by Hugo Huesca
Klek and Tulip led their Spider Riders, with the batblins doing their best not to look terrified and failing spectacularly. Their spiders tried to keep them in line, with varying degrees of success.
Kes’ group of trained guards were there too. Technically, they weren’t supposed to leave the dungeon, but she wanted for them to gain experience—the normal kind—and perhaps build up their confidence. The group had trained for a few months now, and looked slightly better than they had when they’d first volunteered, although Ed hoped they wouldn’t have to test their skills in a fight.
Finally, six horned spider warriors which had been loaned to Ed from the cluster empire’s royal guards rounded up the detachment.
With Lavy and Jarlen as damage dealers and Alder buffing everyone’s stats, the group wasn’t shoddy at all. A veteran Dungeon Lord with thousands of experience points would still steam-roll them, but it was impossible to prepare for every danger. At some point, Ed had to cross his fingers and hope for the best.
The ingots slowly grew in several piles in front of the chamber’s walls. Three out of four ingots were cold iron, the rest silver. Cold iron, according to Jarlen, was a metal that was naturally found in the Netherworld and was crafted in Ivalis by infusing normal iron with a mineral found in soil poisoned by Netherworldly crops. This mineral was wet and oily and, when distilled, looked like something taken out of the lung of a horned spider. It smelled like that, too. Ed’s best guess was that it was a concentrated residue of the dark emanations.
Heorghe had needed several attempts at getting the proportions of mineral and iron just right, but once he’d gotten the hang of it, he insisted it was relatively simple to make. Beside using it to build Portals, cold iron was needed in item enchanting and ring-making. Cold iron was cheaper and faster than following the Heiligian way—which involved lots of silver and gold—but the items crafted with it were vulnerable to Holy magic.
After the cold iron and the silver, the drones brought a small coffer with rough rubies from the treasury. Rubies were extremely illegal in all Heiligian-controlled territories, with squads of Treasury Diviners constantly tracking any smuggling attempt. This strained the crown’s coffers, but it was a necessary expense to stop Dungeon Lords from creating a vast networks of Portals that would make them almost impossible to catch.
So, with no rubies in Undercity’s black markets, the Haunt had had to rely on the drones’ natural instinct of finding mineral veins to slowly build up its supply. The problem was, even with the drones’ magical senses, Starevos simply lacked a high enough concentration of rubies for Ed to make many Portals.
Right now, he could afford this one and, with luck, a second one in a few weeks.
According to Jarlen, Lotia was the happy owner of the two of the three main ruby mines in Ivalis. Lotia traded part of these rubies to the Netherworld in exchange for gold and favors. In the Netherworld, the rubies were hoarded by the Regents and used as payment to their favored Dungeon Lords. These Lotian rubies were, of course, enchanted against Heiligian scrying the same way Vyfaras were.
The gemstone trading was only a part of the complex, interlocked economy that pulled the Netherworld and Lotia into a sort of mutually beneficial relationship. Jarlen’s unvoiced implication had been that Ed himself ought to benefit from it, with the help of a suitable sponsor.
Ed grabbed one ruby from his hard-earned pile of gems and studied it, shifting it so it caught the light of the torches from several angles. It seems that quite a few people have been trying to nudge me toward the Netherworld Regents lately. Kharon, Korghiran, even Jarlen. In his experience, there were no such thing as coincidences when dealing with the Dark’s machinations. If everyone insisted on him finding a Dark sponsor, it was because Murmur, directly or indirectly and for unknown reasons, wanted him to do it.
He hid the ruby in a fist and sighed. His first reaction would’ve been to flatly refuse to go, like a child rebelling against a parent just for disobedience’s sake. The problem was, it was more complicated than that. If he never stepped into the Netherworld, he’d stunt his growth as a Dungeon Lord. He’d never gain access to most spells, specialist minions, room layouts, traps, enchanted items, and so on. He’d be easy prey to the Inquisition and Heroes, and it’d be flat-out idiotic to have a go at them without help.
The help, though, would come from pretty unsavory characters. If the Regents and Kharon were related, Ed doubted they were nice people at all. And the Lotian Dungeon Lords weren’t exactly care-bears. Slavery, human sacrifices, murder, and debauchery were the favorite hobbies of the other Dungeon Lords. Lavy had told him that not every single one of the Lotians were assholes, but those that weren’t didn’t have many friends, weren’t as strong, and had fairly low life expectancies.
In an ideal world, Ed would be able to find those Dungeon Lords and build his own faction. The plan was to test the waters first, before making a ruckus that would direct the Lotians’ attention to himself.
Having his mind set on his objectives and the reasons he was pursuing them was his best shot at avoiding Murmur’s manipulation. And Ed knew exactly what he wanted. He wanted to find out who had created the Heroes—that man he’d seen along with Gallio and himself in the Shadow Tarot—and Ed wanted to explain his side of the story to him.
It was clear now that the Heroes had been created by someone summoned from Earth. Someone who knew his computers, and who had used the Inquisition’s resources to design the Heroes. He’d tested them against the Lotian Dungeon Lords over and over, improved them, ironed out their flaws, and then streamlined them.
For some reason, he’d also decided that it was best to leave their control to gamers from Earth instead of training the Inquisitors in their use. Ed could make a few guesses as to why—if it was hard for some middle-aged people to use a computer, what those people from a magical realm who had never even seen a keyboard in their lives?
Knowing this gave him hope. Someone from Earth—a programmer like him—would be willing to hear him out, because he would lack the years of indoctrination that the Militant Church instilled upon its Inquisitors. And if Ed and him were to join forces… the result could be amazing. Dungeon Lord magic improving the Heroes would, without a doubt, shake Ivalis’ power balance to its core. Ed had a chance to change the world for the better, and he wasn’t the kind of person to sit on his ass and let the opportunity slip away.
For better or for worse.
He only needed to find that person from Earth and let him know Ed existed. And what better way to start than by making a bit of noise?
He tossed the ruby into the pile. “Okay, everyone, step back,” he said as he cleared his mind of worries. “Materials can go flying around during room transmutation, so be careful. I don’t want any to get wounded before we enter the Portal.”
After the last batblin was at a safe distance, Ed activated his Evil Eye and found the nearest ley line—a faint undercurrent of raw magical power flowing through the earth like blood through veins. He then summoned a list of his available room designs, which appeared in the same bright green lettering as his character sheet. He navigated through it: Barracks, Hell Chicken Farms (Black and Gray), Scrambling Towers, walls, traps, Quarters, Storages, Vampire Den, Crypts, Prison, Torture Chamber (this one was unused), Training Hall, Libraries, Kaftar Dens, Batblin Quarters, and Kitchens.
Once he’d found the Portal design, he super-imposed it on the empty chamber and focused his will to imprint the design on the stone. At once, his drones set to work. They chirped with excitement and began their eerie dances across the room. Through his improved Evil Eye, Ed could follow the transmutation with a degree of detail he hadn’t been able to before.
The ley line flared as if reacting to the drones’ dance. Slowly, a small fork in the river of energy extended toward the chamber and connected itself to it. At once, an almost invisible flood of raw power poured with high speed into the room—something that Ed hadn’t seen before. The intensity took him by surprise
and he took a step back, which earned him a couple confused stares from his minions. It appeared he was the only one seeing it.
The magical energy prickled his skin and made his tongue tingle, but it didn’t seem to be harmful. The drones’ dance grew in intensity and the current took the shape of a spiral in the middle of the room, like an invisible tornado. The energy condensed at the drones’ command, and tendrils became tongues of black smoke that reached for the materials strewn across the room like eager fingers. The mist resembled the emanations from the Netherworldly plants. It carried metal, wood, and gemstones around the room like they weighed nothing, and poured itself into them.
The materials began to change. They melted together, glowing bright with eldritch energy, changing shape and size before being propelled into place by the mist.
Chandeliers sprouted from the floor like plant stalls, already complete with burning candles. The floor by the center shook and trembled, and a raised circular dais grew from three steps. Liquid metal poured itself in an arc at the center of the dais, slowly casting itself into the shape of a circle’s perimeter, big enough to reach the ceiling and with a metal base to steady it. Steel cables extended from the walls and connected themselves to the Portal, as runes etched themselves on its surface, forming a complex web. Ed raised an eyebrow. There was something familiar about the shape of the Portal, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it yet. A dozen rubies etched themselves onto the Portal, and the mist seemed to be finished with it. A metal control panel sprouted a few feet past the dais. A carpet unfurled out of thin air and violently covered the floor, only barely giving everyone time to step over it. Finally, the mist disappeared as the drones’ dance reached its end. The ley line and its smaller fork flared one last time, and then returned to normal—although Ed was sure there was a tiny reduction in its size and flow, which was now being used to power the room.
Once their job was done, the drones began adding details and decorations to the room, half of them by transmuting left-over materials directly, and the rest by running out of the chamber, only to return eerily fast carrying objects from storage, like tapestries and small busts. Ed noted that a couple of the busts and the statues hadn’t been made by drones, but by the Haunted citizens.
The drones would work for days on end, getting the feel of the Portal room just right. It was the first impression any newcomer would get of the dungeon, and it was important for it to be just right. Friendlies should feel awed and impressed, and rivals should be properly intimidated.
As the drones fitted a couple black-flame braziers on the hands of six stone knights set on the sides of the carpet that extended from the Portal to the entrance, Ed realized why the Portal’s concentric rings looked familiar.
“Does every Portal look like that?” he asked aloud.
“I don’t think so,” Lavy said. “Kael’s was carved with the Arpadel coat-of-arms, and Heines’ was like a wolf’s open mouth.”
“The Head Researcher is correct, Lord Wraith,” Jarlen said graciously. “Why do you ask?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Ed said with a dismissive wave. If the dungeon designs were influenced by the Dungeon Lord’s mind, it was no wonder that Ed’s Portal resembled a damned Stargate.
Even the control panel was familiar, although the runes were Ivalian. Jarlen strolled behind it, then inspected it until she was confident enough to try a couple shifts on its command wheel. “I know the location of three territories, Lord Wraith—Xovia, Raaga, and Bregor. They were Dungeon Lord Jiraz' favored hunting grounds. Raaga is too dangerous for your current power. On the other hand, Bregor would be a waste of your time, since it’s mostly visited by beginning Dungeon Lords who wish to gather oozes and dagger wasps. Xovia is a nice middle-ground. There’s a hub of trade at its core, surrounded by wildlands filled with useful monsters to populate a dungeon. I humbly suggest we head there first.”
Ed looked at Kes. “What do you think?”
“It sounds reasonable,” Kes said. “Except the wildland part. I’d like to stay away from those, if we can help it.”
“Xovia it is,” Ed said.
“As you wish,” the vampire said.
She input a series of commands on the wheel, then pushed it down firmly. The air around the Portal flowed with magical energy. Instinctively, Ed and the others took a step back as the rings of the Portal shifted and the rubies glowed a bright crimson. A distant hum vibrated through the chamber, filling everyone’s ears, as reality inside the Portal’s rings was torn open with a red flash.
Behind Ed, one of the kaftar barked an impressed laugh. Instead of the stone wall, the space was now replaced by a slab floor strewn with rubble and grime, a cracked wall with burnt-out torches, and the howl of the wind through a distant passageway. The air was tinted crimson, and carried the smell of sulfur.
Ed checked his weapons and pushed his cape back, making sure he had easy access to his sword’s handle in case something awful was waiting at the other end of the Portal.
“We’ll go first,” Klek announced suddenly. Next to him, Tulip gave him a worried snap of her mandibles, and the Spider Riders shifted nervously in their saddles.
“Thank you, Klek, but I think the honor should be mine this time,” Ed said, grinning with a confidence he didn’t feel. “I can’t let you hoard all the experience points, now, can I?”
Although the rational course of action would’ve been to send the kaftar or the spider guard first, Ed knew how important it was that his minions—his people—knew he was willing to take the same risks they’d face. But, even beyond that, on a visceral level, he simply wasn’t willing to let Klek risk his life for him in such a way. Rational or not, when faced with the dark unknown, Ed needed to be the one leading the charge.
“Be careful,” Kes said. “We’ll be right behind you.” She patted him on the shoulder as if she could read his thoughts.
Jarlen groaned. “There’s no need to be so… melodramatic, my Lord. This watchtower was built by Jiraz’ grandfather and should still be protected from incursions by Jiraz’ mercenaries for a month or two per their contract. I know these men, and I’ll convince them to let us through without issue. We’ll be perfectly safe, I assure you.”
There was a poignant silence after that, only broken by the dull thud of Alder smacking his forehead with his palm.
“Right,” Ed said. He quietly drew his sword and made sure his helmet was properly fitted.
He strolled into the unknown, the weight of his armor feeling like a comfortable promise of protection against any danger. As his foot crossed the Portal, he couldn’t help but remember that first Portal he’d stepped through, a long time ago, when Kharon had sent him into a dilapidated cave in time to save a Witch and a Bard from a rabble of angry batblins. Thinking of the Boatman reminded him how there were dangers in Ivalis against which no enchanted armor could stand. As he crossed the boundary of the Netherworld, he felt as vulnerable as he’d been on that first day in a strange new world.
His intuition turned out to be right. Not five seconds after stepping into Jiraz’ watchtower, Ed was already covered in blood.
19
Chapter Nineteen
Riding the Cinderpede
It happened in the silence between heartbeats. Ed saw a rush of movement bouldering toward him, a heavy club hefted above a scaly gray head, and his body reacted before his mind could. He lifted his longsword, both hands above his left shoulder and the steel tip aimed chest-high, as he took a heavy step forward and readied his knees.
The impact surprised him as much as it did the creature. He felt resistance as his steel encountered flesh, and then there was wet, sickening pressure as the sword bit past skin and muscle. Ed found himself face to face with a very confused, bald humanoid creature, with a head like a huge battered potato—only uglier. It had flat, rotten teeth and tiny eyes almost hidden by an overgrown forehead.
Ogre, Ed’s brain helpfully provided instead of something less useful, like a battle-plan.
Both ogre and Dungeon Lord examined the foot of steel protruding from the ogre’s belly. Ed had aimed as high as his own chest, which meant—
With a furious, pained grunt, the ogre rose to his full height—two heads taller than Ed—with foam bubbling from his over-sized mouth. With one burly hand, the creature raised his club again, and with the other he reached for Ed’s sword.
The Dungeon Lord reacted, once again, with training honed into instinct through sheer repetition. He pulled back with all his strength, ripping his blade out of the body with a burst of blood and steaming meat, then used the motion to power a downward slash that stamped a terrible wound into the ogre’s shoulder, right next to its neck. A fountain of blood sprayed upward, then the ogre’s club thundered against Ed’s side and crashed him into the ground like a rag-doll.
There was a flash of light. Ed sprang to his feet, still holding his sword. That hit just broke all your ribs, he told himself. Probably also collapsed a lung. He wondered if Andreena’s herbs could heal one of those.
He took a deep breath and regained his stance. Strangely enough, he could breathe just fine. More than that, unless the adrenaline was masking his wounds, he was barely bruised at all.
Right. Magic armor. It seemed like the pledge of armor talent was worth its weight in gold.
The ogre wasn’t faring as well. He was holding his innards in with one hand, and his other arm was slick with blood pouring from the wound on his shoulder.
Since nothing was charging at him at the moment, Ed took a chance to gaze at the chamber he was within. He saw an uneven, obsidian-like floor with stalagmites growing several feet upward. Five more ogres were frozen in surprise around a shoddy camp built out of rocks and twigs, with their even shoddier weapons laying next to them. All wore dirty loincloths, but the females had tits like huge, hairy tents of skin flapping down to their bellies, which Ed was sure was a sight that would come back to haunt him as soon as he tried to sleep.
