Spite And Misfortune

  Anyone who’d visited the Deeps would tell you the place was spiteful. The whole ecosystem seemed designed to torment intruders, to remind them that their options were to leave, or die.

  Skye’s muscles ached, and his joints popped as he pressed forward with his team through a particularly narrow tunnel. With every step, his head drummed a twinge of a note, and his legs hardened ever so slightly, growing heavier and harder to move. The pain wasn’t unbearable yet, but they still had the return journey to worry about.

  Fantasia contamination was the most prevalent weapon in the Deeps’ arsenal, but not the only one. Even with Gideom channeling to amplify the light of the radethyst crystal on his helm, darkness engulfed them like a tangible shroud, cloaking everything beyond six feet.

  A crack sounded under Joshem.

  The older teen jumped away, but a fissure spread fast, reaching Skye's feet, then the ground underneath him vanished. He flailed, reaching to clutch onto something—anything, but his grip found only air. Screaming, he fell down into the abyss, but a hand caught his at the last second.

  “Ah, should I save the jinx, or let him drop? Choices, choices…” Joshem said.

  Skye clutched the young man’s hand with both of his. “Pull me up Joshem, it’s not funny!”

  “I tell ya what: apologize for sayin’ me nose is bigger than a caveboar’s snout, and I’ll save ya.”

  Joshem was Basalt’s younger brother; a lanky teen with a thin mustache perched over a permanent smirk. He shared many of his brother’s features: the patches of petrified skin, the friendly personality, and his love for Skye. The comment about his nose might have been a slight exaggeration, but Skye would never admit it.

  Skye looked down. The pit below was lined with jagged spikes, and the flooring that collapsed was nothing but brittle mica—the handiwork of a hungry rockmole, most likely.

  “Pull me up quick, or you’ll fall too,” Skye warned. “Rockmoles set traps big enough for stonebears to fall through.”

  Joshem studied his dirty nails, undisturbed. “Nah, I think I’ll wait for me apology. Though ya should hurry before me hand gets too tire-AAAAH!”

  Joshem’s footing broke and he raced to the bottom, along with Skye. Before they hit the spikes, a flying rocky gauntlet caught the young man’s arm. The large stonemason’s face peeked over the edge, expression tight with strain as he hauled them up. Skye felt like a rubber band stretched too thin.

  Once safe, Joshem burst into laughter, while Skye fought to steady his breathing, and calm his racing heart.

  Basalt cuffed both of their heads. “Stop playin’ around, ya coalheads, or I’ll send ya both back.”

  Rubbing his head, Joshem went after his brother. “Ya will take back yer insult, ya’ll see,” he promised as he left.

  Gideom came rushing, offering a hand. His leathery face was scrunched into a smile, his mouth a checkerboard of missing teeth. The gesture was so honest, and so hilarious, Skye couldn’t help but smile back.

  The mute old man traced a finger through the air, the thin bracelet on his right wrist shining faintly. With white wisps of light, he wrote on a canvas of winds the words: ‘IGNORE HIM. HE CAN SMELL YOUR FRUSTRATION.”

  Skye laughed, walking beside Gideom to join the team.

  Despite all these dangers—or perhaps, because of them—Skye loved exploring the Deeps.

  Wealth was the primary lure for most, but Skye cherished adventure and the discovery of new sights more. Besides gems, he treasured finding and studying the many fantastical flora and fauna that called the Deeps home.

  A stream veiled in sparkling blue-green algae gurgled a soft greeting as they entered the wide cave it graced. Bioluminescent cavetoads leaped and splashed into the water at their approach, and a troop of vermilion-tipped umbrella mushrooms scampered into hiding beneath the rocks.

  As Skye inhaled the beauty of the scene, he noticed something peeking through the wall nearby. Twitching. Slowly slithering into hiding. Shining ever so faintly.

  “There!” he shouted, bolting toward the pulsing black root.

  Besides moss, few plants could survive the underworld, but metals and minerals thrived. They grew in veins of ore that ran across walls or hid inside cracks and under large stones, sometimes blossoming and bearing gemstones.

  Skye took out a metallic rod from his backpack and carefully prodded the outgrowth, testing its reaction. The others surrounded him, equally breathless.

  Roots with such obsidian shine could be many things. If it burst into flames upon contact with a possible threat—like Skye’s rod—it would signal that pyrpphire gemstones hid inside the wall, or if they were lucky, the rare magmacon. If it melted into shadow or flickered ethereal, it could be erbartz or even the extraordinary umberzuli. If it twisted and mangled the pole, it might be a feeryx or a geodoise geode. And if it flaked into ash, it was nothing but the awful, grimy, useless coal.

  The root flaked into ash, scattering in the breeze.

  Like everything else they’d found today.

  He and Joshem groaned.

  “Not again!” Skye complained.

  “Stop grouchin’, ya coalheads!” Basalt smacked their helmets. “We’ll find somethin’ eventually.” He waved them to follow.

  They walked along the riverbank, Skye dragging his metal pole across the rocks. They’d reached this place faster than he had on his last solo venture, but the results had so far been the same.

  He’d hoped to return home tonight with proof to show the doctor that his decision to become a prospector had merit. But if their luck stayed this foul, the only thing he’d discover would be another lecture.

  A hand clapped his shoulder. Using his light, Gideom wrote: ‘HAVE HEART. TONIGHT, WE’LL BE RICH. I CAN FEEL IT!’

  Skye nodded. They still had at least two more hours of descent before they’d need to turn back. With Basalt leading, they’d go farther and faster than Skye had ever dared on his own.

  “Maybe if we ditch the jinx, we’ll have better luck,” Joshem said as they reached the river’s narrowest point. “We haven’t found a single gemcache in three days!”

  Skye shrugged. “Maybe this is heavenly punishment for not giving me a fair share,” he continued his grumbling. Not that he’d stopped since he’d joined the team.

  “Or maybe it’s punishing us cause yer asking for too much,” Joshem retorted. “I can understand wantin’ a gemfarm, but leavin’ the city?!” He shook his head. “If I ever find fortune, I’m buildin’ a palace and hirin’ a hundred servants to pamper me. Like a sane person would.”

  “Voids below, stop yer moanin’!” Basalt snapped. “If we find a gemfarm, I’ll give ya yer sootin’ quarter.”

  Skye grinned. “Is that a promise?”

  “That’s a me-not-throwin’-the-both-of-you-down-the-Void,” Basalt growled. “Now shut it.”

  At the rivulet’s narrowest section, the team jumped to cross. The stomps of their boots startled a nearby deepbat, sending it screeching into the shadows.

  Skye hadn’t noticed the ugly beast in the darkness, which was a terrible omen. If deepbats didn’t bring misfortune with their claws and fangs, their mere sight heralded it.

  Everyone knew this. No one said a word. Speaking of misfortune summoned misfortune.

  Skye wiped sweat from his brow, struggling to breathe through the hot, humid air. The river’s cool glimmer was tempting, but he knew better than to dunk his head into it. Even if it wasn’t laced with sulfides, ammonia, or a hundred other poisons, the next cavern was cold. Freezing cold. Temperatures down here changed as quickly as they did aboveground in autumn, and catching a fever on his first week as a prospector would be a sad start.

  Beyond the water, they found the tunnel ahead blocked halfway by a mound of rubble. Basalt raised a hand, signaling the team to stop, and unrolled Skye’s map.

  “Yer map says there’s a hidden passage here,” Basalt said, eyes scanning the rocks. “How confident are ya?”

  “A hundred percent,” Skye replied. He hurried forward, letting his photrine’s glow shine on a small gap in the wall where dust drifted like glitter. “There’s airflow here, and the cave’s topology suggests there’s a way beyond.”

  “Step back.” Basalt thrusted the map at Joshem. The team obeyed.

  Taking a deep breath, Basalt planted his feet wide, fists extended, shoulders braced like pillars of marble. For a moment, he ceased being a man, becoming another slab of stone in the Deeps. Immovable. Lifeless.

  This wasn’t any casual channeling. He’d have to not only shift these rocks, but also to redistribute their weight, preserving the cave’s integrity. One misstep, and this tunnel would become their grave.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  The stonemason grunted and parted his fists with great effort as though they were tethered, and the cave rumbled. Dirt and shards rained from the ceiling, pinging off helmets. Lizards, snakes, and other pale-eyed pests burst from the cracked walls, scattering in confusion.

  Gideom gripped Skye’s shoulder, pulling him close with a reassuring smile. Skye didn’t need the comforting. The frown he wore was one of excitement, not fear. He loved watching channelers work their wonders. What he didn’t enjoy was being coddled, and treated like a child. Not to mention that the old man desperately needed a shower. Still, he didn’t complain.

  Gideom had taught him nearly everything he knew about the Deeps. He’d also saved his life long ago. The old man could act like an overprotective grandfather all he wanted.

  The wall ahead groaned as Basalt shoved. The stones pressed and twisted against each other, melting away like wet clay. They shifted aside, blending with the surrounding rock, warping the natural strata, and forming a gap that slowly yawned.

  What had moments ago been a mountain of rubble was now an open path.

  “Wow!” Skye breathed. The moment the tremors stopped, he slipped from Gideom’s arms and stepped forward to inspect the passage.

  He’d seen his share of parlor tricks and channeling shows, but nothing of this magnitude. The tunnel was tall and wide enough for even Basalt to walk through upright.

  He’d never wished he was a stonemason as strongly as now. When the time comes, he’d drop everything to attend the next channeling aptitude exam.

  “Enjoyin’ the show?” Basalt asked. He leaned against the wall, breathing hard. His grin flickered beneath sunken eyes and sweat-slicked skin. His fists trembled.

  “You alright?” Skye asked. Basalt was a bit worked up from rescuing the miners, but opening this tunnel couldn’t have been that exhausting. Maybe Skye had underestimated the task… or maybe Basalt lacked in durability.

  “I’m fine.” Basalt waved off Joshem’s offered hand. “But I won’t be pullin’ any more stunts like that unless you’re ready to carry me.” He limped into the tunnel, the rest trailing.

  “I thought fantasia was denser down here,” Skye said. “Wouldn’t that make—”

  “Channelin’ easier?” Basalt cut in. “Only if yer born with scales, claws, or a stony hide.”

  A sandadillo peeked its little yellow snout out of a nearby hole, then sank down.

  “For humans, channelin’ this deep is reckless,” Basalt continued. “It boosts the petrification process greatly no matter the strains of fantasia involved.”

  Skye frowned. He’d been so consumed with the Deeps, he hadn’t the time to study channeling or fantasia. Not that he could afford the education. He’d joined this team because there were so many places he could never reach alone—narrow fissures, buried vaults, and collapsed tunnels —that might lead to unexplored riches. But if these were Basalt’s limits, they’d need months to clear all of his maps, and that was unacceptable.

  He wanted to see the sky. Today, if possible. The craving had gnawed at him for months, haunting his dreams, driving him mad. It always felt just out of reach, brushing his fingertips.

  Over time, the anticipation had piled so high in his mind, it was everything he saw. Rierana and Lyonel were dismayed at him for not going out with them in weeks. And last night, he couldn’t sleep. It was like a thousand tiny pickaxes chipping away at his sanity, commanding him to move. And he wanted to move. He couldn’t spend another week down here, never mind months. If they didn’t find a gemfarm soon, he’d explode.

  “Have ya guys heard about the cave-in at the Neashures’ two days ago?” Joshem asked. “Four miners were killed, two still missin’.”

  “Yes,” Skye replied, thankful for the distraction. He’d rethink his plans to reach the surface later tonight. “I heard Baron Neashure was trying to expand his gemfarm.”

  “Doubt it,” Basalt grunted. “The constables wouldn’t allow it. It was probably due to natural causes or amateur stonemasonry. My coin’s on the latter.”

  “Can’t be either,” Joshem said, lowering his voice. “This is the third cave-in in a week. Somethin’s causin’ ‘em on purpose.”

  “What do you mean?” Skye asked, frowning.

  Joshem glanced around, checking the shadows for eavesdropping deepbats. The faint shine of the photrine on his hard hat gave his already long face a ghostly, ghoulish look. But before he could speak, Gideom seized his arm, squeezing hard.

  The old man raised a hand. A thread of light leaked from the bracelet on his wrist, coiling into the air. With a flick of his finger, he etched glowing letters in the space between them: “BAD LUCK.”

  Joshem licked his lips. “Da used to say, ‘Ignorance attracts more misfortune than fear ever could.’ He didn’t make the sayin’, he heard it somewhere. Da wasn’t a smart fella. Died huntin’ caveboar, he did. A rockmole bit him, so he bit it back, killin’ it. Didn’t realize it was poisonous until after he cooked and ate it.” He shrugged. “Anyway, the kid deserves to know.”

  Reluctantly, Gideom let go.

  Joshem leaned in, breath hot on Skye’s ear, whispering. “There are rumors ‘bout entire teams of prospectors disappearin’. And the wardens are buryin’ the stories to stop panic from spreadin’ into the city.”

  “Wardens?” Skye whispered too, unsure why he was doing so. “Why would they come down here?”

  “To fulfill their duties,” Joshem said, raising his eyebrows like it was obvious.

  That didn’t make sense. Wardens protected Solarite—the surface district of Troqua—and escorted trade caravans. They had no reason to be down in the Deeps. Unless…

  Skye stiffened. “No way! You saying a monster got down here?”

  Joshem shushed him. “Don’t know. But my reliable sources told me that somehow, somewhere here in the Deeps, there is an…” He looked around one more time before silently mouthing the word ‘Elexos.’

  A deepbat fluttered overhead, its claws scraping Skye’s hard hat. Skye yelped, stumbling back.

  Gideom scowled at Joshem, while Basalt whirled and smacked his brother’s shoulder.

  “Don’t go scarin’ him with made-up crap,” he snapped. “Reliable sources me ass! Yer shroom- addicted friends are as reliable as grandpa’s bladder.”

  “I’m not makin’ anythin’ up!” Joshem rubbed his shoulder. “They saw its marks in the tunnels near the Cordropee’s. Found a slaughtered pride of spikebacks, their corpses scorched.”

  Basalt punched his other shoulder. “Yer friends lie to ya cause they know yer a coalbrain. Everythin’ that dies here petrifies. How could they tell if the beasts were burned or stabbed? It could’ve been a stonebear, or an overgrown mineralmander that killed ‘em. Coals, it could be a nasty swarm of bats. It could be a thousand things!”

  Skye nodded along. No way one of those monsters could sneak in from the surface, past the city, and all the constables, prospectors, and peoples, without being noticed.

  “They heard its scream,” Joshem insisted. “Said it was angry and feral, like a beast bein’ torn apart.”

  “If one of those things was screamin’ in the Deeps, all Troqua would hear it,” Basalt said. “Whoever’s spreadin’ these rumors just wants to scare competition off their minin’ grounds. Don’t be an idiot and believe everythin’ ya hear.”

  Joshem clenched his jaw but contended no further.

  It was an absurd claim anyway. People died in the Deeps, that was almost a daily occurrence. But most returned with riches or disappointment. From the surface, though, no one came back. Because on the surface, the monsters ruled.

  They emerged from Basalt’s reshaped tunnel into a broad cave, proving Skye’s genius. There was a passage here, like he’d guessed.

  Normally, he’d boast and demand praise. But right now, he was too busy imagining a fourteen-foot fiery monster crawling through these tight tunnels, screaming like a madman.

  Absolutely ridiculous.

  “Boy.” Basalt ducked a stalactite. “Gideom says ya needed to join us or ya’d get in trouble with Dr. Stenser. Why? What’s your relationship with him?”

  Skye flinched. He hadn’t expected this shift in topic, nor that Gideom was sharing secrets about him.

  “Erm… he’s…” Skye hesitated. He was about to make something up, but Basalt’s glare made the hairs on his neck rise. Besides, he didn’t want to lie in front of Gideom, who knew everything about his life. “Dr. Stenser’s been taking care of me. And he’s against the idea of me going into the Deeps alone.”

  Joshem frowned. “You’ve been livin’ with Stenser?” His eyes lit up. “Wait! You’re that kid? The crazy one that used to keep the Photrine District awake with his shoutin’? Gideom mentioned savin’ you once, but I never made the connection. Is it true you can’t remember anythin’ before splittin’ open yer head?”

  “Keep it down. Ya will attract deepbats,” Basalt commanded, though his gaze stayed on Skye, awaiting a response.

  Skye hated this topic. People always looked at him like he wore underpants on his head and was yodeling in the middle of Troqua’s main fountain. The follow-up questions were worse. ‘Where are your parents, why were you naked in the Deeps, and how come you didn’t know Troqua was underground?’

  It didn’t matter how many times he repeated that he didn’t know, people kept asking, leaving him feeling small and stupid.

  Gideom punched Joshem’s arm hard enough to make him yelp. The scrawny man started to complain but the old man’s glare made him stutter. Joshem only muttered something about ‘not wantin’ to be everyone’s punchin’ dummy’.

  Skye mentally added the punch to the long list of favors he owed Gideom.

  “Ya should’ve spoken to him, made yer relationship public,” Basalt said. It took Skye a second to realize he meant Stenser. “The doctor’s respected in the Deeps. He’s saved dozens of miners’ lives, many times for free. If people knew ya were related to him, they’d be less likely to attack ya.”

  Skye blinked. He knew Stenser had a stellar reputation in Troqua, but he didn’t realize it reached the Deeps. More importantly, Basalt’s last sentence threw him off.

  “Why would anyone attack me?” he asked, carefully descending a dangerous slope.

  Basalt raised a fist and steps of stone formed across the incline. “To rob ya, ya coalhead! What would ya do after findin’ a gemfarm?”

  “I told you. I’d hire a team of channelers to escort me outside Troqua,” Skye replied, puzzled.

  “Before that. How would ya register the gemfarm under yer name? Ya know an official who’d hand ownership of a whole gemfarm to a child?”

  “It’s not up to them,” Skye replied. “If I find it, it’s mine.” That was obvious enough.

  They reached the slope’s end, facing now a steep cliff.

  Basalt shook his head. “How would ya keep plunderers out when yer not there?” He made a series of rapid gestures with his hands, carving holes into the rock, clean and even, forming a ladder. He climbed first. “Where would ya store yer harvest? Do ya have a trustworthy foreman? Can ya arrange trade contracts with the outside? Have ya agreed with the duke on the fee to use his road? Have ya planned anythin’?”

  Skye hesitated mid-climb. It was more like a steep hill than a cliff, but Basalt’s question had shocked him.

  “No,” he admitted quietly, resuming his ascent. “These details come after, right?”

  “These details are as important as the findin’ of a gemfarm. They take years to set up, and rarely go the way ya wish,” Basalt said. He reached the top and helped Gideom over the edge. “Plenty of prospectors get killed over gemcaches. Ya won’t even make it home if word gets out ya’ve found a gemgarden, let alone a gemfarm. Even the maps ya carry are dangerous. If I’d known ya had somethin’ this detailed, I wouldn’t have let ya reveal ‘em in the Gateway.”

  “But you said they were common and—”

  “I lied to protect ya. Just don’t—Coals! What’s that smell?”

  The tunnel stank with a musty, acrid odor, like someone had stuffed rotting rats up Skye’s nostrils. The four of them scrambled to pull out their breathing masks—short, protruding pieces of leather, filled with various grain-sized gemstones and fragrant herbs. Skye’s had more green gems than his teammates, but no amount of florald could deaden this stench. They were either entering a gas pocket or some creature’s sewage system.

  “Yer a smart, hard-workin’ kid,” Basalt said, voice muffled through his mask, “but yer green as a sprout.”

  They passed worms writhing over the stone, being devoured by cockroaches, spiders, and centipedes, all fighting and eating each other in a living hellscape.

  “Down here, everyone fights for themselves. The strong and the vicious survive. It isn’t a matter of honor or morality. It’s about survival.”

  A warband of coalants were tearing two crimson beetles apart at Skye’s feet. One chartreuse beetle burst, spraying acid in a sizzling arc, melting or scaring the ants, allowing its companion to crawl away.

  “There might be riches and wonders here, even comradery, but don’t kid yerself.” Basalt glared at him. “This world is brutal.”

  “I know that already,” Skye said, sidestepping the smoking acid crater. His boots sank down at once; he’d stepped into quicksand.

  “Stupid sandadillos!” he hissed as he struggled to remove his feet without success. The Void-spawned vermin vibrated furiously beneath the surface, dragging him down. This was not his first dance with them, and it wouldn’t be his last. But it was the second time he'd fallen for silly traps today because he was distracted, which was embarrassing.

  Hastily, he took off his backpack and hurled it to Basalt to lighten his weight. “Give me a hand!” he shouted, reaching forward.

  Gideom and Joshem had wandered off ahead and were lost to the dark.

  Instead of helping, Basalt set the bag down and calmly opened it, pulling out the parchments.

  “This is no time for the maps!” Skye yelled. “Help me! Quickly!”

  Basalt flipped through the papers one by one like a bored cleric. “Ya say ya know, yet ya wandered miles underground with strangers, carryin’ maps worth a fortune.”