Day 70, 04:25 PM
“War is peace. Freedom is slavery. Ignorance is strength.”
― George Orwell
It wasn’t really a choice. I couldn’t risk anything happening to Manny. A zombie could stumble out of a locked room or an alcove I missed, an assassin might pass by our soldiers and stab her from the shadows. I have too many paranoid thoughts. Too many fears for her safety.
I climb the stairs, and our two lights merge, surrounded by darkness.
“I think we’re done here. For some reason, two bodies didn’t turn into devils, but I have no clue why that is.”
She looks at me, and my heart dances, spurred by the concern in her eyes. A stupid emotion really, I already know she loves me, and having her worry over nothing while pregnant is bad, yet a part of me is still happy.
“I’m all right. No bites. The old devil was weaker than these new ones, but it was as slippery as an eel. Tough to get a grip on.”
She swallows and flashes me a smile while nodding. “Gomer needs to write that down for the future generations.”
Good idea. I don’t see how it will help anyone, but it sure doesn’t hurt to have an extra page of morbid drawings with a few lines of Gomer’s original text. I bet it would make the old man happy.
“The cell’s door was open. Somebody removed the bolt, but I didn’t go in to check the rest of the details. I was afraid something might slip behind me and reach you. Will you come with me so I can protect you? Devils really aren’t that scary.”
Actually, that’s a lie. To regular humans they are a terror. They seem twice as strong as they were in life and even a scratch from one can inflict people with whatever curse or disease plagues them, turning them into mindless creatures. Plus, you must fight conservatively, ensuring you don’t wound them while fighting back.
Manny purses her lips. Her incredulous grimace lasts a blink before disappearing. She nods, squashing her instincts and trusting me completely. Truly an incredible woman.
“I love you, you know that?”
She nods again, a light smile touching her lips. “I love you too.”
She must think me insane, dragging a preggo through a giant, undead-infested tomb complex. It’s practically an RPG dungeon, and I don’t want to find out if there’s a skeleton king with a big-ass sword at the lowest level.
It might make great loot, though.
“Don’t worry. I will protect you with my life. The only reason I’m insisting on this as much as I am is because I believe the assassin has released the devil to separate us. I have seen two other doors down there. They are locked and undisturbed. Unfortunately, we will have to double check everything. Just in case.”
“Just in case.” She nods.
“First, I will carry these down.” I motion towards the hog-tied devils. “I’ll carry one at the time, and I’m thinking we should pack them in the disturbed tomb. What do you think?”
“I think we should brick up the doors, to prevent similar incidents from happening. I fail to understand why they did not do that immediately.”
“Agreed.”
Personally, I don’t understand why they didn’t lock up all the devils in one room, then filled it with concrete. The book of dos and don’ts doesn’t warn against encasing them in such a manner. Maybe nobody thought of it? Maybe they don’t have concrete mixer trucks and it’s a chore to make thousands of cubic feet of concrete?
But if a problem with that particular approach had ever happened, they would have documented it. I hope.
I don’t mention my idea, we can discuss it later, within the safety of the keep, with everyone present. Instead, I spend ten minutes moving devils down the stairs, careful not to damage them. Finally, I wrap myself in three spare sets of bondage utilities and grab another two molotov jugs. Manny carries two extra molotovs and follows me downstairs.
“You never take me anywhere nice.” Her voice is dead serious.
“Sorry, I’m not from around these parts. Back home it was normal to take girls out for an evening of neutralizing monsters in creepy dungeons and on month-long wilderness survival treks. What do you people do for fun?”
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I give her the taste of her own medicine and keep my voice flat and serious. I glance back at her, and her brow is furrowed, her mouth opened a tiny crack.
“Was that a joke?”
“Naturally. I’m a man of great wit and exceptional humor.” I grin. “In fact, you are lucky I chose you as my lifelong partner.”
“Do not joke about that. I really am lucky to have met you. To answer your question, when I was a girl, tutors explained how men bought women expensive gifts, gave them exotic flowers and critters to show their dedication and a bunch of other nonsense, but from where we are now, such shallowness is pure trite. We could watch the sunset from the citadel walls sometimes, assuming no assassins are out to get us, and the foot-rubs you gave me felt really good. Why did you stop?”
I shrug. Massaging any part of the woman you love feels good.
“No particular reason. I was helping you recover from stress and injury. But if they felt good, I don’t mind giving you one every day.”
“I would very much like that.”
We reach the scattered squirming devils, and Manny goes silent, her attempts to calm herself through chit-chat completely wasted. I put down my molotovs and hug her.
“Relax. You’re safe. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
She nods, but doesn’t relax. Unfortunately, there’s little I can do to further assure her. If wrestling and binding the devils and defeating unseen assassins wasn’t enough, there’s little words can do.
She has the right to be freaked out. We’re underground, in a narrow, dusty tomb. It’s strange that there was more dust in that secret passage than there is here—
“Manny?” I swallow, realizing the irregularity. “When was the last time someone entered this tomb? If I understood correctly, the traitors did not enter the tomb ten years ago. Right?”
She nods.
“That is correct. This tomb should have been undisturbed for decades, maybe even centuries.”
That doesn’t make sense.
I check the floor, and the dust dotted by bloody drag-tracks and footprints doesn’t seem all that thick.
“And the secret tunnel I used when I assassinated Gohen? Do you know when it was last used?”
“Father took me and Emil to show us all access paths a year or two before the king’s surprise attack. Why?”
I’m tempted to say, ‘Nothing’, but we agreed to be open about our thoughts, and this one certainly isn’t my personal secret.
“I find something odd. There was more dust and cobwebs in the secret passage than there are here. It’s not impossible that the assassin and the devils disturbed the surroundings enough, but I have a nagging feeling that’s not the reason.”
I’m guessing this is my wisdom screaming at me that someone was coming here ten years ago, or even more recently. But why would the duke have guards stationed within the tomb, while neither Gohen, nor we did? Paranoia? Experience? Or is there a mysterious reason why this corridor looks more recently used than the secret passage?
Manny moves her well-padded hand to her chin in contemplation, but lowers it with a frown.
“Don’t worry. I’ll toss the devils into their chamber and secure the door, then we can continue deeper in.”
What about the skeleton king with a big-ass sword?
I push the thought of a locked up boss monster out of my head, and get to work. The cell has only a single feature, an X-shaped wooden torture device, but the massive beams and the bindings on them are padded, to minimize the risk of damage to the devils. The padding has mostly rotted away, and I see no reason to reuse the failing bit of furniture. Instead, I dump the undead on the floor in the far corner, raising clouds of dust, confirming the damn thing accumulated here considerably more here than in the corridor.
Soon enough the chore is done, and the massive bolt squeaks into place, sealing the door shut.
I turn to Manny. “Do you want us to continue?”
She nods without saying a word, grim determination burning in her eyes.
I take the point, and Manny follows two steps behind, giving me enough space for whatever happens.
Nothing happens. The dust is blood-stained and disturbed until the end of the corridor and the entrance to the next staircase. The devil has come this way once, then returned when encountering stairs leading down, and the even staler air drifting from below.
“Watch out, the air down there seems stale. I don’t think it’s dangerous, but if you feel lightheaded or nauseous, let me know, I’ll get you out of here post-haste.”
She frowns again, but this time in confusion.
“Post-haste, as fast as possible,” I explain and she nods.
“Do not worry. I also wish to see what you think is in the depths of this tomb.”
I squeeze her shoulder and lead the way down. The next level has undisturbed cobwebs and dried up spider husks in the webs. The dust and the doors are undisturbed, and we quickly reach the third and final underground level.
I step down from the stairs, and take a deep breath.
“The air seems breathable here, too.” I turn around, and Manny seems fine. As much as I can see in our puffy getup.
“I am well enough, considering the circumstances. Proceed.” My gaze must have lingered a moment longer than I thought, because annoyance tinges her cold voice.
Maybe I should’ve kept my mouth shut and told her we’re exploring the whole thing just in case?
It’s a wrong thought to have, I have done the right thing. The bottom of this tomb could very well hold answers to some questions and mysteries plaguing her for over a decade. Her taut nerves are natural.
“Sorry—” she starts, but I don’t let her continue.
“There’s nothing to apologize for. I love you, understand you, and we will see this thing through together.”
“Thank you,” she says, and I can hear the lump in her throat. I just nod and turn around, proceeding in silence.
A minute later, the light of my molotov reveals dusty wood. I take another step, revealing a crate, then another, a whole bunch of crates await at the dungeon’s final level.
The loot is real.