A Living Dungeon

by Allan Joyal

  “Not that I heard. The funny thing is that six days ago, I detected some strange magic up at the dungeon entrance. I did not check, but it felt like some kind of magical construct had stepped out of the dungeon for short time,” Betrixy said.

  “Wasn’t that the day that the Impaled Cats had to rush a potion…” Luniri asked.

  Betrixy nodded. “And none of the people who were in the adventuring party that day talk much about it. Only that the monsters on the fourth floor are especially dangerous and that they recommend all parties carry a regrowth potion from now on if they intend to go that deep.”

  Lewfeld looked thoughtful for a moment. He opened his mouth to say more. Just as he started to speak a large man with a thick beard and a strange skullcap helmet crowned with two horns flopped into the last chair at the table. “Pors curse it,” the man grumbled.

  “Excuse me?” Luniri hissed. “What are you doing here?”

  “I noticed you are from different adventuring groups,” the man said casually. “I figured you were trading tales or hints about how to deal with this dungeon. Those other two companies have agreed that we can enter tomorrow, so I figured I’d see if you have anything to offer.”

  “Why would we want to encourage more competition,” Lewfeld said. “Right now we’re lucky to get to delve once every six days or so. The dungeon appears to dislike having more than one group enter each day.”

  “So it has ways to discourage too many people entering?” the man said with a laugh. “That isn’t a threat. We can deal with that.”

  “Why are you even here?” Betrixy asked. “I mean, this dungeon definitely offers some good treasures, but it’s hardly enough to afford enchantments like the kind you have on your helmet.”

  The man looked over at Betrixy. “Sensed it did you?” he asked with a smirk. “You’re right it cost a pretty penny, but the Kindred is paying for this run. They want to know all about this dungeon.”

  “Why?” Luniri asked. “It’s just a dungeon in a mountain far from any towns.”

  “Just that,” the man said. “It’s a dungeon in a mountain far from any towns.”

  “What?” Lewfeld asked.

  “It shouldn’t be here,” the man said. “Look how much do you know about dungeons?”

  “My father or sister could tell you quite a bit,” Lewfeld said. “I just understand that they exist. They are a series of chambers or rooms where there always seem to be monsters and there are treasures for clearing each room.”

  “Not always for clearing each room, but there is definitely treasure available,” the man said. “And the rest is correct if you only care about the basics.”

  “Basics?” Luniri asked. “Look I’m not looking for complex puzzles. I go into a dungeon with my family, we kill the monsters we encounter, we collect what the dungeon has in the way of treasure and we get out.”

  The man laughed. “Oh, there is so much more to know. Dungeons are alive. Me and my friends go in and kill them.”

  “This dungeon doesn’t deserve that,” Lewfeld said angrily.

  “We are paid,” the man said. “And we are being paid well. I don’t care what this dungeon deserves or doesn’t deserve. Our task is to get to the dungeon heart.”

  “Why?” Lewfeld asked. “What is the purpose behind finding the dungeon heart?”

  “The Kindred have something they want us to take there,” the man said haughtily.

  Betrixy frowned. “You are going to anger the dungeon. Its going to attack other people.”

  “We’ll be long gone girl,” the man said scornfully. “Perhaps you should leave now if you are so sure we’ll finish what we started.”

  The man got up and stomped away. Faestari watched him go and then pulled her farsight back to her heart. It appeared that tomorrow was going to bring a new challenge. She hoped her monsters were ready for it.

  Chapter 23: Servants of the Kindred

  The next morning found Faestari sitting by the pool before the sun’s rays touched the summit of the mountain. She watched the water, hoping Aylia would appear before this new group of adventurers entered the dungeon. She had a feeling that this group would be a larger and far more dangerous challenge than any she faced before.

  She was not sure how much this new group would know about dungeons, but the arrogant confidence shown by the man who had accosted Betrixy and the others worried her. Since she had pulled her farsight back from the tavern she had been reviewing every trap and creature in the dungeon, wondering if there were any last moment improvements she could implement.

  Faestari sighed. Her lack of knowledge left her unable to figure out any new strategies. The only thing she could do for the moment was wait and watch as her monsters faced a new challenge.

  “Hey!” Aylia interrupted Faestari’s worries. “The sun is about to rise. Why are you already sitting here?”

  Faestari opened her eyes and looked at the blue-haired woman. “A new group of adventurers just arrived. They are being paid to make it to my dungeon heart.”

  “What?” Aylia cried, shocked. “That’s not part of the bargain! Adventurers are supposed to enter dungeons for the challenge, not to find the heart. Why would they do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Faestari said. “I only overheard one discussion and the man was bragging that the group would succeed. I don’t even know who is involved.”

  “What will you do?” Aylia asked.

  “I have a good dungeon,” Faestari said. “My monsters are strong. I just have to trust that they are strong enough to defeat the adventurers. I do know that this is one group that won’t be given a free pass when they try to leave.”

  Aylia nodded. “That makes sense. When will this group enter the dungeon?”

  “Sometime today,” Faestari said. “I was trying to think if there was anything more I could do. I don’t want this group reaching here.”

  Aylia giggled. She dissolved back into water and splashed down into the pool. Faestari just stared at her water sprite friend. “What? You find it funny that I’m worried?”

  Aylia reformed her body. She swam over to the shore of the pool. With gentle hands on Faestari’s shoulders she turned the dungeon avatar until they were looking eye to eye. “I’m laughing because there is no way they will reach here. Not unless they are using far more power than any adventuring party should.”

  “Wait, you are saying the chambers I’ve created are guaranteed to kill?” Faestari asked.

  “No,” Aylia said. “But that is because you normally have no intention of really defending yourself. I’ve watched. You saved that one adventurer just a few days ago. His death would have fed you mana, but you helped him and his companions. The monsters here all sense that, and the attacks they make are rarely lethal.”

  “I don’t need the mana,” Faestari admitted. “I had a lot when I woke and it somehow keeps increasing even though I use it often.”

  Aylia nodded. “I suspected that. Your domain is large for a young dungeon.”

  “I didn’t make it,” Faestari said as her senses noted people crossing the border of the domain. “And people just started walking up the path to the entrance.”

  Aylia smiled. “Relax. By now all the monsters in the dungeon are aware that you are hostile to this group. They will change their tactics. And I doubt they are ready for everything. There are quite a few creatures they have never seen.”

  “Because they haven’t gone that deep into the dungeon,” Faestari responded.

  “Your ambush spiders, the ones that take small depressions in the floor and turn them into hiding places. How many live on the floor with the orcs?” Aylia asked.

  “Four I think,” Faestari said. “I don’t check on them often.”

  “How many have ever attacked an adventurer?” Aylia asked.

  “They never have,” Faestari said. “Which doesn’t make sense, why wouldn’t they attack?”

  “For the same reason those rock snakes you created don’t attack, the venom th
ose spiders have has no antidote. If they attack an adventurer, that adventurer will die,” Aylia said.

  “Should I get rid of them then?” Faestari asked worriedly.

  “No,” Aylia said. “Think of them as your special defenders. They are perfect for this case. I’m sure the adventurers talked to the others, or at least listened in to their conversation. They have an idea of what to expect. When it turns out to be wrong, they’ll be surprised.”

  Faestari felt herself nodding. She had been paying attention and it seemed like more than a dozen people had entered her domain. “I should watch the group when they enter. It seems to be a larger group than I expected.”

  “Go ahead,” Aylia said. “I’ll get to my room and prepare.”

  Faestari closed her eyes. She was about to send out her spirit when a wet pair of lips covered hers. She felt arms around her torso.

  Her eyes opened. Aylia was just backing away from the gentle kiss she had given. “Aylia?” Faestari asked.

  “Just to give you confidence. And to remind you that the creatures in this dungeon believe in you. Believe in yourself,” Aylia said before turning into water and flowing away in the pool.

  Faestari closed her eyes again. Her lips still tingled from the touch of the water sprite as she sent her spirit to the entrance of the dungeon.

  The group of adventurers had not arrived at the plateau. Faestari stopped right above the entrance and looked to the southeast. She could see a large group of people on the trail, but the two leaders had their backs to her. She watched in fascination and they rounded the last switchback and climbed the last section of sloped trail.

  The lead man shouted something. “I’m telling you again, this is an outrage.”

  Faestari recognized Kalacho’s voice. The leader and spokesman for the Impaled Cats was walking backwards while shouting something at the people following. A moment later the man directly in front of him spoke. “We do not agree to your plan. It is wrong,” he shouted in Bezztol’s voice.

  Kalacho and Bezztol walked onto the plateau and backed directly towards the entrance. The first man following them was wearing armor made of metal plates. The plates seemed to cover every part of the man’s body. He strode forward and drew a sword, pointing it at the two adventurer company leaders.

  “Move out of the way,” the man in armor said.

  “You are dungeon killers. This dungeon should not be your concern,” Kalacho said.

  “If we are, that’s still not your concern,” a second man said as he strode onto the plateau. He was wearing a finely made chainmail vest over leather armor. The spear he carried over his right shoulder gleamed in the morning light, and Faestari could see runes on the blade.

  The next person to walk up onto the plateau was a woman. Her attire shocked Faestari. She had on leather boots that were covered with a thick fur fringe. The rest of her outfit was a fur-lined skirt and halter top. She frowned at the first two strangers on the plateau. “Do we have to do this again?” she asked angrily. “I don’t know why Thumas took this contract.”

  “We agreed to do it,” the man in armor said.

  “You agreed,” the woman snapped. “And I noticed you didn’t talk to anyone. I’ve known the Flame Vultures for years. I adventured in one dungeon they used as a training ground. They are honorable.”

  “Thank you,” Bezztol said. “Which dungeon?”

  “Mist Moors,” the woman said. “Not too bad, but I hated the trolls.”

  “Most people do,” Bezztol said. “If you were there, that means you were with the Dead Dogs?”

  The woman laughed. “What a name for an adventuring company. Yes, I was with them when I started out. But that was some time ago.”

  “I thought they broke up nearly twenty years ago,” Kalacho said. “You don’t look that old.”

  The woman laughed and shook her head. “Thank you kind adventurer.”

  Three more adventurers had climbed onto the plateau during the conversation. One was a hooded figure in grey robes. He had a staff in his right hand and was leaning on it as the discussion continued. The next one was a woman in heavy armor. It wasn’t quite as complete as the man wearing the metal plate armor, but the chain-mail was far more than a simple vest. She had an axe on her belt and was carrying a large shield. The final figure was Gee’if. He marched over to stand near Kalacho.

  Three more are down at the curve arguing with Salene,” Gee’if said angrily. “I can’t believe this group is happy.”

  The hooded figure stood up. “I hear that more than a dozen adventurers have died in this dungeon and it was only found this spring.”

  “Two groups of bandits died. I hardly call someone who made his living raiding small farms and terrorizing itinerant merchants an adventurer. The fact that those men all died in their first delve suggests that the dungeon didn’t have to do anything special,” Gee’if said.

  “Even one is too many sometimes,” the hooded figure said.

  Gee’if looked over at Bezztol. “I talked to Dared. The most he’s willing to do is to ask these adventurers to leave, but he won’t stop them.”

  “We can’t,” Bezztol said. The man spit in the direction of the spear-wielding adventurer. “Technically, they have the right to enter the dungeon, even if we know they aren’t here to challenge themselves.”

  “Who wants a challenge?” the man wearing the plate armor asked. “I’m here for the gold the Kindred are paying.”

  “And since when did the Kindred get to decide what dungeons can be destroyed. This dungeon has offered us valuable treasures. The Impaled Cats have grown stronger with each delve and our coffers have slowly filled thanks to the treasures we bring out. I challenge you to find any group here that says otherwise,” Kalacho said.

  “They won’t,” Salene said as she elbowed past another hooded figure as well as the man with the strange horned helmet. “But the only people any of them questioned was my father. This run isn’t about how dangerous the dungeon is.”

  “Just how dangerous is the dungeon?” a man asked from the top of the path. Everyone turned to see a young man with blond hair holding a massive hammer.

  The man with the horned helmet snorted. “That is not your concern Xiomen.”

  “I think it is,” the man replied. “You approached me because I’ve had a lot of success adventuring. I gained that success in some rather difficult and dangerous dungeons. But at the same time, I learned there is a difference between a dungeon that needs to be destroyed and one that needs to be respected.”

  “All dungeons should be destroyed,” the second robed figure said. This man was wearing robes that were dyed a rather deep orange. The man was checking the pouches on his belt as the group stood around.

  “And how will adventurers gain their experience?” Bezztol asked. “What about those spell ingredients so many wizards are desperate for? This dungeon has so much valuable fungi that everyone has been amazed. I understand the alchemist down at the base of the mountain has become rather wealthy making potions that are sent to Fairview for sale.”

  “I care not,” the robbed man said.

  “You should,” the woman in the brief fur-lined outfit said. “Especially since I get a feeling that these adventurers would fight us if it did not violate the very tenets of adventuring.”

  “Not that your group isn’t violating them already,” Kalacho said sarcastically.

  The woman scowled at him. “I’m not entering.”

  “What?” the man in the horned helmet spat. “Roquel! You have been with me.”

  “Long enough to know when we’re doing the wrong thing. I don’t know how you were convinced to take this job Thumas. I’m guessing you need gold to pay another debt none of the others knows about,” Roquel spat back.

  “We’re here to find the dungeon heart. That’s all,” Thumas said firmly.

  “Really? Just find it? And then what?” Roquel asked.

  “That is not your concern,” the robed figure in gray said in a
deep sinister voice.

  “It is if I’m going to enter a dungeon with the rest of this group of wreckers,” Roquel said. “But as I said, I’ve decided that I’m not entering. I joined this group with the understanding that I’d be helping take down dungeons that were killing all who entered. This one clearly is not.”

  “Dungeons are dangerous,” the man in full armor said.

  Kalacho and Gee’if both started laughing. The man turned and looked at them. He might have been staring, but the face obscuring visor he wore made it impossible to see where his eyes were focused.

  Bezztol joined in the laughter. “That is the dumbest statement yet,” he said.

  “Thumas,” the young man at the edge of the plateau said. “I’m not going to enter.”

  The man with the horned helmet turned to glare at him. “Your entire company died just forty days ago.”

  The young man who had declined to enter nodded. “Yes, but I remember what happened. In a previous delve we had stumbled on an alcove that looked off. Captain Vrant swore that it hid a treasure room. During that delve I was hurt, so I did not participate when they returned to find a way into the supposed treasure room. None of the others returned.”

  “Sounds like they found a monster lair and tried to clean it out,” Kalacho said.

  “Like you’d know,” Thumas snapped. “The dungeon his friends died in has seen ten adventuring companies fail to return from delves in the last four years.”

  “And those companies never made mistakes,” Gee’if said sarcastically. “Just because a party doesn’t return, doesn’t mean the dungeon went out of its way to kill them.”

  “Well, as I said, we are being paid to go in and leave something in the dungeon heart,” Thumas said. “That is all.”

  “Any of us could have led a group there,” Gee’if said.

  “None of you have reported finding the final room,” Thumas argued.

  “Can’t be too much deeper than we have already gone,” Kalacho said. “I know enough about dungeons to know that there are seers constantly scrying to find new ones. The way this one formed, it can’t have more than thirty rooms at most, and just getting through the first two levels you visit almost twenty.”