The Machinist

     Wait, where was he?

     "Horilas?" he called. "Larkin?" no call was returned. "You guys?" he shouted again, hearing his nervousness in his own echo. The response was silent.

     He was alone.

     He looked around, and realized he had absentmindedly been walking further and further into a dark hole. A cave, to be precise. The small crack, miniscule against the harsh blackness of the unlit tunnel, was the only indication he was seeing anything at all. He stared at the orange crack with bleary eyes, beginning to sweat. How did he manage to get in here? He couldn't recall. Each climber had been going into any cave they found, but this seemed oddly different. He reached around his waist, struggling to find the lantern looped around the end of his knapsack. "Ah.." he mumbled, as his fingers caught something. "No... no, that's just a bottle... curse Larkin for packing my things in the wrong order..." The Skeith that accompanied Dessin, along with three other neopets, were all far jollier about their spelunking adventure than he was. It wasn't hard to remember a few days prior: "It'll be fun!" a bubbly Kacheek had exclaimed. Dessin had never met him, nor talked to him, though the yellow furball seemed to have wedged his way into being the leader of the expedition. And of course, everyone agreed with him. Typical.

     Dessin turned a small knob, and a soft glow rose into the cave. He looked around, seeing his surroundings for the first time. It seemed basic enough, no different from any other cave. He looked back towards to exit. He wanted to return to the dreaded noises of forges and mining devices, maybe grab some food and call it a day. Yet, something drew him to continue onwards. He rolled his eyes at his own curiousity. Zafara's will, I suppose. He thought, as he turned his back on the entrance, and took a step further in.

     A warf greeted him.

     Dessin yelped in surprise, holding his lantern out like a sword. He poked his head out, looking at his aggressor. The warf, tongue out in its customary fashion, cocked his head in intrigue, before scampering further down the cave. Dessin watched it disappear into the darkness incredulously. "A... uh... warf... wha..?" he stammered. Warfs in Moltara? He hadn't seen a warf past Neopia Central, much less one underground. Breaking into a reluctant run, Dessin followed the petpet, a hundred questions buzzing though his mind.

     Hours seemed to pass. Dessin panted for air, and made a mental note to eat more omelets for breakfast. His feet, once running in a straight line, were wobbly and weak. His lantern's light was dimming, as well, and he threw his hands up in defeat. What a dumb cave.

     Ti-tika tikatikatika.

     A small, scampering noise caught the Zafara's attention. Looking around, he stammered. "W-who's there??" The noise grew louder, and out of the darkness... came a small warf, tongue panting quietly.

     Dessin breathed a sigh of relief (He did that often, didn't he?). "It's just you, thank goodness." Suddenly, the noise was heard again. He looked around in confusion. "Huh? But.." Another warf emerged, and sat next to the other one. The noise, however, didn't stop. One by one, warfs trotted out from the darkness. Dessin gasped. There must have been dozens; he couldn't even see how far they had stretched back. The original warf took a step forward.

     "Uh..?" the Zafara muttered. The other warfs joined him. Slowly, they converged on Dessin, advancing with a zombie-like terror. "Ahh!" he hollered, and turned to run, only to see more warfs emerging from behind him. He was terrified. Is this how it ends? He thought. Oh Fyora, please let me make it out of this, I'll never go spelunking again! He stumbled onto his knees and shrieked in terror.

     "Git yer paws off'a that boy!" a voice, old and scratchy, cried from the darkness. Dessin gasped. A light erupted from the walls of the cave, illuminating torches that Dessin hadn't seen prior. An old Lupe, dressed in dark red robes, with straggly gray hair, looked down at him. In an instant, the warfs scampered away, disappearing into cracks in the walls and small hidey-holes. Dessin was shocked and frightened at the same time. His eyes didn't move, until a cane reached out to him. He looked up at the old man.

     "Sorry 'bout that. Cursed petpets don' even know how much they scare folks." Dessin grabbed his hand, and pulled himself up. He looked around, bewildered. "You... you know them?" he asked, voice trembling.

     "Sure do," the Lupe chuckled. "They're mine. Little helpers, I guess you could call'em. Messengers, too. What, you didn't think there'd be warfs livin' in Moltara, did'ja?"

     "I... uh..." Dessin stammered. He shook his head vigorously. "N-no, I guess not."

     The old Lupe nodded. "Hm. Good." He peered at the pack on Dessin's shoulders. "Why're you in my cave, son?"

     Dessin was paralyzed with fear. "I-I, uh, I'm o-on an expedition, and, I wandered in here, an-and I don't really even want to be here, honest-"

     The old pet held up his hand, and Dessin stopped talking. "Don't worry 'bout it, son. It's my fault... I should have doubled checked th'perimeter... I'm... I'm sorry." His expression turned grave, and he shook his head in sadness.

     "Huh..? W-what do you mean?" Dessin asked.

     The Lupe waved his hand dismissively, and began to limp down the now-lit tunnel. "It's... better to just show you. Follow me." Dessin gulped, and scampered after the slow-moving old man. He looked around as they walked, seeing wires connecting each of the torches. He now realized they weren't fire at all, they were composed of electric lights.

     "Did you build all this yourself?" Dessin asked in wonder.

     "Aye. They call me the Machinist." The Lupe nodded. "Used to build great monuments to technology, I did. Built most of the city out there, too." He gestured behind them. "Gear by gear, I turned that town hall into what it is today all by myself."

     Dessin looked on in awe. "That's... amazing. How have I never heard of you?"

     "Bah," the Machinist grumbled. "I was broken goods to them. Too ambitious, they called me. Sure, they like me when I could build'em a town hall, but when I wanted to fund an ITMD...."

     "ITMD? Dessin asked. "What's that?"

     "Immunity To Mordull Device," the Machinist replied. "Mordull is a rare disease, one with no medicine. Slowly turns ya t'stone, 'til there's nothin' left of ya but a statue." After a moment, he added quietly. "Knew a few good Neopians who had it."

     "O-oh," Dessin replied, unsure of what to say. "So... what, you just gave up?"

     The Lupe laughed. "Hah! A true Machinist never gives up his passion. I've been working in this here cave for almost ten years, building the machine from scratch. I just completed it, as a matter a'fact." He beamed in delight.

     "That's great!" Dessin exclaimed, finding himself interested. "What does it do? How does it make you immune?"

     The Machinist's expression darkened again. He sighed. "Well, come here then. You should know." Dessin cocked his head in confusion, but continued to follow the limping Lupe.

     Finally, they reached a gigantic room, entirely unremarkable, save for a large red device, and a massive window. Dessin approached the machine cautiously. This, he imagined, was the ITMD. It certainly was intricate, massive in size, with several lit up buttons, and turned levers and dials. It was the most complex thing Dessin had ever seen, and he was impressed.

     "This is amazing!" he exclaimed. "It looks so complex." He turned and smiled at the Machinist, who only nodded slowly. "I mean, I'm no expert in machinery," Dessin continued. "but I like to think of myself as novice! How does it work? Does it use electricity? Steam?" he asked eagerly.

     The Lupe didn't respond, only thought for a moment. Finally, he began to limp towards the window. "I want you to look out here, boy. Tell me what you see."

     Dessin obeyed, and looked outside. He could see the back of Moltara, a trail leading towards the surface, and pools and falls made of lava. "Moltara, sir. Isn't that it?" he asked, confused.

     The Machinist only shook his head. "Look closer."

     Dessin was confused, but shrugged and did as he was told. He stared at the landscape again, no change in knowledge for a moment, until he realized: Something was wrong. Moltara moved. It had gears and pulleys, and the lava bubbled and spewed from the pools and falls. Even the muted machinery , Dessin realized had become a single monotone hum ever since he had stepped foot inside the cave. "Everything... is..." he gasped.

     "Frozen." The Machinist nodded. "Frozen in time, at least for us. You stepped foot inside th'blast radius, just as I turned the machine on." Dessin looked at the Machinist, mouth open, not understanding. "The only way to cure Mordull... is t'stop its spread from continuing to happen," he said somberly.

     Dessin didn't understand. "But you didn't stop time for everyone with Mordull, just to us. Why... would...." He slowly stopped speaking, and watched as the Machinist removed the boot from his left foot. The same foot he had been limping with.

     His foot was completely made of stone.

     Dessin gasped, and backed away slowly. The Machinist only watched him, true sadness in his eyes. "I'm sorry... I didn't expect another guest. I wanted to travel across Neopia... see things I hadn't seen before, before the disease took me for good." He took a shaky breath.

     "You can leave me, if you'd like."

     Dessin, eyes wide, looked back towards the city. Everything was quiet, save for the permanent hum of this moment's machinery. It was as if he was looking at a picture of Moltara. The whole world is like that now. He thought. He wiped his brow. He looked at the Machinist, whose eyes were on the ground, defeated and traumatized by his mistake. Dessin thought back to a few hours ago, and how irritated he was with the expedition. With himself. With the world. Now that he thought about it, he felt a lot like how this old Lupe felt: slowly turning into stone.

     "Come with me, then," Dessin suggested.

     The Machinist looked up, confused. "What?"

     "If you want to see Neopia," Dessin smiled softly. "I guess I'd like to come too. We're in this together now, aren't we? And besides... ten years with a bunch of warfs merits at least one friend." He held out his hand. "What do you say? Friends?"

     The Machinist was astonished, and stood in silence, until he stated to smile. "Haven't had a friend in a while... I guess I sure would like one." He grabbed the Zafara's hand. "Friends."

     The two neopets shook, and time stood still.

     The last case of Mordull had been cured.

The End

Thanks for reading it, guys... hope you enjoyed ^^