“Well that wasn’t at all unsettling,” said Saskia, releasing the staff as if it were a hissing cobra.

It was a pity her oracle translator thingy couldn’t read lips, because she had this lingering feeling the creepy elf been speaking to her.

And what was up with that horror movie apparition that appeared before her, with those freaky eyes?

That night, she couldn’t shake the apparition from her head. As she lay tossing and turning, it suddenly occurred to her where she’d seen that face before. It was from her dream, all those weeks ago. The one with the…well she still couldn’t remember the details. But she could remember the face.

What did it mean? No crapoodling clue. Sleep. Ugh, she so needed sleep.

She must have finally nodded off at some point, because she awoke with a splitting headache.

“Och, even trow demons can get the cranks afore bleeding, it seems,” muttered Ruhildi after Saskia snapped at her over some triviality.

“Actually, no, that was…huh…about a month ago, actually. But no, I just couldn’t get to sleep, and now I feel like crap.”

“I have a solution for that. It’s called counting—”

“Counting sheep,” said Saskia impatiently. “Yeah humans have that too.”

“I were about to say, ‘counting your kills,’ but I suppose anything will do.”

“Counting your…what?”

It was now well into highspring, and the valley was abloom with colour. The pass was clear, and the odds of having elves crash their party had just shot up into the danger zone. Ruhildi’s magic was under control. It was well past time to get the hell out of here and find the passage to the Underneath. Saskia had decided she’d try her luck with the dwarves, rather than stay on the surface. She didn’t want to lose her only friend on this world. Ruhildi could put in a good word for her, and hopefully keep her fellows from murdering the big ugly troll-demon on sight.

There were several cave systems that seemed worth investigating to see if one of them led to the passage Ruhildi had mentioned. Aside from her one solo dungeon-delving expedition all those weeks ago, she hadn’t yet gone deep inside any of them.

Before they looked at those, there was one tunnel much closer to home that they’d decided would be their first target: the tunnel they could both sense behind the wall at the back of the main cavern of their home cave.

To get to it, they’d have to dig through solid stone. But that wasn’t a problem for Ruhildi. In fact, she’d already made a start when she found a vein of iron ore back there.

From their time spent mining ore, they had a system worked out for this. Ruhildi placed her hand against the wall, casting what Saskia now knew to be the stone to dust spell. The rocks crumbled and flowed like sand, piling up around her. The dwarf had another spell, channel earth, that could have ejected the powdered stone into the cavern beyond, but that would have just made a mess. Instead, Saskia carted it outside in a troll-sized wooden wheelbarrow. This had the added bonus that Saskia didn’t have to stand around feeling useless while Ruhildi did all the work.

The stone to dust spell took a lot out of the dwarf, making her physically and mentally exhausted, and draining her of a less tangible thing she called essence. Unlike Saskia’s oracle abilities, and certain other passive magic such as Ruhildi’s stone sense, spells that affected the physical world were all powered by essence, which flowed from the world tree via their focus. It seemed pretty clear essence was roughly equivalent to mana, the self-replenishing magical resource seen in many games.

Because she kept burning through her supply of essence, Ruhildi had to stop and rest for one hour out of every two. That hardly mattered though, because there was only so much stone dust Saskia could move each hour, and they couldn’t let it fill the cavern where they slept. Still, this was a lot quicker than chipping away at stone with a pickaxe.

In the end, it took them two full days to form a passage through the wall to the tunnel beyond. Afterward, they decided to take a bath and wait until morning before exploring, because it was late, and they were covered from head to foot in grime.

To Saskia’s great relief, nothing slithered out of the depths that night to disturb their rest. But still she slept fitfully. This time, it wasn’t fear that kept her awake, but excitement. She felt like a kid on Christmas Eve, and at first she couldn’t explain why. Then she realised she had this vague sense that something…something was calling to her.

It was the same feeling she’d had the first time she’d spotted this cave. At the time, she’d thought it might be a troll thing. But now she was certain it was more than that.

The next morning, they began the long descent into darkness. Or in Saskia’s case, thanks to her darksight, into shadowless gloom, except for the nearby walls, which were lit by Ruhildi’s torch. Saskia couldn’t tell exactly how deep the cave system went, because it disappeared off the edge of her map, which now had a range of just over three kilometres underground, according to the distance markings that had appeared across it.

About a kilometre down, the tunnel emerged onto a steep ledge overlooking the frothing torrent of a swift underground stream, and a succession of small waterfalls.

Saskia scrambled down over slick steps cut far too small for her enormous feet, feeling the bite of frigid spray against her back, and praying that she wouldn’t slip and plunge into the churning water. If they went in, there’d be no crawling back out again. On the face of it, this was no more hair-raising than some of her more adventurous escapades in the mountains before the accident, but those she did with the help of modern safety equipment. Here, all they had was the rope she’d taken from the elves. They’d roped themselves together, but that just made Saskia more nervous, because if she fell, her weight would all but guarantee the dwarf shared her fate.

The fact that there were steps was a promising sign, according to Ruhildi. Her people were fond of steps. Saskia wasn’t. Especially not ones made for tiny dwarf feet.

After several kilometres following the stream, the path once again veered off into a tunnel; this one considerably narrower than before. The ceiling was so low in places that she had to crawl on her knees and elbows. Ruhildi, on the other hand, didn’t even need to stoop.

“Damn inconsiderate of these dwarves, not digging troll-sized tunnels,” muttered Saskia.

Ruhildi snorted. “Away to the open sky if you choose. I’m not for keeping you on a leash.”

“Hell no!” said Saskia. “I wanna see what’s down here. Besides, I’d never forgive myself if I let you get eaten by a Balrog.”

“Never heard of such a beast,” said Ruhildi.

“Big scary creature that murders dwarves who delve too deep.”

“Och, you mean a deepworm.”

Saskia’s mouth went suddenly dry, remembering the gargantuan worm-like creature she’d seen trapped in ice back in that cave to the north. She wouldn’t want to run into one of those things down here.

So far, she couldn’t see any dangerous creatures on her map. No violet or red or orange markers. Lots of green ones though; bats, mostly.

A few minutes later, Ruhildi stopped, holding her torch up to a flat wall or door that blocked their path.

“Dead end,” she muttered. “I can’t believe they’d just build a tunnel to nowhere. These are not mines following a vein…”

“It’s a door of some kind,” said Saskia, glancing at her map. “There’s a bunch of rooms on the other side.”

“No there isn’t!” said Ruhildi. “I can sense nought beyond this wall but solid rock.”

“Well that’s not what my map says,” insisted Saskia. “How about you try to open it.”

“I ken not what you’re playing at, but alright.” Ruhildi wiped a thick layer of dust from the smooth stone, revealing a palm-shaped indent. Within the socket glinted a layer of what looked like blue glass. Taking a deep breath, Ruhildi placed her hand against the glass.

“Zap!” shouted Saskia.

Ruhildi jumped, retracting her hand. She shot back a withering scowl.

Saskia laughed. “Sorry.”

Muttering to herself, Ruhildi turned her attention back to the wall. Nothing happened when she placed her hand back in the socket. Several minutes passed, and Saskia began to feel…strange.

“I think…I think it wants me to touch it,” she said hesitantly.

Ruhildi looked from Saskia’s enormous clawed hands to the dwarf-sized palm indent, and cocked her head sideways; a dwarven gesture that meant, “What are you smoking?”

“I know it’s ridiculous,” admitted Saskia. “Still, I can’t shake this feeling…”

After a long pause, Ruhildi gave a dwarven shrug and said, “You might as well give it a try. ’Tis fair odd. My stone sense is blind to whatever lies beyond that wall.”

Climbing awkwardly around Ruhildi, Saskia approached the wall with slight trepidation, checking the corners for buttons or levers, or nozzles that might betray the presence of those flamethrower death traps so often seen in games. She hated those.

Finally satisfied that the only object of interest was the palm-shaped indent, she pressed the base of her hand against the glass.

A soft glow emanated from the magical palm scanner. With a low rumble, the wall—the door—began to slide aside.

Beyond the door was a wide, rectangular hall. Running along the smooth stone walls at irregular intervals were patterns of the same blue glassy material that had lit up inside the palm scanner. The patterns reminded her of circuit diagrams, but Saskia couldn’t tell if they were functional or merely decorative.

Fantasinating, but what really drew her attention were the heavily armoured dwarves standing motionless on either side of the doorway, and another two at the far corners of the room. Pitted plates of grey metal covered the stout little figures from head to toe. Their faces were hidden behind featureless grey masks. She couldn’t even see any eye holes. Did they even have eyes? Or bodies, for that matter? For all she knew, they could be just empty suits…

In stiff fingers the dwarves gripped an assortment of thick, chunky blades, hammers and spiked shields. Old and battered those weapons may be, but she didn’t fancy the thought of having them stuck in her shins.

The eerie little guys made no move toward Saskia as she crawled inside the room, heart hammering. Standing silent and still as statues, the dwarves seemed oblivious to her presence.

To her relief, the ceiling was just high enough that she could stand. Her back gave a loud crack as she stretched.

“Hello?” she said to one of the dwarves. He gave no reply. She waved her hand in front of his face. Still nothing. No-one home then?

Ruhildi entered the room behind her, eyeing the guards with an unreadable expression.

At that moment, the stone door slid shut. The armoured figures lurched into motion, turning in unison toward them.

“That can’t be good,” said Saskia. “Get behind me, Ruhildi!”

Hastily, her friend did just that. Saskia raised her hammer, preparing for a fight.

The dwarves moved faster than she’d have expected of tin-can warriors. But they weren’t going for Saskia. Her oracle interface was pointing out their predicted movement patterns as ghostly trails on the floor, and they all converged on Ruhildi’s location.

This seemed more than a little odd. These were dwarves. Shouldn’t they be attacking the troll and leaving the dwarf alone? Or maybe it was a purely tactical decision to take out the squishier target first.

She felt magic on the air as her necromancer companion prepared a spell: something called scatterblast, according to the helpful message printed a scroll of faux parchment hovering above the dwarf’s head, accompanied by an hourglass timer.

Saskia swung her warhammer at the nearest dwarf. He didn’t even try to block. She heard a sickening clunk as her weapon smashed into his faceplate…and kept going. The head went flying into the wall, as the body began to topple over.

At the same moment, Saskia kicked her leg back at the other guy by the door, catching him in the chest with her clawed toes, and sending him tumbling away. Not the most elegant display of claw fu, but it got the job done.

And that was when she saw the first dwarf—the headless one—take a step back, regaining his balance. He turned to face them, hefting his broadsword—no small feat for one without a face. Saskia saw not blood, but a gleam of naked vertebrae within the armour’s neck hole.

“They’re undead!” shouted Saskia. “Ruhildi, can you…?”

“Trying!” said Ruhildi, and Saskia felt something shift in the gathering magic, and the message on the scroll changed from scatterblast to command dead. This one had an even longer timer; at least twenty seconds.

If Saskia didn’t act fast, her friend would be dead before the spell had a chance to go off. The two closest skeletal guardians were by no means out of the fight, and the other two were almost upon them.

Ditching her warhammer—it was too big and slow—Saskia snatched the headless guardian and threw him at the oncoming pair; an action that mirrored what she’d done in a recent training bout with Ruhildi. This guy was a lot heavier than those skeletons she’d practised against, thanks to the suit of armour, so the best she could manage was an awkward two-handed heave. The body only glanced off one of the skeletal dwarves, who kept coming, but the other two tumbled over in a flailing heap.

Ruhildi slowly backed into the empty corner of the hall, her face tense with concentration. A breeze began to stir around them as the spell gathered.

Saskia tore the axe arm off another skeleton and kicked it away, just as it took a swing at Ruhildi. That left—

Oh crap.

Four more skeletal guardians had just stepped out of alcoves that opened up in the stone walls. A classic cheap trick used in games; one she could really do without right now.

One of the reinforcements hurled a javelin at Ruhildi.

Saskia acted on instinct, aided by her interface’s telegraphing of the spear’s trajectory. She stepped into the path of the oncoming weapon, bracing for the inevitable impact.

Then she thought, Bog that! And she snatched the javelin out of the air, spun it about, and threw it back.

She watched as it turned end-over-end, before clattering harmlessly against the wall. Not quite the amazing follow-up she’d intended, but still, she’d just caught a spear out of the air!

Suddenly, a breeze whipped through the chamber, and the steel-clad skeletons went motionless. At that same moment, the scroll above Ruhildi’s head furled up and was gone.

Saskia let out a breath she didn’t realise she’d been holding. The spell had worked. They were safe, for now.

The skeletons formed up in a neat column, facing the far door.

“How long can you control them for?” asked Saskia. “Is it permanent?”

“Alas, no,” said Ruhildi. “Their old command spell is rare powerful. I can’t unbind it. If I lose sight of them, the old magic will take over, and they’ll attack. My spell will hold until that time.”

“Hmm…well I’m sure there’s gonna be more of them,” said Saskia.

Examining the room, Saskia couldn’t help but notice there was barely a speck of dust on the walls and floor. It was uncanny how clean this room was.

She picked up the helmeted head that had fallen to the floor. The mask was fused to the metal of the helm, so it would be no use to anyone who needed to see out of their eyes. Then again, it didn’t seem useful to a skeleton either, since they didn’t need heads to fight. Maybe it was just there so no-one had to look at naked grinning skulls or headless bodies.

The only other objects of interest were the glassy patterns on the wall. “Any idea what these are?” she asked Ruhildi.

“They look like wards. To what purpose, I ken not.” Tentatively, Ruhildi reached out and touched one of the lines of blue glass. “Methinks this is arlium, but it’s taken a form I’ve never beheld afore.”

Magical wards were commonly used as barriers or traps in games and fantasy fiction, but this was the first Saskia had heard of them existing on this world. Although, come to think of it, the elven greenway she’d encountered was sort of similar.

“Could the wards have been blocking your stone sense?” suggested Saskia.

“Mayhap.” Ruhildi frowned. “‘Tis an odd and inscrutable magic. Be prepared for anything, Sashki.”

Saskia wasn’t prepared for what she saw in the corridor beyond the next door. A gaunt figure in a tattered grey frock, head and limbs swathed in bandages, shuffled slowly across the floor, dragging a battered broom. Saskia goggled at the bizarre sight. Of all the things she imagined lurking behind that door, a mummy cleaner was not one of them.

Further down the corridor were several more armoured guardians. She quickly closed the door behind her so they wouldn’t ‘see’ her friend. They made no move toward her as she approached. This pretty much confirmed her theory that they only regarded Ruhildi as the intruder.

In one of the side rooms, she found another mummy waving a scraggly duster across marble shelves and drawers and closets. And further down the corridor, a pair of zombies were hard at work rebuilding a partially-collapsed wall.

At least this explained how the place remained so tidy and well-kept, despite being seemingly abandoned by the living, if the living had ever dwelt here. These undead were essentially worker-bots, acting out the commands of some long-dead master.

The next room she investigated was the most intriguing by far. It was a large oval chamber with a dome-shaped ceiling, held up by a ring of thick stone pillars lined with the now-familiar blue glass. Between the pillars, like the spokes of a wheel, stood rows of bookshelves, stacked high with stone tablets, scrolls of parchment, and bulky leather-bound books, tended by a zombie dwarven librarian in a knotted black dress. Because why the frock knot, thought Saskia with a silent giggle. Around the walls, inset behind panes of blue glass, were rows of what looked at first glance to be fantasy paintings, not unlike some she’d rendered herself back on Earth.

Eyeing the solitary guardian by the door, Saskia went straight to one of the bookshelves and flipped open a tome. Tome was the right word for it, because it was a damn door-stopper. It looked suitably ancient and mysterious; bound in wrinkled leather, with thick, brittle pages. The pages contained nothing but hand-written cursive gibberish, though there were a few letters that somewhat resembled Dwarvish symbols.

Returning to the first room, she handed the book to Ruhildi. “Can you read this?”

The dwarf frowned. “I’m no scholar of tongues, but methinks these may be the old symbols of Ulugmir. Like as not, this text were written afore the Desecration.”

Ruhildi was hiding something. Saskia wondered what it could be. Oh well. If it were important, her friend would tell her in her own good time.

“I have no idea what that means,” admitted Saskia. “But I think you should see the library. The only problem is getting you there safely.” She paused, thinking. Hold on, I wanna try something…”

Back in the corridor, she approached one of the motionless guardians warily. Carefully, she prised the spear out of its hand. When it didn’t attack, she muttered, “Oh to hell with it,” and lifted it off the floor.

It remained rigid, almost like a statue, except considerably lighter. She deposited it in the adjacent room, and returned to fetch all the other guards along the corridor, and the one inside the library. The only hiccup came when the occasional limb or head fell off.

Ruhildi marched her temporary minions out of the first chamber and into one of the side rooms, took a deep breath, and closed the door. Losing line-of-sight was enough to immediately cancel her command dead spell. Saskia stood ready to block the door if they tried to barge their way out. They didn’t.

Returning to the library with Ruhildi, her eyes were suddenly drawn to one of the paintings on the wall. “What the…?”

She hadn’t noticed it the first time she was here, but behind the blue glass was depicted a scene both strange and eerily familiar. Dashing over to the wall, she stared down at the surreal image of ocean depths, within which lurked the blurry silhouette of a great winged creature that seemed to have wandered off track somewhere at the junction between plant and animal. From the wings of the creature trailed innumerable dark leafy tendrils, and at the ends of those tendrils, people. Or rather, person, for the three figures hanging limply in the foreground all looked like near-clones of the same person.

This was a scene from her dreams! The ones she’d been having ever since her accident, until she awoke on this world.

Except the person depicted in this painting was not herself, as it had been in her dreams.

She blinked, and suddenly the image shifted. Gone was the dream scene, and in its place was the portrait of a bearded dwarf. It was the same man she’d just seen a moment ago, but now with a broader body, and a face slightly compressed along the vertical axis.

Saskia knew that face. Even though she’d never met the man in the painting, his smiling visage was etched into her memory.

He was her father.