Previous Chapter: (1)

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Imrys ducked his head as he passed through yet another chamber, another tunnel. He’d thought the passage out of the room he’d awoken in would take him outside, given the bright sunlight streaming through that tiny crevasse and the scent of luscious red clover heated by a summer sun. But as he passed through the stone block doorway, he’d found himself in a long hall, his hooves rapping sharply on the stone in a way that echoed down the passage and back, creating a reverberation as though there were dozens of horses traversing that grim stone gallery instead of just him.

The block stone tunnel continued for quite a ways, unrelieved by window or door. Eventually Imrys came to a corner, and the hall opened into another blended chamber, broken stone blocks giving way to solid, worked stone that was vaguely sandy-hued. 

Imrys had to accept several facts as he traveled this winding course beneath the earth. The first was that he was irretrievably lost. Had he been buried here? Tilled into the ground like a long-forgotten seed? Or had he been left behind like the bones of the people who’d sat by their campfire until the darkness swallowed them, growing hungrier and weaker until they passed from this world? 

The second point he’d been forced to accept was that he had no recollections beyond his own name and the strange sense that he’d been something… other.  He couldn’t grasp that errant thread floating at the back of his consciousness. Each time he did it felt like his head was splitting in twain, and he’d quickly determined that it simply wasn’t worth the agony. The pain was enough to make him willing to leave off striving for it after he’d passed out from the pain and awoken in yet another crumpled heap, this time on the cut blocks that ground patterns into his flesh. He’d given up the search for his lost memories entirely after that, choosing instead to move forward rather than trying to look back.

The third, and perhaps most pressing of the fact Imrys has had to come to grips with was that he was trapped down here… with nothing.  He had no food, no source of water but the trickle from the rock in the chamber he’d awoken in… if he chose to backtrack. And while he was only beginning to feel the pangs of hunger, he knew that they would only grow worse with time. 

It was another of the oddities Imrys had discovered. He seemed to know a great deal about the facts of life, about inane things like the stone blocks being fit together without mortar and what the scent of sun-warmed clover was. But he knew nothing at all about himself, his past, or where he was. He couldn’t remember the name of the world, though he had some vague notion that there was more than one. He didn’t know what kind of horse he was… now… but he knew he was a horse.

A hundred inconsistencies plagued his mind as he traverse the caves and passageways of this place. There seemed to be neither pattern nor reason to the variation between rough, untouched stone and varying qualities of stonework. Rough cut blocks, ugly and utilitarian would shape the walls of one chamber only to give way to elegant marble facades that graced the wall with beauty. Imrys was fortunate that most of the areas he passed through were lit with the soft glow of mosses, mushrooms, and the viscid beaded cords of insect larva that were too beautiful to be grotesque. If there was one thing worse than being trapped in the bowels of the earth, it was being trapped in DARKNESS in the bowels of the earth. 

Out of an abundance of caution, Imrys had taken the time to scrape some of the glowing moss into his sack for later. He’d tried gathering the mushrooms for the same purpose, but they lost their glow as soon as they were picked. He stashed both in the bag regardless. He’d be a lot more desperate before he tried it, but if hunger got the best of him, he might sample either moss or mushroom, though some latent wisdom warned him the moss would likely be the safer course. If worse came to worst, he’d probably start snacking on the glowworm larva, but that was a last resort he hoped would never come. The slimy goop-sacks did not at all resemble something he’d want to put in his mouth. 

It seemed like he was wandering for days, but most likely it had only been a couple of hours before he came to a chamber that drew him up short. Like many of the tunnels and passages before this one, it was reasonably well let by mushrooms and glowworms, but neither of those things gave him pause. Stalactites depended from the ceiling like stony teeth, and crawling and chittering and hanging poised, ready to drop… were dozens of hairy, leather-winged bats. Their large, mobile ears twisted and pivoted, as beady black eyes seemed to peer in Imrys’ direction. The equine froze at the opening to the cavern, staring upwards, and shivered. 

Imrys wasn’t opposed to bats specifically. Not because they were bats. He was vehemently opposed to a hoard of potential biting things hanging over his head like a toothy guillotine.  It wouldn’t have mattered whether they were bats or monkeys or anything else potentially-bitey and hanging. He did NOT want to walk beneath them. He stared for a long few minutes at the bats, which appeared to be staring right back at him, as he mustered his courage. Finally, when he’d berated his inexplicable fears into submission by way of calling himself every sort of rank coward and insult he could dream up, he moved careful into the room, hugging as closely to the wall as the oversized mushrooms growing from the floor would allow. 

Pointy noses and banner ears followed his traversal of the chamber, dozens of tiny eyes like chips of obsidian following his every move. There wa something predatory in the bats’ regard, and Imrys felt certain if he faltered in the slightest they’d be on him, their tiny bodies bearing him to the floor with their combined weight as needle teeth sank into his flesh.  

By the time he made it to the far side of the chamber, he was panting and shivering all over. He stood round a slight lee in the wall, all-but hidden from the bats’ hungry gaze, long enough to catch his breath. He vowed then and there that short of absolutely dying of thirst, there was no way he would be backtracking through that chamber. No way, no how, not happening. 

Imrys snorted a few times and pawed the ground to shake off the last of the angst before continuing on his explorations. He still hadn’t found his way to the outside world, and was beginning to despair of ever doing so when he came round a bend and nearly ran face first into another equine. 

“Oi! Might want to watch where you’re going!” The other horse declared. His voice was thick and layered with an inflection that put Imrys in mind of country peasants, though he couldn’t exactly say why. The horse was a pale, earthy grey-brown with spotty brindle stripes decorating his hide and the darker cross-wise stripes of dun around his hocks and knees. His eyes were a cool clear green and his ears pinned slightly with affront. 

“I… I’m sorry.” Imrys said, his own smooth, almost aristocratic speech sounding strange to his ears by comparison. 

“Well, that’s well enough then. Apology accepted.” The other horse’s ears perked with good cheer. “I’m Logue, I’m with the Guild. And you are…?” Logue acted as though it were perfectly normal to meet another talking horse in a mostly lifeless cave in the middle of the stars alone knew where. For the moment, Imrys plays along, hoping to glean more information before having to admit to his ignorance. 

“Imrys, a pleasure to meet you.” Imrys moved one forehoof a slight step forward and then bowed his head. The motion was completed so quickly that he hardly realized he’d done it, it had seemed so instinctual. “Do you come here often?” He asked the question quickly, to cover his embarrassment, unknowing if such a greeting was usual or not. 

“This part of The Dungeon? Nope. First time in this zone. Figured I’d do a little light exploring today. Take it easy. Have you cleared this section or were you coming from another zone?” Logue leaned to stare past Imrys, as though trying to survey the path ahead. As he did so, Imrys could see something crawling along his withers. 

“Watch out!” Imrys declares, snapping his teeth at the creature once he recognized that it was a brown bat crawling across his companion’s brown hide. The bat squealed and retreated into Logue’s mane, where it chittered imprecations at him. 

Logue for his part seemed undisturbed by the bat’s presence, but he sidestepped enough to keep his back out of Imrys’ reach. “Hey! Don’t pick on Cocoa!” He groused, tail flicking in annoyance. “He’s my buddy.”

Imrys just stared. His own close encounter of the batty kind had left him on edge, and seeing Logue’s bat crawling over his back was like a preview of exactly what he was afraid of. 

“I…I’m sorry? Your ‘buddy’?” Imrys asked, dumbfounded. 

“That’s right… buddy. Friend? Compatriot? Bosom companion?” He arched his neck to touch his nose to the bat and then huffed amusement. “Why? You’re not afraid of a wee little bat are you?” Logue asks, obviously amused. 

Imrys pulled his head back and snorted, annoyed and more than a little insulted. “No… not a wee little bat.” He put the stress on the singular, his tail flicking in frustration. “You seem to know your way around here, which way to the outside?” He asked, turning the discussion toward the most pressing of his questions. 

Logue tilted his head slightly, one ear twitching toward Imrys. “New to the Dungeon, are you?” Logue asked, his gaze intent. 

“Y…es.” Imrys hesitated, uncertain how much to reveal. He didn’t trust easily, and while Logue seemed friendly enough… well. Who knew. 

“That’s alright, it’s pretty easy to get turned around in here. Why don’t I go ahead and guide you out?” Logue offered.

“That’s quite kind of you… but ah… no. That won’t be necessary, I wouldn’t want to trouble you.” Imrys covered quickly. “Directions, that’s all, and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

“Well… if you’re sure.” Logue proceeded to sketch out the path to the nearest exit, describing which turns to take and which to avoid. When he finished he pawed lightly at the ground. “Anything I should know about up ahead?” He asked, still looking down the tunnel the way Imrys had come.

“Nope, just a few wee little bats.” Imrys replied. Was it a touch mean of him perhaps not to warn Logue of the strange bat chamber? Maybe. But Logue seemed to know a lot more about this place than Imrys did. Maybe he really wouldn’t be bothered by all those squeaky little terrors hovering over his head.

Imrys bobbed his head in another partial bow. “Safe journeys until our paths cross again.” He bid Logue, turning away and heading the direction the other equine had indicated. 

“You too, Imrys!” Logue called before heading up the grey’s backtrail. 

Imrys didn’t really feel bad sending Logue down a dead end. Maybe he would make more sense out of the chamber Imrys had awoken in, and the message scratched in the stone there. Maybe he would find things that Imrys had missed. At the least, Imrys knew the route was safe, or as safe as could be expected. 

Imrys didn’t know how he knew, but he was certain that he’d always been a loner. Companionship wasn’t something he sought out eagerly, and trust was hard-earned. He couldn’t recall why but he knew that keeping people at arms’ length was the safer course. Arms? He must have had them once, though he doesn’t dwell on it. Whatever he had been, he was here, now, and soon enough he’d be out of this place… this Dungeon, as Logue had called it. The thought of sharing constant company with another, especially a stranger, made his skin crawl. What if trouble came? How could he trust a stranger in a fight? What if they found some great treasure? Wouldn’t a stranger simply take it? Perhaps even put an end to Imrys if he got in the way?

No, Imrys was better off alone. The sense that he could ‘handle’ most things was clear, despite his reticence to deal with bats. Special circumstances, etc. 

The first kiss of the sun on his hide felt like a blessing and a benediction. He was alive and free, and the world had never looked so good before. As soon as his hooves carried him beyond the cavernous walls, he kicked up his heels and bolted across the open meadow, running just for the joy of motion, of fresh air that didn’t scent of dust and stone, and the feel of soft turf beneath him instead of hard stone. 

The many questions he had could wait. He soared over the ground, and when his wind ran out, he slowed, walked, and finally stood still, taking in the world around him. 

In the distance, he spied a plume of smoke. Where there was smoke, most often there were people, and he spotted the barest edge of a roof, the straight edge marking civilization as opposed to wilderness. He turned himself in that direction and took up a ground-eating lope that would carry him far without tiring. People would have answers, perhaps. And food and safety of a certainty. He might learn the truth of this strange world after all. 

~ Continue the tale in Ch 3~