by Kody Boye
“Have a nice day,” the waitress said.
Carmen only nodded before making her way across the tavern.
It was obvious, as she neared the table, that these were the men the guardsman had spoken of. Not only did they bear the look of haggard travelers—with their soot-covered clothes, broad-rimmed hats and protective eyewear—but each was armed with at least a sword, if not a buckler as well. A few even had crossbows slung into satchels across their backs.
Well, Carmen thought. Here goes nothing.
She cleared her throat in an effort to draw their attention, but whether they heard or just chose to ignore her she couldn’t be sure.
“Excuse me,” Carmen said, hoping her voice wouldn’t be drowned out by the sounds around her.
One of the two sleeping Dwarves snorted.
“Eh?” one of his companions replied, raising his head to reveal his soot-covered face. “Are you here to bring us refills?”
“Uh… no,” Carmen said. She straightened her posture and waited for the Dwarf to fully acknowledge her before continuing. “I was told a caravan from Dorenborough had arrived.”
“Ayuh,” the Dwarf grunted. “And?”
“I take it you are that caravan?”
Those men who were awake looked up.
Though not one to normally pale under scrutiny, their disinterested and annoyed faces were enough to give her pause. Should she have waited, she wondered, until that evening, after they had rested and recouped from their journey? Or was she just being paranoid?
“We’re the caravan who came from Dorenborough, yes,” the Dwarf who appeared to be the head of the party answered.
“Took us over three months to get here,” one of his companions added.
“So if you want something, ask. My men are tired and not interested in answering questions.”
Carmen hadn’t realized she’d been tightening her fist until her knuckles popped.
The Dwarf narrowed his eyes and lifted his drink.
“I’m not gonna keep you,” Carmen began, “because I can only imagine how tired you all must be. I just wanted to know if you’d seen anything unusual on your way here.”
“In those tunnels?” the Dwarf laughed, rolling his eyes. “Hardly.”
“I’m being serious.”
“As am I,” the man replied, setting his drink down before turning to glare at her. “Look, lady: I don’t have time for this. So if you’re done asking stupid questions, I’d kindly suggest you turn around, walk out of the bar, and leave me the fuck al—”
“Come on,” another Dwarf said. “There’s no need for that.”
“I’m tired,” the leader growled, “and not interested in someone’s pigshit.”
“I’m looking for the drake,” Carmen said.
“The what?” he asked.
“The Drake,” Carmen replied. “Of Ehknac.”
Every nearby eye landed on her.
Swallowing, Carmen settled her gaze on the Dwarf who appeared more willing to answer her questions and said, “My name is Carmen Delarosa, the sole survivor of the Ehknacian caravan that was wiped out by the drake.”
“Big Blue,” the Dwarf replied. He glanced about at his companions before standing and extending his hand. “My name’s Baelin,” he said. “Please, excuse my companion, Miss. Delarosa. He gets particularly grumpy after a long day’s travel.”
“Fuck you,” the leading Dwarf said.
Carmen gripped the man’s wrist and pumped once before pulling away.
“Now,” Baelin said, settling back into his seat. “You were asking if we saw anything unusual on our way here from Dorenborough. In short: no. Once we cleared the passages, we didn’t have many problems at all. No angels, hardly any skitters, barely any moths. The only thing I can recall is how few spiders we had to deal with when we lit our fires that one night.”
“We had repellant,” the leader grumbled.
“That still doesn’t keep the bugs from coming in close, Dalron.” The Dwarf named Baelin glanced down at one of his sleeping companions and sighed when the man’s hand started twitching. “The only problem we did have was the night Marty said he saw—”
Dalron slammed his drink on the table.
Both of the sleeping Dwarves jerked their heads to attention.
“Marty didn’t see nothing!” Dalron barked. “We already went through this.”
“The lady asked,” Baelin said. “And if anyone should answer that question, it should be Marty, not you.”
The youngest of the Dwarves centered his tired, bloodshot eyes on Carmen.
“You’re Marty,” she said, already suspecting she knew the answer to her question.
“Yessum,” the Dwarf replied.
“Could you tell me what you saw in the mines?”
Dalron threw his hands up and stood. “I’m not dealin’ with this,” he said. “If you need me, Baelin, I’ll be in my quarters—relaxing like I should’ve been.”
“Goodnight,” Carmen smiled.
The Dwarf paused long enough to shoot her a nasty look before disappearing down a hallway.
After taking her place at the surly Dwarf’s table, Carmen leaned forward, laced her fingers together, and waited for Marty to begin.
It didn’t take long for the other Dwarves, as well as Baelin, to take their leave.
“They didn’t believe me,” Marty said as he watched the last of the stragglers wander off. “They thought I was just seeing things—said I was a stupid city boy making shadows into nightmares because it was my first out in the mines.”
“Where were you?” Carmen asked.
“Just out of the tunnels,” he replied. “What most would say is two weeks from Ehknac.”
“What was it?”
“It was big,” Marty said. “Bigger than anything I’ve ever seen. We were just settling in for the night when I caught it moving across the gorge. The pigs got spooked, so I knew I couldn’t have just been seeing things. But Dalron said it was just spiders—that they got big enough in the deeper parts in the mines to make the animals skittish. But I knew better. I knew the pigs weren’t scared of the spiders because they’d seen them. The damn things’ll crawl right up to the swine and they’ll just stand there like nothing’s wrong.”
“But you can’t say for sure that it was the drake,” Carmen said.
Marty sighed. “No,” he said. “I can’t, but…” He paused. Though his eyes had been centered on Carmen for the duration of the story, they fell here—as if, in relaying his tale, he’d lost belief entirely.
“It’s ok,” Carmen said, then stood. “That’s all I needed to hear.”
“I know what I saw,” Marty said as Carmen turned to leave, causing her to stop midstride. “I… I know it doesn’t sound like much, miss, but when you see something like that, it… it just…”
Carmen closed her eyes. “It changes you,” she finished.
Marty didn’t respond.
It was in that moment, as she walked out of the tavern and into the darkness of Ehknac, that she remembered its eyes.
They’d vanished—just like that.
Had it not attacked, Carmen knew her story would’ve been just like Marty’s.
That was reason enough to believe.
- - -
Nestled within her family home, and preparing to do what most would have inarguably thought foolish, Carmen pooled over the spread of maps before her and tried to determine what would be the best course of action after her departure from Ehknac.
It was, in a word, overwhelming.
Gods, Carmen thought, wiping a bead of sweat from her brow. How am I ever going to figure this out?
Most of the maps only covered sections that could be accessed on foot. Given the depths of the Hornblaris Mountains, however, there existed subsections that required cross-referencing in order to make any sense. A ground level could overlap a sub level so greatly that a casual glance into the chasms would never show it, whereas what appeared to be a sheet of rock overhead could ma
sk another pathway completely. Mathematics and cartography were heavily stressed in public education for this reason, but as someone whose studies had always leaned toward architectural design, the spread was almost impossible to decipher.
There was a reason caravaners were so sought-after to carry goods. It wasn’t just braving the mines—it was knowing how to navigate them.
Her father had always joked that she was skipping out on a fortune by not joining the merchant corps.
Now that she was forced to look at maps, she wished she’d paid better attention in school.
“You can do this,” she mumbled, reaching for the mathematical compass at the far side of her father’s desk.
After adjusting the instrument’s alignment and inserting a fresh piece of lead into it, Carmen placed the needle on the city of Ehknac, reached for her copy of the Traveling Merchant’s Handbook, and thumbed through its contents until she came upon the measurements for an average days’ worth of travel.
It didn’t take long for her to pinpoint where the caravaners had camped that first night after leaving the tunnels.
It took her much longer to process the flood of emotion that followed.
Directly across from where their campsite would’ve been stood Infinity Falls—the place where one life had ended and another had begun.
And where he still falls, a horrible voice whispered. Forever.
The scream that followed couldn’t have been stopped even if she’d’ve begged for it.
No.
No.
How could she have forgotten? How could she have been so foolish? Time was relative, space was not. Even if it had happened ten, fifteen years ago, nothing would’ve changed the fact that two weeks of travel—as told by the Dwarf who’d claimed to have witnessed the abomination—offered upon the weary a choice, they said, could make or break an entire journey: to go right, through the tunnels, and risk snuffed flames and a breathless end, or left and tread passage through a place even legends dared not cross.
Almost one year ago to the day, the caravan her family had accompanied chose to forego the safer route in favor of a shorter journey.
That decision had gotten almost everyone killed.
Everyone except her.
“Figures,” she managed, “that you would still be there.”
Watching, waiting, anticipating her return.
In the faint light streaming from the single candle in the room, she couldn’t help but wonder: was this coincidence, or just fate pulling a cruel joke?
She’d anticipated returning to the mines. She never could’ve imagined returning to the Falls.
I would walk, she had once thought, through as many tunnels, for as long as I had to, if it meant never seeing that place again.
It appeared history was due to repeat itself.
In but a span of days, she would walk from the city of Ehknac and trek toward the one place she feared the most.
Infinity Falls.
- - -
She estimated that her journey would take anywhere from four to six weeks. Having travelled the path before, she already knew that the distance from Ehknac to the tunnels could be measured in a fortnight. Most caravans could travel this road without issue, as the path was common and the dangers few. Given that she would be alone, however, and without the aid of a pack mule, she would have to pack strategically, else she risked starvation in the first few days alone.
For that reason, she would have to enlist the services of the people who knew the mines the most.
The Merchant’s Guild was primarily responsible for all the imports and exports in the city. Nestled along the outskirts of town and flanked by more warehouses than could ever possibly be necessary, the building towered in comparison to those around it. On slow days, a steady stream of people could be seen entering and exiting from dawn until dusk. On a day like this—when vaskrday had inspired visits from all of Dwarvenkind—the streets were packed and the stalls brimming with wares. Carmen had to push her way through a throng of people just to step onto the street. Navigating its narrow passage was another feat entirely.
I could’ve gone elsewhere, she thought after colliding with and nearly being crushed by a massive pig, but knew better than to believe that. Consulting a general store would yield few results. Anything she could barter would likely only last a few days, let alone the weeks it would take to reach the Falls.
After ducking onto a side street, Carmen braced herself for what was to come before entering the Merchant’s Guild of Ehknac.
It’d been years since she’d wandered the narrow passages and winding halls of a building whose sole existence had sustained her family’s livelihood. Dark, lit only by dim crystals, and nearly labyrinthine in number of rooms alone, she started down the hallway and allowed the arrows hewn into the walls to guide her. It was easy to get lost here, if one wasn’t careful, and though steadfast in her goal, it didn’t take much to remind her of everything she’d lost.
As a child, she would count the number of warehouses while accompanying her father on his errands.
One, she’d think. Two, three. One, two, three.
It was overwhelming, then, as a Dwarfling barely three feet tall, and was even now as an adult. They seemed to go on forever—which intimidated most from entering the guild from its storage entrance. Her only luxury was that she’d evaded the crowds.
After what felt like an eternity of walking, navigating cross-halls, and second-guessing every turn, she finally came to the door that housed the distribution center.
Well, she thought, taking a deep breath. Here goes nothing.
She stepped through the door and was greeted by nothing more than silence.
What?
This place was usually packed—filled to the brim with people and flooded with incoming and outgoing orders. Why wasn’t there anyone here?
“Hello?” she asked, frowning as her voice echoed throughout the gargantuan space. “Is anyone here?”
She waited for someone—anyone—to appear, but no one came.
Sighing, Carmen turned and was about to step out the open door when the sound of footsteps greeted her.
“Miss?” an elderly Dwarf with greying hair asked, removing his spectacles and polishing them with his shirt. “Is there something you need?”
“Thank the Gods,” Carmen said. “I thought no one was here.”
“They’re all busy with the auctions,” the older man laughed. “So—what can I help you with?”
“I need enough supplies to get me from here to Dorenborough.”
“That’s funny,” he frowned. “I haven’t gotten any orders in. I didn’t know there were caravans leaving so early.”
“Alone,” she finished.
The man blinked. She could’ve asked for a keg filled with gold and gotten a better response. “I’m... sorry,” he said, adjusting his eyeglasses as he returned them to his face. “I could’ve swore I just heard you ask for—”
“Enough supplies to get me to Dorenborough by myself,” Carmen finished. “Yes. I did.”
“I can’t tell if you’re out of your mind or if you’re actually serious.”
“I’m serious. Very serious.”
Frowning, the man waited—as if expecting further clarification. When Carmen refused to elaborate, he sighed and ran a hand over his receding hairline. “Young lady,” he said. “You do realize what you’re asking is unorthodox.”
“Yes,” Carmen replied.
“Then you probably won’t mind explaining just why you intend to go into the mines on your own.”
He doesn’t need to know, a voice in the back of her head said. You don’t have to tell him anything.
What was she supposed to do then? Lie? Ignore the question? This man wasn’t stupid. He requisitioned supplies for dozens, if not hundreds of caravans a year. If she were to look him in the eye and lie, unabashedly, without thinking anything of it, he would laugh and turn her away—and probably call her a stupid girl in the proces
s.
Knowing that she could do nothing but tell the truth, Carmen sighed, took a deep breath, then said, “I want to go after Big Blue.”
His silence, though expected, chilled her to the bone.
“Wait,” he said, stepping forward. “You’re... you’re Brutus Delarosa’s daughter, aren’t you?”
“Yes sir,” she said. “I’m her.”
“Dear God, child. What in Thor’s name are you thinking?”
“I can’t just sit back and live my life knowing that nothing’s been done,” Carmen said. “I have to go after it.”
“Are you crazy? No one’s seen the bull for years. They don’t even know if he’s still—”
“A caravan that just came into town told me they saw something on the road.”
“Did they say it was the drake?”
“Well, no, but—”
“Then you’re out of your mind. A whole contingent of the king’s best men couldn’t find the drake. If you think you—a lone woman—can find it, based solely off someone’s invalidated claim—”
“I have money,” Carmen said. “Gold. Enough to pay whatever you ask. Double if necessary.”
“Even if I would fill that order, do you think I could send you out there—alone—in good conscience? No. I couldn’t. After what that drake did to that entire caravan—to your entire family—”
“I’ll go elsewhere then.”
“Do you wish to die?”
“Sometimes,” Carmen laughed, almost unable to believe her honesty. “Other times I wish I’d died in the mines with them.”
“There’s no guarantee you’ll even find the drake, Carmen. And even if you do... do you think you could face it on your own?”
“I have to try,” she said.
The man closed his eyes and cupped his face in his hand.
“If you’re not going to help me,” Carmen said, shoving her purse back into her pocket, “tell me now. I can’t afford to waste any more time.”
“No one else in the city has the supplies you’ll need.”
“So you’ll help me?” she asked.
“Yes,” the man said. “If that is truly what you want, then yes... I will help you.”
- - -
“You’re not going to have enough room to carry the amount of supplies you’d normally need to make such a trip,” the merchant said. “You will be alone, as you already know, and will only be able to realistically carry one pack. Because of this, you’re going to have to travel light.”