Extraction Issues 8

Chapter 8

Forgotten Temple, distribution chute upper chamber.

Cycle 6002.648.09.75W

When Neodig awoke again it seemed to be morning, although a cloudier one than the day previous. The voice was there to greet him again, but there was impatience or concern in it’s voice this time. It quickly brought up that he couldn’t afford to be napping much more, unless he wanted this to be his permanent resting place.

Neodig thought that was yet another piece of sound advice given, by this spirit that had claimed to be a demon. He rolled onto his side and had a drink. Then he rested for a bit before shakily pushing himself to his feet. Trying to project more confidence than he had, he asked what was next.

The voice said if he could get the dagger out of the coffin without touching the elaborate stone box, he would be well on his way to having a fighting chance.

With no other decent options he wandered over and grabbed the dagger, a new sort of pain shot through his body. He twisted and pulled but didn’t budge it, all that happened was that the glow disappeared from the stone in the base of it’s hilt.

Concern was easily detectable in the voice this time. It said that the seal was broken. If Neodig could just smash everything off the coffin without touching it, things should work out okay.

There was actually a lot of carts and other strange looking devices around the chamber. There were more sleds with strange attachments on. There were shelves and furniture, the later not looking particularly sturdy anymore. Close to him was an iron bar. He staggered over, awkwardly reached and grabbed it.

The first swing of the bar was too far back. It hit the gargoyle and sent cracks through it. When he didn’t hear any complaints from the voice, he kept swinging, eventually giving up on accuracy and just smashing at the gargoyle.

He was feeling more tired and heavy by the instant. He swung and one of the gargoyles arms shattered. With pretty much no energy left, he made one more swing at the dagger and it was spun up and out of the stone coffin. With that done he collapsed panting by the side of the coffin and some strength returned to him.

So he finished smashing and scraping the gargoyle off the stone box with the bar. Eventually he felt more strength return. In fact he eventually felt better than he had for a while, well compared the previous couple of time he woken up anyway.

The only problem was he felt lethargic, as if his brain had gone a little numb, but on a much deeper level. Strangely unsure of himself and suddenly the situation he was in, he asked the voice how he’d done. Hoping there was still help around.

The voice replied that he’d done really well.

Then it hesitated.

It turned out that touching the gargoyle and dagger had damaged his soul, luckily only almost completely severing part of it.

Neodig replied to the voice that he wasn’t feeling very lucky and that the near soul severing didn’t seem lucky either.

The voice replied that compared to becoming trapped in a near death state, this was a pretty good out come. In fact if he ever got back to a supportive functioning environment, his soul would slowly knit back together.

Neodig said that he was sensing a ‘but’ in the voices words.

The voice had to agree that it would be difficult. Now that his soul was maimed enough, the searches would register him as all but dead. It was almost certain they would soon stop or struggle to detect him even if he was in range. But, the trouble was that there were more everyday and automatic barriers, that deliberately worked against the creation of supportive environments.

Unsure about how he would even deal with that when the time came, he tried to focus on the situation around him. He asked what was next.

After thinking for a bit the voice said that there were two things to do. The first was to grab one of the antique display sleds and roll it’s display over to the next chute down. Once it was there he just had to shove it off the display and put his sleds in the back.

Neodig sarcastically commented that in his current state, that wasn’t even slightly hard to do.

Joining in the joking, the voice said that was great, because that was only the first thing. The other thing was, that the voice was trapped in a container, hidden behind a moveable rock. It needed to be pushed out of the way. Then if he threw the container down the chute it would break and the spirit could eventually find it’s way.

Neodig thought that sounded off. He got directions and found the rock that hid the voice first. He eventually wriggled it free and found the container. It looked like an almost liquid, blue glowing substance filled a fat vile, with elaborately decorative wire framing choking the container.

Neodig told the voice that it was okay looking for a soul trapping container. It was only slightly creepy. There must be many other worse places to be trapped. The voice gave him a lecture about being an insensitive human as he dumped the vile in the back of the antique sled and rolled the display towards the next section of chute.

The iron bar again came in handy for levering the sled off the display. Now the sled was ready and lined up well with the next chute. He folded the sleds he had descended the first chute on into the back. Then at last minute he rearranged the vile into his metal chest box. With preparations done he launched the antique sled into the second chute.

Being battered and exhausted Neodig was happy to have a sled with brakes. Even if he was still thrown around in the dark, it was at a much more gentle pace. The air was nicer here too. So as long as he kept up enough speed to get through flat spots, which were more common as the altitude lowered, he could almost enjoy the bumpy ride.

Despite a couple of close calls, Neodig made shaky progress and approached another bright area. Unfortunately the tunnel narrowed and the sled became jammed by it’s brakes, just before entering the next chamber. Tired and frustrated he looked around the new chamber. It was similar to the upper chamber, but smaller. There was almost no transport equipment here and definitely no crypt.

Still with intense feelings of disorientation and doubt, he opened up the smaller chest box he had strapped to him. The voice said hello. It could again talk to him. Neodig was surprised that the case he had been carrying had some sort of shielding, but he couldn’t really process anything at the moment. In fact even asking what was next seemed like a difficult option.

Luckily the voice had it’s bearings again and gave instructions. It said that unfortunately the first matter was to smash the antique sleds brake so it could be pulled out of the way. Neodig pulled the iron bar out from where it had safely been tucked away. With some sadness he awkwardly swung and levered with the bar, as best as he could in the narrow space.

Eventually the brake collapsed and the sled slid into the opening. It collected him and he awkwardly rode it to what looked like the start of an emergency stop ramp. Winded he just had to rest there for a bit. Slowly his breathing returned jaggedly. Then it eventually eased a little.

Once he was able, he got up and shoved the old sled well clear of the path that other sleds might arrive in. With that he felt drained. But he asked the voice what was next.

The voice thought for a bit almost with a throbbing glow emitting from the canister that contained it. When the throbbing settled it spoke. It directed him to a cupboard and he stumbled clumsily in the wrong direction. After being redirected to his ‘other left’ he found the cupboard. Inside there was a sprung wooden ring similar to the one he had just smashed up.This one had strange webbing and buckles on though.

Confused he asked if it was a brake to fix the sled.

The voice said that it could not fix the old sled. This was a personal brake. It would have been used by the original tunnel builders.

Neodig still felt out of sorts. There was probably only the pain that was keeping him focused, otherwise he felt like he was almost falling apart. With the little brainpower he had left, he could only ask if the voice was expecting him to walk the rest of the way out.

The voice laughed. After calming itself, it politely said that it didn’t think he would make it. It’s thoughts were that he could ride the front sled from his first chute descent, using the personal brake to control the speed.

After feeling embarrassed about his suggestion, Neodig worked with the voices instructions to learn how to use the brake at the bottom of the previous chute. When he had learnt all that he had the energy to learn, he set the sled in place for the lower chute and prepped the brake.

With exhaustion drowning out any potential feelings of terror he struggled to shimmy himself while on the sled. Once over the edge, it again picked up speed, but this time pulling on the cord to break was a struggle. Even though the chute was flatter. It took all his effort to wrestle with the brake cork and trim the speed as the sled bounced along. He wasn’t sure if it was a moment later, or a significant time later, but he again passed out. So into the darkness the sled bounced and the brake battered it’s unconscious rider as it bounced along the rough chute walls.

>–<>–<

Negham was enjoying the beautiful morning. He had been sailing his barge around the base of the beautiful Adenga mountains for years. With the inward tide he would usually either carry in goods from the port or scrap to be processed. Today was a scrap run. He had a lot of broken wheelbarrows, that had been bundled up to make the bulk of his load today.

The craftsmanship of the frames varied tremendously. Some of the wooden handles and support pieces looked they had been turned or lovingly whittled. Other pieces looked like they had been roughly hacked from dried bits of split timber. Some frames still had traces of decaying twine or pegs that had help them together. While others had varying fittings one blacksmith or another had hammered into shape.

The load had plenty of splintered and broken pieces mixed with bent and warped shapes. But despite this, they had all been cleverly stacked together in a fashion that was almost as dense as if someone had just compacted them all together. As far as loads went, this was an interesting one that didn’t stink. That meant he could enjoy the fresh air and beautiful scenery.

He had his comfy lightweight traveling robe on. It was modest and mid grey, great for half hiding muck when it was dirty from him dealing with less pleasant loads. Though he wore a woven flat cone hat, that covered he mostly bald head, his face was still red and as weather worn as his wrinkled old hands. There was a bit of a bend to his posture, but though it looked like it was a failing, he kept force well loaded through his torso and rarely wasn’t ready to get to work day after day.

Those on Adenga did things the old way; they worked hard and didn’t get trapped in dept. It meant that while they definitely had to manage their physical well-being, the life they lived was clean and fulfilling. It maybe wasn’t as fast as other islands, but the people and the island seemed to keep better health because of this.

The river banks around here were slightly overgrown, but healthy. The rivers were cared for and maintained as they were important routes for moving goods. Negham enjoyed moving the boat through the sparkling water as it rippled with the shifting flows weaving around the base of the mountain. The fresh morning air had become more humid now, but it was still a trip he enjoyed in all but the worst of weather.

Out of habit he looked towards the platform where sleds had used to bring goods down the mountain from the temple. He missed the days of cheeky boys loading goods and making stupid comments while they were away from the disciplinary reach of the temple.

He was so stuck in routine that he had turned to look up the river again. It was a moment before he realised there was a sled sheltered in the platform. He snapped his head back in surprise. Then he mental criticized himself for the sudden movement. As he focused he saw a battered sled and rider motionless at the platform. Curious he gave a sudden shove of the rudder and dropped sail.

It wasn’t the most elegant approach and it had been years since he had used this landing. But that was one of the benefits of this type of barge and it’s plushly padded edges. You could bump into objects and other barges if options became limited. He automatically threw the rope over a post. His efficiency causing issues, because mentally he hadn’t had time to catch up with his reflexes of curiosity.

He wandered over calmly to the unusual sight, indeed it was a very battered boy on a roughly made sled. He seemed tangled up in some strange rubbish. Negham again looked around. It had been years since anyone had made it down the goods chutes. From what he had heard it was usually the more useless or troublesome that received the sentence of the chute run. Maybe he should continue on, pretending he hadn’t seen anything.

He thought to himself and then decided that the boy definitely fit the category of scrap. Chuckling at his own cleverness he went back to his barge to fetch his trolley. If nothing else he had definitely found a curiosity that would interest those at the village. Also in his current state he didn’t look like he would cause them much trouble, so it would leave plenty of time for the chief to sort things.

While back at the barge he found his good scissors and a knife as well. He loaded them onto his trolley and meandered back to the mess that had appeared from the mountain. In some ways this was all very exciting it would be delightful to have the mountains goods chutes open again. It was a little worrying though, because the good runs from the mountains tended to be heavier and he was nowhere near as young as he had been the last time that those jobs operated.

For the moment he hummed as he cut the boy out of the strange wreckage, then carefully levered the boys limbs so that he rolled smoothly and dropped onto the trolley neatly with the minimum of effort. He was then temporarily stumped as the boys limbs were hanging unhelpfully over the edges of his trolley. With some straps he secured the boy in a fetal position to the trolley.

Negham congratulated himself on his work and then shoved his trolley back towards the barge. It took all his might to get the trolley moving. Once alongside the barge he locked the wheels. Then with agility that didn’t match his advanced age, he sprung into the barge and swung its little crane into position.

In the end he decided it was easier just to load the whole trolley despite the extra weight. So once the corner hooks were attached to the trolley, he began the tedious job of raising the boy with the winch. Though it took a while the winch mechanism made easy work of raising the load. Negham could then easily swing the boy aboard the barge.

He carefully lowered the boy and secured him in what he hoped was a more comfortable position. Stretching the boy out along the deck as if he was sleeping seemed to be the best plan. Then just in case, Negham put a few light ties over him to keep him in position. The details mattered if you wanted to move cargo well.

Finally he considered the sun. The sails seemed to be casting enough shade over the deck already. So for the time it would take to reach the village the boy should be fine. If he didn’t make it back to the village alive, then it probably would have already been too late for him anyway.

He eventually got the boat to swing back out of the landing ramp and to catch the wind again to be guided down the river. The day now seemed even brighter as he relished guiding the boat along it’s path. Now he also had an oddity that was sure to make for lively conversation in the village for days to come.

In some ways the trip was over way too soon on such a beautiful day. But things would be just as interesting now that he was back. He guided the barge around another bend and saw a figure in a patterned shawl sitting at his villages small weir. It was Iris, calmly knitting in the shade of one of the storage buildings. As yet, she had not noticed the quiet ships approach.

He yelled out what was hopefully a playful greeting to her. She looked up and over her glasses at him. She called out that he was lucky he was in a good mood, otherwise she would have taught him some manners. She asked what had him in such high spirits.

As he pulled up he told her to come and see for herself. Meanwhile he expertly let the barge drift into position and secured it in place at the precise moment needed. With that marking the end of another successful trip he thanked the spirits. Iris had wandered over, so he pointed out his discovery.

She let out an ‘oh my’ as she saw the battered boy and asked where he had found him.

He explained that he’d found him wrapped in strange wreckage wrapped around a sled, at the bottom of the old goods shot. Both of Irises bushy grey eyebrow shot up, speechless. Matching this news up to his excited disposition, she could tell this was no joke.

He said he would grab the chief first for a change this time, to see what his thoughts were on the matter. He disappeared off, calling over his shoulder to politely ask if she could watch the barge till he got back.

The request was unneeded as she had already swung aboard to check on the boy. There was faint breathing and so she supposed that was a good thing. As she checked over the battered boy she thought something was a little strange.

There were signs of really severe injuries and impacts. Then also signs of scrapes that he should have bleed to death from. But somehow it seemed that they had all partially healed at the crucial spot, just enough to keep him stable.

She didn’t have any more time to ponder, as a small party with Negham and the chief approached. They were all sensibly dressed for the days work in cloaks and straw hats. There was also the pleasant sound of excited chatter. It was all to rare in the village these days.

The chief smiled and greeted Iris as they approached. Seeing the battered boy he ask for her thoughts. Surprising herself with her own perception she summed up that he seemed to have been through a serious challange and only survived potentially to a very clever regeneration skill.

The chief did a double take and he too could see that there was something strange to what looked like serious wounds, that had patches of unusual healing. He agreed that it wasn’t the work of an ordinary healing spell. After pausing he commented that it would be a strange ability for a temple throw-away to have. There was surprised chatter and noises of agreement.

The chief said they better get him to Hana quickly then. Iris thought that the girl might not be the best choice. But she guessed the boy was stable enough to survive the rough work of the girl. Maybe the chief wanted to see the girl. No that couldn’t be it. Maybe the chief wanted the boy to have a good impression of the village. Yes that seemed more likely.

Seeing her gaze he smiled. He said that it had been a long time since anyone had made it down the goods chute. Even if he could only give them information on how he did it, it would be well worth the cost of the healing.

But it would be amazing if he could get the tunnel repaired. It would bring life back to the village.

She smiled understanding. It was definitely nice to have at least a cautious sense of hope again.

Wehl 2024

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