Down the Rabbit Hole
Submission to Iron Age's "The Infestation" image prompt.
He heard talk of the Lords’ most valued pet that lived below in the abyss, under a constructed cavern cage. Its gates rarely opened, save for the few feasts so decadently decorated in silk and golden candelabrum offered. The last of opulence seen was a century ago, reminisced by one of the older tramps. Who, much like the others, sat in a despondent languor, teetering at the cracked edge of the hole as if looking into a mirroring whirlpool of that forgotten time.
Asher believed him. Though the man was gaunt and wiry, dressed in dregs, the exquisite small broach, construed of gold and clusters of diamonds, belied his tale was but an accurate one. And Asher had an eye for these things. For as a thief himself, he sought after such ornate jewels, yet his prizes are often profitless in an actual market. He looked below them, kicking a rock over, and waited for the inevitable contact. Nothing came.
The dust shifted around them and the gray sun in its depressing light kept the air stilted and cold. Asher brought his duster close about him, shivering, unused to the change in the temperature. The land of the Lords was certainly a desolate one, regardless of the listless denizens shuffling around the perimeter of the abyss. Asher estimated they were nothing more than shadows by the way of their moonstruck hungering for which cast them.
The towers the others bespoke and the pyramids soaring into the heavens, which sat among an evergreen jungle, were not to be found. All that remained was dirt and rubble, the Lords’ pet in slumber, and its immortal shadows.
The old man sharply eyed Asher, caressing his treasure. “What brings you here?” he croaked. “To mock our despair and ruination? Do not wake the Lords’ companion! There is nothing for you here, begone!”
Sheepishly Asher coughed a laugh, out of shock, most likely. He did not expect the shadow to speak straight at him and inculpate him.
“Oh, how little you think of me!” Asher quickly said. “I am but a wanderer, dear man, not a seeker of frippery or any sort of trivial venturing dangers. I would be a fool, a very crass one if I had only come here to spit and mock. And frankly, I am neither.”
The old tramp snarled. “Silver tongue too! Wanderer my foot… Just you stay clear, don’t come any closer! These are for the Lords, no one else.” He caressed his broach with a long, yellow finger. “I will wait for their return and protect, must protect! Must not let go…”
“I say, fellow man, you have nothing to fear from me, for I can see with mine own eyes you are the most devout of the Lords. I envy such devotion. If only I had your strength and master I could call upon.” Seeing the old tramp grumble in agreement, Asher withheld a smirk and continued. “That is why I have come to see for it myself. I wish to throw myself at the Lords feet-”
“You?!” spat the tramp. “Not on your mortal life, outsider! The Lords do not look at insects, they stamp them out for the pests, scourge, that they are!”
“You misunderstand,” Asher eased him, putting on a debonair smile. “Of course, I wouldn’t wish to sully and waste their goodwill on such as I. There is nothing a louse is capable of, but one thing. Do you know of it?”
“N-no?” The tramp raised a brow, curious to hear the answer while the thief savored the attention.
“Why, dear man, to aid in ridding of other pests! This is where the most devout of the Lords can grant a lowly thing that I am. For I hear the Lords’ companion has been without a feast for some time, and it is teeming with vermin. I can only imagine what the Lords’ friend is contending with.”
“I did not hear of this…”
“No, of course not,” Asher shook his head sadly. “And that is why I look to you.”
“Me?”
“Aye, for I need but enter through the caretaker’s tunnel, and deal with the scourge once and for all.”
“I know where it lies, but to bring an outsider…” the tramp doubted, muttering, “How do you know of the tunnel?”
It happened swiftly. Asher was now at his side, knelt before the old tramp. He flinched when Asher laid a hand on his shoulder with a tilted smile. The suddenness made him forget the reason for his doubts, more worried this stranger had come abreast.
“Please, dear man, I beg of you. As a loyalist to the Lords and my inability to even look upon such divinity, this is as close as I can come to it. Allow my mortal life to be given cleansing this vermin, and to serve the Lords’ companion.”
“All right, all right! Do not touch me!” The old tramp brushed him off and scrambled up on his feet. “Your funeral, the Lords’ companion, may very well not take to you anyhow.”
Asher got up from his knees, brushing away the dust, and smirked. “Guess you can call me a fool, then.”
The old tramp left him at the entrance of the caretaker’s tunnel. After showering him with grateful theatrics, Asher waited until he couldn’t hear the old man’s grumblings and finally breathed a sigh of relief. He turned, looking at the ingress. Two massive slates jutted out from the rock formation, possibly man-made with how vertical and smooth they slanted. It was surely a servant’s passage, meant to be hidden, not catching the eye of trespasser and noble alike. All the better, this time he would be careful, armed with the knowledge his prize remained untouched since the Lords fall.
He welcomed the cool air as he entered, walking along so his footsteps were as quiet as they could be. Allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, he grew enthralled by the shafts of light that found its way into the tunnel. Asher was aware of the ingenuity of the Lords and its people, but still, it was a stark contrast to what they had become.
Eventually, the tunnel twisted left and right, subsequently downward to an even colder level. Until Asher, unaware of the coming end, stopped altogether when he entered the cavern and saw a sleeping beast.
Or so he thought it to be a beast, but it was round and its skin slick. Two of its limbs tucked underneath it, a membrane formed on its protruding eyes. A nervous smirk ticked at the corners of Asher’s mouth as he gazed incredulously. The fallen Lords’ companion was a frog!
Yet from where he stood, he knew fully well the precariousness he’d be caught in if he were to wake the creature. Whatever ghastly animal or beast fed to this amphibian must have been monstrous and he, but a simple man, could easily be swallowed whole. So Asher backtracked, finding some dirt or mud, and slathered himself in it. It would do little when the creature woke, but he had to try something. Returning, he set his eyes on the dais, mostly the lectern that was oddly placed before it. There his prize was for the taking. Slowly, he crept toward it, keeping an eye on both.
It proved more difficult than he thought to move noiselessly. Every step was hazardous, bones here and there threatening to crackle and burst under his foot. The smell was horrific, like rotting fish, which was a strange afterthought, considering no sea or water was yet to be found. More remnants of the archaic were strewn, tattered silks, golden bangles, and jade baubles lined with sludge and mucus. Wooden, half-broken tables hailed a contraption used to hoist previous feasts.
After a strenuous effort on Asher, he finally came to the dais. Again struck with awe, he looked down at the beautifully intricate carvings. Every stone was an illustration of throbbing figures dancing during a peak of debauchery. As he climbed the steps, the pictures were making his head spin. For beautiful as they were, it was also nonsensical and random, intermixed with sacrifices and razing hell. The Lords were certainly not one of the light.
The distraction proved fatal. A loose stone jutted from his foot and he slipped, the debris falling, clunking downward. The ground rumbled, and a guttural whirring came from the underbelly of the now awoken amphibian.
Bulbous black eyes slit out open. They lingered on Asher like two giant, hovering orbs as he froze, holding his breath. The lectern was before him and embedded in the center was a colorless, briolette jewel. He too gazed upward, mouth agape. Covered from head to toe in mud, he prayed, hoping the thing couldn’t perceive him. It got up from its sleep bed, slamming its web feet as it wobbled.
Out from the darkness, spittle lurched as a red tongue protruded through amphibious lips. Words for what they were, but incomprehensible at first while Asher cringed. He dug a finger into his ear as if he searched for the meaning inside.
Bbblt! Skkast! The eyes bobbled up and down in agreement. Erbblar, trstablu, trespasser!
Asher couldn’t help but grin, catching the last word. It spoke! Which meant it could be reasoned with, and so he took that risky chance.
He cleared his throat. “Er, it seems this is all a misunderstanding. And uh… well, whatever you said before bears some repeating. Couldn’t catch it, you see-” Asher pointed at his ear with a sheepish laugh. “Shoddy transplant and all.”
“The insect speaks! Cannot see, blinded!” A whirring squeal and croaking erupted in surprise alike Asher, for they both could understand one another. Its tongue shot out, missing him like a shot in the dark. “Blasphemy! Cursed from above! Invasion? Where, whom!”
The ground reverberated under Asher and the eyes swiveled up and down, left and right, in a panic. It went off disparaging itself in all sorts of conjecture, burping and slurping. A terrible, rotten egg smell filled the cavern swiftly and Asher’s face squinted, choking down a gag. Yet making use of the chaos, he slyly slid forward to the lectern, placing his palm on the jewel. He grasped it.
A hot fume brushed his face, and he paled. Gulping, he looked up, and found those same lips, slavering with mucus and showering him with more of the sulphuric odor. He couldn’t help but go into a coughing fit.
“Fleshy bug! Stealing from us! Where does it hide?” Burped the amphibian. Clearly, it could hear him but wasn’t entirely sure where he was. “You leave, what we eat? Hm?! Not fair! No fair!”
“Good question and spot on point!” coughed Asher. “Better yet, best you don’t know where I am. I’m all but bones. Wouldn’t you want something tastier? And er, talking food causes a bad case of indigestion. What say you?”
“Ask it for a taste. Lick? Bite!” It burped. “Swallow!”
“Taste?” muttered Asher. The jewel still was in his grasp, his fingers caressing the edges. “You wouldn’t want that. The Lords will be upset if you get sick.”
“Lords!” it squealed, eyes swirling. “Where! Lonely we are, yes. Hungry… So hungry. Always protecting, always waiting. No one comes, nothing comes! Feast! Must, will, eat anything, even bugs! Get in!”
The mouth opened wide, and inside was a vacuous and festering hole. Grey secretion strings jangled down from the top and sides. Its vomerine teeth had long gone and decayed, below its tongue was a bright red, spitting doom and peril.
“Er, wait, wait!” muffled Asher in between holding his breath and wiping teary eyes. “I’ve got something better than a bug! Fills the belly from head to toe!”
It moaned, whining as it slowly shut its mouth. With a gasping relief, recovering air, Asher flashed a meek grin, leaning on the lectern nonchalantly.
“There now,” he said, gulping. “We’re civilized, aren’t we? Having a bit of a chat before supping makes the meal much tastier with a good conversation in tow. You see here, it took me some time to come here. Your Lords sent me after all.”
“Sent?” It croaked. “Above, above! Not below.”
“Precisely, meal comes from above.”
The squishy eyes bulged, confused.
“Meaning, I’m your friend, dinner mate! Companion!”
“Companion! Wrong, wrong,” it puffed its cheeks. “Lords only, eaten others!”
“Ah, but you are lonely, are you not? The Lords are smart and all-knowing. For you see, they could not come themselves. Busy Lords are, as you know, but to leave a dear friend, all down here alone, they wanted to send their regrets with presents. Me! And a feast soon after!”
“Where, where!” It went searching for something to fall above them. Unbeknownst to it, a devious plan formed in Asher’s mind. To the point, he almost couldn’t contain himself from gleeful titillation. He jiggled the jewel again, a bit more arm strength would do it but he would need both hands. He turned, reaching into his pocket, fingers touching smooth metal.
“Bug! When feast! Too long!”
A sly smile spread wide on Asher’s face. “How about a bit of a light show?”
“Sho-” The creature’s words cut short, awed by the flick of light appearing out of nowhere. It had never seen such a thing.
So many revelries happened all at once, a talking bug, the Lords sending presents, and now this strange, fuzzy orange light. For it couldn’t see clearly what it was, nor of the other blurry thing holding it. Holding? The eyes swiveled, watching the orange fuzz shimmer over the insect. A few distinctions came through, first a lean outline much smaller than a normal bug. It was certainly bony like the insect said, but fleshy, as it caught a glance of the hand seemingly cupping the flame. A wry white curl unfolded, glinting as if it were a floating smile.
Then a red stick met with flame, it crackled and flew high above. Instinctively, the creature shot out its tongue, catching it. Asher, with deft hands and all his might, freed the jewel and bounded for the tunnel exit. He looked behind him, right as the frog was about to leap, now that it caught the thief in its line of view. At that instant, its left cheek bulged. Asher grinned, spurring himself into a sprint.
The explosion ruptured within the amphibian’s mouth and it started spitting, hacking as if it was suffering from a burning pepper. Its eyes started tearing, and more mucus slung out from its mouth and nose as it hawked up the residue of the explosive. It gobbled dirt and detritus thereafter, stowing the heat away instantly, and swung round to get the insect that dared to trick the Lords’ pet.
Yet it found nothing. Little did it know that what it was meant to protect had been stolen, forever lost, much like its master.