Charomera
The 20th of Thargelion
The Year 4631 in the Era of Mortals
The exit to the minotauros’s lair was a straight tunnel. If Asterion’s room was the center of the labyrinth, then what had taken him over nine hours to get into only took twenty minutes to leave. The walls didn’t close in and nothing was left to roar, leaving him alone to ponder dark thoughts.
The first hint that he had left the labyrinth was the sight of a golden urn propped against the wall. Next to it was a pile of silver coins, larger than drachmae or obols. On the other wall, glittering weaponry and ancient art made from extravagant and rare metals. The passage widened until Arche was in a huge hall, priceless treasures on nearly every side. He walked past all of them, barely sparing them a glance.
A single inventory’s worth of these treasures would likely be able to finance Myriatos for years. Perhaps at a different time his fingers would have itched to take as much as he could, but all he felt was numb. The wealth was extravagant, but it was cold, dead metal, locked away and never used. Asterion deserved more than to be the guardian of a crypt. If his jailors still lived, Arche would see vengeance done. It was the least he could do. To live thousands of years in a dark labyrinth, always starving, always hated, always angry…Arche shuddered. It was a punishment crueler than any he could think of.
To his left, the broken bow of a ship rose at an angle above the treasures. He cocked one head to look at it, the first thing that didn’t seem like a treasure unto itself. A rapid series of startled barks came from the bow. Arche stopped.
Something moved by the ship, small and incredibly fast. It disappeared somewhere among the treasure, knocking priceless artifacts aside as it growled at him. Arche stayed still, trying not to make any sudden movements that might spook the creature. The growling was low and oddly familiar.
“Are you a dog?”
Taking care not to move, he activated Psychic Sight. The sheer amount of treasure around him was stunning. Buried beneath a pile of it was, in fact, a dog. Its consciousness was fairly robust, for an animal. Arche tapped against it with his mind, just enough to make a connection, and sent soothing emotions. The growling stopped and the strange dog slid from beneath a pile of coins in the bow of the ship. With Darksight, Arche couldn’t distinguish the color of its coat, so he cast Flare and held the ball of flame in his hand. The dog flinched at the light but snuffled closer. Its fur was gray with dust but had flecks of green where the dirt had rubbed away. Its coat was overgrown and tangled together in snarls and knots.
Arche held out his hand, clenched into a fist just in case it decided it wanted to take a couple of his fingers. The dog sniffed at him for several moments. As it did, Arche Examined it.
Blur Hound (Juvenile)
Level: 14
Race: Blur Hound
Age: ?
Height: ?
Weight: ?
Profession: ?
Trade: ?
Traits: ?
Companions: ?
Adventuring Party: ?
Health: 565 / 565
100%
Stamina: 1,015 / 1,015
100%
Mana: 60 / 60
100%
The blur hound licked Arche’s hand and Arche scratched it behind the ears. The dog sat down next to him.
“Hey, boy. No name, huh? That’s ok. I didn’t have a name for a while either. What are you doing down here?”
The dog laid down and presented its belly. Arche obliged it, then turned his attention back up to the ship’s bow. It was a massive thing, made from stout wood, and only half the ship was present. On the side, bright paint read out the name ‘Argo.’
“Argo, huh? Was that your home?”
The blur hound cocked its head at the word, looking up at Arche.
“Oh, you recognize that name, boy? Well, it’s as good a name as any, but seems wrong to just take it from the ship. What about Argot?”
The dog blinked at him.
“You’re right. Argony?”
The dog licked its chops.
“True, too close to agony. Okay, I’ve got it. What about Argos?”
The blur hound rolled over and sat up.
“Argos? You like that one?”
It licked his hand and sent him a wave of excitement.
“Argos it is, then. Would you like to come with me?”
The hound barked once and sent more excitement.
“All right, buddy, you can come with me. Be careful, though. This place is dangerous. We’ve got to be quiet.”
Arche tried to send caution through the link but he wasn’t sure the dog quite got the message. Still, Argos stayed by his side as he started walking again. He kept up the mental link with the dog, as that at least allowed it to send some messages back, even if Arche didn’t understand all of them. From the images and emotions Argos sent, Arche got the feeling it had been in the treasury for a long time, though between the dog’s tenuous grasp on the concept and the eternal darkness of the space, it was impossible to say. It had fed on rats and other vermin, drunk from the occasional puddle, and played in the treasure. In response, Arche sent memories of the forest and walking in sunshine, and also of the village. Argos’s tail whipped through the air at the idea of running through the woods chasing squirrels.
This lasted all of twenty minutes before Argos started getting nervous. He lagged behind Arche, tail drooping and ears back. A rapid set of emotions crossed their link. Agitation, anxiety, fear. Arche stopped to rub the dog behind the ears.
“It’s all right. We’ve got to go this way, but if anything dangerous pops up, just stay behind me.”
Argos sent back an image of them chasing rats together and sleeping in the broken ship hull.
“No, we can’t stay here. We’ve got to go through so we can get out.”
Argos whined but kept walking. Arche cast out his awareness with Psychic Sight. There had to be a reason the dog didn’t want them going this way and it was probably due to whatever else was in the dungeon with them. The only other living things he’d found were the occasional rat, but the treasure seemed to keep growing around them. Psychic Sight didn’t give him the clarity that Darksight did but it reached twice as far. He kept both active for as long as he could, only dropping Psychic Sight when he needed to regenerate the Mana to cast Darksight. Shortly after Psychic Sight reached level two, the layout changed.
Arche could no longer sense the walls. Even the ceiling had grown too high to make out. He stopped, making Argos send curiosity through their link.
“Just a second, boy.”
He took a step back, then a step forward, then frowned. Then he took a step to either side. Still frowning, he grabbed a sphere of gold off a treasure pile and set it against the floor. It rocked forward, tipping over a ridge as it picked up speed. It went a few feet before Argos pounced on it. The hound dropped it, now covered in saliva, at Arche’s feet.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“We’re on an incline,” Arche muttered. “How deep does this go?”
Argos sent another wave of curiosity at him.
“I’m not sure. Could be nothing.” Arche picked the golden sphere up and placed it back on the treasure pile.
Argos sent an image of them walking back the way they had come, along with hope.
“No, sorry bud, we’ve got to keep going. You want to run in the woods, right?”
Excitement.
“Then stay close and stay safe. If we run into trouble, just stay back and I’ll handle it, okay?”
Uncertainty. Grudging acceptance.
“Good boy.” Arche rubbed Argos’s head.
Excitement. Satisfaction.
They continued and the treasures kept mounting around them. It seemed all of Tartarus’s treasures had been consolidated here. This was more than a king’s ransom; this was the kind of opulence he’d have expected of a god.
The thought made him shudder.
A red light shone ahead. It was too far to see and too soft to give any insight. Argos’s ears drooped and he slinked along next to Arche. As they approached, more details became clear. A raised dais, four stone pillars at the corners upholding a domed ceiling. The light rested at the center of the platform, where there was some sort of altar. Stairs led up on all sides inviting him in. Arche looked down at Argos, who was clearly loathe to go any farther.
“In for a penny, in for a pounding. You want to stay down here?”
Nervous disagreement.
“All right. Remember the plan.”
Arche climbed the stairs and found a stone bowl on the small, glowing altar. He checked it for traps but spotted nothing. It was deathly quiet, even the rats stayed away. Arche peered inside the bowl. It was empty, aside from a bit of writing on the bottom. Much of it had been lost to time, but one word was still legible.
…fill…
“Here goes nothing.”
Arche removed a waterskin and dribbled some into the bowl. The water hissed and spat, boiling away to nothing. He held his hand out but didn’t feel any heat.
“All right. Not water, then.”
There was a little bit of wine in his inventory but he wasn’t quite willing to risk it. If water wasn’t the right answer, he doubted wine would be better.
“Any ideas?”
Argos sent a few images. A rat he had hunted nearby. Blood from the rat flowing outward, toward the dais. Argos running.
“Damn. This is going to suck.”
Arche drew his palm over the blade of the Tridory, hissing and sucking his teeth at the pain. It was a sharp weapon, thankfully, but the cut still stung. He clenched his fist, squeezing the blood down over his fingers. It dripped into the bowl, hissing and bubbling, but didn’t boil away. Clearly, it wasn’t enough.
After several minutes and a few more cuts, the bowl was full. By the time it reached the brim, Arche’s health had dropped fifteen percent and he felt more than a little woozy. A quick casting of Minor Heal closed the wounds, but didn’t do much more than that. He could have used Divine Body, but it was an opportunity to train the spell.
Argos whined but Arche was focused entirely on the bowl. The blood inside churned, sloshing over the edges to run down the stone onto the altar. There, it collected in rivulets and channels that pushed the blood to the floor, then out to each of the four columns. The bowl and altar sank slowly into the dais. Arche stepped back, Tridory at the ready. His blood reached the columns and spiraled up into the dome. It pooled and condensed into a humanoid shape.
Arche’s heart dropped to his feet and his whole body tensed. Ares had looked much the same, only larger.
The sanguine form descended to the ground. Bone emerged from the blood, creating a skeleton around it. Muscle and sinew grew next, followed by olive skin, revealing the form to be that of a woman. Long, red robes were the last to appear, draped about her and implying her to be some kind of mage.
“Why have you come?” The woman’s voice was sharp, almost cruel.
She had dark, close-cropped hair with a laurel hairband that kept it back. Below were a pair of glowing, red eyes. She was strikingly beautiful with sharp, angular features, but her beauty was that of a finely honed weapon. Capable and deadly. He suppressed a shudder as she leveled her piercing gaze at him.
“Surely, we can have introductions before business,” Arche said, stalling for time. “My name is Arche. Yours?”
The woman tilted her head upward, her eyes flashing dangerously.
“I am Medea, daughter of Aeëtes of Kolchis, granddaughter of Helios.”
She said the names like he was supposed to recognize them, but he didn’t. Maybe somewhere in his memories there was something, but it was buried too deep to go searching now.
“Nice to meet you. May I ask what you’re doing here?”
Medea narrowed her eyes.
“I guard the prize that my lecherous husband stole from my father. Have you, too, come for the Golden Fleece?”
Arche let out a long, slow breath. He didn’t really expect it to work, but he Examined her.
Medea
Level: 71
Race: Human (Titan Ancestry)
Age: ?
Height: ?
Weight: ?
Profession: ?
Trade: ?
Traits: ?
Companions: ?
Adventuring Party: ?
Health: 865 / 865
100%
Stamina: 615 / 615
100%
Mana: 5,200 / 5,200
100%
His suspicions were confirmed. With Mana like that, she was a caster.
“I admit, I have also come for the Fleece at the behest of another. May I ask why you’re guarding it?”
“The Fleece is mine by birthright. I will not be parted from it.”
Medea raised her hands and a crimson orb gathered above her fingers.
“Argos, run!”
Arche dove to the side as the dog blurred and disappeared, moving faster than his eyes could track. As he hit the ground, a beam of red energy blasted the spot where he’d stood, blackening the stone. Rolling to his feet, Arche took aim and threw the Tridory, hoping to end the fight before it started. Medea raised her palm and a ripple of green energy rose in front of her like a shield, knocking the Tridory off its course as it disappeared into the darkness. Arche summoned it back to his hand as he charged.
From what he could guess, Medea’s physical attributes were likely comparable to his own, with the bulk of her focus being mental. If he could prevent her from having the time or space to cast her spells, then the fight was in his favor. Medea seemed to recognize this as she raised her arms and a burst of wind pressed against him, slowing his progress to a crawl.
Arche struggled against the whipping air, fighting for each step as it threatened to throw him from the dais. Medea channeled the wind with one hand while the other readied another crimson orb. Arche cursed. He would never reach her before she finished the spell, so he gambled on a new plan. He flung his arms out to the side and let the wind push him backward off the dais. As he fell, the crimson bolt flashed above his head and he caught a whiff of burning copper. Then he tumbled down the dais’ steps to land amid the treasures below.
As far as landings went, priceless metals weren’t exactly the softest material. His armor did a good job of protecting him from the pokier pieces, but his head throbbed from where it had banged against a platinum dinner plate probably worth more than all his gear combined. He grabbed the plate and flung it upward at the dais in case Medea came after him. A dull clang and a shriek of pain and anger echoed out, giving him some small satisfaction as he crawled out of the heap. Then he was on his feet and strafing the structure.
Medea came soaring over the edge of the dais, robes flapping impressively as she defied gravity, swooping around in search for him. Arche cursed and ducked behind the corner of the dais, trying to think. While she was in the air, he was limited on options. He could throw the Tridory at her, but she had already proven effective at blocking that attack. He could also use his bow, but that had even less chance of working than the Tridory. He could try waiting her out, letting her exhaust her Mana before engaging her again.
Arche peeked around the corner to check her Mana levels through Examine, only to find that she had used less than five percent of her reserve. Waiting her out was clearly not an option. He would have to try to hit her fast and overwhelm her defenses.
“Do you think you can hide from me?” her voice was unhinged. “I trafficked in magics the likes of which you could never dream. I slaughtered my own children to hurt the man who slighted me. You want my prize? I will add you to the list of its defenders.”
Arche grabbed a golden chalice off the ground and chucked it. It landed with a clash and Medea whirled toward the sound, already readying a crimson bolt. Arche stood. activated Divine Body, and threw the Tridory. Medea turned and abandoned her spell for another magical shield, her eyes widening at his glow. The force behind the throw punctured her shield and the Tridory ripped through her arm, severing it at the shoulder. Medea screamed, a blood-curdling thing, and fell. Arche charged her prone form, calling the Tridory back to him, but Medea whipped her remaining arm out at him with a snarl.
Black tendrils of shadow shot from the darkness, wrapping around his arms and legs. With Divine Body empowering him, he pushed through, but they slowed his momentum and forced him to burn through even more Mana. He didn’t have the reserves to keep the skill active for longer than a dozen seconds, but more and more tendrils grew out of the ground between them.
Medea stood, clutching at her shoulder with her remaining hand.
“Arise, Drakôn. I command you!”
Mana flowed from her, red and green. It spiraled through the air toward a particularly large treasure pile. It shifted as something huge came to life.
Arche broke away from the shadow tendrils and backpedaled, deactivating Divine Body to conserve as much Mana as possible. Medea had spent almost the entirety of her huge Mana stores on the spell, dropping down to a measly five percent, but her efforts had been well worth the cost.
A huge skeletal wing erupted, sending priceless jewels and artifacts into the air. Another wing shot out, then a skeletal head with long, pointed teeth. It clawed its way free from the treasure and let out a clicking roar that sent shivers through Arche and made his ears bleed. He looked up at the creature, dread spreading from his belly.
“Fucking dragons.”