B4 Interlude 24: Strangspine, pt. 7

A dense net of bush at his back, Bronwyn stood at the edge of a steep canyon that ripped its way deep into the earth. Before him lay Strangspine. It was as awe-inspiring as the first time he’d laid eyes on it.

Unfathomably long and multiple leagues across, it dominated this region of the Frontier. The difference between it and its surroundings was stark — almost impossible. While the dense bush they had passed through was humid, Strangspine hit them like a wall of water. An omnipresent mist wafted from the floating islands above.

A gift of life for the mana-enriched jungle, full of alien plants so different from any he’d seen anywhere else. They caked up to the very walls, starting a few strides beneath him — a teeming mass of life and noise. Flowers of violet-purple and even iridescent neon punched through the canopies, each with a head wider than he was tall with his arms outstretched. All around them lay a dizzying assortment of trees: some with orbs of glowing fluid instead of leaves, others looking like twisted tangles of vines growing as a single mass.

Fed by the constant waterfalls above, dozens of streams and rivers cut their way through the canyon — roaring white water creating the only space absent of plant life. Leagues away, deep in the jungle, towering mountains reached for the sky. They were far different from the peaks of the Wildguard or Drozag ranges. Instead, each thinly tapered spire erupted like a column, covered in green growth and tightly clustered.

Their placement closely mirrored the floating islands above—a formation that, from a distance, gave the zone its name.

Bronwyn couldn’t keep a smile from his face as the sun hit the endless sprays of water, refracting off it so that it fell like an endless procession of gems. There was no known physical explanation, and no explorer had ever found the sources of water on the islands above — even those that had the ability or resources to reach them. Gods, why did high-mana zones have to be so gorgeous? For that beauty was a thing he knew had deadly danger.

Unlike the bush they had just left, Strangspine teemed with the sounds of life—the raucous calls of beasts echoing through its reaches, unidentifiable trees and plants rustling without a breeze, evidence of creatures running through the undergrowth beneath them. Yet for all the evidence of life and creatures flocking through the air, and the faint flashes of movement he caught down below, he saw none of the madness he had expected after the violence that had befallen the settlements closest to here. Strangspine might have been packed to bursting, but it existed in a tenuous balance — a heightening of the natural stasis of an ecosystem.

Sighing in satisfaction, Julis leant on his staff, soaking in the sight. “Truly a wondrous view. I still remember the first time I saw it — I hadn’t wanted to believe the stories, but it somehow managed to be more impressive in person.”

Dross barked out a laugh, slapping his side with his palm. “Aye, I think we all do. Damn near got eaten, we did. Closest we’ve ever come to death, I think.”

Bronwyn snorted, shaking his head. The ranger wasn’t exactly wrong. That had been a hairy adventure, that one. At least it had been interesting, both for the sights they’d seen and the sudden burst of strength they had gained.

In hindsight, it had been amongst the single most productive expeditions they’d ever been on — proof, in a sense, of the methodology that Kaius and his team applied.

It hadn’t been all that long after they’d met, really. They’d done a few easy jobs over a year to get used to working together when they’d outgrown their old teams. Or, in Yanira’s case, outlived them.

He remembered it clearly. Each of them had been in the same position. Like everyone, they’d had their crews at the time, and friends. But after hitting the Wall? Well, it was called that for a reason: only those who had grit in them kept pushing as hard or harder than they had before surmounted it. His original team had flagged, their wills broken by the monumental slog and constant work needed to keep growing their levels.

Knowing that he wasn’t done, he came to the same conclusion every single one of his current team members had: they needed to find others with drive.

Oddly enough, despite being their team leader, he’d been the last to join. After leaving his old crew he’d left the Greenseeds for the home of his youth — the Frontier. Lower in mana, it proved a safer bet for a solo Delver compared to some of the dangers that could be found in the wilds around the dukedoms.

Grandbrook had been first. He’d worked odd jobs, jumping in with teams that wanted a bit of extra muscle for elimination contracts, and also other more mundane work when he needed coin. One of them had been to help guard a caravan that was delivering alchemical supplies to Deadacre’s Guildhall.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

The job had been easy, safe, and paid well, but it was exactly the opposite of what he’d wanted. All of it was, really. That year had been a listless one. He’d left his team so that it could keep making progress they weren’t willing to work for. Level growth had slowed beyond what he’d experienced with them. It was just too hard to find good fights as a solo. And even as headstrong as he’d been in his youth, he wasn’t suicidal enough to fight things alone.

By the time he’d reached Deadacre, he’d been half ready to pack up and return to the Greenseeds, try his luck in some of the more populous cities. While it would have likely meant half a year or more of avoiding contracts until he found people to work with, at the time that sounded better than slumming on the frontier.

That was, of course, until he’d run into a fired-up trio of would-be Silvers in the Deadacre common room, arguing over a contract.

Bronwyn smiled at the image—the way Yanira had waved the contract slip, insisting she was enough for them to take the job. Dross and Julis hadn’t been having a bar of it. As efficient and effective as Yanira was, she was a bastion—few backliners would be safe with only a single person occupying hostile attention.

It had been exactly the break he was waiting for. He joined up with them immediately on an impulse, purely so he could take some real jobs again. It was the best damn choice he’d ever made.

A year later and Yanira had suggested a trip to the Spine—a way for them to find a few more beasts appropriate for their strength without committing to the danger and length of a proper delve. It had gone poorly, to say the least. Oh, they’d found levels and challenge galore, and the sights had been magnificent. But it only lasted so long.

“I think we lasted all of three days before that high-steel beast damn near cut my head off,” Bronwyn said, chuckling.