by Scott Beith
“You know they say transformation is one step shy of transcendence,” I riddled to him while we climbed up the steepest rocky slope
“So what?”
“So what if the old legends about spiritual ascension are true, and Ebony is gifted enough to sprout butterfly wings and go live up in the cloud city as a wisp for the rest of her days?” I meddled.
“To be honest, I don’t think she’s exactly the mediation type,” he added with a small laugh. “So, yeah, that’s a pretty mighty if,” he mocked. “But please don’t tell me you’re now a believer in all that spiritual mumbo-jumbo – stupid myths of flying angels that watch over us from their sky land above.”
“No, not particularly, but I like the sentiment, and I mean there was a time long ago when many in The Capital did used to believe in such nonsense, pretty much up until your mother outlawed all spiritual practices.”
“Yep, one of the only laws my made that I actually agree with. The townspeople don’t need false hope, they need real hope, which is why getting this crystal is worth us dying over,” he stated, the sternness of his words bringing us both into a quiet discord as we kicked our legs and pulled ourselves up again and again along the embedded rail track, climbing up it like a ladder.
“Ok, well say for philosophy’s sake that the myths were true and Ebony was able take you away with her into the heavens, would you go with her and leave the kingdom to someone else to rule?” I continued, interested to hear his response to such a crazy hypothetical.
“Well, if it really is for ‘philosophy’s sake’, then I would wish her great fortune and miss her deeply when I wave her goodbye, but no, not even if the Sunspire breaks would I leave my kingdom behind. My place is here – down in the pits with wherever my kind reside,” he answered. “Satisfied?” he then asked precariously back to me.
“No. Never,” I quickly teased back, feigning disinterest in his unexpected response. Unsure if I was humbly impressed or slightly disturbed over the prospect that he was to be a king who would rather rule hell than humbly serve in heaven.
“Well, if you can’t find enough fun from your own questions, then I guess it’s my turn,” he stated, pulling out his sword only to dig it deep into the cracks of the gravel as a resting post while he helped tug me up a difficult incline of the overhanging slope.
“Say roles were reversed and you were crowned queen for the rest of your days, what would you do with it?” he asked
It was a simple enough question – one I’d been asked by daydreaming maids countless times before – but for the prince, I had no definitive answer. “I… I don’t really know… Probably the same stuff as always I guess – just without the consequences of committing royal disobedience every time I did so,” I then joked to him, pushing myself up further without his help.
“So you are where you want to be then?” he asked curiously.
“Yeah, definitely,” I replied, smiling back at him, our eyes locking. “And you?” I asked as he proceeded up the tricky part of the slope, checking the distance from the very top before moving upwards.
The prince was working twice as hard to climb these roller-coasterlike rails first each time, only to come back to push me up ahead, the two of us balancing on the ledge under a fuming heat radiating from the cliff face above, due to elevation of this thickly insulated tunnel shaft and its obvious proximity to the next nearby lava trench.
The effort of holding on becoming harder on our hands as it got hotter, the fear of slipping rising despite our how firmly stable our grip was against the rails, humidity making our arms sweat while our hands and feet clung to the warm smooth vertical ladder rails, such humidity most likely signifying our close proximity to the natural metal forges of the central refinery our map said we were slowly heading towards.
“Yeah, same,” he responded with a short but humble respect to the question.
“It’s a shame you’re going to be king then. Soon you won’t be able to have all this kind of fun anymore,” I joked. “Oh, my heart bleeds for you,” I then sniped to him sarcastically.
“Yeah, says who?” he announced enthusiastically. “A king can do what he wants, right?” he said with a grin. “Although speaking of danger, how much trouble are you going to be in this time around?” Arlo enquired, changing the topic altogether.
“I’d rather not think about it to be honest – I’m likely safer in this cave than I’d be back at the castle.” I chuckled, fighting both fear and fatigue as I said it.
The conversation was most fun for me, but at the same time it was also getting physically harder to contribute to: we climbed very quickly and managed to get very high very fast. Less blood was getting to our heads as we climbed the railway bars like military high ropes. We were very close to the peak of the ledge once we regained a steady sight of Anara and Akoni sitting by its peak, resting from their own arduous ascent as they waited for us to catch up.
“You’ve always been scared of my mother, haven’t you?” he asked, taking a step back down to hang beside me as I heaved myself up a little bit slower than him.
“Most people are scared of her, Arlo,” I quietly confessed, getting more and more exhausted from the climb.
“And most people have a fair reason to be,” he stated, placing his hand upon one of my elbows to help alleviate the pressures of the climb, “but you don’t. You’re family to us. Nothing bad will happen to you so long as me and my sister are around,” he pledged, using those giant muscular shoulders to pull himself up the next ladder with his one hand as he offered me his other.
“But you’re not always around are you?” I said, refusing to take that hand, instead grabbing the next step by myself in as a sense of personal pride.
“You know, you blame my mother for everything, when it’s wrong of my sister to constantly put you in this kind of trouble,” he stated, wiping sweat off his forehead as the heat and work finally started hitting him as much as it had been me.
“Yeah, but unlike your mother, it comes from a good place,” I said, valiantly defending Anara and her choice to include me in her most recent escapades. “Your sister only ever means well. And without her, I wouldn’t have any of the things I’m grateful for having today,” I then proudly said, looking down the ladder to the beautiful dress she bought me as it stuck to my skin, covered by black coal smudges and past tears.
“Arlo, when you do become king, I hope you’re smart enough to trust and rely upon her for council” I announced as we reached the very bend of the tunnels horizontal cliff edge, together taking a silent moment to breathe before regrouping. First to take Akoni’s slippery hand as he leashed a small safety rope around our hands before physically trying to pull me over the final ledge of the bending incline.
“We’re real close to the refinery,” Akoni redundantly stated to us, helping the prince up next. Eagerly ready to pursue the glimmering crystal diamonds all shimmering like street lights downhill towards the red smog of the molten refinery somewhere just out in that distance.
Arlo’s sword was radiating brightly at his back, matching the crystals colouring the walls as it too took on a lava orange kind of fluorescent shine. We all watched it glow from an orange to blood red aura, reflecting in conjunction with the lights downhill, as if directing the way for us to follow.
It really was as if the sword was alive and telling us through computation that it had finally found its home again. Quickly, but quietly, we walked down from the cap of the steep hill towards the glare of the dome based refinery centred on my map.
Following the same former cargo line as before, our travels seemed less perilous the further we ventured, with the ground levelling out as we moved deeper and deeper into the crust of the mountainsides thick volcanic mantle level.
Appearing silvery black, the tunnels had become much brighter, denser and smoother, it seemed likely that more movement and maintenance had been performed on this side of the cavern. Despite having a map of this place, navigating through these tunnels w
as becoming infinitely more difficult as we started to lose our directions all over again, due to the constant division of diverting rails, forcing us to choose alternate doorways each time. Each parallel tunnel looking just the same as the one we had just come out of.
And so being back at the front, and having retaken on the role and burden of navigator, for a long time I felt like the warden of an old abandoned prison as we walked down its unholy and haunted halls. Caught hearing the low pitched wails of wraiths in the windless distance, and witnessing the subtle sharp turns of shadows as those vengeful ghosts of my imagination were angrily seeking retribution against me.
I found it hard to ignore those irrational fears, but I knew I was much braver than I had been just a couple days before. I had found in myself an abnormal yet reassuring confidence in my own abilities, and, with it, a thriving yet surprising need to take on the scary challenges in front of me rather than seek refuge against them. As with that map back in my hand, I was once again the arbiter of our mission to find the next giant crystal diamond. The one who had to make all of the scary choices on behalf of my friends as I tried to correctly decipher all the twists and turns with the gold etchings of this scruffy and out-dated paper map, warding us away from the maggot lairs, poisonous mercury ponds and other naturally toxic areas spotted all across the map in written warning.
We neared the ‘obsidian pits’ in the middle of the map, all movements began leading towards the dome shaped refinery one way or another, as, with it, the sounds of quick scurries and other lurking activity were beginning to surpass simple imagination and warrant a real need for concern. Starting off so quiet and harmless, like rocks crumbling from the walls, it was getting harder to work out whether it was just our imagination or whether we were no longer alone in the cave. The pit of my stomach started to sink as we secretly descended into Midas’s obvious factory hideout.
Strangely so, we had succumbed to the darkness and honed our senses to accommodate the lack of sight. Thoughts and sounds for one seemed to echo and travel much further and deeper within us as we heard them, offering us greater wisdom and clarity to judge danger via the vibe of our own heartbeats. Typical scenarios that ordinarily ran through my head were being magnified by the silence of the tunnels and bringing those ghosts to life as we battled to keep calm.
I was calculating escape paths and funnelling points were becoming almost second nature to me. Tactically speaking, I was getting used to being a creature within the darkness, gaining the mind of a warrior as I mentally explored the options around me, of which superficial sight might ordinarily limit me from ever considering.
My field expertise was noticeably growing, but I wondered at what extent would that battle readiness and smartness turn sickly. What do you call somebody who was ready to react to outcomes that might not ever happen… smart, prepared or crazy? It seemed down here I was just realising how easy it was for someone’s irrational fears to engulf their own personal judgement.
A sad yet likely scenario that had befallen Midas, as he was always revered as a genius who eventually turned into a madman. I thought of how much damage this place could have done to him over so many years alone, allowing the demons in the dark to whisper to him no different than how my shadows could build upwards like living statues and uprise against me if I so much as accidentally started thinking about them doing so.
Paranoia was getting the better of me, even if I wasn’t showing it. I imagined horrible clawing beasts hidden within the darkness and scorpion pincers reaching for me. I thought of burrowing fanged millipedes blasting upwards from my feet as they tunnelled their way up from underneath, springing up to attack us, unprovoked but always hungry.
These fears clouded my thoughts, becoming more and more believable in my mind as time pressed on. I looked brave like all the others, but deep down I was trembling over many unseen moments of weakness. Points of pure fear that we’re making me halt every few steps forward towards the unique diamond dig site we were searching for.
I heard hissing whispers as we passed holes that led into tiny dead-end tracks. All paranoid delusions intensifying and elevating my already growing tension while I and the others refrained from speech altogether, keeping silent just so we could hear and look for movement out there in the slowly brightening blindness.
Loose crumbling rocks were echoing loudly as we unintentionally kicked them along the smooth track.
My pendant was glowing like moonlight as it bounced off every clear glossy crystal and silver rail along our journey.
It had become adamantly clear we were no following the same red ruby encrusted track that was clearly illustrated on our map.
From left to right, mine carts were stuffed with boulders encrusted with unsorted gemstones. Like the rubies that were once in the walls, there were bits of everything, all discarded as if they were worthless.
“Not that I’m afraid, but let’s just grab this crystal and get out of here already,” Anara timidly whispered to me and the others from the very back of the pack, glancing left to right as if she could hear and see something.
“I agree,” Arlo said with a similar tone of fear. “We’re not all mistresses of darkness,” he quietly added towards me.
“Yes, because I’m having so much fun right now,” I rebutted. “I would give anything to be able to go invisible,” I added while still edging forward, the others sticking close, almost like they knew something I didn’t.
“You really think invisibility would be much help down here,” Anara replied. “Clearly nothing down here relies on eyesight,” she explained, her hand gripping Akoni’s left arm, squeezing it in dread. Avoiding the wavy heat vents of his silvery backpack as Akoni quietly began charging his pistol.
“You see them, don’t you?” Akoni asked her.
“What? What do you see,” said Arlo bluntly in stagger, the corners and side tunnels still too dark to see into.
“Yes… And I don’t want to,” she said, still gripping his arm.
“They’re everywhere, guys!” Akoni exclaimed in a cautious whisper, raising alarm as we all stopped to stand still upon its very mention.
“Right now?” Arlo staggered to ask, carefully and slowly drawing his sword defensively.
“Yes,” Anara responded. “They’re just looking at us though,” she described, sensing their slow and nimble movements throughout the countless cavernous side holes, movements more quiet and stealthy than our whispers.
“What are?” I quietly asked.
“Gnolls?” Arlo speculated, his eyes fixed towards the tunnel’s floor, as if trying to feel for his environment with the same sixth sense Anara seemed to possess.
“I don’t know why they aren’t attacking us,” Akoni said.
“Because they’re not gnolls,” Anara replied. “They’re just small frail nymphs,” she concluded, helping ease our fears.
“Maybe that’s all they ever were,” I was first to theorise out loud. “Hungry weaklings in shrouded capes, using scary outfits to make us run instead of fight for our food – I can’t imagine they get a great deal of nourishment in a place like this,” I then added, finally looking and spotting one of those scrawny figures and their beady eyed mining goggles as we reached the opening corridor that led into bright and luminous gold forges.
I created a small army of shadow statue soldiers, conjuring them from every corner of shade beside me. The frail nymphs squealed and cowered once I did it, making all of us realise they were nothing for us to be scared of. Although large in number, and holding old rusty mining claws and iron picks, which could be portrayed as fierce weapons to the untrained eye, it seemed like they could barely lift these tools with their own weak arms. Much like they required all kinds of mechanical aid to help elevate their weaker or damaged limbs.
Hysterically so, they were stopping their obsidian stone labours to stare at us in terror, squirming among each other as a whole crowded chamber of them began bumping into one another in an effort to try and get out into
the refinery dome and away from us before we got too close to them.
It was then that I realised most of them were very old and were simply rushing forward to pick up the little children they were babysitting before pacing away to find safety in the dome up ahead.
18
Credence
The hall became a bright factory – an industrial fire pit of hardhat-wearing workers processing rock ore on long conveyer belts while huge overhead machines loudly crunched and churned those dense piles of granite rock into a fine greyish waste powder.
We slipped into this huge refinery, still mostly unnoticed, with miners mindlessly pulling levers and dragging mechanical equipment across the floor as they passed by us, simply too distracted by their labours to see us as outsiders.
“That’s enough! That’s enough! No more!” One angry miner shouted to another up above him, that frustrated man tinkering with the dials of a control panel situated beside the base of one of the first large pulley machines. “Just stop! Please! You’re making it worse!” he snapped bitterly, slapping both palms over his eyes and forehead, commanding the novice construction team using wrenches and spanners above to stop fiddling with the overheating steam pipes, which drooped down and rattled uncontrollably from a second-story scaffold system way above our heads where all the overhead cooling pipes met up.
Those scrawny industrial nymphs appeared to have become masters of the mechanical arts. Manually facilitating chains of linked buckets that scooped and carried coal ore from one workstation to another, crushing coal and granite under huge hammerhead pressure drills before an axillary scoop collected and then dropped it down a sluice that filtered out the rocky powder through thick grated steel sheets as it sifted out the waste soot and left only the sparkles of small glassy prisms behind.