“Yesss, Dark Lord. I told her what you sssaid. That Wylie and hisss crew have encountered a lump of ssstone they cannot dig through.”
“Thank you.”
“I mussst go, Dark Lord. Cynthia wantsss me to try and mix a poissson.”
“Sounds lovely! Have fun.”
When we were alone, Gulliver peered at the little red ball. “It isn’t really for getting through some stone, is it?”
“Are my stated intentions ever my real ones? This is to solve a problem, Gull. When Shadow is in Hogsfeate, I’ll have no way of contacting her. I’m not a high enough level for my core voice to project that far.”
“And this will help?”
“Indirectly. It would take me lots of slaughter to reach a high enough level that I could talk to my dungeon mates from across the wasteland. As much as that sounds like fun, I don’t have time. But…there is another way. Shadow can take something with her that will amplify my core senses.”
“This ball?”
“Not quite. This ball is a mix of chemicals that when set alight, will create something that alchemists call white fire, though when I read about it in the academy the name was much, much longer. Almost as if the alchemist who discovered it was trying to pad the word count of his book.”
“And what is it?”
“I will save us the time of repeating it now, Gull. All that matters is that when set alight, this little ball will burn with a white fire powerful enough to cut a tiny little piece of my core away.”
“What? Are you mad?”
“That’s what they say, but this is a rational decision.”
“This little ball could destroy you?”
“No, Gull. Not even close. I’m not deranged! For one, the white fire produced by this ball will last seconds. You would need to scale it up to the size of a house to have a chance of destroying me.”
“Why doesn’t a hero just bring great big chunks of it down here?”
“Because though white fire burns tremendously, it ignites infuriatingly slowly. It takes hours to set even the smallest ball of it alight. For a piece big enough to destroy me, it would take weeks to light. Can you imagine heroes having the time to spend weeks in a dungeon trying to set this aflame? And that’s without considering how they would carry giant chunks of it down here, whilst avoiding traps and fighting monsters. It simply isn’t practical.”
“So you will use this to burn a piece of yourself away, and Shadow can take it with her?”
“That’s the size of it. It’s the only way for me to retain any kind of control over Shadow’s assignment.”
“I don’t like the idea of you doing it, Beno.”
“Oh, don’t worry. It will be the equivalent of you plucking a single hair from your head. It will take a few little shavings, nothing more.”
“Still, it seems dangerous. Why not do what the mage was going to do? He was going to use some sort of knife.”
“Because I am not a master-level mage, nor do I know one. And the knife he was going to use was probably wrapped in dozens of spells that took Hardere months to cast, all on the off chance that a core came to visit.”
“You should rethink this. You might hurt yourself.”
“Gull, I am my favorite person in the world, and I wouldn’t hurt my favorite person. This is like clipping a nail. Besides, I won’t be doing it. See those tongues? You’ll need to use them, Gull. When we get the white fire burning, quickly hold the ball against my core.”
“Why would you ask me to do it?”
“Because I trust you. And you’re a warscribe; you’ve seen all sorts of things. Don’t tell me that this is too much for you. It will be over in less than a second, and I will feel no pain, nor will I suffer any more harm than if you accidentally pulled out a hair while brushing it. Now, let’s get to this…”
The pounding of boots and clanking of armor heralded Chief Reginal’s and his guards’ entrance into my dungeon. I received him in the meeting room, where his goblin entourage took their positions against the walls. Reginal slumped into a chair and then, as if remembering himself, fixed his posture so his back was straighter than a rod.
“I gave you enough time, Beno, and you still haven’t done the decent thing.”
“I’m very well, thank you Reginal. Thank you for asking.”
The chief lifted his fist above the table ready to smash it down but then paused, breathed deeply, and lowered it. He spoke with an icy calm.
“I have fifty fighters ready, all of them veterans from our wars with the Wrotuns. Town life has swollen their guts a little, to be sure, but a fighter’s instincts never leave him. They are out in the wasteland on a training exercise, but they can be recalled. I also have scores of fighters from the Wrotun clan to call upon if it comes to it. I only have to speak the word to Chief Galatee, and I cannot see her objecting. How long do you think it would take us to flush out your dungeon?”
“Are we comparing our swords, Chief? Shall we get them out and see whose is bigger?”
One of the guards behind Reginal sniggered, but the others kept straight faces.
“Reginal, if you wanted to get rid of me by force, you’d have done it already. You haven’t, because although you’d have as good a chance as any of beating me, you don’t want to risk any more lives. Your seat of power has a hole in it, and your green arse is sticking out of the bottom.”
“You…you grubby little…” said Reginal, his face a painting of fury. “I’ll have you thrown into a hole in the middle of the wasteland and left until you become a fossil if you don’t watch it. Shut your gem mouth for a second and listen to me.”
“Remember whose home you are in, chief.”
“Is that a warning? Threats require foundations to build them on, Beno, and yours are about as strong as the skin on a rice pudding. Listen to me. Dullbright has sent two more letters. One each day. The oaf wants a bloody pen pal, or something. He becomes more insistent by the hour of us handing either you or Jahn to him, and I run out of time with which to be patient. Now, Galatee and I have discussed this until we were blue in the arse, and we see no way of keeping our vital trading routes with Hogsfeate intact whilst allowing you to remain here.”
“Have you considered other trading partners? The Silkers, perhaps?”
“Damn it, Beno! You know how I feel about those gold-grubbing weasels. They are a disease, curse them! They worm their way into a town and then rot it from the inside. If we allow them to settle in our home, it might look well for us in the short term. But over time, they will grow in influence, bleed us until we are dryer than snakeskin, take whatever is left that is worth salvaging and then disappear to the next town. No, the Silkers are not the solution. You don’t cure a sore throat by drinking acid.”
Now would have been the time for me to tell him that I had plans for good old Dullbright. But I couldn’t. There wasn’t a chance in Xynnar that Reginal or Galatee would sit by and watch me try to assassinate the leader of Hogsfeate. The consequences of failure would be too much for them, because Dullbright would almost certainly respond with a devastating blow. Neither chief had the guts to make the gamble, I suspected.
If I told Reginal now, I would be forcing him and Galatee to agree on something for once; that I needed to be stopped. It just wasn’t an option. I needed to stall him for just a few more days, and give Shadow and Eric a chance to complete their task.
“I’m glad you here actually, Reginal. I have news for you.”
“You’re leaving?”
“Not quite. Cynthia tells me that she’s down to her last batch of oscil. When it’s gone, she can’t create any more orbs for Devry, and your poor lad will be in trouble.”
Reginal suddenly lurched across the table to grab me, his eyes twisted in fury. I floated away from his grasp.
“Now Reginal, wait for a second-”
The chief drew his sword.
“You dare threaten my son?”
The sound of six more blades leaving their sheath
s was loud, but not loud enough to drown Reginal’s angry breathing. He was like a rabid dog, utterly thunderous in his fury. I saw now how he had become chief of his goblins in the first place.
A guard approached my left, trying to grab me. I dodged him.
“Gary? Brecht?” I said.
From the tunnel beyond the chamber came a monster. Gary, my hideous hybrid of troll, spider, and leech. He stomped in, his leech legs slurping on the ground, his bulbous abdomen banging clumsily into the wall as he squeezed through the archway.
The two guards nearest to him backed away, clearly terrified. Even the ones on the far side of the room couldn’t take their eyes off him. Only Reginal showed not the slightest fear.
“Order your insect back, Beno, or I’ll cut its legs off.”
“Come now, dear chap,” said Gary. “There’s no need to be like that.”
A kobold scampered in. He placed a tambourine on the ground and began tapping a rhythmic beat. Plumes of light dispersed from the drum, like puffs of dust dispersed every time Brecht slapped his palm down.
The dust sneaked into one guard’s nostrils. It crept into the ears of another, into the mouth of a third.
Brecht [Kobold, Bard] has leveled up to 21!
- Song mana cost reduced
- Song effectiveness increased by 20%
One by one, the guards lowered their swords. Their eyes widened as if they had spent the night boozing on red wine.
Only Reginal, again, was unaffected. Gripping his sword tighter, he slapped the guard closest to him on the back.
“What the hell has gotten into you all? Lift your swords!”
“This is Brecht, my bard,” I said. “Your guards are enjoying his Lullaby of Lethargy.”
“Magic? You have used magic on my goblins? This is it, Beno! You have gone too far!”
“Actually, I’m stopping it from going too far. None of your guards will be harmed, they’ll just be sluggish for a while. I’m disappointed Brecht’s song doesn’t affect you, but I suppose not everyone is a fan of music. Now, Reginal, can we talk peacefully?”
Reginal kicked a chair over. “You don’t know the meaning of the word.”
“How can you have any clue about my words, when you won’t listen to them? We are not enemies, Reginal. Or, we don’t have to be.”
“Go on then, core.”
“As I was saying before you drew your sword, I know that Cynthia is running out of what she needs to make Devry’s orbs. I am not playing with words or making hidden threats, Reginal.”
“If you are not making threats, then why bring my boy into this?”
“I didn’t say that I wasn’t making threats. I said I wasn’t making hidden ones. There’s still a threat. Do you know me at all?”
“Speak,” said Reginal, though it came out as more of a growl.
“I have secured a supplier of oscil. I can get enough of the stuff for Cynthia to make dozens of orbs and to keep Devry’s condition in check for years.”
“And the threat is that you will withhold them from me. Fine. A threat usually comes with a demand. What is it, you bog of moral quicksand?”
“I need a few things from you,” I said.
“Speak.”
“First, it has come to my attention that some disturbing news about the No-Cores might soon come to light. When it does, I want you to act on it. Use it as a means to get rid of them.”
“They are still people of Yondersun, Beno. I will not kill them.”
“Just lock up their leader, Gilleasberg, and toss a few of the other more influential members of the movement into the cell with him. Let them rot until they’re so desperate for freedom they’ll say whatever you like. Also, banish Boothe Stramper from town. Cut off the worm’s head, and it will die.”
A guard, wide-eyed and still under Brecht’s spell, spoke in a sing-song voice. “Worms don’t die when you cut them. They don’t die, ha ha!”
“Shut up,” barked Reginal, shoving the guard onto a chair. He turned his attention back to me. “An excuse to disband that bunch of morons would suit me. I have said more than once that a dungeon’s presence nearby is a valuable asset for Yondersun’s defenses. As much as I hate to admit it, the dungeon is merely a hole in the ground without a core to run it. Your friend Jahn’s dungeon is proof of that. Very well, Beno. We have a deal.”
“That’s not all.”
“Luck can only be pushed so far before it plummets over the cliffside.”
“Don’t worry, this is more of a gentle hill than a cliff. I also want a say in town affairs.”
“What?”
“Just a say, Reginal. I’m not trying to wrestle control from you. When you and Galatee meet to discuss important matters, I want to attend or send a representative. I would like the same for Core Jahn, too.”
“Core Jahn? A carpenter does not ask his hammer which nail it would like to hit next.”
“Jahn isn’t your tool. He isn’t obligated to stay here and build your town, remember? I secured that independence for him. He stays because he chooses to. Since he’s creating most of the structures in this place, he should get a say in their planning.”
“You ask for too much, core.”
“Is there ever too high a price for your son’s health?”
Brecht began to lose rhythm now, and his tambourine beat became erratic, missing notes here and there. The plumes of light lessened until soon they were gone, and the drum was silent.
“Out of mana, Dark Lord,” he told me.
The guard’s faces snapped back to their stern selves. They lost their wide eyes and stupid grins. I could see from their expressions that this left them in a state of confusion. They wouldn’t be able to remember what had happened for the last few minutes, and they clearly didn’t like the feeling. One by one, they lifted their swords.
“Take your places,” said Reginal. “Put your swords away.” Then he faced me. “You sicken me, Beno. Using my son to worm your way into town affairs. Staking a young lad’s life on a power grab. Are you completely without morals?”
“Mostly,” I said. “Not completely. You were willing to give Jahn or me to Dullbright, weren’t you? I doubt that decision weighed on you much. Why is that, Reginal? Perhaps because you view us as tools, objects, pieces of stone? You accuse me of having no morals…you are like one pig accusing another of hogging all the mud while having brown stains all over your belly.”
Reginal wasn’t silent for a while then. He wore the expression of a man who could happily draw his sword and hack me to pieces, yet he didn’t move for his blade, nor did he raise his fist.
“Leave us,” he said, talking to his guards.
“Chief Reginal, we cannot-”
“Leave me alone, please. Wait for me outside the dungeon.”
“Chief Reginal-”
“Now!”
“Yes, Chief!”
The guards filed away. Once they were gone, I turned to Gary and Brecht. “You can go too,” I said.
When Reginal and I were alone, he deflated like a punctured bladder. His shoulders sagged, and even his eyes seemed to lose luster.
“Morals…power…the decisions that come with it…this was never what I wanted. I was just a foolish soldier who wanted to help win his land back for his people. Then I became a foolish chief responsible for doing so. Now, I’m a fool with sagging muscles and a great big lump of rock on my shoulders.”
“You have a soldier’s brain, Reginal. That’s different from a leader’s. Calling it a lump of rock is just being mean to yourself.”
“I was talking about the weight of my responsibility, damn it! When Devry is unhappy or angry or worried, he comes to me. When the townsfolk feel that way, they complain to Galatee and I. But when we chiefs have problems, who do we go to?”
“Is there a goblin version of a god, or something?”
“If there is, Beno, then he is sulking at me.”
“Yondersun is flourishing. A year ago, there was nothing but unbroke
n wasteland full of dead scorpions and cracked mud. Look at it now. Your people have a home, and you have joined together with an old enemy clan. That’s something to be proud of.”
“Yet, I would sell the whole thing to even those damned Silkers if I could be a proper father and protect Devry. I cannot say that publicly, of course.”
I felt something then. A slight pang of guilt. Only for a second, like a wasp’s sting. A slight nip, and then it was gone. Even so, for a millisecond, I almost promised to give Reginal what he needed for Devry with no conditions, but then something held me back.
“You crafty old goblin git,” I said.
“Excuse me?”
“You hate all this wordplay? You have no time for games of power, for manipulation? You must think I was forged yesterday! You’re trying to play me like Brecht’s tambourine. Did you really think that you could guilt a core into getting what you want, for free? You just played all of your cards, Reginal. I’m onto you now, you revealed yourself. I know that you’re a damn sight craftier than you look.”
Reginal stood up. “A leader must try everything. Galatee taught me that.”
“Then all of this was a lie? I know I should be offended, but I’m rather impressed.”
“All of it? Perhaps. Perhaps not. I’m still a goblin, Beno. I’m not made of stone. I’ll watch out for this big No-Core scandal, and I will act on it. As for you having a say in town matters…I will have to speak to Galatee. We work together; we do not make decisions in isolation. Just make sure that you get Cynthia what she needs for Devry’s orbs.”
CHAPTER 13
I floated through Yondersun with Gulliver strolling beside me. His shirt was crumpled and dirty, his sleeves rolled up. The skin around his eyes was baggy enough to hide coins inside, and his usual swagger was nowhere to be seen, replaced by a tired stomping.
“You don’t seem yourself,” I said.
“Late nights used to be so easy when I was an apprentice. I could study all day, enjoy pleasurable pursuits all night, and then I’d only need a single wink, never mind forty, before I was ready to do it again. Now, an hour’s less sleep makes me feel like a dug-up corpse.”
Dungeon Core Academy: Books 1-7 (A LitRPG Series) Page 79
