The narrow tunnel barely wide enough for two, led onward with its subtle inclination. Ancient stonework cracked underfoot, and dust motes swirled in the dim light of the flickering torch. Jenny’s ragged breaths echoed. The scrapping and slithering were now distorted sounds. It was impossible to tell how many followed.
A spike flew past and embedded in the wall next to Jenny, and she ducked out and to the sides out of reflex.
Biscuit forged ahead, leading the way.
At some point, the melted walls gave way to worked stone, cracked and old. It might have been Jenny’s impression, but the walls seemed to bulge, rocks dislodging. She even smelled something rancid wafting through the many cracks in the ground.
Jenny didn’t know for how long she’d been running, barely keeping ahead of the horde of monsters, but her legs burned, and every time she breathed, it felt like someone stabbed her in the sides. She couldn’t take in air fast enough to get what she needed.
The tunnel opened to a larger passage, the torchlight illuminating rusted, jagged metal spikes from the floor and ceiling. To the side, mounted on the chamber wall, was a sizable iron-wheeled winch. A thick, rusted metal chain disappeared upwards into a shadowed recess above. Besides the winch, a corroded metal panel protruded from the wall. It was a faded mess of what had been levers and dials. At the center, a symbol was carved into the metal.
“Shit,” Jenny cursed. The spikes blocking the passage were too close to each other. She wouldn’t be able to pass through them. She approached the winch, pulled the levers, and turned the dials.
The portcullis didn’t move.
Biscuit stared at the portcullis like it had personally wronged her.
Jenny pulled the lever harder, but it didn’t budge. Jenny’s throat closed up. She held back the urge to yell. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again, she wasn’t afraid anymore.
“Biscuit,” she called out, mind racing, eyes fixed on the rabbit. “Can you use your magic to make me small?”
Biscuit shook her head. The rabbit fired off a long, complicated string of words, from which Jenny understood only magic. Jenny could guess the meaning from her own magic knowledge. The difference between the original size and the desired transformation was based on the caster proficiency. Biscuit wasn’t proficient enough to transform an adult human into a small mammal.
Jenny looked around for anything else. She moved to the chain and pulled it, giving it her all. Jenny’s hand burned, her muscles ached, but the chain didn’t move.
A sigh escaped the woman and she turned back to the tunnel. The path was blocked, and magic was cut off, Jenny had only one chance of survival. Hard as it might be, she would need to fight her way out, but the rabbit was small enough to escape through the blocked passage.
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“Biscuit,” Jenny called out. The rabbit had gotten closer and stared at the control panel. “You go on ahead. There’s no need to stay here.” The rabbit was small enough that she wouldn’t have trouble squeezing through. It had been hubris to think for a moment that she could survive a dungeon. She knew the stories; no one survived entering one of those places.
“Eehny.” The rabbit started, but Jenny interrupted.
“Go,” she said, turning toward the tunnel they had come from. I’m sorry for dragging you into this mess.” What would have happened if she had never accepted the contract? Or if she had never even met Biscuit during her flight?
Biscuit pawed at Jenny’s trousers urgently. “Eehny,” the rabbit said again, then let out a string of incomprehensible sounds.
Jenny smiled. The first worm showed up from the bend in the path. Jenny lowered her hand to pat her pet one last time. At least one of them would survive this. “Go, Biscuit. There—ouch!” Jenny looked at her hand. Biscuit had bitten her palm, a small droplet of blood pooling near the bit mark. The rabbit had torn a small piece of Jenny’s skin.
“What was that for?”
“Eehny, uupid. Iight!” Biscuit said pointing to the worms. Soon after she started chanting magic.
Jenny didn’t have time to question what had happened; the worm was almost on them. She let go of the torch and grabbed the spear. Before the worm could spit at her, she lunged, piercing the soft interior of its mouth.
The creature bucked and twisted in its death throes; Biscuit whined but didn’t stop her casting.
Jenny turned toward the tunnel to greet yet another worm. Before the thing could do anything, she was upon it, weapon-ready.
----------------------------------------
Jenny deserved that bite and a thousand more. Yuki didn’t need to understand the language to recognize the death flag and sacrificial ‘go ahead, I’ll meet you later’ speech. Granted, more often than not, the dead character would appear again an arc or ten later, bad-ass and super strong, usually to save the MC from some dastardly charming villain while said villain monologued, gloating over their victory.
Yuki had noticed something Jenny didn’t. The symbol at the center reeked of magic after Jenny tried to move the chains. She had tried to get Jenny to use that, but the woman wasn’t listening. It was a good thing Yuki was the responsible adult in this contract. She needed no familiar to do things, only a small piece of the girl. Yuki wanted to ask for a strand of hair, but a piece of skin served the same.
The casting finished, and her body morphed. Her bones popped, her arms and legs elongated, and her eyes moved from the sides of her head to the front. Yuki’s flesh moved like someone had thrown a pebble in a water pond, turning from a rabbit’s angry pink to a human’s pallid pink. The little fur in her legs and chest receded, leaving skin behind.
Yuki looked at her hands in amazement flexing the opposable thumbs. A grunt and a cry of pain from the tunnel woke her up. Yuki jumped to her feet and threw herself at the control panel. Now closer, the smell was strong. It made her think of old diesel trucks. Yuki’s small hand slapped on the symbol.
The battle sounds continued behind her, and the portcullis didn’t move.
Was she wrong about this? Yuki tsked, then slapped her face with her free hand. “Stupid.” She closed her eyes and moved her magic power, envisioning it flowing from her core into the symbol.
The magical rune, at least Yuki was pretty sure it was one, drank her magic eagerly, like a dying man in a desert. She cut the flow of magic once she’d used two magic points. The symbol wanted more, but she had only two points left.
When Yuki opened her eyes, the symbol glowed faintly. She turned the dials and pulled the levers—a groan of metal, blessedly followed by the shriek of chains.
A slow, rusted noise resounded in the tunnel, and slowly, like a giant waking up after hibernation, the chains moved. Yuki looked at the thing blocking their path, happy to discover it also moved. Now, they needed only to survive until the path was open.
She looked at the tunnel behind them and saw Jenny facing off with the worm with black and red eyes. Yuki could swear the thing was watching her every movement.