Dungeon Corp- Crypts of Phanos

by Jaxon Reed

  Erik sheathed his sword and walked up to Toby.

  He said, “Sorry about that, big fella. You surprised me, and I reacted on instinct.”

  Toby looked at Norra, now far away. Nobody else had a knife or blade out anywhere nearby. He looked back down at Erik and smiled, as if all were forgiven. Slowly, he brought his arms down from this shoulders.

  Erik turned to Nessa and said, “Look at you! I think this means we can ease up on the healing potions.”

  Nessa blushed, clearly uncomfortable.

  She said, “I just wish . . . yes, I suppose something good did come out of this. I just wish Toby didn’t have to get hurt, though.”

  The big elf looked down and smiled at her affectionately.

  “If anyone can take it, he can,” Erik said, reaching up to slap Toby on the back. Toby looked behind him quickly, to make sure no blades were about.

  -+-

  The team trained well into the afternoon, finally breaking before supper to hit the baths and relax a while.

  Choster ate at their table again for supper, nibbling on a slice of peach cobbler while watching Toby down plate after plate of fresh fish and broiled zucchini, potato salad and three bowls of asparagus. For desert, the serving ladies gave Toby his own pie, which he held in one hand while munching on it like a cookie.

  When he finished, Nessa stood up and wiped his lips with a napkin, delicately cleaning off his face.

  “I think he can do that himself,” Tawny said, glaring at her.

  “Somebody has to take care of him,” Nessa said, never looking at her.

  “Well, you know . . . I am his sister.”

  That made Nessa turn and lock eyes with her. Everyone at the table froze for a moment.

  Nessa said, “Well, some people can take care of people they care about better than their own family can. In some ways.”

  Choster broke the uncomfortable silence that followed.

  He said, “It sounds awkward, but what I think she’s trying to say—”

  Tawny said, “I know what she’s trying to say, Choster!”

  Choster raised his hands defensively. All of Tawny’s ire shifted to him in an instant.

  Erik tried to play the diplomat.

  He said, “Toby is part of the team. We’ll all take care of him in different ways. And, down in the dungeons, he’ll play his part and help take care of us. That’s how a team works.”

  Toby smiled at Erik, ignoring the women. Eventually the tension eased as they both backed down.

  Choster said, “Well, now that Toby’s well-being is settled for the moment, I will take my leave of you good people and meet you again on the morrow.”

  “Oh?” Tawny said. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going out, to seek food if I may be so blunt. I need a good feast of blood, and I suspect no one at Dungeon Corps is willing to give me the pints I require.”

  The mood at the table turned again, this time to one of discomfort.

  Tawny continued with her questions.

  “Oh. And, uh . . . where will you be getting your . . . food?”

  “I have a variety of choices in a city like this, my dear. There are some who seek my kind out, hoping to gain knowledge in exchange for their blood, although truth to tell I wouldn’t know where to look for that sort in Phanos.

  “There are often ladies of the night willing to part with a pint for the right amount of coin. However, as pleasant as that may sound, I prefer to obtain my nourishment for free.

  “So with that in mind, I shall endeavor to find a troubled soul willing to negotiate a trade in kind, or some other mutually beneficial exchange.”

  He smiled, showing his full fangs. Tawny shivered at the sight.

  “Pity the unwary who trades with vampires,” Erik said with a grim chuckle.

  “Indeed,” Choster said. “I bid you all farewell.”

  And with that, he swept out the front door like smoke floating over water.

  -+-

  The moon slid down the night sky. In a couple hours it would slip below the horizon. For now, it cast a pale light on Phanos, where magic illumination kept the main streets in brighter lights.

  On side alleys and byways in the less fortunate parts of town, the lighting grew considerably dim. Here, in spots, the moon had only herself to shine into secluded passageways where rare drunken revelers might found themselves squinting about while stumbling home.

  Here too, unsavory denizens of the night lurked, waiting for moments of opportunity. Large groups and smaller clusters of pedestrians were allowed to pass unmolested, but they kept an opportune eye out for the unfortunate solitary soul traveling through their territory. Preferably drunk. Drunks were easier to rob because they could not fight as well.

  So it was that the sight and sound of a lonely inebriated individual making his way through the Wayside Docks aroused the attention of every thief and cutpurse for blocks around.

  He sang the chorus to My Bonnie’s Bonbon over and over, loud and terribly off key.

  “My bonnie’s bonbon so bon for me . . .

  “My bonnie’s bonbon no bon for thee . . .”

  By the time this besotted individual entered the docks and stumbled down an isolated row between two warehouses, his fate had already been decided and his belongings divvied up. Bill the Buc, the leader of the riffraff in these parts, had everything figured out.

  Any money or items of value the man owned were claimed, dibs called, as were his clothes and shoes. The hair on his head would be shaved and sold to lockmongers, and the man himself would end up impressed on a river barge heading north.

  Captains of said barges paid a bounty for new flesh, preferably men who remained passed out until far from the city, waking up securely locked in the galley where they would then help pull the oars, moving cargo upstream.

  Bill the Buc would take the impression fee as well as a bounty for the man’s hair. These were, in fact, the two most lucrative sums and no one argued with Bill the Buc in his small fiefdom near the docks.

  His fate thus sealed, the drunk entered the darkest part of the alley when a group of four thugs jumped out of the shadows armed with chair legs, a knife and a short length of iron chain.

  The three blunt weapons swung for the victim’s head. The knife was kept in reserve, just in case. Also its bearer, Bill the Buc, planned to use it for cutting the victim’s hair. Some skin might get shaved off along with the mane, but the lockmonger Bill knew would not mind. He’d pay all the same, bits of scalp or no.

  Three thugs swung in the dark . . . and the drunk disappeared. If they could have seen anything, they would have noticed their erstwhile victim became a cloud of mist in the blink of an eye, but since the mist was the same shade as everything else in the dark alley, he seemed to literally disappear without a trace.

  Two chair legs and a length of chain swished through empty air instead of connecting with a skull.

  “Har! Where’d he go?”

  Bill the Buc asked the obvious question.

  “Can’t see a thing,” the chain swinger said, also stating a fact that seemed obvious at face value.

  The mist coalesced into a vampire behind Bill the Buc, and Choster looked at the man with hungry eyes in the darkness. He quickly clamped a hand over Bill’s mouth and dug his fangs into the man’s neck.

  The other three thugs were too busy groping around to pay much attention to the silent bloodletting going on behind them.

  “Somebody got a light?” one of the men carrying a broken chair leg said. “I don’t think we’re going to see anything in the dark.”

  The man holding the length of iron chain reached into his pocket and pulled out a cheap amulet that glowed weakly with a spell. He held it high and turned it in a wide circle, peering intently into the surrounding gloom.

  Together the three thugs turned . . . and there lay Bill the Buc, crumpled on the ground with his knife nearby.

  “He’s . . . is he . . . ?”

  As one
they crept forward. Bill’s body looked far thinner than before, his face twisted in an emaciated rictus with fang marks on his neck.

  A black bat screeched at them and fluttered up into the night air, the moonlight catching its wings as it soared above the buildings.

  The thugs jumped back in fright and watched as it flew out of sight.

  -+-

  Later, in the dim hours of the morning after the moon sank below the horizon and before the first rays of dawn graced the city, a black bat flew down to Dungeon Corps Headquarters.

  Right outside the entrance it disappeared, turning into black mist which seeped underneath the door and into the common room.

  A small cloud of dark effervescence floated to a far corner and Choster materialized in the shadows.

  He sat down on a chair at one of the tables and sighed, fully satiated and satisfied the city had one less criminal element inside its walls tonight.

  The serving wenches would not be up and in the kitchen for another hour, so he stretched his legs and reveled in the solitude of the empty common room.

  He remained motionless, lost in thought for several minutes.

  His eyes flicked to the door suddenly, then tracked someone gliding invisibly across the room. A presence seemed to pause, uncertain which direction to head.

  Choster casually reached out a hand. A flash of lightning-white light split the room, leaving not a single inch in shadow for one glorious second.

  A tall elf appeared in the flash, crouching in a fighting stance. Her black leather armor glistened in the rapidly dimming light.

  She held a single dark blade that absorbed all illumination. Light sank into it, as if it were a slit in reality, sucking everything into the Abyss.

  Her eyes darted about the room, landing finally on Choster in the corner.

  She raised one exquisitely beautiful eyebrow, as if silently expressing surprise to find a vampire in the common room.

  For his part, Choster spoke as if greeting a friend in the park.

  He said, “You must be the one known as Dracaena. We have not met.”

  The assassin’s eyebrow came down and she thought furiously. The vampire, while unexpected, had not made any threatening moves. Perhaps he was here by coincidence? She had never faced one in combat before, but he did not appear overly formidable.

  As if reading her thoughts, Choster smiled, although he kept his fangs hidden behind his lips.

  He said, “What would one of King Sthenos’s famous assassins be doing here, of all places? And so far from the tree?”

  She tilted her head, still trying to discern if he would become a threat or not. But she remained silent.

  He continued talking, as if nothing were amiss.

  “I presume, of course, Sthenos sent you. After all, are not all elven assassins answerable to the royal court? I think I must have read that somewhere. Ah, yes. I believe it was Jeremy’s Sojourn in Elven Lands. Quite good, that book. Matters not that it is over a century old, now. I’m sure the information remains quite reliable. Things change slowly for your kind, am I not correct?”

  Dracaena made no comment. She considered disappearing again, then decided it would be pointless. The vampire could obviously see her, regardless.

  Well, if he was not going to try and stop her . . .

  She took a step toward the women’s bunkrooms.

  “If I may be allowed to make some deductions,” Choster said.

  Dracaena paused, looking back toward him again.

  “We have only two elves present in this building, a young female and her rather large brother.”

  Again, Dracaena gave no response. She continued staring at him, though, so Choster took that as reason enough to continue.

  “I would presume you are here to take one or both of them out, as the euphemism goes. Would I be correct?”

  Still, Dracaena said nothing but her eyes seemed to glint slightly. Choster saw it, and nodded.

  “I thought so. It makes sense. Elves. Elven assassin. Well, be that as it may . . .”

  He stood, and walked out from behind his table, facing her.

  “I cannot in good conscious allow you to continue. You see, those two were on the team that saved me recently. Not to mention, I am a member of Dungeon Corps, and I would be inclined to defend them regardless.”

  He smiled again. This time, he bared his fangs.

  She flicked her wrist and a bolt shot out from the blade. He turned to mist and the dark energy sailed through, striking the wall.

  She looked around quickly now, then slipped back into Shadow Invisibility, winking out of sight.

  Choster materialized in the middle of the room and cast Greater Flash again. Sudden searing white light zapped the room, driving all darkness out a second time. Dracaena appeared once more.

  This time she stood closer to Choster, only a few feet away. She lunged, stretching out with the wicked black blade. He evaporated again, but the tip of the long dagger flicked through the mist.

  His corporeal form appeared, and he fell down on the floor clutching his side.

  Dracaena smirked, raising the dagger and approaching quickly for the deathblow.

  Choster cast Greater Voice. He shouted, “ALARM! ALARM! INTRUDER! HELP!”

  The sound of his voice made dust float down from the rafters. It carried throughout the building, reverberating and bouncing on old wood and stone.

  Dracaena disappeared again. Choster summoned one more burst of Greater Flash to keep her from surprising newcomers. She reappeared just as Dunken ran down the stairs carrying a sword, Clencher and Percel hot on his heels. Team members streamed from their bunkrooms. Everyone stopped in surprise to see the black-clad elf holding the wicked blade.

  But only for a moment.

  “Get her!” Percel roared and he charged across the room, sword swinging. The corps took up the yell and everyone raced for Dracaena.

  She flung her hand as if throwing dust and cast Utter Darkness. All light winked out. In the confusion she slipped out the front door, hurrying into the street.

  Lamplights snuffed out as she ran, plunging the area into pre-dawn murkiness.

  In moments she was gone.

  Chapter 9

  Nessa discovered Greater Healing worked on a vampire just as well as a human. Choster explained something called a Shadow Dagger had injured him, although no one present had ever heard of or seen such a weapon.

  “It’s quite rare, and used by expert practitioners of Shadow Magic. Honestly, I’m not surprised Dracaena carries one as her weapon of choice.”

  “You speak as if you know her,” Percel said. He and Clencher, Dunken, and Norra surrounded Choster at a table in the common room along with Nessa, Erik, Tawny and Toby. Everyone else had been sent back to bed, though few would sleep any more before breakfast.

  “I know of her, Lord Percel, but I do not know her personally. I am a practitioner of Shadow Magic, and I know of all the other great wielders still awake in the world. Dracaena is legendary. It is said she is the greatest, or at least one of the greatest, elven assassins.”

  Everyone looked at Tawny. She frowned back at them.

  “This is twice now, that assassins have come for you,” Percel said. “It’s starting to become a problem.”

  The other three senior corps members looked at one another with uncomfortable expressions.

  Dunken said, “We can’t kick them out, if anyone is thinking that. They signed a contract, and it obliges us as well as them.”

  “No one was thinking that, Dunken,” Percel said. “We know the contract goes both ways. But, it’s still a problem. What are we going to do about the fact that elven assassins keep showing up trying to kill them? And now another corpsman has been hurt.”

  Everyone turned to Choster.

  He smiled, keeping his fangs hidden, and said, “I’m just glad I was here. I was able to help pay back the team for rescuing me earlier.”

  “The problem, as I see it, is very complex,” Norra s
aid. “From what I understand, the king of the elves has issued an edict calling for their deaths. The only way to solve the problem is convincing him to rescind the edict.”

  Tawny grimaced. She said, “That’s not going to happen.”

  Percel said, “We could kill the king.”

  All eyes darted to him, some trying to discern if he was serious or not. The stern expression on his face indicated he indeed made the comment sincerely.

  “I rather doubt that would be possible,” Choster said. “I have read extensively about elves and Dryadopolis. For outsiders to make their way in, undetected . . . Well, it is virtually impossible. And, humans and elves have lived in peace for a long time. Such an effort, even a futile one doomed to failure, could well spark another war.”

  “This is quite the vexing dilemma,” Dunken said. “We are bound to protect them, yet their presence here threatens the safety of everybody else.”

  The problem succinctly stated, discussion paused as everyone considered the issue. Except Toby. He kept smiling, glancing at one person to the next.

  At last Tawny looked up from the floor where she had been staring for a while.

  She said, “Maybe we could stay down in the crypts for a few days. I imagine that would be a harder place to find us, and if there is another battle with this . . . Dracaena or whoever she is, we could fight it out without dragging everyone else in.”

  Clencher’s eyebrows raised. He said, “We could set a trap for her down there. We know her specialty, now. And we have an expert in it.” He glanced at Choster.

  Choster nodded, rubbing his chin in thought.

  He said, “I would not put myself on her level. She’s legendary. Entire books have been written about Dracaena. It is quite probable that she is the highest level assassin the elves have. Perhaps anywhere.”

  “But you fought her off.”

  “I surprised her.”

  Dunken said, “Do you think if we were able to defeat her, would they keep sending more assassins, Choster?”

  The vampire shrugged. He said, “All I know is Dracaena is certainly one of their best. If we could defeat her, and that’s not entirely certain, subsequent threats would likely be less troublesome. They’ll be faced with the choice of additional suicide missions or sending a military force. And if they send a large enough force, or make any military effort, really, the queen may decide it is tantamount to war.”