Dungeon Mauling

by Eric Ugland

  She stood up straight and narrowed her eyes. “You use magic?”

  “I do.”

  She sneered, and I thought she was about to spit. Her gauntleted hand wrapped tightly around the hilt of her sword, but she’d yet to draw it. “I hate magic.”

  “Noted. I’ll refrain from using it around you if I can. You got a name?”

  “Nathalie Glaton.”

  “Montana Coggeshall.”

  “I know.”

  “Right.”

  “I was told to take you to an inn.”

  “We’re actually stopping at a tavern first—”

  She frowned, shook her head, but finally nodded. “Which one?”

  “Uh, there’s one across the street from the Legion House—”

  “The Rabid Dragon? Really?”

  “Not my choice—”

  She started walking. I followed. This was going really well.

  I noticed she put her hood up as we walked. It made me wish I had one too. Anything to decrease my visibility in the city. Or the world at large. I knew it wasn’t necessarily the case, but I just had the feeling there was a target on my back.

  The Rabid Dragon looked empty from the front, but as soon as I opened the door, I was presented with a beatific scene. Unlike most of the taverns I’d visited in Glaton, this place was open and bright, delightful and comfy. Homey even. A large fireplace took up almost a whole wall. The crackling fire was a soothing background to the gentle chatter. A bar lined the opposite wall, where people were drinking almost all in twos. Couples. This was a date bar. I looked over at Nathalie. She grimaced back at me.

  I scanned along the bar until I saw the odd group out: Lee and the two Lutra. They were tucked at the far edge, and given the way the bartender kept shooting them the stink-eye, it didn’t exactly seem like they were having a grand time. Walking over, I got the attention of the bartender. He smiled at me until he realized where I was going.

  “You should know beasts are not welcome here,” he said to me with a sneer.

  I stopped and slowly turned to face the man. Several scenarios ran through my head. I took a breath and counted to three before I even let them come to the fore, because most of them involved beating the shit out of the racist fuck. Problem was, though that’d get me to my destination (jail), I needed a way out before getting in.

  Instead, I just smiled at him.

  “Noted,” I said. “If your wife shows up, I’ll make sure to escort her outside immediately.”

  Someone snorted.

  The bartender did not. He clenched his jaw and his knuckles went white.

  I gestured to my comrades. They got up and left while I stood in front of the bartender. When they were gone, I pulled a coin from my pouch and set it on the bar. Then I winked and walked out.

  Nathalie was already introducing herself to Lee and the hirð.

  “Now we can go to that hotel,” I said.

  She nodded, still all business, and took the lead.

  It wasn’t a long walk to the inn, The Davenwood. We weren’t in the nicest part of the city, but I’d argue this was close. Swanky. Plush. Not quite as fancy as the area around the Explorer’s Club, it also lacked some of the stuck up-edness of that area. The trees were just as manicured as the lawns. The streets were clean and wide, and I saw zero evidence of people dumping their chamberpots on the street, neither sight nor smell. That was something that’d been conspicuously left out of all the fantasies I’d read. The smells I experienced on Vuldranni were often intense and rarely pleasant.

  “Why’s it called the Davenwood?” I asked.

  “The inn?” Nathalie replied, as if I was a bit of an idiot. “You have not heard of Davenwood?”

  “Nope.”

  “It is named after a great forest outside of the capital, planted there by my great-great-grandfather to replace the trees he took to build the first great fleet.”

  “Cool.”

  She just frowned at me before pushing through the door.

  Inside, there was a desk with an attendant perched in front of a whole bunch of keys and mailboxes. Or message boxes I supposed. A small bell sat next to a guest book. The attendant smiled at Nathalie, his eyes creepy, exuding lechery.

  “These men are guests of my brother,” Nathalie said.

  “But of course,” he said with a bow. He snatched a key off a hook behind him without even looking, spun it around his finger, and then held it out. Nathalie took it and tromped up the stairs, her armor clanking. It probably had out on the streets as well, but now that we were indoors it was easier to hear it.

  The pervy dude watched as she walked up the stairs, and then indicated we should follow. Which, you know, weird enough, but then when I looked up to try and see what he might have been watching, or hoped to watch, all I saw a was a bunch of metal. It’s not like plate armor does any favors for the butt.

  The suite was on the top floor. Hell, it practically was the top floor. And it was great. As soon as the door opened, I saw a sitting area, a separate lounging couch in front of a crackling fireplace, and lots of wide open space. Balconies overlooked the city below. There were doors on either side of the room, open to bedrooms. Nathalie was mucking about in one, and Lee hotfooted it to the other, ostensibly thinking he needed to claim the bed.

  But I knew I wasn’t done for the night, so I dropped the bulk of my gear on the floor behind the couch. I kept the bag of holding with me though.

  “What are you doing?” Ragnar asked, already stretched out across the couch, luxuriating in the warmth of the fire.

  “Nothing,” I said.

  “You still have the bag on.”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you are going back out.”

  “I am, yeah.”

  “Okay,” Ragnar said, closing his eyes, “well, you let me know when you are leaving, and I will be ready.”

  “Wait,” Lee said, stepping out of the bedroom, “we’re going somewhere tonight?”

  “I am,” I said. “You guys don’t need to come with me.”

  “I must,” Nathalie said, and I jumped slightly. I’d totally forgotten she was even there. She’d already taken off a few pieces of her armor. Her gauntlets were on the bed, and she had her arm guards in her hands.

  “I don’t know how good of an idea that would be. We’re, I mean, I’m going to get Nikolai.”

  “You mean the Nikolai who’s in prison?” Lee asked.

  “That’s the one.”

  “Osterstadt Prison?” Nathalie asked.

  “Yup,” I said.

  “As a prisoner?”

  “Well, they took him for murder. So I’m guessing he’s a prisoner.”

  “He is gone then. You had best forget he existed, for there is no way to get him out.”

  “Well, I am either getting him out or dying trying. Hence why you guys aren’t going with me. None of you.”

  “We are honor-bound to accompany you,” Skeld said, standing at attention in front of me.

  “Pretty sure he just ordered us not to,” Ragnar said, basically a bump on the couch at that point.

  “He cannot order us to abandon him, especially not at the start of a dangerous quest.”

  Ragnar jumped up and stood on the couch. “Trying to keep us from adventure and excitement?” Ragnar accused, leveling a finger at me. “That is the entire reason we came with you!”

  “And honor,” Skeld added.

  “Yes, well, and that. But mostly the other things.”

  “Guys—” I started.

  “I must go with you as well,” Nathalie said.

  “Are you kidding?” I asked. “One, and I mean no offense, but I don’t know you at all. Two, you’re a knight, which means very little to me, but I have to assume you’re very much into law and order and being heavily armored. So, not sneaky, right?”

  “I admit, I have not invested my time or points into stealth, but—”

  “But nothing. You stay here and keep Lee safe.”

 
“Lee?”

  Lee raised his hand. “Me. Am I doing something?”

  “Gathering supplies,” I said.

  “What supplies do we need?”

  “Everything you think we might need to build a city.”

  “That’s a tall order.”

  “Are you up to it?”

  “I think I can handle buying things. Provided you’ve got some gold to spread around.”

  I nodded. “Oh, I got that covered.”

  I reached into the bag of holding and thought of the trunk of gold we got from the Explorer’s Club, and soon felt it in my hand. I hauled it out, letting it settle on the floor in front of the couch with an extremely loud thump. I opened the chest with a flourish.

  There were some oohs and ahhs, mainly from Ragnar.

  “Where did that come from?” Lee asked.

  “The job Cleeve and I did.”

  Lee just shook his head.

  “Then let’s put a shopping list together.”

  Chapter Five

  I left Lee and Nathalie with the gold and the start of a city-building shopping list. The Lutra and I headed across town, following Nathalie’s vague directions to The Murdered Bishop. Or at least, to where she thought the Murdered Bishop might be.

  After dark, the city streets were pretty empty. No one was sleeping though, because there was still plenty of light coming from the buildings. As we worked our way north through the city, the economic levels of the neighborhoods clearly plummeted. The exquisite carvings on the wooden buildings slowly wore down until all that was left was purely functional. Streets became narrower and narrower, smells grew increasingly foul, and Osterstadt lost whatever sheen it had left.

  Having walked for what seemed like ever, we finally turned a corner, and came to a small city square. It housed a meager park where most of the trees were dead, but some of the grass struggled on, unkempt and overgrown. The benches were filled with sleeping figures. Some human, some definitely not.

  At the far side of the square was the tavern, The Murdered Bishop, in all its lack of glory. The sign hung tenuously by a single point, making it challenging to read, as it was basically diagonal. Right below, a man vomited with surprising force all about the entrance.

  “Enticing,” Ragnar said.

  “Kind of like the sort of place where you’d get help breaking into prison?” I asked.

  “Yes. Definitely. Just…” Ragnar trailed off.

  “What?”

  “As far as I have heard, getting into prison is the easy part. Should we not find someone who can get us out?”

  I just shrugged. “Yeah, well, half of getting out safely is how you get in. I think. Whatever, this is the best I’ve got at the moment.”

  “Should we wait outside?” Skeld asked.

  “No,” I said. “Never again.”

  Skeld shrugged, but I noticed a smile flit across Ragnar’s face. Then the little dude led the way across the square, stepping over the vomit-strewn entryway and throwing open the door to the tavern with flair.

  No one cared.

  Partially because there was no one really inside, and partially because any patrons The Murdered Bishop did have were beyond drunk. It was definitely the sort of place where you drank to forget. Drank to get obliterated and have no actual concept of life, really. I smiled — it was the kind of place I frequented on Earth. I felt at home.

  The tables and chairs, made of rough-hewn wood, looked like they’d been repaired more than once. Sawdust and grime lay thick across the floor. Something odd: the floor was wood, but it wasn’t made of thick planks. Or wide planks. Rather, it was a singular plank. One piece of wood covered the entire floor. I stared down at it, my mouth just agape, looking around at the floor, trying to find joinery of any kind. But it was a single piece of wood. The size of a tavern floor. It was just a small difference from what I was used to really, but somehow it was more disturbing than the wyrm, or the agachnern. Or magic. Or any of the other things I’d seen. It was something theoretically possible to have have seen on Earth, and yet something practically impossible at the same time. That, more than almost anything, really forced me to come to terms with being in an entirely different world.

  The barkeep leaned on the bar like it was absolutely essential for support. She was a haggard-looking woman, seeming like the type to rarely bother being sober. And there was the hint she might vomit at any time. She squinted at us through one eye and held the bar with both hands.

  “What are you doing here?” she slurred at us. Or in our general direction.

  I shook my head to hide the bit of a laugh, and strode over to the bar, sliding to a stop on a stool.

  “I am looking for two things,” I started.

  “Better get yer hopes down,” she snapped, “unless what yer lookin’ for is disappointment.”

  “Already found that; it’s in abundance here.” I replied. “I’m interested in an ale—”

  “No ale.”

  “Lager?”

  “No lager.”

  “IPA?”

  “What in the fuck is that yer yammerin’ on about?”

  “Okay, so, maybe you just give me a mug of something.”

  A twinkle formed in her eyes. She reared back and hocked the biggest, meanest, juiciest loogie into a dirty mug that had definitely been used at least once that evening. Then she slammed it on the counter between us.

  “One gold,” she snapped, her wry smile showing just how proud she was of her joke.

  The old me, the biker me, would’ve slurped down the snot and then broken the mug on her mug. And I was tempted to here. But at the same time, I thought about being a duke and whatnot now. Ducal behavior probably didn’t include drinking snot and starting bar brawls.

  I smiled, and flipped a gold coin on the counter.

  “Let’s just pretend I drank your cocktail and it was delightful,” I said. “Part two.”

  She snatched the coin off the counter and sneered at me. Her teeth — well, tooth — was black and a little furry. “Part two,” she asked. “you want to take me behind the counter?”

  Ragnar audibly wretched.

  “No, not in the slightest—” I quickly said.

  “Pity,” the barkeep said.

  “I’m looking for a man named Philomon.”

  “Why?” she asked.

  I debated how to handle this, but it occurred to me that the longer I took, the worse off Nikolai was. So I just pulled out the favor coin and showed it to the barkeep.

  She peered closely at the coin, and her entire demeanor changed.

  “Ah,” she said, all of a sudden clear as a bell. “just a moment, if you please.”

  The barkeep disappeared below the bar. I looked around the tavern again, and saw that all the drunks were now watching me, seemingly sober and alert.

  It took a few moments before she reappeared, coming up behind the bar as if climbing up a staircase.

  “This way,” she said, gesturing for us to walk around the bar, where there was a staircase leading down to a basement.

  I gave one more look at the tavern, and just shrugged. No way out now.

  Chapter Six

  We went down the stairs into what seemed like the exact opposite bar. It was comfortably lit, with plenty of wall sconces and overhead lanterns. There were plenty of tables in the under-tavern, all looking well-kept and of quality. Nearly all of them had at least two patrons, and most of them had three. A bald bartender gave a little wave to the haggard woman leading us down. Off to one side, I spotted seven players engaged in a card game of sorts, happening around a felt-covered table. There were also billiard tables back there, all in use.

  One man sat alone, a gent with a large hat topped with a ludicrous feather. Well, alone except for the massive hunk of muscle and rage that stood behind him. His bodyguard, I guessed. The muscle glared at me as I walked down the stairs, while the gent gave a lazy raise of his hand.

  Our escort pointed to the gent. “Philomon,” she said
. Without waiting for a response, she pushed past us and walked back up to where we’d found her.

  “Please,” the gent said, his voice sultry yet unpleasant, “have a seat. I am very curious to hear about you.”

  I gave the man my best smile, hoping all my points in charisma were about to pay off. I sat across from him, and saw that my two comrades had pulled up chairs of their own and sat down.

  The gent raised an eyebrow at the Lutra.

  “You have a problem with them?” I began.

  “Not at all,” he replied. “Rare to find a human willing to be seen as equals with others here.”

  “Maybe I’m not human.”

  He gave a wry smile and shook his head. “You are an amusing sort. Not human,” he chuckled. “You are a large and hirsute human, but most definitely a human.”

  “I don’t do mysterious well,” I said, sliding the favor coin across the table.

  “Ah, but you being here at all is a mystery to me. You see, knowing my name is rare among those who reside in Osterstadt, of whom you are not. But possessing my favor, that is of utmost interest to me, for I have given out but three. I know to whom I have gifted all three of my favors, and you are not one of them. So who are you?”

  “Montana Coggeshall, Duke of Coggeshall.”

  “Oooh, nobility,” Philomon looked back at his bodyguard, but the bodyguard did not smile. “Ignore Giles, he lost his sense of humor when I stopped him killing on the daily. Who are your furry companions?”

  “Skeld Woodingson and Ragnar Helfdane,” I said. “My hirðmen.”

  “A noble with his very own hirð — my, what a delicious turn this evening has taken.”

  “I’m glad we could entertain you.”

  “It is almost all I could hope for. Now, onto the main event: the favor you have come to collect. What is it you seek?”

  “I need to get someone out of prison.”

  “Osterstadt prison?”

  “That’s the one.”

  Philomon shook his head. “That is more than a challenge. Perhaps even more than a favor.”

  “But can it be done?”

  “I have confidence it will be done at some point, but as far as I know, not yet.”

  “So your favor is not good?”