Tree Guardian

by Andrew Karevik

  “And how do you enjoy it?” I asked.

  I felt agitation and hesitation surging through Regar. He shuffled a little. “I quite love it, actually. But…and I don’t mean to be offensive here, but I haven’t had a customer in ages. The last group that arrived was woefully underprepared for what this floor has to offer, and they were so damn poor they couldn’t afford any of my enchanting runes. So, I wander around because I’m bored.”

  “And you blame me for this?” I asked. More hesitation, a fear that he would offend me, rose to the top of his mind. Yet he spoke with honesty.

  “I know well that you gain power from the death of these adventurers. You wish for more and more to arrive,” he replied. “Yet you seem incapable of motivating them to do so. In a way, I do blame you. But I do not resent you for it. I try my hand at the traps mostly because I have nothing else to do.”

  “You speak so honestly with me,” I said. “Why?”

  “You deserve the honor of honesty,” Regar replied. “I have answered your question, will you answer mine?”

  “Speak it.”

  Regar grinned and looked up at the ceiling. “What are you planning to do about this slump?”

  Chapter 3

  I decided that Regar would make a good fit for my purposes. While he was not given the position of a member of my council, or afforded the rights to call upon me, I would work with him for a time. If it worked out, he would be admitted into my inner circle and become a loyal ally. If it did not, I would compensate him for his time and allow him to return to his shop.

  Regar was a true adventurer, unlike the others in my council. Gariatha had gone on an adventure once, during her youth, but found she greatly preferred buying and selling goods as opposed to plundering in the dungeons. Regar had conquered seventeen dungeons in his lifetime. He knew them fairly well and told me many stories that involved daring escapes, cunning plans and brutal deaths.

  I had not particularly thought about the presence of other dungeons in the land of Yehan, as they were of no concern of mine. But the way Regar talked, I began to realize that these other dungeons in the world were not just locations on a map: they were competitors. As long as other dungeons existed, I would always be competing against them. If an adventuring party were to lay out a large map of all known dungeons, they would not simply select one at random. They would look at the value of these dungeons, the dangers, the potential for reward and the risks.

  Adventuring parties, as Regar explained, were often democratic in nature. They all owned shares in their party and each had a right to vote on important matters. Many adventurers were part of larger organizations, known as guilds or adventuring companies, where they would gain benefits in exchange for paying a membership fee. These guilds were often ways that word got out about better dungeons and promising adventures.

  One key component that I was missing, Regar explained, was that while I had plenty of loot to hand out, I did not give adventurers a compelling reason to come to me. As it turned out, I had misjudged the true intent of most adventuring parties. I had believed that the allure of treasure and fame was what drove them, but the truth was that most adventurers were already unbelievably wealthy. A farmer who owned a decent patch of land and did well for himself would make around five thousand gold pieces in a single year. This would be everything he needed in order to survive, and then some.

  By contrast, an adventurer would often find double that gold in a single adventure. Two years’ worth of long, arduous work found in a single afternoon of plunder. Sure, there was a terrible danger attached to that afternoon, but with enough experience, most adventurers could make enough to live ten lifetimes over in comfort.

  However, they were not after comfort. They were after a sense of adventure. Wealth was fine, magic items were seen as ways to boost their powers, but most adventurers yearned for a sense of accomplishment. For a thrill, a sense of excitement and joy. Getting into fights, solving puzzles, saving the weak from danger, all of those elements where what would motivate an adventurer to go out and fight. Wealth and fame were just byproducts, bonuses really. The meat of the matter was the thrill of the actual experience itself.

  Regar broke the essentials down into three components necessary for an alluring adventure. First, there was a need for a purpose beyond treasure. This purpose could be anything, but it would give the adventurers some reason to choose my dungeon above others. The most successful dungeons in terms of popularity, Regar explained, were often the gigantic dungeons that had many different things working in their favor. One such dungeon, the Indominable Maze, was so large that it held several different ecosystems, including a crazed wizard hell-bent on cursing the land so that no plants could grow. There were also troll villages where the trolls would often emerge into the human lands nearby and raid, bringing back prisoners to eat. Adventurers flocked to the Indomitable Maze not because of the treasure, but because there were serious adventures within.

  The second component was challenge. I felt that I had become sufficiently skilled at providing challenges to those who entered and Regar agreed. Each level was balanced and built for different adventuring parties and makeups. They weren’t so overwhelming that they killed an adventurer’s motivation, and they also weren’t so easy that the adventuring party would just blow through it and be done.

  The third component was the actual dungeon experience itself. Adventurers yearned for that which was interesting, unique and enjoyable. Many adventurers wanted more than just fighting and looting; they enjoyed exploration, discovering new things, feeling a sense of wonder. Regar was rather harsh in his criticism of my interior design, but he was right. Each level was virtually identical in its construction. There were either cobblestone walls and floors, or vines blocking off paths. While the contents of each room were different, aside from the realm of the giants, Igio, nothing stuck out as unique.

  Word of mouth was important when it came to adventuring culture. An adventurer who just returned to his guild hall, having just explored a new dungeon, would have many tales to share. Would he speak kindly of the new beautiful location he had seen? Or would he dismiss it as pedestrian and more of the same? It was strange to think of adventurers feeling so strongly about dungeons, but Regar explained that most adventurers would spend years upon years inside of these bigger domains. Unless an adventurer was captivated by a tale, trembling in awe at the stories told about the place, they would just as well choose a better known dungeon.

  While I had the second component covered, I was desperately missing the first and third. This was the answer to my problems, I realized. As long as there was no call to adventure within me or a pleasing aesthetic that would entice the entrants to tell stories about what wonders I held within, I would lag behind. I could not just rely on a single person to sing my praises anymore. I needed to become so compelling, so interesting, that other adventurers would inevitably laud me in front of their peers.

  Space was the first problem to consider. While I thought three levels were plenty, with winding corridors, dead ends and secret passages, Regar pressed me to expand more. A truly epic dungeon, he told me, was one that would require years to explore. It would only take adventurers a few weeks to fully map me out. There needed to be a sense of awe, something that would bring adventurers who completed one section to return.

  In a way, it seemed that constructing a dungeon was similar to building a business. It wasn’t enough to simply bring in new customers, I also would need adventurers who visited me to keep coming back for more. The bigger I was, the more sense of scale I was able to convey, the better chances I had of adventurers returning in the hopes of discovering more secrets and treasures. When an adventurer’s larders were growing fat, when they had too much treasure to carry or if some pressing urgency bid them to depart from the dungeon, they would end up leaving for a time. If they felt they had seen all that I had to offer, they would not bother making the trip here again.

  So, the first
thing I would need to do was expand in size. I was reticent at more construction, mainly because of the sheer amount of magic it would require in order to build to the size Regar believed would be sufficient. I had plenty in my reserves, but I was still at a maintenance level of intake. This would represent quite a sacrifice, especially if it did not draw in more adventurers as quickly as possible.

  Normally the construction process would be slow and thus would use up significantly less of my resources, but I didn’t have the luxury of time. Anything I would create would have to be made in an instant. This would burn through my stores at a much higher rate and could potentially leave me vulnerable. Unless…unless I were to tap down deeper into the magic well beneath the earth.

  I had first discovered this well after I was freed from the corruption created by the terrible necromancer Urioc. It was rich and vast and, best of all, completely unguarded. I did not know where it came from, nor did I have any idea how it was so stock full of powerful magical essence, but I drank greatly of it. I could return to it now, I supposed. I could dig my roots deeper and absorb even more.

  However, that well was meant for emergencies—just in case something would injure me and strip me of my magic. To rely on it would be beneficial for now, but once that supply was gone, it would be gone for good. Still…I didn’t have much of a choice at this point. I needed to follow Regar’s advice and I needed to grow my dungeon instantly.

  So, sacrificing the luxury of having emergency magical reserves, I dug my roots deeper and deeper into the ground until I was able to drain every last drop of magic from that well.

  The power boost was enormous. I forgot how great it felt to have such high level energies rushing through my entire body, providing me with the fuel to expand. At once, I set my mind on the task at hand. Each floor was too small, too specialized. So, I began to rework the nature of the floors, starting with level one.

  Level One had been primarily designed to protect a fairly low level magical item called the Charm of Recollection. It was handy for spellcasters, and the traps—I felt—were ingenious. But now, what I once called Level One would become Zone A of the first level. The several rooms connected together, meant to lead eventually to the prize, would be sealed behind a thick vault door. The magical runes on the door would need to be broken, either by a clever rogue who knew how to bypass security, or a wizard who knew the proper spell of opening.

  There was also a key to the vault that would be hidden in a random chest somewhere within Level One. This key would effortlessly allow for the vault to open, granting adventurers access to Zone A. Sealing off certain parts of a dungeon, it would seem, created a great level of anticipation and excitement within explorers. They would become driven to find a way to get past the vault and explore, even if they initially had no interest in the Charm itself. The satisfaction of bypassing a lock and entering a new zone was often its own reward.

  I tripled the space of Level One, building four different zones within it, each with their own traps and challenges. I created a few more custom rewards, meant to cater to each type of adventurer out there. There was the Battleaxe of Blinding for warriors, the Staff of Kindness for clerics and priests, the Blessed Gloves of Glym for thieves and, finally, a Resurrection Stone that could revive the dead. These items were all locked away behind gauntlets, challenging an adventurer’s skills, resourcefulness and intelligence. And keys to each of these vaults were scattered around, placed in secret compartments, hidden at the bottom of pit traps and planted in the mouths of a few wandering skeletons that were animated to guard the hallways.

  Then came the question of decoration. To be truly honest, I felt that this was a stupid factor to consider at all. But Regar was insistent that there must be some kind of theme to each level, some kind of artistic motif that was impressive enough to warrant a bard composing a poem about it. If a poem was written about our walls, Regar told me, it would bring hordes of adventurers. I relented and turned my focus on how to improve the looks and layout of Level One.

  The walls were just made of cobblestones, covered in vines. The floors were also cobblestone, a greyish color that I thought looked just fine. The doors were wooden; the vaults were made of a thick stone that could not be broken by any great force. And no matter how I looked at these assets, I simply could not see anything to add. Was I so uncreative that I could not design an aesthetic for my dungeon? I had no struggles with any other form of creativity, especially when it came to insidious trap design, or figuring out ways to stop my foes from brutally killing me. How was it that I did not have the same artistic skillset?

  And then I realized that, out of the many adventurers whose essences I had consumed in order to learn from, I had never gained an artist’s perspective or abilities. None of the warriors and fighters I had defeated were accomplished artists or painters. This, combined with the fact that I had no experience in art of my own, led me to the conclusion that I was simply not the right person for this job.

  So, I called upon Ehdrid to find me a great artist within the goblin community, one who was good at all aspects of art. One who could paint, sculpt and craft. One who had technical skill and artistic vision. This goblin, whose name was Tynd, would be given the responsibility to make the interior of each floor look pleasing and interesting to outsiders. He would have an entire department beneath him, a new branch of dungeon maintenance, to not only create the beauty but also to maintain it.

  Tynd was delighted to receive such a responsibility, and within a week, the first level had radically changed in design. There were four major zones, each with a different gift for those who were brave enough. So, Tynd and his crew created murals on each of the vaults, depicting what treasure lay within. The walls and floors leading up to each vault were painted with a different color to represent what was on the other side.

  But the painting was more than just slapping a coat of dark blue on the cobblestone, rather Tynd was meticulous in the patterns that were created. Some of them were circular, others were more jagged. In some areas, he carefully blended two styles and colors together to make even more interesting walls. Statues of brave warriors were erected across the map, not as parts of a trap, but simply as points of interest. And in the center of the level, he built a grand fountain and insisted that this fountain heal the wounds of those who drank from it.

  I granted Tynd his request because the fountain was truly glorious. It was a depiction of Izguril, the god of deception, thrusting a spear into Agara, goddess of healing and mercy. The water flowed out from the wounds in her body, pouring into the basin. The healing power, Tynd insisted, would complete the sense of wonder attached to the fountain itself. There was a limit, as it could only heal an adventurer once per visit, which was fair enough in my eyes.

  Overall, the aesthetic change of Level One was rather stunning. I still personally believed that this idea of painting up the dungeon and making it look pretty was rather petty and silly, but then again, I was trying to attract mortals. Their ways were certainly not the same as my own. Tynd’s work was exquisite and I was grateful once again to have such skilled individuals living within me. I just hoped that these modifications would be enough to draw in more adventurers. Building such an expansive dungeon in such a short amount of time was deeply draining. I would have to dig deeper into the well and absorb even more if I was going to be able to enlarge the second floor.

  Chapter 4

  My redesigns were going smoothly. The second floor was to be greatly expanded, six times the size of the first level. My goal for this floor was to ensure that it was so large that an adventuring party could take an entire year to complete going through every last bit of it. Ambitious, I know, but I felt up to the task. All I needed to make it happen was far more magic, and thankfully the reserves below were plentiful.

  One morning, while busy designing a village for the unruly trolls who lived within my pit traps, I felt one of my roots striking something solid beneath me. What was it? I shifted my
perception down, moving six miles underground, where the wells had been so full of magic. Much to my surprise, it would appear that my root had bumped into a hard structure. It seemed to be a ceiling, but leading to where?

  Perhaps this was the home of some dwarf or other subterranean creature that resided below. It would be most rude to break in and look around…yet, I could sense even more magic pulsing from inside of this building. My root had most likely been moving directly towards the magic source. I could, theoretically, break in and look around. Was it some old silo, created by a wizard to hide his excess power? Or was it a long forgotten artifact from some leftover dungeon?

  Curiosity has always been both my strength and my weakness. Without curiosity, I would not be so powerful, but it has led me into trouble many times before. But what was the harm in just looking around? At worse, if I had accidentally intruded in some hermit dwarf’s home, I would just apologize and repair the damaged ceiling.

  My root grew hard as steel and began to tunnel through the concrete itself, breaking through the wall. It was not easy, however, and I could feel a great deal of magical resistance as I pushed through. But at this point, I had already committed to looking around and so I continued pushing until, finally, the ceiling gave way, allowing me to glance within.

  It was a room full of treasure! There were hundreds of gold coins lying around, two chests full of what looked to be diamonds and rubies, and several suits of armor hanging from the walls. And there was a door leading into another room. The magic within the room was just like the magic from those other wells I had drank from, full of high quality essence. I greedily drank of it while looking around.