EóGAN V

  Departing from the temple required significantly more preparation and consideration than Eógan expected. He preferred to live his life untethered to one location and avoided accumulating unnecessary belongings. The spear on his back and the knife tucked into the waist of his tartan were all he needed. Skellum held a similar approach to life; Rhyolite and Liadan were a different story.

  “Why do we need to bring it with us?” Eógan asked.

  “This is not an it, these are Guillaume’s remains,” Liadan responded indignantly. She placed a hand on the stone sarcophagus that Rhyolite had interred him within. To adorn the top, the priest had also embedded Esker’s insect weapon. Guillaume would have liked that.

  “His spirit is always with us, Lia.” His attempt to honor the fallen Jotling was not well received. “Besides,” he added, “who is going to carry it… I mean him?”

  “Rhyolite has already agreed to that responsibility.” Liadan shot him a sour look, the intensity of which confused Eógan. Why did she care so much about bringing Guillaume’s body? Liadan had been acting increasingly erratic ever since he died.

  “Is it important to bring his body for a ritual involving your broken god?” he ventured as a guess, frequently baffled by the strange customs of her religion.

  Liadan eyes flashed and she started to respond, before stopping to compose herself. “The Broken Man, Eógan. This is not a time for jests. You have seen his power with your own eyes.”

  It was hard to argue with that point. Beyond the magic that Liadan displayed on a regular basis, what Eógan had seen when he had first met her at the construction site of their holy temple was indelibly etched into his mind. The towering spires and vaulted roof shining with spectral light diminished even his skepticism. Perhaps he and Skellum should convert. Not a chance, he thought to himself.

  “What are you smirking about now?” Liadan asked more gently. Her fiery disposition had begun to cool. When he shrugged, she continued, “I want protect Guillaume’s soul by having his last rites performed.”

  Eógan had the nagging suspicion that Liadan was omitting part of her motivation. “Are you not able to give him the proper blessings?” he probed.

  Liadan was pensive for a moment. “No, while the prayers are familiar to me, I have not been trained in the full ceremony.”

  Rhyolite had been staring at them throughout this exchange. He moved up to Guillaume’s sarcophagus and gestured to lift it. Liadan nodded and bowed to him. The wizened priest’s knees crackled as he stooped to lift the stone coffin. “Time to leave?” he asked in Tengu.

  “We should leave a message for Esker,” Liadan insisted. “How will she find us if we do not even know where we are going?” She conferred briefly with Rhyolite, Eógan struggled to understand the exchange.

  “Up,” Rhyolite grunted, gesturing with his head.

  “He says that he knows another way to the surface,” Liadan added. “However, we have no idea where we will exit.

  “I have an idea,” Eógan said as he was struck with inspiration. He dipped his fingers in the charred residue left from one of the craters created by the explosives. As the others watched, he jogged over to the wall of the temple and started to draw.

  Rhyolite began to object, but Liadan managed to placate him. “That is clever Eógan, well done,” she said in admiration of his design. He had recreated the gnarled root-like hand that marked the entry to Lady Galdr’s bog and added an arrow pointing upward for good measure.

  “Do you think she will get the picture?” he asked cheekily.

  Liadan rolled her eyes at the pun, then smiled at him. Rhyolite shrugged Guillaume’s sarcophagus over his wide shoulder and led the way, leaving behind the temple and beginning another journey.

  ———

  It was good to be on the move once more, it helped distract Eógan from the faint but persistent ringing in his ears. Whatever weaponry the Tengu soldiers had used to explode the statues, and themselves, was unlike anything he had ever encountered. He had not been caught in the blast of flames, yet was flung through the air like a rag doll by an invisible force. Warriors were meant to look each other in the eye, to confront their foe and the life that they took; these Tengu armaments would change war forever. One thing he appreciated about the Tengu military was that they were well-prepared: as the three of them departed the temple they came across the solider’s camp and liberated their supplies.

  Eógan was not one to dwell on such thoughts, life was meant to be enjoyed. If he ended up as a splattered pink mist, like those Tengu soldiers, his best approach was to appreciate the day. Speaking of sunlight, the perpetual gloom of this underworld was beginning to chaff. Eógan missed the world he had grown up in, missed knowing when it was night or day, missed changing weather. “Do you think they have seasons down here?” he asked idly as they marched onward. Skellum scampered happily at his heels.

  The question appeared to genuinely perplex Liadan. “You know, I had not considered that. I suppose it is already well into autumn back home.”

  “How do they even tell time down here?” Eógan asked.

  “I do not have the words to ask Rhyolite-sensei about seasons, but the language he uses about time often relates to work.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He speaks of shifts and work-spans, there appears to be names for different periods of time.”

  “How does he know when to sleep?”

  “You should ask him,” Liadan encouraged.

  Eógan hated the feeling of trying to form Tengu words in his head, it felt like he had a mouthful of rocks that he had to maneuver his tongue around. That made him smile as he thought of Esker. He hoped his friend was safe and that they would find a way to reunite soon.

  “Why are you smirking?” Liadan accused.

  “That was not a smirk, this is a smirk!” Eógan demonstrated. “I was wistfully thinking of our estranged companion, Lady Stone Shaper.”

  Liadan smiled back, “I miss her as well.”

  Eógan groaned. It was not going to get any easier to translate his thoughts into Tengu, so he might as well attempt his question. “Sensei,” he begun. “When to sleep?”

  The priest gave him a judgmental look, before answering, “After work.”

  “When to work?” Eógan pressed on.

  “After sleep,” Rhyolite answered with a chuckle.

  It was frustrating not being able to articulate. Liadan gave him a nod of encouragement. “How… sensei understand… when to sleep?” Eógan said, disappointed with his phrasing.

  The Tengu priest’s bushy white brows furrowed, then his eyes lit up with joy. “Ah! Time,” he answered. He then taught both of them the phrase ‘what time is it?’ When both Liadan and Eógan repeated it accurately, Rhyolite brought a small orb out from his robes. Within the sphere, a small cylinder stood upright as water slowly dripped. Rhyolite demonstrated that no matter how he moved the orb, the cylinder within maintained its position. Both of his pupils were awed.

  The cylinder of the device had multiple markings on it, Rhyolite brought his long finger to the first. “Awake,” he said. “And breakfast.” He patted his paunch. The next Tengu character was separated by a green segment. “Work,” he explained, then raised a single finger and used words that Eógan could not understand.

  “First… first what?” Liadan asked.

  Rhyolite repeated the word.

  “First shift,” Liadan translated.

  Rhyolite nodded, pleased that he was understood. “Lunch,” he said as he pointed to the Tengu character above the green segment. His finger moved to the yellow segment above that and his eyebrows arched.

  “Second shift?” Eógan offered. Both Rhyolite and Liadan looked at him as if he was a child who had managed to take their first shite without sullying their clothes. He scowled, but secretly appreciated their approval.

  “Dinner,” Rhyolite explained as he pointed to the third character. He then raised his finger to the red segment above it.

  “Sleep?” Eógan chimed in.

  “Baka!” Rhyolite scolded, raising three fingers. “Third shift.” He pointed at the final character, “Rest.” He pantomimed the cylinder filling and tipping over to reset.

  So far today, the water droplets had accumulated past the first character and partially filled the green segment. Eógan’s stomach growled, it would still be quite some time before lunch. Skellum clacked his pincers in solidarity, then tracked movement off the side of the pathway and scurried after unseen prey.

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  ———

  As much as Eógan was homesick, there were wonders to behold in this underground world. Glittering chambers of gems, refracting iridescent colors. Lush gardens of fungus and plant-like creatures that had adapted to total darkness. The stark contrast helped him to appreciate the web of life on the surface. Even Skellum held his own mysteries. Presumptively it was a he, there was something to the pseudopod’s swagger that was unmistakably cocksure. It reminded Eógan of himself and made him even prouder of his scuttling companion. The creature appeared devoid of eyes, yet clearly sensed his surroundings and was an effective hunter. Eógan wished he had the words to ask Rhyolite what he knew. When he played with Skellum, Eógan would test his theories. His best guess was that the thin hairs present on the pseudoscorpion’s exoskeleton were sensitive to vibrations. Being able to precisely locate movement in the dark was an enviable skill.

  Onward the group trekked. It was impossible for Eógan to gauge distance or direction when they ascended, descended, twisted, and turned. All of their fates rested in Rhyolite’s hands and he was grateful to have a guide that he trusted implicitly. The cantankerous old crab was a hoot, Eógan relished their sparring sessions. What the priest had awakened within Liadan was impressive. Helping her to transform her defensive abilities into their offensive potential was insightful. Despite all that, Eógan intended to give the old priest as hard a time as possible, that was part of their bond.

  As they trudged up yet another steep and winding path, the cavern opened into an expansive vista. A waterfall cascaded down from a cliff and pooled into the largest body of water Eógan had seen so far underground. This stable source of water had become an oasis for vegetation: blooms of bioluminescent fungus ringed the shoreline, while pale flowerlike anemones rippled beneath the surface.

  A large Tengu camp sprawled across a flat shelf near the lake. Several massive beetles with glisten carapaces were tethered nearby. Rhyolite trudged up behind Eógan and gestured for him to crouch. They had avoided several patrols of soldiers on their way, often by taking significant detours. The ancient priest assessed the camp carefully.

  “Soldiers?” Liadan asked in a whisper.

  “Nai,” Rhyolite answered. He pantomimed eating.

  “They must be hunters of some type,” Eógan ventured. “Sure would be dandy to eat a fresh cooked meal…”

  Rhyolite gave him a steely look, hefted Guillaume’s sarcophagus and continued upward, away from the Tengu camp. Eógan sighed, not looking forward to another cold meal and a bed of hard stone.

  LIADAN VI

  The climb up towards the waterfall was as breathless as it was breathtaking. The Tengu military pack strapped onto Liadan’s back was ill-fitting and chaffed. Eógan resembled a turtle due to how oversized his was. She giggled as he waddled to keep balance. The Pecht shot her an annoyed look, but was uncustomarily quiet. Perhaps it was wise avoid attracting attention of the Tengu camp far below. They trudged ever onward, led by Rhyolite’s long strides.

  As they grew closer to the source of the waterfall, spray began to drench the pathway, making footing treacherous. It was a long fall. Liadan pressed closer to cliff, struggling to keep balance with the uneven weight of her pack. Skellum was the only member of the party that appeared unchallenged by this journey: the pseudoscorpion galavanted about, scaling walls as easily as it crossed level ground.

  The roar of falling water grew from a distant hiss to a roar. Liadan ventured a question, since it seemed unlikely that her voice would carry over the cascading water. “How much farther?” she asked between rasping breaths. “Can we take a break? Yasumi?”

  Rhyolite grunted in response, pointing up at the waterfall. “Inside,” he answered without slowing his ascent.

  “The water is bloody cold,” Eógan griped as the spray of the waterfall intensified.

  “Maybe you would be warmer if you bothered to wear proper attire,” Liadan retorted.

  “Then my clothes would be wet like yours.”

  It was hard to argue with that point. Liadan shivered as the fabric of her tunic and cloak clung to her skin, soaking through to her undergarments. The general temperature in this vast underworld was not as cool as she expected. Portions of their journey had been comfortably warm; unlike the few experiences she had spelunking in caves as a child.

  What had started as a gentle mist was now a heavy deluge. A steady stream of water ran down Liadan’s face, making it difficult to see the path clearly. Exhaustion tugged at her limbs, amplifying the weight of her sodden clothes. If she stopped moving, she would fall asleep where she stood.

  “Stay with me, Lia,” Eógan said, grasping her arm. She swayed back and forth as they walked alongside each other. She was grateful for the support and the warmth of his body.

  “Persevere,” Rhyolite encouraged though the din. The path snaked upward, directly into the waterfall. As he neared it, his eyes widened. “Quickly!”

  There was a commotion in the camp far below, small figures pointed up at their position. A handful of Tengu began to race up the trail towards the waterfall.

  Rhyolite hefted Guillaume’s sarcophagus over his head and disappeared beyond the curtain of opaque water. The priest was followed by Skellum. “We will cross together,” Eógan said with a coy smile. “One foot after the other.”

  Liadan was no longer thinking coherent thoughts and allowed herself be half-dragged into the waterfall. The shockingly cold slap of water was a cruel return to sharp awareness. The weight of it pounding down was unnerving. Eógan’s arm slipped from hers and was immediately out of sight. She groped forward, trying to stay sure-footed on slick stone. At last, she could see through the waterfall and into a hollow cave behind it. With a sigh of relief and a smile on her face, she rushed to join the others. Her foot stretched out into nothing, she plummeted.

  With a bone-jarring yank, Rhyolite hefted her up from the gap in cliff. “Daijoubu?” he asked.

  “I am fine,” Liadan lied, her heart pounded in her ears louder than the roar of the waterfall. “Thank you.”

  Rhyolite nodded curtly and guided her away from the ledge and towards a stricken Eógan. “The force of the water pushed me away, I am so sorry Lia.”

  She had never seen Eógan so earnest. “We all made it safely,” she said with a weak smile. A foreboding cave gaped open in front of her. Large cobwebs gathered in the corners of the entrance. She was no longer as certain about their wellbeing. “Is that our only way forward?” She followed Eógan’s eyes to Rhyolite, who was hunched over. Both of his large red hands were placed against the rocky floor. The crevasse she had fallen through widened, stone dropped away with rush of water. Rhyolite guided this destruction to create a large gap, fully across the path they had come through. Anyone passing beneath the waterfall would now find themselves descending into the lake far below.

  “It is now,” Eógan quipped, examining the cobwebs. He touched a tattered clump of webbing with a finger. His hand was held fast. It was alarming how strong even a few stands were.

  “Baka,” Rhyolite said, shaking his head at the Pecht. He did not stop to help him and strode into the dark tunnel.

  Eógan had managed to get his other hand stuck to the webbing. “Can you cut me free with my knife?” he pled.

  Liadan sighed as she drew the blade from his waist. “Only if you promise not to touch anything in this cave.”

  “I can promise anything,” he answered with a grin. “But you know how empty that oath would be.”

  “Why do I bother…”

  “Because I am irresistible!”

  His boundless confidence will be the death of him, Liadan thought as she sawed away at the strand of webbing.

  ———

  The tattered cobwebs at the entrance of the cave proved to be an accurate warning of what would be encountered deeper within it. Rhyolite used his geomancy to seal the opening once they passed into the dark confines of the tunnel system. It seemed doubtful that their Tengu pursuers would be able to follow. Despite the overall situation, Liadan was currently content. Her clothes were nearly dry and the cavern nook the group had chosen for a respite was toasty warm. In lieu of a fire, which would have had no fuel with which to burn, Rhyolite used his earth magic to draw a trio of egg shaped stone from the floor of the cave. By means with which he could not explain in the limited Tengu vocabulary that Liadan understood, the priest channeled energy into these rocks until they began to glow an inviting shade of orange. The heat emanating off of them was significant. Eógan had fully stripped, much to her chagrin, but not to her surprise.

  The texture and flavor of the Tengu rations may not have piqued Liadan’s interest, yet the nourishment was welcome. Even more appreciated was taking a moment to rest. She stretched her sore limbs, now able to enjoy the ache instead of wondering if she would be able to keep pace.

  “Kumo,” Rhyolite instructed as he put his hands together and waved his fingers like eight dreadful legs.

  Liadan shuddered. She was not fond of the larger spiders found in the woods where she was raised. She tried her best not to theorize how large one who had spun cords of web as wide a of rope would be.

  Eógan eagerly fueled her imagination. “Do you think this spider is as big as that rainbow scarab we saw? Or those beetles by the Tengu camp at the lake?” He took her pained silence as an invitation to continue, “This cave is fairly spacious, I suspect a creature with a body bigger than Rhyolite is tall could easily maneuver in this environment. Especially if it contracted its legs.”

  Liadan stared at her companion in disbelief, mouth agape.

  “Are you going to finish that?” Eógan asked, gesturing to remaining bites of her ration.

  “Skellum can have it,” she responded sourly. She tossed the morsel to the pseudoscorpion, who caught it in the air with its larger pincer and used its mouth parts to devour the snack.

  “Wait… how can you be afraid of spiders?” Eógan asked. “You have been sitting next to that one ever since we took a rest.” He pointed above her head.

  Liadan thrashed wildly, tumbling across the rough floor to get as far away as possible. Whipping her head back and forth to scan the rocky walls and ceiling.

  Eógan roared with laughter, rolling back and forth. Skellum capered about imitating him.

  “Are you done yet?” Liadan snapped, smoothing her clothes and trying to sooth her pride.

  “The look on your face!” Eógan teased, breaking into another fit of laughter.

  Rhyolite grew annoyed by the commotion and demanded to know what was happening.

  “Lia-chan hates spiders,” Eógan answered in annoyingly coherent Tengu.

  The Tengu priest’s eyebrows raised, unable to hide his mirth. He coughed to hide a chuckle.

  “Even you, sensei?” Liadan crossed her arms, but could not remain upset for long. She shook her head. “Now that I am wide awake, should we move on?”

  “But I was just getting comfortable!” Eógan protested. He yawned and stretched lethargically like an entitled cat.

  “Even better.” Switching into Tengu, she asked Rhyolite the same question.

  He grunted in ascent, releasing the last of the magic that held heat in the egg-shaped stones by their feet. Gingerly, he lifted Guillaume’s sarcophagus and stepped out into the warren of tunnels. Unlike many of the caves that Eógan and Liadan had traveled in, this one was unique in how many passages branched out from all directions. The maze of caverns made it feel like she was within a pumice stone, there were near endless choices of passages. How Rhyolite knew what direction to travel was a mystery and Liadan had no choice but to trust his judgement.

  The bioluminescent fungus found elsewhere in the underground world was sparse in this cave system. The few pockets that existed were often shrouded with webbing, casting distressing shadows across the walls. Liadan and Eógan had to rely upon her powers as a source of light. Rhyolite was deeply troubled by the brightness and travelled well ahead of them. Skellum appeared to be unaffected. Now that she gave it closer thought, did the pseudoscorpion even have eyes?

  “I have been wondering that as well,” Eógan said, intuiting her thought. “He does not see, he senses.”

  “But not only through touch.”

  “No, it as if he can perceive the disruption movement causes in the world. I wish I had that ability, it would make fighting in the dark a breeze.”

  It was hard to disagree with that assessment. “Do you think it involves the hairs all over on Skellum's body? They seem to twitch and move even when he is still.”

  “Would you rather be covered in hair and able to see in the dark, or have feathers all over your body and be able to fly?” Eógan asked, deadly serious.

  “What kind of question is that?” she asked, laughing.

  “I have always envied birds, but if you stayed in the dark, no one would ever see all the hair.”

  “I would choose flight,” Liadan answered with no hesitation. “Soaring through the sky would be a-” her breath caught and her words died in her throat. Where was Rhyolite? The priest had been right in front of them a moment ago. Tunnels branched in nearly every direction.

  “What is it?” Eógan asked.

  A gust whistled through the cave, stirring the webbing clinging to the walls. Liadan prayed that it was a sign they were near the surface. Glittering in the dark, she did not find salvation, she found many, many sets of eyes.