Omnibus Volume 1

by C. M. Carney

  A moment later Brahk was there pounding ineffectually on the invisible field. Behind them, the creak of ancient rusted hinges rose and the obsidian door opened.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Sir Humperdinck rushed though, his pristine white cloak whipping in the noxious wind that rose from inside the Barrow.

  Serraia looked at the door, eyes wide, before turning around and joining the others in bashing the magical shield.

  “It won’t work,” Verreth said. “We are inside the Barrow. We go forward or we die.”

  “You knew this would happen, you damn cockalorum,” Serraia spat and slapped him.

  “Yes, I did,” Verreth said rubbing his reddening cheek. “As would you, if you’d ever read anything about sentient dungeons. Now quit your bitching and let’s get on with it.” He turned and entered the Barrow. A few moments later the others followed.

  As soon as the last adventurer was though, the obsidian door slammed shut with a clang of dramatic finality.

  *****

  Every step Sir Humperdinck took into the Barrow brought him deeper into the vile morass of undeath. He could feel the infernal energies in the stale air, in the rock beneath his feet, in every mote of dust floating around him.

  “This place is pure evil,” the knight said to his companions.

  “Yah think?” the hunter barked, but Sir Humperdinck knew the man was not directing his ire at him. It was born of fear.

  “Do not let the fear take hold of you. Therein lies the road to despair and death,” Sir Humperdinck said. He held his sword in front of him and the golden glow of holy empyrean magic pulsed forth, pushing both the shadows and the chill back. “Bask in the holy light of my faith and you will find strength.”

  The hunter muttered a comment disparaging Sir Humperdinck’s mother, and her imagined dalliances with goblins, but the knight paid him no heed. He knew sarcasm and humor were signs of a weak will and a lack of faith. Sir Humperdinck’s will and faith were as strong as adamantine, and he had never been humorous in all his entire life.

  They descended a staircase hewn from the bare rock and emerged into a wide chamber. At the far end was another passage that led further down into the Barrow.

  “This seems too easy,” Serraia said, a crackling sphere of pale blue formed over her hand and she tossed it across the room. It hovered near the far passageway, giving those without night vision a clearer view of the room.

  A low scraping rose, echoing from the passage. It sounded like bones scraping across a piece of slate followed by the sound of sharp metal dragging across the stone. Sir Humperdinck raised his sword, while the others behind him nocked a bow, hefted a mace, drew a thin rapier and summoned blue mystic energy. A moment later a shriveled corpse that had once been a man shuffled into the room.

  “Dread knight.” Sir Humperdinck said. “It is powerful but brainless and mute.”

  Tension hung heavy as the creature’s dead eyes passed over the group. It raised the rusty sword it had been dragging onto one shoulder, cocked its head and spoke.

  “Sup, dudes?” the dread knight said in a voice that was a lot less dry and dead and a lot more cracking and pubescent. “And milady?”

  “Uh, what?” Gerryt said.

  “Pay the abomination no heed, able hunter. It is a cretinous worm-riddled thing,” Sir Humperdinck said.

  “I am not worm-riddled,” the dread knight said, looking at itself. “This body hasn’t been animated long enough to attract any.”

  “So you admit it, you are a defiled corpse raised for ill purposes too horrible to conceive,” Sir Humperdinck said, jabbing his huge sword at the dread knight with all the effort of a man talking with his fork.

  “More of a floating skull in a halo of dark smoke,” the dread knight said, and then looked at its own body. “Oh, you mean this. Well kinda, I used Dirge’s life energy to make it, so not sure if that falls into your ‘defiled corpse’ category or not.” This last bit the dread knight said while holding the first two fingers on each hand up and pulling them down. The gesture was foreign to the adventurers, but its meaning was clear.

  “So you admit it. You murdered this Dirge, used his blessed life essence to animate this abomination and thereby damned your soul to the Abyss?” Sir Humperdinck roared.

  “I didn’t kill him. Ovyrm did, but to be honest, the prick deserved it. And there was nothing blessed about his life, so I doubt there was much blessed about his essence either.”

  “Corrupter, defiler, heretic,” Sir Humperdinck roared and rushed the dread knight. The foul creature had no time to raise its rusted weapon before the glowing two-handed blade sliced clean through its neck. Its head fell to the floor, and the body collapsed in a heap to the sound of dry kindling.

  The head rolled around for a few seconds until Sir Humperdinck stepped upon it to arrest its motion.

  “What is wrong with you guys? I just wanted to talk.”

  Sir Humperdinck stepped down hard, crushing the undead beastie’s skull into a rotten smear of jelly.

  “You sure that was a good idea?” Verreth asked as Sir Humperdinck looked at the muck on his boot with distaste.

  The man spun. “It was undead, and I killed it. Is that not why we are here?” The threat of violence should anyone disagree with the monstrous knight was obvious.

  “I just meant,” Verreth said, hands spread wide in deference. “That knowledge is power, so maybe we should have listened to what it was going to say?”

  “Is it me, or did he sound like a whiny teenager?” Serraia asked.

  “She means it sounded like her last boyfriend,” Gerryt said, elbowing Brahk. The half-orc chortled in amusement.

  “I’m serious, but I agree with Verreth. We could have learned something from him.”

  “It!” Sir Humperdinck roared. “He was an it, and I want to hear nothing more about knowledge. All we need is faith. Facts and knowledge just confuse the mind and lead the soul into temptation.”

  “Okay then,” Serraia said. “You’re the boss.”

  “Yes I am,” Sir Humperdinck said with a nod. “Let us be on our way. There are more dead to kill.” With that the brawny knight strode down the passageway leaving his compatriots to rush after him.

  Behind them the body of the dread knight dissolved and leached into the stone of the Barrow floor like water being absorbed by a parched desert.

  7

  Deep in the Barrow, the skull that was once the Barrow King shook. A moment later black smoke coalesced about it, raising the skull from the stone seat, forming a robe of wispy darkness. Silvery light sparked from the empty eye sockets and the newly reformed spectre shivered.

  “What the hell was that? Asshole! I just wanted to chat.” Simon paused waiting for a response. When none came, he looked around searching for Dirge. Then he remembered. “Oh yeah, I killed that dude.” Simon sent his thoughts inwards.

  That was a Knight of the Blazing Fist, the Barrow said. A famed order of undead slayers. Though they were all killed long ago.

  “How do you know that?”

  Because we killed them.

  “Who is we?”

  Ouzeriuo and I.

  “I thought you two hated each other.”

  Hate is a mortal emotion. As is love. I did not hate Ouzeriuo any more than I love you. On occasion, we worked together. It is a shame he would not accept a binding with me. He was very powerful.

  “You are really shitty at making a dude feel better.” The Barrow said nothing. “Oh, so now you’re doing the silent treatment?” The silence hung heavier. “So what do we do?” Simon asked, desperate and annoyed.

  A Knight of the Blazing Fist is an extremely dangerous enemy to entities such as you and I. They are filled with empyrean light and life magic, powers antithetical to the energies that sustain us. It took the combined might of Ouzeriuo and myself to crush them the last time, and I was much less hungry then.

  “So, we're screwed is what you’re telling me,” Simon said, his voice rising as
panic threatened to consume him. “I don’t wanna die. I just stopped being sorta dead.”

  Panic is the province of the weak of mind. We have time and they will need to run the gauntlet through the entire Barrow to reach us.

  “Good thinking. They’ll never get through the wyrmynn, the black ooze and the garden of the dark dryad without losing some of their people.”

  And those that fall will strengthen us.

  Simon nodded his head and then thought about the dark dryad. “Wait, what about my girlfriend?”

  So, she’s your girlfriend now? The Barrow said, with a hint of snark. Good to know.

  Simon scowled again, regretting the lessons in bro on bro insults he’d given the Barrow. “Whatever dude, the point is we can’t leave her to get killed by Sir Holy Roller Whackjob.”

  Technically she is already dead.

  “Dude, you know what I mean. You gonna help or not?”

  I will help, otherwise I will be alone again and that would be, inconvenient.

  “Feeling the love guy. Thanks for that”

  You are welcome.

  “That was sarcasm dude. If we survive, I’m adding it to the syllabus. Okay then, the first step is riling up the wyrmynn. That cold-blooded bastard Scarface has been a thorn in my side since the day I became the landlord of this place.” Simon looked over at the three dread knights who were still engaged in their rubbing, hopping and spinning.

  “Yo, Hoppy and … Rubby, you two head to the wyrmynn camp. Get ‘em all riled up and lead them towards these invading schmucks and away from my honey bunny’s grove. Spinny, you wait until your boys, and hopefully, a bunch of those reptile dickheads are killed and then draw that knight into the black ooze room. If you can avoid getting melted by the ooze, great, if not, it’s been nice knowing ya.”

  All three dread knights turned and hopped, rubbed and spun their way towards the exit. Simon smacked the butt of his spectral hand against his forehead.

  “Idiot,” he berated himself. “Stop your extracurricular activities and shamble like normal.”

  The undead warriors stopped and walked from the room. Then Simon closed his eyes and watched events unfold through the Barrow’s perceptions.

  *****

  Sir Humperdinck led the way again. The obnoxious knight kept saying “I’ve got the lead,” every time they went through a door, passed under an archway or crossed any line that could conceivably be a threshold, even though nobody else wanted to take point. They’d faced very little in the way of opposition since dispatching the dread knight, but a constant low-grade field of angst and menace hung over the Barrow. After a few boring hours of wandering in circles, Gerryt offered to point them in the right direction. The knight reluctantly agreed, but only after extracting a promise from Gerryt that he was not taking, nor wanted to take, the lead.

  “For a haven of the undead, this place has a surprising amount of life,” Gerryt said crumbling a bit of dried wyrmynn dung between his fingers and smelling it. “Wyrmynn and I’d say this is less than a week old.” He looked on the ground. “And the fellow who left this rushed after his clutch mates … that way.” He pointed down a tunnel that dipped downward.

  Sir Humperdinck strode purposefully and noisily down the passage. The other members of the group eyed each other warily, and then one after another followed the blundering knight.

  They soon came upon the wyrmynn, or more accurately the wyrmynn came to them. They were chasing two more of the dread knights, and they were hissing mad. A few arrows protruded from the bodies of the dead warriors, the puncturing weapons not very effective against creatures who no longer needed internal organs.

  Brahk laughed nervously and pointed at the first of the undead creatures. An arrow protruded from its crotch, bouncing in a rude phallic manner as the dread knight shambled towards them. Behind it, another dread knight ran, its back a pincushion of a dozen more arrows.

  Sir Humperdinck dispatched both beasties with graceful swings of his sword. Then the wyrmynn were on them, lots and lots of wyrmynn. The bipedal lizard men were fierce warriors and by the time the battle was won, a few dozen corpses littered the floor.

  One of them belonged to Gerryt.

  “Dammit,” Serraia said and closed the hunter’s eyes. She pulled a necklace from his neck and tied it around her wrist. Verreth and Brahk both comforted her.

  “There is no time for sentiment. We need to keep moving,” Sir Humperdinck said, impatient.

  “Give her a moment,” Verreth said in a commanding voice. “They were lovers.”

  “What do you mean? Sir Humperdinck asked.

  Verreth cast a sideways glance of confusion at Brahk.

  “What mean what mean?” Brahk asked. “They did it.” The knight stared at the half-orc blankly, until Brahk made a loop with the thumb and forefinger on his left hand and inserted the index of his right into the resultant hole. He made squeaking and moaning noises as the speed of his finger fornication increased. Sir Humperdinck’s face turned to crimson, and he looked to his feet, his large boots moving side to side and kicking a pebble in childish embarrassment. “Hee, hee,” he laughed.

  “Wait, are you a virgin?” Verreth asked. Sir Humperdinck’s embarrassment turned to rage.

  “Of course not. I have bedded many a fair maiden in my time.”

  “Brahk say you lying. Brahk think you never see naked girl ever.”

  “I did too, once,” the knight sputtered. “I once saw a maiden, bathing in a lake, clad only in shimmering samite.”

  “That’s not naked,” Verreth said.

  “Well, she took it off.” Sir Humperdinck countered. “As she was dipping into the water.”

  “So never saw naked then?” Brahk asked.

  “No, technically not, but …”

  “Ha, ha, no technically. You a virgin.”

  Sir Humperdinck’s face flushed more, and he gripped the hilt of his sword in a tight grip.

  “Enough, you idiots!” Serraia barked in a loud voice. “Help me bury him.”

  The three men, properly chastised, nodded and then looked down finding their feet to be very fascinating. Serraia stared at them for several long seconds, her jaw twitching in rage, daring each one to speak.

  “Uh, Serraia,” Brahk said, raising a hand like a child in a school room. Her eyes snapped to him and saw he was pointing down. She spun to see Gerryt’s body was dissolving into a viscous soup, which then leched directly into the stone of the cavern floor.

  A sound of despair came from her and she brought a hand to her mouth. Around them the bodies of the wyrmynn also turned to pools of steaming, bubbling goo. The organic slurry seeped into the floor. Not long after, the weapons and armor scattered across the floor disintegrated to dust.

  “Fell sorcery indeed,” Sir Humperdinck asked, covering his nose with the edge of his cloak to block the acidic smell of melting flesh. He looked to the others. “We must cleanse this place.”

  The others nodded with a renewed sense of purpose. A few minutes later they marched through the wyrmynn camp, ignoring the women and children in their pens, and descended to the next level.

  As they stepped into a new chamber, they saw another dread knight turn and flee.

  *****

  Back in the throne room, Simon cringed as he watched the Barrow feed. “That never stops being gross.”

  Is it any different from how you fed when you were alive? the Barrow asked.

  “Yes, yes, it is. I never dissolved my food and slurped it through a straw.”

  What is a straw?

  “You know, I’m not quite sure. Not important though. Those assholes are on their way.”

  The remaining dread knight is leading them to the black ooze. Perhaps we will get lucky.

  “Maybe,” Simon said.

  You do realize that you are speaking aloud again?

  “Yeah, so?”

  You know it is unnecessary.

  “Yes, I know,” Simon said, his voice sounding every bit like the petu
lant teenager he was. “But, this voice is growing on me.”

  If you say so, the Barrow said in a tone laced with sarcasm.

  “You could stop being such a jerk.”

  You are right. I apologize.

  “Um, good.” Simon felt uncomfortable and spoke again. “How’re your power levels looking?”

  In response, the Barrow opened a status window in Simon’s vision.

  The Barrow - Sentient Dungeon

  Host: Simon

  Current Tier: 1

  True Tier: 8

  Status: Starving

  Health: 8,567/86,890

  The Barrow is one of the most ancient sentient dungeons on all Korynn, but years of neglect have left it starving. Now that it has bound itself to a host it is capable of consuming energy and experiences.

  Current Life Essence Points: 687.

  “Not too shabby guy. We’ll get you back up to Tier 2 in no time.”

  Assuming the Knight of the Blazing Fist does not kill you and force me to go dormant before that occurs.

  “Yeah, how do we stop that from happening?”

  We could hope for the best.

  The best turned out to be not so great. The black ooze dissolved both the dread knight decoy and the half-orc, but it fled when the knight sent flashes of empyrean light blazing through the chamber. The rest of the adventurers pressed on as the Barrow absorbed the two corpses.

  “Was it just me or did the black ooze kinda look like a dude?” Simon asked.

  Indeed, it is a curious form for the creature to take.

  “It kinda looked familiar too, but I can’t quite place it.”

  That is a mystery for another time.

  “Right. At least Spinny turned them away from the dark dryad’s grove.”

  I’m not sure that was the best strategy.

  “Saving her life wasn’t the best strategy?”