“Thank you, wise leaves,” I said. I was really winging this. “May…may your branches be sturdy and not bow to even the strongest…strongest…wind. Yes.”
Galatee stared at me for what seemed like hours. “You would be wise to hold your words, like your knowledgeable friend,” she told me. “Core Jahn can be an example to you.”
Core Jahn? An example to me?
Well…fair enough. At least he’d kept his mouth shut. I had evidently said something wrong. I resolved to stay quiet too, until I had a better grasp of who these people were and how their culture worked.
“Core bearers, come forth,” said Galatee.
Two figures stepped forward, younger members of the crowd judging from their slender frames and what I could see of their faces beneath their masks. Jahn’s was a human girl, whereas mine was a green-faced teen with three eyes.
“We will descend,” said Galatee.
The core bearers each grabbed the rods Jahn and I were resting on and carried us, following Galatee’s lead. We headed away from the makeshift bazar and toward what appeared to be a completely desolate wasteland.
The green-skinned boy carrying me leaned closer. “This leaf is Warrane,” he said. “He is your bearer. It is an honor, oh powerful one.”
“The honor is mine, Warrane. I don’t think you’ll need to bear me much longer.”
“Oh? Can one such as yourself levitate?”
“No, no. I’m assuming I’ll soon be placed in a dungeon of some sort. I hope so, anyway.”
“You will still need this leaf to carry you, no?”
“No, Warrane. In a dungeon, I can create pedestal points that I can teleport to at will. There’s no need for a core to walk in his own dungeon.”
“Oh. This leaf thought…” his voice trailed off, and his shoulders slumped, the liquid metal forming around them and making the gesture more pronounced.
“Have I upset you? I have a habit of doing that. I once made Core Pollit cry.”
“Cry? You think a leaf of the Webb tree would cry?” he said.
“Warrane, until a few moments ago, I had never even heard of your tree culture. Whether the Webb leaves are criers or not is completely unknown to me. If you are, no shame in that. It’s good to let your emotions loose now and then.”
“This leaf does not cry. He comes from a tree with blackened branches,” said the boy, and he seemed a little older now as he talked. “He is a five-leaf, but will never become a first-leaf.”
“No? Don’t you just have to grow old to become a first-leaf, or have I got this wrong?”
“A leaf rises when a new one grows from the bud.”
“Ah. When you have children, you become a leaf higher than you were. It’s a little early to say that will never happen, Warrane. Take it from someone who was once a man, and now inhabits a gem core body. Life has a way of smashing you in the face with a big fist of surprise.”
“You don’t understand, wise core. The first, second, third, and fourth leaves in the Webb tree are blackened. Corrupted. Rotted. Dead on the inside, their foulness a blight upon the-”
“Okay, your relatives aren’t the best. But you’re right; I don’t understand.”
“The leaves above me left us. They joined the others, those who wish to destroy us. The Seekers. They tried to get this leaf to go with them. His grandparents, his mother…they begged him to leave, but he wouldn’t. First-leaf Godwin proclaimed that the Webb tree is wicked at the root, and he ordered that this leaf Warrane be cast out, but second-leaf Galatee…”
“She spoke up for you?”
“If it wasn’t for her, this leaf would have been dead. A corrupted tree spreads foulness through its roots and poisons the whole soil. That’s what first-leaf Godwin says.”
“Seems like a charming fella. They’re trusting you to carry me, though. Not to exaggerate my own worth, but that must mean something.”
“This leaf has for years tried to restore his reputation. He has volunteered for the tasks and labor that no other leaves want to do. He has never complained, never shirked. He has slowly won this reputation, and second-leaf Galatee has given him this chance to restore some pride to a withered tree.”
I sensed that this was an honor for him. Truth be told, I was a little uncomfortable being treated this way. Let me tell you, I didn’t see any honor in carrying someone like me around.
But, if somehow helping me would restore this poor lad’s family reputation, then I guessed I could play along. I didn’t enjoy having a servant – at least one not of my own creation – but I found myself liking Warrane immediately.
“Although I won’t need you to carry me around my dungeon,” I told him. “There may be other tasks.”
“Ones that will bring this leaf honor?”
“Lots of honor. More than you know what to do with.”
“Such as what, wise core?”
“You know. Core…stuff. In fact, I saw you collect the gifts your people gave me earlier, yes?”
“This leaf has a bag artificed to hold things many times its size.”
“Great. I might be able to use some of the things as loot for when the heroes come.”
“Heroes?” said Warrane, a puzzled look on his face.
Did these people not know about heroes? What had they gotten themselves into, pooling all their fortunes to buy Jahn and I? What was a dungeon core, if he didn’t fight heroes?
“Warrane,” I said. “It seems your people might not be as educated about dungeon cores as I thought. Is that right?”
“This core talks of heroes and loot, and it confuses this leaf.”
Yep, that sold it. These people didn’t know much about cores at all, and they’d somehow pinned their hopes of salvation on us. Though salvation from what, I didn’t even want to think. The people that Warrane’s family left to join, yes, it had to be them. What did he call them? The Seekers? Who were they?
I was sure answers would come, but for now, I was left with a feeling of a massive weight resting on me and threatening to crush me. So many people, so much hope placed in a couple of failed dungeon cores.
Ever had the feeling you’re about to disappoint a whole society of people?
We had only walked a hundred or so feet into the wasteland when Galatee stopped. There was nothing here. No sign of growth, not even any insects. I had already shut off my sensations, because a great heat was coming from the sky, and the smell of sulfur swirled all around me.
Galatee kneeled against the ground and placed both her hands on it. Light washed from her palms, forming an orange rune of light that spread out in a circle. The light solidified, becoming a door. She pushed on it, and the door opened inward, into the ground.
Galatee led us on, walking through this door and then deep into the ground, to a sloping tunnel lit by mana torches. The deeper we went, the further into darkness we traveled, the more at home I felt. Yes, there’s nothing a dungeon core loves more than a stinking, black space buried way, way below the surface.
Soon, the tunnel widened more and more, until finally, it opened onto an enormous cavern.
Ah. Here was their home.
It was a sprawling cave hidden way below the surface, lit by enormous mana torches as big as houses fixed at various points in the cavern. There were hundreds of dwellings made from crystal-like materials of different colors, catching the torchlight like a prism and sending beautiful patterns of illumination across the space.
Bah.
Did I mention I’m a dungeon core? Beauty doesn’t appeal to us, I’m afraid.
This cavern was filled with people of all ages, races, genders. Here, at least, my suspicion was proved right. None of them wore their liquid metal suits in the cave, which suggested that the surface was deadly to them.
It meant I could see just what a multicultural society they were. I spotted orcs, dwarfs, merkins, humans. I even saw a group of kobolds pushing minecarts, which made me think of my kobold friends, Tomlin and Wylie.
Cou
rse, they were my creations, not friends. According to dungeon core rules, when a core made monsters from essence, they were just tools constructed to help part heroes from their lives. To me, though, the little kobolds were my friends, and we’d grown close. I missed Tomlin and Wylie.
“Bearers, bring your cores to the lightorium,” said Galatee.
“Yes, two-leaf Godwin.”
As Warrane carried me across this cavern city, it was hard to ignore the dozens of faces that looked my way, and it reminded me that I was a salvation of some sort to these people.
Galatee had mentioned that these guys had pooled their possessions to pay for me, and they had high hopes. They probably expected something from me that I just didn’t have; a kind of gravitas, I suppose. They would expect me to act all mysterious and powerful. Maybe I could play the part, and give them their money’s worth.
I addressed one orc male, who had two cute orc kids standing by his legs. “Yes, it is I, your core. May glory come to this fine settlement.”
“Shove it up your arse, gem,” said the orc. His children made a gesture with their fingers, which I guessed wasn’t a welcoming one.
Oh well. You can’t be friends with everyone.
The lightorium was the biggest structure in the city. Shaped like a sphere, and with a giant dome and crystal walls. On the inside, the dome seemed impossibly high, much higher than from the outside. I sensed the work of an artificer-builder, who were known to be able to craft illusions into their designs.
Streams of light spiraled up near the dome, illumination of different colors spinning in the air and forming shapes when they touched one another. A web of brown light met green and together they formed a tree, while silver and black met and transformed into a giant sword hanging above us. It was as though they were alive and playful, and there was a real sense of glee in the way they swirled, formed, melded.
Galatee stood under the dome. She took a small marble from an unseen pocket on her liquid suit. The marble was transparent and small enough for her to pinch between her index finger and thumb. She held it to her chest, and the marble began to draw the suit from her, almost sucking it off her body until the marble became pure silver, and Galatee stood before us uncovered.
Still wearing clothes, obviously. It’s better that I point this out right now. These people weren’t naturists or something.
When I’d hypothesized about their tree/leaf structure and what it meant, I’d guessed that Galatee being a second-leaf meant she was of an older generation, with first-leaf presumable being the eldest.
Don’t you just love being right? Not to gloat. I mean, I’m often wrong. But this time, I’d hit the mark.
Galatee was a gnome. A tall gnome, but her gnomeness was clear in her face. Craggy, yet feminine. Wrinkled, with wide, shining blue eyes. So blue that I was certain she’d had the opportunity to swim in a mana spring at some point in her life. If that was true, she could be hundreds of years old, given what mana springs could do. Maybe there was one nearby, and that was why they settled underground beneath that hell hole of a surface.
“Bearers, you may leave for the moment,” she said. “Thank you, Warrane. First-leaf Godwin will be most impressed that you have begun such an important service.”
Warren blushed, then did a sort of awkward half-bow. Not really sure what he was trying, to be honest. It was strange.
“Honored, Second-leaf Godwin.”
He and Jahn’s bearer – was I starting to call them that now? – left, and now it was just Jahn, Galatee and I.
She focused on Jahn first. He’d gotten lucky guessing where her name came from, and she’d pegged him as the wiser of the two of us. Ah, well. I’d let him enjoy it.
“Core Jahn,” she said. “You have no doubt guessed why we have brought you here.”
“Yes…yes, quite,” said Jahn, using his sagest voice.
“Then you may like to clarify this to your friend. Perhaps an explanation from you, rather than me, will make him more at home.”
Jahn faced me. “Core Beno…it’s…it’s quite simple. Uh, these people-”
I really didn’t want to embarrass Jahn. “Let me try and guess,” I said. “I’m obviously the dumbest core here, but I won’t learn anything having things handed to me.”
“Ah. Failure is the first path to mastery, both in deeds and knowledge,” said Galatee.
I wanted to get this right. I don’t know why; I suppose having failed my first evaluation as a core, and seeing how much these people seemed to have invested in me, I didn’t want them to think they’d wasted their money. Which they probably had.
“If I had to make a guess,” I said, “You already know that a dungeon core can convert essence into physical objects and beings. You live underground, but maybe you’d like to spread to the surface. So, perhaps you believe that Jahn and I can use our abilities to transform the surface.”
She arched an eyebrow now, but said nothing. I sensed I was off the mark.
“Or, you wish to spread your underground civilization further. Maybe there are more tunnels to be made, more caves to be populated, and you see a dungeon core as a perfect fit for the task.”
Her eyebrow arched higher. Higher than I thought an eyebrow could go, really. That’s gnomes for you.
“Or that is what I would have guessed if I was trying to guess wrong. No, you bought us for another reason. You’ve mentioned a few times that we’re a salvation for you, and salvation implies a threat. There’s something down here that you believe a dungeon core can rid you of.”
“Three guesses,” said Galatee. “Three arrows missing their target and thudding into the dirt.”
Okay, now I was perplexed.
“They want us to kill things,” said Jahn, his voice back to its overeager self.
“Ah, Core Jahn understands, just as I thought.”
You kidding me? It’s that simple? They want us to kill something? Maybe there was a lesson for me here; don’t overcomplicate things. In fact, it was a lesson Overseer Winterroot had drummed into us again and again in his dungeon design class.
“Clever for a purpose is good,” he’d say. “Clever for clever’s sake can get you killed.”
Galatee sat down and sat with her legs crossed in a position that Overseer Tarnbuckle, who loved yoga, used to adopt in class.
“The reason I presented you to our people up on the surface, is because the surface is a hallowed ground for us. It was once our home, but as you can see, it isn’t home to even the toughest of weeds. Soon, if the Seekers have their way, the sanctuary you see before you will meet the same fate.”
CHAPTER 3
It was there, in that lightorium lit by the spectral glows of the dome above, that Galatee told us about her people, and why they had resorted to selling anything worth gold just to buy a couple of failed dungeon cores.
Her people were called the Wrotun. In a rather strange fashion, they were not a people of a single race, but instead were made up of several races all banding together. Each family was called a tree, and the generations were named leaves, gaining rank and authority the higher they climbed.
There was an orc tree, merkin tree, even a kobold tree. Though all trees had a say in community matters, the deciding vote was always cast by the Godwin tree, who were gnomes.
I found it fascinating. People in Xynnar were way too secular most of the time. I mean, obviously, the major cities like Westex and Guranhai had a mix of races living there, but almost every isolated community stuck to their own race.
The Wrotun lived as travelers for a long time, roaming Xynnar in their wagons and carts, staying by fresh springs and in forests full of game, never laying their hats for longer than a month at most. It was in their blood, to walk the plains and hills and mountains and forests of Xynnar as the seasons changed around them.
On one journey, they had the misfortune to make a series of false turns, and their wagons soon rolled over this horrible stretch of hell. Even back then, nothing grew here.
“It was strange,” said Galatee, staring at me. “We each checked our maps, and even with the false turns, we should have been nowhere like this. There was no sign of it on any map in our possession.”
“Could it be the maps were old and whatever blight fell on this place hadn’t happened when they were drawn?” I asked.
“Core Beno, it was two hundred years ago when we first rolled into this place.”
“What? Does it have a name? I’d have heard of a place like this if it had been this way for two hundred years.”
“The Valley of the Wrong Turn was what Saber, our joker of a bard named it. Saber was especially adept at spreading rumors, and soon this name stuck. People gradually shortened it, until it was known was Wrotun. This became the name we called ourselves, too.”
“Still never heard of it. If you loved traveling so much, why have you stayed here?”
“Perhaps Core Jahn has already guessed the reason for that. I would be surprised if he hadn’t.”
She looked at him expectantly now. I could tell how much Jahn was enjoying being known as the smart one, and how much he was struggling to answer this.
“I’m sure an answer will spring to Jahn’s mind,” I said.
“Yes, yes,” he said using his sage voice again. He really had no clue.
“Mysteries are like mana to Core Jahn,” I said. “They fill him with energy. They make him spring like a new lamb. Mana. Spring.”
Jahn coughed once. Then again. “I seem to be getting a sore throat.”
“Cores can get maladies?” asked Galatee. “Should I fetch for honey and lemon?”
“It’s been a long trip, and it came straight after some strenuous dungeon building for us both,” I said. “Core Jahn will be back to his best soon. Until then, we would be grateful to hear the story from you.”
Galatee nodded. Her eyes looked sad now. “Risto, a first-leaf of the Redbar tree and a gifted illusionist, suspected there was more to this land than we could see. He said he could feel it. We agreed to stay for one night, just so Risto could explore this feeling. One night turned to two, then five, then ten, before finally, Risto found it. The door.”
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