My only indication about what direction to follow was up, and that did very little to help. After all, I couldn’t fly.
I could try and climb the shaft using [CLING]. I didn’t know exactly how far I’d fallen earlier before arresting my fall, but it couldn’t have been more than some twenty odd metres. Climbing back should be possible. I grabbed a torch and went to test.
Nope!
It was not possible, at least not at my level. After almost falling on my head the second time trying, all the while cursing gravity and its cruel ways, I had to give up and save my energy. Yes, I could stick to the wall. Yes, I could take a few steps upward. No, I couldn’t keep going for as long as I needed to get to the top. I wasn’t strong enough to walk up a sheer vertical wall at a reasonable pace, and the skill only affected the soles of my feet.
“Well, shit,” I growled as I rubbed my most recent set of bruises.
That left the stairs. Left or right. Choices choices.
I picked left. May as well go with the first option when both outcomes promise just about the same amount of pain.
The climb wasn’t long. A couple twists in the spiral and I was already in front of a metal door. This one was securely and utterly closed. I tried the handle but it refused to budge. And banging on it seemed like a singularly terrible idea. It didn’t form a perfect seal over the passageway and there was movement beyond, the shuffling of feet and the clinking of obsidian thrown in a pile. Shadows darkened the gap beneath the door.
Plenty of things—people, creatures, whatever—moved in the room beyond. Drawing their attention was the last thing I wanted so soon after that fight.
I backtracked and tried the right prong, only to be met with an identical situation. Except this time there was far less movement beyond. After a few minutes of listening at the door, the noise stopped on the other side and seemed to move away.
One good thing about stuff this rickety was that I could shimmy the sword in the general area of the lock, wiggled it about and… that did fuck all. Right, it wasn’t a lightsaber, much as I would’ve liked it to be. I tried again, from beneath and there was an audible click as the latch on the other side lifted and dropped. The door swung inward with a creak worthy of an Addams Family gag.
I cringed in terror but nothing moved beyond. The room was empty and filled with mounds of glittering black rocks, the flickering torchlight reflected in shards of brightness off literal mountains of the things.
This was a storage room. I couldn’t see the ceiling at all, just a vast darkness above that could’ve hidden any number of spiders. The room couldn’t be that tall, but felt like a space that could always be bigger. The feeling made absolutely no sense at all.
I swallowed down the lump in my throat and took the first steps in. The mounds of obsidian were easily ten or fifteen metres tall, and there were a lot of them. Tonnes of the stuff just lay there, like the grain after harvest waiting processing. As is often the case at the worst time, I was struck by an early childhood memory of dipping my feet in the fresh grain harvest while riding in the back of the tractor following the harvester.
Safe to say, I did not dip my feet in these mounds of razor-sharp stones.
Twin doors faced one another at about the middle of the room. One to the left, probably connected to the room on the other arm of the stairs, and the other one I assumed headed back out to the digging hollows. Torches burned in alcoves on the walls, some of them obstructed by the mounds and casting long, dark shadows.
So, I’d emerged in that big, central building at the bottom of the cavern. Outside there would be the small settlement, and more ants than I could reasonably fight off.
At least I wasn’t stuck underground. Had to look on the bright side for as long as I could as I crept forward. I made it a point not to touch any of those mountains of razors as I expected it wouldn’t take much for an avalanche to trigger.
What’s obsidian even good for?!
I knew it was, more or less, a precious rock back on Earth. Jewels. Ritual stuff for loonies. Some blades… I think? I remember reading something about scalpels made of the stuff, but that was as far as my knowledge went.
Was there some blacksmith on the other side of the door there, melting the rock down to make weapons? What for? I decided then and there that I didn’t care enough to risk a look, and definitely not enough to unravel whatever mystery this was.
Something must’ve been in that potion I’d drunk. I felt fantastic. Better than on the first day. Nothing hurt. My head was crystal clear, as if for the first time in days I’d gotten a proper night’s sleep, enough water, and a good, hearty meal.
With clarity came worry. There was no time to waste. While I was getting my skull rattled down here, Crystal and Tusk were probably cornered up in the village. Now that I had the energy again, my next objective was to find an actual exit, orient myself towards the stairs, then sprint like mad up there. Sneaking was for the lizards.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
If any hulk gave chase, they’d probably get stuck in the narrow stairwell. If clearing the dungeon didn’t destroy the glitch artefacts too, I’d come back in after my friends were safe and do a proper clean up.
“5. Escape the mine” showed up in my To Do and I had to stifle a chuckle. It was good to have goals. Made ignoring mysteries much easier. An absurdist part of me sighed dramatically at how I’d phrased my first item on the list. Reach and clear a second dungeon. Maybe Eternity would’ve actually rewarded a completed goal. I could only hope.
I tried not to step on loose pieces of obsidian, which was harder than it seemed since the bloody things were everywhere. My Deltas would probably keep my feet safe and snug, but I wasn’t going to risk hobbling myself, not when I was about to do the equivalent of a an entire dungeon pull. I’ve only ever played one MMO game in my life, all the way back in college, and I couldn’t help but remember the dumbass barbarian tank that would draw all the mobs down on our heads on every dungeon run.
Funny how life twists and turns and you become the dumbass barbarian getting ready to sprint for dear life.
The right-hand door opened before I reached it. It swung inward without a sound. I was still wired after the spider fight and reacted before even processing the movement. I dove behind the still moving door before it fully opened. Some obsidian shook loose from the nearest pile, but the hulk walking in didn’t seem to notice or care.
It shuffled past the door, a huge bag slung over its shoulder.
My heart thundered in my chest as I waited to see if another creature would follow. None did.
The hulk headed for one of the smaller mounds, clawed feet crushing whatever shard happened to be in his way.
I moved as slowly and quietly as I could, and pushed the door halfway shut. Any moment, the bastard could turn and see me, so I had to strike quick and hard enough to one-shot him. Slipping out of the room was probably safer, but if I ran into one of its siblings, I’d be caught again in a pincer.
Five or seven paces separated us. The hulk slung the bag off his shoulder and turned it over to dump its content, the noise like a muffled avalanche in the tiny room. It hadn’t noticed me and I didn’t dare use any skill.
Just one. Quick. Stab.
I lunged, blade thrust forward like an extension of my arm, all sphincters clenched.
The blow caught the brute right in the back of its chitinous neck, deflected off what was a much thicker shell back there than I’d expected, and sent me stumbling into its back. This was becoming a bad habit.
It staggered forward, arms pinwheeling, foot stepping too far onto the mound of obsidian, me atop its back, trying desperately to grab onto some bit of it with my shield hand. We went down together. The obsidian groaned in protest, shivered, then began collapsing. The entire slope shifted and began rolling dangerously and sharply towards us.
A trickle became a rumble then became a roar. I had moments to disentangle myself from the flailing furnar. Where I previously tried to grab hold of its tattered clothes, I was now trying to push off it and get away before the avalanche swallowed us both. A thick ball of obsidian slammed into my exposed sword arm and cut a deep gash from my wrist to my shoulder, the black edge as sharp as any sword.
I got away, scrambling back on my ass almost. I felt sharp pieces of black glass under my hands but the gloves resisted the abuse wonderfully.
The furnar wasn’t as lucky. I briefly caught a glimpse of it as it tried to rise before being swallowed up.
Another mound unbalanced and began to slide towards me, the glitter of razor death a mesmerising sight. I had wanted a quick kill and a quiet slip out of the room.
What I ended up doing was very much not that. I scrabbled away, slipped on rocks, shattered some under my panicked steps, then barely, just barely managed to run out the room with black glass chasing me.
[CONGRATULATIONS]
[YOU HAVE DEFEATED: FURNAR GATHERER DEVIANT x1]
No shit! As if anything could’ve survived that death trap. I kept running, not looking back, barely registering the dark rooms crossed. Again, I’d lost my torch and had to rely on the ambient light. It wasn’t much, but enough that I didn’t slam into the wall when the hallway ended at a fork.
“Where now?” I huffed under my breath, wishing for Eternity’s company just then. I really, really needed someone to talk to, even if only to bounce ideas off of.
The left-hand passage was identical to the right. Bare rock walls with rare sconces where even rarer torches provided the vaguest light to see by. Noise from both directions, the same background hum and rumble and screeching as before. What sealed the deal was the dim outline of a shadow moving down the right corridor. I scurried off down the left and followed the gentle curve, shield raised in case I somehow ran into some leftover spider webs.
Glaces back didn’t reveal a pursuer. If it was a hulk, would it sound an alarm once reaching the toppled mounds? Or when it found its crushed kin? What would an alarm even sound like since none of the creatures so far had made even a sound?
I couldn’t help but feel I was headed in a circle as the corridor kept a soft but constant tilt left. I was going around the outer perimeter of the building, or at least I hoped that was the case.
It all ended at another door, but this one lay ajar. No sword wiggling needed to reveal another room filled with columns arrayed in neat rows.
This was becoming a pattern now. Two doors led out, one on each side. Light belched out from the left-hand door, while the right kept disgorging hulks carrying bags. Most of them headed to the lit area, took one step inside, then retreated, and began walking in my direction. As luck had it, the torches on that side of the room were burned out and the place was drowned in deep shadow. I scurried towards the nearest wide column and pressed myself against it, trying to fade from sight.
A hulk’s heavy, scratching thread walked right past me. I could feel the air moving through the darkness, but could see nothing. I breathed slowly through my nose and tried to not make a single sound. Another hulk walked past, then another. In total, five of the creatures headed down the way I’d come from before I dared another look towards that lit door.
There were no more gatherers. But now I could hear the unmistakable sound of hammer hitting anvil. It had begun exactly as the last carrier left, and filled the room with echoes.
Having a goal to achieve may prevent giving unnecessary focus to mysteries.
But having the door be right bloody there, well-lit, and so tempting was too much to handle. I crept nearer, slinking from column to column. If they were making some kind of weapons there, I really wanted to see what it was and how it was being done. Maybe I could even grab one.
When near enough, I slipped out from the safety of the column. The other door lay open as well, and I could see the outside from my vantage point, the dark silhouettes of buildings gathered in narrow clusters. I could’ve just walked out without a worry, but instead I tiptoed my way towards the lit door.
I clasped a hand over my mouth the moment I dared a glance into what proved to be an actual smithy. I’m not sure if I was going to whistle in admiration, or just curse.