POV - Clark

“Damn this weather.”

Clark duck back into the abandoned mine, past the sheet of canvas he’s nailed to the support beam closest to the mine’s entrance. It wasn’t perfect. Wind whistled around the edges and a small stream of water wormed its way underneath and further down into the mine, but it blocked the wind and rain well enough.

Clark was, of course, naked, save for his boots. He’d made it to the mine a good hour prior, but had spent it scouring the area for any other signs of his son’s passage. The rain had started shortly after he’d arrived and hadn’t let up since. He’d only recently given up and taken shelter within the long abandoned mine. Given the chill air, he’d stripped to more easily dry off and warm up. His sodden clothing hung from scavenged nails hammered into a support beam further in. Without a fire they wouldn’t be dry for a good day or two, but Clark would still take damp over soaked.

A lantern hung nearby from another nail, providing the only sources of light within the mine. To stay warm, Clark alternated between pacing while swinging his arms and light exercise with his spear. The long weapon felt familiar in his hands, but no longer comfortable. Too many years had passed since he’d last held it for more than maintaining it, and too many poor memories. There were some good ones, but they’d long since been overshadowed.

It’d been two days since he’d left to find his son. By the gods’ grace, the weather had held off during the time. If he added in the few days without rain prior to him setting off, it’s been the longest stretch of pleasant weather the area had had in a month. The good weather had allowed Clark to follow Jamison’s trail into the hills, then to the base of the broken sword mountains, and finally to the abandoned mine. Gazing deeper into the mine, Clark’s instincts were screaming at him. Scream that there was something dangerous here, something deeper within the mine.

If this is where Jamison is, if this is where he’d followed that bastard lamp. Clark clenched his teeth and took a deep breath. The boy’s not a fighter. He might ward off a lone predator, but that’s mostly the dog’s job. He’s a fair hand with a sling, but it wouldn’t have helped him down here, even if he hadn’t dropped it.

Clark rubbed the strip of leather wound around his wrist. He’d recognize his own work anywhere. He’d given it to his son only a couple of years ago, when he had decided that Jamison was old enough to watch the flock by himself. It’s what let him know he’d followed the right trail.

Clark shook his head and continued to pace about his cramped camp. As much as he wished to, just charging straight down into the mine was foolhardy at best. The world underneath the surface was dangerous. He’d tried to imprint that lesson into his children, and Clark thought he’d done a good job, but apparently it hadn’t been good enough.

“I need to rest.”

Cold camps had never been Clark’s favorite, and this one was definitely high on the list of his least favorite. Clark made a quick meal of hard bread, cheese, and mutton jerky before wrapping himself in a thin wool blanket and taking a seat on his pack. He’d have to rest sitting up. With the canvas blocking the weather and his clothes soaked, he only had the thin blanket to stay warm, but it wouldn’t be enough to keep the cold stone from sapping his warmth from him if he laid down. Clark tucked his head to his chest, closed his eyes, and prayed to Vita for a fragment of her warmth.

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Clark did not feel rested the next morning. He was stiff, sore, and cold. It wasn’t the first time he’d woken up like this, though. Keeping the thin blanket around himself, Clark first slowly walked around his camp. The walking transitioned to first shallow, then deep lunges as he warmed up. He took a quick break as he ate a cold breakfast of nuts and cheese to dawn his still damp clothing and step outside. The storm from the night before had passed, but the wind still blew and grey clouds hid the rising sun.

A week without rain seems to have upset the Storm Bringer. Clark thought.

He shook his head and returned to the mine. The weather that day was unlikely to matter to him. There were rumors in the village that this had been the entrance to an old dwarven mine. If there were true, he could spend the next three days wandering them without seeing the end. Not that Clark gave the rumors any credence. The last of the great dwarven surface kingdoms was well to the east, and had fallen long ago. Even so, old mines were a dangerous place. Clark knew we would want to take his time to ensure he didn’t injure himself or become trapped within.

I shouldn’t need to go far, Clark thought as he packed up his camp. Jamison is smart enough to have only gone so deep before returning. He wouldn’t have gone into the far depths just for a lamb.

Clark refilled the oil lamp and attached it to a loop in his belt specifically for that. A piece of leather hung down beneath the loop to stop the lantern from burning his leg. He checked the straps on his armor one last time before sliding on his helmet, shouldering his pack, and grabbing his spear. Clark stood with his back to the to the grey sky outside. He didn’t look back as he marched further into the mine, crouched slightly and spear pointed forward, because he didn’t need to. He would see the sky again. He would see the hills and his pasture again. He would see his wife and children again. He didn’t look back when the gloom swallowed the last ray of dim sunlight.

Clark had only been descending for a little over five minutes when his lantern light revealed the first sign of life within the mine. A spider web. A very large spider web. Clark immediately froze, then slowly turned his head left than right while straining his ears and peripheral vision. For several long moments, the only movement were the odd shadows the flicking lantern on Clark’s belt cast on the rough walls. Slowly, and as quietly as he could, Clark advanced step by step down the mineshaft. His steps were short, his feet rising no higher than they needed to clear the ground.

A full minute passed as Clark crept forward towards the large spider web. Close enough that he could reach out and touch the web with his spear, Clark froze again as feeling washed over him. It was a familiar feeling, but one he hadn’t felt in a long time. A period only a little longer than the one between now, and when he’d last held his spear. The feeling of being watched. The increased pressure from the sudden, if only slight, rise in ambient Mana. Eyes still forward, scanning the darkness beyond the lantern light, Clark raised his foot and stepped backwards with the same speed and precision he’d used to advance moments before. Clark only stopped once he’d retreated a good hundred feet from the spider web.

The spear clattered to the ground as he fell to his hand and knees. Clark had thought some monster had made its home within the mine. But this? Clark forced himself to breathe. A long breath in through the nose, then a long breath out through the mouth. They were shaky. Clark felt the urge to speed up, but he was in control of his breath. Not the other way around. He caught sight of the leather sling on his wrist. Clark remembered clearly the day he’d given it to Jamison. The boy struggled between the urge to run off and try it and being mature, given his new responsibilities. The warring expression on his face usually made him smile. Now though...

A fire roar to life in his stomach. Clark’s neck bulged as he clenched his jaw with enough strength to shatter a weaker man’s teeth. His skin burned and Clark felt power flood his limbs. Clark continued to force an even breath as he grabbed his fallen spear and pushed himself to his feet.

Control yourself Clark. He told himself. Control. Your. Self. You may not be the man you once were, but you are no newly minted copper. Control yourself.

Except he didn’t want to. Clark took a step forward and clenched his fists tighter around his spear.

It’s foolish to challenge a dungeon alone, Clark. Especially as you are now, and even more so while angry. But it took my boy. I can feel it. IT. TOOK. MY. SON.

Clark strode forward, spear forward, and as tall as the mine’s low ceiling would allow. He stopped right before entering the dungeon. He could still turn back. There would be consequences if he continued. Sara would be pissed. But how could he return without even trying to face his son’s killer?

Clark Stepped into the Dungeon.

“I know you’re watching, Fiend.” Clark Roared, “You took my son from me. And you will not be the first Dungeon I see broken.”