Dead Must Die: The Realms: Master of the Dungeon - Book One

by C. M. Carney

  “What? The git on the turnip cart?” asked a wiry Aegyptian named Gerryt.

  “Yes, and no,” said Verreth as if he were talking to a child or a dimwit who’d fallen off a turnip cart too many times. “Not the git, the necklace.”

  All eyes turned back to Bahldreck as a beam of sunlight hit the preacher in the chest causing the dullest of glints to flash from a gray amulet hanging around his neck on a length of leather twine.

  “It look like tin,” grumbled Brahk, an overly muscled half-orc. “Brahk like gold better than tin.”

  “He’s right, enough gold covers that book to keep us in beds and drink for a week,” said Serraia, a sea elf air mage long ago exiled by her people.

  “We’re not defacing a holy book for a few coins of gold,” Verreth snapped.

  “Since when have you been a man of the gods?” Gerryt asked.

  “Ever since I saw Aluran in action,” Verreth said. “Now I do not believe the superstitions that the High God sees all, but I like being alive and I have no plans of risking his wrath over a few measly coins.”

  “Brahk am dumber than stable boy been kicked in head too many times, but even me know no mess with gods.” The others nodded at the truth of the ill-spoken statement.

  “Then why do we care about him and his stupid tin bauble?” Serraia asked.

  “Because he and his tin bauble will help us plunder the Barrow,” Verreth said with a grin.

  *****

  Bahldreck still had ten minutes left to his normal sermon but the ominous bank of lightning flushed clouds approaching from the mountains, convinced him he’d accomplished his day’s work.

  He reverently wrapped The Testament of the High God in a protective layer of waxed paper and then secured it inside his waterproof satchel. He climbed down from his pulpit, looking around for any folks who could aid him in turning over his cart so he could be on his way. All nearby eyes quickly found interesting things to look at in every direction save Bahldreck’s. Normally he’d corral several of his flock to aid him, but they were slumbering so peacefully at his feet he hated to wake them.

  “A sign that my sermon touched their hearts, I’d say,” Bahldreck said in a satisfied voice. “Still, waking them to aid me would still be the High God’s work, would it not?”

  He was about to kick the nearest slumbering man when a honeyed voice spoke behind him.

  “May we humble sinners be of service your holiness?”

  Bahldreck turned as an odd group of four individuals walked up. The man who had spoken kneeled as Bahldreck turned to them. The other three stood, clearly transfixed by Bahldreck’s holy aura, until the other man dragged them off their feet into a proper bow.

  He guessed by their dress and demeanor they were humble supplicants, perhaps pilgrims en route from the southern coast to the Shining City of the High God himself. Bahldreck smiled and bid them to rise.

  “We will, but first may we humble pilgrims bask in your holy light for the merest of moments?” asked the man who had spoken.

  The sea elf maiden cast a sharp glance at the speaker in a manner that suggested to Bahldreck that she felt unworthy of such an honor. Bahldreck was quick to speak, hoping to reassure her that she, that all of them, were more than worthy to kneel at his feet.

  “Well, I don’t see why not,” Bahldreck said. “After all, that is the proper form.”

  The four hung their heads low. After several moments the silence unnerved Bahldreck and he begged them to return to their feet. Introductions followed and the massive barbarian Brahk shocked Bahldreck with the ease he turned the cart over. The Aegyptian hitched his pony while the sea elf maiden brushed dirt from his robes. Unnerved by all the attention, Bahldreck mounted his cart and opened his mouth to say his goodbyes, when their leader, Verreth, spoke up.

  “Your holiness, may I beg a word?”

  “I suppose,” Bahldreck said in an uncomfortable tone, hands set to snap the reins.

  “We beg your help. I was once a Knight of the Order of the Blazing Fist, but alas I committed a sin and have fallen from the graces of the High God Aluran.”

  “Alas, that does happen on occasion. Good luck finding redemption.” Bahldreck went to snap the reins when the fallen knight knelt once more, right in front of his pony, preventing him from leaving.

  “The High God has given me one last chance to redeem myself in his eyes. We all have.”

  Verreth turned to the others, hands vigorously suggesting that they too kneel. After a moment they did, but Bahldreck was sure he heard grumbling. The High God will always be heard, even through the most stubborn of ears, Bahldreck thought, wondering if that was an actual passage from the Testament or just a nugget of deep wisdom from within Bahldreck himself.

  “I have seen a vision, sent by the High God himself. He tells me that only by serving you in your great mission to rid the world of the undead, can I hope to regain his favor and have any hope of basking in his light in the afterlife.

  “He mentioned me by name?” Bahldreck asked.

  The thin Aegyptian Gerryt brought his hand to his mouth, overcome by a coughing fit. Bahldreck was about to order Verreth to assist the man when a discharge of electricity thrummed from Serraia’s finger and into Gerryt’s side. He yelped and his coughing fit ended. He turned towards her in surprise. Bahldreck could not see the man’s face, but he was sure he was thanking the sea elf maiden for casting whatever healing magic had aided him.

  Perhaps these folk deserve my esteemed help, after all, Bahldreck thought.

  “Yes, my most holy lord. I heard your name from his lips direct to my humble ears,” Verreth said, bowing lower. “The High God knows the toils and troubles you’ve been the victim of and he has sent my compatriots and I to aid you on your great quest.”

  “Well, yes. It has been a bit of a rough go of late, but I held faith that I deserved better and knew the High God would not disappoint me.”

  An odd chortling sound came from the barbarian Brahk and Verreth grabbed him by the back of his head and pushed his face hard into the ground. Brahk grunted and mumbled incoherently, but Verreth looked at Bahldreck with a winning smile. “My apologies for this emotional display of devotion. Brahk has lived a wretched life, one marred by violence and sin. Bearing witness to the holy fire contained within your sanctified body has overwhelmed him and turned him away from the path of damnation.”

  “Well, all men experience the rapturous glory in different ways. I am glad that my body has inspired him.”

  A shriek of joyous laughter exploded from Serraia’s mouth and she quickly covered it with one hand, perhaps embarrassed by her emotional outburst. She buried her head in Verreth’s shoulder and beat her fists upon his chest and arms, unable to control her emotions.

  “Let it out sister, for the High God has said that joyous outbursts are a celebration of life. I am glad he has found his way to you through me.”

  “Yes, you ….” Verreth said, his face distorting into a rictus of barely restrained joy. His shoulders shook with the effort and he tried to hold back his tears. He turned away, and Bahldreck was gracious enough to let him recover himself. When he could, he spoke again. “Finding you has been one of the most moving moments of my life, of all our lives. I believe destiny has great plans for us.”

  “Oh, I am sure, yes. That makes quite a bit of sense,” Bahldreck said. A warning alarm flared deep in his mind, but as he often did, he ignored it. “What plans?”

  “Well, as it so happens your holiness I have a map given by another servant of the High God. This holy servant suggested that you would know how best to use it in the High God’s service,” Verreth said and pulled a roll of parchment from his bag and handed it to Bahldreck.

  Bahldreck unfurled the scroll to find a map written in some unintelligible script. The land it depicted was familiar, yet foreign. “Hmm,” Bahldreck said, a hand cupping his chin in deep thought. “Most interesting and ancient and very pretty and great, you don’t know how great.”

&nbs
p; Verreth walked up and grabbed the map and rotated it a half turn counterclockwise. It was then as the familiar environs of Erram and its surroundings came into focus that Bahldreck realized that he had been holding the map upside down. “Oh yes, I see now. I was just trying to … ummm ...”

  “Gain a better perspective?” Verreth suggested.

  “Yes, exactly. I prefer to look at a problem from all angles.”

  “I wish I had thought to do the same,” Verreth said. “But then that is why you are you and, alas, I am merely me.” He turned his intense gaze upon his companions.

  Serraia’s eyes went wide for a moment and then she nodded. “Oh, yes, very wise indeed,” Serraia said. “Well done your holiness.”

  “It was quite the insight,” Gerryt agreed.

  Verreth elbowed Brahk whose focus had been on a passing food cart. He turned in a panic to see Bahldreck looking at him expectantly. “Yeah, that stuff they done said. All good and true and junk.”

  “Yes, well, very good,” Bahldreck said and returned his attention to the map. Verreth walked up and placed a gentle hand on the map.

  “If you would honor me your holiness, I believe it would be less taxing on you if I were to hold on to the map.” Verreth tugged the map from the preacher, rolled it and returned it to his pack. “After all, you have enough to worry about with the plan.”

  “The plan?” Bahldreck asked in a voice a few octaves higher than was normal. “Ah, of course. I will work diligently and unceasingly on the plan. Plan, plan, planning the plan.”

  “If you please, your holiness, it would humble me to explain your wondrous plan, as created by you, and explained to me by the High God to our most cretinous companions. There is no need to waste any more of your precious time repeating it to such low types such as these.” Verreth indicated the others with a wave of his hand.

  “Hey,” Gerryt complained, before an elbow from Serraia reminded him of his proper place.

  “Yes, of course,” Bahldreck said. “That goes without saying. It would be best for you to tell the others of my great and amazing plan. I fear that oft times, my noble manner of speaking can confuse people of your … ummm … ilk.”

  “Very wise your holiness,” Verreth said. “I will remove our unworthy souls from your presence and give you leave.”

  “Yes, that would be for the best.”

  “Until tomorrow then, when we journey to the Barrow and assail the vilest of the lords of undeath.”

  “Until then … wait what?”

  3

  Verreth and his crew left the idiot Bahldreck standing in the middle of the road, mouth agape like a slack-jawed yokel. They kept up the game of humble supplicants until they rounded a corner.

  “You can’t be serious,” Serraia said. “This guy will help us defeat the Barrow King?”

  “Yup,” Verreth said with a grin and eased his head around the corner to make sure he didn’t lose sight of Bahldreck.

  “What, do you plan on throwing him at the Barrow King?” Gerryt asked.

  “Not sure that work. Preacher am be dumb, so head probably very hard like Brahk’s, but me not sure that would be enough to kill dead lord.”

  “You mentioned that tin amulet earlier,” Serraia said, eyeing Verreth. “You know something about it, don’t you?”

  “I do,” Verreth said with a smug look.

  “Want to share with the rest of us?” Gerryt asked.

  “Nope.”

  “That no um seem fair,” Brahk muttered.

  “It isn’t, which is why I’m the boss and you’re the underlings.”

  Gerryt walked up to him and with a flick of his wrist had a dagger pointed at Verreth’s jugular. “Why don’t we kill you, take that fancy map in your bag and go it without you?”

  “For several reasons. One, you have no idea what the amulet does. I do. Two, the map is a fake, a pretty prop I had made up to impress that idiot. Three, the real location of the Barrow is in here.” Verreth tapped his head. “And last I checked none of you lot is a thought mage.”

  Serraia eased Gerryt’s knife away from Verreth’s throat. “How do you even know the Barrow exists?”

  “Yeah. How? I’ve never heard of it, and I know these parts better than most.”

  “Because it only recently moved into the neighborhood.”

  “What?” Gerryt asked.

  “Yeah, what?” Brahk agreed. “Dungeons no move. Ain’t got no legs.”

  “Trust me it moved, and I know where.”

  “Again, how?” Serraia asked, impatient.

  “Let’s just say I overheard a drunk gnome with an irritating imp bragging about it. They were heading there the next morning. So when he passed out, I pilfered his map, memorized it and gave it back.”

  “Why’d you do that? He could end up getting the treasure.” Gerryt whined.

  “That’s not how dungeons work. They generate monsters and treasure to lure adventurers in. They’re like those plants that create sticky sap to lure flies.” Verreth paused until his companions had all nodded in understanding. “Some adventurers get killed and the dungeon feeds upon them, using the energy to sustain itself and spawn new monsters. Then, the process begins anew.

  “So even if the gnome and his buddies survived, the Barrow will have regenerated by now,” Serraia said.

  “Yes,” Verreth said with a smile. “But they are likely all dead. They were way underpowered to handle the Barrow.”

  “And we’re not?” Gerryt asked.

  “We are, but Bahldreck or more accurately Bahldreck and that amulet are more than a match for the Barrow.”

  “You sure about this?” Serraia asked.

  “I am,” Verreth said.

  A tense silence fell across the group until Gerryt spoke up. “Okay, I’ll play along, for now.”

  Verreth looked at the others, who both nodded. “Good, for now, we need to keep an eye on him. He’ll try to flee once his pea-sized brain realizes what he’s gotten himself into. So Gerryt, you track him, find out what inn he’s staying at and send word to us.”

  “Why me?” Gerryt asked.

  “Because you‘re the best tracker we have and as payment for your grievous and unprovoked assault on my personage. Be happy I’m the forgiving type.”

  “What do we do when Gerryt finds the inn his holiness is holed up in?” Serraia asked.

  “We find a nice woman to liquor him up and keep him company until we leave tomorrow.”

  Brahk looked at Serraia, who flushed in anger.

  “No not her you idiot,” Verreth said. “He already knows her, and she’s not that nice.”

  “Up yours Verreth,” Serraia said.

  “Ha, ha, Verreth is right, you a bitch Serraia,” Brahk said, laughing like a dying cow.

  “I will shank you, orc.”

  “And prove you bitch? Ha.” Brahk chortled happily to himself.

  “I’ll catch up with you guys later,” Verreth said, pulling up his hood. “Do not lose him.”

  “Where are you going?” Gerryt asked.

  “There’s one more part of this plan I need to arrange.” Verreth rounded a corner and vanished into the crowd.

  Gerryt sighed and peaked around the corner to see Bahldreck climbing up on his cart. “This had better be worth it,” he said and melted into the shadows.

  •••••

  Bahldreck slept on a raft floating on the slowly rolling sea of his mind. It was a peaceful, if dull sea, barely lit and wrapped in a thick fog. Bahldreck felt happy. He was never happy, and he wasn’t sure why he was happy now. A voice bubbled through the surface of the sea, a voice from the part of his brain whose job it was to ensure that the happiness did not continue. Get up you worthless slug. The voice sounded different to Bahldreck, its tone was harsher and more hostile than his normal self-loathing internal critic. In his mind, Bahldreck waved the irritating voice away.

  “Just a few more minutes Mommy,” Bahldreck mumbled and rolled onto his side, the raft shifting unde
r his weight. Distant rumbles of thunder rolled over him, but his dulled danger sense failed to sense the coming storm. Then the raft overturned and his eyes flashed open in time to see the filthy dirt floor his face was about to make friends with.

  His face hit the floor hard and one of his teeth bit through his lip. The raft, that was no raft at all but a filthy mattress, landed on top of him cascading him in a cloud of dirt and dust. The copper taste of blood mixed with the sting of dust in his eyes combined to drag his mind to alertness.

  “By Ganneth,” the preacher barked in alarm, and pain surged through his head. Other sensations followed. A foul, mucky paste soured his parched mouth, bitter nausea roiled his stomach and the wet patch on the crotch of his robes started to furiously itch.

  “What?” was all he said before a pair of none too gentle hands lifted him up and sat him on a rickety chair near the overturned bed. He forced his eyes to focus and saw a large half-orc staring down on him. The massive green tinged man was scowling at Bahldreck, but whether it was from the preacher’s current state or the orc’s natural disposition Bahldreck couldn’t say.

  “I don’t have any money,” Bahldreck said in a panic.

  “What, just cuz me am half-orc mean me thief?” the half-orc, who Bahldreck now remembered was named Brahk, said in an offended tone.

  Bahldreck just stared, his bladder threatening to further foul his robes. “Ummmm ….”

  “Ha, Brahk kidding. You broke. Brahk already search you when passed out.” The half-orc slapped Bahldreck on the back and then grimaced. He brought his hand to his nose and sniffed. “Eww, you be gross.”

  “Ummmm … What is happening?”

  “Verreth says time to go, so we go. Time to go Barrow kill undead.”

  “The Barrow?” Bahldreck said and then a slew of memories from the previous evening came rushing back in a disjointed mishmash. He remembered meeting up with Verreth and his admiring pals and celebrating his continuing battle against the undead with a very nice lady the previous evening. Downing many, many pints of ale, and then several rounds of a potent liquor called Jayger Meister concocted long ago by a legendary player. But amidst all of this one memory was the most potent. “The Barrow?” Bahldreck sputtered again and a tremble from deep in his bowels threatened to add further stains to his robes. “Yeah, I don’t think today is the best day.”