Post by Little Bat on Aug 31, 2011 13:39:54 GMT -5
Note: this story is set before the monarchy has officially waged war on the Dae, but suspicions are rife in the air.
The sound of clicks and scrapes echoed in the deep; metal tools and axes chipping away in oblivion. Further and further they bore, paying no heed to the warnings around them. They did not know the darkness, but the darkness knew them.
Faster and faster their chisels rang, thrumming through rock and cavern. The sound filtered like waves in the sea. Deeper and deeper, it bore through the country rock, pricking slumbering ears. Far below the miners, something raised its head and sneered. It could feel them, getting closer and closer. It wanted to bare its teeth.
Back up in the tunnels, the mortals chipped away. Not happily, but dutifully. The air was thick with the bland taste of powdered rock. Smoke eddied and swirled about their faces. It was impossible to know whether it was day or night, for no sun filtered to aid their tired eyes. The only light to serve came from flickering candles, glowing pale and orange in the gloom. The shadows they cast snickered on the walls.
Falling prey to the dull ache of fatigue, one man leant back against the rocks. Alone he stood to work his part of the snaking tunnel, crammed in by dampness and stone. Sheens of sweat littered his leather-beaten skin, tangling in the bristles of his broad chin. His frame was thick and muscular, as was that of all the hardy miners, and flecked with lines of red. A jagged scar cleft his left arm; the grim memory of a distant cave-in.
Deeply he sighed and rested his soot-ridden eyes, yet it could only be short-lived. Sit still for too long and the cold would begin to choke at ground-wearied flesh. The Dae help you if the warden came along. If you were caught napping, you could kiss the next three days’ pay goodbye for sure.
Muscles groaning in protest, the Lot raised his chisel to the sickly-yellowed rock face once more. He supposed his job could have been worse. Those poor souls who were forced to squeeze along narrow gullies and miniscule holes to access the ore were far worse off than he. Everyday Lot counted his blessings that his shoulders bulked out too far to fit in the smaller gaps. No, his present location would do, chipping away at his own precious patch of Green. Even now Lot wasn’t sure what was so special about it, but he mined it as he was told. Of course, Green was not its official name, that was something pretentious like kiavernan or something, but to he, the frozen bubbles were simply green. It made sense to call them what they were.
Slowly, the man chipped away another fragment. As he turned to cast it into the pail, something on its mottled surface caught the light. Holding the piece closer to the flame, Lot hunched over to examine it further. There, on the surface of the ore, he caught a glimmer of something new and strange. Streaked across the dark, solid green was a sheen of black; slick, like treacle. Pressing his fingertips to the substance, he felt a chill of dampness that left cold, darkened circles on the pads. An odd smell permeated the air also, sweet, like blackberries. Raising his hand to his nostrils, Lot ascertained that it was the substance.
‘ow curious, thought Lot, turning back toward the passage wall. Sure enough, more of the sticky substance glistened upon the Green, trickling down onto the source rock beneath. It seemed to run in rivulets down the rock face, yet as far as Lot could tell there was no source; no holes or fissures could he find. It was if the rock itself was weeping blackened tears.
‘ow very curious indeed, he thought again. This was far beyond his knowledge.
Green in hand, Lot began tramping up the tunnel, footsteps clattering in the dark. It seemed to him the best thing to do when you lacked understanding was to stop and ask a fellow. Those who dallied trying to solve a problem themselves usually ended up in over their head
“Lot, is that you? Got another pail already?” questioned a gruff voice as he neared the next pocket of candle-light.
“Nay Jeddy, nay quite,” Lot answered as he rounded the corner to greet his neighbour. “I just found some odd stuff comin’ out t’ walls, all black and gooey-like.”
Jeddy’s soot-dusted face shrugged as he peered at the specimen in Lot’s hand. He was no older than Lot himself, but had come to expect a degree of abnormality in the mines. He could never understand why Lot always seemed to look at things with a fresh astonishment. Why, only last week they had found themselves infested by hundreds of shadow-frogs. Nasty little buggers they had been, grey as thunder-clouds with gnashing teeth and a voracious croak that chilled the soul of a man. For two days the mine had been closed... that was until the warden had sent Glirp’s lot down with a blaze of torches and axes. Hadn’t seen any since.
“Yer,” grunted Jeddy, bringing his attentions back to Lot’s discovery, “Found some o’ that stuff a couple days back, jus’ dig round it. Don’t seem to be anything monstrous.”
Lot nodded in acknowledgement, thoughtfully scratching his chin. If Jeddy had ignored it, things would probably be okay, but still...
“Ah think ahm gonna question ole warden ‘bout it anyhow,” he decided affirmatively. Procedure was procedure after all, and ole Gotterly could be reet mean about things if given half a chance.
“Suit yourself,” shrugged Jeddy, stepping aside for Lot to squeeze past. Lot conceded and continued his trek upward.
The sound of the cavern reached Lot’s ears long before he could see it, full of twenty-score men chipping away at groves of Green.
Several moons ago, Lot had been to a festival on the Isle of Weskain, far away to the east. The noise there had been immense; full of exuberant tunes and complex rhythmic layers, each one hollering out its own right to dance. Well, the sound in the cavern bore no resemblance to that event. The percussion here was hollow, metallic and feeble. Lot had found the festival much too energetic for his liking, but it seemed infinitely preferable to this soulless place. Still, it kept a roof over his head and food in his belly. Who was he to complain?
The cavern itself was vast when Lot finally came upon it. High above his head the ceiling arched in a great dome, sweeping down through irregular contours to meet the ground. In the dim light, he could just about make out the bands of horizontal grooves in the rock face, pockmarked by rectilinear openings. Each groove represented a different stage of mining; different ages of the deep, stripped bare of their ore. Long had it been since the miners had hammered away at the top, and it would be longer still until they stood on the true bedrock beneath. Layers of Green still lay dormant beneath their feet.
“Lothien!” barked a stern fellow from the centre of the cavern, his posture tall and cruel, “Whaddya think yer doin’ ‘ere? Ge’ back down yer ‘ole afore ah come ‘n make yer!” Lot flinched at the command.
“Beggin’ yuh pardon sir,” he began apologetically, “But some intrestin’ stuff’s just come to me attention down below.” Lot held out the blackened Green for the warden to see as he stormed closer. Violently, the warden snatched it from his hand and scowled closely.
“Ah yer,” he grunted, assessing the substance, “This stuff’s been poppin’ up all over the place pas’ few days. Noh’in teh concern yerself with. Jus’ dig round it.”
With that, the warden thrust the Green back toward Lot and began to storm back across the cavern at lightning speed. A deep rumble answered from behind.
In a steeled perplexity, Lot turned to stare back down the tunnel. He pressed a wary ear to the rock face. Tiny tremor pricked against his cheek. A hungry grumble snarled through stony teeth.
Reeling, Lot stumbled backwards with sudden shock. “Cave in!” he cried urgently. Even as the words fled his lips, several loud booms erupted from the tunnel. Shudders swept through the cavern, shaking loose the balance of many-a-man, yet the danger was not here. Clouds of dust billowed from the passageway.
“Jeddy!” cried Lot in despair, thoughtlessly plunging forward. His attempts were thwarted.
At the mouth of the tunnel the air turned suddenly viscous. Every movement slowed as Lot breathed in a thick, gloopy syrup. Little by little, it slide down his throat, smothering his lungs, slowing his heart. Bit by bit his energy began to abate, sagging his limbs. In the shadowed mist before him he could hear a low pulse. Footsteps. Something was coming. It sent ripples through the stagnant air.
Gradually, the force turned on Lot, pushing him backward, out of the tunnel. Instinctively he tensed his legs to resist, but the pressure was overwhelming.
Amber light licked his face as Lot found himself back in the cavern. He did not need to look to know that the rest of the miners had halted in their work. All were tensed to see what would emerge from the darkness. Not a soul made a sound.
A heavy weight thumped beyond the cavern floor. Louder it came, louder still. An emerald leg stepped from the shadows; a sturdy, slender figure. Bands of moss, emerald and ivy swirled across its skin in a hypnotic storm, spiralling upwards and upwards to meet a mane of swishing vines. It was a woman, but not. Her face held no nose, no eyebrows, no cheekbones, only smooth contours, broken only by a slit-like mouth and two deep, onyx eyes. It seemed as if she had been carved from the rock to ultimate perfection. A living embodiment of Green. For the first time, Lot cast his eyes upon a specimen that deserved not the lowly, practical name.
“Kiavernan,” he greeted humbly, swiftly dropping into a low bow. He was the only one.
“Rise, foolish mortal,” snapped the figure. Immediately Lot rose to his feet, feeling rather bashful.
“Ahm sorry, ma’am,” he apologised, but was drowned out by a startled cry from behind.
“Whaddya want?!” the frantic miner cried. Lot did not turn to see who had dared to be so forthright in the presence of such a being.
Fiercely the stone-woman’s gaze locked to one side, burning into the insolent miner’s soul.
“Puny mortals,” she spat, “You have no idea what you have awoken from below. We had a bargain. You would dig no further than the silver bed, and you would head any signs to stop. You have not listened. For your insolence you dig toward your doom.”
“And wha’ signs would these be?” grumbled the warden as he pushed his way in front of Lot. “Yer all very intimidatin’ an’ all, but wha’ssa bunch a’ rocks gonna do to us?” The ground seemed to groan as the stone-woman slid her eyes toward the warden. In her presence he seemed less like a tyrant, and more like a crumpled old man that would disintegrate with one flick. It made Lot shiver to think that he must seem the same.
“Things live in these ‘rocks’, Mister Gotterly,” she hissed, but her breath was that of wind whistling through fractures in the walls.
“Things older and more powerful than anything you can imagine. They do not like to be disturbed. I order you to leave, withdraw your tools and flee, before it is too late.”
The warden bit his tongue, watching resentfully as the stone-woman stepped backward and melted into the rock. Her words rang emptily throughout the cavern, even long after the sound of them had ceased. The men stood alone, cold and shivering. Not a soul dared to say a word. Instead, their eyes stared balefully at the rocks which, to their minds, whispered and cackled like conspiring demons. All trembled to meet their gnashing teeth.
A figure stumbled forth from the darkened tunnel, grasping clumsily against the wall for support. Trails of blood streaked from his hands, forming a thick soup with the dirt and grime of his skin. His clothes were torn and tattered.
“Jeddy!” Lot cried once more, rushing forward to give his fellow minor support. “Thank Dae you’re alive!”
The cavern seemed to tremble at Lot’s use of the word ‘Dae’, but he ignored it. His friend was more important.
With a tremendous sigh of relief, Jeddy pushed his weight onto Lot’s shoulder. Close up, Lot could just about make out the signs of an angry black bruise brewing above his left eye.
“Thank Dae indeed,” grumbled Jeddy, a hint of spite in his tone. Later on that day he would tell Lot of how he raised to escape the falling boulders, only to be slammed viciously to one side by a strange, green woman, but for now he simply rested.
“Alrigh’!” barked the warden suddenly, clapping his hands. “Tha’s enough dallyin’! Ge’ back teh werk yer pathetic slackers!”
Many miners jostled at the command, jumping over one another to reach their weapons of shovels and picks. Yet their minds were confused. Some, upon collected their tools paused, staring uncertainly at the ore veins. Others simply cast their eyes to the ground. The warden’s face crumpled in bitter irritation.
“Well?” he snarled, voice echoing in the empty space, “Whaddya waitin’ for?”
Lot bridled at the hidden imperative.
“You ‘erd what the lady said,” he reminded the warden bravely. What remaining eyes that were still staring turned away. Jeddy tensed at his side. The warden snarled like an animal as he spun to face Lot, shoulders bunched in warning.
“Am not goin’ teh let some stoopid bit a’ rock destroy me career. If she comes at us agen, I’ll smelt the bitch.” The tendons in the warden’s neck strained bright red. It wouldn’t be long before things erupted. Lot held his ground.
“Nay disrespect sir, but ah grew up on Wissnane. There’s some mighty strange things goin’ on that island, ah tell you, but we learnt to always listen to the warnin’s from Dae-creatures. Dae-creatures know far better than man what goes on in t’ world.”
“Dae-creatures,” the warden spat, “I don’ give a flyin’ monkey’s about where you grew up. This is our world and am not lettin’ some freaky beings tell me wha’ to do.
‘Now, yeh’re gonna take Jedresh ‘ere back up above so someone can tend to ‘im. Then yeh’re gonna get yehr backside back down ‘ere and carry on minin’, you ‘ear me Lothien?”
Lot nodded sombrely, but he was firmly unfazed by the warden’s threats. He knew what was right.
“Loud n’ clear boss,” he assured the warden. “Ah’ll take Jeddy up top right n’ proper, but ah won’t be a’comin’ back doon. Ah know when t’ heed a warnin’.”
The warden’s greedy mouth gawped like a goldfish as he processed Lot’s words. Never had he heard such insolence spewing from an inferior’s mouth. The fury of it turned his beady face ten shades darker, closer to a char-grilled beetroot.
Taking no notice of the little man’s wrath, Lot began to waltz toward the exit... or at least he would have had his partner not been such a deadweight. Instead, Lot’s pace was reduced to a confident shuffle toward the exit.
Jeddy however, remained frozen in a shocked stupor, his legs only moving by instinct. He was positive that one of these days Lot’s impetuousness would be the end of him.
For three whole days, Lot remained above ground. He was supposed to be preparing for the trek back across the island to the northern farming towns. Since he refused to dig any further in Kiamore, ole Gotterly had revoked his rights as a miner, leaving him with neither a job nor lodging in the miners’ village. Lot was only barely bothered. Sure, he had just lost his livelihood, but he was certain there would be a little cottage in the north with a flock of sheep waiting for him. Who knows, maybe someday he would even get back to Wissnane. Folk were certainly kinder there.
Still, something in his bones caused him to linger. He was afraid for the miners still bound to Gotterly, too timid to speak out. Many of them had families with mouths to feed. For hours he watched them slog up to the mine, only to be begotten by one misfortune or another. They truly were desperate men.
On the first day, Lot had seen men pour out of the cave, dripping with floods of sweat. Vicious blisters had bubbled like angry little mites on their skin. The worst of them had grown patches of charcoal to replace their hands and legs. With a shudder, Lot recalled the agonised cries of one miner as his crisped arm cracked and peeled in the cooling outside air.
Whispering tales told Lot that the fiery breath of the underground had turned against them. Scalding air was spreading ferociously through the far reaches, punishing the workers without discretion. The rocks themselves had simmered like coals.
It was Kiavernan, of that Lot was certain. He wished he could talk to her, convince her that it was not the mindless workers that needed punishing, but those in charge. Yet from what he heard around him, it was clear that there had been no more sightings of the green lady.
The next day, the miners grew sick. Coughing and spluttering, they complained of a vile gas that had begun to seep through fissures, poisoning the air. Yet still they worked on, gagging against the stench the entire time. Even above ground, Lot could detected the faint whiff of rotten eggs, drifting down from the mines.
As the third day drew to a close, Lot took it upon himself to say goodbye to the area. Come rain or shine, Lot intended to leave with the following morn.
The air outside the small village was crisp and still, even for a summer’s eve. Even the birds had not yet begun their twilight call. High up on the weather-beaten mountain, Lot could spy a silent, yellow gash. It seemed nothing had disrupted the workings today. In the distance, a winged silhouette hovered in the sky, searching for those that had strayed from the den.
Turning his back on the mine, Lot made his way down the forested slopes below. The gleam of the green leaves reminded him of his first home.
On Wissnane, forests had sprawled for miles, bearing shelter to all manner of creatures and plants. Nostalgically, Lot recalled the luscious taste of the blackberries that had grown not far from his village. Shiny and bright, as a child Lot had loved to pick them. With a light smile, Lot remembered the stickiness of the juice as it ran down his skin.
The woodlands on the isle of Nithos did not hold such wonders. Beneath the towering canopies, the ground was dry and bare; a sloping of discarded, yellowing needles toward the coast. That was why it was called Nithos after all, for ‘nith’ mean ‘barren’ in the language of the Dae.
No sooner had Lot began his trail through the woods before the trees gave way once more. Wrinkled roots met steely coloured rocks as the land dropped sheer into the ocean. Grey waves broke against jagged peaks far below.
In the distance, a shadowy mass floated on the horizon. If any place were more desolate than the land on which Lot stood, it was this island, the Vistack Elsash (the ‘Fire Island’). Through murky waters, the soul peak of the Vistack seemed to grow to a towering mount above the sea. None lived there. Its forsaken slopes were to black and bare for life to grow. Lot shuddered at the sight. No, he would not miss the mines of Kiamore.
A deep grumble shook the ground beneath Lot’s feet. The tremors rippled through his body with an immense force, causing his bones to clatter as he shook. Instinctively, Lot latched himself to a nearby tree, afraid that without an anchor he would be plunged head-first into the ocean. He dared not glance behind. Terror thrummed in his chest. The Green Lady’s portent was coming true. Behind him, the monsters of the deep had opened their gnashing maws to swallow them whole.
One by one the tremors stopped and Lot shut his eyes tight. Whatever had taken the mine surely must come for him next. Hauling in a deep breath, he braced himself for the oblivion.
Nothing came. Lot opened his eyes. He cowered at what he saw.
Around the once lonely peak of the Vistack Elsash whirled a tumulus of thick, grey cloud, spreading like a mad plague throughout the sky. A ring of fire danced like angry sprites at the summit.
Heart in mouth, Lot turned head-tail and fled back up the slope. He crashed wildly through the forest, refused to slow even when he hit the town. Enough was enough. He had to stop the madness. Whatever had been disturbed in the mines of Kiamore needed to be put to rest once again. He had to stop Gotterly, before the whole world was destroyed.
As Lot neared the mine entrance, waves of people began pouring from the wound like termites. Terrified, they stampeded down the slope, but the sight did not put a halt on Lot’s actions. A fiery determination was burning in his chest. His feet beat rapidly against the torn yellow ground.
By the time Lot began his descent through the mines, it seemed everyone else had already fled. It was complete, paranoid abandonment. Candles had simply been left to flicker unattended, but the heatwaves that distorted the view were not caused by flames. An angry red hue licked against the close walls.
The further Lot descended, the deader his footsteps became. It was as if the very air was guzzling up the sound. It would be rather greedy of it were that the case, for already the air seemed to hang with a bloated thickness that made his head ring. Beads of sweat began to pool on his brow and trickle along his spine. His breath came slow and jagged. How very tempting it was just to lean back against the rocks and sleep, yet the rocks themselves bore no comfort. Through the soles of Lot’s shoes he could feel their unnatural heat, pervading through the leather. Ole Gotterly was barmy to try and work in this.
Further and further Lot crept, battling the growing fatigue. Now was not the time to stop. The cavern seemed miles away, yet it was still within reach.
Gradually, the tunnel began to widen, but it was only when the width exploded that Lot saw the true reason for everyone’s turmoil. Piles of boulders lay in haphazard disarrays around the working tunnels. Stalactites that had once stood proud on the ceiling now lay in smithereens on the floor. It seemed the tremors had attacked the mine in full force.
A bitter lump lodged in Lot’s throat. As grim as the outlook may seem, he knew that even this would not stop Gotterly. The next day, orders would be issued to clear the rubble and continue as if nothing had happened. The miners would follow him like the sheep they were.
“Leave.”
The word snapped Lot to attention. Its sound rang clear and sharp in his mind.
Warily, he scanned the surroundings. Two dark eyes glared at him from across the cavern.
Straightening his shirt, Lot made his way across the floor toward where the Green Lady sat. If it hadn’t been for her speech, he doubted he would have noted her presence at all. So cleverly did her form meld into the rock behind her. It did not matter. He was not going to let himself be intimidated by a piece of stone.
“See here missy,” Lot began sternly, “Ah understand that you’re all tipped off ‘n’ all, but t’ take it out on the worl’ like that...”
The Green Lady’s eyes widened in fury.
“You think that I am responsible for all of this?” she hissed. “I tried to warn you, but you would not listen. Now you must suffer the consequences,” she stated coldly, snapping her head to one side. The movement was so fast it caused lot to blink, but when he did he noticed something. Faint black trails had stained the side of the Lady’s face. The darkened streaks seemed to glisten, much like the substance Lot had found on the walls three days earlier. Were these tears?
Humbly, Lot bowed his head. “You did ne’ want this to ‘appen,” he stated grimly. The Lady closed her eyes.
“Of course not. These rocks are my home. I understood the needs of the humans and welcomed them with open arms. Had I known the damage you would wreak, I should not have bothered.” Resentment rang from her words like a bell.
“Nay disrespect,” Lot began, “But can’t yuh just leave? Ah understand your problem ‘n’ all, but Gotterly won’t stop.”
“Then I hope he gets buried alive,” she spat. “I am not mortal. I have lived in these rocks since they first formed. It is not within my ability to pack up on move, for I am bound to the place as surely as the mountain is bound to the land. When I agreed to let you mine, I offered you part of my soul. You violated it.”
Sorrow struck Lot’s heart. He should have said more to Gotterly.
“Ahm truly sorry,” he apologised, “We did ne’ know. Gotterly never told us nought. Ah would’ve done more if ahd known. Why did ne’ you stop us?”
The Green Lady whipped her head back with a ferocious snarl, but her gaze caught on something in Lot’s face. Sincerity. This man was different from the others. Defeatedly, she let her anger drop.
“I wish now that I had,” she sighed, her voice hollow, “But I haven’t the strength anymore. The mines run too deep. I fear for us all when the beasts beneath gain free reign.”
“Ma’am, that there is defeatist attitude. If ah’ve learnt one thing in mah years it’s that defeat is n’er an option. If ye ain’t strong enough, I’ll do me best to ‘elp you,” Lot pledged.
“There is little you could do. Now if you would kindly-”
“Ah beg t’ differ,” Lot interrupted. “You’re one of them Dae-creatures aren’t you? You have powers; can do mighty great things.”
“At full strength yes, but my soul is depleted-”
“That’s what ahm sayin’. You ‘ave power but not the fuel. Well then, take mine.”
The silence following Lot’s words was palpable. A gleam of awe glistened in the depths of the Green Lady’s eyes as she looked him up and down.
“But to do such a thin...” she gasped, “The amount of energy I would need to siphon to bring this place down would kill you for sure.”
Lot paused for a moment to digest the information.
“Well then,” he decided, straightening himself. “A fella’s got t’ go sometime. Might as well make somethin’ good out t’ it.” As far as he saw it, he had no family ties, no children to speak of, and no long-term debts. He was the best man for the job. The Green Lady was astonished.
“Would you not rather bring me cattle or some other beast?” she questioned, but Lot shook his head.
“Nay milady. If a creature must die for a cause such as this, he might as well ‘ave a say in it.”
“What is your name, brave miner?” the Lady asked in admiration.
“Lot ma’am,” he answered immediately, “Short for Lothien, born in Rekkentara on Wissnane.”
A glimmer of a smile danced about the Lady’s lips. Slowly she twisted away form her rocky perch to stand before Lot. Although the floor stooped on her side, the Green Lady towered above him by at least a foot. Graciously, she placed a hand against his cheek. The feel of the stone was cooling to Lot’s skin. Fervently, the Lady bowed her head.
“You are a valiant man, Sir Lothien of Wissnane. It is an act that will not quickly be forgotten,” she vowed. Her words sent a thrill of warmth to Lot’s heart.
“Valiant,” he mused, “Ain’t nobody ever called me tha’ afore, an’ I ain’t entirely sure what it means neither, but ah like it.”
The Green Lady smiled as she took one final look at Lot’s face. Perhaps there was hope in humanity after all. Gotterly’s actions had convinced her that mortals were cruel, faithless beings that destroyed without remorse, but before her stood a man so different in every way.
Carefully, the Lady pressed her stone lips to his, and an icy chill spread through his body. Instantly, Lot found himself locked in place, unable to move even if he wanted to. A cold nausea pelted through his stomach. It was as if something cool and slick was being wrenched upward from his gut. His throat gagged reflexively to pull it back down, but naught could be done. The muscles in Lot’s torso bucked in agony as the spectral chord was pulled from his mouth.
Only the Green Lady’s stern grasp held him in place.
Slowly, Lot’s skin began to shrivel, his reddened skin clinging madly to the bone. Sweat turned to leather as his form set. Eyeballs tore from their sockets, fingernails seemed to grow, hair shrivelled black and dry.
Finally, the last of the light passed through his lips, and Lothien of Wissnane was no more.
Twisting skyward, Kiavernan dropped Lot’s body to the ground. Her form glowed luminous with the new-found power. Any direction in which she cast her eyes allowed her to see for miles. No obstacle stood in her way. Above her stretched an endless amber glow from the setting sun, and to the sides infinite boundaries of rock, hill and forest. The sight made her giddy. All this time cooped up in one place when the world outside was so beautiful. Lot’s soul was a gift indeed.
Eventually, Kiavernan cast her eyes downward. The descent was terrifying... and angry teeth gnashed in wait.
Funnelling all her strength, she thrust her arms up above her head. Immediately the cavern walls began to shake. It was time to end this. Something about the chaos caused Kiavernan to grin and laugh as the world crumbled around her.
Above the ground, miners cowered and hid in their huts, nervous little eyes gawping at the mountain above them. Bit by bit, chunks of the peak began to cave in. The land was cannibalising itself.
Grim and ashen-faced, ole Gotterly watched as his livelihood collapsed upon itself, leaving naught but a colossal crater in the landscape. The ground had won. The jaws of the deep sat still.
The sound of clicks and scrapes echoed in the deep; metal tools and axes chipping away in oblivion. Further and further they bore, paying no heed to the warnings around them. They did not know the darkness, but the darkness knew them.
Faster and faster their chisels rang, thrumming through rock and cavern. The sound filtered like waves in the sea. Deeper and deeper, it bore through the country rock, pricking slumbering ears. Far below the miners, something raised its head and sneered. It could feel them, getting closer and closer. It wanted to bare its teeth.
Back up in the tunnels, the mortals chipped away. Not happily, but dutifully. The air was thick with the bland taste of powdered rock. Smoke eddied and swirled about their faces. It was impossible to know whether it was day or night, for no sun filtered to aid their tired eyes. The only light to serve came from flickering candles, glowing pale and orange in the gloom. The shadows they cast snickered on the walls.
Falling prey to the dull ache of fatigue, one man leant back against the rocks. Alone he stood to work his part of the snaking tunnel, crammed in by dampness and stone. Sheens of sweat littered his leather-beaten skin, tangling in the bristles of his broad chin. His frame was thick and muscular, as was that of all the hardy miners, and flecked with lines of red. A jagged scar cleft his left arm; the grim memory of a distant cave-in.
Deeply he sighed and rested his soot-ridden eyes, yet it could only be short-lived. Sit still for too long and the cold would begin to choke at ground-wearied flesh. The Dae help you if the warden came along. If you were caught napping, you could kiss the next three days’ pay goodbye for sure.
Muscles groaning in protest, the Lot raised his chisel to the sickly-yellowed rock face once more. He supposed his job could have been worse. Those poor souls who were forced to squeeze along narrow gullies and miniscule holes to access the ore were far worse off than he. Everyday Lot counted his blessings that his shoulders bulked out too far to fit in the smaller gaps. No, his present location would do, chipping away at his own precious patch of Green. Even now Lot wasn’t sure what was so special about it, but he mined it as he was told. Of course, Green was not its official name, that was something pretentious like kiavernan or something, but to he, the frozen bubbles were simply green. It made sense to call them what they were.
Slowly, the man chipped away another fragment. As he turned to cast it into the pail, something on its mottled surface caught the light. Holding the piece closer to the flame, Lot hunched over to examine it further. There, on the surface of the ore, he caught a glimmer of something new and strange. Streaked across the dark, solid green was a sheen of black; slick, like treacle. Pressing his fingertips to the substance, he felt a chill of dampness that left cold, darkened circles on the pads. An odd smell permeated the air also, sweet, like blackberries. Raising his hand to his nostrils, Lot ascertained that it was the substance.
‘ow curious, thought Lot, turning back toward the passage wall. Sure enough, more of the sticky substance glistened upon the Green, trickling down onto the source rock beneath. It seemed to run in rivulets down the rock face, yet as far as Lot could tell there was no source; no holes or fissures could he find. It was if the rock itself was weeping blackened tears.
‘ow very curious indeed, he thought again. This was far beyond his knowledge.
Green in hand, Lot began tramping up the tunnel, footsteps clattering in the dark. It seemed to him the best thing to do when you lacked understanding was to stop and ask a fellow. Those who dallied trying to solve a problem themselves usually ended up in over their head
“Lot, is that you? Got another pail already?” questioned a gruff voice as he neared the next pocket of candle-light.
“Nay Jeddy, nay quite,” Lot answered as he rounded the corner to greet his neighbour. “I just found some odd stuff comin’ out t’ walls, all black and gooey-like.”
Jeddy’s soot-dusted face shrugged as he peered at the specimen in Lot’s hand. He was no older than Lot himself, but had come to expect a degree of abnormality in the mines. He could never understand why Lot always seemed to look at things with a fresh astonishment. Why, only last week they had found themselves infested by hundreds of shadow-frogs. Nasty little buggers they had been, grey as thunder-clouds with gnashing teeth and a voracious croak that chilled the soul of a man. For two days the mine had been closed... that was until the warden had sent Glirp’s lot down with a blaze of torches and axes. Hadn’t seen any since.
“Yer,” grunted Jeddy, bringing his attentions back to Lot’s discovery, “Found some o’ that stuff a couple days back, jus’ dig round it. Don’t seem to be anything monstrous.”
Lot nodded in acknowledgement, thoughtfully scratching his chin. If Jeddy had ignored it, things would probably be okay, but still...
“Ah think ahm gonna question ole warden ‘bout it anyhow,” he decided affirmatively. Procedure was procedure after all, and ole Gotterly could be reet mean about things if given half a chance.
“Suit yourself,” shrugged Jeddy, stepping aside for Lot to squeeze past. Lot conceded and continued his trek upward.
The sound of the cavern reached Lot’s ears long before he could see it, full of twenty-score men chipping away at groves of Green.
Several moons ago, Lot had been to a festival on the Isle of Weskain, far away to the east. The noise there had been immense; full of exuberant tunes and complex rhythmic layers, each one hollering out its own right to dance. Well, the sound in the cavern bore no resemblance to that event. The percussion here was hollow, metallic and feeble. Lot had found the festival much too energetic for his liking, but it seemed infinitely preferable to this soulless place. Still, it kept a roof over his head and food in his belly. Who was he to complain?
The cavern itself was vast when Lot finally came upon it. High above his head the ceiling arched in a great dome, sweeping down through irregular contours to meet the ground. In the dim light, he could just about make out the bands of horizontal grooves in the rock face, pockmarked by rectilinear openings. Each groove represented a different stage of mining; different ages of the deep, stripped bare of their ore. Long had it been since the miners had hammered away at the top, and it would be longer still until they stood on the true bedrock beneath. Layers of Green still lay dormant beneath their feet.
“Lothien!” barked a stern fellow from the centre of the cavern, his posture tall and cruel, “Whaddya think yer doin’ ‘ere? Ge’ back down yer ‘ole afore ah come ‘n make yer!” Lot flinched at the command.
“Beggin’ yuh pardon sir,” he began apologetically, “But some intrestin’ stuff’s just come to me attention down below.” Lot held out the blackened Green for the warden to see as he stormed closer. Violently, the warden snatched it from his hand and scowled closely.
“Ah yer,” he grunted, assessing the substance, “This stuff’s been poppin’ up all over the place pas’ few days. Noh’in teh concern yerself with. Jus’ dig round it.”
With that, the warden thrust the Green back toward Lot and began to storm back across the cavern at lightning speed. A deep rumble answered from behind.
In a steeled perplexity, Lot turned to stare back down the tunnel. He pressed a wary ear to the rock face. Tiny tremor pricked against his cheek. A hungry grumble snarled through stony teeth.
Reeling, Lot stumbled backwards with sudden shock. “Cave in!” he cried urgently. Even as the words fled his lips, several loud booms erupted from the tunnel. Shudders swept through the cavern, shaking loose the balance of many-a-man, yet the danger was not here. Clouds of dust billowed from the passageway.
“Jeddy!” cried Lot in despair, thoughtlessly plunging forward. His attempts were thwarted.
At the mouth of the tunnel the air turned suddenly viscous. Every movement slowed as Lot breathed in a thick, gloopy syrup. Little by little, it slide down his throat, smothering his lungs, slowing his heart. Bit by bit his energy began to abate, sagging his limbs. In the shadowed mist before him he could hear a low pulse. Footsteps. Something was coming. It sent ripples through the stagnant air.
Gradually, the force turned on Lot, pushing him backward, out of the tunnel. Instinctively he tensed his legs to resist, but the pressure was overwhelming.
Amber light licked his face as Lot found himself back in the cavern. He did not need to look to know that the rest of the miners had halted in their work. All were tensed to see what would emerge from the darkness. Not a soul made a sound.
A heavy weight thumped beyond the cavern floor. Louder it came, louder still. An emerald leg stepped from the shadows; a sturdy, slender figure. Bands of moss, emerald and ivy swirled across its skin in a hypnotic storm, spiralling upwards and upwards to meet a mane of swishing vines. It was a woman, but not. Her face held no nose, no eyebrows, no cheekbones, only smooth contours, broken only by a slit-like mouth and two deep, onyx eyes. It seemed as if she had been carved from the rock to ultimate perfection. A living embodiment of Green. For the first time, Lot cast his eyes upon a specimen that deserved not the lowly, practical name.
“Kiavernan,” he greeted humbly, swiftly dropping into a low bow. He was the only one.
“Rise, foolish mortal,” snapped the figure. Immediately Lot rose to his feet, feeling rather bashful.
“Ahm sorry, ma’am,” he apologised, but was drowned out by a startled cry from behind.
“Whaddya want?!” the frantic miner cried. Lot did not turn to see who had dared to be so forthright in the presence of such a being.
Fiercely the stone-woman’s gaze locked to one side, burning into the insolent miner’s soul.
“Puny mortals,” she spat, “You have no idea what you have awoken from below. We had a bargain. You would dig no further than the silver bed, and you would head any signs to stop. You have not listened. For your insolence you dig toward your doom.”
“And wha’ signs would these be?” grumbled the warden as he pushed his way in front of Lot. “Yer all very intimidatin’ an’ all, but wha’ssa bunch a’ rocks gonna do to us?” The ground seemed to groan as the stone-woman slid her eyes toward the warden. In her presence he seemed less like a tyrant, and more like a crumpled old man that would disintegrate with one flick. It made Lot shiver to think that he must seem the same.
“Things live in these ‘rocks’, Mister Gotterly,” she hissed, but her breath was that of wind whistling through fractures in the walls.
“Things older and more powerful than anything you can imagine. They do not like to be disturbed. I order you to leave, withdraw your tools and flee, before it is too late.”
The warden bit his tongue, watching resentfully as the stone-woman stepped backward and melted into the rock. Her words rang emptily throughout the cavern, even long after the sound of them had ceased. The men stood alone, cold and shivering. Not a soul dared to say a word. Instead, their eyes stared balefully at the rocks which, to their minds, whispered and cackled like conspiring demons. All trembled to meet their gnashing teeth.
A figure stumbled forth from the darkened tunnel, grasping clumsily against the wall for support. Trails of blood streaked from his hands, forming a thick soup with the dirt and grime of his skin. His clothes were torn and tattered.
“Jeddy!” Lot cried once more, rushing forward to give his fellow minor support. “Thank Dae you’re alive!”
The cavern seemed to tremble at Lot’s use of the word ‘Dae’, but he ignored it. His friend was more important.
With a tremendous sigh of relief, Jeddy pushed his weight onto Lot’s shoulder. Close up, Lot could just about make out the signs of an angry black bruise brewing above his left eye.
“Thank Dae indeed,” grumbled Jeddy, a hint of spite in his tone. Later on that day he would tell Lot of how he raised to escape the falling boulders, only to be slammed viciously to one side by a strange, green woman, but for now he simply rested.
“Alrigh’!” barked the warden suddenly, clapping his hands. “Tha’s enough dallyin’! Ge’ back teh werk yer pathetic slackers!”
Many miners jostled at the command, jumping over one another to reach their weapons of shovels and picks. Yet their minds were confused. Some, upon collected their tools paused, staring uncertainly at the ore veins. Others simply cast their eyes to the ground. The warden’s face crumpled in bitter irritation.
“Well?” he snarled, voice echoing in the empty space, “Whaddya waitin’ for?”
Lot bridled at the hidden imperative.
“You ‘erd what the lady said,” he reminded the warden bravely. What remaining eyes that were still staring turned away. Jeddy tensed at his side. The warden snarled like an animal as he spun to face Lot, shoulders bunched in warning.
“Am not goin’ teh let some stoopid bit a’ rock destroy me career. If she comes at us agen, I’ll smelt the bitch.” The tendons in the warden’s neck strained bright red. It wouldn’t be long before things erupted. Lot held his ground.
“Nay disrespect sir, but ah grew up on Wissnane. There’s some mighty strange things goin’ on that island, ah tell you, but we learnt to always listen to the warnin’s from Dae-creatures. Dae-creatures know far better than man what goes on in t’ world.”
“Dae-creatures,” the warden spat, “I don’ give a flyin’ monkey’s about where you grew up. This is our world and am not lettin’ some freaky beings tell me wha’ to do.
‘Now, yeh’re gonna take Jedresh ‘ere back up above so someone can tend to ‘im. Then yeh’re gonna get yehr backside back down ‘ere and carry on minin’, you ‘ear me Lothien?”
Lot nodded sombrely, but he was firmly unfazed by the warden’s threats. He knew what was right.
“Loud n’ clear boss,” he assured the warden. “Ah’ll take Jeddy up top right n’ proper, but ah won’t be a’comin’ back doon. Ah know when t’ heed a warnin’.”
The warden’s greedy mouth gawped like a goldfish as he processed Lot’s words. Never had he heard such insolence spewing from an inferior’s mouth. The fury of it turned his beady face ten shades darker, closer to a char-grilled beetroot.
Taking no notice of the little man’s wrath, Lot began to waltz toward the exit... or at least he would have had his partner not been such a deadweight. Instead, Lot’s pace was reduced to a confident shuffle toward the exit.
Jeddy however, remained frozen in a shocked stupor, his legs only moving by instinct. He was positive that one of these days Lot’s impetuousness would be the end of him.
For three whole days, Lot remained above ground. He was supposed to be preparing for the trek back across the island to the northern farming towns. Since he refused to dig any further in Kiamore, ole Gotterly had revoked his rights as a miner, leaving him with neither a job nor lodging in the miners’ village. Lot was only barely bothered. Sure, he had just lost his livelihood, but he was certain there would be a little cottage in the north with a flock of sheep waiting for him. Who knows, maybe someday he would even get back to Wissnane. Folk were certainly kinder there.
Still, something in his bones caused him to linger. He was afraid for the miners still bound to Gotterly, too timid to speak out. Many of them had families with mouths to feed. For hours he watched them slog up to the mine, only to be begotten by one misfortune or another. They truly were desperate men.
On the first day, Lot had seen men pour out of the cave, dripping with floods of sweat. Vicious blisters had bubbled like angry little mites on their skin. The worst of them had grown patches of charcoal to replace their hands and legs. With a shudder, Lot recalled the agonised cries of one miner as his crisped arm cracked and peeled in the cooling outside air.
Whispering tales told Lot that the fiery breath of the underground had turned against them. Scalding air was spreading ferociously through the far reaches, punishing the workers without discretion. The rocks themselves had simmered like coals.
It was Kiavernan, of that Lot was certain. He wished he could talk to her, convince her that it was not the mindless workers that needed punishing, but those in charge. Yet from what he heard around him, it was clear that there had been no more sightings of the green lady.
The next day, the miners grew sick. Coughing and spluttering, they complained of a vile gas that had begun to seep through fissures, poisoning the air. Yet still they worked on, gagging against the stench the entire time. Even above ground, Lot could detected the faint whiff of rotten eggs, drifting down from the mines.
As the third day drew to a close, Lot took it upon himself to say goodbye to the area. Come rain or shine, Lot intended to leave with the following morn.
The air outside the small village was crisp and still, even for a summer’s eve. Even the birds had not yet begun their twilight call. High up on the weather-beaten mountain, Lot could spy a silent, yellow gash. It seemed nothing had disrupted the workings today. In the distance, a winged silhouette hovered in the sky, searching for those that had strayed from the den.
Turning his back on the mine, Lot made his way down the forested slopes below. The gleam of the green leaves reminded him of his first home.
On Wissnane, forests had sprawled for miles, bearing shelter to all manner of creatures and plants. Nostalgically, Lot recalled the luscious taste of the blackberries that had grown not far from his village. Shiny and bright, as a child Lot had loved to pick them. With a light smile, Lot remembered the stickiness of the juice as it ran down his skin.
The woodlands on the isle of Nithos did not hold such wonders. Beneath the towering canopies, the ground was dry and bare; a sloping of discarded, yellowing needles toward the coast. That was why it was called Nithos after all, for ‘nith’ mean ‘barren’ in the language of the Dae.
No sooner had Lot began his trail through the woods before the trees gave way once more. Wrinkled roots met steely coloured rocks as the land dropped sheer into the ocean. Grey waves broke against jagged peaks far below.
In the distance, a shadowy mass floated on the horizon. If any place were more desolate than the land on which Lot stood, it was this island, the Vistack Elsash (the ‘Fire Island’). Through murky waters, the soul peak of the Vistack seemed to grow to a towering mount above the sea. None lived there. Its forsaken slopes were to black and bare for life to grow. Lot shuddered at the sight. No, he would not miss the mines of Kiamore.
A deep grumble shook the ground beneath Lot’s feet. The tremors rippled through his body with an immense force, causing his bones to clatter as he shook. Instinctively, Lot latched himself to a nearby tree, afraid that without an anchor he would be plunged head-first into the ocean. He dared not glance behind. Terror thrummed in his chest. The Green Lady’s portent was coming true. Behind him, the monsters of the deep had opened their gnashing maws to swallow them whole.
One by one the tremors stopped and Lot shut his eyes tight. Whatever had taken the mine surely must come for him next. Hauling in a deep breath, he braced himself for the oblivion.
Nothing came. Lot opened his eyes. He cowered at what he saw.
Around the once lonely peak of the Vistack Elsash whirled a tumulus of thick, grey cloud, spreading like a mad plague throughout the sky. A ring of fire danced like angry sprites at the summit.
Heart in mouth, Lot turned head-tail and fled back up the slope. He crashed wildly through the forest, refused to slow even when he hit the town. Enough was enough. He had to stop the madness. Whatever had been disturbed in the mines of Kiamore needed to be put to rest once again. He had to stop Gotterly, before the whole world was destroyed.
As Lot neared the mine entrance, waves of people began pouring from the wound like termites. Terrified, they stampeded down the slope, but the sight did not put a halt on Lot’s actions. A fiery determination was burning in his chest. His feet beat rapidly against the torn yellow ground.
By the time Lot began his descent through the mines, it seemed everyone else had already fled. It was complete, paranoid abandonment. Candles had simply been left to flicker unattended, but the heatwaves that distorted the view were not caused by flames. An angry red hue licked against the close walls.
The further Lot descended, the deader his footsteps became. It was as if the very air was guzzling up the sound. It would be rather greedy of it were that the case, for already the air seemed to hang with a bloated thickness that made his head ring. Beads of sweat began to pool on his brow and trickle along his spine. His breath came slow and jagged. How very tempting it was just to lean back against the rocks and sleep, yet the rocks themselves bore no comfort. Through the soles of Lot’s shoes he could feel their unnatural heat, pervading through the leather. Ole Gotterly was barmy to try and work in this.
Further and further Lot crept, battling the growing fatigue. Now was not the time to stop. The cavern seemed miles away, yet it was still within reach.
Gradually, the tunnel began to widen, but it was only when the width exploded that Lot saw the true reason for everyone’s turmoil. Piles of boulders lay in haphazard disarrays around the working tunnels. Stalactites that had once stood proud on the ceiling now lay in smithereens on the floor. It seemed the tremors had attacked the mine in full force.
A bitter lump lodged in Lot’s throat. As grim as the outlook may seem, he knew that even this would not stop Gotterly. The next day, orders would be issued to clear the rubble and continue as if nothing had happened. The miners would follow him like the sheep they were.
“Leave.”
The word snapped Lot to attention. Its sound rang clear and sharp in his mind.
Warily, he scanned the surroundings. Two dark eyes glared at him from across the cavern.
Straightening his shirt, Lot made his way across the floor toward where the Green Lady sat. If it hadn’t been for her speech, he doubted he would have noted her presence at all. So cleverly did her form meld into the rock behind her. It did not matter. He was not going to let himself be intimidated by a piece of stone.
“See here missy,” Lot began sternly, “Ah understand that you’re all tipped off ‘n’ all, but t’ take it out on the worl’ like that...”
The Green Lady’s eyes widened in fury.
“You think that I am responsible for all of this?” she hissed. “I tried to warn you, but you would not listen. Now you must suffer the consequences,” she stated coldly, snapping her head to one side. The movement was so fast it caused lot to blink, but when he did he noticed something. Faint black trails had stained the side of the Lady’s face. The darkened streaks seemed to glisten, much like the substance Lot had found on the walls three days earlier. Were these tears?
Humbly, Lot bowed his head. “You did ne’ want this to ‘appen,” he stated grimly. The Lady closed her eyes.
“Of course not. These rocks are my home. I understood the needs of the humans and welcomed them with open arms. Had I known the damage you would wreak, I should not have bothered.” Resentment rang from her words like a bell.
“Nay disrespect,” Lot began, “But can’t yuh just leave? Ah understand your problem ‘n’ all, but Gotterly won’t stop.”
“Then I hope he gets buried alive,” she spat. “I am not mortal. I have lived in these rocks since they first formed. It is not within my ability to pack up on move, for I am bound to the place as surely as the mountain is bound to the land. When I agreed to let you mine, I offered you part of my soul. You violated it.”
Sorrow struck Lot’s heart. He should have said more to Gotterly.
“Ahm truly sorry,” he apologised, “We did ne’ know. Gotterly never told us nought. Ah would’ve done more if ahd known. Why did ne’ you stop us?”
The Green Lady whipped her head back with a ferocious snarl, but her gaze caught on something in Lot’s face. Sincerity. This man was different from the others. Defeatedly, she let her anger drop.
“I wish now that I had,” she sighed, her voice hollow, “But I haven’t the strength anymore. The mines run too deep. I fear for us all when the beasts beneath gain free reign.”
“Ma’am, that there is defeatist attitude. If ah’ve learnt one thing in mah years it’s that defeat is n’er an option. If ye ain’t strong enough, I’ll do me best to ‘elp you,” Lot pledged.
“There is little you could do. Now if you would kindly-”
“Ah beg t’ differ,” Lot interrupted. “You’re one of them Dae-creatures aren’t you? You have powers; can do mighty great things.”
“At full strength yes, but my soul is depleted-”
“That’s what ahm sayin’. You ‘ave power but not the fuel. Well then, take mine.”
The silence following Lot’s words was palpable. A gleam of awe glistened in the depths of the Green Lady’s eyes as she looked him up and down.
“But to do such a thin...” she gasped, “The amount of energy I would need to siphon to bring this place down would kill you for sure.”
Lot paused for a moment to digest the information.
“Well then,” he decided, straightening himself. “A fella’s got t’ go sometime. Might as well make somethin’ good out t’ it.” As far as he saw it, he had no family ties, no children to speak of, and no long-term debts. He was the best man for the job. The Green Lady was astonished.
“Would you not rather bring me cattle or some other beast?” she questioned, but Lot shook his head.
“Nay milady. If a creature must die for a cause such as this, he might as well ‘ave a say in it.”
“What is your name, brave miner?” the Lady asked in admiration.
“Lot ma’am,” he answered immediately, “Short for Lothien, born in Rekkentara on Wissnane.”
A glimmer of a smile danced about the Lady’s lips. Slowly she twisted away form her rocky perch to stand before Lot. Although the floor stooped on her side, the Green Lady towered above him by at least a foot. Graciously, she placed a hand against his cheek. The feel of the stone was cooling to Lot’s skin. Fervently, the Lady bowed her head.
“You are a valiant man, Sir Lothien of Wissnane. It is an act that will not quickly be forgotten,” she vowed. Her words sent a thrill of warmth to Lot’s heart.
“Valiant,” he mused, “Ain’t nobody ever called me tha’ afore, an’ I ain’t entirely sure what it means neither, but ah like it.”
The Green Lady smiled as she took one final look at Lot’s face. Perhaps there was hope in humanity after all. Gotterly’s actions had convinced her that mortals were cruel, faithless beings that destroyed without remorse, but before her stood a man so different in every way.
Carefully, the Lady pressed her stone lips to his, and an icy chill spread through his body. Instantly, Lot found himself locked in place, unable to move even if he wanted to. A cold nausea pelted through his stomach. It was as if something cool and slick was being wrenched upward from his gut. His throat gagged reflexively to pull it back down, but naught could be done. The muscles in Lot’s torso bucked in agony as the spectral chord was pulled from his mouth.
Only the Green Lady’s stern grasp held him in place.
Slowly, Lot’s skin began to shrivel, his reddened skin clinging madly to the bone. Sweat turned to leather as his form set. Eyeballs tore from their sockets, fingernails seemed to grow, hair shrivelled black and dry.
Finally, the last of the light passed through his lips, and Lothien of Wissnane was no more.
Twisting skyward, Kiavernan dropped Lot’s body to the ground. Her form glowed luminous with the new-found power. Any direction in which she cast her eyes allowed her to see for miles. No obstacle stood in her way. Above her stretched an endless amber glow from the setting sun, and to the sides infinite boundaries of rock, hill and forest. The sight made her giddy. All this time cooped up in one place when the world outside was so beautiful. Lot’s soul was a gift indeed.
Eventually, Kiavernan cast her eyes downward. The descent was terrifying... and angry teeth gnashed in wait.
Funnelling all her strength, she thrust her arms up above her head. Immediately the cavern walls began to shake. It was time to end this. Something about the chaos caused Kiavernan to grin and laugh as the world crumbled around her.
Above the ground, miners cowered and hid in their huts, nervous little eyes gawping at the mountain above them. Bit by bit, chunks of the peak began to cave in. The land was cannibalising itself.
Grim and ashen-faced, ole Gotterly watched as his livelihood collapsed upon itself, leaving naught but a colossal crater in the landscape. The ground had won. The jaws of the deep sat still.