Downtown Druid

“You’re fucked. Absolutely fucked!” said Tel, as Dantes lead him through the remaining passages to Collared territory.

“Probably, but it’s not your problem so don’t worry about it.”

They ducked beneath a collapsed section of wall and into a tight hallway.

“They had actual blades. Not just whittled down pieces of old metal, fresh iron, hot from the forge.”

“All the gangs have access to real weapons…except the Orcs. Though they’ve likely stolen a fair amount over time.” He ignored the, ‘hot from the forge’ comment. It wasn’t exactly surprising that a half-elf who went to the academy didn’t know anything about forging.

“They even said that there’s no way that their leader is going to back off. I mean, hunting for you in the outer parts of the Pit? He wants you dead yesterday.”

“That’s about how long it’s been, yes.”

“You’re just… screwed. Not to mention what might happen if they find out it was you that took the mirror. I don’t think they’ll stop at just killing you.”

The edges of Collared territory started to come into view, and Dantes let out a long sigh and a short prayer thanking the pathfinder for her mercy. He had quickly tired of Tel’s ongoing rambling regarding his fate. He was well aware of the danger he was in without being told every moment.

“Oh… you’re sure you don’t need help?”

“I almost definitely do, but not from you. You’ve done what I needed, go back to your cell and pretend you don’t know me.”

“But, what’s your plan?”

“Don’t worry about it. Really, I’ll either be fine, or I won’t. Don’t count on anything either way.”

Tel nodded, a glum expression on his face. “Okay.” He’d been afraid at first, but now he seemed almost willing to go to bat for him. It was always one step forward and two steps back when it came to him figuring out how things worked down there, and even with his growing cynicism Dantes could see the flickers of idealism peek through in him every once in a while.

Televor walked back toward his cell, stopping once to look back, but Dantes had already left.

He moved through the caverns, back toward the mirror. He took the passages he knew would be the most difficult to traverse in order to reduce the chances that he’d be found by or accidentally stumble into the elves that were hunting him. He made it back to where he’d hidden the mirror, and took it, along with half of the rations he’d had hidden there, some mixed nuts and dried fruit.

He snacked as he moved, trying to keep his energy up, it was going to be a long day. He knew he’d be in danger, but hadn’t predicted that the Kings would use their resources to this degree hunting him. He’d thought that at worst he’d need to avoid the areas that they congregated, and be wary when traveling near their territory. Now that he was being actively pursued he needed to move forward quickly. He had, as far as he could tell, two options with the mirror that could save him. One would be to trade the mirror to another gang, explain how it works, and offer it as a trade for protection. The other, would be to bleed on it, chuck it into the Elfland kings leadership, and when it exploded, hope that the problem was taken care of. Option one was definitely the one he felt was more likely to work.

When it came to which gangs he should go to with his offer, his choices were limited. The Smallfolk Consortium had their own ways to bring things in, and also not much to offer in terms of protection. The Orcs had plenty of protection to offer, but couldn’t be counted on to honor any deals he made with them, they would see him as too elvish for that. The Kobolds were a possibility, but between the cultural divide with how they perceived agreements, and their likely lack of interest in what the mirror could do, it was uncertain they’d care. The collared just didn’t have the strength to back him up, though he was certain they would. That left Clan Stonedust, the Dwarven gang. They had the strength to back him up, and would likely be interested in the mirror, if only as a way to fuck with the Kings.

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He had two ways to get to the dwarves. One, would be to make his way toward the Maw, and through the Undermarket. A risky proposition given that the Kings were actively searching for him. The other option was to take side passages that slowly looped around. He’d be crossing primarily through Kobold territory. The kobolds themselves were relatively neutral to him, and would likely leave him be, but the myriad traps they liked to leave in their territory would be another story.

He needed to regroup, to check on his resources and determine what the best path would be. He continued maneuvering through the tunnels, old halls, and ruined passageways. His senses were still occasionally flashing with insights into the life that surrounded him. Rats, roaches, mold, all of it seemed to have something to say to him. The darkness was full of life, hungry, horny, scared, warm, cold, dying, being born. He couldn’t really control the flow of these impressions, so he decided to focus on the task at hand. To a certain extent, he knew that he was putting off dealing with something that was going to turn out to be incredibly important, but time was a factor. It had gone from something he had too much of, to something he had in short supply.

He reached his cave some time later, and sat on his bed, taking a few moments to catch his breath. Jacopo crawled out of the darkness in the corner of the cave and approached Dantes expectantly. Dantes took a large nut he still had left and handed it to him.

“Thanks.”

Dantes nodded. The ritual was no different than it had always been, the only difference was that he understood what Jacopo was saying. He looked around his cave, his home for the last four years. The plants had definitely grown since he’d been in the cave last. The moss that had always looked frail and a bit brown was now a lush green color and starting to creep across the floor, spreading its tendrils. He’d always been impressed at their surviving, but now they seemed to actually be thriving. There was only the smallest sliver of light that came into his home from one of the purple crystals that emitted light high above him, and behind a crack in the wall. The light was probably indetectable to those without the sensitivity to light his eyes had. It wasn’t sunlight though, so only the hardiest plants could survive there. He had no clue how the light worked, even after the centuries since its original inhabitants had vanished, but the Pit was a strange place that didn’t always seem to follow the rules of the world above, particularly when you reached the deeper passages.

He stood up, and removed the rock that guarded his larder. He took out the fruit he’d stolen only a little over a day before. It still felt firm in his hand, and smelled vaguely of dirt. He took a large bite, chewing it slowly and savoring it. Fruit, like meat, was a delicacy in the Pit. Fresh fruit was even more rare. He finished the peach he was eating, and moved on to the grapes, tossing one to Jacopo, then finally he ate the apple that remained. By the time he was done his hands were sticky, but his stomach was full and his tastebuds alight with the pleasures of a rare treat.

He went over to the pitcher he kept in the center of his cave where it collected water. He poured some into a small clay bowl, and used that water to clean himself. He then poured what remained in the bowl into those patches of moss he could sense were thirsty. Once that was done he returned to the pitcher and quenched his own thirst. That’s when he sensed something else.

Jacopo had moved to where the scraps of the fruit had fallen from Dantes’ mouth and hands and was gnawing on the peach pit. Dantes could feel something from the pit. From all the seeds he’d spat or placed into a small pile as he’d eaten. There was a spark. The faintest glimmer of life. He moved closer to them and picked each of them up in his hand. They craved dirt, sunlight, water, fertilizer. The desires radiating from them felt to him like the cries of the other kids he’d watched for his mother’s coworkers at the brothel. Those women who’d forgotten to drink the concoction the madam provided for them, or had children from before they’d begun their new line of work.

He held them in his hand. He couldn’t give them a lot of light, but he had a feeling, an intuition that they would accept something else. He wasn’t sure where the instinct came from, but he followed it just as he had the other ones that had so recently become a part of him. He walked out of his cave, squeezing through the narrow entrance, and moved through a few smaller halls and passages until he came to a large, high ceilinged room. The cracks in the floor here were wider than any other nearby area, and he could actually see a small amount of dirt through them. He found several spots throughout the chamber, and planted each seed. He then watered each of them. He took a shiv from his hand, and pricked the tip of his thumb. The sun was a source of light and life. He couldn’t provide the light, but life he could do, even if it was only symbolic. He squeezed the wound over each seed, and could feel the gratitude come off of each of the seeds in waves as his blood reached them.

Once he was done he noticed Jacopo sitting on a nearby stone, watching him.

“You are strange.”

“I’m beginning to think so too.”

Jacopo held out the peach pit he’d been gnawing on. “This one as well.”

Dantes took the seed and buried it with the others.

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