Tree Guardian

by Andrew Karevik

The first was that the dungeon did not begin in Feverwood. Many dungeons were expansive and ever growing. If the Dungeon Below was similar to me, a core that was capable of growing itself, it was very possible that we had not encountered it simply because it wasn’t nearby before. The dungeon could span for perhaps even hundreds of miles, away from me, with only a small section becoming present.

  The second possibility was that the dungeon had been cut off from the rest of the world due to some spell or punishment from a god or wizard. It may have been driven underground due to this magic, and without a steady source of food, the Dungeon Below began to hibernate—storing its magic into wells and resting until disturbed.

  And the third possibility was that the dungeon itself was vertical in nature, like myself. It could be a part of the Hollowlands, a spacious underground land where the Dwarves liked to reside. The nearest entrance to the Hollowlands, however, was west of Oregmyer, and was quite a trek to reach. Tracing the path from that part of the Hollowlands to underneath me would represent a serious expedition.

  These possibilities did not excite me in the least. The reality was that I would need to send people to investigate this dungeon further. This would cost time and money. I had little worry about my ability to pay for such investigators, but the time constraints were concerning. I could not afford to keep my attentions divided for so long. I was tempted, for a moment, to drop my thoughts on the Dungeon Below entirely. To leave it to its own devices. But I thought back to that moment before I ceased communication with the being.

  It was full of rage, a primal anger that drove it to consume anything within it. In those last moments of conversation, I could feel it searching for a way in its small mind to hurt me. To break past my roots and burst into the goblin village, to devour as many as it could. If there were other entrances to this dungeon, if there were adventurers regularly dying within it, its power would increase. Would I be able to keep up with it? No doubt it would move its power reserves away from where my roots were drinking.

  Regar was placed in charge of investigating this dungeon further. He would leave me for a time and head to Oregmyer, in the hopes of finding a few bands of adventurers who were willing to go on the expedition to find the entrance to the Dungeon Below. Sending outsiders was the best option, I knew, for they would not have any knowledge of who their patron was. As far as they knew, Regar was a cartographer who wanted more dungeons to list on his maps. And they were most likely to survive heading within the dungeon as well; a seasoned adventurer should be able to navigate an actively hostile creature like that. If not, well, at least their souls would be able to resurrect at a nearby temple.

  The minotaur set out in the morning to find the adventurers for the job, and I returned my efforts to expanding the second level. What remaining excess magic I had left was gone, for I had used it to protect the village. I was now going to be burning through my maintenance reserves, which wasn’t ideal. But there were still so many zones to construct in the second level. If we were ever going to attract more high level adventurers, I would have to take the hit and use more of my magic.

  However, with the threat below, perhaps I was not in a good position here. If I were in a situation where I needed to defend myself, I’d need all of the magic I could get. Perhaps it would be more prudent to focus on drawing in more adventurers to the first part of the dungeon. Even if these adventurers weren’t as strong as I wanted, if I got a larger number of them to come in, it would make up for the difference. Quantity over quality, I suppose.

  This turned my attentions away from construction and instead towards motivation. The allure of treasure was a great one for adventurers, but if I really wanted to drive more people here, I’d need to have some other motivating factor. I had one good idea on the subject, but it would require a bit of diplomacy on my part.

  The city of Oregmyer was beautiful, large, and full of people who wanted to live quiet, happy lives. And adventurers were a constant thorn in their side. Sure, they were coming into town with fat coffers full of gold, boosting the local economy, but also flooding the market with magic items which in turn would only draw in more adventurers. And the thing was that many of these warriors and wizards weren’t used to civilization, as they spent the majority of their lives on the road, fighting and escaping danger on a daily basis. This often translated to serious problems with local authorities.

  When a man has faced against a room full of buzzsaws, trolls and cursed spirits, he has little fear of town guards, no matter how many of them there are. This often led to armed conflicts between the town militia and unruly adventurers who simply got too drunk at the tavern. I would watch these episodes quite often. As much as I hate to admit it, I found these interactions between adventurers and normal civilians to be rather entertaining.

  But even if the adventurer was finally defeated and placed in chains, they were never escorted to the town dungeon, or to a trial to be judged for their crimes. Even in the most serious of cases, where an adventurer stole or committed murder, there would be no attempt to hold them overnight. Why? Because adventurers knew how to escape. And if they couldn’t break out of a prison, their friends would certainly be around to assist from the outside. Instead, the adventurer was either killed on the spot, or thrown out of the city. And since the adventurer could simply resurrect, the only thing they lost was their gear, something they’d be returning for quickly after.

  In short, while Oregmyer was a great town with its own army, adventurers posed a significant issue for them. But since they brought in great amounts of treasure and magical items, spending their gold on all manner of services, the city could not just turn them away.

  I could solve the problem of punishment for them, I had realized. I could extend a singular tunnel to connect to one of Oregmyer’s dungeons. Then, as punishment, all the city guard had to do was throw the offenders into that dungeon. My power would ensure they could not escape back the way they came.

  This would represent a mutually beneficial arrangement for Oregmyer and myself. They would be able to finally enforce law and order within their city, and I would gain a regular influx of adventurers who had no other choice than to run through the first level in order to escape. But how exactly would I be able to convince the ruling authority of the city, the king, to cooperate with me? Perhaps my reputation as the one who exposed Izguril’s deception about Agara would aid me here.

  An emissary was dispatched to summon King Leosis the II and his wife, Queen Abri. They had recently ascended to the throne, succeeding the more aloof and uncaring Leosis the First, a man who had little interest in anything other than his own comfort. From what I could tell, there were some changes happening in the city and the peasantry seemed to be happy with it so far.

  I waited a few days, hoping to see a royal caravan arrive. But alas, my emissary returned with unfortunate news. The king did not wish to meet with me. My message had been a simple one, speaking of a proposal of mutual benefit, but perhaps I had been too vague. Still, the reply given wasn’t apologetic, and it didn’t offer any excuses. The words were: “The King of Oregmyer does not wish to meet.” Nothing more, nothing less.

  I was a little irritated at this. I was the World Tree, looming over most of Yehan at this point, watching over the city for my entire life, and this was the answer I received? Did he not know of my power? My accomplishments? Pride can be a bitter drink, and upon receiving that answer I drank deeply of the cup. My temper flared, and I extended my consciousness inside of his own throne room. I would not be denied as if I were some commoner.

  No sessions were being held. A simple jester was hopping about, trying to tell jokes to entertain the king and queen, who sat upon their golden thrones with bored expressions upon their faces. My presence, no doubt, would be sufficient entertainment for the evening.

  “Leosis!” I bellowed, allowing my voice to fill the entire hall. The guards within the chamber drew their weapons and glanced around, looking for the threat. The
king himself seemed rather surprised at this and sat up in his chair immediately.

  “What is the meaning of this? Who are you?” he barked, his eyes darting around frantically.

  “I am the Great Tree that you so casually snubbed,” I replied, lowering my voice. “Did you think my power was so small that I could not come to you? I invited you to visit me so that I may show my hospitality and you reply without an excuse?”

  “Fetch the wizard,” Leosis said as he stood to his feet. He was a shorter man, balding on the top of his head, with crooked teeth and a weary expression that suggested he had witnessed many, many things like this before. He clutched the silver amulet around his neck. “You mean to do me harm?”

  “If I meant to do you harm, I would have collapsed the very castle you sit in,” I told him. “I wished to speak diplomatically, hence why I sent an emissary.”

  Leosis glanced at his wife, a much more composed woman, who merely nodded at him.

  “We are in no danger,” Queen Abri said, leaning forward to place her hand on the king’s shoulder. “Sit down.”

  The king relented and sank into his seat, waving for the guard to put their weapons away. “You sent an orcish man, who bore no banner and carried no sealed message,” he said. “And you wanted me to believe the messenger came from you? I apologize, Great Tree, but if you meant to summon a king, you should at least have some way to prove that you were the one to send the message in the first place.”

  “For all we knew, it was some fool’s idea of a joke,” the queen said. “Without a seal or banner, anyone could claim to speak on your behalf.”

  At once the anger left me. I had not realized that they had declined not for fear of my treachery, but because there was no way to verify I had been the one to summon them. Of course. They were royalty, they had much to fear from liars and fiends who sought to hurt them. I felt foolish and embarrassed at what my response had been.

  “I am not accustomed to the ways of kings or queens,” I replied. “I understand your hesitation.”

  “By all means then,” Leosis said, shifting a little in his seat, grabbing the throne arms with his hands tightly, “tell us what you wanted.”

  I explained my proposal succinctly. They were patient to listen to my entire plan, without interrupting or asking questions. I suspected their silence was because they did not wish to further infuriate me. How stupid had I been? I let my pride get the better part of me, and now they thought me some hothead who burst into throne rooms without regard for how it looked. Would they agree to this deal out of fear? That was not how I wanted this to go at all.

  “You have an intriguing proposal,” the king said, once I had finished speaking. He glanced at the queen. “Well?”

  Queen Abri nodded at this prompt and began to speak, slowly and with great tact. “We do recognize that adventurers play a unique role in our economy, and your assumptions about the damage they cause are correct. But to connect our dungeon to you would be…troublesome for the normal population. We could not simply allow you to devour anyone you wished, just because they have broken our laws.”

  “Of course not,” I said. “First off, I do not wish to devour anyone. Whatever your understanding of me is, it is misconstrued. Second, I will not accept anyone who does not bear the title of adventurer. I have no interest in civilians and peasants wandering around within my mazes. You would only throw the unruly warriors and sorcerers, the ones who deserve the life and death struggle within me.”

  “I must ask, if you do not devour these adventurers, what do you wish of them?” the king said. Understanding of how a dungeon worked was not in the forefront of their minds, and I had no interest in sharing this with them.

  “It is not a worry of yours, is it?” I asked. “I have come to solve a great problem that Oregmyer has faced. Once you begin regularly tossing adventurers into a prison equipped for them, you will see significantly fewer problems for your people.”

  “The Great Tree is correct,” Abri said. “Having something, anything to put these adventurers in line would aid us in our efforts to reform the city.”

  “Talking to a tree and agreeing to feed it prisoners,” Leosis said with a chuckle. “If only my father were alive to see this.”

  “There are stipulations that must be met,” I continued, “if you are to accept this deal. First, only those who committed crimes are to be thrown in. Second, you will not take their gear, or any items they own. And third, should a single peasant or civilian be thrown in, I will punish you greatly. My dungeon is only for those who are prepared for such a challenge. And of course, this arrangement stays between us. You will not speak of a friendship with the World Tree, nor use my name to leverage in your dealings with the rest of the world.”

  Leosis nodded. “These conditions are fine, just fine. But you must satisfy my curiosity, please. Why do you want so many adventurers trapped within you? Why the whole business about drawing them in?”

  “Ask the first adventurer that you throw in the new dungeon cell,” I replied. “I’m sure they will have a few theories.”

  Chapter 7

  The new arrangement with Oregmyer was working out great. I had extended a single tunnel from the center of Level One and connected it to one of the cells in the city. Within the hour of the new law being announced by the king, four separate adventurers were thrown in.

  I had made a point that the adventurers keep their equipment so that they may be properly armed to handle the trials within. Some of these adventurers were more dependent upon their items. For example, a rogue needed their tools, or a wizard needed their spellbook in order to be effective. Without such instruments, they were often just glorified peasants.

  Upon landing in my dungeon space, they would be greeted by ornate glowing runes that told them of their fate. “To You Unruly Adventurer Who Has Seen Fit to Break Our Laws, Now You Must Navigate Through Death Itself to See the Sun Again.” And then, a gate would open, leading them all the way to the main section of the dungeon.

  However, unlike the other adventurers who entered the maze, these prisoners were tagged with a special curse that made the entrance seal itself up whenever they came near. They would need to navigate and find a scroll that would break the curse, allowing them to leave. These scrolls would be scattered about behind the various vaults and were impossible to find with any kind of magical detection.

  There was another benefit that I had not been expecting to this new arrangement. Once an adventurer was thrown into the dungeon, a few days later his entire team would arrive at my mouth to try and find him. Even though the King’s Decree did not mention that they would be sentenced to the Feverwood Dungeon, most adventurers were able to connect the dots instantly. This provided me with even more adventurers to engage with. Better yet, even if they did find their lost companion, they could not leave until the scroll was found. This ensured that most parties that entered stayed for weeks at a time.

  There were a few adjustments to the dungeon that I had to make before taking in these new adventurers. The biggest one was the placement of the resurrection shrine. Normally, the Temple of Agara nearby would house the souls of those who died, bringing them back to life swiftly and preparing them to return to the dungeon.

  However, with the truth coming out that Agara was indeed dead and that Izguril had been wielding her powers, most members of the clergy left the church. The god Trazos, god of giving and charity, had been entrusted to watch over the resurrection domain. And unlike the False Agara, Trazos would allow anyone to come back to life without the need of his own priests to cast the spells. All that was needed was a shrine and a donation to the poor after one had been brought back to life.

  Before leaving the Temple of Agara in the Feverwood for good, the High Priestess had built a shrine to Trazos—a small pile of sticks with a begging bowl, for the souls of those who died within me. And up until now, I was fine with them resurrecting in the abandoned temple. However, it occurred to me
that if a prisoner were to die, they would no longer be affected by the curse. They could potentially escape the dungeon simply through death.

  So, I had the shrine of Trazos picked up and brought to a new little temple I built inside of Level One. This temple would house the souls of all who died within the dungeon, bringing them back. If one of these spirits belonged to a prisoner, the curse would reapply itself to them, ensuring that the only way to escape was to find the scroll of freedom. The begging bowl would be emptied each month as well; whatever donations collected would be transported to Oregmyer to be given to the needy.

  Overall, I was pleased with this steady new influx of adventurers. Within a month, I had thirty-six different people enter into the dungeon, and most of them were slain on their first attempt to escape. This provided more than just the maintenance level of magic that I needed. I felt my reserves grow fat with magic, and once again I felt excited about the prospect of continuing to build the second level. Eventually, these adventurers would break free, but most would leave behind quite a bit of gold. On top of that, many began to tell their stories to the rest of the world, talking about the Great Prison they had escaped from.

  Only the toughest and the greatest of adventurers could break out of this prison, they exaggerated, boosting their credentials to the local populace of whatever tavern they were talking in. Local authorities of that city heard stories of this prison meant for adventurers, and much to my surprise Oregmyer began to receive shipments of shackled and drugged adventurers to be thrown into this prison.

  At first, the city tried to turn these vagabonds away, but there were always some gift or favor that came along with the shipment of prisoners. Oregmyer made quite a tidy profit off of accepting these prisoners. And I, of course, was happy to have more adventurers to challenge and to battle.

  There was a small problem, however. Since these new adventurers were being shipped in from foreign lands without understanding of the rules I set forth, most of them did not have their gear upon being thrown into me. And without basic equipment such as weapons, spellbooks and support items, these adventurers did not have a chance to get out. The last thing I needed was for my dungeon to be full of people who were truly trapped for the rest of their lives. This would lead to desperation and madness, potentially risking the lives of the goblins and shopkeeps who were just trying to do their jobs. On top of that, if a soul resurrected too many times without gaining more power through victory, they would become contorted and warped, eventually leading to a grisly transformation. Whatever emerged, Ehdrid advised, would be a big problem for everyone, even myself.