Underland

A quick reminder that this is the last chapter before the change of schedule. Underland will now update on Thursday until I complete Kairos: A Greek Myth LitRPG. After which I'll focus full-time on Underland.

“This story doesn’t match historical records,” Marianne said as she sipped her tea. “Not at all.”

Valdemar considered her answer as he drank his own cup, his face unreadable. A slow-paced piano song resonated across Marianne’s apartments, sung by invisible musicians. The noblewoman had heard it only once in her life at one of Saklas’ many balls, but it had left such an impression that she remembered it to this day. Instead of a hedge maze, the world beyond her window had transformed into a copy of the Lightless Ocean with a colossal shape playing with a ship on the horizon. Marianne found the sight strangely soothing.

“I have studied imperial history in-depth,” Marianne continued. Instructors had drilled texts into her young head one book at a time. “The Blood was only discovered around 300 B.E. through contact with troglodyte tribes years into the Descent. Mankind was completely disunified back then, with warlords trying to carve out pockets of civilizations. The first recorded case of necromancy was in 243 B.E., and Lord Och himself is first mentioned in historical records in 129 B.E. as a powerful necromancer fighting against the fallen Dokkar Kingdom of Nidavelir. There was no telling he was even a lich back then, though it’s likely considering his lifespan and magical might. Even history books aren't certain if this was a namesake.”

“And Empress Aratra?” Valdemar asked with a frown. “I know she invented the Bloodstream network of Earthmouths in 18 B.E. and then proceeded to conquer the human enclaves in the War of Unification.”

“Which was the first time the term ‘Dark Lords’ appeared in historical records. In fact, the title belonged to the sorcerer-kings who pledged to unify mankind under Aratra’s leadership.” Marianne put her cup aside. “Official records say that the empress was born in the flames of the Sack of Nielson during the First Dokkar Wars in 191 B.E., leading mankind to victory at the age of sixteen in 175 B.E.”

Waves crashed against the window outside, though no water stained the glass.

“All of this to say that however ancient they are, the Dark Lords appeared long after the Whitemoon’s arrival,” Marianne explained. “As for the Church of the Light, although it was already a major underground faith, it was only officially consolidated into the organization we know today in 24 After Empire. There is no mention of a ‘Sophia’ in the scriptures, and the faith generally considers the First Enlightened One Marcel Moonstone as its true founder.”

“You have done your research,” Valdemar said with an amused smile. “I didn’t expect such a wealth of details.”

Marianne blushed a little. “I should have spent more time reading magic than history and religious books.”

“All knowledge is useful,” he replied before squinting. “If it’s not too private… Do you believe in the Light?”

“Yes,” Marianne confirmed with a nod. If anything, facing the likes of Shelley had only strengthened her faith. “Although I don’t support the inquisitors’ zeal and witch hunts, the Church has lighted my way many times. Lord Och’s tale is unlike anything I’ve heard before; heretical even.”

“Yet I suspect that for all the embellishments and possible falsehoods, there is a nugget of truth in it.” Valdemar scratched the back of his head. “Who else but Lord Och and Empress Aratra were among the original Dark Lords?”

“Only Lord Och and Empress Aratra successfully defended their titles from death and usurpers. As for the nature of their immortality, one is a lich, and the other keeps the secret of her eternal youth well-hidden.”

“And who writes the history books you’ve been reading?”

Marianne smiled as her partner had put his finger on the root of the problem. “The Knights of the Chain.”

“An order that infamously burns books spreading ‘dangerous’ ideas and imprisons free-thinkers like yours truly,” Valdemar replied while returning her smile. “Are there any living or undead witnesses to the era before the empire still at large?”

Marianne considered the question. The Oldblood nobility in Saklas had earned its peerage by supporting the Empress during the War of Unification. However, Aratra’s inner circle was a tight-knit community that rarely left the confines of Saklas’ imperial palace and faced increasing competition from new generations of sorcerers.

“Some of Empress Aratra’s officers have survived as undead since the empire’s inception,” she replied to Valdemar. “But I don’t think any of them predated its foundation by much. Lord Och invented Soulstones making mass-producing sentient undead possible in 39 B.E., and I think vampires emerged long afterward.”

“Which would leave Lord Och and Empress Aratra as the only ‘survivors’ of the ancient era. They could have easily rewritten history and doctored official documents to hide their true origins.”

“Even if they modified human history, Hermann himself confirmed that the first humans learned the Blood from troglodyte shamans,” Marianne pointed out. “The Empire has absolute dominion over its texts, true, but troglodyte tribes keep their own records. So do the Dokkars.”

“The Nightwalker showed that there are other forms of magic than the Blood,” Valdemar pointed out. “This Sophia, if she truly existed, might have used another. It might also explain Empress Aratra’s immortality.”

“Even if part of the story is true, how does it help us right now? I support solving the mysteries of our past, but we have more pressing problems right now.”

Valdemar played with his cup. “Finding the truth about that story could help us deal with Ialdabaoth.”

Marianne put the two and two together. “Ah, I see. You’re thinking about the wards keeping Ialdabaoth imprisoned. If Lord Och’s story is partly correct, then they were put in place by a rival entity. The more they weaken, the more Ialdabaoth’s power grows.”

“This being probably used a different magic than the Blood. If we could reverse-engineer the spell, then strengthening the wards to keep Ialdabaoth asleep would become a genuine possibility.”

“If we can use this magic at all.” Marianne stroked her chin thoughtfully. “If the Light could truly empower its worshipers, why does only the Blood hold sway in our world? Because of the ‘unspeakable crime’ that the Dark Lords committed?”

“I don’t know,” Valdemar replied with a sigh. “And I don’t know where to look for answers either. Maybe I should ask Hermann and Frigga to compare their historical records with ours.”

“The forbidden archives in the Pleroma Institute should have what we need,” Marianne suggested. “They are only accessible by Masters and high-ranking members of the Knights of the Tome, but they include a copy of all imperial texts, including original, uncensored volumes. If you could convince Lord Och to give you permission—”

The room trembled, the duo’s cups falling off the table and breaking on the floor. The tea inside evaporated instantly into fine particles alongside their containers’ parts. The music stopped, instantly drowned out by an alien cry.

Valdemar instantly rose from his chair and rushed to the windows, opening them to gaze at the ocean beyond. “Are you kidding me?” he muttered in astonishment. “Again?”

Marianne joined him, and immediately covered her mouth to hide her laughter at the sight.

An enormous, squid-like giant larger than the Pleroma Institute cried in the middle of the imaginary ocean. His squamous hands held the remains of a broken ship against his chest, while shards of the vessels sank below the waves. The giant’s six eyes let out a flood of tears.

Valdemar put his palm over his face in embarrassment. “Even in our dreams, he still finds ways to break his toys.”

“How many does that make?” Marianne asked with a wide grin as she rested her hands against the window’s stool. “If we count the ones in the waking world?”

Valdemar had made it a habit of turning his bones into makeshift toy ships for his familiar to play with, but none of them lasted for long.

“I’ve lost count,” Valdemar sighed as he turned his gaze to the ocean. The strange Nightmare of Kazat could be seen deep below the dark water, a sunken city buried underneath a sea of dreams. “Thankfully, the ocean’s level doesn’t rise with his cries.”

“I wish I could dream him a replacement ship,” Marianne confessed as she watched the depressed familiar in the distance. Though she had knowledge of oneiromancy, she was more comfortable with raising mental fortresses than weaving dreamboats into existence. “I’m still sorry for turning your dreamscape into my apartment. This was the shape I was most comfortable with.”

“It’s fine, and way better than the wasteland that came before.” Valdemar looked at the depressed Ktulu cradling the ship with a deep sigh. “I’m sadder that my familiar has more power over the Primordial Dream than I do.”

“The fact he can interact with the dreamworld at all means he has nothing to do with the Qlippoths,” Marianne reassured him. “And you have an additional guardian.”

Despite her words, Marianne felt Ktulu might cause more trouble than he would solve. She certainly hadn't expected the familiar to take the form of a colossal giant in the dreamworld rather than the manageable baby he was in the flesh. Even the ocean surrounding the apartments was the creature’s doing rather than Marianne’s.

“I could conjure decorations more to your liking,” Marianne suggested to Valdemar.

“Don’t bother. I would rather learn to create dream objects by myself.” Valdemar gritted his teeth as he raised his hand towards a corner of the room. Perhaps he was trying to create a new shelf or a painting. Whatever the case, he failed. “Though it may take a while.”

Marianne watched him exhaust himself for a moment, before moving behind and putting her hands on his shoulders. The sudden physical contact left him startled, but he didn’t push her away. Marianne herself wouldn’t have tried if they hadn’t grown comfortable in each other’s presence.

“Close your eyes,” the noblewoman said softly, and though he looked doubtful, her friend followed her advice. “Think of home.”

“Home?”

“Home.” The idea of home helped Marianne focus on her dreams, though it saddened her that her apartment in Pleroma felt a safer sanctuary than her family manor.

Valdemar’s expression twisted into a frown. “I don’t have one.”

“You’re wrong. Home is not a place, it’s a feeling. It’s the music that makes you feel at peace, the smell of familiarity, the people you want to share your life with and the objects that symbolize their affection for you. Now think of what brings you that feeling.”

Valdemar listened to her words, his face relaxing. He waved his hand at an empty spot and Marianne watched as the dream answered his desire. The substance of the dreamscape shifted, the floor turning muddy as the very plane resisted his influence. Marianne’s oneiromancy teachers would have shaken their head at the poor display, but the noblewoman had faith in her friend.

And her trust paid off. The dream’s substance gathered into a new shape as Valdemar commanded. His mother’s music box appeared out of thin air while singing a lullaby.

“See?” Marianne whispered. Valdemar opened his eyes and stared at the box in surprise. “It wasn't so hard.”

Though he was half a Stranger, it was the other half that counted. Valdemar would never be a good oneiromancer or mind mage, but he wasn’t a hopeless case either.

“It was hard, but easier than I thought,” Valdemar replied as he looked at the box. “I could never do that with Frigga.”

“You had just arrived in an unfamiliar land,” Marianne said as she removed her hands from his shoulders. “You were still struggling to find your bearings. I don’t think it’s a coincidence you managed to summon your mother’s music box after getting proof that she truly loved you.”

“Yes… but I think I feel more comfortable with your guidance than Frigga’s.” He smiled warmly at her. “You’re starting to feel like home too.”

Marianne met his gaze without a word, unsure what to answer to that. Is… is he making a pass at me? the noblewoman wondered. And if he was… “As a friend, you mean?”

“Yes, as a friend, of course,” Valdemar said quickly as he realized his behavior’s implications. Marianne couldn’t believe someone so brilliant could be so oblivious. “I mean, I let Frigga in because I needed to, but with you… I did it because I trust you as much as Hermann and Liliane now.”

“Yes, I… I figured as much,” Marianne replied, her own awkward tone surprising her. Why was her voice trembling? “You are a friend as well.”

Marianne felt almost thankful as another tremor shook the dreamscape and interrupted this awkward moment. “Is it Ktulu again?” Valdemar wondered as he looked through the window, only to find his familiar still cradling his broken ship.

“No, it’s outside,” Marianne replied as the tremors grew stronger and more frequent. “We have to wake up.”

Valdemar answered with a short nod and the dreamscape collapsed around them. Marianne woke up in a bunk bed below her partner’s, sharing a cramped iron room in the heart of Lord Bethor’s Excavator. Ktulu slept soundly against his summoner’s chest, his tentacles wriggling as he snored.

Quickly putting on her armor and grabbing her weapons, Marianne opened the bedroom’s door to find Knights of the Shroud rushing through the corridors. “Are we under attack?” she asked.

“Not yet,” an undead swordsman replied without sparing her a glance, “but we have pierced through fortifications of some kind. Prepare for battle.”

He didn’t need to tell her. Marianne always slept with her weapons within arm’s reach.

Valdemar quickly joined her with his awful mask on, keeping the sleeping Ktulu in his bag. They went to Lord Och’s room for answers, only for the lich to meet with them in the hallway.

“We are going to climb down from this ship now,” the Dark Lord rasped as he guided them towards the tail of the Excavator. Her True Sight allowed Marianne to see his true skeletal self and the thin mist that surrounded his ancient bones. Was Lord Och truly older than the Descent? “Lord Bethor’s weapon will soon become the target of enemy attack. It would be a bother if we were caught in the crossfire, and we can walk to our destination.”

“What kind of fortification have we gone through?” Marianne asked. To her surprise, Valdemar seemed awfully quiet and tense.

“A metal shell of some kind.” Lord Och stopped before the same blast door they had used to move inside the Excavator. Two Knights of the Shroud were in the process of opening it already, while four more waited nearby. “I’m afraid the Excavator will not stop for our little group, so I will teleport us and a small contingent of troops to the ground.”

“You can teleport without lacing an area with your blood?” Valdemar asked.

“All of Underland is one through the Blood, my student,” Lord Och replied. “It is no different than the method your worshipers use to move around, although I am limited to my line of sight.”

Marianne was thankful for it. Considering the speed at which it moved, jumping from the Excavator while it was on the move would be risky even with body enhancements.

The moment the blast door opened, the group held hands with Lord Och and the six Knights of the Shroud present as space twisted around them. The teleportation lasted for but an instant, but Marianne’s enhanced sight noticed every detail, every crack in the fabric of space. She watched thick black blood spread around her to form a tunnel between the group’s current position and the darkness outside the Excavator, absorbing the kinetic energy to make the transition as seamless as possible.

It is everywhere, not just in the walls, Marianne realized. The tunnels were Ialdabaoth’s arteries and the very air she breathed was tainted by its influence.

When the spell completed, the group had landed on a vast tunnel with a dizzyingly tall ceiling. A thick sheet of black metal with strange golden lines covered every spot of stone as far as Marianne’s eyes could see, radiating a faint glow keeping the area in a dim light. The air smelled of rust and oil; the floor was as cold as ice. Besides the grinding sound of the Excavator digging its way through the tunnel’s walls to make a new path for itself, Marianne didn’t hear a sound. Nothing but the echo of pumps and grinding gears.

Lord Bethor’s machine kept digging its way into a wall before them, melting its surface and shaking the ceiling as it continued its journey. Though metal proved harder to drill through than stone, the Excavator still cut through it like a knife through butter and forced a way forward. The machine quickly disappeared from the group’s view, though they still felt the tremors it caused.

Marianne glanced at the open path the Excavator left behind. The machine had pierced through a similar tunnel’s walls before, leaving only a hole of molten steel behind; in a way, the Excavator had turned the place into a crossroad. Darkness covered everything beyond this point, but the group should be able to walk all the way back to Sabaoth from this point. No doubt human troops would soon arrive to claim the area before the Derros arrived.

“There are no eyes,” Valdemar whispered as he looked around. The metal covering the walls also obscured Ialdabaoth’s flesh. “No eyes.”

Marianne unsheathed her rapier and cocked her revolver as she confirmed his words, while their knightly escort prepared themselves for an ambush. “There are no Derros either.”

Even if they had bypassed the Derro army’s usual chokepoints, guards should be swarming these tunnels upon hearing the Excavator’s loud approach. Neither did the noblewoman see any mushrooms or bats. The area felt as dead and lifeless as a clock’s inner mechanisms.

“Establish a defensive perimeter and check our surroundings,” one of the Knights ordered his five fellows as they spread across the crossroads of tunnels. The soldiers immediately drew summoning circles on the ground and called a small swarm of grotesquely large flies, before having them spread through the tunnels.

“How curious,” Lord Och said as he examined the golden lines running through the steel walls. “What a strange apparatus this is.”

Marianne approached her gloved hand from the surface, and immediately took a step back as she felt a jolt. “Lightning courses through them, Lord Och.”

“In the same direction as our destination too.” The lich stroked his skeletal chin while muttering words to himself. Marianne hadn’t seen him so interested since Valdemar’s initiation test. “I see. No doubt a portal would demand an enormous amount of power, too much to be manufactured in one place… fascinating…”

“Lord Och, we shouldn’t stay here,” Marianne warned. She knew that the Dark Lord could get so engrossed in his interests that he neglected the world around them. “Reinforcements might come at any moment. We should stay on the move.”

“Patience, Young Marianne,” the Dark Lord replied as the Knights’ fly swarms returned to them. The summoned insects buzzed words in a language Marianne couldn’t understand before dissipating into smoke. “So the way is safe?”

“The Derro garrisons should have established choke points further south, my lord.” The knight-commander straightened up, his Soulbound sword firmly in hands. “But Lady Reynard is right, it is only a matter of hours before troops come to check on the commotion. Shall we escort you and your student to your destination?”

“Young Marianne will suffice to protect us,” the Dark Lord replied with absolute confidence. Even though she wasn’t certain if he meant it or not, the noblewoman found the lich’s response flattering. “You shall fortify this area and make sure that our dwarf neighbors do not attack us from the rear.”

“Very well, we shall await your return.” The knight-commander turned to his troops and instantly barked orders at them. “Summon earth elementals and raise fortifications. I want the Derros to fight for every patch of ground.”

After watching his ally’s troops with a hint of amusement, Lord Och turned to face Marianne and Valdemar. “Now come, children. Let’s not waste precious time.”

Leaving the Excavator’s holes behind, the group followed the lines deeper into the metal tunnel while the Knights fortified the choke point behind them. Only the noise of their breathing and footsteps echoed around the group, while the tremors grew weaker and eventually vanished. The golden lines’ glow allowed them to see a few meters ahead of them, but little more.

Marianne focused as she walked, ready to strike at the first sign of ambush. Her enhanced sense of touch and hearing allowed her to visualize her surroundings, to sense the cables inside the walls. Oil coursed through pipes below the floor and grinding gears turned above her head, their noise muffled by the steel shielding.

“These aren’t fortifications,” Marianne whispered in case anyone listened. She didn’t understand half of what the hidden devices in the walls did, and she worried that the Derros could hear their words. “This is a mechanism of colossal size.”

“An infection of metal in the flesh,” Valdemar whispered back. “Like in the Outer Darkness.”

“Altering the body shouldn’t affect dreams.” Unlike his two protégés, Lord Och made no effort to lower his tone. “Unless, of course, this apparatus’ main goal is to attack the nervous system with machinery.”

“Was that why the Derros stole brains?” Valdemar asked. “To understand how our minds worked and use this insight to affect Ialdabaoth? What purpose would it serve?”

“Who knows? As I told you once, Otto Blutgang is a rare genius whose mind works on a different level than common mortals'. He plays for higher stakes than conquest.”

The admiration in his voice surprised Marianne, who had grown used to backhanded compliments at best. “What stakes, my lord?”

“If I had to guess…” Lord Och chuckled. “I would say transcendance.”

“Transcendance?” Valdemar asked, but the lich only answered with a chuckle.

Transcendance? From what, the mortal condition? Derros couldn’t use the Blood, so the path of undeath was closed to them. Was their king trying to achieve immortality through technological means instead?

How long did they walk through this tunnel without encountering anyone? Minutes? Hours? While Marianne and Valdemar were tense, Lord Och spent his time glancing at the walls’ line with a thoughtful look. An outsider would have mistaken him for a researcher on a stroll through a garden of exotic flora rather than an archmage infiltrating enemy territory. This is what absolute power looks like, Marianne thought. The easy confidence of invulnerability.

As she focused on her sense of touch and echolocation, Marianne noticed subtle oddities in the metal. Small islands of glass in a sea of steel, hidden from view in the darkness outside the glow of the golden lines.

“Look,” Marianne warned as she pointed her sword at an imperceptible orb of stained glass growing out of the steel. “A machine eye of some kind.”

“It’s not alive,” Valdemar confirmed, slightly unnerved by the device. “And I see others in the darkness.”

“They know we are here,” Lord Och replied before mockingly waving a hand at the glass eye. “Please be a good guest and say hello.”

Valdemar pointed a finger at the glass eye and blasted it to pieces with a blood bullet. Shards fell on the ground, and Marianne heard a subtle clicking noise echo through the tunnel.

No Derro came to intercept them, but the glass eyes always watched them. Marianne could feel their gaze all around her. The feeling was different from the fleshy, alien eyes of Underland, who lacked reason and intelligence. These glass devices had been made with mortal hands, and Marianne was certain that something cold and calculating watched the intruders through them.

“Why don’t they intercept us?” Valdemar whispered, just as unnerved as she was.

“They want us to move forward,” Marianne whispered with a frown. Somehow, she would rather have faced opposition. This whole journey reeked of a trap. “If anything happens, move behind me. Lord Och will revive no matter what happens, but if the situation degenerates beyond control, retreat to the checkpoint while I cover your rear.”

“I can defend myself,” her partner replied, “and I won’t leave you behind. We either leave this place together or not at all.”

Though his concern touched Marianne, she squinted at him in disapproval. “What good is a bodyguard whose charge runs heedlessly into danger?”

“You are more than a bodyguard to me.”

I trust you as much as Hermann and Liliane now.

Marianne should have rejoiced at these words. So why did they leave her feeling disappointed? I can’t think like this, the noblewoman told herself. She and Valdemar had grown to trust each other, but anything more would interfere with her duties.

Eventually, their long walk ended before a fortified steel gate not unlike those in Lord Bethor’s tower. A strange window of glass stood above the threshold, but it led to nowhere. Nor did any guard watch over this obvious checkpoint.

Marianne put a hand on the door’s surface, trying to guess its thickness with her enhanced touch. “At least two meters in depth,” she said. “I can’t sense anything beyond.”

“Do not fret,” Lord Och replied as he looked at the windows. “They will welcome us soon enough.”

Click.

Click.

Click.

Marianne raised her revolver at the window while Valdemar prepared to cast a spell at any moment. Glass eyes turned to gaze at them in the darkness and the golden lines turned red.

The window glowed.

Its glass surface projected distorted colors and images. A shadowy humanoid figure appeared in the middle of a white glow tainted by gray lines. A buzzing sound erupted from the window, half a screech and half a whisper.

What spell is this? Marianne wondered, slightly disturbed as the figure’s features distorted uncontrollably. An illusion? No, I should have seen through it… this is real. But I don’t sense any sorcery at all. It’s not a phantom projector either…

Red lightning coursed through the walls’ lines and the door rose with a thunderous noise.

Marianne immediately moved in front of her charges, weapons raised at the gates. As this steel curtain slowly rose, she expected to face an army of golems and Derros on the other side.

But no enemy awaited beyond the threshold.

As the path laid open before her, the distorted figure at the glass window vanished. Lamps lit up beyond the door, revealing a lengthy corridor.

“Trap?” Valdemar asked warily.

“Worse,” Lord Och replied. His jovial demeanor had abated, replaced with caution. “An invitation.”