The cave was hidden behind a shroud of trees and bushes, so overgrown with ivy and the noise and smells around it dwarfed by the nearby pounding small waterfall that he would never have seen it, if not for luck. An early morning need to piss had Arthur up late at night, and a swaying branch as he stared up into the sky while depositing his golden gift to the plants around had revealed the flicker of light.
It had been too bright, too unnatural to be anything but a fire or lamp. Or maybe a wil-o-wisp, though the Malaysian jungle had never been one for those creatures. Not to say the Tower wouldn't bring them over, for the heck of it, but it was unlikely. And without a better lead, Arthur had made his way over.
Two days ago, and other than some minor signs, he had not caught a glimpse again. Still, muddy footprints and broken branches had guided him close, till he was here, standing before the opening. Wondering what was inside, for the darkness that blocked sight - along with the sudden turn - hid much from him.
"Got to take a chance, if you're not in a trance..." Arthur shifted his grip on his spear, grimacing as he stepped within. Tight and dark - exactly the kind of place you wanted to have a spear. He just hoped that it opened up, because otherwise he might have to abandon the weapon and his backpack.
The first corner came soon after, helping to explain the lack of further information. To Arthur’s surprise, another turn came soon after, though he was rather grateful that in neither case was the passageway too constricted.
After exiting the passage, idly noting how the moss and rock itself was brushed clean, smoothed out even in a few places from passage, he emerged into a much wider cavern. It was the size of the warehouse he’d left behind only a week or so ago, with a soaring ceiling and a half-dozen stalagtites and stalagmites in the central area. Mostly though, those were along the raised edges, the entire cavern a bowl with one side having a lip.
On that lip, lounging rather than seated in a meditating position was the Hermit. Instinctively, on seeing it, Arthur recoiled. There were many things he disliked, but rats – giant rats – were high on the list. Even the numerous attempts at reviving that 80s cartoon with turtles had not dissuaded or altered his lived experience of those disgusting, screeching creatures. Filthy, noisy, smelly and all too prone to nibble on toes or fingers when one was sleeping or get into ones food…
“Are you here to kill me?” The voice was cool, a little amused.
“No… I…” Forcing himself to relax the grip on his spear, to shift its point from where he had lowered it, Arthur continued slowly. “I just…”
“Do not like our little cousins.” A sneer, from that humanoid rat face, red eyes glinting. Arthur almost lowered his weapon again, such was the venom in the voice. “And kill and trap them with impunity. Poison too.”
Arthur strode down the cavern, metal cap on spear tap-tapping against the bare stone floor. Moss, high above, luminescent was offering illumination but it was a light green colour, making the rat and the surroundings give off a sickly cast.
“Don’t forget boiling them alive, crushing necks and various forms of testing,” Athur said. “And let’s not forget your cousins nibbling on toes and fingers of the sleeping and starving and ill, of bringing disease as they sneak into houses and eat our food.
“We are clean. It is your world that is a parasite ridden place.” The Hermit hopped up off where it lounged, landing down in the depression. “Your world that treats anything smaller, different than them as things to experiment on. Do not think we don’t know of your lab rats…”
“Yeah, yeah, we’re barbarians.” Arthur shuddered as the Hermit came up to him, doing its best to loom but the twisted nature of its spine kept it from being able to stand to its full height. As it was, it came up just under his chin, which made it feel a lot less threatening. Not that height or size had anything to do with deadliness, but that was the logical side of him. The illogical side, the one that had full control as his fear and disgust ran riot even through his Yin body, just found himself recoiling. “But you’re still caught in the same rules as we are. And that means I get a chance to learn something from you, right?”
Tiny hands clenched tight, brown eyes with that hint of red glared up and then nodded, once. Whiskers twitched as the creature breathed quickly, trying to contain its ire. Thankfully, the damn humanoid rat knew about dental hygiene so the stink of rotting meat didn’t fill the air. In fact, Arthur had to admit, overall the thing was quite fastidiously clean for something that lived in a cave.
“Then, cepat lah, cakap.”
“If it means you’ll stop being a burr in my fur…” A shake of its head, then it continued. “Three options. You serve me, for a year max or you face a challenge, of wits or might.”
"Hun dan," Arthur cursed. The first option was, quite literally, the kind that Climbers dreamed of. You stayed with them for the full year, serving them as basically a servant. Getting food, washing clothing, basically an apprentice. Those who served at least a month gained at least a minor technique, for the Hermit would train them all the while. Those who came out after a full year could be powers in their own right.
The problem was, Arthur couldn't afford the time. If he was alone, if he had come here as himself, without the burden of the Clan, it would be perfect. As it was, leaving his enemies, his Clan to run around for a full year without him was a horrible idea. Nevermind the skin-crawling vision of taking care of the Hermit for a year. Just the thought alone, of sleeping next to it, was enough to make him want to vomit.
Or get flashbacks, waking up to having his fingers nibbled on in an alleyway after a particularly bad run, when he'd gotten jumped for his delivery...
That left the challenge of might or wisdom. Neither of which Arthur had a good feeling about. If he hadn't antagonised the creature, might might have been viable. After all, how badly he got beaten - and he would be beaten - would depend on the Hermit. But he'd just pissed it off.
Wits on the other hand were a more all-or-nothing gamble. Since it could be anything from a game of chess to having to do an intergalactic crossword puzzle, the results could differ significantly. There wasn't a lot to be done about it, and while Arthur didn't consider himself dumb - how many people did? - he wasn't exactly a genius.
If he was, he'd work for a corporation in a comfy office, doing something with numbers or code or unspooling AI machines or whatever. Instead of, you know, stabbing and punching his way up the Tower.
"I swear, you made this up on purpose."
Sadly, his accusation got him nothing. Which left Arthur no other choice but to actually make a decision, one way or the other.