To the Depths

As long as we were close enough to the village, we could still blend in with the other – few as they may be – visitors. But now that we reached the galleries? Going down into the dungeon isn’t exactly the first attraction in Gnog Fontalamh. No matter the cloaks, our statures definitely betray us as not-dwarfs ones.

“Run!” Tyffeon exclaims.

“Why do we always end up running!!” I complain, obviously pulling my best sprint.

    As we rush through the gallery leading to the second level, we’re soon getting aimed at with various projectiles. Rocks surging through the walls straight to us, roots extending from the ceiling to catch us… Luckily, Timoria and Tyffeon deflect the attacks we wouldn’t achieve to dodge otherwise.

    But run all the way down? When it takes whole days to do so by foot?? There’s no goddamn way…

    Panting like a dying dog, my eyes wander from one point to another of the tunnel. Until…

“There!” I point my index at a black shape ahead of us. “Let’s climb into a wagon!!”

    The Knockers having made a huge mine out of the dungeon, they didn’t fail to build rails so they could easily transport the extracted minerals.

    That is our chance.

“Is that even made to transport people?” Timoria glances worriedly at the metallic cart.

“We’re gonna find out!” I reply.

    As we approach our goal, the ground begins to tremble, to sway beneath our feet, the ground being manipulated by one of the Knockers.

“Yiiaaahh!!”

    I lose balance.

    But before we fall, Tyffeon glances back in annoyance, launching a blast of wind with a wave of his hand. The impetus is sufficient to propel us a few metres ahead, landing next to the wagon. More or less gracefully.

    In no time, I get up to my feet along with my companions, getting into the wagon while Tyffeon hastily swivels the lever keeping the wagon still.

    A squeaking.

“That was close…” I mutter as the wagon begins to move forward, soon gaining speed.

    If the Knockers we leave behind run after us, they struggle to keep the pace until their silhouettes grow more distant.

“That’s not over yet.” Tyffeon calls for focus.

    With Timoria clutching the edge of the cart, tears to the corner of her eyes, we hurtle down the tunnel, soon reaching the next level.

    If there’s one thing that the Knockers do hate, it is any noise troubling the tranquillity of the dungeon. Any noise other than the regular one of their picks against the stone. Whoever brings chaos with them meets their anger.

    And, with the sound of the dragon horn now echoing through the dungeon, the dwarfs are soon aware that something is wrong. That someone has escaped the jail.

    On our way through the second level, a dwarf close enough to the railway uses his Terra magic to make stalactites fall straight ahead of us.

    Oh crap. Crap, crap, crap…

    Timoria won’t have the time to cut them all. Definitely not.

    A quick glance around. Something. Quick.

“There! The lever!!”

    I lean over the edge of the cart, reaching out my arm to pull the lever on the way.

    A click.

    Just in time to shunt the wagon…

    As our path deviates – not without a piercing cry from Timoria – we avoid getting spiked and gain even more speed, the wagon already whizzing through the next tunnel.

“We’ll make it! We’ll make it!!” I urge.

    At this speed, we’ll reach the lower levels in no time, bringing us closer to the edges. That will work! The moment we achieve reaching the depths of the dungeon, the Knockers won’t follow us down there. We’ll be free to pursue our quest without looking back. Tyffeon’s father will be saved. That will do!

    The speed at which we move makes it harder to notice the moves around us, but the sound I hear gives me a hint first.

    Blades hitting forcefully the railway, the shock resonating to our position.

    I guess my words have brought us misfortune… Silently, I curse myself and many unborn generations.

    Ahead of us, a pair of Knockers axe the rails. And soon, one of them removes the cut section thanks to his Metallum magic.

“We’re gonna die! We’re gonna die!!”

    Wait… I already died from derailing once! Not fair!!!

“Tssk.”

    Leaning forward, Tyffeon reaches out his hand just over the ground, close enough to give us an impulsion the moment we are about to derail.

    A blast of wind propels us into the air, the dwarfs raising their heads as we bypass their position, the wagon hovering above the damaged rails for a few blissful seconds.

    When we lose height, we even manage somehow to reach back the railway. The sudden shock pulling a gasp from me.

    I can feel my heart hammering in my chest due to the excitement. Or the apprehension. At this rate, I don’t know any more.

    But we haven’t the time to rejoice from our little feat that a rock erupts on our way. Too close. Too shortly after we barely landed back to the rails.

    BWONK.

    The wagon suddenly bumps at full speed into the rock, and we’re ejected forward, up in the air.

    The ground becomes the ceiling, the ceiling becomes the ground. They succeed one another as my vision goes blurry.

    That’s when I hear the sound of a familiar, rocky voice.

“Hang on!”

    A form rushing below.

    It whizzes up towards us, catching us in our fall.

“Brulwf…”

    Before we can realise it, instead of the ground, it’s the back of the Mimic King that we hit. Gripping whatever can be to avoid us falling from it, Beluacor helps us to catch hold of the leather band fixed to the huge Mimic while keeping a hold onto the reins.

“Where are you heading like this, kids?”

    Somehow, we manage to steady ourselves.

“To the depths!” Tyffeon replies.

    Beluacor frowns, not answering.

    Is he going to stop and bring us back to Toll Dubh? He’s a Tamer, his mission is to ensure the safety of the dungeon, to protect the Knockers. Not to help the criminals we’ve become in the eyes of his folk.

“Please!” I exclaim. “Help us reach the depths!”

    The Mimic King rushes forward, though not as rapidly as before. Slowing down a bit, Beluacor suddenly pulls on the reins. In response, the Mimic initiates a half-lap.

“Stand still!”

    But instead of turning fully back on its tracks, the Mimic stops when it faces the wall.

    At that moment, the lianas disappear. And soon, the Mimic King begins to roll onto the railway. Regaining speed.

“Magic is convenient.” Beluacor mutters. “With these wheels, we’ll reach our destination without tiring this poor thing further.”

    And so he pats his docile monster, his Metallum magic having basically allowed him to summon iron he merged into wheels. Turning his Mimic into some sort of unconventional wagon.

    My locks lashing my cheeks because of our speed, I glance ahead of us as we manage to straddle the wooden chest more conveniently.

    We’ve already gone through a fair amount of levels, and the tunnels now become less maintained. Stalactites instead of roots hang from the rocks above our heads, and no more plants grow there, the only light coming from the torches clamped to the walls. The path gets narrower.

“We should reach the edges in a few minutes.” Beluacor informs.

    At this distance from Toll Dubh, no one should catch up to us before that.

    I let out a sigh of relief.

    That said…

    I glance at Beluacor.

    …I have a bad feeling about this.

“Thank you.” I begin. “Without your help, we wouldn’t have gotten this far. The moment we reach the edges, we’ll continue on our own. We won’t cause you further-”

“No.” Beluacor shakes his head. “I’m going with you.”

    I can feel a knot forming in my stomach as I exchange a silent gaze with Tyffeon.

    This wasn’t part of the plan…

“It’s not exactly as if I could return to Toll Dubh after I helped the Saintess escape, now can I?” Beluacor argues further. “Plus, you youngsters don’t understand how dreadful the place you’re heading for is. You’ll need someone who’s already been down there.”

    A moment of silence follows.

    None of us is able to find an argument weighing enough to change Beluacor’s mind. Not that we have enough time to do so as we turn to the blinding darkness ahead of us.

“Grip yourself tightly to whatever you can.” Beluacor warns. “This is going to be a doozy of a fall.”

“Fall?” Timoria pales.

    Where the torches stop lighting the path, the railway cuts short, giving way to the abyss below.

“Uh-oh.”

    The wheels end up rolling over thin air when, after a last uphill, the Mimic King leaves the railway.

    Ascending into the void.

    One instant we are floating, the next we’re falling straight into the depths of the dungeon.