The Crafter's Darkness: A Dungeon Core Novel (Dungeon Crafting Book 4)

by Jonathan Brooks

  When Sandra changed her viewpoint and looked at her now-crowded Home room, she could see Winxa’s point – but she didn’t want to make the mistake of underpreparing her defenses. She had a lot more to protect now, because it wasn’t just her or a few people at stake if she made a mistake; the Dwarves living in her dungeon were just the start of the people that would die if she were destroyed.

  The Shieldmen were out culling by noon and had brought with them enough supplies to last them a week if necessary, the Elves were doing remarkably well with their new Bond-supplied Energy Orbs and special bows, and the villager Dwarves were finally given complete control of all of the constructs helping them – to a point. If the constructs were to pass the threshold into her Home room, she had given them all specific orders to stop and wait for Sandra to take control of them again. Otherwise, just about anything they wanted to do with the Diggers, Sentinels, Shears, and Automatons inside their residences and fields were theirs to do with as they would. Everything else was automated, though she did make sure to provide them with enough raw Bearling meat to last them all more than a week.

  In order for it not to spoil, Sandra hollowed out the smallest room she could and still have it considered part of her dungeon (20ftX20ftX20ft) and placed two large-but-short stone, open-topped boxes inside. Then, using the knowledge she had received after watching Violet in Sandra’s Enchantment Repository Room, she used two of her Unstable Shapeshifters to set up Stasis Fields on the boxes. The Fields were a bit larger than the ones in the Repository, so the Dungeon Core felt safer using more than one Shapeshifter to accomplish the tasks.

  Then, using her growing knowledge of Limiter runes, she set up two Small Spirit Energy Orbs up on each Field; they would only last maybe 6 months or so, but she figured that was plenty of time. Once that was set up, she made enough raw Bearling meat to fill each box up; now the meat would stay fresh for a long time without having to worry about them spoiling, and all someone would have to do would be to reach in and take it out. She had to warn the Dwarves not to place their entire bodies inside the Field, however, because she wasn’t exactly sure what that would do; as long as some part of them was outside of the Field, the time-halting process wouldn’t affect them.

  Are you ready, Winxa?

  “Absolutely – it’s about time.”

  I agree. With nothing else holding her back, Sandra activated her Core Size upgrade and her perception of the world around her shrunk down to just her Home room. She didn’t even bother to set something up to keep her mind occupied or amused like she had before, because she spent the time thinking of what she wanted to achieve once she was free of the upgrade.

  Let’s see; first, I want to…and then….

  The list was practically endless.

  Chapter 17

  For once in my life, I’m glad to get out of that forest.

  Most of his life, Wyrlin had felt at home amongst the trees; it was as natural to him as an Elf as breathing was to any other race. It was one of the reasons he had originally wanted to be a Ranger, and despite the constant danger he was in culling dungeon monsters, he had enjoyed spending most of his days within the majestic world found within the forest. Of course, that was before the rise of the dungeon in the wastelands and its spreading influence that penetrated even to the capital.

  Now, all he wanted to do was leave the perceived safety of the trees and get his goal accomplished. Over the last week, his band of rebel Rangers, hunters, and Elites had cautiously worked their way through the dense forest to the north; the natural barrier dividing his homeland of Symenora from Orcrim was effective for a reason – because it took a lot of time, caution, and pure destructive power to survive. He found it fortunate that only 2 of his hunters had been killed along the way; he grudgingly admitted that without the Elites that had arrived shortly before they were forced to flee, even more would’ve perished.

  It came as a shock to Wyrlin to find out that he had never ventured farther than the fringes of the vast forest in all his years of exploring and killing dungeon monsters. That was probably because all of the dungeons that surrounded their lands were within a few miles of the forest’s border; there was no point in venturing past their normal territories, as concentrating on culling was the most important part of his life. In between where the dungeons were located, there were vast tracts of forest where normal beasts and creatures roamed and provided ample hunting prospects. None of them were particularly dangerous, however, especially for an experienced Ranger.

  Now he knew why they weren’t dangerous – because the dangerous ones had pushed them out from the center of the forest.

  The width of the trees separating the Elven and Orcish (or even Gnomish) lands was relatively thin near the border with the wastelands, such as near Avensglen. In that area, it didn’t grow wider than perhaps 8 or 9 miles; when you got farther inside of Symenora, like where they were trying to force their way through to the Orc lands, the forest was over a hundred miles thick.

  In the center of that forest, where dungeons held little sway, was a breeding ground for powerful creatures and deadly beasts. While Wyrlin had heard about it all growing up, actually traveling through the darker, older, and deadly trees was a different experience altogether. He began to see where the differing dungeons he’d heard about got their inspiration for their monsters, as there was a virtual menagerie of different species that filled the forest unchecked by anything other than themselves.

  There were beasts of all different species and shapes, reptilian creatures of different kinds, groups of flying animals that were straight out of a nightmare, giant bugs that skittered here and there along the dense foliage, and hundreds of other things that he sensed and caught glimpses of – but was unable to identify. He and his people were strangely fortunate because, unlike the dungeon monsters he was so used to slaying, the various creatures they encountered were a bit more intelligent than the mindlessness of the beasts and slimes he had been culling just a few short weeks ago. Most of the creatures could identify that the Elves represented a serious threat to them and left him and the others alone; if they didn’t move out of the way, they at least let them pass without attacking unless they were harassed first.

  The ones that had trouble sensing that he and the others were a threat were the ones they had to worry about the most. At least once an hour, an ambush would spring up around them as they passed through an area of the forest that appeared to be completely safe, and it was only through the applications of manipulated elemental energy from the Elven Elites that the majority of them had survived. He felt bad that two hunters had been snatched up in the same ambush; over a dozen massive snakes that had jaws wide enough to swallow an Elf whole had descended from the trees, snatching up the two hunters as well as three Rangers.

  Luckily, the rest of his crew had reacted fast enough to save the three Rangers, filling the giant snakes full of elemental energy-enhanced arrows and slung spells. They were entirely paralyzed for almost half a day from the potent poison the snakes’ fangs had pumped full of their victims; after being carried for the rest of the day until they made a hasty camp, the three Rangers woke up the next day with haunted looks on their faces – as well as complete control of their bodies again.

  That was the deadliest of the ambushes, though there were hundreds of little injuries along the way. As much as he hated to admit he needed them, one of the robe-wearing Elite Elves that had barged in and took over his operation had access to Holy elemental energy; unlike what he expected from them based on his first impressions, the Elites all took good care of him and his group – and weren’t stingy on using their energy to help.

  “Fyola and the others like to bluster and boast about their prowess, but they know we need you as much as you need us,” the Elite named Mercyll had told him privately. He had just finished healing one of Wyrlin’s Rangers that had been badly mauled by a lion/hyena beast he’d never even heard coming.

  Fyola was the name of the spokesperson he had me
t when they first showed up, and she certainly liked to rub it in his face that she was in charge whenever she could. Most of the others had similar attitudes and treated him and the others like some sort of servants, or else children that they had to wrangle up so that they didn’t hurt themselves. Mercyll seemed like a good sort, though, as the soft-spoken Elite seemed to genuinely care about them.

  “And why is that?” Wyrlin asked. “It seems like you are all powerful enough to kill everything in this forest without us, so why do you need us?” He didn’t bother to confirm that he and his people needed the Elites, because it was more than obvious by that point.

  “Because we heard what happened to Porthel and his group inside of the dungeon we’re going to destroy. A full accounting of what happened to them wasn’t made available to all of us, but we do know one thing above all else: they barely survived. We’re not exactly sure what they did to survive, of course, though based on how they are now working with the dungeon, we suspect they were somehow manipulated in some way. Based on the fact that they barely survived, and that, admittedly,” the Elite looked to make sure none of the others were around, before dropping his voice even more, “we aren’t nearly as powerful as Porthel and his team is, we need all the help we can get. Even with all of us, there’s a very good possibility that most of us won’t come back from this journey.”

  Wyrlin was oddly happy to hear that the others weren’t as confident in their success as they made themselves seem. To know that they weren’t all-powerful and needed him and his people made him feel a bit better; a few times during their perilous trek through the forest, he had felt nearly useless and that the Elites were just dragging them along out of some sort of misplaced responsibility. Regardless, it still thoroughly annoyed him that Fyola had taken over his group and pushed him out of the way, so he wouldn’t mind it if she were one of the ones that didn’t come back from the destruction of the dungeon.

  “Treeline is up ahead, what are your orders?” Ferio came out of practically nowhere to appear near his side. Wyrlin was just about to answer when he realized the older Ranger was looking at Fyola – and not him. A quick side-eye and a shrug from Ferio did little to assuage his sudden flare-up of anger, though not at the Ranger; there wasn’t much that any of them could do against the sheer destructive power of the Elites, so Ferio – like everyone else – had to conform to the new command structure or suffer for it. Even the other two Elites that Wyrlin had recruited previously – who were noticeably younger and likely new to their positions – obeyed the older Elite squad without question.

  “We’ll stick to just within the treeline here, as it should be relatively safe; at most, we’ll see some dungeon monsters from any nearby dungeons we pass on the way to the wastelands. If you see any Orcs, don’t engage with them; we’re technically passing through their lands and we do not want to start an incident. No fires, no noise; if you all can handle that, we should be at the dungeon in less than a week.”

  Ferio just nodded and started skulking through the edge of the forest, followed by all the rest of the Rangers and hunters. No one argued, which disappointed Wyrlin a little because he wanted someone to argue with Fyola; however, her idea made sense, so it was probably a good thing that no one objected. With a sigh, he followed the others, noting with a little amusement that Fyola and the other robe-wearing Elites were the ones making the most noise as they moved through the undergrowth. The only reason they had originally snuck up on him and Ferio back at his camp was because of a wasteful use of Air-based elemental energy, the spell of which they cast blocked any sound from carrying more than 5 feet from their bodies.

  Now, though, they were conserving their energy in case it was really needed, which he was appreciative of. Since they were technically in “enemy” territory, despite not actually being at war with the Orcs, they needed to be prepared in case something came up. None of them had actually been to Orcrim, even the uppity Elites, so they didn’t have a clue what to expect.

  A few hours into their travels, darkness started to descend on the treeline, making it more difficult to navigate. All of them had enough experience roaming through their own familiar forests that they probably could’ve kept going if they were there; since they were in unfamiliar and uncharted territory, they didn’t want to take a chance they would run into something out of the ordinary. Therefore, Fyola called a halt and they made a hasty but secure camp; it soon became a bit colder than was comfortable, however. Because they didn’t start a fire so as not to attract notice, there were grumbles throughout the camp; the Elites were actually the worst of the lot, as they were used to their comforts a little more than the rugged Rangers and hunters that Wyrlin’s crew was composed of.

  During the night, when the cold was the worst within the shade of the trees, Fyola scream-whispered in frustration and used her Fire elemental energy to start a small fire, which she then used to heat up the outside of some large boulders nearby. After about 10 minutes of concentrated heat – and likely most of her energy – the boulders had heated up so much that they glowed faintly, giving off quite a bit of heat even 20 feet away. Wyrlin was thankful enough for the heat, but he was worried that she had inadvertently caused them to be spotted by the Orcs. Fortunately, the glow was very faint and faded over the next couple of hours, and no one saw or noticed anything out of the ordinary.

  It was two hours into the next day’s trek through the forest that his worry came true.

  They had been walking carefully through the underbrush of the forest, using all of their skill to avoid walking on anything that might make noise, when Wyrlin realized he hadn’t seen Ferio come back to report on their forward trail. The older Ranger had proven to be the most adept of them all in moving silently and quickly, scouting out where they would be traveling for the next hour or so, reporting back to Fyola his findings. Since the robe-wearing Elites were the slowest of the bunch, it usually gave the Ranger plenty of time to scout ahead and discover anything that might be of concern. The problem today, however, was that Wyrlin hadn’t seen him since he left early that morning.

  It was entirely possible that Fyola had given him different orders today, which was foolish if Wyrlin had anything to say about it; being out of contact with any scouts for a lengthier amount of time was never the smartest idea. Even as much as he hated the Elite leader and wanted her to die for taking what little power he had away from him, he also knew that she wasn’t stupid. Therefore, he jogged ahead a little and caught up to Fyola, before whispering so low that it couldn’t be heard more than a dozen feet away.

  “Have you seen Ferio since he left this morning?” he asked quickly.

  The Elite leader was obviously startled a little by his appearance so close to her and she jumped; to try to distract from the way he had surprised her, she blurted out, “No – and it’s none of your business—”

  A sudden yelp from one of their other Rangers scouting just ahead of the main group made everyone tense up. Suddenly a rustling from every direction, including behind them, caused the Elves to quickly close ranks and draw their bows or ready their spells facing outwards in a big circle. At first, Wyrlin didn’t see anything, but after a few moments he detected movement; from behind a tree came striding an Orc with sword bared and a stern look on his face. Or it could’ve been a smile for all he knew, as he’d never actually met an Orc before; their green skin and brown leather armor blended almost perfectly in with the forest, however, which was probably why he hadn’t seen him before.

  From every other direction came more Orcs, purposefully surrounding them on all sides, until he lost count of how many there were. From what he could see, he estimated that there were at least 300, but there could’ve easily been more; it was amazing that he hadn’t seen them before they appeared, though, and now he was wondering how long they had been following them. It probably wasn’t that long; they can’t seem to move through the forest with anything even resembling stealth. I have a feeling we simply walked into an ambush.

&
nbsp; Wyrlin was prepared to fire, ready to take down as many as he could before he fell in case they attacked. It was only when he saw Ferio and another Ranger being held between two massive Orcs, their muscles so large that one of their arms looked like it was thicker than the older Ranger’s torso. He wasn’t exactly sure what was going on, but he kept his sights locked on the nearest Orc, ready to release at the first sign of movement.

  He almost let it go when one of the Orcs out front spoke in guttural Orcish; at least, Wyrlin assumed it was Orcish, because he didn’t recognize it. All of the other Rangers and hunters with them looked like they were in the same state he was – confused and cautious at the Orc’s speech; well, all but Ferio, as he seemed to be able to understand. Wyrlin had never asked exactly how old the other Ranger was, so it was quite possible he was old enough to have actually interacted with Orcs in the past when their people were a little more friendly towards each other.

  “Put down your weapons. They aren’t here to attack us.”

  It took Wyrlin a few seconds to comply with Fyola’s order, as he didn’t trust so many Orcs surrounding him so closely. However, it was also plain to see that the lead Elite – and most of the other Elites – seemed to be able to understand Orcish, so if she thought it was safe, he was inclined to believe her. It rankled him to admit that, but he wasn’t stupid, either.

  “Are they letting us go, then?” he whispered to Fyola, who put up her hand to stop any further speech. The Orc spoke again, this time at length, and the Elite leader sighed, and her shoulders slumped.

  She spoke to all of the Elves, using a monotone voice. “They aren’t here to attack us, but they aren’t letting us go, either. We’re to be brought to their camp, which – if I understood distances correctly – will take us about five days to reach. From there, I’m assuming they’re planning on interrogating us to find out what we’re doing here. We can’t win here, unfortunately; there are too many as it is, and it could start a war that both of our peoples would suffer from.”