘Interesting,’ said Axiolis. ‘But what causes the ardor to accumulate in one place like this?’

‘That’s not, um, well--that’s not entirely clear. It just seems to occur naturally. But I know some have argued that this gap in our understanding of how or why it happens makes for a compelling case that the planet is indeed sentient, and that it decides such things according to its whims or what have you.’

‘Mm, I see.’ Axiolis did not sound terribly convinced.

“That’s great ‘n all,” said Diego, “and, uh, I’m glad we’re safe from the worms ‘n everything, so I don’t want this to sound like I don’t appreciate what a spectacular job you reapers are doing, but, um... Do we know where we’re going, right now?”

Hector appreciated that question.

‘...Not entirely,’ admitted Axiolis.

“Not entirely,” echoed Diego, nodding with feigned understanding. “How ‘bout partially, then? If we don’t entirely know, then what are the parts that we do know? Could we focus on those, maybe?”

‘Could you please not sound so condescending?’ said Yangéra.

“Oh, this isn’t condescension. I assure you, my tone is one of humbleness and admiration.”

Impressively, Diego earned a snicker from Yangéra with that one.

‘We do sense something else,’ said Garovel, ‘which is what we’re heading toward, currently. But unless I’m mistaken, I think we’re all a bit confused about what it actually is.’

“Bein’ pretty vague,” said Diego.

Garovel sighed publicly. ‘Alright, well, below us and still quite a ways ahead, it seems like there are a lot of plants there. That’s what I’m sensing, anyway.’

‘I sense them as well,’ said Lorios.

‘As do I,’ said Axiolis.

‘Same here,’ said Yangéra.

“Okay,” said Diego, who’d apparently become the spokesperson for every non-reaper in the group. “So what’s the big deal? I mean, I know plants are fairly uncommon in the Undercrust, but is that all we’re going off of?”

‘No, the thing is,’ said Garovel, ‘these are plants that we recognize. By their “soul-signature,” if you will. And I don’t think any of us have ever sensed these types of plants anywhere but the surface.’

Another chorus of agreement arose from the other reapers.

“What in the world?” said Diego. “You’re saying that there are plants down here that shouldn’t be able to survive in this environment? How is that possible?”

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‘That is a very good question,’ said Garovel. ‘And it is why we are going to investigate.’

A few more beats of silence passed.

Then Diego, as if realizing something, said, “So we have no idea how we’re going to reach Capaporo and reunite with everyone.”

‘Correct.’

“Meanwhile, they’re probably freaking out, worrying that we’re all dead.”

‘Probably.’

“And without you there to guide them, they won’t know where to go, so they’ll be stuck in Capaporo.”

‘Mmhmm.’

“This plan bites,” said Diego.

‘Never said it didn’t,’ said Garovel.

“Ugh...”

Hector didn’t disagree with the man. He wondered how the other Rainlords would react to this development. Things must’ve looked really bad from their end, but would they simply give up on them? Hector hoped they would. With the way the reapers had been describing the sheer volume of worms here, trying to fight their way here... even with as much strength as Asad, Dimas, Salvador, Darktide, and all the others had at their disposal...

It seemed like a terrible idea. One of the worst Hector could imagine, in these circumstances.

But then again...

These were Rainlords.

Hector honestly didn’t know what they would do. And he wanted to pose the question aloud, but he caught a glimpse of Diego’s face. And Zeff’s.

They were probably even more worried about it than he was. Bringing it up now wouldn’t change that, nor would it improve their own predicament.

‘On the bright side,’ said Garovel, making everyone perk up ever so slightly, ‘our companions, Roman and Voreese, the ones you haven’t met yet, should also be in Capaporo. So if they all meet up together, then even without us there, there’s a good chance that they will make it to Warrenhold safely.’

True enough, Hector supposed. He found it difficult to imagine Roman and Voreese hitting it off with the Rainlords and everything going as smoothly as Garovel was suggesting, but again, he kept that to himself. If nothing else, he could appreciate Garovel’s attempt to maintain morale.

As they continued on, Hector tried to think of a new topic of conversation, preferably something that wouldn’t instigate the same feeling of helplessness as the last subject.

The ruined buildings gave him an idea, at least. “...Does anyone know what this city was called?”

No one answered him.

Well, that was a bust. It surprised him, though. He thought for sure that at least one of the reapers would’ve had some idea what this place was. It made him further wonder precisely how old this city was. If it were relatively new, then it would make sense that these reapers from the surface didn’t know about it at all, but as he stared at the crumbling infrastructure all around him, that didn’t seem particularly likely.

They arrived at a monument of some sort, and the first thing Hector noticed about it was that it seemed to be perfectly intact, unlike every building he’d seen so far.

It was an enormous flame, as big as a house and eternally still, being carved from pale gray stone. Around it flowed multiple streams of lava, all of which appeared to be factored into the design of the foundation.

‘Oh my god,’ came Axiolis’ voice, and everyone who could hear him turned to look.

Yangéra was the one to ask it. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘Do you not recognize this flame?’ he said, looking over his fellow reapers. ‘This is Enkir, also known as Rathmore’s Flame. It was a famous marker of Hun’Sho royalty.’

Hector had multiple questions all of a sudden.

‘Wow, so this was a Hun’Sho city?’ said Garovel. ‘I suppose that would explain why it’s in ruins.’

Hector had to ask a private question. ‘Who’re the Hun’Sho?’

Garovel floated closer but didn’t have the opportunity to answer him.

‘Uh-oh,’ said Lorios aloud. ‘I’m not the only one sensing that, am I?’

‘No,’ said Axiolis. ‘It seems the worms have decided to come in here after us.’

‘Time to start run--’

A tremor cut Garovel off, and it was strong enough that Hector and everyone else had to fight to maintain their footing. The tremor did not dissipate, either, and indeed, seemed to only grow stronger with each passing second.

Hector reached out for an explanation. ‘Garovel, what’s happening?!’

‘Remember how we said not to disturb the mist?!’ said Garovel privately. ‘Well, the worms are disturbing the mist!’

And then Hector saw the monument from earlier come alive with molten light. Lava flowed up from the base of the stone and through the curves of the flame, igniting it in its entirety and glowing with such increasing intensity that Hector had to shield his eyes.

Magma gushed forth like a geyser, and crystalline ice materialized over the party, protecting everyone but the cluster of Hun’Kui, who did not look terribly fazed by the sudden bath of lava.

The pool of liquid hot rock kept growing, and the group began to slowly move out of its path while they were either shielded from it or swimming through it.

That was when Hector saw something that he would not soon be forgetting.

The magma began to move against its own flow. It began to grow upward. And it began to take form. Two broad pillars connecting at the top--legs to a torso. Bulky and hunchbacked. Then came the arms. Then the head.

At such close range, the sheer amount of light coming off the creature was blinding. Once the group was clear of the amassing lava, they started running again. Hector was surprised to find his iron box unharmed, save only a melted corner. He increased its pace as well but honestly didn’t have high hopes that any of the weapons therein would survive whatever the hell was going to happen next.

‘A molten rock golem,’ marveled Garovel privately as they ran. ‘Never seen one of those before.’

Was that what that was? Hector hadn’t made that connection, but he supposed it made sense. ‘Does that mean it’s on our side?’ he asked.

‘In theory, yeah.’

Hector looked back and saw the whole city being illuminated. The previously black expanse of cavern above them was suddenly alive with the burning reds and oranges of the golem’s molten glow. And maybe it was the light playing tricks on him, but Hector thought he saw something else there, too, moving among the giant stalactites above.

‘Wait!’ came Axiolis’ voice. ‘Everyone, stop!’

Hesitant, they all still did as he said.

Axiolis explained himself. ‘The worms surround this entire city, directly ahead of us as well. We should not venture too far away from the golem, else the worms will swarm.’

‘True enough, but we shouldn’t stay too CLOSE to the golem, either,’ said Garovel.

‘Then we may already be at the optimal distance from it,’ said Yangéra.

And no one looked pleased, but no one argued, either.

With that, the party stayed put, torn between bad and worse circumstances.

The reapers kept talking to one another, trying to brainstorm seemingly, but it didn’t sound like they were making much progress to Hector.

As he listened, his gaze returned to where it had been before, to the stalactites far above the golem’s still-expanding bulk.

And that was when Hector saw a second thing that he would not soon be forgetting.

At first, it was just a kind of murky darkness hanging high in the air, noticeable because of how undeterred by the golem’s light it was, unlike the rest of the fleeing shadows around it.

Until it took form.

It became a skeleton--not terribly unlike every reaper he’d ever seen. But it was so much larger. Impossibly gigantic. The equal of the molten golem. It had flames of its own, as well, but these were black as night and grew to cover its skeletal body in a way similar to a reaper’s shroud.

‘Oh hey,’ laughed Garovel, though he sounded rather nervous to Hector, ‘I guess we were wrong. The mist wasn’t for a golem OR a feldeath. It was for both. How wonderful.’

That was one explanation that Hector had not needed. He’d certainly never seen a feldeath before, but he’d still been able to recognize what it was almost immediately.

The feldeath began to descend, and four colossal scythes materialized into its skeletal hands--of which there were somehow now four as well.

The golem met the feldeath’s four blades with two fists, and the impact was so immense that Hector saw the air distort around before realizing a shock wave was imminent.

He raised a defensive iron wall for their group, and Zeff’s ice joined it.

The force pushed the paired walls back, pressing right up against the group, so Hector kept adding iron to the front and sides, hoping to distribute more of the blow. Debris flew by in elephant-sized chunks, several of which slammed into their barrier, denting and cracking it in multiple places.

But it held. And when they annihilated their wall so they could see the continuing battle, Hector was relieved that the subsequent blows were not nearly as devastating as that first one. They only made the ground tremble and waves of briefly hotter air wash over them.

Hector could only wonder how hot that air really was if he was able to feel it even through his cooling armor.

The two giants did not battle on their own for much longer, however, because the worms arrived in force and swarmed them both.

What followed was probably the biggest clusterfuck of pure chaos that Hector had ever witnessed, and he was only too grateful to be standing at a relatively safe distance away from it.

Fire, lightning, and darkness all collided amid hulking figures.

A scythe wreathed in black cut right through the golem’s torso, bisecting it horizontally along with a dozen worms--and none on the receiving end of that blow so much as flinched. All body parts, including the golem’s, reattached within moments, so quick that Hector questioned whether anything had even happened.

The golem punched a hole right through the feldeath’s midsection, and the skeletal monster’s whole body lost its form, only to turn into black goo and fly around the golem’s extended arm, reconstituting itself at the golem’s exposed backside.

And the worms. They dropped like flies, but they didn’t stay down. They kept swarming back up, almost always bigger than before, not that it seemed to matter as they were sliced and smashed and roasted and--Hector couldn’t even tell what else.

He had to wonder if such a fight would ever actually end.

Unfortunately, the worms did not focus solely on the giants, and boy, were there plenty more to go around. Soon enough, there were worms bearing down on them from every direction.

Before they were completely swarmed the servants all formed a square around the non-servants. Zeff, Diego, Manuel, and Hector each took one side while most of the non-servants laid down covering fire as they saw fit.

These worms were much smaller than what he’d seen previously, which made it a simple enough task to swat them away and keep his side clear, but there were just so many. It was a writhing sea before him, angry and seemingly endless. There was scarcely time to think or even breathe.

And worse still, he knew from experience that, at any moment, all these worms could fuse into one enormous monstrosity and become a very big problem.

Which they did.

In a blink, the worms were amassing, already the size of a school bus and still growing.

No swatting that one away.

He needed to think bigger. In fact, what was he doing? He should’ve already been thinking bigger to begin with. He dropped to one knee and slammed his palm against the ground.

An iron plateau filled the entire road before him. He’d given it a slope, too, so it sent every single worm in his line of sight flying away from him, even the big one.

Yeah. That was more like it. There was no need to feel intimidated, he realized. Even if he couldn’t put them down for good, he didn’t have to.

They were still coming, of course, slithering over the top of his iron, but that wasn’t a problem. Rinse and repeat. He annihilated his work, letting the worms drop, and then remade it, launching them even farther into the distance. When they came still another time, they had combined to about the size of the one that had brought down the train.

So what? Hector sent that one flying, too.

That bought him a significant amount of time to breathe, and he looked over to see how the others were doing. Zeff and Diego were doing just fine, unsurprisingly, but Manuel seemed to be having a rough time, so Hector helped him out and flung a few clusters of worms away for him. The man spared him a nod.

Hector saw his own worm returning, again bigger than before and this time barreling toward the group at the speed of a freight train.

All that momentum could prove difficult to simply launch backward, he felt. He was considering creating a ramp for it instead when Robert Sheridan stepped into his line of vision.

Apparently, the man had finally finished building his gun. And the thing was massive. More like a cannon than anything, Mr. Sheridan had it mounted on his shoulder as he took aim. The man pulled the trigger, and a volley of projectiles launched in rapid succession, leaving a visibly hot trail in their wake.

The first projectiles didn’t explode--at least not immediately; instead, they dug into the beast’s bulk. Then the rest of the projectiles hit, and triggered a chain of explosions--but not through combustion, as Hector had expected. Instead, the explosions were all lasers, and for a couple seconds, the worm looked like it was at the center of some kind of deadly disco ball, getting diced into thousands of tiny pieces.

And then Mr. Sheridan shot a volley of more conventional explosives, too. In the end, the beast had been reduced to a smear on the road.

A bit awestruck, Hector heard the man laughing that same crazed laugh again. But when he saw Mr. Sheridan reload the cannon and point it at the feldeath, Hector coated the trigger in iron and grabbed his arm.

“Do NOT shoot the feldeath!” Hector shouted over the noise of the swarm around them.

Mr. Sheridan looked confused for a moment, but then seemed to realize. “Ah! Yeah, probably wouldn’t even hit at this range, eh?! I’ll get closer!”

“No, just--!” There wasn’t time to explain properly. “Just focus on the worms! Don’t attack the feldeath, no matter what!”

“Roger that!”

More worms arrived, and Hector resumed his defensive duties. Thankfully, the others seemed to be making genuine progress. Zeff in particular was dealing with thinner and thinner crowds of worms each time Hector looked over in his direction.

At length, however, their battle was interrupted. A strange sound rang out, like one long musical note, the likes of which Hector had never heard before. It made every worm in sight shudder and curl up into a ball.

The group stopped and exchanged confused looks with one another. After a second, though, Zeff began skewering dozens of worms at a time with icy stalagmites.

‘Someone’s there,’ said Axiolis, pointing toward Zeff’s side of the street, which made the man stop again.

Sure enough, a figure appeared, carefully stepping around or over the balls of worms. The same sound continued to ring intermittently, and Hector became fairly certain that it was coming from whatever was in the figure’s left hand.

As the figure drew closer to Zeff, it became clear that it was a man in a climate-controlled suit.

The Lord Elroy spoke first. “Hello...”

“Ah, you speak Mohssian!” the stranger said. “How unexpected! Greetings!”

“Who are you and what are you doing here?” asked Zeff.

“Perhaps the explanation should wait,” the man said, motioning to the battle between the molten golem and the feldeath still raging in the background. “I have a place where we can talk at our leisure. It is not far from here.”