Into the Hollow

  Jana and Rue could not help but satisfy their curiosity. Foolish to the last, they threw caution to the wind. Into the cave they went—creeping and crawling through the dark like spiders. But upon whose web they tread, they did not know.

  — The Tale of the Orb Queen, an Avonmoran cautionary tale told in oral tradition

  “What do you think?” Aehyl whispered timidly.

  She did not like the chamber, or the narrow passage it led to.

  Somewhere deep within her, a voice screamed in warning: Leave this dark place immediately.

  Irritably, she swept at the strands of hair clinging to her cheeks and forehead, adding to her already considerable discomfort.

  They had little choice but to explore the cave system, but that fact did nothing to ease her nerves.

  “I think,” Portean replied cautiously, “we’re in for trouble.”

  The usually light-hearted elf wore a look of deep concentration.

  He peered into the corridor, carefully hauling himself out of the water. As he dressed and readied his twin blades, he found himself fervently wishing he had his bow. It was ill-suited for tight spaces like these, but that didn’t ease his anxiety.

  Saying nothing more, he fixed his eyes on the darkness beyond.

  Aehyl followed, her hunting knife in one hand and the glowing orb in the other.

  She had the unsettling sense that the darkness, forced back by her magic, was laughing at them, as if promising to return.

  The musty air closed in around her as she hastily dressed, a faint flush rising to her cheeks when she finally met Portean’s eyes and nodded.

  They followed the stony passage as it sloped gently downward into the bones of the earth.

  The space grew increasingly cramped, with narrow chokes occurring all too often. They moved cautiously, squeezing through tight spots one at a time.

  Thankfully, Portean led, his steady, measured breaths a sharp contrast to Aehyl’s quicker, shallower ones.

  The silence was broken only by the scuff of their footsteps on the uneven stone floor.

  For nearly an hour, though time was difficult to measure, they pressed onward.

  At times, the passage narrowed so much that the walls nearly touched. In those moments, they were forced to crouch, crawl, and squeeze their thin frames through the slightly wider sections of the remaining crack.

  Once, they encountered a blockage, a cave-in where a large fissure in the gray stone ceiling had shifted long ago.

  Portean shimmied upward through a narrow vertical gap, bracing himself between the close walls until he could peer past the rubble.

  After conjuring a small globe of light, no more than the glow of a candle, which was about the strongest enchantment he could muster, he felt satisfied that the adjoining passage beyond was safe.

  Aehyl followed quickly, her smaller frame allowing her to scamper up and slip through the gap with ease.

  Soon after, the air grew thicker, heavy and damp, like breathing soup.

  Strange black moss sprouted from the moist, slime-coated walls and clung to the otherwise barren floor in dense clumps.

  At Portean’s warning, they took care not to disturb it.

  Gradually, both familiar and unfamiliar sounds began to echo through the humid, oppressive air. Most prominent was a rising roar, like the rush of water from some underground torrent ahead.

  But other noises mingled with it: thumping, scraping—unnerving and unplaceable.

  They were drawing closer to the source.

  With growing horror, they finally recognized the sounds, multitudes of clacking mandibles and fluttering wings echoed in the darkness ahead.

  They were headed straight into the heart of the terrible colony.

  The one devouring the Great Oak.

  Finally, the channel came to an end.

  A narrow fissure marked the adjoining passage, a thin, sharp scar in the otherwise sheer stone wall blocking their path.

  The elves drew near, crouching beside the barrier. They took a much-needed rest, gulping down meager mouthfuls of cool water from a skin.

  Portean handed out small portions of cured venison. They chewed wearily, silence thick between them.

  How long had they been descending? Four, maybe five hours. Likely more.

  Beyond the fissure, the buzzing of insects and the thunderous roar of rushing water were immediately apparent.

  Not wanting to draw attention, Aehyl dimmed her light globe to the faintest flicker. She knew all too well what unfriendly presence lurked beyond and had no desire to give away their position.

  She studied Portean’s muck-streaked face, waiting for instruction. His expression betrayed a growing concern as he silently weighed their options.

  The darkness pressed in from all sides.

  They couldn’t move forward blind, but the light might draw the colony, like moths to flame.

  Peering through the fissure, Portean signaled for Aehyl to test her light spell.

  The globe flared brightly for an instant, giving him a brief glimpse into the cavern beyond. But the light didn’t reach far enough to reveal anything of the colony.

  The rhythmic buzzing surged in unison with the flash, then quickly fell back into its steady drone.

  Apparently, the insects took little interest in such a brief flare.

  Portean ducked back beside Aehyl. “I’m almost certain longer bursts will stir them,” he whispered.

  Indecision hung heavy in his voice. “But we’re blind without light. We have to see the layout of the chamber. If this is truly the heart of the colony… maybe we can save her.”

  Then, more urgently, “Could you send a delayed light into the center of the cavern?”

  Aehyl paused, mentally flipping through her spells.

  She knew several methods of conjuring light. Her Lightfist spell was reliable, but could only be anchored to her hand.

  She considered Firespark, but it depended on kindling. If it landed in the rushing water, it would fizzle. Even worse, if it landed near the Great Oak’s roots, it might do harm.

  Faunefire was ideal, it cast magical blue flames that wouldn’t damage plant life, and it would destroy any beetles that touched it. But the spell’s range was limited, and she’d have to get dangerously close.

  A Cinder Orb might offer controlled movement and a delayed blast, but the light it produced was minimal, and the explosion would be catastrophic in such a vulnerable space. She dismissed it outright.

  Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author's consent. Report any sightings.

  Frustrated, Aehyl clicked her tongue softly. Then, an idea struck.

  “I think I can manage something,” she said, her voice brightening with sudden excitement.

  She scanned the cave floor and quickly gathered several small, fist-sized stones from near the wall. Selecting a half dozen, she sat cross-legged, muttering enchantments over them.

  After several focused minutes, she handed three stones to Portean, who took them with a skeptical glance. The others she tucked into her pack, sealing their enchantments to keep them dormant.

  “They won’t trigger until I activate them,” she assured him, though part of her hoped she was right. “It’s a simple spell, like a flare. I’ve never tried it with stones before… it’s usually bound to a blunted arrow. But with a few adjustments, they should behave like fireworks.”

  “Fireworks?” Portean echoed, frowning as he turned one of the stones over in his palm. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, arching an eyebrow.

  “Yes,” Aehyl replied sharply, her voice low and defensive. “It’s a child’s spell, used for festivals and such. One large spark shoots straight up, then falls back down, sizzling and flaring the whole way. A single stone won’t light the whole cavern, but scatter a few and we should get enough illumination to see what we need.”

  She softened slightly, adding, “And we won’t risk harming the Great Oak. It’s harmless by design, safe for use around plants and children. Just toss them where you like. Unless the colony is far more clever than we think, there’s no tracer spell for them to follow back to us.”

  “Brilliant,” Portean nodded, his voice encouraging, though his face quickly darkened with thought.

  “When we first approached the tree, the colony didn’t seem to notice us. I wonder if we can manage a discreet look, then retreat back here before they react.”

  He didn’t like the idea. Their only escape route stretched for miles and was partially blocked by rubble. If the swarm responded quickly, they were finished.

  Still, with no better plan, the risk might bring them a step closer to destroying the parasitic colony.

  “Can you activate the stones from here, or do you need to be in the cavern with me?” he asked. Then, more quickly: “Not trying to be overprotective just yet, but if this sets them off, I’d rather be the bait while you seal the fissure with flame, or whatever you can manage.”

  “At the very least, I’ll need to be crouched in the opening,” Aehyl replied. “From there, I should be able to trigger the spell, and if necessary, scramble back here and mount some kind of defense.”

  The matter settled, Portean turned and crept into the gap. After helping Aehyl into position, he gave her one last, meaningful smile.

  “If things go badly for me, I want you to run.”

  He gently placed a finger to her lips, stifling her rising protest.

  “Aehyl… you are like a sister to me, and I, a brother to you. But we cannot let that cloud our judgment today. If I fall, you must get back to the Council and warn them.”

  His voice grew quieter, more urgent.

  “We don’t know if Shali escaped. We can’t rely on blind hope to tell this tale. They need to know what we found, what became of the Great Oak. They’ll know what to do.”

  Soberly, Aehyl nodded. “But I assume that, should the tables turn, you’ll heed your own advice.”

  Portean made a noncommittal gesture, but before Aehyl could protest, he stepped through the crack and into the dark cavern beyond.

  “Elem’eloak,” the ranger whispered, and instantly a dim, flickering candlelight sprang to life in his hand. The glow was weak, just enough to illuminate his immediate surroundings.

  He found himself on a jutting, moss-covered slab of fallen rock that bridged the gap between the fissure and the cavern floor. The slab sloped steeply downward, slick with moisture and littered with scattered stones.

  Using the jutting rocks for careful footing, Portean cupped his left hand around the flame. Even this feeble light felt like a sun in the abyss.

  A short distance away, the torrent thundered. Dark waters surged through the underground channel, flowing beneath the valley like a vein running through ancient bones.

  At a jagged bend, the current struck stone with violent force, spraying a fine mist.

  Chilled, gooseflesh rose on Portean’s bare skin, and his clothes grew damp with a sheen of icy spray.

  Leaving the ledge, he navigated the slick floor with care, avoiding the thick patches of black moss that blanketed the stone like sponges feeding off the river mist.

  The ranger noted that the colony did not appear to claim this side of the channel. Perhaps it was too wet for them, or perhaps they simply preferred to cluster around the roots that must lie deeper in the darkness beyond. He couldn’t be sure.

  Wishing he understood more, Portean slowly opened his hand, allowing the tiny flame to flare just slightly wider into the gloom.

  Wings stirred, but quickly settled.

  He thought he heard Aehyl hiss in protest behind him, but the roar of the river drowned all certainty.

  He ignored her regardless, acting as though he hadn’t heard. The risk was inherent in the deed.

  The underground river was wider than Portean had expected.

  His dim candlelight was woefully insufficient to reveal the far bank, but it did illuminate what he had hoped to find.

  Vast root tendrils, descending from the Crystal-Mist Oaks above, pierced the cracked cavern ceiling like fibrous pythons seeking the dark, life-giving waters below.

  They slid around massive stalactites that hung from above and wove deftly between stalagmites jutting from the rocky floor.

  Some of the formations stretched far enough to meet and merge, losing their separate identities to become solid mineral columns, monuments shaped by the patient drip of water and the relentless passage of time.

  Awed and afraid, Portean pulled the three enchanted stones from his pocket.

  He gave them one final look and offered a fervent prayer to Faune, Mother of the Forest, to guide his hand.

  One by one, he cast them into the gloom, then wasted no time retreating to the angled shelf, and, he hoped, to safety.

  Bracing himself, Portean gave Aehyl a meaningful look, then nodded the signal.

  Her arm hovered for just an instant before attuning to the faint magic humming from the enchanted stones.

  In rapid succession, three large sparks shot up from the cavern floor, filling the vast chamber with pulses of red, yellow, and blue light.

  The fireworks arced high, then began their slow descent, trailing harmless, multicolored showers that shimmered through the air like falling stars.

  Portean and Aehyl ignored the display. Their eyes locked instead on the heart of the chamber.

  There, an enormous tangle of gnarled roots descended from an enormous woody mass that had punched through the cracked cavern ceiling.

  A colossal knot of fibrous tendrils sprawled outward, larger than most hills, snaking around stone outcroppings and stretching from ceiling to cavern floor.

  Some disappeared beneath the rushing black waters of the underground torrent that carved its path through stone far below.

  Directly beneath the roots’ central mass, a great mound of rich, dark soil lay heaped on the cavern floor, likely fallen from the fractured canopy above.

  Their faces paled. The sheer number of beetles swarming the gnarled roots protruding from the central knot was staggering.

  Coal-black flyers, like those they had fled from in the valley above, blanketed the tendrils along both floor and ceiling, gnawing relentlessly with vicious, clacking mandibles.

  Among the drones, a smaller variant moved with mechanical precision, injecting corrosive venom into the roots through sharp, drilling barbs on their rear ends.

  Though they lacked the gaping jaws needed to tear the roots apart, Aehyl knew they were no less deadly.

  The creatures ranged in size, from barely half an inch across to as large as Portean’s clenched fist. Their faceted black eyes glinted in the multi-hued light, disrupted only briefly by the fireworks above.

  Many of the Great Oak’s enormous root tendrils already lay withered and broken, their tough fibers shredded by the swarm’s unrelenting hunger.

  Just when they thought their situation couldn’t grow more hopeless, Aehyl and Portean spotted a gaping, conical hole in the earthen hill beneath the Great Oak.

  From the shadowed pit emerged several insectoid behemoths, each the size of a large boar. They raised their chitinous heads, turning their massive, mandible-dominated faces toward the flaring lights above.

  Antennae twitching methodically, they studied the fireworks, shifting their gazes between the three glowing flares. After a moment’s silent deliberation, the creatures turned toward the swarm and extended their swollen thoraxes.

  With slow, deliberate motion, they rubbed their elongated middle legs against their rear limbs, producing a sharp, scraping noise, the same chilling sound the elves had faintly heard in the corridor.

  A cold dread crept over Aehyl and Portean as the swarm responded.

  Like a signal loosed, the beetles surged into the air in a great, writhing cloud—buzzing, clacking, and shifting in a frenzy.

  The cloud spiraled outward in slow, ever-widening circles, probing the cavern with twitching antennae and glittering eyes, searching for the source of the disturbance.

  “Portean,” Aehyl hissed, urgently motioning the ranger back into the passage.

  She dropped down to the channel floor and spun, eyes locked on the darkness beyond. As she waited for the lean ranger to follow, she prepared herself, both mentally and magically, to unleash a brutal spray of Faunefire.

  She knew she couldn’t hold them off for long. If the swarm discovered them, her power would falter under their sheer numbers. Perhaps she could buy a few seconds, enough time to spare the Great Oak a little more suffering. Maybe, just maybe, something else could finish the colony after her.

  But even as the thought formed, she knew it was fantasy.

  Above her, Portean materialized in the crack, his face drawn and pale. Haunted, yet resolved.

  He listened to the growing buzz.

  He didn’t bother reaching for his blades; steel would do nothing here. Aehyl’s magic was their only chance, and even that felt more like a gesture of defiance than a real defense.

  He dropped to the stone floor and stood behind her, shoulder to shoulder.

  “See you in the Skywood, my sister,” he whispered, placing a steadying hand on her shoulder as he had so many times before.

  His gentle gesture brought tears to Aehyl’s eyes, just as the swarm came, reeling in a chaotic fury toward the narrow crack.

  She unleashed all her wrath.

  Blue flame burst from her outstretched fingers, blooming in great, searing arcs. It lanced through the opening like a furious wave of vengeance.

  The black cloud met it head-on.

  Faunefire incinerated everything it touched in an instant, flashing white-hot, crackling with eerie light and unrelenting heat.

  Screaming her defiance, the druid summoned the memory of the Mother Tree.

  She tasted the decay fouling the sacred valley above.

  She mourned Vectra, the fallen ecowarden.

  And from that bitter drought, she drank.

  All her frustration.

  All her fury.

  All her vengeance.

  The brilliant blue fire turned white.

  The rune on her chest pulsed madly, burning, just as it had the moment she first received it. From behind, she heard Portean gasp as her magic surged, raw and terrible.

  A strange exhilaration overtook her.

  Her senses sharpened beyond belief.

  She saw each particle of dust suspended in the air.

  She smelled the fear of the swarm as it died, scorched into ash and smoke.

  She heard the cracking of burning chitin, the brittle snap as scorched bodies slammed against the stone beyond.

  Then, she couldn’t breathe.

  Her lungs screamed. Her limbs trembled.

  The strain of holding the spell overwhelmed her. Her senses dimmed, all save the furious, failing rhythm of her heart.

  The two forces stood in stalemate, locked in a brutal, unmoving clash.

  Then the swarm surged forward.

  Faunefire faltered, retreating toward the edges of the opening.

  Aehyl collapsed to her knees, arms trembling. She poured what little remained of her strength into one last defense, thin jets of fire sputtering from her fingertips, clawing at the edge of the swarm like a polar cat tearing scraps from a mammoth.

  Her vision swam. Somewhere behind her, she heard a shout.

  “Let it go!”

  Portean grabbed her around the waist, dragging her back, severing the spell before it consumed her completely.

  Even with death pressing in, he couldn’t bear to watch her die like that.

  The black cloud surged through the opening—buzzing wings, clacking mandibles—flooding the passageway and surrounding them on all sides.

  But the attack never came.

  Instead, the swarm settled. They clung to the floor, the ceiling, the walls, layer upon layer of chitin crawling over chitin, antennae twitching as they watched their captives with silent intensity.

  Not one of them moved to strike.

  The end they'd braced for never came.

  Holding a collapsed Aehyl in his arms, Portean stared out at the unmoving wall of insects and wondered, with rising dread, what new devilry now awaited them.