This was a rather stressful situation, to be relying on such an intense spell in the hopes of it paying off. But what other options did I have? Oregmyer would be obliterated within a few days, and with the souls of so many people, the Dungeon Below would become unstoppable.
“Vincenzo, are you prepared?” I asked, connecting to his mind.
“As prepared as I can be,” he replied. I had not filled him in on the entirety of the plan; I only told him that he needed to find the very center of the Dungeon. If the creature was listening in on our words, I did not want it to know what my goals were.
“Then go, as quickly as you can,” I said as I focused on bringing the godspell to the center of my mind. It radiated with a divine power and was so easy to unleash. In my mind’s eye, I pictured the entire area of the dungeon. A bubble began to envelop the dirt and the underground dungeon, a thin film of time energy. With a mere thought, I was able to slow time down—not in every part of the dungeon, just in those areas that were in the process of rapidly contracting away from Vincenzo’s location.
The spell was so well crafted that I could insulate Vincenzo from the time slowing effect, although that took even more concentration. With each passing second, the world around me faded, I had no sight, nor could I hear anything except for the area of the bubble. I tried to suppress the fear within me that something was going to go wrong, that somehow I would mess this up. I had to stay focused.
With each passing moment, the movement of the Dungeon Below grew slower and slower. I had extended my consciousness out to the bubble, so that I could keep an eye on everything. This didn’t affect my concentration, or my ability to manipulate time. I could hear voices trying to speak to me, but even the act of processing them, understanding what they were saying would be too much. I just continued to concentrate on the bubble.
The spell was giving me a higher level of awareness and, for once, I could finally see within the dungeon. Most of the details were blurred as if looking through muddy water, but I could see Vincenzo hurrying along. Traps were moving so slow that they appeared to be standing still, and he was able to dodge the swarm of buzzsaws, blades and hook traps that were in the process of still trying to emerge from their homes.
My focus was beginning to wane. I felt as if my entire body were straining to hold on. The spell was becoming…fidgety? As if it were a living thing, moving about and wriggling around in an attempt to set itself free from my own grasp. I had to hold onto it, no matter how difficult it became.
Finally, Vincenzo stopped running. He was looking at something. But as each second went by, the bubble was becoming darker. I heard more words, frantic ones, trying to inform me about something. Was this it? Did he find the location? This question caused a break in my concentration and instantly the spell was gone. The bubble vanished and the Timeholder godspell disappeared forever, never to be seen or used again.
“I’ve found it!” Vincenzo shouted. “Finally!”
I cast the clairvoyance spell, allowing me to see the room where Vincenzo was located, praying that he had found the center. The spell gave me a sense of sight, allowing for the room to slowly come into view.
Vincenzo was standing and staring up at one of the walls, his mouth agape. Then, I could see everything in the room at once. And what I discovered was not what I had been expecting at all.
In the center of the Dungeon Below was a nine foot tall corpse, embedded into the wall. It was ancient, wilted and entombed, covered in what looked to be some kind of thick, boney substance. Long tendrils of bone jutted from the body, connecting it to the wall as if it were a part of the dungeon itself. The corpse was humanoid, but too skeletal to tell which kind. Its eye sockets were empty but I could sense some kind of energy within.
“What in the name of the Seven Flames is this?” Vincenzo asked.
I did not know. The dungeon was beginning to writhe, free from the effects of the time spell. It was rapidly contracting inwards, perhaps to simply smother Vincenzo to death. I could not take my focus off the strange corpse imbedded in the wall. Was this the consciousness of the dungeon? Destroying it would end this once and for all. There wasn’t much time, I had to act now.
I pulled Vincenzo out of the dungeon with my teleportation spell. Fortunately, with my consciousness being so close, there was little resistance from the Dungeon Below. It had tried to interfere with my magic, but I was far more powerful than it. As it tried to move the corpse away from me, I prepared the second spell.
I began to transfer all of my energy into Fernus’ Dungeon Breaker. It would take less than ten seconds to see to the destruction of this dungeon once and for all. Everything had worked out perfectly: the plan to slow down time, the use of Vincenzo to locate the central point. There were no hiccups. It was easy.
Easy. That word seemed to bounce through my head as I readied the spell. Had any part of my life ever been this easy? Had I ever achieved any semblance of true victory without struggling immensely first? Why was this suddenly so different? It would have been simple to shrug this thought off, to focus on my pride and immense skill instead. But almost at once, I realized that without the godspell this would have failed.
Was it possible that this was a trick? What if Izguril had counted on me succeeding in destroying the dungeon? After all, he had offered me aid twice. Right away, I began to think of the possibilities. What if the meeting with the high priest of Izguril was meant to be the source of my suspicion? After all, I was so focused on how he would possibly convince a follower to help him escape, I hadn’t doubted the method of killing the dungeon.
Besides, when I had first spoken to Izguril, he had mentioned a means of taking out the Dungeon Below without going after the core. The corpse! Izguril must have known about the corpse in the wall, whatever it was. What if this was his escape plan? What if he intended to subtly manipulate me into ensuring that I destroyed this core and set it free?
No, that would be insane. I was being paranoid. I had to kill it now, or else…Oregmyer would be ruined? With my new spell, I could simply kill off the limb that was burrowing up towards the city. Where was the rush then?
I focused back on the body in the wall, its empty, soulless eyes seeming to look at me. There was a presence within that corpse, I could feel it. What if it was some malignant force?
This dungeon had been created, right? What if whoever had made this creature had intended to use it as a guardian of some terrible being? Most dungeons were built to serve some kind of purpose. What if in destroying such a creature, I was unleashing something far worse?
My hesitation led the Dungeon Below to rapidly reconfigure itself, moving the corpse far from me. I merely watched as the room shifted and split into four different hallways, all heading in different directions. Izguril had been counting on the destruction of this dungeon. I had to know why.
Chapter 27
“I want the truth,” I whispered as I appeared before Izguril. The last twenty-four hours had been tumultuous and I was in no mood for games. After realizing that I could not destroy the Dungeon Below in a single swift blow, I had to turn my attentions to the growing mouth burrowing its way towards Oregmyer.
I had a simple theory about the Dungeon Below’s limbs and found this to be the right time to test it out. I cast Fernus’ Dungeon Breaker in the middle of the fourteen mile long arm, severing it from both the center of the dungeon as well as the Oregmyer mouth. This caused a large collapse in the Feverwood Forest, but otherwise did not damage the city.
The creature shrieked in agony and, just as I suspected, the severed dungeon hallway began to rapidly rot away and die. Without being connected to the beast, it could not sustain itself. Oregmyer was safe and—thanks to the blast radius of the spell—the new dirt was freshly packed together and would be very hard to tunnel through again.
Yet, the Dungeon Below was not dead. Upon receiving such a painful blow, it began to immediately ram my shields again, this time more out of spite th
an a desire to bring any actual harm to me. I had missed my one chance to kill the damnable creature for good, and now I would have to deal with this juvenile behavior, wasting even more magic to keep the goblin village safe.
Izguril began to laugh once he became aware of my presence. He seemed to be quite pleased with himself. “I almost had you, didn’t I?”
“I want to know the truth. What is down there?” I asked. There was no possible way I could threaten this god, nor was there a way to cause him any pain, which was fortunate. If I could make him hurt for what he had almost done to me, I certainly would have.
“Why should I tell you?” Izguril asked. “I frankly can’t believe that you were idiotic enough to think I didn’t have some angle.”
“When you insult me, you deny your own skills,” I replied. A weak retort, but I was too angry to think straight.
“I suppose so. But you can’t be mad at me for trying to escape, can you?”
“You know that I will never listen to you again,” I said. “I shall never make a deal, nor render you aid.”
Izguril shrugged. “So be it. But I will find some other way to break free. I have all the time in the world to think of something clever.”
“You have less time than you think,” I said, shifting my consciousness away. There was nothing that I’d be able to get out of him. His plan had been to usurp me from the very beginning. I would have to look to Vincenzo for more answers.
The cartographer was resting in one of the healers’ huts in Ehdridton, taking it easy as the goblin mages worked to mend his body. He had been poisoned from his duration inside of the dungeon, as it appeared the Dungeon Below emitted air that was toxic. There were many other injuries he had sustained, but the magical items he wore allowed him to ignore those for a few weeks.
Ehdrid himself had entered the hut to assist with exorcising spirits of sickness away from Vincenzo and was happily explaining the demographics of the village to the man. It was curious to see that even Ehdrid, who was suspicious of any human outsider, had warmed up to the cartographer.
“We must discuss what was down there,” I said, speaking to both Vincenzo and the shaman mentally. The healer goblins were not privy to hear my voice, as I did not want them to grow concerned about the Dungeon Below again.
“Indeed we must!” Vincenzo said. “I thought the plan was to destroy the dungeon. Yet, you did not. I hear the creature taunting me in my mind, telling me of how it will rip my limbs to pieces.”
“This is most alarming,” Ehdrid said. “What gave you hesitation?”
“There was a strange corpse in the wall,” I explained, sending Ehdrid images of what I had seen. The shaman rubbed his half ear in curiosity.
“Most strange, but there is a spirit residing within,” he replied. “Even in a simple image of your mind, I can sense it.”
“So? Spirits are not nearly as bad as cruel dungeons,” Vincenzo said. “That thing saw fit to tell me many horrible fantasies as I sought to navigate within it. It hungers for the flesh of all things within you, Great Tree.”
“Tell me something new,” I replied. “But there are facts you were unaware of. Ehdrid, I must confess that Izguril led me towards the plan to destroy the center. He gave me the tools and set in my mind an urgent need to achieve it.”
“The false god?” Ehdrid asked. I could sense that he was disappointed by my own stupidity, but he refrained from chiding me. “I understand. So Izguril wished to see the corpse destroyed. The spirit would be set free then.”
“Vincenzo, you are a man who knows of many dungeons, yes? You must find out whose spirit is locked away within the Dungeon Below.”
The man grimaced at those words and reclined in his bed. “I fear, Great Tree, that I have kept my end of the bargain, have I not? I charted the interior and aided you in your quest to see it destroyed. You were the one to balk at the plan.”
“Vincenzo, there is more at stake than you could possibly know,” I whispered to him. “This dungeon does not merely inconvenience me. It threatens all of our lives.”
The cartographer groaned. “Please, save me the end of the world speech. I have done my fair share of world saving before, and frankly it’s not nearly as glamorous as it sounds. I will pass. My apologies, Great Tree.”
“Then send someone from the Cartographers’ Guild, one who is qualified for the task,” I said.
“What do you mean, qualified?” Vincenzo snapped. It had not been my intention to attempt to insult him; my words were being quite earnest in finding a new candidate to aid me. But if this was a valid opening, I would take it.
“I mean that if you do not feel up to the task, send me someone who is. Someone skilled and capable of doing what I need.”
Vincenzo sat up and gazed upwards, scowling. “I practically built the Cartographers’ Guild! They were nothing special until I came along, and now you mean to tell me you want to find someone other than Vincenzo to aid you?”
“I thought you wanted to get some rest.”
“I wanted you to try and lure me in with some kind of tempting offer!” Vincenzo barked. “You were supposed to try and appeal to me, offer me great wealth or favor in exchange for my aid, not just give up and try to hire some lesser person!”
Of course, he had simply been trying a negotiation tactic, meant to show his power and authority to me. “Forgive me, Vincenzo, I simply thought you weren’t interested.”
“Of course I’m interested,” he said, climbing out of his seat. “But you had better make this worth Vincenzo’s while! He is the best in the world and doesn’t work for free.”
“Do you like fine wines?” I asked.
Vincenzo smiled wide at those words. “That is like asking the sun if it will rise each morning!”
“There is a fruit that I grow, a fruit from a foreign realm, one that has only been tasted by dragons, rare and delicious in every way. If I were to distill this fruit into a wine for you, would that be enough?”
“A wine so rare that no one else has drank it before?” Vincenzo said, rubbing his hands together. “Now that is something money cannot buy! A crate of such wines will be sufficient payment.”
“You do not wish to taste it first?” I asked.
Vincenzo laughed. “Fine wine is not about the taste, Friend Tree, but about having it in your wine cellar to display to your visitors! Personally, I prefer the cheap stuff.”
Chapter 28
Vincenzo and Regar departed in early spring, with a plan to scour the world in hopes of finding the truth. They would first seek temples of divination, and then a terrible dungeon where an Oracle rested. Vincenzo had been adamant to go alone, but Regar had insisted on accompanying the man, out of fear that the cartographer may use the information for his own benefit.
I was pleased with Regar’s instincts. When he returned from his quest, I would reward him with a position on the council and grant him speaking rights to me. He had gone above and beyond in his duties to me and I could not be more proud. I just hoped that this endeavor would produce the results that I was looking for. I had to know what the ramifications of destroying the dungeon would be.
I knew whatever was trapped within that corpse, no doubt would cause me great distress. Why else would Izguril have tried to help me with my plan? But what was within there? An ancient deep wizard whose soul was too strong to enter the afterlife? There were stories about how the gods barred some of those wizards from entering the hereafter for fear of being usurped or even killed. Perhaps this was one such individual.
I could not act before I knew exactly what I was facing. My biggest fear, however, was that the truth about the spirit would mean I would be unable to destroy the dungeon. What then? What would I possibly do if I could not kill the damned thing? It had ceased all of its violent activity, for now, but soon it would try to attack me or Oregmyer again. I was growing tired of this back and forth with the creature. Diplomacy would not work, for what could I offer t
his being? All it wanted was to feed on the life forces of other mortals. There was nothing else that mattered.
Perhaps I could get it to leave me alone out of fear. After all, my latest attack was an unbelievable success. I should capitalize on it before the creature tried to retaliate again. I stretched out to connect to its mind. I could feel the anger and hate burning within the monster as it became aware of my presence.
“Why have you come to me?” it growled.
“I brought you great pain with that spell, did I not?” I asked. The creature was silent, but I could sense fear. “Yet you must realize that you are the one who has inflicted such pain upon yourself. By lusting after my domain, by trying to take the lives of those I steward over, you have earned such a violent attack.”
“You taunt me, to make me afraid,” it hissed. “I know full well that if you had the power, you would destroy me in a moment. So I must fight on, I must try and grow, before you kill me.”
“I would not think of such cruelty if you did not force me to,” I replied. “You have positioned yourself as an enemy by pushing into my territory. By attacking me and putting fear in the hearts of my people.”
“Even if we declared peace between us, you would still seek to kill me,” it replied. I could sense a weariness in the dungeon, an exhaustion at the fact that it had been fighting against a much bigger foe.
“How can I trust that a being so feral as you would follow your word?” I asked. “Since I have met you, your only goal has been to consume and destroy. To bring harm to others. You only understand one language, violence. Now you act as if you were a victim because I speak your language better. I wield a spell that will obliterate your limbs with ease. Yes, you can regrow them, but I can cast this as much as I like.”
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