How then would we generate authentic quests, I asked? After all, there needed to be some great motivation to bring the strongest and the best to the second and third levels. Regar was unsure. Most of the time, a dungeon produced a lot of quests because it was posing some kind of threat to the innocent civilians living outside of the dungeon. The Indomitable Maze, for example, held a mad wizard who sought to bring about great ruin to the rest of the world. In some dungeons, monsters regularly escaped out into the world and began to devour livestock and innocents. And since I was not interested in bringing harm to the local population, there would be no reason for quests to be posted about stopping the activities within me.
I began to ponder the circumstances. At the end of the day, I was in a rough position. If I did not obtain the necessary power, I would be unable to repel the Invasion that would be coming within nine years. Perhaps I needed to start playing dirtier, if I was going to be able to win this.
“Regar,” I said, after some time of reflection. He sat in his study, poring over dozens of maps of dungeons across all Yehan.
“Yes?” he asked without looking up. He had grown accustomed to my random intrusions throughout the day.
“I want you to find me the craziest, most dangerous wizard out there. Bring me one who is a bona fide danger to the world.”
“I’m sorry, what?” he asked, pausing from his reading to look upwards.
“You heard me. I will draft a letter of invitation, to provide him with housing and accommodations in the second level of the dungeon.”
“That would be quite risky,” Regar warned. “They could be a menace to everyone in the dungeon.”
“I am aware of that. Bring this wizard back to me, or don’t come back at all,” I told him.
“But what if whatever insane wizard I find refuses to come along?”
“Then bring them back in chains,” I replied. “I am a prison, after all.”
Regar sighed heavily at those words. “I think I understand where you’re going with this. It’s dangerous, but it might work. I would just suggest that you heavily insulate the village with antimagic fields.”
“Of course,” I replied. “Now go, we do not have time to waste.”
And with that short exchange, Regar was once again off to do my bidding in the world. I felt a little bad sending him out so often, but he didn’t seem to mind. Perhaps it helped satisfy his innate urge to explore.
Three days passed since the elven team entered the dungeon. I began to worry about their survival. They were to contact Regar should they encounter any serious obstacles or challenges, but he had yet to hear a word from them. I maintained a long distance link with the minotaur, in the hopes of hearing something about their exploits within the Dungeon Below. But there was no communication yet.
In that time, I saw quite a few adventurers who were on their way to visit me look at the new dungeon entrance. Some of them wondered if it were an alternative entrance to my dungeon, while others thought it was just some kind of storage facility.
One party, that was rather fed up with their comrades’ predilection to being arrested and thrown into various magical prisons, decided to take a detour into this side area, to see where it led. I could not allow this, yet I was unable to seal off the entrance until the adventurers within had finished their task.
I would be forced to intervene to stop this hapless party from entering a deathtrap from which there was no return. In a rare departure from my silence, I bellowed out into their minds a dire warning, a message meant to scare them away.
“Be warned mortals! The entrance to this dungeon shall lead you to a place where your very souls will be devoured! There will be no afterlife, no eternal peace or rest! Just a dark nightmare in death! Flee now, if you value your soul!”
“Did you hear that?” a dwarf said to his human companions. “Now that is what I’m talking about! This sounds like a serious challenge!”
“About time,” one of his comrades agreed. “I bet with a warning like that, there’s going to be some incredible treasure at the bottom.”
“Maybe there’s a trapped princess,” someone else added.
I watched in shock as the party all voted to explore this dungeon, all motivated by the dire warning I had given them. They were quick to enter, excited to find out what sort of traps and monsters awaited them. Did they not believe the warning? Or were they just so numb from years upon years of adventuring that the prospect of soul death didn’t even faze them?
Chapter 11
Two weeks had passed since I had dispatched Regar to find a wizard to reside within the second level. During that time, I worked to create a suitable residence for whoever was to arrive. The second level was composed of sixteen different zones, most of which were still empty—as I had been conservative with spending my magic on building new traps or puzzles. However, in Zone 8 (which was the furthest from the entrance to Level Two), I had erected a beautiful tower for the wizard.
This tower was made of black obsidian, stretching eight stories high. It had four jagged spires at the top, all pointing upwards. There were a few windows scattered about, and at the bottom was a long staircase leading up to the one and only entrance.
On a more practical level, I made sure to place a thin layer of anti-magic material within the walls. The material would remain dormant until I activated it, which would allow me to ensure the new occupant could be contained properly if they grew out of hand.
Was it a bad idea to bring a villainous wizard or sorcerer inside? I was unsure. I needed a reason for stronger adventurers to show up, and this could be a sufficient reason. Many heroes would seek to put an end to an evil wizard’s actions, especially if they were dangerous enough to threaten harmony in the world. And with a proper set up, with the anti-magic walls and the ability to seal up the tower so no one could escape, I believed that I could control the wizard enough to keep my own denizens safe.
I will admit the idea of bringing in some villain was questionable, but what other options did I have? With the threat of this dungeon beneath me in the short term, and the Invasion of strange otherworldly entities in the long term, I needed to get stronger and I wasn’t about to start devouring souls like my rival. This was the best I could do. I just hoped that it would pay off.
Regar arrived one cold winter morning, just as the first snow was beginning to settle in. I had been so distracted by everything that I had not taken notice of the seasons passing by. Winter was a good sign, for adventurers would grow most restless during the cold and quiet season. I would have many more visitors before the year was over.
I was relieved to find that Regar had a companion with him and this man was not in chains. He was a tall human, wearing red and orange robes. He carried a long wooden staff that seemed to faintly burn with fire at all times. Chained to his left side was a large spellbook, and he had many tattoos upon his hands, bearing different runes that would unleash spells when touched.
“This is the place,” Regar said, waving towards my mouth.
“Ah yes,” the wizard said, rubbing his hands together. “I have heard so much about the World Tree. Great Tree! I have come a long way to meet with you. Would you do me the kindness of speaking with me?”
“Of course,” I said, speaking directly to his mind. I could feel his emotions, and much to my surprise he seemed rather stable. His emotions were calm, relaxed, as if he were expecting for me to be reading them.
“Wonderful,” he replied back in his own mind, eschewing the need for speech. “I see that you are opening up your dungeon for a residence, is that correct?”
“It is,” I replied. “You have read the letter?”
“Indeed, I have. Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Fernus. My friends call me Fern and my enemies call me nothing for they have all been consumed by the fires of my magic.”
“I am pleased to meet with you,” I replied, focusing intently on his emotions. There was nothing to sug
gest that he was a madman, not in the least.
“I am most fortuitous that your minotaur lackey had arrived when he did, for I had just burnt my entire mansion to the ground. I was growing bored with it. Too much luxury, too much comfort. Servants waiting upon you hand and foot, it’s disgusting,” Fernus continued. “But now they are all dead and I am without a home. But a being such as yourself would not offer me a place to stay without there being some strings attached. I have come all this way to hear of those strings.”
I informed him of the rules to living within me. He was free to come and go, but he must maintain a strict residency within the tower. He was not allowed to wander about the other levels of the dungeon, nor was he free to interact with anyone other than the adventurers who entered. In exchange, he would have access to the entire second level to do as he pleased.
“This is a most interesting proposal,” Fernus said. “And you will not interfere with my many experiments? With the things that I will do in my own home?”
“You may conduct your business however you wish,” I replied. “Provided you bring no harm to my residents and abide by all the rules I have set forth.”
Fernus laughed a little at those words, rubbing his hands together some more. “Of course, you will find me to be a model tenant.” He took a step forward to enter into my mouth but paused. “Wait, wait. I must ask, what do you stand to gain from such a resident? Why summon a wizard to live within you? Do you wish me to guard something? Or to deter adventurers from entering the second floor?”
“In truth? It is my hope that your presence will bring more adventurers to me,” I told him.
“Then we share the same goal,” he said with a chuckle. “For I need many more subjects for my experiments!”
Fernus was rather easy to manage, it would seem. He was led by a goblin retinue to his new quarters and he began to set up his laboratory, drawing a great many strange tools and items from a dimensional pocket. Books were placed, sacred circles were drawn, and his hideous laughter began to echo throughout the entire second level. Hopefully this should draw enough adventurers to fight him.
Regar was waiting for me to speak to him in his quarters, once I finished watching Fernus settle in.
“Well?” Regar asked. “Did I find the right wizard?”
“You have done an excellent job. How did you find Fernus?”
“I read a bounty to kill the lunatic. Apparently, he likes to kidnap people to test his new spells on. And the uh, frequent arson. Guy loves to burn stuff down. Found him screaming outside a burning mansion, laughing about his power. Great Tree, I hate to say this, but I think you made a mistake in bringing him here.”
“Yet you brought him here all the same,” I replied.
“I am loyal enough to your cause,” Regar said. “But he will hurt innocent people.”
“Yes, he will,” I agreed. “But he would do that wherever he is located. He does not know that we can trap him at any time, should his actions become too egregious. Eventually an adventurer will take him down. I will be sending emissaries to every guildhall in Yehan, with a quest to slay him.”
Regar shrugged at that. “And I suppose the victims he captures won’t be innocent barmaids or farmers, but hearty adventurers who regularly end up in these situations.”
“I will be careful to monitor his every move for now. If he poses a threat, I have ways to end it immediately,” I assured Regar. “But I need more magic if I am to achieve my ends.”
“And, if I may be so bold to ask, what are those ends?” Regar asked.
“I will tell you of such a threat when you are on the council,” I replied.
“And I have not earned my seat yet?” the minotaur asked, crossing his arms.
“Be patient, my friend. It takes time.” I was impressed with Regar so far, but I needed to see how he would handle frustration before I could give him the rights of calling upon me.
“Very well,” Regar said with a shrug. “On to other matters, I have reason to conclude that all three adventuring teams have been killed within the Dungeon Below.”
I expected to hear this news. No one had come out in the two weeks Regar had been away, despite the fact that two other teams had arrived and decided to work together on the mission. The Dungeon Below had devoured them all, no doubt growing immensely in power.
“We need to seal up the entrance,” I said, reaching out to Gariatha and instructing her to relay my orders to her orc guards. “And then figure out how to kill this thing for good.”
“Well, if you want something dead, maybe your new wizard friend could help,” Regar suggested. “He seems to be quite knowledgeable on dungeons. Kept calling you the New Askeroth Tomb.”
“Askeroth Tomb?”
“A long time ago, there was a dungeon that held the bones of the great Deep Wizard Askeroth. So powerful was the deep magic within his bones that the dungeon was able to grow at tremendous rates, forming a sizable dungeon that grew into a massive citadel.”
“What happened to it?”
Regar laughed. “They say that a hungry troll found Askeroth bones and then ate them all, destroying the dungeon instantly. I don’t know if that’s true, but hell, it was a long time ago. I doubt anyone knows the real story.”
This was interesting news. Did this mean that there were other ways to destroy a dungeon than just killing the core? Perhaps the Dungeon Below had some weakness or vulnerability that I did not. After all, it had mentioned having a master before. Did it mean creator? If this dungeon was created by someone, then perhaps that person would have had the foresight to give it some fault.
Chapter 12
“I have been here less than three days and already you have come to ask me a favor!” Fernus said. “What do you wish from me, Great Tree? To borrow a cup of sugar? To have an unruly subject immolated?” In spite of the agitation in Fernus’ voice, I could sense glee from him. He was happy to be called upon by me for help. Perhaps it was because he would ask a favor in return.
“What type of magic would be used to create a dungeon?” I asked him.
“Hmmmm, yes, what type indeed?” Fernus said, walking over to his library and pulling free a few books from the shelves. He had been in his study, drinking tea and reading a periodical called The Yehan Advocate. It was odd to see a man with such a despicable reputation doing something so ordinary, but then again, most monsters often hid in plain sight.
“The art of making a dungeon is known as Dungeonmancy,” Fernus said. “Namely because some jackass decided to attach the suffix ‘mancy’ to the end of any kind of magic, despite the fact that it only applies to divinations. Anyway, Dungeonweaving, Barrowbinding, Tombcrafting, those are all other words to describe the practice.” He began to thumb through a large black book. “Most secrets of creating dungeons have been lost to time, as the amount of magic required to do so was quite steep. You’d need either deep magic or an entire cabal of wizards to do so.
“But still, there are some ways to build a dungeon from scratch without expending too much power. You’d need what is known as a dungeon seed.” Fernus opened up the book and pointed it upwards towards the air so I could see the sketches. There were many magical formulas, with drawings of dungeon cores that looked exactly like my own.
“These seeds grow into cores and the cores become self-aware. They collect magic and grow themselves,” Fernus said. “But how it works and how to make a seed, well, those facts are lost to time.”
“And how do you kill a dungeon?” I asked, curious to see if he knew the truth.
“None of the books talk about the act of destroying a dungeon,” Fernus said, “but deduction would lead me to believe destroying the core that powers it. Of course, that might not be the case, as if a core is able to expand itself, it can probably create new seeds of itself. It might lose its progress, but it will be able to come back after a time. To truly kill one? Who knows?”
This was an intriguing thought process. I
had not considered creating another seed of my own, one that would act as a backup core in case I was annihilated. Interesting. But I had the capacity, did I not? After all, my Mother Tree had produced seeds that were independent. Would it be possible to make extensions of myself? If that were the case, I would have nothing to fear in revealing the secrets to slaying a dungeon to others. Although, if I were able to create backups of myself, wouldn’t the Dungeon Below be able to as well?
“I require a method to slay a dungeon that vexes me so, “I explained. “Would you be willing to assist me in that regard?”
Fernus scoffed at the words, shaking his head. “I think not. There is no faster way for a man to be killed than to learn the weakness of the giant tree he lives in. If I figure a way to kill the dungeon you wish gone, then I have also learned how to kill you. I doubt you would suffer me to live afterward.”
He was right to be afraid of my wrath, of course. As he was a truly evil man, I would have no problem with seeing to his own destruction, should he pose a risk to me. But my options were limited. Sending in the most seasoned of adventurers was not working. I had few allies who would be willing to risk their very souls being captured in order to kill this thing. Magic was what I needed, and in spite of all my time and effort learning and growing in the world of Yehan, I was no wizard.
I did not have the ability to create my own spells. I could only adapt based off what I learned from the essences of others. It was an unfortunate weakness of mine, but no matter how many magical principles I gained from the mages I absorbed, I could not invent new spells. I wondered often why this was the case. Perhaps it was because I was a stranger to this world? Arcane magic required a life force in order to manipulate the spells, often calling for a wizard to tie their own life essence to the magic itself. Maybe the reason why I could not create spells was that my own essence was too different. Or perhaps I had just not absorbed the right amount of knowledge yet. Either way, I still needed a wizard to develop this specific spell first.
Tree Guardian Page 6
