Chapter 119

Dungeon Beers?

Brewer’s Reputation: 400

The creek at its widest flowed through the base of the Mist Hidden wall. Through its waters the mist could be discerned. Its muddy bioluminescence wavered like seaweed disturbed by current. With the warmth of spring, a humidity hung above the creek and swamped the air. Willow branches hung like they were wet and heavy. The willows were massive, and their tops commanded everyone’s gaze. Their canopy was like leaf-beaded curtains which rustled in blusters.

Silver cocoons tore open in the forest and unleashed tens of monster fireflies. Even under such strong daylight, their lights blinked with brilliance.

I returned to the task of planing wood beams and planks for the bridge. Over the hours, beams and planks were joined over the bank of the creek. Everyone perspired from the labor. Posts were descended into dug holes, joinery was cut; and up the creek, others snatched crawfish from the water.

With my palm smote to the butt of my axehead, and with even pressure, peels of wood scraped up the beard of the axe. Those rolled peels amassed beside me like piles of miniature scrolls. Sweat dripped from my chin and wet my clothes, wet my axe handle, wet the toes of my boots, and stained the scrolls.

My effort was not unending, and I had to pause for longer than a moment to catch my breath. Everyone was downstream, and perhaps that’s why I found myself gazing upstream. My chest heaved as I panted and moved upstream through the sprawl of fern and cardinal flowers. When I stepped into shafts of sunlight, I felt the heat of the sun on my sweat on my shoulders. My skin gleamed in the corner of my eyes.

Ahead, I tucked my socks into my boots and left them dry before wading into the creek. The water trickled around large flat rocks where I took my seat. The cold water gripped my ankles and the current pulled at the hair on my legs. My bare feet were my eyes in the water. Behind me there was the sound of hammers striking wood the way that rain patters.

Behind closed eyes I saw the static red of the sun through my eyelids. I heard the constant water, I felt the wind stick in my sweat, and I heard adventurers nearby.

“Oye, wee ducklin’, I was here first! Ya best swim on back.”

“No you weren’t!”

“If ya keep quackin’ on, ya might be in for a drownin’ today!”

My eyelids were heavy, but I opened them as far as I could and searched the bank for the close commotion. Folk had amassed by my boots, and I knew why they had come upstream. At the fore of the sudden group, a farm boy and an armored young man faced off. The farm boy received a punch in his face, and he fell back in a sprawl. A dungeon crawler burst through the crowd as the farm boy staggered to his feet.

“Enough!” said the dungeon crawler. “That’s enough!”

A little girl, thin as a stick, rushed to the water’s edge. She clamped her nails between her teeth. The armored young man tackled the farm boy into the water.

“Get off me!” said the farm boy. “I was here first!”

“Liar!”

The dungeon crawler lifted the armored young man out of the water like he was pulling a car off a tree. “That’s enough! Come on lads, you've been at each other’s throats for weeks!” The farm boy sputtered as he splashed to his feet. The dungeon crawler looked at him. “Mally, you’re barely the size of this man’s pinky. What’re you hoping to accomplish?”

Slipped free from the dungeon crawler’s grasp, the armored young man rushed Mally; but the dungeon crawler’s reach was faster, and he pulled him back.

“I said that’s enough!”

From the crowd emerged a hunched round woman. She hobbled on see-saw hips and thrust a finger in the armored young man’s face. “At it again with that sweet young boy, are you! He’s been giving us grain for bread every day, and this is the thanks you show him?”

Her hand was as hunched at the wrist, curled like a lobster, and she pinched the boy’s ear. He whined like a wronged puppy as she towed him off.

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The dungeon crawler crouched before Mally. “You know better.”

Blood ran from Mally’s nose. “I can’t let 'em down. If I don’t hurry-”

“-If you keep challenging men like that, you’ll only hurry to your grave.”

“But I gotta-”

The dungeon crawler leveled a menacing glare at Mally who then seemed defeated.

“Sorry,” muttered Mally.

The dungeon crawler pointed at the line of folk. “Back you go.”

Mally moved downstream, crouched in the water, and washed his face. His blood tinged the water around his ankles.

The little girl who had been so nervous was now at the front of the line. She grinned with smashed eyes and all her teeth. She took the dungeon crawler’s hand in hers and pulled him out across the water. The dungeon crawler stumbled along.

I was half expecting to lose my little break on the water. There were dozens of adventurers who still wanted something from me. There was no use in putting things off.

The pair splashed through the water and hobbled onto the nearest flat boulder. Up close, the dungeon crawler looked mean. He was quite roughly shaven, probably due to the raised scars which interrupted a razor’s glide.

I pointed my chin where the two boys had fought. “Thanks for breaking that up. I’m doing my best to make myself available so that everyone’s got a chance to talk.”

“We couldn’t be more grateful,” said the dungeon crawler. He looked down at the girl who had begun to chew her nails once more. She had the same jaw, and I reasoned they were father and daughter.

“So, what can I do for you? Dungeon beer, I’m guessing.”

“Oh! Yes, yes. Well, actually no, that’s not what I…” The man turned his gaze down and it seemed like he was chewing the inside of his cheek. “...Sorry to bother you like this.”

“It’s all right. I could give you a bottle of Ethereal Dungeon Beer #1 if you’d like?”

He perceptibly stuttered. He and his daughter shared looks.

While they shared their silent conversation, I began cloning my dungeon beer. After labeling the beer, I handed it over.

“Ah, thank you…for this.”

The man sat there with the bottle in his hand, but he seemed to stare through it. I had the feeling he wasn’t quite happy.

“More?” I said and quickly brewed a few more bottles.

“Oh, this is more than enough, thank you so much. It’s just not what I-”

Ah! Of course! Armed as he was, he would want the more dangerous dungeon beers. “-I get it,” I said. In a few moments, I cloned Ethereal Dungeon Beers #1, #2, #3, #4, and #5.

The little girl’s eyes got wider with every bottle I passed her father.

He blew a raspberry and scratched the back of his head. “This is incredibly generous of you. I’m not sure I can accept all these. Are you sure?”

“I really don’t mind.”

The little girl frowned and poked her father between his plate armor at his side. He cleared his throat. “…I…uh…thank you…”

“Anytime.”

…But they didn’t leave. Water trickled around our ankles. The canopy rustled. Dappled sunlight searched the bottom of the creek. The little girl nudged him.

“Do you want more of each dungeon?”

The man waved his hand. “No, no! I’m very much grateful for these.”

“Careful in #5. I’ve had to install a Minion dungeon master in that one. It’s much more brutal of a dungeon than the previous four.”

The sounds of construction ricocheted through the forest. Voices were only murmurs below the sound of running water.

“If you don’t mind, I’d like to see what everyone else needs.”

I slipped off the rock, and began wading ashore. The little girl leapt into the water and intercepted me.

“Ellette!” her father cried and reached out for her.

She dodged her father’s grasp. “Please, Mr. Hawkin. This is my dad. His name is Wayan.” To her father she said, “I told you, you should start by introducing yourself.” To me she said, “My dad’s not good at talking about himself.”

Wayan slipped into the water and splashed over to his daughter. “Ellette, please, let’s leave the man to his task. He’s already given us too much.”

Ellette battled her father back. “And my name is Ellette. My dad doesn’t want your dungeon beers. Dad, show him the stone.” She fished a stone out from her father’s pocket, shoved it into his hands, and pulled his hands out toward me. “My dad is really nice once you get to know him. He just looks big and mean.” She took a deep and shaky breath. “But he’s not really mean. He’s just been a slave for a long time because his dad was a slave too because that’s what my grandpa did to raise his family.” Tears streamed down her cheeks and her voice trembled. “And I hate it, and this is our only chance. My dad tries hard. Really, really hard, and he’s doing his best. It’s not fair, and I wish we’d had a chance like this years ago. He’s really nice to me and my grandpa and he does his best to take care of us. He goes out of his way to help other people too, and he’s really, really strong. He’s the strongest person I know. But we need your help. Please Mr. Hawkin. He needs you to make a beer with the stone he brought with us.” Her hands were in fists and her knuckles were white. Her voice was near shouting—in it was something desperate. “I don’t want my dad to be a slave anymore. He’s gone for a long time sometimes and he tries to go into more dangerous dungeons to make more money and I’m afraid he won’t come home one day!”

Ellette was heaving breaths. All sounds paused, save for the trickle of water. All eyes, from bridge to the bottleneck of folk on the bank were on Ellette. She sobbed with a fierceness in her gaze. She’d even taken up a stance as if I were some monster she was sworn to take down. It was clear—she was fighting for something which meant the world to her.