Shepherd's Wolf

by M. Andrew Reid

  “Yeah.” Viper returned to concentrating on steering the boat.

  Several minutes passed, and the boat made its way up the canal, which bent slightly, making what was far ahead impossible to see. Green stone walls - crumbling and overrun with vines - rose high enough to block everything but the treetops on either side. At long intervals, the canal would be crossed by a half-fallen stone bridge. The bridges arched over the canal, guarded on either end by what had once been intricate gargoyles but were now pitted and worn lumps of stone. Beyond the walls and in the dark forest, strange cries could be heard. Thinking about what lay beyond those walls made the dank canal feel like sanctuary.

  “So what is this place?” Laura asked, “Carrion Hall?”

  Viper told the story of an Agilus King and a betrayal that led to the scattering of the Agilus across Verdia. He knew a lot about the history of Verdia, answering Laura’s questions with a thoughtful twist of his mouth. From time to time, Ben would ask a question, breaking his usual silence. Whenever Viper spoke directly to Ben, or looked at him, the wolf would visibly tense. Gabe had little love for Viper.

  No sooner had Viper finished the story, than the canal opened onto a gloomy bog. Trees and grasses grew from the water, and mist hung low. There was a faint light up ahead, barely visible in the murky air.

  The boat slid closer to the light. Finally, the fog parted enough to reveal a lantern hanging from a time-worn and decaying pier. Faintly glowing scum reached up timbers sunk into the muck.

  Viper brought the boat alongside the pier and held it steady. Fortunately, the boat’s deck was nearly level with the pier. Gabe and Christine scrambled out onto the rickety timbers. Waves lapped around wooden beams, gently rocking the boat. A pair of leathery-winged creatures buzzed into the air, startling Laura and causing her to yelp.

  Lightly, Viper leapt to the dock and pulled her across. Ben made his own way and stared in wonder at his surroundings. Other than the forest where the wolves had attacked him, this was the most disturbing place he had ever been.

  Soupy fog clung to the tree trunks. A thick canopy overhead cut out most sunlight, but there was an unearthly glow provided by lichens and fungus that covered nearly everything. Decay was palpable. Even the wooden dock - ancient and petrified - was covered with a thin layer of pulsing slime.

  Beyond the dock and the attached boat house, a stone path led into the swamp. Viper led the group up this path, holding his spear at the ready but without the intensity that meant he expected anything to happen. Occasionally, the path would cross a low patch filled with murky water. Small wooden bridges crossed these pools. The water churned from time to time as a bubble of gas forced its way to the surface.

  “What if other players are at the dungeon?” Laura asked.

  Viper stopped. “It’s pretty unlikely. This place takes intense planning for most people. I checked around, and no one is putting a group together.”

  “How are the others going to meet us?”

  “I can bring them here,” Viper replied. “Once every twenty-four hours I can move up to ten people.”

  “Hmm,” Laura said, “too bad you don’t have that many friends.”

  The dragon coughed twice, as if chuckling, spewing oily smoke from her nostrils. She was stepping gingerly, placing her clawed feet and forelimbs carefully in the center of each stone. Christine could run on her hind legs if necessary, but usually walked on all fours like a great cat. Her long pinky and ring claws, which supported her wings, were kept tucked against her forearm. The other three claws, strong and wicked, clicked on the stone path. She appeared mature enough to fly, but Bishop had never gotten her to even glide before they were forced to leave.

  “Your friends miss you while you’re here?” Viper’s voice had no emotion. His response was the only evidence that he had even heard what she said.

  Laura, however, was not impervious, “It’s your fault we’re in this mess. You broke Gabe’s leg. If you hadn’t stolen my camera, I would be done with my project. I definitely have better things…”

  “I gave it back.” Viper casually prodded the wooden floor of a bridge with his spear as they worked their way across. He moved on to the next plank, “You can go finish your project now.”

  Ben gasped, “You have to come with us.” He was riding on Gabe, gripping at the wolf’s fur with white knuckles. Ben was not having fun in this scary place.

  Laura smiled up at Ben, “Don’t worry. I enjoy your company. I can have an actual human conversation with...”

  “Don’t step on this one.” Viper tapped on a wooden plank and the blade sank in with a squish. He hopped over it and continued across the bridge.

  Laura was not really sure why she kept trying to get a rise out of Viper. She was, however, frustrated that it was not working. She kept quiet for the remainder of the walk.

  After some time, the path widened and cleared. A high stone wall emerged from the mist. Vines and pale flowers smothered the stone wall, but it looked bright and new, as if the decay from the swamp could not touch it.

  They followed the wall for a bit before coming to a large gate. The gate was sealed with a heavy steel door painted bright blue with a gold tree in the center. Strange runes were carved around the tree. Viper raised a fist and pounded three times on the door.

  A small slit window opened in the door, and a pair of large brown eyes peered out, “Who goes there?” The voice was deep.

  “We’re here for the party.”

  “Guests were instructed to use the main gate.”

  “Well, we’re here. Let us in,” Viper replied. “The King will not be happy if he learns you kept us waiting.”

  The window slammed shut, and the door slowly opened with a groan. When the door was fully open, bright light from within burned through the mist and dreariness of the swamp.

  A Brutalli stepped through the gate. He wore blue-enameled plate armor with a gold tree on his chest. He carried a blue shield with the same crest in one hand; his other hand rested on the sword hilt at his hip.

  He eyed Viper up and down before speaking, “I need your invitation.”

  “Sure.” Viper produced a piece of parchment from thin air. He handed it to the guard.

  The guard sniffed and handed back the paper. He glanced over Viper’s shoulder, “And the others?”

  “My squire and my maid,” Viper responded.

  “Very well.” The guard stepped aside, frowning at Christine and Gabe, “Your…creatures can be taken to the stables.”

  Viper shook his head, “They will remain with us. The King will want to see them.”

  He motioned for the others to follow and stepped through the gate. When they crossed over, it was like stepping into another world. The fog and gloom were gone, and a bright sun was shining - as if the dingy swamp did not exist at all.

  They were in a large garden. Reaching high above them, the towers of a great castle gleamed in the sun. Gold and blue pennants streamed from the towers. Flowers and neatly trimmed shrubs lined clean stone pathways.

  “What is this place?” Laura asked.

  “This is Carrion Hall.” Viper pointed to a magnificent marble stair leading to a huge golden door set into the largest keep. There were at least eighty stairs leading up to the door. Brightly clad Agilus men and women stood in loose groups chatting with one another. “That’s the main hall. But stay away from there until we’re ready to enter.”

  Laura frowned, “I imagined that a place called “Carrion Hall” would be a little worse than this.”

  A break in a hedgerow led them to the palace grounds. Acres of green grass rolled before them, and a wide road carried a steady stream of carriages toward the keep. The carriages were not pulled by horses, but by tamed flamestriders with colorful plumes attached to their harnesses. Painted claws clicked on the cobblestones as they trotted in procession.

  Viper motioned for the group to stop and took several steps away from them. He brought his hands together and pulled them apart to re
veal a glowing blue ball. He tossed the ball to the ground and stepped away.

  The ball jittered and thumped up and down, emitting a fountain of sparks. Blue flames licked out, scorching grass and earth. Soon, the light was blinding.

  When the light faded, a cloud of smoke hung over the area. Hacking coughs came from within the smoke. In a sudden rush of air, the smoke dispersed - revealing Haymaker, Athena, and Wisp. Bishop was also among them, blowing away the last puffs of smoke with gusts of air from his staff.

  “Christine!” Bishop laughed and walked up to his dragon. He reached up and patted her on the jaw. “You’re huge!”

  Haymaker shook his head, “This is nasty business. One dungeon is bad enough.” He turned to look at the castle and the visitors.

  “Think of it as practice,” Viper said. “It may actually be better this way. It’s like a trial run.”

  “Are we ready?” Wisp asked.

  “Not yet,” Viper replied. “I need to lay down the rules.” He moved so that everyone could see him. “First rule: Don’t talk. Don’t say anything to anyone unless I specifically tell you to. If that does happen, say only what I tell you to say and nothing more. There will be places where we can discuss our next move, but you must wait for me to let you know. Clear?”

  Everyone nodded.

  “Rule two,” Viper held up two fingers, “stay together and move where I tell you, when I tell you. Rule three: Don’t attack anything unless the wolf or the dragon is in direct danger. Everyone else is expendable.”

  “What if you get killed?” Haymaker asked.

  “Won’t happen. Rule five...”

  “Four,” Wisp corrected.

  “Rule Four: Do NOT question anything I do. This place is designed to mess with your head. You will see me do things in there that seem horrible. The simple truth of this dungeon is that in order to survive you can show no mercy to any living thing you encounter. We are the villains in this story. Have any of you read Limerick’s guide?”

  Everyone shook their heads except Bishop, who nodded slowly.

  “Okay Bishop, if you see anyone do something dumb and I am busy, you have to stop them.”

  …

  The group joined the tail end of the visitor’s line and made their way up the huge marble stairs. Each party was motioned forward in turn, and waited to be announced before continuing into the hall. Viper tapped his foot impatiently as the Agilus couple in front of them dawdled after being announced.

  When it was their turn, the group stepped through the wide doorway and looked down into a magnificent hall several steps below them. Sparkling chandeliers hung from the ceiling far above on thick golden chains. Fifteen or twenty long tables filled the floor of the hall, with a large space in the middle for dancing and mingling.

  As large as the hall was, it was very crowded. Except for the hulking Brutalli servants making their rounds with trays of food and drink, every soul in the room was Agilus. Women wore dark dresses and skirts with odd, diagonal cuts. Men wore colorful vests and trousers, and a short sword on each hip. Some of them wore narrow caps that nestled between their ears.

  A flamboyantly dressed page stepped forward and produced a scroll. He unrolled it with great flair, and cleared his throat. With a loud, sonorous voice he announced them to the largely indifferent hall.

  “The King welcomes Viper, Spellsword and Thaumaturge; Bishop the Guardian Mage; Haymaker the Warrior; Wisp the Bandit; Athena the Huntress; BioGirl the Sojourner…”

  Wisp guffawed, and Viper silenced him with a glare. Haymaker turned to Laura and shook his head sadly. Laura set her jaw and looked straight ahead. Athena managed a small grin before composing herself.

  The page cleared his throat again and finished, “…and Shepherd, the Blacksmith. Also accompanying them are two stupendous beasts from far off lands.”

  No one cared that they existed. Guests continued to chat and sip at their drinks as they had before. The door shut behind them with a rumble; they had indeed been the last party to enter.

  Viper trotted down several stairs to the main floor, and the others followed him cautiously. The big animals had plenty of room to move in the cavernous hall. Gabe sniffled nervously at the floor, his bandaged leg dragging at his side.

  At first glance, the party resembled any other high class gathering. Groups mingled and chatted as servants made their rounds with trays of food and drink. But as the group surveyed the room, they noticed disturbing scenes of brutality towards the slaves and servants.

  Near one table, a Brutalli slave was being used as a moving chair by a rather portly Agilus couple. Their friends were delighted, and some of them called for their own chairs. Another group was taking turns holding a serving boy’s head into a bowl of wine, seeing who could hold him the longest without him passing out. In one corner, two Agilus noblemen were savagely assaulting and stripping a serving girl. Spectators were making bets with one another.

  At the end of the hall, on a raised platform, was a long stone table. Seated at the table were twenty or so finely dressed Agilus. In the table’s center, at an ornate, curving chair, sat an Agilus dressed in gold with a golden crown on his head. His shining robe trailed to the floor and spilled over the platform.

  “That’s the King,” Viper said. “Watch him and don’t speak.”

  The King raised a hand, and the hall grew quiet.

  “Thank you,” the King said, “for coming on this glorious day. Today marks the one thousandth anniversary of the day that the Survivors crashed on this wild and merciless world. It was only by determination and the strength to do what was necessary that they survived. On this day, we salute those first Survivors.”

  “Salute!” The hall echoed with a chorus of many voices.

  “So in honor of those brave Survivors, and for the glory of the Ancestors, I present a sacrifice!”

  A cheer rose up, and goblets were raised high.

  There was commotion on the other side of the hall. A small, struggling figure and a large one were being dragged through the hall. Muffled screams could be heard from the smaller, which writhed and kicked violently. The larger figure did not struggle.

  Silently, the crowd parted, and the two figures were revealed to be a young Agilus boy with mousy brown fur and a Brutalli slave with blue and green stripes running down his heavily muscled arms. Both of them wore simple white shirts and britches. The Brutalli’s eyes were downcast. Screaming and spitting, the Agilus fought to wrench his hands free from the two soldiers holding him down. His efforts were fruitless.

  “What is this?” Laura asked.

  Viper sucked in his breath and shot a hard stare at her. When she had spoken, a group of Agilus guards standing watch turned their heads toward Laura.

  The King rose to his feet, and motioned at the Agilus boy. Soldiers brought him forward, and threw him onto the table. They pinned the boy down on his back as he cried and begged.

  With somber conviction, the King unveiled a long, golden knife, “We remember the workers; the lowly Agilus who were not blessed by the Ancestors with the intelligence and abilities of the Blood. They toiled to aid the true Survivors in their journey on this harsh world. We offer this young one to the Ancestors, that they may smile upon our lesser friends.”

  “The Ancestors!” A cry went up.

  The King drew the knife across the boy’s throat. His screams became gurgles; blood ran down the table and over the King’s golden robe. He held the knife aloft for all to see.

  “No!” Laura shouted. “This is horrible!”

  Viper cursed under his breath and pushed Laura back toward Bishop, “Keep her quiet!”

  Laura’s outburst caught the attention of the guards. With nervous hands tightly gripping their sword hilts, they began marching across the hall. Their eyes were hard and cold.

  The crowd did not seem to notice, and the boy’s body was unceremoniously rolled off the table onto the floor. They watched as the Brutalli captive was brought forth. He did not struggle as they
laid him on the table. His wrists were chained with heavy links, each of them held by two soldiers.

  The King raised the knife again, “We remember the slaves. Brutalli were the foes of our Ancestors. They sought to enslave our fathers, and were bound in chains for their folly. Though they are vile and vulgar, their blood built these walls. May the Ancestors help them remember their place in this world: the bottom.”

  “The Ancestors.”

  Before the knife reached his throat, the Brutalli roared and swung his huge arm- snapping the chain effortlessly. The Brutalli slave wrapped a large hand around the King’s faced and closed it with a crunch. Frightened guards stabbed him many times with their short swords, but they were too late. The King slumped over his killer’s body, a crumpled crown in a red ruin on his head.

  Pandemonium erupted. Serving slaves took knives from the tables and began slashing at nobles. Brutalli and Agilus servants dressed in rags poured out the kitchens, brandishing cooking knives and hot pokers from the fires.

  The Agilus nobles were armed, but outnumbered. Many of them, raised in luxury with no training, waved their swords uselessly. They were slaughtered in their finery, and soon the floors were slick with blood. Colorful dresses and suits littered the floor like autumn leaves. Slaves armed themselves with weapons from the fallen. Blood-curdling screams pierced the air as they went about maiming and killing every noble in reach.

  The guards broke into a run. Some carried the twin swords that seemed popular with the nobles. Others had short spears and round shields.

  “Traitors!” they screamed. The guards drew their swords and readied their spears. They broke into a run, charging across the bloodslick floor.

  Viper sighed, “See, this is why I said to be quiet. They would have fought for us if you had kept your mouth shut.”

  “Why would they fight for us?” Laura said.

  “Because we are nobles,” Bishop said. “Our job now is to put down this rebellion.”

  “But why?” Laura was shocked, “Shouldn’t we be helping the slaves? You saw how they were treated!”