by J. T. Wright
Dreq looked up and barked in reply before leaning forward to peer after Trent.
“Of course, you don’t, stupid of me to ask,” Kerry sighed. He lifted his hand and shook it, sending the luminous orb that was attached to it floating towards the ceiling. The circle of pale light expanded as the orb ascended. Kerry cursed when it reached the high ceiling.
He couldn’t control the Spell, only direct it, and he hadn’t managed to do that very well. Less than half of the cavern was lit up, leaving plenty of shadows for a Beetle to hide in. Unable to call the orb back and try again, Kerry steeled himself to dying from an unseen terror and summoned his borrowed shield.
Hefting shield and club, Kerry moved to stand behind Trent and asked nervously, “Do you see it?”
“Yes.” Trent’s knives spun in his hands. “It’s bigger than you said it would be. And it’s not a Swift Beetle, it’s a striped one.”
“A Striped Beetle!” Kerry’s demeanor brightened at the unexpected good news. “That’s great! They’re harmless! Big and ugly, but calm. Friendly even.”
Kerry, having spent unknowable hours standing behind a Stripped Beetle holding a shovel, was very familiar with this bug. He was fond of them in a way. Fonder of the domesticated farm animal than the Herbalist who owned them, at least. These manure producers, with their bulging black eyes, purred and offered Kerry sympathetic looks while he cleaned up after them, something the Herbalist had never done.
“This one doesn’t look friendly.” Trent tapped his blades together. “Try to draw it into the light. Don’t let it hit you when it charges.”
Kerry scoffed as Trent slipped back into the concealing blackness. Stripped Beetles didn’t charge. Their short legs and bulbous bodies made Kerry look graceful. The most impressive thing about the Beasts, besides their size, was the way they could roll back to their feet after tumbling onto their sides.
Kerry began to feel sorry for the insect Guardian as he stepped back to the center of the lit area. Although he was sorry for the Beetle that was about to meet an unjust end, Kerry felt his survival prospects had increased dramatically. His voice was chipper as he smashed his club against his shield and called out, “Over here! Come and get it!”
The sound of Kerry’s cheerful boom echoed through the chamber as he employed his Taunt Skill to lure the Beast in. His arm was steady as a rock as he lifted his shield and prepared himself to greet the roly-poly opponent that he could hear clicking its way towards him.
His confidence took a hit as a Stripped Beetle taller than he was entered the light. Its black shell glistened, and the white marking that decorated it had a polished look. The bug’s three sets of mandibles were spread wide as it rushed at the shocked Warrior with more speed than it had any right possessing.
The Stripped Beetles that Kerry was familiar with were docile. Cared for by human hands from the time they were hatched, the domestic version of the insect was genuinely affectionate and playful. They adored the two-legged handlers that brought them food and kept them safe.
In the wild, the Stripped Beetle had few predators in their own Level range. Their thick chitin armor made them tough, and their sharp mandibles tore flesh as handily as teeth. Adding in the magic resistance that made their dung desirable, Stripped Beetles were not an opponent to be underestimated.
The Beetle Kerry faced was neither domesticated nor wild. It was a Trial Beast, a Floor Guardian, endowed with rage and a ferocity its natural cousins could never match. The fact that it chattered exactly like the Beetles Kerry knew was disturbing, and if he lived through the next few minutes, he would never be able to face the animals on the Herbalist’s farm again.
Shrilly screaming a war cry, Kerry threw himself to the side and lashed out with his club. He avoided the Beetles rush by a hair, the spike of his weapon striking against the creature’s leg bouncing off without leaving a scratch. The Guardian came to an instant halt and reared on its back legs. It pivoted in Kerry’s direction, and its tremendous bulk began to fall.
The Beetle slammed against the stone floor, its face inches away from Kerry. Its mandibles rolled like fingers, beckoning Kerry into its maw. Kerry was barely able to get his shield between himself and the enticing mouth of the monster as it skittered forward. He braced his feet and leaned forward in a futile attempt to hold the Beast back.
For a moment he thought he had succeeded. The Beast halted before it could flip him on his back and crush him. Then Kerry caught sight of Dreq latching on to a leg with tiny teeth and realized the Beetle’s delay was likely caused by the Dog’s Paralyzing Howl, a sound Kerry couldn’t hear, not with the way his blood was pounding in his ears.
Unwilling to be outdone by Dreq, Kerry began pushing back against the Beast with his shield. His club hammered away at its bulging eyes. He had to hold on until Trent arrived! He alternated bashing with his shield and striking with his club. The Guardian sank beneath his blows, its legs thrashing wildly, dislodging Dreq and tossing the Dog aside.
Kerry didn’t spare a thought for the pup beyond hoping Dreq was alright. Dreq had bought Kerry precious seconds with his howl, and Kerry intended to use them. He struck out repeatedly, until his club was plucked from his hand, and then beat at the creature with a metal-covered fist until a voice reached him.
“It’s dead, Kerry. You can stop now. You don’t have Enraging Aura, do you?”
Kerry froze, his arm cocked to deliver another unneeded punch. His head swiveled to see Trent holding Dreq in the crook of one arm and a wooden sword dripping blood in his right hand.
“It can’t be dead.” Kerry was matter of fact, and he explained to Trent exactly why he was wrong, “It’s only been a few seconds. This is a Floor Guardian; you need to take it seriously.”
Trent flicked his wrist, sending blood splattering to the floor. He passed Dreq to Kerry, who took the pup with numb hands, and pulled out a cloth from the pouch in his belt.
“Sorry.” Trent wiped his blade clean, examining it with a critical eye. “I wanted to let you kill it, but it was too big. I had to switch weapons to get to its heart. You can have the next one.”
“Next one. Right.” Kerry’s voice was as numb as his hands. “As long as I get my fair share.”
Trent took Dreq back after he stored his blade. He ran his hands over the Dog, checking for injuries and, finding none, set Dreq down. Dreq promptly let out a whine and held out a paw, wordlessly complaining about being forced to walk on his own. Trent just as promptly ignored the Dog.
“Any idea where to start Harvesting this one?” Trent gestured toward the downed Beetle. The size of the Guardian made his mithril knife seem puny.
“No.” Kerry sank down beside Dreq. “It shouldn’t be here. There are no Striped Beetles in the Dungeon.”
“Not much value on one of those except the legs and mandibles,” Felicia said as she joined them. “Not on a dead one anyway.” She frowned up at the Orb she had given Kerry, and with a gesture, caused it to glow brighter.
“Thanks.” Trent nodded appreciatively. “Any luck with the Spell book?”
A flash of light and heat shot from Felicia’s fingers, splashing against the Beetle’s shell. “Some, with the Firebolt pages, but it’s too weak and costs too much Mana.”
Trent gave his most Cullen-esque grunt, turning to begin his work. His mask hid the way his lips curled upwards. All in all, he was satisfied with the progress his teammates were making.
Kerry hadn’t put a scratch on the Stripped Beetle, but he hadn’t done anything wrong either. He moved when he was supposed to move and attacked the weakest point of the creature that he could reach. Attacking after the Beast was dead, Trent put down to nerves.
Felicia’s Firebolt might be imperfect, however, it was a start. He needed to start pushing Beasts towards her. For some reason, the Mage was reluctant to kill. Having a Spell wasn’t enough; Trent needed her to use it and, if possible, teach him to use it.
Thoughts of how to make Felicia an effective part of the team
filled him as he cut. He had intended to send her away. He didn’t any longer. He listened to his two companions murmuring behind him, and while not joining the conversation, there was one thing he couldn’t deny. Trials were more interesting with company.
That thought sustained him right up until Felicia dragged him into the conversation with an unwelcome comment.
“Kerry’s right, Trent,” Felicia lifted her voice to be heard. “The dung still has value after the Beetle’s dead. You’ll need to Harvest that as well… Somehow.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
“Two Return Scrolls!” Felicia was astonished.
“A gold piece!” Kerry was ecstatic.
“Powdered Beetle Dung!” Trent was bitter as he gingerly pushed the Guardian’s drops around with his foot. Being the only party member with the Harvesting Skill was becoming increasingly frustrating.
The Beetle’s drops, two battered scrolls, a gold coin, and a pouch of a substance he already had plenty of in his Storage added to his irritation. It also fueled his suspicion. The loot wasn’t impressive to Trent, but there was too much of it. Far too much considering the source.
The Scrolls were especially concerning. From what Felicia and Kerry had told him, the Scrolls did show up in Guardian drops occasionally, but they were not commonly found in the Bellrise Trial. Certainly, never two at the same time.
The student Adventurers put down the excessive loot to the exploration of a new floor configuration. Trent felt it was more than that. There was a message in these drops—a message and mocking prod at Trent.
His foot tapped the unwanted pouch as he put it in Storage. That was clearly his potion of the drops. Kerry needed gold, and Felicia, as the Party’s Mage, had pounced on the Scrolls. They both said they would split the profits equally, and Trent didn’t doubt they would. That wasn’t what bothered him.
Trent was being watched. He could feel eyes on him, itching at his skin like a rash. He could hear the laugher trickling through the stone walls rubbing at his pride. The watcher, whether Keeper or Spirit, wanted him to keep going. However, it didn’t necessarily want his teammates to remain.
The two Return Scrolls told him that in clear, silken tones. Although the others hadn’t spotted it, they didn’t know to look for it. Trent was different. They were being spoon-fed what they wanted most. For Kerry, that meant money, and for Felicia, magic and materials. For Trent?
Trent wanted to clear a Trial. He would go on, no matter what. On the way, he would probably do whatever the watcher wanted of him. Felicia and Kerry were being encouraged to leave in a not-so-subtle way, while Trent was being told to stay.
And he would, but if the watcher thought he was going to be manipulated with
Powdered Beetle Dung…
“You can throw a Quest at me worth ten thousand XP, and I'll still walk out of here in a heartbeat if I have to stick my arm in another Beetle for a handful of…” He didn’t finish the thought. He did not want to think about it ever again. At that moment, he would have removed the Harvesting Skill from his Status if he could.
Felicia and Kerry exchanged puzzled glances as Trent stomped his way towards the entrance to the next floor. Boots that normally struck as light as falling snow pounded on the stone as Trent stormed off. His party, after trading a series of shrugs and head tilts, followed him more sedately.
Kerry almost ran into Trent’s back when the irate Swordsman stopped suddenly, just short of the entrance to a downward sloping path. Without turning, Trent spoke in a loud, wondering voice.
“There was no iron or cave moss on this floor! Not that I saw. Did you two see any?” He did not look over his shoulder. Trent’s head was tilted back as if he were addressing the ceiling rather than Kerry or Felicia.
“No.” Kerry, not certain he was being spoken too, answered anyway, “Maybe this configuration doesn’t have ore deposits or herbs. Besides, you really need the Mining and Herbalism Skills—"
“Both of which I have!” Trent’s voice rose in volume as he interrupted Kerry. “That’s why I took all those Quests. It would be terrible not to be able to complete them. I would be tempted to leave if we don’t find any on the next floor!”
Having said this, Trent started forward again, leaving Kerry and Felicia wondering if he had hit his head fighting the Striped Beetle. Trent didn’t care that his friends had a sudden worry for his sanity. He hadn’t been speaking to them in the first place.
Trent’s shoulders loosened and he settled back into his usual gait. You couldn’t bargain with the Spirits that ran the Trials, but there was no harm in letting them know that, whatever their expectations, Trent had requirements of his own!
**********
“I told you there was a reason for all the drops.” Trent twirled what had once been a wooden spoon between his fingers. He had whittled the round bowl of the spoon into a flat scraping instrument, and after showing it off, proceeded to attack a moss-covered wall.
“You knew that you needed to gather the moss with a wooden instrument when you took the Quest, right?” Kerry asked, looking for a dry place to sit. Three of the room’s walls were covered in a thick brown carpet of cave moss, while the fourth was bare grey stone, down which drops of water continuously dripped. The floor was slick, covered in green slime that stuck to his boots and threatened his balance. Dreq had found and curled up in a relatively clean corner. Kerry wished he were small enough to emulate the Dog.
“Didn’t you bring a tool for scraping with you?” Kerry asked Trent. He gave up trying to find a comfortable place to sit and joined Felicia in studying the wet wall. The Mage was running her hands gently across the stone, occasionally letting the water puddle in her palm. If it was telling her anything about what to expect from the upcoming floor, Kerry couldn’t hear what it was.
Trent busied himself with his moss and pretended he hadn’t heard Kerry’s question. He had bought a tool for the job, but the spoon was the first wooden implement that he located in his Storage. He was too excited to sort further through his clutter when he had what he needed at hand.
“This place is odd.” Felicia tilted her hand to let the water that had gathered on it run off. “There shouldn’t be cave moss, or any materials, in a Safe Zone. We should have to search for them, and guard against attacks if we want to collect them.”
“New configuration, new rules.” Kerry poked at a droplet and flicked it aside. “Maybe on this floor, all you have to fight is the urge to go to sleep. That will be hard enough. I'm ready to curl up in the sludge.”
“Traps start on the second floor.” Felicia agreed with Kerry’s sentiment, but thinking about it only made her eyelids heavier. “That’s always true.”
“It was always true,” Kerry corrected, flicking another droplet in Felicia’s direction. “We’re in uncharted waters here."
He paused, waiting for an appropriate amount of laughter to follow his joke. He expected a chuckle and received a glare.
“Think positive. There won’t be any traps.” Kerry wiped his hand on his satchel and turned away to gesture at the room. “This floor will have limitless treasure and free XP around every corner. The Dungeon has realized we're too much for it to handle and is…owww.”
A misshapen wooden spoon bounced off Kerry’s forehead and fell to the ground. Kerry rubbed at the sore spot between his eyebrows and gave Trent a hurt look. “What was that for?”
“Put on your helmet,” Trent said crossly. “If you can’t sleep, we’re going on.”
“Already? What about the moss?” Kerry pulled his helmet out of his satchel and tugged it on with a grimace. Trent had barely collected a quarter of one wall’s worth of the brown vegetation he had been ecstatic to find. His sudden change of mood, from gleeful to apprehensive, stilled Kerry’s complaints about flung cutlery.
“I have enough!” Trent slapped his thigh, beckoning Dreq, who rose sleepily to his feet. “Keep quiet and stay close.”
“You were tempting fate,” Felicia whispered, elbo
wing Kerry’s arm. “You should know better.”
She hurried to catch up with Trent, who had already stepped out of the Safe Zone into the tunnel that led deeper into the Trial. Kerry followed a few seconds later, black iron shield on his arm and spiked club in hand.
The corridor was wider on the second floor. The group could have walked side-by-side, but Trent kept them in single-file. The open space and smooth, water-worn walls made him nervous. The floor was still slick underfoot. Although it didn’t pose a problem for Trent, he couldn’t help thinking that his less surefooted companions would be troubled by it.
And there was trouble coming! Trent could feel it. The walls had ears. The moss-covered safe room had confirmed that those ears were listening. Kerry had more than tempted fate with his casual remark. He had thumbed his nose at a Keeper or Spirit who did not want the Warrior to continue in the first place.
When Trent spotted the first trap, twenty feet into the second floor, he almost let Kerry walk into it as a learning experience. The nearly invisible string was probably just a tripwire. Probably. In the end, he couldn’t risk it and held up a palm to stop the others.
The sight of the tripwire made Trent nostalgic for the Traps he had set himself. At knee height, the strand of wire was guaranteed to foil a carelessly running Adventurer. At a walk, it would, at most, cause one to jerk to a halt. Trent bent to examine the trap, running his hand above it without touching and peering at the wall the wire stretched to.
He did not find any attached mechanism to suggest the Trap was more dangerous than it appeared. From what he could tell, he simply had to cut the wire and they could proceed unhindered. His hand never moved towards his knife.
