Chapter 179: Gallow Spiders and Shallow Graves

Toren Daen

I walked with the three dwarves, Aurora's relic stashed away in its brooch form. As we stepped into the pervading blackness, I instinctively raised a hand, summoning a small candleflame over my palm to provide light. It cast the nearby walls in flickering shadow as it peeled back the darkness like a veil.

Almost immediately, Jotilda turned around, glaring at me. "Snuff it, Alacryan," she said sharply. "No lights! That tells everything we're hopin' to hunt that we're coming. And no sound once we step deeper into the chasms, either."

I furrowed my brow, clenching my hand around the flame and snuffing it in a single gesture. "Okay," I said slowly, "But how are we going to direct ourselves without being able to see?"

Behind me, Borzen knocked his mace against the tunnel walls. "We're not so limited as you, Alacryan," he said gruffly. "We dwarves–those of us with tunnel legs–can navigate these chasms without sight. Just need someone with an earth affinity to send pulses into the ground first."

Gruhnd said something else, but once again, I couldn't understand a lick of it due to the beard blocking his face. It sounded like someone was speaking from under a thick blanket.

Borzen nodded sternly. "Exactly, brother," he said seriously.

I blinked. Okay, then. "Well, if we aren't moving by light, then there's another way I can help," I said, trying to find a way to contribute to this team, "I can muffle every sound you make. No need to worry about misstepping or kicking a rock or something."

To accentuate my point, I enveloped us in a sound barrier that covered us all. I brought my foot up, then smashed it against the ground. Cracks spread from beneath my boot, but no sound escaped.

Gruhnd's bushy brows rose ever-so-slightly as he looked at the cracked ground. Borzen nodded slowly, seeming to consider this usefulness. Jotilda, however, merely narrowed her eyes.

"Don't trip over your own feet, Alacryan," she said as she turned, prepared to move deeper into the tunnels. "Wouldn't want you giving us away."

—

The four of us walked through pitch-black darkness, slowly maneuvering through the downward-sloping tunnel. I couldn't see a foot in front of my face, and I found myself relying heavily on my sense of hearing to navigate without falling or misstepping. Considering the narrow corridors we weaved through and the uneven surfaces we had to swerve through, it was a constant struggle.

"There is a jutting rock not far from your current position," Aurora said into my mind. Her shade wasn't so limited in senses as I was, and her input had saved me more than a few embarrassing falls. "Step around it."

Thank you, I said back to my bond as I avoided said rock. Somehow, the dwarves around me seemed to have natural senses for these things, moving through the darkness without a single lick of hesitation or anxiety. I'd used their steadily thumping heartfires as a way to gauge my location as well. I'd also engaged my heat-vision spell, which outlined the dwarves around me in orange due to their heat signatures. That made it far easier to move as well, considering I could see where everyone else stepped.

Every now and then, however, Jotilda would call a halt to our forward movement, then press a palm into the ground, theoretically casting a spell like Earth Sense to gauge the path forward.

I should develop a sound spell like that, I thought. I haven't had to maneuver through dark spaces like this, but some sort of sonar spell would make this forward trek far easier.

But the unending silence was starting to scrape away at my nerves. "Say, Jotilda," I said, shifting my head so I didn't smash it into a jutting outcropping, "How long have you been working in these tunnels? Was this a job before, or…?"

Jotilda snorted in front of me. "Not the time for talking right now, Alacryan," she reprimanded. "I can't afford to miss anything. Don't distract me."

I sighed internally, but I was surprised to hear Borzen speak up next. "There's not much harm in talking right now," he said, and for the first time, I sensed the nervousness he'd been masking in his intent. "Makes the old tunnel walk easier."

Jotilda grunted. "Fine," she admitted. "I've been a tunnel scourer all my life. It's been my job for decades to clear out these caverns of mana beasts for settlement, exploration, and more. It's an art you humans can't seem to figure out."

I tilted my head, hearing a water droplet as it splashed against the ground far ahead. "Well, I certainly haven't seen your mastery of earth magic back home. Most of our urban centers are above ground, to start with."

The dwarven elder in front of me snorted. "Course they are. But I want to know now, Alacryan. What did you do before popping up in our country?"

I hummed. "Well, that's a very broad question," I started. "Mostly, I was an ascender day in and day out."

I heard Gruhnd say something through his bushy beard that had a questioning cadence to it. Though I couldn't make out what he said, Borzen was a step ahead of me. "Gruhnd wants to know what exactly an ascender is," he said.

I furrowed my brow, thinking of an appropriate analogy. "Well, back in Alacrya, there are these interconnected pocket dimensions. Kind of like the dungeons that litter the Beast Glades here, except arguably more dangerous. You go from zone to zone, similar to your adventurers, and try to scrape accolades and loot from each part. Ascenders, by and large, have been made exempt from participating in this war, though." I paused, feeling a melancholy note. "That's very lucky for your continent. Our strongest mages are our ascenders. If our High Sovereign truly cared about this war, he'd send them, not puffed-up idiots like Patamoor. But I suppose it's more interesting if there's actually a fight," I said with a note of irritation.

"So what, you're saying your continent is so much better than Darv that he could just snap his asuran fingers and roll us over?" Borzen asked, sounding affronted by my words. "He clearly hasn't faced the grit of dwarves," he said, sticking up for his countrymen.

I turned to look at the dwarf behind me. I knew my eyes glowed slightly in the pitch darkness due to my heat vision spell, and I felt the anxiety in Borzen's intent surface as I stared at him. "The grit of your people has little to do with it, Borzen," I said with a sigh. "Agrona doesn't want your people or your land. He wants to get to Epheotus, where all the other asura are. This war is a game to him to meet his true goal."

Borzen shifted uncomfortably for a moment before I turned my gaze forward once more.

"I 'spose tunnel scouring was not all I did," Jotilda spoke up, cutting through the silence. "I was sent off to fight the elves when Sapin got all uppity with Elenoir all those decades ago. Fought a few battles. Won some. Lost some more. But I learned something important there, Alacryan. Never underestimate a soldier fighting for their homeland."

I suppressed an irritated scoff. That was what literally everyone else did while these rebel dwarves let the Alacryans in. They made it easier for the imperialistic takeover of Dicathen as a whole. And if this woman had fought alongside the humans of Sapin, I didn't understand why she would sell out her continent to Agrona.

"It sounds to me like you're supporting the Triunion Council with those words," I said, keeping my voice neutral. "Considering we are the invaders, which you are helping."

Jotilda didn't stop moving, but I could sense a quiet anger in her intent. "We fight for our homeland too. Most just don't realize it yet."

I furrowed my brow, about to respond, when Jotilda suddenly stopped. She moved forward, and in what little light I could see, I could tell she was running her hands along the cavern walls. "There's slight scoring along these walls," she said quietly, even though my sound barrier was still up. "Looks like it was caused by the legs of a gallows spider. Expect them up ahead."

Behind me, Gruhnd unstrapped his crossbow, muttering something. Borzen hefted his mace as he revved his mana, preparing for an upcoming fight.

My hand brushed Inversion at my belt as I honed in further on my sense for heartfire. My telekinetic shroud–which I wore at all times by second nature now–glistened slightly as I funneled more mana into it.

We were far more cautious as we stepped forward. I wasn't nervous, but I could sense the anxiety of Gruhnd and Borzen behind me.

And gradually, I heard over a dozen quickly pulsing heartfires ahead, each brushing against my eardrum like the sweep of a broom. There was a turn in the path up ahead that masked their heat signatures from my sight.

"Their nooses hang like tainted ornaments," Aurora said in my ear, clearly seeing the waiting traps. "Watch yourself, Toren."

Silently, I tapped Jotilda on the shoulder. She turned to me, an irritated cast to her face before I pointed at the ceiling far above us. "About twenty I can sense around that corner," I said quietly. "All on the ceiling, waiting silently."

Jotilda narrowed her eyes, then gestured to Gruhnd behind me. He quietly mumbled a chant before a long, thin rod of metal appeared over his crossbow, compacted of mana.

Gruhnd said something in a challenging tone, hefting his crossbow and aiming upward.

"Aye, I'll tell ya when to shoot," Jotilda said, inching forward. "Move forward slowly. And don't let the bastards escape."

The dwarven elder held up a hand, her stocky fingers slowly counting down. Three, two, one…

Our group burst around the corner, our weapons ready. Jotilda pointed at a spot far along the ceiling, and Gruhnd immediately fired his crossbow in that direction.

The bolt whizzed out of my perception, skating into the darkness. For a moment, nothing happened.

Then the crossbow bolt hit the ceiling just past the glowing heated outlines of the gallows spiders. It exploded into a massive sphere of shrapnel and metal, blocking the thin passage further ahead.

"Now they can't retreat further into the tunnels!" Jotilda bellowed, slamming her axe into the nearby wall. The cavern rippled, a shockwave rumbling up the side that somehow enlarged to form a barrier behind us. "The gallows spiders are trapped here with us! Kill them, lads!"

The dim tunnel erupted into a hundred different clashing sounds as spiders fell and chittered in the darkness. I settled into a solid defensive stance as the mana-laden arachnids tried to swarm us, using intermittent bursts of telekinetic punches to crater carapace and snap legs.

Borzen yelled as his mace–coated in a thin sheen of fire–smashed against a falling spider. The thing shot off with a pathetic screech like some sort of demented baseball, smoke streaming from its shattered body.

Gruhnd bellowed as he fired shot after shot of conjured metal at the displaced horde, his aim surprisingly pinpoint and accurate. In front of me, Jotilda swung her axe deftly, her body coated in a thick layer of earth that warded off the scraping mandibles of the spiders.

I slipped to the side as a long, sticky rope barely missed my neck. At the end of the line, a webbed noose that was intended to cinch shut around my throat glistened slightly.

With a sneer, I snapped my hand out, gripping the rope tightly. I felt the sticky, solid substance as it touched my gloves, but that was inconsequential.

I sent a wave of sound magic along the tether of spiderweb, the vibrations traveling up the line in a cascading rumble. When it finally reached the top, I felt as my spell vibrated around the body of a spider on the ceiling, pulping its insides and causing it to fall limply.

I let go of the web, a pulse of fire thrumming over my hand that burned away any remaining residue. I squinted into the darkness, seeing a few more hanging nooses that some of the spiders let down.

I felt a smirk stretch along my face as I held out an arm, calling on my telekinetic emblem. A white sphere of pulling force drew a few of the nooses together, twisting and wrapping them around each other in a spiral.

Then I grabbed the threads of rope once more. Funneling mana through my veins, my body–strengthened by both assimilation and my part-asuran physique–swelled with power.

I pulled my hand down. There was a brief moment of tension as the few mana beasts–each as large as my torso–tried in vain to cling to the ceiling. But the raw might behind my pull compelled them utterly.

They were wrenched from the ceiling, rocketing toward the floor in a wave of skittering limbs. As they fell, I thrust out my hand, releasing a burst of fireshot that intercepted them midair in streaks of orange light.

Four corpses, all littered with smoking holes, hit the ground with a wet squelch.

Jotilda lowered her axe as the battle slowly came to a close. The sounds of dying mana beasts and scent of burned arachnids filled the cave. I used a pulse of fire once more to burn away the sticky residue on my glove as I turned, making sure everything was good.

Borzen brought his mace down on a gallows spider that hadn't quite kicked the bucket yet, splattering it with a squelch. He wiped a bit of insectoid guts from his beard, burning them away much as I had with the sticky residue. "Damn spiders. Can never kill enough of these pests, and they always somehow come back."

"They're essential to the cavern ecosystems," the dwarven elder said in response. "Can't kill too many of them, either. And their silk is what makes so many dwarven creations the best on the continent."

"Aye," Borzen replied grumpily. "Doesn't mean I have to like the buggers."

Gruhnd grunted out a few words I couldn't understand again. I turned to the dark-haired dwarf, about to ask a question, when my eyes widened in surprise.

A single noose managed to loop its way around the dwarf's stocky neck, pulling tight and wrenching up into the air. Gruhnd's words were cut short as he dropped his crossbow, arcing up into the darkness and beyond the sight of the other dwarves.

"Mother Earth be damned!" Borzen cursed, rushing forward. Jotilda hissed, hefting her axe and looking into the darkness, trying to get an angle on whatever had managed to get him.

But I was faster. Using both my heat vision and sense of heartfire, I knew where both Gruhnd and the gallows spider–the sole one remaining–were located.

With a burst of telekinesis, I surged into the air after Gruhnd. I caught a flash of his bulging eyes as I swung a sound-shrouded Inversion at his throat.

The webbing that cinched his neck parted with ease as the white horn of a basilisk sheared through it. The dwarf fell back down, a burble of words and what I suspected to be curses echoing from his mouth as Borzen rushed to catch him.

I lashed myself to the cavern wall, then began to run upward as I honed in on the skittering thump of lifeforce far above. I felt as it tried to retreat, the gallows spider chittering in terror as it scurried along the ceiling.

But I wouldn't allow that. With a forceful telekinetic pull, I wrenched the spider from where it was glued to the roof of the cave. It tumbled end over end as it fell, its eight legs–each as sharp as a dagger–flailing wildly.

I twisted as it approached me, building power through my hips and legs as I threw a fire-coated hook at the thing. For an instant, the cavern was aglow with light. I saw a flash of eight beady eyes, scything fangs, and four-too-many legs, before my fist impacted the thing's abdomen.

I followed through, slamming the spider against the tunnel wall with a sickening squelch. It practically exploded in a shower of fire and charred insectoid guts as my knuckles cratered the rock with a tremoring rumble.

That was so damn satisfying, I thought, still standing on the wall as I flicked my hand free of charred spider goop. There was a vaguely spider-shaped outline of ash along the wall from what used to be a mana beast.

"I worry about your hatred for insects and such creatures, Toren," Aurora said, her voice laced with a hint of amusement. "That last strike was excessive."

That's the only language these awful creatures understand, I added back with more than a little snark. Excessive force. To their faces.

I leisurely walked back down the cavern wall, my feet anchored to the rock by a couple of telekinetic pulls. On the floor, Gruhnd was pulling off the noose that had gotten around his neck with help from Borzen. An unending stream of angry garbled sounds left the dark-haired dwarf's mouth as he struggled to remove the sticky residue from his mustaches.

"By the stone, Gruhnd," Borzen said, sounding genuinely aghast. "I don't think I've ever heard anything so foul in my entire life! If you want my help, stop saying such things right into my ear!"

I blinked as the dwarf's unintelligible curses slowly simmered away into irritated grumbles. "So, what exactly was he saying? I only got the words 'mother' and 'spider' from all that."

Gruhnd huffed, but Borzen shook his head, causing his long, fiery beard to sway. "Some of the most disgusting cursin' I've ever heard, Alacryan. Wouldn't repeat it, else your Agrona would use those words as weapons against our people, too."

I snorted in wry amusement. "It's been a long time since I learned some good curses," I said. "I might have to ask him over a drink sometime."

Gruhnd puffed his chest out, clearly welcoming the challenge, while Borzen walked closer, slapping me hard on the shoulder. "Damn good fightin' you did there, Alacryan. What did you say your name was again?"

I smiled. "Toren of Named Blood Daen, though you can just call me Toren. And I am very, very prejudiced against spiders and the like. It was my pleasure to introduce their faces to the rock."

Gruhnd slapped me on the shoulder, saying something that sounded vaguely encouraging. I decided to take it as a compliment. He hefted his large crossbow–which had some slight, glowing runes along the edge–then gestured to the horn I still clasped in my hand.

Understanding his meaning, I held the horn up to allow the dwarf to inspect it. He murmured as his eyes traced the perfect structure, a trace of awe in his tone.

"Gruhnd's a blacksmith by trade, makin' magical weapons and armor," Borzen said helpfully. "He says he hasn't seen anything so strange in his life, even as a smith."

I flourished the horn, sheathing it back at my belt. "Truth be told, I doubt you'd see anything like it anywhere in the world." I hesitated, unsure for a moment how much I wanted to say. "It's the horn of a basilisk, altered by my own powers. Inverted, you could say."

Gruhnd's eyebrows rose so high they melded with his hair. Borzen whistled in surprise. "No kidding," he said, quietly. "Don't tell me you took it offa an asura yourself, lad. As strong as you seem, I know you didn't do that."

My smile settled into a more mirthful cast. "Not off an asura, no. But I did take it off a priest with delusions of grandeur."

I continued to talk a bit with Gruhnd and Borzen as we gradually resumed our trek, asking them what would be done with the corpses around us. Borzen explained that a second group of tunnel scourers would come by once we were done to clean out all of the corpses and carcasses we'd left behind, salvaging whatever they could.

But even as we spoke, it was impossible to miss the glaring daggers of Jotilda's eyes.

—

We spent the rest of the day clearing out small pockets of gallows spiders, a few tunnel worms, and a school of strange fish that seemed to swim through the earth as if it were water. Borzen had called them 'stone-swimmers,' which was accurate enough. Now, though, we sat down around a small makeshift campsite deep underground, gnawing on rations and preparing to sleep in turns.

"Say, Toren?" Borzen started, munching on a brick of dried meat, "Who exactly was that 'Varadoth' person? His name was what made that pompous noble nearly piss his silken britches when you spoke with'em."

I paused, remembering the darkness of the Central Cathedral. An unending tide of black blood. The discordant ringing of Agrona's heartfire, and the empty void of Greahd's soul.

The fire was silent for a moment as I buried those dark, dark thoughts. I couldn't let myself think too deeply on them.

I slowly lowered my tube of protein paste, thinking about the question. "Well, I don't know what passes for religion in your homeland," I started, "But back in Alacrya, we have the Doctrination. A state-led church endorsed by Agrona himself, designed to enforce the worship of the Vritra and distribution of magic among the people."

Gruhnd grunted something out, but I unfortunately still couldn't understand him. The dwarf didn't seem to mind, as Borzen happily translated. "He wonders what ya mean by 'distribution of magic,'" he said gruffly, a few crumbs getting tangled in his long orange beard. "Magic just happens, doesn't it? You can't exactly control who does and doesn't manifest a core."

I tapped my finger against my leg. "The ancestors of everyone in my continent were experimented on," I said solemnly. "Now, everyone is born with a core. But it's dormant; only able to be activated by an artifact that the High Sovereign allows only with his church and high-level officiants." I shook my head. "Regardless, the church's priests are called vicars. And Varadoth was the top; the High Vicar who spoke for Agrona himself."

I felt the grim attention of all three dwarves focus on me. Even Jotilda, who hadn't said a word throughout this entire conversation, seemed to recognize the gravity of what I spoke of. "And after I killed another vicar–this one for nearly burning my home city to the ground–Varadoth challenged me to fight. To defend my soul."

The silence that followed my statement carried the weight of a grave. With my enhanced sense of hearing, I could hear the drip-drip-drip of water somewhere far ahead, the droplets splashing against the stone.

I buried the images of Greahd's hauntingly empty eyes.

"Well?" Borzen asked at last, his anxiety palpable in his intent. "What did ya do? Did you kill'em? Fight to the death and whatnot?"

I snorted, shaking my head. "You saw Seris, didn't you? The Scythe. Well, she took offense to a man such as Varadoth challenging me, who was under her protection. So she accompanied me to the Central Cathedral in our centremost city." I looked up at the dark ceiling, wishing once again I was under the stars and not beneath the earth. "We left that cathedral with Varadoth's head in her hands."

Gruhnd shuddered slightly, saying something under his breath. 

"Aye, that Scythe is terrifyin'," Borzen replied. "I only saw her once, but I felt how cold she was. Her aura was enough to rip the breath from my lungs, and I could swear she looked at me with those empty eyes. Made me nearly piss myself."

I felt my brow crease. "Seris isn't so bad," I said, feeling a bit defensive. "She can be harsh, true, but she does what she believes best for all."

"You say that, Lord Daen," Jotilda said, speaking for the first time. "But how is that Scythe supposed to know what we dwarves need? How does she reckon our wants and needs, when all she's here to do is make war?"

There was an uncomfortable silence after the dwarven elder's words. She'd finally voiced the question, and it was my duty to answer it.

"That's my job," I admitted after a moment. "I was tasked by Seris to learn of dwarven culture, traditions, and beliefs. To make cooperation possible between us all." I looked at each dwarf in turn, trying to convey my sincerity. "After all, peace starts with understanding," I hedged hopefully.

Gruhnd frowned slightly in thought, while I caught Borzen nodding in slow agreement.

But Jotilda's eyes burned angrily as she turned to face away from me. "There's only one big cavern left tomorrow," she said gruffly. "I will take the first watch. All of you should get some sleep."

I felt my mood plummet at Jotilda's quiet rejection, wondering where I had gone wrong.