The Blind Creatures of the Caves Below - The Journal of Anther Strein

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The Journal of Anther Strein

Observations from a Travelling Naturalist in a Fantasy World

Written by Lachlan Marnoch
with Illustrations by Nayoung Lee

 
 

13th of Rewis, 787 AoC
The Navel of the Forest, Clearleaf Plateau
The Blind Creatures of the Caves Below

We have reached the Navel of the Forest, a great sinkhole named for its resemblance to the bellybutton of a rowax - a species which once abided in this region, as attested by fossils found in the surrounds. The sinkhole itself is a spectacular thing, a grand, near-circular intrusion formed in some ancient subterranean collapse. The jungle crowds over the rim and clings to the sheer, white walls, plunging to a floor hundreds of heights below. The Sunken River - named for this very trait - tumbles over the Navel’s rim and roars into the cave system below1.

The river continues underground, eventually re-emerging at the foot of Clearleaf Plateau, where it empties into the Veduka River. A great many creatures inhabit the caves carved by the river, as can be inferred from the blind, pale corpses that occasionally emerge at the other end. The cave platypus (Yeoldae nunmeon), navel salamander (Troglodytis baekkob), grey vollyvog (Marofrog amphicaris) and the sunken blindfish (Dalleisg chimmol) are known only from these caves. One2 might shudder to ponder what other nameless creatures abide there, groping blindly to feed on each other as well as the nutrients conveyed to them by the river.

I think it truly remarkable that those animals living exclusively in caves, even those apparently related to animals aboding nearby aboveground, should lose, as a rule, their eyesight. They have little use for it, of course, in the dark depths of their habitat. One wonders. Does this indicate that as species change over time – if they do change over time – that disuse of an organ leads eventually to its loss? I believe there might be examples in our domestic breeds to draw upon, if I can only think of them. I shall have to do some further reading on the subject. One might argue, of course, that the cavernous species were simply created according to the needs of their environment. This does not explain certain other facts about the troglodytes of Proesus, which I shall now expand on.

Other cave systems in Proesus, such as in the Forests of Vanguard or in the heart of Baaikhan, are also home to several species with limited eyesight and a lack of pigmentation – but with no other apparent relationship to those found here. In other traits, they are each more closely allied to animals found, aboveground, in their respective regions, and not to those found in other regions. An example, from these caverns in Clearleaf, is the grey vollyvog. It is more similar to the tall vollyvog (Marofrog otama, another frog found in large numbers throughout the Veduka Rainforest) in behaviour, appearance, and life cycle – all respects, in fact, other than its pale colouration and its lack of eyesight - than to any animal seen in those distant caverns. Neither the tall nor the grey vollyvog are found elsewhere in Proesus. That the caves of the Sunken River in Essichard, and those in the Forests of Vanguard on the other side of the continent, should both be stocked with blind or blinding species, those in each set apparently unrelated to those of the other but related instead to terrestrial animals of the nearby environment, is a curious fact indeed. Why would Febregon distribute his creations such, unless it was true that one had been modified from another? I cannot pretend to know the thoughts of the Almighty Creator, but, if I were he, and I had created a number of species fit only for dwelling in caves, at the instant of creation I would have spread each to as many caverns as possible, rather than leaving them in isolated enclaves.


The case that most interests me is that of the cave platypus. This species is similar in most of its features to the giant platypus (also known as the Swampland platypus, although found throughout Veduka), except for being smaller – and for its eyesight. Very few live specimens of the cave platypus have been obtained, but those that have are utterly blind. They seem to compensate with their other senses, especially when immersed, and can locate any animal in their environment with surprising precision. All platypus species have some similar sense, distinct from smell, sight and hearing3, for sensing live prey in the murk of the river-bottoms; but in the cave platypus, it is greatly extended. Some form of touch may be involved, sensing movement of prey from changes in water pressure, but this does not explain how they can locate creatures that remain fully immobile (as they have been seen to do). The fact that this sense does not extend to dead animals gives us some hint. There is suspicion among naturalists that it might relate to the re-discovered phenomenon of galvanism, the hidden current of energy that can be induced to flow in metals, water, and living things. It is believed to play a role in animal movement, in how the brain influences the body to act according to its will, and it may be that the platypus follows the invisible fields it produces4. The cave platypus, lacking entirely both light and the means to sense it, must rely on this galvanic sense to an even greater degree, perhaps even when out of the water. It may then be little surprise, to those following my train of thought, that the sense appears greatly enhanced in this species over its nearest relative.

Since eyesight, in a habitat starved of light, offers no advantage – and in fact may offer a disadvantage, as such a complex organ as the eye must take no small effort to produce – there is no obstacle to its loss. That the cave platypus has not only lost its eyesight, but has enhanced its other senses to compensate, seems powerfully indicative of how a species’ environment influences its characteristics. To me, it seems apparent that the cave platypus has developed, over many generations, from ancestors more like the Swampland platypus; ancestors which, venturing underground with the prepossessed advantage of an added sense, found themselves delving deeper and deeper into the darkness of the Sunken caverns. Once they had established themselves there and ceased excursions to the outside world, their eyes must have gradually degraded until they could no longer see at all. Although they would now never survive long in the sunlit world, competing against their sighted relatives, they thrived perfectly well in a locale that flattens the advantage of vision. A similar tale may be told of the other blind residents of the Sunken River caves, and of their counterparts near Vanguard and in Baaikhan.


Some days ago, we passed right into one of the heavy storms with which the Rainforest lives up to its name. We were hardly likely to avoid them altogether, but I had hoped to escape one of this severity – we are on the cusp of the dry season, after all. Besides the flooding, the storms tend to whip the piranha populations into a fierce temper (one species, the storm piranha Vorax tempestuous, is named for this habit), so it is best not to risk travel on the river during one. In Taraizan I had procured, thank Febregon, a tent and waterproof5 fly. Inside this, we spent two nights and one day huddled on the highest ground we could find, hoping that none of the trees nearby would attract a lightning strike. During this, I took a certain guilty satisfaction in the knowledge that the storm would hinder local efforts at slash-and-burn, for some days at least. It will not stop them altogether, of course, once the dry season is in full swing.

We paddled by several villages and towns on our way here, of a variety of sizes, none far from a column or two of black smoke. Most Paluchard towns can be found on a river or a swamp of some kind – there is a pull to the water, for us, that is hard to resist. Occasionally I have ventured into one to obtain supplies, but have always left Prentis out of sight. Whenever he has been spotted, interactions have become instantly frosty and we have endeavoured to leave swiftly. Slavery is forbidden here, so we cannot pretend that he is my slave. When we pass through the Swamplands, this option will be available – the irony being that we probably won’t need it. Outright violence against Austia is far less frequent there, where they are a more common part of daily life6. In any case, I would not care to treat him to such an indignity.


I’ve noted an excessive number of orange magma pepper (Calor infernalis) plants along the river banks here. Despite being native to the subcontinent, especially to the rainforest, it is not a favourite food item among my species - although it is grown for export in some regions. Perhaps this is one of them. Here it seems to grow wild, which I had thought unusual outside Sanctuary, but escape from a cultivated plot might explain this. The peppers here do indeed differ from the wild type, although not nearly so much as those bred in other locales. Prentis seems to like the fruit and, despite my initial warnings, has been adding increasing quantities of chopped pepper to his meals. He is welcome to the blasted plant. Not only do the peppers set the mouth aflame most unpleasantly, within hours they are guaranteed to do the same at the digestive tract’s opposite extreme.

Essilor have told me they find the heat the peppers generate quite appealing; Shull, in particular, is famous for cultivating hotter and hotter breeds of the plant for use in food. They have been bred into a variety of strengths and colours by intrepid culinarians. A bright violet variety hailing from Taragon is said to be the hottest in Proesus, but the Shullese contest this with the gleaming blue lapis-lazuli cultivar. No good can come of such an arms race. One expects that, someday, they will develop a variety of such pungency that, when first eaten, it will spontaneously burn a hole through the tongues of the entire Essilor species. Perhaps, upon consideration, such a disaster is how the Scourge occurred!

Food vendors that make use of the plant (which is to say, almost every restaurant, street food stand and café in Essiloreth, Shull and the Teeth) use a stylised pepper on their menus, with the colour of the pepper indicating the level of spiciness one can expect from the meal. However, the system can be confusing for those unfamiliar with the various pepper hues and their relative heats. It is often unintuitive, and the colours and the levels they represent is inconsistent between regions, depending on which breeds are popular or available. For example, how should one guess7 that, in Tathra, green is hotter than red – especially when one is accustomed to Forum’s food, where the reverse is true? Such a mistake might even (hypothetically) be enough to turn a Paluchard away from the ingredient permanently.

Old grudges aside, it is intriguing to note how these changes can be gradually (or even rapidly) induced in a plant simply by breeding efforts focused on individuals with the desired traits, a parallel to my prior musings on the ovix. I took note of the effect of domestication on animals, but neglected any mention of plants. On plants, our sapient influence seems even greater than on animals. Many crops, such as the cloudwheat plant and the bogvine, appear to have been less productive or of lesser stature in ancient times. This effect is even more pronounced if one compares them to their wild counterparts. Almost as fascinating is that all of these magma pepper varieties remain capable of cross-fertilisation, or so I’ve heard, despite vast physical differences in their fruits.


The Essilor's love for these vicious fruits is shared by their relatives, the maimou. There is a species native to Sanctuary, the pepper maimou (Vedukus flammalingua), that lives almost exclusively on the infernal plants. What a hellish existence this animal must lead, mouth permanently aflame.

I exaggerate, of course, because of my own (far from objective, it must be admitted) feelings for the peppers. In truth, the maimou seem not to mind - what acts as a defence mechanism against mammals8 has the opposite effect on the pernicious essiloth. This provides the animal with a great advantage, as the peppers are among the more nutritious plants in the Veduka region and are nigh inedible to other herbivores. The pepper’s seeds are carried safely through the maimou’s digestive tract, and those of several species of bird, to find a foothold wherever its droppings land. On the other hand, passage through a mammalian digestive system appears to destroy the seeds or render them sterile. A wonderful symbiosis, and a very neat double purpose for the flavour – the very trait that makes the pepper unappealing to potential predators makes them appealing to those who benefit it, and has also resulted in its widespread promotion through domestication. As much as I might resent the fruit, I can’t help but admire it.

The Sanctuary Kingdom, northeast from here, is the epicentre of the hateful plant, and the name ‘magma’ is as much an allusion to the high volcanic activity of the region as it is to the pepper’s own accursed heat. The magma pepper plant is one of several remarkable florae found in the fertile volcanic soils surrounding Mount Sanctuary, others being the fireproof ingua tree (Ignisaborrhens furvus) and Sanctuary plum (Globoxus umber).

The mountain exudes a near-constant stream of molten rock toward the surrounding jungles, one arm of which flows through the grand Lava Temple on its north-eastern slopes. I have yet to see this Temple myself, although it is a popular destination with adventurous travellers. Composed of shining black stone (understood to be obsidian, or at least to contain it – although I have never heard of such large slabs of the glass remaining intact), the great Temple stands directly over a river of lava. Nobody occupies the temple now – the order responsible for its construction, and all memory of it, is long gone from Pendant. No doubt it belonged to an ancient sect of volcano-worshippers, the stone being carved with depictions of volcanic fury. None of these carvings portrays sapient beings, which is odd – even the religions most condemning of idolatry allow illustrations of prostrated worshippers. It is usually assumed that the Temple was built by ancient Paluchard, although there is doubt in this – it may even be of Praesul construction, especially if its reputed magical properties are true.

It is said that, when destroyed in one of the mountain’s eruptions, the Temple reappears soon after - but in a new location, apparently having reassembled itself. The last time this is supposed to have happened is several centuries past. I am unsure how far to credit this legend, although strange magical feats of the sort – usually very ancient - are reported elsewhere. Mount Sanctuary is quite active, and it seems likely that any structure built as near as the Temple would be destroyed eventually, whether by lava or earthquake. The lack of any historical recording of the Temple’s residents points to a very ancient origin; for it to have endured this long in such a precarious environment speaks to some supernatural input.


Prentis is already asleep across the tent from me, clutching the dream pendant9 that hangs from his neck, as is his habit. I have left the tent flaps open to the pleasant breeze of the impending dry season and the soothing thunder of the falls; and to watch white Febross and red Saross, both near-full, rise together over the Navel of the Forest. The shadows cast by the moons misalign slightly, the light of each intruding into the shadow of the other; a blood-red fringe lines the darkness cast by the sinkhole’s lip as it sweeps across the floor far below. When this has disappeared over the far wall, a white band emerges to give chase ahead of the new shadow. Pity the cave platypus, who lives his whole life never knowing that he missed such sights as these.

 
 

1 We left our departure from the river a little later than I would call comfortable, hauled our boat ashore only ten or so heights from the lip of the falls. Neither of us quite anticipated the swift acceleration the river undertakes in its final terrestrial leg.

2 Not me - I only wish I could see them for myself. Then they would no longer be nameless, for I would name them.

3 Unlike the grændal, which has a pair of transparent membranes that cover its eyes upon submergence, all playpodes swim with their eyes firmly closed - probably for protection from the grit tossed up by their riverbed fossicking. Platypodes also close off their nostrils (as does the grændal) and ears when diving, leaving them with only this mystery sense.

4 These fields were known even in ancient times, from the manner in which a glass rod rubbed with a cloth tugs on the hair of the body, but methods of harnessing it are only now being rediscovered. Maragana have a similar sense when submerged, and have tested it with electric cables. They describe the sensation produced, by even a mild artificial current, as ‘like staring at the suns’.

5 Waterproof is a relative term when it comes to Veduka – a few hours of rainfall here will find flaws in the most perfect skin.

6 The fact that this is due to the violence of slavery is not lost on me – Austia are only common in the Swamplands because they were brought there, by my ancestors, in chained droves.

7 Completely hypothetically.

8 All wild mammals seem to share my opinion of the pepper – some would rather starve than partake in its flavour. Naturalists reason, and I agree, that this is the primary purpose of the peppers’ pungency.

9 A white circle set at the centre of a vertically elongated black diamond shape, it reproduces the symbol widely used to represent Febregon wrapped in his deep sleep. I keep my own pendant stowed in my pouch – the physique of a Paluchard makes necklaces quite impractical.