Tehra did not like to talk about it, but she had always been grateful to the orphanage owners who took her in when her family was taken from her. They didn't know what happened since the baby elven girl had been left on their doorstep in a baby basket. It was the stuff of fairy tales. Only those stories were complete bullshit. Being a child in a harsh world was bad enough without being left alone with strangers. That's why she had always tried to give at least a little to the orphanage that had been her home until she was old enough to run away at fifteen.
Why had she run away? It might have been better than the streets, or death, to a young child, but there was no freedom and the environment in there wasn't always warm and safe. Tehra walked to the other side of the city, to the far edge away from the river that was the main trade hub. She went to the poor area, where the buildings quickly became dilapidated and covered in grime. It smelled worse too, and reminded her of all the misspent years of her youth, alone and caring about nothing.
This was the first time she had ever felt like she could be part of a family, of sorts. They were all cut-throats most likely but also welcomed her and apparently thought she was worth something. Benevic certainly thought Tehra had valuable skills, or he would not have given her such a generous payment and promoted her.
The orphanage building where she'd grown up did not have some fancy name given for some saint or god. Instead, it simply had "ORPHANAGE" roughly painted on a sheet of plywood, which was bolted onto the brick itself above the front door. There used to be a properly painted sign, but that had long since faded and diminishing funding had not allowed for a replacement to be made up.
Tehra walked through the squeaky front door that was barely on its hinges. No one came to meet her or, more worrying, tried to stop her from waltzing right in and taking a look around. "Hello?" she called out. The faint sound of children came from the back door, where there was a large dirt yard that served as a play area. They were out there playing. She saw as she went past, looking through the filthy window by the door that led out there.
An older man was watching the children play. He had a walking stick due to a malformed leg, but was not old enough to need help moving around for any other reason. He spotted her through the window, and a look of recognition overcame him. Tehra had come by and given him money before for the children.
"Hello, young lady," he said as he came inside through another door that squeaked stubbornly when he moved it. "It's wonderful to see you again."
"Hello, Bill," she replied. She liked Bill.
The orphanage was owned by a couple before Bill had taken over. They had been lovely people too, although their head for money was terrible and they were always behind in their payments. They'd eventually needed to sell the place cheap, and Bill had been waiting for a business to manage that would allow for his weak leg, as laboring had taken a heavy toll on him. Bill was grateful for the more manageable type of work, and never acted like it was a burden to him. The children seemed to genuinely love him.
"I got a good job, and I want to share that with the children. I know you can use all the help you can get. Did you catch up on your mortgage payments? Plenty of wood for the fire? What about food?"
"You're such a good girl," he said. He was old enough to be her father. "I wish more people in this city were as righteous. We do have things mostly under control now. I've found some new patrons who are regularly donating."
There was a shuffling sound upstairs and some odd groaning. Bill froze like he was making an effort not to notice. Then, one of the children outside let out a loud cry, which was hopefully largely exaggerated. "Oh, I must go and see that everything's alright. I should have been watching them. You're welcome to come and say hello." He hurried toward the door.
"No, that's okay. I should go."
Bill nodded and smiled before hobbling quickly back outside, closing the door behind him. Tehra looked to make sure he wasn't coming back inside, then walked up to the second story where the bedrooms where. The stairs went up, turned to the right at an angle, and continued up to the bedrooms from memory. As she came near the top of them, a door opened somewhere around the corner and a girl, maybe only just into her teens, if that, came running from the room with silent tears painting pink cheeks.
"Hey, what's the matter?" Tehra asked the girl, but she just pushed by and wouldn't so much as look at the elf.
Tehra continued up the stairs and was met by a burly man in leather armor. He was wearing the decorated steel helm of the city guards and had the badge of a captain on his chest.
The man was adjusting his pants and whistling gleefully. "What are you staring at?" he asked when he noticed Tehra. "Aren't you too old to be an orphan?"
"What just happened here?" she demanded fiercely.
"What could you do about it, either way, you elven whore. Move," he said.
The elf was nearly unable to move for the rage she was feeling, and her mind split down the middle with one unacceptable option on each side: take out her sword and kill this pig, or let him leave. It nearly blinded her, and the world went into a haze. That left her vulnerable as the man walked toward the stairs and shoved her heftily.
Tehra grunted and went careening down the stairs, nearly going head over heels, then slammed into the wall where the stairs changed angle. The hard plastering over the wooden frame stopped her at the back of her head and spine, also hurting her shoulder. She couldn't recover in time to defend herself as the guard captain came upon her with his own sword drawn.
It was an ornate weapon, gilded with gold and silver, and looked to be expertly crafted and balanced. "If you think you saw a thing, you're wrong, elf." He spat the word 'elf' with vehemence, as though clearing his throat of some dung he'd inadvertently eaten. Then, he brought the steel hilt of the sword down on top of her head, and her vision went gray and black.
Tehra came to and got up. When she ran outside to find the guard, he was long gone. She did, however, have his face permanently burned into her mind. And finding the captain of the guards would be child's play. But first, she needed to have a talk with Bill. Tehra went to the back door and called for him to come inside. When Bill got to her, Tehra grabbed him by his shirt and shoved him against the wall. “Tell me what you’re doing letting that piece of shit have his alone time with your orphans!”
Bill looked like he was about to cry, the hurt in his eyes making this difficult for Tehra. “It’s not what you think,” he told her. “He’s always accusing the children of petty crimes. The only way to get him to leave it alone is to let him interrogate them.
“Do you actually believe that’s all he’s up to? Are you that stupid?”
“Please! Don’t hurt me. I promise I didn’t know.”
“That is total shit!” Tehra shouted, drawing Bill closer to her and tearing the collar of his shirt as she tightened her grip. “I know you’re probably scared to say no to him, but if you let him anywhere near these children again, I promise to kill you. Stand up for what’s right, you weasel.”
29
Tehra wanted to go back to the company and tell them they had to do something about this. Only, she had a feeling the word of the captain of the guards would stand up better than her own, even though she was on the roster now. Besides, she didn't have any evidence that anything bad had happened.
It wasn't illegal for an adult to be with a younger partner. No, Tehra had been proposed to by men as a young lady. That was common for an exotic and pretty woman like herself. The law did not draw any line there, although many people found it immoral. What was illegal—and so wrong that it made her blood turn to acid lava—was taking something like that from a woman without permission. To do so to a girl...
Tehra was fuming, but also knew how to keep herself cool enough to make a plan and follow through. So, she went back to the room the company had for her, and sat on the single bed, twirling her beloved knife around between her fingers. Again and again, she imagined having had enough gall to just take it out and p
ut it straight through that pig guard captain's throat, or perhaps even into his eye socket. The blood rushed up her veins every time such an image came to her, giving her such a sadistic thrill that she started to breathe heavily and shake.
She had it all worked out how she could take him out, too. It wouldn't be hard to lure someone like that in. Tehra was a gorgeous young elf, and she had no trouble admitting that to herself. Just like she used to use her feminine assets to lure in well-deserving men and take their money from them, she would do the same thing with this captain of the guards, this piece of shit who thought it was fine to have his way with young girls, with mere children. Only, she didn't want a single copper coin of his. No, she was going to take his life from him, and slowly too.
For some reason, that was when Mertho decided to start talking to her. You realize, you can't touch the captain of the guard, he said.
"Shit," she said out loud, startled by the sudden appearance of the voice in her mind. You scared me, she replied with her thoughts.
I'll make myself known first next time, okay? My point is still valid.
Tehra grasped her knife, knuckles whitening. I can take him out.
Mertho replied, Oh, I believe you're able, but I won't allow it. You'll bring a dungeon diving party right to me if you kill someone like that.
I don't care, she said. I have to do this.
Are you going to kill everyone who deserves it? There isn't enough time in one life, even if it were somehow possible. Even in the life of a young elf.
Fine. Whatever you say. Just shut up and leave me alone. Her words did not line up with what her intentions clearly were.
Believe that I will not let you bring an end to me with your foolish actions, young elf. Don’t make me prove that to you, please. I happen to like you. There is another reason I contacted you. That rogue spotted my first trap and deducted it was magical, before she even moved more than ten yards into the tunnel, said Mertho.
Tehra signed. Well, that's what rogues do, and she was an expert. It was her ego that made her mess up enough to get fired, I'd say.
Even so, I am worried about corpses lying around in the tunnel, said Mertho. That's why I've removed the traps and any sign of unusual activity from the entrance area. Anyone who comes down into my dungeon will be too deep to turn back, by the time they notice anything. I also need you to make sure she doesn't talk any more than she already has. Maybe killing her will help you take out all your anger about this guard captain.
Tehra laughed. "Fuck off," she said out loud. "Get out of my mind."
Hmm, very well. He was silent for a long time. If I help you dispose of this captain, will you help me silence this rogue?
"Yes, I will," she said out loud again, somewhat a defiant act. Again, the elf began to play with her knife, holding it gingerly by the tip of the handle and making it twirl on her open palm. She lay down on the bed and rested the knife on her midsection like it was a child's teddy bear. "You're still there, aren't you?"
We are still linked, yes. Don't worry; I don't spend my time spying on you. It's really not that interesting, most of the time. Why are you still talking out loud? Someone might hear you.
"No, they won't. These rooms were chosen for being mostly soundproof. No one's listening to me but you anyway. I just don't feel like hearing more than one voice in my head right now. This feels at least halfway sane."
I understand that, oddly enough. I did use to be human, after all.
"Then you might understand why I've been having these horrible nightmares since I saw what you did to those mercenaries, the night we met." She held the knife close to her. "And if I continue to help you, what if the same kind of evil overtakes me?"
I'm not evil... am I?
"I suppose I'm not the best judge of that," she whispered, thinking about the things she'd done that were evil. "I will tell you right now, the things you did to those people are certainly not good. We're not talking putting poison in someone's cup or stabbing them in the belly, which is bad enough. You slaughtered them with those sadistic traps. The way you moved things around, do you realize the power you have?"
I do. And so do you, am I wrong? He was starting to feel oddly uncomfortable. Vulnerable like a human. Enough talk of that. I will leave you to your own thoughts. I wish to change my dungeon.
"Wait," she said. "Will you tell me about the woman from the tales, the one who was with you when the adventurers attacked you? Was she the reason you turned to dark magic?"
I never turned to dark magic. It was her father's adventuring company that did this to me, although he would never admit it for fear of being accused of being evil himself, I am sure.
"Her father? What was his name?"
Benevic. Her name, it was Gaynor, and I did love her then. Now, I'm not sure what that even means. It seems so pathetic to me know, like all your mortal worries.
Tehra was silent for some time. Something was wrong with her, but it wasn't obvious what that was. Eventually, she replied with a crackle in her throat. "If that's true, why are you doing any of this?"
For the sake of new magical horizons.
"Not to get revenge? Or to get her back?"
Mertho did not answer her.
30
Tehra lay on her bed for some time, nearly long enough to fall asleep. Visions of people being torn asunder, blood and organs separated from their natural places within flesh that was broken and bones that snapped like twigs. The smell was ever present and felt like it had been all her life now.
Could she remember a time before crime and bloodshed being integral to her waking hours? When she was awake was actually better than when she was...
"I fell asleep?" she muttered to herself, or maybe to the wizard if he was listening. There was no reply, no feeling of another presence monitoring her from within her own head, linked to a dungeon of horrors far away across the river by the city.
Tehra got up and nearly stabbed herself with the knife that rested on her torso. "Shit." Wait, she had pricked herself with it. The blood was semi-opaque as the amount was so little. It smeared across the steel of the blade as she moved it around, catching the light from the ceiling lantern in an oddly romantic way. When she lifted it up close to one eye and peered over the red patch, she could see her reflection. Only it was smeared sanguine, darkly against the cold steel.
Tehra went to wipe away the blood but couldn't bring herself to do it for some reason. So, she simply put away the blade on her belt, gathered up her short sword, and went out to take care of some business.
Where do you think she will be? she asked Mertho, but he did not reply. Some big help having a magical link to a growing source of evil was.
No, she did not need him. Jillis had just been fired, and she would be eager to tell people stories about what had really transpired in that dungeon the previous night. About how she'd been so wrongly asked to leave Benevic's adventuring company. Yeah, the ex-rogue would probably be somewhere with a lot of people who were used to people talking plenty of shit.
Tehra started with the first adventuring tavern nearby. Being that her boarding house was located near her company building, in the district where the majority of sword-for-hire type companies were located, that did not take her long to find.
Of course, with the run of strange luck she'd been experiencing lately, it did not surprise the elf that she had to look in five taverns that were popular among adventurers, before she found Jillis. From the doorway, it was easy to hear some kind of disagreement going on. Despite the smoke from pipes and cigars, she could tell that the woman was inside just from her hazy silhouette in the light of lanterns, and the way she spoke.
"You expel more shit than a mule fed on naught but prunes and black coffee!" said an older gentleman who seemed to be some kind of scholar or perhaps a magic user. He still had the weathered look of an adventurer to him, as did every person in the place, apart from the bartending staff. They were made up largely of buxom women who no doubt helped to draw
in the clientele.
"Fuck you, asshole. Stupid book-reading pussy. You think you know what it's like facing off against a real monster?"
"Yes," replied the man. "Do you?"
The room broke out into the same laughter that had been flowing out the door and open windows when Tehra had approached the place from the street.
Jillis was mad, and she was drunk as well. On top of her stool before the wide, hardwood bar, she swayed lightly and then more heavily as she spoke. Her words were spat out with a type of relieved hostility, as though they were weighing upon her and each syllable had come with a heavy cost, finally making her load lighter as she sent them out into the ears of her incredulous audience.
"And I am telling you all, you fucking ignorant prickles, pricks—"
They again started to laugh at her, and everyone seemed to be thoroughly amused, even though a few of the less merry looking adventurers seemed to be already fed up with her chatter.
One large man with no hair on his head nor face, and piercings in his nose and ears, stood up. He had an ax in a harness strapped to his back and wore chain armor. He was a warrior for sure, and the aging scars covering his face and arms showed that he was no rookie in his trade. "You think there's a magic dungeon just sitting across the river, and somehow you're the only person smart enough to find it, with how old this city is? Fuck off, bitch." He got up and walked over to her.
"The fuck did you just say to me?" Jillis said, getting up off her stool and standing straight, still needing to tilt her head back to look up at the much taller man.
"You're too drunk to fight, and I don't hit women, not for free at least." He pushed by her and slammed a copper coin down on the bar. "Give her another stiff drink," he said to the chesty blonde behind the bar. "Something strong enough to make her pass out, as a gift to my friends who must remain." He then waved his hand, half saying goodbye, half swatting a fly, and left the premises.
The Wizard (Dungeon Core Book 1) Page 14
