Dungeon Mauling

by Eric Ugland

  Praark sneered and spat. A thick globule of saliva arced through the air and splashed across Duskalk’s pristine armor.

  “Easy guys,” I said, putting my hands up. “Before we get to killing each other, let’s make a few things clear: if I win, I get the gem, and we go free. My whole party. We go wherever we want to go, and y’all can’t touch us.”

  Blue grunted but nodded.

  “You lose,” Red said, “we eat your body and your party.”

  I looked over to Nikolai. Everyone else in the party shook their head, but Nikolai nodded. Once. Small.

  “Deal,” I said.

  “FIGHT!” Red roared.

  Chapter Thirty

  I don’t want to go out on the limb to say Duskalk cheated, but I’m pretty sure big red was swinging his giant sword thing even before his bossman had said “fight.” The ‘blade’ straight up thundered as it crashed through the air.

  Seeing no other option, I basically just fell backward, watching as the massive blade whooshed over the space I’d previously occupied.

  I slammed onto the stones, rolling away from the attack I knew had to be coming from my blue opponent, Praark. Sure enough, there was a metallic prang as Praark’s sword hit off the ground. I jumped to my feet with my axe in my hands, holding it across my body, full defense, ready to see what my foes had planned.

  Every else moved back from us, including my party, who stood up against a wall on the far side of the gem pillar. The two hobgoblin leaders stood in the first ranks of their respective armies. We had a small open-ish area to fight in, the big pillar serving as a center-point. Given how my last fight had ended, I paid special attention to my movements. This time, there wouldn’t be someone to save me.

  Duskalk took a step towards me, but as big red did, Praark lunged out. Duskalk had to parry Praark’s sword, which left an opening for me.

  I quickly swung my axe left to right, but Duskalk was faster still, dodging enough out of the way that my blow just slid off the thick red armor. Immediately I knew I’d been played. Praark’s thin sword slipped right into my abdomen in an explosion of pain. I jumped out of the way, but not before I felt blood pour down my side.

  So the two hobgoblins were willing to work together to defeat me before focusing on each other.

  My instinct was to hold the wound, staunch the flow of blood. But that wasn’t an option here. I could see a blinking marker on the edge of my vision denoting a bleeding debuff. My health was dropping steadily. But I had a two-handed weapon, so I had no free hands for anything silly like keeping myself alive. Both hands went on the axe, and I started to sidestep.

  I fired off my identification spell, first at Praark:

  Praark

  Hobgoblin

  Lvl 21 Swordshobgoblin

  And then at Duskalk.

  Duskalk

  Hobgoblin

  Lvl 21 Battle Butcher

  Battle Butcher? That was a pretty sweet name for a class. Both were much higher level than I. Both clearly fought on the daily, killing who knows how many of their fellow hobs. That meant they both knew what they were doing fighting-wise. I was pretty well hosed. Still, no reason to give up. Instead, I squared off and gave a smile.

  That made the hobgoblins angry.

  Duskalk roared and went for an overhand chop.

  I had to fight defensively, and barely got my axe up to take his hit.

  The blade slammed into the haft, and I slid it off to the side, right to where Praark was coming in with another lunge. Duskalk’s eyes went wide as his sword went down, slamming right into Praark’s outstretched arm.

  Sure, Praark got a bit of a stab in me, but he took a pretty brutal hit in return.

  I jumped back again, watching Praark’s arm going limp. He snarled at Duskalk, barking out a quick phrase in what I had to assume was a hobgoblin language of some sort. Three words long, just enough for me to grab the language.

  Smashing! You’ve learned a new language, Hobgoblin Battle Cant.

  “You are just weak,” Duskalk snapped back at the retreating Praark.

  Praark growled, but the arm was pretty close to useless. Blue transferred the blade to the other hand, hopefully an off hand. So far, I’d only seen Praark fight right handed, so I had to hope Praark fighting leftie would give me an advantage.

  I didn’t want to give Blue any time to recuperate whatsoever, so I feinted at Duskalk, who tensed into a defensive posture, and then took a huge step and swung an overhead chop at Praark.

  Praark darted left, getting the good arm in parry position, not thinking I’d be able to switch directions midair.

  But one joy of being overly strong is the ability to do what people think is impossible, so I just pulled the swing to the side and went right by the upraised sword hitting Praark’s relatively unprotected neck area. The axe cut deep, cleaving right through Praark’s flimsy blue chainmail.

  Blood fountained out of him, and though Praark got to his feet, Praark only remained upright for a second. Then his legs buckled and the blue champion crashed to the ground.

  I jumped over the body and spun to see how Duskalk would react. Big red just squinted, looking at the at remains of Praark. Keeping the body between us gave me at least a mild warning should Duskalk attack; it was a pretty gnarly obstacle, and I knew I wasn’t going to be the one to go over it.

  Duskalk roared at me, but he came no closer.

  Praark’s blood continued to cover the floor, and my health continued dropping. I ventured a guess my opponent was aware of my negative condition, meaning waiting was the tactically sound decision for the red champion.

  Foot over foot, I sidestepped, seeing what Duskalk was willing to do. Duskalk mirrored me, keeping our positions relative. But I’d run into the pillar if I kept going. Big red was going to wait me out. It was something of a cowardly tactic, at least from my perspective, but it would most likely work.

  I ran through all my possible tactics.

  Nothing really stuck out to me, so I decided to go with old reliable.

  I threw the axe, winging it as hard as I could at Duskalk.

  Naturally, he moved to block the blow, but there was an incredible amount of force behind it, if I do say so myself. It blew by Duskalk and went spinning end over end, smashing into and cutting down a hobgoblin standing right next to the Red leader.

  Duskalk couldn’t help but look over at the cry of pain from his ally.

  I knelt and snatched up Praark’s sword, leapt across the body, lunging forward with the sword outstretched.

  I wasn’t fast enough — something I’d feared but planned on — and Duskalk got his big blade ripping across his body until it sunk deep into my chest, cutting almost halfway through.

  Cheers burst from the Red Army, they figured they’d just watch their champion win.

  Pain erupted through me. Possibly the worst I’d experienced up to that point.

  I couldn’t help but smile, and I took a ragged wet breath. Duskalk also had a smile across that nasty hobgoblin face. Hot and fetid, the hobgoblin’s breath washed over my face. I dropped my pilfered sword and leaned my head way back. Then I smashed my head against Duskalk’s nose, the creature’s wide schnoz breaking into tiny pieces under my skull.

  The red champion started to pull back, but I grabbed the neck of his armor with my right hand and the bottom of the chest piece with my left. I pulled him to me.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” I growled, feeling blood fill up my mouth from a bevy of internal injuries.

  Eyes wide, fear and confusion battling for control, Duskalk struggled, but I had the hobgoblin, and I knew had enough strength left to do something showy.

  I dropped down a bit to pick the massive hobgoblin up over my head and held Duskalk there for one solid second, letting every hobgoblin in the place know that I wasn’t in any hurry. I made eye contact with the Red leader, who was finally showing a little surprise at the fight in front of him. Then I slammed Duskalk down on the ground as hard as
I could, hard enough that dust flew out around him.

  Duskalk groaned, and rocked back and forth, no air left in his lungs.

  I ripped big red’s sword out of my body, took a bit of a faltering step, and then swung down hard, really taking a weight off his shoulders.

  The disembodied head blinked at me once while blood poured out.

  I threw the giant blade on the floor. A gnarly sort of clang rang out in the otherwise silent hall. Perhaps knowing I’d won, the gem floated up and off the pillar until it came down to rest on the ground in front of me.

  I shook the sweat and blood out of my eyes, and spit out a mouthful of blood.

  “Looks like I win,” I said.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  I invoked Stand Tall and made it look like all my wounds had just healed. I didn’t want to give either army the idea that I was weak.

  The Red leader nodded once, then turned about, and retreated. The red army held for a moment longer, and then followed in an orderly march, their feet in lockstep.

  The Blue army left in the same way, and our little party was left on our own.

  “You can let the pain show,” Nikolai said. “Whatever you may think of them, a hobgoblin will never go back on their word. As long as you are living, we are safe for the night.”

  Immediately, I dropped the ability and fell to the ground. Ragnar was instantly by my side with a small medical kit. I waved him away. I thought he might argue, but he took the opportunity to return to the fallen hobgoblins and relieve them of all their possessions.

  “I’ll be fine in just, like, a minute,” I said, really hoping I had enough regen power to get back on my feet. The pain was intense, much more than I’d ever experienced before. Laying there, I wished I could just pass out. I could barely breathe.

  Nikolai seemed to realize how bad it was. He pulled a dagger out and cut off the leather I’d been wearing as armor, and tossed it to the side. In doing so, he had to pull out some bits of leather from the wounds itself.

  Skeld went and touched the glowing orbs hovering above the remains of my opponents, both of which were blue. Coins came pouring down, as well as the clang of a blade.

  Emeline and Donner stood over the red gem.

  Donner knelt and reached out for it, but it rolled away from him. Which was odd because it wasn’t round. It was faceted, like it had been cut by a very skilled jeweler, so it shouldn’t have been able to roll on its own. Donner reached for it again. But, just like before, it moved out of the way.

  Skeld grabbed the gem on the first try and brought it over to me.

  “To the victor,” he said and placed it down next to me.

  Breathing was getting easier, and my bleeding debuff had gone away. Health was starting to go up. I felt my insides knitting back together. Which, pro-tip: avoid if you can. It’s both disconcerting and uncomfortable.

  Ragnar busted out some trail-mix type stuff he’d squirreled away (ottered away?), and passed it around. Everyone ate but me, and they all kept their gaze on the inhuman healing happening to my body. It felt awkward.

  “I think we had better move,” Nikolai said.

  I wasn’t at a hundred percent yet, but I was close enough, so I nodded. I tried to get to my feet, but somewhere along the way up, my legs failed. I slammed back against the wall and slid right back down.

  “Stop fucking around,” Nikolai snapped. “Get to your feet, dammit.”

  I blinked, surprised at his outburst, but it provided enough of a boost to, well, get to my feet dammit.

  Nikolai shoved the big gem into my hands.

  Immediately, a notification took over my vision.

  Do you wish to travel to the second floor of The Dungeon of Ancients or do you wish to Exit?

  Exit?

  You could just exit? This whole dungeon thing had me super curious — I couldn’t see leaving already. Sure it was dangerous, but we hadn’t even gotten a taste of what the treasures it held were. I figured I’d keep that tidbit for myself for the moment.

  “Ready for the next floor?” I asked.

  “This is the key to the second level?” Nikolai replied.

  “I got a notification to that, yeah.”

  Nikolai took a deep breath, and looked over our little party. I noticed he got distracted by something down the hallway, and so I followed his gaze. At either end, a whole new set of hobgoblins watched us. Intently. They were hungry. And angry. And we were a nice juicy morsel sitting there, ripe for the taking.

  “We need to go,” Nikolai said. “Whatever will be next, it will be safer than remaining here.”

  “I thought you said we were safe here for the night,” I said.

  “Hunger does bad things to every beast. Take us to the next floor.”

  I selected yes. A door appeared in the floor, opening up as if by magic. Which, to be fair, it might have been. Inside was a set of stairs leading to another door. A long set of stairs.

  As soon as the door came into view, the hobgoblins were moving.

  “Okay,” I said, “let’s motor, kids.”

  “Motor?” Emeline asked.

  “Dumb things,” Ragnar said, already pulling Emeline along down the stairs. “He says dumb things. All the time.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  As soon as we came through the door at the bottom of the stairs, it disappeared, and we were in what I can only describe as a bedroom. There was a door on one wall, leading to an empty closet, and a door on the opposite wall. Which, when opened, revealed grey brick. Neither door provided us with an exit. One wall had a large bed against it, as well as a small vanity with makeup and perfume bottles spread across it. The last wall was missing. We were high on a hill, overlooking a massive labyrinth with a tower smack dab in the middle. And even from where I was, I could see a glint of color at the top, a slight bit of light reflecting off a vibrant blue gem.

  Right then, we all got a notification.

  Congratulations unto you, traveler, for your party has bested the first level of the Dungeon of the Ancients.

  You gain 1000 XP.

  You gain the first ring of the Dungeons of the Ancients Indicium. Complete the Indicium for a bonus.

  Warnings unto you, for each level is more punishing than the last. But the rewards are greater.

  “You level up?” I asked Nikolai.

  His eyes were that peculiar type of unfocused that told me he was busy reading something. It was a look I’d never seen before coming to Vuldranni, but saw frequently now.

  “You said something?” he asked.

  “I asked if you had leveled up.”

  “Yes,” he said, firmly enough that I knew not to ask any more questions.

  The bedroom was nice, with a soft bed and a hint of safety. Anything hoping to attack us would need to come uphill to get us, and we’d get plenty of warning.

  “Can we rest here?” I asked Nikolai.

  “I have no idea,” he replied dismissively.

  “Dude,” I interjected, “you clearly know something about Dungeons — you’ve been ordering us around nonstop since we got here. So now I’m asking your advice, I’m asking for you to make a guess. Do you think we’ll be okay here?”

  He took a breath, looked around, and shrugged.

  “Maybe.”

  “Okay, well, I think we ought to rest here. There’s a bed, easy to guard—”

  “There is no telling what might come for us.”

  “Dude, how about we sit down here, have a talk about Dungeons and why you seem to know so much about the motherfuckers, and have a tactical rest?”

  He shook his head. “As a duke, you need to improve your vocabulary considerably, else you bring shame upon your house.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “I see I have work to do as your mentor.”

  “Yeah. Well, we both fucking do.”

  He took the chair from the vanity and spun it around so he could look down at the hill and the labyrinth.

  “Dungeons are a rarity t
hese days,” Nikolai said. “And I ask that what I am about to tell you all remains within this party.”

  “Of course,” I said, looking at Ragnar and Skeld.

  “You are part of the hirð,” Nikolai snapped. “That is for our companions.”

  Emeline scoffed. “We are all going to die in here. Who would I tell?”

  “I talk to no one,” Donner said.

  “Great,” Nikolai said, “completely confident in everything remaining a secret now.”

  “Just fucking go on with whatever you’re going to say.”

  I got a dirty look, but he nodded.

  “There is a single Dungeon within the bounds of the Empire—”

  “This makes two,” Ragnar said.

  “He really hates it when you interrupt,” I said.

  Nikolai’s hand shot out, aiming for my head. But with a slight tilt, it flew on by. I was faster than him now. Which felt weird.

  “This is…” Nikolai searched for the right word, “unpleasant. Anyway, Dungeons. There is one in Glaton, south, but that is all I will say. The location is a guarded secret. One of my first duties after joining the Thingmen was going to the Dungeon with the Emperor, though this was when his father still ruled. We marched from the capital to the Dungeon, The Dungeon of the Lost, as a full company. An army of men and wagons and tents. We set up an entire city outside the Dungeon, and the Emperor held a tournament to see which of the Thingmen would join him in this grand adventure. The taming of the Dungeon.”

  “Seems a bit cavalier to me,” I said.

  “It was. But you must understand, the legends surrounding Dungeons are mostly of riches and glory. Of treasures beyond wild imagination, gaining godlike powers. But the realities are different.

  “There are few who make it through the Dungeon. Certainly not all eight levels. There are even fewer who know the location of Dungeons. The Dungeon of the Lost was only discovered a few years prior to our journey. Scholars were brought to the tent city, to give advice, but they were all speaking from books, not experience. Save one man, a wild man from far to the west. He spoke of a Dungeon he had visited, the dangers inside. That we were fools to consider going in with the Emperor. That we would all die because we were all warriors, we were bringing no magic users, no healers, no rogues or thieves to check for traps or open locks. That we were not thinking enough about the realities of the Dungeon. We laughed him off, and he was driven out of the camps.