In the Stable

Kenton swallowed. The Dungeon’s Fears. The legends said they cut to the heart, and nothing was allowed to be hidden. Which was well and good for adventurers and whatnot, but Kenton was going to retire.

“Fear of Failure.” It said to him, its shape changing. “You fear Failure as well.” It blinked at him in a way a mass of energy and matter should not be allowed to blink.

It changed, and Kenton realized that he might be…as the young folk said…in a spot of trouble.

Stay calm, he told himself. Stay calm like he was drinking raspberry lemon aid in the green fields of his home court, as calm as the soft morning breeze when he and Sarah Beth had nothing to do and nowhere to go. Not standing up against a monster of Legend, a force of nature to rival the Law of Fae.

Kenton reached for the pocket where he normally kept his keys. He finally remembered earlier that day, when he had just heard that a griffin had just stolen the Dragon Hide Saddle he was working on earlier. He had stood up, closed the lid of the polish he’d been using to work into an ornamental saddle for a unicorn, and seen his old key, from back in his mapper days, dangling on its old chain on a candle holder near his workstation. He had grabbed it, already fearing the worst that Cinnamon Girl was going to lead him on an endless chase until she got to see her favorite person.

And he had put it in his jacket.

The jacket he had left on the ninth ledge.

“Elswith, I’m going to get my key. You stay right there…”

“Do hurry.” Said Elswith, on the other side of the door. “I’m not alone in here.”

“Neither am I…What do you know about your fears, boy? And why is one out here with me?”

In the Dungeon

Daniel twitched and felt it as Kenton let go of the door handle. The sense that the stable was near faded somewhat. The self-proclaimed Fear of Self was still present here with him. It was still moving after him, a long tendril of red reaching for Daniel as Daniel clutched the door handle.

What did it mean that Kenton had come up? Was it truly Kenton? Why had the lowling fae come up so far? What trap was this? What did it mean? What was his angle?

“Even now, you see but do not understand.” Said the fear, red eyes glowing. “You hear but do not believe.”

Daniel had to release the handle and dive to the side as the first of the red struck the door. He rolled back to his feet, popping up and examining the response time of the Fear.

“What is the question?” the fear said again, sounding like two people were speaking over each other. “You see the answer, but you cannot bring yourself to look.” Another red strip struck where Daniel had been.

It was pushing him away from the door.

Daniel had a small space to evade. He must stay on this platform, as without the eleventh platform the gap was too great to cross again.

He was left with the realization that as long as the Fear stayed on the tenth platform, he had a chance. But if the Fear managed to cross over, Daniel would be unable to hold his ground.

In the Stable

Kenton watched as the Fear thing that he’d heard so much about just stood there, changing. Kenton didn’t want to watch what it changed into. But there wasn’t much else he could do. He could still see somewhat of what was going on in the Dungeon, though the walls had turned more opaque, and he could see that Elswith was in some kind of fight.

All he had to do was open the door.

Legends had it that Mappers had the right to invade the Dungeon space and pull out Adventurers overwhelmed by battle. If the Dungeon wasn’t dead (And Kenton still was hopeful that this was just a random fluke) then as a Mapper he had an important and dangerous job, not just a dangerous job as Mappers were used now.

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His problem was that he needed his key, which was in his coat. He kept calm, thinking happy thoughts (He heard a human tale that thinking happy thoughts let little children fly in someplace called London, and he rather liked to imagine that it was true). He saw his neatly folded coat on the ninth ledge, and the gleam of the chain holding the key.

As long as he didn’t engage the Fear, he’d be fine.

Now the part he hadn’t thought about before. How was he going to get down? He had somehow convinced himself that after he rescued Elswith, Elswith would go down and bring back the ladder. But now he realized that there were only two ways he would get down: Jumping and landing on each platform, or falling down all the way to the ground far below.

He rather disliked both options, but the second more than the first.

Besides, Elswith needed him. The Dungeon being alive and not dead may even be more important than the Game going on…

Kenton looked at Elswith one last time through the opaque glass walls, and then he jumped down. Somehow jumping down seemed worse than jumping up, with the platform whizzing at him. He landed firmly on his feet, feeling something unpleasant crunch in his ankles, but he recovered.

Why had he taken off his jacket? Of all the things to have to go back for, why that?

He stood on the eleventh platform and eyed the changing Fear on the tenth. Just keep changing, and let him go past.

Kenton landed on the tenth platform, scooting a bit and sliding, but giving a wide berth to the Fear thing.

Then it turned and looked toward him, and it was done changing. Kenton was looking at…

Sarah Beth. Sarah Beth wearing her white summer dress and her blue shawl and her golden hair. Sarah Beth, but not wearing her engagement broach. “You took too long.” She said.

In the Dungeon

The Fear was toying with Daniel like it was distracted. It kept glancing at the wall, although all Daniel saw was the horrid mixture of yellow wallpaper, soggy carpet, and white ceiling tiles, as well as a few patches of honest Stable wall. What did this entity wearing Elswith’s face see that he did not?

Despite being distracted, the Entity continued to lash out at Daniel, red tendrils controlled like a slither plant striking at a target to keep them from escaping but confined in a specific area. But it was no worse than griffin training, and Daniel was allowed a moment to contemplate how he had ended up here. Seriously.

He knew the Red Lord meant to change him. Daniel had also realized that his own desires for power were dangerous to those who could not protect themselves. Being the Heirling of the Red Sword was very different than becoming the Heir of the Red Sword. He had seen the price to pay to get it, and he was afraid. He was afraid he would see no other way forward and accept it. He was afraid he would pretend he had seen no other way out and accept it.

But he knew that he had options. Not recently, but before the second to last campaign, he had more options.

Had he chosen the hard path because he was afraid that he would be changed?

But he knew nothing can change you. You can be influenced, you can be prompted, you can be compelled. But had his fear of his own darker nature led him down this path?

He still didn’t know what the question was. But he was beginning to get hints about it. Hints he did not like.

Why had Kenton come? What scheme did he have?

The sound of gushing ooze drew nearer, and Daniel knew he was running out of time.

The metal-limbed creatures were pulling themselves onto the platform.

“Kenton, perhaps you could hurry?” Daniel asked, trying to keep his tone polite.

In the Stable

Kenton stared at Sarah Beth. He felt tears in his eyes. He had not seen her in person in twenty years. She had come out to visit him, coming as a lady’s maid for some small midling. Small by Citadel’s standards, but that would have been someone very important in his home court.

“You’re not her.” He said, clenching his fist.

Sarah Beth shook her head, in a very Sarah Beth fashion. “I told you. I didn’t need to be a midling fae. All I needed was you.”

“You’re not her.” He said. He needed to hurry. He moved to avoid her…it, it! The Fear! It. Kenton moved to avoid the thing that looked like the love of his life.

She flowed in front of him, and touched his face. It felt like Sarah Beth, and that was cheating. He tried to push her away, but she flowed with him.

He looked beyond her to the ninth pillar. There was his jacket. Hang in there Elswith, Kenton said in his heart.

“You have wasted your life for a chance that was never going to happen. If you don’t reach Middling, you know that you are past your prime. You wasted your time with me. What about the children we could have had?”

“Please move,” Kenton said, not bringing himself to be rude to Sarah Beth’s image.

Distantly, coming from the twelfth ledge, Kenton could hear a very polite tone “Kenton, perhaps you could hurry?”

Elswith. That punk. Kenton could see the old servitors (as described in legend) mounting the twelfth platform in the dungeon. He could also see Elswith contending against some tendril thing that lashed at below, but not what it was.

Sarah Beth stroked his face, softly. “Our lives would have been poor and short, but you could have had me.”

Kenton shifted, doing his best to ignore it “Please don’t wear my Love’s face.”

“Middlings struggle to conceive children. I wanted a family. I wanted you.”

Kenton touched just the tip of ‘Sarah Beth’s’ nose. She didn’t crinkle it. She always crinkled it.

As he thought. It wasn’t really her.

“Thank you.” He said, quietly. “For letting me see my love again.”

And he pushed the Dungeon Fear away and leapt down to the ninth ledge. Think happy thoughts, he thought, and maybe, just maybe, he’d fly.