Friendly Fyre: Chapter 9 - The Catacombs

After Mirzayael and I return to the city, I’m ready to collapse back into bed. I’ve barely eaten all day, however, so when Nek invites me to dinner, I wearily and graciously accept. 

A group of townsfolk have gathered in a communal area similar to the dracid chamber. It’s a large, artificial cavern carved from the rocks, with several entrances and windows, and four rings of sunken stone divoting the floor. People are sitting within these rings, arrayed around spreads of food laid at the center. 

“Come, sit with my family,” Nek says, inviting me over to one of the meal circles. A few people are already seated there, including several dwarves and a dracid, wrapped in many layers of blankets. 

Nek hops down next to the dracid, snuggling up close to her and nuzzling her nose. 

“This is Sora, my wife,” Nek says, wrapping an arm around the dracid. She shuffles the blankets around, and suddenly two children clamber out of the folds. One is a little felis girl, and the other is a dracid boy. The kids pounce onto Nek, who falls back with an exaggerated cry.

I stare at the children for a moment, pondering the nature of their conception. Probably not something that would be polite to ask about.

Nek’s wife, Sora, looks up at me with a friendly smile as I step down into the meal circle with them. She snakes a hand out of her blankets, and I accept it. 

“We’ve already met,” she says, “though I understand if you don’t remember. You gave me one of the stones you were warming. I owe you my thanks.”

“Oh,” I say, sitting down cross-legged beside them. “Yes. I’m glad to see it’s helped, then. Is that why you’re up and about now?”

Sora chuckles. “No, today was my shift to work the waters. While we may spend much of our time conserving our strength, we are not entirely helpless without your aid.”

My neck grows heated with a blush. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to imply you were.”

Nek rumbles with laughter as well, sitting back up as he sweeps each giggling child under his arms. “Bah, don’t believe her teasing. In truth, your work is already nearly doubling our efficiency.”

“Work the waters?” I ask, looking to Sora. “What does that mean?”

Nek passes the dracid child back over to Sora, who wraps him in her blankets. “Due to our water affinities, we dracid spend much of our waking time filtering the drinking water,” she says. “During these winter months, we must take careful shifts, as we each can only be active for about half the week. We’re much more active in the summer.”

“That’s good to hear,” I say. I’d been wondering how their population was sustained given their apparent lethargy. 

“Enough work talk,” Nek says, reaching out to grab a clay bowl. His other child has climbed up his side and embedded herself in the fur around her father’s neck. “Food now. Here, I’ll show you all the best toadstools.”

Not terribly thrilled with another meal of uncooked fungus, I nevertheless find the glowing variety fascinating, and follow Nek’s lead as I fill my plate. 

A shadow falls over our meal circle. 

“Outsider. I see you’ve found some food,” Mirzayael says. 

“Ah, yes, I have.” I nod to Nek. “Thanks to him. Is there anything I can help you with?”

Mirzayael’s gaze sweeps over our circle, then she shakes her head. “I merely intended to confirm you received proper sustenance. You will need the energy for tomorrow.”

“Of course,” I say. 

The arachnoid taps a few of her feet against the ground, and an awkward silence settles over our meal circle. 

“Would you like to join us?” I offer. 

“No,” she quickly replies. “I will be taking my leave. Nek, continue to ensure the Outsider is seen to.”

“Yes, Captain,” Nek says. But Mirzayael has already glided away, her dark form vanishing into the cavern’s dim. 

Sora turns to me. “Well she certainly seems to like you.”

I laugh, but no one else joins in. “Wait, you’re serious?”

“She has a… subtle way of showing it,” Nek agrees. “But she came to check on you, which is something.”

“I figured she was just double checking that I still had my security detail,” I say. 

Sora chuckles. “Possibly that, too. But what was this about needing energy for tomorrow?”

“We’ll be visiting the Catacombs,” I say. “I’d like to learn as much about this place as I can. With the Dungeon Core to help, I might be able to unearth some of the lost magics which made the city habitable.”

Nek and Sora stare at me in wonder. 

“You really think such a thing is possible?” Nek asks. 

I hold up my wrist, gesturing to the Core. “It seems eager to excavate, that much is clear. And I’m not sure what I’ll discover, exactly. But it seems as good a place as any to uncover more information about this place’s history.”

Sora raises a reverent hand, but doesn’t touch it. “Fyreneth’s artifact.”

I grimace. “I wouldn’t assume that.”

“No?” she asks. “It can alter the structure of the Keep, just as the legends say. It brings gifts to our people. It is even carried by a phoenix harpy—”

“Please,” I say. “I am not her.”

“Maybe,” Sora says, but her tone is doubtful. “Even so, that artifact can only be one thing.”

I frown at the jewel. I would be foolish not to have drawn these parallels myself already. But there’s a part of me that isn’t quite willing to accept all these nearly-prophetic signs. 

As Nek and Sora return to their meals, coercing their children to eat their portion of stale, earthy mushrooms, I brush my mind against the Dungeon Core. 

Do you remember Fyreneth? I ask. Do you have memories of who you worked with before we forged our Pact? 

The Dungeon Core doesn’t understand. Memories? Fyreneth? Before? All very strange concepts. It is. It always has been. It always will be! But sometimes, it sleeps. Not right now, though, right now it’s very much awake! And hungry. It would love to eat some more rocks. When will I give it more food? It’s had so much more food in the past. The magical ore had given it so much power!

I massage a temple. So you do remember something. You do have some concept of the past?

Past? It doesn’t understand. When can it get more magical ore?

I sigh out my irritation. Tell me about the magical ore, I say instead. What does it let you do? Do you remember where it might be?

The Dungeon Core doesn’t know. Somewhen, it used to be tapped into a vast network. The veins went everywhere, through the whole mountain, deep into the earth, veins that brought it life, veins that sustained its immense, growing body. 

The Dungeon Core’s thoughts are accompanied with images which flash through my mind, impressions of an enormous artificial structure—artificial, yet alive. It was connected to every stone, conscious of every pebble. It sculpted each arch and doorway, placed all the cobblestones, one by one. Complex patterns of tiles tessellated across ceilings, and basins filled themselves from the thermal springs deep, deep beneath the surface. 

I blink my eyes rapidly, dispelling the visions. 

“Why didn’t you mention that sooner?” I demand. 

Sora looks up at me. “Sorry?”

I shake my head. “Hot springs.”

Sora and Nek exchange a concerned look. 

“There’s hot springs,” I insist. “Somewhere buried beneath us.” 

And if I could harness its warmth and divert it here, it would be the first step toward providing these people a real home. Somewhere they could not just survive, but thrive.

#

Despite Mirzayael agreeing to accompany me to the Catacombs, we don’t actually leave the next day. I wake up sore and stiff from the previous day’s walking, and though Mirzayael doesn’t show it, I suspect she feels similar. When she instead suggests I take a day or two to rest, I accept. While I am still eager to visit the Catacombs, Mirzayael also needs time to recover. It’s only been two days since she lost her leg, afterall. The injury stings me with guilt every time I see it. 

Instead, I spend my time working on the Dracid chamber, building up the building’s insulation and providing more stones with lower specific heat capacities. Perhaps if we could find a better source of fuel, such measures would not be necessary, and we’d instead be able to sustain more and larger fires. 

I also investigate the waterfall. Mirzayael had said the reason the cave of Fyreneth’s Keep was able to remain warm enough to sustain flora and liquid water might be due to an underground thermal spring. I’d wondered if the waterfall might help me locate it, but it appears from a crack in the ceiling, and likewise disappears into cracks of the rocky floor. Not easy to trace from here. But I hadn’t expected it to be that easy: there is still much to explore and learn about this place. 

Finally, nearly a week later, Mirzayael announces it’s time to visit the Catacombs. 

“I don’t see why you are so excited.” She roughly tightens a strap around my waist, and I wince. “Even if you find the source of these thermal springs, how can that be of any use?”

I hold my arms up as Mirzayael adjusts my tunic, then spins me around backward, pulling the fabric around my wings. I stand there awkwardly as she adjusts the clothes to her standards. Apparently it’s been so long since they’ve had a harpy in their midst that the townsfolk had to tailor-make something suitable for me. The tunic is designed much like any other, except the lower back of the shirt parts into three separate strips to drape around and be buttoned beneath the wings. 

“The Dungeon Core should be able to help with that,” I say. “If the Catacombs really do have a plumbing system, the Core might be able to trace the pipes to their source. From there, we might be able to find a way down to the springs. Or a way to bring them up to us. Can you imagine what it would do for the dracid? For this whole community?”

“Hmph.” At first I think Mirzayael is scoffing, but as she turns me back around, I can make out a faint smile on her lips. “You are certainly a dreamer, Outsider.”

She steps back to appraise me and gives a curt nod. “That will do for now. Here.” She hands me a pack next. “Make sure this fits. Tighten the straps under the arms—I’m sure you can figure that much out yourself. You’ll be carrying all your own supplies, so make sure the bag doesn’t chafe.” 

I take the bag, which is heavier than I suspected, and sling it over my shoulders. It stops just short of my wings, which is appreciated. I tighten the straps as instructed. “Is all this food necessary?” I ask. “It will only be a day trip, won’t it?”

“Ideally,” Mirzayael says, slinging a pack of her own over her back. That is, her spider back, not her human torso back. She twists around to secure her own supplies in place. “But I don’t plan on ideals. There’s three day’s worth of food and water in here just in case. The Catacombs are not to be trifled with.”

“Fair enough,” I say, recalling a couple Boy Scout backpacking trips I attended as a kid. Better to be over prepared than under. “Anything else I should know before we set off?”

“Yes. Plenty.” Mirzayael begins ticking advice off on her fingers. “Speak softly. Use little light. Pay attention to any noise you hear: clicks could be rock bats, chirps could be poisoned-skinned salamanders, and grunts mean you run. Don’t open anything that is already closed. Always watch your footing; holes and weak flooring is common. Keep an eye out for patches of ceiling which might appear unstable. Move carefully around corners. Watch for signs of stinger nests—loose masonry and grooves carved in nearby surfaces are the biggest tells.” She pauses. “Those are the most important things.”

I chuckle. “Watch the floor, ceiling, and passage all at once? I think I’ll be needing more than two eyes.”

“It helps to have eight,” Mirzayael says flatly. 

I laugh. 

She stares at me. 

I turn the laugh into a cough. “Should we be off, then?”

Mirzayael cracks a smile. “Yes, Outsider. We can depart.” She ducks out of the house, not waiting for me to follow. 

Nek and a handful of dracid wish us luck as we leave the city; seeing the draconic people awake and moving about fills me with warm satisfaction. I’m being helpful here. I’m doing good. 

Maybe more than I ever did back home.

Not that I didn’t try. I loved my work. Airplanes had always fascinated me. And the ability to fly—who wouldn’t want that? In an indirect way, I could give something to people that would bring them happiness. Allow them to take trips. Visit family. Explore the world! Airplanes brought people closer. 

Though it had had the opposite effect on my family.

My heart sinks at the thought, and I extract myself from those memories, trying to focus on the here and now.

Unsurprisingly, Mirzayael keeps chit-chat to a minimum as we walk. She strikes me as the type who enjoys silence—or, perhaps, loathes the sound of people’s voices. So why be stationed in a leadership position if she didn’t like interacting with people?

“What, exactly, is there to guard against, if I may ask?” I say as we leave the Keep. “The entrance to this place seems well disguised.”

“To your eyes, maybe,” Mirzayael says. “To a keen enough ear or nose; perhaps not. While it’s true I’ve never had Jorrian Scouts make it this deep in the caves, wild animals sometimes find their way in. Not to mention the cave-dwelling animals which already live here.”

“Yes, you mentioned some of those,” I say. “Rock bats and, ah, stabbers?”

“Stingers,” she corrects me. 

“Anything I should be worried about?” I ask.

“Not if you stay close,” she says. “Creatures native to these caverns are all rather small, and harmless when alone. In groups, and if agitated, they might defend their territory. But that’s why you have me.” She drums her fingers along the shaft of her spear. “So long as we tread carefully, there’s nothing in these halls I can’t handle.”

We enter the large, dark cavern outside of Fyreneth’s Keep, our footsteps echoing ahead of us into the large chamber. Instead of following the path we took before, however, tracing the lit runes along the walls, Mirzayael turns away from the illuminated path, leading us into the dark. She mumbles a few soft words as we do so, and the head of her spear illuminates in a soft, blue light. She carries the spear ahead of us, like a torch, and I similarly summon a Spark to my fingertips. My orange light joins her blue, dancing over the floor before us. 

As we walk, I bring up the Map Interface in the corner of my vision. I can feel the Dungeon Core curiously watching the map as well; this is the first time since our original exploration that we’re filling out new portions of the map, even if it appears to just be a large, flat, open space of rock. The Core doesn’t discriminate, however. All rocks are delicious, apparently. 

“Here we are,” Mirzayael says after a moment, raising her spear. 

“Really?” I ask, surprised. “We’re here already? I didn’t realize it was so close to the Keep.”

“This is merely the entrance,” Mirzayael says, gesturing above us. 

The light falls over a great arch, and finally I see where we are. A gateway stretches a dozen feet above us, and castle walls reach three times as high above those. Beyond that is darkness, but the echoing vastness of this chamber suddenly makes sense. 

“Can I summon a bigger light?” I ask Mirzayael. “That wouldn’t harm anything?”

She gestures for me to go ahead. 

I take a few steps back. “Blaze,” I say, forming the fireball in my hands. It rapidly grows to the size of watermelon, and Echo begins counting down my mana. I toss the fireball into the fair, willing it to rise higher and higher yet. It flies ten, twenty, thirty, forty feet, and it’s still going. I imagine it could go twice as high if I willed it, but with my rapidly depleting mana that will have to be enough. I will the fireball to break apart, and it explodes outward in a flare of light, turning into a sort of firecracker as the embers scatter through the air. In that burst of light, I get a single still-shot of the Catacombs, stretching hundreds of feet above us. 

It’s a fortress. Entombed in the rocks is a tiered city, growing from the cavern like the stalagmites themselves. It must have once housed tens of thousands of people. Even once the light is gone, an impression of the grand, deceased citadel remains burned in my vision. 

“It’s beautiful,” I say, quietly. “And terribly sad.”

“It’s dangerous,” Mirzayael says bluntly. “Don’t forget what I said. Now come on. Will you stand there gawking all day, or did we come here for a reason?”

“Right,” I say, summoning a new Spark to my fingers. “Lead the way.”

Mirzayael steps over the threshold and I follow quickly behind. Crumbling buildings rise up around us on either side, cutting off the view of the surrounding city, and a curve in the ancient street rapidly puts the castle’s entrance out of sight. Soon, we’re swallowed up by the Catacombs.