by DB King
He stamped a foot into the delicate gears and levers, then leaped away as the bladehand bucked and tried to smash him by slamming itself back against one of the walls. It left a dent in the stone wall and a shower of pebbles falling down around it, and it would have crushed Marcus to a pulp if he’d not leaped off its back. He landed on his hands, out of reach of the three remaining swords.
As he leaped to his feet, he saw with satisfaction that he had disabled one of the bladehand’s swords—the left top one. The golden sword now dragged along the ground behind the monster as it turned to face him, a low roar of anger coming from inside the expressionless metal mask.
The monster wouldn’t let Marcus dive between its legs again, that was for sure. It was wise to that trick now—it kept one of its swords low, covering the gap with a razor-sharp blade. But now the tables had turned. The bladehand had gotten turned around, and now it was Marcus who had the entire room behind him, and the bladehand that had to cover the distance.
Marcus turned and sprinted away up the length of the room. Was there anything in the chamber that he could use to hurt the creature? There didn’t seem to be anything, unless… Marcus grabbed a torch out of a wall-sconce. It was made of hard black wood, and the flame at the end was coming from a thick pad of oily rags tied around with wire. It was a good flame, tall and hot, and it spat gobs of burning oil when Marcus swung it experimentally through the air.
A quick count showed Marcus that there were 20 torches in the hall between him and the bladehand, 10 on each side, lining the walls.
“This, my friend, will do nicely,” he said, smiling menacingly at his enemy.
The bladehand peered at him, down the length of the hall, then began to move again, slowly, dragging its broken arm behind it through the sandy floor. Marcus grabbed another torch from the other side of the hall and, holding the flaming torches out to either side of him, he charged down the hall toward his enemy.
Three razor-sharp blades swung into action to meet him, but he cast his Fleetfoot speed buff again and flung himself up and forward. Powered by the magic, his stride carried him up through the air and over the bladehand’s deadly swing. He landed as before on the monster’s back.
Spell: Fleetfoot Level 1
Level Increase: 4%
Progress to next level: 12%
He stood, a blazing torch in each hand. Below him, through the gap he’d torn in the creature’s armor, he could see the churning and whirring mechanisms that were the bladehand’s innards. He saw the damage he had done already by slamming his foot through the gap. This time, instead of his foot, he slammed both of the flaming torches down into the delicate mechanical mass.
The monster howled as the torches disappeared down into its mechanical depths, the head of both torches breaking up and coating the golden parts with burning oil. The flame roared up inside the monster, and Marcus caught a glimpse of delicate golden mechanics buckling and melting in the heat.
Chapter 9
The monster roared in pain and frustration, swinging its bladed hands around in an attempt to get at Marcus, but failing. With a supreme effort, it flung itself back against the wall again, trying to crush Marcus or at least to knock him off-balance, but it failed. Marcus was too quick.
Exulting in the new speed and agility provided by the still-active Fleetfoot spell, he somersaulted off the monster’s back and landed on his hands and feet, sending up a cloud of dust and sand as he felt the spell begin to wear off.
He glanced up. The bladehand was shuddering, flame and smoke burning inside it. So, these creatures were definitely vulnerable to fire.
He jumped back and grabbed another torch from the sconce and charged again. This time, he feinted at the monster’s legs, and as he’d hoped, it swung all three of its remaining hands toward him, howling in rage and pain as black smoke bellowed from its back. Then he feinted again, this time toward the side. The monster was slow, but anger and pain had made it speed up a bit. The whistle of sharp blades through the air followed Marcus as he used the last of the spell’s influence to spring upward onto the creature’s back again.
Spell: Fleetfoot Level 1
Level Increase: 4%
Progress to next level: 16%
This time, he jammed his flaming torch down through the gap between the metal plating that covered the bladehand’s right shoulder. The right upper arm flailed around as thick black smoke poured out from the cracks around the monster’s limb.
“Almost done with you,” said Marcus. It would not be long before the bladehand died, surely, but it didn’t actually seem to be happening. The monster was still on its feet, and despite its two disabled arms, it could still use its two lower ones.
That last swing had been a bit too close for Marcus’s comfort even with the Fleetfoot boost, and he wanted to put an end to the monster and get back to Ella. He grabbed his dagger. It was as sharp as the bladehand’s swords, if not sharper. From his place on the monster’s back, he leaned over so that he could reach the blank mask that served the creature as a face.
The face tilted up a little to glare at him, a sulfurous light burning through the eye-slits. Reaching down, he grabbed the bottom of the creature’s faceplate firmly with his right hand and hauled it upward.
“Hero’s Might!” He cast his spell again and felt the brute physical strength of the magic flood through him once more.
A muffled roar came from inside the monster’s faceplate, though the mouth did not move. Raising the dagger with his left hand and using every ounce of his magically enhanced strength to hold the creature’s faceplate still, Marcus fixed his gaze on the creature’s left eye-slit.
He brought the point of the dagger to the eye-opening and slammed it home.
Steam poured from inside the creature, blasting out from every gap in its monstrous metal casing and hissing from the gaps that were the eyes and mouth. It mixed with the thick black smoke from the oily torches, and filled the room with a clanking, stinking fume.
Marcus’s dagger was stuck inside the monster’s head. He couldn’t retrieve it, but the bladehand began to jerk and shake uncontrollably, like a machine that has a spanner stuck between its cogs. Letting go of the dagger’s handle, he flung himself backward, away from the convulsing metal monstrosity. As he flew through the air, he felt the power of his strength spell still influencing him, and he rolled and sprang to his feet, ready to attack again.
But it was over.
As he landed, rolled away, and looked up, the monster began to collapse. It started from the top of the construction, with the iron plates covering the shoulders and upper arms buckling and cracking with a mighty sound. Then the arms began to fall to pieces, metal struts and gears crashing to the ground and flying away from the monster, slamming into the walls and sending up clouds of dust where they hit.
The face plate whipped uncontrollably from side to side as smoke and flame erupted from the chest and back of the creature. A deafening explosion thundered through the chamber. There was a flash of flame. Marcus had a glimpse of the creature’s faceplate flying off, and of something else below—something fleshy and wizened, like the face of an old human.
Then it was gone, consumed in an expanding fireball. Marcus leaped backward again, dashing to the other end of the room where he turned and faced the explosion. Orange flames rolled toward him, then dissipated into black smoke.
Spell: Hero’s Might Level 1
Level increase: 4%
Progress to next level: 8%
He heard a clank. As the smoke drifted to the top of the room, he saw the gate had opened again.
“Well,” he said out loud. “That was quite something.”
Marcus leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees and laughing breathlessly. Ella had been right, the monster was within his abilities to fight, and yet it had still been a challenge. He wondered how teams of dungeon runners would do against this monstrosity.
After taking a few moments to catch his breath, he walked toward the
wreck of the bladehand, now just a pile of twisted metal and broken gears. He picked up the golden faceplate, turning it over. On the inside of the plate, a thick scum of fresh blood drooped around the eyehole. He thought back to the humanoid face he’d seen for a moment when the mask had come off. So there was some organic element to the creature, then?
He looked for any other evidence of a human or a humanoid creature—a skull, or more blood, or anything like that—but he found nothing. Within the pile of metal, he found his beautiful jewel-hilted dagger. He turned it over in his hands, examining it carefully. There was a patina of soot dulling the shine of the metal, but apart from that, it seemed undamaged. Carefully, he cleaned the soot off with the corner of his jerkin, and then snapped it back into its sheath with satisfaction.
A sound caught his attention. There was a clinking sound, like the noise of coins dropping onto a table, coming from near the gate.
When he looked over, he saw that there was indeed a pile of gold coins lying near the entrance to the chamber.
“Hah!” he said out loud as he ran over, dropping the faceplate as he went. He knelt. The pile of gold coins glowed in the torchlight. They were gold towers, the biggest unit of currency commonly available in Kraken City. He reached down and picked one up.
Or at least he tried to.
“What the…?” he exclaimed as he found that the coin would not move. It was as if he were trying to pick up a part of the cave itself.
After a few more attempts, he gave up. The coin just couldn’t be moved. Marcus reckoned there was a generous stack of golden towers here—easily half again of what he’d got for selling his magic powders—but no matter what he did, they could not be moved.
With a last glance back at the wreck of the bladehand, he decided to head back to the grove. Perhaps Ella would be able to explain this. After all, he was in no immediate need of gold, but still…
He made his way back along the winding corridor but encountered no new traps. As he walked, he thought over this new power. The bladehand was certainly a worthy opponent, and there were plenty of fighters in Kraken City who would be proud to be able to say that they had defeated such a foe, particularly with the promise of a stack of golden towers as a reward.
Marcus was considering how exactly he would go about the job of enticing adventurers to enter the dungeon when he returned to the grove chamber. He glanced around, blinking in surprise and sudden disorientation.
The grove had changed.
There were two trees in the middle of the grove now, and they were surrounded by a well-tended hedge. The grass was deeper, the flowers brighter, and the waterfall higher and more majestic. The pool it emptied into looked wider, and there was now a bit of old mossy wall built up around the pool.
He blinked a few times, then saw the flash of Ella’s haystack hair moving about over by the trees. The grove must have evolved further because of his fight with the bladehand. That was how it seemed to go—the more happened within the dungeon space, the more the dungeon evolved.
Before heading over to the trees, Marcus turned and looked at the entrance to the chamber. A spell flickered before him, ready to use.
Crucible chamber: Rest and Restore
With a slight feeling of regret for the pile of gold towers he was leaving inside, Marcus activated the spell. Immediately, a thick curtain of ivy swung into place, covering the entrance.
Crucible chamber: Restoration Cycle initiated
Dungeon Master: Level 2
Dungeon Chambers: 2
Dungeons Fights: 1
Progress to next chamber: 20%
He nodded. It was as he thought—fighting in the chamber leveled up the whole dungeon system. He had achieved Dungeon Master Level 2 by creating and fighting a new chamber, and had added a solid amount of progress toward being able to create an entirely new dungeon. The Rest and Reset spell was there to bring the Bladehand dungeon back to its ready state after having been fought. Once the Restoration Cycle was complete, the dungeon would be ready to fight again.
Would it have changed? Perhaps the bladehand would get bigger? Faster? Perhaps evolve new abilities? Marcus would find out in due course. For now, he felt the effect of using so much magic starting to take a toll on him. He stretched and yawned, and his stomach rumbled suddenly, reminding him that he hadn’t eaten for quite a while.
Marcus turned away from the cliff and headed over toward where Ella was sitting by the trees. As he approached, he saw that the grove area was certainly bigger than it had been before. It felt like it was taking a lot longer to cross the grassy sward from the cliff to the trees. When he got about halfway across, he began to smell the scent of cooking meat, and woodsmoke was carried toward him on the air. He could see a trail of smoke rising.
Crossing the grove, he noticed that the environment had changed again. It had felt like early morning when he’d woken up. He was sure that he hadn’t spent a full day creating and running the dungeon, and yet the sun had set over the edge of the grove. The air was cool and still, and a glorious sunset sky stretched above him.
He shook his head wryly as he walked. This grove chamber certainly had a mind of its own, and a sense of drama!
Marcus took his time crossing the grass. Eventually, he came up to the edge of the little hedged area and saw Ella dressed in a small fur cloak and hunter’s leathers, working a haunch of dripping meat on a spit over a small fire surrounded by a ring of stones.
“How does this work?” he asked as he entered the little hedged-off space. “This is all new! Where did all this come from?”
“Oh, it’s from your interaction with the dungeon chamber, I’m sure,” she replied. “While you were in the chamber fighting, I came back here and suddenly came over all sleepy. I went to sleep, and when I woke up, all this was here. New clothes for me, plus firewood set ready, and this spit and some meat ready for cooking. Also the changes you see around you, the new tree and the hedges.”
“I like it,” Marcus said after a moment. “The grove is a pleasant place anyway, but having a cooking setup makes it even nicer. What’s the meat?”
“Venison, I think,” Ella said in reply, turning the meat on the spit again. “The dungeon power really is interesting and unpredictable. There’s no telling what it’ll come out with, but if your intentions are good, it’s bound to be good.”
The little fire burned bright and cheerily in the evening light of the grove. Marcus was just about to say that some ale would go nicely with the roasted venison when something caught his eye. There was a squat shape in the shadows behind the nearest tree.
“What’s that?” he asked and walked over to investigate it. At first, he thought it was just a large stone, or maybe a tree stump, but when he got closer, he laughed out loud. His wish had been answered! It was a little keg of ale, with two tankards sitting on top of it.
“Amazing!” he exclaimed, hefting the little barrel back to the camp. “I was just thinking that this would be the perfect thing to go with our meal, and here it is!”
Ella grinned up at him, her impish green face and big eyes gleaming happy in the firelight as the evening dimmed. “You get rewarded for your intentions in the dungeon. You’ll find that the desires of those who run the dungeons are often fulfilled if they run the dungeons with a good heart.”
Marcus was a very happy man as he sat by the fire and broached the cask, pouring rich, frothy ale into the tankards as Ella took the meat off the spit and cut generous portions for them both, serving them up on flat wooden platters.
“There’s bread, too,” she said, handing him a loaf of dark, dense bread. Marcus tore into it. He hadn't realized how hungry he was until the food was in front of him.
They ate ravenously in silence for a while. The meat was very good. Meat in Kraken City was nearly always salted, smoked, or jerked for storage, since there was no land available on Kraken for farming and hunting. Sometimes, a ship would bring live animals to the island, and sometimes one of these would go ‘missin
g’ and some of the meat end up in the hands of people like Marcus, but that was a rare treat.
The savory meat filled his senses, and the beer was rich and dark. The bread was dense and had nuts baked into it. After a quarter of an hour and a second serving, he pushed his empty plate aside with a sigh of satisfaction and refilled his mug.
“Shall we save some meat for Hammer?” Ella suggested.
“Good idea!” Marcus agreed, thinking of the big dog who was probably hanging out with the gate guards at this moment. “He’ll appreciate it.” He cut a generous portion and laid it to one side to cool.
When they were done eating, Marcus put his cloak on the ground and leaned up against the tree, easing back and sipping his third mug of beer. Ella flew and perched on top of the ale keg, drawing her knees up, and asked him about his fight with the bladehand.
He told her the whole story, about the traps, the spells, and how he’d used the torches to defeat the monster. When he got to the end of the fight and asked her about the immovable pile of golden towers, Ella laughed.
“I should have told you about that before you went in. It’s a feature of the way the dungeons work—you’re the master of the dungeon evolutions, and that means you can bring stuff in. But it also means you can’t take stuff out again. You’ll never be able to remove anything completely from the dungeons. In time, you’ll be able to move monsters around the different dungeon chambers, and even delete particular monsters or traps if you want, but you’ll never be able to take gold or other items that the dungeon created and bring them out into the world. The new spells that dungeons sometimes grant—as you found—are something of a reward to compensate for it.”
