Jeremy tried to steady the shake in his hands as he drew back the string of his bow once more and loosed into the armoured mob of dwarves storming towards him, cursing as it plinked off a pauldron. He didn’t understand how this happened. What was the captain thinking? Dwarves in a dungeon! But he was a [guard] now, should he be listening to the captain over Sarge? There wasn’t time to work it out as the dwarves moved inexorably towards the entrance to the dungeon, Jeremy an unlucky speed bump in their path.
He loosed another arrow but a blast of flame consumed it. He threw himself to the ground, heat searing his back and sweat pouring down his face. As he pushed himself up, agony coated his back as the remains of his leathers shifted and sloughed off, flesh tearing where it had fused. But as the whoosh of flames faded, his own was not the only hoarse scream, the flesh of the guards beside him looking like a candle that had burned low.
“My condition was the guards stay alive dammit!”
“If the healers are competent, they’ll live.” The woman with blazing hair brushed off the captain with terrifying disregard.
Suddenly Davis was beside him, a long gash bleeding freely on one arm as he half carried, half dragged him back into the dungeon.
“Sorry buddy but there’s no time. Got to slow them down so help can arrive. If we’re in the dungeon that’s two less dwarves who can enter.”
“Smart.” He breathed.
Jeremy felt the odd trickling sensation and blinked, eyes adjusting as they passed through the entrance, still leaning heavily on Davis’ shoulder. The stillness and coolness of the air was jarring, his raw back protesting at the change. The smell he realised must be charred flesh had mostly vanished, and he tried not to think about why it was only mostly. The only light a faint shimmer from the veil they passed through.
“Do you have something for an offering?” Davis asked as he struggled to open a pouch at his waist, rushing fingers not quite finding purchase.
With a groan Jeremy tossed his money pouch atop the coral altar. He could be financially responsible if he survived the night. Davis seemed to agree as he quickly followed suit, though Jeremy couldn’t help but notice while his friend still had a shield, his blade was gone. As if a trigger, he noticed his own fingers curled in a death grip around his bow, as if trying to crush the wood. All of Sarge’s basic training had drilled in never losing it, and in this moment Jeremy was thankful.
“They won’t be far behind us, let’s move.”
Stepping into the narrow tunnel Davis said, “I’ll hold them here. Sarge’s idea was to get to the second floor but I don’t think we can manage that. Can you walk?”
Jeremy felt unsteady, but his feet were holding him. “I’ll manage. Here, take my knife. I was always better with the bow anyway. Don’t suppose you have a torch?”
Davis grimaced, “Sorry, no. Any ideas?”
The longbow was awkward to move in the cramped tunnel, maybe if he could aim at the exit he’d have a chance, but the skeleton and the darkness complicated things. Clanking armour and voices made the decision for him.
“Go!” Davis hissed, his round shield almost wedged between the two sides of the corridor.
Jeremy didn’t think, he just loped forwards on the balls of his feet, a warding hand out in front. He couldn’t see, but he’d run the first floor dozens of times. He knew where things were, didn’t he? He felt the space around him widening and swerved, he didn’t want to run into a pit. He tried to keep his footsteps quiet but the sound of clashing behind him rendered that moot. Thankfully it was followed by faint illumination which let him readjust his course towards the exit rather than the wall beside it. Unfortunately, he heard a clatter as a skeleton landed behind him.
He dug deep within for any extra ounce of speed, sprinting into the darkness of the corridor ahead. One hand reached out and scraped against the wall as he used it as a guide, hoping against hope that the skeleton wouldn’t follow, or worse, attack Davis from behind. Even as that thought struck him the sounds of conflict faded, replaced by indistinct murmurs before a familiar clattering of bones rang out. He was out of time!
The wall beside him vanished almost immediately after, he was in the second room! But what now? The skeleton would start throwing rocks soon. Or had it heard him? How did they even work in the dark anyway? He recognised he was panicking but he couldn’t slow his breathing, he needed to do something quick. Then he had a crazy idea.
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Feeling his way with much less caution than he’d like to the edge of the pit, he shifted to hang off the ledge. Footsteps and faint light fast approaching sealed his descision, he took a deep breath and dropped. He tried to absorb the impact with his legs and fall on his side. The pain in his back blazed at the impact, vision swimming for a moment.
The footsteps stopped and he froze, biting back a groan of pain. Light was pouring down past the ledge above him and he silently prayed to The Three that no one looked down.
“Aye, some of the bars are trapped alright.”
“And there’s the skeleton.”
Twangs reverberated as two bolts shot through the gloom even as a rock flew in the opposite direction. Cracks and a clatter confirmed they’d hit their mark. Jeremy silently cursed even as his lungs burned from not daring to breathe, he’d forgotten dwarves had low-light vision.
“Pathetic. I thought you said this hole was dangerous. Throwin’ stones at us…” a gob of spit splattered beside Jeremy.
“Donnae let yer guard down, this is only the first floor. What I wannae know is where the other guard got te if that skeleton was still there?”
The captain’s voice responded, “The skeletons occasionally reconstitute early. We should keep moving. If whoever it is gets to the second floor we’ll be delayed until it reopens.”
Jeremy felt himself relax slightly; the cap was keeping him safe. But why did he bring them here in the first place? It didn’t make any sense.
“Shouldn’t you know yer own people?”
“I was preoccupied with the mutilated comrades beside them.” His voice deathly cold.
“Let’s keep moving, we can’t afford to wait an hour for the floor to reset. We’ve wasted enough time already.”
Despite the short stature of most of the group, after a grunt of exertion to reach the beams, they swung from one to the next with ease. The dwarf in front confidently calling out the safe beams. As they passed overhead Jeremy felt his chest tighten and his teeth bit into his lip hard enough to draw a trickle of coppery blood. It would only take one glance below. A single individual not totally focused on what was ahead.
In short order, that felt far too long, they vanished into the darkness at the far end and the thumps of them landing resounded one after another. Only when he heard the rumble of the boulder did he begin to breathe again. Wait! The boulder! It was going to roll through the tunnel into the pit! Surely it wouldn’t roll to the far side? But he couldn’t take the chance.
He staggered to his feet not fully managing to stifle his groan this time. He was about to stagger away when he heard a familiar grunt above him. It was followed by another. A pair of dwarves more cautiously making their way across as with a slight tremor the boulder thudded into the far end of the pit. Battle cries rang out from that direction and the two dwarves picked up their pace only for the bar the first was swinging from to crack and crash into the pit.
Jeremy drew his bow even as the dwarf above called to the one below,
“Ye alright down there? Looked like a rough landin’. Hey who’s – ”
Jeremy shot. For how far Jeremy had ventured into the dungeon, he’d gained relatively little; no fancy new class, only [training] as a skill, and a little vitality from beating the boss. That wasn’t to say he’d made no progress. He’d levelled, but more importantly, he’d gotten better with the skills he had. Good enough that even as his back burned from drawing the bow, with his life on the line he used both [power shot] and [precision shot] in a single attack, driving an arrow between two plates of the brigandine on the dwarf’s upper back. The armour still managed to disperse much of the force as the arrow pierced, which was plenty to throw him from the beams above.
The first dwarf groaned, trapped under the bonelike beam that cracked above him. Sounds of conflict from the room ahead were fading. Jeremy moved swiftly, drawing another arrow he rushed over to the pinned dwarf who seemed dazed. Point blank, he lined up his shot and fired through the skull. Overwhelming poundage to a vulnerable area rendering any difference in levels moot. Bile rose in his throat but he was swiftly distracted.
“I’m gonna kill ya, ye bastard!” the remaining dwarf wheezed, spitting blood as he charged forwards brandishing his mace.
The arrow and the fall might have killed his volume, but he clearly had enough vitality it wasn’t slowing him down much. The boulder rolled limply out of the gloom behind him, most of its momentum gone. Jeremy’s skills were on cooldown and there were no tricks left to save him. All he had was one last shot.
He drew, ignoring the pain in his back. He had to go for the head. When you only had one shot, he’d been taught to go for the body, but this time that wouldn’t be enough. Twenty feet to go. Fifteen. He felt the string go taut as he lined it up. Then suddenly the dwarf was in front of him, the string went slack as splinters flew and the arrow jumped from his hands. Then the bow shattering mace head crashed into his chest. Instinctively but futilely the hand still bearing half his bow moved to stop it. To push it away. While the other hand moved by training to the sheath at his waist. Of course, the first did nothing while the second found nothing.
He flew back off his feet, darkness creeping in at the edge of his vision. He remembered; he’d given the knife to Davis. His chest burned with pain and his back screamed as he slammed into the hard ground. He gasped which made everything hurt more somehow. It’s not like the knife could have saved him anyway… Nothing could have prepared him for this…
The Dwarf loomed over him, mace raised, “Don’t think yer little offerings to the hole will save ya. Yer noggin will be paste on the ground by the time I’m done with ye.”
He tried to move, he really did, but the world seemed to spin and his limbs barely answered. He still had the remains of his bow in one hand, the term death grip feeling morbidly appropriate as he shifted it towards his head in a pathetic facsimile of a defence. Just before the blow landed, he felt his hard-earned [block] skill trigger, almost mockingly.
His vision became shadowed, there was an almighty clang, and as he faded into the darkness, he could swear he heard Sarge’s voice telling him he did a good job.