Tired of Death - Dungeon

by Neil Hartley

  There was a noise of water hitting carpet. Dreth looked down and made a face. “Oh come on!”

  The Orc blubbered. “P… please mister, I just started last week, I knows nothin’ I does.”

  “Then you’re no use to me,” said Dreth. He made a movement. There was a noise and the Orc shuddered in pain, but only briefly.

  Dreth withdrew his hand from the guard’s chest with a sucking sound. He let go of the body and took a bite out of the heart before looking at the rest of the crew.

  “I’m really pissed off now,” he declared, waving the dripping organ in his fist. “We come all the way here for what? Nothing.”

  “You got an Orc heart,” pointed out Percy.

  “This?” Dreth tossed the thing to one side. It fell the floor with a dull splat. “Tastes horrible. Orcs always do. Now. I think it’s time to focus people. Our beloved Manager said we can find the treasure in The Pit, wherever that is. The one place it probably is not is in this castle. So, suggestions?”

  “Everyone knows castles have secret tunnels,” said Cuthbert. “We just have to find one.”

  “Right,” Dreth snapped his fingers. “Zombies, get on it. Try pulling the books.”

  “There may be a book that can help us,” said Redthorne.

  “Fine, check out the books,” said Dreth.

  The zombies started searching the library noisily. Dreth went over to the desk and picked out a cigar from the box. Had he ever smoked when he was alive? He really couldn’t remember. He tucked the smoke in a pocket thoughtfully. Next to the box was a crystal ball on a stand. As he looked at it, there was a flicker of movement. He stopped and looked closer.

  The ball was full of mist, as was traditional. As he gazed into its depths, the picture cleared, to show a house surrounded by fields, viewed from above, as if from a bird. As he watched, the view moved closer, zooming down over the roof and slowing, to show a yard full of chickens. A figure was feeding them, a young elf maid, with long flowing golden hair, dressed in a simple yet fetching dress.

  The elf was muttering to herself as she threw grain to the animals. Suddenly she looked around, as if startled by something, and appeared to gaze straight at Dreth, her piercing eyes boring straight into his.

  The image disappeared with a dull flash of light as Percy shouted. Dreth looked up, annoyed for some reason at the interruption.

  “Woohoo! Just call me secret passage finder!” The zombie attempted to do a little jig, but ended up tripping over his own metal leg and landing on the floor with a crash.

  With a last puzzled glance at the crystal ball, Dreth walked over the zombie. He stepped over the recumbent undead, who was writhing about like an upturned beetle, and peered into the passageway that had been hidden behind the book-case. Steep stairs led down. “Well done,” he said. “Let’s go.”

  Redthorne moved over to the cloak the Dungeon Master had left behind, and picked it up, peering at it intently.

  “Are you coming or not?” Asked Dreth.

  “This robe has a powerful aura,” replied the wizard. “It may be more than it looks.”

  Dreth strode over and held the garment up to the light. “Looks normal to me.”

  “Yes, well, you’re not a wizard are you? Trust me, this is a magical robe.”

  Dreth nodded and stuffed the Master’s robe into his bag. “As you say. However, for now let’s get out of here, before they break in the door.”

  As if to emphasize his point there was a loud crash as the guards finally got themselves sorted out into a battering team.

  They got out, Dreth closed the passage door once he was through, leaving the empty library behind them.

  ~ * ~

  The Golem trod steadily forward, red eyes piercing the inky blackness of the water without effort. Some kind of strange underwater crab detected its approach a moment too late, and was crushed underfoot. The Golem didn’t notice. It did notice a yellow glow pop into life ahead and to one side of it though.

  The automaton stopped as the Master’s scowling face appeared in the picture. “Where are you now?” he asked, his voice distorted by the water.

  “In the Black Lake. Someone said Dreth took a boat…”

  “Idiot! You were tricked! Dreth and seemingly half the dungeon are in the castle! Get back here at once and deal with them!”

  If the Golem were alive it would have sighed.

  “And hurry! They’re in the library. There are books in there that I don’t want him finding.”

  “Yes Master.” The Golem started to turn, and then paused. A spark of curiosity passed through the silicon brain. “Why aren’t you wearing anything?”

  The Dungeon Master looked down. “Cursed teleport spell!” He looked up again. “You! Get moving!” The image disappeared with a red flash.

  The Golem turned and started running back the way it had come, stirring up the bottom and leaving a cloud of mud in its wake.

  ~ * ~

  “How long do we have to wait here?” complained Percy.

  “Yes, this light is playing havoc with my skin,” said Cuthbert, peeling a strip off his face to emphasize the point.

  “It won’t be too long now,” said Dreth from his position on the brow of the dune.

  “I don’t understand why we’re waiting at all,” said Emerald. “Surely the longer we stay in one place, the more chance we have of being found.”

  “Exactly,” replied Dreth, his gaze never leaving the horizon.

  Emerald gave up and went to join the wizard, who was resting on a mat and holding the sleeping baby. “Have you thought of a way to get rid of the Spite yet?” she asked.

  Redthorne shook his head. “They are hard to kill.” He sighed. “Dreth could probably skewer it with his sword, he’s fast and powerful enough, if we worked together, but he insists on waiting here and staring off into the distance.”

  “What’s he up to?” she asked, sitting down next to the mage. “We must have been here nearly a full day.”

  The wizard shrugged. “I suspect he has a plan. Whatever else he is, Dreth isn’t stupid. At least I’m well rested now.”

  Sprat played with the dark sand as he listened to the others talk. He didn’t understand what was going on, but if Uncle Dreth said they needed to wait, then they needed to wait. Daddy had always said that Dreth was some kind of very powerful zombie, and so should be respected, or at least feared, which was the same thing really.

  The little undead looked up. Dreth was motioning to him. “Come here Spit, I’ve a task for you.”

  Sprat frowned at the mangling of his name, but obeyed, plodding unsteadily over to Uncle, who gripped his shoulder hard enough to crack bone.

  Kneeling down Dreth looked Sprat in the eye, and held the black marble up between two thin fingers. “I want you to do something for me. It’s very important you do exactly as I say. Do you understand?”

  Sprat didn’t, but nodded anyway.

  “Good. Now, look over there. What do you see?”

  The undead child followed the direction that Dreth was indicating, and saw a large figure, distant, but approaching fast.

  “That’s that nasty stone man!” he said.

  “Sshhh!” said Dreth, putting a finger to his dry lips. “This can be our secret, okay? If you do as I ask, I will give you all the arms in my bag.”

  Sprat grinned and nodded, he loved arms!

  “Very well. All you have to do is go to the Gol… er, big stone man, and touch him with this marble. Do you understand? Very well. Go on, there’s a good zombie.”

  Sprat smiled, took the marble, and trotted off towards the advancing Golem.

  ~ * ~

  “Be ready to move,” called Dreth over his shoulder.

  “Finally!” said Cuthbert, throwing another piece of skin to the floor. He looked around. “Hey! Where’s Sprat?”

  “I sent him on a small errand,�
�� said Dreth.

  “What? What errand? What do you mean?” Cuthbert dragged himself up beside Dreth and looked over the black sands, his eyes widening as he took in the scene. “Hey! Where’s he going? You’ve sent him to his doom! Do you know how long he took to build? How many precious hours and adventurer parts went into him? You monster!”

  Dreth bowed slightly. “Why, thank you.”

  “I will not stand by and let my son be squashed by a walking brick! I’ll save you Sprat!” Cuthbert lurched after the little zombie.

  “Indeed. Perhaps we should all see how this one turns out.” Dreth drew Darkblood and stalked after him.

  Cuthbert didn’t look back, but hobbled over the dry earth as quickly as he could. Ahead of him Sprat closed with the Golem, who headed directly for the little zombie.

  “Sprat!” Cuthbert slid down a dune, nearly losing a hand in the process. “Come back!”

  It was too late. Even as he closed, the small and large shapes met. He closed his eyes, waiting for the screams and noise of re-death.

  Nothing happened.

  He opened his eyes again. The two figures were standing face to face, or face to kneecap anyway. A strange black glow surrounded them.

  “Excellent,” said Dreth, passing him.

  “What? What’s excellent?” He chased after Dreth and the two drew near to the Golem and zombie. Up close Cuthbert could see that Sprat was holding the black marble up, touching the automation. The stone was the source of the strange glow.

  Even as they stared the light dimmed and died, and the two figures moved once more, looking about curiously.

  The Golem’s gaze fell upon Cuthbert. “Daddy?” it said. “Why are you so small?” It looked down at Sprat. “Hey! That’s me!”

  “What’s the meaning of this?” demanded the body of Sprat.

  Dreth leaned over and plucked the black gem from the zombie’s grasp. It was no longer black, but clear, as if made from ordinary glass. He bent down to address Sprat, or at least Sprat’s body.

  “Now then Golem. Not so high and mighty now are you?” He laughed a low chuckle. Then he stepped forward and tapped the RuneBox that was still attached to the stone monster’s side. “And I believe this is mine too.”

  “What have you done?” asked Cuthbert, totally bewildered. He looked around as the others caught up.

  Dreth stood up. “This,” he held up the marble, “is a device to transfer the consciousness of two bodies. I met a helpful necromancer back in the village who told me all about it. Your son and the Golem are now firmly housed in each other. A far more satisfactory arrangement, I’m sure you will agree.”

  “Daddy, I’m scared!” said the Golem, using Sprat’s voice.

  “You will not get away with this!” said the Golem from inside Sprat.

  “But I have,” said Dreth. He raised Darkblood. “And now, I’ll finish you off for good!”

  “Wait!!” Cuthbert leapt forward and held on to Dreth’s arm, stopping the swing. “You can’t kill my boy!”

  “He’s not your boy,” Dreth gestured at the large stone shape. “He is!”

  “Even so, I demand you let the body live. Or un-live even.”

  Dreth looked at him a moment, and then lowered his sword. “Very well, but the Golem cannot be allowed to roam free. Tie him up and guard him. You lose the kid, and trouble will follow.” He sheathed Darkblood and walked away. “Come on. We have a treasure to find.”

  ~ * ~

  Garret Murkhard crouched down next to a stunted tree and tried to catch his breath, whilst simultaneously not breathing. Those cursed elves! They were damned good, he had to admit.

  He peered around the trunk nervously. They had managed to keep away from each other on the ship and through the village, but once they left that haven the age old hatred between Drow and Elf surfaced, and the following few hours had been full of a fierce skirmishes between the two groups. The natural advantage of the Drow being on ‘home’ turf had been neutralized somewhat by the hunting skills of the surface scum, who were at their best in the forest terrain.

  Garret had been separated from the rest of the Drow in the last encounter, and was now desperately attempting to locate his comrades.

  Moving slowly he crawled out of his hiding place. Keeping behind brush wherever possible.

  There was a sound and a sharp pain in his middle. He looked down to see a white arrow protruding from his waist. Shit! He dived to one side just as another barb whispered past.

  Pushing his way into a nearby bush he pulled at the protruding shaft. The pain nearly made him pass out, and he staggered backwards.

  “Does that hurt?” A silken voice came from behind.

  He whirled round, trying to bring his sword up at the same time, but he was too slow. The grinning elf moved his rapier in a blur.

  Garret felt the cold kiss of metal as the blade sliced open his stomach. He looked down breathlessly, trying in vain to hold his intestines in as they looped out through his fingers.

  His breathing ragged, he looked up into the hard eyes of the enemy. “Please…” he gasped.

  “I will be merciful where you would not be,” the hunter said, raising his sword.

  Garret’s eyes widened as the weapon flew through the air. For a moment he felt a burning pain, and then the lights went out.

  The Pit.

  The rock wall of the cavern loomed above them.

  “Now what?” asked Emerald.

  “I don’t know,” said Dreth. “I just get the feeling here is where we can get out. There must be a secret door. Percy, try pushing that light colored patch over there.”

  Percy moved to comply, grumbling under his breath. He was rewarded by a hiss and an expulsion of green vapor which issued forth from a hidden aperture.

  “Poison gas!” exclaimed Redthorne, moving hastily away. Emerald quickly followed him.

  Percy waved a hand in front of his face, unaffected by the trap. “Great, now I’ll smell of poison all day.”

  “Should be an improvement then,” said Cuthbert. He pointed to a sharp bulge of rock further up the wall. “This looks a likely handle. Do you think it’s trapped in some horrible fashion as well?”

  “Only one way to find out,” replied Percy cheerfully. He pushed at the stone.

  A panel hidden in the wall slid to one side with a dull grinding sound.

  “Easy!” said Percy, stepping through and looking left and right. “We’re back in the tunnels.”

  Emerald looked at Dreth curiously. “How did you know that was there?” she asked.

  Dreth shrugged. “I don’t know. I just did somehow.”

  The others entered the passage, Redthorne and Emerald waiting until the gas had cleared first.

  Dreth looked down. “Light!” he commanded.

  “Allow me,” said Redthorne. He raised his hands and began an incantation, only to stop abruptly as a small red figure popped into view in front of his face and bit his nose.

  “Ooowoowoowowoow!” shouted the mage, grasping at the Spite, which disappeared with a giggle and a pop. The wizard’s spell dissipated, incomplete.

  “So much for that,” said Dreth. He turned to Percy. “Do we have any left in the bag?”

  Percy rummaged through the depleted sack and pulled a torch out. “Just one,” he said. He lit it and held it up so the party could see.

  Dreth looked about. The passageway was hewn through dark rock and sloped down, but was otherwise unremarkable.

  “So we go further down?” said Emerald.

  “The Manager said the treasure was in The Pit,” answered Dreth. “That would imply a section lower than normal.”

  “Down it is then,” said Cuthbert.

  They moved off, following the narrow and winding tunnel in silence.

  As they picked their way forward, Redthorne drew level with Dreth. “How about helping me get rid of t
his curse then? You can surely skewer the Spite if I lure it forth. Your sword would kill it, I’m sure.”

  “Later wizard. Once we’re out of these tunnels.”

  The mage scowled, but dropped back again.

  “Is it me, or is it getting hotter?” asked Emerald a little while later, wiping her brow.

  “Is it?” Asked Percy. “Heat doesn’t affect me anymore.” He stumbled slightly.

  “Careful there,” said Dreth who was walking behind him.

  “What’s that?” asked Sprat, pointing ahead and knocking Cuthbert over. “Oops, sorry Daddy. I’m not used to this body.”

  “Just take care will you? You could have knocked my head off.”

  “What did you see?” asked Percy.

  They all looked forward. Dreth could make out some kind of orange light filtering through the darkness. “Put out that torch.”

  In the dark they could see the light more clearly.

  “Looks like fire,” said Dreth. He turned to the body of Sprat, which was tightly bound with rope and tied to Percy. “What’s ahead Golem?”

  The zombie smiled. “Well done Guardian. You’ve found the Pit. Your just desserts are very close now.”

  “Mmm,” said Dreth. “Carry on, slowly.”

  They shuffled on, the light and heat increasing until they emerged into another huge cavern. This one shimmered with fumes rising from slow moving lava rivers, the cause of the orange glow they had seen. Uneven paths of black rock were lined with stunted trees. The trails meandered about past craggy rocks and deep crevasses, leading towards a large mound in the distance.

  “I don’t like the look of this,” said Redthorne, patting the baby’s back.

  “No turning back now,” replied Dreth. “Onwards!”

  They walked along the path, taking care when it paralleled the pits, which were often filled with pools of bubbling molten rock.

  “If this is where the treasure is,” said Emerald, dodging to one side as a bubble splattered red hot lava near her, “surely there would be a guardian?”

  “Um,” said Cuthbert, stopping suddenly. “I think I know what it may be.”

  They all looked to the large pit which had opened up in front of them. Sat there, red wings folded back on a glistening scaly hide, was a dragon. Its body was the size of several elephants, and a wicked looking tail, at least as long as the body, waved back and forth behind it, culminating in a spiked ball that resembled a giant mace. The creature looked up, yellow eyes the size of plates widening as it saw the group. As they stood rooted to position, it slowly walked over to them, huge feet crunching over red hot rocks.