“Where do you think you’re going?” the taller of the two stone golems shouted, his voice echoing around the crater.
Roveeka suddenly looked very guilty. “I’m sorry,” she said. “This is all my fault.”
“It was a mistake,” Valor said. “We all make them.”
Roveeka smiled as Wily gave Valor a surprised look.
“She never did anything to me,” Valor said.
The other stone golem tossed a second boulder at the companions, but Moshul was quick to react. He grabbed a nearby stone and lifted it in front of the flying rock to block it. The two boulders made contact and shattered into a thousand pebbles. Moshul was knocked off his feet and nearly smashed into Wily and Valor.
“Everybody onto the bridge,” Pryvyd called out.
“But it’s not finished,” Odette said.
“There may be a way,” Pryvyd said, grabbing the tarp full of halo wax.
Wily and the others left their horses and the mountain lion behind and stepped onto the first stone slab.
“Keep going,” Pryvyd said, “onto the second block.”
Odette led the way, then stopped short at the edge of the lava.
“Now what?” she yelled.
Pryvyd grabbed the first hovering stone block and moved it in front of them. They were going to get across the lava lake by moving the stone bridge pieces so there was always a block in front of them! Everyone quickly hurried forward.
Wily felt a surge of hope; they were actually going to make it! But he was surprised the stone golems hadn’t continued bombarding them with more rocks. Then he looked up and understood: the two stone golems had lifted a giant chunk of rock up over their shoulders together. Wily watched them heave it into the air. The rock only flew a short distance, not nearly far enough to strike Wily and his friends, and plummeted into the lava lake. Wily almost laughed at their failed attempt.
It only took a second for him to realize the stone golems were in fact much smarter than he realized. They had never intended for the boulder to hit them. It didn’t need to, because something else would: where the boulder had struck the surface of the lava lake, a gigantic wave of boiling lava had formed, and it was rolling right toward them.
The wave of lava moved at tremendous speed. Wily realized what was about to happen. The wave was going to come crashing over them and burn them alive.
“On the count of three,” Wily shouted, “jump up.”
“Why?!?” Odette said.
“One. Two. Three.”
All of the companions jumped at the same time. When they came down together, their combined weight caused the hovering rock they were on to hit the lava with a splash, melting the wax right off the bottom.
“How was that a good idea?” Odette screamed. “The rock won’t hover over the lava anymore.”
“That’s true,” Wily said, “but now it can ride the wave.”
The wave of lava kept rolling toward Wily and the others. As it rose up behind them, the stone they were precariously balanced on tilted downward and was sent gliding across the lake’s surface. The wave was licking the back of the stone, preparing to crash over them. But the floating bridge piece rushed ahead and just avoided being swallowed. As the wave crashed behind them, their stone ride was sent racing even faster across the lava—straight toward the hole in the middle of the lake.
There would be no gentle climb down a rope ladder. The hovering rock shot into the ring of lava, and they began to fall into the dark pit at its center. As they fell, Wily clutched the edge of the rock and looked over. The glowing circular waterfall of lava seemed to stretch down into infinity. The sight was positively dizzying. Wily wondered if this was what the bottomless pit of Carrion Tomb would have looked like if it had been lit up.
“We’re going to die!” Valor shouted.
She was right. If they hit whatever was below them going at this speed, they would all be flattened—and unlike Moshul, they wouldn’t be able to walk it off with a newly shaped back.
They needed some way to slow their fall. Unlike with their shield sled ride, there was nothing here for Righteous to attach a rope to. Wily’s mind was spinning like a loose gear about to snap off. Then he spied the tarp of halo wax.
Wily lunged for Pryvyd and grabbed the tarp.
“Moshul, spread this overhead,” Wily called out. “And everyone get on his shoulders.”
Odette, Valor, Roveeka, Pryvyd, and Wily all jumped aboard Moshul as he extended his arms and opened the tarp still half-filled with halo wax.
The air was swept up into the cloth, forming a huge dome above them. Their rapid descent was instantly slowed. The rock went tumbling below as Moshul and his companions drifted down.
“That was brilliant, Wily,” Roveeka said. “How’d you come up with that?”
“Paraspores,” Wily answered. “The little fungus seeds would drift down from the cave ceilings using chutes shaped like domes.”
As they continued to descend, the light of the sun faded above. Yet it wasn’t dark: the flaming walls of lava dropping from the edge of the lake basked everything in a warm glow of orange. Wily felt his skin crackling with heat. He wondered if this was what a cookie felt like when it was baking in an oven.
As they sailed deeper and deeper into the volcano, Wily could see that the falling lava was caught in a basin that extended around the perimeter of the wall. It was like a giant fountain. The lava was swept into holes in the walls and likely sent back to the surface to bubble and fall once more. As they descended farther still, the hole darkened rapidly as there was no more lava surrounding them. Fortunately, the temperature began to decrease too.
A group of fireflies fluttered up from Moshul’s thick moss. They lit up the small area beneath the parachute but not much beyond.
“How much deeper do you think this goes?” Roveeka asked.
“The say the Below is a land beneath even the deepest dungeon. I would imagine that we have a very great distance to travel yet,” Odette said.
Wily spotted a few strange creatures peeking their heads out from holes in the stone walls. While he couldn’t see them clearly, he guessed they were some kind of spider, judging by the fact that they were speaking in Arachnid.
“They look delicious,” Wily heard one click. “Especially the large one in the golden shell.”
“I would happily take the small pale ones,” another spider voice mumbled. “Maybe not as much meat but the bones will be just as crunchy.”
“We’re not here to be eaten,” Wily called out in Arachnid. “Find a different meal.”
“Your Arachnid is very good,” Valor said. “But trying to talk reason with spiders is wasted energy. They only appreciate a commanding voice.”
“It’s always worked for me,” Wily answered. “Maybe surface spiders like to be pushed around. But dungeon spiders appreciate being spoken to kindly.”
“Get back to your webs, eight legs,” Valor intoned. “Or I’ll find a death mantis who would think you were the tasty meal.”
Valor’s booming voice was enough to give Wily chills down his back, and it seemed to work quite well. He could hear the spiders skitter away. Wily looked at Valor with reluctant admiration. She noticed, and they started to share a smile when—they hit the bottom of the cavern with a mighty thud.
“Is this the Below?” Odette asked.
“I don’t think so,” Roveeka said. “I don’t see an upside-down star. But we certainly are deep.”
Everyone climbed off Moshul’s back and onto the floor of the pit. Roveeka moved swiftly into the darkness, leaving the others behind.
“Roveeka, where are you going?” Wily called out.
“Over here.”
Wily followed the sound of her voice. The others followed behind him. Moshul’s fireflies lit the path ahead until they found Roveeka standing by an arched doorway. Like all hobgoblets, she had a natural talent to see in the dark.
“This looks like the only way out of here,” Roveeka said, po
inting into a pitch-black tunnel.
“Do you think it is safe?” Wily asked.
“I don’t think anything is safe down here,” Pryvyd answered.
Moshul put his ear to the ground, but only for a moment.
“Do you hear something?” Odette asked.
Moshul began to sign to the others.
“He says he hears footsteps,” Pryvyd said. “Hundreds of them. And they’re moving this way.”
15
THE GRAND SLOUCH
Moving just a short distance down the tunnel, Wily could soon hear not only the footsteps Moshul had warned about but also the creak of wagon wheels. And through an opening ahead, he could see the light of flickering torches.
“Thash it,” a familiar male voice called out. “Keep it moving. One, two, four, three. One, two, four, three.”
“It’s one, two, three, five, you idiot,” a familiar female voice shouted.
Wily and Roveeka looked at each other.
“Agorop,” Wily said.
“And Sceely,” Roveeka answered.
There was no mistaking the voices of Carrion Tomb’s oglodytes and their inability to count properly.
Wily walked carefully to the opening. He found himself looking down a wide passage holding a strange parade of villainy. Two lines of a hundred bone soldiers were dragging an enormous wagon, big enough to carry a full-size lobster dragon—although it was currently empty. A dozen boarcus walked alongside the soldiers, carrying torches to light the way. At the front of the line was a female cavern mage with a glowing walking stick that spewed green smoke. Sceely and Agorop were patrolling the lines of soldiers, each carrying a bullhorn through which they barked their orders.
The female cavern mage came to a stop at the far end of the passage, where two tunnels split off into the darkness. She reached into her cloak and pulled out an object that Wily couldn’t quite make out from the distance. She mumbled something to herself, and suddenly Wily heard a loud and familiar whistle. She was using the enchanted compass! She pointed to the smaller of the two tunnels.
“Ish goin to be a par-tic-al-aly tight shqueeze,” Agorop yelled into the bullhorn.
Agorop was correct: the mouth of the tunnel seemed barely wider than the wagon itself.
The cavern mage lifted her frail hands and pointed at the mouth of the tunnel. Suddenly, a pair of giant spectral hands formed. They grabbed the rock walls and pulled them wider as easily as if the walls were made of clay, adding several feet on either side.
“Never mind,” Sceely shouted. “It won’t be tight at all.”
The bone soldiers slowly and steadily pulled the wagon into the expanded tunnel.
“They must be looking for neccanite,” Roveeka said.
“And a whole lot of it, judging by the size of the wagon,” Valor said.
“Stalag could make a lot of golems with that much,” Roveeka said.
“We have to stop them,” Odette said.
Righteous clearly thought so too. It pulled the sword from Pryvyd’s sheath and swung it, ready for battle.
“Even if we could keep them from finding the neccanite,” Valor said, “that won’t stop the army of stone golems Stalag has already built. If we don’t find Palojax and quell it, every animal in Panthasos will be in danger.”
Righteous lowered its sword in disappointment.
“But if they build unbreakable golems, even the lair beast may not be able to help,” Odette countered. “I think we should steal back the compass and end their hunt.”
Righteous lifted the sword in the air once more with unbridled energy.
“I disagree,” Valor said. “We can’t be distracted. We should stay focused on the task at hand.”
“I agree with Valor.” Wily was surprised to hear himself uttering these words. Valor seemed surprised too.
Righteous turned back and forth between the companions, waiting to see what the others were going to say.
“I think Wily and Valor are right,” Pryvyd said. “Let’s find the Below and the lair beast.”
Disappointed, Righteous slid its sword back into Pryvyd’s sheath.
“Don’t worry,” Pryvyd said to Righteous, giving its floating shoulder a pat. “You’ll get a chance to swing that sword again soon enough.”
“And suddenly,” Odette said to Wily as she looked over at Valor, “you two are agreeing with each other?”
“This time she’s right,” Wily said. “Maybe next time you will be.”
Odette crossed her arms, clearly not pleased about being overruled.
Once the last boarcus had followed the wagon into the widened tunnel, Wily and his friends descended from their elevated perch and proceeded down the passage and into the tunnel that the cavern mage hadn’t chosen. It began to slope down steeply, which seemed like a good sign. The only way they had to find the Below was to keep going deeper until they reached it.
As they walked, Wily’s mind kept flashing back to the pattern of the acorns the oracle had left behind: the three-horned helmet of the Infernal King. How is my father involved in all of this? Is it possible that he’s been secretly organizing all this from his locked room in the prisonaut? Has he gotten out of the prisonaut using the stolen screwdriver?
The tunnel eventually led them into a large dark chamber that was so big Moshul’s fireflies weren’t able to illuminate its other side. As they moved about the chamber, an explosion of red flames ignited from an urn in the center of the room.
Wily froze in place. Before them, a mold-ogre as tall as a stone golem stood against the wall. In the roar of the flames, Wily could see black slime dangling from its chin and limp fingertips. Clumps of fur sprouted from the eight toes that stretched out from each of its large feet. Its eyes shifted stiffly to face them.
Odette got into her fighting stance. Roveeka pulled out her knives. Valor snapped a pair of wooden arm claws onto the back of her hands. Righteous yanked its sword from Pryvyd’s sheath.
Pryvyd looked to the floating arm by his side. “I told you, you wouldn’t have to wait long,” he said as he readied his shield.
A low, rumbling voice came from the mold-ogre’s large closed lips. It spoke Gruntspeak, a language in which Wily was fluent. “You’re lucky I’ve just eaten,” the mold-ogre said. “Or you’d already be in my belly.”
“We just want to walk peacefully through your cavern,” Pryvyd said.
“Take another step toward me,” the mold-ogre said, “and I will lick your bones clean.” It slowly lifted a menacing eyebrow.
“We can offer treasure for safe passage,” Odette said.
“No!” the mold-ogre shouted. “I want you to go back the way you came. I don’t wish to be disturbed.”
“Even great knights know when it’s best not to fight,” Pryvyd said.
Righteous turned to Pryvyd, clearly not pleased with his declaration.
“That’s right,” the mold-ogre said. “Go back the way you came.”
Wily remembered the tentacled idol that stood in the first chamber of Carrion Tomb. It warned invaders to turn back, just like this mold-ogre was warning them. Wily stared through the darkness at the mold-ogre’s slowly shifting eyes. He thought for a moment. Then he walked straight up to the mold-ogre and kicked one of its hairy big toes.
CLONK.
The toe wasn’t a toe at all. It was hollow.
“This is not a real mold-ogre,” Wily said. “It’s made with wood and plaster.”
“That’s not true!” the mold-ogre bellowed. “I just haven’t eaten in a while.”
Wily looked up to the raised hand of the mold-ogre. From this close, he could see the arm was being lifted by thick twine.
“And I suppose the ropes attached to your arms are on account of your lack of strength?” Wily asked. “I should compliment you on your sophistication,” he continued. “A lot of craftsmanship went into it.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” the mold-ogre muttered through his closed mouth. “If yo
u don’t leave, I will stomp you.”
“What sort of mechanics did you use to make the eyes shift?” Wily asked. “Interlocking gears or levers?”
“Levers, of course,” the mold-ogre uttered, then caught himself. “Oh, twiddle dump. Look what you made me say.”
“We just want to pass through,” Roveeka said. “We won’t bother you.”
“Where are you from?” the mold-ogre asked, suddenly very curious. “The Above?”
“Yes,” Wily said. “We’re just—”
“Not you,” the voice cut Wily off. “I was asking the hairless girl. Are you from the Above too?”
“That’s right,” Roveeka replied. “At least, I’m recently from the Above.”
“How’d you get in here?” the voice asked eagerly. “Did you come in through the tunnel at the base of the volcano?”
“We came down through the lava lake.”
“HOOOO!” the mold-ogre called out.
Suddenly, Wily and the others heard a tremendous amount of rumbling and rustling. Then there was pronounced click. A secret door swung open from one of the mold-ogre’s feet. A small, slouched figure, a little shorter than Roveeka and covered from head to toe in armor, emerged, holding a two-pronged spear in its hand. It moved steadily for Roveeka, who gripped Mum and Pops tightly in her fingers.
The armored figure peered out from its visor. “And you are a hobgoblet?”
Roveeka looked nervous. “Yes.”
The armored figure removed his helmet to reveal that he too was a hobgoblet, slouched and bumpy, just like Roveeka. He lunged forward and dropped to one knee. Roveeka was startled and pointed both Mum and Pops at his face.
“Urgo, at your service,” the armored hobgoblet said. He gently reached out, took the back of one of Roveeka’s hands, and kissed it.
“This is weird,” Roveeka said as she looked down at the armored hobgoblet.
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