The Hollow Hills of Nicholas County (part 2)
An Entry from Scoop's Diary
Welcome to the fifteenth issue of Sketchy Scoops! Your number one source for the most spurious content on the internet.
Scoop Reports: The Hollow Hills of Nicholas County (continued)
I followed the group of dwarves and Bessie through the narrow tunnel. The flickering light of the torch revealed tool marks that scarred the tunnel’s walls, ceiling, and floor. This entire passage had been carved by hand. I glanced at the pickaxes each of the dwarves carried and couldn’t imagine the amount of effort and labor that had gone into creating this passage. We walked in silence for some time. The only sound came from Bessie as she took long drags on her cigarette. You could see the tip of the cigarette flare bright red when she did and the glare from that flame cast her face in lurid shades of scarlet and orange.
We rounded a corner and the pathway opened a bit on each side. One side of the passage was damp with what must have been an eternity of seeping water from some hidden aquifer. The stones here had a rippled appearance like they’d been melted, but in reality it was a buildup of calcium or some other mineral as the waters flowed over the stone. The other side of the path was no less interesting. That side was dominated by crystalline structures and formations that caught the torch’s light and reflected it back to us with our every step. Far above, I could just make out the tips of stalactites overhead.
We came to a fork in the path and the dwarves muttered among themselves for some time. They spoke a language that was incomprehensible to me, but the way that several pointed down one path while two others insisted that they take the opposite passage helped me understand what was going on. Finally, the minority group won out… which surprised me. There must have been some status thing going on or social hierarchy at play because the other side clearly outnumbered the winners. Regardless, we took a left at the fork.
This path took us on an upward climb that really wasn’t treating my old lungs with any type of kindness or consideration. I was genuinely shocked to see how easily Bessie managed the climb given that she was several decades older than me, but she never uttered a word of complaint. She just kept puffing away on her cigarette and never missed a step.
We passed a cluster of abandoned gear. Pickaxes and shovels that had all but gone to rust. Lanterns that had been dinted or caved in entirely. They were scattered in a haphazard manner in a side room that broke off from the main tunnel. The dwarves kept marching straight past it, but Bessie made them stop.
“I want him to see this,” she said as she stepped into what seemed to be an alcove. I followed her and she led me straight to the wall and I couldn’t believe what I saw. It was massive. Like bigger than a school bus massive. Before she called it to my attention it looked like a series of bumps and ridges, but once she told me to really look at it I understood what I was seeing.
It was a massive skull… except it wasn’t a skull. This creature appeared to have gone to sleep yesterday. I stood directly in front of its massive, closed eye and once I realized what I was looking at, I took three steps back.
The dwarves chuckled at my obvious discomfort, but I didn’t care.
“They call it Morfa Vane,” Bessie said.
“What is it?” I asked.
“A sleeping dragon. Don’t wake it up.”
Just then one of the leader dwarves said something to Bessie and she told me that we needed to get going again. Apparently, we were on a schedule.
We crested whatever subterranean mountain we’d been climbing, and the passage ended abruptly. We stepped out onto the edge of a cliff. I looked down and realized we were at a dizzyingly high altitude… even if we were still underground. The drop below was precipitous.
The dwarves didn’t hesitate. They marched out onto the bridge and paid no heed to the groans of the aged board or the way the ropes seemed to visibly strain under their weight. I was a bit more circumspect.
Bessie saw my hesitation and pushed me forward. I kept my eyes locked on the far side of the chasm as I walked. The bridge bounced up and down with every step, but I kept moving. In fact, I sped up because I wanted to be off the bridge as soon as possible. Some of the dwarves had finished the crossing and were gathering on the other side. That made me feel a bit better because it meant there was less weight which, to my mind, meant the bridge was less likely to suddenly collapse. Regardless, I kept moving as quickly as I could in hopes of getting over as soon as possible… then, something smacked into the side of my head.
I swatted at the area and knocked something away from my face. Almost immediately, something flew back into my sightline. It was a tiny person. With wings! She was visibly angry and was shouting at me. I strained to hear her tiny voice and made out, “Can’t you see I’m flying? Watch where you’re going!” There were other phrases, but I couldn’t make them out.
By that point, Bessie had caught up with me. She apologized on my behalf and explained that I was new to the area. There was another string of what sounded an awfully lot like vulgarities and then the small creature flew off.
“Fairies,” Bessie said as if that explained everything. I wanted to stop to ask questions, but she pushed me forward and I started walking again. I smelled a cookfire and looked around to locate it.
For the first time, I looked down and came to a complete stop. I couldn’t believe my eyes.
Hundreds and hundreds of buildings had been constructed all along the sides of the chasm. Dozens of bridges crisscrossed back and forth to connect one clump of buildings to another. One particularly wide bridge had an extended platform and was home to a large marketplace. Even from this distance I could see piles of fresh produce, fish, and all manner of handmade crafts as well as colorful fabrics that fluttered in the breeze. As I stood there gaping, I saw clusters of children racing across some of the wider bridges chasing one another.
Each building had been created with its own set of idiosyncratic set of demands. Some were elaborate affairs that had no doubt been constructed for the primary purpose of showing off the wealth of its owners, but then right next to it would be the most modest of hovels. Several homes were made from rough-hewn stone and others had been constructed with polished wooden facades carved into elaborate and decorative patterns.
Several brightly colored flags hung from the different structures or from the bottoms of bridges. Some of the buildings had large symbols or patterns painted across their exteriors. I wasn’t sure whether those symbols were some form of heraldry or if it had a more utilitarian meaning like the flashing donut sign at a Krispy Kreme. Something to let strangers know they could get a hot meal or a warm bed at that establishment… or maybe it was meant to say “Go away!” As it was so foreign to me I had no way of divining its meaning.
I was astonished to see elevators moving up and down carrying people, livestock, and cargo from one level to another. Bessie caught me gaping and said, “There’s a river at the base of this chasm. They have a water wheel down there that raises and lowers the elevators.”
I examined the cavern walls and saw vertical gardens that had been built on a system of terraced platforms. Little dots of green amid so much stony gray. “Now, get moving,” she said. “The dwarves are already across and they’ll get grumpy if you keep them waiting.”
“But, what is this place,” I asked.
“It’s the village of Aberlyn,” she said. “It’s why they were arguing. The other path would have had us walking right through the heart of the city. There’s no way we could have got you out of that market in time. So, we took the high road. Now, scoot!”
I rushed through the last dozen yards and did so without taking out any other fairies or being distracted by the bustle below. Once we were on the other side, the dwarves set off again, but now they were marching faster. Apparently, I had dallied too long and so we were going to sprint the rest of the way to our destination.
Fortunately, that destination was just down a flight of stairs and a right turn away. A large orange pennant was bolted into the side of the cliff. The fabric was decorated with a white starburst. Right next to the pennant was an opening that had been carved into the side of the mountain. One of the dwarves opened the door and the air filled with the sound of boisterous conversation, lively music, and raucous laughter. I followed the dwarves into a room filled with tables and hundreds of people. The smell of all of the hot food made my stomach growl, but even that wasn’t enough to distract me from all of the wonders that filled this room.
It was the crowd. It was an assembly of every creature and being from folklore that you’d ever heard of. There was even a mermaid cavorting in a massive pool that had been created for just that purpose? I guess. I don’t know. How in the world did a mermaid get to landlocked West Virginia. I turned to ask Bessie, but she just shook her head and said, “Keep moving.”
One of the dwarves gave the figure behind the bar a meaningful look. The satyr, for that’s what he was, nodded. He called someone over to whisper something to them, but we were walking again.
The dwarves led me through the common house and into a room in the back. There were already people inside waiting for us. I’m using the word people loosely here. Very loosely because one of the attendees was a spectral dog. The dog had no eyes, but the empty sockets glowed a baleful yellow.
Next to the dog sat an elderly man who didn’t look quite human. There was a shifting quality to him that at times made him appear to have feline characteristics and at other times made him look almost goblinoid. Strangest of all though were his eyes. He had goat eyes. He noticed me staring and gave me a lop-sided grin that didn’t immediately seem to be malevolent but made me not want to trust him for some reason.
Next to the old man, sat a an unnaturally pale woman wearing a tattered dress. It wasn’t quite in ribbons, but several parts had been torn and hung down in strips that seemed to flap in the wind even though there was no breeze in the room. Her hair was a disheveled mess.
The dwarves filed into the room. The dwarf who had insisted we take the high road sat next to the dog and petted the matted fur on its head. The dog made a low growling noise but seemed to enjoy the attention.
Bessie motioned for me to take a chair next to the woman. That was when I noticed an antique brass lantern sitting on the seat of the plain wooden chair. I went to move the lantern, but Bessie grabbed my arm in a vise-like grip. “Leave it there. Take the seat next to it.”
So, I did and just as I had sat down the door opened again. The satyr who had been behind the bar entered the room. He regarded each of us for a moment and then took a seat at the head of the table. A wave of noise from the crowd outside filled the room, but then the door closed of its accord, and we were left in silence once more. “I believe we are ready to begin. Would someone mind summoning Malik?”
I sat there waiting for someone to do this summoning, but then noticed the way the satyr was looking at me. “I’m sorry. Are you asking me to do something? I don’t know what you want me to do.”
Bessie leaned over and said, “The lantern. He wants you to rub the lantern.”
I looked down at the brass lamp and then back to Bessie. “You’re joking. Right?”
“You are sitting right next to the lamp,” the satyr said. “I would ask Morrigan, but she is incorporeal,” the satyr said. I noticed the pale woman glaring at me.
I picked up the lamp and tried not to think about getting three wishes as I rubbed at the side. A dark plume of smoke with a purple undertone erupted from the lamp’s spout and within seconds a Middle Eastern gentleman sat in the chair next to me.
“I’ll just take this,” Malik said as he pulled the lamp from my hand. “You may want to close your mouth before you catch flies, young man.” He placed the lamp on the table before him.
“Very well,” the satyr said. “We are assembled. I will introduce everyone to our newest guest, but before I do that, Bessie tell us about this recruit and why he may help our cause.”
Bessie pushed back from the table and stood. I had rarely seen her exhibit so much deference. She looked to each person around the table and said, “This is Sam Stirling. People call him Scoop. He has worked as a reporter, but recently attracted the ire of the Council. They have saddled him with the changeling. She watches his every move and is no doubt wondering where her charge is at this very moment. I believe he will help us in our cause because he has begun to understand how dangerous the council is and why they must not be allowed to continue to exert influence over the preternatural world.”
“And, what of you, Sam?” the satyr asked. “Do you believe that you can help our cause?”
All eyes were on me. “I… uh, I don’t…”
Bessie punched me in the arm. “Stand up,” she hissed through her gritted teeth.
I pushed my chair away from the table and stood next to Bessie. “I don’t know what your cause is or what you’re trying to achieve, but if you oppose the type of butchery I’ve seen the council employ, then, I want in.”
The satyr was visibly pleased by my blunt statement. He laughed and it was an infectious laugh. The mood of the room noticeably improved. I wondered if maybe there was something supernatural happening. Could his laughter be having that effect on us all? Even the pale woman who had seemed so morose almost cracked a grin. The dog’s tail was wagging furiously and the empty sockets where his eyes should have been glowed with an intensity that was like staring into the sun. “Well met, Sam. It sounds like you’ll fit in with our little group of dissidents. Let me introduce you to everyone.” The satyr stood and motioned to the dwarf. “This is Durrok.” The dwarf nodded at me.
“Next to him is Finnegan. You may not be familiar with his race, but he is a pooka. The dog that he keeps petting is a black shuck who answers to the name of Ash. Beside Ash we have the lovely Morrigan. She is of the banshee. And you’ve already met our resident djinn, Malik. I am Lykos. I own this establishment and as you have probably figured out I am a satyr. Together we are the leaders of the resistance to the council. We would like to welcome you to our number and see what we can do to end their tyranny. Now, we have much planning to do, but first, we must eat.”
He clapped his hands and the door opened. Several wait staff brought in platters full of food and flagons of various drinks. He lifted a glass to me as someone sat a tray of roast meat in front of me and said, “Welcome to the Revolution.”
A Note from the Editor
Be sure to tune in next week to follow the next exciting installment and to see how the revolution progresses.
Vive la révolution!