The view from the base of the mountain was spectacular. The top of the mountain seemed to glow red, competing with the dying oranges of the falling sun. The rocky body of the peak appeared almost purple here on the shadow side. No trees or shrubs grew along the incline to the top, but around the mountain a great forest outlined the land. A deep clear running river snaked around the east, terminating into a dark cave. The locals called it "Daralon's Asshole" because it belched sulfur and steam at regular intervals. Aaron had traveled many days to be here, and now that he'd arrived he felt a little cheated. He had lived with Xia, the witch of the barrow, for months. He knew what magic felt like, and this place, though a wonder of nature, held nothing of Xia's promise of destiny.
He stood at the entrance to the cave listening to the gurgle of the flowing river and trying not to smell the things coming from deeper within. He was cloaked in his shadow garb. The black outfit, a gift from Xia, could mold itself to the darkness of night, and obscure his form in the shadows of dusk or dawn. Now it served only to keep him warm in the chilly evening of the mountain air.
"She wouldn't have sent me here for nothing, and I doubt there are many other mountains this close to the sea. Courage lad. Destiny awaits."
Aaron walked into the darkness of the cave. He walked until the light failed him. With no light to see he slipped into the chilled and dwindling river. The flowing water was his only guide to the contours of the black and stinking cave. As the width and depth of the river suddenly decreased he saw a glimmer of light that soon resolved itself into a circle of light at the end of the river. There the water circled and spun into a slight whirlpool. The light at the bottom of the whirlpool illuminated the cave and he saw that the cave ended here and the stinking gas came from the back walls. There the cave bled yellow and black smoke which trailed along the top of the cave in a reverse flow to the river.
Seeing no other course but forward, Aaron dove into the swirling waters. In an instant of blinding light he was suddenly vomited out into a huge cavern. He had been ejected from a waterfall, which fell from a great height, into a boiling pool in a corner of the cavern. From this height the whole of the cavern was laid out before him. To the right were boiling pits of sulfur and fire that sent plumes of gas, which swirled in many colors, into the ceiling. There it collected, until some unseen source set them ablaze and illuminated the whole cavern as clearly as daylight. If daylight pulsed like a great heartbeat, that is.
The cavern's left was a collection of lava pools each with a little hut adjoining the pool. The huts looked disturbingly like Xia's, yet they were constructed of shale and limestone instead of wood and straw. He saw no one moving but he felt they were inhabited. He wondered if all of them held bounty as great as Xia's hut. The thought made his mouth water.
Directly opposite him was what could only be described as a fortress grown from the living stone. The many towers, walls and spires were all made of volcanic glass that gleamed in the pulsing light of the explosive cavern lights. The castle seemed to be all of one piece with the windows and doors like acid etched holes in the black glass. It spoke of power and time. It was the epitome of the lord of these fiery lands. The world of Daralon Onyx, Lord of the Deep Lands, King of Earth and Fire lay out before Aaron the Rogue and took his breath away. Or perhaps it was the thousand foot fall he was in the midst of that accounted for his lack of respiration?
He hit the water below with a deafening crash and fell into unconsciousness as the boiling water washed over him. He thought this must be the stupidest way to die after coming so far. His last thoughts were of Xia, and how disappointed she must be. A tear escaped his eye even as the boiling liquid stole it away. Oblivion stole away Aaron's mind.
He awoke in a warm bed of brown furs and feather pillows. His skin was prickly tight on his bones. He brought a hand to his face and felt dry skin and damp hair. He was obviously not recent from his fall into the boiling water but how much time had elapsed. The hut he was in was likely one of the shale hut's he'd seen at the height of the waterfall. The inside was well lit by sconces on the walls and only a single window, on his right, let in the pulsing light of the cavern outside. The furnishings were few but ornate. The bed he was in had four thick posts at each corner and had a large amount of silk draped between and around them. There was a wardrobe that acted as a separator between the bed and the rest of the dwelling. It was huge and made of oak, or something like it, for it was hue of red not found in any oak tree he knew of. The doors and handles were all inlaid with gold which swirled in fanciful designs and illustrations. There was a small circular table that could accommodate no more than two people. The table was furnished with a stark white table cloth and a silver candelabra that held no candles. The small kitchen at the far side was stocked with meat and supplies for five men. The bounty represented there made his mouth water and stirred him to action.
He tried to rise from his but found that his arms and legs were bound to each other. Thinking himself a prisoner he struggled against his bonds, but the motion was enough to break them apart. He saw then that his bounds were in fact bandages that had been bound around his hands and feet. His shoes had been removed and shirt sleeves and pants legs rolled up around his knees and elbows respectively. He pulled at the bandages and freed his extremities. The skin of his hands and feet were pink and soft like that of a child. It felt tender also and hot to the touch. He gingerly put his feet on the ground of the hut, and found that he could stand. He marveled at the cool planked wood of the floor. It was cut to an exacting size that precisely fit the confines of the stone hut. It was something reserved for the truly epically rich, and here it was in a stone hut at the bottom of the world.
He found his boots under the sill of the solitary window. He slid his feet into them, feeling the comfort of the well-worn apparel. He wiggled his feet around and looked out the window into the Deep Lands. Outside the window there was a little stretch of cave lined with various lichen and fungus, almost like a little garden. Just beyond that was a burning lake of molten rock. It bubbled and stewed through various shades of yellow and orange. The occasional stubborn rock floated to the surface only to eventually dissolve in the heat of that hell. As he stared into the outside looking for signs of life he almost didn't hear the slight creak of the opening door. Moving with practiced stealth and speed he slipped into the adjacent wardrobe and waited for an opportunity to escape this luxury cage.
He heard someone come into the room and move to the kitchen at the far end of the hut. There was a grunt and the sound of a heavy load being dropped to the planked floor. The grunt sounded feminine to him and was soon followed by a woman's voice.
"Hmm. Now then just a little water and we'll have everything...Oh dear. It seems I've lost my guest."
The voice was of someone very young. Her voice was musical and seemed rather lighthearted for such a burning hell as the Deep Lands. He cracked the door a little in hopes of getting a look at her. A figure passed in front of him cloaked in white linen. She leaned down and took the discarded bandages into her hands.
"It seems that my little butterfly has finally hatched from his cocoon. I wonder...?"
She pulled the white hood down and her red hair unrolled from the neck. It wasn't the red he'd seen on women in the world above. This red burned and glowed with the fire of the Deep Lands. It was fire itself wrapped up in the waist long braid of the woman before him. The light from the hair pulsed in time with the illumination from the cavern outside. She turned away from him as she began to walk back to the kitchen side of the room. She was almost skipping as she went. Aaron felt a little ashamed at his natural response to such innocence. Only a little though. The young woman began to talk to herself as she paced around the room.
"He couldn't have wandered to far....maybe much closer than one might THINK!"
With her final words the whole of the wardrobe was pushed over long ways so that it fell covering the window, but leaving the door facing out into the room. The sudden shifting motion threw Aaron from his hiding space. He wound up sprawled on the floor in a pile of women's clothing. Most of it the same white cotton with gold trim as the cloak the woman was wearing. Feeling the fool, he sat up and pulled some of the clothing from his shoulders and lap. The last piece he pulled from his head and came away with a garment he didn't recognize. It was a silvery silk material. There were holes, like for legs and yet the garment was not symmetrical in the way that pants would be, and entirely too small. Small....almost as if...
"Those are my small clothes and not for you, my little drowned rat."
