The Henne Mines could only be reached by chocobo. Daina guided hers through shoulder-high weeds and gysahl greens, a chocobo's preferred feed. She held her breath. The gysahl greens stank worse than week-old garbage; she was willing to bet that they were the reason chocobos themselves gave off such a strong odor. The smell was so noxious that it made some people physically ill.
At the entrance to the mines, Basch pulled his chocobo up short. The giant bird danced, cocking its head nervously. Larsa peered over the side at the pile of dead bodies littering the path. They lay in a way that suggested they had died fleeing something from within the mine. Some were soldiers, clothed in "cold iron." The others, however, wore simple suits and skirts under white lab coats.
"Researchers from the Draklor Laboratory," Larsa said in surprise. "What were they doing here?"
"Research," Balthier answered, already tethering his mount to a tree.
Although Larsa frowned at him, he let it slide.
The mine here was somewhat narrower than the one in Bhujerba. Instead of railway tracks, a single curved groove led the way deeper, a track for hovering carts. Tiles were missing from the walls and the floor, revealing the dark earth beneath and threatening to trip them every other step. To Daina's surprise, redmaw bats infested the first shaft. To see them so close to the surface was unusual, and spoke of trouble deeper in the mine. When she expressed concern over them, Basch indicated a damp piece of paper tacked to the wall near a closed gate.
"Advisory warning," it read.
"Gate Operation. For immediate distribution and posting. The colour of the switchboard phosphor corresponds with gates currently closed. Accordingly, use of the switchboard opens gates of the colour presently illuminated. Note your desired route and open such gates as it requires. It follows that one cannot open red and blue gates simultaneously. As gates throughout the mine are linked, do verify your route in advance. Workers' Weekly Wisdom: NO accidents, NO injuries, NO worries. – Imperial Army, Officiary of Resources."
And another:
"Advisory, the 1st. Noxious vapours and fumes are an ever-present threat within the mine. Should you feel you've been affected, report at once to the infirmary. Workers' Weekly Wisdom: Our workers are our greatest resource. – Imperial Army, Officiary of Resources."
And a third:
"Advisory, the 2nd. Should you encounter beasts within the mine, no matter how trivial, withdraw at once. A specialist crew will be dispatched to assist. Workers' Weekly Wisdom: Discretion is the better part of valour. – Imperial Army, Officiary of Resources."
"How . . . Archadian," Daina murmured. Polite to an extreme degree. In Dalmasca, the signs would simply have read, "Enter at your own risk." Nabradians were more proactive; the mine would have been closed down.
"We are forewarned," Basch replied. "These precautions point to a single threat. There is something here that should not be left loose in the mine."
"I will release the gate," Ashe called from nearer the entrance. "Make yourselves ready."
She pushed the switch, the phosphor flow reversed direction and changed from red to blue, and the gate creaked open of its own accord. Solemnly, the party passed through.
The air closed tighter on them the deeper they traveled. The warrens stretched away on all sides, as complex as the inside of an ant hill. It was dark, and damp, and quiet. Their footsteps echoed, bringing more blood-drinking redmaws. One bit Larsa through his puffed sleeve, which quickly turned as red as his undershirt. The boy cried out and dropped his joyeuse. With a hammer-like swing of his icebrand, Basch smashed the bat to the floor.
While Penelo tended to Larsa, who was already laughing at a joke of Vaan's in spite of his ruined blouse, Fran jerked her head toward the spur ahead. Her tall, leporine ears were stiff, alert, her sensitive nose twitching. She loped off, her heels pounding like tiny hammers on wet anvils, with Balthier, Ashe, and Daina following. She brought them to a rough-hewn cavern, dull and lightless. Only the memory of magicite dusted the rocks with a blue glow. A lone Imperial lay dead on the ground, his lower body crushed.
"Look at the magicite. These mines much resemble the ones at Lhusu," Larsa said, coming up behind them. He punched one gloved fist into the opposite palm. "Of course," he hissed. "Draklor must be searching for new sources of ore. Should the Resistance forces move, the magicite in Bhujerba will be forever beyond their grasp."
Fran gave a little gasp, her ears swiveling. "Is it her?" she whispered. "What is this Mist? Mjrn!"
From across the cavern, a lone, slender form staggered. It was a young viera, unsteady on her coltish legs. She wore a yellow short-dress and the same black sleeves clasped at her throat as Jote and Fran. A black filigree cap topped her bobbed, straight silver hair, from which her upright ears flopped side to side with every step. Her mouth hung open, her reddish eyes half-lidded and unseeing. She stumbled onward, driven by something none of them could see.
"The stench of humes," the young viera muttered. Her voice had a strange quality, as though more than one person were talking. "The stench of power."
"What's wrong with her?" Ashe whispered.
Mjrn abruptly came to life, though her wide eyes were still as blank as a doll's. Her head swiveled around as though it was on a spike. She pointed a long, claw-like nail straight at Ashe and shouted, "Stay away! Power-needy hume!"
Ashe backed up a step, her throat and her eyes full of shocked tears. Great-chief Uball-Ka, too, had accused her of lusting after power, though not in so many words. Daina knew that these accusations upset her lady. This was what Ashe herself feared the most: That she was weak, that she was needy, that her lust for power was unclean.
Mjrn tried to escape, veering all over as though drunk. By some miracle she missed running smack into the wyrm that bounded into the room, roaring hungrily. The whole creature nearly filled the cavern. Its stunted wings flapped, bringing dust and pebbles down from the ceiling. Seemingly uninterested in one thin viera, the wyrm fixed its small eyes on Larsa, whose sleeve was still soaked with blood. It planted all four massive, clawed paws and roared again, tail waving. Then the monster pounced.
The party scattered. Fran bolted after Mjrn.
"Fran!" Balthier said sharply. He and Daina sprinted after them both.
Meanwhile, Larsa retaliated by sticking the joyeuse directly in the wyrm's moist eye. It reared up, displaying its white hide, glittering with magicite dust. Then it lunged again, jaws snapping shut right where Larsa had been standing. The boy danced away, nicking the wyrm again, but not doing any real damage.
"She is frenzied!" Ashe cried. "She will not focus on another now that she has the scent!"
"Protect Larsa!" Basch bellowed.
"Yeah," Vaan put in. "Can't save him if he gets eaten!"
"Thank you so much for that," Larsa said. Hastily, he brought up the sword he used as a shield.
Four-inch fangs rang off the swordbreaker. Little Larsa fell backward with the force of the blow. The wyrm, unfazed, dove in for the kill.
Vaan came sailing in from the wyrm's blinded side, hacking and hewing at the white hide. The wyrm backed away and came up against Basch. It tried another direction, to meet with Ashe. While Penelo helped Larsa get out of the way, the three swordsmen kept the wyrm from fleeing.
Daina did not see who struck the killing blow. Fran had halted, one hand raised toward Mjrn, her face anxious. Mjrn was barely on her feet. She slowly uncurled the fingers of her left hand and dropped an object on the ground. It bumped to a stop against Fran's clawed foot: A bottle of potion minus the neck, glowing like flame encased in blue glass. Manufacted nethicite. The double of the one Penelo held.
The nethicite shattered. Its shards glowed more brightly still and then vanished.
Mjrn, eyes rolling into her head, swayed. Then she jerked as though about to vomit. An apparition burst from her back. It wavered on the air, insubstantial, white eyes aflame. Uncharacteristically clumsy, Fran stumbled backward. She bared her teeth at the floating apparition, growling low in her throat.
Mjrn finally lost consciousness. She toppled to the ground, separating herself from the ghostly apparition, which also vanished. Her head struck rock. She lay still.
Instantly, Fran rushed to her and gathered her into her arms.
"That thing inside her," Vaan panted, wiping sweat and wyrm ichor out of his eyes. "What was it?"
Nobody had an answer for him.
Mjrn's lashes fluttered. She opened her eyes, and the change in them was dramatic. They shone with a profound and shy intelligence. A smile feathered across her lips as she looked up at Fran.
"Is it you?" Mjrn breathed.
Then she went limp. She had fainted.