by Ramy Vance
The gnome looked up when he saw her. “Ah, a friend of the dark places?” the gnome exclaimed. “We don’t get you folk around here often. Honestly, can’t say I remember the last time I seen a drow above ground.” He extended his hand.
Persephone shook the gnome’s hand and returned his smile. “It has been an enlightening experience. Most of what I’ve learned is that the Dark One is everywhere and underground might be the only safe place for now.”
The underground gnome spread his wares out on a deep-red tapestry. “Aye. There’s a lot of truth in that, but not for long. Even our underground is being taken over. Nothing is meant to last, I suppose. I might have something for you among all this. If you ain’t looking for anything practical, I might just have a little something for you.”
Persephone knew trader charm when she heard it, but that didn’t keep her from being intrigued. “And what would that be?”
The gnome pointed to an obsidian gem resting on the corner of the tapestry. “A Black Tear.”
Persephone’s eyes lit up when she saw the stone. She hadn’t seen a Black Tear since she was a child. The stone was a popular couple gift among the drow, almost an institution. She’d never seen a partnered drow couple without at least one of them owning a Black Tear. “How much are you selling it for?”
The deep gnome plucked the stone up and tossed it to Persephone. “For my drow friend? Free of charge. Let it be a reminder of the deep, yes?”
“I can’t take this. It’s too—”
The underground gnome waved away Persephone’s concern. “Please, please. No one would want to buy it except one of us, and there are so few above ground. There must be someone who you love enough to gift this to.”
Persephone nodded as she pocketed the gem. “Yeah, there is.”
Nib-Nib scuttled over to the deep gnome’s tent. She was gnawing on a charred lizard on a skewer. “Anything good?” she chittered.
Persephone nodded as the underground gnome smiled widely. “Yeah, I found something.”
Nib-Nib offered Persephone the lizard skewer. “Me too. Want eat?”
Persephone turned her nose up but could not deny that it smelled amazing. She leaned down and took a bite. “Okay, that’s not bad.”
Cire whistled from the convoy. “We should probably get going,” Persephone murmured. She turned back to the deep gnome and bowed her head. “Thank you again. I really appreciate it.”
Persephone and Nib-Nib headed back to the convoy and jumped into the truck Cire was sitting in. “We’re heading toward the new coordinates right now,” he explained.
The convoy kicked up sand, but this time, it didn’t bother Persephone. There were beautiful things in the sand dunes. “What makes this Dark Gate so special?” Persephone asked.
“According to the scans we’ve run, it’s a stationary Dark Gate. Doesn’t disappear, and it might have been here for a while. Creon thinks it might be the original Dark Gate. The Dark One might have reverse-engineered his tech from this.”
After a few hours of driving, the convoy arrived at its destination. They pulled over and the scientists exited their trucks, eager to have a look around.
The drow was glad to get back on her feet. She was getting tired of sitting. She needed to stretch, so she followed the scientists as they began their hunt for the Gate.
The hunt did not last long. The long-limbed, grumpy gnome she was following climbed up a sand dune, then shouted to the rest of the scientists to come quick.
A Dark Gate stood on the top of the dune. This one was different than any Persephone had seen before, though. It was larger and had odd symbols carved into it, but the biggest difference was that she could feel the energy coming off it even though the Gate was closed.
A chorus of unintelligible voices whispered in her head. The Dark Melody. She could rarely understand it in moments like this since there was too much, but she could tell the Melody was excited. It knew there was something different about this Gate.
Persephone wished she could communicate with the Melody the same way Abby did with the nanobot consciousness, but the relationship was different. Very different.
Cire came up behind Persephone, along with the other scientists. “Let’s take a look. I’m going to get in touch with Blackwell.” He brought up his HUD and opened Zoom, the only app that worked across planets that had been dominated by the Dark One.
Persephone did the same, but Nib-Nib didn’t bother.
Blackwell’s face appeared on the HUD, along with Naota and Roy. The three of them looked surprisingly rested to Persephone, which was a sudden change because over the last few weeks, Roy had taken on the appearance of a corpse.
“How goes the hunting?” Cire asked.
Naota leaned close to the camera. “The hunt is done! We found the big ol’ son of a bitch.” He flipped his camera around to show the group chat.
Blackwell was in the background of Naota’s video. He waved and tried to look as professional as possible.
Cire flipped his camera around for the same effect. “What’s the next step?”
Blackwell answered, “The science teams are going to do a full analysis of the Gate and send the information back to Creon. We’re to keep the area under surveillance all night.”
Naota sighed as he crossed his arms. “Are you serious? I thought we were going to hit the bar tonight.”
Roy hushed Naota as Blackwell glared daggers at him.
Naota blushed brightly and smirked. “I mean, I know we have to watch the Dark Gate. It would be irresponsible to go out drinking.”
Persephone glared into her HUD. “We’re not stupid, Naota. You’re doing that thing where you’re trying way too hard.”
Naota threw up his hands, defeated. With hysterical theatrics, he cried, “I cannot lie to my teammates! I have to come clean. An orc told me about their bars, and I can’t get them off my mind. I need to drink with the orcs.”
Cire did not seem to be bothered by the humans shirking their duties. “That is a good idea. It will be well received by the orcs in my absence if the humans attempt to understand orcish customs.”
Naota snapped his fingers and grinned. “Perfect. I’ll make sure to have a drink for you guys.”
Naota signed off, leaving Blackwell and Roy. “We have a team watching over the Dark Gate twenty-four/seven. Hopefully we’ll get some answers out of this. We’ll talk to you guys later. Try not to work too hard.”
The two humans signed off.
Persephone was jealous that the humans were going to have the equivalent of a night out. How much of a night was still to be determined, though. She couldn’t imagine Blackwell relaxing enough to let anyone have a good time, but you never knew with Naota. He seemed to bring out the best and worst parts of Blackwell.
Persephone, Nib-Nib, and Cire returned to the Dark Gate as the scientists began to set up to take their readings. “Would you two like to do anything tonight?” Cire asked. “Our options aren’t as robust as an orcish bar, but there’s no need to work all night.”
Persephone couldn’t think of anything she wanted to do other than lie down and go to sleep. The sandy dunes were starting to irritate her again, but she knew it was only jealousy. Maybe she could call Abby and see what was going on with her.
No, Persephone thought. I can’t rely on Abby for a way out of every awkward moment. Tonight you’re going to be present, you’re going to engage, and you’re going to have a good time.
Nib-Nib and Cire were talking quietly to each other while scientists scuttled about looking busier than Persephone thought was necessary. She cleared her throat and then looked around uncomfortably. “Maybe we could do something here, like…one of the gnomish customs? There’s a village pretty close to here, right?”
Cire called one of the scientists over and asked if there was a village close by. The gnome informed him that it was a couple of miles south. “I do believe it is a gnomish festival weekend,” the orc mused. “I can’t think of a better time to ac
quaint ourselves with the recently freed small people.”
A festival? That sounded nice.
Cire got more information from the gnomes helping the scientists, and within a couple of hours, they were on their way to the closest village, where a gnomish festival of lights was taking place. Persephone was amazed when she saw what a gnomish “light” was.
The entire desert village had been decorated with floating candles. The festival consisted of people taking one of the candles and giving it to a friend or family member. The receiver of the candle made a wish, then the candle shot into the air, where it exploded into the shape of the wish.
Persephone, Cire, and Nib-Nib spent much of the night walking to and fro, introducing themselves to the villagers, listening to their stories, and imparting wishes on each other. By the time Persephone made it to bed, she was full of the village’s hopes.
Blackwell and Naota were shitfaced, dancing on top of the bar with two orcs. The larger female orc had taken a fancy to Naota and had him tucked under her arm. She also seemed to have a slight attraction to Blackwell also, and he was neatly cradled in her other arm.
Roy sat at the bar, ignoring his drunk subordinates. He was watching the room to see if there was anything out of line or amiss. Then he found it—a young orc sitting in the corner of the bar alone, a cloak draped over his head.
Roy went over to the orc, sat down, and placed a drink in front of him. “You don’t look like you’re here to have a good time.”
The orc pulled back his cloak, revealing a heavily scarred face covered in red war paint. “Roy, is it? I heard you were part of the team that captured Grok.”
Chapter Seven
A bright flash of light.
Terra woke up in her bedroom, sick to her stomach, and more annoyed than she’d ever thought she could be. She checked herself in the mirror before walking out of her room to meet the rest of the DGA at the hadron collider.
Twenty-three; that was the number of times that they’d gone through the dungeon. Everyone but Abby was at their wits’ end. She had jokingly told Terra and Anabelle that it was like a video game. They were getting better at it each time.
That didn’t make the orc chieftain or the elf any less annoyed. On top of that, it wasn’t true. Terra had noticed that every couple of times they ran the dungeon, there were more monsters. The pathway never changed, but the conflicts were becoming more dangerous. That didn’t matter to Terra, though. She was finally starting to get interested in the dungeon’s fights.
Maurice had started to change as well. When Terra had first met him, the man had hardly seemed as if he had the will to make it to his feet. Now he was meeting the DGA at the beginning of the tunnel and continuing with them, obviously delighting in a new challenge. Maybe he just got tired of fighting the same shit, Terra thought. The DGA is bringing spice into his life. Hell, I’ve only done this for an afternoon, and I was starting to get bored.
Abby and Anabelle were waiting in the war room. Anabelle was fuming and pacing as she shouted, “How the hell are we going to get this goddess-damned riddle? You can’t find anything, Abby?”
The girl, who was already on the computer searching for riddles, shook her head. “Everything I find, the door already knows. It’s like that thing sits around and reads riddle books all day.”
Terra collapsed into one of the seats, using the conjuring enchantment to get herself a beer. She sipped it as Anabelle continued to rage at an imaginary audience. “Abby, I have no idea how you play games like this.”
Abby reached for Terra’s beer. She stared at the girl, bewildered, as she took a sip. “It’s hard but eventually satisfying. You start off against odds you think you can’t beat or outsmart, but you work at it until you eventually nail it.”
Anabelle kicked one of the chairs in the room. “That’s bullshit! Why can’t we figure it out? There has to be something we just haven’t thought of yet.”
“Obviously. If we’d thought of it, we’d already have gotten the door open.”
Anabelle picked up one of the broken legs from the chair and pointed it at Abby. “You are not helping right now.”
“Maybe we need to take a break. We’ve been at this for hours.”
The elf took a seat, her eyes manic and frenzied, staring at Terra. “We’ll figure it out. We can get this. Call the science team, every theorist we can find. And mathematicians. All of them.”
Terra switched seats so she was sitting next to Anabelle. She rested her hand on the elf’s shoulder. “You need to take a break and relax.”
Anabelle sighed and hung her head. “How am I supposed to relax? Myrddin and José sent us on a simple mission, and we’re struggling with getting it done. What the hell am I supposed to do other than freak out?”
Abby spun in her chair. “We could go to a bar.”
Terra shook her head. “No, you are still way underage. There’s no way I’m sneaking you into a bar.”
Abby pointed at the holoprojector. “Not one on Earth. Middang3ard. We looked up José’s file. It said his MERC squad was based at a bar in Middang3ard called the Red Lion. Maybe we could find someone there to give us a hand. The MERCs are pretty well known for dungeon-crawling. We could try to get in touch with José’s old squad.”
Anabelle whined dramatically, “What have we been reduced to? Asking mercenaries for help?”
Terra shoved the elf. “Jesus Christ, will you stop being ridiculous? They aren’t real mercenaries. They work for Myrddin.”
Abby turned off the holoprojector. “Actually, they’re pretty close. They take contracts from Myrddin and anyone else as long as it doesn’t help the Dark One, but they’re on our side. Remember, some MERCs came to help us get Terra out of the arena. They’re obviously okay helping us.”
Anabelle waved her hand as if she were shooing a fly. “Fine, fine. You two are now the leaders of the DGA. I resign. Take me to our next mission.”
Abby and Terra exchanged looks. Neither of them knew what to do when Anabelle acted like this. Terra didn’t mind. It was hilarious. “Okay, let’s hit that hadron collider.”
The DGA appeared right outside the Red Lion. It was a long, wooden bar, built on piers over a rancid swamp. The smell was almost too much for Abby. Martin, can you reduce my olfactory sense?
Martin’s voice came back to Abby instantly. “Yes, Princess. Is the smell of the swamp offending your delicate nose?”
Shut up, I used to shovel cow shit every day. If I don’t want to smell something and don’t have to, I’d prefer not to. So, can you?
“Easily. Your body is nearly back up to a reasonable number of nanobots. Interacting with your system shouldn’t be a problem anymore.”
Abby turned her attention back to her squadmates, who were heading toward the Red Lion. “Hey, wasn’t that battle you had in the arena called the Battle of the Red Lion?” she asked Terra.
Terra scratched her head as she furrowed her brow, trying to remember. “Yeah, it was. Guess this was where it took place.”
Anabelle opened the door and stepped into the bar.
The Red Lion was wooden and crowded with MERCs. There was a bar toward the back where patrons were served beers and food. Tables covered the floor, and there were more than a few dartboards hanging from the walls.
The mix of races made HQ look sheltered. The bar was full of elves, gnomes, humans, and more dwarves than Abby had ever seen. Guess dwarves prefer MERC work, she thought.
The other difference Abby noticed instantly was in the demeanor of the MERCs. The Red Lion was nearly too loud for her to hear her own thoughts. The MERCs were a drunken, boisterous bunch. Even Terra looked to be taken aback. “So, where do we start?” Anabelle asked.
Abby scanned the crowd, looking for a familiar face. She recognized one of the MERCs who had been at the battle to free Terra.
It was a young man with a stern, serious face. He wore very simple steel armor, but it gave off more of a shine than anyone around him. Suzuki, the leader of the
Mundanes. That was where they were going to start.
Abby approached Suzuki and the Mundanes, who were sitting around him. Sandy, a morbid-looking young woman with jet-black hair and exquisite, well-fitting black robes with the MERC insignia sat across from Suzuki. At her side was Stew, a shirtless, uncomfortably muscular barbarian whose chest was covered with scars. Abby waved at them as she approached.
Suzuki was the first to notice her. He stood up so fast that he almost knocked over his beer. “Hey! Long time no see. It’s Anne, right?”
She smiled and shook Suzuki’s hand as the rest of the Mundanes rose to meet the DGA. “Abby, actually. Nice to see you again.”
Suzuki gestured to the table. “Grab a seat. And a drink. Stew, can you wrangle up some chairs?”
Stew belched and groaned but stepped over to strip three chairs from the adjacent table. “Stew, can you grab this? Stew, can you wrangle this? Stew, can you stomp on this? You know I can do more than just lift and crush things, right?”
Sandy looked up from the book she was reading and blew a kiss at him. “It’s because you’re so strong, babe. Suzy can’t resist asking you to lift things…or crush them.”
Another MERC came from the bar. Beth wore a well-constructed set of leather armor, accompanied by a leather cap. She held a tray of beers and roasted meat and set it on the table. “Who are these suits?” she asked, pointing at the DGA.
Suzuki introduced them, reminding Beth that they were the group they had fought with in the arena. Beth apologized if she came off rude. “Sorry about that. You know how it is. You kill so many orcs with so many people, they all start to blend together.”
Terra grabbed one of the spare beers and drained it. “I know exactly what you mean. Every fight looks kinda the same. You ever get bored with it?”
