Dungeon Dive

by Rohan M Vider

  The veteran’s brows furrowed unhappily as he combed through his beard. “It is not good news, Champion.” He kicked the corpse. “This one could be an advanced scout for the main invasion force. Or he could be part of another operation altogether. Whatever the case, he would have reported in, and by now Misteria’s champions must know we carry essence crystals to Wyvern Peak. They will try to stop us if they can.”

  Aveyad nodded, agreeing with the dwarf’s assessment. “You’re right. I will have to report directly to Zarr on this... and on other matters.” He looked up at the sky. It was still a few hours to dawn. “But not tonight, tomorrow morning will be soon enough.” And it would give Talia a few more hours to make contact. Where are you, Talia?

  The captain stared knowingly at him. “Still think she will make contact, lad?”

  “She will. She must,” said Aveyad, ignoring the captain’s breach of protocol. “As long as I’ve known her, Talia has never failed at anything. I don’t expect she will start now.”

  Captain Thadeak sighed heavily. “I hope so lad, I hope so.”

  Chapter 5

  30 Jan 1850 AB: Day Five

  Myelad is riddled with dungeons. Each one is built to house an archdemon and his host. There is no doubt that they need confining. Masters of chaos—indeed, chaos itself—they are anathema of life and order. They loathe all other life forms but their own and seek the destruction of all. The Gods were right to imprison them. But why did it have to be on Myelad? —Dagzid, Brotherhood scholar.

  Talia and the elven rangers had travelled hard for five days, heading northwest. By this point they had overshot Ilenmon dungeon and were now several days west of it.

  They had not yet caught sight of their prey. They had found the ogre’s tracks easily enough, and on seeing them, Alok had agreed with Elias’ assessment. Since then, the trio had doggedly followed the trail, even as every day, it took them farther away from their primary mission.

  The tracks were elusive. The mountain terrain was the ogres’ natural habitat, and it was clear—even to Talia—in the sudden doglegs and crazy detours, that the ogres had gone to great lengths to discourage pursuit. Several times the rangers had lost the trail altogether, forcing the trio to backtrack and, to Talia’s great frustration, lose even more time.

  She was unhappily aware that time was critical, and that with this side trip she was out on a limb, playing on a hunch and trusting to Elias’ competence. Perhaps she had placed too much confidence in the marshall’s parting words to her. Just before the expedition set out, the marshall had shared some of Elias’ history with her.

  A sad tale and one, given her own past, that she could relate to. As a young elf, Elias had shown great promise. He had been naturally gifted and possessed of a strong divine spark; so much so, there had been talk of him being raised to a champion. But then tragedy struck and his young family, which had followed him to his posting on the southern border, had been killed by goblin raiders.

  He had never recovered from it. And while his peers advanced, he remained an apprentice, and spent the long years drinking away his sorrows. But the marshall still had faith in him, and believed that the ranger could be relied upon in a pinch.

  Now she wondered how much of the marshall’s words had been wishful thinking on his part, and how much she had let her own emotions cloud her judgement. Aveyad, she knew, was bitterly unhappy with the course she had chosen. Cool, rationed Aveyad was rarely one to act on impulse. Whereas for Talia, intuition and emotion were the core of who she was. Sometimes it steered her wrong, but more times than not it took her down the right path.

  It was instinct that had made her act in the manner that she had five days ago. Instinct and the kindred spirit she sensed within the ranger. They were both troubled souls. In her gut, she had felt certain that there was something important to these tracks—something she shouldn’t ignore—and it had kept her on the trail, despite days of nothing.

  She hoped her intuition had not steered her wrong.

  Talia and Elias paused to rest on an outcropping while Alok searched out the trail again. During the first few days of the search, the trail the trio followed had rarely crossed any others, but over the past day, the number of other ogre trails criss-crossing it had grown. Elias and Alok had not been able to tell if it was the same band of ogres that was responsible, or if other ogre bands roamed nearby as well.

  The trails never converged. Always they separated, as if the ogres had been wary of using the same path. A gut-deep instinct told Talia that they were close to their goal, but time was against her. She stared out at the empty mountain. Where are you hiding? she wondered. She had a difficult decision to make. As much as she was loath to, if they did not uncover the source of the tracks soon, she and the rangers would have to turn back and retrace their steps to the convoy.

  Aveyad and the dwarven company would likely reach the dungeon in the next two days. She knew Aveyad well enough to know, that ever dutiful, he would enter the dungeon without waiting for her, and likely without taking on any new vassals. Obedient, to the point of foolishness sometimes, she suspected he would find himself unable to break Zarr’s dictates on vassals and would enter the dungeon with only a three-man party. Which was suicide.

  As much as she admired Aveyad’s prowess as a mage—not that she would ever admit it to him—if he entered the dungeon with an understrength team and no front-line fighters, he was sure to get himself killed. And there was no coming back from death. Not even for players in the Game. If he died in the dungeon, he would be gone forever. Which she couldn’t let happen.

  Talia dug her fingers in her hair, conflicted. She had promised to contact Aveyad after three days but she had not. By now, he must be wondering what had happened to them. Talia was surprised he had not initiated contact himself. He must be angrier than I thought. She had told herself she had not contacted him because there was nothing to report, and it didn’t make sense to waste the communication crystal’s charges in such a manner.

  But she had lied. In truth, Talia was afraid to face Aveyad again and the disappointment that—even though he took great pains to hide—was certain to be in his voice. Disappointment that she could not face yet.

  Tomorrow morning, she promised herself. Tomorrow, she would contact Aveyad. From up ahead, she saw Alok hurrying back to her and Elias. It looked like he had found the trail again. Talia glanced up at the sky. There were a few more hours to sunset. Until then, some time remained to follow the trail.

  ✽✽✽

  Several hours later, Talia, Alok, and Elias were stretched out on a ledge overlooking a scene from their worst nightmares. They had found the ogres. Elias hadn’t been wrong.

  Talia’s sense of relief that her instincts had not led her astray was fleeting, overcome by the horror that filled her at the sight of the tented camp below. The ogre squad they had tracked was not a solitary one. It was part of a larger force. How much larger was what caused the trio’s faces to pale.

  The camp was filled with a mixed force of ogres and mountain trolls. There were thousands of them, spread out in four unruly lines. In the setting darkness, campfires were being lit, and ogres and trolls—most haggard, unkempt and with the skin hanging off bones—queued up before giant stew pots, most of which appeared near-empty. At the head of each line was staked a banner that bore the insignia of a six-clawed talon. The mark of Xetil’s legions.

  “How is this possible?” whispered Talia. For once, her voice was stripped of its habitual confidence. She struggled to comprehend how an army of Xetil’s domain which adjoined Crotana on the south was here, on what was very nearly the northern border. She looked to the rangers, whose home posting was the southern border, for answers.

  From their rapid breathing, it appeared both Elias and Alok battled with the same sense of disbelief. After blinking several times, Elias pulled together his scattered thoughts and turned to answer Talia. “In theory it has always been possible to march across the Skarral range. But no one h
as ever been mad enough to attempt it.”

  Talia stared at Elias, blank-faced. It was a journey of several months from Xetil’s domain to here. How could this force have managed a journey of that length while marching through terrain so barren? She waited for Elias to go on.

  “The Skarral range which encloses Crotana on three sides is not impassable, just extremely inhospitable and difficult to cross. For small squads, the journey is feasible.” His mouth twisted, as if with remembered pain. “In fact, Xetil’s champions often send raiding parties into Crotana through the passes that riddle the mountains.”

  He paused, mouth trembling. Talia knew he relived painful memories. Alok laid a comforting hand on the elder ranger while Talia simply waited. She knew full well that in the face of such cruel recollections, all the solace in the world made little difference.

  Elias regained his composure and continued. “Most of Crotana’s mountain ranger corps are deployed across the Skarral ranges to stop the raids. How a force this large escaped their notice…” He shook his head. “I can’t imagine.”

  Talia frowned as she considered Elias’ words. While she was unacquainted with the details of the war, she could not see Marshall Rolan allowing such a force to slip into Crotana unopposed.

  Alok spoke up. “However, they crossed the border, the mountain has left its mark on them.” He pointed to the queueing soldiers. “None of them look healthy. Most are half-starved and frost-bitten. And over there, at the back of the camp, that is a burial pit, I think. One likely filled with the corpses of those who succumbed to the mountain in today’s march.”

  Elias nodded slowly. He pointed to the camp. “That force is composed only of ogres and trolls—species native to this terrain. They probably are the only ones that could survive an extended march through these mountains.”

  “So you don’t think they’ve used portals?” asked Talia. That had been the only explanation she had been able to come up with.

  Elias shook his head. “Not even an army of mages could have transported a force this large. Not only that. The spells required would have caused a major disturbance in the ether. One that would have readily revealed their location.”

  That brought up the other point. How had Crota’s sentinels failed to scry this host? Talia’s own scrying ability was weak, though it was still strong enough to put another theory to the test.

  With her eyes closed, she separated her consciousness from her mind and, taking care to keep it tethered to her body, she projected her consciousness to the camp’s centre, a location which was already visible to her natural sight. Hovering over the target, she channelled essence from her spirit to ‘reveal’ the area.

  What she ‘saw’ in her mind’s eye was an empty mountain valley. To her scryed sight the camp simply did not exist. She shivered. Somewhere down there was a powerful mage who was likely a champion as well. One mighty enough to cloak an entire army beneath a scrying barrier.

  “We’ve seen enough,” she said. “It is time to report back to the citadel of what we have found here.”

  ✽✽✽

  The trio backtracked a half-mile to a concealed cranny which Talia judged sufficiently far and well-hidden to escape detection by any enemy sentinels. There she activated the communication crystal. Threading essence delicately into the crystal, she reached out into the ether and searched for the unique magical address that was the communication array at Crota.

  The aether wizard on duty sensed the incoming request and queried Talia for her code. She passed on her key, the unique string of letters and numbers that confirmed her identity. The code strings prevented enemies from subverting Crotana’s communication network.

  The aether wizard verified her key, before he reached out with essence weaves of his own and, interlocking them with Talia’s, snapped the communication link into place.

  “Champion Talia,” he greeted. “How may I assist you?”

  “I have an urgent missive for Zarr. Please extend the ether-link to him.” The aether wizard hesitated. Relaying champion’s missives was part of his daily routine, but disturbing the king was altogether different. Especially at the request of a junior champion.

  Talia scowled, having little patience with the wizard’s misgivings. “Now,” she snapped.

  The wizard’s resistance crumbled. “Right away, Champion,” he replied.

  A new thought occurred to Talia. “And connect champion Aveyad as well,” she ordered. Might as well get both conversations done at once, she thought. She had intended to contact Aveyad once her report to Zarr was completed but best to get both done at once.

  “As you wish, Milady.”

  A second later, Zarr joined the link. “Talia,” he greeted. “You have something to report?”

  “Yes, Sire, but if you will wait a minute, the aether wizard is connecting Aveyad as well.”

  Zarr raised an eyebrow, bemused by either her impertinence at making him wait or the fact that Aveyad was not with her. She couldn’t tell. His otherwise neutral expression gave her no hint.

  Perhaps reading something of the nature of her news in her face, Zarr asked, “Should I bring the marshall in on this too?”

  Talia nodded. That should have occurred to her already. I must be more tired than I thought. As commander of Crotana’s southern army, the marshall would be the one most knowledgeable of the deployment of Xetil’s forces.

  A short while later, a visibly surprised marshall and a haggard-looking Aveyad joined the link. Without preamble, Talia began. Speaking in a rapid-fire fashion—every second spent on the communication crystal drained its charge—she filled in the three of the events of the last few days, and described the army they had found.

  At the news, the marshall’s brows furrowed and the lines of his face deepened. Aveyad’s mouth dropped open. His eyes darted to Talia and met her gaze for a second before sliding away. Ashamed that he had doubted me?

  Zarr did not react at first. His face had remained studiedly neutral throughout. He then turned to Aveyad, “You have anything to add, Aveyad?”

  “Yes, Sire. We have made good time and should reach the dungeon tomorrow, a day earlier than planned.” The marshall nodded approvingly at this news. “But we have encountered trouble of our own.”

  “What sort of trouble?” asked Zarr.

  “For the last five nights, the rangers that remained with the company, Lera and Galian, suspected we were being followed. At first, I placed little stock in their suspicions, believing them to be unsettled by Ranger Elias’ sightings of ogres. But tonight, they uncovered our stalker. It was a saurian.”

  “A saurian?” asked the marshall, sitting up. “Are you sure?”

  Aveyad nodded grimly.

  Zarr though remained unruffled. He looked to the marshall. “Rolan, get Calistra to deploy a few more ranger teams up north. We cannot have enemies moving undetected in such number there.”

  “Your will, Sire.”

  Zarr turned back to Talia and the two rangers beyond her. Alok and Elias sat in range of the communication crystal but had thus far remained silent. “Rangers, when do you estimate Xetil’s army will arrive at Wyvern’s Peak?”

  The two exchanged glances. “Ten days perhaps, Sire,” said Elias.

  “And how long will it take you to rejoin Aveyad at the dungeon?”

  “If Champion Talia can maintain her invigorating aura—” Elias looked at Talia. She nodded. “—then three, maybe four days. The trip back will be faster without the need to follow the ogres’ convoluted path.”

  Zarr nodded. “Thank you, Elias.” He closed his eyes for a second, lips pursed in thought. Opening them he said, “Then these are your orders…”

  ✽✽✽

  After Aveyad and Talia dropped off the ether-link, Zarr turned to the marshall. “Well, old friend. Thoughts?”

  The marshall was back in the south, having rejoined his army at Durn Duruhl. The marshall’s face creased in thought. “A shrewd move by Xetil. It is callous and wasteful of hi
s men’s lives but shrewd nonetheless.”

  “You believe Misteria and Xetil act in concert?”

  “They must be. It’s too much of a coincidence otherwise. The scouts were probably tasked to guide Xetil’s army north when they ran into our champions. It doesn’t leave us with many choices. We have to reinforce Wyvern Peak however we can.”

  Zarr raised one brow in query. “The tunnel through the Labyrinth?” The underground tunnel to Wyvern Peak was one of Crotana’s best kept secrets, one Zarr had hoped not to reveal. Built over two hundred years ago, the tunnel had remained unused all that time. But the rangers’ ten-day projection meant that any reinforcements sent overland would not reach the fort in time. It appeared he would have no choice but to employ the secret tunnel.

  Rolan nodded. “Yes. It is the only way we can reinforce Wyvern Peak before Xetil’s legions get there. Even if Talia and Aveyad manage to get the crystals to the outpost before the siege begins, the upgraded defences will not hold out to the double hammer blow of an assault by sea by Misteria and another by the ogres, over land.”

  Zarr nodded. “See to it. And what do you make of our young champions’ chances?”

  “The girl has spunk. Good initiative, if a bit brash. The boy is level-headed. Together they will make a good team, and should be able handle whatever the dungeon throws at them.”

  Zarr sighed. “I hope so, old friend. Wyvern Peak desperately needs those crystals, and we cannot let it fall.” Muttering more to himself than Rolan, he said, “Even if I have to take the field myself.” It was a measure of last resort, and fraught with risk.

  His expression serious, the marshall said, “Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”

  Chapter 6

  31 Jan 1850 AB: Day Six

  Dungeons are near onto a world of their own. Reality itself is distorted within them, made to follow the whims of the imprisoned demons. The dungeon lord—the pre-eminent demon imprisoned within—or his captains can reshape a dungeon to their will. It is only when champions and their dungeon parties enter that some semblance of order is imposed as the dungeon is forced into a configuration defined by the Game Rules. — Marcos Aurclasy, Silenheim librarian.