Arthurian Cultivation

Maeve carefully watched as she moved through the halls for any and all signs of movement. She felt if the outside was ‘fucking ominous’, as Bors had said, then the inside was closer to insidious.

She followed Bors into the room. He carried a simple oil lamp to illuminate the hall. The dim light made the space thick with shadows. A carving of knights kneeling beneath the boughs of a great oak was etched into one wall, opposite a relief of the Knights fighting monsters, each carrying an image of an oak on their shields and banners.

The ceiling was pierced by little questing roots, hanging like stalactites in a natural cave. Crossbeams had collapsed here and there, but the roof remained largely intact, and the few holes that had formed were patched by dense clusters of plant life.

Plants clogged the few windows. Even if the sun hadn’t set, the thin arrow slits were now choked with spiralling roots that crowded around the openings, leaving broad ovals of dense plant matter decorating the walls.

She could tell the place would once have been beautiful. The stones were carved with intricate reliefs, the walls still smooth and polished in places where the green hadn’t spread. Still, all of the finery that once would’ve greeted them had fallen to nothing. From the ceiling hung the rusted bars that would’ve once supported banners or tapestries, only the occasional scrap of fabric hinting at former glory.

The floor of the entrance hall had once been polished flagstone, still visible in places where the dirt hadn’t spread. Mostly, though, it was choked with scraggly plants and mushroom-coated lumps of debris. Perhaps they were the long-collapsed remains of tables, weapon racks and the like. The air was damp, still and cool.

It felt like she’d stepped uninvited into some ancestor’s tomb.

Maeve didn’t like being underground. It wasn’t claustrophobia, but the rational understanding that, as a double gifted with Blade, it posed a risk. She couldn’t really cut her way out of a cave-in. This wasn’t exactly a cave, and whatever power had been poured into this construction was still holding back the Oak.

Or perhaps the Oak was permitting it to remain?

From what she understood, this place was older than her grandmother, or even ‘Aunt Nimue’. For it to still be standing meant the construction would’ve been of a quality beyond compare. Far more likely, this was preserved as a statement. A monumental gravestone offering incomparable warning.

Look how powerful these fools were, and see how they have fallen.

Either way she couldn’t help but feel small. The shadows felt full of threat, and every rustle of small creatures fleeing from the thin light of their lone lamp had her eyes twitching. To settle herself she focused on Bors. If there was anyone who could help them stay ahead of threats down here, it was him with his earth sense.

More lamps were lit. They were steel things with a good reservoir of natural oil and a wick. Kay had purchased them on their journey here, not daring to risk cheaper pottery options shattering and spreading oil around. There were runes in their packs that could shed light, but with that would come an unavoidable spread of glamour that could attract attention.

She heard the others talking. Bors was taking the lead, pausing to place his hand to the ground and listen as he advanced.

“There’s not much sign of anything big moving around down here. If we fought that badger down here, he could’ve brought the whole place down on us.”

“What’s left of those doors would keep out anything big. You’re right about things coming down though. Everyone should stay aware. Things seem pretty stable here, but it could be.”

“I’m not hearing any fae whispers,” Tristan observed.

“Amergin said they normally avoid the ruins. Let’s hope they don’t return for another tune,” Taliesin added.

They progressed further in. Tristan and Bors took the lead, Tristan checking for traps while Bors kept his senses open.

“I can hear small creatures, and lots of echoes. This place stretches a long way back. There’s water dripping somewhere,” Gaz spoke up.

“I can’t feel anything big moving about,” Taliesin said, his smoke spreading ahead of them.

“I wish we’d brought Lance, her connection to Dream.”

“Is better positioned to monitor the outside. What little we know of this Merlin character implies that he has the Dream gift. The other we don’t know. Dream cultivators tend to pick up each other quickly. He’d know we’re coming and start running,” Kay grunted as she searched around.

“Speaking of Lance, I’ve got a report from outside. She says they think there’s at least two more exits on the west. One’s on a tower rising out of the mountainside. The other is another entrance like this, but only the sally port is open. There might be more, but from what she can tell the east side of this place has a couple of Iron-rank beasts claiming territories,” Gaz said, clutching his water-glass trinket to his ear.

“So there might be more routes out for us deeper in. This is a worry. If we can leave, so can he. He doesn’t strike me as a fighter. He’s never stuck around to deal with the consequences of his actions.”

“I’m sure Gawain would be calling him a rat right now,” Arthur said from up front.

Kay sighed.

“I hate to split us up with the cultists on our heels, but if we’re to catch this bastard we’re going to need to be careful.”

“Who should stay?” The others fell into discussion, but Kay pushed through.

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“The priority is the Grail first. We need people who can spot it. Ideally this leads us to Merlin.”

“Can we stop calling him that? He’s not the real Merlin. They cannot be compared,” Maeve finally spoke up. It had been bothering her for some time. She’d said nothing. It hadn’t seemed important, but now in the depths of this tomb to a cultivator’s folly, lending him even a scrap of power through association felt wrong.

“Is this really the time?”

“Names have power. I’m with Maeve,” Taliesin spoke up. “Plus I have a solution. I’ve been thinking of this for a while as well. I was working on a song to vilify him. I thought Nermil, a play on his name and sounding a touch ridiculous.”

“Fine, Nermil it is. Back to my point. While finding Nermil might lead us to the Grail, there’s no guarantee. We need the Grail. Agreed?”

Nods followed.

“Following that logic, Arthur you should stay with Gawain on the east to detect if Nermil leaves through there. Your sense of emotions should catch him. I’ll stay here near the gate with Gaz. Lance will move between the two groups, providing support.”

There was an explosion of confusion. They were, after all, a collection of equals. While Kay had their respect, everyone had their own views on the best way forward. Maeve stayed quiet. Her Blade gift was strong but didn’t lend itself to detection. As a watcher she could offer little. She had to be on the team striking deeper.

“I can detect emotion. Shouldn’t I be helping?”

“I can hear and mask our sound.”

“Doesn’t it make sense for Taliesin to stay?” Percy said loudly above the rest. Maeve tutted silently to herself. She often forgot about their ruse. If not for her ‘rival’ reminding her through little displays of affection, she’d honestly never have stood a chance of maintaining even the thin veneer of pretence that there was something between them.

“If we weren’t looking for something that should have an aura of blood and death, yes. But he’s more likely to sense the Grail than anyone here other than you, Percy.”

“I’ll be fine. I can always run away. It should just be one man this time.” Taliesin patted her on the shoulder, and Percy relaxed a touch, though she still gave him a worried look.

“You’re right. I shouldn’t have questioned it.”

“I would argue I can look after myself regardless, but I feel like that’s an excellent way to tempt fate,” Taliesin chuckled. Then he looked to the others.

“Don’t forget why we’re here. We have to retrieve the Grail. Maybe it takes us a week longer to avoid the cultists and kill Nermil. That’s fine. What we can’t have is killing Nermil and losing the Grail to the cultists. Or Nermil running and escaping with the Grail. It’s why all you perceptive types are on watch.”

“I don’t have to like it though.”

Maeve watched as, with a lot of grumbling, the two groups broke apart. They traded items from their packs and wished each other luck.

The hunt continued.

There were corridors that led to open rooms that might’ve been training grounds, or caves that may once have been gardens, though she didn’t know how the light would’ve fed them. All was in such disrepair that it was guesswork to imagine what they might have been used for.

“How long do you think this took to make?” Taliesin asked Bors as they wandered through the wide stone corridors.

“I can tell that earth glamour was used a lot. So if a Mithril did it, I can imagine it was done very quickly. But everything I’ve heard makes it rare for people that far into their journey to lower themselves to mundane work. From what we’ve seen, a few Steels with earth gifts could do the basics of this in a few months if they didn’t do anything else.”

“A few months?” Maeve choked out. Rensleigh was her anchor of power for Steels, but she never really saw what she did with her powers beyond scaring others. To be able to raise this in such little time put that power into perspective.

“My old mentor was a Steel. I once saw him walk a tunnel through a hill. It wasn’t fancy like this, and the stone wasn’t as well set, but it was still a perfectly serviceable tunnel that he made in about an hour,” Bors continued.

“Sounds like he was powerful. Why did he make the tunnel?” Taliesin asked. They talked down here because the silence felt oppressive. The roots and gloom seemed to press in on them. Yes, it might reveal them, but realistically the light would do that for them. Besides, with their armour there was only so quiet they could be.

“He said it was to show off, but it was really about responsibility. The tunnel would’ve remained after he left, but he pointed out that it would soon become unstable. Things like rain and little shifts in the earth can collapse something that seemed sturdy in very little time.

“The tunnel linked a village to the towns beyond. It was a major boon to them. They would’ve been using it as soon as we left. He pointed out how bad it would’ve been if he’d just left it there. People would’ve been using it and then it all comes crumbling down. Made me go back and create a load of supports while he drank in town.”

“You don’t think this will come down,” Maeve said, eyeing the ceiling above cautiously. You couldn’t cut your way out of a cave-in.

“No. This place is solid. Very well built. I don’t know if they get any tremors here, but I don’t think they do. The rock isn’t letting much water through either. The roots and such are a concern, but it somehow feels sturdier with them, when they’re normally half the reason stuff falls down in the first place,” Bors spoke with utter confidence. His words offered no space for fear. He knew this well.

“It seems to me like the Oak is preserving this place, not trying to destroy it,” Tristan’s voice appeared out of the air. Maeve managed not to jump. The shadow-gifted wasn’t trying to hide his power down here. This place must feel like a paradise to him, the ancient shadows allowing him to be all but invisible.

“It makes a better story than some rubble, doesn’t it?” Taliesin chimed in.

“You think the fae care?” Percy asked, breaking out of her silence. She’d looked pensive the entire time. Maeve could understand. This place might well be the end of her family’s generation-long quest.

“I think the fae like us to think of them, are amused by our awe and fear. This place inspires both,” Taliesin answered.

Silence settled upon the group.

They continued through corridors, occasionally coming to a crossroads. This Ascendant Chapter was truly vast in scale.

“What’s that up ahead?” Bors grunted.

There on the ground was a puddle of caustic sludge. The floor was cleared of greenery, and at the very edge there were the desiccated remains of a wolf’s paw.

“There are the remains of runes here. Looks like something tripped a nasty trap,” Tristan said, using vines to probe the corpse.

“Well, fuck,” Bors swore. Again no one told him off, which reflected just how on edge everyone was.

“We are effectively breaking into a wizard’s tower here,” Maeve added, thinking of her grandmother’s warnings about wizards.

“As in ‘locked up tighter than a wizard’s tower’? Is this where that saying comes from? Because this doesn’t look like a lock to me,” Bors grumbled.

“Wizards have a strong command of runes. They’re well known for their ‘creative’ applications of the art. Given that if we came to a magically locked door it’d be rather obvious, traps like these are far more reliable.”

“The alarm runes will tell him we’re here, and where we are,” Tristan added.

“Do we think he’s just one guy still? Should we just trip something and wait for him to come investigate?”

“Maybe, but would he even check the very edge? Monsters have to be setting off that outside alarm rune regularly.”

“He could also scurry off like a rat. It’s not worth the risk.”

“This does make a gruesome case for him being here,” Tristan sighed.

“It also means he’s prepared for guests. I’ll warn them. We’re already at the limits of my communication range, so I’ll have to step back,” Gaz volunteered. Kay nodded.

“It also explains why there aren’t any beasts wandering the halls,” Taliesin added.

“We heard all manner of…”

“I mean real beasts. This is a perfect hideaway for them unless there was something here trying to cut them open.”

“Let’s move forward slowly. If anyone senses any odd changes in the glamour around them, no matter how small, say something.”