Coffin Crawling

There weren’t always dragons in the valley. There wasn’t much of anything in the valley before. Ribcage it was called, with narrow bony spurs of dry rock bursting from its sides it looked like the desiccated corpse of some great beast, sunken and withered from centuries in the hot dry sun. But then Ry’Quel the conqueror (or Ry’Quel the dumbshit as he’s affectionately known in the Tsibiltar drinking dens) found the heart and everything changed. Except the name, Ribcage stuck.

Ribcage

Dreamer blinked the morning sun out of his eyes. The post dawn coolness had warmed off and the desert was quiet in anticipation of the heat that would soon reflect off the dry and cracking earth to turn the surrounding land into an oven any baker would be envious of. He stood slowly, shedding a dust colored blanket and feeling muscles cramped by weeks of hard riding complain with every movement. Turning, his eyes found the huddled figures of 5 matching dusty blankets blending into the rusty earth. Heads raised and blankets shifted in response to his movement.

“Bad news boys and girls, the ugly lizards didn’t kill us in our beds which means we have work to do.” Dreamer’s voice was confident, but carefully loud enough to reach just 5 sets of attentive ears, “grab your equipment and boy get those horses tied. I want to leave 10 minutes ago.” Dreamer turned to his own pack without looking to see if his orders were carried out. They would be. Tsibaltar was a place for arguing, for laziness, even idiots like Murt and Orph wouldn’t pull anything this close to Ribcage, not when every moment might make a difference on whether we went home, not when you never knew if something was listening.

…

Tsibaltar 20 days before

“You want to start hunting 30 minutes after dawn!? Are you trying to kill us?” Svrias had a face that was perpetually twisted from chewing foul narcotics, squinting through small lenses and generally pissing hate on everything he disliked, which was most things. When he was angry it scrunched further till he looked like a wrinkled tar mouthed corpse.

“If I thought it would kill us I wouldn’t propose it. You’ve seen the map, what choice do we have?” Dreamer watched the team as he spoke, keeping his voice cool. It didn’t matter if he was right, if it was the only way, if he was the king of Tsibaltar himself. If Sviras pissed enough vinegar and the others flipped there’d be no convincing them.

“Don’t give me that shit Dreamer, there’s two browns not half a mile from the entrance which aren’t fully explored. Why should we cut the safety time in half and add 3 miles of extraction distance on the chance we find something, when there’s viable routes still available?”

Murt and Orph's twin potato faces were twisted in concentration following the discussion. Dreamer doubted they were processing the logic, they’d probably just follow whoever sounded the most confident at the end. Sh’laa’s normally smiling mouth was set in a firm grimace, her eyes following him coolly. Dreamer eyed the long scar that was a new addition to her muscled biceps and felt his stomach sink a little deeper. The memories of their last hunt were still fresh, Sviras’s argument for safety wouldn’t go unnoticed. Dreamer turned back to Sviras’s twisted visage, was he smiling now? Impossible to tell.

“Everybody and their mother has been in those tunnels, you know it, I know it. When I see a horse apple I don’t need to taste it to know its shit. We’ve been in this business too long to be scared. We try to play it safe and we’ll waste two weeks of riding, our necks and money we don’t have, to come back with nothing.” Dreamer eyed the team letting his words sink in. Sviras glowered back. “If we want a chance at success we have to find new tunnels, that means going where no ones ever been, which means going farther and leaving earlier.”

“That money means nothing if we’re dead!” Sviras spat.

“You think I don’t know that? Look, after what happened to Malphas it’s natural to be scared, but we’ve waited as long as we can, and now we only have the funds for one more hunt. We can’t afford to fail here.”

“He died following your damn fool ideas, and now you’re gonna kill the rest of us because you think you're so much smarter than everyone else.” Sviras sneered, “ You got lucky in the past and now you’re starting to believe you’re special, that you can do things no one else does because its stupid and risky. Well your lucks going to run out and when it does you’ll kill everyone fool enough to follow you.” Sviras’ eyes were cold, Murt and Orph shifted uncomfortably. Sh’laa stared at Dreamer, jaw unmoving. Dreamer looked at all of them, holding their eyes.

“It’s a risk every time we step foot in the empty lands. It’s a risk no matter which tunnel we choose. Playing it safe won’t protect any of us, it will just get us killed empty handed. Look, I liked Malphas, he was a good lad, he was one of us and I’m sorry he's gone, but he was fat and slow and stupid, and it got him killed. This will be dangerous, and we’ll have to do it with a fresh crawler, but this team can do it. You’ve trusted me before and I’m asking you to trust me again. This is the only way.” There was a long pause, and Sviras opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Sh’laa stood in one strong motion, interrupting him.

“Dreamer is right,” her Cressian accent smoothed the words as she said them, “Every year hunters bring fewer skulls, but the empty lands grow. The beasts avoid the valley entrance, we must seek them out.” She looked at Dreamer now as she spoke, “Five years ago, I must choose. To swear my life to Cressia for three meals a day, or to earn the same meals, and kill the monsters that burned my home, my mother, and my sisters. Today I choose as I chose before. I am not ready to die in a foolish king’s war. Dreamer, I will join your hunt.” Dreamer nodded quietly,

“Thank you Sh’laa,” he looked at the squat muscled men beside her, “Murt, Orph? What do you say?” Murt looked at his brother.

“Well dreamer, I reckon you’ve kept us alive this long... mostly.”

“Which is real impressive given how stupid Murt is,” Orph chimed in.

“You shut your damn trap you fat lard, the only reason you’re still breathin’ is the dragons keep thinkin’ your ass is a boulder.”

“You got the same ass dumbshit.” Dreamer waved his hands, interrupting them.

“Thank you, boys,” Orph nodded and Murt smiled. Dreamer looked over at Sviras, whose face was pickled tar.

“Well? What’s it gonna be, Sviras?” The withered man frowned further and spit black spittle onto the floor.

“Fine, but don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Dreamer nodded and smiled back at Sviras’ withered frown.

“Great, now we just need to find ourselves a coffin crawler.”

…

The design of the Tsibaltar market seemed almost unintentional. A rude gap in otherwise low sandstone structures centered around a dusty bronze statue of an ancient king. However, the people of Tsibaltar, a messy conglomerate of merchants, farmers, refugees and tradespeople, had turned the square into an eye popping assault on the senses. Stalls packed the market overflowing down side streets. Filling the stalls were shining weapons hung delicately above serious looking guards, meat sizzling over roasting spits, animals braying and stomping, women in thin silks gesturing lithely at passerby, intricately painted pottery and so much more. Everywhere there were people buying, selling, entertaining, eating, and fighting. The smells and the sounds of it all buffeted Dreamer as much as the shoulders and elbows of passersby as he entered the market. Dreamer took it all in calmly, casually sidestepping a portly man carrying a large copper pot, flashing a wink at a heavy lidded girl who beckoned him from a dark tent filled with silky pillows. As he walked he carefully watched the people around him. His eyes glanced over the usual swell of buyers and sellers, following instead the bright yellow sashes of the city guards. Guards were thick in the market, strolling in pairs between booths, hovering around the more generous stall owners. As they passed through the crowd they went mostly unnoticed by the busy tradespeople. However, between the stalls, and longing on steps, groups of dirty youths faded like shadows before the sun as the guards passed, only to reappear the moment the yellow sashes were out of sight. Dreamer smiled as he studied his potential candidates. They came in varieties of shapes and sizes but mostly shared the same dirty malnourished look. The first group he spotted was a gang of several teens lounging in the shadows of an alley. They had rough faces and were attempting to look inconspicuous. Dreamer passed them over quickly, Murt and Orph provided all the muscle and thick heads he needed. Next, he spotted a pair of children who couldn’t have been more than 10 staring at the loaves of bread stacked at the bread seller’s stall. They were lean, quiet, and intense. He could tell they were waiting for the bread seller to lapse attention for a moment and those loaves would be gone. The problem was, the bread seller could tell too. He was watching them out of the corner of his eye as he finished a transaction with a round woman. A pair of guards rounded the corner and the bread seller raised an arm to flag them down. Dreamer shook his head and began to scan the crowd again when a commotion shook the bread seller’s stall. A youth had tripped and knocked into the edge of the stall sending the loaves spilling into the street. The intense children were up in a moment, filling their hands with loaves and disappearing into the throng of the market. The bread seller leapt after them,

“Stop! Thieves stop!!” His deep shouts barely cut above the din of the crowd, but the guards immediately began to give chase to the children, struggling to elbow their way through the sea of arms and legs that the children had ducked under. Dreamer smiled and searched for the youth who had started the mess. He was gone. Dreamer stepped into the middle of the busy market lane, risking an elbow from a heavyset farmer, but the boy was nowhere to be seen. Dreamer cursed and turned around, catching a glimpse of a thin arm carrying a loaf of bread disappearing into the crowd. Quickly, he stepped after him, careful not to appear to be chasing. The boy was quick and moved through the busy crowd like a river between stones, but he didn’t realize he was being followed. Dreamer followed his quick movements and they left the busy market disappearing down side streets. As the din of the market faded and the crowds thinned, Dreamer was careful to let the space grow between them. The boy walked casually and quickly, munching the bread. Finally he settled down under a shaded awning, relaxing against a dusty sandstone wall.

“That was clever, that bit with the bread seller.” the boy started, noticing Dreamer for the first time, he leapt to his feet, “hold on, I’m not here to report you, I just want to ask you something.” The boy eyed him suspiciously,

“Yea? What?”

“You’re quick, you’re quiet, those are useful skills. How would you like to earn a bit of money?”

“Money?” the boy leaned in, “How much we talkin?”

“Not much,” Dreamer said casually, “but it’ll get you some shoes and clothes without holes, food, and a place to stay for a month.” The boy stared,

“That’s not, ‘not much’ mister,”

“Call me Dreamer,” Dreamer smiled, “and I suppose it's not,”

“Ok Dreamer,” the kid’s eyes narrowed, “what do I got to do for it?”

“What’s your name kid?”

“Calib.”

“Well Calib, what do you know about dragons?” The kid frowned,

“I know they’re the reason we had to leave our village, cuz they burned up the mill and half the homes when I was small. They’re why me da’ had to sign with the king’s men to get us money for food, and no ones seen him since. They’re why me ma’ got sick off the bad water we had to drink out in the shambles cuz there’s no room in the city for refugees.” Dreamer nodded eyes hard. It wasn’t a new story. Every kid he saw in the market today probably had one just like it. Dreamer felt his own memories flare up as he looked into the kids eyes, deep and cold. Dreamer took a deep breath letting the flickers of memory flare out.

“How’d you like to help me kill some dragons Calib?”

…

Calib sat uncomfortably in a wooden chair looking small in The team’s base house on the outskirts of Tsibaltar. The place was small and cramped with sandstone walls cluttered with equipment, packs and weapons. There was barely enough room for the small table and handful of chairs they sat at, yet Calib looked as though the space might swallow him at any moment.

“Well I thought introductions went rather well!” Dreamer smiled broadly,

“I don’t think Sviras likes me very much,” Calib said, looking away.

“Sviras doesn’t like anyone, I wouldn’t take it personally.” Calib looked up, “Sh’laa and the twins like you well enough, and Sviras will warm up once you prove you can crawl without getting us killed.” Calib was silent for a moment.

“Are you sure I’ll be able to do that? I mean look at me I’m not much of a fighter.” Dreamer leaned back in his chair.

“Ok let's talk about dragon hunting. The first thing you gotta do, kid, is take any notion that dragon hunting is a pitched battle between great beasts and valiant warriors and get it out of your head right now. That’s not what we do at all. Trying to fight dragons is stupid, and if you go out there looking for a fight you wont just get yourself killed, dragons will melt the faces off me and everyone else here before they eat us.” Calib stared at him wide-eyed.

“So what do we do then? When you put it like that, it sounds…”

“Impossible?” Dreamer smiled, “Fighting them is impossible, but hunting them… that’s another story.” Dreamer reached back and pulled some stale bread off the table behind him. “It’s like what you pulled back at the bread seller. If you go straight for the bread, the seller, the guards they all swarm you, you don’t stand a chance. You might get your hands on the bread but you’ll never get out of there. Now, if you can get the seller looking somewhere else…” he tossed the bread to Calib who caught it deftly, “you can take what you want and get out of dodge before anyone’s the wiser.” Calib took a crunchy bite of bread.

“Ok makes sense, so we throw out some bait or somethin? Make a big noise?” he asked through a mouthful of bread. Dreamer nodded his head slowly,

“Sure, you could do that, but remember you’re in a big empty valley surrounded by caves leading to the underground nests of thousands of dragons, some of which can swallow you whole easier than that bread you’ve got in your hand.” Calib swallowed the last piece of bread with a gulp. “But you’ve got the right idea, if you can find a cave that doesn’t connect to any tunnels big enough to be dangerous, and the dragons aren’t too deep, you can set a nice little trap that doesn’t attract too much attention. Then it's just a manner of tying down the dragons long enough to kill ‘em before then burn you alive, cut you to ribbons or make enough noise to bring the whole nest down on top of you. Then it's off to the king of Tsibaltar with your skulls for a nice little pest riddance fee. Sound simple enough?” The kid looked like he was about to spit up his bread, but his urchin food preservation instincts were holding strong.

“Sure, easy Dreamer…” Dreamer shook his head,

“I never said it was easy, just that it was simple. And it is, on paper, but the truth is, it's damn hard and damn terrifying. I’m not trying to scare you kid, but if you do die out there I don’t want it on my conscience that you didn’t know what you were getting yourself into. In all honesty, bone selling isn’t a business you get old doing.” Dreamer held Calib’s gaze, “That’s the piss of it, but I can also tell you this, we don’t keep much of a tally for talent in this industry, and certainly this crew isn’t the shiniest coin in anyone’s pocket, but there are alive bone sellers and there are dead ones, and this crew’s been together a lot longer than most, and with money in our pockets.” Dreamer thought for a second, “more or less.” Calib stared at his hands for a long moment. Finally, he looked up,

“You’d be a shit merchant Dreamer.” Dreamer laughed loudly at this,

“Ay, I probably would.” he said smiling,

“You don’t got to scare me anymore,” Calib looked Dreamer in the eye, “I gave you my answer already. I know what dragons can do. Maybe I won’t m-make it.” he paused, “but maybe this time the dragons’ll be scared of me.” Dreamer eyed him coolly, Calib held his gaze. Finally Dreamer let out a low whistle.

“You’ve got some stone in you boy. You might just make it out alive.” Dreamer smiled, “But I haven’t told you your job yet.” Calib nodded,

“Ok, so what do you want me to do?”

“You? You get to go in the tunnel.”

…

Ribcage

The entrance to Ribcage was two sun-bleached skeletons lounging against rocky pillars of a narrow split in massive granite walls. It was the type of morbid humor that Murt and Orph would typically smile at, but he didn’t need to check to know even their clumsy faces would be clenched in silent focus. There was no room for smiling this close to the valley. Dreamer estimated they’d arrived 2 hours to noon. They played a dangerous game leaving basecamp so close to the dragon’s hunting hours of dawn, but his heart was still beating an uncertain rhythm in his chest, which meant the gamble had paid off. Dreamer pulled a weathered folded piece of parchment from his back pocket and the team silently gathered around. An inky rendering of the valley unfolded. The entrance to Ribcage was marked with a tiny skull. Nearby the entrance dozens of tiny black dots were marked in seemingly random patterns. Most of the black dots were marked with a red X. Some had a brown dot beside them, though most of these were marked over with a red X. Very few were marked with a tiny gold dot, but every one of these had a red X. Using his finger Dreamer marked a place near the back of the valley with dust, there were no black dots or other markings in this area, and looked up. Some of the circle nodded, the twisted faced Sviras looked away and spat. Dreamer glanced around the circle once more, when no one else made a move he folded up the map and replaced it in his back pocket. Then one by one they followed him into the darkness. Sviras was the last one to enter the line, he took one long last look at the path they had followed, shook his head, adjusted his pack, and hurried to catch up.

…

Tsibaltar

“Go into the tunnel!? Why?” Calib sat back with a start.

“Because setting up dragon bait without knowing what you might attract is suicide.” Dreamer said matter of factly, “Just because a tunnel looks small doesn’t mean it isn’t an airhole to some big bastard who will eat us all for breakfast, or it could lead to a nest of small dragons when we’re only prepared to handle one. There’s really no way to tell from the outside.” Calib fidgeted in his seat.

“Won’t they smell me or somethin?” Dreamer nodded,

“Good, you’re thinking, yes normally they would, dragons have excellent senses, but smell we can handle. We all douse in dragonsbane before the hunt, you get a double dose. I don’t know what it smells like to them, but they won’t find us that way. Hearing however, we can’t control. Which is why the number one rule in the valley is silence.” Dreamer gestured to the walls. “What do you notice about our equipment?” Calib glanced around,

“No armor,” he said after a moment.

“Close,” Dreamer said with a nod, “no metal armor, we do use leather equipment, but with the exception of the spears and reinforced netting we won’t use much metal, it's more important to be light and above all quiet.” Dreamer looked at Calib, “We won’t have the men or equipment for a fight, everything relies on you finding the right tunnel and getting out without getting noticed, and for that you’ll only need these.” Dreamer placed a clear crystal on the table, a small charcoal colored rock with porous holes, and a whistle. Calib picked up each in turn.

“The crystal is moonstone, leave it out in the sun and you’ll get a dim light in total darkness. You’ll want to cover it with your hand when you’re in the tunnel, like this, so the light doesn’t spread.” Dreamer covered the crystal almost entirely with his palm allowing a small gap pointed at his feet. Calib copied the motion. “Good, don’t use more than what you need to see and you won’t get noticed. The next piece is dragonstone.” Dreamer held up the porous rock. “This little guy is the single most valuable discovery in the history of dragon hunting.” Calib stared at the rock, “Dragonstone reacts to the presence of dragons,”

“What do you mean?” Calib looked confused,

“It will glow,”

“Oh, like the moonstone?” Dreamer looked thoughtful,

“Depends on how many dragons are close by and how big they are, for what we’re looking for, you don’t want more than kind of a dim sparkle. If this thing starts shining that’s bad news and you need to get out.” Calib nodded and hefted the whistle,

“What about this? I thought we needed to be quiet.” Dreamer nodded and was serious for a moment.

“I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again, silence is extremely important in Ribcage. There will be no verbal communication from the moment we enter till the moment we leave. However, there is one exception to this rule.” Dreamer looked intently at Calib, “If you wake up something nasty, all hunters know this sound. It means not just that the hunt is over but that we drop everything and run for our lives. If you blow this whistle you will wake up dragons, and if you’re deep in the tunnel that likely means you won’t make it out. However, if you don’t blow the whistle and you get killed in the tunnels, chances are the rest of the team is dead too.” Calib slowly placed the whistle down. “I hope you never have to blow that thing, but if you do, I hope you make the right call because all our lives depend on it.”

…

Ribcage

Dreamer stared at the dark tunnel mouth. It was a small thing probably no bigger than torso high on Dreamer, in the afternoon light the dip it formed looked like a frown in the face of the rocky hillside. Still, when Calib climbed down it had swallowed him quickly enough, vanishing him into its unsatisfied shade. Dreamer looked at the waning light of the sky. That had probably been about an hour ago. Something was wrong. This far back in the valley they had about a 2 hour hunting window. He’d been extremely clear with his instructions to Calib, no more than 20 minutes per hole.

Shit.

Dreamer glanced around the crew. They’d been hiking over rugged terrain with heavy equipment since dawn. They were sweaty and dusty, but no one looked the least bit tired. They sat scattered around the tunnel in whatever shade they could find. Dreamer caught Sviras’ cold eye, the withered man held his gaze and spit black spittle onto the ground. Dreamer looked away. The twins were huddled close together under the fading shade of a large boulder. Their normally animated forms tense as they stared at the hole. On the other side of the tunnel Sh’laa looking at him, when Dreamer glanced at her she tapped her wrist.

Double shit.

He thought of the reasons why it would take so long, there were only two.

Option 1, Calib’s dead. Which means something is awake and the entire team is in danger. Going into the tunnel after him is basically suicide. Option 2, he’s hurt and can’t move, he can’t call out for help which means he’s sitting in near complete darkness, surrounded by monsters, in pain and completely terrified. Even if we pull him out, we’ve got to somehow drag him out of the tunnel without making a sound, then cover the full extraction distance with an injured kid.

Dreamer felt old then, and terribly tired. He thought of his conversation with Sviras, he’d been right of course, Malphas was slow and fat, he’d been far too clumsy walking the rocky terrain of Ribcage not to mention the narrow passages of a tunnel, but he’d never deserved to die. None of them ever did. Dreamer looked at Sviras again. The withered husk of a man was staring at him, probably hadn’t looked away. Black spittle hit the dirt again. Dreamer knew what he wanted, he was waiting for Dreamer to call the hunt. He would say nothing until basecamp, maybe not even till Tsibaltar, but it didn’t matter. They’d followed Dreamer’s plan, they’d taken the risks. It didn’t matter that it wasn’t waking up early or traveling farther that had done it, they’d lost another kid. It was enough. A memory rose unbidden in Dreamer’s mind, years ago, when he wasn’t sitting in the timid shade watching a boy disappear into a tunnel. Instead he felt the dark mouth close around him, the coolness of the perfect dark, and the terror that dripped from his chest into his shaking legs.

Suddenly Dreamer found himself foraging into his pack, his hands closed around 3 objects not unlike the ones he’d given Calib, but older, his own crawlers tools. He turned to see Sh’laa staring at him, confused. He signaled to her with his hands.

30 minutes. Then go.

Frantically she waved her muscled arms in the universal language of NO, her face twisting into fear and concern as she realized what he was about to do. Dreamer didn’t bother to look at Sviras. The last thing he heard before entering the tunnel was black spittle hitting the ground.

Inside the tunnel was cool, unsettlingly refreshing in contrast to the noonday heat. Dreamer was forced to half climb half crawl in the cramped space.

Shit this was a bad idea, my knees’ll kill me before the dragons do

Dreamer felt a laugh bubble in his chest, it rebounded against the rapid beating of his heart almost escaping. He took a deep breath to calm himself

Its ok, no need to panic, find the kid and go

He reached into his pocket to grab his moonstone shard. He couldn’t for the life of him remember the last time he’d charged it, and felt another bubble of panic at the thought of searching in the dark, but by some miracle it gave a dim glow in his hand.

He crawled, listening intensely for any sound. But the cave was silent except for the muffled noises of his movements echoing like thunderclaps inside his mind. Suddenly, the cave terminated at the opening to a large tunnel. Dreamers stomach cratered.

Shit this thing’s enormous. This is a red X for sure, why didn’t the kid turn back?

Indecision was an anvil on his chest. He felt the two options as a scale in his mind, suddenly swinging heavily to the kid being dead.

But, there’s still a chance? Maybe he fell and rolled?

Dreamer breathed out the panic, and leapt lightly to the floor below. The drop was bigger than he expected and he stumbled slightly. He froze feeling a gentle cave breeze cool the beading sweat on his face. Then, quickly he followed the gentle gradient of the tunnel as it rolled deeper into the mountain. As he walked he frantically waved his dim light back and forth searching for a huddled form. He didn’t have to search far.

The massive tunnel terminated in an enormous chamber, it would have been impossible for his faint moonstone to grasp the size of such a room, but the room was lined with veins of dragonstone glowing cherry bright, casting the entire room into a warm red hue. Dreamer realized three things immediately. One, the kid was alive not twenty paces from him, hunched over and moving something. Two, the chamber was filled with hundreds of dragon eggs. Three, the largest dragon Dreamer had ever seen was curled up directly in front of him, and it had just moved. Slowly, Dreamer reached for the whistle in his pocket.