Too Many Ripples

Death In Harmony: Part Sixteen of Twenty-Nine

Death In Harmony is the fifth in the Tales of The Lesser Evil and this is the sixteenth chapter.

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This is a fantasy series—not quite grimdark, but dark nevertheless—with complicated and believable characters doing their best to survive in a world simply indifferent to their existence.

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Too Many Ripples

The Past: below Youlbridge

To her eyes, the tracks definitely looked new, the edges crisp and sharp, but Flin had no idea what time would do to such marks, buried as they were so deeply below the ground. As she had walked, she had seen many marks, scuffs, prints, and displaced stones, yet had simply no idea whether they had happened moments before or a decade earlier.

‘What do you think, Kadan? On, and follow the tracks, or through, into the other tunnel?’ She looked up at the shaft again. Perhaps, if she was lucky, she would be able to climb the wall to the point where the shaft above narrowed, then she could crab her way up, feet on one side, back to the other, she could maybe make it to the top; she had certainly climbed similar cracks in the cliffs near her childhood home, searching for eggs, for eagle feathers, for the bones of fallen animals, a dare, or just for fun.

Assuming she could make it, doing so with bow, lantern, pack and baby would be impossible, and there was no telling what would greet her. Even if she left the equipment, she was unsure whether the climb would be successful and, even if it was, she knew she would emerge into fire, death, and ruin. People were dying above, the sick city being cleansed by flame and heat.

She looked at the footprints again. She knew enough to know that whatever had left them was not human. It had huge feet and long splayed toes ending in blunt claws.

‘Shit,’ she whispered. Then, for the sake of variety, ‘Fuck.’

Flin returned Kadan to his carry-cloth, picked up the lantern and stood. She moved back to the edge of the drop, to study the parallel tunnel, carefully held the light out and through the opening.

‘We take this. It is the best option.’

She climbed through, slowly, clinging to the bigger stones as she pulled herself over, constantly checking for any further movement in the masonry which could send them plunging into the darkness. A few small rocks bounced down the shaft, but the rest held.

From the direction they walked, Flin knew the tunnel initially mirrored the one she had just left, seemingly sharing a wall for a distance, before it took a sharp turn to the right. After walking through a featureless and long corridor, she emerged into a wider area, full of vaulting, columns as wide as she was tall, a honeycomb of impressive stonework stretching out as far as the lantern light cast.

Kadan chose that moment to wake with a jerk, and draw a deep, ragged breath. Flin knew what came next, but there was nothing she could do to stop it. He sobbed once, gasping, then screamed as loudly as she had ever heard.

She moved swiftly, changing already-soiled moss, then feeding him again. He quickly stopped crying and she hoped that was enough, that she had caught the sound fast enough and bundled it away in care and love before anyone or anything else heard his cries.

As she fed her son, Flin unshuttered the lantern a little more and looked around. She was seated on a neat and surprisingly clean stone floor, each slab carefully fitting in with the next, despite there being no obvious overall design, size, or shape. The columns, one of which she leant against, the pack on her back acting as a cushion, were also all slightly different, some with smooth coverings of polished rock, others rough and unfinished, with still others displaying geometrical carvings or stone vines creeping up to the ceiling. The ceiling itself was undecorated, curving up from the pillars, a larger stone in the centre of each section. She assumed there was a clever word for the stones, something technical, but all she could think of was that she felt like she was seated inside a worn seashell. She knew little about architecture, beyond having seen things that as a child in a tiny farming village she would have not believed possible; she did know, however, that vaulting and columns like this could support vast weights. It was impressive.

Kadan had fallen into the rhythm of feeding and was making soft snuffling sounds, which meant that at first Flin missed the approaching footsteps.

They came quickly.

By the time she had tucked Kadan away, stood and nocked an arrow, she could see the approaching figure. Then another, and another. There were five in all, each as short as an eight year old human child, too tall to be Twigs, but she had no idea exactly what they were. Each wore a hood pulled low over their face, and each carried a short and very pointy blade.

She raised the bow, but she knew she was already too late. She was no warrior, there was no way she could shoot them all and her fighting skills were unlikely to be enough against these odds, no matter how short her opponents.

The lead figure raised both its hands in a clear gesture of peace.

‘Come. Swiftly.’ It spoke the same language as the people of Youlbridge, if with a different accent, hushed tones and a slight hiss.

‘You talk? Who are you?’ Flin realised she sounded stupid as soon as the words were out of her mouth. Of course they talked. She lowered the bow and replaced the now-useless arrow in her quiver.

The figure did not reply, instead it walked beyond her, back to the tunnel she had walked through. She knew she had no choice but to follow.

‘Swiftly.’ It repeated over its shoulder, starting to trot to the stone wall.

Behind them, Flin heard something else approaching among the columns, something larger, something much larger, much heavier. She did not need telling again, gripped Kadan tightly, snatched up her lantern, and ran.

Instead of going back the way she had come, however, the lead figure pushed a stone to the left of the tunnel entrance, a stone which looked identical to all the other stones, only this one opened a hidden door. A door which looked just like the wall.

Flin stopped and, for a moment, simply stood there staring, then she felt one of the figures behind her give her a hard push and she ducked through the low door, one hand covering Kadan’s head and the other carrying her bow and lantern. She had no time to think; she could either trust these people, or wait for whatever approached.

She almost screamed as she felt something grasp her from behind, but then she realised it was only her pack caught on the low entrance. She tugged it free and stumbled, sitting down hard on the floor, undignified, but out of the way of the others, each rushing into the space and immediately pushing the thick stone door closed. For something so heavy, it moved silently.

Beyond, she caught a glimpse of a leaping nightmare, all claws and teeth and rage, then the door was shut and the creature slammed against it, dislodging dust and small rocks, but the stone held firm.

They stood or, in Flin’s case, sat together in silence, listening to the monster venting its fury at the walls, then the sound ceased.

‘Who,’ Flin began, then paused and started again, ‘thank you. Thank you for saving us.’

‘Follow.’

Flin was sure it was the same man who had spoken to her moments earlier. It seemed to be male, at least, and it seemed to be the leader, or perhaps it was the only one that spoke the language.

‘Wait, please. Who are you? Where are we going?’ She glanced at the short swords catching her lantern light, each still unsheathed, held ready. ‘I’m not a threat. I won’t attack you. I’m sorry, but I don’t know who you are, I don’t...’

The figure said something in an unfamiliar language, all hisses and rasps. Flin’s trained ear could pick out the words, but she had no idea what they meant.

One of the others turned and moved off down the tunnel they had entered, as the others sheathed their weapons.

‘Please, can you slow your lantern? The light is much too much bright.’

Flin pulled the shutter across, until there was little left to be seen.

‘Is that better?’

‘It will do. Thank you. When we go above, we have to take time to remember the light.’

Flin nodded in response.

‘Thank you for saving us,’ she repeated.

The man stood silently for a moment, studying her, then he hissed a little, as though expelling a held breath through closed teeth, and answered.

‘Normally, we would not. We would let you wander until nature took control and restored our balance. We are the Tanuthian, in your tongues, the Underworlders. We dwell below. This,’ it swept an arm around, ‘this below is our home. Since you descended into our world, you have been a tumblestone in a still well, all ripples, splashes and waves. The others we have seen in the last fists have always moved in two or more. They know the dangers, they know the things that share our rock and soil. Things live here, more terrifying than the slife,’ he waved an arm at the door, ‘but none are as dangerous as you Aboveworlders. You always carve death and bring tunnel change.’

Flin opened her mouth to reply, but closed it again, thinking. She knew the stories of the Underworlders, but had never met one. They lived in tunnels and chambers below the surface, in a vast honeycombed world of caves, darkness and rock. As with all the other stories, it was said that they had once been human, but countless generations underground had changed them, or the Gods had cursed them for turning their backs on the sun. Flin had always wondered about these origin tales, all told from the perspective of humanity. Each species had once been human, then changed over many years to adapt to an environment or a specific way of living, to alter from the supposed purity of humanity. She thought it was just as likely humankind had changed from something else, but those were dangerous thoughts, in many places too dangerous to be voiced aloud. People were burnt or peeled for less.

‘As for where we go, that is simple. Too many ripples. We take you out beyond the city walls. Take you to the Above.’

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