by Hugo Huesca
“Get a hold of yourself,” he told himself. “I can still get out of this. Lyndis…”
A drone returned to his line of sight. The torch it carried was now lit by normal, non-magical fire. The furnace, Nicolai thought. The drones had waited until the dust had settled, then they’d opened it…
More drones appeared, all carrying torches, all lit. Their grim expressions mirrored the blank spider-features of Lord Edward Wright’s vessel. Slowly, a line formed in front of Nicolai. The fire was bright enough to blind him. He turned his gaze away as well as he could. Pearls of sweat fell down his forehead, mixing with dirt and blood.
One drone threw its torch at Nicolai. It went somewhere behind him. Another one joined the lone torch. Then another, and many more.
Nicolai could hear the crackle of the fire as it caught. He could smell burnt meat. Yet he couldn’t feel any pain.
Maybe I can still get out of this. Then his regeneration fixed his broken spine, and the burning pain came rushing in.
For a long time, even after the fire engulfed Nicolai’s head, the man’s screams echoed across the entire Haunt.
The drones made sure the fire lasted well after he went silent.
The body burned for a long time, and once there was little left to burn, Ed had the remains thrown into the furnace. He wouldn’t toy around with Nicolai’s regeneration.
After that, when he returned with Zachary to retrieve the ashes, he had the priest perform a sanctifying ritual, then buried the ashes in a small cemetery near the Light’s chapel. Ed refused to allow even a small chance for the body to rise as a wraith.
And that was the end of it.
You’ve earned 102 experience points. (450 total, 137 unused).
Your Attributes have increased: Brawn, Mind, and Endurance +1.
Your Skills have increased: Melee +2. Dungeon Engineering and Leadership +1. Spellcasting +1. Your Dungeon options and aura costs have adjusted accordingly.
You have new advancement options…
27
Chapter Twenty-Seven
The Rogue
The gentle rocking swayed Ed in rhythm with the ship’s hull in front of him. He was surrounded by a small crowd who, like him, had come to see the Viceroy Dianthus set sail. Above him, a web of ropes and knots surrounded the vast sailcloth spread around the Viceroy’s mast while the sunburnt sailors finished the last preparations.
Here’s one more mystery solved, Ed thought, his feet firmly planted on the wooden planks of his floating platform, one platform among hundreds, each interconnected to the others by thick sets of rope. He had wondered before about the effects of a bigger moon on a planet like Ivalis. As it turned out, Ivalian tides rose and fell more than Earth’s, and that forced ships to moor much farther from port or risk being marooned for hours when the tide changed. Floating platforms were used to connect the ships with Undercity’s harbor.
An auburn mane gazed at him from the ship’s deck, a dark gold face right in front of the distant red sun as it set.
Ed waved at the young woman aboard the Viceroy, and she returned the gesture. Katalyn’s enthusiasm was reflected in her face; it gave her a flush to her cheeks and a glint to her eyes that made her stunningly beautiful.
It also helped that enough weeks had passed for the both of them to recover from their wounds during the defense of the Haunt. Of course, not all wounds could heal. Ed’s left hand was carefully covered in bandages and kept hidden in his coat’s pocket, out of sight.
“I still can’t believe I’m doing this,” Katalyn told him. She had to shout to make herself heard among the chatter of the crowd. She gave Ed a nervous smile, like a teenager about to go on her first road trip. “In a couple months, I’ll be wandering around a Plekthian city! Can you imagine how much trouble a girl can run into on an entirely different continent?”
“Probably lots,” Ed reassured her. Her happiness was contagious, and it made it hard for him to be sad about her leaving town. He had to settle for bittersweet once again. “I bet you’ll stumble into mortal danger on your first night.”
“Gods, I hope so!”
It wasn’t Plekth that worried Ed, but the trip there. Alder insisted that every self-respecting adventurer who traveled by ship always ended up shipwrecked and stranded on some exotic island, so Ed had gifted Katalyn a low-level water breathing medallion and a watertight locket loaded with water purification tablets, all courtesy of the Haunt’s budding black-market booze empire.
Just in case.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to send a couple message spells your way once I’m settled in, so you know I’m still alive,” she told him.
“Likewise,” Ed said. He understood her better now, and in her position, he would’ve left Undercity too. After all, Starevos would suffer the consequences of her father’s selfishness for a long time. Plekth was her only chance at living a normal life.
For Katalyn’s idea of normal, that is.
The Viceroy whistled a low, deep warning and the ship’s quartermaster called for sailors to weigh anchors.
Slowly, as one, the crowd on the platforms said their final farewells to the smaller crowd above the ship.
“Alright,” Katalyn said nervously. “This is it!”
“Good luck,” Ed told her. “May you find what you’re looking for.”
Sailors climbed the rigging like monkeys as they undid the last of the knots. Slowly, the Viceroy Dianthus began to distance itself from the platforms. Ed saw Katalyn’s face grow smaller and smaller.
“I can say the same to you,” Katalyn yelled back. “Good luck, Ed! You’re a good man, remember that!”
After the distance grew too great for yelling, they waved at each other. Here’s another mystery solved, Ed thought, watching her go. Character sheets often couldn’t reflect the person that owned them. It said nothing of their personality, wants, or desires. But sometimes they gave you a clue. For example, although Ed couldn’t see Katalyn’s updated character sheet, he knew that in the “class” section, it no longer displayed Thief. After facing Torst, she had become an adventurer through-and-through, so her updated class was Rogue.
He nodded to himself, then realized he was smiling alone like a hopeless fool. Behind him, most of the crowd had already left. The Viceroy was but a dot on the purple horizon.
“Time to head for the Folly, I’d say,” he told himself.
While he walked back, alone, in the direction of the inn, he ran into two known faces at the edge of the harbor. They were dressed in normal clothes, and as such they could’ve been artisans or merchants. The boots gave their real profession away, though.
“So there she goes,” said Karmich, nodding toward the open sea. “Great gal, isn’t she?”
“Karmich.” This time, Ed got the name right. “How are your ribs treating you?”
Karmich patted his chest. “Ah, they only hurt at night now, so I’d say pretty great.”
His partner was the woman that Katalyn had confronted at the Folly. She nodded curtly at Ed as a manner of greeting. “Edward Wright. Name’s Pris. We have met before, I think.”
Ed shook her hand. “Call me Ed.” The three of them headed for the Folly—it was getting late, and there were parts of Undercity where you wouldn’t want to roam around at night. You could stumble into a zombie.
“So, Ed,” said Pris. “A little bird told us you’d need a new team to handle your… affairs in Undercity.” She gave him a probing grin.
“Is that so?”
“Little bird told us that business is booming,” Karmich said. They walked past an official-looking sign hanging above a lamp post. It said, “Buying and consuming unregistered alcohol is expressly forbidden by royal decree. The Watch will prosecute anyone breaking the law. You’ve been warned.”
Ed raised an eyebrow at them. “Maybe it is.”
“Well, in that case,” Pris went on, “you should know we’re the best… associates for your kind of business. We come recommended by one of the few
Guild registered Rogues, after all.”
“I see,” said Ed with a smile from ear to ear. “In that case, I’d say this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”
“Oh yes,” Karmich said with a happy, greedy glint in his eye. “A beautiful friendship indeed.”
A couple of days later, Ed arrived at the Haunt’s outskirts, a small contingent of spider warriors leading the way. He didn’t know their names—they belonged to that new Queen’s cluster, the one under Laurel’s command. After the spiders made sure the area was secure, they retreated into the forest—black chitin contrasting with the snow that spread in all directions.
The encampment in front of the dungeon’s main entrance was now abandoned, the tarps slowly being re-purposed by the drones for other endeavors. They had their work cut out for them; Ed’s new projects for expanding the dungeon required all their attention.
Flanking the encampment, located by the rocky hills, was a stable under construction. Hopefully they’d have horses by the end of winter. On the other side, opposite the stable, was a small promontory where the bodies of those killed during Nicolai’s attack had been buried. Andreena had seeded the ground with flowers, which would spring in a couple months.
As he neared the dungeon’s entrance, a female kaftar dressed in spider armor came to escort him inside.
“Welcome back, Lord Edward,” the kaftar told him.
“Yumiya. How have things been in my absence?”
“Same, same. Lots of work, lots of work. Not nearly enough action, in my humble opinion.” Yumiya and the other kaftars in Kaga’s elite hunting squad had taken sourly the news that they’d missed their chance at facing and killing a wraith.
“I hope it stays that way for a long time,” Ed said honestly.
Yumiya shared with him the few tidbits of gossip she had caught. Klek was out, along with Drusb, on a mission to find other batblin clouds hiding in the forest and convince them to join the Haunt. One of Heorghe’s daughters and that young carpenter apprentice had begun seeing each other in secret—from their parents, at least. A goat had stumbled into Andreena’s workshop and drunk some strange concoction and now it could talk—mostly to demand food. There was talk of re-settling the area that had burned down during the Battle for Burrova. With Ed’s help, rebuilding could go very fast indeed, and he still had a tiny dungeon hidden somewhere inside Burrova’s remains.
“How about our prisoners?” Ed asked.
“Still not talking,” said Yumiya sourly. Ed had insisted that the few survivors of Nicolai’s rebel group should not be tortured for information, as the kaftars had suggested. Instead, they were kept captive in the Haunt’s shiny new prisons until Ed could think of a way to convince them to speak.
“They’ll see reason soon enough.”
“Or else?” suggested Yumiya.
“Or else,” agreed Ed.
The Haunt’s entrance hall was more populated than ever. A bunch of kids chased each other, going in and out of tunnels and laughing themselves hoarse. One was dressed in a surprisingly accurate approximation of a wraith’s shroud and did most of the chasing.
Batblins were everywhere, mostly hauling Brewery stuff like tankards and barrels. The drones could’ve done it, but Ed had discovered that batblins were easier to deal with if they had something to tire themselves.
A group of middle-aged women passed him by. They carried baskets and bundles of cloth and were headed in the direction of the Haunt’s new loom. When they saw Ed, some giggled, and he received enough curtsies to make him blush.
The villagers had a much different attitude than they’d had before. Certainly no one was talking of escaping the Haunt now, and that matter had been put to rest for good when Ed had shown them the sheer size of their quarters—granted, still under construction, but progressing well.
Hell, some people, like Heorghe and his family, had taken minionship pacts despite Ed’s warnings. They insisted that the Haunt was, or would be, the most secure place in Starevos—so they may as well make their loyalty official.
Speaking of Heorghe…
The blacksmith came out of one of the many tunnels and passageways, clearly having waited for Ed’s return for a while. He had been hard at work, and his overalls were dirty and stained.
“Ed, I wanted to talk to you.” Heorghe gave him a friendly smack in the back that almost sent Ed sprawling against the wall.
They exchanged pleasantries for a while, and Yumiya headed off to meet with the rest of her squad.
“So, tell me,” Heorghe started after the small talk was done. “I’ve seen that trophy you keep in the treasury room, the leg of that spider Queen you killed…” He tapped his chest casually. “How would you feel about a trophy that you wear around?”
“What do you mean?” asked Ed, thinking of the kaftar’s spider armor.
“Well, I know this may be a bit grisly for some, but…” Heorghe shrugged. “Remember that the drones removed Nicolai’s armor before throwing him into the oven? Well, I have the armor with me. What remains of it, I mean. It’s all melted and unusable, but the steel is of excellent quality, prime for enchanting… And I could re-forge it for you. A Dungeon Lord needs a suitably impressive set of armor, I’d say, and nothing does the job like plate armor reworked from one taken from his fallen enemy. I could do breastplate, greaves, braces… the full set.”
Ed considered the offer. “You know what? A few months ago, I’d have been terrified of the prospect of wearing something that a man had on while burning to death.” He passed a hand across his hair and sighed. “Today, I’m seeing my kaftars nonchalantly wearing the bones of the friends of spiders under my command, and they don’t seem to care at all…”
That was all the confirmation that Heorghe needed. “I’ll get to work immediately. Visit the forge so that Ivona can take your measurements, will you?” The blacksmith headed off before Ed could change his mind.
“I’m sure this won’t get out of control at all,” Ed assured himself as he watched Heorghe depart.
He reached the infirmary to pay Kes a quick visit. He found her arguing angrily with Andreena and Lavy, who were trying their best to convince her to stay in bed at least a bit longer.
“How can you recover if you don’t have enough rest?” Andreena told her, pushing the still-weak mercenary back into bed.
“I’ve rested long enough!” Kes complained. She was still covered in bandages, and some of her broken bones hadn’t fully healed. “If my old sergeant saw me like this, she’d be so pissed—”
“Would she?” asked Lavy. “Or would she order you to shut up and heal so you’re good to fight another day?”
Then Kes did something that Ed had never expected from her. She pouted. “You’re just trying to keep me in bed so you can skip out on your training some more.”
Lavy shrugged. “Believe what you want, but from now on I’ll be your best student.”
“Will I have to order the drones to keep you down, Kes?” Ed joked as he entered the room.
Kes’ pout vanished as soon as she saw him. “Ahem. Well, I’m just angry my skills are going to get rusty, is all. If enough time passes, I’ll have to grind them back up.”
“Don’t worry,” Ed told her. “I’m sure Kaga will gladly help you with that.” Besides, whatever skill ranks she’d lose for lack of practice, she had more than made up for in experience gain: after facing Nicolai and the others by herself, she’d ended up gaining even more experience points than Ed himself. Her total was now somewhere around the six hundred mark.
Of course, such a gain meant that it had been one of the biggest risks she’d ever faced in her life. Alder had had a field day explaining his Idiot-or-Carpenter line to her.
She hadn’t been half as amused as he was.
“Speaking of people who should be resting—” Lavy turned to Ed and extended her open palm demandingly “—let me see it. C’mon, don’t make a lady wait!”
Now it was Ed’s turn to groan. “Do we really hav
e to do this?”
“How am I—the great Head of the Haunt’s magical research—supposed to figure out what’s wrong with you if you refuse to be examined?”
Maybe if you didn’t squirm with pleasure every time you see it… Ed sighed and brought his hand out of his pocket.
With badly hidden glee Lavy undid the bandages, and revealed the black bones underneath. “Will you look at that!” she said, then gave a low whistle.
“Damn,” Kes muttered. “And to think I complained about losing some fingers. I bet that hurts like a motherfucker.”
“Actually,” said Ed, while Lavy moved his wrist around to better catch the light of the magical torches, “it doesn’t hurt at all.” He waved at Kes with his black bone fingers. Kes winced and looked away. Thank you! That’s exactly how sane people should react.
“It’s so beautiful,” Lavy muttered. She extended her finger and tried to touch the bones. There came a noise like an electrical spark. Ed felt a faint, brief surge of energy. Lavy yelped and removed her hand in a hurry.
“Son of a batblin whore, it stings!” the Witch exclaimed, shaking her hand. She turned at a passing group of batblins carting a barrel. “Whoops! Sorry, Sas, no offense!”
Sas, who was leading the batblins, shrugged and kept walking. Ed closed the door.
“What the hell was that?” Ed asked.
Lavy shook her head with incredulity. “I lost a point of Endurance—there, it’s already back… Look, it’s not like I’m your foremost expert in all things necromantic… which I am… but I’d say that when your hand—already infused with the Dark power of the Mantle—came in contact with the wraith and the Light’s holy fire… well, it had some kind of… allergic reaction… erm…” She gave up. “Look, I probably need more knowledge ranks to figure it out. But I’ll get there. In the meantime, let’s leave it at this: your hand seems to drain Endurance by touch, like a specter, and you probably should keep it away from any lady friends unless she’s into that kind of fun.”
