Undermind

“Och, now that’s one fair imposing fortress.”

Saskia nodded wordlessly at Ruhildi. Imposing barely began to describe it. The great walled enclave of Firespring stood atop a high plateau, surrounded by cliffs, with only a narrow causeway leading up to its tall iron gates. The walls bristled with defences. She spotted archers, slingers, cauldrons of…something, trebuchets and ballistas.

Those defences were now aimed squarely at them.

Rover Dog’s banner, draped across the dragon’s ribcage, wasn’t having quite the effect they’d hoped it would. Either the guardians of Firespring—the parakumakorai, he called them—couldn’t see the banner from that distance, or they were ignoring it because it was attached to a bone dragon.

That seemed perfectly understandable to Saskia. If she saw a bone dragon lumbering up to her doorstep, she wouldn’t have invited it in for a chat, no matter who claimed to be chilling out in its belly.

“Time to show our faces,” she said.

Opening the ribs, she stepped out onto the causeway behind Rover Dog and Princess Vask. She waved at the guards atop the walls. “How do you do, fellow trolls?” she murmured.

Vask bellowed up at them in a language she didn’t recognise, though she did recognise the words Vask and Cloudtop. One of the guards called out in kind. The princess replied with Rover Dog’s and Saskia’s names, and the word Earf, an obvious mispronunciation of her supposed queendom.

After a little more back and forth, the gates swung open, and a band of troll men in loincloths and feathery capes marched out to meet them. They were neither sky trolls nor hill trolls. Their skin was a deep, dark green, and they were tiny. Well, not tiny compared to the other demihuman races. But tiny compared to other trolls. They stood a little over two metres tall, coming barely up to Saskia’s midsection if she stretched up to her full height. Their bodies, however, were clearly those of warriors: muscular and graceful. Though they were trolls, they reminded Saskia of the Spartans from the movie 300 (she’d watched that movie six times as a teen—for the plot, of course).

“Not call them tiny,” said Rover Dog, when she mentioned their diminutive stature. “Parakumakorai will rip tongue out and feed it to goresnouts.”

“Okaaay,” said Saskia. “Don’t provoke the Spartan pygmy trolls. Got it.”

After some more discussion between Vask, Rover Dog and the guards, Saskia began to pick up the new language.

“The princess and the rover and their menagerie desire to make use of your foundry,” Vask was explaining. “You will make available whatever resources they require. I will reimburse any and all expenses incurred, as payment for their…assistance.”

Huh. That was actually quite generous of her. The repairs wouldn’t come cheap.

After some further negotiations, the guards stepped aside, allowing the dragon entry.

Stepping through the gates, Saskia’s nose wrinkled. The air had that distinct ‘rotten egg’ smell of sulphur. She’d gotten a whiff of it outside the walls, but here, it struck her sensitive troll nose full-force. The clouds of steam wafting up from a walled-off area in the centre of the enclave were the obvious source of the odour.

Before her lay patchwork fields, tended by parakumakorai and a smattering of other troll races. Orderly rows of Spartan pygmy trolls lined the road, bearing spears and shields. They watched the dragon with wary expressions, while some of their gazes turned on Saskia. She did her best to look non-threatening. Here, it seemed, she was the tallest troll in town.

As Rover Dog had mentioned earlier, this town was built upon the ruins of a much older settlement. Ancient stonework dotted the fields, partially buried and completely overgrown. Some newer buildings had been built around the ruins of the old, but most had been left untouched. On her minimap, she could see that the ruins extended far below the surface, though most of the subterranean sections seemed to have collapsed.

At the north end of the enclave was the market and craftsman’s terrace, containing the foundry they’d need to make their repairs. A large airfield lay to the west; though there were no airships or flying creatures present, her minimap labelled it as such. She wondered if Cloudtop was the only queendom that had airships. Rover Dog had made it sound as if the sky trolls were uniquely knowledgable about such things, but if Earth was anything to go by, technology like that had a tendency to spread.

To the south was a huge stone building—a castle, really—with crumbling stonework covered in the local equivalent of ivy. It had a larger basement than any other structure in town; one that connected to one of the few intact tunnels left unburied. That, she decided, must be the Night’s Dream.

When she pointed out the building, Rover Dog said, “Guest palace. Princesses stay there.”

“Oh,” said Saskia. “Well that’s convenient.”

“I will see that it is prepared for our arrival,” said Princess Vask. She sent Rover Dog a smouldering look, before stalking off.

They parked the dragon in front of a large pavilion, with rows of forge fires blazing beneath a thin roof. The trolls working the forges stared at the great bone beast in open-mouthed astonishment. A large contingent of guards stood watchfully nearby, just in case the dragon went on a rampage.

Ruhildi and Kveld also drew their measure of curious glances. These trolls had never seen a dwarf before, living or dead. The pair immediately set to work at the forge.

“This will take some time, Sashki,” said Ruhildi. “Days, leastwise. Mayhap much longer. We won’t ken until we’ve tried to work this metal.”

“Okay, we may as well leave you to it then.” Saskia lowered her voice so the guards couldn’t hear. “I suspect the Night’s Dream is right there under the guest palace. Let’s see if we can find it tonight.”

“I wish I could join you, Sashki, but I’d best stay and mind the dracken, lest one of the locals do something drastic. Kveldi can go with you, though, after we’re done here.”

“Good point,” said Saskia. “In the meantime, I guess it’s time for me to act like a princess.”

“Princess always act like princess,” said Rover Dog.

They found Princess Vask sunning herself in the garden outside the palace, while a sky troll stood over her, using a quill dipped in blood leaking from his own wrist to jot down notes on a sheet of parchment.

“Princess Saskia will be here shortly,” Vask was saying. “I know nothing about this Earf Queendom she claims to represent—it all sounds rather dubious—but Rover vouches for her, and she bears the divine dust, so we will take her at her word for now. She will be joining us in the scouring pools on the morrow.”

Wait…what?

“Now hold on—” said Saskia.

Rover Dog pressed his hand around her mouth, pulling her back out of sight. Grinning, he tilted his head sharply to the side. No.

“Very good,” said the sky troll, whom she took to be some sort of attendant. “I think you will be pleased. The acid is especially potent this season.”

“Mmmf!” said Saskia.

“Have the other guests arrived?” asked Vask.

“Not yet,” said the attendant. “Princess Aele of the Goldclaw Queendom and Princess Nuhu of the Riverside Queendom are due to arrive a few days hence.”

Vask frowned. “Not Princess Liet?”

“Princess Liet sends her apologies. She is with child, and cannot risk the baby, so her younger sister will come in her stead.”

“How inconsiderate!” said Vask. “No matter. I look forward to breaking in—ah, I mean meeting—young Princess Nuhu.”

Saskia was getting a really bad feeling about this.

Rover Dog released her, and she rounded on him. “If she thinks I’m just gonna hop into an acid spa with her, she has another think coming.”

“Reconsider,” he murmured.

She blinked at him. “What?”

“Reconsider. You not have allies among queendoms. After tomorrow, you have…friend. Good friend. You will see.”

“By having my skin melted off? I’ll pass.”

“Will grow back,” said Rover Dog. “Princess endure pain. Show strength. Grow stronger. Earn respect. Forge bond.”

“You’re saying it’s not so much beauty treatment as a rite of passage? A way of bonding with these…masochists?”

He nodded.

Saskia let out a long breath. She’d survived the deepworm. Maybe she could endure this too. She would have to think about it.

“Ah, there you are!” said Vask, as they stepped back around the corner. She rose, and beckoned for them to follow her inside. “Come. This will be so much fun!”

Still quietly seething, Saskia stepped through the huge doorway. The interior of this ancient palace was very well-kept, with nary a cobweb nor spec of dust in sight. Vask led them through a maze of hallways to their rooms. These too were a vast step up from the places she was used to sleeping on this world. There were things resembling actual beds, neatly made, though lacking in blankets. Tapestries hung across the walls, depicting scenes of…oh wow. Her face grew hot. She had no idea trolls could assume those positions.

Rover Dog caught her gaze and grinned wolfishly. “We try that one next time.”

“No thank you,” she said. “I wouldn’t be able to stand for a week after that.”

“I help straighten spine afterward.”

“Can we talk about something else?” Saskia turned to Vask. “Why is this place out here in the middle of nowhere? Why go to all this trouble? If searing your flesh off is so important to you, can’t you just set up a scouring pool in the safety and, uh, comfort…” Really not the right word. “…of your own homes?”

“A princess who cannot endure the journey to Firespring is not worthy to be called princess,” said Vask. “That is why we come here. That, and the fact that it is neutral territory, shared by all queendoms. Many an alliance has been forged within these walls. It is not easy to reach, but once here, our safety is assured.”

“What would happen if someone assassinated a rival queen in this place?”

“That…has happened, once,” said Vask. “The queendom responsible for the deed no longer exists. It was purged from this world by the combined might of every other queendom of Grongarg.”

“I…see,” said Saskia.

This place made a strange kind of sense now. Instead of playing golf, the leaders of various troll nations would hang out together in torture pools. Ick-factor aside, it beat the Ciendil way—all-out apocalyptic war.

That evening, they reclined on wire chairs in a spacious dining room, while troll attendants served them appetiser dishes of crispbread, glazed root vegetables, wriggling grubs, and…yup, those were eyeballs.

After the appetisers came a main course that would have fed an army battalion back on Earth. They drank a bitter-tasting alcohol, not unlike beer, but it went to her head faster than any beer she’d had on Earth. And that was saying something, because on Earth, she was a real lightweight, but here she had an iron stomach. Then came dice games, and nude dancers, and…wow this stuff was strong. Saskia waved off the third cup, hoping her trollish liver would quickly filter out the alcohol already in her system. She wanted to be clear-headed tonight, while they went delving for the Night’s Dream.

They were heading to their rooms when Vask stepped in front them, holding out her hand in invitation. “Tonight, sweet Rover, you may take your reward. And Saskia, you will join us too, I trust.”

Saskia stared at her. Is she proposing what I think she is?

“Not tonight, princess,” said Rover Dog, looking a little too regretful. “We…tired.”

Vask laughed. “Oh Rover, since when have you been too tired for me?”

“I older now,” said Rover Dog. “We both older.”

Vask’s eyes narrowed. “You don’t look to have aged a single day.”

“Age not show on outside,” said Rover Dog.

Vask pouted. “Feh! Another night then. Rest well, both of you.” She licked her lips. “You will need it.”

“Just so you know,” said Saskia, as they went their separate ways. “I am not down with that. You can do as you please with her, but don’t expect me to join in.”

“After tomorrow, maybe princess reconsider,” said Rover Dog.

“Not a chance.”

“I can watch, yes?” said a rather woozy-looking Zarie, staggering after them.

“What? No!” Saskia frowned at her. “Why would you want to?”

“Trow mating is…fascinating!” said Zarie. “Such ferocity! Lesser creatures would not survive the…” She shivered, then stumbled, before catching herself against a doorway.

“Go to bed, Zarie!” said Saskia, shoving her gently into her room.

Kveld appeared later that night, bearing unpleasant news. “Repairs will take a fistful of fivedays,” he said.

Saskia stared at him. “Five weeks? We’re going to be stuck here for five weeks?”

Kveld nodded sadly. “’Tis our best estimate. The alloy of the wing blades is unique—uniquely light, uniquely strong, and uniquely difficult to work with. We could try another material, but…” He sighed. “Once we have the process perfected, we can carry a stockpile. If this should happen again, repairs will be much quicker.”

“Frock,” said Saskia. “Well, just do the best you can. And maybe have a backup plan, in case we need to leave sooner. We don’t know how long Ciendil can hold out. Or whether our welcome will wear out. Now, who’s up for some exploring?”

A soft snore emerged from Zarie’s room.

“Not her,” said Kveld, smiling faintly.

“Yeah, she’s…sleeping it off,” said Saskia. “Trow booze is powerful stuff.”

Avoiding guards and attendants with the help of Saskia’s map and some well-timed distractions, they made their way through dimly-lit hallways and down into a basement stocked with food and drink and other supplies. A hatch led down to another storage area, only partially filled. It was on this floor that they ran into the walled off area. Kveld worked his stoneshaper magic to dissolve the wall, and they found themselves in a dark and damp and dingy corridor, crawling with bugs and rodents.

A second wall awaited them further along the corridor—this one thicker than the last. There was a blue arlium panel on the front of it, but it wasn’t shaped like the palm-scanners back on Ciendil. A jagged crack ran across the blue glassy surface. Saskia pressed her hand against it, not expecting much. Predictably, there was no response.

“You’re up, Kveld,” she said.

A minute later, the dwarf stood frowning at the still-intact wall. “’Tis warded,” he said. “Or something like a ward.”

“We could try to tunnel around it,” she suggested.

“Methinks the ward blocks entry from all sides,” said Kveld.

“Dogramit,” she breathed. “Back to the drawing board, I guess. We can’t spend too long down here, in any case, or someone will notice we’re gone. And I’m…really kinda tired, actually. We’re gonna be here a while, so there’s no rush. Let’s come back later.”

The next morning, Princess Vask burst into her room, looking far too cheery. “Come, princess! We’re going to be late!”

Saskia blinked up at her. “Late for…?”

“The scouring, of course! Up you get! Do not bother getting dressed. No need for clothes where we’re going.”

“Wait, I never said—”

Vask grabbed her by the arm, hauling her bodily out of bed with surprising strength.

“Okay, okay! I’m coming!” Saskia’s mind raced. She hadn’t actually agreed to this, had she? Was she really going to submit to this barbaric ritual?

The answer was yes. Yes she was going to do this. Because the alternative would be to show weakness in front of one of the few allies she might make on this world.

A short time later, together with Princess Vask, a grinning Rover Dog, and dozens of attendants, she staggered out the door and down the path, toward the walled-off area at the centre of town. She hadn’t even bothered to wash, because frock it, what was the point of cleaning skin and hair that were about to be melted off?

Stepping through the gate, she found herself standing before a stinking, steaming pool of nope. Large bovines grazed around the edges of the enclosure, as far from the pools they could get without jumping the walls. What was up with them? The liquid of the pools was reddish-brown, not green and bubbling like video game acid. But when she dipped a toe in, she pulled it back with a hiss. Yup, definitely acid.

She and Vask each took a generous mouthful of arlithite—the so-called ‘divine dust.’ Saskia wondered where the princess got hers. It seemed pretty scarce on Grongarg. Her own supplies had been dwindling since she got here. She rather doubted Vask would tell her if she asked them, given that each royal family hoarded and jealously guarded their supply. Should they lose their monopoly over the substance—and the clear signs of its use—the peoples’ respect for them would likely fade as well. Maybe that was why most of the trolls seemed to just accept her rather flimsy claims about her own royal lineage.

Vask pointed to one of the larger pools. “We will share this one.”

Saskia swallowed hard, and gave a wordless nod.

Vask stood at the pool’s edge for a long moment, breathing in short, sharp gasps. Saskia could see she was trembling. Closing her eyes, she stepped forward, tipped and…

Splash!

The liquid began to froth. Jets of steam billowed upward. A muffled shriek emerged from beneath the waves.

This went on for some time. Then something red and oozing rose up out of the liquid, reaching out her hands to Saskia. There were no eyes. Her hair was gone, as was most of her skin and some of the tissue beneath.

Saskia looked away, retching. Oh god. This was so frocked up. This couldn’t be happening. Images and feelings and…smells, long buried, were clawing their way out of the deepest, darkest recesses of her mind. Pulsating walls of flesh, and slime, and rolling boulders; a churning sea of horror.

Forcing herself to look back at the princess, she could see the flesh already reforming.

Saskia stepped to the pool’s edge, heart hammering. I’ll go on three, she though to herself. One, two, three!

She couldn’t move. Couldn’t make her legs obey her. She cast a pleading glance to Rover Dog, who stepped up behind her.

“I can’t do this,” she whispered. “I can’t—”

A great clawed hand shoved her forward, and she fell with a loud cry. In the moment before she went under, she caught a glimpse of Rover Dog’s face, flashing her an apologetic smile.

Oh he’s gonna pay for this!

She sank beneath the fizzing murk. And for a moment, a strange calm settled over her. Actually, this isn’t so ba—

Then the pain struck.

Fire engulfed every nerve ending in her body, from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Her flesh began to peel, even as her frenzied regeneration fought to turn back the damage. A low moan escaped her lips, bubbling up to the surface of the pond.

A hand—or what was left of a hand—squeezed her own. Though it only amplified the pain, she took a strange comfort from the touch. Here was another soul who was suffering as she was. A sister in torment.

Slowly, Saskia bobbed to the surface, gasping in a lungful of rancid air. Her eyes stung, but strangely, she could still see.

Her gaze was immediately drawn to edge of the pond, where one of the attendants dragged a bleating bovine. In that moment, Saskia finally understood their purpose. The attendant slashed the beast’s throat with his claws, and let it drop, twitching on the bank.

Letting out near-identical feral snarls, the two princesses lunged for the carcass, sinking eager teeth into its flank. As they lay there, feeding, attendants gathered around them, rubbing their singed and bloody bodies down with smooth rocks.

Only now did Saskia notice the difference between the state of Vask’s body and her own. Where the other troll’s skin was just now beginning to regrow across the exposed muscles and tendons of her back, her own skin was red and peeling, but otherwise intact. It still hurt like a million bee stings—in fact, it was probably more painful for Saskia, simply because she still had living nerve endings—but the damage itself was minor. She barely even needed to feed, though she wasn’t going to let that stop her.

Saskia tore off great strips of meat with her teeth and swallowed them whole. She gorged until her belly felt as if it was going to pop. Then she sank back down into the pool, and lay there, still as a stone, feeling the acid froth and churn against her raw flesh.

Her nerves screamed in protest. She shoved the pain aside into a distant corner of her mind. It was still there, but no longer important. She’d been through worse—so much worse.

Keeping an eye on her body through her medical interface, she sat at the bottom of the pond, and waited. Waited for her flesh to scour away, and come back, again and again. With each regrowth, it came back stronger.

She waited as the sun wobbled its way across the sky, dipping behind branches, and out the other side. Sometimes, she rose to breathe. Other times to feed. Each time she sank below the surface again, to scour anew.

The fire in her nerves began to recede—not because the nerves were destroyed, but because the acid was now causing very little damage.

She stood, and waded ashore. The trolls were staring at her—every last one. Her skin gleamed in the fading sunlight. Aside from the pond sludge that clung to her flesh, there was not a mark on it.

Lying in the grass, she let the attendants work their smoothing stones across her body. It felt good—a little too good—but she didn’t think they were achieving any noticeable results. Her skin was already quite smooth, but any blemishes were here to stay, because she was now almost completely immune to the acid of the scouring pools, and the stones themselves were softer than her shell.

Experimentally, she ran her claws across her wrist. Not even a scratch.

This could be a problem. How could she heal anyone if she couldn’t draw blood?

Vask ran a hand down Saskia’s arm. She looked more than a little shaken. “Never have I seen anyone stay in the pools so long—and to come out looking like this? Not even the most ancient queen…”

“Try getting eaten by a deepworm,” suggested Saskia. “It does wonders for your complexion.” She looked at Vask’s pearlesque skin in admiration. “Though yours is already quite lovely.”

To her surprise, she no longer felt any animosity toward this silly, arrogant princess. They had gone through hell together, and come out of it as something close to friends. Rover Dog, on the other hand…

She stood abruptly, shaking off the attendants, and advanced on her troll with benefits. He had the look of a cat who had been caught licking the icing off a Christmas cake.

“You!” she said. “Take some of this.” She pulled the knapsack from his back, snatched up a satchel of arlithite within, and handed it to him.

He frowned. “I not need divine dust.”

“Oh yeah you do. Eat!”

With a trollish shrug, he tipped back the satchel and swallowed a generous portion.

She smiled at him, making sure she showed a lot of teeth. Then she drew him into a tight embrace.

For a moment, he grinned at her, but his grin faltered as she stepped closer to the pool, still holding him close. A look of panic flickered in his eyes. “Princess, what are you—”

Saskia launched herself backward, pulling him with her.

Some time later, he staggered ashore, diving head first into the half-eaten carcass. She snatched up a smoothing stone from a startled attendant, and ran it over his burnt and bloody body.

As she worked his regenerating flesh into a gleaming finish, she leaned down and murmured into his ear: “Who’s the princess now, huh?”