To go in or not to go in, that was the question.
Caelan didn't even know what the gate looked like, so there was no way to answer it.
But whether they were in or not, they were already here, and turning back now would mean giving up halfway.
They pressed deeper into the narrow cave. Every time Sylvia stopped, Russ would move alone into the darkness.
When the expedition caught up to him, there would be nothing left but corpses on the ground.
Their encounters with the Kraken-spawns became more frequent, and everyone knew that meant they were drawing closer to the creatures' nest.
The mangled corpses around them provoked instinctive disgust; their clawed, webbed hands and huge, staring eyes gave off an aura of warped wrongness.
Some were covered in fur, some grew horns from their skulls, others had sharklike teeth sprouting from misaligned jaws, or even hooved legs.
Russ asked, "Are all the underground dwellers like this?"
Caelan replied, "Living without sunlight doesn't make you look like that."
He understood Russ's implication, but Caelan had been to Nostramo. The people there had all-white eyes, sure, but otherwise looked human. Their traits were stable.
The Kraken-spawns' mutations, though, were all different, clear signs of corruption.
A low growl rumbled from Sylvia's throat. "Rrrr…", that meant there were many coming.
"Stay behind me."
This time, Russ didn't walk ahead into the dark; he could see a fork up ahead.
The explorers held their breath. The only sound left was the pounding of their hearts.
At first, silence. Then faint noises. Then came the stampede, footsteps, snarls, echoing in the dark.
Bang!
Russ's axe smashed through a Kraken-spawn's skull, the first blow of the fight.
The creatures shrieked and charged.
Before the others could react, Caelan twisted his hand.
Pop!
A wet, heavy crack split the darkness. It sounded like a rotten fruit being crushed. The thick smell of blood flooded the tunnel, followed by utter silence.
A faint blue psychic glow lingered in the air, revealing the blood-smeared stone wall.
Black blood rained like a storm. Russ instinctively raised his arm to shield his face, but before it touched him, the blood splattered harmlessly against a pale-blue barrier, spreading crimson patterns across its surface.
The team moved on. They met no more Kraken-spawns, only strange batlike creatures hanging from the ceiling that fled deeper into the caves when disturbed.
When they entered a damp corridor, enormous fungal growths carpeted every inch of stone. Their swollen caps glowed with eerie green light, and phosphorescent slime slithered among them like living veins, flowing into skull-sized holes in the walls, holes ringed with toothlike carvings.
Russ could almost taste the spores in the air, a sweet, sickly rot.
To the others, the fungi were just glowing plants. But Caelan saw what lay beneath, tendrils of Warp energy pulsing through the fungal network like parasitic arteries in the stone.
Caelan covered his nose. "At least now we know what they've been eating to stay alive. Sylvia, can we go around?"
The she-wolf shook her head. This was the only path.
Caelan motioned the others back and raised his hand.
This time, his psychic power wasn't raw or violent; it was precise, like a surgeon's laser. The warped fungi hissed and shriveled under the psychic heat, and even the corrupted rock beneath them vaporized layer by layer, revealing untouched bedrock.
When they finally passed through the corridor, a wide domed hall opened before them.
From the delicate engravings on the walls, one could still glimpse the splendor of the past, but now, like the corridor, the hall was overrun with mushrooms.
The glowing fungi painted everything in ghostly green light.
Among them, dozens of young Kraken-spawns fed on the growths, and others huddled in the corners. The explorers' arrival startled them, and the hall erupted in cries.
Caelan muttered, "This must be their nest."
"Then let's wipe them out," Russ said, raising his axe.
"Please don't harm them."
The soft female voice echoed through the hall.
Russ stepped in front of Caelan and Sylvia, eyes fixed on the shadow from which a woman emerged. "Who are you?"
The woman bowed with an ancient gesture. "I am Freyja, caretaker of the Vanaheim underground city."
"Vanaheim?" Caelan asked. "Fenris has nine underground cities?"
"Yes," said Freyja. "Fenris has nine permanent landmasses. The largest is Asaheim."
"So these islands were built to never sink? Otherwise, why build underground cities?"
Freyja hesitated. "Aside from Asaheim, Fenris has no permanent land. But ancient humans used their technology to anchor eight islands and build cities beneath them."
"I have guarded the inhabitants of this city for millennia," she said, "to keep them from extinction. I beg you, don't destroy them."
Caelan asked, "And what do we get in return?"
Russ frowned but said nothing.
"You may live in the city," Freyja offered.
"And eat those disgusting mushrooms?" Caelan sneered. "Turn into monsters like them?"
"The lower levels are intact, fit for normal humans," she said earnestly. "They are merely… sick. I can cure them."
"You've had thousands of years," Caelan said flatly. "Why haven't you done it yet?"
"I'm close," Freyja insisted. "I only need certain materials."
"What materials?"
"You'll know once you move in."
Caelan nodded slowly. "So that's the line you've been feeding every tribe that lands here?"
"I don't know what you mean."
"You said Asaheim will never sink," Caelan said. "Then how do you explain what we saw months ago?"
"It was just a volcanic eruption," she said quickly.
"Oh?" Caelan smiled coldly. "Funny, I never said it was an eruption. You must think I'm an idiot."
The air froze.
Months ago, when Russ's tribe discovered this island, it had clearly just risen from the sea floor.
If it never sank, how could it rise?
If it did sink, then where was the gate that kept the ocean out?
They'd seen no gate on their way down; the tunnels branched everywhere. Unless every tunnel had a gate, it wasn't possible.
And that glowing underground lake they'd passed, the light came from Kraken-spawns who drank from it after eating luminous mushrooms. That didn't form overnight.
If the gate was here, that pool would've been flooded long ago.
Russ had even found an animal pelt floating in it, not something Kraken-spawns would make or use. That meant other Fenrisians had been here.
Freyja was partly right: the island itself didn't sink.
But there were too many contradictions.
If others had come, where were they now?
And if the island was unsinkable, why disguise it as something newly risen from the depths?
"I can explain," Freyja said at last, realizing Caelan wouldn't be deceived. "I can swear loyalty to you if you let me continue my research."
"Let's skip the talk," Caelan said. "You're lying anyway."
He extended his hand. Freyja darted back with inhuman speed, but the pale-blue psychic hand caught her easily.
He clenched.
A sharp crack rang out, like a fish bladder bursting under ice. Freyja, the mushrooms, and every young Kraken-spawn in the hall flattened into pulp.
"Is she dead?" Russ asked warily.
"She's not human," Caelan said. "Probably some kind of Dark Age machine caretaker, not that easy to kill."
"Doesn't matter if she is or isn't," Caelan added. "Do we go deeper, or head back?"
Russ didn't hesitate. "We're leaving."
They hadn't come for relics; they came to exterminate the Kraken-spawns and secure the island.
Their goal was achieved. Whatever secrets lay buried here didn't matter.
The city was steeped in Chaos corruption; no civilization, no matter how glorious, could survive that.
The psychic stench was unbearable, like being thrown into a thousand-year-old cesspit.
Freyja herself reeked of corruption. Without psychic purification, Caelan would've vomited up his organs.
Medea had been different; she built a world humans could live in and had been honest about it.
Freyja was all lies.
Whether she wanted to turn Russ's tribe into Kraken-spawns or use them as test subjects, Caelan didn't care.
He was done.
Even if there was a vaster city below, it would only hold more traps and worse things.
Russ wasn't about to lead his tribe into one. Not when the risk outweighed the reward, and certainly not when his parents were still with him.
The expedition retraced their steps, following the axe marks they'd carved earlier. No Kraken-spawns attacked this time.
When they reached the glowing underground lake again, they knew they hadn't lost their way.
And when sunlight finally shone down from the cave mouth, their eyes stung with relief.
They'd only been underground for hours, yet it felt like centuries.
Russ glanced back into the darkness. "We might've killed them all, but just in case, we should seal every tunnel we can find."
Thengir agreed. The next day, he rallied the tribe to search for every possible cave leading below.
Each one they found was marked with beast-oil; the wolves used their sense of smell to locate them, and Caelan collapsed them all with psychic force.
It wouldn't make the island impenetrable, but digging back through would take ages.
When they finished, Russ said, "We should find another island."
Thengir hesitated; they had wasted too much of the Season of Fire already. Finding another island was unlikely. Even knowing the danger, he didn't want to give up the one they had.
The Kraken-spawns could be dealt with. As long as they stayed out of the tunnels, they'd be fine.
But Russ said, "Don't forget what happened when we first arrived. The monsters underground aren't the biggest threat; the volcano is. We can fight Kraken-spawns. We can't fight the planet."
Sealing the tunnels wasn't about Freyja; it was about not gambling their lives.
Even if she was dead, who knew what else lurked below?
Compared to that, the islands that sank and resurfaced each year suddenly seemed safer.
"You're right," Thengir sighed. "We'll leave."
The sea was dangerous, but staying here was worse.
For the first time, Thengir felt old. His daring had faded.
…..
The tribe didn't resist the decision. They trusted Russ and Thengir completely.
Whatever Russ chose, Caelan would back him.
They hadn't built homes yet, and their supplies were still aboard the longships, so they set sail the very same day.
This time, under Russ's command, they headed north, toward Asaheim.
"If we can't find another island," Russ said, "we'll head into the lowlands of Asaheim."
Among the Fenrisians, the island tribes looked down on the mountain tribes.
The islanders, like Russ's people, lived scattered across hundreds of isles. The mountain folk lived in Asaheim's lowlands.
The islanders faced sea monsters. The mountain tribes faced wild beasts, far less terrifying.
If someone had once suggested abandoning the proud island tribes' way of life to live as humble mountain dwellers, Thengir would have roared in defiance.
But now he only nodded. "Russ, let's duel."
"Why?" Russ asked.
Thengir raised his axe, issuing a challenge. "If you win, I'll step down. From this day on, you'll lead the tribe, wherever you take us."
He didn't say what would happen if he won, because they all knew he couldn't.
Thengir was the strongest warrior of the Russ tribe, but Leman Russ was no ordinary man. His speed and strength were beyond human.
Even the most loyal to Thengir knew he couldn't win, unless Russ let him.
Russ said quietly, "You're not my father, but I've always respected you."
"Respect doesn't keep us alive on Fenris," Thengir roared with laughter. "Come on, boy! Don't hold back!"
Russ nodded, raising his axe.
Thengir's eyes gleamed with wild fire. His muscles tensed like drawn steel. He knew he'd lose, but he wanted to see the gap between them.
He took his stance, ready to attack, then felt a sharp blow to the back of his skull.
Pain exploded. He caught a glimpse of his shadow crumpling to the ground like a puppet with cut strings.
It was over before anyone could react.
The cheers for their new king came a heartbeat too late.
"Leman Russ!"
"Leman Russ!"
.....
If you enjoy the story, my p@treon is 30 chapters ahead.
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