Chapter 49: The Gauntlet
Theseus was the first to enter the underground cleft, the whirring legs of his robotic companion scuttling ahead with its headlights illuminating a safe path down the incline. Phoenie watched, insides bubbling with anxiety as one-by-one her team stepped over the breach between Raven dungeon and dark underworld. This wasn’t like investigating decrepit mansions and old warehouses, nor was it like sneaking into the well-furnished manor of an insidious cult – they were descending into a world of demons and monsters: a world Phoenie had longed to expose. With the truth staring at her from the black void she began to wonder if tearing apart the masquerade and dragging everyone into her personal quest for justice was really the responsible thing to be doing – but now there was no turning back from the abyss.
“Dude, this is totally the cave to the final dungeon,” said Joel, the last – bar Phoenie – to enter the passageway, his guitar-weapon slung on his back like he was some kind of comicbook hero. Maybe the faeries were right: maybe they weren’t ready for this.
“It’ll be your final dungeon if you don’t start taking shit seriously,” said Theseus from up front, somewhat restoring Phoenie’s confidence as she clambered through the cave entrance.
“What’s the sit-rep down there?” she asked.
“No signs of traps yet,” said John, “We’ve got a ten meter descent, then an underground stream burrowing its way into, well, wherever…”
Those ten metres passed faster than Phoenie anticipated and soon the group were gathered at the embankment of an underground river, its roof barely taller than Theseus.
“This would be so much easier if I had proper scouting equipment,” said John, standing at the edge of the river and sweeping his technology-laden body around, “Could just send a couple of micro-scouts out to map the place instead of relying on sonar,”
Theseus stood nearby, surveying both possible routes they could travel; “Well we’ve got a fifty-fifty chance, right? Upstream or downstream. Any idea where we’re supposed to be headed?”
“I’m getting a basic map of the locality,” replied John, “But it’s a total labyrinth down here. No idea if it’s natural or part of the shelters or what. I can’t tell which way is which…”
“Upstream,” said Lyra, who was handling some kind of strange device made from rods, string and crystal, “We should be heading to where the leylines cross,”
“The what do where?” asked Theseus.
Lyra slipped her archaic tool into her satchel and rolled her eyes. “Leylines, the spiritual currents of the planet’s life force,” she explained, “Places were they cross are big on magical energy. If you’re gonna be performing some big ritual, that’d be the best place to hold it,”
“Great, should’ve guessed,” mumbled Theseus.
“It’s like a chakra, just a lot bigger,” Lyra added.
Theseus raised an eyebrow, “Why didn’t you just say that from the start?”
“Ye be believing in chi and chakra, but not magic? What kinda crazy logic does that brain of yours work with?”
Theseus crossed his arms and huffed – a sure sign of defeat – and turned to his stalwart companion in cynicism, John, “Looks like the vagrant girl’s made the decision for ya, Johno,”
“Apparently so,”
