Corrivack could hardly call itself a village.
The terrain had started getting hilly as the group finished the latter half of their walk from Sewch to Corrivack, and by the final mile it was more bouldering than walking. When they found Corrivack, it was because they stepped on it.
“It’s got to be around here somewhere,” said Vit, who had just clambered to the top of a rocky knoll to scan the land around them. The others filed up to join them.
“Let me see…?” said Azriah, leaning over to look at the map. “Are you sure…” he looked off to their right, pointing vaguely.
Root looked down to see Beel rolling a rock across the ground. It clunked along with an ock!clockock!unk. He lifted it in his stubby hands and tossed it down a hole, where it disappeared with another series of scraping, clacking noises that sounded like a muffled voice shouting: “What the hell!”
A moment later, something marched its way out from around the far side of the knoll.
“Excuse me—excuse me!”
The four of them looked down.
It was a little spirit—knee height, with skin grey and jagged like the rocks all around. She had huge horns that stuck out straight to either side, giving her a stature that would demand tailored doorways and button-up shirts only. She peered up at them with mica eyes that still, somehow, managed to display anger.
“Hey there!” said Vit, who apparently couldn’t parse stony features from stony features. “We’re looking for Corrivack. Do you know which way it is?”
“Yeah, I do—how about you quit stomping all over it and throwing rocks down my damned chimney!”
Vit looked down. “Oh—this is Corrivack?” they asked, tapping the rock underfoot to indicate it. Immediately, they looked sheepish. “Er—sorry about that.”
“This is the place,” said the spirit. “Now get down, get off.” She waved her arms until they started their descent. “Stupid wildlife.”
Around the far side where the spirit had emerged was an open entrance between a couple of boulders—no doors necessary, then, a lucky break for the spirit’s pocketbook. Torchlight wafted out from the inside, dimly lit but looking quite cozy with fine rugs and something sweet-smelling bubbling over the fireplace. Root hoped it hadn’t been ruined by the addition of Beel’s secret ingredient.
Azriah looked around. “Is this the only building?”
“Course not! It’s a village, ain’t it?”
“Right. So where—?”
“Well, I’ve got my neighbors right there,” said the spirit, pointing at another unmarked knoll.
“Of course, silly me.”
“And we’ve got three other homes—there, there, and there.” The spirit kept pointing at simple mounds of piled boulders or rocky hills.
“And… this looks like a lovely… shop,” said Vit, sizing up another nearby hill.
“That’s just a pile of rocks you dolt!”
Root shrugged. “We can’t all have an entrepreneurial eye.”
“Five homes, only other building is that big one there—that’s the Corrivack building.”
“What’s that mean?” asked Vit.
The spirit rolled her eyes. Too much of that, and erosion might grind them to flakes. “You know, a shared space? Public house and market and living room all rolled into one.”
“Ah. Thank you. I guess… we’ll head over that way, then? Sorry again for the disturbance.”
The spirit grumbled and sidled sideways back into her home.
Now that they knew what to look for, the signs appeared as if from beneath a dispersed illusion. Little farm patches lay here and there, wherever there was a spot of soil. Cold remnants of campfires dotted the higher points and tools leaned by what must’ve passed for front entryways. They trod carefully towards the Corrivack building hill and searched for a way inside.
Their first attempt led into a tiny, dark, dead-end hollow between three boulders. Embarrassed, they stepped back out into the surrounding yard. Their second attempt was more successful, and they soon found themselves in a wide, low room.
Candles lit the space, which was surprisingly warm and homey. Thick carpets and sitting cushions covered the floor. Short tables offered space to eat and play games. A more traditional bar counter took up one corner, but in place of a designated kitchen it seemed the food prep and serving surfaces were all one and the same, with diners, cooks, and a bartender all intermingling. At the far end, near another entrance, a wide staircase curved down into the stone to a lower level out of sight.
The building’s activity bustled in the evening rush, much livelier than Root would’ve expected for a village of five homes. Spirits both similar to the one they’d angered and vastly different milled about as they ate and chatted and played a game involving many, many sharp sticks and unfortunately loud bouts of hammering and cheering. But they seemed to be enjoying it.
Azriah nodded his head towards the bar. “Dinner and some drinks, maybe, while we see if we can’t find ourselves some solid directions?”
The others agreed, and they squeezed themselves into an empty stretch of counter after ordering four plates of the evening’s special and a round of drinks.
The spirit beside them looked like the one outside—short, stony skin, big horns (though his angled out and backwards off his head), and glassy eyes. A thinning patch of lichen grew from his scalp. He did a double take at the four of them when they sat down beside him.
“Ahhh… visitors! Haven’t seen you folks ‘round here before—newtuh Corrivack?”
“First time through,” said Vit with a nod. They handled the introductions. The spirit introduced himself as Chert.
“This is a nice little village you’ve got out here,” said Azriah. “I’m surprised by the rowdiness in here—we were told on our way in that there are only five houses.”
“Ah, yeah, yeah, but a housecan hold alotta folks, see!” said Chert with a grin. Wooziness pivoted him in the faintest of circles as he sat on his stool with his stumpy feet kicking at the open air. “I live with… uh, fifteen others, I do.”
“Wow,” said Vit. “That’s a lot of roommates. But I bet you almost never have to do the dishes—that’s a lengthy chore rotation.”
“Oh, please, I do dishes every day! You ever metta roommate who washda dish? And that’s sayin’ a lot, ‘cause otherwise I liketuh keep a pretty sedentary lifestyle too, you knowwut I mean?” He grinned a quartzy grin.
“Hm, I would’ve thought igneous,” said Vit with an appraising look.
“So, you folks—bouny hunners, must be,” said Chert with a twinge of something Root couldn’t place in his voice—something besides the alcohol, which slurred through the words as more than a twinge. He gulped something opaque and silty from a hefty stone cup.
“No, just passing through,” said Azriah.
“No?” Chert looked deeply confused by this, like he’d considered no other option. He scratched his head with a dull grating sound. “Huh. Well, youanna be?” He pointed a rocky finger back towards the door they’d entered through. Bulletins and posters blanketed a section of the wall like papier-mâché. “The prison out yonder posts an uptudate wan’ed list in all the nearby settlements. Lots of bouny hunner types come through to check ‘em—or else dragging who-knows-what with ‘em.”
One of the cooks arrived with four stone plates of food: beets, greens, small cuts of salted pork, and a heavy smothering of onions all drowned under a thick sauce. From the first bite, Root couldn’t help but notice a mysterious grainy crunch. While she couldn’t confirm the source, she wasn’t quick to rule out “sand.” Perhaps it was an understood consequence of living underground, or perhaps the cooks just didn’t wash their hands. Or, of course, maybe their sort just needed a higher mineral intake from their diets. The bartender deposited their drinks as well—something called “allevium,” which Root found to be earthy but sweet and surprisingly strong.
“It’s a real shame,” said Chert. “A real, real shame, that prison. I mean, why’d they hafta go and put it here, right in our backyards! Bringing in dangerous criminals from all over—bringinem here. Really, why not put them—I don’t know—…—…” Chert opened and closed his mouth a few times, each time cutting off the budding suggestion with a bout of bleary blinking. Vit leaned over and peered into his nearly-drained cup.
“What are you drinking, there?”
“Slurry.”
“Yeah, that’s why I’m asking.”
“Setoterra, maybe,” finished Chert. “Yeah! Not here. Dragging our property values down.”
“Yeah,” agreed Root through a mouthful of food. “Too close. It’s probably… how close to here, you’d say?”
“Not even two miles!” said Chert, shaking his head. A bit of lichen flaked off and fell into his drink, but he didn’t appear to notice. “You can just about see it from here—tall folks, at least, if you get to a highanuff hill where the others don’t block the view.”
“And if you’re looking left-east,” started Azriah. “It’s probably… further north? Or south?”
Chert gave him a funny look. “Left-east? What—you folks midlanders?” He shook his head. “No respect for the cardinals. Jus’ because they been asleep all year? Roundere we don’t bother with that ridiculous term. We jussay ‘hesp.’”
Root shot a look at Vit and Beel. “There was an alternative to left-east this whole time and you never mentioned it?”
“I didn’t know,” said Vit, their hands up defensively.
“Oh yeah,” said Beel. “I forgot.”
“Well, I’m using it.”
“But you’d be looking due hesp,” said Chert to Azriah. “Slightly zuth. Easy path right from Corrivack.” He shook his head again. “I remember back before they builtit, you know. Yeah, back when we had some peace and quiet in this village. Real shame. Capsoul bastards.”
Vit shrugged. “But, you know, if there’s going to be a prison nearby, might as well be that one, no? Since they imprison spirits by possession, right? So it’s not like the inmates can get loose and come here. Er, right?” They looked at the others.
“Well, still!” said Chert. “Funny thing, that—you know, must beethuh easiest prison in the worlds to break out of! Right? Since none of those criminals can move—puh-ssession and all. Kinda funny, yeah? The hard part would be getting in.”
“Right,” said Azriah.
“Funny,” said Root flatly.
“But it’s a good thing no one wantsta get in.”
“Agreed,” said Beel with a stern look at the others.
“If you’ll excuse us,” said Azriah, wiping his mouth, “I think we’re going to take a quick look at your announcements board over there.” He stood and motioned for the others to follow.
Vit nodded. “We’re hoping you’ve got a karaoke night coming up; we’re actually a traveling troupe of singers, and—all right, all right, I’m coming!”
At the wall, Azriah grabbed a scroll with a lengthy list of names printed in tiny handwriting. Hundreds—maybe thousands. He spoke while he read.
“All right, so we know exactly where we’re headed now—we’ve got the directions to Capsoul’s base of operations. But is a prison break…?”
“We need him,” said Root.
“I disagree,” said Beel.
“What if we just talk to him?” suggested Azriah. “Hell, Capsoul might even let us do it if we come up with the right angle. Aren’t there… you know, visiting hours?”
“No need to sneak around,” said Vit with a conceding nod.
Root scoffed. “No. Come on, you think he’s just going to tell us everything we want to know?”
“No way to guarantee he’ll tell us regardless,” said Azriah.
“Sure, but if we’re offering to bust him out of there, that’s gotta be enticing at least. Plus, what are we gonna do, draw a map while we chat? Mark every trap and entrance and get detailed accounts of how to locate and unlock every hidden door? We need him with us, it’s the only way this works.”
Azriah rolled it back and forth in his head. “Fine, yes, I take your point. We need an angle though.”
“A way in,” said Vit. “Because once we’re in, sounds like it’s all a breeze from there.”
“I wouldn’t call running a prison break on one of the most secure containment facilities in Atnaterra a breeze,” said Beel.
“Call it a monsoon, then,” said Root. “Doesn’t matter.”
“I was thinking something more like ‘stupid.’”
“Krete invited us to join up,” said Vit. “Maybe an interview would get us inside.”
“Yeah,” said Azriah. He was half-listening as he read. “Suspicious when we skip out of there and don’t follow back up, though.”
“Maybe we got a better offer from their competitor?”
“With a dental plan,” said Root, nodding.
“Got it,” said Azriah. He pointed to something on the list. “Our key to entry.”
Root leaned in to get a better look. The list was long, but orderly. The top had a list of a dozen or so names set aside as priority captures—huge bounties, but certainly huge risk. Of them, Root only recognized one name: Lam, the Miracle Eater.
The vast lower section seemed to have been ordered roughly according to priority and payout, judging by a quick scan of the rewards. Azriah pointed to one around a third of the way down.
Halwlau the Gorger. Reward: 7 helixes. Location: unknown—last seen in the Beltland Woods around the time of the Great Pickling.
“Location unknown,” said Vit.
“Sounds like they’d be interested in a tip,” said Azriah. “And, while we’re there, maybe a chat about the organization—see if we’re interested in joining.”
“That could work,” said Root.
Azriah nodded. “We’ll have to iron out the details, but yes. I think that’s our way in.”
“And our way out?” asked Beel.
“You heard Chert,” said Root. “It’ll be the easiest prison in the worlds to break out of.”
“Here you are, then,” said Teph, sliding heaping bowls of food across the long table. Twelve roommates, and she always ended up in charge of feeding them all—and they didn’t even thank her by doing the dishes! She turned back to the fireplace to dish up another batch, taking care not to bludgeon the others with her horns as she turned.
“Marb got more carrots than me!” whined Gossan. “You know carrots is my favorite part!”
“Hey—hey, no!” yelled Marb’s rumbly voice. He’d fallen off the roof a few years back and it’d dislodged some bits of his windpipe, and now they rattled all around whenever he spoke. “Quit sticking your spoon in my bowl!”
“You have to share the carrots!”
“Don’t you know what Teph says?” said Marb. “‘You get what you get and you get upset anyway but it all evens out because everyone’s upset.’ You have a bigger biscuit. I want a bigger biscuit.”
“Fine, I’ll trade biscuits if you’ll give me some carrots.”
“No!” said Stoggo. “Trade biscuits with me, mine’s even smaller than Marb’s!”
“Well, I want more gravy,” piped up another voice.
“I wish we were having peas,” whined another.
“Yeah, this is yucky.”
“I think there’s an eyeball in mine!”
“You guys are all lucky,” said Slow Bal. “All I got is a rock.”