Time to move
Gamleon lashed the reins, driving his rented cart as hard and as fast as he could without outright killing the powerful young horses. They didn’t need much encouragement as booming thunder and cold wind moved the muscular steeds with utter terror. The smartest move was to head straight up north, as the flood swept down from the northeast. An all sweeping volume surged ahead, bursting rivers and streams arriving well in advance of the main body .
Looking back, angry looking storm clouds pummeled the land with nonstop lightning. Nearly as black as ash, the clouds stretched from the horizon, up to swallowing the stars. Gamleon had never witnessed anything so devastating in all his years of travel and exploration. If Lysandra was caught out there in it... He hung his head, shaking it back and forth in disbelief, bleating as curses escaped him.
Despite the allure of handsome pay, he was not able to find any clue of Princess Lysandra and, thus, not able to collect the other half of what was promised. What was discovered, though, had changed the very essence of the world, not just now but forever. A massive, unstoppable wall of water was sweeping down from high up north. It created blinding rains and inescapable flooding. Finality and disaster compounded as it inundated the vulnerable, unsuspecting land.
Gut instinct urged him to head straight for Sebaziun and Dreema. Forcing rushed calculations and estimations of speed and distance on an already over worked and weary mind. The deluge showed little signs of slowing as it engulfed outposts and trade hubs alike.
Plans were made to check and see if the cavern was how, where, and what he roughly estimated it would be. There wasn’t time to go to those he cared for, check, and then come all the way back. That much was for sure. Supplies could be gathered on the way there and back.
If the caves weren’t capable of getting the job done, then Sebaziun, Dreema, Larlee, and the rest of the Fay could debate the alternatives. More heads, more hands— that’s what was needed. Some wings wouldn’t hurt either.
Thinking of wings, he looked to the sky again and again, vainly hoping and harboring the unrealistic fantasy that Orcinia would be flying over. He pictured scenes of hailing her to a stop. Her strength and speed, rushing to their destination. If only. She would at least listen and or know what to actually do.
All his years of learning the ways of the land, its many streams and valleys had actually paid off. The cavern opening was just about where his calculations suggested it should be. At last, a small but meaningful break.
He ate his favorite breakfast, thinking of Grace and Sebaziun and wishing they were well. He often thought about the others, but wondered how often, if at all, they ever really thought about him.
The ground around the entrance to the cavern just didn’t seem right. He surveyed the area with a feeling of pride though; he had finally made it after all. Having made camp within an easy walk the night before was just more good planning. Making a hearty breakfast and taking time to enjoy it was great. As he looked into the opening the rays of the shining sun behind him, it dawned on him that the whole area was unnaturally clean. Like everything had been picked up and put away.
He hoped with all his heart that leading a band of fellow misfit creatures down here would turn out to be a good idea in the long run. The fact that he needed to get them here in one piece made him pick up the pace. They were all running out of time to find any alternatives. Whatever place they decided on had to be both large enough and close enough. And that was just the basics of what it had to be. Sweat started forming on his small, back-sloping forehead. Hairy, weathered, calloused, hands adjusted the grip on his new old sword. Without even thinking, he positioned his tall, chipped hooves. Muscle memory and the School of Hard Knocks had him always slipping into the best positions for both sword and shield. The binding on his new shield wasn’t as comfortable or broken in as his old store bought one, but hey, you have to make do with what you have.
As Gamleon inched forward into the space he could see with his small, dark eyes, where the sunlight abruptly ended. He remembered the painful lessons of going in torch-lit and silhouetted. There would come a time for every adventurer to decide when to lower their defenses to light a torch. That’s why so many went in as a group but only one or two came out, if at all.
Gamleon had his new shield designed with a torch holder of his own design. He set everything up so he could attach it out and in front. After destroying many a shield, he collaborated with Oxylus to create this one. He and Oxylus had come up with it after telling the brilliant young man that he needed something comfortable and functional. Sebaziun and his boy had helped him construct it. It came out as a sturdy, mid-sized padded buckler. The advantage was that it held the torch instead of him holding it all the time. He could just tighten up the straps on his forearm so that it freed up his hands, in a way.
The first of the cave entrances was huge and magnificent. There it was, perhaps the answer to so many prayers just before him, swallowing the rays of sunlight that dared to sneak in. A damp chill ran up his very hairy legs, a stark contrast to the warmth of the sun he’d just left behind. Unlike the seven or eight other caves he’d explored, the ground at the entrance to this one lacked that comforting blanket of dust and natural clutter.
Standing very still at the edge of the light, he looked as hard as possible into the darkness. He sniffed, peered, and listened intently before setting down his pack to take out the small kit needed to light the handmade torch. Taking his time, he lowered an ear deeply into the ground, as far as his horns would allow. Satisfied there was nothing within lethal range, he brought the torch to light and secured it easily into the cleverly crafted device. It was easy to like for many reasons: no more popping, hissing bits that painfully burned his hairy forearms, and no more direct heat right on his already sweaty palms. As far as he knew, no one else had one like it. Gamleon took a long, slow drink and hesitated at the threshold. Nerves and preparation increased the habit of constantly adjusting the grip on his well-worn sword, the soft leather creaking slightly. His hooves didn’t settle as steadily on the rough, uneven rock as he would have preferred. The almost still air had that scent of damp earth but something else too, a faint metallic smell like blood. Prioritizing, his senses instinctively put him on edge. This wasn’t your average little cave; and Gamleon wasn’t comfortable about its welcome or even sure he was.
Taking a few deep breaths, feeling over everything one last time he waded into the total darkness. The familiar prickle of unease crawled its way back up his muscular neck, but it was soon replaced by a dazzling sense of awe.
The first cavern stretched before him, vast. Its ceiling soared out of sight, adorned with countless shimmering stalactites that dripped wetly like glittering teeth. An underground river, moving somewhere made familiar sounds. Surfaces caught the flickering torchlight sending odd dancing reflections across the uneven mineral rich formations.
The scale of it all was overwhelming even for a veteran explorer like him. This was unreal, like stepping into some artist’s dream, a timeless space sculpted from water, rock, and time itself. The crystals jutting out here and there were larger and more colorful than any he had ever seen or imagined. In the distance, the cavern opened into vast, shadowy hard to see areas, hinting at even larger chambers beyond. A memory flickered in Gamleon’s mind, he though of Orcinia for some reason before everyone lost sight of her. He wondered what she was going to say about this place? Had she been here before in all her centuries of wandering ?
