Enter the Caverns

Fortunately we did not have to sleep on the floor. With Eliza’s coin we secured rooms at The Wrangler’s Rest, the best inn in the Reach. We slept well.

In the morning Crispin had the bright idea of starting the day by preparing a feast. He set up a small grill outside the inn and soon the whole street had to contend with the mouth-watering scent of bacon frying and bread toasting.

“You do know the inn serves breakfast, right?” I asked warily.

“Right,” said Crispin without comprehension. He worked feverishly, preparing some culinary delight.

“But you’re still making…?”

“Breakfast.”

I left him to it.

Olive and I went to buy supplies at the market and there met a trader who pointed us in the direction of the magistrate’s house. He even described for us the magistrate himself, Walden Crane: a Corvum with a monocle and a penchant for food. Something, I thought, we may be able to leverage to our advantage.

Back at the inn, Crispin completed his feast with a flourish of holy power, but nobody noticed.

“What are these?” asked Olive. Crispin was plating up little toasted buns full of bacon and some kind of sweet syrup.

“I was inspired by those fire bats we saw yesterday,” said Crispin eagerly.

“Ember bats,” I corrected.

“Then I’ll call them, ‘Ember Butties’! They’ve got a bit of sweet chili sauce in them.”

We ate a second breakfast and just as we were readying ourselves to visit the magistrate we received an alarmed visitor. It was clear from his appearance that he was just who we were looking for: Walden “Salt and Butter” Crane.

“You there, adventurers!” cried the Corvum. “You are adventurers, are you not?”

“Well—” I began.

“We can be,” Olive interjected. “For a price.”

“Thank goodness,” said Walden. He bustled up and sat down and eyed the leftover ‘Ember Butties’. “Please, you must help us. One of our researchers, Kenna, has got lost in the Mokkden Caverns. We haven’t seen her in days!”

Walden blinked plaintively at us, lingering longest on Crispin.

“Of course we will help,” said Crispin earnestly. “We would never abandon a stranger in need.”

“What Crispin means,” I said curtly, “is that we would never normally abandon a stranger in need. We are bound on urgent business to Alderheart to request aid for Meadowfen.”

“Ah,” said Walden. “Ah yes, and you are in a hurry.”

“I’m glad you understand.”

“It’s a shame you’ll be waiting so long in Alderheart. What with the Birdfolk Council being inundated with requests for aid these days.”

I gulped.

“I’d be happy to write you a letter of introduction, of course,” said Walden. “As the magistrate of the Winnowing Reach, that could really make a difference for you.”

“We would be very grateful,” I said carefully.

“It’s just,” said Walden, his eyes brimming with tears. “It’s just that I can’t focus on writing anything while Kenna is still missing.”

“Would it help if we went to the Caverns to have a look for your friend?” asked Olive.

“Ah,” said Walden. “Ah yes, it would. It truly would. Why then I think I could write a splendid letter for you to collect on your return.”

I sighed and got to my feet.

“Let’s get this done,” I said.

---

Fortunately the Mokkden Caverns were familiar to me. I led the party on a short trek through the Mokk Fields, evading false trails and fetid pools, and even passing safely by a group of sticky slimes which I recognised from afar. The air buzzed with biting insects that bred in the standing water and none of us made the journey entirely unscathed.

We arrived at the rocky entrance to the Caverns without incident, only to find a “guard” at the door: a lone sticky slime oozed at the entrance.

“Remember,” I said. “Don’t let the slime touch you.”

Crispin filled it with crossbow bolts, Olive cast spells from the front, and I threw a big rock from across the battlefield that altogether ruined the slime’s day.

Thanks to Crispin’s finely-tuned sense of hearing, we had estimated the value of the slime’s dropped coins the moment they hit the floor.

“This is going very well,” said Crispin after dividing the loot out amongst the group.

“Don’t underestimate the Caverns,” I said. “That was just one slime. Inside there will be more.”

---

The going was indeed tough inside the Caverns, though mostly of our own making.

Crispin had the habit of using thaumaturgy to make his eyes glow like large floodlights, illuminating the ground ahead of us. This was actually quite useful, but did give us a false sense of security.

We walked too fast, not careful enough of our footing, and all of a sudden we heard Olive trip and fall into a pool of water with a terrific splash.

“Get her out!” I yelled. “It might be acid!”

It was not acid. Just smelly swamp water that had leaked in through the cracks of the rocks. We all slowed down and gave Olive a wide berth after that.

In time we came to a section where the trail narrowed down into a tight tunnel. The Humblefolk who had previously excavated this route had fitted a series of wooden struts and beams to support the roof and the cave walls. But time and Nature, as always, make fun of our endeavours, and the wooden supports had turned dark and rotten with the constant soaking of dripping water.

“Be careful of those,” I warned them.

“This one doesn’t look so good,” said Crispin, pointing at a beam overhead that was bending sickeningly under the pressing weight of the earth above us.

“Almost through,” murmured Olive.

Suddenly there was a wet thud and a violent rumbling in the rock.

“Run!” I yelled.

We stumbled through falling rocks and crumbling soil as the tunnel behind us collapsed. Catching our breath we looked around, making sure our current location was a bit more stable.

“That was unlucky,” I said. “I can’t believe it almost dropped on top of us.”

“I know,” said Crispin. “And just as I was trying to fix it!”

---

I’ll admit that I was not in good spirits by the time the tunnel widened into an open chamber. Rather than take my time and act cautiously, I pushed ahead into the space. It was a relief to be free of the cramped tunnels.

But that relief did not last long.

“Look out, Plume!”

Four slimes dropped from the cave’s ceiling and landed around me in a chorus of viscous splats. The creatures were translucent, two faintly yellow-tinged and the others more of a green. They pulsed slowly and then, with unnatural speed, flowed across the cavern floor towards me.

“Remember not to let them touch you,” said Crispin helpfully.

“I told you that,” I grumbled in reply.

The fight was fierce.

Two of the slimes were the caustic variety and splashed us with acid as we beat them back. The other two were sticky causing us to have to cling to our weapons after each attack.

Olive fought with magic and sword, at one point slashing one slime clean in half. But her victory was short-lived: both halves of the beast reformed into smaller slimes that returned to the fray.

Crispin and I took a beating from the amorphous creatures but gave as good as we got. On Crispin’s vicious counterattack with his mace, one of the creatures exploded, splashing him with acid and taking him out. Olive came to his rescue, but before he could get to his feet she slew another slime beside him and he was unable to escape another wave of acid. He went down again.

Finally I ran to his side, propped him up and administered a healing potion, one I had received from Eliza, directly into his mouth. He woke and, for the first time I had known him, turned his eyes on another living creature in anger.

Crispin, usually so good and kind of heart, lashed out with necrotic power and obliterated the remaining slime. It was over. We had time to catch our breath and ponder our next move.