ESKER III

  The Tengu priest glowered at her. “I will ask you only once to return what you have taken,” he extended his hand towards her. She glanced at the armlet around her bicep. Liadan looked at her in confusion, while Eógan tensed and began to withdraw into the shadows. The demanding priest was late in his years and bore the swollen paunch of one prone to overindulgence in food or drink.

  “It was a gift freely given,” Esker asserted in an even tone. She did not want this misunderstanding to escalate.

  “The dead cannot consent, their belongings can only be stolen!” the priest accused. Taking long strides in his sandaled feet towards the lifestream, he swept his hand forward as he gained momentum. The lip of rocky outcrop over the fast flowing water arced into a delicate bridge. When he reached the apex, the Tengu priest jumped and landed near Esker with thunderous force. She did not flinch. Liadan scrambled away.

  From the periphery of glowing bioluminescent light, Eógan sprang forth with his spear. “ENOUGH!” Esker boomed, dropping her palm flat to the floor. She reached deep within the stone, asking it to indulge her with how she would shape it. The rock obliged. A spout of cold lifestream water sprayed up, soaking Eógan and the priest. “Quench the fire of your forges!”

  The elder Tengu’s eyes widened, then he laughed. Not the polite chuckle of one patronizing a companion’s joke, it was a deep bellied rumble of hilarity.

  “Is he crazy?” Eógan asked.

  “What did the little creature say?” The Tengu priest wiped tears from his eyes.

  “He wants to know if you are insane,” Esker translated. She was curious herself, however, it would be rude to share that opinion. “That was quite the entrance.”

  “I have not seen a Tengu with the gift for geomancy in ages.” Noticeably, he did not answer the question. “That brings me joy, yet I must know how you came to possess that burial artifact?” his tone sharpened, becoming severe.

  Esker knew that her next words would decide how the rest of this confrontation would play out. She chose them carefully, “My companions and I have traveled far and through much peril. That journey took us through a hidden entrance into the burial chambers of a Tengu temple. The tomb of our revered ancestors had been disturbed by recent seismic activity.” Esker chose to omit their role in causing it. “We were beset by the restless spirits of two the great heroes interred within. Like you, when they saw that I possessed geomantic abilities, the conflict ended.” The Tengu priest narrowed his eyes, yet the tension in his posture softened. “One was gracious enough to instruct me how to blend the texture of stone, so that I could aid in repairing his sarcophagus.” She looked down at her armlet. “Before I laid him to rest, he gifted me this jewelry.”

  “Ah,” the Tengu priest said, scratching at his wispy white beard. “I envy the reverent experience that you had.” He plopped to the ground and sat crosslegged. “I am Rhyolite, I belong to no clan and walk the path of the old ways. Can I have some fish?” he asked, gesturing to the remaining filleted sashimi.

  “We would be honored by your company.” Esker bowed deeply. “My name is Esker, I am a miner with ties to those in the city of Tama.”

  “He bought that ridiculous tale?” Eógan asked incredulously. “And now he is hungry?” The pseudoscorpion mimicked his pacing, snipping its pincers to punctuate his statements.

  “Are you sure we are safe?” Liadan added.

  “I do not think I am familiar with that feeling anymore,” Esker answered honestly and in an effort to avoid insulting their guest.

  “Curious, you can communicate with the outsiders. Can they understand me?” the Tengu priest interjected. “Their uncivilized language make my ears hurt.”

  “They cannot; a magic binds us together that allows us to understand one another.”

  “Where did you come across these outsiders?”

  “I met them far above the highest strata. There is another world above all that we call home.”

  Rhyolite was not surprised by her answer. “Old artwork depicts such an inconceivable place. There have been rumors of an invasion from this upper world. The Keiretsu have declared war and conscripted forces.”

  “I was stranded in the surface world after a cave-in and mistreated. A friend saved my life,” Esker said as she checked on Guillaume’s body. The stench and signs of decay were beginning to mar his soft features.

  “That one is still as stone,” Rhyolite remarked, wrinkling his nose.

  “He suffered a mortal wound from a confused scarab, I was not present to deescalate the conflict.” Esker eyes softened, looking down at her fallen friend. “Is there anything you can do for him?”

  “Now I know how you all felt during our meeting with the High King…” Liadan interrupted. “Esker would you mind translating some of this exchange for us?”

  “I apologize for being inconsiderate,” Esker responded. “I will convey to you the important details. There is now conflict between the leadership of my people, the Keiretsu, and I believe the Jotman.” Eógan and Liadan drew closer.

  “The dead deserve to be honored. I can inter your friend in stone as proper thanks for your life debt to it,” Rhyolite offered.

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  “I would be most gracious for such a service,” Esker answered and repeated the Tengu priest’s offer for her companions. Liadan’s reaction was hard to gauge, but it seemed that she found some comfort in knowing Guillaume would be laid to rest. Eógan put a hand on her shoulder and shooed away the pseudoscorpion when it looked to creep over and do the same.

  Rhyolite took a keener interest in Eógan and Liadan, studying them carefully. “The marks on the small one are familiar, I have seen records of such creatures amongst the murals of our people.”

  “Yes, the True Folk, also know as Pechts, played a role in what brought all of our people together. His name is Eógan.”

  “What did he say about me?” Eógan asked indignantly, puffing out his chest.

  “He likes your tattoos.” Esker was getting more and more comfortable with twisting the truth, which concerned her. The flattery ameliorated Eógan, he celebrated by crab walking with the pseudoscorpion.

  “You keep strange company.” Rhyolite shook his head and took another bite of fish. He burped with satisfaction. “What is the story with that one?” he asked as he inclined his head towards Liadan. She had wrinkled her nose when he belched.

  “Liadan is Gaídel, her people were also involved in sealing the dragon that is depicted on the mural,” Esker explained.

  “And the dead one?” Rhyolite asked bluntly. “That creature is nearly as tall as Tengu are, the ears are different than the one you call Liadan.”

  “Guillaume is Jotman, I believe they are who our people are now in conflict with. His kind are new to the surface world, they arrived from another land. My friend told me that it was separated by a lifestream so large that you could not see the other side of it. He had to travel on floating vehicles for several days to reach the above world.”

  “Has the surface knocked a rock loose in your head? None of what you say makes any sense.”

  Esker sighed. “I agree, yet I speak true. Their feeble eyes do not adjust well to our caves and their noses are nearly as blind.”

  Rhyolite laughed, “Those pathetic nubs are noses? How embarrassing.”

  Esker’s eyes crinkled in a smile. When Liadan prompted her for a translation, she waved her away. “I need to speak to the Keiretsu and prevent them from warring with the Jotman. The loss of life on both sides would be severe. How far is the nearest city?”

  “Yūbari is near, you will reach it in one work cycle. I warn you, they will not welcome your companions and will not heed your words. Any who challenge the edicts of the Keiretsu or the local magnate are punished.” Rhyolite pounded the rocky ground in frustration. “I was exiled for sharing the teachings of our ancestors, for reminding Tengu of the faith that they lost.”

  Esker rolled her shoulder, admiring the armlet on it. “There are few who remember the sacred lessons, I am glad that we have crossed paths.”

  Rhyolite nodded, “It seems the Earth Mother has plans for us both. I discourage you from visiting Yūbari, but if you must, do not bring these outsiders with you.”

  “I must try to convince the Keiretsu to avoid war, it is my duty.” Esker looked at Eógan and Liadan, “If I cannot bring them with me, where will they be safe? Our world is unfamiliar to them and dangerous.”

  “I will take charge of them and bring them back to the temple,” Rhyolite offered. “Are they civilized? Can they read or write?”

  “That is most generous, thank you Rhyolite. They write with their own symbols and will struggle to understand ours. Guillaume was beginning his studies in our language, yet was interrupted…” she trailed off, choked by emotion.

  “Then they will study our alphabet and tongue while you are away.” Rhyolite looked disdainfully at Esker’s tattered robes. “Your appearance will draw much attention, I regret that I have not but clerical robes to offer as a replacement. You will be perceived as one who abandoned their work assignment, or worse, a beggar.”

  “All I can do is offer the truth,” Esker replied softly. “Will you take care of this for me?” She offered Rhyolite the Harvestman’s limb.

  Rhyolite chuckled and took the weapon, examining it curiously. “You will make a good disciple, I look forward to our lessons.” Esker’s eye widened in shock. “Explain to your surface creatures what is expected of them. That they must heed my instructions.”

  “What have you gotten us into Esk?” Eógan asked. Liadan approached him, equally curious, but kept her distance from the pseudoscorpion.

  Esker snorted, trying to decide how best to phrase her response.

  ———

  The cricket ranches outside the city were tented in a fine mesh, tall enough to allow the livestock to stretch their springy legs, yet strong enough to keep the powerful creatures contained. Adjacent were large, manicured plots of fungal farms. Isolating the fruiting mushroom from contaminates required diligent work and careful sterilization. The crops were fertilized by waste from the city and cricket ranches, as well as with decaying matter. It was a tidy ecosystem that made her proud of the ingenuity of her people. This cycle was far more efficient than the elaborate circle of life that she had encountered in the hoard room of the dungeon.

  Esker approached the gates of Yūbari. This major thoroughfare teemed with activity: not only the steady stream of labor related traffic, but also with the tight formations of the military. Mounted Tengu knights rode atop giant beetles, armored troops marched in lockstep, and other large insects towed supplies. The scene was disconcerting, a sign of difficult times to come; it also presented the opportunity for a bedraggled Tengu worker to slip past the guards. Esker fell into step with some miners, grubby from their long spans of work. Her presence invited hard stares and muttering complaints. When she braced her hand on the mine cart filled with ore and relieved the two workers pushing it, she was begrudgingly accepted into their midst.

  Worker housing towered over the sloped defensive walls of the city. Where the surface world spread out horizontal, much of Tengu life was constructed vertically. Yūbari clustered around a magma dike, an offshoot from the main chamber. A once active volcano had been sealed and this region was know for its sizable laccolith, a massive pool of magma that pushed up at layers of rock above it. Esker wondered how that mountainous swell affected the surface.

  Much of Tengu industry and the amenities for its people, like steam baths, mineral soaks, and a carefully regulated climate, were dependent on channeling the immense heat of magma. The great forges were capable of producing alloys that made the crude armor found upon the surface world look like slag. The parts of Yūbari closest to this lifeblood of energy were the most desirable. The outskirts were relegated to the cogs of industry that produced the most waste, along with housing for the lower caste of miners, of which Esker was a part.

  She was grateful to be back in civilization and to ease her homesick heart. It was surprising to discover a conflicting feeling as she trudged alongside the weary workers returning from the mine; a part of her missed the surface. Her misadventures had taken her through indescribable places, she found that she relished the greenery in what Eógan cheerfully labeled the wilds. The muscles of her arm and back strained as she pushed the cart of ore: the wheels were well oiled and the track was properly set, but the load was extreme. All at once her forward momentum jerked to a halt and she stumbled into the cart. The eyes of the workers flickered to her, then averted. A shift-boss strutted over with a jitte in hand, barking out, “Who is this worthless cripple? I never approved her contract!” He cocked his arm back to strike her with his club.