The Crafter's Defense: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 2)

by Jonathan Brooks

  Within 100 paces, she was extraordinarily glad that she had hidden herself again, because there were strange creatures roaming slowly around the landscape. They were hard to spot at first because they actively worked to conceal themselves behind outcroppings and small hills, but she had been hunting for decades – not much escaped her notice nowadays. She froze for almost a minute while she stared at the spot where she had seen the closest one; she was soon rewarded when what looked like some sort of creature made up of shiny bones came stalking out from behind a large upright rock about 15 paces away.

  Echo tensed up and slowly – but expertly – slipped her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow in one smooth motion. The bony…wolf?...looked right past her location without seeing her, fortunately, and then ambled off in the opposite direction. She released the tension on the bow’s string but kept the arrow in position as she kept walking.

  Is that wolf an undead? I’ve never seen any undead like that, but I can’t think of another explanation. While she had never actually been inside a Nether dungeon, she had fought against undead a few times when she was younger. Her manipulation of her Holy element was extremely useful fighting against its opposite; while she wasn’t adept at many of the more offensive casts that the Elites could perform, she had fairly balanced control and could use it effectively against most Nether-based monsters. The most useful attack she could perform was to charge her arrowheads with Holy energy, where the energy would release upon impact and doing quite disproportionally explosive damage to the undead.

  As she cautiously walked toward where she thought the branch had disappeared, she saw another few figures of shiny undead wolves and what she could’ve sworn was a large cat – but, luckily, none of them saw her. At one point, however, she almost lost her concentration and dropped her camouflage when she inadvertently saw a glimmer in the air above her. As she stared upwards to see what had captured her attention, she saw something that finally started to blunt the curiosity that had driven her.

  While she couldn’t make them out precisely, she could see small metallic specks nearly 200 feet above her spread out in a large…net, was probably the best word. As she looked at them, the setting sun reflected off of them all at once as they moved at precisely the same time, drifting in one direction to another. There were entirely too many to count, but she estimated that there were hundreds, if not thousands, of the objects floating above her head.

  Wh-what is going on here?

  Echo almost turned back, but something drove her on to discover what she was dealing with. She was fairly confident in her active camouflage, so she pushed on and tried to ignore the metallic-looking objects poised above her head. While she didn’t know what they were, she could almost guarantee they didn’t bode well.

  Another few minutes later led her to the approximate location where the oak branch had disappeared, and she looked around the area cautiously. Years of tracking and hunting had let her read the environment well enough for it to tell her a story – and the location she found herself in told an interesting one.

  What appeared to be Orc tracks led all around the area; Echo could tell they were Orc by their large size and lack of anything resembling caution – they were more likely to run in yelling than try to sneak up on something. They seemed to be following some other tracks she didn’t recognize at all, though whatever made them was heavy; deep impressions in the dry, cracked dirt was evidence enough of that. She also saw what appeared to be Bearling tracks – almost two dozen different sets – that led to an area where some sort of battle had taken place. Dried blood stained the ground in multiple areas; some of it was the slightly greenish-tinted red blood of Orcs, but most of it was the pure-red blood of the Bearlings.

  It looks like a Warband tracked something out here and found a lair of Bearlings. Looking around further, she couldn’t see much evidence of anything else, though she saw plenty of prints made from the shiny undead wolves scattered about. It was when she looked to see where the Orcs had gone after they had obviously defeated the Bearlings that she saw the hard-to-spot cave entrance in the nearby hill. As she approached, she could see different tracks leading out of the cave; they appeared to be a person’s because they only had two feet, but they weren’t familiar to her in size.

  Letting that mystery go for the moment, she herself approached the cave cautiously and peered inside – but it was too dark to see much. I…have to go inside, just to see… In her head, her mind kept telling her it wasn’t a good idea and for her to just leave, but she had already gone this far – she couldn’t turn back now. Before she stepped inside, she noticed for the first time the scratches along the edges of the opening; based on what she had seen so far, she assumed they were made by the Bearlings, though why they were trying to get in the cave was a mystery.

  Taking a deep – but silent – breath, Echo took a step inside the cave and she instantly knew where she was: a dungeon. The walls of what was now obviously a tunnel were uniformly cut – unlike a natural cave – and down the tunnel she could, for the first time, see a room beyond the passageway. It was lit up – not brightly, but with more than enough light to see by – in some unseen and unknown manner, which was another indication that where she traveled was unnatural.

  From what Echo could see of the room from her position just inside the entrance, it looked fairly plain, empty even; if she hadn’t seen the shiny undead monsters outside – as well as the floating net of metallic objects in the air – she would’ve guessed that the dungeon was old and abandoned. She knew better, though – but she also needed to see more; she wasn’t going to run back to the village without getting a little more information. If this was indeed a dungeon, they couldn’t allow it to survive and thrive out in the wastelands; with nothing stopping it, the dungeon could grow out of control and threaten not only her people, but the other races living nearby.

  She wasn’t old enough to have experienced the brutal war against the dungeon that had been in the wastelands before it was destroyed, when it was still healthy land – but there were plenty of her race that remembered it with horror. If this was something that could threaten them all again, her people needed to know; in fact, all of the races should know, but she would leave that communication to those in charge.

  A dozen short paces was all it took to arrive at the threshold of the first room, and she got a better look at it. Not that it helped, because she still couldn’t see anything – it looked just as empty as it had from the entrance. While Echo had only been in a single dungeon before – albeit briefly in a quick training mission decades ago – she had heard that they were generally all the same. Monsters would be filling the rooms, traps would be laid for the unwary, and death awaited around every corner. The room she stared at for almost a minute, however, looked quite unlike what she remembered – or had heard – about.

  With her bow still out in front of her waiting for an attack, she took a single cautious step inside the room and everything abruptly went dark. She almost yelped at the sudden loss of light, but her Ranger training had drilled into her the need to be unseen and unheard – so she held it back. Besides, the darkness was only temporary as she used the dwindling supply of Holy elemental energy she currently possessed and wrapped a band across her eyes. The darkness lit up in her vision a bit; it wasn’t quite what it was before the darkness descended, but she could at least see an outline of the room again.

  A sound off from the left of the room caught her attention, and she jumped in astonishment when a big, heavy form stomped its way from around the corner and slowly headed in her direction. A quick look with her eyes around the corner showed other forms, though with the very low light and lack of movement, she couldn’t really tell what she was looking at. Either way, her twitch must’ve been enough to show some of her own form, because the big heavy thing walked faster.

  Before she could think, her fingers pulled back her bowstring and released her arrow. A split second before it left the string, she pumped a little bit
of Holy elemental energy into the arrowhead – not as much as she wanted, but some – and it flew toward where she thought the head of the creature was. If it was an undead like she was now suspecting – given the darkness and obvious Nether-element-based trap – then even that much would do a bit of damage. She nocked another arrow even as the previous one flew and watched it hit, creating a brief flash of light as the Holy energy discharged…and it didn’t seem to have any effect.

  In fact, it almost sounded like her iron arrowhead smacked right into a metal wall, for all the effect it had; Echo also heard the shaft snap into pieces, and she lamented the loss of one of her newish Ironwood arrows. Rather than stick around however, she turned around and ran; she ran faster than she ever had before, pushing all of her energy to speed her along as fast as she could. She left up her active camouflage as long as she could, but three-quarters of the way back to the village she had exhausted her capacity for the moment. That was fine, though, because she was pretty sure she was out of direct danger from the dungeon and its strange monsters outside. She turned around and walked backwards to see if any were following her, but she didn’t see anything; she glanced upwards to see if there were any of the metallic objects, but either there weren’t any there or it was now too dark to see.

  She was exhausted, but she needed to get back to warn everyone about the threat out in the wasteland, so she pushed herself to run as much as she could. As she got closer, she could see Wyrlin – one of her fellow Rangers – on the outside border of their arborents, the dwellings that were quickly grown from a small brown Boren seed with Natural elemental energy.

  “You’re late – I was starting to get worried about you; though, I guess I shouldn’t worry since none of those monsters can see you enough to hurt you,” said the bronze-haired Ranger good-naturedly.

  Her breathing had returned to normal by that time and the panic she had experienced had died to a small simmer, so she was able to respond to him without sounding like she was in pain while she closed the distance between them. “That’s a good point, though that’s not why I was late…is Elder Herrlot still up?”

  He looked confused at her question. “Of course she is – you know she doesn’t sleep nearly as much as she used to; besides, it’s barely dark out here. Do you want me to go get her?”

  She was finally close enough that she didn’t have to speak loudly to be heard. “Yes, but while you’re at it, bring everyone you see to the gathering circle – I have some grave news,” she told him seriously. “I’ll help, but hurry – this can’t wait.” All sense of joviality that Wyrlin possessed before she spoke was gone as he turned to go fetch the Elder.

  There wasn’t an arborent large enough to contain every villager, so when they had to have a meeting with everyone in attendance, they used the open circular center left for that purpose in the middle of the village. As much as she wanted to run shouting in a panic about what she had seen, Echo helped to quickly round up the rest of the village inhabitants – which didn’t take long. The commotion of her arrival had caused most of them to emerge from their dwellings, anyway, so within minutes everyone was present and accounted for – including the leader of their little village, Elder Herrlot.

  The rest of the villagers were, for the most part, hunters or Rangers, tasked with culling the nearby dungeon monsters or gathering meat from the wild beasts still alive out in the forest. There were a few that helped supplement their diet with grown foodstuffs using their Natural-element-based energy, but for the most part everyone was there for their singular purpose: culling and collecting dungeon loot to send back to the capital.

  “What is it, Echo? What did you see out in the forest that’s got you so worried?” the Elder asked, though “Elder” was only based on her age in comparison to those around her. She still likely looked the same as she did centuries ago, with only the barest wrinkles around her eyes betraying her age. Or, more likely, they were worry lines from the decline of their people she had seen over the years.

  “It wasn’t in the forest, Honored Elder. It was in the wastelands…” Echo proceeded to tell them what she had seen on her way out of the forest earlier, her journey into the wastelands, the strange “net” of metallic objects floating above the ground, and finally the discovery of the dungeon out in the middle of the dry, barren landscape.

  Horror suffused the Elder’s face as she described what she had seen and the strange monster that had attacked her; out of everyone there, Elder Herrlot knew first-hand how dangerous an unchecked dungeon in the wasteland area could be. “…and so, I turned to run, keeping my camouflage up as long as possible to make it back here safely. I’m not sure what to do now though; based on my futile attack against that monster, I doubt I could do any serious harm to it. Perhaps if we all joined together to attack the dungeon, we would be more successful, but if that was just the first room, I dread to see what else is in there.”

  Everyone was quiet for a while as they took in the information, their faces a mixture of fear and determination; while the knowledge of the new dungeon’s existence couldn’t come at a worse time, her people weren’t going to turn over and let it destroy them. “No…we can’t take the chance that the dungeon is already powerful enough to stop all of us. I’m going to send a runner back to Lyringlade for some expert help, and permission to send envoys to the other races nearby. For now, there isn’t anything we can do to stop the dungeon, but we can definitely keep an eye on it; Echo, since you’re the only one it would have difficulty seeing, I want you to keep an eye on it. Your knowledge of it will help you see if anything changes in its methods and be able to warn us if it is going to attack here.”

  As much as she wanted to protest and insist that they strike now, she held back when she considered the consequences of that some more. The Elder was correct, she reluctantly agreed; if they went in without knowing more information, they could all end up getting killed and accomplish nothing in the end. If that happened, the village of Avensglen would likely be abandoned and cease to exist – which would only hasten the decline of their people.

  “Yes, Elder – I can do that,” she responded tiredly.

  “The rest of you, it’s business as usual until Echo tells us differently. Hopefully we get help back from the capital in time to stop whatever this dungeon is up to; if not, I can only pray to the Creator that our people are spared the coming catastrophe.” And with that, the Elder went back to her personal arborent.

  “You should get some sleep, Echo,” Wyrlin said from her side. “You have some long days ahead, if I’m not mistaken, and it sounds like you really need to recharge your spent elemental energy.”

  She couldn’t help but agree, so she headed for the arborent she shared with two other Rangers and collapsed on her mat. She briefly thought about changing out of her leathers…but that idea went by the wayside as she was asleep within moments.

  Chapter 9

  Sandra waited until most of the people in the meeting had went back to their treehouses and it was fully dark outside. Well, the sky was dark, but the village wasn’t quite bathed in shadow; light orbs that were enchanted with Holy-energy-fueled runes were suspended from poles in strategic locations around the perimeter of the village. Two Elves were also stationed just outside the village, facing towards the two distant forests in the distance; she assumed they were some sort of night guard to warn everyone in case there was a surprise attack when everyone else was sleeping.

  After instructing her construct to go back to its place in her AMANS, she turned her attention back to her dungeon and her Home room, where she had been relaying the entire village meeting to Winxa.

  “So…it appears you have a minder, now. At least you don’t have to worry about them attacking tomorrow, but if they send some of their Elites from the Capital – if they are anything like how they used to be – you could be in trouble. Despite the excellent defenses you have in your dungeon so far, it’s doubtful that it would stop even a small group of them if they had an elemen
tal specialist or two in their party. Though…” Winxa trailed off as she cocked her head to the side in apparent thought.

  What? Though what?

  “Well, I was thinking that you might get lucky if they only send a Holy elemental specialist; if they think you’re a Nether dungeon, like that ‘Echo’ woman thought, then they might not send anyone else – because that would probably be all they would need,” Winxa said absently, still lost in contemplation.

  I don’t understand – why would that be all they would need?

  “Huh? Oh, well, it’s because Elves are rightfully recognized throughout the world to be the masters of elemental manipulation; humans can probably match that prowess when it comes to enchanting and rune creation, but as far as simple – and not so simple – manipulation of the elements for the casting of what they term ‘spells’ in various useful ways, no one can beat the Elves. And going up against a dungeon filled with Nether-based traps and monsters, they could potentially pick apart the defenses like they were nothing.”

  So why are they in danger of being wiped out if they’re so powerful?

  “Don’t you remember what I told you? They don’t reproduce very often, and though they are long-lived, each time one of them dies it’s almost a tragedy to the Elven nation. Their decline mainly comes from the inability to replenish their numbers, not through something as simple as the inability to craft better weapons like the Orcs suffer from.”

  Ah, that’s right. If that’s the case, then what do you think I should do about—wait, don’t try to answer that. I don’t want you to inadvertently say something you shouldn’t.