“And here we go,” whispered Jadon.
They dropped into a cavern. The air immediately became as damp and mineral-tasting as the region before the Rain Wall. A huge waterfall cascaded before the cave’s entrance, a rushing curtain of white turbulence that roared and tumbled endlessly down. Ferns and moss grew all over the cavern floor and walls, a small jungle of emerald green amidst which glowing beetles crawled, each the size of Scorio’s palm, their abdomens flickering off and on.
“That’s beautiful,” sighed Lianshi, moving forward to grip the cage bars.
It wasn’t a true cave, but more a depression carved out of the shaft’s wall; they descended swiftly toward the sloping floor below. They didn’t slow; Scorio knew that the shaft had to continue, but he braced for impact regardless and only relaxed when they slotted back into the dark.
“It’s Coal for almost half a mile down,” said Dameon, tone conversational. “Which isn’t that impressive when you consider how deeply dug Bastion itself is. There’s a lot of theorizing about why Bastion’s Coal all the way down, but out here at the edge of the Plains it’s only half a mile.”
“Gold erupts under the floating islands, right?” Lianshi sounded tense. “Is that like a volcanic eruption, bursting through the other layers?”
“Precisely.” Dameon didn’t sound too interested. “Even I don’t know who dug this shaft. Some enterprising Great Soul from ages past. It punches through Coal, Copper, Iron, and then on down through Bronze, Silver, and to Gold. Oddly enough, the Curse is in effect here, so we don’t go any deeper. I know that a Blood Baron has descended all the way to Sapphire, far, far below, but if anyone more powerful has bothered, it’s lost to me.”
“Wouldn’t an Imperator want to know what’s at the bottom?” whispered Juniper.
“They probably do.” Scorio could all but hear Dameon’s shrug. “But they didn’t bother to let us know.”
They continued to speed down. Scorio activated his dark vision, but there was no real point; they were surrounded on all sides by speeding walls, and his companions looked universally tense.
“And any second now,” said Jadon distinctly.
Scorio braced, but instead of an impact they simply dropped out into moist, cool, misty green air. The Chasm sides had drawn closer together, their faces rough and patched with moss, large sections undulating out only to fall away into shadow. Scorio stared up: the sky wasn’t really visible as anything more than a brighter green patch overhead.
“Look,” said Lianshi, pointing excitedly. “That’s a building. And that? A bridge?”
Old wooden constructs were embedded into the walls. Some looked like ancient cranes, their arms extending out into the void, hoary lengths of rope dangling into the depths, while others were platforms or even buildings embedded straight into the wall. They were all encrusted with moss and draped with vines, and Scorio couldn’t imagine trusting his weight on any of them.
“Ruins,” said Jadon, reaching out to grip one bar. “A testament to the travails of time. For centuries we Great Souls have plumbed the mysteries of the Chasm, sometimes with greater energy and success.”
“Who built these… things?” asked Leonis. “How did they even get down this far?”
“Great Souls have powers,” replied Jadon archly. “Some of them are quite useful. As to who? There are entire histories written about those who have sought the depths. Some came for refuge, others to benefit from the mana, others to establish miniature fiefs, and a rare few to seek the lost treasures that are rumored to lie in the depths. All were half-mad, and all disappeared under the most mysterious of circumstances. The Chasm guards its secrets jealously.”
“Oh Jadon,” said Dameon. “Never change.”
Zala glanced nervously at Dameon. “Nobody knows what killed everyone?”
“Nope.” Dameon grimaced apologetically. “Even my past life that was spent here ends abruptly without explanation. That’s why we never come down here in groups smaller than five, and never without at least a Flame Vault in your number. Anyways, here we go. This level is all Copper. It’ll suit us for now.”
Dameon tugged on a slender wire that ran parallel to the rope and the elevator began to slow. A large ledge appeared below them, rising rapidly into view, and just as they came abreast Dameon tugged again and the elevator jerked to a stop with enough force that everyone half-crouched in response.
“Here we go. Copper level.” Dameon unbolted the cage door and swung it open. “I imagine it’s had more poetic names over the years, but I’m a pragmatic man. Come on out. It’s safe. Ish.”
Everyone filed out onto the platform. It reminded Scorio of the huge esplanade outside the Fiery Shoals fortress to which The Celestial Coffer had been docked. It was a mighty shelf of wooden boards laid across brackets of bronze that were bolted to the Chasm wall. The boards were slick with moss and damp, and consequently warped so that many had pried themselves free of the huge nails that had secured them to the undergirds. Bands of bronze ran perpendicular to their lengths, and ruined machinery rose along the shelf’s edge.
“What was this place?” asked Lianshi, turning in a slow circle.
“A waystation,” said Dameon. “When I was here last, some four centuries ago, it bustled with commerce. A mercantile consortium had been established to loot the lower levels. Fortunes were made. There are countless storerooms and chambers within those caves there.”
Scorio turned; hidden behind veils of vines were broad cave mouths, dark and ominous, easily a dozen or so along the length of the shelf.
“But now? It’s where we train our Emberlings and rest before delving deeper. So. Let’s begin.”
“Begin?” asked Leonis, wary.
“Begin your training.” Dameon beamed. “There’s no time like the present. Everyone but Naomi and Scorio, kneel in a line and close your eyes. Jadon, take those two back up top and show them the rocks.”
Chapter 36
“You’re kidding,” said Scorio weakly.
“Alas, I’m not prone to jokes.” Jadon had the good grace to look apologetic. “You can take comfort in the fact that you won’t run out of exercise any time soon.”
They stood at the back of the small opening around the shaft beside what Scorio had originally mistaken to be a collapsed building. It proved instead to be the material excavated when the shaft had been originally sunk. A mass of piled boulders and heavy stones, none smaller than Scorio’s chest and a few taller than he was. How they’d been extracted he couldn’t imagine, but they had sunken over the centuries into a compact mound covered in grass and scraggly bushes.
“Dameon’s thought off and on of shifting this pile so that we can build a small warehouse here. It’s never been urgent, but seeing as you both are in dire need of painful exercise, well. You’re to shatter these stones, then load them on that sled there, which you’ll use to tip the detritus over the Chasm’s edge.”
Scorio had a heavy sledgehammer over one shoulder, a partner to the one Naomi held. “And we’re not allowed to Ignite our Hearts.”
“That would defeat the purpose of this exercise,” said Jadon. “You have my condolences. Good luck.”
And he began to walk toward the hall.
“Wait,” called Scorio. “How long are we supposed to do this for?”
“All day,” Jadon called back without turning. “As for how long? That depends on your ability to wring that Coal mana out of your body.”
He rounded the huge crane wheel, the hugely spun-up winch with its chain bound around it, and passed into the hall.
“You’re kidding me,” Scorio repeated. “We have to smash rocks while the others meditate on high-quality mana?”
“Will you quit your whining?” Naomi stalked furiously up to the huge mound. She stared balefully at the rocks embedded in mud and plants, then hefted her sledgehammer. “I warned you.”