Chapter 27

Journey in the Dark

The conspirators dispersed. Fred and co said goodbye to Nob and Jessamy on the doorstep of The Watery Tart. Peaseblossum glared at Fred before wheeling Cob away, into the shadows.

“Will you be okay?” said Hugo to Jessamy as he handed her carefully to the baker.

“Yeff,” she said, cheerily, “I am made of Braff.”

“Sorry?” said Fred.

“Brass,” said Hugo. “She’s made of brass.”

“Look out for my ravens,” said Jessamy.

“We will,” said Fred. Nob nodded at them and the odd pair hurried away, leaving the party alone in the snow with Moth and Mustardseed, who had offered to act as intermediary guides.

“Let’s get cracking,” said Joan. They examined the map.

“That looks like a fairly distinctive tree,” said Epic, prodding her finger into the parchment. “If we can find that we are on our way to the dwarven city or whatever it is.”

“An acacia,” said Joan. She frowned, looking up at the turgid skies. A snowflake landed on her nose. “It’s really not the right climate for an acacia.”

“It’s the queen,” said Moth, shivering. He wrapped thin arms around his insubstantial clothing. “She likes things cold. It’s supposed to be summer.”

“I assume if we kill her the seasons will right themselves, yadda, yadda,” said Alice. Mustardseed and Moth nodded.

“Do you recognize the tree?” asked Joan, holding the map out for them. “The sooner we find some nice stabby iron bits the sooner we can put things to right.” Both little fairies peered at it closely.

“Yes,” said Mustardseed. “It’s behind the fountain in the little square, at the back of The Kranky Kraken.” (“What’s that?” asked Hugo. “A tavern?” “Specialist Brothel,” said Moth.)

“This way,” said Mustardseed.

Hooded and cloaked against the snow they followed the nervous fairy through the bitter streets of the fairy city. There were not many fae-folk about. Those that were out had their heads down, hurrying against the chill wind. No one paid the party any mind. Cloaked and hooded, they blended in, although as a group they were taller than most of the fairies. Between the buildings, they could see the rise of the queen’s castle looming large and pale – a bloated jellyfish floating in a sea of icy stars.

Mustardseed hesitated at the cusp of a frosty courtyard. In the distance, they could hear the tramping of feet. Shouting echoed down an adjacent alleyway, making the icicles on the eaves vibrate.

“The Queen’s men are looking for you, Fred,” whispered Moth.

“That’s fine,” said Fred, “they can look all they want.”

“This way,” hissed Mustardseed, and they turned, ducking down a side street that was treacherous with black ice, slipping and sliding as they endeavoured to put distance between themselves and the elven soldiers.

“By the way – how long do we think all this is going to take?” asked Joan, hopping over a snow drift. “Whoops. If we can’t eat the food here–”

“Oh, we can eat it," said Fred, hotly. "And drink it–"

“–without getting drunk out of our minds,” said Joan, “then we only have a couple of days' rations between us. If we have to walk all the way to the mountains…I’m not sure if we can do it logistically?”

“You won’t have to walk,” said Moth.

“We don’t?”

“But don’t waste time talking. You’ll see. Come on. Quickly!” The dusty fairy gestured at them anxiously.

Ducking and creeping they made their way across the city. A short while later they arrived in the centre of a white-coated small courtyard, the home to the same sad looking thorn tree that was depicted on the map. The snow lay thick and heavy on the branches and Joan stared at it with some concern before shaking her head.

“Okay where now,” said Joan. “Hmm. There should be a trap door… looks like we are going underground.”

They all scuffed about in the snow.

“Here,” called Epic, keeping her voice low. She scrabbled at a heavy ring. They all went over to help her, heaving open the door to reveal a dark hole in the ground. They clustered around. A shrill wind blew back their hair, like the earth was breathing. All they could make out was the top of a maintenance ladder and the sound of rushing water far below.

“Into the sewers we go,” said Joan, cheerfully. “Anyone got a light?”

Moth got out a couple of lanterns. He lit them, his match flaring briefly in the gloom. His eyes grew round, his pupils expanding. Everyone waited. Moth stared at the flame for a long, awkward moment, until Mustardseed elbowed him in the ribs.

“Stop it,” she hissed.

“Sorry, sorry,” said Moth, jolting out of his trance. He handed the lanterns to Joan and Epic. "Good luck," he said, bowing. "I hope your quest is successful."

“Free us from the tyrannical reign of the fairy queen!” squeaked Mustardseed, beaming excitedly.

"Good luck to you too," said Fred. "Rally those troops! Vive la France! And hopefully we will be back soon with oodles of iron."

“Yes, Fred,” the two fairies said in unison.

One after the other the party climbed down the ladder.

The sewer smelled rank. The lanterns did little to illuminate the walls. It was claustrophobic, but slightly warmer than the streets above. The ladder was still uncomfortably cold to grip, however. Moth and Mustardseed peered anxiously down at them, waiting till the last person was well inside before shutting the trapdoor with a careful thump.

All was muffled, stinky darkness.

They gathered at the bottom on a narrow slimy brick path, stamping their feet and rubbing their hands.

“Well, this is gross,” said Alice, looking around.

"This way," said Joan, checking the map. "I think."

Something rustled in the darkness ahead. Epic and Joan swung their lanterns around the light affording them a glimpse of pink, fleshy tail.

“Careful – watch out!" said Alice. "There’s a rat!”

“Let me,” said Fred, as Joan struggled to juggle lantern and parchment. The rat was huge, as big as a small dog. He pierced the hairy rodent without too much trouble. It went down, spewing blood and gnashing its teeth.

[The Fredinator +5 XP]

The rat’s body sank into the slimey brick leaving behind [a valuable ruby necklace, fine workmanship].

“Woah,” said Alice.

“Why on earth did a rat have something like this?” asked Hugo, picking it up. The golden chain dangled from his fingers, the ruby gleaming in the soft lantern light. “Wouldn’t you expect a rat to drop like…leather or claws or fruit, or something?”

Fred considered.

“Maybe the rats hate capitalism,” he said, eyes glinting. “Maybe they are revolutionary rats, gobbling down the jewels of the bourgeoisie to redistribute to the proletariat.”

“Are we the proletariat?” asked Hugo.

“Clearly.”

“Or the iron the dwarves want to trade is really expensive,” said Joan. “So the dungeon is trying to hel–”

“Look!” said Epic in delight, “That one is wearing a beret!”

“Who cares what it is wearing,” said Alice, “kill it!”

[Hugo Balls +5XP]

They made their way through the sewers slaughtering their way through a not particularly terrifying but surprisingly wealthy selection of rats, until they arrived at a service door marked with an X.

Joan pushed it open and they walked through.

Inside was a cave. A few bats flitted about the ceiling and moss coated the walls. It was very damp. Stalactites hung from the ceiling, majestic and dripping.

Rusting rails were laid out in the middle of the cavern, which was long and narrow. Two carts of a strange wooden train stood on the tracks, waiting. The nose of the train was bullet shaped and worked over in metal and hardwoods. It was rather interesting to look at, all cogs and gears and fancy engine parts, as if the creator had been so proud of the innards they had deliberately left off the vehicle’s skin.

The party stared at it.

“I think we are supposed to get in,” said Joan. She eyed it suspiciously, her face pale in the lantern light. Fred wondered suddenly if she had ever seen a train before.

“Come on, Joan!” said Alice, vaulting into the front seat. “Let’s go!” Hugo plopped down next to her, eyes bright.

“It looks suspiciously like a rollercoaster,” said Epic. “The fairies did say we wouldn’t have to walk.” Stinkums was draped once more around her neck, having declined to materialize for most of the snowy walk. Epic climbed demurely into a carriage and sat with her cat on her lap. “Looks okay,” she said. “There’s a bar to hold and everything.”

“Oh, goody,” said Joan, faintly. She didn’t move.

Fred looked down the tracks, holding the lanterns aloft to see how far they went. They went a long way, before they were swallowed in darkness. There was a very steep slope. The carriage creaked a little, as Hugo shifted.

“I think,” said Joan, slowly. “I think I would rather walk.”

She turned on her heel, heading back to the door, but Fred grabbed her hand.

“Come on,” he said. “It will be fun. And I’ll be right next to you.”

Joan hesitated.

“Fun,” she said.

“That’s right.”

Fred hopped into the last remaining carriage and patted the seat next to him invitingly.

“Hmm,” she said. He patted it again.

“Come on, Joan!” said Hugo. “You said you disembowelled a bear with a teaspoon and now you are scared of a little bit of wood and metal.”

This was, apparently, the right approach.

“You disembowelled a bear?” asked Fred. “Why wasn’t I invited?”

“Oh, alright.”

Joan climbed in, gingerly, as if she was afraid the wood might bite her. Fred put his arm around her, because it was an odd thing to see Joan nervous. And she was cuddly in all the right places. He opened his mouth to ask if she was alright and screamed instead as the rollercoaster lurched forward without warning.

It shot down the hill gathering speed. They plummeted into the depths of the earth with a thunderous roar. Most of the party screamed in delight. Joan gripped Fred’s arm so hard he thought she might tear it off. The lanterns, mercifully stowed at their feet, did little to light their passage but Fred caught glimpses of glimmering crystal caves, secret waterfalls, a goblin village and hidden underground temples lined with onyx statues flashing past. The visions were gone before he could properly process the sights.

They were going so fast the wind snatched the air from his chest. Up and down they flew, with sickening, gut-wrenching speed. Around and around and for one sudden, nauseating moment they were upside down. Before anyone could lose their breakfast, they rattled to a halt.

They all sat gasping for breath, knuckles white on the railings.

“Wow,” said Alice. Her hair was blown back. Her eyes were wide with excitement. “Damn. That was almost worth dying for.”

“I don’t think I can feel my fingers,” said Epic. Stinkums was wrapped around her neck with her spectral claws dug into Epic’s shoulders. The tiny sabre-toothed tiger’s tail was fluffed up like a feather duster. She spat when Epic moved.

“How far do you think we came?” asked Hugo. “I hope we get to go back the same way.”

“A long way,” said Alice. She tried to smooth her hair down, without much success. “We came a really long way.” She stood shakily and laughed at her wobbly legs.

“I’ll be walking home,” said Joan. “It was nice knowing you all.”

Fred plucked her fingers off the rail one by one. They were like still little twigs.

“You okay there, honey?”

“Fine,” she said, distantly. “Fine.”

“Have you got the map there?” he asked her gently. This seemed to revive her somewhat. “The dwarves? Remember? Where to now?”

“People don’t really travel like that these days, do they?” she asked Fred, worriedly. “Not that fast?”

“I mean that was more of a rollercoaster,” said Fred, “people only do that for fun. At theme parks and such.”

“For fun,” she repeated, her eyes haunted.

“I mean a plane would go faster,” said Alice.

“Bullet trains,” mused Hugo. “Speed boats.” Fred glared at them.

“Don’t worry about it,” said Fred, patting Joan’s hand. “When you get reincarnated you will get used to it. It’s really not a big deal.”

“Maybe I’ll be a tree again,” Joan murmured. “Then I don’t have to go anywhere. Or ever go on one of these things.”

“I wouldn’t mind being a cat,” said Epic, climbing out, soothing Stinkums as she went. “Next time. A cat in a nice family.”

“I haven’t decided,” said Hugo, swinging his legs out of the carriage. “But I thought maybe a gorilla would be cool. Somewhere in the Amazon.”

“Gorillas don’t live in the Amazon, you twit,” said Alice. “Okay, which way?”

“The passage on the left,” said Joan.

The way was rocky, dark and filled with low-level spiders and rats. Several stabbings later, Joan had recovered her equilibrium. The party advanced, their bags and pockets clinking with gold. Somewhere along the way, they stopped for a meal.

The rocky, natural passage soon branched out into a sweeping hallway. Vaulted ceilings were lost in the murky gloom above. The faint light from their two meagre lanterns reflected off hand carved walls. Great dwarven statues lining recesses in decorative columns.

“Do you think we are getting close,” whispered Epic. Joan nodded, checking the map again. They pressed forward. There was a great feeling of space and it was cold. However, it was not the crisp, snowy cold of the fairy city above, but the slow, dusty chill of an undisturbed tomb. Their footsteps echoed, and each member of the party found themselves treading lightly. This did not seem the sort of place where it was wise to be loud.

Once or twice Fred fancied he could hear the pitter-patter of feet behind them in the dark. He looked behind but could see nothing. There was only midnight black. But the sound persisted. When the party stopped the faint noise stopped too. When they started forward the creeping footsteps resumed.

“Do you think someone is following us,” he muttered to Joan. “My shoulder blades are twitching.” Joan shot him a glance.

“Someone or something,” she murmured back. “And yes, I do.”

“Show yourself!” yelled Alice, grabbing the lantern and shining it behind them. It illuminated bare rock.

“Subtle,” said Fred.

From behind them came a soft, bubbling giggle. Alice swung the lantern too and fro but there was nothing there.

“Well,” said Hugo, “that’s not alarming at all.”

They waited, uncertain but after several minutes of silence decided to press on.

Once more they set off through the tunnel. After five minutes or so the soft pitter-patter of feet resumed behind them. This time accompanied by occasional rasping laughter, always on the edge of hearing.

“That’s it,” shouted Alice, after an excruciating hour or so. She charged down the tunnel brandishing one of her daggers. Or she would have done but Fred grabbed her by the arm. She swung round to face him, face red.

“Don’t be daft,” he told the angry girl. “That’s probably what it, or they, want. To separate us.”

The mocking laughter echoed down the passage, louder this time.

The whole party turned to face it. They were completely taken by surprise when a spider the size of a bus dropped out of the ceiling. It landed with a bone-shaking thump to their rear. Its hairy, ichor encrusted legs were the size of tree-trunks, its eyes the size of wagon-wheels. It regarded them with deadly malice. A foul reek permeated the air.

[Spider Mother, Very Dangerous, Level 30]

“Oh shit,” said Fred.

But the giant spider did not advance on them. Instead it peered beyond them into that padded darkness and spoke thus:

“Lambkin! Don’t play with your food!”

The gurgling giggles died away into pouting silence.

The spider’s voice was a hissing, susurrus that swept fear into every pore of their being. Dust quivered from the ceiling. Nobody moved. It felt pointless. The Spider Mother’s eyes gleamed as it turned to the party. Giant mandibles clicked.

“Hello, visitors,” it said, settling its rump on the rocky floor. “My nephew said to expect you. Now. Which one of you has my jam?”