Chapter 12: Tunnels

Miko:

That short walk up the ridge to our climbing point yesterday was the first time I’d had full function of my arms and legs since I started getting symptoms of the sickness. I couldn’t see or talk, but I found comfort in what was finally possible for once in a very long time. To be able to walk and move my arms like this has been my wish all along, but the idea of being blind or unable to speak to my brother wasn’t what I had in mind. Maleki’s pushing himself further than should even be humanly possible, but I don’t think I can keep up with him. There were so many times on that climb that I thought we wouldn’t make it or where I was so close to letting go. I’m not as strong as he is, and I’m certainly not used to this level of physical exertion. If the rest of this journey calls for this much work, I’m afraid I’d be dooming us both.

Seriously, how did Maleki make the climb? I was on his back and couldn’t even believe it when I felt the coldness of the stone on my back. How far will my brother go for my sake? We walked for hours today, and I was too stuck in my head to even speak. I guess hearing their responses is critical to conversation, and seeing as I am currently deaf, I guess I don’t see the point. This ravine makes me feel practically blind as it is, but seeing occasionally is better than not seeing at all.

Maleki was a few steps ahead of me, his scythe ready to be deployed at a moment’s notice should a creature of the daylight approach us. We had both seen something move through the rays of light in front of the faint orange backdrop. In this restrictive state, my eyes were more sharp than usual. Not like a rim owl or a grim hawk, I couldn’t see in the dark or spot a mouse in a field from up in the sky. Although, just like when I was blind, there was an added depth to my remaining senses. Colours felt sharper, there were depths even in the darkness, and the lighter shades — when they did appear in this ravine — felt more vibrant or even blander in some cases than I was used to. Isolation of the senses increases their unique capabilities; too bad I can’t harness their potential simultaneously.

When we reached the end of the ravine, Maleki inspected the area and spoke something to Nomen before looking at me. It didn’t take any conversation between us when it was my turn for me to understand what he was trying to communicate. Although he masks his emotions and complex thoughts way deep in that brain of his, his immediate intentions can be read through his eyes. A skill only gained by spending significant time together and sharing the same unfortunate and complex blood. Ahead of us lay a cavern, the orange hue cast around by flames. This next section of the mountain was the volcanic tunnels that had hopefully formed a long, long time ago after an eruption event and was now, hopefully, long since dormant. Nomen said this volcano was lying dormant and not extinct, and these fiery tunnels further proved that statement. If we were in an extinct mountain, we would be fumbling around in the dark, so there is a happy middle here, which is that we can see. I just hope this mountain is closer to the very dormant part of the scale; otherwise, it’s going to get very hot.

Maleki stepped first into the entrance of the cavern’s misshaped tunnel, the long, slightly lit ravine now at our backs. Our journey’s guide, Nomen, walked behind as relaxed as his tone was, which only stirred my mind as to what he’d seen to make him so unperturbed by his environment. Even the word guide is misleading for his actual role. Sure, he got us started on the right path, but he’s claimed to be an impartial entity moving forward. Truthfully, I am not sure why he has stuck around if he can’t help us, and if we get lost or stuck on the way there, is he allowed to point us in the right direction, or does that count as helping us? He has been kind but also quite weird in an intricate way, and although I have had a real conversation with a grand total of only two new people since this journey, he is by far the oddest person I think we could have met.

The cavern air had a smell to it, sulfuric acids from the rocks that the fire opened up now oxidizing into the form now harassing my nose. Despite that, the yellow clumps of crystals, like a thousand razor blades, formed together by a transparent shell in a beautiful array of colorful patches all along the walls of the tunnels. These didn’t seem to smell, which was confirmed as we pushed past the fiery exits of the cavern walls. The holes and pathways in this cave provided an almost man-made light at oddly shaped random intervals; they were both convenient and deadly in the case of an eruption or even low activity event. So if levels spiked any higher than their natural state, we would now be trapped, melted, and merged with the existing ecosystem. I exhaled through my nose several times, the only form of a laugh I could produce, as the morbidity of the thoughts transgressed me.

We walked for as long as I could. My feet hurt not being used to this much travel, especially on hard stone. If I slept, we would lose the ability to cover ground faster, but I needed to get off my feet and rest. “How long have we been walking, Nomen?”

I could not hear him; he made the gesture for the number, and I paid attention to the words he mouthed. “Twenty hours since you woke.” was what I could make out.

“Twenty hours!” I exclaimed. “How are you supposed to keep track of time in this place? It all blends together.” No wonder my feet hurt; I don’t know if I have ever even stayed awake for this long. Wasted of energy, I flopped back onto my bag near a culvert of crystals, well-lit by a nearby flame that kept the cave’s tunnels warm. The other two followed suit, laying out as comfortably as this cave would allow.

The darkness and depth of sleep found me, and I was pulled into a new place without colour, or maybe there was, but I couldn’t make sense of it even if it did. The locations changed rapidly, sometimes without reason or timing. Each experience was isolated; sometimes, it was family members interacting with me, or occasionally, it was just me in the woods, alone. I had been having this happen to me since before I could remember. Maleki described the same thing, but no one else in our family understood what we were talking about. The last place I found myself was a foreboding place, dark and desolate, possibly underground. I traced my hands against the walls before approaching a chamber where two figures stood. Shades of an unknown world to me; their faces didn’t form in my mind. They just stared at me in surprise, as if even in this place, they, too, were surprised to see me. There was always a feeling like I was being watched in this state of deep sleep, eyes afar but watching my movements; perhaps they were my own eyes.

I lurched forward out of sleep, my left shoulder slow behind me and my left leg tensing to sustain the weight. I had seen many variations of this curse, but this one was always odd. Occasionally, instead of just my legs not working or just my arms being useless, there will be variations where one-and-one works. I’ve seen it be just one side of my body — today, only my right arm and left leg work — the other two being dead weight. At least I can still use my hands and walk, albeit slowly. The smells of this cave and the phosphorous in the air no longer prodded my nose. This is new; I have lost my sense of smell. I inhaled deeply through my nose, taking in everything around me. Nothing. Of all the senses to lose, this is the most convenient one.

Again, we walked, or rather, I limped slowly, trying not to slow down the pace of our group. After a few more hours of tunnels, we reached a new room where caverns split off into multiple directions ahead of us, like misshapen spider legs. Three paths in total: the left ramped to a higher elevation, the right curved around in a flat manner, and the middle culvert led us further down. We had a choice to make, and there was no discourse or discussion to be had. I could not speak, not in the conventional sense, at least. The culmination of my decision had led us here; the original idea of a shortcut to bypass the length of the mountain’s barren ridges, or else we might have been walking for who knows how long. Here I was, unable to add to the decision we had to make or help compare the benefits and issues each choice could provide. Although, in this maze of a mountain, what information could I add to help us make the right choice? Anything I say is nothing more than an educated guess at what comes next. Down could lead up, up could lead down, and down could simply lead down for all we know. We might as well leave it up to chance or just go down the tunnel that we can see is at our same elevation. Our goal is to leave this mountain range, and each of these results has the potential to achieve that goal. If there is an opening on the exterior of this mountain through any of these paths, then they are the correct one.

Maleki asked Nomen which direction he suggested, with the only reply being, “All paths forward lead to The Garden.”

Helpful as usual, but I guess that’s what we deserve for trying to implement a shortcut where it doesn’t exist.

Nomen replied again, “Besides, this area is unfamiliar to me.”

“So no one has taken this way before that you know of? Maybe we are onto something then.”

“Perhaps I was not forward about the nature of this journey. You two will be tested by the contents of each element with a trial. Each is different in manner and form, but the result is all the same: trials to test your will. It matters not where you go from here. You will be judged on your ability to adapt or on your confidence in your current character.”

Maleki scoffed. “I’m gonna pretend I knew what all that meant. So we’re being tested? For what purpose?”

“I know not the infinite calculations of The Garden nor its intentions.”

Frustrated, Maleki ended the conversation with a rhetorical question, “Well then, what the hell are you here for?”

I almost thought I heard Nomen mutter something under his breath. It sounded like an old word with which I was very familiar, poena — punishment.

So no matter which way we go, we are to be tested, but by what? Nomen said the elements, but all I see are rocks and crystals lit up by chemical reactions. If we are continuing in the spirit of getting out of here as soon as possible, we need to complete this trial as fast as possible. This means we either need to bring it to us or experience whatever it is faster. If we want to get out of here quicker, the natural choice would be to go through the left tunnel and hope it takes us higher and out. This should be likely since this is the way magma would flow up through the mountain and eventually towards an exit of some kind. Although this path is more likely to guide us up, there’s a chance that the magma solidified and blocked whatever exit exists if it does it all. In addition, it only takes us higher in elevation, and I don’t think The Garden of Need will be up high.

I pointed to the right tunnel. Maleki didn’t argue with me, and Nomen wasn’t going to anyways. It was the safest decision with only this information available; going down could be faster, but it could also be more dangerous as the lower we go, the hotter it should get. Hopefully, we stay at this height, and our environment might stay the same.

Maleki moved through the tunnel at a quick but careful pace. His brown hair was like a wave, littered with ash and rocky dust, only a foot or two off from the ceiling. I had more space to be comfortable since I was at least a foot lower than Maleki in height, but he was tall for his age, so it wasn’t fair. We walked and walked for hours, and the scenery never changed — smooth, blackened rocks, brown walls, and yellow crystals. The shapes and sizes of the crystal formations were like snowflakes, each different in its own unique way. Like sunflowers, they jutted out from the ground, facing toward the orange luminescence of the fire that streamed through the depths of these mountain-like veins.

Clinks, clanks, and clacks echoed throughout the tunnel, similar to what we had heard before out in the ravine. Maleki was on guard, his shoulders tense and his grip tight around his scythe. Our father taught us how to fight, but Maleki got most of those lessons. It was always in a playful manner, but that competitive nature was ingrained in us from those early years. Maleki repeated those lessons with me, and when I started to get sick and then sicker, he barely took it easier on me. I guess he didn’t want me to make excuses, and it did work; I found ways to work around my illness. Even if I trained as Maleki did or was the same age, I have this feeling that our instincts are different. I’m not capable of what he is, even outside of my unfortunate predicament. My brother has an innate talent to adapt to his surroundings, and he picks up skills naturally, whereas I have to rack my brain just to understand the implementation of things; they get stuck as ideas while he acts on a moment’s notice. He would disagree, of course, and explain why my previous statement is false, but that fight in Quavoris is living proof. The scythe is not a weapon intended for combat, and he certainly hadn’t ever wielded it in that capacity, only ever swinging it in Grandpa’s fields for the true purpose of simple farming. Despite that, and not being adjusted to the weapons’ individual craftsmanship, he used the scythe as a weapon and sprinted into action with it as if it were an extension of his being. The divide between us is so large that I don’t know how I will ever catch up, even if I get healed somehow.

The noises grew louder as we walked toward the only direction we had available. We progressed forward, knowing something was ahead waiting for us. The feeling was nerve-wracking, like a grand pause before the punchline of an already long joke. Anticipation mixed with the heat, and I just wanted to run ahead so my eyes could reveal the surprise. Maleki was certainly feeling something similar with his body leading the frontline of our three-man pack. There was a quiet responsibility to those noble enough to walk first into imminent danger. We had no real combat training or practice preparation for it, and I had no use of my arms today, yet we kept stepping forward.

The tunnel swerved ahead of us a few feet ahead, but as we approached, the heat slowly dissipated, and then the view of the chamber where the noise was coming from came into view. A vast cavern that was perfectly square at its base, with etched floors and walls that displayed symbols and marks unfamiliar to my eyes. The cavern must have been fifty feet high and hundred fifty feet wide, with a ceiling true to its cavelike form, stalactites interrupting the squareness of the room.

We walked to the beautifully cut stone doorway. Ridges and columns filled the frame’s shape, creating a purposefully artistic design similar to the museum in Quavoris. I caught up with Maleki in my excitement to see the room, stepping with him simultaneously into the chamber. A crashing sound filled my ears, and the walls shifted, our feet pressing down an inch on some form of a stone plate that matched the rest of the flooring. Behind us, a flat stone panel released from the doorframe blocked our exit and separated us from Nomen.

I screamed our guide’s name, hoping to hear a response, but none came through the thick stone. Maleki slammed his scythe’s blade against the rock in desperation, with it returning out to the side, the hilt vibrating in his hands from the forceful collision.

The fire spread slowly up the flat stone, engulfing it. Our previous tunnel was no longer visible through the heat of the flame and was blocked by an impenetrably solid stone. With no other option, we turned to face the room I eagerly entered. The room had nine platforms. The middle was the largest, with a rectangular platform more intricate than the others. The remaining platforms were square twelve-foot plates that, like the middle, rose just an inch above the ground. I looked up at the walls. Sections rose above the rest to display images like paintings, but instead, specially carved into the thick stone. Eight of these murals were spread around the room in an obsessively precise fashion, two on each wall to face each other. Crushed, no…cratered into two murals was a fist-like hole that cracked through the surrounding rock, masking the sight of what the murals depicted. Parts of the wall not covered by these stone sections were engulfed in flame like the door behind us. I moved closer into the room, but the end of Maleki’s scythe curled around my shoulder, not cutting me but stopping me in my tracks.

“Don’t move.” He spoke in a slow, forceful tone.

A clang could be heard outside the walls, echoing into our large chamber. Maleki’s strike against the wall must have woken something up. The flames on the right flickered, and a shadowy figure shot through quickly. Now, in the center of the room, its frame came into reference — a mighty horn, sharp and protruding from the front part of the skull. The face of a beast, angled in a lupine manner. The creature’s legs ended in sharp hooves, fit for climbing like a goat but suitable for defense — or offense, it seems. This place must be its living quarters, and it clearly doesn’t mind the warmth with that tough grey skin. The creature was entirely hairless, but its body was sleek. Antler material formed above the ears, cresting down over the neck, forming the shape of an “S.” Now that I think about it, there was a story told to us when we were younger that this reminds me of. Grandpa, maybe Dad — I can’t remember — told us the tale of an army marching through a valley that encountered and fought “goat-wolf beasts, whose sharp horn curved up with a slant.” The word — what was the name they gave the beast, though?

“Aeternae!” I said aloud while peering my head back.

“I don’t think naming it will piss it off any less.” He laughed, eyes locked ahead.

With a few steps backward, I was behind Maleki. His scythe braced in his hands in a defensive posture. The Aeternae’s eyes were like that of a goat, small rectangular boxes, but red. “From what I have read about goat’s eyes, they can see almost everything around them. There is about an eighty-degree area behind them that they can’t. With a wolf-like body, I don’t think it will take very long to cover any blind spot.”

“Good to know. You read anything about patching up large stab wounds?” He said as the creature paced the shape of an eight.

I laughed. “No, I don’t think I can do any type of medical treatment without arms. Unless you want me to apply pressure to your wounds with my feet?”

“Well, let’s hope it’s a herbivore and not the tasty human-eating type….”

During the intense stare-down, a final crash echoed around the room. A sound exactly like when the door closed behind us, which means any other rooms have now been locked, trapping us with the beast.

“What’s your plan?” I asked.

“Plan? Let’s start with staying alive.”

“That’s your plan? You’re supposed to be the one who acts quickly!”

“If it rushes us, I’ll hit it as hard as I can for as long as it takes. You don’t need a plan for that.”

“Either way, we’re trapped in a room that’s on fire. Some mechanism locked everything, so there’s bound to be a way to open the doorways again.”

“Seems like we have a plan then. You stay out of the way and figure this room out while I entertain the sharp-horned goat-wolf.”

“Aeternae…and if anything, it’s more of a wolf-goat than a goat-wolf since the more prominent….” I retorted while Maleki blinked slowly in disapproval.

“At the very least, you’ll know what to put on my gravestone. ‘Maleki Mortica, slaughtered by an Aeternae while his brother debates the correct characterization of the creature!’”

“Shut up and stay alive.” He nodded, improving his defensive stance by bringing his scythe behind him to generate power in the event of an imminent attack. “Good luck, brother,” I said with a more severe look.