Tired of Death - Dungeon

by Neil Hartley

  “Oh, lots of things! Where do you want to go?”

  Dreth considered. “We don’t have much time. No doubt our… friends will be hot on our trail.”

  “Well, there are many facilities for sure,” said Gerald. “We have an alchemist, a necromancer, some shops, all sorts of things. And the port too.”

  “I need to find a leg!” complained Percy, looking up from the sack.

  Dreth turned to Sprat. “Sprog, you stay and look after the wizard and the baby. The rest of you, we’re going into town.”

  “Yes!” exclaimed Percy, hopping up and down excitedly.

  “But Uncle Dref, me wants to go with you,” the little zombie moaned.

  “Once the wizard wakes up, you can follow us,” said Dreth. “Goblin, which way are the facilities?”

  “Oh you can’t miss the main area,” said Gerald leading them outside again and pointing. “Just go that way for about five minutes. You’ll find a path. Turn left and follow it.”

  Dreth nodded. “Let’s go then.”

  With Cuthbert helping Percy, and M walking beside him, they strode off into the woods.

  ~ * ~

  “That must be it,” said M, pointing at a low wall.

  They were on the path, which wound around through the trees. Ahead was what appeared to be a settlement of sorts, surrounded by a wooden barricade. The trail led to a set of double doors.

  As the group approached a goblin stepped out in front of them. It was wearing a battered helmet and holding a short spear. “Halt! Who goes there?”

  “We do,” replied Cuthbert.

  “Undead! We don’t want your type in here,” snarled the guard.

  Dreth stepped up. “What are you implying?” he said.

  “We have our standards! No unauthorized zombies.”

  Dreth drew Darkblood, and moved it towards the small figure. “How’s this for authorization?”

  The goblin went cross-eyed looking at the point of the blade. “If you kill me, there are many others to take my place,” he said.

  “Good, they won’t miss you then, will they?”

  There was a blur, a brief slicing noise and a thud. The head of the goblin came to rest at the base of a tree trunk, some distance away from the rest of its body. Dreth sheathed his sword and pushed at the door. “I think my pass was accepted,” he said, and stepped through.

  He found himself in a small and bustling village street. Shops and two storey houses built of white stone lined the cobbled road. It all looked very normal, if you overlooked the inhabitants.

  Most were goblins, but trolls, orcs, the occasional ogre and all manner of other denizens wandered around. Dreth thought he saw a demon striding along even. They wandered down the road, heads swiveling from side to side like tourists coming to a big city, until they came to a small square. In the middle was a statue of a dragon eating a fighter of some description.

  Dreth turned the others. “Right then, I suggest we split up. Cuthbert, help Percy find a new leg. M, I think you should try and locate some sort of oracle, or library, see if you can’t get some information about yourself.”

  “What about you?” asked M.

  “I’m going to wander around. Do you have any gold?”

  M shook her head, so Dreth dug into his pouch and passed over some treasure. “There, that should keep you going for a while. Meet back here in one hour. And… be careful!”

  “Yes dad,” said Cuthbert.

  Dreth watched the others go, and then walked a little way along the street until he found what he was looking for. A restaurant. ‘The Adventurers’ Gizzard’ the sign proclaimed.

  He opened the door and strode in. Inside was not overly large, with room for about a dozen tables. Several goblin waiters moved around, serving the denizens seated there.

  “Table for one,” he said to an Orc standing nearby, and was led to a seat near the window.

  “Someone will be with you in a moment,” the Maitre De said, handing him a menu.

  Dreth nodded and sat down, gazing out of the window which overlooked the statue in the square. He spent several minutes watching the various passers by, enjoying the peace and quiet before he was approached by a scrawny goblin.

  The waiter was dressed in a white jacket with blood stains, old and new, liberally splattered all down the front. “Hello Sir, Madam or Being. My name is Nigel, I will be your server for today. How may I serve you?” He whipped out a notepad and waited.

  Dreth glanced at the menu briefly. “What do you have?” he asked, deciding he couldn’t be bothered to read it. “Something decent though, I don’t want your goblin muck.”

  “You’re in luck sir,” the waiter said, ignoring the remark disparaging his species. “We have some fresh human virgin, just in, served with Belladonna salad and the dip of the day.”

  “Oh yes? And where have you managed to find fresh virgin around here may I ask?”

  “Sacrifice off-cast sir, from the big nobs in the castle.”

  “I see.” Dreth rubbed his chin. “Very well then. I’ll have a portion of thigh.”

  “And how would you like your thigh sir?”

  “You cook it? Oh. Well.” Dreth considered this unexpected turn of events for a moment. “Medium rare then.”

  “Very well sir. Drink?”

  Dreth expelled air noisily and glanced at the list in the menu. “A Screaming Organ sounds interesting.”

  “Excellent choice.” The goblin made a final note on his pad and waddled off to spit in the meal.

  A surprisingly short time later he returned with a large glass. It was filled to the brim with a red liquid. “Your Screaming Organ sir,” he announced, and scampered away to deal with another customer.

  Dreth examined the beverage. There was an eyeball and a piece of pineapple stuck on to a cocktail stick. Some kind of brown substance was smeared around the rim of the glass, though it could have been they just hadn’t cleaned it in a while. A portion of finger bobbed in the middle.

  Hardly an ‘organ’ he mumbled to himself, but took a sip anyway. It tasted pretty much like it looked. Dreth put it down for a moment and considered the flavor. After a minute he decided it wasn’t bad, and had another taste.

  He was just finishing it when the goblin returned, staggering under a large covered platter, which he placed in the middle of the table. Taking a moment to straighten himself out, he removed the top with a flourish.

  “Viola! Your thigh sir.”

  “I believe you mean, voila!” said Dreth, examining the dish. “A viola is a type of musical instrument, or possibly a kind of flower. Still, the thought is what counts.” He waved at his now empty glass. “I almost enjoyed that. Another is in order I think.” He glanced at the menu again. “Let’s try a ‘Slaughter on the Beach’ this time.”

  “Very good sir,” said the goblin. He took the glass with him and withdrew to the kitchen, leaving his customer pondering the meal.

  Dreth poked at the food. It seemed to be authentic thigh, and though he couldn’t actually tell if it was from a virgin or not, it looked female human. The meat was surrounded by some kind of plant leaves, which Dreth thought rather distasteful, though there was a side-dish of blood-sauce and sliced heart pieces.

  He tucked in, pausing only to sip at the new drink which was delivered a few minutes later by the goblin.

  “And how is your meal sir?” The waiter asked.

  “Exffllmmt!” Mumbled Dreth, his mouth full of allegedly virgin thigh.

  The server nodded, pleased, and left him to eat.

  ~ * ~

  “Here we are,” Percy said. “A necromancer.”

  “That’s not a necromancer!” said Cuthbert.

  “Ok Mr. I’m-so-clever-I-can-read. What’s it then?”

  “It’s a blacksmith. It says so up there. S-M-Y-T-H-E.” He read the letters out one at a time.


  “Smyth!” Percy hit is forehead with the heel of his hand. “That’s the name of the fellow. Come on.”

  “I don’t think it is,” Cuthbert began, but the other zombie was already hopping in to the store. He followed, to find himself in a hot workshop. A stout figure of a dwarf was hammering something on an anvil. “See? Smith. Horseshoes, armor and all that. Come on.”

  “Wait a minute,” said his friend. “Hey, shorty! A little service here?” Percy raised an arm and jumped forwards.

  The dwarf stopped and eyed the undead warily. “What ya want zombie?”

  “What’s your name?” Asked Percy.

  “Smythe. What’s it to ya?”

  Percy shot Cuthbert a look of triumph before addressing the store owner. “Master Necromancer, I’ve a task for you…”

  Cuthbert rolled his eyes and leaned against the wall as Percy explained his need.

  ~ * ~

  Dreth sighed contentedly, picking at his teeth. The meal was now no more than a bone on a plate. Various empty glasses testified to several more cocktail experiments, and he was feeling good about the whole expedition for the first time. Waving over at the goblin, he scanned the drinks menu for one he hadn’t tried yet.

  “I trust sir enjoyed the meal?”

  “Very good. Besht thigh I’ve had in centuries. Now then, I don’t beleef…sorry, believe I haff… have tried a Dragon Sour yet.”

  “I will bring one immediately sir.”

  “Make it a double.”

  “Of course sir.” The waiter scribbled the latest order on the tab.

  Dreth leaned back and rested his hands across his stomach. He felt a bump in his robe, and wondered what it was. Fishing around he drew out the black ‘marble’ that the little zombie had found in the Runebox. He smiled for a moment, remembering the Orc king’s last moments, skewered on the end of his sword. Good times, good times.

  He patted the blade. “You know shword, you’re a good weapon. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “You’re drunk!” replied Darkblood, slightly muffled in his sheath.

  “Nonono! Really, the besht sword I ever, ever had.”

  “Drunk!”

  “I’m sorry sir, did you say something?”

  Dreth looked up to see the goblin place a large glass in front of him. “Wha? No. Never mind.” He smiled and lifted the blue colored drink to his mouth, taking a large swig. “Good shtuff. Good good. Meybe a bit shour, I mean sour.”

  The waiter looked at him for a second, but then turned and wandered off to serve another client.

  Putting the glass down a moment, Dreth once more examined the black marble, rolling it between his fingers.

  “Exusssse me.” A dry voice hissed at him from nearby.

  He looked around. A figure in a hooded robe was sat at the next table. The dark of the cowl hid any facial features, but two white points of light served as eyes. “Do I know you?” asked Dreth.

  “My apologiesss for interrupting your meal. I am Lord Bone, necromancer. Guardian.”

  “Good ta meet you,” replied Dreth jovially, raising his glass and taking another drink. “I recommend the cocktailsh here, they’re really very good.”

  “Yesss, ssso I sssseeee. However, I wasss wondering if your gem issss for ssssale. Sssssuch an item would be ussseful to me.”

  Dreth glanced at his marble. “You mean thish?”

  “Indeed.”

  “You know what it ish then?”

  “But of courssse.”

  Dreth leaned forward, a little unsteadily, and smiled. “How about I buy you a drink and we have a little chat?”

  ~ * ~

  M wandered down the street, stepping to one side to avoid being run down by some sort of large four legged beast with three heads. As she did so she noticed a sign over a small store. “A seer?” She muttered to herself. “Well, why not?”

  Thus decided, she stepped forward and entered the shop.

  It was dark inside, and smelled of strange and unpleasant herbs. The room was plain, furnished only with a small table in the middle. Two chairs, one at either side, were pulled up against it. The far wall boasted a curtain, currently drawn.

  “Hello? Anyone here?” M asked.

  “Just a minute, be right there.” A high pitched woman’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Take a seat.”

  M briefly wondered where she would take a seat to, before realizing she was supposed to sit. She shrugged and sat down on the nearest chair just as the curtain twitched to one side.

  A figure walked in. She was seemingly human, still fairly young, dressed in a long pale dress which covered her figure. Her head was devoid of hair, and eyes were covered with a black cloth. In one hand she held a long white staff.

  “Sit child,” she said.

  “I am.”

  “Oh. Yes, so you are.” The seer stumbled into the chair opposite, bumping her shin in the process, which produced several interesting curses. Eventually, with much groping around, she managed to sit down.

  M watched impartially.

  “Now child, what can I do for you?”

  “Firstly, stop calling me child. I doubt you’re any older than I am.”

  The seer’s shoulders’ slumped. “I’m sorry. It’s just everyone expects an old seer. Why is that? I thought if I just called everyone ‘child’ it might set the mood a bit.”

  “Oh. Well.” M blinked in frustration. “Look, I’m here because I don’t know anything about myself. Can you help me?”

  The seer nodded and produced a pack of cards from somewhere. She placed them on the table face down, spreading them out. “Turn one over.”

  M did so.

  “Death!” exclaimed the seer dramatically.

  “No it isn’t.”

  “It isn’t? Are you sure?”

  “I’m sure. It’s some kind of…” M leaned over and tried to make out the picture. “Some kind of devil I think.”

  “A devil? Are you certain it isn’t death?”

  “Positive.”

  ”But it’s always death!”

  “Nope, sorry.”

  The seer scowled and bent over the cards, fiddling with her blindfold as she did so.

  “Hey!” exclaimed M. “Are you peeking? You’re not blind!”

  “What? Of course I am. Blind as a bat. Totally without vision. Sightless oh yes.”

  “No you’re not! I can see you peeking!”

  “Oh fiddlesticks.” The seer pulled at her covering, revealing a perfectly good pair of eyes beneath. “Sorry about that. It’s just if the seer isn’t old, then apparently they must be blind. It’s an image thing you know?”

  M pulled a face. “Are you a real seer or not? I just want a reading, or whatever you do.”

  “Of course I’m real! Gifted with the Sight from birth.” She looked at the card M had turned over. “Well well, it is a devil. How odd.”

  “Why should that be odd?”

  The seer didn’t answer, but flipped over a card. It was death. She flipped over another. Death. Another and another. All death.

  “Oh, I see,” said M.

  “Give me your hand,” said the seer. “Enough of the show stuff.”

  M complied, and the mystic closed her eyes as she held it in her own. For a minute there was silence.

  M was just about to say something when the woman spoke.

  “I see something. It’s shrouded in mist, as if far back in time. I see a village. A young girl running. It’s you. You’re a child, perhaps nine or ten. Your mother is calling you. M?” The seer frowned. “Em? Emerald! Your name is Emerald.”

  “Oh. M. Of course.”

  “Wait! There’s more!”

  The room dimmed suddenly, and a cold wind seemed to sweep through it, chilling the occupants.

  “A figure. A dark figure. Powerful. Dangerous. It… It’s taking you
. Your mother… your mother is trying to stop it. It…It… Oh!” The seer gasped, and her eyes flew open.

  M looked into them, and saw an image. A young woman, weeping, pleading before a shadowy outline. A child crying. Movement. A bright red splash of blood. The screams of the child, louder now, and a laugh. A laugh of pure evil.

  “It killed your mother. Took you.” The image changed. Fogged. For a moment there was nothing, then the fog turned red and the seer screamed, pulling backwards, away from M, falling to the floor.

  Emerald stood in alarm, running around the table. The seer looked at her, blood running from her eyes. “Leave here! Never return! Your future is pre-ordained! Leave here now. GO!”

  Emerald stumbled back, turned, ran out of the door into the street. She moved quickly away from the seer’s shop, before leaning against a wall, panting hard. What was that about?

  She looked up just as a large figure turned a corner in front of her. “Oh shit!”

  “Gut see you!” the voice boomed. The giant started to run towards her, scattering a group of goblins in the process.

  “Bugger!” Emerald ran.

  ~ * ~

  Dreth emerged into the air and inhaled deeply. He was feeling quite content with the world. The feeling lasted for nearly thirty seconds. Looking up the street he saw a large and unmistakable figure, red eyes piercing the crowds as it scanned them.

  “Oh Dreg!” hr exclaimed, stepping back against the wall. He waited until the golem was looking the other way, and then staggered quickly down the street, wishing he hadn’t had so many drinks. He bumped into Cuthbert and Percy on the corner of the village square.

  “The other way, quick!” he hissed. Then did a double take. “What’sh that??”

  “Good isn’t it?” said Percy, proudly extending his new leg. It whirred and ticked, glinting in the dim light. “Hey! Have you been drinking?”

  “It’sh metal!” exclaimed Dreth, trying to focus and ignoring the comment.

  “Clockwork,” said the zombie. “Two days on one wind. You have to keep up with the times you know.”

  “Well, better put it on ‘run’ setting. Old shtone… stone face is behind us.”

  The zombies turned with Dreth and they started back down the other street, only to stop short.