The Homunculus Knight

Chapter 39: Descent

“Safe? Slag and soot, boy, of course, the Deeps aren’t safe! You can’t even imagine the things that breed down there in the dark! See, crystals collect magic, and where do crystals come from? Yes, boy, underground! The Deeps are filled with gems of all kinds, each guzzling magical power and just waiting to be used. All that energy, all that arcane essence, changes life around it. Anything nesting, eating, rutting, or even shitting near those crystals is liken to start mutating. So give it a few generations, and you’ve got another breed of jagging monster! What? No, of course, people don’t get mutated! We aren’t animals; we can channel and resist the crystal's power. Well, at least most of us; you might be dumb enough to count more as beast than man.” - Captain Yuno Vlaki of the Stoneshield mercenary company.

Cole struck the ashy wastes with more grace than previously, but his legs still buckled on impact. Catching himself with his hands and managing not to fall face-first into the soot, Cole considered this arrival a marked approval over his previous dreams. Slowly standing up, ignoring the horrible pain in his legs, Cole looked about the familiar wasteland and sighed.

After the vision on the night of Jak’s funeral and Yara’s arrival, Cole hadn’t experienced any dreams of that vividness. He’d occasionally awake with the taste of ash in his mouth or every muscle tensed for impact, but not much else. This started to change when the plague arrived; Cole would remember flickers of the nightmarish sky and falling bodies, but nothing so sharp as before. Standing among blasted ruins, ash dunes, and familiar corpses, Cole knew his reprieve was over.

As if to signal this truth, a corpse struck the ground a meter or so from Cole. Flinching from the spray of gore and soot, Cole forced himself to look at the body. It was a young man or at least part of one; the boy’s lower body was missing; he’d been ripped in half. Tendrils of grey ash started to slither about the corpse, encasing it in an armor of grit. Forcing himself not to look away from what was about to happen, Cole watched the layer of ash reshape itself and the corpse beneath. Soon, he looked at a horribly familiar body, his own.

Reaching to his belt, hoping to find the familiar weight of Requiem, Cole realized he was naked, just like all the other bodies. What he’d thought were lumps and ripples in the ash were other husks, half-buried or piled together. Cole was no stranger to mass graves or places of slaughter, but to have dismembered copies of himself among the dead was a new level of disturbing.

Movement nearby caught Cole’s attention, and he realized something was moving beneath the ash. Cursing under his breath, Cole prepared himself for whatever new strangeness this nightmare would hold. Instead of some huge worm or another burrowing beast as he’d feared, the displaced ash revealed a sight so bizarre it danced the line between humorous and disgusting. A lower body, legs, pelvis, and all the other bits surfaced from the ash. It wriggled along the ground, reaching the upper body Cole watched reform into a doppelganger earlier. The new lower body wasn’t Cole’s. It lacked the scars, size, and muscle tone to be him, but that didn’t stop the flesh from meeting the nearby upper half.

More ash flowed up and around the legs and pelvis, meeting questing fingers of grey reaching from where the torso was torn. Soon, a nearly complete copy of Cole lay on the soot; it was still missing chunks of flesh around the navel, but lines of ash flowed into those wounds, slowly filling them.

A bolt of white lightning ripped down from the sky and struck the newly finished husk, sending spasms through its flesh. Cole watched as the copy slowly stood up and faced him; its eyes were blank and emotionless. Cautiously, Cole started to reach out for the body, and to his surprise, it mimicked him. Slowly, uncertainty, Cole rested a hand on the husk's shoulder, and it did the same for him. For a long moment, the two Coles simply stared at each other, feeling familiar but alien hands on their flesh.

Then, casually, the copy turned and walked along the ashen dunes. After a moment’s hesitation, Cole started to follow. They trudged through piles of shifting soot, clambered over stone ruins, and kept heading in the moon’s direction. Hanging low in the grit-filled sky, the moon glowed the sickly red of infection, a corona of silver leaking from its edges. The moon seemed to be the duplicate’s north star, but Cole couldn’t be certain.

As they walked, Cole noticed more and more bodies and parts of bodies. Some were pulped beyond recognition, others disturbingly familiar. He saw dozens of himself, each suffering a different grisly end, and interspaced among them corpses ruined by impact. Stopping by one of his corpses, Cole frowned; something about it seemed familiar. One forearm was ripped off, and a mix of frostbite and bruising covered the nude body. Peering down at the stump, seeing where the flesh was cut and torn, Cole remembered the injury. It was identical to how he’d cut off his forearm to escape Dietrich. That act of desperation bought Cole victory and an escape, putting enough space between himself and Dietrich to die and revive unhampered.

Leaving the body, Cole tried to find the copy he’d been following but couldn’t find it. Frowning, Cole followed the footprints in the ash for perhaps ten meters before they simply vanished. Staring down at the broken trail, Cole could tell the copy simply stopped walking and then disappeared. A nervous breath escaped Cole, and he tentatively poked the soot where the tracks ended; it was solid, eliminating one possibility. Scratching at his face, Cole guessed there was some deeper meaning to this but couldn’t guess what.

Becoming a little concerned the dream wasn’t ending, Cole found a nearby ruin, a hill-sized pile of broken stone that might have once been a castle tower. Climbing it without much difficulty, Cole tried to get a better lay of the wasteland. In every direction, the ashlands stretched, disrupted by collapsed structures, piles of corpses, and… more Coles.

Distantly, he could see figures trudging across the soot, dozens of them all about. Each was heading in the moon’s direction, walking with a steady, almost ghoul-like pace. As he watched, Cole saw versions of himself appear, assembling out of the corpse piles like patchwork dolls. Lighting would flash as each completed, and the new copy would begin its steady procession moonwards. Other bodies continued falling from the sky, raining intermittently, hitting the soot near or on one of the corpse piles. Squinting at the nearest pile that had just suffered an impact, Cole realized the newest arrival was a dwarf. Disliking what that implied, Cole looked towards the distant horizon, trying to figure out where the copies were headed.

Try as he might, Cole couldn’t see any noteworthy sights, just the moon hanging in the sky like some baleful eye. Staring up at the moon, Cole squinted against its silver corona and tried to make out details. Scarred and pockmarked, the lunar body was bloated but cracked. A cold white star burned behind the moon, its light warped by the great clouds of ash filling the sky. That silver glow felt familiar to Cole, reminding him of a cool spring day seven years ago. When he’d made an oath to a God who should hate him.

Frowning, Cole thought about his understanding of mystic signs and some of what Natalie shared about her internal world. Still staring at the moon, Cole decided there was no point in denying it anymore; this blasted ashland was his mindscape, a psychic representation of his soul. Thinking about Natalie’s lily field and Isabelle’s red lake, Cole felt suddenly melancholic. Even discounting the rain of corpses and marching simulacra, Cole’s mindscape wasn’t a pretty place. It seemed broken and desecrated, a charnel land akin to one of the more bleak Hells.

Squatting down on the collapsed tower he used as a vantage point, Cole let his fingers brush away some of the ever-present ash to inspect what lay beneath. Chipped stone and crumbling masonry greeted him, its soot-polished surface shockingly smooth compared to the surrounding grit. Faint symbols were etched into the stone, worn away by ash winds and only barely detectable by Cole’s gentle touch. Something about the material and sigils felt familiar to Cole, a faint, itching sense of recognition he couldn’t place.

Standing up and sighing, Cole looked out across wastelands and nearly fell over with shock. The base of the ruin he stood upon was surrounded by a small army of husks. At least two or three hundred false Coles stared up at him, their eyes blank and unfocused. They didn’t climb the ruined tower or seem to notice each other, simply standing and staring, more of them joining the crowd every minute. Cole bizarrely felt like some general standing before an arrayed force awaiting the speech before the battle.

More and more copies came from every direction, trudging towards the tower until their kindred’s presence stopped them. Strangely, they came from all different directions instead of a singular one like Cole expected, considering their earlier movements. That revelation spurred another one; staring up, Cole realized the moon was gone, no, not gone, moved. Instead of sitting low in the sky, bleeding silver fire, it now hung directly above Cole. Craning his neck, Cole stared at the now shockingly large celestial body. It sat behemoth in the sky above, swelling with every second. Vertigo crashed into Cole at the impossible sight, and a moment later, he found himself being pulled upwards. For a terrifying moment, Cole felt himself yanked between two worlds, the ash wastes, and the broken moon. As weightlessness settled upon Cole, he awoke.

For a few terrible moments, Cole thought he was being crushed by the falling moon, its incalculable weight forcing the breath from his lungs. Then Natalie moved; she’d been lying on his chest and now reacted to his groans. Eyes fluttering open, trying to dispel the surreal dream, Cole found his lover lying beside him, her red eyes brimming with concern. “You were thrashing and making noises; bad dreams?”

They shared a bed that was too small in the Maugi high hall’s guest quarters. Little more than a cubby hole cut into the rock, there was barely enough room for Cole on the straw mattress. Squished between the wall and Cole’s bulk, Natalie’s position reminded him of the first time they technically slept together. He’d been half-dead after facing the Walking Charnel, and she’d curled up next to him for warmth. That memory was enough to pull a smile from Cole as he blinked sleep away. “Yes, more of the falling ones.”

Leaning her head on Cole’s shoulder, Natalie said. “I’m sorry, love. Hasn’t it been a while since you’ve had one of those?”

Cole nodded and explained his dream the best he could; the details were already a little fuzzy but still communicable. As he finished, Natalie blew out a breath. “You really think that’s your mindscape?”

As Cole made a grunt of agreement and tried to free himself from tangled blankets, Natalie slithered over him and stood up in the room proper. Watching Cole try to sit up without banging his head on the sleeping alcove’s ceiling, Natalie said. “I’d normally offer to go into your mind and see if I could help. Between Isabelle and I, we should be able to get an understanding of whatever’s happening. But with my current… condition, that wouldn’t be wise.”

Cole flinched slightly at the thought of someone entering his mind. Even without the Rabisu’s threat, Cole would be extremely leery of letting anyone, even Natalie, visit his mindscape. Pulling himself out of the alcove, Cole asked. “Do you know what time it is?”

Pursing her lips at the topic shift, Natalie shrugged. “Around dawn? I felt the sun come up not long ago.”

Finding the room’s stone wash basin, Cole washed his face with icy mountain water. “What have you been doing all night?”

Shrugging, Natalie leaned against one of the walls. “I spoke with Isabelle for a while; we’ve been working on reinforcing our link for easier communication. She misses you and is very insistent you join us in my mindscape soon. When Isabelle became tired, I split the remaining time between reading one of Kit’s books and snuggling with you.”

Noticing the abandoned text sitting near the sleeping alcove, Cole asked. “Does Isabelle want me for a particular reason… or?”

An amused snort escaped Natalie, and she struck Cole with a familiar smile. “She’s jealous of our fun in the forest. Apparently, she intends to ‘demonstrate the full potential of psychic intimacy’ for both of us. Heh, leave it to Isabelle to find a way to make sex a grandiose display of magical power.”

Contradictory emotions flared through Cole; of course, the idea of spending time with both his lovers was enticing, but such acts also threatened to tear open old wounds. He’d never told anyone the full scope of what was done to him in the Voivode’s larder. Natalie perhaps had the best idea, having helped him wake from some of the nightmares, but he’d not burdened her with all the details. Even when traveling alone with Isabelle, Cole didn’t confess what happened to her silent skull. Cole didn’t blame Isabelle for what happened to him, even if her arrogance was the direct cause. But on some level, Cole feared that might change if he told Belle what happened to him.

Stepping forward, Natalie reached up to cup Cole’s face, frowning in concern as she did. Feeling her force life and warmth into her fingers, Cole let himself relax into the touch as she asked. “What’s wrong?”

Shaking his head slightly, Cole explained. “Your mindscape is beautiful, so is Belle’s in a way. My internal world is broken and haunted by things I don’t understand. Yet my ignorance is born of choice instead of circumstances. I’ve not demanded the truth from Isabelle even when it's well within my right and potential to do so. Natalie, I’m afraid of whatever horrible things she did to make me.”

Natalie met Cole’s eyes, and he could see his own grief reflected there. “It scares me, too.”

Cole was shocked by the words, but Natalie’s gentle hands calmed him. “Keeping those secrets from you has been Isabelle’s way of protecting you. She truly thinks it's the right thing to do, and from what I’ve learned, Isabelle might be right. Perhaps ignorance is better than knowing whatever fucked up shit she did to create an immortal homunculus.”

Placing her hands on Cole’s shoulder with surprising strength, Natalie met his gaze with sudden iron. “Isabelle might be right, but she also could be very wrong. I care for her, but underestimating people is her chronic mistake. Isabelle is almost always the smartest person in the room, hells, the smartest person in the whole country. So, she assumes she knows best and that everyone else can’t handle whatever truths she holds.”

Poking Cole in the chest, Natalie continued. “You are the strongest person I know, Cole. Despite everything that has happened to you, all the monsters, malice, and madness, you’ve managed to keep being a good person. So what if Isabelle did something unforgivable in creating you? Is that going to change anything truly? Find out the truth, process it, and keep doing what you’ve always done: the right thing.”

Leaning forward so her head rested on Cole, Natalie spoke softer. “ So, as someone who truly loves and believes in you, Cole, let me say this. Whatever terrible secrets Isabelle hopes to protect you from won’t be enough to break you or redefine you. It might be painful and even change how you view Isabelle, but if anyone could hear the truth and come away better, it would be you.”

Meeting Cole’s eyes, Natalie embraced him. “You fell in love with me because of my spark, my passion. Each time I’ve been at the brink of despair or madness, you’ve helped me remember that spark and been there to stoke its flame. You’ve done that for me so many times; now let me return the favor and ensure you know I always will. Whatever happens, whatever secrets are uncovered, know I’ll love you and be here for you, my knight.”

Returning her hug, Cole let a tired breath exhale him. “When this is over, when we are at the front and have time to catch our breath, I’ll get the truth. I’ve delayed this for too long, and you are right; I can handle whatever comes.”

They kissed for a long moment, and Cole could almost feel the tension melting off him like snow in spring sunlight. Eventually, Cole broke the kiss and said. “Thank you.”

Smiling, Natalie just shrugged. “You’ve done the same for me, and besides, what's the point of being in love if we aren’t there for each other at times like this? Now, let's get dressed and moving. The quicker we’re on the road, the quicker the cure reaches the prince, and the quicker we are back in Vindabon with a comfier bed.”

The rest of the morning was a hectic mess of preparation and information. Details about the plague, local military situation, and wider context were shared with the Maugi court, alongside a few barrels of the prepared cure. So far, Turul’s Tomb was spared the pestilence but that might change. Natalie didn’t know if the leeches would send more infected wyverns or other vectors into these lands, but whatever happened, having some kegs of ensorcelled wine couldn’t hurt.

Getting supplies and a guide proved to be fairly easy. The clan often sent scouting missions into the Deeps, so simply replacing the detachment of soldiers with the stone carriers wasn’t that difficult logistically. The group would be accompanied by three dwarves, two seasoned rangers used to the Deeps, and the Bonekeeper Masga. None of the chaperones seemed particularly eager for this task, with Masga spending much of his time staring at Natalie with undisguised contempt.

When Masga wasn’t attempting to murder Natalie with a look, he was objecting to parts of the plan. He’d not even wanted to let Cole and Mina see maps of the prospective route. The ornery dwarf only relented when Natalie agreed to leave the room while travel details were discussed. Masga’s paranoia could rival Cole’s worst days and wasn’t in any way tempered by her knight’s kindness. So when the time came for the expedition to leave, Natalie was completely in the dark about their path. She’d only managed to catch they’d be exiting the Deeps somewhere called Azyge, which should put them uncomfortably close to Harmas.

Speaking of being uncomfortable, the group faced their first serious challenge right out of the stables. Cuff and Clout were well-trained Vindabon draft horses, but that mattered little in the face of their next challenges. They’d not liked entering the dwarven clan home and would react worse to the Deeps. Even if Natalie dulled their discomfort at being underground, it would only be a stop-gap; the route ahead wasn’t suitable for hooves and wheels. After Kit’s suggestions involving further enchantments to the wagon were rejected, another solution was found.

Natalie was currently staring at said solution with a mixture of interest and apprehension. Nine bizarre pack animals were coaxed from their burrow and laden with the wagon’s contents. Each the size of a small pony, the creatures seemed a mix of pig and shrew, with squat bulbous bodies, a tubular snout, and large deer-like ears. Thick claws capped its four strong legs, their blunted shapes reminding Natalie more of mining tools than weapons. A thick, hairless tail stuck from the creature’s rounded backside, and calcified growth covered the tail’s end like a mace’s head.

Eyes wide, Natalie watched one of the creatures sniffling along the ground, its long snout capped by thick, bristly hairs. One of the stable grooms emptied a bag of odd-smelling powder before the beast, and to Natalie’s shock, a snake-like tongue shot from the animal’s mouth and started licking up the powder. The clank of metal pulled Natalie’s attention, and she found an armored Cole standing beside her, an amused smile on his face.

“Aardigs are strange to look at, aren’t they?” he said while checking his belt and pack for what must have been the fiftieth time.

Nodding, Natalie watched the ‘aardig’ gobble up the powder and nose its handler for more. “You have experience with them before?”

Cole nodded and shrugged. “Every dwarf I’ve met swears by them as the best beast of burden for working underground.”

One of the aardigs started to sniff the air, its tube-like snout snuffling inquisitively. Beady black eyes focused on Cole, and the creatures whined before shuffling backward. A deep sigh escaped Cole. “But, I’ve never personally worked closely with them, for obvious reasons.”

Chewing her lip, Natalie offered. “I could dull their fear like I did with Cuff and Clout?”

Shaking his head, Cole eyed the servants finishing loading the aardig’s large sidepacks. “No, I can just keep my distance. We aren’t in a situation to step on any toes. But if circumstances change, I’ll ask for that particular kind of aid.”

Accepting that, Natalie stared out past the assembling caravan and towards their eventual departure point. They’d exited the high hall on its opposite side, where dwarven fortifications met a deep crack in the rock. The light of Turul’s Tomb shone only so far into the crevice; deep shadows barely disrupted by distant glowstones stretched out before Natalie. Generations of dwarf labor had smoothed the crevasse’s floor, turning it into a slightly downward-slanting road. Combined with the crack’s sharp triangular top, the entrance to the Deeps reminded Natalie of some colossal beast’s throat.

With that ominous thought echoing in her mind, Natalie watched as the Clan’s chieftain approached them, an honor guard of three warriors at his back. Giving her hand a gentle squeeze, Cole went to speak with the chieftain. Left alone among the final preparations, Natalie noticed an oddity among the group. Kit was sitting on the ground nearby, his legs crossed and eyes shut. Slowly approaching him, she found the Magi muttering under his breath the strange lantern he carried sitting before him. The aardigs and grooms gave him a wide berth, clearly uncertain what to make of him.

Forcing herself to make more noise than usual, Natalie came up beside Kit, hoping not to startle him. “What are you doing?”

She wasn’t successful; the Magi jumped and cursed before looking up at her with annoyance. His expression barely softened into displeasure. “Trying and failing to become a better magi.”

Uncertain if she’d made a mistake in speaking to him, Natalie asked. “How?”

Kit started to glare up at her but quickly caught himself. Letting out a sigh, he gestured at the lantern. “The accursed thing won’t listen to me! If I could get it to work consistently, we’d still be able to use the wagon! Instead of those… creatures.”

He gestured at a nearby aardig that seemed indifferent to the implied insult. Frowning, Natalie tried to think of a time she’d seen Kit this upset. He’d not even seemed this distressed when literal wolves were nipping at his heels. While she could understand the desire to master a forbidden relic better than most, his word choice seemed odd. “What’s important about the wagon?”

Shoulders hunched, Kit stared at the lantern. “I don’t travel light.”

Momentary confusion faded as Natalie understood his meaning. They’d needed to strip down their load for the aardigs to carry. For Natalie, it hadn’t been difficult; undeath allowed for entire categories of supplies to be skipped. Kit hadn’t been so lucky; most of his books were being left behind. That trove of texts and other unessential cargo were being packed into the now abandoned wagon to be taken by Maugi merchants back towards Vindabon in the summer. Apparently, some of the more canny members of the clan were willing to return Cuff and Clout along with everything else the stone carriers had to abandon in exchange for favors from the Tenth Temple. Natalie wasn’t so certain Cole and Mina had the authority to offer such a deal, but she kept her mouth shut.

Trying to comfort Kit, Natalei said. “The books will be alright; merchants know the importance of transporting goods safely.”

Kit made a noise of annoyance. “Yes, but they won’t be with me. I’m stuck with just five books, and that isn’t enough. We are heading into the jagging Deeps and will probably fight our way through undead-infested territory to reach Fort Erdom. I don’t want to do that without every resource and advantage I can get!”

Standing up, Kit picked up the lantern and stared at its strange crystalline material. “Instead of nice, ordered, collected knowledge to rely on, I have this. A miserable memento that won’t even listen to me! I can coax power out of it, but not much else. I’m using a priceless magical tool like a mere quintessence collector!”

With a tired sigh, Kit finally looked at Natalie, his expression becoming sheepish. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be complaining to you of all people. My trifles are… trifling.”

Natalie thought about what Kit shared about his past, of the pain he’d experienced and his cursed lineage. “Hey, can you do me a favor?”

Looking at her, eyebrow raised, Kit nodded, and Natalie smiled. “Back in Vindabon, I spend many of my nights in the temple archive, learning what I can. But I lack a proper tutor or, hells, any true direction. I’d like to learn more about magic but don’t know where to start. Could you make a list of maybe ten books you think any beginner should read?”

A little befuddled, Kit asked. “Just ten?”

Hiding her amusement, Natalie nodded. “That's why I’m asking you. A good librarian might give me a book or two as a starting point; a bad one would give me the whole library. I think you’d be able to find a middle path even out here on the road.”

Tapping his chin in consideration, Kit said. “An interesting challenge, a little below my steel price, but… yes, it will keep me distracted.”

Smiling, Natalie was glad Kit understood the secondary reason for her request. “Thank you.”

He brushed her off with a dismissive wave. “Not a problem.”

Fifteen minutes later, a whistle went up from one of the rangers, an old dwarf with a tightly braided beard. “Oi! Last checks, and then we head out!”

Packs were inspected, lead lines tied, and weapons prepared. In his full panoply, Cole was the most heavily armored of the expedition, but he was far from the only one wearing protection. Checking the questionable stitches on her own leather kit, Natalie watched her companions make final adjustments. Kit was the only one without any true armor; even Yara had a sturdy gambeson draping her petite form. The thrall had recovered physically from her near-death experience, but she was even more silent and reserved than before if that was possible. Natalie hoped she could find some time to speak with Yara in the near future; much seemed to be still left unsaid after the brig incident.

Cole’s gentle hand pulled Natalie from her musings, and she let herself be led forward into the organizing convoy. Soon, the aardigs were shuffling along, their claws scraping the stone floor in a clattering rhythm. Positioning themselves roughly in the caravan’s middle, Cole and Natalie walked into the darkness of the Deeps. Looking left at Cole and then right at the nearest aardig, Natalie couldn’t help but laugh at how the creature felt more comfortable with her than him.

Glancing behind her, Natalie watched the triangle of light that was Turul’s Tomb shrink with every step. Even with her phenomenal night vision, the tunnel was horribly dark. Dim glowstones marked the tunnel walls at what Natalie thought might be kilometer intervals, but they were just errant sparks in a sea of shadow. Once they reached the first of the glowstone markers, Natalie watched the younger of their two scouts walking down the line, rubbing something on the noses of each aardig. The female dwarf nodded at them as she passed and gestured towards the front-most beast in answer to Natalie’s confused look. Squinting, Natalie realized the beast’s nose was glowing, the brush-like hairs on its snout shining pear-green.

Something close to a smile crossed the ranger’s face on seeing Natalie’s shock. Speaking in thickly accented western, she said: “Aardigs eat bugs main like; der nose hair glows ta tract prey. With ta right incentive, we canna trick dem into being lanterns.”

Without further comment, the ranger continued her work, and soon, all nine of the beasts of burden glowed with green phosphorescence. Natalie looked at Cole in wonderment and found his face set with concentration, his eyes shining silver. It wasn’t like the usual sign of his power. Instead, Cole’s eyes seemed glazed with a reflective coating. After a moment, the shine started to fade, and Cole sighed. “It's ironic that I can see into the Aether easier than I can pierce the dark.”

Staring out at the carved cavern walls, Natalie shrugged. “Trust me, you aren’t missing much. Besides, I’ve got enough night vision for both of us, so just stay close to me, and I’ll protect you.”

An amused snort escaped Cole. “I truly hate being underground.”

Patting his armored shoulder, Natalie smiled. “I can’t tell if your dislike is ridiculous or perfectly logical.”

Sucking in a deep breath and glancing around at the shadowed tunnel, Cole said. “Fear born of ignorance can be dispelled with knowledge. Fear born of knowledge is much harder to dismiss. So, can we please stop talking about being literally beneath a mountain?”

Understanding the message, Natalie decided she’d change the topic. “Well then, aside from the tons of rock above us, what here is trying to kill us?”

Ending Cole’s glare with a kiss on the cheek, Natalie shrugged. “Sorry, I just don’t usually see you this perturbed, and it's cute.”

Grunting in acknowledgment, Cole stared down the tunnel ahead. “Too many things to count; the Deeps are home to every manner of monster. Trolls are probably the most obvious, but they aren’t the only ones. Dire insects, puppeteer spiders, echo-spawn, knockers, lindwyrms, carnivorous fungi, basilisks, and other things I’m probably forgetting. Oh, and that's discounting gas pockets, flooded caves, poisonous foliage, and the aforementioned tons of rock falling on top of us.”

Natalie winced. “Okay, okay, I think I can better understand your dislike.”

After a moment’s thought, staring at the barren walls and claw-scratched road, Natalie asked. “How can this place support so much life? This place seems empty of anything edible, and if prey can’t find enough to eat, neither can predators.”

The ranger who’d been walking down the line of aardigs chuckled from the darkness behind them. Looking at the tough dwarven woman, Natalie raised an eyebrow. Fiddling with one of her sidelocks, the ranger said. “We ain’t in ta Deeps proper. Dis is justa taste of what be coming.”

Pointing down the tunnel, the ranger squinted. “You got good eyes, sangraki?”

Natalie nodded, and the ranger smiled. “Taka good look, you see ta light?”

Letting a little blood enhance her eyesight, Natalie stared into the darkness, trying to find what the ranger expected her to. After a second of letting her eyes adjust, Natalie saw it. In the distance, barely detectable, was a faint bluish glow that seemed to flicker and spark. Seeing Natalie’s face change, the ranger’s smile broadened. “Tat ta true Deeps.”