Tired of Death - Dungeon

by Neil Hartley

  “And what do we have here?” it rumbled in a deep voice, sending a wave of heat over them.

  Dreth pushed Cuthbert to one side. Best not chance the zombie saying something stupid with this beast. “Hello there!” He waved in what he hoped was a friendly fashion. “The name’s Dreth. I’m the guardian of the undead way.”

  “Are you here for the treasure?” the giant creature asked, steam blowing from its nostrils.

  “I refuse to answer that question,” said Dreth, “on the grounds you may incinerate me.”

  “Because Dungeon guardian or no, I would be obliged to roast, and then eat you.” It narrowed its eyes. “Actually, I think I would just roast you. Dead meat gives me indigestion.”

  “Oh, absolutely,” said Dreth hastily. “No need to be hasty now!”

  “Well then, why are you here?”

  Dreth thought quickly. "The, ah, Dungeon Master himself told us to pop along and check up on the treasure. Kind of an audit," he said. “It’s a nuisance I know, but, well, procedure.” He made a ‘what can you do?’ face, and shrugged.

  “Really?” The dragon lowered its head. “Jonathon said it was time for an audit? He told you to come here and check the treasure?”

  “Indeed, he was most insistent,” Dreth replied, nodding. “Go and make sure it’s all there, he said to me. I said, ‘Jonnie,’ we’re kind of close you see, ‘Jonnie’ I says, ‘no problem. Consider the job done.’ So here we are. Now, if you would kindly step aside…”

  “Oh. I don’t think so.”

  “No?”

  “No.”

  “I will have to report this to Jonathon you know,” said Dreth, who was getting nervous.

  “Knock yourself out,” said the large lizard. “Though I would point out one thing.”

  “What’s that?”

  The dragon leaned close, wafting Dreth with superheated breath. “The Dungeon Master’s name isn’t Jonathon.”

  “I see,” Dreth replied, leaning backwards slightly. Out of the corner of his eye he could see the others starting to slowly sidle away.

  “Still, I’m a reasonable dragon. Perhaps the Master was having a joke with you eh?”

  “Ahhh, yes, that was probably it. He is a card eh?”

  “So, if you can guess my name, I’ll let you pass.”

  “I thought you were a dragon, not a sphinx.”

  “I went on a cultural exchange once. It was very enlightening. Now, are you going to guess or not?”

  “Do I get any tips?”

  “Yes, get it right or I’ll eat you.”

  “Seems a bit unusual to me,” said Dreth.

  “I know, don’t tell the union, they’ll have me up on charges of leniency during work hours.” The dragon grinned, exposing a mouth full of long, needle sharp, teeth.

  “Right. Your name. Let me see,” Dreth scratched his head, whilst desperately trying to think of a way around this beast. “Could I just consult my friends?” He waved his hand behind him, at Cuthbert who was desperately shaking his head.

  “Of course.”

  Dreth nodded and sauntered as casually as he could, which wasn’t very given the circumstances, back to the group.

  “Thanks! Now we’ll all be roasted!” hissed Cuthbert.

  Dreth ignored him and spoke to Sprat, in the Golem body. “Sprat,” he whispered. “I want you to kick this dragon’s ass for me.”

  “What? I can’t do that Uncle,” said the Golem. “It’s too big, and I’m scared! ‘m only little you know.”

  Dreth rolled his eyes. “Look, you’re in a practically indestructible body. You can do it.”

  “Sorry Uncle, me’s too scared.”

  “Times up!” came a low rumble from behind them. “Take your best shot, and then I’ll take mine.”

  “Shit,” said Dreth with feeling. “Well, if you want something doing,” he muttered. He looked at his companions. “When I give you the signal, run. I’ll distract him.” Without waiting for an answer he turned back and approached the monster.

  “So?”

  “I think your name is… RUN!” he shouted, and drawing Darkblood in a blur of motion stabbed the dragon square in the muzzle with all his strength.

  “Powwwweerrrr! Lifffffe!” hissed his sword, drinking the dragon’s essence greedily.

  The beast howled and pulled back instinctively, dragging Dreth off his feet. A massive gout of white hot flame swept the cavern floor, narrowly missing the others, who were moving away at best speed.

  Dreth held on tightly as the dragon roared, nearly deafening him in the process.

  “GET… OFF… MEEEEEE!” it bellowed, whipping its giant head around and dislodging Darkblood, sending Dreth flying through the air. He landed on an open patch of rocky ground, and quickly rolled to one side to avoid the wash of fire that followed.

  “Missed!” he shouted back, diving behind an outcropping of rock.

  “I will bite your limbs off one by one and cook them in front of you!” The dragon’s voice echoes off the walls.

  “It appears to be annoyed,” said Darkblood.

  “You think?” He peered around the rock, and then broke cover in a run, heading directly for the monster, taking it by surprise as it lumbered towards Dreth. Ducking another blast of fire he ran under the belly of the beast, swinging his blade above his head and hacking the exposed belly.

  Scales and blood rained down around him as the magical sword cut through the dragon’s armor, causing another bellow of pain. Darkblood cried out in bloodlust.

  “Look out!” the sword screamed, but Dreth was already jumping to one side as the giant creature flopped down, trying to crush him.

  He dived clear as it crashed to the floor, hacking at the rear leg in passing and cutting a large gash in the foot.

  “The tail!” Darkblood shouted a warning, but it was too late. The dragon’s scaly appendage swung round and smashed into Dreth, catapulting him into the air over the dragon.

  He twisted in flight, grabbing an ear as he somersaulted over the head, and landed on the beast’s neck.

  “You have got to be kidding me!” bawled the dragon, jumping backwards and shaking its body from side to side like the worlds biggest dog.

  Dreth held on with one hand, like some bizarre version of a rodeo rider, sword held high in the other as he swayed with the bucks and sudden turns of his enormous mount. As he swung around he briefly saw Cuthbert and Percy waving and cheering from near the cavern wall.

  “Ride him Crowbone!” came the distant yell.

  “That’s Cowboy moron,” muttered Dreth to himself, just as the dragon leapt into the air. “Oh shit.”

  “That’s right,” snarled the monster, wings pumping like mad, “let’s see how you like being crushed against the ceiling!”

  “I think we should get off!” said Darkblood.

  Dreth jumped.

  ~ * ~

  “Uncle Dref!” shouted Sprat as the thin figure fell from the back of the monster. He watched as his favorite guardian tumbled slowly though the air, to land with a splash in a pool of lava. There was a dull explosion of black flame, and then nothing.

  There was stunned silence from the onlookers.

  “He’s gone,” said Percy, who was standing next to Sprat. “He’s really gone.”

  “But… but you tol’ me he was inde… indist… can’t be killed,” said Sprat, tears welling up from the cold stone he inhabited.

  Cuthbert shook his head. “That’s what he always told us,” he said. “I guess he was wrong.”

  Sprat didn’t hear him. A red hot rage was burning up his new body. What had Uncle asked him to do before? He raised his large stone hand. Ah yes, that was it.

  “It’s ass kicking time,” he said.

  Ignoring his daddies’ cries, he headed for the dragon, which had landed and was scratching its nose on the floor.

  “You! Dragon!” he shouted. “I want speaks to y
ou!”

  “Go to hell!” the monster roared back, and blew a ball of flame at the Golem.

  The fire hit head on, washing Sprat with a mild tingling sensation. Then it was gone. He continued to advance, splashing through a shallow pool of lava as he approached the killer.

  The dragon did a double take and opened its mouth wide. A gout of white hot fire hit Sprat in the chest. He walked into it, feeling the heat building, even in his magically animated stone body. Rivulets of molten rock began to dribble down his front, as the fabric of his being began to melt in the intense heat. Still he pushed on.

  The dragon kept up the flame as the distance closed between them, but even such a mighty guardian had to breathe, and eventually the fire petered out.

  Sprat stood there, glowing a dull red. “This for Uncle!” he said, and swung at the dragon as hard as he could, punching it on the side of the head.

  The lizard howled as the blow knocked it off its feet. Blood and broken scales erupted from the side of his face.

  Sprat followed up the attack with another, but this time the dragon dodged, and he only got a glancing hit in before something slammed into his back, cracking his torso and sending him staggering to the side. Twisting about he grabbed the tail as it came around again. Wrapping his arms around it, he squeezed.

  This time several boulders were shaken loose at the screech. The Golem Sprat held on as he was lifted him into the air and slammed against the ground, forcing him to let go.

  The two monsters stood up and faced each other. The dragon was battered and bleeding from various wounds, and Sprat was cracked in several places. The two creatures snarled and charged at the same time.

  There was a loud crash as they collided.

  Both screamed, and blood and chips flew as they rolled on the floor, biting, punching and scraping. Through boiling pools of liquid stone they tumbled, sending volcanic rock and lava flying as they pounded at each other.

  Sprat hit and hit in blind fury, but the combination of heat and beatings from the dragon’s claws and tail was beginning to tell. As they dropped off a chasm one leg suddenly shattered, causing pain to fire along silicon nerves.

  He tried to pull away, but the tail once more came around and slammed him into the side of a small cliff. Another huge blast of flame blinded him for a moment. When it cleared, the dragon was holding a colossal boulder in its two front claws.

  “Meet a distant cousin,” the dragon gasped. It raised the stone and brought it down. Hard.

  Sprat felt the impact as rock hit rock. Slowly he fell back, his body breaking up under the abuse. Then there was light as the boulder was lifted again. The shape of the giant lizard loomed over him, blurred this time.

  Sprat tried to reach up, but his arms were not responding.

  “Good fight,” snarled the beast. “Now, though, now it’s time to say goodnight.”

  It brought the rock down again.

  Everything went black.

  ~ * ~

  “My son!” cried Cuthbert as he watched helplessly from the side of the cavern. “My little Sprat!”

  “There there,” Percy said, patting him on the shoulder. “You can make another one.”

  “It’s not the point!” wailed the other zombie. “He was so young, so innocent! He hadn’t even butchered anyone yet! Now he’ll never taste the succulent flesh of a screaming adventurer. Oh, the injustice of it all!” He waved his fist at the shape of the dragon.

  “Daddy!”

  “Never pluck out a still beating heart…”

  “Daddy! ‘m here.”

  “Never gorge on an exposed brain…”

  “DADDY!!”

  “Huh?” Cuthbert looked around at the still tied body of the little zombie. “Sprat? Is that you?”

  “It’s me daddy.”

  “But you were…”

  “When the bad dragon dropped the stone I came back here.”

  Cuthbert bent down and hugged Sprat. “Oh son! You’re back! Oh joy! Oh wonder!”

  “Oh crap,” said Percy.

  “How can you say that?” Said Cuthbert, “it’s a miracle.”

  “And that is a very pissed off guardian.” Percy pointed. “I told you we should have gone with the wizard and the woman back up into the tunnels.”

  The three zombies looked up as the dragon limped over to them. It spat out a tooth as it approached, and snarled. “Usually I don’t eat dead meat, but for you lot I’m going to make an exception,” it said.

  Cuthbert stood in front of Sprat. “Take me! Just leave my son!”

  “No deal. You’re all going down.” The dragon opened a giant maw.

  Cuthbert put a hand in front of his eyes and waited for the end.

  There was a pause and a familiar voice came from nearby.

  “Now you have made me really mad!”

  The zombie peered through his fingers. Climbing slowly over a ridge of stone, holding a black sword, was what appeared to be a burning skeleton.

  “Dreth? Is that you?”

  “In the flesh,” came the reply. Then the form looked down. “Well, in the bone maybe.”

  The dragon turned to face the burning Dreth. “You! How are you still alive?”

  “I’m very hard to kill,” said Dreth. “Now then, I believe I owe you a guess.” He pointed his sword at the dragon. The blade seemed to steam with black mist. “Care to give us a clue?”

  The guardian paused, looking at the burning undead standing in front of it. Then it seemed to sag. “Er, Drago is probably a good guess.”

  “Drago the Dragon? Not very original is it?” said Cuthbert.

  “Want to make something of it zombie?” the monster growled.

  “Drago then. That’s my guess. Unless you want to go for round 3 with me?” Dreth waved Darkblood.

  The giant beast hesitated, considering. Finally it let out a massive sigh. “You’re too much trouble. Another time,” he replied. The dragon sat down heavily, causing a small tremor. “I’m hurt, and it’s not worth the effort, damned Golem.”

  “So we can go on?” asked Percy, helping Cuthbert untie Sprat.

  “Go on, help yourself. It’s over there, in the mound.” The dragon pointed with a long claw. “You need a key though.”

  “I think I know just where to find one,” said Dreth, looking out at a broken stone body.

  ~ * ~

  “So how did you know Sprat’s consciousness would come back into his body if he died?” asked Cuthbert.

  Dreth shook his head. “I didn’t. The plan was to sneak past while they were fighting.”

  Cuthbert looked shocked. “You mean…?”

  “Here we are,” said Dreth, interrupting.

  The undead looked at the black door in the side of the mound.

  “Let’s see if this fits then shall we?” Dreth waved the key they had extracted from the runebox that had been stuck to the Golem’s body. He pushed it into the keyhole and turned. There was a click.

  “Give it a push Percy,” Dreth nodded his head.

  Percy frowned, but pushed at the door, which swung open with a creak. He peered inside. “All clear.”

  They entered and looked about. It was a small round room, decorated with exotic tapestries and lit by magical lights. At the far end was another door, made of fine wood inlaid with gold and silver.

  “Finally, we made it.” Dreth stepped forward and then stopped abruptly as a small pink imp popped into being.

  “Congratulations! You have reached the treasure! The Dungeon management salutes you brave adventurers… Wait a minute, you’re not adventurers!”

  “Does it matter?” Dreth asked.

  “Well, no not really,” said the imp. He shrugged. “I’m just a messenger. Help yourself.” He gestured at the door.

  Dreth and the others stepped into the furthest room and looked about. There was a small pile of gold coins and a chest.
>
  “Where’s the loot?” asked Percy.

  “You’re looking at it,” replied the imp.

  “This?” Dreth. He stepped forward, knelt down and opened the chest. It was empty except for a short black stick in the bottom. He looked up. “Where is it imp? Where’s your wondrous treasure?”

  “It’s not my treasure, I already told you,” the creature replied. “And this is it, really.”

  “But the fabled treasure!”

  “It’s not that simple,” explained the messenger. “You see, contrary to popular belief, adventurers find the treasure all the time, and what with the current budget cutbacks it just hasn’t been restocked in a while.” The imp expanded his arms in a kindly fashion. “Look, if you just wait until the new fiscal century, we’ll have a big pile of gold, jewels and all manner of exciting magical…”

  “I’m not waiting for the next bloody hundred years!” shouted Dreth, standing up and stepping forward in a definitely menacing fashion.

  The imp skipped backwards, hands held out in front of him. “Nono no! Wouldn’t be a hundred years! Fifty maybe sixty, tops.”

  “One lousy wand and a few coins! I had more than that back in my chambers.” Dreth wasn’t listening.

  “Ah! But this isn’t any old wand!” The imp was pressed against the wall now.

  “What does it do then?” asked Percy.

  Seeing Dreth halt his advance for a moment, the imp talked fast. “It’s a wand of All Things, one of the premium magical artifacts of our time. One of a kind practically! You won’t find another like that in a hurry oh no.”

  “A Wand of All Things eh?” Dreth said. “So what’s it doing left behind then? What’s wrong with it?”

  “Nothing, honest, practically brand new it is.”

  “Tell the truth midget, or I’ll put my sword to work on you. It doesn’t have any charges left, does it?” Dreth patted Darkblood as he waited for an answer. The sword hummed.

  The imp’s eyes flicked to the blade and back again. “No, I mean yes! Yes it does. Well, er ok. It has one charge left and er...”