38
From this point on, the line between “Grace” and her scribe blurs.
I remember the purple water against my face, pulling me in, into the warm and bright realm.
We fell into a cavern, or so we thought at the time.
Stupidly, we looked around, at the glowing stones on the ceiling, at the burning ground, the magma.
There was a lava sea, brown sands with wreeling faces.
And the ghost floated into view.
It had great, grasping hands and dark red eyes.
A fire ball came out, and we jumped.
Grace and I landed just a block from the lava.
The floating island and the obsidian portal had been ruined.
Another fireball flew at our faces, but I wrenched Grace away from fighting, and took us into an cavern.
The heat made my face run with sweat, my hair soaked, and before long, I made the decision to go back to surface.
“We need sleep,” Grace murmured, “maybe that bitch gave us a bed?”
“Doubtful,” I murmured.
The Empress had give us a stack of cobblestone, an iron pickaxe, and a single gold ingot.
“Not much,” said I.
Something groaned behind us.
Whipping my hand around, my eyes caught a pig-man, its skin half torn off and green. It held a golden sword.
“A zombie,” said Grace. “I sense this is where the Empress got the idea.”
“Or perhaps they were her test subjects.”
We both knew we needed to kill the zombified pigman.
I grabbed the pickaxe, and slashed.
“Hurrrg!” It screamed.
I killed it, but its cry brought footsteps.
From underground came a dozen other pigmen, rampaging to kill us.
“This truly is Hell,” I said.
“No,” said Grace, “this is way worse. It’s real, to start.”
I broke some rocks, shut it back up, and continued, mining in the dark, for half day, until, after a few lava cave ins, I broke open to find open land.
In front of us was a black stone bastion, manned by a pigmen, this time not undead. They tended huge hogs, and bore golden addornments.
I pulled out my golden ingot, though I didn’t feel I knew why.
They eyed us suspiciously.
The squeaked and oinked. Several fingered their crossbows.
“E'll lauva thut.” Said one.
“Lust ina op ti!” They cheered.
“Women thunks aurouey tyyur.” Murmured one, a leader, carrying a big axe and fancier dressing.
“I am Grace the Great,” I said, in the villager tongue, though I was under no illusions that that was who I was.
“They not knows land tongue.” Said the brute. “Me know not much gooder, but you needs food yeah?”
“Yes.” I said, “I have this,” I pointed at the bar of gold, “and,” quickly switching the two, “this sword.”
The pigmen gasped.
“We like frongoplod.” Proclaimed the brute. “For sword you have food.”
He yelled something in the hell speech, and the pigmen seized one of their hogs, cutting it into meat strips, which they dipped in a fire, and then handed it to me.
Grace handed them the sword, though I could tell she didn’t want to.
“For this,” he held the gold, “you get the flint and steel.”
Once I handed them the last of the gold, they jumped at me.
Grace sprinted away, toward a great desert… the desert of the dead.
I remember the purple water against my face, pulling me in, into the warm and bright realm.
We fell into a cavern, or so we thought at the time.
Stupidly, we looked around, at the glowing stones on the ceiling, at the burning ground, the magma.
There was a lava sea, brown sands with wreeling faces.
And the ghost floated into view.
It had great, grasping hands and dark red eyes.
A fire ball came out, and we jumped.
Grace and I landed just a block from the lava.
The floating island and the obsidian portal had been ruined.
Another fireball flew at our faces, but I wrenched Grace away from fighting, and took us into an cavern.
The heat made my face run with sweat, my hair soaked, and before long, I made the decision to go back to surface.
“We need sleep,” Grace murmured, “maybe that bitch gave us a bed?”
“Doubtful,” I murmured.
The Empress had give us a stack of cobblestone, an iron pickaxe, and a single gold ingot.
“Not much,” said I.
Something groaned behind us.
Whipping my hand around, my eyes caught a pig-man, its skin half torn off and green. It held a golden sword.
“A zombie,” said Grace. “I sense this is where the Empress got the idea.”
“Or perhaps they were her test subjects.”
We both knew we needed to kill the zombified pigman.
I grabbed the pickaxe, and slashed.
“Hurrrg!” It screamed.
I killed it, but its cry brought footsteps.
From underground came a dozen other pigmen, rampaging to kill us.
“This truly is Hell,” I said.
“No,” said Grace, “this is way worse. It’s real, to start.”
I broke some rocks, shut it back up, and continued, mining in the dark, for half day, until, after a few lava cave ins, I broke open to find open land.
In front of us was a black stone bastion, manned by a pigmen, this time not undead. They tended huge hogs, and bore golden addornments.
I pulled out my golden ingot, though I didn’t feel I knew why.
They eyed us suspiciously.
The squeaked and oinked. Several fingered their crossbows.
“E'll lauva thut.” Said one.
“Lust ina op ti!” They cheered.
“Women thunks aurouey tyyur.” Murmured one, a leader, carrying a big axe and fancier dressing.
“I am Grace the Great,” I said, in the villager tongue, though I was under no illusions that that was who I was.
“They not knows land tongue.” Said the brute. “Me know not much gooder, but you needs food yeah?”
“Yes.” I said, “I have this,” I pointed at the bar of gold, “and,” quickly switching the two, “this sword.”
The pigmen gasped.
“We like frongoplod.” Proclaimed the brute. “For sword you have food.”
He yelled something in the hell speech, and the pigmen seized one of their hogs, cutting it into meat strips, which they dipped in a fire, and then handed it to me.
Grace handed them the sword, though I could tell she didn’t want to.
“For this,” he held the gold, “you get the flint and steel.”
Once I handed them the last of the gold, they jumped at me.
Grace sprinted away, toward a great desert… the desert of the dead.
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