I’d never been one to suffer from disorientation when I woke, but the dungeon was starting to get to me. I still remembered I’d fallen asleep in the pool room, but I was no longer certain of the direction of the mirror room. If I raised a light, I might activate the mirror.
If I sat in the pool, the wall was high enough it would shield my line of sight in all directions, but then I’d be risking the pool against the mirror. The mirror had proven itself mostly harmless, at least as long as I had water, whereas the pool might dissolve me into paste for all I knew.
I also really need to use the bathroom. I would risk the light.
Will-o’-Wisp
The spell vanished from my spellbook.
Tragedy. Despair. Woe was me. I had bigger problems to worry about.
I spun, clenching for all I was worth as I sent my lights to the far corner of the room.
EliminateII
Sweet relief.
My spell, right. I flipped to a new page of the journal and began recording my light immediately. I’d wanted to do so anyway, so the only thing I’d be losing was an hour of light, not a day’s work.
Spells took an hour to record. They could be recorded faster, as I’d done against the Warlock, but there was risks involved. Large ones. They also only recorded up to an hour’s worth of actions. However, as every young mage who pushed the boundaries just a little bit soon discovered, any spell which was recorded played out in full. Even if cast at the last second of recording, and hour of light would still shine for an hour afterwards. This meant it was possible to append longer and longer spells to a newer spell, slowly increasing its length an hour at a time.
And so, as the hour approached its end, I cast Will-o’-WispII as well.
Marshlight: Two large glowing masses, bright as candles, rhythmically fade and swell over the course of two hours. They move following the whims of their master.
I stood, stretched, and took a swig from my waterskin. Time to assess my situation. On the plus side, my lights hadn’t triggered the mirror. I guess I’d ended up sleeping off to the side of the archway connecting the rooms and so had managed to stay outside its line of sight. It might not work at this range anyway. Sometimes I forgot how dim my lights truly were. I’d hate to think there were no benefits to my demonic appearance.
On the negative, I could apparently lose spells from my spellbook. I’d never heard of that occurring to any mage before. Something about the place didn’t like true magic. Another point against dark magic.
To be fair, I supposed there could be a third factor at play. The warlocks clearly had many magical items and creatures sequestered away down here. Perhaps a demon or arcane artifact was responsible.
On the plus negative side, I seemed to be gaining spells faster than I lost them. It meant my power would grow slower than I’d like, but it’d still grow.
My stomach growled. It was past due for breakfast.
I made my way back to my room without incident and sat down for some salted fish. I’d heard of rabbit starvation, I was beginning to worry about fish starvation. I didn’t know if that was a thing, but I took a bite of the onion, just in case.
Several minutes of running around, eyes burning, tongue screaming later, I was ready for the day. If I ever discovered fish starvation wasn’t a thing I was going destroy every last onion on earth.
I returned to the statue room. “Stay right” was still scrawled on the wall there, but that had led me to the mirror room. There had been an archway past the mirror going north, but I could I always risk that later. This room also had a north exit, two of them in fact.
I took the door the on the left, just to spite the sign. It was stuck, but I was strong. It barely slowed me.
The corridor contained a shaft in the ceiling about midway along its length. I sent one of my lights up, but lost sight of it before it revealed anything of note. It would be too small to fit through, even if the dungeon hadn’t been cut off by the rift.
The only other concern was that it was a trap, but a long search of my environment revealed no physical triggers.
I ran past the chute, teleport spells at the ready, but nothing happened. I made it to the door on the far end without incident.
The door was locked, naturally. It took me several minutes of forceful kicking but I got it open. The shattered lock protest as it finally gave it, and the door stutter stopped open, hinges mangled beyond use.
Two things happened at once. Raised voices echoed in from the room beyond as people began closing in the source of the noise and a large grinding noise filled the air.
I looked up just in time to see a massive stone block descending towards me, sliding free from the ceiling.
Safe TeleportII
There was a crash behind me and I thanked the heavens I’d kept my finger on the page while kicking down the door. That would have to become standard operation procedure in this dungeon.
If I survived the next few minutes it would have to become my standard operating procedure while in this dungeon. Unfortunately I was now surrounded by a group of heavily armoured men and women.
Worse still, I recognized them.
There was only six where there had been nine. Both self proclaimed kings were missing, as was the man who’d donated my clothes. Perhaps I hadn’t ended my spell in time, or perhaps he had succumbed to his disease. I had troubles feeling guilty either way.
That worried me. Should I feel guilty? What influence did the combined powers of the Mushroom-King, the dark altar – Salted Sands, even the dwarf goddess – have on my mind?
They noticed me, despite the darkness.
“The demon has returned! Look there! See his red glowing eyes!”
Welkin, weald, and wasteland, that was inconvenient. I’d have to fight. My spellbook was gone, probably crushed under the collapsed ceiling, but I still had my tattoos. There lay most of my offensive spells. They would have to be enough.
Push
Before they could full overcome their surprise or regroup themselves, I sent two of their swords free from their belts to pin against the ceiling.
That disarmed the two near nearest me, but also cost me my spell. I could feel a new looseness in my arm, left by the tattoo vanishing. It was confirmed. Nothing was safe in these warrens.
One of the men drew back and fear, but the other simply continued to advance, fists raised.
I could probably take anyone in hand to hand combat, what with my toughened skin, strength, and claws, so I ignored him in favour of his fellows advancing with swords. Two men and two women.
BiteII
One of the men stumbled into the other and slid down his body, blood pouring from his throat. His companion recoiled in fear. He fled blindly back through the gloom to the far corner where he began to let out a blood curdling wail.
I’d found my way back.
This momentary thought was confirmed, and a mystery put to rest, when the now thoroughly disturbed wailing man fell through the adjacent doorway and vanished without a trace.
One of the woman had had enough. She too fled through the teleportal, unable to see as I had in the dark what had befallen her companion.
PushIII
Stopped in her tracks and began to slide backwards towards the far wall. She resisted and dug her feet in, but was ultimate pinned against the wall.
“Just me and you now,” I said to the advancing pugilist, raising my own claws to match him “are you sure you want to do this?”
I pulled my will-o’-wisps in close from the hallway where I’d nearly been crushed. The man’s eyes darted left and right when he saw them flit past, took in how very alone he was.
He stopped. Took a step back.
“What do you want from us demon? We’re all dead down here already.”
I looked at the corpse of his fallen comrade. Waiting for remorse to overcome me. It didn’t come.
“I want to leave this place. End the rift.”
“We cannot help you there. We’re as trapped as you are. Why have you pursued us so?”
“Pursued?” I sent one of my lights to hover over the block which had nearly hung my ears round my ankles. “I was simply trying to avoid being crushed.”
“And at the water? You took advantage of us in then in our maddened and diseased state.”
“That was the place where your masters held me captive. I was dying of thirst. I was merely returning for a drink which you denied me.”
He looked ashamed. “We had... No... We’re not innocent of our crimes. Why then did our masters capture you? And how can a demon claim such innocence?”
Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
“I am no demon. I was warped by the dark magics of this dungeon. Believe me, I’m more disturbed by my appearance than you are.”
There was fear in his voice now, “Could the same happen to us? To any of us?”
“I can’t think of any reason it wouldn’t happen to you. Be careful where you rest and who you listen to.”
He nodded, “Where do we go now?”
I ended my spells. The woman fell from the wall and the swords from the ceiling. “That’s up to you. Gather your companions, or wait for them here and hope they make their way back. Journey down into the depths or don’t. That is where I will head. I have hopes about ending the rift. Perhaps waiting back by the stream or another water source is safest.”
A callous voice whispered in my head, gave me an idea. A place I could tell them to wait. The pool. I pushed it away.
The man and woman retrieved their swords and sheathed them warily.
“We’ll talk it over. Do you truly wish to brave the depths?”
I nodded, though they probably couldn’t see me.
“If I can find them. Do you happen to know where the stairs are?”
He pointed vaguely towards the teleportal, “Somewhere that way, I think. It’s hard to navigate and recognize these rooms in the dark.”
“Through the teleportal?”
“Teleportal?”
I guess he hadn’t seen his companions vanish.
“The door doesn’t take you to the other side. In my experience it brought me to a room full of bone. I don’t know if it does that every time or not.”
“Things have shifted since the rift was opened. Passages have become blocked, traps activated, doors stuck,” I nodded sympathetically at the last one, “I think it might be part of the defence mechanism. Let’s you wait while the dangers from the caverns work themselves out.”
“Any other advice you can give? My success would be yours as well.”
“Likewise. We mostly stayed in the top two layers. Even the warlocks rarely braved the caverns. We’ve told you all we know. Unless- you seem to be comfortable in the dark...”
I neither confirmed nor denied his unasked question.
“Anyways, there is a way to navigate in the dark down here. Better than nothing anyway.”
I perked up, “I’m listening.”
“The walls laugh ever so faintly. If you are still and put your ear to them you can hear it sometimes. It sounds like children’s laughter in the chambers, and like a dog’s in the halls. And the rooms sound different based on their size. More like boys’ laughter in large rooms and girls laughing in the smaller ones.”
I started. That was unexpected.
“This is... Surprisingly useful. Thank you. In return I can say this: The stream where I found you is safe to the best of my knowledge, but you must drink from it up stream. I left bodies there.”
“As did we,” the woman muttered darkly. She’d been listening, then.
“Yes, well... There is a pool not far from here, formerly hidden behind a tapestry. I have no idea if the water is drinkable or not. Beyond the pool is a mirror. Do not look in the mirror. And if you see a mushroom, run.”
I was being cryptic, purposely so. My knowledge of such things was incomplete. If I told them only what I knew and suspected, I’d leave them unprepared to face the true unknown depths of their dangers. Better to say too little, than risk them taking my speculation for law.
I considered offering to share my food, there was enough for a small village, but there was no accounting for what desperate people would do if they learned of my treasures. Slit my throat while I slept, probably. Plus they seemed to be doing well enough as it was. I wouldn’t doubt they had their own cache squirrelled away somewhere.
I took my leave silently. There was nothing left to say, and what pleasantries I could offer would not be heartfelt. The stone block was large, but of the large enough to kill you variety, not the large enough to seal the passage. Even my strength couldn’t lift it, but I didn’t need to. Miraculously, my gear had scattered free when I’d teleported. I dressed myself, gathered my sword and spellbook, and went to examine the teleportal.
The two mercenaries were still standing in the room awkwardly, whispering occasionally to each other. My hearing was keen, but I only picked out the occasional word here and there. Seemed they didn’t know where to go next. I had no advice to offer them.
Naturally, I started wailing as I entered the corner where the teleportal lay. I’d somehow forgotten about that. The mercenaries fled from me then, and I couldn’t blame them. I was disturbed myself.
Still, I couldn’t retreat now. I wanted passage through the door, even if it meant standing here wailing like a fool.
A runestone in the archway was the first to catch my attention. I brought a will-o’-wisp as close as I could dare and could just make out another way written in the Language of the Birds. That in of itself was unusual. Speakers of the language were very rare, and it couldn’t truly be written. A crude transcription had been invented which even fewer employed. The margins of error in the language were large, meaning even “another way” could only ever be a rough translation based on context. It might have also read “tree mill” “porridge” “to can on” and a dozen other things.
I sent my will-o’-wisp to touch the face of the rune. Sure enough, it vanished before it got there. The rune was on the other side.
To a normal man that might mean it could only be disabled from the other side, but I was no normal man.
PushIII
I pushed the stone towards me, trying to dislodge it from the arch. It was stuck fast, didn’t even budge.
I studied it some more. The warlocks, or whoever had designed this particular obstacle, had surely wanted to be able to navigate their own halls. Which meant that there was a way someone could disable the teleportal. Maybe a display of dark magic, or maybe something as simple as putting your finger against the rune. They had servants after all, even if the ones I’d met had not received such privileged information.
PushII
This time I tried pushing the runestone in. The rune moved, sliding in a finger’s length before stopping against some unknown obstacle.
Not taking my eyes off the portal, I shuffled backward and cast about until I found the dead man’s sword. I chucked it through the teleportal and it vanished.
Hmmm.
(Or rather, “WAAAAAAAoooOOaaaOOAAooaAA”, I was still wailing, after all.)
Maybe there was more than one rune which need to be depressed. I searched the archway once more but found nothing. My spell ran its course and the “another way” rune slid back out of its hole. And continued to slide.
It clattered to the floor, bounced, and landed by my feet. I picked it up, eyes focused on my surroundings. Nothing changed.
The dead man had a dagger which I donated to the cause, chucking it through the teleportal as well. It clattered against the wall on the other side. I sent my remaining light after it. It passed without troubles.
Salt, Stone, and Sea be with me.
I stepped through the portal...
...and joined dagger, light, and runestone on the other side. I’d made it.
My wailing had also stopped, confined to that forsaken corner of the dungeon room as it was. I rubbed my chin with the palm of my hand. I think I’d nearly dislocated my jaw.
I retrieved both dagger and stone. Worse come to worse, I could use them as projectiles.
With the teleportal disabled, the doorway led to a long passageway which turned twice to the right before ending with a wooden door on the left. I had no idea which direction was north at this point. Hopefully the way forward would be obvious.
I took some time studying the door and it’s surroundings. I wasn’t about to fall for the same mistake twice. Three times. Five.
Anyway, no loose flagstones loomed above my head, no vats of acid or holes in the walls for poisonous gas. No runes were embedded in the walls or needles on the door handle. I opened pressed down the handle with the pommel of my new dagger and pushed it opened with the blade. No surges of lightning or buckets of snakes met me.
Safety thus assured, I sprinted through the open doorway with my Safe Teleport spell at the ready. I was no expert in detecting traps, and I wouldn’t trust my own judgment for a long while. Perhaps ever.
The room was of average size, empty save for a handful of iron spikes scattered about the room. They were set firmly in the floor at odd angles as if to catch poor wandering strangers who had just run through a doorway heedless of other dangers unaware. Thankfully there were only a few of them, and I hadn’t stepped on any. Some of them were nearly a foot long.
The wall to my left contained yet more writing. The atmosphere of the dungeon seemed to encourage vandalism. It was written in the Orc Runes, which I could recognized but not read. Was this a sign from the orcneas that I was on the right path? Had they been following me this whole time? It was said they could walk secret paths where no living man could follow.
Directly opposite me, on the far side of the room, was the room’s only other exit; an open archway. I studied the archway carefully, waved my sword through the open portal, and checked the brickwork for runes.
Darkness descended.
Of course. There was a trade off to such cautious exploration. My light was severely limited. It might be safer to spend ten minutes on every doorway I approached, but it would drastically reduce the pace of my exploration. I might not be able to afford it. While I had plenty of food and water for now, it couldn’t last forever.
Marshlight
My lights returned. Still early morning and I’d used up all my spells but a couple teleports. The archway was tempting. More than tempting. Another day spent waiting for sunrise filled me with nearly as much dread as the possibility of stumbling across a new trap. I’d never imagined crawling through a dungeon could be so boring. Boring and deadly. The worst possible combination.
But the ‘nearly’ in “nearly as much dread” was doing a lot of heavy lifting. All it took was one bad teleport near and cliff or pool of lava and I’d lose all my gear. Or another boulder would fall, and this time it would become trapped beneath for all time.
I needed my spell book. I need my waterskins. I needed the waterskins even more so in many ways. I could find another spell book (maybe) or carve words onto my skin. And even if I couldn’t, I didn’t actually need the spells to transverse the dungeon. They just greatly improved my odds.
The waterskins, on the other hand, were absolutely necessary. Without a way to transport the one safe source of water I’d found, I was trapped in the top several floors of the dungeon. Perhaps I couldn’t even delve beyond this first floor. There was know knowing how large the dungeon truly was.
I could at least use my two remaining hours of light to refill my waterskins, they were getting low; half empty.
The journey back to my cell was quicker than I remembered. The dungeon was much smaller when the path was safe and the way was lit.
I wasn’t totally at ease however, I kept one ear out and one eye on the watch just in case. I’d run into the mercenaries twice, and a source of flowing water was bound to attract more interlopers.
And indeed, it did.
My caution was rewarded when I detected the monsters waiting in my stream (I’d come to think of it as mine) before I rounded the final corner to my cell.
They didn’t sound like any animal I recognized. Talons clicked on the ground, slowly but sharply, interspersed strangely, like someone slowly and erratically tapping their fingers.
My sword and spellbook were already at the ready. I’d risk a peak, and then decide if I wanted to deal with them now, or when my spells had recharged. Perhaps they’d even move on if I waited long enough. I still had nearly a week’s worth of water if I was careful.
My peak revealed two creatures of the same species and vastly different sizes. One had the appearance of an unnaturally large spider, large enough to give me nightmares. It clicked about on the stone on its taloned feet as it sloshed through the stream getting water. It was the size of a hunting hound, maybe two feet high and it alone might give me reason to abandon the stream. I didn’t like spiders. Especially not lean, twisted spiders without a proper abdomen and weird, wiry hair.
It wasn’t a spider though. Its companion made that perfectly clear. It was crouched on one of the many bodies I or the mercenaries had left here. Its entire head was buried in their flesh and by the loud slurping sounds, it was drinking.
The second creature had a large silver rear end, maybe an abdomen, maybe a sack for containing human juices which pulsed as it drank.
Large didn’t do it justice. It was bigger than me, bigger than the frogs. The top of the sack scraped against the ceiling of the tunnel and the edges pressed against both the walls. I could feel my gorge rising. I might have preferred spiders over giant ticks.
The smaller of the pair looked up. It had noticed me, but it didn’t seemed unduly concerned by my presence. When I took a step closer, however, it danced back and forth in an aggressive manner. Warning me.
I wasn't ready to fight. I retreated back down the corridor, heading back to my room.
I’d deal with them later.
It was going to be a long, boring day.