Dungeon Lord: Otherworldly Powers (The Wraith's Haunt Book 2)

by Hugo Huesca

  “Careful using your powers here,” Kes told him as she stepped out of the hole. “The Watch employs Diviners and Clerics to punish anyone using Dark magic, and your Mantle is as Dark as it comes.”

  “Figured so,” Ed muttered. His only non-Dark-aligned spell was minor order. In case of a fight, he’d have to rely on three castings of it, and his improved reflexes. Which was an excellent reason to have Kes around.

  Another good reason was so she could lead the way to the Galleon’s Folly, where they could set up the meeting with Katalyn.

  He wasn’t out of tricks up his sleeve, though. Quite the contrary. His sleeve tickled as the tiny legs of the couple of spiderlings he had brought with him moved uneasily around his skin. Creatures of the forest weren’t Dark-aligned, they were neutral, and thus they wouldn’t raise the alarm. They would be almost useless in a fight, but Ed hadn’t brought them to fight. He’d brought them because he needed the extra eyes.

  Leaving the alley led the group out into a small agglomeration of streets with cobblestone roads and stout homes made of brick and mortar. The paint was chipped in places, revealing the dark brick underneath. The windows were closed with wooden planks, and the faint candlelight that hinted itself through the openings was the only light on the street, not counting the tiny sliver of moonlight that pierced the black clouds.

  Ed, who had lived his entire life in one modern city or another, fell prey to instant culture shock. Sure, he was aware that Earth and Ivalis had different levels of technology, but his mind had been conditioned for years to expect certain elements when dealing with a city, and those elements weren’t present here.

  The darkness was one of those differences. Ivalis had no electricity, and Undercity’s poorest districts couldn’t afford magical torches. The walls that loomed over the buildings were like colossal shapes that ate a section of the horizon, a black strip without moon or clouds. Except in the watchtowers, where tiny sparks of firelight shone out like yellow stars in an otherwise cloudy night.

  There wasn’t much noise. No sound came from the streets, except for his and his friends’ footsteps, and he could hear the living people inside the houses. He heard heated discussions, couples fucking, dogs barking and cats fighting atop the rooftops, and children crying. A couple times, a curious head poked through a window’s opening, but they quickly retreated when they caught Ed looking back.

  A hand removed the mesh panel from a window not ten steps away from Alder, who looked up with wide eyes as the hand re-appeared with a pot. The Bard cursed Alita’s genitals and jumped away a second before the pot’s contents splashed against the ground. He jumped like someone with ten more points in Agility.

  Alder made a gagging noise. The Bard covered his nose with a section of his shirt, and Ed and Kes seconded this motion when the smell reached them.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alder muttered angrily, looking at the window as the mesh panel was set again and the hand disappeared without apology or even acknowledging what had almost happened. “There’s no respect for Bards anymore, I tell you. World’s going to the gutter.”

  “This is civilization, Alder,” Kes told him with a shrug of her shoulders when they had left the street behind. “It has always been this way.”

  “I bet that people in Mullecias Heights don’t have to fear being bathed in dung while taking a stroll,” Alder said, still fuming.

  “People in Mullecias Heights can afford to have their houses piped to the canal,” said Kes, raising an eyebrow.

  They walked in the middle of the road from then on.

  “Haven’t you been here before, Alder?” Ed asked.

  “Not ‘here’, here,” Alder said, gesturing around them. “Constantina is big, Ed. Very big. You’d be amazed, it’s almost a quarter of Galemoor, and that’s Heiliges’ capital. I reckon there are at least fifty thousand souls living here, not counting visitors. That’s the size of the Heiligian army. It weirds me out, is all.”

  Ed said nothing, because there was little he could say without coming across as condescending.

  “And most of those fifty thousand empty their pots the same way,” Kes told him with a smile. Unlike the Bard, the mercenary seemed in her element. “So, if you see a small river flowing down the side of a street in the morning, don’t step in it.” Her gait was confident. It ran against Ed’s expectations, since he always thought of Kes as at least related to elves, and elves were supposed to hate cities and love trees.

  “Where’s Elaitra?” Ed asked, now that his curiosity was roused. For all that Alder and he had gone through, he knew little about the Bard’s past. In fact, now that he thought about it, Alder talked a lot about everyone else, and his bardic knowledge, but almost never about himself. “Is that a Heiligian city, like Galemoor?”

  Alder shook his head, staring with distrust to a nearby window. “There’s no city like Galemoor. Elaitra is an island, so they don’t compete. But what an island! I wish you could see it, Ed, Elaitra is without a doubt one of the marvels of the modern world—”

  “I thought it was the Bard’s capital,” said Kes.

  “A capital of culture and arts,” Alder agreed. “Home of the Bardic Academy, and the Illusionist University, the Masons Guild, the Brightleaf Museum, the Kaldore Concert Hall, and so many more! It has the one and only all-elven orchestra in all Heiliges, the best theater companies in the entire world—and the women! People dress in togas, Ed, and it’s an island with strong winds…”

  “Now that’s something I can get behind,” said Kes.

  Alder’s expression was distant, as if he were walking along the shores of Elaitra right then. “The countryside dresses itself as in a festival the entire year. All the streets of the towns are paved and pristine, and the main roads are built with dwarf-worked rocks that sparkle silver and azure. If you walk into a village, you’ll leave two days later still drunk and with a belly full of apple pie. The food! Don’t get me started on the food.” He licked his lips and sighed. “The imperial cooks are always trained in Elaitra, and if you’re smart, you can pass by their College and test their practice dishes. The cooks that don’t make it into the imperial palace will cook for the noble houses all across Heiliges, so eating in the College is the same as eating like royalty… Ah, Elaitra…” He sighed again and kicked at a nearby rock, sending it flying against a snarling dog that had been watching them from the entrance of an alley. The dog, which was more wolf than anything, evaded the half-hearted projectile and went back to the shadows. The sound of a fight between animals broke out shortly thereafter.

  “Elaitra sounds amazing,” Ed assured the Bard. “I wish I could see it someday.”

  Alder’s shoulders had slumped and his lips were curved in a gloomy expression. “We can’t. Dungeon Lord and minion, remember?”

  Ed’s mood now matched Alder’s. “True. You’re right.” No way the two of them would make it through Heiliges without the Inquisition’s wrath falling upon them.

  Most of the time, Ed didn’t mind his situation at all. It was challenging, and fun, enough sometimes to forget about Kharon and Nicolai, and the wraiths and mindbroods that populated the shadows. But hearing Alder talk about Elaitra was a reminder that there was much of Ivalis Ed wouldn’t be able to see. So many sights, so many people and stories, all out of his reach.

  Worst of all, he couldn’t blame Heiliges for hunting down the Dark-aligned. It was a perfectly sensible thing to do.

  I can mope about, complaining that the world won’t change to meet my needs, he thought. Or I can do something about it. Maybe the magic detection of the Inquisition isn’t as infallible as people think it is. The Inquisition and Alita aren’t perfect. Maybe someday I’ll find a loophole.

  “You could go to the Volantis Enclave,” said Kes. “You’ll need a griffin or a pegasus to get there, but people there will see you more as a novelty than a monster, as long as you keep your powers to yourself. Better bring lots of gold, though, because living in the Enclave is expensive,
and they don’t accept your kingdom’s coins as currency there.”

  That was enough to break Alder out of his gloom. “I’ve heard about the Volantis Enclave,” he said. “Mostly in poems, though. Is it true it’s a kingdom in the clouds?”

  Kes chuckled. “No,” she said, which was the answer that Ed had expected to such a claim. “It’s a kingdom made of clouds,” she went on. “Home of the avians, ever shifting, never in the same place, but always above the ocean. Only the strongest fliers can survive the trip. But it is worth it. It is the land of the nomads. You’d be welcome there.”

  “Made of clouds?” Ed asked.

  “You’d have to see it to understand,” Kes told him. “And I’m no Bard to offer much in the way of a description. Maybe I’ll tell you all about it. Someday, though, not tonight. You see, I’ll never again set foot in Volantis, either, and this was long before pacting with you.”

  Ed considered leaving the subject to rest, but decided against it. Kes’ expression wasn’t as distant as Alder’s; whatever had happened to her, it wasn’t as raw as with the Bard.

  “It’s a long way from Volantis to Starevos, isn’t it?” he asked softly. “What brought you here?”

  The look the mercenary gave him almost made him reconsider having asked at all, but it quickly passed. Kes sighed and took a minute to think of her answer.

  “I was in the army. Well, what humans would think of as an army,” she said at last. “I had people under my command whose lives depended on me. One day, about three years ago, my team received a task. We had to protect a man—a diplomat from one of the distant avian tribes—days before he made a contentious speech in the Senate that would, perhaps, end a war against a nearby Minotaur tribe that had been going on long enough.”

  “Then something went wrong,” Ed offered.

  “Indeed. Something always does,” Kes said. “I had to choose between orders that would get everyone killed, or to act on my own. I acted on my own.” She licked her lips and stretched her back, like she was trying to get rid of an invisible weight. “It was the wrong choice, in the end. People died anyway, like my charge and most of my team. All dead, and I myself ended up crippled. If I had stuck to my orders, at least the man we were protecting would’ve lived.” She shook her head. “Thanks to me, the war lasted another month. I know that may sound like nothing, but… a month is a long time when your loved ones are dying on the battlefield.” Her eyes darted left and right.

  “Wetlands, Kes, I’m sorry to hear that,” Alder told her.

  “Such is life. I’ve had time to make my peace with what happened,” Kes said. For a moment, she said nothing else, and Ed thought that was the end of her tale. Then she sighed and went on. “I was discharged, which was expected. The Senate cast me down, exiled me, and I arrived by boat here in Undercity shortly thereafter, still sick and weak from my wounds.” She made a spiral with her hand as if to say that they knew the rest of her story. “I needed money; Burrova was a recently settled village. During Heiliges’ conquest of Starevos many of the old settlements had died during the war, so there was great need of mercenaries to protect the new settlers—some of which had arrived from Heiliges itself. Among them I found Alvedhra, Gallio, and Ioan… And, well, you know the rest.”

  “Thanks for sharing that with us,” Ed said. “I understand why you wanted to keep it private. For the record, I don’t think it was your fault. In my world, there’s a saying, ‘hindsight is twenty twenty.’ It means that it’s easier to judge an event after it has happened, and you have all the facts, than it is to make the call in the heat of the moment.”

  Kes nodded. “It’s a good saying. I think I get it, too. Hindsight is derived from the Mind and Spirit attributes, so if you have twenty ranks in each, it means you have superhuman hindsight… and are also one hell of a powerful spellcaster, for that matter, so people shouldn’t go around questioning your choices.”

  Ed opened his mouth to try to explain the saying, then decided against it.

  The mud road was replaced by cobblestone. They had been walking for the entire day and most of the night, which explained why Ed wasn’t shivering with cold. But he was also dead tired. They had already been forced to stop a couple times to relieve themselves in some dark alley or another. Those, at least, were never in short demand.

  Ed’s short sword seemed to weigh three times its normal load, and under his leather armor his shirt was drenched with sweat. His legs were about as agile as logs. Alder was exhausted, half-prancing to keep up with Kes’ step—who had hurried up more and more these last few minutes.

  “It seems like the Haunt is filling with misfits,” Alder commented, vapor coming out his mouth with every exhalation. “Ed isn’t from Ivalis, neither of us can return to our homes, Lavy probably is at home inside the dungeon at this point… even the villagers lost their houses.”

  “If we can’t return home, we’ll have to make one,” Ed said. His breath was ragged. “One just as impressive as Elaitra and Volantis.”

  “That’s a tall dream,” Kes said without looking at him. “I’ll toast to that, Ed. If we don’t die in the next few minutes, that is.”

  Ed’s heart sped up and his veins surged with adrenaline. “What are you talking about?”

  Kes nodded at the shadows behind them. “We’re being followed. Have been for a while. I was hoping we’d run into the Watch, but you know how it works. Never around when you need them.”

  Ed stole a glance over his shoulder, but there was only darkness behind him. “Oh, shit.”

  FOUR HUMAN SILHOUETTES emerged from the shadows. Moonlight revealed light leather armor around dark blue shirts, long and curved daggers glinting evilly, and an array of knives and other assorted equipment hanging from straps around the dark capes that covered their backs, chests, and heads.

  The scrape of the capes’ fabric and the footsteps against the cobblestone were the only sounds around, besides Ed’s own ragged breathing. The figures were about a hundred meters away, walking calmly toward Ed and the others like mere passersby on an innocent stroll.

  “They chose the location well,” Kes pointed out sourly.

  The city canal extended in front of Ed, a black waterline that neatly divided the city in two. The air was heavy and charged with the stench of sewage. Past the quiet waters, Ed could see distant red rooftops made of slate, shaped as arrowheads pointed to the sky.

  “Can we swim?” Alder suggested nervously. “I can use nimble feet to help us.”

  “Freezing water would kill us faster than their knives,” Ed said. Besides, knowing that the houses on the other side used the canal as sewage, he almost preferred to face their unknown assailants.

  “Never mind that,” Kes said. “The undercurrent is deadly. It has drowned men with higher ranks in Brawn than me.”

  They talked while walking along the canal, trying to reach a distant bridge that was well illuminated by lamplight and seemed wide enough to allow for carriage traffic—which meant the Watch may be around. But it was too far, and the four men were gaining on the group. One of them whistled a happy tune, which echoed eerily around the brick buildings.

  Ed saw from the corner of his eye how a nearby window hastily extinguished its candlelight as they passed it.

  “Should we run for it?” Alder asked. “Nimble feet, remember? That’s my entire arsenal, guys, please don’t let me get stabbed…”

  “No one’s going to stab you,” Ed told him. “But we can’t turn our backs on them. What if they have short bows? We’re well within range.”

  “How can you be thinking of bow ranges in the middle of this?” asked Alder. There was a twinge of desperation in his voice that worried Ed. How can you not? he thought.

  The whistling drew closer, and the tune more intense, and reminded Ed of the way horned spiders chattered excitedly before a fight.

  Kes pointed with her head toward a narrow causeway at a middle point between them and the bridge. “We face them there,” she said.

&nb
sp; “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Alder whispered. His face was pale and his lower lip trembled slightly. “It’s too narrow for the three of us to stand side-by-side, and any misstep will send us straight into the canal!”

  “Yes,” said Ed. “It’s perfect.” He now understood why Kes had brought them along the canal and not back toward the side-streets on their other side. The streets were unknown territory to both Kes and Alder, but Ed was willing to bet those men knew them well. “You can stand behind us and prod them with your cane, and they won’t be able to surround us in turn.” Alder was armed only with a long cane and a knife, because Kes had maintained during training that giving him a spear or a longsword would get him killed if he tried to use them during a fight.

  The problem with the causeway was that the rocks that formed it were slick with water, and a wrong step would spell disaster. Retreat wouldn’t be an option.

  They headed for it, and the men behind them hurried their pace. Kes looked back, narrowed her eyes to better see in the darkness, and sighed. “I can’t see their stats at this distance,” she said. “If anyone starts casting a spell, run them through. Don’t hesitate, or we’ll all die.”

  “Got it,” said Ed. He patted his short sword. The weapon’s weight, which had bothered him a few minutes ago, now was as comforting as a lover’s caress.

  Kes ran her hands through her jacket’s pocket. She undid a strap and revealed three small vials. She handed one each to Alder and Ed and kept one to herself. “Vitality potions,” she explained. “Courtesy of Andreena’s workshop, first batch she made. They should help us regain our strength for a few minutes.”

  Ed examined the vial. It was filled with a thick green liquid, similar to mucus. “You should drink mine too,” he told the mercenary. “The extra stamina will make more of a difference with you than with me.” It was a mere statement of fact.