Draconic Sphere Ω

Chapter 25: This Ship Will Never Fly With That Attitude

Brunhild did end up resentfully finding her appetite. Dandelion accepted a sobering spell, and the party went to their room for weapons and armour.

Checkhov had given them a key, and some rough directions. The latter led the party down, through the cellar they had cleared of giant rats.

"Ah, the memories," said Dandelion, tapping a barrel fondly. "Sure don't miss being level one, huh, guys?"

"I thought you were sober again?" said Kaergat.

"I am sober. Practically. Just had a tiny little puff of devil's lettuce. Barely worth mentioning, that is."

"Then what in all deepness is a 'level one'?" demanded Kaergat.

"Look, have you ever considered that when I sound crazy I may simply be touching a higher level of reality you can't even imagine just yet?"

"No, I have not considered that," said Kaergat, with a tone of finality.

Lacrie was looking at her wrist.

"The artefact tracker, Lacrie?" asked Brunhild.

"This is where it activated last time," said Lacrie. "It's not showing anything now, though."

"What could that mean?" asked Brunhild.

"Either someone was on the move or... I don't know. Maybe they have a special box and just took it out for a moment."

"A problem for another day," said Kaergat.

It took some searching, but the party finally found the door which Chekhov had mentioned, hidden behind some barrels. Brunhild hefted the barrels out of the way ("Can't we smash just one?" asked Dandelion) and used the key. There was a little flash of magical light and the door swung open to reveal a long, dark stairway.

"Light, shine upon the way before us! Give us sight!" called Lacrie. The stairway flooded with daylight.

After a minute of descent, the corridor opened up into a vast cavern. The stairway continued, cut into the natural rock.

"What is that?" wondered Brunhild aloud. There was something in the cavern – not a natural formation, as Kaergat had initially supposed.

"Light, touch the world around us! Give us sight!" prayed Lacrie once more.

It was a huge, winged ship.

It was a battleship. It had cannons.

There were no sails on its masts. It lay on a rock floor.

It was a violent shade of pink.

"How did that get there?" asked Kaergat.

"I think it's Valentina," said Dandelion in hushed tones.

"Who?" said Brunhild.

"Valentina," said Dandelion. "Feenschwanz's legendary battleship. I heard Verano and Bob talking about it."

"Those wings don't look practical," said Kaergat. They really were huge.

Dandelion grinned. "Depends if you want to sail or fly."

"Ships don't fly," said Kaergat.

"Well, not with that attitude they don't," said Dandelion, grinning.

*

At last they came to an odd-shaped door in the cavern wall that appeared to have been fitted over a natural cave opening. Brunhild used the key again. With a little magical flash, it swung open.

Inside was a pretty bare looking cave, the size of a largish room. There were a couple of sets of shelves to one side, each bearing a few bottles and books – the latter mould-ridden, one even sprouting mushrooms.

But the wooden chest in the middle of the room certainly stood out.

It was a classic chest; large, robust, ornate, and best of all, the lid was invitingly ajar. Inside, gold and jewels glimmered. The hilt of a sword tilted out, radiating a soft magical glow.

"By Odin's beard," muttered Brunhild, eyes wide.

"Obvious mimic," said Dandelion, getting out her backpack.

"What's a mimic?" asked Lacrie.

"Shapeshifter. Pretends to be something you want," grunted Dandelion, rummaging around. "Found it."

Dandelion took out a glass vial of liquid, gave it a kiss, then tossed it into the chest. There was the sound of glass shattering.

Nothing happened to start with. Dandelion was grinning with self-satisfaction, however.

"What was in that vial?" asked Brunhild.

"'Bout a gram of LSD dissolved in water," said Dandelion.

"A microgram?" said Brunhild, puzzling over this.

"No."

"A milligram?"

"No. A gram."

The chest started to look a bit melty around the edges.

It started swaying like it was at sea.

It blushed lurid green, then pink.

It swirled. It distorted. It undulated in a horrible way that made you feel seasick to look at it. It seemed to lose control of its coloration entirely, looking roughly like rainbow-marble cake batter in a washing machine.

It turned into a very confused looking, purple giraffe. It couldn't seem to decide how many eyes it was supposed to have. Lacrie covered her face.

"Who am I?" asked the giraffe with a look of obvious bewilderment.

Dandelion smiled warmly and put her arm around the giraffe's neck. "Look, don't try to understand things, okay? Just let them flow. You don't need to understand. It's called an ego death experience, right? But what you need to know is that it just feels like death. You're not actually dying."

"Oh," said the giraffe, settling on three eyes.

"Just sit back and enjoy," said Dandelion. Then she slit the giraffe's throat.

*

They needed to take a break after that for Lacrie and Brunhild to finish retching.

"Careful," said Dandelion as she examined the shelves. "I'm not completely sure that you can't get high just from breathing near this thing's blood."

"I think that was the most horrible thing I ever saw," said Kaergat.

"Sounds like you have a pretty boring life," said Dandelion. "Hey, I think I found our thingy. Look." Dandelion held up what looked like, well, a tiny chest.

"Chekhov called it his Luggage," said Kaergat skeptically.

"Right. It's got a switch here in the side. 'Embiggen, unembiggen.' Eh, Can never get my head around these technical terms..." Dandelion flipped the switch.

The chest grew to full size very rapidly – practically in an instant. Dandelion's eyes went wide and she leapt aside. The chest slammed to the round, splattering purple giraffe brains over the walls.

Lacrie vomited again.