by Zac Gorman
Mingus flickered dimly from time to time, but his fear had rendered him largely unable to glow, leaving Thisby and Iphigenia to stumble around in the dark as they made their way. With every corner they turned, it seemed as if they uncovered a new sight they would never be able to unsee.
Down one alley, they passed by some robed creatures opening two large wooden barn doors to reveal the gigantic, thrashing head of some sort of bird, the structure barely able to contain its size as the creature angrily snapped its sharp beak. A small group of robed lizards ushered several other bewildered creatures forward at spearpoint, and Thisby, as accustomed as she was to the brutality of nature, still had to look away when the bird began to devour the offerings. She’d caught her own reflection in the inky black mirrors of the bird’s bulbous eyes as it ate, and it was more than she could take. There was something different here. Something in the way the Deep Dwellers seemed to prey on one another unnerved her.
Thisby felt torn between the urge to record these strange new sights in her notebooks and the urge to erase them from her memory completely. She finally settled on writing it down if and when she returned home, although Thisby had never felt more uncertain she would make it out of somewhere alive, so the compromise felt like a bit of a cop out.
They moved as stealthily as they could manage. Even with the costumes, their best bet was to stick to the shadows, avoiding any ambient light. Thisby took point, carrying Mingus and trying to move carefully enough to keep anything in her backpack from rattling or jingling, with Iphigenia following closely behind. She jumped when she heard a rattle behind her and turned to see an eight-foot-tall giant carrying its own head in a small birdcage. The head was crying bloodred tears.
The creature brushed by the girls, clipping Thisby in the shoulder and partly uncovering her beneath her shroud, but it continued on without so much as a second glance. Thisby straightened her costume and looked around. All around them, Deep Dwellers hurried this way and that, seemingly paying no attention to the girls and Mingus. They might as well have been invisible.
“I guess the costumes are doing their trick,” Thisby intoned as a group of kids with the heads of various animals—a lion, a tiger, a ram, and a snake—ran by. Thisby watched them run on ahead, laughing hysterically. It took her some time to realize they were all part of the same creature, physically joined at the hip. Behind them, they were dragging something in a crude rope sack. Thisby felt sickened when she realized what it was. It was another kid, one who for all intents and purposes looked just like them, only he had just one head, the head of a rabbit. The rabbit locked eyes with her for only a moment, and Thisby could feel his panic. And then, just like he came, he was gone, dragged behind the kids, their shouts and laughter trailing off into the city streets.
Apparently, the creatures of the Deep Down had their own pecking order. At first glance it was easy to dismiss a place like this as chaos, but Thisby knew too well there was no such thing. The strong always ate the weak. That’s the way of nature, out in the wild and in the dungeon. The difference down here was that there was no keeper. There was no Thisby. There was nobody to make sure certain types of creatures never crossed paths, nobody to make sure everybody was well fed and taken care of. There was a sharp pang of guilt in Thisby’s stomach that was hard to ignore.
After hours of wandering through the winding streets, they reached the foot of a large, important-looking building formed from uneven green bricks. The base of the building was slanted on each side, like a pyramid, and from the top of that base rose a single green stone block that comprised the bulk of the structure, windowless and brutal in its design. The building looked thousands of years old. The irregular green bricks from which it was made looked almost softened by time, moldy.
Two sentries stood watch at the main entrance atop a wide set of steps. They were immense creatures, at least a dozen feet tall, with apelike bodies covered in black fur that swallowed every bit of light that dared to touch it. Atop their shoulders were long, thin necks and vulturelike heads that scanned the vicinity. In their hands were tall pikes topped with barbed spears. Thisby and Iphigenia ducked back behind a steeply inclined wall to avoid being spotted in the light emanating from braziers nearby.
“What do you think that building is?” asked Iphigenia.
“The prison,” said Mingus automatically.
He stared out toward the building, deep in thought. So deep, in fact, that he was more than a little bit startled to look up and see Thisby and Iphigenia staring at him, brows furrowed quizzically.
“I mean, I think so. It looks like a prison to me,” said Mingus.
Thisby wanted to know more about how Mingus knew so quickly what the building was, but Iphigenia had already moved on.
“Ingo could be in there,” she said hopefully. “Come on, we have to check it out!”
They took several laps around the building, sticking to the perimeter of the surrounding buildings before coming to the unfortunate conclusion that the only way in was through the front door. The really unfortunate part, of course, being the two giants guarding the entrance.
“What do we do?” asked Iphigenia. The bandages had slipped even farther off her face, making her costume less convincing than ever.
“I guess we could try just walking up there and seeing what happens . . . ,” said Thisby, although the tone of her voice betrayed her conviction that this was a good idea.
Mingus quivered. “No, no, absolutely not!”
“Do you have a better plan?” asked Thisby.
Mingus hesitated.
“That’s what I thought,” said Thisby, and with that, she adjusted her mask and began to walk toward the guards. She took one fleeting glance behind her to look at Iphigenia. The Princess walked delicately, her head held high. Even the bandages had now draped around her face in what might be considered a rather flattering framing. The feeble costume was simply no match for her inherent grace.
Thisby sighed. She wondered if this was where they would die. If they did, she thought about how different her and Iphigenia’s funeral services were likely to be. Thisby would most likely be tossed into one of the Black Mountain’s oubliettes until she became a skeleton. Grunda would maybe say a few words to the couple other goblins who showed up—and that would be that. Iphigenia’s death, on the other hand, would likely result in a period of mourning across the entire kingdom. She would be laid in a glass coffin—which she would undoubtedly make beautiful just by her mere presence—surrounded by wildflowers. She would probably be lowered into the ground beneath a statute as tall as the Black Mountain itself.
Thisby didn’t begrudge her any of this, though. Iphigenia was the closest thing Thisby had ever had to a human friend. Maybe they could still hang out when they were both dead. As ghosts or something.
Up close, the guardians looked much bigger than they had from the street below. They stood nearly as high as Catface and were more than twice as wide. Even though their necks were thin, Thisby had to imagine they could easily swallow her whole without much risk of choking. As they approached, the guardians craned their heads in the girls’ direction and studied them without saying a word.
Iphigenia held on to Thisby’s arm.
“Uh, can we go in?” asked Thisby politely.
It was a bit of a long shot, but it never hurt to try the direct approach.
The guardians looked at her impassively, their black eyes unblinking.
Mingus, who had turned a rainbow of pale greens, whispered to Thisby, “Offer them something!”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, anything!”
“But I can’t get into my backpack without taking my costume off!”
“I’ll get it!” said Iphigenia who hurried behind Thisby while Thisby smiled at the guards.
Iphigenia lifted up the back of the cloak and began to dig around in Thisby’s backpack. Navigating her way around the boxes and pouches in the light was a difficult enough task, but attempting to do
so in the dark was next to impossible.
“What am I looking for?” asked Iphigenia.
“Anything! Just—anything!” said Thisby through clenched teeth.
Iphigenia rooted around until her fingers found something interesting. She quickly snapped the backpack shut and made her way forward to present the object with all the reverence appropriate for a royal court, which seemed a bit out of place considering the circumstances. With an elegant curtsey and a wide sweeping of her arms, Iphigenia proudly placed the stump of a mostly burnt-out candle on the ground before the two towering guards.
There was a long pause as Thisby, Iphigenia, Mingus, and the two guards stared at the candle, not sure what to make of it. The pause was broken when the barbed tip of a spear as wide around as a ship’s mast whizzed past Thisby, missing her but managing to rip the shroud clean off her. An exposed Thisby scrambled between a guard’s legs in a break for the door, but the right foot of guard number two came crashing down just in time to block her entrance.
Iphigenia ran and took cover behind a flickering brazier just in time for it to block the point of a spear headed her way. The brazier was flung aside and sent hot ashes flying, scattering them over the landing. Iphigenia stood exposed as the guard drew back his spear for another strike. There was nowhere for her to hide.
As if on cue, the candle burst to life with a brilliant blue flame. The flame spewed three sparks and each hit the ground between Iphigenia and the guard, expanding and growing into a fully formed kobold. Ralk stood in the middle. He turned toward the stunned Iphigenia and took a short bow.
Interestingly enough, the kobolds didn’t seem to be thrown by the fact that they were in the Deep Down. Rather, Ralk seemed only interested in the task Iphigenia had in mind for him, looking at her quizzically with his head cocked to the side. She raised her hand and pointed over his shoulder toward the guards. Ralk turned and studied the flummoxed guard for a moment, and then he and his brothers were off like a shot, leaping nimbly toward the two giants easily a dozen times their size.
The guards began their attack immediately, swinging their massive spears and smashing everything in sight, but the kobolds proved too nimble for their clumsy blows. Iphigenia ran between the legs of the giants to Thisby, and the two of them hid in the doorway, close together, pressed up against the wall to avoid the fervor of the battle.
Ralk clambered up one of the giants’ backs as easily as if he were running up a staircase. The other giant spotted Ralk and lunged forward with his spear, but he was too slow. Ralk had already deftly jumped out of the way by the time the attack landed, and the spear instead found only the back of the first guard. With a sickening SPLUTCH! the spear went right through the first guard. And then there was one, standing defenseless and wondering what in the world had just happened.
The kobolds set upon him next, and in moments, the second guard was lumbering around trying to get the monsters off his back. He staggered, managing to successfully knock one of them off before ultimately losing his footing and tumbling down the stairs. By the time he hit the bottom, the kobolds had jumped free and made their way back over to girls.
The girls looked at the small kobolds, stunned.
“Mara’wak kombeh,” said Thisby at last, bowing awkwardly, parroting the words Ralk had said to her in the City of Night two days ago.
At this, Ralk grinned. He made a little whistling sound by putting his fingers into his snout, and the candle, which was still burning on the landing, blew out. In a flash of blue flame, the three kobolds were gone, leaving behind only a wisp of smoke where they’d just been standing. The only sign that they had ever been there at all were the two vanquished giants dead near the stairs.
“What does ‘mara’wak kombeh’ mean, anyway?” asked Thisby, turning to Mingus in his jar. He stopped shaking and looked at her.
“It’s kobold for ‘Master of the Black Mountain.’”
“Oh,” said Thisby. She wasn’t sure what to make of that. It seemed like an odd sentiment, but at least she’d understood why the kobold had grinned at her when she’d said it to him.
They entered the building. Thisby had never seen anything like it. Inside it was full of pipes that gave the impression of a tangled ball of wires, green metal tubes darting in and out of the walls at irregular angles. There appeared to be no logic to their placement, and trying to figure out what they might do or where they might lead made Thisby’s head spin.
Iphigenia wandered over to the wall, catching something strange out of the corner of her eye. But when she reached out her hand to lean against the wall, Iphigenia yelled out, causing Thisby to turn around. Iphigenia recoiled from the wall, holding her hand.
“Ow! Something bit me!” she yelled. “I’m bleeding!”
“It’s a good thing you’re covered in bandages,” said Thisby mindlessly as she got closer to the uneven green bricks that comprised the wall. There was something strange about them. Something she’d been unable to see when they were farther away—it almost seemed as if the bricks were moving. It was ever so slight, but sure enough, they were. At first she thought it was an illusion caused by flickering light, but from up close, there was no denying it. She leaned in closer to study the bricks. Their shine wasn’t from glaze, but rather that they were wet. She leaned in until her nose was practically pressed against one of the bricks. With a hiss, the brick parted in half, revealing a row of sharp yellow teeth! Thisby jumped back. Disgusted, she looked around. The building itself suddenly seemed to be breathing.
“It’s alive,” whispered Mingus.
They hurried on through the building, out of the main room, trying to ignore the hissing of the walls. At last they found a stairwell leading down into the basement of the structure and were relieved to find that down here, at least, the walls were made of seemingly normal bricks. Thisby breathed a sigh of relief. In the Deep Down, sometimes you had to celebrate the minor victories.
Mingus was right about it being a prison. They entered a large, dimly lit room filled with cages stacked floor to ceiling, at least a hundred feet high. The cages were aligned in narrow rows, stuffed into little metal cubbyholes like drawers on an apothecary table. Some of the spots where the cages might go were empty, as if that cage had been temporarily removed, but most of them were full—and occupied. There, hidden inside those darkened cages, were creatures that even the Deep Dwellers would rather forget.
Thisby studied an empty cage, and she finally had an answer to where all those tubes from the entry led, although she was beginning to wish it had been left a mystery. From the back wall behind the cage, a tube that seemed to be made out of the same stuff as the living bricks hung limply. Thisby leaned up against the cage bars and watched as a glop of green goo spurted out from the tube and landed in an overflowing food bowl on the floor of the cage directly below it. This was how they were feeding the prisoners.
They walked down an aisle, which was narrow enough for Thisby to stretch out her arms and touch the bars on either side. Not that she did, of course. She wasn’t stupid. In fact, Thisby scrunched up as tightly as humanly possible, terrified of what might be lurking inside those cages. The cages were pitch black inside, and Thisby tried her best not to look at them. The last thing she needed was to imagine what horrors were locked inside. The noises and the smells of this place made her skin crawl, and Iphigenia was squeezing her hand so tightly that she knew it would be sore and bruised when they finally got out of there—if they got out of there. She almost missed the walls of living bricks.
The prison seemed to stretch on and on, and eventually, they found themselves completely engulfed in a sea of cages. No matter where they looked, the only thing they could see were more cages. It was as if the end of each hallway had ended in a mirror, creating a reflection of a reflection of a reflection, and so on. An inescapable infinity of cages.
As they walked, Thisby tried her best to draw a mental map so they could find their way back out of the prison in a hurry, but it wasn’t her s
trong suit. They’d taken too many turns, and her memory wasn’t very good, especially not under this kind of pressure. It was the reason she took such detailed notes. One of the reasons, anyway.
“INGO!” Iphigenia screamed at last.
Thisby whirled around. “What are you doing?”
“Trying to find my brother!”
“Not like that!” scolded Thisby. She looked around, half expecting to see cage doors suddenly flying open as the prisoners, newly alerted to their presence, came rushing out. Of course, rationally, Thisby knew that prison doors weren’t typically left open, as it kind of defeated the point of the whole thing.
Iphigenia looked sullen. “Then how? It’s not like you know what you’re doing!” she said.
It was Thisby’s turn to feel hurt. She was trying her best. For days she’d been way out of her depth, but she’d been trying as hard as she could to make things work. The fact that Iphigenia didn’t appreciate all that she’d done for her stung.
“I-Iphigenia?” called a weak voice from several rows over.
It was Ingo.
Chapter 21
Iphigenia had taken off running before Thisby had a chance to stop her. She ran through the rows of cages toward the voice as fast as she could, dizzy with excitement.
“Ingo!” she called out. “Ingo, I’m here!”
A weak voice responded from several rows over, and Iphigenia turned down another aisle. Thisby trailed behind her.
“Iphigenia, wait!” yelled Thisby.
Iphigenia wasn’t listening now. She turned down a row that was wider than the rest and heard Ingo’s voice calling to her from a cell at the end.
“Iphigenia? Is it really you?” said Ingo.
She walked forward as if in a dream. The voice was pulling her forward. For a moment, it felt like she was underwater, and her body was swaying helplessly with the current.
