Chapter 19: Northwest Passage
Five days had passed since Mike's return to Crafter's Haven with the special wood. Five days of rest, recovery, and fitful sleep plagued by dreams of mantis guardians and river rapids. The wounds across his chest and arm had begun to heal properly, angry red lines now fading to pink as his level-enhanced body repaired itself. The acid burns from the mantis's blood remained tender but had formed new skin beneath the damaged tissue.
Mike sat at the workbench he'd constructed in the underground chamber, examining his hand-drawn map. The wood marker glowed with a faint amber light in his mind, mentally checked off as completed. Now his attention focused on the blue crystal marker to the northwest—the mine that would provide the second component for the Void Ripper trap.
"Can't put it off any longer," Mike muttered, tracing the route with his finger.
The journey would be longer than the one to the mill—three days at least, according to his best estimate of the map's scale. The terrain looked more challenging too, with what appeared to be rougher hills and less reliable water sources along the way. And this time, he would be heading away from the river, losing the option of water transport for his return journey.
Still, delay meant risk. The Void Ripper was out there somewhere, patrolling its territory. The appearance of its roars near Crafter's Haven before his mill journey had been a stark reminder of the creature's range and the fragility of his safety. Each day spent inactive was another day for the monster to find him unprepared.
Mike had spent the recovery time productively, organizing the special wood into the specific pieces he would need for the trap. The Crafter's axe had proven invaluable for this work, cutting and shaping the unusual timber with an ease no conventional tool could match. The pile now stood neatly stacked near the underground entrance, ready for assembly once he had gathered all the required components.
His other preparation had focused on supplies and equipment for the coming journey. The boom sap trees continued to produce their volatile fluid, allowing him to replenish his stock of explosive weapons. These he crafted more carefully now, having learned from experience about their power and applications. Some were designed as simple grenades, others as directional charges that could focus their blast toward specific targets.
"Time to get moving," Mike said, rising from the workbench with a determination that overrode his body's lingering stiffness.
His pack lay ready by the wall, already filled with essential supplies. The ancient hammer hung at his belt beside the goblin shortblade, while the Crafter's axe was secured across his back, its blue metal blade protected by a sheath he'd fashioned from scrap leather. His clothes—the set he'd found in the underground storeroom—had been washed and repaired as best he could manage, though they still bore the scars and stains of his battles and travels.
Mike ascended the stairs to the surface, the stone hatch opening with a familiar grinding sound that echoed through the quiet morning. The sun had just cleared the eastern hills, painting Crafter's Haven in golden light that belied the dangers waiting beyond its borders.
His first task was to check the boom sap trees and collect one final harvest before departing. The collection buckets were nearly full, the amber fluid having accumulated steadily during his recovery. Mike carefully transferred the volatile substance into several bamboo containers, sealing them with wax he'd rendered from native insects that built honeycomb-like structures in hollow trees.
"Should be enough," he decided, examining his handiwork.
Next came food gathering. The tuna fruit trees had produced a fresh crop, their sweet-fishy offerings now a dietary staple he'd grown accustomed to. Mike collected as many as seemed reasonable, wrapping them carefully to prevent bruising during travel. These, along with dried meat from his hunting and preserved foods from the underground storage, would sustain him for the journey ahead.
Water would be less predictable than on the mill journey. While his map showed what might be streams or rivers crossing his path, their reliability was uncertain. Mike filled every container he could spare, resulting in a heavier pack but necessary insurance against dehydration.
By midday, his preparations were complete. Mike stood at the northern edge of Crafter's Haven, pack secured across his shoulders, weapons within easy reach. The special wood was safely stored, the underground chambers secured against potential intrusion. His map was tucked into a waterproof pouch along with the technical diagrams he'd found at the mill.
"Northwest," Mike reminded himself, checking the sun's position to establish his bearing.
The first hours of travel took him through familiar territory—rolling meadows interspersed with scattered trees, the landscape gradually rising toward low hills that marked the beginning of more challenging terrain. Despite his nearly healed injuries, Mike maintained a measured pace, knowing that conserving energy would be crucial for the longer journey ahead.
By late afternoon, he had left the immediate surroundings of Crafter's Haven behind. The vegetation began to change subtly, the grasses growing shorter and tougher, the trees more stunted and wind-shaped. The soil became rockier underfoot, suggesting changes in the underlying geological structure as he moved into the hill country.
As the sun dipped toward the western horizon, Mike sought a defensible position for the night. A rocky outcropping offered natural shelter on three sides, with good visibility of the approaches and easy access to escape routes if needed. It would have to do.
Setting up camp had become routine through necessity—clearing the ground of larger stones, establishing a small fire pit, arranging his pack and supplies for easy access during the night. Mike kept the fire small, just enough for warmth without creating a beacon visible from a distance. The lessons of stealth and caution had been hard-won in this world.
Night fell with the alien suddenness he still hadn't fully adjusted to, the unfamiliar stars appearing in patterns he was gradually learning to use for navigation. The air grew cooler, though not uncomfortable within the shelter of his chosen camp. Mike ate sparingly of his supplies, mindful of the journey's length and the unpredictability of finding additional food along the way.
The night passed uneventfully, his sleep broken only by the occasional unfamiliar animal sounds that inevitably startled him to wakefulness. Dawn found him already awake and preparing to continue, the eastern sky lightening to a pale lavender.
Day two brought increasingly rugged terrain. The hills grew steeper, the valleys between them narrower and more sharply cut. Vegetation continued to change—hardier species adapted to the rocky soil and more extreme temperature variations. Mike spotted several species he hadn't encountered before, including a tree with bark that appeared metallic in certain lights and bushes bearing small, blue fruits he didn't dare sample without more information.
Progress was slower than he'd hoped. What had appeared as simple hill country on the map revealed itself as complex, broken terrain requiring careful navigation. Several times, Mike was forced to backtrack when faced with impassable ridges or steep-walled gullies. By midday, it was clear he wasn't covering ground at the rate he'd planned.
"Going to add a day to the journey at this rate," Mike muttered, pausing at a high point to consult his map.
The blue crystal marker still lay frustratingly distant, perhaps two full days of travel at his current pace. Mike adjusted his route, aiming for what appeared to be a pass between two higher hill formations ahead. If the map's scale and his interpretation were correct, that pass would lead to a valley that ran more directly toward the mine location.
Late afternoon brought the first positive development of the day—a clear stream running through a narrow valley, providing clean water and the first opportunity to properly refill his containers since leaving Crafter's Haven. Mike took advantage of the find, drinking deeply and soaking his feet in the cool water to ease the strain of the day's hike.
"At least I won't die of thirst," he said, scanning the steep valley sides for a suitable campsite.
A small cave in the valley wall offered better shelter than the previous night's outcropping. After carefully checking for current inhabitants and finding none, Mike established his camp just inside the entrance, positioned to maintain visibility of the surrounding area while benefiting from the cave's protection.
The second night passed with the same fitful sleep pattern as the first. Mike's body had adapted to the constant alertness required in this world, never fully surrendering to deep rest but taking enough to maintain functionality. The cave's natural amplification of sounds made sleep even more challenging, with every water droplet and shifting pebble magnified to potential threat level.
Dawn of the third day revealed a promising change in the landscape. The pass Mike had been aiming for was visible ahead, perhaps two hours' travel away. Beyond it, he could just make out the beginning of what appeared to be a more open valley running northwest—potentially easier travel than the broken hills he'd been navigating.
The pass itself proved less challenging than expected, with a relatively gradual ascent and descent that didn't require climbing skills. From its highest point, Mike could see much further in all directions, confirming that the valley beyond did indeed run northwest, roughly parallel to his intended route.
"About time something went as planned," Mike said, allowing himself a moment of cautious optimism.
The valley floor was relatively flat and open, with a small stream running along its center—likely the same watercourse he'd encountered the previous evening, having followed a different path through the hills. This presented the best travel conditions since leaving Crafter's Haven, allowing Mike to make up some of the time lost in the hill country.
By midday, he had covered more ground than during the entire previous day. The blue crystal marker on his mental map now seemed much closer—perhaps only another day's journey if the valley continued in the same direction. Mike allowed himself to increase his pace, his stride lengthening as confidence grew.
The afternoon brought scattered clouds that occasionally blocked the sun, casting moving shadows across the valley floor. The air grew cooler as the day progressed, suggesting changes in the larger weather patterns. Mike kept an eye on the sky, watchful for signs of approaching storms that might force him to seek more substantial shelter.
As twilight approached on the third day, Mike had nearly reached the valley's end. Ahead, the terrain began to rise again, though less dramatically than the hills he'd navigated earlier. According to his map, the mine entrance should be located somewhere in these rising foothills, perhaps another half-day's travel at most.
"One more night, then we find those crystals," Mike told himself, searching for a suitable camping location before darkness fell completely.
That's when he heard it—distant but unmistakable. The distinctive, metal-tearing roar of the Void Ripper echoed across the valley, seemingly originating from somewhere to the east, back in the direction he had come.
Mike froze, every sense suddenly heightened. He scanned the darkening landscape for any sign of the creature, though the sound suggested it was still some distance away. The roar came again, slightly louder than before, indicating movement—possibly in his direction.
"Not now," Mike whispered, abandoning his search for an ideal camp in favor of pure distance.
Continuing northwest toward the mine was the obvious choice. If the Void Ripper was indeed tracking him from the east, every mile between them increased his chances of avoiding an encounter. Night travel was risky—limited visibility, unfamiliar terrain, increased likelihood of injury—but facing the Ripper would be far worse.
Mike pressed on, using the last of the twilight to navigate the gradually steepening terrain. The valley gave way to rolling foothills that rose toward more substantial mountains visible as darker masses against the night sky. The vegetation changed again, becoming sparser on the rocky ground, with stunted trees clinging to whatever soil they could find in the increasingly barren landscape.
Another roar reached him, no closer but no further away either. The Void Ripper was definitely in the valley, perhaps following the same route Mike had taken. Whether it was tracking him specifically or simply patrolling its territory remained uncertain, but the danger was equally real either way.
"Keep moving," Mike urged himself, ignoring the growing fatigue in his legs and the protests of feet that had already covered more ground today than planned.
The darkness became complete as night fully descended, forcing Mike to rely on the ambient starlight and his gradually improving night vision. Progress slowed of necessity, each step requiring care on the unpredictable ground. Several times he nearly turned an ankle on loose stones or hidden depressions, the pain sharp reminders of the risks he was taking.
Hours passed in this tense advance, the occasional distant roar of the Void Ripper driving Mike forward despite his body's demands for rest. The night grew colder as he gained elevation, the thin air carrying a mineral scent that suggested nearby rockfaces and exposed earth. The blue crystal marker in his mind felt tantalizingly close now—perhaps just beyond the next ridge.
Near midnight, by Mike's best estimate of time, he crested a steep slope and found himself looking down into a bowl-shaped depression nestled among the foothills. Even in the darkness, the unnatural symmetry was immediately apparent—this was no random geological formation but a deliberately excavated area. Regular mounds of material lined one side, too uniform to be natural, while a distinctly artificial opening was visible in the rock face opposite his position.
"The mine," Mike breathed, relief washing over him despite his exhaustion.
The Void Ripper's roar sounded again, more distant now. His gamble had paid off—the forced night march had put sufficient distance between them to diminish the immediate threat. Mike allowed himself to hope that the creature would continue eastward, away from the mine and his position.
Descending carefully into the bowl, Mike approached the mine entrance with caution born of bitter experience. The opening was larger than he'd expected, perhaps fifteen feet high and nearly as wide, framed by timber supports that had weathered to a silvery-gray but remained sound. The symmetry and precision of the construction spoke of the same builders who had created Crafter's Haven and the mill—the mysterious Crafters whose artifacts and facilities had sustained him in this world.
Outside the entrance stood what might have been processing equipment—long-abandoned mechanical devices whose purpose Mike could guess at from his construction experience but whose specific functions remained mysterious. Stone tables with channels cut into their surfaces suggested sorting or washing operations, while larger structures might have housed crushing or grinding mechanisms.
Most telling was the bluish residue that coated many of these surfaces—a crystalline dust that caught the starlight with an inner luminescence similar to, but distinct from, the special wood's glow. This had to be the source of the crystal components he needed for the Void Ripper trap.
Exhausted from the forced night march but unwilling to make camp directly in the open, Mike decided to explore just far enough into the mine entrance to find shelter. The timber supports looked solid despite their age, suggesting at least the entrance area should be structurally sound.
The darkness within the mine was absolute, forcing Mike to light a small torch using his Zippo and materials from his pack. The flame cast dancing shadows across walls lined with the same blue crystalline material he'd seen outside, veins of it running through the rock like frozen lightning. The air was cool but not cold, with a slight breeze suggesting the mine had multiple openings or some form of natural ventilation.
Just within the entrance, Mike found what appeared to be a small office or supply area—a room cut into the side passage with the remains of furniture and storage containers still visible. This would serve as shelter for what remained of the night, offering protection from both weather and potential predators while allowing for quick escape if necessary.
Setting his pack down with a groan of relief, Mike allowed the full weight of his exhaustion to register. The day's normal journey had been extended by hours of night travel, pushing his endurance to its limits. Every muscle protested, his feet throbbed in his boots, and even his enhanced stamina had been taxed by the sustained effort.
"Made it," he whispered, settling onto a stone bench that had likely served mine workers centuries before.
Outside, far in the distance, the Void Ripper's roar echoed one final time before falling silent. Whether it had lost his trail or simply moved on to other hunting grounds, Mike couldn't know. What mattered was that he had reached the second resource location, had found the mine that would provide the crystal components for his trap.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges—navigating the mine's interior, identifying and extracting the specific crystals needed, perhaps confronting whatever guardians might protect this facility as the mantis had protected the mill. But those were tomorrow's problems.
For now, Mike allowed himself a small measure of satisfaction. Two locations found, two resources nearly secured. Only the obsidian from the southern volcanic region would remain after this. The pieces were coming together, the trap taking shape in his mind as each component became tangible.
The Void Ripper was still out there, hunting, roaring, threatening everything Mike had built in this strange world. But for the first time since arriving, he had a concrete plan to defend against it—a path forward that didn't rely solely on evasion and luck.
Sleep claimed him finally, the ancient hammer and Crafter's axe close at hand, his dreams filled with blue crystal light and the promise of safety it represented.