Chapter 4: The Tunnels of Ancient Beletrain

As the tanner stared blank-eyed into the darkness, Meu sat just out of view and fed him visions of love and belonging. She pried the cork from the bottle given to her by the bartender and drank of the light tonic, happy to find there was little alcohol in it—though there was certainly enough. Indeed, the bottle of spirits lasted nearly as long as the vision she gave the tanner.

Meu sat quietly in the dark and watched as the tanner slowly, regrettably, closed the door to Beletrain. Then, in the pitch black of the naga city, she peeled off her sundress, summoned the shadows, and shifted into her serpent form. In her human form, Meu suffered a human's senses, which were ill-equipped for such darkness, but the underground passage lit up as her senses shifted to that of a wyrm. She was born among the high cliffs of the Spires of Gendalou, among the cracks, crevices, and caves were the wyrm made their homes. Her serpent eyes were well suited for being underground, as well as her other senses, especially her senses of smell and touch, which allowed her to sense slight shifts and variances in the air.

Still, Meu regretted the loss of her dress. She learned the necessity of clothing rather quickly as a human skin-walker, and only recently took an active interest in the all too human habit of collecting clothes. Although she had this dress for less than an hour, she quite liked the way it wore on her. It was a fine, soft fabric, and the patterning was quite to her liking—but she was in a hurry, and carrying things while a serpent was inconvenient at best.

As Meu glided through the stone-lined tunnels of Beletrain, she wondered about the crafting of the underground city. It was not the rough honeycomb of warren-like passages she had expected. Often, the walls were neatly set with brick and stone, and the pathways clear and level. Beletrain seemed an ancient underground palace—one that stretched in every direction. There were a thousand ways forward, including down. There were also ways back up into Ebertin at a hundred different places, though most were blocked.

In various areas, large courtyards of rough native cave opened up. Aqueducts and streams brought water—though the quality varied greatly. Some were pristine while others contained copious amounts of filth, debris, and sewage. The floor of many passages were neatly tiled, often with intricate patterns, that spoke of a precision and skill Meu did not expect. Through the eyes of Wenifas, Beletrain seemed rough and filthy. Viewed with the fine senses of a wyrm, Beletrain was a good deal neater. Admittedly, there was smoke and dust that accumulated in the corners for decades without a decent sweeping—but the walls themselves seemed like they might stand another thousand years before wear and crumble might see them blocked and impassible. The builders were undoubtedly artisans of high skill.

Despite the dirt and dross in many corners, there were clear paths worn in every direction. Meu could tell humans frequented this passage, and to a lesser extent, serpents. Indeed, the air was thick with naga magics. These were serpents born to earth and water, as Meu was a serpent of fire and air. Her magics were quick and agile—fleeting in comparison to the slow, ponderous, weighty magics of the naga. She was reminded that her place was above the surface, lighting among the tops of trees and the bottoms of clouds, while these shiftless catacombs were the strange home of the naga.

There was a hostility about the place, born of long conflict between naga and men. A tinge of dread crept at the edge of Meu's senses as she noted no end of spikes, pits, traps, and other dangers of malevolent intent. She wanted to bolt, to run and hide, to return on her way south. Her daughter was getting along in her pregnancy, and would quickly come due, and Meu longed for the company of another brood of young—more nieces and nephews! But Meu also felt guilty for leaving Wenifas, and could not forget her other recent failures. At Camp Calderhal, Meu could not free the shaman—though Krumpus managed his own escape. Then she failed to rescue Derris, arriving seconds too late, and now she failed his lover, Wenifas. To think, she'd left Wenifas with the men that murdered Derris…

Were they so bad?

Meu would not have left the priestess if she was not so distracted—and what a distraction it was! The very angels of heaven—and the things they revealed! She'd never talked to humans without the venom before, and now she could do it with a simple glance! It worked on the bartender, and also on the tanner—though he required a stern bite in the end—Meu felt he certainly deserved it, the brute!

Of course there was the possibility that Meu couldn't help Wenifas anyway. The last time Wenifas needed a little rescuing, Meu stared on in horror as the priestess and shaman poked and prodded at Kezodel's delicate ego. Chagrined, Kezodel stepped forward, ten feet tall, with the largest sword and shield Meu had ever seen, and a hundred men to back his every move! What could the wyrm possibly hope to do? If she'd acted against the chimera, she'd be dead. Thank the gods that the unthinkable happened! A blessed meteor struck the copula of the Great Court, rained stone upon the chimera, and that was that.

Above all, somehow the shaman knew it would happen. He’d goaded the judge, and Kezodel stepped forward to the very spot where the rubble would fall, at the precise moment the meteor punctured the roof and caused it to collapse.

How did he know?

And why save the foreign duke? What was so special about the man? Why had Krumpus risked himself, and ultimately suffered, to secure his freedom?

Or did Krumpus simply act to correct the judge? Was the duke just a lucky bystander, as greater forces aligned against the judge and his fraudulent court?

There was much wonder in the shaman. At the start, he’d seen through her camouflage—and caused them both to be captured—the very thing that had sidetracked her original plans. More recently, he’d guided the hand of Wenifas as she was attacked in these very tunnels. On top of these things, he’d managed to sever Meu’s telepathic link—a thing Meu had never experienced!

But he’d also severed Meu’s connection to Wenifas. If Meu could do anything for the priestess, she'd have to do it alone, with only the useless tanner in her head, as he slowly picked through the mess that overwhelmed his shop, intent on regaining his life, despite mountains of resistance. She heaped her good will upon the man and encouraged his resolution, though she did it covertly.

Meu crept through long halls, chambers of every sort, and a fair number of canals as she searched the dark of Beletrain. She wasn't lost. She could easily find her way out. She simply had to go up and there were exits galore, many of them obvious—though most of them were blocked. There were a great number of lines attached to bells and gongs, that she might alert someone with a barricaded door. Even the tanner had such an alarm. Meu wondered what she might have to promise to escape Beletrain. She was quite low on venom—though she had enough to force one more human to her bidding.

As Meu continued, she noted other ways out of Beletrain that appeared open to the surface. They were well hidden and often too thin for full grown humans. Meu realized these were the tunnels used by the naga to get to the surface. Some were disguised. Some were obviously trapped by humans that must have thought the traps clever—and perhaps there were some clever traps set among the exits that were undetectable, even with her sharp senses. Well, at least she was aware of the danger.

Still, Meu wasn't trying to get out just yet. First, she had to see about a woman and her children, somewhere in this massive maze, lost; and as Meu wandered through the long corridors and grand halls of Beletrain, she could not help but notice that the place kept getting bigger, and bigger, and bigger...

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.2 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

"But I do not wish to go east!" Meriona snapped at Gliedian. "I want to go home, to Umsuppa!"

Gliedian shook his head as he stared at the Jay. "Without Celesi you have no reason to go west at all—not even to Tikatis. The Empress needs you here, and here you will stay." He held out a letter.

The Jay stiffened as she saw the seal of the Empress on it.

"So now you have a choice," Gliedian continued. "You can go to Land's End and do my bidding there, or you can go after this wayward duke. It is one or the other—but you will not go west. Not at this time."

"And what in name of Rauthmaug am I to do in Land's End?!" Meriona snapped up the letter and broke the seal. "We've lost our forts. Ebertin is in question," Meriona held up the papers. "Once the Empress finds out about Kezodel, do you think she will continue this campaign?"

"I most certainly do!" Gliedian stated as he stared at the Jay. He leaned close as he whispered the following. "As we speak, five legions march on the road from Tikatis—and I have been promised five more!"

"Ten legions?!" Meriona stared in shock.

"And behind them a building wave of settlers!" Gliedian continued. "It is true that we've had issue with the waokie north and west of our forts, but have you noticed how many Ministrians are about the southern towns? We have two legions in Rynth Falls alone, and you know to what purpose!"

Meriona gave a nod. "To make war against Land's End. But I thought that was why we lie to the Trohls, so they will do our fighting and dying for us. Why do we need five legions? And where are we getting such a number of men?"

Gliedian frowned at the Jay as he shook his head. "We have given our interests in the jungles of Borzia to King Gred duReb in exchange for the Noeth duchy. But we ask that the Noeth is not given to us, you see, we ask that we might take it!”

“Like Gaurring and the Breck before, the Dunkels are at odds with their King. To see them fall serves us all!" Gliedian leaned forward as he continued to stare at Meriona. "Do you not feel the shifting of the winds? The Empress turns her head! She eyes new opportunities! What we thought was just a passing fancy is suddenly a great wave of interest! Do you think we merely loot and riot among these natives? We are not here to sow a little chaos, but to take the land and the people for our own! Do you think the Empress would be happy with just a little Bouge territory, when there are eight other tribes to subvert? And we cannot expect a couple thousand duped young Trohls to take the Noeth alone. They will need the Empire's legions to bolster their spines and lead their minds!" Gliedian explained.

Meriona blinked. "She brings the legions from Borzia..."

Gliedian smirked. He loved to be the one in the know. "The Empress wants lands closer to her own. We get the Noeth, and all the Trohl lands we can take. Danyan gets Borzia, and also our support in smashing Gaurring. Once he smashes the Gaur upstarts, he means to reclaim the Breck," Gliedian explained. "So what say you? Will you go to Land's End? Or do you go after the duke?"

Meriona considered it for several seconds. She remembered she had scores to settle among the duke's company. "I shall go after this Creigal," she said. And Wenifas, and Celesi, she thought. "Send Alise or Karamina to see after Land's End. Either one is ready for such work."

"Very well. I shall have Alise take the lead in Land's End. Karamina was meant to get pregnant by the duke—a simple enough task—but she was too forward and must have spooked him,” Gliedian snorted. "I give you four throat-cutters to finish your work." With a whistle, Gliedian waved several men to join them.

"Four men?!" Meriona complained. "This duke travels with over a dozen guards!"

"Then you shall have to be sneaky about it, won't you?" Gliedian sneered. "But these are not simple men. These are sneaks and conspirators. They are perfect for this work—just remember that only the duke concerns us. We care nothing about these others.”

Meriona gave a slow nod, though her own plans were already taking root.

“Remember,” Gliedian put a finger in her face. “Under no circumstances can Creigal be allowed to return to Gaurring."

“And what of you?” Meriona asked. “What will you do?”

“I do what I always do,” Gliedian said as he walked away. “I return to my war.”

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.3 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Celesi nudged Toar and smiled as they followed Apulton and Andrus through the crowded streets of Ebertin. She looked about Edgewater, on the shore of Lake Kundilae, curious to see so many Trohls come and go as they pleased. It'd been a long time since she was around so many of her own kind, and although the people looked familiar, she knew they were not her own. She was something different. She was part Ministrian, now and forever.

There were many levels of Jay among the Ministrians. Celesi was the very lowest of these. Her sisters made a point of reminding her frequently. To be the lowest of the Jays meant that she shared in all the niceties of her sisters profession; an appreciation for the arts, lessons in cooking, manners and the like. She was well educated under their tutelage. They were even so liberal as to allow her a personal journal. In this way, she was far above the common slaves. But hers was an empty title. She had no access to the political cloak and dagger that seemed to dominate the Sisterhood's work. Admittedly, Celesi never wanted a part in it and had simply resigned herself to a life among that people; a stranger given some privileges simply because she was young and pretty.

And how long could she expect such privilege to last? How long could she expect her good looks to hold out, especially in such an ugly society?

Over the last year and a half, Celesi felt she was little more than a pin cushion for her “sisters”. She was low on fight. Her captors found her at the edge of a stream, in the middle of winter; frozen, starved, and nearly out of her mind. Since her village was ransacked and her friends and family rounded up and taken to the Invader’s Fort as slaves, she'd evaded the blended forces of Minist, Wibbeley, and Ebertin for eight months—not to mention the bugbear. The ordeal took its toll. Thin and emaciated, she was finally caught trying to fish a proper dinner out of a half frozen creek with a stick she’d sharpened on a rock, as she cussed and muttered against her predicament.

Taken to the Invader's Fort, Meriona claimed her from among the common slaves and began her “proper education”. The Jay had just returned from selling the last girl she'd groomed, and Meriona was quite plain in her plans for Celesi. The young Trohl would be a concubine to some man of position, her virginity sold to the highest bidder.

Still weak from running and hiding in the wilderness, Celesi allowed Meriona to mold her. She saw how the other slaves were treated and knew in many ways she had it good. She went along and built her strength as she studied her enemies. Indeed, she was growing complacent as she studied with her sisters. She didn't bother to explore every possibility of escape as much as she felt she should.

But then, she had no where to go. Her family was gone, dead or sold west, even before Celesi arrived at the fort. As she was first captured, sh’ed thought at least she should see her family again. But there were only a few neighbors left—among a great congregation of strangers. Life seemed hollow, without reason or meaning. There was certainly no point in fighting her captors. They’d already won, and could only make her life more of a living hell.

Many months passed. Then the duke arrived, and shortly after, the war of bugbear attacked. Suddenly, Celesi was heading in the opposite direction. On top of that, a rock smashed though the Great Court of the Muaha and killed the tyrannical judge Kezodel. In the mayhem, she’d found the courage to stand up to Meriona—and just like that she was free, as free as the day was long, and with such little effort of her own!

Now she wandered the streets of a city with thousands, indeed, millions of her own people. More to the point, there was a handsome and dour man next to her. She fancied this young Trohl explorer would make a fine anchor for her new life—all she had to do was win him over.

As they walked, Celesi eyed the prosaic come and go of traffic while the manic events of the last week played through her mind. It seemed that no one among the commoners even knew or cared what happened at court, or of the bloody massacre that took place at the Fort and Camp only a few days away. "They move around as if nothing is wrong," she whispered. "Is it possible that such a lord should die, and the people won't even know it?"

"There's not much talking in this city," Apulton speculated. "Anything beside the official story must travel in furtive whispers. One must be very careful with the Degorouth in control."

Andrus disagreed. "The secret is out," he argued. "There will be talk, certainly enough friction to grease the rumor mill.”

Apulton shook his head. “It doesn't matter for many of them. They assume the new leader will be just as bad as the last, and likely as not, they are right."

“But the shaman promised a new day,” Celesi replied.

“Who is he to know the future?” Apulton shook his head. “The hyperbole of a holy man— a best guess, a wild hope...”

"Will there be fighting?" Celesi asked.

"The Degorouth will bloody somebody,” Andrus nodded.

"They're a rotten bunch," Apulton agreed. "There is likely fighting already—somewhere. The Degorouth will undoubtedly take their frustrations out on someone—once they get over the initial shock."

"Do you think they'll maintain power?" Celesi asked.

"Without Kezodel?" Apulton shrugged. "With him in the lead, I'd say they were likely to break Ebertin, eventually. She's a tough egg, but Kezodel was something else. Among these other muckety-mucks, I dunno a single one worth his salt—but then, I haven't paid too much attention. I didn't see a reason. I assumed Kezodel would stay in command for another fifty years," he admitted.

"It is impossible to pay attention among the sycophants and lickspittles that groveled at Kezodel's feet," Andrus added. "You heard the priestess yelling, 'you will be swept aside!' and what not. Who knows? Maybe it is a new day for Ebertin."

"Perhaps the loss of their leader will be enough to shake these parasites," Celesi noted. “The people deserve better.”

“Do they?” Andrus shrugged. "Nonetheless, it shall be interesting—but I think Traust means to see us all go home. We shall not get to see it.”

“He will allow you to stay and keep an eye on things if you should like," Apulton replied. “None will leave unless they want to. Duboha will stay for sure.”

"Will you stay?" Celesi asked. "Even with all the coming troubles?"

"I should like to. The troubles will not affect me as much as others,” Apulton said. “My home is in Hearthstone, and I am supported from there, so no matter how dire it gets here, I am more insulated than most. And what of you two? Do you wish to go east with the Saot lord?"

Toar gave a quick nod. "I am not taken with this city. Not in the least.”

"Didn't you grow up here?" Celesi asked.

"No, I grew up out west, but I have spent too much time among the Degorouth. I should not like to be near them at all."

"How is it that Kezodel knew you?" Celesi asked—a question that piqued both Apulton and Andrus. They were not in the main audience hall as Kezodel spoke to Toar. They did not hear the brief yet familiar exchange between the two.

Toar snorted. After all the excitement of the day, he had not expected anyone to remember his words. Indeed, he'd hoped it was well forgotten. He should have expected Celesi to notice, as she stared at him incessantly. He shrugged and figured he might as well have it out. "I was raised in Kezodel's house," he explained. "I escaped when I was young, with a slight girl he meant to make his own. She was also young, but unlike me, she had a powerful family. Indeed, when it was revealed that Kezodel had kidnapped her, the locals rousted the judge and drove him to Ebertin.

“For years, it seemed as if the evil judge was forever out of our lives, except that he managed to take over the capital,” Toar continued. ”Then, with the help of his Ministiran allies, he ruined the western settlements and sold their people as slaves."

Apulton clapped Toar on the shoulder and gave a bit of a bow. "Well, it is good that you escaped such a sordid fate," he said.

"How can you say that when my actions led to him taking over Ebertin?" Toar asked. “If I had not escaped, if he was not confronted and driven away, he’d simply be some backwater judge. He’d certainly be unable to ruin a whole tribe of Trohl.”

"Yet he failed,” Apulton noted. “And who is to say he wouldn't have taken over Ebertin that much quicker if you hadn't unwittingly destroyed his operations at home? Besides, he has not completely spoiled the Bouge.”

“The Bouge,” Toar answered with a snort. "I always wondered how we could call ourselves part of the Freelands when I was born to slavery! The doublespeak of our leaders is disingenuous at best!"

"Most people are willingly blind to the truth,” Apulton replied. “It keeps them from the discomfort of having to make their own decisions.”

"Hearthstone is free," Andrus noted.

"For now..." Apulton muttered under his breath.

"What is this?" Celesi asked. "I thought Hearthstone was the most beautiful city in the world?"

"It is!" Apulton said. "But there is no place in the world safe from the ruinous effects of stupidity. Even among the Jindleyak there are those that advocate for their own slavery!"

"There is no city without its troubles," Andrus shrugged. “And most of ours come from Gramgoar,” he noted.

Apulton turned to Celesi. "Now that you know it, do you still prefer to go to Hearthstone, or might you like to stay here in Ebertin, the greatest of all Trohl cities?”

Andrus snorted. “It is merely the largest. It is in no way the greatest.”

“Being the largest makes it the greatest,” Apulton replied. “Now shush. I have asked the lady the question.”

"I am not attached to Ebertin,” Celesi began with a shrug. “I know nothing of it—and if there will soon be fighting, I'd just as well go elsewhere."

"Ebertin is a vast city," Apulton noted. "I should think there will be fires—and most people won't see them. There will be fighting in the streets—and most people won't hear it. A new order will establish itself—and half the populace will never look up from their doings long enough to notice," he waved at the varied crowd.

“It is not my home,” Celesi continued. “My home is gone, and my family with it. Now, the only people I care to know move on, and I plan to go with them,” she smiled at Toar. At once, she hoped she did not betray her interest in the young man—and yet she wondered that it was somehow possible he had not noticed her affection. She thought perhaps it was the stress of their situation… but stress brought it out of most men. It certainly seemed to get his Saot friend, the tea-drinker with the lustful eye. Of course, that man gave the priestess the same look, and even looked at Meriona with such eyes, the lout.

But then, what did Celesi know of men? The last good men she knew were several years in the grave.

Oh but don't think of home, Celesi told herself. Instead, think of your newfound freedom! Think of the handsome man at your side! Such thoughts will keep the tears away, she noted as she wiped the gathering moisture from her eyes. I am free! Free in the Freelands! she reminded herself. Think on that!

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.4 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

As Carringten scanned the flickering shadows of ancient Beletrain, he began to wonder if they ever meant to come up out of the ground. They’d been under the city for a number of hours, when finally the monotony was broken as a voice called from the darkness.

“Halt! Identify yourselves!”

Carringten reached for Bence’s sword. The Jindleyaks ditched their torches and pressed themselves to walls. Carringten followed suit, as one arm pressed the duke behind him.

“It is I, Traust of the Wooden Hound! And who have we met in these tunnels?” he replied.

“These are not just tunnels,” the man replied. “For you have entered Pan Iskaer territory!”

“Huah!” A number of voices called from all around the group, and Carringten realized they were surrounded.

But Traust was not concerned. He took his hand from the hilt of his sword, straightened up, and took a long, deep breath. “Excuse us gentlemen, but we would like to pass through your territory,” he replied to the disembodied voices.

“You have the bounty?” Asked the first voice.

“I do,” Traust stated. “And I should like to give it to you in full view of the sun.”

“Then I suggest we hurry,” the voice replied. “And where would you care to come up?”

“Near the Plaza of the Serena,” Traust said. “We’d prefer to come up behind the bake shop.”

“Mullaynes,” the voice said. “Squirrel, take them to the matron. Tell her to collect the fee.”

Despite his name, Squirrel was a large man, larger than any of the Jindleyaks, except Aim. As the Jindelyaks gathered their torches from the ground and lit them, Squirrel eyed Aim, impressed; then he turned and motioned for the Jindleyaks to follow.

As they crept through the Pan Iskaer tunnels, they saw a good number of warriors. These men eyed the strangers, but let them pass with no trouble. Some spoke to Squirrel, but none dared challenge the man.

Soon, they were moving up a ramp. Unlike the bar, there was nothing to secure this entrance. Carringten followed Duboha up the ramp, aware that the light was getting bright—and suddenly they were out in the open. They found themselves in a small courtyard. All around him was a ten foot fence of brick and mortar. Each wall had a thick wooden door. Several men looked down from this wall, armed to the teeth, and somewhat bored.

“Where’s momma?” Squirrel asked one of the guards.

The guard shrugged, then disappeared from view. The others simply waited and stared at the gathered men in the box until a large lady appeared with flour on her apron and a bothered expression. “They square?” she asked Squirrel.

Squirrel shook his head, “Nah, momma, they gotta pay the metal price.”

The matron pointed at each of the men as she counted them. “That’ll be five moons—unless you wish to go back under—back to where you started,” she waved at the tunnel.

“Five moons,” Traust agreed with a smile, dug in his pocket, then reached them up to the matron.

“The portly lady took the coin, counted it, then said, “Would you prefer the alley or the shop?”

“The alley,” Traust stated. “And where do the other two doors lead?”

Squirrel eyed Traust, “Those are for the ones that need to pay the blood price,” he said with a knowing grin, then stepped back into the tunnel that led into Beletrain. “Farewell, sir.”

“Open the alley gate,” the matron said, then disappeared back behind the wall. The door behind them opened. Carringten followed Creigal into an alley, all too happy to be above ground. He breathed deep and easy for the first time since they came up from underground. He had little issue with the dark—but was not fond of tight spaces—and both together made his skin crawl.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.5 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

As Meu searched Beletrain, she sensed several roving bands of men. There were certainly enough of them banging around with their garish torches. They always seemed to travel en masse as they made their way from one entrance to another. They had little interest in the lower levels. Although Meu invariably noticed these men first, she decided to abandon the areas controlled by men, slipped through a corridor rigged with traps, and found herself in no-man’s-land.

The corridors were blocked, often at inconvenient times. There were sporadic traps set by both sides. The going was slow. Meu decided it might be better if she entered naga territory proper—besides, she wanted to get a look at the beasts.

The area was clean and seemed to be of regular use. The walls looked as if they'd been cleaned sometime in the last few months. The general dinginess of the men’s tunnels, and especially no-man’s-land, was all but gone. She came across several entrances blocked by doors and heavy tapestries. She imagined these were the quarters of naga, though she saw little of the beasts themselves. And then she did.

The naga were much tidier than Meu had imagined, and also a fair bit meaner-looking. The first naga she saw had several weapons and long arms to wield them. His blade was either a long knife, or a small sword—she couldn’t tell. Wrapped about his torso was a chain with a heavy metal spike on one end. She wondered how such a weapon might be used—but thought it best to give the beast no reason to demonstrate. With so many weapons, the naga did not appear friendly whatsoever. Meu kept her distance, a mere stone in the corner, and wondered if this beast was a sourpuss even by naga standards.

Meu saw a good deal more of the creatures, including a few that appeared to be female, with shirts and soft feather boas draped about their neck and arms. Unlike the males, who were gruff and severe in appearance, there was something appealing, beguiling, even attractive about the females. Though they occasionally spoke Trohl, they mostly spoke their own language, which was a good deal grittier. She saw several young, some with decorative clips on their fins. They were cute in the way all young animals are cute.

Meu descended. She heard the muffled conversation of a crowd. There was a laugh, several knocks, and other disparate noises. The noises came from behind a thin grate, about halfway up the wall, with an angled tunnel beyond it. The grate was locked, but the bars were several inches apart. With her wings tucked to her side, she could just slide through.

The tunnel beyond was thin, and she thought it must be just wide enough for a naga. She figured it was for some sort of utility, and due to the warm rich scents that washed up it, she quickly decided it was a chimney of sorts. Indeed, she came to the end of the tunnel and realized a massive room before her— so massive that it had not one chimney, but over a dozen, with metal loops between them, so naga might use their hands to go from one to the next in order to keep them.

Meu peered down into the soft light of the room and decided it was a good two hundred feet to the floor of the cavern. The massive cavern had a great number of balconies on every wall, some with furniture, most with decoration. The floor of the great cavern was something of a market, lit in many ways, though most of the sources were rather dim and muted by human standards. After the pitch black of the upper levels, this giant cavern appeared quite bright, and Meu could easily make out perhaps a thousand naga in the grand space below, with plenty of room for a few thousand more.

It wasn’t just naga. There were humans on the floor. There weren’t many, maybe fifty or sixty. They appeared to be slaves, as most had leashes about their necks. A few of them called and cried, but their voices were weak and long defeated. Meu searched them for any faces she might know.

There was a large bath in the corner, part of a natural section of cave, though the pool was nicely bordered. The pool was quite popular and filled with lounging naga. A gentle steam rose from the water. Meu could not see the entire pool, as it receded under the far wall and out of view.

For quite a time Meu watched the crowd below, as she felt at leisure to study the beasts. Their appearance was gaunt, though Meu had no reason to think most weren't in perfect health. Then, Meu felt eyes on her.

Slowly, she turned and scanned the balconies below her. It took her several seconds to find what she was looking for. To her left and several levels down, a naga stood stock-still and stared at her. Meu felt a menace and calculation in its gaze. Her heart jumped and a shiver ran down her spine, but he was a good distance away. She stared back at her observer and challenged him to act. There was nothing he could do from so far away—or so she assumed.

Now that she spotted the beast, the naga slowly pulled from view and disappeared behind the edge of a wall. Meu decided it was time to go. If Wenifas or any of the others were in the crowd below, well—so long kid; never say die. But with so many naga about, Meu believed she could be of no assistance. Indeed, she felt she must flee, before she was also caught.

Meu wondered if the naga that spied her meant to cut her off. She wondered if it might have friends and thought it best not to go back the way she came. Unless the beast was an absolute dolt, it must know the tunnels better than her. She decided to make a bold move. She unfurled her wings and flew out of the chimney and through the arch of a massive balcony. Unfortunately, many among the crowd below noticed. Several gasps and a pause in conversation followed her as Meu covered the meager distance.

As she flew, fingers were pointed.

As she flew, sentries made for the exits.

Meu moved quickly and often took ramps and passages that led up and closer to the surface. After several levels, she had to move slow to safely navigate the various traps set by both sides. Finally, she was back in corridors that smelled more of humans than naga. She felt safe once more and wandered in a ponderous way, generally in the direction she believed to be east. She listened for any sounds of pursuit, but heard nothing in some time now.

Meu wondered if many men of Ebertin had ever seen what she'd seen, with their garish torches held high, banging about with their metal armor—announcing themselves long before they ever appeared. The more she thought on it, the more she thought it was ridiculous to believe so. She must have dodged a couple dozen naga to get so deep, and she was quiet and stealthy in a way even the naga barely noticed. Meu wondered if there were many such large chambers, and expected there were indeed. She wondered what number of naga really lived in this labyrinth—but then, Ebertin was a great city, and the naga fought its men to a standstill and continued to keep them out of the deepest levels of Beletrain. She wondered if that market might be considered small by naga standards. Who was to say what other wonders lay hidden so deep in the earth?

Distracted by such thoughts, Meu continued on. As she slid among some corridors close to the surface, a familiar scent caught in her maw. She paused. For a second, she thought it was a trick as she immediately lost the scent once more. She turned back and caught the smell again.

By some miracle, there was the familiar scent of the young boy, Claiten next to the aqueduct. Meu moved to the left, then to the right, then forward and back, but the smell was only in this one spot, next to the water.

It took Meu a minute to realize the boy must have come out of the aqueduct, laid for a time, then got back into the water.

But it wasn't just the boy's scent. There was no smell of the others, of Wenifas, or Evereste, or even the strange scent of one of the Jindleyaks—but there was the scent of a naga.

Meu realized if she wanted to follow the scent, she needed to take a bath. Without hesitation, she plunged herself into the aqueduct and decided to swim against the current, through several chambers and long tunnels. The water was brisk and gripping. Although she could swim, her kind were not exactly built for it. A couple of the tunnels were dangerously long and tested her ability to hold her breath.

Meu came to a brick and mortar room where she noted the smell of Wenifas and Evereste. She shivered as she filled her lungs with the familiar scent of her friends and the two Trohls that traveled with them.

Excited by the scent of her friends, Meu moved several feet in the direction of the priestess. As she came to the end of the room, she stopped. There was no smell of Claiten in this direction, and there was no smell of naga either. She realized she was going the wrong way. Meu realized she needed to go back into aqueduct and after the boy. This is where she was needed.

Meu feared if she hesitated her courage would flag. She turned, lifted into the air, dove into the water, and allowed the current to sweep her deep into Beletrain once more.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.6 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

Though they managed to break through the southern line of waokie, Petaerus caught of dart laced with rot root under his eye. By the time they reached Rynth Falls, he was delirious, could barely see, and was a ghastly sight. The rot had spread over most of his face and neck. Dolif feared he would die, but half-carried him to the town walls of Rynth Falls anyway.

Two legions of battle hardened shocktroops, and a good number of Trohl berserkers entered the fray and battled back the war of waokie. A competent healer was found for the infected and set to the task of healing the afflicted men, women and children.

For three days, Petaerus suffered a slow recovery. Though he was not the only one to suffer the rot, he was one of the last to recover. In a way he was lucky. Many of the others that were struck with the rot were simply amputated, losing arms or legs. Although their recovery was quick, they were no longer whole. But such a quick fix was not possible for Petaerus. A web of scarring laced his face, to remind him of his affliction.

Dolif frowned as Petaerus came into his tent. “Is it that bad?” Petaerus asked.

“It should calm a bit as you continue to heal,” Dolif shrugged.

“Can’t say I’ve felt better,” Petaerus sneered. “There’s nothing like the edge of death to make a man feel alive.”

“Well said,” Dolif nodded. “I admit, I was not sure you would make it.”

Petaerus shrugged. “So many didn’t. Guess Ooroiyuo has use for me yet.”

“He does indeed,” Dolif smiled. “And your recovery is just in time,” he leaned forward, and in a conspiratorial tone continued. “Soon, we go south.”

“We are not moving against the waokie?” Petaerus asked.

“Non,” Dolif answered. “That is for others to address. Instead, we lead the Trohls against their Saot enemies—which is all the better, since waokie have little treasure in comparison to men.”

“You are sure?”

Dolif nodded. “It is whispered among many of the higher officers. We only wait for Gliedian to lead us.”

“And how is it that you know?” Petaerus asked.

Dolif twisted his shoulder so his friend might see his promotion. “You should mind your own stripes,” he grinned, and pointed at his friend.

Petaerus stared at his own insignia, surprised to see he’d jumped several ranks. “Copal?” he began. “How is this possible?”

“Your plan saved some fifty men, and several hundred slaves—not to mention a good number of civilians,” Dolif smiled. “Drastarig wanted none of the praise, as he has all the rank he wants, and since he acknowledged it was our plan that saved us, we were rewarded.”

“Our plan?” Petaerus questioned. “I distinctly remember you were against it.”

Dolif shrugged. “I merely played devil’s advocate—as a second must—that we might flesh it out,” he claimed. “Besides, can’t you see I am still your subordinate? Or is your eyesight still so compromised.”

Petaerus twisted Dolif’s arm so he might have a second look at his friend’s promotion. Sure enough, his friend’s rank as a Minorus made him subordinate. He changed the subject. “So Drastarig made it through?”

Dolif shook his head. “The man’s a monster—though he’s currently on death’s door,” he finished with an uncertain shrug.

“Does he also suffer the rot?” Petaerus asked.

“No, nothing so pedestrian for Drastarig,” Dolif began. “He made it all the way south in fine condition—and still looking to fight—but once the waokie came up against our legions, they melted back into the forest and disappeared,” he shrugged. “Of course, Drastarig still got his hands on one the creatures. He brought the poor thing into camp—wounded, snarling, and spitting—and proceeded to skin it alive.”

“Vicious.”

“And that’s not even the worst of it. He then stuck it on a spit and proceeded to cook it, while it was squirming.”

Petaerus cringed.

“They don’t call him ‘the Gorpulent’ for nothing,” Dolif shuddered. “Just the smell of it made me gag. How he managed to choke any of it down is beyond me,” he shook his head. “The next day, he was sick as a dog, losing solids and liquids from both ends.”

“Dreadful.”

“He’s been sick ever since. Yesterday the fever broke, but he still can’t keep anything down,” Dolif shook his head. “The man’s lost at least a stone, likely two, and is pale as a sheet.”

“Is that it for our friend? Do you think he’s going to die?” Petaerus asked.

“Dunno,” Dolif shrugged. “Personally, I think he’s turned the corner—but even if he recovers, he won’t be lifting his sword for at least a week.”

“Cripes,” Petaerus said. “And I thought I suffered.”

“You did, and you will continue to suffer,” Dolif nodded and pointed at his friend’s scarred face. “Have you seen your reflection? The ladies are certain to charge you double.”

“I’m a hero,” Petaerus frowned. “I should be discounted.”

“You won’t hear argument from me, but I don’t set the tithes,” Dolif replied. “The gods favor beauty, and in this way, you are no longer favored.”

“At least I’ll receive a Copal’s pay,” Petaerus smiled. “If the ladies are unkind, well, there are ways to deal with the priesthood.”

Dolif nodded and shrugged. “For the time it matters only a little. I’ve secured us a plum position. We’ll be looking for women among our enemies—and we shan’t have to pay a copper for any of ‘em,” he smirked.

~!@#$%^&*()_+ 4.7 +_)(*&^%$#@!~

"This, my good man, is the House of Leaves," Traust said with a satisfied smile. He held a hand out to a large house set back from the street with a commanding view and a large garden in the front.

The house was at the edge of an affluent neighborhood and quiet by all accounts. Creigal smiled and gave a nod, happy with the look of the place.

"And now, I welcome you to our safe home. It is not known by our enemies. Indeed, it is not known by most of our friends! You shall want for nothing as long as you are in our care; food, shelter, weapons for your guard," Traust assured as he began up the drive.

"I shall repay your kindness," Creigal smiled. "Though I am far from home, I am a man of means, and good to my word. If you or any of your men are ever in Gaurring..."

"Yes, if ever we find our roles reversed, I am sure you will return us such favor," Traust clapped the duke on the shoulder. "I am sure the others will be along shortly—if they are not here already—and then we shall be on our way. But for now, let us quench our thirst and satisfy our hunger as we wait," he said.

Author’s Notes: Wrote the first draft of 4.4 today. Need to figure out Drastarig and write 4.6 next. 2020/01/22

Finished the first draft of 4.6 today. 2020/02/02