Opening my eyes, I peer down into the canyon, the endless depths below, and an idea creeps into my mind, so slowly I barely recognize it. It plants itself, a ready seed, and digs in roots. They spread through my entire body, down the sides of Cagmar, and into the pit of the canyon.
I cannot scare an entire army.
But I know the things that can.
I’ve only been in the waterworks once, when I was running from Grodd. The place is just as dark and empty now as it was then. It takes me a beat to find the pulley system the trollis use to lower themselves down to the bottom of the canyon. I find a closet, identical to the one on the south dock, loaded with swords, harnesses, and ropes. I strap on all three, choosing the lightest blade and strapping it to my back.
I have to do this before the trollis leave the city, or before the humans enter it. I will not harm the citizens of Cagmar. And I hope this will do less harm to my own people than the wrath of the trollis would.
I step onto a plank held by a large hoist arm with massive pulleys and thick rope, all attached to the base of the city. I know it’s made to support multiple trollis, but the way it sways with my weight makes my lungs seize. Steeling myself, I sit down for better balance, then slowly work the rope. It’s similar to how the lifts operate, but the pulleys must be oiled or more complex, because it takes less strength to operate them. Makes sense. I have a long way to go.
I expected the darkness and have a lamp with me. I expected the exertion, which doubles because I work quickly. But I hadn’t considered the temperature. The more I descend, the cooler the air becomes, until shivers of trepidation and cold merge into one, racking my body harder and harder as I drop. I hear the distant clicking of a tharker, a nonaggressive reptilian creature roughly the size of a man. Still I descend. A cool wind raises the skin across my shoulders and neck. I hear a croon of another beast, but I don’t search for it. I don’t try to scare it. I need it to find me. I need all of them to find me. After all, I’m the bait.
My sense of time fails me. I’ve been on this plank for both ten minutes and ten days. I hear the river long before I see its rapids in my lamp. When I touch the ground, I have to remind myself how to walk. I hear a rushing that swallows my thoughts, and it takes me several seconds to realize it’s the river; I’ve never seen a real river. Corpse-cold sprays of water tickle my legs. My own sour sweat sticks to my shirt. Chills twist my sinews and bend me like an old woman.
I turn the dial that feeds fuel to my lamp, until the light borders on blinding, creating a beacon. Its halo touches on a giant rib cage close to the canyon wall, half-crushed. Turning away, I shield my eyes from the light in an attempt to preserve my dark vision.
My spine aches. My stomach turns itself inside out. And I haven’t even used my fear yet.
I hear clicks, croaks, breaths. Come to me, I think. I need to draw them in. I need to tell them I’m here.
So I sing. I sing an old song, part of the old bard’s story that first told me of Cagmar and the oath that would see me in safely, a song of courage and promise. When I sing, my voice splits into a hundred echoes between the canyon walls, as though an entire chorus sings with me.
My love is true, my heart is yours
You deserve much more than I am
Four hundred suns, and I will come
A wealthy and affluent man
A canyon so deep, a canyon so wide
Monsters who feast upon flesh lurk inside
On his way to the glory of man
Crossing the bridge built by ten thousand hands
I feel the monsters coming. Their presence resonates under my skin, like worms in my food and breath on my neck. I sing the song again, taunting them, casting shadows by the light of my beacon.
They move slowly, stalking, glistening, hungry. I don’t recognize most of them, despite all Unach’s drilling.
Then, before they can attack, I reach out to them and push, push, push.
Fear floods the canyon, riding across the river and climbing up the stone. My skin rises in thousands of short peaks. My chest constricts. My lungs quit. But I keep pushing. I must reach all of them. I must horrify them. I must make them flee so far they will seek out the sun and the army that stands beneath it.
My heartbeats melt into one another. My bones rattle so violently I fall to my knees and hands. Hot streaks of urine coat my legs. The monsters howl and squall and bolt away. I push so hard, even the fighting ones turn back. Blood runs down my lips. Bile claws up my throat. But I follow them, pushing and stabbing, emitting as much fear as I can. I am their nightmare. I am their torment, their succubus.
They are my army. My monsters.