I fear not the tiger for using its claws, nor the bear for using its maw. But when humanity takes up arms, it is not hunger that drives them. It is wrath and desire.
Humans are slow, weak and understand magic like the blind understand the sun. But when war sings in their blood, I feel terror, for cruelty is their birthright, and humanity has grasped it with both hands.
Unnamed Orcish shaman, twenty three years before the creation of the Empire.
***
"Easy, easy," Marcus soothed. He put a calming hand on Elly's arm, specifically the one that was gripping her unsheathed blade so very tightly. "Vess and captain Yonas are dealing with it."
Elly's lip curled in rage, something that only happened very rarely. "I'm going to have them put on spikes."
"You'll have to settle for a mass grave, but yes, they'll die," he replied. Elly's eyes flickered to him, and he met her glare without flinching. She looked away. "Breathe. Battle needs steady hands and a calm mind, yes?"
She snarled something unintelligible, but he felt the Life in her slow from a roaring galestorm to something much, much calmer. Elly exhaled, half sigh and half frustration. "I don't like you having to fight in the halls of our own home. Brings back bad memories."
Marcus bumped his shoulder against hers, which she apparently took as an invitation to lean her head against his own. Considering how heavily armed she was, that was both more and less cute than she might have imagined.
Thankfully, they were alone, at least for now. Elly paused, sniffing the air. "You're bleeding."
"I was bleeding," he corrected lightly. "Nothing one of my healers couldn't fix. Let's not go pretending it's the first time, hmmn?"
Elly tsked. "I wasn't there for the fighting, so I get to be concerned. Those are the rules."
"Of course, love," he replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. "Now I do have to go show my face. Can't have the impatient jumping to conclusions, like me being dead."
She groaned. "And here I was planning to guilt trip you into cuddling. Fine, fine. Let's go. Seeing the dead bodies of those who dared to attack you will do me good."
Silent Gods, sometimes he was sorely tempted to dig into her genealogical tree. There simply must be elven blood in her, and not a little of it either.
But Marcus resisted the urge to mock her, difficult though it was. Instead he opened the door, being promptly greeted by a hallway full of armed fighters. Nineteen melee and seven mages, by his count. All Royal Guards, all backing away to give him some space.
Until they were about in the middle of the pack, after which they imprisoned him in a circle of steel and magical shields. Elly seemed to approve, but Marcus had to swallow down a stream of protests.
Castles were built with narrow hallways designed against this exact thing. Getting anywhere was going to take ages, and probably involve a lot of jostling. Marcus also just knew Elly was taking advantage of that, because she did not need to basically be hanging off his shoulder.
And all of this because the Empress had announced the Dungeon invasion. It was hardly going to be a secret forever, not at that scale, and in truth it never had been. But the Empress knew that, so instead of a full invasion, she'd 'leaked' the fact that this was a test run. A military operation to fully work out the kinks in using Horzo's airships.
It must have worked, because when the truth finally came out, the Silent Gods Movement had freaked the fuck out. Vess had been warned about that, but this was something else.
They rounded another corner, and there was the first corpse, leaning against the wall. Two more were just behind it.
Marcus twisted, avoiding the enchanted axe and retaliating with his knife. The man's own curved blade came up, but his knife keened with the magic of a spatial arc, and the metal parted like butter. The cultist stepped back, a controlled and proper movement, only to have his throat opened from the side.
Which was good, because Marcus had over extended the blow, unused to meeting so little resistance.
He nodded to the Royal Guard, who herself was hit not moments later by an arrow. It found the gap between helmet and breastplate, pushing through in a way only enchanted projectiles could. Two more skittered off his own shield, and he tightened his defensive suite while his guard fell, dead before she hit the floor.
Elly glanced at the dead men, who a pair of her soldiers were already dragging away. "They had enchanted weapons."
"They did," he confirmed, even though it hadn't been a question. "Well trained, too, and coordinated. The kind of manpower I very much doubt they can spare to lose."
They moved on, and across another hallway, four more corpses were laid out.
Marcus flinched away from the rolling wave of flame, ducking past behind the corner. Two of his mages sealed the hallway, only for a ripple of disruption magic to dispel the shield, leaving nothing to protect them.
More shields snapped into place, and Marcus joined them into his own, creating a bubble of safety amongst the scorching heat. Two more of his men weren't so lucky, city watch both. They burned, and Marcus grimaced while his mages replied to flame with flame.
Marcus shook his head. Most of his offensive magic was powerful, no doubt about it, but it was hardly made for quarters this tight, let alone with both sides mixed up like they had been. Spatial arcs would kill his own people as quickly as the cultists, and probably bring down the castle in the process. Teleportation was limited due to sightlines, his water beam was likewise useless, and that brought him down to mundane spells.
His lack of experience with those had shown.
One more hallway was crossed and they made it to a converted ballroom, which was currently full of prisoners. One of Mirre's captains walked up, stopping short when two Royal Guards stepped in his way. The man didn't seem overly insulted.
"There was a smugglers' tunnel under the east wall, my king," the captain reported. "It was warded against basic sensory techniques. Captains Anderson and Lila—along with a divination squad from the Academy—have sealed it, and are searching for any more. One of the guilds was bribed to provide further access while inside the city. Their leadership is being interrogated as we speak."
Marcus grunted. "And the castle?"
"Earth mages," Elly supplied. The captain nodded. "I could smell their work when I came in. Stealth when entering the city, loud once they got to the castle; Professionals. I'm seeing at least three of their so-called chapters."
She waved the captain off, who saluted and did just that. Marcus took in the room. Just under four dozen prisoners, less than a quarter of their total number. They had fought hard, and continued to fight for longer than usual. Religious fervor made for a good morale boost, he supposed.
But once the Royal Guards had organized and Mirre's city watch had flooded inside, it had been over. Marcus caught the eye of one of the prisoners, who struggled to a stand. Her pierced lip brought back more memories.
"He's here!" the cultists called, blasting a trio of Royal Guards aside. Crude magic, but powerful. Marcus forewent thought and fell back into instinct, snapping his defensive suite into place. Not a moment later a spike of sub-zero ice broke against it. The cultist with the pierced lip snarled. "Seal the arrowslits."
Magic poured into the stone, and the hallway went dark, cutting off an easy escape. Marcus weaved and fired a third-tier disruption spell, following it up with a blade of wind. The woman dove, the four mages with her didn't.
Blood poured over stone, and both above and below, the castle filled with the sounds of battle.
"Don't go into the Dungeon," the cultist shouted. A guard was next to her in a flash, pushing her back down. "Don't feed the Great Ones. Don't wake them up. Please—"
Another city watchman gagged her, and none of the others seemed eager to speak. Some looked filled with rage, all but frothing at the mouth, and more were making holy gestures of some kind.
Most of them, however, just looked tired. They'd fought, and they'd lost. Now they were going to die, and they knew it.
Elly was apparently finished taking them all in, her tone echoing through the room. "Interrogate them, then dispose of their corpses. How they die depends on how much they're willing to tell us."
She wasn't speaking to anyone in particular, clearly, but that hardly mattered. Marcus usually didn't approve of torture, but he wasn't feeling particularly merciful at the moment.
So he said nothing at all, and watched the first of them being dragged away.
***
Marcus steadied himself when the airship rose into the air, watching the other five rise behind them. It was a strange sight, stranger still for his continued understanding on how exactly they flew, but it was also mundane, in a way.
He'd been on ships before, and just because this one sailed on air instead of water didn't make it any different to stand on. Not really.
Elly was still stalking around below deck, inspecting the thousands of their soldiers quartered there, so Marcus only had himself to keep company. Well, himself and Vistus.
But the man had been napping, apparently even less interested in watching them take off than Marcus himself.
Still, he seemed awake now. The old Archmage ambled over, coming to stand next to him. "You should try napping, my young friend. It soothes the soul, and this will be a long journey. One where I suspect the three of us will be quite busy."
"I suppose," Marcus agreed. Vistus sighed. "What?"
The Archmage shrugged expansively. "You are still upset about the attack on your home."
"It was nine hours ago."
"That's true," the man allowed. "They cut it close. But I need you focused, not off balance, or else the cult won even in death."
"I thought you wanted me to nap."
Victus tsked. "Don't be obstinate. It is never fun to fight in one's own home, but you did better than most. Well, you did better than Horzo. I was traveling at the time, so they ambushed me on the road. Clarissa burned them all to death. They killed five of Izzolma's clones, but they probably didn't even get within ten miles of her real self."
"Wait, what happened to Horzo?" Marcus asked, turning. His eyes widened. "He's not dead, is he? We're kind of depending on artifacts only he can properly maintain."
The man raised a calming hand. "Horzo survived, but they broke into one of his secondary research facilities. His physical health is already restored, but he is no fighter. Not like you and I. He'll need some time. Still, they had each of our locations, it seems, and brought enough specialists to make the attempts count. Not the worst attempt I've heard about, though not the best either."
"And yet everyone seems to insist that it was a good thing."
Vistus laughed, though there was little humor in it. "It was. None of us died, and the Silent Gods Movement lost hundreds in each attempt. More than that, the Viziers are ripping their entire network apart, chasing a dozen leads we've already extracted from the prisoners. Had I known they would react like this, I would have invaded the Dungeon decades ago. An army is easy for me to crush. A hundred rat nests, breeding more quickly than we can find them? Not so much."
"I suppose so," Marcus replied. "Doesn't make me any happier about it, or how they affected Elly. Oh, I meant to ask, one of them said something about Great Ones. Any truth in that?"
The Archmage snorted. "The Great Ones, the Nothing, Voidless Ego, I've heard them claim a hundred things that are supposedly down there. None of them ever delivered proof, and most of them violently disagree in the first place. Infighting used to be more common, before the Emperor that preceded Izzolma's predecessor stamped down on them."
"It's still a lot of people willing to die for their cause. If there is something down there, I'd like to know before we trip over it in the dark."
"You'll have to ask Brandon," Vistus said with a shrug. "Our young Crown Prince knows the Dungeon almost better than I do. Either way, it's mostly mysticism and contradictory claims. I wouldn't let it keep you up at night."
Elly's voice appeared from nowhere, and Marcus didn't even bother flinching anymore. "Who's keeping him up at night? It better be me, or I might have to stab a bitch."
"We're just discussing what that cultist said this morning," Marcus replied. She looked briefly disappointed, then perked up. "What?"
"Oh, I just remembered that most of them will stay for long term interrogation, so when we stop and you make a Gate, I can go back and oversee their executions."
Vistus peered at her. "I'm not entirely sure whether you are joking or not, and that worries me."
"They tried to kill someone I love," Elly replied, shrugging. "Would you let that slide?"
"That doesn't actually answer my question."
Marcus broke in before that could devolve into namecalling. "Anyway, Vistus is of the opinion there's nothing to their beliefs. Considering what I saw in the ocean, I'm going to be paranoid and thus assume there's something nasty waiting for us."
"You were in the ocean?" Vistus asked, surprised. Elly snickered. "What?"
"Show him."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "Fine, fine, you'll need to see this yourself anyway. What direction don't we care about at the moment?"
Vistus glanced overboard, at nature, and it was slowly speeding up below them. Airships were faster than mundane ships, but not by that much. That would speed up once they got to the Dungeon, thankfully. According to Horzo, falling down was faster than drifting up.
A somewhat concerning statement, that, especially because the man wasn't actually here himself. Vistus spoke up before Marcus could ponder that properly. "I don't think the Prince Primus would appreciate you inflicting large scale violence upon his lands."
"Why would you think it involves large scale violence?"
"Because your wife is eagerly awaiting for you to inflict it, mostly."
"Rude," Elly accused. She paused. "Not untrue, though."
Marcus snorted. "I'll aim up. By the time it falls back down it won't be much more than heavy rain, and no one lives here anyway. Right?"
"No one I can feel," Elly confirmed. "Now get to blasting."
He waved her away, she tried to bite his finger, and he enjoyed seeing her suppress a flush of embarrassment when several of her soldiers caught her acting like that. She was always a lot more dignified around them, the two-faced creature, so that served her right.
Either way, he weaved the sixth-tier spell together, straining slightly to incorporate the sound-suppressing aspect. No need to deafen half the fleet.
Vistus frowned lightly when the spell finished, and Marcus smiled at the man. Then he linked it to his underwater Gate, and a great boom rolled over the ship. And another, and another, until it was a wall of noise. Several people shouted, the ship floating to their left veered away in panic, and Vistus' eyes widened.
Marcus tilted the portal further up, narrowing it while doing so. The beam turned from hammer to knife, increasing both range and cutting power. Not that the air cared overly much. He turned to the old Archmage, smiling proudly.
"How long can you keep that up?" Vistus asked, having to half shout to be heard. He rolled his eyes at Elly's cackle. "Stop making a racket, young man!"
Marcus closed the portal. "I'm not actually sure. A while, but I think it's mental energy that's going to give out before magical. Portals are efficient spells. And I'll make as much as a racket as I please, you walking corpse."
"There's no need for namecalling," Vistus chided. Elly stepped up very close next to Marcus, making the man cough. Or laugh, as it was. "I think your wife approves."
"I do approve. Who doesn't want a husband who can wreak terrible havoc at the slightest provocation? It's hot."
Marcus snorted. "Elf."
"Mage."
"Barbarian."
"Mage."
"Please don't start that again," Vistus broke in. "Or if you must, do so somewhere else. I know better than to get between young love and their flirting, but I don't have to be subjected to it."
Marcus rolled his eyes. "If you're trying to embarrass me, you should know that that only works if I care about your opinion."
"See? I'm already being viciously mauled, and I barely ventured one toe in between you two."
"You clearly haven't seen enough maulings," Elly noted. "Which is strange, because you're usually quite good in a fight. Have you been spreading lies, Vistus?"
The man tsked. "I'm leaving now. Silent Gods, I should have picked a different ship."
"I can teleport. I'd just follow you."
Marcus watched the Archmage retreat, smiling serenely at his scowl.
But the fun ended, and travel to the Dungeon was boring. The most exciting thing he saw that first day were the fully furnished decks, which while dark, were well stocked. Air mages kept the air fresh, there was warm water for washing, and shared rooms were cramped but comfortable.
Their own room was alright, though someone—and by that he meant Elly—had decided to not bother with separate beds. All in the name of space efficiency, of course. It had nothing to do with Elly liking someone to latch onto while she slept.
Still, there were worse ways to spend the night, and his dreams were blessedly free of nightmares. Or visions, for that matter. Elly herself was faster too, so the risk was minimal.
Higher than he'd like, but minimal.
So that's how he spent his days. Sparring with an increasingly bored Elly, mostly to sharpen his knife skills, some much lighter mock fights with Vistus, a lot of meetings, and several instances of stretching his legs on the surface.
Day after day after day, until they finally got to the Dungeon itself. There at least there was something to look at, and Elly especially seemed intent on watching the uncountable number of Legions. She pointed at something he couldn't see. "They're looking for Burrower tunnels. Oh, and there's a fort being constructed. I thought Vistus made those. Eh, whatever. A fight! Aaand it's over. Hells, I almost feel bad for that group of Hounds. They finally get to the surface and a fifth-tier mage freezes them all to death."
Marcus made polite noises of interest, much more interested in the Dungeon itself. It was as vast as the first time he'd seen it, the other side stretching miles and miles further than he could possibly see. Fifty in total, though its shape was far from perfectly circular.
More interestingly, though, was the destroyed infrastructure. Not the farms, those had been razed so thoroughly there was basically nothing left, but inside the Dungeon itself. Tunnels supported by wooden shafts, rails sunk into the stone, and some remnants of a town, now little more than broken splinters.
Brandon spoke up, who had been quietly conversing with the captain to his right. "The mining towns. There used to be hundreds, if not more, and there was a time those hunkered down during the Dungeon Breaks, if you can believe it. Even as little as a few decades ago they were resettled after every break, but now it isn't worth the cost anymore."
"I suppose that's where they get their metal from, then. For weapons, I mean."
The Crown Prince shrugged. "Some, but there's not nearly enough to go around. It's a mystery, and one I hope to uncover. Logic dictates there must be civilizations down there to produce the goods, but Champions are far too prone to infighting for that to make sense."
Marcus hummed, and the ship came to a stop a few miles over the edge. Below there was nothing but a black void, but he could see the Stairway even from here. Massive stone platforms, some connected and some not, with smaller ridges bridging the gaps. Not perfectly, but enough.
Then the ship started to descend, picking up speed, and the wind started to whistle through his hair. They were going faster than anyone had likely ever descended before, and it was exhilarating in a way he couldn't quite explain. Marcus inhaled, watching the darkness grow closer.
The Dungeon awaited. A place no Archmage had ever returned from, and one that they needed to find an answer within, because humanity would not survive without one.
Down and down into the rabbit hole, for weeks and months and maybe even years.
Down and down
Down and down.
Afterword
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