City of Stone

The entrances to the Abyss often looked like nothing more than the average cave. Deme and Lavenza’s previous excursion into the supposed Abyss had turned out to be an ordinary seaside cavern that led to a watery dead end.

But a few entrances, like the one standing before their party now, were barricaded by a formidable iron gate. It had a plain appearance with no special sigils or markings. Black stones and a thin streak of bronze rounded the rim of the gate. It could not be opened by a test of strength. Magic reflected off its surface.

“Nobody said anything about a gate here,” Richard frowned. “Where’s the next entrance, Tamarin?”

“We’d have to head further east, through the desert,” Tamarin replied. “Not ideal. It would take another month. Two, if we come across a storm.”

“I don’t like that thought,” Richard sighed.

“I’ve never seen one of these gates before,” Deme murmured. “We’ve never ran into one, have we?”

“They’re quite rare,” Lavenza explained.

“And they can’t be opened?”

“Of course they can be opened,” Lavenza laughed. “What good is a door that can’t open?”

The apostate approached the gate. The twin doors appeared almost like they had been welded shut. The spaces between them were sealed with strips of gold. There were no ring handles with which to pull or push open the doors.

“Lavenza?” Richard asked. “What are you doing?”

She answered by resting her hand on quiet stone. A green trail of light surged from her palms and enveloped the twin doors in a blinding swirl. The gate stayed close, but from behind its sealed entrance, a howling wind gushed from its thin crevices like pressure relieved from a wound.

“Pelagia.”

When the doors had expelled the last wisps of wind, the iron gate groaned open, pushing away what gravel had accumulated since its last opening. A cavern awaited behind the doors. It swallowed the sound of yawning metal. Echoes faded into the hollow.

“Welcome to the Abyss, everyone,” Lavenza bowed. “After you, Richard.”

“R-right,” Richard nodded slowly. “Faye, help me with the lights?”

As they entered the cave, Faye and Richard handed everyone short wooden rods with clear stones fixed to the tips.

“Illuminate,” Faye whispered to each rod. Each stone birthed a warm, luminescent glow that repelled the surrounding darkness. “If anyone’s torch starts to dim, let me know.”

“You’ve never mentioned you could open these kinds of gates,” Tamarin murmured to Lavenza.

“Back then, I hadn’t accessed the mana from the Pelagia Ley Line,” she shrugged.

“I meant you’ve never mentioned that the magics of the ley lines could do such a thing.”

“Ancient magic stems from the lifeblood of the Endire,” Lavenza explained. “The Abyss is just as primordial. Like the sun, it’s been in Aparthia since the beginning. They all respond to each other in some way.”

“Lifeblood, huh?” Tamarin said. “Doesn’t that sound… dangerous?”

“You’re asking if draining mana from the ley lines might quicken the arrival of the petrification,” Lavenza shook her head. “No. You might as well be asking if drawing blood from a dead person quickens their death.”

“Well,” Richard announced to the party, “we’ve made it. Tamarin? Care to guide us?”

“Sure,” Tamarin stepped forward. “If the Demon King does reside in the Abyss, he’ll have likely led his people to the City of Stone. It’s the only underground city large enough to house his legions.”

”City of Stone?” Deme asked.

“An ancient place, child,” Tamarin explained. “Demonkind shared it with the elves millennia ago.”

“Before we were slaughtered and forced above ground, of course,” Faye added.

“Elvish conspiracies,” the goblin growled. “None of the histories mentions such an event.”

“I wonder why?” the elf rolled her eyes.

“Enough,” Richard groaned. “How do we reach the city, Tam?”

“Most historians place the City of Stone at the center of the continent. We should follow the Abyss east where we can. If the historians are right, then the caverns should start to deepen the closer we are to Central Aparthia.”

“If the historians are right?” Richard raised his eyebrows. “That’s not a very inspiring idea. Are we even sure the Demon King is here?”

“Both Faye and I agree it’s the likeliest place if someone wants to flee the petrification,” Tamarin said. "Got a better idea, hero?"

“Like Lavenza alluded,” Faye continued. “The Abyss is a primordial realm. It was here long before the first cities were ever built. It’s believed that even the magic of the Endire rarely flows through here. Perhaps demonkind believes they won’t be petrified if the sun holds no sway in such an ancient place.”

“Fine,” Richard sighed. “Anyway, we won’t know sunrise from sundown down here. We’ll travel conservatively. Make camp often. To be safe, two of us should stand guard during every shift. Lavenza?”

“I’ll help,” Lavenza nodded.

“Thanks,” Richard smiled. “Let’s set out.”

And so, Lavenza and the others ventured forth into the Abyss with nothing but their torch staffs to light the way.

The tunnels and ceilings of the Abyss stood rather wide and high. Lavenza, the others, and even Horse could walk side by side with a fair amount of room left over on both sides of the shaft.

The cavern they had entered through stretched for days with no sign of an alternative path or side corridor. The days passed at first with little conversation. Often the only ambient sound was the drip of water from stalactites that fell into miniature streams. Everyone remained wary of the darkness ahead of them, but as it became clear that the cave stretched for miles and miles in a singular direction, conversation was the only way to method to pass the time.

“You think there’s Rafta down there?” Deme asked. “In this so-called City of Stone?”

“You’ll have to ask Tamarin,” Lavenza shrugged. “I know very little about demonkind and its history, but I wouldn’t get my hopes up.”

“Why?”

“Because, if there’s Rafta, then demonkind would harvest it,” Lavenza said. “If we’re to come across any in the Abyss, it won’t be in a straightforward tunnel like this one.”

“And is it true?” Deme asked. “About what Faye said about the elves?”

“Like I said, you’ll have to ask Tamarin,” Lavenza paused. “Or maybe ask Faye and get her side of the story first.”

Eventually, it became impossible to tell when was night and when was day. Richard began to use Deme as an approximation for time. When the child grew tired, it was time to make camp. When she awoke, it was time to pack their things and continue on the path.

At “night,” Tamarin turned out to be Lavenza’s shift partner. Richard had handpicked the pairings.

“I’d love to spend our shifts together,” Richard sighed, “but I don’t feel safe with Faye and Tamarin manning a night watch. They’re sure to be distracted.”

“Distracted by each other?” Lavenza asked. “You’re referring to what happened at the entrance.”

“There’s leftover bad blood, I think,” Richard frowned. “I suppose they both have reason to journey to this City of Stone. To see it for themselves. To learn what truth remains there.”

“You mean they came up with an excuse to come here,” Lavenza said. “You could’ve said no.”

“If the king's not here, we have no other leads,” Richard shrugged. “If he is here, then maybe Faye and Tamarin can finally make up before they die. It seemed like a win-win to me.”

“Or, maybe demonkind really does have a way to circumvent the petrification.”

“Right. Sure.”

Later that day, Lavenza and Tamarin sat together at the center of camp while the others turned in for the night. The two were joined by Horse, who chewed on a bag of oats between them. The beast had adjusted surprisingly well to the dark, though perhaps he was simply happy with his portions, which had been increased as of late to keep him satiated.

“Tell me Tamarin,” Lavenza said. “When was the last time you saw a fellow goblin?”

“When was the last time you saw a fellow Menuan?” Tamarin grinned.

“If you don’t count recently, it’s been about eight years,” Lavenza answered.

“Longer for me,” Tamarin pondered aloud. “The last time I was still a member of the legion, as a shaman and healer. That was more than twenty years ago.”

“Are you looking forward to it,” Lavenza asked, “seeing your people again?”

“They aren’t my people,” Tamarin corrected. “I’ve lived with humans for years now. I’ve completely forgotten the guttural goblin dialects. I’m even more fluent in Menuan.”

“That doesn’t make you a Menuan, Tamarin.”

“No,” she replied, “but if I had wanted to see my kin in these last twenty years, it would have been easy. I chose not to see them. I’m sure you understand what that means.”

“What does that mean?”

“Your Menuan brothers and sisters,” Tamarin said. “You could have seen them any time in the last eight years, yes, before their disappearance?”

“We’re nomads. I don’t know where they live.”

“But the monastery,” Tamarin pressed. “In Central Aparthia. Everyone returns there?”

“On occasion,” Lavenza shrugged.

“I used to come up with those same kind of excuses,” Tamarin snorted. “Then one day, I decided to just stop lying to myself. No, Lavenza, I’m visiting my kin in this final year for the same reasons I met my mother the week before she croaked. I felt a faint sense of piety, sure, but more importantly, my mother held the keys to the reliquary that housed my father’s remains.”

“So the Demon King, or all of demonkind has something you need,” Lavenza surmised. “The petrification?”

Tamarin nodded.

“If there’s a way to stop the petrification, then it’s not just demonkind that ought to know it,” she said. “Humans, elves. Everyone deserves a chance at salvation. That’s why the empress sent us on this quest, I think.”

Lavenza suspected there was more. While she was by no means completely governed by self-interest, the shaman had never fashioned herself, like Richard, the altruistic, heroic type. But the apostate let it go. Richard had chosen her precisely because she would not be distracted. She turned her attention back to the cavernous Abyss.

All she saw was a perpetual darkness.