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Toren Daen
There was a time when I thought I'd experienced the worst heat in my life. During my preliminary ascent, the desert zone I'd faced had been an unrelenting slog. My socks had squished with sweat and I'd needed to fight off heat exhaustion constantly. It was only Jared's absorbent shield that spared the Unblooded Party the worst of the heat.
But now, I thought I'd have to revise that statement. Because while I'd grown exponentially stronger since my preliminary ascent, I'd at least been able to drink whenever I needed to within the desert zone.
I was surrounded by a bubble of magma, the ominously glowing molten rock flowing around our little group of dwarves. I had to crouch slightly to keep my hair from catching on fire, and over the past few hours, my part-asuran, assimilated body–though leagues beyond what was afforded to me in the desert zone–gradually began to feel the strain of being in close quarters with molten rock for such a long time.
The effect was compounded by the fact that I couldn't afford to remove the respirator over my mouth, and consequently, couldn't even rehydrate to regain the fluids I'd sweated out. There was no oxygen in this little slice of hell, so our group–Gruhnd, Borzen, Olfred, and I–needed to wear a primitive rendition of a diver's mask and oxygen tank.
I followed mutely behind Olfred as he trudged on silently, blinking another drop of sweat from my eyes.
I'm never going to do something like this again, I internally groused, keeping a layer of fire mana around the soles of my feet so that my shoes wouldn't melt from stepping over the hot stone.
I understand that this might be the best route to infiltrate Burim, but no wonder nobody else considered it, I thought, looking at Gruhnd and Borzen. They fared worse than either I or Olfred. We had to take frequent breaks to give them time to recover slightly. Their skin was noticeably reddening and burned from the close contact, and each of their footfalls dragged behind them. These two are close to collapsing, but they can't even afford to do that.
I'd long since been coating them in fire mana as well to help ward off the heat. It was second nature for me to wrap myself in my own mana–and my control was exceptional, especially close to my body. But trying to maintain three separate shrouds for hours at a time was taxing in a way I hadn't anticipated.
"From the maps the dwarven Lance provided, this route seems like it will provide a straight route to the more restricted areas of Burim," Aurora commented in my head. "Namely, the teleportation gates that you seek to subvert. And from my internal calculations, it should not be much longer before you emerge."
A drop of molten rock fell from the ceiling, splashing against my mana shroud. I removed it from my shoulder with an irritated flick. Then I looked worriedly toward Gruhnd and Borzen. I was used to putting myself through abnormally grueling and painful situations, but I wouldn't use myself as a benchmark by any means. Just because I bore the willpower to weather this trek didn't mean these dwarves could go on much longer.
I ground my teeth, glaring at the path ahead. I hope so.
As if on cue, Olfred slowed down, his rugged clothing clinging to his body from a light sheen of sweat. He turned, his eyes flashing slightly as he raised a hand, pointing it toward the path ahead in a predetermined gesture.
My fists clenched at my side. We were close!
I looked back toward Borzen and Gruhnd, who each stumbled to a halt. Taking the chance, I laid a hand over their backs, infusing more mana into the protective shroud I cast around their bodies. They sagged in bare relief, but the hope in their eyes from Olfred's gesture did far more than my magic ever could.
I nodded toward Olfred in confirmation. I was ready.
Olfred turned around, holding a hand toward the wall of magma in front of him. And with a bare effort of will, a small opening appeared in the flow. The Lance peeked his head out of the gap, presumably surveying the surroundings ahead of us.
And blessedly, the dwarf waved his hand, beckoning us forward. The gap in the magma widened, granting just enough passage for a hunched human and a few dwarves to exit. I trailed after him in an exhausted plod, and even despite my tiredness, I had to restrain the urge to gasp aloud at what greeted me.
The function of Burim and its layout had been explained to me before the mission began. It was unique among dwarven cities, as part of the cavern it resided in had a direct opening to the outside air. But it was also unique for its cultural focus on magma and the volcanic heat of the earth, seeing as the cavern used to house a volcanic hotspot that had burst out into the nearby sea.
But no amount of explanation and mission briefing could've prepared me for what I saw in the cavern. The various walls that I could see bled molten rock as if from a dozen tiny wounds, each dripping the lifeblood of the earth itself. What I could only describe as aqueducts–lavaducts?--funneled the red-hot stone through the cavern along spell-forged pathways, directing it to a hundred different locations in a network strangely similar to my home city of Fiachra.
And all buildings I could see, instead of thrusting up from the earth, appeared to have been sculpted from the ceiling instead. Like a grapevine bursting with fruit and vitality, networks of bridges and roads spanned the top of the cavern like glowing spiderwebs.
Gruhnd and Borzen stumbled out after me, slumping against a nearby wall as they separated themselves from the lava flow. With a flex of his mana, Olfred opened up a small ledge to the side of the opening which we'd emerged from, allowing us all a moment to rest.
The lava path that we'd come from fell like a slow-moving waterfall to a stone channel below. The lavaducts were lashed to the cavern ceiling by dark, sturdy chains of iron as thick as my torso. Belatedly, I realized I couldn't spot any structures jutting up from the ground to support any of the architecture I saw. The entire sprawling city of Burim hung from the ceiling like a hive on the underbelly of a barn's rafters, each building fashioned out of–or attached to–massive stalactites.
It was a mesmerizing sight.
Olfred pulled off his mask, revealing a slightly strained face. I felt a complicated swirl of emotions in his intent as he stared not at the city beyond, but at the grim darkness of the cavern floor far below. "This brings us close to the upper-class districts of Burim," the dwarven Lance grunted out, his bronze-skinned hands clenching at his side. "I recommend getting a few hours of rest before the next step. Take a drink, at least."
We were more than happy to oblige. I withdrew a waterskin from my dimension ring, guzzling the sweet, cool liquid greedily. Gruhnd and Borzen both followed suit, each scrambling to relieve their near-exhaustion with a bit of water.
When I'd drunk my fill, I turned to Olfred. His gaze seemed to be forcibly fixed on the ground far below. I couldn't make anything out that far down, but the dwarven Lance seemed to be able to see something I couldn't.
"The plan for now is simply 'get to the teleportation gate.' Sounds simple, and that's because at this point it will be." Olfred pointed to a nearby road that was about forty feet below us. It connected two buildings, wrapping around them and continuing onward into the darkness of the cavern. If I focused mana into my eyes, I could spot a few guards patrolling with lanterns held high. "We're going to approach the teleportation gate, I'm going to play my part, and both of you will, too. Any questions?"
Gruhnd and Borzen were both still too busy recovering from being surrounded by magma for five hours or so, so they didn't say anything.
"Why is everything built from the ceiling instead of the ground?" I asked, voicing what felt like an obvious question. "Wouldn't it be easier–and more stable–to build from the cavern floor?"
Olfred sighed in response. "Because anything on the cavern floor would get erased every decade," he said gruffly. "This entire cavern used to be filled to the brim with volcanic rock until that far wall burst open," he said, pointing off into the darkness. If I focused, I could barely make out the rims of the cavern a mile or so away, leading out into the open air. I felt a quiet longing for the sky, but banished it as the dwarf kept speaking. "And while the captured lava flows around us are quite stable, every now and then, there will be a resurgence of volcanic activity from deep within Mother Earth. Her blood will flow in waves through this cavern, rising and rising until it nearly engulfs everything–everything except the ceiling."
I blinked, cataloging this interesting bit of lore. I assumed that the molten rock would flow out into the Bay of Burim afterward, but it made sense why the dwarves wouldn't build structures from the ground up if periodic surges of lava might drown everyone in hot stone.
"But there's something ya got wrong, Toren," Olfred continued in a more quiet tone, looking back toward the cavern floor. "There are buildings down on the floor. People, too. But they aren't well off enough to live stably in the upper estates. You just can't see them."
I felt a wave of shock roil through my system at Olfred's words. "But if that's true," I said, "then that means that they'd be washed away by the lava tides whenever they come. Surely, they wouldn't be allowed to just…"
But as I said the words, I found myself thinking of East Fiachra's squalor, cut off from the city's canals. The highbloods of Sehz-Clar were more than happy to simply let those people rot in their own little portion of the city, and I'd since discovered that things were even worse outside of Sehz-Clar. Being exiled from cities was commonplace if one was unable to maintain work that benefitted the Sovereigns, leaving many in squalor on the outskirts of society. Punishment for crimes often included amputation of a limb or the removal of the tongue.
Should I be so surprised that people were subjected to similar cruelties a continent away?
"The poor are allowed to take refuge in dedicated shelters before the lava tides hit. Deaths from them are rare. But livelihoods are constantly destroyed whenever they wash through," Olfred continued, a strange note of sorrow in his voice. I belatedly realized I hadn't heard him lament for any other dwarf like this besides Rahdeas. "The nobles in Burim pat themselves on the back for 'saving' the poor every time it happens, but the moment the lava has passed, they're dumped right back into the pits. And then they don't even have anything left to salvage."
I walked forward, standing beside the dwarf as he stared into the abyss down below. "You said this was your home city?" I inquired quietly, sending the man a knowing glance.
"Aye," he said in return after a moment, not meeting my eye. "It was my home. Once."
We stood there for a while more, quietly staring into the abyss. And as we did so, I found myself wondering. Did the abyss stare back?
—
Half an hour later, our group of four trod along one of the main streets of Burim's upper-class district. As we went, I had to restrain myself from staring too long at the buildings around us, each hanging in tiers from the cavern roof.
Throughout my time in this world, I'd witnessed many marvels that stretched the imagination, but Burim was the first city that felt distinctly alien to me. Its hanging lavaducts directed streams of molten rock to industrial plants. These used the mana-enriched volcanic material in their craft, making it seem like something out of an artist's dream. The cavern was unnaturally dark, which made each lavaduct stand out like a beacon.
Far away, I could see glimpses of the water beyond the walls. A massive, gaping hole burst into the sea. I was too far away to make out details, especially in the late evening light, but I suspected that sunrises would be uniquely beautiful, even from within the caverns.
High overhead, Aurora's relic flew in the dark, providing a scout's eye. Using the aetheric tether, I saw through the puppet's eyes every now and then, providing our group with necessary information.
Borzen and Gruhnd remained mostly silent, while Olfred–surprisingly–was humming a slight tune. He'd unraveled his neat ponytail and mussed his hair slightly, likely in an attempt to blend in as he led the three of us along one of the many wide bridges of Burim. With his rugged clothes and unkempt beard, he looked practically unrecognizable from the image of Lance he normally portrayed.
I felt a slight shock roll through me, however, as I heard a voice call out. "You four! Halt!"
I froze in my tracks, my hands clenching at my sides. Almost immediately, sweat beaded along the back of my neck. I resisted the urge to withdraw Inversion from my dimension ring.
Instead, I turned slowly to see who had called out to us. Overhead, Aurora's relic shifted slightly in preparation. She was ready to assist me should this come to violence.
A blond dwarf, his face set into a distinct scowl, was marching toward our small group. His shoulder burned with the symbol of the Triunion Council, and his intent simmered with quiet irritation.
Preemptively, Olfred stepped in front of us, his hand covertly stopping Borzen's as it shifted to his waist. "Yes, friend?" he called out, his voice surprisingly upbeat. "What can we do for you?"
The blond dwarf, clearly a relatively powerful mage from his mana signature, looked at all four of us before his gaze settled on Olfred. His eyes narrowed suspiciously as he scrutinized the Lance's face. "The name's Skarn Earthborn, captain of the Triunion Guard here in Burim," he said, slight hostility radiating from his voice. "I'll need your names and purpose for being out so late."
"The name's Cladence from House Ruthsen," Olfred said, easily brushing off the man's suspicion. "We're running some last-minute errands for our mistress, Lady Ruthsen, to the city of Blackbend. She's not very timely, you see, and that leaves us out here so late in the evening."
Skarn–whose name I recognized from The Beginning After the End–seemed unconvinced by Olfred's quick deflection. Instead of focusing on the dwarven Lance's nonchalant stare, he looked at Borzen, Gruhnd, and me. "And that leads you directly to the teleportation gates now?" he said seriously. "Do you have an official order from your House?"
Olfred shifted uncomfortably–and for once, even with my sense of intent, I couldn't tell if it was feigned or not. "Pardon, my lord, but we shouldn't need one," he said, sounding guarded. "Is it a crime for a dwarf to be runnin' jobs for his employers, now?"
I shifted slightly as the air suddenly became far more hostile. Gruhnd mumbled something under his breath, and Borzen's hand settled near his belt where his mace lay. Skarn did the same, maintaining a taut expression as his palm rested over the head of his axe.
"If you don't have an official edict from your House," Skarn said with a note of finality, "then you four will have to come with me. We can't have people out and about this late without permits in these times."
Olfred's face darkened perceptibly. "My mistress won't like that, my lord," he threatened, stepping forward in an attempt to be menacing. "House Ruthsen won't stand for its members being detained, especially if it's by an Earthborn."
I ground my teeth as I began to call on my mana, sensing a fight incoming. Yet despite it all, I felt a strange sense of calm clearing out my thoughts. Olfred and Skarn looked like they were about to come to blows, and if they did so, we'd have to fight our way straight to the portal.
I glanced to the side, looking toward where I knew the portal frame was. From Aurora's estimates and what I'd glimpsed, I'd say we were about two hundred feet away. Would we be able to make it there in time before the Dicathian forces deactivated it?
Maybe, I thought, if I leave these three behind. But I don't know how to key the portal–that was supposed to be Gruhnd's job. So I'd have to grab him as well, and then fend off who-knows-how many dwarves.
My thoughts were cut short, however, as another voice–this one far more jovial–interrupted the tension.
"Ho, brother!" another dwarf–this one exactly identical to Skarn–said as he sauntered over from the same direction as Skarn, a wide grin on his face. He looked at our group with a raised brow, but his intervention served to separate Olfred and Skarn. "What's the issue here? You looked about to come to blows."
"These four are traveling without explicit orders from their lord," Skarn said sternly, glaring at the magma mage in front of him. "And when pressed, they refuse to provide them. They're suspicious, Hornfels, and I'm feeling compelled to take them in for questioning. If they're really on an errand for their House, they can complain tomorrow."
Olfred's face flushed a deep crimson with anger–and though I knew it was faked, considering his intent radiated a strange sense of focus, I still felt myself almost believing it. "You'd dare take in the escorts of House Ruthsen on baseless accusations?" he asked, pointing a finger at Skarn and raising his voice. There weren't many people out and about, but I was certain the noise he was making would attract attention. "Earthborn or not, you won't be able to get away with this. I swear it!"
Hornfels Earthborn–for who else could the twin to Skarn be?–stepped in front of Olfred's finger, raising both hands in a placating gesture as he looked between his brother and Olfred. "Now, now, there's no need to jump straight to threats. Why did you refuse to produce your papers for him, though?" he prodded. He sounded far more calm–almost happy, but the way his intent focused told me that, while his attitude wasn't a façade, he was just as on guard as his brother.
Olfred clenched and unclenched his fists, his eyes darting between the two dwarves. "It's not necessary to do so, is it?" he said, his voice sounding more nervous and unsure.
"It's not," Hornfels replied honestly. "But times are rough right now. If you can't give us a good reason, then we will have to take you into custody. I'm sure with your connections you'd be out within a day, but you're clearly trying to avoid notice by heading out so late in the evening," he said knowingly. "But which one will attract more attention to your House Ruthsen? Being accosted here and forcing your family to extend themselves, or telling us what we need to know?"
Olfred looked between the twin dwarves, his brows wrinkling in thought. He gave the perfect appearance of thinking over Hornfels' offer, and he even added a nervous glance back to me to cement the effect.
"He is a phenomenal actor," Aurora commented. "I know your book of prophecy commented on this aspect of his character, but to see it firsthand is something else."
Internally, I agreed. Where at first I'd felt worried that this would devolve into outright combat, as Olfred began to speak and take control of the situation–even though, outwardly, it didn't appear that was what he was doing–my own confidence had returned. I had a feeling we'd be getting out of this situation free.
Olfred licked his lips and wrung his hands nervously. "Lady Ruthsen has… need of a specific elixir," he said slowly, his eyes darting to anywhere but Hornfels, "that is only produced in Blackbend City. The humans made it first, but she needs it now, and cannot afford to wait. The human we have with us is our contact to get the drug."
At Olfred's words, Skarn's brow furrowed even deeper. The creases across his skin appeared deep enough that a dwarven city could be constructed in the folds, and his suspicion redoubled. "And what, precisely, is your mistress trying to get drugs for?" he demanded. "We can take you in for that alone, Ruthsen."
"It's not illegal," Olfred shot back defensively. "We need stingnettle syrup, damn you," he snapped, flaring his mana for good measure. "If you're so insistent on trying to wrangle us, know the repercussions will be even deeper if you try and accuse our lady of anything uncouth. Sometimes, it's just good to be sure and have a supply in stock."
At Olfred's words, Skarn's suspicious face shifted to one of obvious disbelief. Hornfels' eyes widened perceptibly, and most surprising of all, Aurora squawked in disgust within my mind.
"Oh," Hornfels said, sounding suddenly very embarrassed. He looked at his brother uncertainly. "That is… Huh."
Skarn didn't respond. Instead, he stared at Olfred, even as the man glared right back. I felt dreadfully lost in the middle of this conversation. Clearly, I was missing some important context. What was stingnettle syrup, exactly?
Hornfels coughed into his fist, his face flushing as he wilted slightly from Olfred's glare. "As you were, then," he said dismissively, nodding. "Just… show us a crest of your family, and you'll be free to go get your, uh… drug."
With a scoff, Olfred reached into his jacket, withdrawing a sigil from the folds. He flashed it to the Earthborn twins, earning an even more embarrassed squint from Hornfels and a deeper glare from Skarn.
Acting visibly affronted, Olfred swiveled on his heels, stalking back along the pathway. As Gruhnd, Borzen, and I trailed along behind him, the dwarf snapped back to the two brothers.
"My mistress will hear of this," he barked indignantly. Steam practically seeped from his ears. "You're lucky I let you off easy from this. But we won't let this humiliation stand."
I had to give it to the man. His performance was spot on. We continued to trek toward the portal, and this time we weren't interrupted along the way.
When we were far enough away that I was certain we wouldn't be heard, I finally forced myself to speak. "So, what exactly was that about?" I whispered. Borzen, obviously curious too, leaned in closer. Gruhnd didn't seem to care, his eyes fixed forward and his long mustaches shifting.
"House Ruthsen is part of the rebellion," Olfred whispered back, not turning around. "And I have their official crest, of course, to act as a cover."
"But that part about stingnettle syrup?" I questioned. "What exactly is that? And why did it have such an… effect on those two?"
I could almost feel Aurora's indignation in my head at the mention of that drug. Whatever it was.
"Stingnettle syrup is a mana-laced drug that makes every sensation feel exceptionally potent," Borzen said. "I've heard it's made and distributed around Sapin's southern border, but old King Glayder outlawed it for sale amongst his own citizens. But it's normally used as a pleasure drug, I've heard. To enhance the… sensation," he said awkwardly. "Don't see how that ties into all this."
Olfred's lips curled into a wry, almost devious grin as he trodded forward. There was an almost satisfied tinge to his voice as he responded. "Lady Ruthsen has a reputation for… how should I put it?" He waved a hand dismissively. "Wantonness," he said with a bit of repressed amusement. "And to add to that reputation, her husband–the Lord Ruthsen–is currently stationed in the flying castle. Which means he isn't here."
Gruhnd laughed aloud as all the pieces clicked together, and my own brow rose in surprise. Olfred had effectively concocted an intelligent strategy to throw off suspicion by using one of the oldest tricks in the book. Make yourself look guilty, but not of what people might initially suspect.
"You do realize you just set up one of our allies to appear like they're having illicit affairs in the middle of the night?" I asked, wondering how that would factor into all this. "I can't imagine they'll be happy."
"Bah," Olfred dismissed, his joviality dipping into something a bit darker. "The Ruthsens are pitiful bastards. This would hardly be the worst thing the Lady of their House has done in this city. If anything, I should've made the rumors more damning. But that doesn't matter now," he said gruffly, his eyes forward. "The portal is here."
I pulled myself from my thoughts, looking up in slight surprise. Our hanging bridge of stone was converging on a massive stalactite–easily forty feet in diameter. The inside had been hollowed out, revealing a chamber I assumed held the portal.
I took a deep breath as I settled my nerves. The hardest part was over. Now to enact our plan.