Dungeon Lord: Abominable Creatures (The Wraith's Haunt Book 3)

by Hugo Huesca

  The battle was won with acceptable losses—for horned spider standards, that is. The forest was awash with bodies and the wounded, and it’d no doubt mean a feast for Hoia’s carrion beasts. A few fat black birds already circled the clearing, eagerly awaiting their time to feast.

  Ed shifted atop his mount and the sight left a sour taste in his mouth.

  He was irked that Laurel had made good on her promise and ended the battle so quickly. Experience points were becoming harder and harder to come by the more troops he gained to fight his battles for him.

  In any case, it was a resounding victory. The rebel Queens would join the Haunt under Laurel’s direction, and the constant fighting for power between the different clusters of Hoia would stop.

  Technically, by killing a few hundred spiders today, Ed and Laurel had saved thousands.

  Goosebumps traveled down his back. That kind of thinking scared him. He sounded like an Inquisitor.

  “Hoia is yours, Dungeon Lord.” Queen Laurel bent her front legs in an approximation of a curtsy. A few angry scratches were visible around her body and mandibles. The horned spiders had formed two lines, with Ed’s group on one side and Laurel, her princesses, and the captured rebel Queens at the other end. The surviving members of the rebel clusters had been encircled by the Haunt’s troops, who were ready to pounce at them at the first sign of treachery—not that there was much to worry about. With their Queens at Laurel’s mercy, and thus controlling access to the cluster’s entire ancient memories, which were passed generation to generation of Queens by consuming the flesh of the previous ruler. Without the memories, any princess that tried to rebuild the cluster would be forced to start from the very beginning, with no memory of their enemies or tactics.

  After he dismounted and handed the reins of Eyegouger to Kes, Ed studied the blank expressions of the prisoners. Their gazes were fixed on him as he strolled down the royal guard’s formation, knowing well that the fate of their Queens—along with their own lives—hinged on Ed’s will. And, judging from the resigned air with which the massed bodies held themselves, they had been surprisingly quick to accept their situation. It was clear that, somewhere in those ancient memories of theirs, they remembered having been “recruited” into a Dungeon Lord’s minionship before. They knew what would come next.

  Best to get it over with. Ed strolled alone among the ranks of immobile spiders. His footsteps made no sound as they struck the ground. His green cape swayed in the wind in perfect silence, which was its entire function—it was enchanted to support a sneak user by muting the clank of armor and footsteps.

  “So, he arrives for his victory stroll,” muttered Clovis, struggling to speak past a phlegmatic cough. Her black, beady eyes were fixated on Ed’s, unbridled hatred emanating from her expression. The Dungeon Lord found himself glad that the Queen was almost entirely covered in spiderweb restraints. “A human. How shameful. For one of our own to be defeated by a mere meat-bag—” she attempted a sideway glance at Laurel “—I expected… more.”

  Ed ignored the old spider, since there was no point in trading insults with a defeated foe. Instead, he regarded the three former rebels at the same time. “You know who I am, and why I’m here,” he told them. The air carried the smell of spilled spider guts. “Queen Laurel already made you the offer I’m extending now. You chose violence instead, and got it. There won’t be a third chance.”

  He held the gaze of the three defeated Queens, trying to guess what their decisions would be and hoping that they’d choose the path that would save their lives. Gloriosa seemed uncertain. Her pink eyes were riddled with exhaustion and fear. Cornelia was unsure and scared, judging by the tremor in her back legs. Clovis, on the other hand…

  “Curse you!” she bellowed, spitting bloody phlegm at his boots. “You overstep the boundaries of the Mantle, Dungeon Lord! It is one thing to bind my brood to a minionship pact with a stronger foe, yet entirely different to become the servant of one of my kind! I am a Queen, not a lowly spiderling!”

  Ed’s plan was to keep the different clusters of horned spiders in check by having the Queens would forge a pact of minionship with him, but as a condition of said pact, they’d become the direct underlings of Laurel. By doing this, he hoped to sidestep the brutal politics that spider-kind liked to play. Laurel wouldn’t be able to betray him without losing control of her entire power-base, and the other Queens wouldn’t dare break the pact for fear of having the entire combined might of the other clusters falling on them. In exchange, Laurel would make sure the others stopped devouring sapient creatures, a detail that the villages surrounding Hoia would certainly appreciate.

  It was a win-win scenario. Except, of course, for the conquered Queens.

  “If we were to renounce consuming sapient flesh,” said Gloriosa in a low voice, as close to pleading as her dignity would allow, “it would greatly diminish our sources of food. My brood could not support its current numbers, and we’d have to make due with fewer warriors and princesses. And without the extra nourishment, my spiders would become weaker, sluggish—dumber, perhaps. We’d become shadows of our former selves!”

  “As a member of a species whose flesh you like to consume, I can’t tell you how sorry I am to hear that,” Ed said dryly.

  “You’d weaken your minions over senseless sentimentality?” asked Cornelia. “What kind of Dungeon Lord are you?”

  “The kind that is about to run out of patience.”

  Gloriosa and Cornelia exchanged weary glances. “You’re leaving us with few options,” Gloriosa said. Ed repressed a smile. They’d fold. He could see it.

  “Cowards,” Clovis said. Perhaps she could see the same thing Ed did. “I am a Queen, you wet sack of meat! I shall die as one. I reject your pact.” Her mandibles clacked in what would’ve been a dangerous smile in a human. “Are you brave enough to do the honors, Dungeon Lord? Or shall you keep relying on your minions?”

  Ed raised an eyebrow at her. A nervous whispering spread among Laurel’s court. He could imagine his friends’ reactions at hearing Clovis’ challenge. It’s clearly a trap. She will try to kill me when I get close enough. It was suicide. Even if she succeeded, Ed’s minions would make short work of her—

  Except that, if he died, all his pacts would cease to exist. The three different clusters wouldn’t be bound to him anymore, nor to his laws. Worse, if Laurel wasn’t bound, would she respect Ed’s wishes and protect the lives of his friends? He somehow doubted it. Kes, Lavy, and Alder would suddenly be surrounded by hundreds of angry spiders in the middle of a brutal civil war.

  He had to give it to Queen Clovis, she was devious. She’d read his situation and identified one huge, glaring weakness in his command structure. One bite was all it would take for all he’d built to crumble to dust.

  Not that he’d be there to see it.

  “Lord Wraith.” Queen Laurel approached him. “Let me handle her.”

  So she’s aware of the risks, too.

  Ed considered his options. He may have lacked Laurel’s genetic memory, but his Mantle—the black organ that had replaced his heart when he’d become a Dungeon Lord—had its own kind of vestigial instinct regarding his position. He had some awareness of important and ancient traditions, such as allowing a defeated foe to give a last speech, or delivering an execution himself when the prisoner was of high-enough rank.

  Sure, he wasn’t bound to those traditions—he’d defied them before. But traditions were important for a reason. Often, they were guidelines and advice passed down from the old generation to the new. In this case, if he acted like a coward in front of his entire host of horned spiders it would erode their loyalty.

  He glanced at the sword he carried at his side. It was normal steel, non-magical, and definitely had not been designed to dispatch a creature the size of Clovis. When he’d killed Queen Amphiris—Laurel’s mother—he’d done so at great risk to himself. How long can I trust my luck before it fails?

  “My Lord…” Laurel began.

>   “Very well, Queen Clovis,” Ed said. “I’ll consider this your last request.” In a way, despite it all, he admired her courage. Had things gone differently, she’d have made a terrific addition to the Haunt.

  “Then come, little Lordling,” Clovis said, her voice eager and inviting, oozing black hunger.

  Laurel hissed. “It’s too dangerous,” she whispered, careful not to let her spiders hear. “Your weapon won’t kill her fast enough to stop her from having a go at you, webbed or not. Remember how long it took my mother to die?”

  Ed remembered. “Don’t worry,” he told her. “I won’t be using my sword.” As he stepped toward Clovis, he undid the straps of his left leather glove. Then he sidestepped around Clovis, searching for the right spot.

  “Won’t his Nefariousness face me as he delivers me into Eternal Night?” Clovis teased. “How disappointing.” Her body shifted around her bounds, as if she was trying to keep Ed in her line of sight, although he suspected that she was testing the amount of freedom the webbing afforded her.

  She’ll wait for the right moment, Ed thought. Even restrained, the Queen was lethal. She could trample him under her legs, crush him under her body, cut him in half with her mandibles, or spear him with her horn. She was a killing machine, a living weapon.

  Well, Ed had weapons of his own. He stood a stride away from the bound Queen and then removed his gauntlet.

  The whispering among the spiders grew in intensity. His left hand was a naked black bone surrounded by superficial glistening streaks that resembled cracks. The spot at his wrist where his skin and muscle connected with the necromantic appendage was an angry pink scar charred in several places. He usually kept the whole thing under wraps—it didn’t hurt, but the sight was unsettling. Even for him.

  Especially for him.

  “What are you doing back there, Dungeon Lord?” Clovis asked. From her position, she couldn’t see Ed, but it was clear that the reaction of the other spiders had upset her.

  Ed sighed, raising his skeletal hand up to his head and flexing its bones around. This will be faster than a sword, and painless, he told himself. Like she’s going to sleep.

  He clenched his jaw and walked forward, right next to Clovis’ bulk, and gently placed his skeletal hand over the third leg on that side.

  Several things happened at once. Raw, hot energy flowed into Ed’s body, as if his hand was a hose connected to a massive power generator. His Evil Eye activated by itself, green light bursting forth. Clovis’s Endurance—a massive eighteen—was reduced by a single rank. She roared in surprise and jerked forward, pushing the bindings to their limit. Despite her being almost covered in the stuff, Ed was thrown backward about a foot, and only remained upright by activating his improved reflexes talent and grabbing at the leg with all his strength.

  He watched in slow motion as Clovis bent her body toward him as far as she could. She broke a leg in the process, and the snap came to Ed’s enhanced perception as an explosion. Her mandibles opened and closed with blazing speed, her bared fangs dripping with poison. Almost lazily, Ed took a half-step back without letting go of her leg.

  The mandibles snapped shut around empty air in the spot where Ed’s right arm had been an instant before. He ended the effect of his improved reflexes and time regained its normal speed. From his new position, he was well out of her reach.

  “Treachery!” Clovis bellowed as Ed drained her Endurance of another rank. “Black magic! Abomination! Daughters, save me!”

  “Oh, cousin,” Laurel said, bobbing her head. “Black magic? He’s a Dungeon Lord. What else did you expect?”

  Behind Laurel, the defeated spiders watched in dead silence. Nobody stepped forward to save Queen Clovis, which matched what Ed knew of horned spiders. They hoped that Ed would allow one of the princesses access to Clovis’ body in exchange for minionship, thus ensuring the lineage would not go extinct.

  Raw energy kept flowing into Ed’s body, and every ten seconds Clovis’ Endurance was reduced by another rank. She struggled the entire time, but never managed another strike as threatening as the first. And with each rank shaved off her massive Endurance, she grew weaker.

  All the minor aches from Ed’s body went away, as if he’d just woken up. That was the problem with black magic. It felt good—almost overwhelmingly so. He was bristling with energy, trembling head and toe, all the muscles in his body twitching as if they were trying to burst free and run a marathon by themselves.

  He activated his improved reflexes in rapid bursts, along with his ancient lord aura. He used both to do absolutely nothing—simply trying to burn the excess heat flowing into his body.

  Even his brain was racing. He knew talents in the world of Ivalis ran using the body’s natural fuel. Activating talents forced the body to emit waste heat.

  Technically, he was spending as much energy as he siphoned in. He should have been able to do it all day, or as long as Clovis lasted. In reality, the experience was akin to trying to sprint at maximum speed through a marathon while hooked up to a drip of coffee spiked in adrenaline, and he suspected that if a team of medics from Earth could’ve looked at what was going on inside his body, they would’ve run away screaming.

  In the end, he had to take two brief rests to stop himself from overheating before Clovis’ Endurance dropped to zero. Her struggles, though, ceased earlier. Ed only realized she was dead because the stream of incoming energy ceased. The faucet had run dry.

  He let his hand drop to his side. A shimmering patina had appeared over the black bones, like transparent skin with the texture of a bubble’s surface. Immediately, Ed’s body began a quick return to normal—the stolen energy dissipating in the air around him in streaks of vapor-like currents. His clothes were swamped with sweat.

  Next to him, Clovis lay unmoving, a Spider Queen killed by a Dungeon Lord’s touch. Nobody else in the entire clearing uttered a single word until Ed straightened his back and headed for the other two remaining rebel Queens.

  “So,” Ed said, extending his black hand toward them. “What’s it going to be?”

  Gloriosa and Cornelia joined the Haunt with no further complaints.

  Ed’s duties on the battlefield promptly ended after that. The spider lines dispersed, and they swiftly assigned the haul of prisoners to medical duty, trudging through the fields to find any spider whose wounds weren’t fatal or incapacitating. Clovis’ cluster set itself on sorting out the line of succession, which meant a death-match among the princesses and the troops loyal to them. The other clusters left them to it.

  Kes and the others waited for him at the top of the hill. He waved at them and headed their way, eager to return to his dungeon. Blue ichor soaked his boots, his throat was dry, and there was a slight tremor in his hands that had nothing to do with exhaustion. He was prey of a strange, almost electrical mood. Every detail of the world around him came to him in perfect, inhuman precision. Even the faintest noise was enough to startle him. A small part of him wished there were some rebel spiders left for him to fight.

  He shook his head. Laurel was nearby, ordering around a group of princesses from the conquered clusters. On a whim, Ed approached her.

  “Lord Wraith,” she greeted him. “What a spectacle you made of Clovis’ execution. I’d heard the rumors about your condition, but I wasn’t sure what to make of them.” The group of princesses took a glance at him and hurried away, suddenly eager to accomplish whatever Laurel had ordered them.

  “I’m not sure what to make of it, myself,” Ed admitted.

  “It’s the proper way to deal with our enemies,” she said. “In war, all advantages must be exploited.”

  Ed clasped the gauntlet of his left hand with his right. “If you say so.” He studied the battlefield. The spiders on medical duty also executed any combatant, friend or foe, who was too far gone to recover. If their condition was uncertain, they were left on the battlefield. It was brutal. Inhumane. But these creatures weren’t human. Did that make what had happened here accep
table? Perhaps. Death and brutality were the ways of the spiders. But… wouldn’t that make him more akin to a horned spider than a human being?

  Not that he was so sure of what qualified as “human,” these days. Or if he still counted as one. His heart and his hand certainly weren’t, anymore. Who knows what else might change in the days to come?

  “I wanted to thank you,” Laurel said. “You fulfilled your promise. The power of my cluster extends far beyond what we could’ve achieved by natural means. My memories will become a very interesting addition for my successor.”

  Ed wondered what a successor of his would think, were they able to trudge among his memories. Hell, what would anyone think? If Lisa or Mark could see him now, would they recognize the same man who’d worked with them in the Lasershark store? He didn’t feel like he’d changed all that much. But here was a field littered with creatures who had died by his command. Wasn’t that the power he’d so hungrily desired when Kharon had approached him the day it had all started? He swallowed with difficulty, realizing his throat had gone dry. There was an unnamed dread coiling in his chest, like a slumbering snake beginning to stir.

  “I suspect we’re not done adding memories for your successor, Empress Laurel,” was all he could tell the spider.

  Laurel beamed at that, giving her own meaning to his words. “Indeed,” she said. “Oh, indeed.”

  2

  Chapter Two

  Once an Inquisitor

  The green shine of the Dungeon Lord’s eyes died slowly. He lay under a pool of his own blood, surrounded by the broken corpses of his minions, his back against his Seat, the stone surface of which had fractured under the might of the Heroes’ offensive spells. The man that had so proudly stood against the magical onslaught was now but a human-shaped lump, nothing remaining of the dignity with which he had conducted himself until his messy end. Around the Seat, his dungeon walls and ceilings had melted somewhat. A few hours more and the entire construction would disappear altogether.