Will To Survive

by Zephyr Spark

Part 6 Paradise or Prison?

Spike had to admit, he was proud of himself. Not only had he collected enough water to last a siege, but he even managed to fortify his cave base with spears and various booby traps that only he would know how to avoid. Among those traps, Spike dug several small holes, lined their sides with hand-sized sharpened stakes, and covered the pit with a layer of moss and sand; he made tripwires that would release sore fruit liquid on helpless victims. Apparently, he wasn’t the only one who disliked the taste (or possibly the (to him) odorless smell) of sore fruits; Big Cow visibly cringed when Spike offered him the plant, Pinchy shuffled away, and several beetles scurried away from the fruit. He finally found a use for the sore fruit juice as a repellent, prompting him to drench the cave, and the barricade in the foul liquid. He would have drenched himself, but he didn’t want to risk any potential longterm effects. In addition, he created a barricade to place on the entrance utilizing a combination of wonder moss (the long overdue name he gave the regenerative moss), bark, gemstones, cobwebs, and sore fruits. All of this served to deter rather than maim his foes. The stakes holes would only injure a leg, barely even sharpened to pierce skin, and every other tool should ward off intruders.

While out exploring, Spike discovered a black berry by the pond, capable of producing an inky substance when squashed. Eager to test it out, he retrieved a few of what he now called inky berries. Back in the cave, Spike pressed his weight onto the boulder, crushing the berry beneath to a juicy pulp. Retrieving a small twig, he dipped the edge into the residue and turned to the cave wall. He drew a crude map of Underworld, from the beach to the gem quarries, and pond, marking locations for supplies. It was small, crude, and inadequate. But given the circumstances, it was immeasurably useful.

With all of this gear, Spike turned to exploration. He had to find something that could help him get home. Hopefully, he might discover a tunnel back to the surface or a paper-substance so he could send a message to Princess Celestia. Anyways, he needed a backup base, in the event the cave was compromised. Lying on his mossy bed, Spike considered where to start his exploration. He was reluctant to return where he first encountered the scaly, hairy beast that chased him. Even with his equipment, that monster could destroy him in seconds. Plenty of creatures could annihilate him given the chance, but the monster could do worse. Spike knew it; he didn’t know how, but he knew it. The monster seemed worse, unnatural, as though it was the alien in this world. So for now, he decided to give it a wide berth. He turned his attention to the beach where he arrived. Crafting a map of Underworlds’ borders seemed logical, and where better to start than the beach?

From his armory, Spike sheathed a spear on his back, two red gemstone daggers and a gemstone axe on his hip belt beside two water canteens, a pouch carrying gemstones for eating and inky berries, in the event he found paper, and a canteen of sore fruit juice. He left the cave, carefully sidestepping around his traps, and entered the forest, travelling south.

This path seemed uniform to the rest of the forest; tall, mossy trees; plentiful vegetation ranging from clovers, ferns, lichen, and untold mysteries; brown, decaying leaf litter covering a rich, muddy surface when plants did not grow; divine glowing tendrils hanging from far above; grey boulders melding into the forest floor; and a canopy constantly obscuring the distant cave ceiling. Yet, something felt different to Spike. Where shadows once darted, he discerned palpable, peaceful creatures. The hazy undergrowth no longer obscured monsters exacerbated by his imagination. Symphonies of cricketing and whistling became earnest and innocent. Spike wanted to feel at ease, but he just didn’t trust Underworld, not after its denizens tried to eat him. Of course, those were only two denizens and they were unlikely to represent the entire jungle. Even though he made some semblance of peace with Finger-face, he knew she would see him as a meal when next they chanced to meet. The monster that harshly introduced him to Underworld still plagued his memories, tainting his mind with vivid fear.

Shaking himself, Spike climbed over a rotting log impeding his path. He was being paranoid. There was no point in mistrusting every rock, every shifting shadow, and every tree. These creatures were not Underworld as a whole. Be afraid of them: certainly, that's smart. Be afraid of the forest: well, he highly doubted this log wanted to eat him, but stranger things have happened. He turned his attention back to climbing. Gripping his talons into the fungus-infested wood, he hoisted himself to the peak and rose to his feet. Removing fungus from his fingers, the dragon reflected on the irony; soon, he would place his fingers back in the bark. His ears perked. A sound betrayed a creature behind him. Quickly, he rolled away from the sound and drew his spear. His eyes narrowed

The monster before him had six legs on one long, ovular, ringed body. Despite only just reaching Spike’s head, this beast had an oversized, spherical, reddish-brown head sporting fierce black sickle mandibles and four antennae, two situated on the top of its head near the mandibles, and the other short two beneath, creating a beard of fingers. It snapped its mandibles and approached. Spike thrust his spear, halting the creature. Now, it knocked its head and mandibles on the log, generating an eerie knocking sound. Slowly, the drake moved to the edge of the log ready to jump, when his heightened senses detected presence near his back. He leapt away to find another monster, a replica of the first climbing from under the log to join its comrade.

Against just one, Spike was fairly confident in his abilities and weaponry. But two, and he felt less certain. As the duo charged, Spike thrust his spear once again. Beyond them, he noticed two shapes surging towards him. To his right and left, more monsters rose and, turning this skirmish into a one-sided battle. Grimacing, he raced to the edge, jumping past the snapping jaws and lunging with his spear when necessary. With every second, another soldier beast emerged, threatening to surround him. As he ran, Spike drew a red gemstone knife and triggered its blinding aura. To his dismay, the swarm did not halt for a moment. Even when his flame breath scoured the air, they did not falter. Nearing the edge, Spike prepared to jump, but five monsters rose to block his path. As the swarm closed in, he had nowhere to run.

Incapable of defending himself from the onslaught, Spike’s heart raced, thundering in his chest. All around him, jaws opened or knocked on the log. Sweat dripped down his forehead as his brilliant mind that brought him through everything thus far failed. He had nothing. All around him, mandibles closed shut. But Spike felt nothing. The mandibles snapped at his mossy armor, but could not penetrate. So, they grabbed him. Spike’s knife and spear fell from his grasp. His arms pinned, groped for his remaining dagger. Instead, they closed around a spherical object.

Use your weapon, Spike! Create an opening and get out of there!

His weapon! Spike had almost forgotten the sore fruit juice. Stretching his fingers, he plucked out the plug and let the fruit fall from his belt. The liquid had an immediate reaction. The creatures around him promptly released him, backing away from the skunk concoction. Seizing the opportunity, Spike grabbed his spear, withdrew his knife, and flung more sore fruit juice at the swarm. They widened their berth, giving him a clear escape route. He raced to the spot, but a few monsters ran to intercept him, ignoring the foul liquid. Sheathing the sore fruit, Spike grasped his spear in both hands and clumsily pole-vaulted over the snapping jaws to the forest floor, landing in a heap. Leg groaning in protest, he struggled to his feet and limped away, turning over his shoulder to find the creatures still making their war cries, long after he was out of sight.

Having put distance between himself and the log, Spike collapsed, panting. When his pulse steadied, he berated himself. If he had been paying more attention and inspected the log prior to leaping on it, none of this would have happened. Honestly, why didn’t he just walk around the blasted thing? Would that really have been more difficult than climbing? Recklessness had nearly killed him. Served him right: he became overconfident in his abilities, and Underworld caught him off guard.

He glanced at the sore fruit on his hip. Empty now, Spike chucked the fruit away. Perhaps he could have recycled it for a canteen, but his rational mind was overruled by his mounting frustration and panic. In the distance, he heard the sounds of rolling waves on a shore. He still intended to map out Underworld. He just had to be more careful in the future. Assuming he lived long enough to have a future.

Taking a moment to rest, Spike rubbed his aching leg trying to soothe it. A snap from the undergrowth and his alert body forgot the ache. Drawing his spear, he aimed it at the leaf litter. A six-legged creature emerged, but not like the ones in the log. This creature had a grey, curved body, plated like an armadillo. Where its head should have been, two antennae poked around. Keeping his spear trained on the intruder, Spike issued a warning growl. The creature quickly flipped to its side and coiled into a sphere, hiding its many legs and antennae in the folds of its armor. So, this creature wasn’t a predator? Spike didn’t want to chance it. Working around the Armadillo-Thing, Spike continued his growling until he reached the other side and put distance between them.

He cautiously backed away from Armadillo-Thing, who remained cloistered in a ball, until Spike was nearly out of eyeshot. Within a few minutes, Armadillo-Thing opened its underbody and squirming legs, grabbed hold of the floor and walked off. Once upon a time, Spike would have admired the creature’s defense mechanism and tried to copy it, but now his unease intensified. What other less-benevolent beasts did this forest keep behind its leafy jail bars?

Perhaps, they were all just being trying to survive in this hostile world like the praying mantis or himself. Perhaps, another time and place, they would all be gentle giants. But the facts remained: plenty of monsters wanted to eat him and their survival depended on his death. Shifting through the leaf litter and overgrown clovers, Spike made his way to the distant ocean churning. This time, he kept his spear drawn and ready.

At the slightest sensation of danger, Spike whipped his spear towards the sound. His mounting paranoia enhanced those sensations into his reality. Spike was incapable of walking five feet without something setting him off, be it a dissonant sound in the forest symphony or a rustle in the undergrowth. At complete odds with this world, Spike spurned its feigned beauty, convincing himself that beneath this feigned magnificence dwelled a truly wretched, vile monster. When he tripped on an extended root, his foot remembered its all too unbearable aching. Using the shaft of his spear, he rose to his good foot and hobbled to a nearby stone. After vigorous inspection, he rested on the seemingly trustworthy boulder. He didn’t like being out in the open like this. Any second, some new beast would mercilessly slaughter him. He was fodder, he was helpless, he was –

Calm down. How do you intend to detect your enemies if your mind isn’t clear?

Spike’s eyes darted through the forest, from the leaf litter to the tree trunks to the canopies. No sign of the source of the voice. He tried rising to his feet, but his stubborn foot refused, forcing him to remain seated. Spike clenched his teeth, forcing himself to calm down. That was probably just Sir Knight giving him advice as always.

No, it had to be Sir Knight’s voice; no “probably” about it. Why was he suddenly afraid of the voice? He’d been hearing it since … since … ? Since he fell into the ocean, before he met Sir Knight. That voice and Sir Knight’s voice were the same, no? But then, how did he hear the voice when he was drowning underwater? Why did it pierce through his illusions on the beach and spur him onwards? Better yet, where was the voice coming from? His brain couldn’t tell: conflicting memories placed the voice midst the forest, whispering beside his ears, or directly in his head. He became frustrated with the voice. Why did this voice prevail in warning him to the mantis but not to the sickle-faced beasts? And were the voice and Sir Knight truly one and the same? His memories of both voices disagreed but then agreed only to disagree before agreeing in a vicious cycle.

This was ridiculous. It didn’t matter if the voice was Sir Knight or just his imagination. So far, it had been helping him and that was all he needed to know. He could not decide whether Underworld was a breathtaking paradise with some cruel inhabitants or a baleful penitentiary that corrupted its inmates into beasts. But he knew that voice was the only reality he could believe down here, and Sir Knight his only friend.

He sighed, leaning back on the rock to gaze at the canopy. Wherever Sir Knight or the voice watched him from, he wondered if they could also see the starry, blooming world around them. Despite his near-scrapes with death, this sight was enchanting. It was truly a magnificent sight to behold, even with the nastier jungle denizens. Besides, there were plenty of gentler creatures, like Big Cow, Pinchy, and Armadillo-Thing. And none of those beasts pursued him to the end; the brown claw-tailed monster left him alone, Finger-face let him go when he slid down the rope, the Sickle-heads halted their assault once he left the log, and even the first behemoth he encountered stopped chasing him once it lost interest. That didn’t make him any less terrified of them or shudder at recollecting their encounters, but it made him pause before condemning them all.

Spike’s eyes narrowed in thought before jumping with epiphany. With the exception of that behemoth, every creature he’d encountered thus far was a supersized insect. There were giant crabs, scorpions, mantises; he bet many of the other creatures were just massive bugs he didn’t immediately recognize. How had they all grown so big? Once again, he reminded himself that was not his area of expertise. Nevertheless, he postulated that the tree of harmony could have unintentionally imbued several of these creatures with unnatural growth while ensuring their new bodies would not kill them. Perhaps, the insects had already been here and they just nibbled on those glowing tendrils, which could have been the tree of harmony roots for all he knew, triggering their growth. Inevitably, all of his hypotheses involved the tree of harmony, but he reminded himself correlation was not causation. Underworld could have been created by completely unrelated, serendipitous events. Either way, he was an insect in an insect world.

His leg aches dulled, Spike rolled off his perch and continued to the beach. The ache in his leg extended into his joints, but it was far more tolerable. He just had to walk it out. Plenty of time for that. Passing fallen flowers, he noticed light dancing on the skirts of the forest shadows. With each step, the light became brighter, reflecting a vibrant white aura from the distant ocean into the trees.

In the distance, he saw the tree-line ebb. Beneath him, the soil grew sandier with each step. Finally, Spike took a step onto the beach. A few meters of sand extended before sinking into the rising crystal waves. Light blue stars fallen to earth dotted the shining blue waves lapping at the surface. Spike poked his spear at the rising currents. His spear made an imprint that the ocean colored with its starry, speckled hue. Glancing up, he noticed the shimmering webbed strands hanging from the ceiling and wondered whether they were responsible for this ponderous marvel. A chill down his spine and he realized the breeze was far more powerful here than elsewhere. Considering his proximity to the ocean, it seemed logical. That reminded him to gauge the vastness of this water body.

Turning his gaze outwards, he realized the crystal waves extended for miles before touching the horizon. No end in sight. There went his idea of building a boat to sail away. Shifting his gaze, he noticed to the right shore, the sand diminished, retreating to the advancing tides for several miles, before sharply rising into a rocky, grey, orange striped precipice far above the knocking waves. At the top of the plateau, pine trees covered the edge before melding into the forest, flaunting the waves from their tower. All of which meant he wasn’t going that way.

A few miles ahead on his left, Spike vaguely recognized where he first washed up on Underworld; a place where the forest, sand, and ocean existed in equilibrium, respecting the others’ boundaries. Beyond that, the sand pushed back the ocean and the forest, growing wider and wider. The sand stretched out like the ocean, touching the cave horizon in the distance with no end in sight. But Spike knew better than to trust his eyes. For all he knew, there could be a perfect route leading back to the surface. Then again, the sand could just become a barren desert where he would lose his way and perish. Or get eaten. He rubbed his chin in thought. As long as he kept close to the shore, he should be able to find his way back. If he kept his guard up, he should be able to fend off most creatures. Hopefully. Still, getting lost was a potentially dangerous possibility that he had not anticipated.

“I really need to make a compass,” Spike thought out loud. “I’ll put that next on the mental list.”

Step by step, Spike carefully proceeded across the sand ocean, keeping the shore close to his right and his spear at the ready. Underworld didn’t have anything he couldn’t outsmart, yet. Still, there was much more to explore, likely other creatures inhabiting those uncharted areas, and he was growing increasingly tired. He could solve the last issue if he found a shelter, but until then he had to scout this beach. It had to end somewhere, maybe even back to the surface. That wishful thought edged him onwards.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Well, he found it. After miles of walking, Spike discovered the shore grew into a vast beach, sandwiched between the jungle and the ocean. The beach had few creatures, but those beneath the ground. It had an end. In the distance, he saw the ocean lapping the edge of the sand, which fled into a tall rocky column, suspending trees from above. So, there wasn’t any way out on this side. All this time, water, and aching legs were wasted. Bitterly, Spike kicked at the sand and watched it shower back down, unaffected.

The little white particles mocked him in a singsong melody.

He searched the beach, he searched the waves.
But the stupid dragon’s quest was in vain.
Oh, baby wanted to find his lost friends.
But now all he’s found is sanity’s end.
Poor little dragon, you’ll never get home.
Now the rest of your days, here you will roam.
What beast will make you their soon-to-be dinner?
Or will you stoop to kill, become a sinner?
Why do you fret? Abandon your sadness.
Embrace us and find true joy in madness.
We celebrate your death, deck you in pearls.
You’re stuck here forever in Underworld!

He covered his ears and screamed. The voices were now dancing in his head, trampling the life he once knew in gleeful malevolence. The melody merged with the forest symphony as the entire Underworld joined in the fun. Every little shred of his mind was burning with a torrent of emotions; anger, despair, fear, hatred, and even relief. He’d been fighting against everything for so long. Now, he could just surrender.

He saw Twilight. Her eyes were brimmed with tears. No, he would not surrender. He wasn’t just living for himself; he had to get home to Twilight. No matter how much it hurt, he had to continue, if not for himself, then for her sake. He felt new resolve, when the voices jeered once again.

Why do you fret? Abandon your sadness.
Embrace us and find true joy in madness.

His jaws opened, flames boiled. He turned to that abhorrent jungle.

No, you’re better than that.

A lone voice pierced through the chorus, silencing them all.

The forest isn’t causing this. The forest is ambivalent about your survival. It has no voice to mock you with. It’s all in your head.

… Mouth closed.

The voices that never existed faded from his mind. Now, there was only the song of the forest. He rose to his feet.

Shifting his gaze across the sandy terrain, he noticed slight differences in the sand. Firstly, the sand felt silkier and less clingy beneath his feet. He could easily dig a tunnel through the sand and construct another base, underground; that is assuming the sand wouldn’t collapse and burry him alive. Well, if he had support beams or a strong cement substance he could possibly keep the tunnel firm. Of course, that would require more time and effort. At the moment, he was exhausted; every leg joint ached from the day travel. Was it a day? He’d lost all sense of time down here. The point was he needed a place to stay for tonight and he didn’t think he would make a trip all the way back to his cave.

He shivered. For the first time since he came to Underworld, Spike felt cold. He glanced at the verge of the forest, certain he could find materials to craft a makeshift shelter, and wary of this portion he had yet to explore. What creatures awaited him? He gingerly approached the forest, walking across the grey, white, orange, black speckles, wondering if he would do better to camp on the beach.

Something in the sand moved. Spike shifted his spear to the source. A red worm wriggled, its pointy-head poking through the surface. Spike had seen plenty of earthworms in Canterlot gardens. Despite their far from attractive appearance, they facilitated plant growth and kept the soil healthy. None of them were violent; just little worms minding their own business. But something about this one felt off, and not just because it was longer than a stallion. This worm’s body had a slim end that widened out into a fatter sharp head, lined with two, parallel rows of sharp bristles. Studying the head, the drake kept his spear pointed at the end while slowly backing away. The pointy-head opened to a hole, another worm shot out at Spike. He narrowly avoided the real bulbous head lined with four curved, vampire fangs around a solitary circle. A light jab from his spear and the worm retracted its fanged head and second worm body, then slunk back into the sand.

He thought the beach would be safe. Turned out the monsters here were just the ones he couldn’t see, at least until they revealed themselves. If there were more of those worms beneath the sand, the beach was not an ideal place to make camp. Sighing, he tiptoed across the gravel, careful not to awake another beast. In the middle of the beach, he noticed a clump of tangled, brown and green moppy seaweed. It must have washed onto the beach with a high wave and become entrenched on the shores. Curiously Spike sniffed from a distance and immediately wrinkled his nose. All around the seaweed, Owlicious-sized several flies darted about, feasting the rotting plant in massive numbers or fighting their neighbor for a piece. He surveyed the scene with a twinge of sadness. Separated from its home, the seaweed became a fee-for-all buffet in Underworld.

We celebrate your death, deck you in pearls.
You’re stuck here forever in Underworld!

“Shut up,” Spike silenced the song with unfamiliar authority.

“This has nothing to do with me.” Spike began walking once more, “It’s just nature, coincidence.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Soon, his legs were too weary and his eyelids too heavy. He had to rest now. He gazed around the forest floor for some sort of shelter. Plentiful refuse, detritus, and waste were strewn across the muddy ground, more so than any part of the forest Spike had seen thus far. Yawning, Spike found a fairly secluded spot. With his hands, he raked the detritus, decomposing leaf litter, and debris into a massive pile. He then dug a pocket in the pile large enough for him to fit inside. Now he needed a door.

He glanced around and noticed a boulder about his size beside a two-leafed sprout. After inspecting the boulder to ensure it was perfectly safe, Spike placed his hands on the stubborn rock and pushed. Already depleted and exhausted, this task was strenuous. Nevertheless, Spike managed to move the rock in front of the entrance, only partially blocking it so he could still breathe.

Nestling his way into the pile, Spike’s eyes ached with anticipation of sleep. With his two hands, he began pulling the boulder in front of the entrance to his makeshift shelter. From the corner of his eye, a figure, longer than a train, sprinted through the distant trees before fading into the shadows. As he partially plugged the entrance, Spike dreadfully wondered what new foe awaited him. And how was he going to sleep tonight?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The knight panted as the final manticore fled. The royal army had won this bout, but at a high price. Countless, noble warriors had given their lives in defense of their beloved kingdom. Many were injured and being carted away to receive medical attention. Some of their foes, who slaughtered his companions, were now incapable of moving and being carted away to receive similar medical treatment. The knight knew their foes would never have treated them with such kindness. Still, the wise and benevolent princess insisted that they could not afford to stoop to their level, or she compromised everything her kingdom represented. Frequently, spared enemies recuperated and feeling too terrified to return in shame to their rulers and grateful for undeserved mercy, would join her majesty’s forces and swear fealty. Most of them had nowhere else to go, or even had a choice in joining the army, being coerced by their ruler. By giving both clemency and choice, the princess secured loyal followers. Ruling with kindness instead of fear brought the kingdom immeasurable strength.

He was reluctant to trust any of the converted foes. Plenty left when given the chance, some were too dangerous and malicious to grant refuge, and others spat at what they saw as weakness. But those who stayed to bring order to the divided kingdom in the princess’ name, they were the most loyal, courageous, and self-sacrificing soldiers of the entire army.

Still, the motionless soldiers were a reminder of their mortality. A movement stirred amidst the fallen weapons and bodies in the distant right, prompting the knight to investigate. Stepping across the scattered refuse and valiant warriors, the knight found at the movement a writhing gray stallion with a decorative black and gold helmet and full body armor. A general no doubt. On his chest piece, the princess’ royal insignia was inverted upside down and dyed black. The knight frowned. The defiled emblem was fairly explicative but its bearers, less so.

Kneeling down, he addressed the rogue with firm authority, “Tell me who sent you.”

“Or what?” The stallion sneered. “You weaklings don’t kill wounded soldiers.”

The knight drew a beaker from his belt containing a dark green liquid, harmless in nature. Pinning the stallion down, he pinched the stallion’s nose, prying open his mouth, and force-fed him the substance.

“I’ve just fed you water laced with poisonous night lock,” the knight lied. “Now you can either tell me what I need to know, I can take you to a doctor who might be able to halt the toxin from overrunning your body, or you can sit there and die.”

Mouth agape, the scoundrel stammered, “You can’t … You need me!”

“Do I?” He raised an skeptical eyebrow, “Is there really no one else in this entire army who we’ve taken as prisoners of war incapable of answering my questions?”

Pursing his lips furiously, the stallion spoke, “We were sent by the Chief. He wants to free the world from your so-called orderly kingdom.”

“And who is ‘the Chief’?” The knight stared coldly into his eyes.

“Please,” the stallion whimpered, “don’t make me tell. He’ll kill me.”

“You’d better talk now or the poison will,” the knight snarled.

“Can you promise my protection?” the cowering soldier begged.

“Only if you give me the answer,” the knight calmly replied. “Who is ‘the Chief’ and why did he send you to attack us?”

The soldier’s eyes darted around nervously, “He sent us to distract you.”

“Distract us?” The knight echoed the words curiously. “From what?”

Just then, a deafening explosion shook the ground. The knight turned around to see the princess’ shambled castle on fire. Forgetting the fallen soldier, he raced to the burning tower. Hoping against all hopes, he had not lost his princess.

Author's Note:

Creatures encountered:
Formosan Termites
Pill bug
Despair
Bloodworm
Kelp Flies

Underworld?

Comments

[JazzTheFox53rd]

Damn. This Underworld is dangerous.