Dungeon Wars

by Jeffrey Logue

He was the last male for their species, even with a small mane. He was the only hope for cubs. He was a threat, one that couldn’t be tolerated.

  With the swipe of her claw, the forest lion leader sliced through the neck of the wounded male, who toppled to the ground and quickly bled out. Its eyes held no malice as it died; rather, a peaceful expression blossomed before the light vanished from its eyes.

  The lead forest lion turned to look at the two females. They stared back, accepting the death of the male. However, all three could feel the smell slowly entering their bodies. They had to return to the trees, requiring them to pass by the strange cave leading under the ground. The three made their way quickly, seeking to bypass the death trap as soon as possible.

  With a jolt, however, the leader froze, nose flaring out. She smelled a new scent, a familiar scent, the scent of a male. A hope appeared. It was fresh, only a few days old and, though smelling slightly different, was clearly coming from the cave in the ground. Her keen eyesight picked up the tracks as well, tracks so close to her own. A male meant a chance to continue their species, a possibility for cubs.

  She hesitated, however. The scent was emanating from the cave, having clearly come and gone from there several times over the last few weeks. From her experience, the cave was a death trap and filled with danger, though a male surviving in there meant prey to feed on must be available. The scent never reached far out of the cave entrance.

  The two other females waited patiently for her direction. When forest lions joined together, the leader was never questioned outside of a challenge to authority. While the lead forest lion considered their options, the sound of howling arose from all around them. The dire wolves had found them, and they were already enclosed in a kill circle. The hackles on all three lions arose in fear. There were no trees near them for escape.

  Hearing the howls closing in, the lead lion made a decision. With a snap of her tail, she raced toward the dungeon entrance, closely followed by her two companions. They vanished into the darkness right before the dire wolves burst into the clearing.

  Under the red-eyed gaze of the leader, the dire wolf underlings barked and howled as they sniffed around, searching for their missing prey. They quickly found the scent trail leading to the dungeon entrance. They paused before the boundary, barking and howling into the darkness, but they shied away it, almost with a sense of fear and distaste. The dire wolf leader released a sharp bark, calling the others back. Orders flowed through its mind, telling it to not enter the dungeon, an order delivered with a sense of hate and fury. The dire wolves obeyed, and they left the clearing.

  The time hadn’t yet arrived.

  *

  “Once more,” Aisha barked.

  At her direction, Rowen sprouted seven tentacles, each tipped with a glowing ball of dark magic. He twisted, turning into a small tornado with each tentacle becoming a whirling wall of magic and destruction. He moved into a tree, which was shredded into bits as the trunk and bark exploded outward. When half of the trunk was destroyed, the tree buckled and fell atop the whirling slime. This time, however, Rowen was ready for the aerial attack, and a dark tipped tentacle lay in wait. The entire tree was soon gone, turned into lethal shrapnel launched by Rowen in an ever deadly and accurate spread.

  Aisha padded over to inspect the damage done as Rowen wound down. She nodded her head in satisfaction.

  “Good spread. Accuracy, same, but precision improved,” she declared. “Marked improvement, yes. Your close combat, lethal now. No longer stuck with ranged attacks.”

  Rowen nodded his slime body in acknowledgement.

  The worg rolled her eyes and whipped Rowen with her tail, sending ripples through his amorphous body. “Speak words, slimes no have body language,” she grunted.

  “I’m, satisfied with my progress,” Rowen said finally. “But, then...”

  Aisha grunted. “Forgiveness hard to ask, hard to accept. Still, easier to do than do not.”

  “I suppose...” Rowen trailed off.

  “Yes yes,” Aisha said, stretching her tail to wrap around Rowen and lift him onto her back. “Training is done, is time to rejoin sisters.” Taking a backwards step, the worg shot forth with the speed of a cool wind, sailing through the forest floor easily. The white and grey slime stayed silent on her back.

  “Silence from you, yet still reluctance?” the worg asked curiously.

  Rowen let out a human sigh. “I, well I feel guilty okay. I did attack her after all, and before that I really was a-”

  “Rude, arrogant, family hating, royal brat with anger issues?” Aisha asked.

  Rowen grunted.

  “Excuse words, like to take time to say them now am able,” she apologized. “Please, continue. We talk through all problems, yes?”

  “I was everything you said, and worse still I feel,” Rowen continued morosely. “I was so angry at everything; myself, Doc for making me into this slime, Claire and her constant cheerfulness, and Anadine’s confidence. More than that though, I, I was angry at my own sense of . . . relief.”

  When Aisha failed to comment, Rowen felt the urge to explain himself. “It’s like what you said when you first started my training; I no longer needed to worry about any of my human obligations. The oath to my family, and my people, and the promises I made to everyone in town; I was free. Even when I was a child-”

  “Still child,” Aisha reminded him, “only 11 years; quite young.”

  “Eight years is enough to be considered responsible as a royal,” Rowen murmured as the memories raced through his head. “Old enough to warrant attention when trouble is caused, old enough to be stuck for most of the day with tutors and books, and old enough to understand the gulf of separation between myself and the other children. I hadn’t had a true friend in years even before my forced hibernation. For this freedom though, I could only direct disgust at myself for the dereliction of duty. I could almost feel the ghosts of my parents looking down on me in disappointment.”

  “Feelings, not wrong,” Aisha said as she dodged a patrol of grey slimes. “After all, loyalty and honor important to family, to pack. Still, you follow sense of honor yes? Die to save girl, die to save friends; this is very respectable, even to dead. I feel your parents not disappointed in you if watching, more likely proud of good son. Even if son now spineless in new manner of speaking.”

  Rowen let out a chuckle, which grew into a gwafful, and finally evolved into a full blown, belly lurching, crying fit of laughter. Aisha joined in with her canine wheeze of a laugh, and the two shared a moment as slimes for miles around reacted curiously to the noise.

  “Spineless, oh that’s a good one,” Rowen chortled, using a tentacle to wipe his forehead.

  “Is true for all family no? All monsters here slime types,” Aisha snorted. “Our sisters also spineless, but still filled with good ideas and slime. Even Doc spineless. Only one here with spine mother Claire . . .”

  At this however, Aisha broke off, allowing somber atmosphere to take hold of the conversation.

  Rowen perked at the silence. “Is there something wrong with Claire? Did she end up stuck in a flower or something?”

  “Flower . . . well is not completely wrong,” Aisha muttered. “Is bigger issue, one for whole family. We talk more later, yes. Hold on tight little Rowen.”

  The slime braced himself against Aisha, wrapping two tentacles around her body as the worg girl turned vertical along the wall and used her slime hardened claws to propel them both up towards the cave entrance.

  “Bug slimes are shooting,” Rowen reported, his mana sense alerting him to a trio of lesser mimic slimes in the form of ants. Sitting in the trees, the three tore slime from their bodies and threw it at the worg girl, the sound sizzling filling the air.

  “Need more practice,” Aisha commented lazily as she easily dodged the acidic projectiles. “Lesser mimics can only attack with body, but mimic slimes can attack with slime. Disguised they are, look more close, yes?”

  Taking a seco
nd look, Rowen concentrated on the density of mana within the slimes. As Aisha said, all three possessed a higher concentration of mana within their core than any tier 1 slime. They had to be a tier 2 slime.

  “Their cores are tier two,” he reported as the duo left throwing range and the trio disappeared.

  “Don’t look at cores only,” Aisha lectured. “Only mimic slimes for now yes, but further down more mimicking types of slime, and better disguises. Form of attack, habits, behavior, and numbers, also important. Lesser mimics travel in more than three, and very loud.”

  “I understand,” Rowen said, his mind’s eye gazing down at the spot where the mimic slimes had been. Privately, his memories returned to the times when he and Anadine were attacked while traversing the wall. The slimes had always been different, but perhaps not. Out of the corner of his senses, Rowen noted the little green figure watching him and Aisha as they scaled the wall. It was the same figure that had occasionally watched him during practice. Rowen had no idea what it was, but perhaps its presence meant something.

  The white-grey slime’s private musings were interrupted by their arrival. The cave was just as Rowen remembered- brown with torches. Not that he could see color anymore, in fact as the cave was made of dungeon material it was more likely to carry a purple hue. Still, to Rowen, a cave should be brown, black, or grey.

  Aisha padded her way into the cave and into the room that had served as Anadine’s room. There, they found Ayla waiting patiently next to a flat blue puddle of suspicious origin.

  “You’re late sister,” Ayla uttered upon their entry. “Did your charge cause you more trouble than expected?”

  Aisha grunted, setting Rowen down with her tail. “Growth is never late, always on time. Move at own pace, even with good teacher.”

  Ayla snorted, whipping the puddle next to her, though in a slightly playful manner. “I think you’re too used to the kiddy paws,” she taunted. “See, this one just needed a good beating everything she thought something unnecessarily complicated. No babying required, just training!”

  “Training done here as well. Different form, different person, same results.”

  Ayla raised a claw to her head and scratched herself. “Same results you say? Well, how about we put that to the test?” She indicated the limp puddle of blue goop next to her. “My charge against your own, loser gets more training; the hard kind.”

  “Hm, agreed. Always take winning bet when offered.” Aisha said confidently.

  The two worgs shared a low chuckle that echoed through the room, causing both Rowen and Anadine, the puddle, to quiver nervously. Though slime lacked a sense of pain, they could still feel the horrible condition known as fatigue, and humiliation. Needless to say, neither one appeared to be feeling appreciative toward their respective mentor’s bet.

  “Anadine, are you alive?” Rowen asked in a hush voice, having moved near the puddle during the other’s conversation.

  The blue puddle produced a single tentacle and waved it, giving the appearance of a white flag surrender. The two sat together for a quiet moment as the two worgs began to argue over the nature of the test.

  When the moment had been stretched to its limit, Rowen said, “I’m sorry for the way I treated you.”

  The blue puddle continued to sit still, but the core within moved closer to Rowen.

  “I made you the magical deposit for all my feelings, and it was wrong,” Rowen continued quietly. “I never meant to hurt you, and you were right to leave me behind. I’m also sorry for trying to kill—”

  A blue tentacle shot up to pat Rowen’s body lovingly. The blue puddle reformed into Anadine’s blue slime body, and Rowen could feel the affection and regret through her tentacle. “I was wrong for leaving you behind, for giving up on you,” Anadine said, interrupting the white grey slime mid-apology. “You were in pain, suffering, and my departure allowed you to fall into that state. You need not apologize for the actions taken while mindless; those were never your intentions in the first place.”

  “How can you be sure?” Rowen asked worriedly. “Was my body not moving on the instincts and remnant thoughts I had towards you?”

  “Only if you thought about killing me on a daily basis,” Anadine said jokingly. She laughed.

  Rowen chuckled awkwardly along with her, though noting the thought had crossed his mind at some point or another.

  “Students share laugh, very carefree,” a sudden voice from behind the slimes causing them to stiffen up. Ayla and Aisha had reappeared behind the slimes while they were distracted, avoiding all three of their senses somehow. The twin duo stared down at the two slimes with glittering eyes and sinister grins.

  “Aisha, I do not feel our charges have been taught well enough to be subjected to any competition.” Ayla said with a smile. “Setting your pupil aside, my student seems to have lost track of her target just from having a conversation. Rather, disappointing if I must say.”

  Anadine shivered.

  “Is opposite, situation is,” Aisha seemingly clarified. “My student, lost track he did, your student to be expected.”

  Rowen twitched nervously.

  The two worgs let a low, howling laugh.

  “More training for both!”

  Chapter 19

  The forest lion growled slowly, an odd occurrence for one so experienced. The surprising part was not that it had the ability to growl, or that it felt the inclination to growl, but rather that it chose this moment to growl, alerting the slime below to the lion’s presence. The forest lion ignored the fleeing prey and locked its eyes firmly on the slope leading up to the cavern’s entrance.

  Earlier, the sounds of baying and barking echoed down from the entrance, resounding through the underground forest. Hearing the sounds of wolves had no effect on the forest lion, however. It knew they would not come down here. Where the wolves had barely registered in the lion’s consciousness, though, it was suddenly alerted when the wind dragged a scent through the air from up above. It was a familiar scent—a scent of blood and trouble.

  The forest lion recognized the troubling smell. It was the same one that had driven it into the underground cavern in the first place, the one that had slinked its way into its head and controlled it. The forest lion’s claws sheathed and unsheathed stressfully as the unbidden memories drifted through its mind, memories that brought forth such rage at being controlled.

  It recognized the blood, too, as that of its own species. From the smell, there were at least two, and they were injured. More importantly, and the most worrying thing to the forest lion, was that the blood carried the scent of a female, and forest lions were matriarchal.

  While the transformation the forest lion experienced from being underground had allowed it to understand more, raising its tactical skill and learning ability to the level of a female of its species, the forest lion could not help but feel stressed at the thought of meeting a female. The last time it had dealt with one, it had been younger, more fit, and hopelessly outclassed when mating season came. It was hunted, cornered, used, and then forced into the female’s pack for the rest of the year, made to wait its turn at the kills.

  Still, even with this feeling of trepidation, the forest lion leaped off the tree and swung ahead, heading toward the scent. In spite of its fear, it felt a connection to its kind, knowing full well that the barking from earlier and the scent of trouble had to be connected to the appearance of the females. Injured as they smelled, it doubted they would survive for very long down here in the cavern, where hunting prey was so different compared to the surface.

  Its worry was well warranted as it turned out, for as it neared the edge of the tree line the forest lion began to hear the sound of fighting and angry roars. It swung once more using its tail and landed perfectly on the last tree before the clearing, gazing out to take note of the situation.

  In the clearing, a small battle was unfolding. A group of lesser mimic slimes in the form of beetles were attempting to swarm a group of three forest l
ions, all female. The bulk of the fighting—and noise—was coming from the lead female, a large and magnificent specimen with dark green fur and brilliant brown stripes. Teeth and claws flashing, the lead forest lion lashed out at every bug slime that neared it and the more heavily injured companions hiding behind it, roaring in a futile attempt to dissuade the attackers. Unfortunately, the sound only served to draw out more slimes from the forest, including a patrol of grey slimes that immediately set upon the lesser mimic bugs.

  The old forest lion narrowed its eyes at the female, noting her strong stance and proud look that didn’t fade even through the growing threat of slimes. It was a glorious example of its kind. Though the other two forest lions behind the leader were injured, they were still strong enough to cover the flank and smack and slash any slime that came near. All three were worth saving in the forest lion’s eyes.

  With a staggering roar, the forest lion announced its presence for the first time since its initial venture into the dungeon. The sound echoed throughout the cavern and, unlike the lead female’s roars, caused every slime to shudder in predatory fear. Due to the unique influence of the underground and diet, the forest lion had gained a magical intimidation useful against slimes. The slimes quivered from the blast, and the three female forest lions locked their stares on the newcomer. The forest lion used its tail to beckon them, hurriedly.

  Intimidation rarely worked longer than a moment on mindless creatures, after all.

  Swift on the uptake, the lead female growled an order, and all three leaped through the stunned slimes towards the trees. The forest lion waited until they were close before turning and swinging back into the forest, leading them away from the danger. Behind it, the sounds of fighting resumed, though a few slimes were attempting to follow them.

  It couldn’t help but smirk. Try as they might, no slime had yet managed to successfully track it through the underground forest. Forest lions excelled in speed, agility, and hiding their traces. As the forest lion lead its brethren through the forest, it curved along the path and used its tail to make almost impossible leaps across gaps to the next tree.