Beyond the Rabbit Hole

The Warning

Alyss and Morgyn stood in place so they wouldn't get lost before they even reached the ground. The darkness filled every gap in the air. It caught in their throats and weighed down their breaths. The clouds oozed like thick honey caressing their skin, slowly strangling every one of their senses. A thick stench of death began to mix with the dread, and the deeper they descended into the sea, the stronger it became. After nearly an hour of descent, the black membrane began to thin. Vague echoes of hacking and coughing slipped through the cracks in the deathly fog. The coughing became louder and less frequent as the rest of the caravan was revealed behind the dark curtain. Eventually, the weight of the darkness dissipated—slipping from the skin like oil and rising back into the black clouds above.

"Alyss?" Morgyn's brow tensed.

"I can see and hear you now," Alyss let out a deep sigh of relief.

"The surface of the Dread Sea distorts all of the senses," Benard said with shame. "I'm sorry for not mentioning it before. It's been so long that it slipped my mind."

"We made it through at least," Morgyn sighed. "Hopefully nobody fell off the platform. I'm not sure I'd be able to sense any individual deaths in a place like this."

Alyss nodded. Her gaze fixated on the barren ground just below them and the slope behind them. "It seems the elevator hasn't been taking us straight down," she observed.

"Of course it hasn't," a hoarse voice replied. A bulky man with pale skin and fiery red hair peered from behind the wagon with a snide grin. "We have to get to the flat part before we can set down these wagons." He pointed toward the level ground below with a thick, stubby finger. "Otherwise, we'd slip and tumble like some great big snowball, or. . ." He glanced back at the other wagons. "Snowballs?"

"And you are?" Alyss raised an eyebrow, unfazed by the man's brazen demeanor.

The man leaned back, letting his pot belly poke through his thin chain shirt. With one hand stretched to the side and the other stroking his scraggly red beard, he let out a boisterous laugh. "I'm so glad you asked! The one known as Bjurrin Bjorn-hamr stands before you." He leaned forward and inspected Alyss. "What are you called, tiny woman?"

A tinge of frustration danced on Alyss's face. Bjorn? Where have I heard that name before?

"Be careful how you speak to my lady," Benard growled. "We may be journeying together, but we will not tolerate blatant disrespect."

"O-oh." Surprise washed over Bjurrin's face as he backed up and struggled to bend down in a half-bow, half-curtsy mocking gesture. "I didn't realize I was in the presence of royalty."

Alyss chuckled. "Not royalty, but feel free to keep doing whatever that's supposed to be."

Bjurrin stood back up and took a deep breath. He turned to Morgyn and repeated the gesture.

Morgyn's face twisted with confusion.

"You don't like me?" Bjurrin straightened his back. His lips curved into a cheeky smile. "Rossa always said I was terrible at making friends. Though, maybe it's for the best. If every one of my friends demanded I kneel to them, I'm afraid my knees would give out before my back does."

"So, you're one of the mercenaries, then?" Morgyn asked.

"Afraid so," Bjurrin sighed. "My good looks have only taken me so far." He shook his head. "Thankfully, the Storm Father blessed me with a talent for killing things too." He brandished a gnarled greataxe.

Benard raised an eyebrow at the pitch-black blade weaved like thorny vines around the axe's wooden shaft. "Is that dread metal?"

"Aye," Bjurrin smirked as he pulled the weapon close to his chest. "She's a beauty all right. I had to pry her from some old man's decrepit fingers. He was still alive, but that didn't make it any harder," he chuckled. "So, you're the one the golden woman mentioned?" He eyed Benard up and down. "Well, hopefully you'll make up for the extra weight—I swear, you southerners are too skinny! How are you supposed to fight with such fragile forms?" He glanced at Alyss and Morgyn before turning away toward the other wagons.