I had to kill them; I couldn’t just tie them up. The chance they could get free, or one of their pals could happen by and let them loose was unacceptable. They had to die, but at least in a couple of cases it was probably a mercy. This was cold comfort to my screaming conscience.
Going through the motions, slaughtering people was awful. I knew that this would haunt me the most of anything else I did today. Killing Pretty Boy had been pure self-defense, and using traps didn’t feel as personal. The cold-blooded murder of seven living humans was completely different. Drops of blood clinging to my sword felt like they weighed a hundred pounds each, so I wiped them off on a nearby body. This didn’t help.
I finally had to mentally shake myself, because I couldn’t let myself sink into depression. There was still work to do and five more tunnels the bandits could have escaped down. A few had undoubtedly run for the exit. Hopefully Gazra-tam would be able to take care of them, especially if she caught them in the dark. I had taught her how to rearm a few traps, so that would help, too.
The other four tunnels packed a fiendishly dense array of traps just past their thresholds. None of them were particularly well camouflaged, but I had planned on anyone running down them to be panicked and not looking too carefully where they stepped.
Sure enough, the first hall I checked had three bodies in the first ten paces and two more just beyond. Further along the tunnel was a layer of chalky dust.
This was another of my ideas. Anyone passing through would have left a trail of footprints but this dust was smooth and undisturbed. As I turned around, I happened to notice one of the dead people was Scarface. He had burns across one side of his body from acid, but it was obvious that the real killer had been the fragments of stone shrapnel embedded in his chest. I had rigged a hammer to come down on a chunk of rock and the result had turned it into one hell of an area-of-effect weapon.
There was more carnage, more of the same down the next two paths. Unfortunately, the tunnel also had survivors, and once again I would have to stain my soul putting them down. One of them was awake and saw me coming. She was pinned to the ground by boulders, her limbs crushed, but she was still conscious. She was wearing armor like the other bandits, and might have been pretty years ago. Life looked like it’d run over her face a few times with a meth truck.
“Hey, over here, help!” She must have thought I was a friend come to her rescue. When I didn’t say anything she grew nervous, then desperate. “Please, whoever you are—please, I don’t want to die here!”
Well, I didn’t want to die here, either. Now I was just like her, ruthless and selfish, killing to survive.
I managed not to look into her eyes as she moaned one final plea for mercy. The worst part of this was that the killing was getting easier. If my first victim had begged for life, I don’t think I could have gone through with it. But after eight murders, what was one more? I gritted my teeth and drove the point of my sword home. What was that line about being careful not to become the monster you fight? At that point I wasn’t convinced I was any better than these bandits.
Would I still be able to look at myself in the mirror after spilling so much blood? Would I want to? Even the bandits killed by traps had been my fault. I’d built them. I had lured my victims in. I had done everything in my power to make sure these people died. At this point, I had probably killed more people than most of the individual bandits. How could I call myself better than them?
Because I’ve never killed an innocent, a little voice in my head spoke up. I’ve never tortured anyone. I’ve never raped anyone. And that voice was right. I might be a murderer, but all of my victims had done far worse than I. If they lived, they would do worse to me.
I had to stop thinking about my actions as murder, and more like eliminating an infestation and righting a wrong to my adopted family. This was an execution, a removal. Thinking of it this way helped me refocus.
And the job at hand wasn’t done. The final tunnel had a couple of bodies and the traps had been triggered, but there were footprints in the dust beyond the final defense. Shit. So far I had accounted for around thirty-five of the invaders, which left around fifteen. Hopefully Gazra-tam had taken care of the ones that had made it to the entrance, but I was willing to bet that somewhere between six and ten bandits had gone down the tunnel I was standing in.
I followed the direction of the tracks as quickly and quietly as I could manage. There hadn’t been time to work on the whole labyrinth, so most of my modifications ended just past the crossroads. Almost everything from there on was stock dungeon, no Riggs Brand aftermarket improvements. Worse, I had gutted most of what was left. But there were still a couple of surprises, and if the prints I saw were any indication, they were headed right towards one of them.
It was nerve wracking, balancing speed and stealth. Without being able to use TK to peek around corners, it would have been absolute hell. As it was, my nerves were a twitching mess when I heard a muffled shout from just around the corner. I stuck my head around just in time to see a form disappear through the door to the center of the maze.
This trick was as old as time. Up until now, my traps had relied on chokepoints, random chance, and the odd push in the right direction to kill. However, this trap had bait, and really tempting bait, too.
Every bit of treasure Gazra-tam and I weren’t actively using was out in the middle of the hall for the world to see; weapons, armor, the gemstones that were apparently some sort of magic power source, it was all there. And right in the middle of it all was the empty Orb box. I had counted on greed to overwhelm common sense here, and apparently it paid off.
The floor rumbled as the entire dungeon shook, and I knew what had happened.
With my TK, I’d been able to reach between the cracks in the tiles and modify the design of the room. Instead of having one safe path like before, now most of the tiles in the room were inert. Only the tiles directly in front of the treasure were active, and every one of them was connected to the multi-ton stone block rigged to block the room’s only way out.
Now it would take heavy earth-moving equipment or a case of dynamite to get through the slab of solid granite. Anyone on the other side was going to find out that no amount of treasure would prevent starving to death. I rounded the corner, ready to see the end of this whole hellish ordeal, but then immediately began backpedaling.
There was a blur as something grabbed my shirt and spun me around, hurling me towards the sealed treasure room. My view spun before I hit the floor hard and things went hazy for a second. I’d just discovered that being thrown like a frisbee was disorienting. As I came to my senses, I saw the unmistakable form of Fancy Pants.
Either the bandit leader had realized something was amiss and had held back or he was even faster than I’d imagined—either way, now I was screwed. I still had to try resisting, though, so I pointed my new air pistol directly at the middle of his immaculate suit.
He just raised an eyebrow at me.
My finger tightened, the trigger broke, the gun hissed—and suddenly Fancy Pants was three feet to the left, eyebrow still raised and a condescending smirk on his face.
He reached into his suit jacket and withdrew what looked like a thin brown strip. I was confused at first, but realized it was some sort of jerky when he tore a piece off and popped it into his mouth.
“Terribly sorry,” he said, “but this sort of thing leaves me famished.” His voice was cultured, but over the top, like an affectation more than a real accent. “You have caused me quite the bother, you know? Now I shall have to find another group of businessmen and convince yet another leader to do my bidding, and I’m sure you can imagine what a dreadful chore that will be!”
I decided to take a shot at prolonging my life with dialogue, and rolled the dice on my imaginary, nonexistent Speech skill. “Maybe next time try a German accent? I think it might be a better fit.”
He started laughing. “Oh, bravo, that is a word I’ve not heard in a long time! You’re
Terran, eh?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’m afraid this accent is more or less a fixture at this point, not that the bloody Ludans get it. No culture, what a shame. I must say, it is truly a pleasure to meet someone who understands the joke, no matter how briefly.” As he laughed again, I noticed a figure detach itself from the shadows and begin moving behind the insane bandit leader.
Frantically I put every bit of TK I had into creating a wall in front of Gazra-tam. She could have pushed right through it, but recognized the signal and froze. There was no way she could match this guy in speed and if he had any warning at all she would be dead in an instant. I had to think of something.
“So you’re orb-Bonded?” I asked, hoping Gazra-tam would get the message.
“Spot on.” Fancy Pants flashed a huge grin. “Noticed the speed, eh? Great things, these orbs. I received one my first day here and suddenly I could practically outrun the wind! Then I found a spirit stone during the course of my travels, and now nothing can touch me.” He popped another piece of jerky into his mouth before continuing. “Of course, nothing can be perfect. I eat for three now, but it’s a fine bargain if I do say so myself!”
My thoughts fired like a jackhammer. So everything about this guy was fast, including his metabolism, which might have been helpful to know if we had more time, but as soon as he was done toying with me, I knew I’d be dead. Maybe I could use something about his power against him; in fact, it was my only chance. I had gamed enough in the past on Earth to know a pure dexterity build was inherently weak. A few good hits and they shattered like glass, but getting those hits would be a problem.
“And the clothes?” I asked. “And accent?” Maybe if I kept him talking, I’d think of something.
“Oh, these?” He made a gesture from his polished shoes to perfect tie. “It helps the men if you are, how should I say? Stylish and eccentric. It comes down to brand recognition and all that. Dressing well on this world can be quite challenging. In fact, would you believe—”
I tuned the rest out. A lightbulb had gone off in my mind, presenting the brilliant plan I had been looking for. It was, well, completely ridiculous. But if it’s stupid and it works…
My gamble would take a minute, though. Good thing this windbag doesn’t seem to ever get tired of talking about how great he is. Even as I reached out with little tendrils of TK I asked, “But why use your powers like this? You’re a freaking comic book superhero! Why not act like one?”
“What I am is their better!” he snapped. That seemed to have struck a nerve. His eyes bulged and his face colored. Maybe I should have gone a different route, a different dialogue option. But it was too late for regrets now, I needed to hurry and push on.
He growled, “Why else would I have been given an orb as soon as I appeared on this world if not to rule it? On Earth no one appreciated my ideas, my vision. But on Ludus, strength is all that matters! Look at you, killing my people. How are you any different?”
Oh no he didn’t. “Dude, I’ve already had a belly full of moralizing and justification today. I am not interested in it anymore. I’m at peace with my actions, this was self-defense.” There was no way I was going down that road again.
He scoffed. “You see it, though, you understand! Raw, personal strength is supreme, as it should be!”
I could have been wrong, but was there a hint of uncertainty there? It might not have been in his tone, but maybe his body language. Was this his justification, repeated a thousand times until it became his truth? Honestly, I didn’t know and it didn’t matter. His rant had given me enough time to put my plan into place.
“Hey, Fancy Pants,” I called out while tapping Gazra-tam three times on the chest. His face started to turn red at the nickname. “You talk too much.” Two taps. I drew my sword. His face went from rage to contempt in a flash. After all, how could I hope to hit him with a chunk of bronze when he could dodge pellets?
I adopted a fancy stance out of a kung-fu movie and made a little “come here” motion with my free hand just as I gave my sister a final tap.
Fancy Pants blurred one more time. There was a sudden, sickening snap as he immediately stopped, easily visible to my eyes. Shock and pain were written all over his features and his arms windmilled. His correction wouldn’t help much, though. It’s not very likely he’d catch his balance with a pair of shattered ankles.
For someone who can move at super speeds, Fancy Pants really shouldn’t have worn shoes with laces, since someone with TK could happen along and tie them together while he was standing still. If such a thing happened, and if he tried to move his foot at superhuman speeds, well, physics can be very unkind.
Unfortunately for Fancy Pants, Gazra-tam was not orb-Bonded fast, but she was still fast. The moment he began to stumble forward at normal speed, a bronze dagger sprouted from his neck, then withdrew with a twist and spurt of blood, only to be driven home again.
Gazra-tam reversed her dagger and snarled as she drove her blade through the man’s suit and into his black heart. Fancy Pants’ eyes were wide in shock and pain, but Gazra-tam caught his dying gaze and held it. The bandit leader’s eyes dulled and his body slumped. The tunnel was otherwise still as my sister stood there panting and staring at what was left of the man responsible for the destruction of her Clan.
She jumped about a foot in the air when I put a hand on her shoulder. I think it was the first time I’d ever surprised her. Her ears went straight up for a second, but she took it in stride, turning her blood-stained face to meet my eyes and giving me a brilliant smile. I nodded with tears of relief in my eyes. We had somehow survived, and if we were a little worse for wear, at least now we had the chance to heal.
We stood motionless for a while, coming down from the adrenaline and terror of the last—was it really less than an hour? I felt like I’d aged years. Something in my heart and my head were definitely different, and not necessarily in a good way. Maybe this was the price to keep living.
My thoughts were a jumble of conflicting emotions. I felt relief, of course. Pride also swelled my chest, both in myself and in my sister. Disgust lived at the back of my throat, regretting the necessity of such violence and terror. Rage, exhaustion, hope, and despair topped it all off. Each emotion blended together into a weird rollercoaster, and all I could do was ride it out.
Finally, I got my emotions under control. This day would require a long time to process, but at least I was functional. Kneeling down, I looked over the bandit leader’s body as Gazra-tam watched.
Fancy Pants’ eyes were still wide, staring into nothingness. I closed them, not out of respect, but because they were damn creepy. His flashy clothing was ruined, soaked in blood and worse. Something else caught my eye; the handle of a dagger was just barely visible sticking out of an inner pocket.
The weapon was simple and without ornamentation, which I thought was odd for someone so deliberately ostentatious. I’d expected a jewel-encrusted, gilted masterpiece, not a plain wooden handle sticking out of a leather sheath. But when I drew the blade, Gazra-tam let out a little gasp.
I frowned, not understanding the reaction. It was just a good, serviceable blade so far as I could tell. The steel was well cared for and the edge looked sharp—it wasn’t all that special.
Wait, steel? Sure enough, the dagger had an unmistakable dull grey sheen. “Is this what I think it is?”
She nodded. “Blessed steel. I have seen a few such weapons, but they are rare, very rare.”
Interesting. Apparently there was steel on this world, just not much. This blade would definitely prove useful in the future. As for what that future might hold, I had no idea.
I turned back to face my sister. Plans began to spring to life, but I suppressed them. I made a decision to never make any more unilateral decisions, no more going off half-cocked. My place on this messed-up world was right next to Gazra-tam, the only family I might have left.
“So what now?” I asked.
She stared back at
me, brown eyes flashing gold in the dancing dungeon light. “Zac Riggs-tam, I believe it is time we leave this place.”
I couldn’t have agreed more.
Engineering Ludus, Note
From the Author, Austin Eberle:
Austin is a native Texan and long time fan of all things SciFi. When he isn't slaving away as a software developer, he can be found gaming, reading, sport shooting, smoking BBQ, and enjoying the outdoors.
As an engineer (graduate of The University of Texas at Austin, Hook 'em!) Austin's put some thought into how technology might be integrated into a primarily magical world. This story was born out of a desire to explore a few of the challenges Ludus' shortage of steel, gunpowder, and electricity would place on a new transportee, who is more aware than most about how integral they are to Terran society.
Austin’s author page: https://www.amazon.com/author/austineberle
Beyond the Village Borders - Introduction
Beyond the Village Borders
By Jon Svenson
Poor villagers can become adventurers too. Some people on Ludus fall into this lifestyle, but some search for it.
Beyond the Village Borders, Chapter One
Anahi watched the children while their mothers tended to the laundry in a nearby creek. A guard, Klesha this time, went along for protection in case monsters wandered by and attacked. The children’s favorite game was hide and seek, and this time they were playing hide and seek from the adventurers.
“5, 4, 3…” When Anahi reached one, she opened her eyes and started searching for the children. The youngest were the easiest to find, while the older children could be inventive and sometimes evaded capture entirely.
Running around the small village, she found half the children just by looking behind old barrels, carts, and in one case the latrine. It kept them active after lunch but before afternoon chores.
Delvers LLC- Surviving Ludus Page 7
