by Ryan DeBruyn
“Mur check back exit? Make sure no mouse run that way,” I grunt while pointing to the back of the cave.
Mur nods and rushes into the deeper shadows, searching for another exit. I assume there won’t be one if my theory about the dungeons is correct. There is a major issue with the strategy, though, and that’s the sheer size of that Vulpe. Even infused, my naginata isn’t likely to be more than a steel splinter, and the same goes for Mur’s sword.
“Jeff, come see,” Mur shouts from deeper inside.
I tilt my head and jog deeper into the cave. Mur is standing at the bottom of stone steps that lead upward, and he points to two pools of water forming on each side of the stairs. I’m not looking at them, though. Instead, I point up the stairs.
“Mur check top yet?” I ask. Mur glances backward and then nods a few times.
“Mur find large block, hard white-blue. Cold to touch—no exit.”
Ice? The top of the stairs is covered in ice? I move up the stairs myself and confirm Mur’s findings. Could this be one of the Fox dungeons the mercs talked about? They used to say you needed to bring pickaxes to break the ice and challenge the boss above the tunnel. . . we don’t have any of those, and I don’t relish fighting that huge creature head-on either.
Back in the cave, I look at the two pools and see they are different colors. One is glacial blue, and the other is emerald green. I can feel intense cold radiating from the two pools and just being near them is making me want to shiver. Could that be a time limit for this encounter?
I’m about to dismiss the pools when an [Identify] screen pops up.
Blue Glacial Water
Rank: N/A
I quickly turn to the other pool.
Green Glacial Water
Rank: N/A
The screens don’t confirm that the pools are timers, but then why would there be two? If it is a timer, then one of the pools would have been sufficient—right? Mur pulls out a Leporid stomach canteen and fills it in the one pool’s pearlescent blue water.
“Mur, no do that, Jeff not sure water clean. Mur get sick?” I caution.
The goblin looks at his bottle and then the pool and grunts in acknowledgment of my words before grudgingly pouring it out. The stream of liquid creates swirling foggy patterns within the stagnant blue pool. For a moment, I’m mesmerized by the near glow of the blue that intermingles with the swirls. I shake it off and motion for Mur to follow me back to the front of the cave.
“What plan, Chief Jeff?” Mur asks cautiously, looking down the tunnel with poorly hidden anxiety all over his green features. A bit of my own anxiety reminds me of its presence, and bile rises in my throat. I point to the first cage and do my best to dismiss my own fears.
“Tribe release mouse, attack boss when attack bait,” I explain.
Mur’s face morphs, all nerves from a moment ago vanishing, and he nods his head so vigorously I can see his pointed ears flapping. I touch my own ear point and am glad that the mutation didn’t make them nearly bat wings like Mur’s.
“Jeff let mouse out, chase bait, attack boss,” I say as I pull my naginata from my subspace. With my free hand, I reach down and unlatch the cage. Before I can even pull the front of the cage open, the field mouse bashes into it, jamming the cell into the webbing of my hand. I curse under my breath but begin chasing after the incredibly fast-moving mouse with only a slight pause.
As soon as the mouse leaves the stone cave, I hear its screech reverberate through the snow, and a shadow quickly passes over the tunnel. The mouse outpaces Mur and me by about ten feet, even with me infusing qi and Mur’s far higher physical stats. After we’ve run about forty feet into the tunnel, the ceiling explodes downward. Jaws snap shut, and the mouse doesn’t even get to squeal in protest before the teeth of the Vulpe pierce it to death.
I lunge forward and hear Mur leap off the snow to attack as well. I’m too slow to score a significant blow. My naginata barely connects with the gums of the Vulpe boss before it has pulled the mouse and its own muzzle back out of the tunnel. Before I can even blink, something hits me in the middle of the shoulders, and I flinch away, diving forward into a roll as I feel more strikes on my back.
What is attacking me?
I come out of my roll to discover that the chunks of snow were the culprit and breathe a sigh of relief. Then I realize Mur is missing!
Did the Vulpe attack again?
I doubt it, as there are only the two rough, caved-in areas on the ceiling. That thought gives me a clue, and I look at the second pile of loose and chunky snow. On the far side, there is a single three-toed green foot waving around, and once I am concentrating, I can hear a murmur from the pile itself. I jump forward, grab the foot and pull. He doesn’t come free, and I infuse my legs and arms before trying again. He shifts about four inches before I run out of extension length in my legs. I grip and pull again, this time feeling him move about a foot. I strain with my legs and feel myself shoot backward, as whatever tension was being held by the snow pops free.
Mur lands atop me, and he is shivering badly. I lift him up and rush back toward the cave. A shadow passes over the area, darkening the snow floor I am staring at to ensure my footing. I dive forward and flatten both my body and Mur’s into the snow, and the ceiling explodes down a second time. I both hear and feel the hot breath of Zerda on my back. The instant I hear the nose pull back I begin rolling to the side of the tunnel, dragging Mur with me. Snow bombards me, but I add qi to the action to speed it up further. I manage to avoid the large chunks of snow and only have to pull us free of the edge of the pile before sprinting full speed toward the cave again. I don’t want to waste even a second, the memory of the Vulpe’s hot breath already flipping my stomach. Our attack was nearly useless, and we almost died three times before making it back. If one of those snow cave-ins landed on both of us . . . I tremble, or maybe the shaking is from the shivering Mur. I feel his body shaking violently in my arms. What can I do to help him?
We have a few towels and blankets from the Training Room in the subspace, and so I pull them out, wrapping him in their depths. They aren’t meant for these low temperatures, but I am guessing they are better than nothing. A fire would be helpful too, but unfortunately, there isn’t anything inside the cave that appears flammable.
I could try to share my body heat with him, but that is likely just going to chill us both. Wait, what about the mice?
I stab my naginata through the bars of a cage and kill one of the creatures. Pulling it out of the cage, I wrap it close to Mur as well. It is not hygienic, but if it is lifesaving, the goblin can shower later or take a few days’ break if sickness comes.
Mur nods to me and attempts to grunt something, but his shivering blue lips and convulsing body make whatever he said impossible to comprehend. Not to worry. I need to figure out a way to attack and kill the boss. There has to be something I am missing.
I make another quick lap of the cavern. Two pools of water, numerous cages, two of which are now empty, and the staircase. Am I supposed to melt the blockage and then attack the Vulpe up above?
No matter how I turn that over in my head, it feels reckless. If the head of the Vulpe is that large, not even mentioning the speed of its attacks, we would be at a severe disadvantage out in the open. What am I overlooking? I am unwilling to let my theory about a strategy existing for every boss fight go. At least not yet.
In my searching, I notice something else that is starting to wear on my mind. I think it might be getting colder in this cave. That, or the near brush with the snow outside has dropped my internal temperature. Either way, Mur and I can’t stay in here forever. . .
I examine the mice and find they are all nearly identical clones. I keep searching, looking to find a special one. Maybe one that has a disease or something?
Nothing.
Wait—each cage has an empty plastic tube that leads down to a strange metallic straw that ends in a ball. The devices are completely foreign to me, but a reservoir like the one o
n top doesn’t really need explanation. I rush back to the pools of water and pull out an empty dried stomach canteen from my subspace. Is this the answer?
My own inner question hangs in the air as I look at the green and the blue pools. Okay—which one? For some reason, green is far more ominous than ice blue, but after seeing Mur struggling against nearly being frozen, they both seem like good options.
I go with my gut and choose green. I can always come back and choose blue next. The bottle glugs in the water, and I smile as I bring it over to splash into the wide mouth of one of the reservoirs. Something about this feels right!
The mouse stares at me, and I stare back. Its eyes and body position give off a strong ‘you try it first’ vibe. I shake my head and check on Mur. He is no longer quaking, and his lips are regaining some of their green. Okay, if these mice are going to be stubborn—let’s play the numbers game.
I make multiple trips back and forth and have emptied a bottle of green water in ten cages when one of them finally takes the hint. It pushes its teeth up against the stainless-steel straw with a click, and a bubble slips out and splashes the top of the liquid surface, which only fills the reservoir a tenth of the way. Holding my breath, I watch closely as the green water vanishes slowly down the tube and into the field mouse.
Nothing happens. The mouse tries to continue drinking, but once it gets only a few drops, it goes back to meandering in its cage. At least all of the shrieking ceases with the time between boss attacks. Okay, so a new problem has arisen—does it need to drink more? Worth a try.
I rush back and fill the thirsty mouse’s reservoir three times, getting it to about a third of the way full. It begins drinking again, and I rush between the pool and the cage, trying to allow the creature to drink its fill. I forget to count, but I probably make eight or nine trips before the mouse stops drinking on its own and . . . goes back to meandering in its cage.
“Come on!” I exclaim, startling the mouse.
“Mouse drink all. What now?” Mur croaks from the floor. I turn to my tribesman, wanting to shout, but as soon as I see his drooping ears and still huddled form, I relent.
“Jeff not know, Mur. Jeff need clue,” I complain. There is still the possibility that these pools don’t affect the mice but will affect the Vulpe. “So the mice are the carriers?” I muse in English. That seems to fit the boss room.
I shrug and release the gate latch on the field mouse’s cage. It takes off down the tunnel, and I don’t chase it this time. First, attacking the Vulpe by myself would do little damage, and second, if I am trapped in a cave-in, no one is there to help me. Mur needs to recover a bit more first. Is it just me, or is the mouse moving slower?
Definitely! The green water is impeding the mouse’s speed. Is that all the water is for? Filling the mice up so we can keep up for a strike? The second pool of water would suggest otherwise. Not to mention, if we were higher ranking adventurers, we could likely keep up without the need for the pools. That seems wrong if I am looking—okay, desperately searching—for a strategy.
The shadow precedes a tunnel collapse and the snapping jaws of the massive Vulpe. Its fangs clamp shut around the bait, and this one manages a cry of terror before it dies. The noise sets off all the mice in their cages, and I watch on as the cacophony builds. Just as quickly as before, the boss’s head vanishes above again. But as snow falls from the ceiling, I tilt my head. The snow is stained with a green hue as some of the liquid drips from above.
Did the stomach of the mouse rupture when it was killed?
I squint at the area for a long time, waiting, hoping for something to happen. After a few minutes, I let out a long exhale from my nose. That didn’t do anything.
Maybe it’s the blue water? I retreat back to the pools and angrily pull my bottle back out of my subspace.
This better be the answer. I stomp a step closer to the pool. My tight grip and the moisture on the side of the bottle cause the container to slip. It shoots forward like a bar of soap in the shower, right toward the pool. I shrug. That’s where it was going—
*Kaboom!*
Something punches me in the chest, and I feel the metal of a cage dig into my back before the world goes dark.
Chapter 38
September 4th, 151 AR
Jeff Turle
Someone is shaking me. I must have slept in a funny position because my back really hurts. My chest feels funny too. Actually, my skin is tingling, almost like I have a sunburn.
My eyes fly open. The pools, the Vulpe boss, and the mice . . . I’m a bit woozy and even my recollection of everything seems to be sluggish. Slow.
Mur’s blurry face greets my slowly clearing vision. My clothes are hanging together by tatters in the front when I look down to assess the damage. Blood stains my chest and the clothes, and a quick scan of my qi tells me some was used to heal damage. I can also feel tears in the back from where I landed on the cage, and blood flows freely from at least a dozen cuts.
“What happen?” Mur asks worriedly. He still looks a bit worse for wear, but he is no longer in the blankets and must have come over after the—explosion?
I glance at the blue pool, and it looks the same, but then where is my canteen? It was made from a dried stomach, so probably burnt to ash?
“Jeff think when liquid mix, make boom,” I grunt at Mur, making a small ‘hand explosion’ gesture. I push some more qi to my back and chest to further heal. There couldn’t have been more than a few drops of leftover green liquid inside the bottle, but I know the blast was strong from the force of the impact.
This is it. This is the strategy I was looking for.
“Mur pass bottle,” I state as I raise my hand. He hands it over, but not without grumbling.
“It Mur only bottle,” Mur grunts softly as he hands it over. Something about what he says sounds wrong and it takes my slow thoughts a moment to connect it.
“Mur drying more in basement room,” I correct and begin the process of filling multiple new cages until one of the mice starts drinking. Once it does, I rush back and forth, attempting to stay ahead of the thirsty critter inside. I manage to keep pace with it until I return to find it no longer drinking.
“Jeff hope plan work,” I say and unlatch the cage. Again, there is something I feel like I should be remembering, but my thoughts don’t seem to want to put themselves in order. All I have to do is put the liquid in the mouse-reservoir and Vulpe will go boom, right?
The mouse takes off, and I find myself slowly stepping back toward the staircase. My brain finally puts a few pieces of my earlier thoughts in order. I just filled two mice full of these liquids. If this explosion is larger than the one I just accidentally set off, it’s not going to be small.
“Crap! Mur come over here,” I say in English and motion with my hand. The mouse reaches a new portion of the tunnel before the Vulpe head snatches it up in a flurry of snapping teeth and falling snow.
Mur and I both hold our breath and stare at the place where the Vulpe was a moment before. Is nothing—?
The cave shakes. Stone dust puffs off the walls just as thunder booms from somewhere above and simultaneously all around us. I pull Mur into the staircase just as chunks of stone and stalagmites begin caving in cages and mouse skulls alike. I definitely shouldn’t have used that much!
The light from the snow cuts off as rocks pile up in front of the staircase and continue to settle, completely blocking the bottom of the stairs. Good thing we were in here—wait, how do we get out?
My brain flips from relief to panic in a heartbeat, and my eyes decide it’s time to remind me that I am now in darkness as well. I am still holding Mur, and I hear him grunt as my hand tightens.
“Jeff let Mur go,” Mur demands, but my hands won’t listen. “Mur sit in cold water. If warm, Mur think Jeff piss self,” he adds.
Sitting in cold water? It takes a moment before I register the words and then the sensation. Water is cascading down the stairs. My glance up reveals the faint light
that was always present, but my eyes were unadjusted to it. I let go of Mur.
“Jeff think goblin piss cold,” I counter, hoping that Mur ignores the nerves in my voice and my horribly dimwitted comeback. It would only be polite.
I stand up, now curious about the ice at the top of the stairs.
“Mur get to top first,” the goblin calls as he rushes by me and up the stairs.
With a shake of my head, I begin circulating some qi, and thanks to a bit redirecting to my brain, I finally start feeling a bit less woozy. I give a slow chase, as my head throbs. Just because there is water doesn’t mean the ice will completely melt, right? But it turns out I am wrong; a massive crack runs down the center of the ice, and a glowing blue portal shimmers in its depths. While not hot, the portal seems to be melting the ice at a prodigious rate, and I can’t help trying to discover the reason for it.
Mur tries and fails to squeeze into the space to make it to the portal. It won’t be long before he can fit with the rate ice is converting back to water. I add the strange phenomenon to a mental list to ask Crash about.
“Mur, wait. Jeff see if tribe conquer area over snow. Loot!”
“Cold,” Mur responds as he wraps his arms around himself and performs an intentional shiver. “Goblin not made for cold. Mur think Tusk hot place.”
“Okay, wait outside dungeon for Jeff.” I look down at my own bare chest as Mur jumps from foot to foot with impatience. “It isn’t like it’s much warmer in the Northern Territory,” I say, poking fun at the goblin in English. He responds by sticking his tongue out and flapping his ears. I chuckle, the euphoria of defeating another dungeon just starting to fully settle in.
There is a never-ending snowy expanse above the ice at the top of the stairs. At first, I am ready to give up, the cold draining my energy, but I notice a large mound of snow with a wide entrance in the distance just before I turn back.