Stomping to a Mantra

It seemed as if we had been walking forever. 

Entombed within the bowels of the Topaz Coastal Range, immersed in the semi-darkness, we lost all sense of the passage of time. 

What I had initially feared as a black threatening maw ready to swallow us whole, was merely a dark and boring tunnel burrowing through the green-grey granite that made up the batholithic subduction range of the Topaz Mountains. 

The poured concrete sidewalk on the left side of the rail track was large enough for two people to walk side-by-side, but we mostly walked in single formation, each lost in our own rambled thoughts as we tried to process the tumultuous events that had just transpired. 

There was nothing to break the visual monotony of our surroundings. 

The sides of the tunnel were smooth, seamless grey-green variegated granite, interrupted only by a ten-foot high metal pipeline running parallel to the track. 

The pipeline fed enough energy to keep the feeble, flickering neon tubes embedded into the sloping ceiling to continue their valiant effort of keeping the darkness at bay. 

But the light tubes were few and far between. 

As we trekked away from one silvery pool of illumination to the next, there was always the constant threat of being subsumed by the encroaching blackness that seemed to leach out from the very pores of the igneous rock.

Tarzan led the way, followed by Simon in his now-filthy blue jeans and heather grey tee-shirt emblazoned with the orange ancient mage symbols for Heavy Metal. 

Walking beside Simon was a matted, dirty malamute, sporting a rolled leather collar with a red multi-faceted Command Crystal hanging off the front of his neck. 

And of course, behind me were the stalwart solid dependable Osiris twins in their black mage bodysuits.

I trotted behind Simon and the canine, trying to keep up with Tarzan's punishing pace while incanting a mantra with every step. 

Stomp—stomp—stomp—stomp. 

Yi—shen—shu—quang. 

Stomp—stomp—stomp—stomp. 

Yi—shen—shu—quang.

It took all my strength and concentration to maintain this mental soliloquy as we continued our punishing pace. 

The darkness of the tunnel leeched into my very soul.  It provided fertile ground for the black thoughts that raced through my head as my initial terror and shock eventually gave way to resignation and private grief. 

I wrestled and fought with my nightmarish demonic guilt of managing to stay alive when so many people had perished in the City of Topaz.  My only saving grace had been due to the random chance that I was with three high level mages and a super smart orangutan. 

The darkness did provide a cover for the tears that would sometimes roll down my face despite my best effort to contain my grief.  I had no idea where my parents were or if they were even alive. 

We could not even attempt to look for our families.  All we had left was the mission's objective of finding the boy and the missing primates. 

At this moment, even that mission was a distant calling.

I was more concerned with placing one foot in front of the other and maintaining the steady pace to match the mantra chanting in my head. 

It kept me from thinking—and not thinking was not a bad thing at this moment.

Behind me, the tall red-haired twins talked amongst themselves. 

They said nothing out loud but I could tell they were in that twin-speak mode because once in awhile, one would grunt or make a noise in response to something that the other said.  I didn't pay any particular attention to them because they said nothing that I could clearly hear.   

This deep within the granite mountain, the dank air moved in odd eddies and drafts. 

Sometimes it would gust in sudden bursts directly onto our exposed heads, either from hidden air shafts or naturally-occurring fractures within what seemed to be solid rock. 

At other times, it sprang up on us with no warning, swirling from either end of the tunnel and tossing my long dark hair in all direction. 

The black Overlord bodysuit that I had on was adequate for the chill, but I was warm mostly because of the hike through the tunnel.  This punishing pace was keeping my blood pumping and my lungs gasping. 

In that respect, Max and I were alike.  He too was panting away.  His canine mouth was wide open and his tongue was lolling to one side as he tried to cool himself. 

The rest of the disgustingly healthy group were in such mint condition that no one even broke out into a sweat.

As I stomped on, chanting my mantra with every step, I tried to stay within Simon's footsteps. 

He was such an observant mage that, even though he was following very close behind the orangutan, he had managed to dodge every single ceiling drip.  Since I was following directly behind him, this mean I was also able to avoid them. 

Meanwhile, the unconcerned Tarzan plowed straight through, catching every drip and gush of liquids falling from the tunnel's jagged, craggy ceiling. 

And there were many such drips. 

The stalactite-encrusted tunnel ceiling was often given to chronic weeping of mineral-laden atmospheric condensations. 

The dripping sounds merged with the barely perceptible howling of the wind gusting through the tunnel. 

The wailing of the wind was faint but continual and seemed to come from everywhere yet nowhere, all at once. 

Sometimes, we would walk past the rippling surfaces of the crystal clear condensates, coagulating in bowl-shaped troughs that had been worn into the rock from the water's incessant dripping. 

At other times, the liquid dribble was of an oily, off-colored tinge that seemed dubious and noxious in nature.  It also seemed to be the source of the sour sewage smell which permeated the air. 

Eventually, the stench grew so overwhelming that Simon made an off-hand comment to no one in particular. 

"There's nobody here.  Why do I keep smelling an open sewer?"  He made a gagging sound. 

I cast my mind out, finding a horde of rats behind the tunnel walls. 

"It's not a sewer that you smell.  It's rat urine and feces." 

"So it's poop, is it?"  Simon wrinkled his nose and muttered a Command that effectively extinguished the smell.

"Zhuanhuafenzi"

"What did you do?"  I asked, marveling at the eloquent way the odor simply vanished without any fuss.

"Oh, it's just an alchemical transmutation command to change the stinky chemicals into different chemicals that are odorless."  Simon responded with a casual wave of his hand. 

I smiled, grateful to have an alchemist in our midst. 

Unfortunately, even though their odor had been temporarily alleviated, the rats were still physically present, teeming and roiling behind the tunnel's stone walls. 

From the rabble of  mental noise that I could sense, there were literally hundreds of thousands of them. 

All were feral and hostile.  None were open to any of my suggestions. 

"We may not smell them any more, but we're still surrounded by rats the size of large cats."  I shuddered and looked around.  "This is not a good place to linger if we don't want to be overrun by a horde of hungry rodents."

"Keep moving as fast as you can."  Corwin said in hushed tones.  I felt his firm hand at my back, giving me extra magikal energy to help propel me forward with a bit more speed.

"I'll make sure they don't sense us."  Connor said. 

Without pausing, he muttered the words to the Camouflage Command. 

"Buyaozhuyiwuo."   

As many times as I had seen this being done, it was still quite amazing to me to see the visual effect of the Camouflage Command take hold.  It merged shadows and colors together causing us to blend into the background.  We were effectively rendered almost unnoticeable. 

"They can still smell us."  I reminded the guys.

Simon cackled.  "Not any more.  That odor transmute spell I cast covers our entire group.  We can't smell them and they can't smell us."

"What a smart little punk you are," Corwin jibed.

Simon harrumphed, but I could tell he was pleased with that off-handed compliment. 

As we trudged onward, we came across several suspicious-looking bundles and bags.  They were dark moldy things that looked as if they had been thrown off one of the trains leaving Topaz. 

One such bundle looked suspiciously human-shaped, but I side-stepped it and kept my eyes fixed on Tarzan's furry back, trying not to think about what it could possibly be. 

Connor felt my apprehension and reached out to squeeze my hand in comfort.

"Don't worry.  That's just a rotting bag of garbage."  He assured me.

"How did you know I was creeped out by it?"

Connor sighed and replied with some hesitance.  "I am very much aware of your presence.  I can't seem to help myself." 

Corwin grunted at me.  "Just like a girl.  You worry about a bag of garbage by the side of the tunnel, yet you completely missed the human bones we stepped over, about half-an-hour ago."

"What human bones?"  I gagged. 

I could not recall having ever stepped over anything that looked remotely like human remains…wait…it had to have been those dark stick things that were strewn about…

I covered my mouth, trying not to puke. 

"I see you remember now."  Corwin twisted his mouth in derision.  "Don't worry.  I saw it and checked it out before we led you through it.  It's not diseased or magikally tainted or anything of the ill-sort." 

"Nope.  It's just some poor soul who got disposed of in a rather gruesome fashion," Simon added.  "It happened a long time ago though.  Nothing left of the poor thing except a few chewed up bones."

"Chewed up?"  I gulped.

"You know those huge rats you were so concerned with awhile ago?"  Conner gave a dry laugh.  "Well, it seems they're really efficient carrion."

"Wow!"  I breathed.  "It's amazing you all knew about it and I didn't have a clue."

"You were busy counting your steps," Connor reached out to tug a strand of my hair, his eyes not unkind.  "You were so focused on your stride that we didn't want to disturb you."

I looked away, not sure what to say.  We had all been through a horrendous shocking experience yet I was the only one who had been completely spaced out and oblivious of it all. 

"I wonder how long that person's been dead."  I mused without expecting an answer.

"Fifty or sixty years ago," Simon responded with nonchalance, "give or take a decade."

"How can you tell?"  I asked in amazement.

"I analyzed her bones' biochemical signature and determined time of death by figuring out the point at which her bones gave up the ghost."   

"How do you do that?"  I asked.

"Very well, I thought!"  Simon laughed.  "Actually, it's part of our bio-alchemy coursework to determine time of death for bones."

"So it's a girl?"  I asked.

"No."  Simon shook his head.  "It's a woman.  A female in her early thirties."

"And we have no idea who it might be?"

"Not at the moment," Simon said, pulling something out of his back pocket and holding it up for me to see. 

"But I did pick up a phalanx bone so if we ever find ourselves inside an alchemy lab, I can isolate the genetic strands and figure out who died in that tunnel, alone and forgotten for so long."

I shuddered, looking away.  "I can't believe you picked up a piece of human bone.  That is so ghoulish."  I grimaced. 

The twins on both sides chuckled at my squeamish behavior.

"What kind of a Thaumaturge are you if you're that squeamish over some old gnawed bones of someone who's been dead for ages?" Corwin taunted.   

"I am a phasmophobic Thaumaturge." I huffed with my head held high.

"A phasmo what?"  Simon scrunched his face at me.

"It means she's scared of ghosts." Corwin laughed. 

"Not just ghosts."  I corrected.  "I'm scared of ghouls, demons, spectres, imps, and apparitions.  You name it, I'm scared of it."

The guys laughed at me, not unkindly, as we continued our way through the murky tunnel filled with obscured and creepy lumps and bumps.