Solitudes and Silence
Chapter 10
Wail and Warble
They entered the city through a gate that spanned the end of a corridor, where it opened on a large cavern, in the center of which were Al’hirrizad’s oldest and most important institutions, built into a colossal coral reef. Thin metal latticework supported the coral, and shaped it into buildings. Further up were structures made of silkfish webbing, ranging from tiny pods to spired mansions, interconnected with each other through narrow tunnel pods.
The people of Al’hirrizad were mostly cave rainids like Gelvid, but there were others: pale, pink, skinny humanoids with long limbs and a narrow head ringed by feathery fronds - the olmians; man-sized millipedes with legs that flapped as fins, a single pair of arms, and no apparent facial features, the vagramines; and human-bodied men with duck-like heads, the derrador. The locals regarded Waimbrill and Terredor with unabashed hostility.
Gelvid said he’d arrange passage the rest of the way down, and would meet up with them in the morning. He brought them to an inn, a small building that bobbed and floated, tethered to another nearby pod.
In their small room, Terredor floated while Waimbrill meditated and prayed to his god. Terredor didn’t listen to these prayers anymore.
“Some of the goods available at the market in Bryndoth come from down here,” Terredor said when Waimbrill finished praying.
“That’s not surprising,” Waimbrill said, nodding his head, “There must be some remarkable things down here.”
“There was this drink I had. It was amazing, like nothing I ever tasted. The best part was these little briny things called hellionberries. They said they were the eggs of a fish. But I wonder what fish. I should ask Gelvid.”
“Yes, he would know,” Waimbrill said, “Perhaps you could bring some with you when we leave… assuming we survive. You could take the proceeds and go on a trip before becoming Soulclaine.”
“We could both go,” Terredor said.
“Well…” Waimbrill said awkwardly, “I was thinking about your vision. Perhaps Modroben wanted you to convince me to go on this quest because when it is complete, he will reward me with an assignment at home. I can feel it in my gut. I miss my family, Terredor.”
“You think he’s using me to to give you the chance to abandon me?” Terredor said, “I don’t understand why your mother and father are so wonderful anyway. I used to have both, and I wouldn’t leave you for them.”
“It’s not just them. It’s my whole family. That’s my home. That’s where I’m from. There, I’ll feel at peace. I could cleave a thousand souls a day there, Terredor. I just need to get back home….”
“I don’t understand. You are supposed to be a hero. You are supposed to be a champion for all of us in Crikland!”
“Let’s be reasonable. I never became Soulclaine to be a hero. I have a home. I have people who love me back at my home. I was always going to go back there. It’s my home, Terredor, maybe you wouldn’t understand.”
He pushed away from Waimbrill, and swam to the flap that served as a door, which Terredor ripped angrily from the wall, exposing the dark hallway pod.
“I guess I’m just as dull as everyone always said!” Terredor turned around to Waimbrill, who stared, flabagast at the outburst. “I thought I did understand. I thought I had a home, with you. I thought I loved you like a father. I thought maybe you cared for me too!”
“Terredor, stop!” Waimbrill shouted as Terredor swam away.
He darted downwards, between a few floating pods, and then hid in a small cave, his gills heaving, heart pounding, his red face flashing anger as Waimbrill swam by. He was so furious he clenched his hands into fists and ruminated on the encounter, rehearsing in his mind all the things he should have said. He imagined himself a million times seeking out Waimbrill and throttling him, shouting vituperation, but in the end, Terredor stayed in the cave, stewing in rage.
After a few hours, he decided to explore the city without Waimbrill to prove he didn’t need anyone. Closing his eyes, Terredor focused on discerning the complex network of pods that marked central Al’hirrizad.
He swam towards a gathering crowd of olmians, their spindly bodies spinning as they danced to a throbbing bass beat pounded on white drums by burly rainids who wailed and warbled, booming bombast and dissonant melodies. Dancers swam in complex shapes, synchronizing shifts in direction and speed in rhythmic ways, the waves of water pressure massaging and stimulating Terredor. A few cave rainids joined in as well, while the vagramines - the menacing millipede-men - were clustered on the ground a few meters below.
He was about to give thanks to Modroben for keeping the vagramines away from him when he realized there were three swimming in his direction.
They had long bodies, some seven feet from head to tail, divided into a few hundred segments. A pair of short, jointed legs protruded from each side of each segment, except for one extra large segment, from which came a pair of arms with large hands. Another elongated segment constituted their head, with tiny thin black holes for nostrils and a mouth, barely visible against the black carapace.
“Oy!” shouted a vagramine, shrilly sneering, “What munkcud art thou?”
The other two vagramines, who floated behind the one that spoke, laughed a dull, guttural chuckle. They flexed their arms, their long bodies waving through the water. Their faces floated in and out of the sphere of illumination around Terredor.
The leader leaned forward, chitinous face hissing just inches from Terredor, whose heart sank as his gills flapped desperately.
“Thou art a freak, and I don’t like freaks hanging around my city,” said the vagramine.
“I, uh, I wasn’t going to stay,” Terredor said, “I was just passing through.”
“Ah, then thou needst only pay the toll,” said the vagramine, his voice creaking with snaps and clicks, hundreds of little legs undulating in the gently flowing current of lower Al-hirrizad.
“The toll?”
“It is exactly equal to the value of everything thou ownest,” the vagramine said and the others chittered, bodies flapping excitedly, “Plus one.”
The vagramines let out a crashing chortle, carapace plates cracking against each other as they contorted in what Terredor assumed was the vagramine equivalent of a guffaw.
“I serve Mortiss Waimbrill of Crikland. He is a Soulclaine, and you can’t harm a Modrobenian.”
“If the good Mortiss Waimbrill were before us,” said the leader, “He would be on his way.”
“But thou art not Mortiss Munkcud,” said one, “Just plain Munkcud.”
The chief vagramine’s arm snapped forward, latching onto Terredor’s shoulder, its hardened exoskeleton digging into his flesh.
Terredor’s gills flapped and flitted, his heart racing as the tall vagramines surrounded him, faceless, silhouetted by the light emanating from his ring. They hooted and clicked, a clattering choir echoed by the clang of their carapace, which gleamed a brilliant black so shiny Terredor could see his wide-eyed face twisting in terror. His mind raced with plans others could have implemented: Waimbrill would have reasoned with them; Gelvid would have rebuffed them; Jaxoll would have tricked them; Helga would have befriended them; Porthos would have bought them off. But he was only Terredor, and could do nothing but quiver and shake as he floated before them.
He sensed a person swimming towards him. It was a derrador, a human-like creature with the head and face of a duck, complete with a long beak. He was dressed in armor like fish scales, and wielded a long hooked harpoon.
“Unhand the poor beast,” said the derrador, “In the name of the Knights of the Noble Fin!”
The three vagramines hissed at him, but swam back a few feet.
“Mind thy business, knight,” said one.
“My business is the safety of travelers throughout the Deepdark,” intoned the derrador, “And I will be forced to slay you if ye do not desist from your scoundrelry.”
The vagramines spoke to each other in a language of
resonating clicks and whoops. Without another word, they turned and swam away, ignoring the stern face the derrador presented in their direction.
“Good traveling, sir,” the derrador said, “What manner of man art thou?”
“I am human. My name is Terredor. I’m from the Surface. I’m here with Mortiss Waimbrill of Crikland.”
“I know of this place called Serrfass,” said the derrador, “I have heard there are all manner of monsters and villains there.”
“We have some of that,” Terredor said.
“Perhaps one day I shall voyage to the Serrfass, and together we will free thy home from the oppressive yoke of villainy!” he said triumphantly, “My name, gentle Terredor, is Sir Esterhund, a Knight of the Noble Fin.”
Terredor told him about the adventure he was on as they swam through the city, and Sir Esterhund nodded sagely, his face betraying intense sadness on soft white down. He said, “I have experienced Petromyza as well. She is an atrocious evil indeed. I wish thee the best of luck on thy voyage. Perhaps before we separate, thou wouldst lead me to thy master, Mortiss Waimbrill? I do not like to see a Soulclaine without aiding him the best I can, for one never knows when one will need the ministrations of his art,” Sir Esterhund said.
“He’s... resting.”
“Ah, then I will let him rest, for his kind doth need it,” said Sir Esterhund, “I am sure thou wilt learn much from thy master in thine apprenticeship.”
Terredor shook his head, “I’m not his apprentice. Mortiss Waimbrill is hoping to leave me. He has a real home to go to.”
Sir Esterhund laughed, and clapped Terredor on the back. “Most young men thine age worry that their fathers and masters will never let them go. They are bitter that they are ordered about at every moment, and yearn for freedom. Thou shouldst have pride that thine own master, especially one so wise as a Soulclaine, shows his confidence in thee by granting independence.”
And with that, Sir Esterhund bade him good day. Terredor wanted to stop him, to explain that Waimbrill was trying to get rid of him, not encouraging him to venture into the world. But he didn’t. He just watched the knight swim away, and felt his current diminish into the flow of water.
He swam towards the inn, his head down, no longer interested in experiencing Al’hirrizad. Given his lack of success in dealing with the first creatures he came across, he considered it unlikely that he would survive the Deepdark. The possibility of dying had seemed possible earlier, but somehow never quite real. The experience with the merovens and then the vagramines had shook him, and now the thought of dying wouldn’t leave his mind. He wondered what it would be like to be stabbed, drowned or eaten alive. He wondered what he would feel when he was soulcleaved, or if he was not, when he was raised from the dead as a tortured zombie. He shuddered.
Terredor returned to the inn, and kept his head down as he entered. He and Waimbrill floated silently.
Finally, Waimbrill spoke, “You could come with me. No one would know you are a Delver.”
“I guess, but… it’s not my home.”
“Then you know how I feel in Crikland,” Waimbrill said, and smiled.
“Aye,” Terredor said, “And now we are both in a place as alien as can be.” Waimbrill said, “My lord will assign me where to go. If he wishes me to go to Lommia, then to Lommia I shall go. If he wants me to stay in the Deepdark, I shall stay in the Deepdark forever. And I suppose we will likely both perish down here regardless.” Waimbrill said, and for a moment, illuminated in the tiny field of light that emanated from their rings, Terredor could see the weight of a thousand dead souls in his eyes, and he knew then that a part of Waimbrill only wanted to go home so he could lay in some familiar place and rest for eternity.