Drake looked at Mort, fidgeting nervously. They were almost to the dungeon, and Drake's looming question was one that adventurers should already know by the time they ventured out, but before he could ask, Lyn said, “Mort, how do dungeons work again?”
Mort looked like he was expecting this, but his eyes were not on Lyn—they were on Drake. Lyn must have picked up on his nerves, like I had, he thought to himself. Glancing at Lyn, she gave him a sly nod, As I thought.
“Something I have always wondered is how they came to be, although for how they work, to start with, dungeons seem to spring into existence or unearth themselves. Inside are treasures and items, but mostly they have concentrated Essence, which causes a physical presence of the stuff we often call Essence crystal. Have you ever wondered how we stopped monsters from simply invading our towns?” Mort asked without waiting for a response.
“Well, it’s because of these crystals. The guild's job is to ensure the continued function of these barriers. To us humans, it’s unperceived, but for monsters…” Mort smiled, thinking the barriers could not stop him or his Silver Cats. He wet his lips and continued, “They come face to face with a force that uses their own strength against them. Usually, the barrier disorients them and attacks their senses. But I personally believe that if a creature were to wear a human flesh suit, they might be able to enter the city.” Mort waved his hands, making a creepy face at Drake. “To get you in your sleep!” Drake just blinked at him, no emotion on his face; inwardly, Drake was screaming, What, monsters can still come into cities?! The idea itself sent Drake into a spiral of concern.
Mort cleared his throat and continued. “Anyway, dungeons are great sources of wealth. Monsters and beasts seem to either be born inside the dungeon or lured inside for one reason or another. Thinking about it, it’s pretty strange. Maybe I’ll research it.” Mort looked at Lyn, who just beamed at him.
Mort was a little embarrassed by her stare. “Regardless of all that," Mort said, pointing between a row of trees, “we are here.” The trees themselves were thick redwood, but they had a sort of viscous fluid dripping from their sides. Mort lifted his left hand, focusing fire essence to the tip of his index finger. His finger began smoking as the energy grew until finally, a molten color wrapped around his finger. Soon after, a stream of molten light exploded from his finger in a concentrated beam. He swiped his finger between the trees, as the beam burned a cut through each tree. The Treants screamed in pain, their branches shaking before their bodies fell with a loud crash, leaving a smoking stump that continued to pop long after the spell was cast.
Mort had just used a Third-circle fire spell called Bisecting Ray. It’s a spell that concentrates heat into a beam. Such a spell should have left Mort in an exhausted state, but it seemed his control of essence had only grown. Typically, casters would need to put their own essence within the spell form to keep the structure, but Mort had figured out how to maintain it with external essence. On top of that, with his collection of human minds, he could use their consciousness to focus on multitasking with his spell. This not only improved his casting time. Mort desperately wanted to continue to experiment and test his collection of minds, but that could wait. “Treants,” Mort announced. “Be ready, goblins should be inside. Drake, can I count on you to be our frontline?”
The anxiety Drake felt made his breathing uneven, his heart race, and cold sweat formed on his hands and forehead. He was going to fail. There was no way he could succeed. Mort and Lyn were going to get upset and banish him from the party! His mouth was dry, and he did not feel like he could move.
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Mort placed a hand on Drake's shoulder. The boy looked up at him. Mort gave him a gentle smile. He squeezed his shoulder, and suddenly Drake felt like all of his anxieties were pretty silly. Mort would never treat him like that. Even in training, Mort was always kind, never yelled, and took his time explaining things in a simple way. What was he so afraid of?
“It is time to go,” Mort said, taking his hand off the boy. The three of them strode through the entry of the cavern. Each step echoed as they searched the dark. Mort whispered, “Drake, focus that energy into your eyes. Your draconic sight should let you see in the dark.” Just in case, Mort had a flare spell form prepared so they could see in a pinch.
Lyn had strung her bow and nocked an arrow. This arrow had a blue fletching, and the arrowhead had carved etchings akin to a simplistic spellform. The tip of the arrow glistened with a blue hue. It was what adventurers called an ice arrow.
Lyn took a deep breath and released the arrow. It whistled through the air. The wind from the arrow caused Drake's hair to sway. Speeding past him, it punctured something in the distance. The crunch of ice was faintly heard, then a loud thud. Drake whispered, “Jesus, Lyn, I did not see that goblin.” The three of them moved forward, and Drake cut the ear off the goblin, stashing it in his pack. They continued onward.
They faintly heard goblins speaking their strange language to one another. It was mostly tongue clicks and throaty sounds, but it seemed to work for their communication. The trio found themselves at a crossroad of sorts, four tunnels extending in each direction around them: west, north, east, and northwest. Mort could see the familiar essence—the red energy seemed to be radiating from the northwest tunnel—while the others were fainter. “That one,” Mort said, pointing at it. Drake, having infused his magic into his eyes, could see clearly now in the cave, almost like it was daylight.
The trio found themselves silently walking for quite some time. The tunnel opened up into a large dome cavern, the roof of which housed hundreds of gemstones of varying sizes, each one glowing with a different hue, color, and intensity. The room itself was lit up due to these marvelous gemstones. The room itself had a group of four tied up in the center. Each person had wet tears streaming down their cheeks. Nearby, on what looked like a raised slab of rock, was a chair of some sort, also made from rock. Next to it was a pile of adventurer gear, on the other side a pile of bones, and leftover organs deemed inedible.
A figure was sitting on the chair itself where a pair of burning red eyes stared intensely at the captured adventurers. A clawed hand was on its own cheek as it seemed lost in thought.
Mort felt drool pool from his own mouth, dribbling down his chin. He licked his lips; he wanted this creature more than he could bear. The thought of consuming its mind and the abilities its species might have made his heart race. Mort shifted so he was behind Lyn. He reached his hands around her, covering her mouth and keeping her arms pinned. His drool pooled on her shoulder. His fingers covering her mouth glowed a bright white color, and she grew slack in his arms. He laid her gently on the ground before standing behind Drake. This time, Mort combined essence into a complex spellform, applying it along his arms. At the same time, he began creating the second spellform he needed for the task in front of him. He closed his arms around Drake, choking him in a headlock while forcing his hand over his mouth and nose. A grin spread along Mort's lips, the oozing drool dripping onto the boy's head as he continued until Drake finally stopped struggling. Mort gently sat Drake next to Lyn.
Mort stood alone in the mouth of this cave, with his two unconscious companions. He wiped the drool from his mouth, leaned his head back, and spread his arms. From his open mouth, dozens of small Silver Cats began spilling out, almost like they were a waterfall coming from his lips. Before he had come to this dungeon, he had stopped by the cave of his origin, collecting his new clutch of Silver Cats. The creatures looked like a weave of liquid as they rushed from his body, spreading along the ground like a sheen of molten silver.
Mort looked upon the adventurers, watching them scream as the swarm of silver overtook them, burrowing into their skin. He could feel it. Mort could not help but laugh. The captives stood up on their own, following Mort's will. Each of them dislocated their arms, escaping their bindings easily. They removed the gags in their mouths, and just like Mort, they began laughing as well. What would these abominations do?