Labyrinth of Fright (Underdog Book #5): LitRPG Series

by Alexey Osadchuk

  “Ah, that’s what you mean!” The foxman snorted. “You needn’t worry about crystals.”

  Seeing a lack of understanding on my face, Nimble decided to explain.

  “We’ve been ready for this for a long time.”

  “Excellent!” I smiled triumphantly and, walking to the door, asked: “When can we get started?”

  Nimble shook his head contritely and responded:

  “Don’t get ahead of yourself. You’ll have to meet the elders of the houses. But you are strictly forbidden from telling them your true identity. And most important of all ― not a word about the mission. There are many here who would prefer not to see Darkness eliminated.”

  “But…”

  “Don’t you worry,” Nimble chuckled predatorily, taking a step back and fading into the gloom. “That will all change very soon.”

  A second later, we heard the creaking of a familiar door.

  “He’s gone,” I said, rubbing my throat and sighing in relief. “That creep reeks of darkness.”

  Pinebogey frowned and nodded.

  “He bears the mark.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “There is a dark mark upon him,” Pinebogey explained. “It’s something like an oath of loyalty. But more powerful. I got quite a good look at it. I don’t expect I’ll have to explain where it came from.”

  “Indeed,” I chuckled. “What do you think? Do the elders know about it?”

  “I don’t think so,” Pinebogey shook his head. “They don’t have the same senses as we do. Otherwise, he’d have been turned into worm food a long time ago. No one likes a spy.”

  “On top of that, where one bears the mark, there are sure to be others. We will be able to find them easily, too.”

  “Agreed,” nodded the woodsman. “And the sooner we do so the better. I’m sure that big rat and his buddies have some kind of nefarious scheme cooked up.”

  Chapter 22

  NOT EVEN A QUARTER hour later, the front door swung open, and a familiar figure appeared on the doorstep.

  “You may leave now, gentlemen!” Sly Redtail announced.

  Over the three hours we had not seen him, his face had grown noticeably thinner. I could read ages worth of exhaustion mixed with determination.

  “So, how was the little formality for your elders?” I asked as I crossed the threshold.

  “Oh, Master Eric!” Sly waved it off. “It’s all just an unfortunate misunderstanding.”

  Pinebogey and I exchanged a fleeting glance. Now, now… I’m afraid to even imagine what our new friend had to go through to get us free. No doubt he’s no longer so happy he invited us here.

  “Even still?” I insisted.

  Sly gave s light wince, but quickly got himself together.

  “My father named you guests of our house.”

  Pinebogey’s quiet sniffling behind me told me that he was not happy with that state of affairs. Whoever arranged for our “imprisonment” must have known how the son of House Redtail would react. Even a fool could see this was a scheme by his rivals. Foxfolk clearly placed a high value on honor. The Whitebellies had just proven that it could easily be used as an instrument of manipulation and provocation. The whole issue was that, by helping us, essentially outsiders and strangers, the head of House Redtail had taken responsibility for whatever we might do next.

  And as for how I felt about all this… I was happy with the way it turned out. At least one of the Houses was supporting us now. Or rather, they were temporarily helping us out. But that counted for something. Before Nimble could act, clearly having cooked up some nasty plot to be finally rid of all those who could stand up to darkness in any way, we had no choice but to upset his plans.

  “Please follow me, gentlemen!” Sly invited us and, leading a proud gaze over our prison guards, took the first step forward.

  I also looked at the headman. We locked eyes. I don’t know why, but I suddenly got the idea to address him:

  “Good sir headman, I bear no ill will towards you. You were merely doing your duty. I hope you will not forget it when the time comes.”

  Heh… I caught him by surprise. Just look how his ugly mug stretched out. The guards who had also heard me started exchanging glances.

  “Why?” Pinebogey asked me inaudibly when we were far enough away from the Yellow Tree.

  “I don’t really know,” I shrugged. “Maybe because, as the son of a simple miner, after hearing so much about warrior’s honor and the valor of courageous warriors and knights such as that headman, I can’t help wanting to test how things really stand. I want to see things like a ‘word of honor’ in action. He and those like him will have a chance to prove themselves very soon.”

  * * *

  “You must leave Foreston! The sooner the better!”

  That declaration from the wife of House Redtail’s leader, greeted us practically at the doorstep. Sly’s animal eyes squinted predatorily. Curious way to react to your own mother.

  From a little way’s away, in the shadow of a wooden column, of which there were several dozen lining the great room of the house’s official seat, there was another foxman trying to stay hidden. His obvious resemblance to Sly told me it was most likely his brother. Based on the height ― younger. Still an adult though. An intriguing figure. But he stank of darkness just the same as Nimble. Pinebogey gave a slight nod to confirm that he had also smelled it. Interesting family.

  “Sly was being inconsiderate!” the momma continued her passionate speech. “His actions have left our entire house exposed.”

  As she spoke, I was able to get a good look at her. The first thing that jumped out at me was her age. I may have been wrong, but she didn’t look like Sly’s mother. She was too young.

  Meanwhile, our new buddy was starting to boil over. His nostrils widened, the fur on the back of his head stood on end. I was getting the impression that ingrained instincts were about to take over and he would latch into the throat of the quarrelsome foxmaiden. I can’t say how it all might have ended if not for the head of the house appearing in the doorway.

  “Mara!” he shouted softly. “Shut it!”

  If this foxman’s words could freeze, his wife would now be an ice sculpture. But seemingly the wife of the house leader didn’t pay much heed to that voice, if she had ever feared it at all. And to tell the truth, I can see why.

  Sly’s father was clearly unwell and, based on the way he was being pushed in a wheelchair, the illness was going to kill him. The chair was being pushed by a tall, broad-shouldered foxman. Fur black as tar, yellow animal eyes, long fangs and level twenty-five ― he reminded me somehow of the albino that accompanied Whitebelly. Must have been the patriarch’s chief bodyguard.

  I also saw the house leader’s wife cast a fleeting glance at the black fox. Hm… What a curious look. It was like she was admiring the warrior. As an aside, he responded in kind. I also found it hard not to spit after a wave of bitterness flooded into my mouth. This place was a hotbed of minions of darkness!

  Switching to magic vision, I saw what was ailing the old man. His magic supply was practically one hundred percent drained. And it was only thanks to the pitiful crumbs of pure mana circulating in his system that the Redtail leader was still alive.

  By the way, the old man didn’t look much like his ancestor. But Sly was an exact copy.

  So then. The black fox and younger son are marked by darkness. Surprisingly, the momma is clean. But I think she is aware. All the pieces of the simple puzzle fell into place on their own. Sly’s mother, based on her brother’s age, had died long ago. Then his father marries again, and his new wife bears him another son. But she isn’t happy with her kit’s status, so she starts poisoning the father. And seemingly, he is not long for this world now. Then it would be Sly’s turn. Although… Who’s to guarantee Sage Whitebelly is not coordinating with the wife of House Redtail’s leader? If not for our timely intervention, the blackbloods would have won. Sage then would come here to finish off t
he heir to the hateful house, slaying all the blackbloods in the process. A group of fifty warriors could cope with that no problem. In theory then, whoever brought news of the attack on the hunter village was the traitor. Sly’s going there was just too well timed.

  The old man meanwhile gently waved an old grayish hand, and the black fox slowly pushed his chair in our direction.

  “Master Eric! Master Pinebogey!” Sly’s father said with an air of jubilation. He even tried to stand up out of his chair a bit but alas, the ailment started acting up. “I Goody, leader of House Redtail of Clan Sharpear, welcome you to my home! You saved my son, and that makes you guests of honor! Please, make yourselves at home. Mara, see they get something to eat and drink.”

  The fur on the foxmaiden’s neck stood on end. She clearly did not appreciate her spouse’s tone but also didn’t have the nerve to disobey. A second later she chuckled loudly and skipped out of the main hall.

  “Beg forgiveness for the reception,” the old man pronounced with a slight smirk. “Women are inclined to overcaution, you know.”

  Taking our seats, Pinebogey and I nodded silently. As if to say we understood. Out of the corner of my eye, I took a quick look at the interior decor of the great room of this home, which was located in the very heart of the canopy of a huge sequoia. The view out the windows was mind-blowing. If not for the many-story buildings in the otherworldly city, I might have said this was the highest up I’d ever been.

  “Black Claw, you may go,” Goody ordered his bodyguard.

  “But sir,” he tried to object. “My duty dictates…”

  “Your duty is to obey,” the old man shot out sharply.

  I saw that the head of house was quite angered by all the disobedience. First from his wife, then his bodyguard. They must have been treating him however they saw fit for a long time. But then we come along, and the old man suddenly remembers who he is.

  The black fox bowed and headed for the exit. Honestly though, before leaving he glanced maliciously at Pinebogey and me. I just laughed right in his face. Gone were the times when something like that could scare me. In comparison with the monstrosities I’d seen over the last year, this black-furred bodyguard looked positively adorable.

  The younger son started off after the bodyguard, but the old man stopped him.

  “Tim, stop.”

  “But father…” the young fox objected. “My exercises!”

  “Ah, yes…” the old man winced and quickly relented. “Go ahead…”

  I noticed how lovingly Goody looked at the boy. Ah, I was immediately reminded of Madam Tickiss, an old woman who lived near my childhood home. There was a particular phrase she loved to repeat, “a parent’s love is blind.” At that moment, I realized just how right the old lady had been. I glanced at Sly. He seemed to be the only one not to have betrayed his father and head of house.

  When Goody returned to us, the look on his face had changed. It was as if the illness had relented. The foxman standing before us now properly looked like one of Foreston’s most influential figures.

  “You must promise that my boy will live,” he said, hammering home every word.

  Pinebogey and I exchanged understanding glances. Sly seemed to be the only one knocked off course.

  “Father…” he mumbled out. “What are you talking about?”

  “I need an answer right now!” the steely old man pressured just as coldly, ignoring his eldest son’s perplexed state.

  “And what about your wife?” asked Pinebogey, raising a brow.

  Goody frowned.

  “That animal betrayed me long ago. She thinks I can’t see the way she flicks her tail around my trusty bodyguard.”

  The old man practically spat out the word “trusty.” Looks like I underestimated him. The illness had yet to fully rob him of his faculties.

  As we spoke, Sly turned his stunned gaze from one face to the next.

  “You are probably not fully aware of what is happening…” I joined in, but the old man gave an awkward smirk and interrupted:

  “Under my own nose?”

  I shrugged my shoulders as if to say, “call it what you want. It doesn’t change the basic idea.”

  “His shadows first came here a few decades ago,” Goody began, and the more he said, the more I realized the old man knew everything. “No one can say anymore who exactly marked the first of us. We should have killed the first few explorers to reach our borders. They were the ones that told him about Foreston. I remember how happy our parents were to see them. After all, they thought Darkness had swallowed up the entire world. But that turned out to be false. The first explorers! The first harbingers of light! So we all thought… Heh… I remember how outraged we were to discover the disrepute our kind suffers in human society. They say we sold ourselves to Darkness! And meanwhile, the foxfolk were actually the only ones who stayed behind to hold down the fort… We have been fighting otherworldly monsters and reborn brutes all this time. We have lost many friends and relatives to the struggle. But meanwhile, we were written off as turncoats!”

  Goody fell silent for a moment. He stroked his chin and continued.

  “Twenty years ago, beasts stopped coming out of the portal. We later learned the blackbloods had appeared in the surrounding lands. At first, we were glad to have a break. But then we realized we were wrong. The blackblood mothers were allowing the otherworldly monsters to be reborn, then killing them. And that only made them stronger. And by the time they’d dug in and multiplied, they turned their gaze on our settlements. After that, we realized they wanted us not only as nourishment. They were making sacrifices to the portal. That was their way of luring even stronger beasts. A few times, powerful creatures escaped the blackbloods’ clutches. And hordes of monsters came flooding into our lands like the waves of a frothing ocean. But Foreston kept us safe.”

  Hearing mention of the living city, Pinebogey nodded in satisfaction as if he himself had a hand in those events.

  “The last time that happened was eleven years ago,” Goody continued, his eyes glazed over. “The city helped us fight them off one last time. But the power of the Forest was sapped, and it seemed to go dormant. I was wounded in that battle. A dark beast damaged my supply. And in the following eleven years, I have turned into an old man and begun rotting alive. Which his shadows did not fail to take immediate advantage of.”

  “But what about the other elders?” Pinebogey asked.

  Goody gave a malicious chuckle.

  “They think I’ve outlived my good sense. Fools! No one wanted to know my reasoning. They were all busy with internecine feuds and the balance of power in the city. Dolts! They’re squabbling over deck chairs on a sinking ship! And that only plays into his shadows’ hand. Every year there were more and more of them. My boy Tim…”

  The old man shook his head as he said the last sentence. After that, he looked up and said harshly:

  “He’s just a boy who came under his mother’s influence.”

  “But she does not bare the mark,” I shook my head.

  Based on the way Goody started gaping, that information came as a surprise to him.

  “Then who could have turned my son?”

  “You never know,” I shrugged. “Your bodyguard for example.”

  A flicker of understanding lit up the old man’s eyes.

  “Pup!” Goody hissed through his teeth. “He dared work against his head of house!”

  “And your eldest son,” I added. “By the way, Sly, who told you about the attack on the hunting village?”

  “Black Claw,” the foxman said slowly.

  “And didn’t it seem odd to you that, three days later, the blackbloods were still there? After all, they probably could have slaughtered all the hunters in under an hour. Do you understand?”

  “Scoundrel!” the old fox growled. “We’ve been warming a viper on our very bosom!”

  “And the Whitebelly showed up at a surprisingly convenient time,” I dumped some more fuel on the fi
re. “I imagine you can guess what they were planning to do to your eldest son now.”

  “She went behind my back to the Whitebellies! Thought she could get rid of my firstborn!” the old man was so overagitated that an arduous wheeze tore itself from his throat.

  “I’m afraid your younger son is with them as well,” I said, seeing the old man’s face go sullen. “There’s no way he didn’t know.”

  “They messed with his head… He’s just a boy…”

  “His mark is more than a month old,” said Pinebogey. “Around a year.”