I was up in a day.

  A steady diet of hard bread and tinned beans plus the tender care of a flesh mage named Laticia saw me on my feet in no time. She was an older woman, with a touch of Witchblood in her. The mana blue eyes were a dead tell.

  I had never been the subject of such expensive and rare spells before. It was a strange sensation to have a person move their hands over my body and watch muscle be forcibly regrown. Normally such a thing was reserved for the rich and the well connected, the practice tightly controlled. They could change peoples faces, regenerate organs, and even alter a person's sex.

  The art was considered a least a little taboo, and only ever allowed in the case of "healing", of course. Any abuse was unthinkable.

  No honest noble would ever pay to have a biomancer make his wife prettier, or make his pecker bigger, the Gods forbid!

  Anyway, there weren't no room to bitch or complain. Laticia was a professional. She packed on more muscle than I had ever had before, and restored the layer of essential fat needed to live. I felt a bit like a heifer ready for the slaughter, and as I prepared to step down into the dark, well, I guess that's exactly what I was.

  "Take a magestone each. We spare a few," Lottie said handing me and Shorty one glowing rock each. Besides the small blessed fire these little trinkets were the only light we had. They also gave off a bit of heat and were useful for starting striking flames in a pinch, "Roche I've drawn a rough map of the upper level. A previous expedition surveyed it. I want to stress, however, that the lower levels are unmapped and completely unexplored."

  "Someone else had come here? What happened to them," I asked checking over my guns, "and why didn't they map the lower levels?"

  "They were killed by traps," Shorty said with a grimace, "or at least all the Outcast slaves they used as scout were. That group was fresh off the boat from the mainland and had a very different idea of ethical exploration."

  "Yes. Professor Clarke changed much of that. He wanted to set an example, that's partly why Xoxoctic and I were allowed into the University at all."

  "Good man," I said, "I'll tell him so when we all get out," I said with a cocksure grin.

  "We will," Shorty muttered, though she sounded less convinced.

  "Good. The first place you should check is the old base camp. If you can find and secure it I think it best we move the group there. This limited space is causing no end of stress, and the air here is foul. We can't keep a warded fire burning here."

  True. The air tasted of smoke, piss, and sweat. Not a great combination. Exactly the kind of environment that sickness bred in. I could see it in her face, Miss Lottie was doing all she could to keep everyone alive, and it was wearing her down to the nub.

  "Okay. We'll go until we hit the camp. Mark it out, and then turn around," I said, "and then what?"

  "Then we can decide the next steps. Hopefully you can find a mana trail to the surface or else Xoxoctic may be able to interpret the Anasisi script and discover something useful. A map or guide etched in the stone perhaps," Lottie shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. I'm just trying to find the path forward."

  I nodded and Shorty moved to say a few goodbyes.

  "Thank you again," Lottie said once little red was out of earshot, "I know you're still unwell."

  "That flesh witch did her job," I said and tried not to sound like I was worried, "and I'll keep Shorty safe. Don't you worry that pretty head none."

  Lottie looked at me for a long moment, "Do that. Come back in one piece and I may re-evaluate your earlier proposal."

  "You mean-"

  "May." She said with an impish smile. I guess in times of stress people reach out for any scrap of comfort they can find.

  Fine by me. I'd take whatever the tall drink of water was offering. Be the best husband, or lover, or hell, 'good-time man' that ever was if that's what she liked.

  "Okay. We're going now," Shorty said, approaching with her pack slung over one shoulder and my pistol in hand. She frowned when she noticed the air between me and Lottie, "what'd I miss?"

  "Nothin' at all. Just a little pep talk is all," I said with a smile and then moved to the edge of steps down, "come on, we're burnin' daylight."

  She just stood there mouthing my words as I walked off, "We're underground! There is no daylight to waste!"

  I ignored her, but couldn't help a little chuckle.

  Ten minutes later we reached the bottom of them winding steps. The air here was stale, stagnant and old. It made my skin itch, to think how far down we already were. As we passed the threshold at the bottom I held out my magelight and gasped.

  We stood inside a massive dome, painted a bit like a great Chantry cathedral with a few, very distinct differences.

  Instead of murals showing the glory of the Trinity gods there were strange figures. Many armed with serpents tails. They wore hats made of brilliant colored feathers and were covered in rich green scales. In each scene the fought, feasted, and, well, fucked. In the middle of the ceiling was a gaping hole, and a few feet below, a great monolith, carved in the shape of a long, curling dragon made of glassy black stone.

  The detail was so rich I damn near expected the great wyrm to take flight.

  "So these Anasisi were snake people?" I asked sparin’ an appraising look at my little serpentine friend, "any relation?"

  A tiny fist thudded into my hip.

  "Don't joke," Shorty hissed, "that's really insulting. They were... Well, I've never met one, but all my peoples records confirm that they died out for good reason. As cruel as the Ascended are to Outcasts, they were worse. They kept us like cattle-"

  “Cattle? Like they ate your ancestors or-”

  “Close enough,” she pointed her stone to another section of the dome that depicted a very different sort of scene.

  A large snake man with a flared hood and a whip in hand loomed over a collection of small, dark figures. They didn’t get faces… Why?

  They all stared and seemed to walk in the same direction, over the edge of a cliff, and into what could only be described as a big fuckin' meat grinder. The kind they used to make tinned pork in the factory towns scattered around the Broken Coast.

  Strangely, the truth of it was the same here as it had been in them death traps back home.

  Work or die.

  Well... Work, get maimed, and then die. They did the as most folks would with a lame horse. Chop 'em for meat and melt down the hooves for glue.

  "Gods above, below, and betwixt," I muttered the prayer for the first time in years, "I'm sorry I said anythin'. We all these Anasisi like this? Can a race of men be evil?"

  Shorty shrugged, "No, probably not. Their sorcerer kings were though. That's for sure. Let's keep moving," she said and led the way forward to one of the three doors at each cardinal direction, "this should lead to an old staircase and a short passage into the first hall of the upper levels. That's where the last expedition made camp. It's been twenty years, but it's possible we'll find something of use."

  We moved slowly, checking for traps as we went. I had a basic idea of how to do such things, but Shorty saw far better in the dark. She explain all her people saw very well in the night. A trait cultivated in them by their old masters, and reinforced by the new.

  The idea of guiding the breeding of people like that sickened me.

  I felt the hair on my neck stand and the rations in my guts fold and churn.

  Something distant echoed as we moved along. A soft, wet drip. The farther we traversed the corridor the more I could taste fresh water in the air.

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  By the time we exited into the chamber that housed the first expedition camp I could feel it too, a faint, cool breeze.

  "You don't think it's that easy do you?" I whispered as we shone our lights over the wreck of tables and tents, and the massive reservoir of water beyond them. Cloudy, dark and calm as a mill pond, the water was still and deep. There were definitely line of thick mana leading into it, probably out too, "Maybe we just swim to the surface?"

  Shorty snorted, "Highly doubt it. There are no rivers or springs around here for twenty miles at least. Likely that's an artificial cistern filled by an underground stream. Trying to swim through that would be... Well, it'd probably end up with us drowning. At best."

  I sighed and moved towards the ruins of the camp, "Alright. That does sound like suicide. I knew a boy who died playin’ in grottos like this…. We’ll mark it. Let's look around the rest of this mess. Maybe find somethin’ else. You watch my back."

  Shorty nodded, eyes wide. She was on high alert, the magelight held high in her off hand, pistol pointed at the only entrance into the room.

  I sifted amongst the rotted wood and dusty canvas, lookin' for anythin' that could be salvaged. A few bits of paper, some metal tools and cookware, and a few leather pieces that were well on their way to mold. I moved towards a few boxes and crate and bent to look.

  Movement.

  I shot up.

  Click. Hammer cocked, eyes searching the gloom as I cast my light about. The sound had come from up high, from the ceiling thirty feet above.

  I frowned as I spotted three square holes cut in the stone above.

  "Shorty," I whispered, "Look up, you see that? Ventilation, maybe. To pump air in?"

  "Huh? Oh, yeah it looks-" As she shone her own magelight from the corner to the holes, something fast, sleek, and eerie black shot out. It dropped, wings snapping out as it caught itself on the air as flew through the middle tunnel, disappearing into the dark beyond, "Ah! Shit!"

  "Relax!" Shorty shouted, trying to hide a smile, "hookbat. Big one, but they're harmless. Blind as a post and only hunt bugs.”

  I frowned and holstered my gun with a little grumble.

  “Does mean things are livin’ in here though. And that might mean a way out." She continued, eyes scanning the dark shaft.

  "Yeah, yeah," I muttered, "just a bat my ass. That somebitch was bigger'n my-"

  I cut off as I saw a smile die on Shorty's face. Her yellow eyes went wide, red skin drawn pink and pale.

  "Shorty?" I asked with a squint.

  The sound of water dripping was louder. Louder, and louder-

  The air went cold and still.

  Then came a long and hungry hiss.

  Shit.

  I shoved her back as I drew and dove. I came up hard in a roll as the water exploded, mana surging with it to propel a huge, sinuous form at least ten feet long. It was slick, black, and it had more mouths than anything that ever looked upon dry land should have.

  Seven serpentine heads, fourteen hate-filled and blood red eyes. A hiss like a chorus of devils singin' straight from hell. All of it attached to a stocky body, four legs, and long fat tail. Every inch was covered in tough bone plates.

  Boom.

  Six heads now.

  The seventh head vanished in a spray of blue blood as my scattergun barked. I stepped to the side as four pairs of fangs zipped through the air to bury themselves where I had just been. They leaked black venom that sizzled in the hard stone, sending up a trail of foul steam.

  It's body was like that of crocodile, a kind water predator common in the swamps of the Broken Coast. Graceful in water, slow as molasses on land.

  Well, mostly, sometimes they could really-

  Sprint. Sprint like the damned were at your heels. The creature was on me and I barely had time to dive away again. This time though one of them evil heads struck and hit. I felt pressure in my back but my old scaled vest held as I ran.

  Pow. Pow. Boom!

  Two shot's tore into it's stocky flank followed by a gout of ragin' blue flame that lit up the dark and dealt a grievous wound to the beast.

  "Roche!" Shorty shouted, "finish it off!"

  Guess she spelled my other gun too.

  Clever girl, glad to see you can shoot.

  "Shit!" I hissed as the monster slithered around to face her, its back and tail to me as the heads all reared to strike.

  I bolted forward and ran across its tail and onto it's broad back. I aimed at the base of that nest of bitin' heads, right at the root that let it swivel, and fired.

  Boom!

  Splat.

  That was the end of that. Another monster slain, another feather in old Lorcan's cap.

  "Now see here," I said as I confidently strode over the smoking corpse of the hydradile, "that' how you-" I stopped as I heard the sound of running water again. Another one?!

  A flash of movement. And then, a high-pitched scream.

  No, no, no!

  Before I could blink a single gore covered head shot from the corpse and between my legs. Shorty tried to dodge but the jaws clamped around her outstretched arm. The fangs sunk deep.

  Time slowed and I felt like I was fallin', or I was sinkin', I was... Dreamin' maybe.

  What did I do to deserve a nightmare like this?

  The head, the last livin' bit of that monster, crunched down, and Shorty's arm snapped like a twig.

  My knife cleared it's sheathe before the scream had finished leaving her throat. A flash of silver and a spray of blue, mana rich blood. The thing went limp, it's mouth slack.

  And Shorty... Poor Shorty...

  Her eyes went wide, glassy and unfocused. Even as she screamed I saw the venom working. It was quick. In a few seconds I could smell it.

  Rot. Her right arm was going black before my eyes, the veins lookin' like they was filled with sewer sludge.

  A memory came back to me. One I'd hoped to forget.

  I was still in prison, before they set me on the ship. My cell-mate, a man who'd killed a nobleman for a handful of gold, he had taken a fever. It had come from his purple, festering foot. He begged for the doctor but they'd never come for him. They never did for any of us.

  Now I'd never call that old bastard friend, he was a bad, bad man, who'd done a lot more than he was found guilty of... But there's an honor amongst men who live that long in a cage. A kindness and humanity that thrives even in that dark place. I couldn't watch my only companion of two years just wither and die.

  So did what the doctors and guards would not.

  I chipped and sharpened an old river rock I snuck in one day.

  Got it as good as any axe a man ever had.

  And I took his foot off.

  He screamed, begged, threatened, but I did it. Could still feel that ragged blade bitting through mushy black flesh. Still smell the sweet decay of blood and bone. I cut and cut until the stump of the leg was clean of the rot and disease.

  He bled to death anyway.

  She might too. Then I'd be left alone again.

  But... Its a coward who watches another person suffer. Its a wicked coward who lets a friend suffer and doesn't act.

  I sorely hoped Shorty was made of sterner stuff than that old man.

  "Hold still," I said as he shaking girl eyed the glinting knife in my hand, "hold very still. I gotta take the arm. And it's going to hurt."

  She looked at me like I was mad, clutched that broken, stinkin' limb to her chest like it was the last good thing in the world, "N-No! I-it's fine Roche, I'm fine I-"

  I jammed the butt of my scattergun into her gut.

  I'm real sorry but I can't have you squirming about now. I ain't no doctor and its awful easy to nick an artery in a person. I took of my belt and jammed it between her little sharp teeth.

  "Bite down," I said as I tied her off at the shoulder with the silk handkerchief I kept from Hartwell's stash. Silk bound tighter and better than leather, needed to completely cut the flow, "and close your eyes. I'm sorry Shorty."

  I didn't wait for a response. I just pressed down with all my weight and started cuttin'.

  She screamed and squirmed, hit me with fists, claws and a bony keen.

  “Please, please! No! Don’t-“ She spiraled then, pain and poison induced delirium turnin’ her pleading and bargaining into a mess that faded, ‘til she just made sounds. No meaning nor shape but fear and pain.

  I felt tears tugging at my eyes as I maimed my new friend.

  She'd never trust me again. She'd hate me, as sure as the sun would rise. But the venom would kill her and I couldn't watch any other good folks die. I couldn't let this brave, smart woman just waste away.

  So I cut and cut. When I hit bone, and joint...

  I pried. She was so thin, and I was so much stronger than I had ever been. It didn't take long.

  Pop.

  Snap.

  Crack.

  That pound of flesh fell away, and Shorty just went dark. She didn’t have no Path like mine, what she lost would never be whole again. I had taken something, something more than skin and bone. Ripped it from her, and cast it down to rot in the dirt…

  For long a moment it was too much.

  I'm a hard son-of-a-bitch, but even I can find my limits. The smell of rottin' flesh, and of blood, the heat of the place, the dark...

  What I had done. What I had allowed to be necessary.

  You did this. If you had just gone down here first. Hadn’t strutted like a fool. If you had just come alone like a fuckin’ man then-

  What?

  What Roche?

  Probably would've died.

  No. Ain’t two ways about it.

  I would have died. Shorty saved my life, can’t take that, cheapen it with my guilt.

  Get over it. No time to wallow and cry. Just force it down and get back up again.

  We are alive. She is alive. You're both going to stay that way.

  Now get moving!

  I used the belt I’d gagged her with to stem the slow trickle of blood my kerchief did not stop. Drew it tight enough that she seized, even in a stupor of pain and blood loss.

  High and tight, until it hurts some more. Gotta be. That’s what you fucked up last time.

  Never again.

  I threw the tiny lady over a shoulder, and I walked.

  What we left behind in that cave, what survival had just cost, it was terribly heavy.

  Yet we’d both carry its weight.

  Seriously, try it.