Dungeon Dive

by Rohan M Vider

  The next day the convoy reached the dungeon. Before they broke camp in the morning, Aveyad had shared Talia’s report with Captain Thadeak, Lera and Galian, to the mutual shock of all three. Galian in particular, had been subdued by the news and walked off in distress. Aveyad sympathised with the young corporal; he too had been shaken to discover how completely wrong he had been.

  During the day’s march, the company had been tense and alert for an ambush, but they reached the dungeon without mishap. When he caught sight of the dungeon, Aveyad had breathed out a tremulous breath, overcome with relief. He had half-expected to find their way barred by Misteria’s forces.

  As the convoy made its way down the shallow valley that housed Ilenmon, Aveyad considered the dungeon. Dungeons were one of the many peculiarities of the Game. A game within a Game. Or more accurately, a prison within a prison. They were the only areas in Myelad where demons could spawn. Early on in the Game, players had discovered that the remains of slain demons, dubbed essence crystals, were magically conductive, and able to convey and store essence with almost no loss of energy. It had given birth to essence technology. Nowadays dungeons were regularly farmed for the precious resource that had become the foundation of Myelad’s civilization.

  The entrance to the dungeon was built into the rock face of one of the slopes that bordered the valley. The dungeon was not truly within the mountain. Only the portal to it was there. Why this particular spot had been chosen for its portal, no one knew. Where the dungeon actually resided was also a mystery. All that was known for certain was that it had to be somewhere on Myelad.

  The company halted in front of the dungeon’s portal. The dwarves were dust-covered and unusually sombre. The hard pace north had stripped them of their boisterousness. They began setting up camp, no doubt looking forward to some much-needed rest over the next few days. Captain Thadeak and Corporal Galian walked over to the dungeon entrance, and Aveyad moved to join them.

  The dungeon’s portal was an oval disk of silvered metal, encrusted with enchanted gems and inscribed with divine script. The gate and dungeon had been built by the Gods eons ago, at the end of the Chaos Wars, before they themselves were imprisoned on Myelad. As he reached the gate, Aveyad cast insight.

  Ilenmon Dungeon

  Dungeon lord: Juldviza (not manifested).

  Current status: Available.

  Current number of floors: 2.

  Description: Imprisoned within Ilenmon is the archdemon, Juldviza and his host. Dungeons are the only areas on Myelad where demons are allowed to assume corporeal form. The shapes they may take is dictated by dungeon mechanics, which considers the dungeon’s age, floor (level), spawning limit, and configuration. Only players in a party of up to six may enter a dungeon.

  The dungeon had only two floors, which was unusual. Typically, dungeons were farmed when they had matured to at least three levels. This one must have been recently cleared. “When was this dungeon farmed last?” Aveyad asked Captain Thadeak. As a captain of a North Core company, he would receive regular reports on the dungeons in the area.

  “A few months back it was cleared and reset. How many levels have repopulated?” he asked. As a norm, the dwarf could not see the dungeon’s Game data.

  “Two,” replied Aveyad.

  “Hmm,” said, Captain Thadeak. “Let us hope that the first floor has fully spawned. The second floor will be impossible for your party to handle.”

  Aveyad nodded in agreement. Dungeons, and by extension their demonic prisoners, were forced to conform to the rules of the Game. A primary one being, the spawning law. As dungeons aged, they spawned new floors and more powerful demons. The spawning law limited the rank of demons that appeared on each floor. The first floor, to which the party would confine its dive, would only contain demons of level thirty-nine and below.

  “Captain,” said Aveyad, “Zarr has ordered we wait for Talia before entering the dungeon. It will take her party at least a couple of days to get here.” He paused. “We should prepare for an extended stay.”

  The portal would lock once the party entered the dungeon, and prevent others from entering. After the party exited, the dungeon would also seal and reset, which could take anywhere from a few days to weeks. Given these dungeon mechanics, Aveyad had no choice but to wait for Talia. They would have to enter and complete the mission in a single attempt.

  The captain grunted. “How much time will that leave you in the dungeon, laddie?”

  “Two days, maybe less, depending on how quick Talia gets here.”

  “Will it be enough?” asked Galian. He had been silent much of the day. These were the first words Aveyad had heard him utter since the morning.

  “I hope so,” murmured Aveyad. He was not convinced himself. In theory two days should be enough. If all went well and they encountered no surprises. If.

  The captain said, “Alright. My men will set up camp by the dungeon, establishing fortifications around the entrance. Just in case.” At Aveyad’s quizzical look, he explained, “Given the evidence of enemy presence, it’s safer to assume they have anticipated us. Besides, bored soldiers are a menace. Best to keep them occupied.”

  “You really expect an attack?” asked Aveyad.

  “We’re at war, lad, and there are a damn sight more hostiles in these mountains than I am comfortable with. It would be unwise not to take precautions.”

  Disturbed by the captain’s words, Aveyad turned a troubled frown to the horizon. Hurry up, Talia. “Do as you see best, Captain,” he said.

  ✽✽✽

  Camouflaged into the surroundings, Loral watched the dwarven company raise fortifications outside the dungeon. It was evident they planned to remain camped for a few days. The Crotans must be about to send a party into the dungeon. There was no other reason for the convoy to camp here. That means, I was right about the human. He is a champion, thought Loral with a self-satisfied smirk. He retreated to a safe distance and contacted his commander again.

  The champion’s image leapt into being above the communication crystal. This time Meryl was in his cabin. “You have news, Loral?”

  “Yes, Lord,” he hissed. “The enemy company is camped outside Ilenmon and is preparing to send a party within.”

  The champion stroked his beard absently and murmured, “Interesting. Crota’s stores of crystals must be running low. The war is taking a bigger toll on them than we thought.” His gaze refocused on the saurian scout. “Well done, soldier. I have redirected Captain Surox’s company to you. They will make landfall soon. Head to the coast and guide his force back to the dungeon. Have your partner keep watch on the Crotans while you are gone.”

  Loral flicked his tongue out nervously, uncertain how to reply. Meryl’s gaze sharpened at his hesitation. “What is it?”

  “Kroz failed to report in last night, Milord.”

  “Has he been discovered?”

  Loral hung his head. “I don’t know, Lord.”

  Meryl pondered this. At last he said, “It cannot be helped. Proceed as planned and guide Captain Surox back to the dungeon.”

  “And then, Milord?”

  “And then destroy the Crotans. Contact me again when the deed is done.”

  “It will be my pleasure, Champion.”

  Chapter 7

  3 Fei 1850 AB: Day Nine

  Demons are creatures of near-pure essence. So dependent are they on essence that they cannot manifest without it. Dungeons are the only regions on Myelad where natural essence is allowed to gather over time. Demons use this essence to spawn, mimicking whatever life form they desire. They can do this so completely that only master-ranked mages can piece their guises and see the true form beneath. —Gunta Helman, demonologist.

  It took four days for Talia and the rangers to reach the dungeon by which time, Talia’s world had narrowed to her feet. Several times she had felt the guiding hand of one of the rangers on her shoulder, correcting her course. She ignored it as she ignored everything else, her thoughts consumed only by th
e need to place one foot before the other.

  The three had raced back, favouring speed over caution. The elves, sure-footed and practised in the terrain, had weathered the journey much better than Talia who had the added burden of maintaining the invigorating aura. It was the most physically arduous task that Talia had ever taken on, and it had left her little room to think.

  On the afternoon of the ninth day since they had left Crota, the trio stumbled into the company’s fortified camp. Eyes heavy-lidded, Talia staggered unseeing past Aveyad and Captain Thadeak. Both made noises at her, which in her bone-weary state, she could make little sense of.

  Talia swayed unsteadily to the centre of the camp and blinked rapidly as she tried to bring the world into focus again—if only momentarily. She had only one goal in mind now, and that was to rest, to close her eyes and for a time at least, forget her cares. All the while, Aveyad and the captain hovered, wondering if they should let her be, or if they dared assist.

  Men could be such fools sometimes, she thought. “Don’t just stand there, help me!” she said, or at least, she thought she did. In her present state of exhaustion, she couldn’t be sure. A frowning Aveyad leaned in over her, as if trying to hear her words more clearly. She ignored him, having finally spied the object she searched for. There! She shouldered past Aveyad and stumbled towards the empty pallet.

  She reached the rolled-out bag and fell face first into it. Finally, she thought as she dropped the weaves of invigorating aura and let the oblivion of sleep claim her.

  ✽✽✽

  With a strange tightness in his chest, Aveyad watched Talia collapse into the pallet. The captain danced uncertainly over her unconscious form, seemingly at a loss on how to help. Finally, he hurried away. Aveyad studied the sleeping Talia. He was unsure what he felt at her return. Relief? Anger? Pride?

  Talia was strong, sometimes too strong. Despite her decision to follow the ogres’ tracks having been proven right, he still couldn’t fathom her choice. It was not a decision he would have made. What drives her? he wondered. What gave her the strength of conviction to pursue her chosen course with almost-reckless abandon? Aveyad sighed. He would never understand her.

  The captain returned with camp rations in hand. He knelt down and made to awaken Talia. Aveyad held him back. “Leave her be, Captain. She needs sleep more than anything else now.” He shook his head. “And any help you gave her would not be appreciated.” This was the most solicitous Aveyad had seen the captain, and he wondered if the hardened veteran felt his own share of guilt over doubting the diminutive champion.

  The captain grunted and settled back. At the sound of nearing steps, Aveyad turned. Galian and the returned rangers, Alok and Elias, approached. The pair looked only slightly less weary than Talia.

  Both elves’ gazes flew to Talia—their expressions filled with a fierce protectiveness—before returning to rest on Aveyad. Despite her prickly nature, Talia seemed to have won over these two. “She will be fine,” said Aveyad, answering their unvoiced concern. “She needs only rest.” Both bobbed their heads and accepted Aveyad’s reassurance. “Any trouble on the way back?” he asked.

  “None,” answered Elias. “We maintained a vigilant watch, but did not see any further signs of enemy movement.”

  “Good. You two should go get some rest as well. We will attempt the dungeon early tomorrow.” There was no question of entering Ilenmon today. Talia was drained and would need at least the remainder of the day to recover. Aveyad was grimly aware that they were running out of time. But there was no help for it. Somehow, they would still have to complete the dungeon dive in the time that remained.

  Alok moved off and made his way to the rangers’ sleeping area. Elias hung back. “Have you spoken to the king again? What does he intend on doing about Xetil’s army?”

  Aveyad tugged at his ear. He worried over the same thing. Over the past two days, he had considered the problem from every angle, but had been unable to come up with a means of stopping Xetil’s legions or reinforcing Wyvern Peak in time. However, the king and the marshall seemed confident that the ogres and trolls could be dealt with. “Zarr has not confided his plans with me. All that is left for us, is to do our part—and trust the king to handle the rest.”

  Elias nodded and turned away. After a moment’s hesitation, he stopped and turned back to Aveyad. “Don’t be too hard on her. I understand some of what she has been through. One day, she will make a champion the likes of which Crotana has yet to see.”

  Aveyad cocked his head as he tried to make sense of the ranger’s words. What does he mean ‘what she has been through’? And why is he telling me this?

  Seeing Aveyad’s confusion, a fleeting smile graced the ranger’s face—the first Aveyad had ever witnessed on him. “Don’t worry, someday you will understand.”

  And with that he walked off and left Aveyad to ponder the mystery.

  ✽✽✽

  It was raining. The seas roiled, the wind howled, and the moon’s bright light was hidden behind dark clouds. A perfect night, thought Captain Surox from where he sat on the prow of the leading longboat.

  His men heaved on the muffled oars and sent the longboat surging forward. He looked back. In the gloom, he could barely make out the trailing boats. Good. All was as it should be. He looked ahead. The cove they aimed for was dark and shrouded. Up above, on the overlooking peaks, all appeared quiet in the sentinel fort. They had not been detected yet.

  He turned to the champion next to him. “We will make landfall in two minutes, Milady. Do your wards still hold?”

  “Yes, Captain,” replied Iccumalar with a sibilant hiss. “Stop worrying. My wards are strong. I told you, unless Wyvern Peak’s mages scry directly over our location, they will not see us.” She grimaced, baring predatory teeth. “Just get me off this damnable sea. It offends me.”

  Surox looked away and rolled his eyes. Iccumalar was a draconian, and like all her kind had an intense dislike for water.

  Iccumalar hiccupped, then stilled, scales rippling in distress. “I think I am going to be sick again,” she moaned. She thrust her head over the side and heaved her guts empty once more.

  Captain Surox sighed—quietly. It did not do to underestimate the draconian’s hearing, even with her lost in misery. The journey here from the island—across the notoriously wild Black Sea—had been difficult for the fire mage, but even more so for the many crewmen that had borne the brunt of her unhappiness. Not a few had been singed and treated for burns. Thankfully, that trial was nearly over now. And Surox had hopes that the champion’s temper would improve once she was on solid ground.

  He scanned the slopes above the cove, idly trying to spot the waiting scout. Their mission had been altered at the eleventh hour, something Surox was still not comfortable with. In his experience, such last-minute changes usually resulted in disaster. There was always some crucial bit of information missed. Some fact gone unnoticed. But as a mere captain, he was only a cog in the wheel, and not one to oppose the wishes of the champions. He could only hope that the saurian scout knew his business.

  But this should be a cakewalk, he thought. A single dwarven company and apprentice champion? His gaze slid to the draconian, who still vomited. Iccumalar alone should be able to handle them. What could go wrong? He chuckled, the hubris of his own thoughts not lost to him.

  Chapter 8

  4 Fei 1850 AB: Day Ten

  All mortal beings have three forms of energy: stamina, will, and essence. Stamina draws from the body and powers all physical actions such as walking or the thrust of a sword. Will springs from the mind, and fuels all psionic abilities such as those of telepathy and telekinesis. Essence is derived from the spirit and is the source of all magical abilities.

  Each being on Myelad has a finite pool of each energy form. This is determined by their individual attributes and talents, and in the normal course of events, it is only through sleep that a being’s energy pools can be fully restored.

  Efficient management
of stamina, will, and essence pools are key to victory in both personal combat and warfare on a grander scale. —Mechanics of the Game by Jostfyler Graldvir, Game scholar and champion of Weeran.

  The next morning, Talia rose with the dawn. Her body ached. Sore and bruised, it protested her every move. Yet she was re-invigorated, filled to the bursting with energy at the challenge ahead. Zarr had ordered them to complete the dungeon dive. Given their timetable, they only had two days to do it. Not an impossible task, but much riskier now.

  Despite the early hour, the rest of the party was already assembled, gathered around a campfire with captain Thadeak while they partook of their breakfast. Surrounding the party were ten other campfires, ordered in a neat line, one for each dwarven squad of the heavy infantry company. Beyond the campfires and tents, she saw the camp’s fortified perimeter. She had vague recollections of stumbling past it yesterday. The dwarves have been busy, she thought approvingly.

  In a half-circle backed against the rock slope in which the dungeon’s portal was embedded, the dwarves had constructed a breastwork using loose boulders and earth. Even now, the dwarves worked to improve the defences, digging out a dry moat beyond and widening their half-wall.

  Aveyad too, she saw, had not been idle. At the camp’s centre, two healing and lightning totems had been built. Aveyad had used a small portion of the essence crystals the convoy had brought from Crota to construct the totems. It would mean they would have to gather a bit more essence crystals from the dungeon, but the added burden was miniscule, especially when compared to the increased protection it gave the camp. Aveyad must have spent the past few days enchanting the totems with charges. She glanced across him. No wonder he looks so haggard, she thought.