And as the teenagers began to scatter, so did our two young friends make their way to the hideout they called home, where they were meted warmly by their guardian and mentor, Flint. The rest of the day passed uneventful, with cheerful banter between the three of them, mixed the sound of rain clattering against the roof. And so, another day came to a close for our two Underlings. Little did they know what was about to come. Change was at hand, for beneath the streets and stones of London, things had been set in motion and events were beginning to unravel.
Elsewhere…
Flickering candlelight bounced of timber wood and shone an eerie light on the figure sitting in the tall chair. The room was large, four tall men’s arms length wide and three times as long. The weak sources of light, merely dotted here and there, seemed spread too thin, failing to illuminate the chamber fully. The grey walls were but dimly lit, yet one could still see the rows of bocks neatly put against wood, case after case, shelf after shelf. With a scratching sound, the figure finished writing something on a piece of parchment, before carefully placing it on a stand next to the chair. When the sound of bare feet scratching over cold stone could be heard as a second figure entered the room, the sitting one impatiently waved them closer. With a thud, something was put on the ground near the chair, where a rugged carped absorbed the impact. The chest, as the object turned out to be, was adorned with metal ornaments, shining surprisingly brightly against the weak light.
“Is she ready?”
The resonant voice echoed faintly, escaping through the half open door as if fleeing from its master, who now sat up straight. The question put forward in an impatient tone was met simply by a silent nod.
“And the stone?”
This time, the head shook in response, resulting in an anxious shifting of the sitting one.
“Don’t waste any more time. Without the stone…”
Reverberating through the chamber, one could almost feel their chest tremor when the sitting figure spoke up again in a sonorous voice, only to fall silent again mid-sentence. Reaching to their chest, a vile of red liquid was brought forth and some of its content gulped down quickly.
“There’s not much time. Call the others.”
After the second figure had scurried out of the room, this time closing the door behind them with a clang, a loud sigh echoed through the hall. Eyes wandered over to the chest with the metal adornment that did not as much reflect light as it seemed to emanate it. Not much time…
Yet time passed, as it always did. Another morning came and went, and before you could blink, it was the day of the meeting.
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________
~ Chapter One ~
Meetings
“Move it lad!”
Flints unusually stern voice was followed by a quick slap with his walking stick aimed at Paul’s behind, which was quickly moved out of the way. There was only one mirror in the entire hideout, so naturally, on a day that required at least some degree of preparation, the area in front of it was heavily contested within the small family. Scurrying out of Flint’s way, Paul hurried into his section of the hideout one last time to grab his coat. His feet made thudding sounds on the heavily padded floor, where several layers of rugs of all shapes and sizes were laid out throughout their entire home, shielding their feet from the cold rising up from the stone, and making a much better ward than scraps of newspaper. Much like the floor, the rocky walls that bent inwards were also covered in rugs, with only specks of stone showing through. One could instinctively tell, be it because of the slightly uneven texture of the rock, the fact that there were no windows, or because the rooms were somewhat shaped like upside down bowls, that this home was underground. A fire was crackling in the fireplace at one end of the room, giving the place a cozy atmosphere. The entrance place of the hideout, roughly the layout of an uneven octagon, was not very large. The real size of the place however, could not be judged by this. From the entrance room, where Flint was checking his outfit in front of the mirror mounted on one of the walls, several short, round tunnels at the back of the room, burrowed out of the hard stone, led to the different parts of the hideout, making it a compartmentalized living space, almost like the humans had them. One of these parts was Paul’s room, which the boy now had made his way to. Without wasting much time, he pushed open the wooden door that was, although skillfully, inserted into a place it had not been designed for, and thus wobbled dangerously every time he used it. Shortly upon entering the cramped space, he rushed over to his bed. They had found it on the riverbank one day, and while the mattress was old and worn, the frame was relatively new, with metal posts and springs at the bottom, which was a very modern invention of their time. Jenny and he could bounce on it for hours. Right now his interest was not in the bouncy bed however, but in the long, grey coat lying on top of it. Putting it on, he had to roll back the sleeves several times. The coat was worn, and obviously too big for the young Underling, but he did not seem to give this much heed. Adjusting his cap a final time, he remembered that he had wanted to ask Jenny something. To the side of his room, there was another tunnel carved out of the stone, leading to what could be best described as the living room, where another fire burned, albeit a lot more quietly.
Wyrnfire, they called this green, smokeless flame, for if the Underlings were to produce too much smoke in a city like this, it would not be long before they attracted the humans attention. Thus, Wyrnfire was widely used among their people. Hurrying through the warm living room that was furnished not unlike the living rooms of ordinary humans of this time, Paul took another tunnel that lead straight to Jenny’s room. None of the tunnels were very long, two meters at the most, and so he was at his destination very quickly, knocking twice at the equally makeshift door of his little sister’s room.
“Bundle! Did ya remember to dust the place?”
While any normal person would naturally assume Paul was referring to her cleaning a space, it was very obvious to anyone even slightly familiar with the girl that this was not within the realm of possibilities. As such, Paul did not use these words with the idiomatic meaning usually associated with them, but for the practice Underlings regularly engaged in to ensure their privacy. Dusting, as the Underlings referred to the act very fittingly, involved the act of dispersing a powdery substance around the perimeter of ones hideout, for this peculiar powder dulled the common humans sense, and lessened the risk of one of them stumbling over an Underlings home. And since today was the young girl’s turn, Paul took it upon himself to kindly remind her of her duties, by knocking again at her door a mere second after the first time, for he was spurred by both Flint's uncommonly animated behaviour, and his own, slightly stinging behind, which was a reminder of the former.
