by Dante King
I stood with Bjorn, Rupert, and Gabby off to one side of the enormous entrance to the mines that wound down into the bowels of Galipolas Mountain. My squad and I were quiet, each man lost in his own thoughts.
Bjorn fastidiously patted himself down to make sure he had everything, testing the edges of knives, hefting his battle-axe to ensure that the balance was just so. Rupert fussed through his large and seemingly bottomless bag of medicaments. There came the clink and rattle of glass as he pushed jars of lotions and potions aside, muttering to himself all the while, as his eyes twitched and his fingers ran like spiders over the numerous pouches and pockets.
Gabby leaned against a rock nearby. He was wrapped in his traveling cloak, his quiver of arrows and his bow slung over his shoulder. As usual, the enigmatic mute wasn’t saying much. He held an arrow in his hand and stroked the fletching in an absent sort of way, as if his mind was miles away. Every now and again, his hawk-like yellow-irised eyes would flick over to some noise and then return to the arrow.
For my part, I was simply trying not to let my impatience get the better of me. Here we were, at the very entrance to the Subterranean Realms, and still I found myself waiting around.
The gateway to the mines that led down into the Subterranean Realms was a huge affair. Massive tree trunks, which had been shorn of their limbs, stood as support beams, with another tree trunk laid across the top of them to hold up the ceiling. These trunks were carved with glyphs and crude runes, the meanings of which had been lost eons before. There were fantastical beasts etched into them in places: manticores and hydras, minotaurs and dragons.
I snorted a laugh. Dragons were no more fanciful to me now than lions had been when I had lived on Earth.
“Hey boss?” Bjorn rumbled as he tucked a mean-looking hatchet into his belt and gave it a loving pat.
“Yeah?” I said.
“Do you have any idea what we can expect in there?” the huge, musclebound warrior asked, nodding his head with its tattooed sides at the entrance to the mines.
“Why’s that?” I teased the half-Jotunn. “Are you getting scared? Starting to shake a little in those size thirty-nine boots you’re wearing?”
Bjorn gave me a look that said there were some things that you joked about, but him being a pussy was not one of them. “I just got to thinkin’ just now—”
“Uh-oh!” Rupert quipped.
Bjorn made a swipe at the medic with a hand the size of a shovel, but Rupert slipped aside.
“I was just wondering,” said the big, scarred warrior, “whether we might come across something that’d look more impressive above the fireplace than a giant’s schlong?”
I laughed. I cast an eye at the looming entrance. Men and women hustled to and fro. Companies of soldiers marched in and out. From where I stood, I could see the tunnel, lit by massive braziers filled with crackling pine boughs, stretching away into a smoky distance.
“Well, I heard a few things, a few bits of gossip when I was walking through town to find Jazmyn and Ashrin,” I said. “Soldier’s chat, you know.”
“And?” Bjorn said.
I looked at Rupert and Gabby who were both listening now.
“And,” I said, “from what I’ve been able to gather, the main force of the Empire’s troops have encountered a tribe of kobolds. The brass don’t know for sure obviously, because the kobolds slip away before they can be engaged or captured, but it’s thought that they’re aligned with the Shadow Nations.”
“Kobolds…” Bjorn rumbled thoughtfully. “They’re the little lizardy folk, are they?”
“Th-that’s right,” Rupert said. “Reptilian humanoids that keep mainly to themselves. It’s rumored that they venerated wild d-d-dragons back in the day. When such creatures still roamed the world.”
Gabby made a soft sound of surprise and made a couple of simple signs.
“Yes, that’s right,” said Rupert, nodding at our tracker and marksman. “They worshipped them l-l-like demigods, I suppose.”
“And they’ve bumped into these kobolds?” Bjorn said. “For definite?”
I made a face. “So the reports and the trooper’s idle talk say. It sounds to me like the patrols have only encountered enemy scouts.”
“No signs of any actual civilizations or settlements y-y-yet?” Rupert queried.
I shook my head. “But the fact that they’ve encountered kobolds at all would seem to indicate that the Shadow Nations still exist down there, right?” I asked the medic.
Rupert made an uncertain noise in the back of his throat. “Perhaps. Everything that w-w-we know about the kobolds would seem to suggest that they would be sympathizers in the Shadow Nations machinations.”
“Yeah, well, the patrol captains sound like they believe it’s only a matter of time before we come across a settlement, or something even larger. There was some whispered chat around Old Sleazy’s food market that, apparently, there are warrens deep beneath the earth where entire cities and civilizations once dwelt.”
“So, if the Shadow Nations still exist,” Bjorn growled, “it’s only a matter of time before the Empire runs into the bastards?”
I made a sound of agreement and turned to watch the soldiers coming and going, but a snapping of fingers made me turn to see Gabby motioning for my attention.
“What?” I asked.
Gabby drew a finger across his throat and held his hands out.
“Do we kill the kobolds if we find them?” I clarified.
Gabby nodded, his long auburn hair swishing in front of his eyes.
“There are no plans for conquest, as far as I’m aware,” I said. “Me? I’m only really concerned with getting far enough in to discover and find what we need.”
Everyone grumbled their assent. While a visit to new lands beneath the Earth might have interested some people, we all very much liked being above ground.
I slipped briefly into musing about the life that I had left behind. I thought about the friends I had made in the MMA gym, wondered what they were doing now and what they had made of my sudden disappearance.
My contemplation of my life in L.A. was broken a minute or so later, when Ashrin and Jazmyn arrived with their squads in tow.
“Sweet succulent sylph shoulder boulders,” Bjorn growled under his breath as the two dragonmancers and their coteries approached, “look at those mean-looking fuckers.”
A respectful hush fell behind Jazmyn and Ashrin and their six accompanying coterie members as they passed through the ranks of milling Empire soldiers, and it was not difficult to see why.
The dragonmancers, clad in their sleek insectile armor, were intimidating enough, of course. Their coteries though, looked just as deadly and capable as the women they were tasked to protect with their lives.
All six coterie members were male. Battle-scarred, weathered, and grim. They too were garbed in black armor, though theirs was more matte black in color and clunkier-looking than the shiny, lightweight stuff the dragonmancers wore. The breastplates, greaves, and vambraces of each man were etched with gleaming silver dragon-blood infused runes, which indubitably bestowed powers on the wearers. An assortment of weaponry hung from their swords belts and from straps worn across their chests and over their shoulders.
“Hey, Mike,” Jazmyn said, swaggering up with a touch more cockiness than when I had last seen her, “you want to tell your coteries to stop ogling mine and Ash’s lads? Their puppy dog eyes are making them feel uncomfortable.”
I glanced over at the six armed and armored men, with their stony faces and ready hands. They couldn’t have looked any more immovable and impassive if they had been chiseled out of basalt. They had come to attention behind their respective dragonmancers, hands resting on the hilts and hafts of their weapons. Their keen eyes moved ceaselessly around them, scanning for dangers and threats.
“Yeah,” I said drily, “they sure look like a bunch of blushing brides, don’t they?”
Ashrin chuckled. “We brought you something, Dragonman
cer Noctis.”
“Oh yeah, what’s that?” I asked.
The two women moved aside to reveal Tamsin and Renji standing behind them. Both the hobgoblin and the djinn were looking quietly smug with themselves. Behind them, following like wary shadows, were their squads.
“You guys!” I said, delighted to see my two friends. “What the hell? I thought everyone else was supposed to be staying back at the base?”
“There was a change of plans,” Tamsin said, walking up to me with Renji just behind. “We’re coming with you.”
“And the others?” I asked.
“General Shiloh wanted to bolster the morale of the leading force that will be going ahead of you, so she ordered Saya, Penelope, and Amara to march up front with them.”
“What about Elenari?” I asked.
“The General wanted her to stay behind,” Tamsin said. “What with Wayne still needing her, the General didn’t want her to put her life on the line.”
“I bet Elenari loved that,” I said sarcastically.
Tamsin shrugged. “She took it better than I would.”
“She’s a mother,” Renji said. “Such a thing changes perspectives. She has more than just herself to consider these days.”
“True,” I said. “So, what made the General change her mind about you ladies coming with me?”
“We told her the truth.” Tamsin paused, trying her hardest not to grin lasciviously. “The mission requires us to be there. Two women need to be present with you at all times, ones with whom you’ve previously had or wished to have had relations.” She glanced at Renji for a moment before continuing. “You need to be able to test whether or not any substance you acquire actually revitalizes your seed.”
I felt a smile of my own trying to break out.
“On the spot?” I asked.
“If that’s what it takes,” Tamsin crooned, flashing her sharp white teeth.
“And, besides,” Renji said, the large septum ring in her nose jiggling to a fro as she smiled broadly and showed off her silver chompers, “you also need someone who can care for your… weapons.”
“And who better than an armorer, right?” I said innocently.
“Quite so,” the blue-skinned djinn said.
“Well, you’re not going to hear me complaining,” I said.
I stared intently at Renji, and the two of us exchanged smiles that spoke volumes without a word passing between us. I had not slept with the beautiful silver-haired djinn as of yet, but even a eunuch could see the idea appealed to her.
“Saya asked me to relay a message to you, Mike,” Tamsin said.
“Relay away, then,” I said courteously.
“She said that she’d better become a Rank Two before the end of this mission, because it was taking everything she had not to disobey a direct order from the General and come with you, Mike.”
I smiled to herself. Saya was a keeper all right, but she was also a born dragonmancer and she was not about to risk that for the sake of babysitting me. I respected that a lot.
“Thanks for sending the message,” I said to Tamsin, “and Saya did well sticking to her orders.” I squeezed Renji and Tamsin’s arms. “I’m glad that our company has you two bolstering it.”
Renji looked openly at Ash and Jaz. “You think that this little group really needs more bolstering with those guys on board?
I snorted. “Yeah. Good point,” I said. “I’m certainly glad they’re on our team.”
“Ahhh, come on now!” came the unmistakable twanging voice of Diggens Azee from where he was sitting slouched on a rock, enjoying one of his roll-ups. “The more the bloody merrier, if you ask me. You can never have too many blades. Not where the Subterranean Realms are concerned.”
“Diggens,” I said, “this is Dragonmancer Tamsin and Dragonmancer Renji.”
Diggens stood up and bowed, his massive rucksack and collection of picks and tools he had fastened about his person clanking loudly. “Stone the crows, but it’s a pleasure to meet the pair of ya,” he said affably.
Renji gave me a quizzical look. “This fellow, is he related to Old Sleazy or Big Greasy by any chance?”
“Nah,” Diggens said, “but you’d be fucking astonished with how many people reckon that to be true.”
“Are you going to be able to keep up with all that gear, gnoll?” Tamsin shot at Diggens.
It was a fair question. The gnoll looked like he was going to a fancy dress party as a pack mule.
Diggens removed his hat, pulled the almost used up stub of candle from the front brim, and replaced it with a fresh taper, which he melted on with the end of his smoke.
“Don’t you worry about me, darl,” he said. “Diggens Azee don’t make nobody wait for him. Not unless it’s ten-thirty in the morning or three in the afternoon.”
Tamsin frowned. “What happens then?” she asked.
Before Diggens could answer though, a clarion trumpet sounded from up ahead.
“That’s the signal,” Jazmyn said. “The vanguard is far enough ahead of us so that they’ll be able to clear or deal with any obstructions of the geographic or enemy kind.”
Ashrin nodded. “Enough chat. Grab your gear. It’s time to embark.”
* * *
There were twenty-one in our party, what with the unexpected, but very much appreciated, additions of Renji, Tamsin, and their coteries.
There was a rough order to the formation of our company; Jazmyn stalked along at the front with her coterie around her, while Ashrin and her three squad members acted as the rearguard. In between these two hardy bookends were Renji and Tamsin, each surrounded by their coteries—Renji in front of me and Tamsin behind. Diggens acted as a sort of roving scout. I was, to my annoyance, kept in the middle of the press of warriors. I understood the need for me to be in the most protected position, but that comprehension did not make the situation any more palatable.
What rankled with me the most, however, was the idea that these twenty other people—well, maybe not Diggens—were quite happy to put their lives on the line to protect mine. For someone who had spent most of their life looking after and relying on themselves, it was a disagreeable feeling.
We marched through the mines all day without coming in contact with anything more out of the ordinary or eye-opening than the actual Subterranean Realms themselves.
There was an air of mystery that permeated the very rock that surrounded us. Although this part of Galipolas Mountain had been cleared by the sappers, miners, and excavators, and there were soldiers stationed at various choke points and military stations along the way, there was still something inexpressibly ancient and strange about the place.
We halted, after a long, full day of trekking, in a surprisingly pretty and commodious cavern. We dragonmancers could have kept going through the night and into the next day, but the squads couldn’t. The fifteen coterie members had already drunk deeply from a potion that had helped them keep a dragonmancer’s pace through the day without stopping once. The potion, however, had only been so that the company could get off to a good start. They needed to rest and sleep so that they could be fresh for the next day’s effort.
The only person in the company who had stopped throughout the day’s march was Diggens Azee. And not for a lack of fitness or because the gnoll couldn’t keep up.
The first time I’d noticed him stopping was when I heard the gnoll give a cry, midway through the morning’s march.
“Right, that’s it, that’s half-ten!” he said, his nasally voice reverberating like a buzzsaw through the stretch of tunnel.
The column of twenty other travelers stopped in mid-step and started at the sudden noise. I saw more than a couple of hands jerk toward sword hilts and hidden daggers, and then relax.
“How the hell can you know whether or not it’s half past ten?” I said. “We’re under the bloody ground, Diggens.”
Diggens tapped his meaty chest proudly. “I’ve got a ripper of an internal clock, me,” he said.
/> “That might be all very well and good,” Ashrin said from the back of the short column, “and I’m very happy for you and your internal clock, but we do not stop until the day’s end.”
“Not me,” Diggens said amiably and without rancor. “I always stop at ten-thirty no matter what.”
Through the heads and shoulders that separated us, I could just make out Ashrin’s bemused expression as she watched the gnoll pull out his tobacco pouch and start to roll one of his skinny smokes.
“Okay,” Ashrin said, her cat ears twitching amongst her spiky black hair. “Do you want to tell me why you’re stopping?”
Diggens glanced up from his makings. The gnoll looked confused, as if the dragonmancer had just asked him something plainly obvious.
“Why?” he parroted. “Why? Because it’s bloody smoko, isn’t it?”
He stuck the thin cigarette between his lips, rummaged about in his enormous pack, and extracted a miraculously uncrushed pie. He sniffed it in the same way that a vintner might inhale a promising merlot.
“Ah,” he said, “just the job: bacon and harpy egg.”
After a moment or two of the most nonplussed silence I had ever experienced, Ashrin had started the march up again, telling Diggens that he could catch us up if he was able.
Diggens, with his mouthful of pastry, had pulled a small vial of crushed tomato sauce from his pocket and doused the pie liberally in it. Then he had waved us off and told us that he’d be along momentarily.
And, somehow, the gnoll had caught up with us a few miles down the road. The same thing had happened at three o’clock too, and Diggens had caught us up once more without showing any sign of being out of breath. It was remarkable. I was beginning to think there was far more to the gnolls than met the eye.
It was something I pondered on as we stopped to rest for the day in the cavern.
There was a source of freshwater, in the form of a subterranean pond fed by a mineral spring, in the middle of the chamber. The squads sat near its banks. The flames of the few torches and the fairy-filled lamps rippled and moved in its crystalline waters.