Book 4: Chapter 44: Spelunking |
Michael left the temple with the guard and was led to a tavern that had been built into the sculpted tongue of some type of wyrm-like creature. He walked inside to see everyone sharing a meal and drinks, with a seat open for him between Gabriel and Francesca. He sat down, accepting a mug of ale gratefully.
“We have our guide.”
“Good! Hard parts over then. You’ve just got to heal a dwarven god,” said Ollie with a smile.
“It’ll probably be incredibly difficult,” replied Michael.
“For you, yes. The rest of us just have to worry about ducking as we walk through short corridors.”
“And I won’t heal you when you bump your head,” replied Michael, taking a sip of his ale and turning his attention to the thick mushroom stew in front of him. He took a few bites, didn’t find it to his liking, then ate the rest anyway.
“Don’t like it, huh?” asked Gabriel before having a sip of his ale.
“Not particularly, but I don’t want it to go to waste. How could you tell?”
“You don’t have much of a poker face, Dad. I remember you forcing down many meals you didn’t like to get me or Laura to eat it too.”
“I’ve been hearing lots of stories about you,” mentioned Francesca. “Can’t say I’m too surprised that you’ve been making such a fuss. You weren’t subtle before.”
“It’s just the gods’ will,” replied Michael simply. “I’m more interested in what you’ve been up to though. How’d you find your way to working with the clan chief?”
“Well, the dwarves I was travelling with helped me find work exploring some of the caverns, identifying metals, and finding new veins of ore. They’re excellent at it, but for them it's something that comes naturally, so they haven’t formalized their systems for it too strongly so there’s some things they miss. I wound up being very successful, and used what I earned to travel through the range. Eventually I wound up here, and found work helping Chief Mardock negotiate with other humans in return for access to some of the unique minerals only he has access to as well as a… healthy amount of gold.”
“I’m guessing you’ve learned a lot?”
She smiled. “Its been incredible. I’ve gotten to do the kind of hands-on work I never would’ve managed back on Earth. Seen things I could’ve never imagined.”
“Cheers to that,” offered Ollie, and they all shared one last drink before they separated to sleep.
…
After a warm goodbye from Francesca and they were on their way. The exit to the town was through the mouth of a large goblin and once they were through it, the street became a tunnel. It was large, with ceilings more than high enough for Ollie and a road that was wide enough for multiple carts to move side by side. It was lit primarily by the small glowstones they’d seen all throughout the cavern so far, but occasionally there was a small alcove off the main tunnel that had a space for a small fire.
“Isn’t it a choking hazard to light a fire down here?” asked Pyotr.
“It can be,” replied Dundan. “But most of us carry some of this,” he reached into his robe and pulled out a clay pot. He opened it with a pop, and showed some kind of black plant matter inside. “It’s a fungus that purifies air. It’s left behind by the gods wherever they travel. Whenever a fire is made, we spread some nearby. Though, this close to the surface it isn’t too much of a concern, at least not for dwarven lungs.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
They travelled down the tunnel for several hours, and eventually it opened up into a wide natural cavern. Michael saw something skirt behind some stalactites, but the Whisperer held up a hand.
“It’s only a visk. It won’t approach this many people.”
“I’ve never heard of a visk,” said Marcus, looking carefully toward the area the creature vanished. “From what I can see we’d call it a ratroach. Or a ‘disgusting thing’.”
“They are scavengers. Helpful in keeping the tunnelways clear. Even solitary travelers don’t need to worry about them as long as they are carrying a light source with them.” Dundan narrowed his eyes and looked around the cavern and pointed. “We’ll be heading that way.”
The direction he pointed was off the clear path that they’d been travelling and seemed both dark and narrow. Gabriel voiced that observation.
“We can reach the god by travelling along the main road, but we can shave a day of travel off if we go this way. Do not worry, I have made the trek. All of you will be able to fit and make it through, even in your armor…though it will be uncomfortable in places.”
Michael frowned. He’d been comfortable in the relatively open spaces in the mountain so far, but he didn’t relish the idea of things getting tighter. He opted to remove his armor, since he could remove and don it more easily than the others, and place it within his pack.
They followed the whisperer into the side path. Initially it wasn’t too troubling, just about half the size of the tunnel they’d been in and still occasionally lit by glowstones. After less than a mile though, things became more treacherous. The cave narrowed so much that they needed to shimmy sideways in order to get through, then it became precariously tilted downward, forcing them to balance one another as they slid down and landed on hard stone. The worst part was a small opening so narrow that they had to go through it one at a time. Michael was the broadest and so had to actually hold his breath in at one point in order to give himself enough room to get through. He found himself whispering prayers to the gods the whole way through.
Their guide had no issues with any of this. Despite his advanced age and size he moved through the caves as if they were a part of him. He did so with such skill and alacrity that Michael began to wonder if healing his sight and hearing had even been necessary for him to be their guide.
After an amount of time that everyone but Dundan found deeply upsetting, they reached a high-ceilinged cavern. In the center of it they were able to pick up a much later part of the path they’d been on earlier.
Dundan, likely sensing their relief, held up a hand.
“Perhaps it would be best if we rested here. We’ve been travelling a bit more than a day.”
“How can you tell?” asked Michael.
“Dwarves have perfect internal clocks. We always know exactly what time it is.”
Michael thought back to Quartermaster Dugan. The dwarf had always seemed to know exactly where and when to be.
“Tomorrow we will reach the mountains where the gods tread. We may even begin to hear its cries as we rest tonight.”
“Deeply unsettling thing to hear. Thank you,” remarked Ollie.
“I only wish to warn you. It can be a very unpleasant thing without knowing what it is.”
“Thank you Dundan,” responded Michael, smiling at him. “I hope we’ll be able to end those cries tomorrow.”
He nodded. “I hope so as well.”
They all made camp a bit off the main road where some stone seemed to have been cleared for just that purpose. It was warm in the cavern, so they skipped the fire and opted to eat some of the fresh bread, fruit, and cheese they had before it spoiled. Dundan had nothing except for an apple that he requested, and once he was done he leaned against a stalagmite with his eyes closed. He was snoring lightly after a few moments.
“I guess he isn’t taking a shift on watch,” remarked Marcus.
“I can feel and hear everything happening for a mile,” replied Dundan simply. “There is no need for a watch.”
“Well damn. My bad,” replied Marcus.
Dundan nodded, accepting the apology and returned to snoring a few seconds later.
The rest of them laid their bedrolls out and attempted to sleep as well. Michael found it difficult. His body didn’t give him the same signals for rest the others received, and he was much more reliant on having a day-night cycle by which to orient himself. Still, after an hour or so of staring up at the cavern ceiling and pretending the scattered glowstones were stars he managed to fall asleep.
They were awoken by a roar that shook them to their core. All of them threw themselves up to their feet, drawing weapons or preparing spells as they looked around for the source of the cry.
“It’s okay,” said Dundan, not moving from where he’d settled. “That is the god’s cry.”
There was another one, and just as with the first Michael felt his entire body vibrate in response to it.
“Don’t worry. He’s still miles and miles away. We are safe where we are.”
They nodded, and tried to go back to sleep once there hadn’t been another cry for some time. Michael simply gave up on the prospect though, his mind reeling at Dundan’s claim that even with a roar that loud, the god was still miles away.
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